Ten minutes had passed since we departed the water station along the dark, frigid trail. The aid station was occupied by a single volunteer who enthusiastically informed us that we only had 1.7 miles left before reaching the transition tent, where my friend Tony was anxiously awaiting our arrival. Sounds pretty basic, however that 1.7 miles was going to climb a good thousand feet to the summit of a ski resort 7,000 feet above sea level. My friend Christina and I were powering through the steady climb when suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. "Liam? Do we have to go up there?" she asked. When I looked up, I saw that her head was tilted upwards and she had her eyes focused on the headlamp lights belonging to a pair of runners at the crest of the climb approaching the summit, well off in the distance. Up until now we had kept up a constant chatter, her injury was not bothering her, and she was in good spirit. However, when she spoke those words, I sensed a hint of edginess in her tone. There was a brief pause and when I realized her concern, I answered "yes, but don't look up there. Just look forward."
In November 2017 I completed my second Ragnar trail race in Warner Springs, Southern California, and shortly after, my friends and I uncovered a Ragnar trail race that looked to be even more epic; Ragnar Trail Rainier up in Washington State. This race was new to the series and it was quite popular. We immediately secured a spot for our eight person team. Several months later after a quick flight from Los Angeles to Seattle, a lucky mishap at Enterprise that resulted in me being rented a Ram 1500 pickup truck at no extra charge instead of the Nissan sedan that I had reserved, and a delicious brunch at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the boonies, my friend Monica and I were driving down a desolate road through the Washington countryside in search of a Walmart. Wanting to travel light, I had not packed a sleeping bag, tent, or canopy to bring to the race and instead opted to purchase a canopy at a bargain price from Walmart, and rent a sleeping bag from REI for the weekend. Tony and I would be sharing his four season tent that he was bringing along. Once we arrived at the store, we purchased a canopy and some drinks and snacks for the rest of the team before heading to closest REI in Tacoma. I was surprised when I received the news from a sales associate that REI did not rent sleeping bags. I instead purchased one on sale and thanks to my REI dividend, I walked out only spending $16. Monica and I were both in awe of how beautiful it was outside as we drove along. Owing to the fact that Northwest Washington has several "rain days" throughout the year, the wilderness around us featured vibrant colors, including various shades of green. I admired the pine trees that lined the road. They were so massive, the branches often stretched all the way across the road above us. Every once in a while a turnout would emerge on the side of the winding road, and we would pull over to take pictures of the river and surrounding mountains and trees. When we finally arrived at the race venue, we rendezvoused with Christina, Dave, and Iris, and began hauling our gear over to our campsite. We were going to be spending the next couple of days camping at the base of the Crystal Mountain Ski Resort while eight of us took turns running around the clock to finish twenty-four "legs", equal to around 127 miles of rugged, but beautiful terrain. There were three different trail loops, all three beginning and ending at the ski resort, and each of us would run them one time on a rotating basis. The race would be over when all eight of us finished our three loops. This meant that everyone would get to enjoy the experience of running at different times of the day including in daylight and in the dark. The course is designed to offer each runner a little bit of daylight and darkness. Ragnar Mount Rainier was quickly becoming one of the most popular Ragnar trail races in the series, and hundreds of teams of eight runners had traveled from all over to partake in the adventure. As we walked towards our campsite, we passed by other runners, through the village, and walked past booths belonging to corporate sponsors who were giving away and demoing their products. I loved where our camping area was. All around us in every direction were towering mountains covered in tall green pine trees, with small ski huts resting about halfway up some of the slopes. Iris, Dave, and Christina had arrived early and met up with Monica and I, and the remaining members of our team, Denis, Yesenia, and Tony, would be arriving later that night. Just as we finished setting up camp, we saw that Denis had messaged our Facebook thread advising us that he and Yesenia's flight had gotten delayed and they wouldn't be arriving until 5:30 AM the next morning. Their plan was to fly into Portland, Oregon and make the three-and-a-half our drive to the resort in their rental car. Our race was scheduled to begin at 6:30 AM so they would be arriving in the nick of time. Tony was scheduled to arrive in Seattle at 2:30 AM so after we had dinner at the lodge, I headed to the truck to get a couple of hours of sleep before I had to leave to go pick him up. Thanks to the comfortable seats and the thermal blanket that Monica lent me, I was able to get a some solid sleep despite the cold temperature outside.
