Calico Trail Run 2020

Like clockwork, I came down with a cold a day or two before Calico (1/26/20). Honestly, I didn’t take very much care in eating healthy or getting good sleep in the weeks prior. My body did everything to fight the cold virus, which resulted in a group of cold sores erupting on my face. Lovely! It’s called self-sabotage. It’s my super power. 

We got the bunk house which sits on the outskirts of the campgrounds. We had had with us just two boys, two teenage boys (which translates to easy-peasy -- teenagers do everything for themselves!). We had a nice drive up the Cajon Pass, had dinner at Peggy Sue’s, and listened to my middle son play classical guitar by the campfire. I bedded early (about 9:00 pm or so). And it seemed that I didn’t sleep a single wink. I think that I I looked at my watch every hour and a half throughout the night. I wasn’t digging that and it actually worried me some as I tossed and turned, which probably didn’t help this whole cold virus that I was fighting. 

Evening Prior from Bunk House Porch

Oddly, I didn’t feel sleep deprived in the least bit and rose up from my bunk at 5:30 am. I got ready very deliberately, sun screening and getting the pack ready for its retirement party. (I packed/wore: Ibuprofen, salt pills, camera, phone, battery and charging cord, ipod, ear buds, band aids, athletic tape, antibiotic ointment, cheap reading glasses, sun glasses, hat, bandanna, lip balm, small tube of sunscreen, toilet paper, a pair of extra socks to change out my warm knee socks, propel electrolyte water in the bladder and two shirts that I wore -- a long sleeved cold weather shirt and a short sleeved Old Goat t-shirt, and a beanie and gloves),

I took off on foot for Calico Ghost Town about a ½ mile away as the sun was beginning to make its appearance. The weather was cold, but not freezing. The number of runners seemed smaller this year compared to previous years. I saw running friend Stephen de la Cruz but didn’t recognize others (though I would see 3 running friends during the race). I noticed that there were a lot of small groups of runners taking this in as a group event. I think that’s a wonderful idea for a race like this, especially if you haven’t run it and haven’t come up on the term “technical trail”.

Setting out from The Bunk House ~ 6:30am

Start/Finish Line Downtown Calico Ghost Town

Here We Go!

We took off running out of Calico Ghost Town at 7:00 am. I started at the back of the pack and stayed there, doing my usual counting of how many people I could pass. When a runner passed me, I subtracted that number from the number of runners I had already passed, giving me a net number. For a good two miles, I remained at about net 2. At about mile three that net number dropped to zero when two friends, Chris Diaz and Bill Hedgardt passed me. We continued to pass each other here and there and ran into the first aid station (7 miles) together. I didn’t stay more than a second at the station. My strategy was to do this run in a fasted state, so there was no reason for me to mingle about at aid stations. There were four runners at the location and as I ran off, I shouted to Chris, “Net Four!” He first looked at me perplexed and then it dawned on him and he shouted “Not for long!”

So, a little history on Chris. I recall meeting him way back in 2008 on Santiago Truck Trail while I was running with Tom Fangrow. I then saw him the following January during my first Calico Trail Race. He’s also one of the regular Old Goat Volunteers -- he and Bill always request the most remote aid stations and even camped down at Chiquito Falls one year manning that hike-in station for Chimera 100. Chris and I have raced in a lot of the same races. I have never beaten him. Once, I was so close and I got giddy about it a bit too early. It was the 2011 Saddleback Marathon. I passed Chris as he was sitting at the last aid station. Man, I was elated over the fact that I just might beat him to the finish line (Chris’s super power is downhill running, I might add -- he says that he “does stupid better than me”). Anyway, back at Saddleback 2011, I sprinted down The Main Divide, hopeful that I could gain enough lead to beat Chris to the finish line. I did not let up. Then, all of a sudden, with just a mile left on the course, Chris popped up beside me! “Dang it!” I exclaimed to which he responded, “Don’t worry Lauren, let’s run in this thing together.” Well, we ran most of it in together, but at the very last part, oh less than a tenth of a mile, Chris sprinted away and crossed the finish line before me.  

I remember that 2011 race as I shouted out “Net Four” on Sunday. And then I ran like hell knowing that I’d have to put a lot of distance between me and Chris -- otherwise he’d catch me on the downhill for sure! I did put a lot of distance between us, but not enough. He caught me and Bill did eventually as well. It took him 5 miles to catch me. But he did. I was net 11 when they caught me, dropping me back to net 9. So, I did the same thing at the next aid station. I stayed for about 1 second and took off running, leaving Chris and Bill, once again behind. 

Bill and Chris

Me (See those orange and blue shirts in the background? Bill and Chris!)

