2021 Golden Gate Dirty 30

After much anticipation, the 2021 Dirty 30 had finally arrived. Ben, Dave and I were allowed to roll over our 2020 entry’s, given it was cancelled due to COVID. I was just glad to finally experience the legend that was this race, coupled with Race Director Megan Finnesy’s hard work and unrivaled attention to detail, it certainly did not disappoint.

I packed too many energy shots. Ended up making me nauseous.

This was my 3rd ultra overall and by far the most difficult. To give a quick comparison, Indian Creek was my first and “felt” the hardest, but I finished with my best time of 7 hours and 10 minutes. The last 6 miles of that race were over 2,000 feet of uphill brutality and I couldn’t see the finale of a race get any worse. I was wrong. Next up was Sheep Mountain 50k, also held by Sherpa John Lacroix. This was kind of a consolation race as everything else in the summer of 2020 had been cancelled. I was pleasantly surprised with this one, but my times would say otherwise, as I finished 40 minutes later than Indian Creek (despite feeling WAY better). I’m guessing I tried to take things too slow coupled with the higher altitude.

Dirty 30 was a whole nother ballgame, in both the way it’s held and it’s natural difficulties. Nothing against John, I love his races and will continue to run them in the future, but he’s more of a “here’s the course, take it or leave it, have fun”. They tend to be smaller and there’s more of a sense of community with his races. I enjoy the more intimate feel to them. But there were things I loved about Dirty 30.

First off, Golden Gate Canyon State Park is a phenomenal venue for a trail race. I can’t think of a better place to hold one on the Front Range. The only place I think could rival it actually is Staunton State Park, which finally got a marathon approved this summer through the Gnar Runners Race Series. But this is all based off limited experience, I’m sure there are other great venues and I look forward to exploring more of them via trail races in the future. I love how there was music blasting at each aid station, gave me both an idea how close I was getting as well as a little pick me up with the high energy. Dirty 30 is well attended, which can be both bad and good. 500 potential racers, 412 finishers, so lots of comradery, but on the other hand, not a ton of alone time. When I ran Indian Creek, I leapfrogged 2 or 3 people throughout the day, but ran the majority of the race in complete solitude. I generally tend to prefer that for some reason.

Anyways, jumping to race day, it was going to be a hot one. Most years the race was held end of May, but this one was second weekend of June. Potential high of 80 towards the end of the day, which doesn’t sound too bad but it can be debilitating in a trail race. I believe Ben has 2 or 3 TR’s from previous years on this race, so I’ll stop my babbling, but I wanted to just give my take on the course and on the day, broken out by Aid Stations :

At the starting line.

The start is high energy, there are a number of very loud speakers pumping out music as they blow the whistle. Thanks to staggered times, the jams didn’t get too bad. I was in the 7am group and we all basically power walked the first half mile before reaching a forest road that opened things up. I recall going at a solid sub-9:00 pace throughout this section. The road leads to a peaceful trail along a creek, all of which is still runnable, until you reach the backside of Windy Peak, where you gain a lot of vert switch backing up the hill. Ironically you are a couple hundred yard as the crow flies from the summit of Windy, where you’ll end up around mile 29 after a grueling 1500″ climb at the end of the day. I’m glad I was not aware of that reality at the time.

Getting things rolling.

The day started off cool.

Nice singletrack.

Spirits at this point were high as I rejoined with Dave, who was 5 minutes behind me, at Aid 1. Old friend of mine, Ryan Marsters, passed me at that point and took right the hell off. Never saw him for rest of the day. The section from Aid 1 to Aid 2 is arguably the most runnable of the day. Dave, I and his cousin Josh were mostly cruising through this area. As we reached probably the smoothest section of the day, my focus let up for a mere 5 seconds and I tripped over probably the only tree root along this entire section, landing hard directly on my chest, knocking the wind out of me. As I was lying there in pain, trying to compose myself, another runner tripped over the same root and ate it 1 foot from where I was sitting. Her fall was more graceful than mine and she was able to recover much faster.

This is the dumbass look you make after yard sailing along the mellowest section of the course.

We reached Aid 2, I was able to scarf down a decent amount of food with sustenance at this one, and Dave and I persevered on. Aid 2 to 3 was probably some of the least runnable terrain of the entire day and involved 2 pretty significant up and downs. At times we were literally rock scrambling in sections, and there must’ve been a trailhead nearby cause there were a lot of hikers in these sections (I had no idea where I was at any point of the day in relation to the park and it’s trailheads. I just showed up to the Start and followed the signage all day, so my sense of direction was nil). The terrain and the adrenalin wearing off caused me to slow down in this area significantly. I told Dave to go on ahead and I’ll either catch him or I won’t. But I knew I was slowing him down and I didn’t see myself getting any stronger anytime soon.

