Tahoe 50 mi

I arrived in Carson City in the afternoon, just in time to meet up with Sue and Eric and head over to the Nevada State Capitol building to pick up our race packets and check in. Afterwards, we piled into Sue's car to head over to the starting area to get a feel for the place. Sue and Eric wanted to hang out up at the elevation the race would be run at. I firmly believe it takes more than a few hours the day before the race to adjust to higher elevation, but who am I to stand between runners and their rituals. We drove around the lake a bit, also, and stopped for Chinese food. It's a beautiful area. A lot of runners were hanging around the hotel when we returned. I asked the front desk about breakfast. Sure, it's included with the rooms, said the nice lady at the front desk, starts at 6 a.m. Gee, you're gonna have a lot of empty tables and leftover food. We had to be up and out in the lot to meet the bus that would take us all to the start area at 4:30. We were out there just in time to see a completely packed bus close its doors and leave, as we were told a second bus would be arriving shortly. No more than 6 of us would board that second bus and arrive at the carnival-like atmosphere of the check-in area about 25 minutes later. There were a lot of people. Generators were supplying power for numerous lights. There were tents and tables everywhere. We got our numbers and were told to head over to the starting area. There we were briefed on the usual things. Follow these ribbons, watch for those obstacles. Don't forget there will be a new aid station midway on the 9 1/2 mile out and back for the 50 mile course. It is difficult to get to it, so there will only be water available there. Please don't take more than you will need to get you to the other side. There was a countdown and we were off. It had been 3 weekends since my last 50 and it would be exactly one week until my next. Reminds me of growing up Catholic. Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been 3 weeks since my last ultra. Go in peace my child. For your penance say 5 Hail Mary's, 3 Lord's Prayers, and run another 50 miler this weekend.
The plan was to go out at a pace that would leave me feeling comfortable at the end. I wanted to imagine I would be doing a second loop like the 100 milers who were there that day; part of my training for the Angeles Crest 100 in September. All was going as planned. The aid stations were fantastic. They had huge tents and outdoor carpeting. All had power and covered resting areas. One aid station was even making smoothies in a blender. They were delicious; fresh fruit like strawberries and bananas with Ensure and ice. I should have gotten the recipe. I went around the sandy loop of a trail that drops to the lowest point of the course and climbs back out again; the part of the course with the worst reputation, but I didn't find it to be all that bad. I've seen worse. I got to the aid station just prior to the out and back and filled a 20 oz. bottle that would more than cover me for a distance that was supposed to be no greater than 4 miles. At mile 4 the bottle was empty and I already knew what had happened. Some of the 100 milers who had started earlier that morning were beginning to return and tell us that there was no midway aid station. You had to get to the other side. Great. I knew I couldn't run another 5 miles in the sun with no fluids so I began to walk. By the time I got to within less than a mile of the aid station on the far side, a hiker came along and gave me a 16 oz. bottle of water. I must have looked pretty bad, or sounded really bad. I was cursing the RD for such an egregious oversight. I mean, if there wasn't going to be an aid station, just tell us. I had 3 bottles with me. I would have filled all 3 and been just fine. Does taking that bottle of water count as illegal aid in a race? Somewhere in this section I saw AK and Catra. They were looking great. I hadn't seen them since the Unknown. I think this was like their 8th 100 miler this year. Just as I got to within view of the next aid station I came across Keira. She didn't have anything nice to say about the missing aid station when I mentioned it, but seemed a bit more upbeat now. When I got to it, myself, I mentioned it in passing when they asked. They were well aware of the problem now and I wasn't going to waste my breath on the obvious. There were a lot of people there cheering on their runners and providing a lot of enthusiasm to everyone who came up the trail. The long walk really had me discouraged at this point, though. I wasn't wanting to set any PRs here, but that delay was not in the plan either. I kept telling myself to get used to the unexpected, that's part of my goal of getting experience this year, and that was about as unexpected as it gets. OK, put the coke down, fill all 3 bottles this time, and start back. I really didn't want to put up with listening to myself moan and complain the whole rest of the race about something that couldn't be helped at this point. So, I vowed to mentally drop it and make up for a little lost time on the way back. That seemed to work. AK and Catra were just arriving at the aid station as I left. Somewhere along the way back I came across the now present "missing aid station". Of course, I had enough fluids to run a dozen miles now, but I thanked the guy for making the journey out there for us. By the time I hit the aid station with the smoothies I was my happy go lucky self again. It's amazing what a few miles of running will do for the soul. You really are the person you choose to be. Somewhere along the way the lead runner of the hundred mile race ran by in the other direction. I told him he looked strong and wished him luck. He nodded and continued. Ten minutes later, on a trail so wide it was almost a fire road, another runner came into view. I stayed on my side of the trail fully expecting him to stay on his side of the trail. As he approached, I noticed how muscular he was and that he was now running on my side of the trail, glaring at me. It wasn't until he was about 10 feet out that I realized he wasn't going to move back over and wondered aloud, Oh, you're gonna run me down? He didn't bat an eye and just kept coming. Big mistake dude. We struck each other like we were on the line at a football game. He was flung sideways and over onto his side of the trail and nearly fell as I continued unscathed. As he cursed and muttered about what an idiot I was I told him he should lay off the steroids and do some real strength training. I could hear him hurling insults at me as I continued on. Steroids will do that to you. They make you angry and aggressive, but they also give you big useless muscles and tiny little testicles. I know he was hurting. Last thing I heard him holler was about how he was going to sue me for injuring his shoulder. Save your breath dude, you got over 40 miles of running left to go and by the way, you should have stayed on your own side of the trail. The sad thing is he probably placed in the 100 mile race. Time to start drug testing at ultra events? The next person I came across is a real athlete. I didn't have to worry about Krissy Moehl playing chicken with me on the trail. She looked fantastic. I told her as much. She didn't nod, mumble, or return any pleasantries; just kept running strong. Strangely, I didn't see any other runners along the way until I got much closer to the end and started to pass a few going in my direction.
There are some fantastic views within the last 15 miles of the course, although the last few are relatively dull. There were numerous groups of people heading out to look for their runners, also, which was a little unnerving since it was all single-track at that point. My Garmin had died so I asked one of them how far to the end. He pointed at some trees across the lake and said, Just over there. It was probably another mile and a half before I came around a bend in the trail, the trees and bushes cleared, and there it was, the finish. There were signs indicating that the 50 mile finishers should stay to the left and the 100 milers should go to the right. It wasn't a very exciting finish for me, but I asked myself as I approached, Could I take the right lane and run another loop? I believe the answer is yes, but I veered to the left knowing that it would have to wait for another day.

