Chimera 2018 Behind-The-Scenes

Chimera 2018 is finished. First we thought there would be no Chimera ‘18. The fires burned through much of the course. And then just about 6 weeks out, RD Steve Harvey got approval for a revised course – “The Candy Store Loop”, 5 loops for 100 miles (approximately). Difficult course, perhaps not as difficult as the previous Chimera courses, but difficult indeed (and what 100 miles wouldn’t be?). On a good day, when I am fit and have lots of miles on my belt, it takes me 6 hours to complete a slightly longer version of this loop (my version is 21 miles). Conceivably, it could take me 30 hours to finish five loops, but there’s no way that I would be able to keep the 6 hour pace after the first loop. The cut-off for Chimera 2018 was 34 hours. There were very few 100 mile finishers (7 completed).

The course: Start in lower Blue Jay campgrounds and run up Old San Juan Trail near the outhouses at the top of the road -- from there, quickly cut left to San Juan Trail. Run San Juan Trail past the Chiquita trailhead and turn left at The Viejo Tie, then turn right at Chiquita Trail and take that to San Juan Loop to the left to end up at the parking lot across the street from the candy store on Ortega Highway (Ortega Oaks Candy Store). The way back is the same, except runners take the other half of San Juan Loop back to Chiquita.

After weeks of prep, show time began Friday, November 16. I got up to the campgrounds around noon, partially set up camp (mainly the tent, pillows & wood). Steve had the shelters set up at the start/finish line. Stoves, heaters, lanterns, canned goods, tables, cooking utensils and such were unpacked. Whitney S. (AS captain at The Candy Store) was down in Lake Elsinore buying the food. It felt good to be back in the Cleveland National Forest. There were quite a few campsites available in “upper” Blue Jay. People weren’t really in a rush, I suppose, to campout here 3 weeks into November. Even at 3 pm, the weather was quite cool as I waited for Chris D. He and his friend Bill H. are regular volunteers and they always request the most remote station. One awesome perk about that is Bill is a licensed HAM operator. But this time around, Chris’s truck couldn’t drive to the most remote station -- they had to pack it in to Chiquita Falls. It would take runners about six miles to reach the falls. By cutting the course, you can get to the location in about 3.25 miles. And for weeks we had been doing that -- stashing water (about 90 gallons total) near that site.

Friday afternoon Chris, myself  and Ace (a Wisconsin who was camping with his wife and baby, volunteered on the spot, and remained with us until the end) hiked out to Chiquita Falls with the remaining gear: a small table, two sleeping bags, a lightweight tent, lanterns, extra batteries, glow sticks and other essentials. I must mention that the terrain to Chiquita Falls is technical and difficult in places. The last three-quarters of half mile coming back into camp is the most difficult with a terrible incline (or great incline, depending on how you look at it). We were all really pushing the pace Friday afternoon, having left the camp a little after 3:00 pm. We got caught by darkness with about a mile remaining which was not a bad thing. But I wasn’t sure if my text had gone through to my husband saying where I was when he arrived and I was not back. The company was delightful. I hardly had to talk at all, instead listening to interesting tales, occasionally chuckling and feeling glad to be out on the trails even though I hadn’t felt like going out originally.  The sunset was striking -- set against pinkish-orange wispy clouds. We could see the ocean from of the higher points. And that transition period between light and dark was eerily beautiful. The weather was still and the weather and growing colder. Eventually, I had to switch on my headlamp (which I held in my hand because it was too dark to figure out the adjustments -- and I didn’t want to stop because we were on THE MOVE).

Back at camp at 5:40 pm, I had dinner with my husband and two of our boys. Then I worked on setting up the start/finish line for registration early the next morning. I finally lay down to sleep at about midnight, and it seemed that I did not sleep a single wink the whole 5 hours that I lay there. I wore a long sleeve thermal shirt, flannel pajama pants, socks, a knit a beanie, and zipped all the way in my sleeping bag, I still froze. Damn was it cold! I could hear the zombies panting outside my tent.

I was happy to bounce up Saturday morning when my alarm rang out at 5:00 am. It meant that I could move around and get warm. Volunteers were already busy checking in runners at the registration table. Whitney had packed up and was at The Candy Store. Mike E., Noel S., and Steve’s daughter Kate were directing parking along Long Canyon Road. Chris and Bill were down at the start line, ready to head out to Chiquita Falls for the next 24+ hours. And the Hailey, Christine and her friend were ready to hike out to the San Juan Trail aid station.  All of the stations would have at least three shift changes, except for Chiquita Falls which would not change shifts until Sunday morning at 7:30 am.

