7/9/2019
The theme of my 2019 races continues. My drive to Ashland, OR consists of thoughts on how many miles I actually plan to finish the next day. Definitely not 62.2, maybe 20 would be enough. There are still other races this year to run as a WS qualifier.
The 100k starts at 5am. I eat my peanut butter toast and make the drive up the mountain. I don’t have the normal pre-race nerves. Not because I’m feeling confident in my training but because I just don’t feel like racing. It’s still dark when the race officials send us on our way. Using my flashlight, I’m thankful we are starting on the fireroad and it won’t be long before the sun comes up. Force myself to run on this run-able section.
My mind still hasn’t gotten itself back on track yet. I’m still contemplating how many miles before I drop. Maybe getting in a 50k would be enough. No need to go up Time Warp. The scenery is stunning but even that can’t boost my mood. The first aid station or two come and go. A piece of banana and an oreo.
Eventually the single-track trail drops me on a fireroad which starts climbing. I start hiking – I have no motivation to run uphill. Art catches up with me during this climb and we hike together for awhile. Uphill fireroad turns to uphill single-track. We mix running and hiking. His company motivates me to at least keep up. The trail starts to wind back on itself (this section of the race is a lolly pop loop).
Uphill turns to downhill, along with single-track reverting back to fire-road. Art and I bomb down this section. I’m not sure this is a good idea but I’m also still considering a 50k rather than a 100k and therefore don’t care enough to slow down. We do slow a little when we hit the single-track with beautiful views and slightly more technical footing.
Maria appears at the next aid station – she is actually running the 50k. Art stops to talk with her and retrieve some gear from his drop bag. He encourages me to keep going. I know that if I stop too long, I might not start again so I take his advice. A gradual single-track climb where I struggle to do more than a hike. Just one foot in front of the other and maybe I’ll drop at the next aid station.
More oreos and some pink kool-aid when I arrive. One of the volunteers tells me he thinks I’m first female. I find that hard to believe when I’ve been considering dropping since the race started. But it does boost my mood and convinces me to at least run to the next aid station rather than drop with a 50k finish.
The next section of trail is very technical and I learn that it is also part of the Pine to Palm course (but it’ll likely be dark when I reach the trail in that race). Lots of rock-hopping. Short, steep ups and downs. A split rock where I would have gotten lost if not for two guys ahead of me. We are leap-frogging on this section. I need to remember this spot in September.
Exposed single-track turns shady as the trail slants downhill. Steep. With switchbacks. I’m feeling decent and push my pace as much as I can without the risk of falling. The faster I finish this section, the more likely I am to continue. The single-track ends abruptly at the next aid station. Apparently downhill fireroad for the next stretch. Might as well keep going – I’m starting to enjoy bombing downhill.
But all good things must end. Miles of downhill begin to shift to miles of uphill. My mood has improved and I try to take this in stride. One of the lead 50 milers passes me on this section and I’m careful to remain on the 100k course. Another loop ahead with a warning to watch for something unusual on the course to discourage short-cutting.
I switch to hiking on the steep switchbacks. Steep enough that running will only waste energy. As I reach the crest, I can tell my stomach is feeling off. I should be running this downhill. Except that whenever I try to run, I get a pain in my gut. The downhill turns into a death march back to the aid station. I can’t remember if there is a bathroom and hoping they have ginger ale.
No bathroom. I drink some ginger ale and hope that it calms my stomach. At least the next section is uphill and I can still hike. A very uncomfortable five or so miles later, I reach the next aid station and head straight for the port-a-potty. My stomach has never failed me like this before in a race.
For some unknown reason, I decide I need to finish this race. Maybe cheese will settle my stomach. Some quesadilla and ginger ale (why did I turn down the Fireball?! – that probably would have been the fix!) before leaving the aid station at a shuffle. Less than half a mile and that stabbing pain in my gut is back. The shuffle reverts to a hike. Not sure how or why I reach the final aid station. My mood has tanked after getting passed by multiple people on the flatter sections of the fireroad.
The remaining miles are essentially the climb up Time Warp. At least almost everyone else is stuck hiking this section. I actually pass one or two people on this climb. Time Warp is a mountain bike trail complete with serious camber and speed bumps. Near the top of the climb, there is actually snow. I guess we are near 8000ft. But the snow brings navigation difficulties and this section is poorly marked. I try not to get frustrated as I continually have to guess whether or not I’m taking the correct turn.
When I finally reach the peak, I wander and curse for awhile until the guy behind me catches up and actually finds the trail. More of a ski slope really. I follow him with a half-hearted attempt at a run. Nope. Too much pain. I try not to cry (or curse) as I hike down the very steep side of the mountain. Questioning my life decisions. Finally, I can hear people and see the finish line. I push myself to shuffle as I can hear someone coming up behind me and I am not going to get passed at the finish line. I thank the volunteers and immediately ask where the bathroom is. Fix myself up enough to cheer those friends still out on the course.
Trail Distractions 