Six hours later we were driving down the pitch black road in my rented pickup truck, me behind the wheel, Tony next to me in the front seat with his gear in the back. We had just passed a flashing "elk crossing" sign so I was taking a cautious and reserved approach along the winding, tree lined road that led back to the ski resort. I had picked up Tony from the airport around 3:00 in the morning and he was entertaining me with stories of his recent successful summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa. Once we arrived back at the resort, we unloaded Tony's gear and enjoyed some brief down time before heading to the transition area to watch Iris, our first runner, kick off the race. When the gun went off, she ran from the start line and began pounding up a long climb before disappearing up the mountain and into the wild. The three trails consisted of a green, yellow, and red loop. The green loop, which was 2.9 miles long and rated as the easiest, was the loop that Iris was running. She was an avid hiker and a solid runner, having finished several marathons, along with the Elk 50K in Oregon during fall of 2017. That first incline looked daunting, but nothing she couldn't handle. Denis and Yesenia had not arrived yet due to their delay being longer than expected, so we had to reconfigure the order of the runners a little. When Iris finished her loop, I would be heading out to tackle the yellow loop, which was regarded as one of the toughest trails of the entire Ragnar Trail series. Forty minutes later, I found myself powering along up the same climb that Iris had gone up during the green loop before banking right at the junction where the trail split. The yellow loop was 4.9 miles long and featured a merciless 2,500 foot climb to the summit of the ski resort. I ran underneath the ski lifts as I made my way along the ridge, the Ragnar village resting far below to my right. I ran steadily up the climb through the towering pine trees until the trail leveled out and passed by a clear blue mountain lake and through a vibrant, green meadow. I was running along through the pine trees gracefully, enjoying the setting, when suddenly, a tree root caught my shoe and I lurched forward. To my relief, my reflexes were spot on, and I was able to stop myself from falling on my face. Once I overcame the rattle from my stumble, I was again able to enjoy the beautiful mountain scenery that engulfed me. As I ran, I noticed a strange cold feeling on my right foot near my big toe. It felt as if I had run through water and the front of my shoe was wet, but I had hopped over all the creeks along the trail and stayed dry. When I looked down to inspect my foot, I was shocked to discover the source of the cold sensation. When I tripped over the tree root, I had torn the whole front of my shoe open. The tear in the lining was a good three inches, and the left side of my foot, where my first three toes were, was completely exposed. There was nothing to do but keep moving forward and just be extra cautions not to trip on any more roots or kick any rocks until I finished this loop. The rest of the run was challenging, but majestic. It was a foggy morning and I couldn't see much, but the setting was mesmerizing. The cool air felt clean and trees of different shades of green continued to line the trail as I made the final push to the summit. When I arrived at the transition tent, which marked the end of the loop, Monica emerged from the crowd of runners and took off down the red loop. As I walked away from the crowd at the transition tent, I saw the other team members snapping pictures. We hopped on the gondola and when we made it back down to the Ragnar village, Denis and Yesenia had arrived and were setting up camp. My plan was to find some duct tape to repair my shoe but luckily, Solomon was sponsoring the race and letting runners test out their shoes for free, so I grabbed a pair from the booth to use for the remainder of the race. Now that the team had arrived in its entirety, Denis and Yesenia got some sleep while Tony and I walked over to the lodge to fill up on the $15 breakfast buffet that was made available to runners. When we walked into the warm building, the aroma of delicious breakfast food filled the air. The selections were marvelous. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, potatoes, muffins, fruit, you name it. We piled food onto our plates and made ourselves cups of piping hot black coffee. The food was delicious, and the ski lodge really rose to the occasion, much to our delight. The building was open all day and night, offering clean restrooms and a place for runners to come warm up rather than freeze their butts off at the campsites at night when the temperatures were forecasted to drop to the low forties.