Saturday (11/17) early morning check-in:Chris & Bill getting ready to head out to Chiquita Falls:Part of the Blue Jay AS morning crew:

Chimera 2018 Aid Stations:

1. Blue Jay (located at start/finish line in lower Blue Jay Campgrounds off of Ortega Highway)
2. Chiquita/San Juan Junction (around 2.4 miles on first trip for the runners).
3. Chiquita Falls (about mile 6)
4. Candy Store (mile 10)

Once race day arrived, my job was actually much easier compared to prior years when I needed to coordinate pick-ups and drop-offs on The Main Divide. This year, the weeks leading up were much tougher (stashing water, clearing the trail). But this year, race day was much easier for me. I made sure I was down at the start line to greet shift changes, draw up maps, go over things with the volunteers, and coordinate equipment drop off. The Blue Jay station was so well-staffed though, that after I showed the various shifts where everything was, the station was up and running without me. Head chef was Steve’s daughter Kate (her vegan chili, burgers and tomato basil soup were superb). 

At the homestead:Freezing our asses off Saturday night (11/17):

So, were there mishaps in the volunteer coordination and logistics? Of course there were. There always is. Maps can be drawn, but under darkness, or other conditions (like cold!) turns are missed, directives are forgotten. But no mishap was detrimental, and in the long run, everything worked out great, and the volunteers went above and beyond (again and again). Case in point: the so-called Chiquita/San Juan Junction aid station was set-up at the wrong location -- it was actually short quite a bit, and nowhere really near Chiquita Trail. I think the best thing about this error was that the volunteers got to be in a much more comfortable area (especially during the cold of night) because of its close location and tree coverage.  And I did not learn of this until Sunday afternoon. Ignorance is bliss. There was nothing to fix, the runners found their way, and the volunteers got a much cozier location.

But the poor guys at Chiquita. We had radio contact with them, and on 3 occasions they were told that hamburgers from the grill were on the way. All 3 times, they were delivered to the wrong aid station (which was also in the wrong location). And then, the replacement crew (bless their hearts!) got lost on the way to Chiquita (I drew maps, I did, but I don’t think anyone looked at them.) When I heard that the Chiquita Falls replacements hadn’t showed up by 8am, I grew quite concerned, but later learned that the two volunteers figured it out and made it. Whew! Chris and Bill finally made it back to the start line from 24+ hours at Chiquita Falls. And the first thing that Chris joked was that he had lost all faith in humanity (being told on 3 occasions that burgers were on their way out to them, only to never arrive!). To top that off, it got damn cold out there deep in the valley -- Chris claimed that the sleeping bags we hiked out the day prior saved their lives! I can imagine how cold it was. We all froze that night at the start/finish line. Really, it was damn cold! (About 39 degrees at the candy store, and I believe we were probably colder).

Todd V with Chris and Bill, & Ace between them (after returning from Chiquita Falls):

As usual, the help we received from volunteers was immeasurable. They put in countless hours in sometimes uncomfortable circumstances. It was just more of “what can we do to get it done?”

It really does take a village to get this race done. In no particular order (except RD Steve and wife, Annie, are first), here is a pretty complete list of the actors who put Chimera 2018 on the books:

Steve and Annie Harvey, Ace and Shannon, Mike E, Noel S, Cat O (& spouse), Yen D, Tom and Minerva B, Tom T, Kat, Christine H (& friend), Hailey A, Joyce L (& four friends), Walt H, Stefan B, Chris D, Bill H, Rob N, Jessica, Whitney S, Leon, Ryan B, Chris F, Tracy K, Nancy I, Dave T, Colleen S (& 2 friends), Todd V, LT, Jean, Laura, Kate, Lexi (& hubby), Lucas M, Leonard Z, Victor, Mark, AND AT MININUM TEN MORE! (I wish that I had everyone’s names) 

Looks like I have a little time off for now. Happy Thanksgiving!

Chimera 2014 Behind The Scenes

Last Friday afternoon I drove up Ortega Highway to Blue Jay campgrounds with my oldest son.  Volunteers were already setting up in lower Blue Jay (actually, they had been setting up since Wednesday).  I met Darryl from the Holy Jim aid station crew.  He came in to load his truck with gear and drive back down the mountain.  (Holy Jim is one of two Chimera aid stations located off the mountain).  Anyway! Very quickly after unpacking our gear, we realized that we didn’t have tent poles.  Doh!  Had I been thinking (that sometimes leaves me, thinking that is), I would have opted for my son and I to sleep in the truck.  Or perhaps we should have asked Steve Harvey (Chimera RD) if he had an extra tent, which come to find out he did.  Double doh!  But we didn’t know this, so my husband drove up with our two younger sons to deliver the tent poles.  And he pitched the tent up for us in the dark.  Dinner was a quick drive to the sandwich shop across the street from Hell’s Kitchen on Ortega Highway.  Expensive, but seriously, the best sandwiches ever!

