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.

Twin Peaks Ultra 2014

To bed at 8:30 PM Friday, I woke to a 2:30 AM alarm Saturday morning.  Less than an hour after the bars closed I was on the road, spotting more than one drunk driver, on my way around The Saddleback Mountains, to Indian Truck Trail in Corona.  Total drive time: 1 hour.

4:30 AM Briefing for early starters (photo courtesy Michael Perlongo):

I set up the mountain in the dark in my quest to conquer Twin Peaks Ultra   mostly alone.  But I had the company of a lovely lady for a while.  When she told me that she had run Nanny Goat, I jokingly replied, “That’s good, you know all about suffering then.”  She said, “No.  I had lots of fun.”  It’s then that I wanted to take her by the shoulders, look her in the eyes and warn her, “You are going to go to a Dark Place today.  DON’T WORRY.  It’s going to be OKAY.  You will get through it, and you will be better for it.”  Instead, I told her, “Just remember, you have all the time in the world.”  Since we were both intent on the 50k, we really did have all the time in the world, well, all the time that the fifty milers had – and that was good enough. 

The first leg of Twin Peaks Ultra is about 7 miles long, all uphill, along Indian Truck Trail, a dirt road over-looking Riverside County.  How did I feel?  I felt neutral.  I felt no fear; I was not anxious.  I was in “one-step-in-front-of-the-other” mode.  I reached The Main Divide in about two hours with cheerful aid station workers, and one lovely lady stating, “It’s Lauren on the Run.”  I cannot tell you how strange that feels.  People read this blog.  And when they see me, they smile.  I find that strange and odd.

The second leg was a short distance of rolling hills along The Main Divide, about three miles.  At 9 miles in from the start, the front runners who started at 6:00 AM began to pass me.  I ran much of this portion alone however, and it blessed me with tranquility. 

I met my friend (Chimera, Old Goat, race director), Steve Harvey at mile ten where he manned the Horsethief aid station.  I made my stop quick knowing what hell awaited me.   I met up with Greg Hardesty, on my descent, who took this awesome picture of me slightly loosing my balance as I made my way into Trabuco Canyon: 

This third leg of Twin Peaks entailed about five miles of very technical terrain (Horsethief and Trabuco Trails).  I took much of the Horsethief portion slower than I wanted, mainly because I feared falling on the fist sized rocks that rolled beneath my feet, and also because I needed to step aside for runners to pass.  This trail is a true single-track, with no room to pass. 

I reached Holy Jim, slightly slower than than I intended.  Still, I felt no anxiety.  As I told the lady on the way up, “We had all the time in the world.”  And looking at this run as the first long run in getting back to shape, helped a great deal.  This notion kept my usual evil negative talk at bay. 

The 4th leg, the Holy Jim leg, consisted of five miles uphill switch-back.  I cannot tell you how many times I have climbed Holy Jim. I have had good times, and I have had disastrous times with that monster.  But it has always, always been beautiful.  One person at the trailhead told me he had seen my video of a prior Twin Peaks and thanked me for the info.  I met another lady at the aid station who said the same.  I always feel a little embarrassed when someone tells me they saw my video or read my blog.  It’s like I feel I need to “measure up,” like they expect something better than I am.  And I am so not better than I am. . 

Anyway, I stocked up with calories at Leon Gray’s station in the Holy Jim lot and trotted into the canyon behind several of the regular starters who were now approaching by greater numbers.  (Mind you, this was a mountain trail race, so by greater numbers, I mean don’t mean very many – only 79 people ran this race).

My first steps onto Holy Jim:

Those five miles up Holy Jim were a bear.  I saw friends who passed me on the way up.  Their encouraging words helped some.  Still, I felt miserable.  Weak, and totally unable to move with any speed whatsoever, I felt some solace over the fact that I had all the time in the world.   And I felt solace in the fact that I knew every bend in the road, and exactly when it was all going to end.

It took me two hours to climb Holy Jim.  My best time (I think) is 1 1/2 hours.  My worst time is around 2:15.  This was one of the worst times.  But I was not a wreck when I reached the top.  Still determined to finish this thing out, I felt confident that I would recover enough to reach the peak. 

On my way up The Main Divide, I passed four runners hovering over a map, and asked if they needed help.  They had already reached the peak and were unsure where to turn on the down trip.  I told them to turn onto Holy Jim and could have sworn that I read doubt in their eyes.  So I said, “Trust me.  I may come in last, but I know these trails by heart.  I know this course by heart.  Turn down Holy Jim, run back up to Horsethief . . .  Trust me.”

After these departing words, I began leg 5 of Twin Peaks Ultra – a three mile, uphill trek to Santiago Peak. 

I wish that I had the words to adequately describe the pure and utter hell that awaited me on leg five of this ultra.  It was only three miles.  But I think I could have travelled those same three miles faster if I were to have dropped to the ground and rolled up to the peak.  I was not in physical pain.  Sure the bottom of my feet ached a bit.  The plantar fasciitis in my left heel was hinting its way back.  Overall, I was okay physically and mentally – I was just utterly, UTTERLY exhausted.   

