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The scene was buzzing with busy Friday night traffic as I drove down the freeway exit ramp. As the exit deposited me onto a city road, I noticed a 7-Eleven store up ahead. It would likely be one of my last chances to stock up for the night before I drove off into more remote territory, so I decided to pull in. Upon entering the parking lot by the side of the store, I encountered a dilapidated SUV with a missing wheel and a small camping tent set up beside it on the pavement. When I pulled up in front of the store and stepped out of my car I immediately smelled the unmistakable aroma of weed in the air. Feeling amused, I entered the store, grabbed some water and a blueberry muffin to eat for breakfast, and approached the register. The clerk was courteous, but he had a look in his eyes like had seen some shit and was ready for anything to go down. As I exited the store and headed back to my car, a man and woman were shouting at each other outside of a parked pickup truck about fifty feet away. I laughed to myself, got back into my car with my purchases, and hit the road once again. That was my welcome to the town of Lakeside, California. My destination was Pine Valley, located in a much more remote area. The stores there would most certainly be closed by the time I arrived, so it was a good thing I stopped, even if the brief experience was a little unsettling.
About 30 minutes later, I exited the freeway again and rolled into Pine Valley. It was approaching 11:00 PM and, as expected, the modest establishments that made up the small mountain town were shut down and darkened for the night. I drove through the sleepy downtown area before turning off the dark mountain road and following the hilly path to the Pine Creek Trailhead parking lot. When I arrived, I folded down my backseat, opened the back hatch of my RAV4, and rolled out my sleeping bag and sleeping pad in the back of the car. The parking lot was empty except for two larger SUVs parked side by side about a hundred feet away. I turned off my headlamp, looked up, and admired the sky, which was filled with shining stars. It was a cloudless night in the mountains, and other than the light from the stars, the area was pitch black. Tomorrow morning at 6:30 AM I would be toeing the start line of the Noble Canyon 50K. It had been quite a summer with a lot of ups and downs, so I was very much looking forward to this race. There's nothing more exciting to me than getting out on the trails during an ultramarathon and enjoying the adventure while testing my physical and mental limits. It's a great way to unwind in a world full of noise and chaos. I was cautiously optimistic that tomorrow would be a good day. I got back into my car, prepared for bed, wiggled into my sleeping bag, and closed my eyes for the night.
I awoke at 4:45 AM the next morning on Saturday September 5th, 2026 to the sound of a rooster alarm on my phone. The sky was still black and filled with stars when I looked outside my car window. I also noticed there were people outside the SUVs parked on the other side of the parking lot with headlamps. I assumed they were also runners getting ready for the race, but I wasn't entirely sure. As I stood outside of my car brushing my teeth with my headlamp providing the only light around me, I began shivering. I knew it was going to be on the cooler side, which is typical of nighttime in the mountains even during the summer, but the temperature was much colder than I had anticipated. According to my car thermometer, it was forty-four degrees Fahrenheit outside. Not that it was a bad problem to have. In fact, I do better running in cold anyways, so hopefully I could use this weather to my advantage, at least in the early part of the race. It was only a five-minute drive from where I slept in my car to the start line of the race. The start area had a large field for runners to park in, and appeared to be the site of a former ranch. Once I arrived, I checked in with the race staff. Even though it was 5:30 AM and still dark outside, the check-in area was alive with energy from runners and volunteers. Heat lamps warmed up the check-in booth area, which was under a large canvas tent. Everyone seemed happy to be there, whether they were running or volunteering. After making some small talk with some of the folks in the check-in area, I returned to my car, where I set up a camping chair and broke out my Jetboil portable camping stove. I poured some already-brewed coffee from home from a Hydro Flask into the cooking container, and lit up the Jetboil to heat it up. More runners pulled into the parking area as I sat in my camping chair outside of my car with my sleeping bag wrapped around me for warmth, enjoying my hot cup of camping stove brew. After the pre-race briefing at 6:15 AM, I made my final preparations and walked from my car to the start line, which was only about fifty feet away. During the briefing the race director had the crowd of runners make him a promise using the "repeat after me" method. He had us say "If I die, get lost, get hurt, or get grumpy, it's my own damn fault". Since being pioneered by Candace Burt at Destination Trail Races some years earlier, this ritual has become more ubiquitous at ultramarathon start lines. The practice is mainly intended for laughs, however there is some sincerity behind it. We all knew what it meant.
The race began at 6:30 AM sharp. The sun had already mostly come up by this point, but it was still cool and mostly cloudy, so I was hoping to take as much advantage of this weather as I could. We followed Pine Valley Road for about a mile before we formed a single file line and entered the Noble Canyon Trail, which we would follow for the first several miles. At roughly two miles in, about a dozen or so of us runners were in a pack, hauling ourselves up the trail, me being somewhere in the middle. Things were going seemingly well until the girl behind me screamed. I thought maybe she had seen a mountain lion or a rattle snake, but when I turned around, she was flailing her arms and yelling "something is on me! Get it off, get it off!" the guy behind her began doing the same thing "ah, something is on me too!" he yelled. "everybody run! move! move!" they shouted. We weren't sure what was going on at first, but before long, it became apparent that somehow we had disturbed a nest of yellowjackets and they were letting us know that they were pissed. As I ran up the trail, hoping to avoid the nuisance, I suddenly felt two stings at opposite sides of my lower back about three seconds apart. It was a shock to my body, but the pain only lasted a few seconds. Meanwhile the guy in front of me had a yellowjacket right on his ass, but he brushed it off before anything happened. After a minute or so of running up the trail we were finally able to rid ourselves of the stinging pests. This situation was certainly not ideal for mile two of a 50K, but if that was the worst thing that happened to me during the race, it would be a good day with an interesting story. I tried to make a mental note of where the wasps were by identifying landmarks on the trail. We were going to be coming back this way at the end of the race, and I sure as hell didn't want more stings with only two miles left to go. Luckily the two stings on my lower back didn't bother me for the remainder of the race, but we told stories about the wasps to each other the whole way up the mountain. A couple of people mentioned being stung four or five times.