While my son studied chemistry, I went to bed at 9:30 Friday night.  I  fell asleep quickly. At the back of my mind, I wondered about the Kodiak crew.  They were aid station 1, located twelve miles into the race, and I had planned to load their truck up that night.  But it was not yet time to actually worry.  I slept well. Bundled in a warm sleeping back atop an air mattress, I felt like I was in my own bed.

4AM I was out of the tent, leaving my teenaged son to sleep, as I walked Falcon Trail into lower Blue Jay.  It was a creepy walk through the woods, too dark for my headlamp to provide much comfort.  In my pocket, I held onto a knife sharp enough to cut off your fingers.  I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Isn’t this just about the time that mountain lions hunt?” 

At race headquarters in lower Blue Jay, volunteers were already busy.  They were signing in runners, laying out a breakfast spread which consisted of muffins, coffee, hot chocolate.  Net Control, stationed in a trailer a short distance from the start line was already rustling about.  The timing tent was setting up for a 6 AM start.  Up the road a bit, Howard Cohen and Mike Epler were directing traffic.  Medics were standing by.  Headlamps bobbed around everywhere. 

Jean, Lorraine & Natosha work check-in:

5:30 AM, Steve Harvey briefed the runners on the course.  Most importantly, he warned of trail vandalism.  The trail markings had already been moved around twice in the past two days.  He urged runners to refer to their “turn-by-turns.” At first light, about 6AM, the runners were off, up Long Canyon Road, headed to San Juan Trail where they would embark on a twelve mile run into Hot Springs Canyon.  Those of us left behind, ran uphill through the forest, and cut off the runners to greet them at the entrance to San Juan Trail.  We stood there, cheering every last runner as they made their way onto that rocky single track.  We would not see them again for a few hours.

Back at race headquarters, we loaded up Ryan’s car, our first driver of the day.  He headed off to The Candy Store on Ortega Highway at about 8:30 AM.  Chimera’s second main aid station was across the street from this candy store, where the runners would be greeted after returning to Blue Jay and then running out on Chiquito Trail, past the falls to finish up what we refer to as “The Candy Store” run.  (Molly, RD of Whoo’s in El Moro, headed up this station, with her own crew, and much of her own supplies). 

Everything seemed to be running smoothly.  The weather was nice – cool, but not cold.  The Kodiak crew showed well before the runners even took off.  They loaded up and headed out to set-up aid in Hot Springs Canyon.  Jessica Deline (RD of Twin Peaks) took up the rear to sweep the first 12 miles.  Scott and Jimmy were manning Cocktail Rock with water and directions for runners so that they would stay on course onward into the Hot Springs area.  Leonard, Sam and Mike (the same parking attendant Mike) had hiked into Chiquito Falls to set up aid, and Leonard had checked course markings to make sure they were not messed with. 

And then we hit some rough spots.  Our sweep for the back portion of San Juan Trail (miles 12 through 24) did not show.  I drove up to the only little patch of dirt that I can get cell reception, but couldn’t get in touch with the no-show sweep.  My concern was that Scott Mills and Jimmy wouldn’t know when the last runner passed and therefore when they could leave the rock.  (Turns out that Scott, RD of SD 100, was ahead of the game, brought the list of bib #’s, and did not leave until every runner who had passed him on the way out, had passed him on the back).

The next rough spot was some aggressive trail vandalism.  Some jerk had come in after the race had started and moved markers, redirecting several runners off-course.  Some runners dropped due to this, and we had some awesome acts of kindness when those frontrunners who had been directed off-course, returned to mark the course correctly.  This was not our only course vandalism, sadly.  Some of the trail markers I placed on Trabuco were moved as well.  (Word is there was an eye-witness to this account, and a license plate number was recorded). 

Shifts completed:  Hot Springs captain, Mike and Sweep #1, Jessica:

As the morning and afternoon rolled on, aid station crews arrived, trucks were loaded, and volunteers moved up the mountain.  The timing crew was busy in their tent as numbers came in on the radio.  Net control was busy taking constant information in from the aid stations.  And workers busily took care of runners as they raced back through lower Blue Jay at miles 24 and 47.5.

