What a weekend. What a life. What a community of people. What a race. What a sport. 

This weekend was the Big Alta race in Marin. An inaugural race organized by Free Trail and Daybreak Racing. On Saturday, they held a 50k race, followed by a 28k race on Sunday. The event brought together an impressive group of competitors from all over, including some local legends from around here. Everyone gave it their all and raced in the best spirit, making it an unforgettable experience.

This weekend showed me once again what community truly means. I had the privilege to share some miles with a legend in our sport. The connections we make as humans can profoundly impact our souls. I volunteered to sweep the 50k course on Saturday, which involved running the entire course after all racers started, to pick up the course markings and ensure no runners were left behind. I knew it was a bit hasty of me to run the entire 50k and be on my feet for over nine hours, especially since I was still recovering from a foot injury. However, I thought it would be a good test since we would go slowly.

The race started at 8 am. The runners took off, and I met the three other sweepers I would run with. We all decided to start around 9 am so that we could run the whole way until the first aid station, which was at mile 8.5. It was a gorgeous day, and the course was equally stunning. We were really able to enjoy that first part of the course. Shortly after we passed the first aid station, we came upon a runner who seemed to be struggling in the distance. We hadn’t yet gotten to the hilly part of that section, and he was already walking on the flat. He didn’t look very stable, sort of wobbling and trying to keep his balance with his poles. Then, he would stop to catch his breath for a minute before continuing. We stayed behind him to avoid putting too much pressure on him, but then we noticed he was becoming increasingly off-balance and was barely moving forward. We began to think that it could be a heat stroke. None of us were first aid trained, and we had no idea what the protocol was in this situation. Eventually, I sent a message to my running community, San Francisco Running Company, for advice. Someone immediately called me back as they were volunteering at the next aid station. We talked to the medics on the phone, and Charles – the runner we were helping – gently said, “Don’t come get me. I’ll just walk to the next aid station with Pauline” (after he asked for my name). 

We walked up the steep hill. He was moving slowly, and his heart was beating fast. I told the other sweepers to continue without me since we couldn’t make the cutoffs, and they still needed to pick up the course markings. So, it was just Charles and me. We made conversation, and I soon discovered that Charles spoke more than a bit of French! He was happy to practice his long-time unspoken French with me, and I was honored to speak my mother tongue language. It was a slow walk up the hill, with more breaks than moving time, but the good company and conversations made up for it all. Charles was 76 years old and had a pacemaker. He had run the Western States race 20 times, with his best finishing time of 18 hours and 30 minutes. Charles liked running in what he called “the money trail” past the Big Rock and enjoyed listening to the birds while running. He was a bird connoisseur. One of my favorite things he told me was, “Why do you run in nature if you wear headphones? You should listen to the nature around you”. His favorite trail running snacks were cliff bars and gu chews. He had done the Paris and the Bordeaux marathon, where they had wine and cheese at each aid station, but he did not have wine until after the race. The conversation and Charles’ energy improved as we continued, especially after we got to the top of the Loma Alta hill and started the descent to Big Rock. He started jogging!! I could tell he was happy. I asked him if he preferred the up or downhill; guess what he said? – downhill – obviously. One of his favorite places in France was near where I was from, this magical town called Saint-Malo. He had gone there several times with his family and kids. We talked about the amazing seafood, the galette, crepes, and cider. I got hungry all of a sudden. Can we just teleport there now?! I have some great childhood memories in Saint-Malo, which made me feel nostalgic about my family. But Charles’ presence felt like family. It was warm and like I had known him for quite some time. This was unexpected, yet like it was meant to happen. 

We also shared some moments of silence, which we understood as a sign of mutual respect and comfort. The breathtaking views of Mount Tam, the city of San Francisco, and the rolling hills filled with cows in the background added to the serene ambiance of the moment. As we approached the Big Rock aid station, he was smiling, laughing, and in a good mood. Witnessing this transformation was a testament to what the human body can achieve when fueled with the right energy. Sometimes, all it takes is a human connection and a story that brings us back to good old times. By being transported to feverish memories, we can turn things around and keep going. It all comes down to our state of mind and the people around us who encourage us and make us feel at home, where we belong.

I ended up only sweeping half of the course, but it was worth it. This unexpected interaction with Charles made my day, if not my month or year. I’ve had a pretty brutal last six months; if one could say. I went through a separation with my husband, had a stress fracture on my foot, and was laid off from my job. My world was turned upside down, yet I feel more stable and at peace than I’ve felt for a while. I am not saying it has been pink and roses every day in the last six months, but I am so proud of everything I have gone through and done since then, and I wouldn’t take anything back (well, except maybe the injury). Building a community for myself in Marin over the past 1.5 years has been crucial. This community saved me, boosted my inner voice confidence, transformed me into the person I am today, and gave me the courage to stand for what is right for me. Seeing others live their dreams, fail and succeed, laugh and cry, showed me that there was a life to live for and that life was waiting for me to jump in. Sharing some miles and chats with Charles this last Saturday reminded me of the incredible community of people we have in this sport. Most of all, it reminded me that despite dabbling with an injury for the past four months, the connections and stories I make along the way on the trails are worth much more than anything else. That is what my mind craves: connections and stories. 

This past weekend was a big celebration of the trail running family I’ve built in the last year and a half. I love you all; thank you for being such an inspiration, from the top finishers to the last finishers. You all play a part in our lives, and I can’t thank you enough. Keep hammering out there. I can not wait to race again. But patience will do for now, small steps forward. No steps backward.