Revisiting My Meltdown on The Main Divide

For a long time I have been wanting to revisit my meltdown on The Main Divide back in August 2013. It’s been nearly 7 years since that nearly fateful day. Yet I think about it time and again and use it as a point of reference often. I have known for a long time how wrong I was in explaining what happened to me that day.  In my post written very quickly after the event, I blamed a lack of calories for my demise. I somehow thought that I needed more than the 400 calories that I packed along in the form of mainly gels (100% carbs 1/3 of it sugar!). Problem with the calorie theory is, I have been running and hiking in almost exclusively a  fasted state for a few years now without any problem (even in the heat.) I ran the Calico Trail Race earlier this year in a fasted state and did not suffer for it, and in my opinion was better for it. Also as far as the calories go, I have an image of myself on that hot August day trying to suck down a gel as I struggled up Trabuco Trail toward The Main Divide. I was already sick at that point.

I mistakenly blamed lack of calories because I had plenty of fluids. I had driven out to Trabuco Canyon beforehand and stashed water in a forest area off of Holy Jim parking lot. When I arrived to that location during this run on August 3, I rested and drank up plenty there,  then filled up my pack (adding electrolytes) before beginning my five mile run up Trabuco Trail. Eventually, lack of fluids may have been a problem on that sizzling day, but not because I lacked them – it’s that I just couldn’t drink anymore, I was too nauseated.

From August 3, 2013, in Holy Jim lot refilling before heading off up Trabuco Trail

So, if it wasn’t fluids and it wasn’t calories, what was it that I fear nearly killed me on that day in the Cleveland National Forest? The answer is easy. I can tell you without hesitation that it was heat. Yes, Heat. I was suffering from heat exhaustion (what I call heat sick). There is no mistaking it. The first time I can remember succumbing to heat sickness was about 1984, 85 while fishing in Utah. My mother-in-law-to-be drenched a towel in the lake water and placed it over my head and then sat me beneath an umbrella. She didn’t pour fluids down my gullet. She instead attempted to cool down my body temperature. Unfortunately, I didn’t put this together and had to learn it all over again and again. The next big time I recall heat sickness striking is during Bulldog 50k in August 2010 with temperatures over 100F. I got so overheated that even fully  submerged in the stream I could not cool down. I could not cool down because I was already heat sick; I was past the point of no return. When this happens the heat is overbearing, especially in my head, I’m confused and lethargic, so much so that I’ve nearly fallen asleep before sprawled out on the trail with heat sickness. Heat sickness is a brutal hit to my system. I can be sick for days, sometimes with the chills and body aches – at the very least I’m in bed right away at home and out until the next day. Heat Sickness is a terrible thing, which is why I really wanted to revisit that day back in 2013 and set the record straight. I know it was heat exhaustion that prompted me to call for help. There is no mistaking heat exhaustion and it is silly that I did not immediately see this (I was fooled by my abundance of fluids!). My problem on August 3, 2013 was The Heat. (I capitalize it in reverence to The Heat’s mighty force!)

You can drink all the fluids you want but it will not save you from the heat. Fluids help, and lack of them (and electrolytes) greatly hinder (and also kill you). What you really need, in addition to fluids when you’re out in the heat, is to cool down. Heat raises your body temperature and unless you cool it down you are going to get sick and then eventually, you are going to have heatstroke and die. It’s tough to fight back from heat exhaustion. But here’s the trick: Do Not Ever Get There. Work with the heat -- don’t ever let it overwhelm you. I learned that I need to cool down if I get too hot because once my body temperature gets too high, there’s no recovering: I am heat sick.  A lot of people confuse “cooling down” with hydrating. Yes, hydration can aid in cooling me down, but it’s just not that efficient. What I need is shade. I need to stop and get in the shade. Assuming I haven’t reached the point of no return (for me body temp above 101F) I’ll cool down in just a few minutes and then I’m good to go. The tiniest bit of shade will do, the shade of a small trash can will do. And if there is no shade (shame on me for being out in the heat with no available shade!), but if that happens, merely stopping to rest can help cool me down, sitting helps too (along with drinking fluids of course as well).

So, there you have it. I have set the record straight on my Meltdown on The Main Divide. I do need to add that I didn’t come up with the phrase “Meltdown on The Main Divide.” Some time after my August 2013 heat sickness, I stumbled across a mountain biking website that had a thread going called “Meltdown on The Main Divide.” When I began to read, I realized that the mountain bikers were talking about me and what had happened that day. In preparing to write this post I did an online search and darn it, I wasn’t unable to find the thread.

Keep cool out there!

Back in the Saddle (a day early :)

When our puppy Millie whined at 6AM for her ritual outside time, I hoped hubby would hear and let her out.  He slept through it.  So I gave him a gentle push (well, perhaps a gentle shove), “Please, let Millie out.”

Letting Millie out in the morning is always my job because I’m the one who is usually up.

“Don’t you want to get up and go for an early morning run,” he said.

