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I was apprehensive going into this race. I'd had less than 3 weeks to recover from Headlands, and I knew my body wasn't as ready as I'd hoped it would be. Racing my first two 50 milers that close together wasn't originally my plan, but this was how things had worked out. I also hadn't had a good night's sleep in several days ... as opposed to Headlands, where I was incredibly well rested going into the race. So Saturday morning dawned, and I was already tired, and the altitude was already bothering me. But I trudged up to the starting line determined to have a positive attitude and try to enjoy the day. I had no idea what was in store for me. Fred's Mountain The race started, and I immediately set off ... at a very slow walk. The first 2.8 miles of the course headed straight up Fred's Mountain, with an elevation gain of nearly 2,000 feet. This trail (mostly jeep and Snowcat road) had a few gradual spots, but was otherwise pretty steep climb the whole way. Jeff L. fell into step beside me, and although I didn't want to slow him down, I was grateful for the company as long as I could get it. This was his first 50 miler, so I assumed he was trying to start off conservatively, as was I. Henry and Joyce took off way ahead of us, but I knew I couldn't start out at that pace, or I'd never get through the day. Jeff and I climbed and chatted, and before too long the 100 milers started passing us on their way down (they had started an hour before us). Joe came by, having summited in a speedy 53 minutes! Pretty soon, the terrain opened up and flattened out a bit, and I guessed we were getting close to the top. Henry and Joyce came by, and then Guarav, assuring us we didn't have far to go. Pretty soon we could see the top of the ski lift, and then around another curve and we were at the first aid station. I checked my watch ... one hour exactly! I felt pretty good about that since I hadn't rushed at all. A little fuel and water and we were on our way back down. The early part of the descent was some great running, but just as it had been mostly steep climbs on the way up, so it was the same with the descents. At one point, I just surfed some rocks and ran out of control for nearly 100 yards, just praying I'd get some solid footing before I killed myself! So far this race wasn't going all that great, but pretty soon we were back at bottom, rolling into the aid station in just over an hour and a half. Again, just some quick fuel and water, and we were off to the Mill Creek Loop. This course consisted of three loops that covered 25 miles. The 50 milers did this course twice, the 100 four times. The first and third loops of the course were each between 5 and 6 miles. The Mill Creek Loop, which we were about to start, covered nearly 15 miles. Mill Creek Loop Again we started climbing up jeep road. Thankfully that didn't last too long, and we were routed onto some nice rolling single track that ran along the edge of a gorgeous meadow. While I wasn't loving the course so far, the views were definitely spectacular! All through this section and beyond the wildflowers were abundant and so colorful! Between the views and the rolling trail, I was actually encouraged to pick up the pace a bit and do some real running. Sadly this section didn't last long. Soon we came back out on the jeep road, and headed down a pretty steep hill. After about 1/2 mile, we hit one of the two water stops on the course. One nice thing was that each aid station and water stop had a sign stating how many miles to the next aid station. From here the trail continued down, and now we were back on actual trail. In some ways this was the best part of the course. Running on nice soft trail in the middle of the woods, with the mountains all around us. It was just beautiful. This section was mostly downhill ... although I guess I didn't realize how much downhill it was, because the amount of uphill on the way back came as a complete shock to me. Jeff and I got into a nice running pace, enjoying the forest and the trail. After a while we came out onto a gravel and dirt road. The cars were kicking up some dust, but thankfully only a couple went by us and they were going really slow. Unfortunately, this would be a bigger problem later. I was feeling pretty tired at this point, but when the road sloped downhill, I made myself run ... no excuse for walking the downhills this early in the race. We came into the Ski Hill Road aid station in just under 3 hours ... not bad for over 11 miles. The next section was one I was NOT looking forward to ... over 3 miles of climb on paved road. But in truth, it wasn't so bad. The climb was gradual, the views of the mountains were incredible, and it was pretty easy to just get into a nice steady rhythm and climb. I still wasn't moving fast, but we were keeping up a pretty decent pace ... it took us an hour to get to the next aid station. From here we were back onto the single track, covering some new trail and then hooking back up to the trail we'd covered earlier. The Mill Creek section was kind of a lollipop, so there was about 4 miles of the trail that was out-and-back. This time all that great trail was almost entirely uphill ... and I wasn't really prepared. I was pushing too hard, trying to get up the hills too fast, and my asthma was starting to bother me. This constant climb was making me feel like I did on the way back from Muir Beach at Headlands ... except then I was covering miles 40-46, not miles 15-20! It got worse after the water stop. That last 1/2 mile climb was torture. And then we had more climb ... we skipped the nice single track through the meadow on the return, in favor of some jeep road climbing. Thankfully, it turned downhill eventually, and we finally got back to the start/finish area in just over 5.5 hours. The timing was fine ... my lungs were another story. I sat down for a few minutes to regroup. I felt terrible, I had goosebumps despite the