The pack quickly broke off into smaller groups as we ran into the forest back towards McCloud. The Great Shasta Rail Trail measures eighty miles total in length and connects McCloud at one end with the town of Burney at the other. The start of the race was roughly halfway between the two towns. Unlike most of the other ultramarathons I've run in California, which include single track trail with rocks and tree roots, today's trail was roughly eight feet wide, smooth, and well maintained. It reminded me a lot of the Badger 50-Miler put on by Ten Junk Miles, which I ran in the summer of 2021. I had a nice cadence going in the early miles and hung with a small group of two other runners. They were Alan from Redding and Kari from Klamath Falls, Oregon. The three of us ran together for a while and talked about all kinds of things. It almost felt like I was going for a morning run through the wilderness with two new friends I had just met. After we passed through the first aid station our group broke off. Kari pulled ahead, Alan was between Kari and I, and I hung back, a hundred or so feet behind Alan. We had twelve hours to get to the finish line, plenty of time. It was already starting to get warm out and I didn't want to risk burning myself out, so I kept my pace steady.
I had gone out shirtless because I knew I was going to warm up quickly, which worked well for me for the first ten miles. At that point, even though it was still pretty early in the morning, the wilderness was warming up and I could feel the hot sun on my back. My shoulders began to sting a little, so I decided it was a good time to put my shirt on. I hopped off to the side of the trail, dropped my handheld water bottles to the ground, unzipped my fanny pack, and pulled out a long sleeve running shirt. I figured I would need it at some point, so it was strategically folded, rolled up, and tucked away. I never in a hundred years thought that I would find myself wearing a long sleeve shirt while running an ultra in the middle of the summer, but I also needed to protect my skin from the sun. Oddly, as soon as I put my shirt on, I felt cooler. It made sense because the material was shielding my bare skin from the sun, but it still just seemed bizarre to run in heat with long sleeves. I progressed onward. The path was pretty straight forward except for a few gradual directional changes here and there. There were also no major climbs, just gradual inclines and downhills. Every once in a while, I'd come to an intersection with a remote back country road. The entire course was lined with tall pine trees on either side and we were treated to a view of Mount Shasta shortly before the turnaround point.
I stayed within eyesight of Alan and Kari and the three of us reached the aid station at the turnaround point at roughly the same time. The aid stations were set up in remote areas of the Shasta-Trinity National Forest and were being worked mostly by Jen's family and friends. They had plenty of provisions and good enthusiasm to keep us going. After we turned around, Alan and I ran together for a short while again until he pulled ahead. Now we were running towards the sun, which made things more challenging. I took my backwards hat off and rotated it forward to shield the sun from my face. At the halfway point of the race my stride had slowed down, but I was still moving. I felt tired, but not overheated. At this point I began seeing the four runners who were behind me coming the other way. I had only met one of them before the race, Jessica, who was at the back of the pack. She had also come down from Klamath Falls, Oregon and was looking for redemption after DNFing her first 50K about a month ago. She looked pretty solid and I offered words of encouragement as I passed by. When I rolled into the aid station at mile nineteen, my running had become pretty sluggish. I was glad to have made it to the next milestone. By the time I had arrived, the same volunteers at the 50K turnaround point six miles back had packed up that aid station and made their way over here, which was impressive. The temperature was probably around 90 degrees at this point and I was feeling the heat. I had some food, filled my hat with ice, and placed it back on my head. That proved to be a good move and I instantly began to cool down. Even though the ice had put some life back in me, I decided to walk instead of run when I left the aid station. I needed to regroup a little.