 Aid Station #2 (11.9 miles)

Me (See those orange and blue shirts in background? Bill and Chris!)

30/50k Split

In two hours I was able to cover 8 miles, and in three hours I was very close to 12 miles. But after that, my pace began to fall. The terrain is tough out there. It’s sand or rocks and boulders. There is very little flat, only uphill (mainly) and downhill. My strategy was to hike the hills (or march rather). As I have mentioned many times before, I recover quickly, so hiking those hills gave me some time to rest and I was pretty much recovered by the top of the hills. My other strategy as I have already mentioned was to do this race in a fasted state. That is how I trained. I am done filling myself with sugar at the aid stations (even natural sugar!). That strategy did me well in this race. I never once felt that I needed calories. I had my propel water for the electrolytes and took a few salt pills just to make sure. 

I continued to pass and get passed by Chris and Bill for the remainder of the race. So taken in by the beauty of the remaining exotic canyons, I stopped occasionally to snap some pictures (probably too many pictures!) I also found myself starting to stumble. I passed two female runners that I had not seen in a long time, and then another female runner passed me. I think I was still at about net ten during those final few miles. I hadn’t seen Chris in a while, but Bill and I continued to pass one another. I tripped on rocks several times, but never went down. And then nausea began to visit. At that point I downed two more salt pills and an ibuprofen and in no time the feeling that I would vomit subsided. 

At the end of the beautiful pink canyon with only about 2 miles remaining, I caught a glimpse of Chris’s orange shirt. I pushed hard, realizing I had to catch him before the last downhill into town. Bill passed me and caught up with Chris, but I struggled. Still, I closed the gap immensely. And during that final flat stretch across the longest parking lot in the world, I thought that I might catch Chris. (Bill by now had long passed Chris). My family watched from above and said that I looked very strong, they couldn’t believe how fast I was moving. They could tell that I was trying to pass the runner in front of me, and thought that I probably would. I knew deep down though that if Chris reached the top of the hill before me, that I would never be able to catch him on the downhill because he does “stupid better” than me. The trip up that service road behind the ghost town was painstaking! And in the end, I could not catch Chris, even though I flew down into the finish line. He beat me by 16 seconds. Sixteen. Seconds. 

Calico 2020 was fantastic. I loved every minute. It was a struggle but that struggle was wonderful -- it brought tears to my eyes again and again throughout the course. But I paid immensely for pushing myself with a cold. I was not able to go to work the next day but instead tried to get well by sleeping. I tried to return on Tuesday but went home sick. More than a week has passed since Calico, and I am ready to start running again. Calico 2021? We shall see. My middle boy wants to run it with me, so if he still wants to, I’ll be there for sure!

Why Calico

For some years there during my late thirties and early forties, I ran road races. Lots of road races. The tally on the side shows races beginning in 2008 but they actually began a little sooner. I believe I ran my first Turkey Trot in 2003, and every year after for several years. I ran mostly 5 and 10k distances at first and could run a 10k in about an 1 hour. My best 5k's were a shy of 30 minutes. Not impressive except for the fact that I could even run at all. I was middle of the pack (and was fine with that). I spent a lot of time running roads and poured over race directories hunting for races within driving distances -- I had young children at the time (my youngest born in 2004).  

May 2008 I thought that I was going out for another typical road race. Instead, I landed myself an adventure that took me up a "huge" incline to the Bay Bridge in San Diego, CA. The incline was half the adventure. After that I ran alongside the railing (posted with suicide prevention signs) high above the Pacific Ocean for more than two miles where we leveled out at Coronado Island. The race was a total of four miles.

I had so much fun running the Coronado Bay Bridge Race it prompted me to search the internet for other interesting races, something more than the usual road race that I was accustomed. That's when I found the Calico Trail Run that started and finished in Calico Ghost Town (in the sleepy high desert town of Yermo, CA just outside of Barstow). People actually visit this tiny ghost town, and they visit from around the world. My husband camped there with his Boy Scout troop in his youth. And I also visited Calico Ghost Town as a Girl Scout back in about 1975. We camped in a valley just outside the old silver mining town in a place that we called Rainbow Valley. It was a beautiful colorful valley with greens, blues and reds in the distance rocks. I haven't been able to find the place that we camped back then, but I know that it was a very short distance from the ghost town where we spent some fun hours. Nostalgic as I am, the Calico Trail Run was a must. An absolute must.

And so I set out on a quest: learn how to run trails. I joined the OC Trail Runners and more importantly, I met Tom Fangrow, who in his infinite wisdom taught me a great deal about trail running (not to mention showed me the way on trails from the coast to the mountains). After an 8 month crash course on running trails, I felt ready. In fact, I had ran two 5 mile trail runs in my local foothills and another 10k trail run at the Camp Pendleton Marine Base. I could now run uphills and my endurance was pretty good (but not good enough . . .  sigh; the story of my life!).