Time passed, miles were covered, runners finished their loops, and later on that afternoon, our team was gathered near the transition area awaiting Tony's arrival. He had taken off to tackle the green loop fifty minutes prior but we hadn't seen a message on the Facebook thread from him notifying us that he was closing in. Our rule was when each runner hit the one mile mark from the finish area, they would message the Facebook thread so that the next runner could be ready to roll once they arrived. Tony was a seasoned long distance hiker, having summited Mount Whitney numerous times, the highest peak in the forty-eight states, as well as several other significant peaks including Mount Fuji in Japan, and most recently, as mentioned above, Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa. In addition, he was also an accomplished runner with several marathons and a few ultramarathons under his belt. An hour had now passed since he departed the transition tent and we still hadn't heard from him. It shouldn't be taking him this long to run 2.9 miles, even on this rugged terrain. Something was wrong. We waited in confusion, hoping he hadn't twisted his ankle or hurt himself, which is not uncommon while running on trails. Seconds later, a message from Tony popped up on the thread; "I think I took a wrong turn. I don't see anyone. Trying to find my way back to the trail". Realizing that he was okay and that he had only gone off course, we breathed a sigh of relief, then began laughing hysterically. How could he have gone off course in broad daylight on the easiest loop of the race? We couldn't wait for him to arrive back at the transition area, not only so Yesenia could take off on the yellow loop, but more so because we were all dying to hear his explanation of how he managed to miss the turn. When he finally arrived at the finishing area, he explained that he was so in awe of the beautiful surroundings that he decided to pull out his cell phone and capture a video, but missed the left turn from the fire road onto the single track trail in the process. He ran a mile further down the fire road before realizing that there were no other runners in sight and no Ragnar signs marking the course, so he made a U turn. We gave him plenty of grief for that one.
Dinner that night was a delicious selection of various types of pastas, meatballs, salads, and giant chocolate chip cookies and brownies for dessert. We laughed like hyenas at our table as we looked at photos that we had taken from the race earlier that day. About an hour earlier, Christina had finished the challenging red loop, and although her Plantar Fasciitis injury had not flared up to the point of grave concern, she was sore and cramping during the final half-mile push up the road to the finish area. Realizing that she was struggling, Monica decided to run down the road to help. Dave and Iris had asked Monica to hold on to their jackets and water bottle while they ran off to the restrooms, so Monica took off down the road, two jackets in one arm, a water bottle in the other, and her bag slung over her shoulder. When she returned with Christina ten minutes later, she also had Christina's jacket crammed into her hoodie pocket, and was carrying Christina's phone. Dave captured photos of Christina's finish with Monica at her side hauling everyone's belongings along the final approach, which looked hilarious when we zoomed in on her. She didn't look like a happy camper, but in addition to being a strong hiker and runner, Monica was always willing to lend a hand when needed. She was essentially our team mom. She had joined Tony on the expedition to Mount Kilimanjaro and told stories of the men who worked for the trekking company known as "porters". The company had assigned three porters per hiker to carry all of their gear up the mountain such as the tents, sleeping bags, etc. while Tony, Monica, and the other hikers carried only day packs. Upon viewing these photos, we began calling her "Porter Monica" because she seemed to be carrying everyone's gear while Christina freely made her way to the finish.