The next six miles were a combination of running and walking. There was now a considerable distance between Alan and I, along with the people behind me. I didn't see another runner for quite a while. The trail was completely straight and stretched out in front of me for miles. It dissected the wilderness like the space between a loaf of bread that had been sliced in half. Before the race I overheard one of the runners who was from the area, refer to this trail as the world's prettiest treadmill. I was starting to get that feeling as well. There was one section with a down tree where we had to veer off course, but other than that, it was very straight forward. It was repetitive, but also beautiful and majestic. I was staying hydrated and had peed a couple of times, which was a good sign, but most of the course was pretty exposed except for a few stretches of shade here and there. It was becoming hard to stay cool. As I approached the next aid station at the race start line, I saw Jen standing by the trail in the distance waving to me. I waved back and threw my arms in the air. Even though by this point the sun had parched the hell out me, I was enjoying myself and tried to convey that message from a distance. Throwing my arms in the air was the best way I knew how. When I arrived at the aid station it was 12:20 PM. I was happy to be there, but I was completely exhausted and overheated. Even doing a brisk walk at this point was challenging. When Jen asked me how I was feeling I replied with a chuckle and a smile "I feel like death, but I'm having a lot of fun". She offered me a seat in a camping chair underneath the canvas tent. Man, it felt good to finally sit down out of the sun. Jen poured a bunch of ice down the back of my shirt. This sounds more like a prank that you'd play on someone at a summer barbeque, but after you've run twenty-five miles in the heat, it feels amazing. I took some deep breaths, drank some water, and tried to pull myself together. Talking with the aid station crew helped lift me up as well. I got the unfortunate news that Jessica had dropped. She ran out of water, succumbed to the intense heat, and couldn't go on. She got a ride back to the start line from an aid station volunteer, and I noticed that her car was gone, so she had already hit the road back to Oregon. I felt bad. She came out here hoping for redemption, but had to go home with a second DNF. I hoped that she wouldn't give up and would keep trying.
After ten minutes in the chair I felt better and I prepared to head out. The final six mile stretch was an out and back in the opposite direction, which would bring me back here to the finish line. I walked the whole damn thing solo. It was all I could do to keep moving forward. I tried to run a few times, but each time, I would make it about twenty steps before I nearly puked from heat related nausea. Nobody wants to be vomit boy or vomit girl. It happens sometimes, and that's totally okay. But the thought of puking on the trail in this heat just because I wanted to run instead of walk didn't sound too appealing. When I arrived at the aid station at the turnaround point, Christy was in her truck on the trail side blaring dance music. When she saw me approaching, she turned the music down, jumped out of her truck, and walked over to the tent. Christy and Jen's young son Kyle were the only two volunteers working the aid station. They filled my water bottle with fresh, ice cold water and gave me a healthy dose of psychological motivation while I rested in a camping chair again. A few minutes later I was back on the trail. Those last three miles were like a death march. I laughed to myself as I thought about the infamous scene in Anchorman: "It's so damn hot! Milk was a bad choice". I hear you Ron. The heat was sweltering and I was moving slowly, but mentally I felt great. I knew that at this point I had this race in the bag. All I had to do was keep pushing a little longer. When the tents at the finish finally came into view I really wanted to run, but my body said "no way dude". I hiked it in and threw my exhausted arms in the air as I walked briskly across the finish line. The small crowd clapped, cheered, and rang bells. My finish time was eight hours and six minutes. Certainly not the time I wanted when I signed up three months ago, but given today's circumstances, I was happy with it. Within the next thirty minutes, three more runners finished behind me, so I had come in fifth out of eight 50K finishers. Kari and Alan had finished long ago and had taken off at this point. What an awesome day it had been! Jen put on a great race, especially for a first time and it was really cool to have her family, including her kids out there volunteering. Christy and the other volunteers took good care of us, and I finally got a chance to meet and chat with the other 50K runners that came in after me as we all sat around recovering at the finish line. Barbara and Tim, the last two finishers, were both in their seventies. I can only hope that I'm still doing this when I'm their age. They were awesome.
It was a long rally to get home that night. I pulled over and took a nap for about forty-five minutes, but I was mostly riding on the energy that this weekend had given off. It felt incredible to redeem myself after the heat forced me to drop out of Canyons a few months prior. I found out that the temperature was 103 degrees when I crossed the finish line shortly before 3:00 PM. And I felt every bit of it the whole way. It was exactly how I expected it to feel going into the race, but the question I had was could I overcome my weakness and get to the finish line? I had my answer now and it was the answer I was looking for. I confronted my weakness for running in heat and gave it a good kick in the nuts. There was still work to be done, but I felt like it was a big step forward. The high would stay with me for several more days, but at that moment I wanted nothing more than to just get home and be with Sam and Aidan.
No comments:
Post a Comment