January 2009, I drove out to Barstow the night prior and checked into a nice hotel next to the train tracks. I mention the train tracks because a train rumbled by every couple hours. The next morning, I timidly walked past the crowd of runners in the lobby who were taking in a continental breakfast and I drove fifteen or twenty minutes to Calico Ghost Town. My mood was somber. (Perfect mood for a ghost town setting!) Even though I had learned much over the past 8 months, I was still a newbie. I knew nothing about hydration. Nothing. I was basically still a road runner. Road runners need very little water. If I carried water on a road race, I carried very little. There were always aid stations short distances apart where I could grab small paper cups of water out of the hands of volunteers as I ran by on the pavement. As a road runner my skin had never completely crusted over with salt. I mean all of my skin -- my face, legs, arms, all of it crusted in salt. I had never pushed myself to that extreme. I hadn't even Googled the word electrolytes.  

Calico 2009 was a beautiful run. It was rugged. The valleys were colorful and rocky with pink and blue canyons. The course teared me up with its beauty. And the course beat me down too. After a freezing morning, the sun appeared and scorched down on the mountainous desert terrain. My body crusted in salt and every muscle in my body was cramping. I drank water, a handheld that I refilled at aid stations 3 to 7 miles apart. But I did nothing else to combat dehydration or an electrolyte imbalance (evidenced by all the salt leaving my body!) Long story short, I tripped during a particularly rocky section and all the muscles in my body cramped at once. As a result, I crashed down onto the rocks, my camera smashing onto a boulder. It was a hard fall that took me several minutes to climb up from. In front of me lay 3 short miles. I guess I had enough adrenaline to carry me to the end.

A couple of race personnel rushed me when I crossed the finish line at my first Calico race. My arms and legs were crusted with streams of salty blood. I didn't waste a second at the finish line. I was so exhausted that I was ill. I made my way straight to the restroom because vomiting seemed the only option to cure my woes. After sitting there hunched over, my face in my hands for a good long while, my nausea subsided. Perhaps twenty minutes later, I arose and splashed water over my face and rubbed away the salt. I then painstakingly made my way back to the festivities and met up with a friend (Lori) whom I had run with a few times with the OC Trail runners. We sat together at the awards ceremony, she handed me some "salt" pills to help replenish my loss of electrolytes. Sitting directly to the left of us, Annie Harvey had just received an award for placing in her age group. As she got up to accept, she turned to me and said, "It pays off pays to run when you're old," meaning the longer you run, the more likely you are to place. To her side was her husband Steve Harvey (Old Goat) whom I had also never met and would not meet for a while yet. (Funny how things turn out).

Anyway, I wanted adventure. I certainly got an adventure. I got freezing temperatures in the morning hours and hot desert wind once the sun had its chance to shine. I climbed up boulders and slid down the other side. I ran through sand, then rocks and boulders and colorful canyons. I learned what is meant by a technical terrain. I got a really good schooling! Back at home, as my husband used tweezers to dig out the clusters of pebbles embedded in my arms, I was already thinking about running the Calico Trail Race again. As it turns out, I did. I crossed the Calico finish line 7 more times after that.

Just Before My First Calico Trail Race

After My First Calico Trail Race 

Calico 2010: I had some hip issues from obsessive (perhaps reckless) trail running but more from a four car pile up that I was involved in (totaled my van!). I was also recovering from a winter cold and was popping ibuprofen and "salt" pills to keep the forward momentum going.  Somehow I managed to cross the finish line once again. And once again, I began revving up for the next year.

2010; Making it a Family Event

And Here We Go Again!

Calico 2011, I was sick again and was not in a good emotional state. I pretty much started at the back of the pack and stayed there. I met another back-of-the-pack runner, Suzanne (from New Mexico I believe). And we ran through that awesome desert, best friends for a few hours, until the 30/50k split. I crossed the finish line in tact and once again began thinking about the next year. It's like I was trying to catch that perfect wave, the perfect Calico desert wave.

2011; Me and Suzanne at the 30/50k split

I would finally catch that wave in 2012. I trained hard and I spent a lot of time running over boulders at the jetty and my local beaches. Everything came together for me during the race. I handled the elements, my hydration and the terrain like a perfect wave. I placed this year, third in my age group.

I have not caught that perfect Calico wave since 2012. But I ran it and crossed the finish line in 2013, 2014, 2015, and 2016. I registered for 2017, but the race was cancelled due to rain. I did not register for 2018 or 2019. I thought that I was done with Calico (so many, many issues, mainly chronic injuries derailed me, and I doubted whether I would ever run trails again.)