Aid 3.

I limped in to Aid 3, which was both the busiest and the hottest. It was at this point where I put some serious consideration into pulling from the race. Food wasn’t helping, I was slamming water and it wasn’t doing anything, slamming salt tabs, had probably drank 240 ounces of electrolyte infused water up until that point and I simply felt like dog shit. There was a creek nearby and even that couldn’t revive me. I figured I’d wait for Ben to show up (he started a hour behind me) and maybe his company could lift my spirits. Ben did in fact show up and we did the hill out of Aid 3 together for probably less than 15 minutes, before I quickly realized there was no way I could match his pace, so I told him to jet on ahead and I’d face the last 15 miles alone.

I got to the top of the hill climb out of Aid 3 and was on the verge of vomiting. I tried to lie down but the pressure of lying in that position caused discomfort in my chest, so I just sat there waited till I found enough motivation to start moving again. Fortunately the rest of the terrain was bearable, basically all the way to Aid 4. In that time, I found a new rhythm. It wasn’t fast by any means, but I could reach a jogging motion and my chest seemed to loosen enough where I could start taking deep breaths again.

Aid 4.

Aid 4 I was hungry and luckily they had Perogi’s. I had about 5 of those, along with a bunch of oranges, some popsicles and I dumped a lot of cold water on my head. My shirt got drenched so nipple chafage was likely but I didn’t care at that point. I could’ve crapped in my pants and I wouldn’t have cared. I was in full primate mode and my only concern at this point was finding a way to get up and over Windy Peak, the final obstacle of the day.

I actually was able to jog a lot of the way to the turnoff to Windy, but the euphoria was short lived, as immediately after the turnoff there was a steep downhill section which I knew was going to be shitty on the way out. I saw a lot of wounded soldiers with thousand yard stares pass me going the other way and I wish I could’ve taken on their bodies for they were already done with Windy. The heat at this point had basically peaked, there were still no clouds in the sky, no wind, not even a breeze. I was trying to maintain a pace that was both reasonably consistent but the instant my heart rate reached a certain level, nausea would kick in, so it was a balancing act for 1500 feet. Ironically enough, the exposed sections weren’t abysmal. They were unrelentingly steep and hot but I saw my objective, or at least what I thought was it, and put one foot in front of the other.

After a while, you reach a forest that looked eerily similar to The Ardennes in the Battle of the Bulge, with a flat traversing trail. All I could hear was the heavy breathing of other runners, some of which I couldn’t even see. After a junction where a couple runners were receiving medical attention due to heat stroke, you make another steep ascent that feels like an Inception “dream within a dream”. Now the heavy breathing turned to audible 4-letter words. For the next 30-40 minutes, all I heard through the trees was “f**k!” or “you’ve got to be s**ting me!”. Around the summit, I ran in to my old friend Mike Cornelius. His facial expression led me to believe we were in the same boat. When you finally reach the summit, you aren’t even elated, just pissed.

Zambo.

A hot day.

Ben.

After logging my ascent with the field marshal, it was mostly all downhill from here. At this point, I could run downhill still, but it was mainly to get things over with quicker. After the last aid station, which was water only, there was a section of trail that resembled a fraternity hazing with at least 5 to 6 runners on their hands and knees emptying out there insides on the sides of the trail. I could offer no words of encouragement, so all I could muster in my inebriated state was “let her rip!”. Some found the humor in it, others not so much.

Not too long after climbing out of the whole Windy Peak debacle, it was 1 mile left, mostly flat and downhill. I tried to fake my best for the finish, and once the medal was placed over my neck, I collapsed. The race party was pretty cool. In addition to the medal (and the t-shirt), we got a pint glass, all the Sierra Nevada one could drink and some Nepalese food. After a soak in the creek, we vacated, hopefully to return some day (I personally need a 5 year min break from this one).

Dirty 30 is tough. The heat did not help, but it’s a rugged course and Windy Peak at the end brings it in to another dimension. 1st place finisher came in at 4:54, which I thought was insane. Even more insane it’s not even close to the course record. To be able to not only train, but to commit to sprinting down some of the more rugged sections takes cojones. The constant up and down nature of the course is definitely taxing. I hate to make excuses and say that being a dad who doesn’t live in an area with elevation to be gained out your back door hurts my ability to properly train for this stuff, but that’s kind of the nature of it all. Regardless, the comraderie is fun, the venues are incredible and the atmosphere usually reels you back in for more. It was fun to run another race with Dave and Ben (even though we only saw each other at the start and finish basically).

Soaking our feet at the end of the day.

Next stop: Devil on the Divide in September.