These were Chimera’s stations:

1. Lower Blue Jay (start & finish line, also miles 24 and 47.5)
2. Viejo Tie (hike in location Cocktail Rock, water stop at miles 6 &18)
3. Hot Springs Canyon (mile 12)
4. Chiquito Falls (a hike-in station, miles 31 and 40.5)
5. Candy Store (mile 35)
6. Trabuco Trailhead (miles 50 and 98)
7. Holy Jim (mile 55)
8. Bear Springs (miles 60 and 75.5)
9. Modjeska Base (miles 68.5 and 70.5)
10. Maple Springs (mile 67)
11. Indian Truck Trail (miles 78 and 92)
12. Corona (mile 85)
13. Horsethief (mile 95)

At 3 PM, I finally started back down the mountain to drop my son at home.  I stopped by the Candy Store to buy him some treats to pay back for all the loading he had done through out the day.  We also drove across the street to check-in with the Candy Store Aid Station.  They were a lively, out-going group.

The Candy Store Aid Station, Mile 35:

I rolled back into the Candy Store Aid Station after dark, around 6PM.  Aid station volunteers loaded my truck with gear, leftover water and trash to bring back to Blue Jay.  I also drove back three sweeps and one dropped runner.  I had absolutely no room in the truck to fit everyone – yet, we squeezed in and somehow managed.  When I arrived to Blue Jay, I was handed a piece of paper with a runner’s name who had dropped off the radar.  It had been several hours since a HAM operator had called in her number.  So, I hunted down her emergency number, drove back up to the one tiny spot I can find cell reception at, and left a message on her phone.  Meanwhile, Jean Ho (Timer and amateur detective ) checked the runner’s facebook page, then checked Strava to find that she had uploaded a 37 mile run from today.  This pretty much confirmed that she had indeed dropped from the race, most likely at The Candy Store.  Later, I drove back to that cell spot to find two voicemails from the lady, saying that she had indeed dropped from the race.  Confirmation, that’s what Net Control needed. 

The night turned rather cold back at Blue Jay.  Jimmy the Sweep (Jim Tello), went back out on the trail to look for the last runner making it into Blue Jay.  He found her and brought her back in, staying with us all much longer than he had planned.  Looked like Jim wasn’t to make it home early enough to run a half-marathon the next morning.  The runner was visibly saddened having learned that she was an hour past cut-off.  Other dropped runners lay on cots beneath the big tent, where massive heaters supplied by propane tanks warmed us all.  This would be the beginning of many running disappointments and triumphs throughout the night and next day.

As the hours passed, I grew increasingly attached to our wonderful drivers.  They are part of the unsung heroes of Chimera.  Working around the clock, they delivered volunteers, returned dropped runners, delivered gear and more.  They slept in their trucks for short bits, and were back on the road at a moment’s notice.  There was Kim and Mike from Just Runs, there was Ryan, Justin M., Michael, Angel, Steve, John and Jacobus, and new recruits Shaun and Justin W. They never said No, or even flinched at a request.  And we requested and requested of these guys.  I love them all.  Even though they weren’t doing all this for me, it felt like they were.  And I felt overwhelmed with gratitude. 

Some of our drivers.  I wish I had pictures of them all!  (From left to right: Justin W., Shaun, John, Justin M. (with Steve Harvey), Angel, and Kim (with Steve Harvey)):

I also grew attached to our HAM operators – they were invaluable in keeping everyone safe.  They were Chimera’s ears, voice and eyes tracking everything in the race.  There were times when I just couldn’t stand the suspense back at the big tent, so I went and sat with Net Control.  Here that I could listen to all the radio chatter and piece together everything that was going on. When did these guys and gals sleep?   

Mark and Todd @ Net Control:

About 10PM, we got the call that Holy Jim had three dropped runners.  Now, I have worked Holy Jim for Chimera for the past two years, and we had never had drops.  This year though, Holy Jim, was 12+ more miles into the course.  The drops were a problem.  A problem why?  It was late, and Holy Jim is in Trabuco Canyon, which is at the bottom of the mountain, with further driving northward, and some slow off-roading.  It’s probably about a two hour drive!  Well, there was no reason to fear, because as mentioned already, our drivers were dang heroes.  John took off around 10:30 PM for the long haul into Holy Jim Canyon.  About that time, another unsung hero, Graham Lambert, took off running down the rocky Trabuco Trail for a 17 mile sweep in the cold and windy darkness!!

The wind was so strong, and the night so cold, I decided not to sleep in my tent Saturday night.  With my big strong son back at home, I just didn’t feel completely safe.  And so I decided to sleep in my truck in lower Blue Jay.  Before slipping away, I asked Shaun (pictured above) to make sure that Greg Hardesty and his son got up the mountain when they arrived.  Greg was our sweep from Maple Springs to Indian Truck Trail – he was arriving to Blue Jay around 3AM to do this too.  Can you believe that?  (Wow!  I do not have the words to adequately express how touched I was by the things people did.) 