But then about 3 months ago, I don't know what it was, perhaps nostalgia, I got to thinking of my old friend Calico Ghost Town once again. I am foolish sometimes about these things. One of the things I have found to be a great gift in life is meeting up with an old friend. Just a few short days from now, I will be meeting up with an old friend, Calico Trail Run. I am nowhere near as ready as I wanted to be. My hope is merely to cross the finish line.(And beside all that, I need a good place to hold my pack's retirement party. My Ultimate Direction Wink is on its last legs.)

2013

2014

 2015

2016 

Calico Trail Race 2014

Sunday, I ran my 6th straight Calico 30k trail race.  Worried a bit about my foot making the difficult terrain, I didn’t dwell on this fear.  Instead, I merely figured it would be my long run, I’d take in some awesome scenery, and if need be, I’d walk on in if my foot couldn’t take the pain.  I had all the time in the world in my eyes, as about 100 runners were running a 50k instead of the 30k.

I stayed with my family just outside of town in one of the two available bunkhouses.  Had some great family times.  Then I woke throughout the night as the boys went absolutely crazy, running about and such. 

Awake at 5:30 AM, I walked to the Start Line in town at 6 AM.  My nerves were calm.  I said “Hi” and talked briefly with friends.  I looked forward to my “long run,” though I didn’t really look forward to fighting against the honorable DFL.  So, I just threw that idea out of my mind. 

The Walk:

I took off on the downhill asphalt road out of Calico feeling good.  My pace was very decent.  The atmosphere was festive.  I didn’t chat like I usually do.  I literally looked to the ground and simply ran.  My mind was blank.  Occasionally, I said “hello,” as a runner passed.  Occasionally, I took my eyes off the desert floor and took in the quiet, immense desert beauty.   

I ran like this (head down, blank mind) for the first seven miles.  The sand was thick, I ran off the trail where the dirt was more solid.  I arrived to the first aid alone.  I was told there were about 6 runners behind me.  But I found that hard to believe – I didn’t see a single soul behind me.  I stayed maybe 30 seconds and was off to the next aid about 5 miles away.

Little by little, I began to lift my eyes from the trail.  And as the rocks turned greens and blues, the earth hardened beneath my feet.  I popped two advil before mile ten.  And when I reached mile ten, I cheered inside knowing I was more than half way. 

When the ground grew rocky, my heart grew fonder.  It was like stream crossing (without the water).  Actually, it’s also like a chess game maneuvering across the boulders and rocks.  One must think several moves ahead to make the run smooth. 

I felt cramping coming on in my calves.  Kept them at bay with some salt pills.  Except for the occasional Search and Rescue that drove by, I felt absolutely alone in this rainbow desert.  I spent very little time at the aid stations.  Once I took a rock out of my shoe. 

I snapped pictures frequently (yes, a new camera!).  But I never once stopped to click a photo.  All my pictures were taken on the run.  So fortunate was I to find that many were in focus. 

With four miles remaining, and the most difficult part of this race remaining, I knew that if I was going to pass anyone, it would be during this portion.  Why?  Well, if a runner hasn’t gone through those last few miles before, the terrain is just so shockingly difficult, that even the experienced runner slows tremendously. 

Somewhere in the middle of this rocky canyon, I came upon three or four jeeps with people trying to figure if they could make it further.  One of the women stood outside of her car, looked at me and exclaimed, “Oh my God!  You are . . . You are . . .”

To which I responded, “Insane.”  And she said, “Yes, insane.”  And we both laughed as I continued on past her, hoping still to pass at least one runner. 

 The Final Stretch:

And then, the end became very near . . . and I grew giddy.  But not too giddy, because that’s when I fall.

And then I passed my first runner, at approximately mile 17.

And then quickly afterward, I passed two more runners.  But one of them, a female would not give up on catching me.  Finally, as I ran through the parking lot, I phoned my husband who was up above in town.  He could see me and waved.  I asked about the girl behind me, “How far is she?”  You see, I refuse to look back.  Looking back gives the runner strength to catch you.  I know it gives me strength when the runner up front looks back.  Hubby reported on her distance and her demeanor and I felt confident to rest up and go for a strong power hike for a few minutes.  And then at last, I slowly made my way up the back service road, ran into town and down to the finish line. 

In the end, I did not fall.  I experienced no anguish.  I did not cry.  My foot survived.  I survived.  And nine, yes NINE runners came in behind me. 

I am so glad that I went ahead with this race.  I feel like this marks the beginning of my comeback.  What a fantastic long run! (It measured 19.76 miles on my garmin).

Thus ends my SHORT version of my 6th Calico Trail Race.