By my estimated time calculations, I would be running the green loop around 11:00 PM, so after dinner I retreated to Tony's tent to get some sleep for the night shift. Later that night, I watched as Dave came cruising into the transition area. When I rushed over to high five him, he was covered in sweat and looked like pure, one-hundred percent energy. Dave had been hiking for over twenty years, so strenuous trails were no stranger to him. Upon seeing Iris finish her first 50K in fall of 2017, he decided to start running and ran the LA Marathon earlier in the year. Seeing him finish the 8.2 mile red loop with such conviction was inspiring. He looked like he could have gone and done it again. After fifteen hours, it was finally time for me to run again. I dashed off into the night and gave kudos to other runners as I pounded up the climb. Once into the wilderness, the trail narrowed considerably and I hacked along with my arms in the dark through the overgrown brush. After banking left at the top of the hill, the trail widened into a fire road and followed a descent further into the wild. My pace picked up on this smooth path but it was very dark and my world was confined to the beam of my headlamp. It looked as if I were running through a tunnel with massive pine trees appearing out of nowhere along the side of the trail. After powering down another descent along some single track trail, the fire road dumped me out into the parking lot of the resort and I ran the last half-mile freely into the transition area, where Christina was waiting for me. She was going to be running the yellow loop immediately after me and I had volunteered to go with her, given her injury, cramping, and owing to the fact that the yellow loop can be very sketchy at night. Contending with a 2,500 foot climb with cramping and a PF injury all alone in the dead of night didn't seem all that appealing. We hiked along up the climb and into the meadow through the midnight wilderness exchanging stories and laughs. Christina had summited several 14er's in California, including Mount Langley and Mount Whitney several times, but over the past year she had been battling Plantar Fasciitis; an injury that involves inflammation of the plantar fascia tissue and causes a great deal of pain in the heel and foot, making it extremely difficult to hike and walk. Those who suffer from PF often have good and bad days, and fortunately for Christina, her injury wasn't bothering her too much. We passed through the aid station at mile 3.2 at a steady pace, but the final mile and a half climb to the summit was taking a toll on her. Fearing that she would get discouraged, I advised her to just look forward instead of further up the mountain where we could see the headlamps of other runners approaching the summit. I turned and looked back as we marched up the switchbacks. A line of headlamps made their way up the trail behind us as the distant mountains glowed in the silvery moonlight. I stared at the full moon above as it cast a bright glow over the tree tops. It looked like the DVD cover of a scary movie, but it was a beautiful night. Nearing the crest, a volunteer sat in a chair alongside the trail wrapped in a blanket, blowing a police whistle and enthusiastically cheering on runners as they passed. Her energy was a powerful tonic, and we powered up the last quarter-mile climb towards the transition area feeling strong. It was approaching 3:00 AM when we arrived and after greeting us with a high five, Tony took off into the night down the red loop.
Emerging from the tent later that morning and watching the sun glow through the cracks of the partly cloudy sky onto the mountains filled me with energy and excitement. bundled up in a sweatshirt, a fleece jacket, a pair of long pants, and socks while rolled up in a sleeping bag, I managed to stay warm and get a few hours of sleep. After another delicious visit to the breakfast buffet, we congratulated Yesenia on finishing her last loop. Being a solid hiker and runner, she came tearing through the finish with strong conviction. Next, Christina and Monica would be running the green loop together. In an effort to help runners finish the race earlier, the race directors had given us the option of "doubling up", meaning we could run our remaining loops together. Christina and Monica would run green together, Dave and Tony would run yellow, and Denis and I would bring it home by running the red loop together. Shortly after noon, Denis and I met Tony and Dave at the summit of the ski resort and took off down the trail for the final loop of the race. At 8.2 miles, the red loop was the longest of the course and featured a six mile descent down a winding trail from the summit, followed by a two mile incline to the finish. Our teammates had warned us that the footing was tricky during the first couple of miles and it was easy to fall, so we powered along cautiously while enjoying the view. Denis had served in the military for several years and had lost forty pounds after taking up running and hiking. We had climbed Mount Shasta together and he was one of my teammates for Ragnar Los Coyotes. We talked