Back at camp, I didn’t feel like I slept at all in my truck.  But I felt warm.  And I felt less anxious being so close to race headquarters.  When I finally emerged around 4AM, I felt slightly rested, but still exhausted. 

I missed much during my short sleep in the truck.  I missed the 60mph winds coming in.  I missed the first place runner, Fabrice Hardel crossing the finish line.  And I missed the second place runner, Jesse Haynes, as well.  I missed John returning from Holy Jim with the three dropped runners.  I missed Greg and his son coming in and going up the mountain for that long cold sweep.  And finally, I missed the news that John’s truck had broken down on The Main Divide.  When I heard this, I wanted to cry.  At least he was safe, and when I finally saw him again, he was in amazingly good spirits. 

Those hours after I woke were tense.  Steve was debating whether or not to shut down the race.  He had every one of our drivers on the mountain, all of them at the stations, prepared to evacuate.  Crews in Blue Jay had been waiting hours to go up and relieve their counter-parts.  But the race director wasn’t allowing more volunteers up into those winds at this point.  There was constant contact between Net Control and the aid stations to determine whether it was safe to carry on.  If one aid station captain would have said they thought his or her volunteers were not safe, Steve was going to call the race.  Turns out, not one aid station captain reported such.  Though structures were blown down at Bear Springs, Trabuco and Maple Springs. 

At first light, I returned to my campsite to find my tent blown from its spot in a tangled mess.  I struggled in these high winds getting my gear out from the tent.  And then finally in frustration, I grabbed up that tangled mess, poles and all, and threw it into my truck bed.  I was so frustrated by this and so not looking forward to the untangling, that if I had been a little richer, I would have just thrown the tent in the trash. 

For the next few hours, I waited for crews to return from The Main Divide, WAY past their shift ending time, while practicing patience as I untangled my tent.  These volunteers really went above and beyond their duty, being trapped up on The Main Divide.  Shaun and Justin pulled up behind me with three dropped runners in their truck.  Two were sleeping, one was still shivering.  Kim pulled out for yet another trip up The Main Divide, and I went back to Net Control to find out where Greg was on the mountain. 

Slowly, but surely, trucks returned with dropped runners and crews looking worn.  By now, my tent was neatly folded in the back of my truck.  I was hugging everyone coming back down from the mountain.  I felt like I had added a hundred people to the list of people I love.  It seemed like we were all part of a moving, grooving family.  I continued to track Greg back at Net command, and because we are facebook friends, I recognized his son Rio, who had finally returned to the base.  He seemed to still be shivering from the night.  All the while, runners continued to cross the finish line, and dropped runners were continuously brought to the circle drive on the other side. 

I waited anxiously on aid station crews that I had not heard much from, but knew they were taking the brunt of the wind, mainly because I really know that mountain and its vulnerable spots.  First, the crew at the base of Modjeska Peak.  They surely had a difficult job.  Completely exposed on the mountain, this group, not being an actual aid station, could not even offer food and such to the runners.  Yet, they took in three drops and gave up their down blankets and warm spots in the truck.  The wind was so tough they had to eventually take down their tent and use their truck as a barrier against the wind. 

As the morning wore on, runners continued to cross the finish line, exhausted and overwhelmed with emotion.  Other runners crawled out of the back of trucks, aching and disappointed.  Volunteers returned from long hard hours on the mountain, and I drove up to that little spot of cell reception and called a couple of runners that we hadn’t heard from in a while.  I spoke to a wife on the phone to learn that the runner had called her not so long ago, and was headed back up the mountain from the Corona aid station. 

Meanwhile, Maples Springs aid station rolled down the mountain and unloaded.  I drove back up to my cell spot to try and phone another runner.  (He was later located on the trail.)  Modjeska aid returned.  Sweeps Graham and Greg were safely off the mountain.  After researching Ultrasignup, we found another phone number to try and contact a runner that had not checked in since 2:30 AM (I had phoned his emergency contact number earlier with no response). 

Maple Springs Aid Station unloads in Lower Blue Jay, Chris Diaz in truck bed:

And then, late in the morning, Bear Springs aid finally rolled into lower Blue Jay.  I had been eagerly awaiting this crew, because my friend Tom Bychowski captained the station – and word was they were really taking a beating from the wind.  I looked into the truck windows as they slowly moved in, tired wind blown faces peered back.  I said to Tom, “How are you?”  He grinned and said, “Why do you say it like that?”  All I could think of to say was, “Do you hate me?”  I was relieved when he laughed loudly and said, “You know I’ll always love you Lauren.  BUT you owe me big time.”