“I need my beauty sleep.”  I smiled and got another twenty minutes of sleep.  Then I woke, dressed, poured a cup of coffee, got into the truck and hit the trails at Aliso / Wood Canyons around 7:30 AM.  The skies were wonderfully cloudy and misty.  It looked like I was in for a cool weather run.

I felt strong right away as I ran up Cholla.  My plan was to weave up and down (from the ridge to canyon, canyon to the ridge, ridge to canyon, etc), leaving Meadows, the longest climb for last.  A beautiful plan.  Basically every time I came to a trailhead I took it, whether it travelled up or down.

Up Cholla

Down Lynx

I flew through the shady, fern covered and poison oak ridden trails adjacent to the creek.  I traipsed over deer and bobcat tracks.  I ducked beneath spider webs.  Stopping for a second, I witnessed a bee struggling in one of these webs.  I ascended rocky inclines.  And I was glad when the sun came out.  That meant I finally got to turn the cap around and flip down the sunglasses. 

On Cave Rock Trail what I thought was a bird flew so close to my face, it startled me.  Then I noticed its wing flap was silent.  It flew out and back, out and back from my face when I finally realized this creature that seemed to be trying to get my attention was a giant yellow butterfly.  By the time I realized, I got just a few more seconds of enjoyment before it fluttered off.

Descent down Car Wreck Trail

The Car Wreck

I saved the most difficult climb to the ridge (Meadows!) for last, which would have been okay.  But I ran out of water about half way up.  Actually, I still had some coconut water in my pack.  But I did something stupid, really stupid – something that is against my rules.  I conserved fluids.  I wouldn’t allow myself that extra reserve until I reached the ridge.  This when I believe what Lisa Tamati quoted in her book Running Hot, “It’s better in your tummy than on your back.”  

Very quickly I began to overheat beneath that hot sun.  And though I didn’t bring my thermometer, I know I allowed my temperature to increase too much.  My temperature had to be more than 2 degrees higher than normal.  I hiked much of the remainder of Meadows Trail, stopping in the shade frequently to cool down.  As soon as I stepped out of the shade however, I felt nauseated, dizzy, out of breath. 

I never recovered from this heat exhaustion.  I even sat in the shade when I reached the ridge for about five minutes as I drank that coconut water.  When I phoned my husband to say that I’d be late, he said that he didn’t like the sound of my voice.  But I was smiling.  Really, I was.  Thing was, I still had a mile and a half before I could refill fluids.  What’s especially stupid about my mistake is that about a mile of that remaining run was through a neighborhood which was bound to have GARDEN HOSES!  I should have drank that coconut water on the Meadows ascent.  I probably wouldn’t have overheated.  And if needed I could have always “borrowed” someone’s hose in this 85F (29.4C) degree weather as I ran Top of the World. 

As it was, I practically stumbled into Alta Laguna Park.  Rushing up to the drinking fountain, I guzzled up and filled my pack with water.  A woman smoking a cigarette a few feet away sat with her husband as I began to pour water over my head and neck.  I splashed my face, drank up some more, then continued drenching myself.  If I could have, I would have sat in the fountain and completely submerged myself.  Somewhere in this water extravaganza, I heard the woman say, “Let’s go sit over there,” and they promptly moved away from me.  I think that I may have scared them.

Then a beautiful cool breeze began to blow.  And though the sun still aimed its rays DIRECTLY AT ME, I found great comfort in that breeze.  The breeze was so cool, I’m surprised that  I still couldn’t recover from the heat exhaustion.  Who am I kidding?  When I get heat exhaustion, recovery takes a minimum of several hours, at its worse a few days.  But I ran in 3 digit temperature in Texas!  Then I closely monitored my body temperature.  Today I was just so giddy to get out there and had such a wonderful time until the water ran out, I just kind of forgot simple lessons.  (Oops) Believe me!  Do not conserve your water too much, especially in situations like mine when there will eventually be water. 

Completely drenched with full hydration pack, ready to run the hot, dry rolling ridge 3.5 miles back to the truck

Those last few miles were extremely difficult on an exposed trail with absolutely no shade.  But I had plenty of water!  About two miles remaining, I spied a hiker on my side of the road holding his hand out as to say “halt.”  I knew he had seen a rattler.  I asked, “Which side?”  and he pointed across the road into the brush.  Well, I know a rattler can’t strike eight feet across the road, so I kept on running on the trail’s edge and that guy looked at me like I was crazy.  He laughed and said, “I gotta turn around somewhere, it might as well be now.”  Then he asked what time it was, and I clicked through my garmin looking for the time when he asked, “California time?”  to which I laughed and responded, “No.  Zombie time.” 

I promised myself an ice bath when I returned home.  As it was, I was freezing, wearing a sweat shirt by the time I got home.  LOL.  I suffered from a dull headache for much of the day, but other than that, ALL IS WELL.  It’s better than that – I’m finally back on the trails!

Zombie Runner

13.63 miles (21.94 km)

Elevation Profile: +2,810/-2,790 feet