casually as we ripped down the switchbacks through the pine trees. The downhill was pleasant and gradual and the scent of pine filled the air. When we finally reached the bottom of the gorge at mile six, we passed by a water station and began a gradual incline up a fire road before diverting onto a single track trail that featured abrupt uphills and downhills. We ran through water, mud and over sharp rocks before finally emerging onto the road for the final push. People cheered us on, and as we ran up the final approach, our entire team joined us and we all ran across the finish line together. All eight of us embraced in a group hug in the tent after bursting across the finish line. It had taken us thirty-two hours, we had experienced set backs and obstacles, but we succeeded as a team. It was a euphoric moment. After collecting our medals and packing up our campsite, we congregated at a brewery nearby for a celebration dinner before retreating to the hotel room that Tony, Monica, and I were sharing. By the time I took a shower I was dead tired and my eyes were bloodshot. Lying down in the hotel bed felt heavenly compared to lying on the cold, rocky ground of the Crystal Mount Ski Resort, and I promptly passed out. The next day, our flight back to Los Angeles was leaving at 4:00 PM so we had a few hours to kill. After breakfast at the hotel, we admired the stunning views of Seattle from the top of the space needle. It was a cloudy morning and we were unable to see Mount Rainier in the distance, but the views of the city were breath taking. Later on at the airport as I was going through security check, the TSA workers asked me if they could take a look through my carry on. I agreed, and it turned out that my Ragnar medal was setting off the medal detector. The agents apologetically informed me that because the medal had jagged edges, they couldn't permit me to take it onto the airplane but offered me the option to have it mailed to me. It was approaching our flight boarding time and I would have to go to a customer service counter, fill out some paperwork, and wait in the line to go back through security again. I calmly told the agent that they could toss the medal. I've collected dozens of medals over my nine years of running, all of which are in a plastic bin in my closet. Once in a while, usually when I'm re-arranging my closet, I pull them out and reflect on the memories. Of course it's cool to have the medal and it serves as a nice memento, but it's the experience that matters not the medal. I was bummed and it was unfortunate that I had to give up my Ragnar medal, but in the end, the object itself wasn't what was important. What was important was the incredible experience of running through the mountains with my friends, growing closer, working towards a common goal, and reveling in the accomplishment together. Nothing could ever take that away from us. Over the next few days after I arrived back home, my body was yelling at my mind to let it rest. I had been burning the candle at both ends for the last few months and the exhaustion in my body was making its presence known. They say endurance never sleeps but sooner or later, we all need a break, and I was looking forward to mine.
Six hours later we were driving down the pitch black road in my rented pickup truck, me behind the wheel, Tony next to me in the front seat with his gear in the back. We had just passed a flashing "elk crossing" sign so I was taking a cautious and reserved approach along the winding, tree lined road that led back to the ski resort. I had picked up Tony from the airport around 3:00 in the morning and he was entertaining me with stories of his recent successful summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa. Once we arrived back at the resort, we unloaded Tony's gear and enjoyed some brief down time before heading to the transition area to watch Iris, our first runner, kick off the race. When the gun went off, she ran from the start line and began pounding up a long climb before disappearing up the mountain and into the wild. The three trails consisted of a green, yellow, and red loop. The green loop, which was 2.9 miles long and rated as the easiest, was the loop that Iris was running. She was an avid hiker and a solid runner, having finished several marathons, along with the Elk 50K in Oregon during fall of 2017. That first incline looked daunting, but nothing she couldn't handle. Denis and Yesenia had not arrived yet due to their delay being longer than expected, so we had to reconfigure the order of the runners a little. When Iris finished her loop, I would be heading out to tackle the yellow loop, which was regarded as one of the toughest trails of the entire Ragnar Trail series. Forty minutes later, I found myself powering along up the same climb that Iris had gone up during the green loop before banking right at the junction where the trail split. The yellow loop was 4.9 miles long and featured a merciless 2,500 foot climb to the summit of the ski resort. I ran underneath the ski lifts as I made my way along the ridge, the Ragnar village resting far below to my right. I ran steadily