Part of Bear Springs Crew, Tom on left, Jacobus on right (as soon as I find out guy’s name in the middle, I will post it):

The last of the volunteers went up to switch out shifts for Horsethief and Trabuco.  I tied up loose ends, grabbed a cheese burger and finally headed out back down the mountain at about 1PM on Sunday.  As I drove the windy road that hits Ortega, at a spot that I NEVER get cell reception, my phone rang.  I hit the brakes quickly, not wanting to lose that reception and answered.  It was a runner – the guy we hadn’t heard from since 2:30 AM.  He was returning my call.  And, he was safe and sound, having dropped from the race at mile 75.  Turns out that he was in John’s truck when it broke down on The Main Divide.  He said there was a wind/sand storm, and with all the confusion, his dropped must have gone unrecorded. Happily, I turned around and one last time drove into Blue Jay to give Net Control the news. Thankfully, no search and rescue was needed.

All was good.  My shift was over.  The runners still had another 3 or so hours to cross the finish line.  I drove home feeling confident that all was going to end well  -- that is thanks to all the capable hands they were in.

My son at The Goat Mobile in Lower Blue Jay:

How lucky am I that I met Steve Harvey those years back on the trails?  How lucky am I that I have this story to tell?  This blog entry is much too short to tell the entire behind-the-scenes story of Chimera.  I wish that I could relay a story that included every single volunteer.  The best I can do is include a list of names – all of these people, and even more (several names missing, no medics, crews or pacers on the list) did an extraordinary job working to aid and help Chimera runners along 100 miles.  For days afterward, I teared up when I thought about all the hard work these wonderful people put in.  THE PARTIAL LIST: 

Alexa D, Ali P, Alison C, Amy B, Angel P, Annie H, Art S, Bill H, Bill R, Bob F, Bonnie H, Brian E, Brian L, Catherine M, Charles E, Chris D, Chuck S, Darryl S, Dave D, Dave L, David B, Dean, Desi K, Diana S, Diane D, Dustin K, Elizabeth K, Eric K, Erin C, Frank A, Fred C, Fred P, George T, Glenn O, Gloria D, Graham L, Greg H, Hank G, Howard C, Jacobus D, Jason M, Jean H, Jen B, Jennie C, Jessica D, Jessie, Jim G, Jim T, Jimmy D, Jody R, John A, John E, John M, John S,Jon, Jonathan R, Julia H, Justin M, Justin W, Justus M, Kim A, Kim P, Lan B, Laura S, Leon G, Leonard V, Lindsay J, Lori H, Lorraine, LT, Mark, Mark R, Mark U, Marthie D, Mary M, Mary W, Maureen C, Melanie W, Michael A, Mike C, Mike E, Mike F, Molly K, Nancy I, Natosha H, Nicole, Pam M and daughters, Pat M, Pat R, Patrick W, Paul H, Pedro M, Pete E, Pete P, Rachel H, Randall T, Regina P , Richard B, Rio H, Ryan L, Sam M, Sam S, Sandy W, Sarah E, Scott M, Selina N, Shaun F, Shauna B, Sheryl L, Stefan B, Steve F, Steve L, Sundar V, Susy G, Tania W, Taylor K, Telan, Thomas K, Tim C, Todd V, Tom B, Tom T, Trish T, Vanessa H, Vanessa R, Victoria, Yen D.

Not including runners’ crews, the volunteer total tops 150. 

A super huge thanks to everyone, especially Steve and Annie Harvey, who made all this possible!

Click here for lots more behind-the-scene pictures.

My Game Plan

I was never a runner.  Never had a running coach.  I ran in my youth and early adulthood (occasionally) because I wanted to be pin-thin.  That is amusing, because now, I put in 50+ miles a week, and I’m gaining weight.  And it’s NOT ALL MUSCLE.  It’s purely because I’m pretty much hungry all the time, and I don’t eat the right things.  Yes, I love spinach.  And yes, I can eat bags of broccoli.  But I also love cheese. 

Enough said.

So, I’m pretty much scared out of my mind, as you probably know about the upcoming 50k I’m registered for.  I don’t know what I was thinking when I registered.  I must have had a good run or race just beforehand.  When I ran this race last year (and came in third to last), I thought to myself, “been there, done that, no need to do that again.”

And then here I am stressing over the same race.  At least I know the trails.

Keep in mind that I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO TRAIN FOR AN ULTRA-MARATHON.  On the upside, I have met and run with wonderful ultra-marathoners who have much to offer and have given me great advice.