fact that it was getting hot out, my breathing sucked, and I was shaking. But I really needed to get this first loop done, so after about 5 minutes I grabbed Jeff and we took off for the trip through Rick's Basin. Rick's Basin Jeff was feeling good, and I was really happy for him ... he deserved to enjoy his first 50. I got the feeling he was trying to hang on with me, and I knew pretty soon I was going to have to push him away and make him run his own race. I was fading fast and was not going to take him down with me. Most of this trail was nice single track, winding around and around a field, and into and out of the woods. Early on we spotted Joyce and then Henry, making their way to the water stop ... about 30-40 minutes ahead of us. Henry asked how I was and I shouted down "I feel like shit!" to which he responded "No, I feel like shit!" Well, guess I wasn't the only one having a less than stellar day. After a while the trail sloped down a bit, and Jeff said he wanted to run some. I was so tired and could barely breathe, so I knew this was the point where we would part ways. Jeff tried to apologize, but I wasn't having any of it. This was his race too, and I told him so and told him he'd better get moving. I trudged along by myself, feeling worse and worse, and by the time I finally got back to the aid station, I was clutching my chest and crying, it hurt so badly. I sat in a chair, and Olga came over immediately to check on me. I told her the truth ... that I didn't think I could get back up Fred's Mountain, but I didn't know how to quit. She understood completely. Between Olga, Lisa (the race director), and Annie (medical aid), they managed to get me watered, fed, medicated, and rested. Somehow, after about 1/2 hour, I actually felt better. With some good advice from these ladies (two of whom also have asthma), I went back out to try to make it up Fred's. Fred's Mountain My mantra for this section? Go as slowly as humanly possible while still walking. And that's what I did. The tiniest of baby steps, ever so slowly, and when my heart rate started climbing, I would turn around and walk backwards. And somehow, it worked. About 1/2 mile from the top I saw Jeff, looking strong. And not far from the top I ran into Henry and Joyce. They were both really struggling as well. On the one hand it was nice to not be the only one having a bad day ... but mostly I want everyone to have a great race and I was sorry they weren't. A couple more minutes and I was at the top ... and feeling better than I had in hours! And even with my snail pace walk, it had still only taken me 75 minutes to climb Fred's! I sat down and hung out for a few minutes with the aid station volunteers. I was feeling energized and chatty ... although I think it was more of a manic high than anything else. I could have hung out there a lot longer, but I needed to keep going, so I made my way down the hill. I jogged a little bit, but otherwise just power walked. The entire loop took me about 2 hours and 20 minutes, which I didn't think was too bad considering a few hours earlier I wasn't sure I could even keep going. I got into the aid station feeling pretty excited, but I really needed to rest and re-medicate. Unfortunately, I didn't take as much time as I needed here. Joyce had decided not to go back out, but she and Henry had spent a good bit of time at the aid station, so he was only about 10 minutes ahead of me. I figured if I kept up my pace, I might catch him ... and hopefully his company would help keep me going, just as it had done at Headlands. Mill Creek Loop Not long after I hit the single track section through the meadow, I spotted Henry near the end. He wasn't moving too fast, so I took off running hoping I'd at least get within shouting distance. Not long after I got back on the jeep road downhill, I yelled out, and Henry stopped and sat on the stump at the side of the trail and waited for me to catch up. Unfortunately, my burst of running had taken a lot out of me, and I really didn't have much run left. But neither did Henry - his hip flexors were trashed. He couldn't go up, I couldn't run down, but we just trudged along trying to cover the miles. We passed Joe, and Guarav - who was having a great day! Hurray! At least someone was enjoying themselves out here! This section, which I had enjoyed earlier in the day, just seemed endless now. My asthma was just getting worse and worse ... I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it past Ski Hill Rd. And it was a near certainty that I wasn't going to finish this race. Even if I could make it up the paved section to Cold Springs, it would be dark when I got there. And since Henry was having such trouble on the uphills, it looked like I'd have to cover the 5 miles of uphill single track in the woods by myself. And here's the thing ... I don't mind running at night. Sometimes, I really love it. I've had some great night runs. But I HATE running at night by myself. Especially when it's on unfamiliar trail. Add in my breathing problems, and there was just no way I was going to try to cover that section by myself. But at this point I still had to get to Ski Hill Rd. We came out on the dirt road, only this time there were lots of cars going by ... and none of them seemed to realize or care that their speed was kicking up tons of dust. Even walking with a bandanna over my nose and mouth didn't keep me from inhaling it. You can only imagine what that did to my already overloaded lungs. By the time we reached the aid station, I felt so awful I couldn't do anything but just sit there. I really thought I was done. The volunteers (who were so nice and well meaning) kept asking what I needed, so finally I agreed to some Pringles and Coke just so they would leave me alone. I wasn't nasty about it, but I really wasn't up for interaction. Henry started getting himself together, and I realized he was going to try to make it up to Cold Springs. I felt awful, but I figured if I