up the climb through the towering pine trees until the trail leveled out and passed by a clear blue mountain lake and through a vibrant, green meadow. I was running along through the pine trees gracefully, enjoying the setting, when suddenly, a tree root caught my shoe and I lurched forward. To my relief, my reflexes were spot on, and I was able to stop myself from falling on my face. Once I overcame the rattle from my stumble, I was again able to enjoy the beautiful mountain scenery that engulfed me. As I ran, I noticed a strange cold feeling on my right foot near my big toe. It felt as if I had run through water and the front of my shoe was wet, but I had hopped over all the creeks along the trail and stayed dry. When I looked down to inspect my foot, I was shocked to discover the source of the cold sensation. When I tripped over the tree root, I had torn the whole front of my shoe open. The tear in the lining was a good three inches, and the left side of my foot, where my first three toes were, was completely exposed. There was nothing to do but keep moving forward and just be extra cautions not to trip on any more roots or kick any rocks until I finished this loop. The rest of the run was challenging, but majestic. It was a foggy morning and I couldn't see much, but the setting was mesmerizing. The cool air felt clean and trees of different shades of green continued to line the trail as I made the final push to the summit. When I arrived at the transition tent, which marked the end of the loop, Monica emerged from the crowd of runners and took off down the red loop. As I walked away from the crowd at the transition tent, I saw the other team members snapping pictures. We hopped on the gondola and when we made it back down to the Ragnar village, Denis and Yesenia had arrived and were setting up camp. My plan was to find some duct tape to repair my shoe but luckily, Solomon was sponsoring the race and letting runners test out their shoes for free, so I grabbed a pair from the booth to use for the remainder of the race. Now that the team had arrived in its entirety, Denis and Yesenia got some sleep while Tony and I walked over to the lodge to fill up on the $15 breakfast buffet that was made available to runners. When we walked into the warm building, the aroma of delicious breakfast food filled the air. The selections were marvelous. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, potatoes, muffins, fruit, you name it. We piled food onto our plates and made ourselves cups of piping hot black coffee. The food was delicious, and the ski lodge really rose to the occasion, much to our delight. The building was open all day and night, offering clean restrooms and a place for runners to come warm up rather than freeze their butts off at the campsites at night when the temperatures were forecasted to drop to the low forties.
Time passed, miles were covered, runners finished their loops, and later on that afternoon, our team was gathered near the transition area awaiting Tony's arrival. He had taken off to tackle the green loop fifty minutes prior but we hadn't seen a message on the Facebook thread from him notifying us that he was closing in. Our rule was when each runner hit the one mile mark from the finish area, they would message the Facebook thread so that the next runner could be ready to roll once they arrived. Tony was a seasoned long distance hiker, having summited Mount Whitney numerous times, the highest peak in the forty-eight states, as well as several other significant peaks including Mount Fuji in Japan, and most recently, as mentioned above, Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, Africa. In addition, he was also an accomplished runner with several marathons and a few ultramarathons under his belt. An hour had now passed since he departed the transition tent and we still hadn't heard from him. It shouldn't be taking him this long to run 2.9 miles, even on this rugged terrain. Something was wrong. We waited in confusion, hoping he hadn't twisted his ankle or hurt himself, which is not uncommon while running on trails. Seconds later, a message from Tony popped up on the thread; "I think I took a wrong turn. I don't see anyone. Trying to find my way back to the trail". Realizing that he was okay and that he had only gone off course, we breathed a sigh of relief, then began laughing hysterically. How could he have gone off course in broad daylight on the easiest loop of the race? We couldn't wait for him to arrive back at the transition area, not only so Yesenia could take off on the yellow loop, but more so because we were all dying to hear his explanation of how he managed to miss the turn. When he finally arrived at the finishing area, he explained that he was so in awe of the beautiful surroundings that he decided to pull out his cell phone and capture a video, but missed the left turn from the fire road onto the single track trail in the process. He ran a mile further down the fire road before realizing that there were no other runners in sight and no Ragnar signs marking the course, so he made a U turn. We gave him plenty of grief for that one.