I thought it apropos today to publish my “game-plan” for the SJ50k (since it’s TWO weeks away – yikes!!!!!!)

1)  I’m not training anymore.  I’m just running for fun. That’s my “taper” which will inevitably result in less mileage.

2)  I am going to RUN MY OWN RACE.  This is very important to me – I’m not going to get pressured out about how fast other runners are at the start, I’m just going to run my pace and focus on remaining strong both mentally and physically THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE RACE – especially going up West Horsethief..

3)  I’m breaking this race into 2 portions – the first is referred to as “The Candy Store Run,” which totals about 19 miles.  It’s a tough run and has a cut-off of 5 hours.  You may think that 5 hours is no pressure.  But it is for me, because my goal is to make it well beneath that goal of 5 hours.  I’m hoping for 4 hours, because the next 12 miles is much more difficult than the first 19.

4)  I will top-off at EVERY water station.

5)  I will keep moving forward, which means NOT STOPPING AND JOKING AROUND AT AID STATIONS.  I can’t afford the time.  Forward, forward, forward – that is my motto.

6) Since we run past our cars at about mile 18, I will pack a drop bag, just in case.

7)  I will smile.

8)  I will laugh

9)  I will do my my best to not fall.

10)  And I will help other runners if they are unfortunate enough to need my help.

I have more to my race plan, which entails how I will tackle West Horsethief at mile 23!!   But these are minor details to those listed above.  Best thing is, I found my favorite shoe on close-out (meaning cheap) which I plan to run in until the race.  Hopefully it will do me good!

Thanks so much for all your encouragement. : )  You guys and gals have more confidence in me than I. 

Big Baz San Juan 50k–Finisher : )

I could certainly write a book about this race.  But I’ll try to keep it brief (ha!)  First off, I’m so dang happy that I finished.  This is one tough, tough, course.

My main goals were to stay uninjured and to finish.  I kept my pace a little slower than the past Big Baz races.  And I followed my husband’s advice which was “don’t think” because that’s when I lose the mental battle.  And I followed runner Chris Diaz’s advice:  think of this race as two different races – run the first one (the hilly out and back down to the highway 19.5 miles) and don’t even think about the second race until I’m there!

Baz’s Race Instructions

That first ten miles were wonderful – cool and shady.  I crossed several streams rock hopping to keep my feet dry.  Then finally toward the bottom, I had to walk through nearly knee deep COLD water, which meant that I had to walk through it again on the way back – which in turn also meant that I didn’t care anymore about wet feet and stomped through most streams if I had to spend too much time finding a route.

The frontrunner passed me on my mile 7.   The second place passed me at 7.3 miles.  They were SIX miles ahead of me.  A little later, Michelle Barton (an amazing runner, IN MY AGE CATEGORY) passed me on this out-and-back portion at mile 7.83.  She yelled out to me, “You’re a rockstar.”  All those front runners were amazingly supportive.  One of the things I love about trail runners – they are not snobs.

I took plenty of pictures in those first ten miles.  I was trying to remain cool, that is calm – I didn’t want to lose my head.  No negativity.  No I can’t’s

Amazing Beauty During the First Ten Miles (which happens to be the 2nd ten miles also)

Sadly one runner broke his wrist on that first ten miles.  And as far as I know, 4 runners dropped out on that segment.   I reached that first full aid station at ten miles (there was a “water only” at mile 5) feeling very strong.  About 8 other runners mingled about.  Almost every one was bloody or cut up in some way.  I felt lucky for catching myself on a few trips.

A few of us were gently scolded for not drinking enough water.  When one of the aid workers pulled out my reservoir, she said, “You’ve hardly drinken enough water!!”  Most of us said we didn’t need a refill, but Steve Harvey (from Old Goat Trail Races) said that none of us were taking off without full bladders.  And so I topped off, put some potato chips in my pocket, grabbed an orange slice and a quarter peanut-butter & jelly sandwich and took off. All my layers by now were off and packed in my bag.

Rick, Me And Lori at Ten Mile Mark

Miles ten through twenty were tough, mostly a climb out of the long ten mile mainly downhill I had just run.  I ran completely by myself.  I didn’t hear or see any of the runners that I left back at the aid station.  Trail races are like that.  A runner can actually be 30 seconds behind you, and you never see them. 

