It was pretty cool at the start, and really it stayed that way all day. We had some cloud cover during the day to protect us from the sun. I didn’t even put on my sunglasses until mile 20 or so. I ran with my giraffe Moeben sleeves and my new (thanks DP!) Buff the whole time. I had hurt my Achilles 4 weeks prior to the race, and had taken 3 weeks off to let it heal. My only important goal for this race was to finish un-injured. And the finishing part of that was optional, depending on how it went.
I opted to parasite light from other runners at the 6 a.m. start rather than carrying my own headlamp. It worked out, but probably only because Mark ran with me the first six miles. (translation – I got lucky.) Without a light, crossing the several cattle guards would have been asking for disaster. I didn’t think about the cattle guards. After about 40 minutes of running, light seeped into the hills, and we could see where we were going. About that same time, my Achilles started to hurt in protestation of running uphill on pavement – this is NOT GOOD. I kept quiet about it for a little while, trying to decide what I should do, and what I should say to Mark. I wanted to run with him for the day because he and I have the EXACT SAME long run pace and we have fun running together, but now I felt like I needed the freedom to take breaks and go slowly. After Steve drifted off up the road ahead of us, we met up with a woman, and she and Mark got to talking. At the Junction station, where we transition to dirt jeep road for 26 miles, I told Mark to go ahead without me. I was concerned that if he stayed with me, I’d get pulled along, and go faster/harder than I should with my Achilles hurting. Plus, I wanted him to have a good race, and not worry about me. I stopped. I stretched. I did some downward facing dog. Some spectators waiting for their runner complimented me on my giraffe patterned sleeves and gaiters. (hee hee!)
Back down the hill, I was behind a hesitant woman and had to wait until the trail leveled out a bit to pass her. Running feels really good, and everyone I see is smiling and enjoying their run through the woods in the mountains. We all exchange good jobs and nice mornings and looking goods. It’s only mile 14, this is the part of the race that everyone feels good! I run into DP right at the point where you can see the stone arch and cave entrance, and point them out to her. She looks good, and happy. Very cool to be able to share the day with friends.
Back on the main jeep road, I’m directed back up hill. I hike with Gil, a nice guy, for awhile. We get into Hilltop station, and I am in and out quickly after dropping my spibelt. Gil exits with me and we stay together for a little while, talking over tri’s and other races. He runs more of the uphills than I do, and then I pass him on the down hills. Then he stops running the uphills. After a long descent, I don’t see him any longer.
The course crossed the North Percha, the creek is low enough that hopping on stones gets me across without wetting my feet. (The pile of burning leaves set by the small homestead here here is not my favorite thing, and the smoke hangs in this valley.) From here, the jeep road is poorly maintained. Washed and rutted, and pretty uneven, the road is rolling more vigorously uphill. In several areas, the view is nice, showing the hilly country that surrounds us. Hike, hike, hike, the uphills. My hips aren’t aching anymore, everything seems to have settled into place for the day. At several points, I am so thankful that I am out here, breathing deeply. I stop when I want – to marvel at the thick trunked alligator juniper, to look at a creek, to listen to bird rustlings. And then I get to keep going. Running in the wilderness is marvelous and refreshing.
Finally I am on a steep uphill that I am sure will top out at the Vista station. It goes on for awhile, and the race leaders pass me bombing down on their way to the finish. At last, I spot the aid station and am greeted by Ed Heller. He says I’m doing pretty well. I feel pretty good, and stretch my Achilles while Ed tells me about the steep downhill and icy patches to come. I grab an Ensure and a handful of Doritos (yum!) and head out. Ed wasn’t kidding, the downhill is steep and filled with small loose rocks that slide out from underfoot. But I run down it anyway. At the bottom, I slide on an icy patch – nope, he wasn’t kidding about that either. The course is slightly rocky forest floor – some needles, some leaves, some rocks. Pretty nice to run on, and fairly flat. I should be seeing Mark around here. I see one guy that I know was ahead of Mark. Then a long gap… then one guy that I’m pretty sure was a ways behind Mark and several other runners. Ahead I see a few guys around a campfire. “That can’t be the turnaround/cave creek aid station… where’s Mark?” The scouts at the fire confirm that this is the turnaround. And they confirm that Mark has not been through yet.