Dinner that night was a delicious selection of various types of pastas, meatballs, salads, and giant chocolate chip cookies and brownies for dessert. We laughed like hyenas at our table as we looked at photos that we had taken from the race earlier that day. About an hour earlier, Christina had finished the challenging red loop, and although her Plantar Fasciitis injury had not flared up to the point of grave concern, she was sore and cramping during the final half-mile push up the road to the finish area. Realizing that she was struggling, Monica decided to run down the road to help. Dave and Iris had asked Monica to hold on to their jackets and water bottle while they ran off to the restrooms, so Monica took off down the road, two jackets in one arm, a water bottle in the other, and her bag slung over her shoulder. When she returned with Christina ten minutes later, she also had Christina's jacket crammed into her hoodie pocket, and was carrying Christina's phone. Dave captured photos of Christina's finish with Monica at her side hauling everyone's belongings along the final approach, which looked hilarious when we zoomed in on her. She didn't look like a happy camper, but in addition to being a strong hiker and runner, Monica was always willing to lend a hand when needed. She was essentially our team mom. She had joined Tony on the expedition to Mount Kilimanjaro and told stories of the men who worked for the trekking company known as "porters". The company had assigned three porters per hiker to carry all of their gear up the mountain such as the tents, sleeping bags, etc. while Tony, Monica, and the other hikers carried only day packs. Upon viewing these photos, we began calling her "Porter Monica" because she seemed to be carrying everyone's gear while Christina freely made her way to the finish.
By my estimated time calculations, I would be running the green loop around 11:00 PM, so after dinner I retreated to Tony's tent to get some sleep for the night shift. Later that night, I watched as Dave came cruising into the transition area. When I rushed over to high five him, he was covered in sweat and looked like pure, one-hundred percent energy. Dave had been hiking for over twenty years, so strenuous trails were no stranger to him. Upon seeing Iris finish her first 50K in fall of 2017, he decided to start running and ran the LA Marathon earlier in the year. Seeing him finish the 8.2 mile red loop with such conviction was inspiring. He looked like he could have gone and done it again. After fifteen hours, it was finally time for me to run again. I dashed off into the night and gave kudos to other runners as I pounded up the climb. Once into the wilderness, the trail narrowed considerably and I hacked along with my arms in the dark through the overgrown brush. After banking left at the top of the hill, the trail widened into a fire road and followed a descent further into the wild. My pace picked up on this smooth path but it was very dark and my world was confined to the beam of my headlamp. It looked as if I were running through a tunnel with massive pine trees appearing out of nowhere along the side of the trail. After powering down another descent along some single track trail, the fire road dumped me out into the parking lot of the resort and I ran the last half-mile freely into the transition area, where Christina was waiting for me. She was going to be running the yellow loop immediately after me and I had volunteered to go with her, given her injury, cramping, and owing to the fact that the yellow loop can be very sketchy at night. Contending with a 2,500 foot climb with cramping and a PF injury all alone in the dead of night didn't seem all that appealing. We hiked along up the climb and into the meadow through the midnight wilderness exchanging stories and laughs. Christina had summited several 14er's in California, including Mount Langley and Mount Whitney several times, but over the past year she had been battling Plantar Fasciitis; an injury that involves inflammation of the plantar fascia tissue and causes a great deal of pain in the heel and foot, making it extremely difficult to hike and walk. Those who suffer from PF often have good and bad days, and fortunately for Christina, her injury wasn't bothering her too much. We passed through the aid station at mile 3.2 at a steady pace, but the final mile and a half climb to the summit was taking a toll on her. Fearing that she would get discouraged, I advised her to just look forward instead of further up the mountain where we could see the headlamps of other runners approaching the summit. I turned and looked back as we marched up the switchbacks. A line of headlamps made their way up the trail behind us as the distant mountains glowed in the silvery moonlight. I stared at the full moon above as it cast a bright glow over the tree tops. It looked like the DVD cover of a scary movie, but it was a beautiful night. Nearing the crest, a volunteer sat in a chair alongside the trail wrapped in a blanket, blowing a police whistle and enthusiastically cheering on runners as they passed. Her energy was a powerful tonic, and we powered up the last quarter-mile climb towards the transition area feeling strong. It was approaching 3:00 AM when we arrived and after greeting us with a high five, Tony took off into the night down the red loop.
