I left town Friday afternoon and when I arrived, the skies were thankfully blue, with only a few dark clouds far away. Last year it stormed before and during the race and was a muddy mess.
After dinner and chatting, we headed back to the cabin and stayed up late playing Jenga and talking. Before bed I ate half of my next-morning breakfast PB&J, given the barely-sauced pasta had already burned off.
In the morning Tia was up and ready before my alarm even went off; she said she couldn't sleep.
We both were still debating whether to take trekking poles with us during the race (it had been the source of much research, discussion and self-debate for both of us leading up to the race). We both decided they would be too cumbersome coming back down the hill. I ate my sad half PB sandwich ate my celery (it calms my nerves and tummy) and drank half of a protein shake.
At the start line it was plenty warm and I didn't even need my arm sleeves; the tank was enough. Candice and Tom showed up on the countdown. I had been pretty nervous for them. We didn't get a picture together and I was sad about that while starting the race.
Tom is first and I'm trying to keep up with him but also thinking that he should slow down because he doesn't know about the big miserable climb he has ahead. We lose Candice and look back. She yells at us to go ahead, that she's not going to try and keep up.
The trail continues to climb through wildflower meadows, switchbacking and skirting the treeline.
It crosses one stream, and then another. The trail is pretty rocky and requires coordinated steps and hops from one unstable rock to another. Me and Tom are already working hard, really too hard; I can hear him gasping and so am I. At about mile 3 I mention to him that the middle half of this race is the hardest and he should save some for that. He slows down a little, but not much.
We continue through the trees, always climbing, power hiking on the big hills. I think Tom is really surprised at how difficult it is to actually run up here!
I tell Tom "here we go!" The trail flags and signs turn us right, and straight up. Straight. And we have to walk. No, we have to take 10 steps and stop to gasp. But its ok, because so does everyone else. Everyone. No one runs here. A quarter of a mile takes forever. And when you look back down the hill, you see everyone either taking slow, uphill baby steps, OR they're stopped with their hands on their hips, trying to breathe. There are runners coming down the hill toward us, but they are the 100K'ers, on a loop of their course that is different than ours but crosses paths. They look at us in pity, they know what it feels like. Most of them call out 'good work' or 'good job' or 'baby steps' or 'it'll be more fun coming back down.' I also see the 75 year old man ahead of me.
I chat with a nice guy from L.A. who is here with his girlfriend running the race. He's dripping sweat and his face is green but we have about the same uphill pace so we stick together and keep chatting about him backpacking the Toiyabe and Toquima Mountains and my Antelope 55K Race.
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| My L.A. friend just behind me, Tom further back |
I look back and Tom isn't even within sight. I've forgotten how tough this uphill climb is. I can tell when I push too hard because I start getting a little nauseated. Thats my cue to back it off a bit. I pass the 75 year old man but not very much; he can move!
At mile 6 we reach the peak of Delano, YAY! I spend more time than I should, a full 10 minutes probably, taking pictures and watching the 100K'ers come up the back side of the peak.
I turn back down the hill and can see my L.A. friend way ahead of me. I make him my target (a fun race tactic) and start chasing. I meet Tom and Candice a little way down the hill and he's very pale. They're still on their way up so I wish them well and apologize to Tom and then start my chase down the hill again.
We make it back to the aid station, about mile 8.5, at the same time and I notice that she's going to stop to refill her water bladder. Mine is one drink before empty but, gosh dang it, I want to give myself a little space to stay ahead of her! I grab a pretzel, a swig of coke, guzzle a cup of water, and I get out of there.
Who's ahead of me on the trail now? None other than Mr. 75 year old man. He's wearing khaki cargo shorts (not even running clothes), white tube socks, a cotton tshirt, and dirty old white tennis shoes. I catch up to him after a few minutes and I just have to ask, in my most calm sounding gasp, "Whats your secret?" He laughs and says, "Well, lets see. Don't give up?" He asks me what my secret is and I'm gasping for air so he answers for me "Healthy eating. Plenty of exercise." He says he trains on the hills behind his home. He's amazing! I want to be him someday.
I pull ahead of him a ways and look back to see the girl in the blue shirt behind me. I can't run any faster so I concentrate on keeping my effort at 99.9 percent. The sun is out and its pretty hot. I take my last drink and get that panicked feeling when you're out of water but don't know if you're really thirsty or not.
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| Should I drink it? |
It's mile 11 and I see the cabin within sight. The girl with the blue shirt is no where in sight. I'm all alone, both behind me and ahead of me.
I see the ski lifts and the big dirt hill and I know I am NOT going to be able to run up it. I power walk as fast as my nausea will let me. I want to be able to run across the finish line. I get to the top and hear cheering. I run but its really slow and heavy. I cross and am so grateful its over!
3 hours 34 minutes
The next runner across is the girl in the blue shirt, two minutes after me. Tia comes in at 3:53, Tom at 4:04, and Candice at 4:16. The winning female ran it in 3:07. I'm 5th in womens, 12th overall. It's fun to know where you place. What can be achieved. I enjoy the race.
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