I don’t know where to start with this race. Step 2 in terms of redemption (step 1 was Waldo in 2018). Definitely hit some high highs and some low lows. But 100 miles is life in a day. I’m not sure if I was prepared mentally or physically. I had a vague plan and drop bags; no crew or pacer. Life had been tough and I couldn’t handle the logistical stress.
How about we start with Friday evening in Williams, OR. It’s a proper ultra event – bib pickup, a shared meal, and a race briefing. Such a wonderful feeling of community spirit. Reminds me of why I love this sport. The course description scares me. There is a mention of a “surprise” at Wagner Butte. Would love to think it’s a smiling volunteer with cookies but in ultras, a “surprise” is never a good thing. Back at my AirBnB, I write the distance between aid stations on my arm in black Sharpie.
Bus ride to the start line. Except that the bus decides it doesn’t want to drive down the dirt road. Instead we hitch a ride in the back of a pick-up, true ultrarunner fashion. Ashland or bust. Still slightly dark as it nears the 6am start. I have my flashlight with fresh batteries ready. Hal sends us on our way with a brief downhill on the fireroad before starting a very long climb.
Roughly the first 10ish miles of Pine to Palm climb up to the top of Greyback Mountain. The sun begins to rise as I follow the congo line up the trail. Remind myself that there is a long way to go and let the initial congo line press ahead at a fast clip. I’ll catch them later. Mix shuffling and hiking. Chat with my fellow runners. At least the climb is beautiful single track. Nearing the top and I should really keep my eyes on the trail – I take an easy fall. Maybe a slight scratch, additional nerves but nothing serious.
Downhill to the first aid station, roughly mile 15. Yes, this race is for real. The volunteers boost my spirits after that fall and I take off. This section is mild and I am going to run. Maybe not the smartest choice but I take advantage of the slightly downhill fireroad. I catch the lady ahead of me and we chat for awhile. Pass by a weed farm – yes that kind of weed. Before I know it we’re at the next aid station. More easy fireroad to the following aid station. I let myself fly, knowing there is hiking ahead.
Next aid station and time to climb up to Stein Butte. The day is heating up and sweat trickles down my back as I power hike. I pass a few guys and leapfrog/chat with one on this exposed section. An aid station on top with a kind dog who licks the salt off my legs as I down the pink koolaid. Can’t waste too much time so hiking turns into shuffling as the grade evens out. Then shuffling turns into careful running as I give back the elevation gain.
My spirits are high when I hit Squaw Lake. I drop my pack for a loop around the lake – it is beautiful. Reminds me of the lakes in Colorado. Time to leave the cooler lake air behind. A mix of hiking and running as the climb toward Squaw Peak begins. I drop my pack again for the out-and-back up to Squaw peak, grab my flag and fly back down. Execute my plan – replace contacts with glasses, pack new batteries, have some pink koolaid, and some hot quesadilla.
My mental state is still in check as I follow the fireroad to the next aid station. A relatively mild section. I check my flashlight – batteries are still solid before continuing the climb up to Dutchman’s Peak. The sun is beginning to set over the mountains. If only I had a camera. I can tell I’m getting closer to the top when the cars become more frequent. I forgot that Dutchman’s Peak is a pacer pickup location. The final switchbacks are mentally tough when I can see the aid station lights ahead.
Dutchman’s Peak AS is an oasis. Lights, music, hot food. Broth with quinoa. The best thing I’ve had all day. Scoop up the remaining quinoa with a homemade peanut butter cookie while the volunteer asks if I need a spoon. Nope. This gets a good laugh. New batteries in my flashlight and time to go. The sun has set and it is dark. A wind picks up as I head through the parking lot. I piggy-back on someone’s crew who kindly hold my pack while I put on my long-sleeve.
Using my flashlight, I make my way along the single-track trail. Then things start to get hairy. A few minutes and I jerk myself awake. I didn’t realize it was possible to fall asleep while moving on the trail. This section is runnable but I can’t stay awake well enough to run. I stumble along to the next AS as I realize this is part of the SOB course. Tell the volunteers that I can’t seem to stay awake but they tell me I’m moving really well and to just keep hiking. After filling one bottle with Coke, sadly skipping the Fireball, and a cup of noodles in my hand, they kick me out.
Still struggling to stay awake and with some pain behind my left knee, the next stretch of trail is slow and tough. The sloshing of the Coke as I run means my first few sips come back out through my nose. Weird – usually Coke works well as rocket fuel and keeps me wired. Not today. After an eternity, I can hear the sounds of the next aid station on the other side of the ridge. But the trail continues to twist and turn or maybe it was my addled brain hallucinating an aid station.
Finally Grouse Gap aid station. Another lifeline. I take a seat and wonder if I should drop here. The volunteers are kind and tell me I’m moving really well and can’t sit down too long. Change of batteries in my flashlight, a homemade chocolate vegan rice krispie treat, pull espresso beans from my drop bag. The volunteers raise my spirits and I promise to leave after my back-up watch finds the satellites. 20 miles left, 10 to the next aid. Soon after I leave the aid station, I’m once more struggling to stay awake. Eat some espresso beans. Doesn’t really help.
This section traverses the split rock trail and I’m so thankful to have run this section at SOB in July. Helps with navigation when I’m tired in the dark. Unfortunately after split rock trail, the climb up Wagner Butte begins. A few guys pass me with pacers and words of encouragement. I drink more Coke and eat some M&Ms to try to stay awake. Near the peak, the trail gets confusing. All I see is a rock outcrop. Where are the flags? Eventually, I look up. Flashlight in my mouth and hoping I don’t die, I scramble/rock climb to the top. Yep, this is a true ultra “surprise.” Maybe I curse at Hal a few times. Put the flag in my pack and pray as I scramble back down.
Downhill from here to Weasel Creek. Power hike. Shuffle if I can keep myself awake. Try not to trip on the rocks and roots. So thankful when the single-track drops me onto the fireroad at Weasel Creek Aid Station. Execute my plan: change flashlight batteries, check water levels, and eat hot food. No hot food. Eat potato chips. I am going to finish this thing. 10 miles of gradual downhill fireroad left.
I begin to wake up as the sun slowly starts to rise. I’m actually running again (well alternating running and hiking). There really is something about a second sunrise. I’m close to tears with the knowledge that I’m going to finish and possibly finish first female. Past the table at about mile 95 with emergency water but no need to stop. Then I hit a fork. Hitt road right or left. My addled brain isn’t sure. My high drops to an immediate low (life in a day!). I run a little in each direction and don’t see any markings. Right or left. Right or left? Finally I decide on left – the marker at the fork is possibly angled in that direction. My knee is acting up but I am so thankful when I do spot a marker. The main thought going through my head is “I just want to be done.”
The dirt trail hits a road and I know I must be close. The steep pavement is tough on my tired legs. One step closer to finishing. And I am going to finish. Just keep hoping that the 2nd female doesn’t catch me in these last few miles. Not another August 9 Trails moment. Then I can hear people. And see people. And no, I’m not hallucinating. Force my walk into a shuffle down the final stretch of road and through the finish line. Redemption – yes, I can still finish 100 miles. Now to find a nice piece of pavement to crash and cheer on the remaining finishers.
A big thank you to all of the amazing volunteers at Pine to Palm – you were my crew, especially the kind people at Dutchman’s Peak and Grouse Gap aid stations. Thank you to Hal, for directing one amazing 100 mile race. A major thank you to my training partners, in Portland and beyond – getting to the start line is at least half the fun. Thank you to the kind spectators at the finish line who let me camp out with them in the parking lot post-race. I love being able to make all kinds of new friends at ultras.
Trail Distractions 