Oh no, Mark’s off course.
I explain it to them, and figure that 1.) Mark’s a smart guy, he’ll figure it out, and 2.) I have no idea how to find him, and 3.) I’ve done what I can and alerted the volunteers that at least one person went off course. So I turn around and head back down the course, pointed toward the finish. I stop and adjust my race number, wondering all the time where Mark went off course, and where he is. About ½ mile after the turnaround, 6 or 7 runners are heading toward me with Mark in the middle. “Bonus miles?” I ask. “yup” he says, and they are running pretty quickly by me. I figure it will be no time at all until they catch me back up. I manage to drink about ½ my Ensure before I hit the hill. The treacherous uphill takes a bit to climb up, but I hike it steadily. At the top and Vista station, there’s DP again. I repeat Ed’s words of wisdom to me about the steep downhill and icy sections. We chat a little about Mark, and then I head out with a mini coke and Doritos in hand. (see first photo in the post.) My PhD professor used to give me grief for eating such food, but anything that sounds good to me during a long race I think is well deserved. I feel really good at this point. It’s mile 22.6, and I feel fresh, if that can be believed. So much hiking on the first half must be paying off. It occurs to me that I have only seen about 6 women in front of me. Hey that’s kind of cool! I catch a few people as I run downhill – chatting for awhile each time. There’s a woman in front of me, and she seems determined to stay away – she keeps looking back and taking off. This is fine with me, I was never in this race to compete. The Percha crossing comes really quickly. I find myself running between a couple of faces that are familiar now. We chat, and now that the course is more downhill than uphill, I’m running consistently and a very decent pace. I hike the uphill to Hilltop station, drop the empty can and swap the remainder of my Doritos for a handful of fritos. Yum. And I head out, still feeling excellent. The miles I’ve done are resting easily in my legs. I can’t believe it. My Achilles is not hurting. So I keep running. What a relief.
I catch up with Ed (tall Ed) and we talk about the race, how pretty it is. We talk over the other ultras we’ve done – he’s done the Jemez 50 mile, I’ve done the 50K there. I recommend the Caldera Marathon. He finds out I’ve signed up for Leadville, and turns out he’s done it, so we talk about that for awhile. At one point, he says we’re on pace to finish under 8 hours. To which I exclaim – no way! I hadn’t looked at my watch all day. After my Achilles started hurting at the beginning, I gave up on all time goals. But Ed was right, we we’re on track to beat even my most optimistic goal. Wahoo! On a flattish section, he decides to walk for a bit, so we wish each other luck. I have to struggle here not to turn around looking for Mark. I am sure he’s going to catch me, and the urge to look behind me to see if he’s there is hard to resist! I never look behind me in races to see who is there. It seems like a waste to me, I can only run my own race. I’m not competitive, so why get amped up over something I’m not going to do anything about? I do resist the urge, and finally come to peace with it. I hike up the hill between me and Stone Hut station, and catch first the woman that has been struggling to stay ahead (she was not talkative), and then Vernes on the way. We talk a bit about ultras compared to marathons. He bemoans the hills that remain. He and I have passed each other quite a bit in this last half – he going wildly downhill, and I passing him on the uphills. It’s the same here, I outpace him fairly quickly hiking. I tell him I’m sure I’ll see him again with all the downhills in front of us. Sure enough, on the descent into Stone Hut he catches me up just in time to complain about the short out and back to the aid station (1/10th of a mile). We come into the aid station together, I pick up my camera thinking I might want it at the end to get a picture of DP. I leave everything else, thinking that I haven’t eaten as much as I should have. But I still feel great, and now I am ready to get to the last road section.