Eventually I saw a man up ahead.  The sun was scorching by now.  He was making his way, but seemed to be struggling some.  He was in sight several times for a while.  Though I wasn’t trying to pass him, because I wasn’t racing anyone (I only wanted to finish), I did gain on him.  And then . . . AND THEN I tripped on a rock as I ran.  I caught myself from falling, but my momentum ran me straight off the trail down a steep incline (almost a cliff!).  In a split second I knew that I had to change my direction or I was going to tumble (not in a fun way) down the mountain.  I am still amazed how many things go through my mind in a single moment.  Somehow, while falling down that mountain, I changed my direction and slammed myself into the face of the slope.  My right knee hit first, then my body cramped up.  With my body cramping, I began slowly sliding down the mountainside, through thickets with tiny thorns scraping along my arms. 

I was in utter disbelief and yelled out “Oh my God.  Oh my God.”  I don’t know why I said that.  Remember this all happed in a matter of probably 1 or 2 seconds.  Well, my yelling alerted the runner ahead of me.  He ran down and lifted me up and back onto the trail.  Bill was his name.  Definitely my hero of this race.  I had tiny hair like thorns covering my arms.  But I was okay.  Bill on the other hand had terrible bloody scrapes on his right arm and leg from his own accident some time earlier.  I thanked him profusely and told everyone I met about Bill and what he did for me, even in his pain.  

I continued on to the “water only” aid at mile 15, poured ice cold water over my arms.  I also gulped up some, but didn’t refill.  I didn’t refill, because my pack still felt pretty heavy.  I figured I had enough water to make it to mile 20. 

For the next 5 miles, I stopped twice to “ice” my torn up knee in the ice-cold streams.  I didn’t see Bill anymore.  But I did see another runner.  He passed me by out of no where.  I wish I would have got his name (I would be seeing him a lot the remainder of the race).  He was extremely friendly and helpful, offering Tylenol, calories, water.  I told him that I was good, then not 30 minutes later, I was OUT OF WATER.  The extra weight from my shirt, gloves and hat had fooled me into thinking that I had more water than I thought.  Mind you, this was the hottest day in months!.  I had 3 miles remaining to the next aid, and I needed water badly.  I tried to bring my energy level down some.  Last thing I wanted was heat exhaustion.  Those last 3 miles moved by extremely slow, as I practically stared at the garmim to see “how many miles before I get water.”

Before the next station, I passed my car and I took the time to throw all my layers in.  And guess what I saw???  A half a bottle of water!!!  Heaven.  I grabbed it, and guzzling it down made it on into the 19.5 mile aid station.  I met up with several other runners.  I later found that all those runners dropped.  Michelle Barton was snapping photos.  She was already finished with the race! 

I filled my pack with water and my water bottle as well, and took off for the “next race”.  The long climb up San Juan Trail was pretty difficult, especially with 8 or so other runners running down it to finish up the race.  I had another twelve miles or so to run!  Every single one of those runners were supportive with thumbs up or “way to go.” 

Trabuco Trail was extremely rocky for many miles.  I focused hard on not falling.  There were 2 other runners that I would continue to see for the last ten miles – a younger woman (Felicia) and that extremely supportive guy that I didn’t get his name!!

I fell off the log as I walked it to cross Trabuco stream, but wasn’t hurt.  And even though Horsethief was a matter of feet away, I refused to think about it.  As expected, Horsethief was pure hell.  It was hot and I took it slowly.  But I knew what lay ahead, and that helped.  Just put one foot in front of the other, I told myself.  When I caught up with Felicia, I felt badly for her, being that this was her first time of the trail.  She was where I was 2 weeks ago.  When she asked how much longer I felt sad telling her.  I looked at my watch and said, “about twenty-five minutes.”  She didn’t have a hat (just a visor) and couldn’t cool down.  Having suffered from heat exhaustion myself, I told her that she HAD to cool down.  She didn’t have anything to cover her head.  I suggested she pour some water on her head and find some shade and stay there until she cooled down.  Turned out there was a piece of shade right there.  She took my advice and I took off getting her name so I could tell the next aid to expect her.  She told me to tell them that she’s alright and that she wants to finish (And she did finish!).

A Rocky Trabuco Trail

Breathtaking Views Behind Me Going Up Horsethief

Anyway, when I reached the Main Divide, I met up with the helpful guy.  I refilled on water and we both took off with a mere six miles to go.  We pretty much ran in together, together meaning – I was in front, he was in front, back and forth, until he finally whizzed by me, gaining quite a bit of distance crossing the finish line probably a good 15 minutes before me (not sure, just guessing). 

I crossed the finish line exhilarated!  I was almost in disbelief – I had finished a 50k trail race!!  Awesome.  This is definitely a before/after point in my life. 

88 runners registered for the San Juan 50k.  86 started, 69 finished. 

Thanks to all – those on the trails and those on the blogs.  Couldn’t have done this without you and . . .

Can’t do this without a video

: )