Running With The Devil 50 mi

I love Summer running. I found this race online and just had to put it on my calendar. Temperatures were expected to top 110 F. It was a 50-mile desert race in Nevada, 30 minutes from the strip in Las Vegas, along the western shore of Lake Mead in the Mojave Desert. Although it wasn't a trail race, it was an ultra, and I was really excited about running in the heat over rolling hills. I left work at noon the day before to drive out and spend the night in the Hotel and Casino Hacienda; the host hotel. It was a long hot drive in my truck with the AC fan broken. I chalked it off as some more good training. Getting up early, I made the short drive over to the staging area in the dark and watched the sun just begin to peek over the horizon as I parked along the shoreline. Western States had been burned out, so there were several runners who made a surprise showing here, instead. Xy and Fred were two of them. It was cool to see them. They've both run Badwater before, as well, and someday, I'd like to follow in their footsteps. Joyce, the appropriate for the theme smoking hot RD, welcomed us all to her little desert run (heh heh), had us check in and weighed in, wished us luck, and with very little fanfare started what would be a fateful journey for many. I went out fast and furious. I figured I'd get as much run behind me as I could while the temperatures were still in the 80s. I love running in the heat, but that doesn't mean you make good forward progress in it. You gotta take every advantage you can when the temperatures soar. At one aid station they had a huge bathtub-like tank ready to be filled with a runner and a boat load of ice in case of a heat emergency. It was a sobering sight on the way out, to say the least. Could it get that bad? As I returned from the turnaround point I could look way ahead and see miles of road with no aid stations, but suddenly they would appear out of nowhere; always a surprise, always beyond welcome, and absolutely ice-erific! At several of them, including the turnaround point, we were weighed. Once, I weighed exactly what I did at the start and once I weighed a pound off. Then, I miraculously gained 12 pounds over just a few miles. Holy shnikees, Batman! Not to worry, it's been doing that, I was told. Wow, that's good. One can put a lot of thought into a moment when pressured to. I had horrific visions of nasty purging to get all that water and aid station junk out of my system quickly. What?! Was I having visions in the desert heat? Speaking of visions, I don't remember seeing any of those shimmering heat waves that rise up from hot pavement. I definitely felt the hot blasting midday desert wind that feels like a blow dryer in your face, though. Fortunately, the heat never really got me and I was able to hold a good pace the whole way. I actually had way more in the tank the last 10 miles than I expected I would. I was literally sprinting. I remember talking to one guy about 12 miles out from the start. He had only run marathons until then. This was his first 50 mile race. I told him very sincerely he should manage his pace and save some for the last 10 miles. He smiled and later pulled away from me like he was going to a fire; most appropriate for a Run with the Devil, one would think, but, I would see him again in a chair at an aid station around mile 30 throwing up on himself from under his big straw hat. He looked pretty rough, but then got up, said he felt great now, and off he went again. While dunking my towels in the ice bucket one last time, I looked up to see a woman in a little Toyota had pulled up and said some guy had just fallen flat on his face up around the turn. Yup, you guessed it, that's as far as he got. A guy in the aid station jumped in a vehicle to go get him. I didn't see him again after that. I had been talking to a really nice runner named Juliet since about the turnaround point. She had also left me behind for a while, but I found her hanging out in that aid station, as well. I think that aid station was there to eat runners. She also left after telling me she would see me down the road a ways. Unfortunately, just as I caught up to her, she and several others jumped into a vehicle, she hollered thanks, that the heat was just too much, and caught a ride to the finish line. The heat was taking out some otherwise great runners. The driver of that vehicle returned later and told me Juliet was feeling better and had said thanks again. This was about the time I began catching up to runners from the marathon and half marathon. Several looked at me sideways as I went by. I greeted the first few cheerfully until several looked at me less than amused. I decided not saying anything would be more appropriate. One wondered aloud why I saved so much for the second half. When I told her it was actually the last eighth, it dawned on her that I was one of the 50 milers. She expressed her amazement at how much energy I still had. I told her I was running on pure delirium. It's more painful than it looks. She laughed and actually picked up her pace a bit. That's the spirit! There are always bigger fish in the pond, do your thing, do it your way, but most important, have fun doing it. Gawd, I love spunk! She finished! I saw her afterwards with a huge smile on her face. I know that smile. I've had it. I've seen it. Go runner! Wet towels, icy water buckets, and ice-cold Coca Cola got me through this one. OK, years of running in several deserts certainly didn't hurt, either. I managed to come in second place overall. Way cool for a smokin hot run near Las Vegas, Nevada! Found out later the temperature peaked at 112 F!