I head out with Vern, and on the downhills he quickly leaves me behind with a “good luck’ exchange. The rollers here head downhill, and I’m able to run almost all of it, only walking a few uphill sections. It’s 3.3 miles to Junction station, and it goes by quickly. 30 miles goes by on my watch, and I still feel the best I have ever felt late in a race. No stomach problems, my legs and feet don’t ache deeply the way they sometimes do. Wow. I get passed by a fellow in black, who tells me we’re on the home stretch and we laugh. I roll into Junction Station and fill up my water bottle. I stop to stretch for several minutes and talk with Louie over the awesome course. I begin to think that maybe Mark isn’t going to catch me after all. Just as I am finishing up, Bobby Keogh and the competitive woman blow through the station and down the road. They look like they are moving pretty well – she must have gotten her second wind. I say goodbye to Louie and head out. Bobby starts to drop off the woman’s pace, and after a short bit (half a mile?) I catch up to him. We chat about where we’re from and he’s a bit surprised he hasn’t seen me at the races as he’s also from ABQ. We’ve really lucked out on weather, and we talk for half a mile or so. He was with the group that did the bonus miles. He mentions that the woman ahead of us has really come back – and she looks really strong in front of us about a quarter mile. She’s from Ohio, he says. He says he always dies on this section of road, that his wheels come off. We talk about compression tights, and soon catch up to Bill Hamm who at 82 (!!!) was running the double masters distance of 28. We both cheered him on, and then Bobby told me to finish strong, that I’m looking good, and dropped back.
Now, this is not my favorite section. Road is, well, a little boring, even in the ever changing landscape of the Gilas. I came to the bridge, which on the way out I had made a mental note that it was 4.5 to the finish. “Excellent!” I thought, “I can always run 4.5 miles. I’m really close!” (Leadville popped into my brain as the exception, but I banished the thought.) The woman ahead of me starts taking walk breaks. “I could walk…” I think. “But I don’t need to. Let’s just keep running. Hey, I’m doing a 9 min mile! That’s awesome for mile 35.” Slowly, I become certain that I am catching that woman ahead of me. It fires me up a bit. I’m surprised by that feeling. On one (slight) uphill part, I stop to take the above picture. Then, right back to running. As I catch up to her, I tell her we’re only 2.5 miles from the finish. The man in black is just 50 yds in front of her, and I quickly pass him too. Now I actually feel like I’m working, and I feel great. I can’t believe I’ve come 36 miles, that I feel great and am ready to run. After another half mile, a guy in red appears in front of me. He’s walk/running, and I think I’m going to catch him, too. Vernes is quite a ways in front of him, and I doubt I’ll pick him back up. I pass the guy in red, telling him “great job.” Now, I’m starting to feel it. Funny how working for only 30 minutes has tired me out, when I was going along all day feeling great. It’s a good lesson in effort expenditure. I check my watch several times. At some points, it almost feels like my legs are running of their own accord. That this is what they are meant to be doing, and they’ll keep moving no matter what I want. (a very similar feeling to what I experienced late in the bike at the Beach to Battleship Ironman.) A building appears – “oh good, Hillsboro has to be right here…” I’m still maintaining a good 9 minute mile pace, but I’m looking for that finish line. Round the next bend, I watch Vernes, still a good ways in front of me. At last, he angles off the road to the finish line. I allow myself, for the first time all day, to glance behind me. No one is close. I relax a bit and run into the finish, and am ecstatic to hear Susan say 7:44!
Wow. I estimated before I hurt my Achilles that I’d finish in 8:30, or 8:10 if it went well. After the injury and taking 3 weeks off, I thought maybe it would take me as long as 9 hours. So to come through so much faster than I expected was a huge boost. I ended up 8th woman overall. Even better, though my muscles were a bit achy as is expected, my Achilles didn’t hurt at all. That was much more important to me than finishing fast.
Post race, I thought it wise to ice my Achilles anyway, which I did. I talked the race over with Steve, who did fantastic. Bobby came over to me post race, and said he watched with awe at the way I ran the last 6 miles. “You just disappeared into the distance, you looked so strong!” That was nice to hear. He even did a kind of bow to me! I ate some soup, and was ready with my camera when Mark came in.
