The Dipsea is one of the oldest trail races in the country. Crazy people started running it, from Mill Valley through Muir Woods, up the mountain, and across to Stinson Beach, but they wouldn't let women race. So in April 1918, a group of renegade women declared the first Women's Dipsea "Hike" and today was the 100th anniversary of it.
Participants were encouraged to come in costume. The best costume I saw was a woman dressed as a Native American. This is Miwok land. I'm not sure if she raced 8 miles in moccasins.
People come from all over to race in the Dipsea; they have an old-fashioned lottery system. Chris has raced it twice with Adam, and told me about this special event, so I signed up. Because, you know, I like to train for things.
This is Dipsea the dog. As they approached, her person said to her: This is your trail.
The race begins with three long steep sets of steps.
Enough to discourage all but the most serious hikers and runners.
The whole race isn't that far. At 7.6 miles it's considerably less than the Kaiser half marathon that I've walked twice, or Peak 2 Peak, or the Overnight walk for Suicide Prevention. It's roughly the same distance as the longest day I did in Yosemite High Sierra Camp, from May Lake to Glen Aulin. But it is really steep, and I am not usually good with heights.
As we learned at the luncheon, women were not allowed to participate in runs like Bay to Breakers until the 60s either; they were told it would hard their reproductive organs. The excuses men make...
So I trained. And trained. Up the steepest stairs to Diamond Heights and Twin Peaks and across to Glen Canyon, where the red-tailed hawks are nesting. Up and down Bernal Hill. Up to the ridge in the Marin Headlands with Theo. Out to Tennessee Valley beach on a sunny day. It all paid off. I may have been slow (I've always been a slow hiker), but I didn't have much difficulty till after mile 6.
After you climb Cardiac hill, you are afforded fantastic views in every direction, including south to San Francisco.
The Steep Ravine trail to Stinson Beach was much easier than I expected, mostly a gentle descent along the hillside, some of it shaded.
These steps are kind of torturous on the way down. They just keep going and going. They are pretty even though.
And then suddenly, you can see the ocean! And even though it's another mile or so, you can almost hear Eye of the Tiger. My knee was achy, so I resisted the impulse to run.
Although this wasn't a race, it was obvious by their quick sprint straight uphill that most of the participants had done the Dipsea race before and were runners. Some of them never stopped talking: I heard discussions of divorces and romances, boy moms, million dollar real estate, and most tantalizingly, sushi. Typical Mill Valley.
This left a handful of us at the back of the pack after the daunting trio of Dipsea steps. That was fine with me.
Matt was on sweep duty, and thoughtfully stayed just far enough back that he wasn't on my tail (listening, he said, to Bill Maher podcasts) but close enough that if I got lost or stuck or curious how far we had left to go, I could ask. When I did the Kaiser half marathon, SFPD followed me in a squad car around the panhandle, which I did not appreciate.
The first women's race winner completed the Dipsea in 1:18. I have no idea how she did that. The shuttle bus took 45 minutes going back. It took me about 2 hours for the first 4 miles and then I slowed down on the last long set of stairs as my knee began to hurt. (I'm icing it now and getting a massage and a scrub tomorrow. And enjoying all the avocados I can eat.)
Tennessee Valley beach, from an easy training hike
Useful things I've learned from past events and friends: take Advil as you hike (thanks, Jeanette). Shot blocks are a great alternative to Gatorade (thanks, Jill). Rain makes everything green.
Training hike in Tilden near Lake Anza
And once I'd taken the pressure off to finish in less than 3 hours, it was a really spectacular day. Not sure I'd ever go up the Dipsea steps again if I didn't have to. But I do love going for a walk in the woods.
The full course