The hellish leg five mainly consisted of exposed, rocky truck trail with a relentless incline.  I was alone for the first 1.5 miles, and therefore resorted to mind games to keep me moving.  “Where do you think a half mile ends?” I asked myself, and then forbade myself from looking my garmin until I reached my guessed point.  I came up short each time, .3 of a mile, .45.  Doh!  But the game kept me going.  Somewhere in here I began texting my husband.  I needed something outside myself to help pass the excruciating slowly passing time.  Thank God I had service and was able to communicate somewhat with hubby.  He was so positive.  Oddly, I had this terrible desire to convey what I really couldn’t convey, and that was, I WAS IN HELL. 

About half way through this leg, I came to a flat portion and found very little strength to even trot it.  But up the next incline, I saw my friend Emmett Rahl.  What a welcome relief!  Coming down from the Peak, leg five had done him in as well, which made him decide to opt out of the 50 miler for the 50k.  I felt sad to hear this, as he had conveyed his desire to complete the 50 miler.  Regardless, I cannot tell you how much a friendly face helped on the course at this point.  Emmett pressed his ice filled hand-helds against my cheeks to cool my face, and I was off again, on again, with Santiago Peak in my heart.  That’s the only thing I wanted in the world right then – SANTIAGO PEAK.

Runners coming down from the peak told me about ice, and Reese’s candies, and great food that awaited me at the top.  I really didn’t care about anything except for the agony to stop.  I don’t know how I was able to put one foot in front of the other.  Passing a group of hunters drinking Corona beers, I was tempted to stop and drink a beer with them.  We chatted as I tromped by, and somehow I kept on going.  I saw a tree that I recognized, and I remembered that last time I came up this trail a LONG time ago, it had many more leaves.  And then I saw this:

The sight of the towers nearly broke me down.  I teared up, overwhelmed with relief.  The end of my misery was near, so, so, near, but at the same time, so gosh dang far!!!  Just a little bit longer, about a half mile, and I had this treacherous race in the bag.  I picked up my step some, and then lo-and-behold, another friend, Randall Tolosa, came up from behind me.  We made that last miserable part of the trek together, thankfully, as he kept my mind off the pure torture that I was enduring. 

At last!  Paradise achieved! 

At Santiago Peak I refilled my hydration pack with water, ice and Nuun tablets.  I guzzled three or four small cups of iced cola.  I ate a handful of potato chips, and I shoved a Reese’s two-pack into my pocket.  Now normally, I would never allow myself to eat two whole Reese’s to myself guilt-free.  Not so running down from the peak.  I ate both of them before the first mile off the peak had ended.

Heading down from the peak, I saw the lady whom I had wanted to warn about The Dark Place as we headed up the mountain so many hours ago.  I could tell from her face, she was in that Dark Place.  Yet, still she smiled.  That’s what keeps us coming back I guess.  We go to that Dark Place, and we still smile.  I barely recognized her, as we had met in darkness.  She wore a hat now, and she agreed with me that the trek to the peak was “quite difficult”  (those were her words, my words were not so nice).   I also saw a young man, a slender young man, suffering terribly as he made his way to the peak.  He didn’t manage a smile.  I assured him that paradise awaited. And it really did.  I can’t think of anything that equates to the relief of finally reaching the peak, except for giving birth.  Yes, giving birth!.  The whole process is so terribly painful, and all you want is for it all to end.  And then finally, after so, so, so long of suffering, you are there – standing at the peak, or laying there with baby in arms. 

I headed down The Main Divide, then Upper Holy Jim cautiously, yet excitedly.  All I had to do was not twist my ankle or break any bones for ten miles.  Upper Holy Jim provided breathtaking views with steep, rocky and slippery terrain.  A couple of runners were making their way back to the peak for the fifty miler.  One of them shouted out to me, “Thanks for saving us earlier!”  He was one of the four guys I pointed out the way to at Holy Jim.  I smiled and told him how I thought they weren’t going to trust me, when to my surprise he hollered, “No!  I read your blog.  Great job, by the way, keep it up.”  That was the lifter I needed to carry on. 

Homeward Bound:

My goal down Indian Truck Trail, the last seven miles of this event, was to maintain a 15 minute mile.  I maintained between a 13 and 17 minute mile (downhill – 17 minute!!!).  I was that tired.  About a mile into the last leg, my phone rang.  Yes, my phone rang.  Without glasses, I answered the call blindly.  It was my friend Hank who had gone onward to work on the 50 miles.  He was hoping that I had finished the race because he was encountering some trouble on Horsethief (The man eater!).  To avoid telling his story before he does, I’ll just say that I worried a great deal.  I phoned Steve who manned the station at the top of Horsethief.  I didn’t get through but was able to leave a message.  Then after several attempts, and a great slow down on my part, I was finally able to reach Hank again by phone, and learned that he was coping. 

I finally crossed the finish line of Twin Peaks Ultra, the 50k option.  So happy am I that I decided to show up.  25k trained, I ran a 50k trail race with 11,000’ of elevation gain.  I feel like I gained a whole new family.  Twin Peaks is in my blood for good now.

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.