could get up the hill, I'd at least have gotten in 40 miles and nearly 14 hours ... which would be my second longest distance and the longest time on my feet. I knew I wasn't finishing this race, but maybe it wouldn't be a total loss. So I heaved myself out of the chair, and followed Henry out. Once again, the paved section was actually a blessing. I didn't have to think here ... I just had to keep moving. It was slow, and it was painful ... my breathing was just getting worse and worse, if that was even possible. But I kept moving, just trying to follow Henry and keep up. About halfway along the road, as we rounded the last big hill out in the open, the sun started to set. The sky was an incredible golden pink, bathing the mountains and valley in this beautiful light, and we just stopped and drank it in. That alone was worth the struggle to climb these last few miles. Finally, after 13 hours and 41 minutes, we got to Cold Springs, and I was done. I hated it, but I knew I didn't have a choice. Even the aid station volunteers were concerned. My breathing was ragged and wheezy and I hardly had any voice left. I was just a mess. I sat down and just waited until Henry figured out what he was doing and I could get a ride back to the lodge. Henry's hip flexors were in bad shape, but the aid station had a massage therapist, so she went to work on him to see if they could loosen him up enough to keep going. Unfortunately, it just wasn't happening, and we both got a ride back to the lodge. Interlude I was disappointed not to finish the race, even though I knew I didn't have a choice. The course was tougher than I anticipated, the altitude more of a challenge, and I just wasn't recovered enough from Headlands. I was done. Or was I? Sunday morning, after a hot shower and a good night's sleep, we headed over to the restaurant for breakfast. Joyce was there, and she had a medal around her neck. She had come back out and paced Joe through the night, covering the 20 miles she hadn't done on Saturday, and gotten her finish after all! I was so excited for her! She told us about it over breakfast ... she had also told Joe that Henry might pace him some on his last loop. We had some time while Joe did the climb and descent on Fred's, so Henry got changed and ready to go out with Joe. This was when the regret started to set in. Even though I had made the right decision to quit the race when I did, it started bothering me that I was leaving those miles unfinished. So I went over to talk to Lisa, and she told me to go for it. Just making the decision to go back out made me feel a hundred times better! I had no idea if I could cover those last 10 miles, but I knew I had to try. And after all that training, 10 miles just isn't that much to get my mind around. So after Joe and Henry left, Guarav drove me back to Cold Springs, and I picked up where I left off. Mill Creek Loop Starting time 10:52 a.m. I knew my eventual race time would include my 14+ hour break, but I wanted to keep track of my actual time on my feet. I took my time, but I felt so much better than I had on Saturday. In fact, this section only took me seven minutes longer than it had the day before! And this time I didn't feel terrible. Don't get me wrong, I was tired and sore, and my lungs weren't in great shape. But I was determined, and my mental state was pretty positive. I came down the hill into the aid station, and Olga and Larry saw me and started yelling. They had no idea I'd gone back out. Olga was so terrific throughout this entire experience. She asked what I was doing, and I told her I wasn't finished yet! She had been so supportive the day before, and I think she was as excited as I was that I was going back out to finish the race, whether it counted or not! I didn't waste much time here, just got what I needed for the last 5 miles and took off. I almost ditched my jacket at this point ... the sun was out and it had warmed up a lot ... but the forecast was calling for rain, and I figured I'd keep the jacket tied around my waist just to be safe. Good call. Rick's Basin I power walked along, and actually started running a good bit as well, keeping up a good pace and feeling great about my decision to finish the race. Somewhere in here nature started calling, and I started looking for a place to answer. Unfortunately, I managed to miss a turn during all this, and ended up looping around and then coming back onto the trail I'd already covered. Aauuuggghhhh!!! By the time I figured it out and got back to where I'd gone off course, I'd added an extra half hour and a couple bonus miles to my day. Oh well, I wasn't going to let it get to me, not when I was so close. And then the thunder started. The skies were still blue, so I picked up the pace, hoping I could outrun the rain, but I wasn't fast enough. Pretty soon some drops started falling, and they felt sharp. I looked down, and could see the pellets on the ground. It wasn't rain, it was hail. I kept running - thankfully this section was largely downhill or flat - and realized that as long as the hail wasn't getting bigger, it was fine. At least the hail meant I wasn't really getting wet. Somewhere around the final water stop it turned into actual rain. I couldn't do more than power walk because the first 1/2 mile or so was uphill, but as soon as the uphill was over, I took off running. I only had about a mile to go, and I wanted to be done! I covered the last mile in somewhere between 8 and 9 minutes ... I was determined! Finally, I made the last turn and headed down into the chute, where Joyce, Guarav, Olga, and Larry were waiting to congratulate me and Lisa hung the medal around my neck. 31 hours, 25 minutes. Actual time on my feet? 17 hours, 14 minutes. It wasn't an official finish, but it wasn't a DNF either. More importantly, I hadn't given up and I'd finished my race, even if it had been in a way I could never have imagined. Afterthoughts ...
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