"Acceptance is the only way you can reintegrate such disparate, obnoxious, and unhappy aspects of yourself."
Matthew Pallamary, Spirit Matters
The drive out to Calabasas was painstakingly slow – bumper to bumper traffic on the 405 and the 101. The hour and a half drive took us about three hours. On the good side, we all found Calabasas charming. And our hotel was lovely, not fancy, but clean and comfortable, downtown near a wonderful little restaurant. I couldn’t have asked for a better pre-race night. I did notice that the evening weather was much warmer than I’m used to. I wasn’t worried.
Relaxing in Jacuzzi with oldest son the night prior to Bulldog 50k
Dinner at Cosmos Grill / Calabasas
I slept well. The family drove out to Malibu Creek State Park to drop me off at 5:30 AM. The sun had not risen, the weather was cool but not cold.
My hip ached a bit, so I was sure to lay on a table and align it before taking off. I felt okay, not great on the start. It had after all, been an entire week since I’ve run.
The creek bed on the left was dry on our run into the canyon. I admired the view as the sun lit up the mountainside. Surprisingly, the weather heated up quickly for such an early hour, pretty much as soon as we got out of the shade. The climb up Bulldog Road was tortuous it was so dang hot. By the time I reached the top of Bulldog, I was still smiling and had my wits about me.
I could feel my hip had rotated forward from the Bulldog climb. Finding a spot away from the runners, in the shade I laid on the ground to realign. A woman sprayed me down with water (all the station workers were such a delight, so helpful and friendly). Before getting my pack back on, that same woman rung a few large sponges of cold water over my head. After grabbing some gel, and a red vine, I ran off for those several false summits. IT WAS HOT.
The Climb has not begun
Aid Station # 1
Going Up, Up, Up (Bulldog Road)
Some down hills existed and flats as well, in the many climbs after Bulldog. My legs threatened to cramp. Having taken Endurolytes along the way as well as downed Pedialyte and water, of course, I began eating salt (CONSTANTLY, which kept the cramps just at bay). Problem was, I could not cool myself down. Even pouring water on my head at the stations, and drinking constantly, I grew unbearably hot.
I knew my time was my worst ever on this course for one loop (I’ve run this loop 3 other times before). I tried not to think about the second loop because I was so overheated as it was, that thoughts of the second loop only made me anxious. And so I just simply focused and tried to relax my limps. I ached, I mean ACHED for shade. Finally running down a single track canopied by trees I halted, stooped forward, put my hands on my thighs and cooled down. That cool down lasted for about a MINUTE.
Aid Station three I was beginning to lose my wits. All I cared about was cooling down. Nothing, I mean, nothing could do that. I wrung a sponge of cold water over my head, drank up cold, cold drinks. Then I took off running FORGETTING to grab calories. Big mistake, I had only taken in about 400 calories so far. (But I was getting my electrolytes)
Once out of the shade, heat exhaustion reared its ugly head. As runners gingerly stepped on rocks to cross the stream, I laid right down in the middle of it. Feeling cool once again, I would have been content to lay there for the next several hours. But I had to finish this race, so up I went, my clothes and shoes completely drenched to finish off the last 3 or so miles of the first loop.
Out of the shade, the heat overwhelmed me AGAIN. Going up Back Bone, I doubted I could make the cut off for Aid Station 4, which was 10:30 AM. I had thirty minutes. And Back Bone was excruciating – not just for myself, but it seemed for all the runners about me. But I kept those arms pumping and marched what I hoped wouldn’t be the death march. Unfortunately the wet clothes did not keep me cool. Hope came when I gained some strength running the backside of Back Bone It was mainly a nice long, shady switch back.
I arrived at Aid Station #4 (about 15 miles into the race) with another woman runner, two minutes past the cutoff. The station workers said it was up to us whether to continue, that we needed to talk it over. The woman said, we should stop. I said, “No way!” As I scrambled for my drop bag the other woman and the station workers discussed a withdraw. “No! No! No!” I was actually yelling. “I want to go!” I really felt I could make the next cut off.
“You’re going to be the last one on the course,” someone said.
“No, there’s quite a few 50k runners behind us,” I argued.
“As of now, we’re closing the course – the other runners won’t be able to continue.” I moved faster, almost in a panic, to get back on the trail. The sweeper took off, seeming angry that I was choosing to keep on. “You got to keep up with me,” he yelled back looking over his shoulder. Though he was probably a nice guy, I didn’t like the sweeper very much right then. : )
A female volunteer took the pouch out off my pack as I crouched down going through my drop bag. She refilled me with water and I grabbed a cliff bar. Just as I was about to dart off, a male station worker took my shoulders in his hands. “Lauren,” he said. “Look at me. Listen to me . . . “
His words, his voice brought back a flurry of memories, strange things I had completely forgotten. Things to remind me about my personality, my greatest downfall, yet oddly one of my best traits: I don’t quit.
“I need you to repeat after me,” he continued. “I will run when I feel I can, but I will WALK when I need to.”
“Okay,” I mumbled.
“No, Lauren,” he said, “repeat after me . . . “
And so I repeated his words and took off running down the trail for another loop. As I ran, I thought about going up Bulldog and then running the ridge in the hottest part of the day. I could not quit. I could not quit!
I wept as I ran down that trail. I didn’t want to make the decision. I COULDN’T MAKE THE DECISION. I felt like a soldier on the battlefield wishing someone would shoot him in the leg so he could get out. If I only had an injury, I thought. If I had only twisted my ankle, then I would not be able to run, and I would have to withdraw – it wouldn’t be my choice.
I had no injury, no twisted ankle, no cramps even, unfortunately no one had shot me in the leg. I kept running, still unable to cool down, even in the shade. And I began weeping because I knew that I HAD to make the decision. I needed to beat my downfall – the fact that I don’t know when to quit. I didn’t want to make the descent down that mountain in a stretcher.
And so I stopped.
And I turned around and walked back that mile to Aid Station #4, weeping.
When one aid station worker saw me, he said “She’s back!” The other, the one who made me repeat after him said, “Oh, Lauren! I am so glad you came back – you made a very courageous decision.”
I don’t feel so courageous, I told him. He could tell I wept behind my dark sunglasses. “You’re sad because you’re not a quitter,” he said. The station workers were all very friendly with kind words as I walked off to the crowds by the finish line. I drank up anything cold I could find there – water, sports drinks, acai water. Then I found a hose, apparently a volunteer noticed that I couldn’t keep the hose running. She held the faucet on while I hosed myself down. I thanked her, picked up my race t-shirt, stretched and walked to the front of the park where I sat in the stickers beneath a shady tree for a while waiting for my family to arrive.
I never imagined it would be heat that took me down. I was so careful to prepare for everything: strength, endurance, cramps, fueling, hydration . . . But I didn’t count on heat : )
Miles logged: 16
I’ve got some of all now (Did Not Finish, Dead Friggin’ Last, Did Not Show, and Finished)
1 DNF
1 DFL
2 DNS
54 Finishes