Emerging from the tent later that morning and watching the sun glow through the cracks of the partly cloudy sky onto the mountains filled me with energy and excitement. bundled up in a sweatshirt, a fleece jacket, a pair of long pants, and socks while rolled up in a sleeping bag, I managed to stay warm and get a few hours of sleep. After another delicious visit to the breakfast buffet, we congratulated Yesenia on finishing her last loop. Being a solid hiker and runner, she came tearing through the finish with strong conviction. Next, Christina and Monica would be running the green loop together. In an effort to help runners finish the race earlier, the race directors had given us the option of "doubling up", meaning we could run our remaining loops together. Christina and Monica would run green together, Dave and Tony would run yellow, and Denis and I would bring it home by running the red loop together. Shortly after noon, Denis and I met Tony and Dave at the summit of the ski resort and took off down the trail for the final loop of the race. At 8.2 miles, the red loop was the longest of the course and featured a six mile descent down a winding trail from the summit, followed by a two mile incline to the finish. Our teammates had warned us that the footing was tricky during the first couple of miles and it was easy to fall, so we powered along cautiously while enjoying the view. Denis had served in the military for several years and had lost forty pounds after taking up running and hiking. We had climbed Mount Shasta together and he was one of my teammates for Ragnar Los Coyotes. We talked casually as we ripped down the switchbacks through the pine trees. The downhill was pleasant and gradual and the scent of pine filled the air. When we finally reached the bottom of the gorge at mile six, we passed by a water station and began a gradual incline up a fire road before diverting onto a single track trail that featured abrupt uphills and downhills. We ran through water, mud and over sharp rocks before finally emerging onto the road for the final push. People cheered us on, and as we ran up the final approach, our entire team joined us and we all ran across the finish line together. All eight of us embraced in a group hug in the tent after bursting across the finish line. It had taken us thirty-two hours, we had experienced set backs and obstacles, but we succeeded as a team. It was a euphoric moment. After collecting our medals and packing up our campsite, we congregated at a brewery nearby for a celebration dinner before retreating to the hotel room that Tony, Monica, and I were sharing. By the time I took a shower I was dead tired and my eyes were bloodshot. Lying down in the hotel bed felt heavenly compared to lying on the cold, rocky ground of the Crystal Mount Ski Resort, and I promptly passed out. The next day, our flight back to Los Angeles was leaving at 4:00 PM so we had a few hours to kill. After breakfast at the hotel, we admired the stunning views of Seattle from the top of the space needle. It was a cloudy morning and we were unable to see Mount Rainier in the distance, but the views of the city were breath taking. Later on at the airport as I was going through security check, the TSA workers asked me if they could take a look through my carry on. I agreed, and it turned out that my Ragnar medal was setting off the medal detector. The agents apologetically informed me that because the medal had jagged edges, they couldn't permit me to take it onto the airplane but offered me the option to have it mailed to me. It was approaching our flight boarding time and I would have to go to a customer service counter, fill out some paperwork, and wait in the line to go back through security again. I calmly told the agent that they could toss the medal. I've collected dozens of medals over my nine years of running, all of which are in a plastic bin in my closet. Once in a while, usually when I'm re-arranging my closet, I pull them out and reflect on the memories. Of course it's cool to have the medal and it serves as a nice memento, but it's the experience that matters not the medal. I was bummed and it was unfortunate that I had to give up my Ragnar medal, but in the end, the object itself wasn't what was important. What was important was the incredible experience of running through the mountains with my friends, growing closer, working towards a common goal, and reveling in the accomplishment together. Nothing could ever take that away from us. Over the next few days after I arrived back home, my body was yelling at my mind to let it rest. I had been burning the candle at both ends for the last few months and the exhaustion in my body was making its presence known. They say endurance never sleeps but sooner or later, we all need a break, and I was looking forward to mine.
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