Dipsea Didn't

Last Sunday saw the 97th running of the Dipsea Race - a demanding, highly challenging 7.1 mile trail race across the hills and through the forests of Marin County, CA. Year after year, this historic event draws the best trail runners from Northern California and beyond to compete on the rugged trails from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach.

And for the first time in 10 years, I wasn’t there with them.

I made the decision about two months ago, but for one reason or another, I never really got around to making a formal announcement or explanation here. It was a difficult choice; if you happened to read any of my posts from last year’s event, you know how much I’ve loved and enjoyed this race through the years.

At the beginning of 2007, I still planned on doing the Dipsea – but I fell into a situation where financial considerations made me reevaluate my goals for the year, and prioritize the events that were my primary focus.

It was really just a case of bad timing. Over the course of a few weeks in February and March, here’s a sample of the expenses I racked up: I paid almost $300 to race at Wildflower and $100 to race at Bug Sur, after having already paid another $300 to race at Vineman later this year. You may recall that I also bought a new bike, and spent a lot of money on cycling accessories or gear that added up much more quickly than I imagined.

Unfortunately, it was right around this time that my Dipsea application arrived in the mail. Since the race sells out so quickly, I had about one week to decide whether or not to enter. But even under those circumstances, in most years I probably would have forked over the money to do the Dipsea race again.

Oddly enough, it was a small event that set things into motion - when I learned that the Dipsea raised its entry fee. Not by a staggering amount, but enough to make me take notice. It now costs nearly as much to do the Dipsea 7.1 mile race as it does to enter the Firetrails 50-mile race I plan on doing this October as my Western States qualifier. And that’s what triggered my prioritization of races.

I love the Dipsea. All those things I said about it last year are still 100% true. I still have long-term plans to race there in the future and make my way into the top 100 or higher. I’d love to race alongside my kids there someday as well, and pass along the joys and challenges I’ve learned on that course.

But for the time being, I’ve got other fish to fry. I’m completely hooked on triathlons, to the point where I got just as much satisfaction from my 50-mile bike ride on Saturday as I would have had racing in Marin County on Sunday. I still have the ultramarathon bug, with Western States at the top of my wish list for next June. There are countless other races that I’d love to consider at some point or another – certainly more than I’ll ever have time to complete.

Remember the final episode of The Bachelor, when Andy told Bevin “I love you” about three separate times, but still ended up dumping her for Tessa anyway? I guess that’s the same way I love the Dipsea Race: it will always occupy a special piece of my heart, but right now I’m choosing to follow my passion in another direction.

(The next couple paragraphs could be a whole separate post, but I’ll try to restrain myself and keep it to a short rant … )

In some ways, I feel guilty for complaining about financial concerns here. When it comes being blessed with resources and a certain standard of living, I’m far luckier than most people. Given that so many people are uncertain about where the next meal or next change of clothes is coming from, my griping about the cost of races and workout equipment seems ridiculously superficial. Clearly, the 50 bucks that I would have paid for the race wouldn’t have broken me.

On the other hand, I sometimes feel like the financial aspect of endurance sports is the elephant in the room that nobody wants to talk about. Sure, it’s wonderful to have a passion and chase your dreams – but those dreams come at a cost. And there comes a point of diminishing returns, where investing more time and spending more money on the next great task is increasingly difficult to justify when balanced against things like family time and professional responsibilities. In my case, another weekend in Marin County certainly would have been fun, but in combination with all the other things I've got cooking this year, it just seemed a little excessive.

(There, I'm done. That wasn’t too bad, was it? Sometimes I surprise myself.)

There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll line up in Mill Valley again one of these years and resume my relationship with the Dipsea Race. That’s the advantage I have over The Bachelor – it’s always there for me to return to when I want a break from my other love interests. Until then, I’ll keep pursuing those other goals, and be thankful for all the times we’ve spent together.