Shortly after the wasp encounter we followed the course along a gradual downhill before climbing up the side of mountain with the canyon to our right. I was feeling pretty good as I passed through the Big Trees and Penney Pines aid stations at miles eight and eleven. I refilled my water bottles, stuffed some peanut butter and jelly sandwich corners into my mouth, thanked the volunteers, and moved on. After the Penney Pines aid station the trail took us along a massive ridge that offered beautiful views of the valley and high desert to the east. At this point we had periods of clouds and sunshine and the warmer temperatures hadn't kicked in yet. The high temperature was expected to be around seventy-nine degrees, so I was hoping to reach the halfway point before it got too warm. As I came around a corner I approached another runner in front of me. "Nice job bro!" I called out as I passed by. It wasn't until I saw his face that I noticed how young he looked. When he thanked me I responded by asking "how old are you, dude?" He was eleven years old and said he lived locally, about a half a mile from the race start area, and knew these trails quite well. We were approaching the halfway point and he didn't seem tired or burned out. He really seemed to be in his element. I was in awe of this kid. Not only was he out here attempting his first 50K at eleven years old, but he also had two marathon finishes on his resume, having run his first one at nine. I thought that was super cool. I knew when he crossed the finish line later that day, this kid's life was going to be changed forever. He would know at an early age what he was capable of, and I was certain that this experience would set him up for success in his later years. Who knows if he'll stick with running ultras as he gets older, but I thought it was really rad that he was doing it at that moment.
I arrived at the Rat Hole aid station shortly after 10:00 AM. The volunteers greeted me with cowbells and applause when I arrived, which boosted my energy and spirit. I was halfway through the race, about three-and-a-half hours in, and feeling pretty good mentally and physically. I decided it was a good time to break out the chocolate covered espresso beans and get a little energy boost for the second half. The chocolate covered espresso beans were a little trick I learned from Dean Karnazes. They're like jet fuel for runners and have given me some good energy boosts during races. After refilling my water bottles and taking down some bites of food, I hit the trail to tackle the second half. The sound of the bustling aid station faded away and I was soon alone on the quiet trail again. The next several miles were mostly run solo. I would occasionally encounter another runner, but it was mostly just me, the trail, and the great outdoors. One thing I really like about the Noble Canyon 50K course is it's diverse topography. At this point I was through the section of the race that traveled along the mountain ridges with the views, and I was now descending down into a canyon with alpine wilderness and a large, grassy meadow through the trees to my left. The scenery was beautiful and in addition to the runners, there were plenty of people out hiking and mountain biking. I was still feeling pretty good until I reached mile twenty-six and my energy levels began to dissipate. I was making my way down a rocky and technical downhill section. Every step needed to be calculated and well thought out to avoid falling on my face. Eventually I reached the base of the mountain, where a volunteer waved me towards an uphill climb to the final aid station. From there, it was only four miles to the finish line, but it was a long haul to get there. The first two miles out of the aid station were up a gradual incline. We ran down this path during the early miles of the race, and although it wasn't painfully steep, the climb went on for a painfully long time. It just went on and on. As I marched up the trail I realized that I was officially entering the pain cave. It happens during almost every ultramarathon that I do, and for today's race, that time had come.
Being in the pain cave is a metaphor for experiencing an exceptionally low point during a race. When you're in the pain cave, you basically just want to die. You're tired, sore, hot, and even the simplest tasks, like walking up a hill, feel like an insurmountable obstacle. But you keep going. When I'm in the pain cave I keep going because life is ups and downs, highs and lows. And when you're in a deep low it can only get better from there. In fact, the pain cave can be a great place to grow and learn about yourself. When you're moving through the pain cave step by step you learn a lot about yourself and what you're capable of. And when you reach a high point, it feels even more satisfying after enduring through the low point. As humans, it's our natural instinct to run away from pain. But sometimes I feel like we need to run at pain and kick it's ass. A lot of people think the pain cave is bad, but I wouldn't say that. The pain cave isn't a bad place to be. It's a hard place to be, but not a bad place to be.
A passing runner shook me from my thoughts. "Nice job bro, get it!" I called out. "Thanks man! Only two miles to go". Shortly after he vanished down the trail I finally reached the crest of the hill and began descending down the winding trail, which eventually deposited me back onto Pine Valley Road. I had passed through the area where I was stung twice earlier that day and thankfully the yellowjackets were nowhere to be found. I death marched it out down the road until I finally exited the pain cave. That didn't necessarily make me less sore or tired, but bearing in mind that the finish line was only a half a mile a way, I was hit with a newfound sense of determination. This realization helped me upgrade from a death march to a hobble. The finish line soon came into view and I hobbled my way through, finishing ten minutes faster than I did last year. I threw my arms into the air in celebration and the crowd cheered and clapped for me as I stumbled by and collected my medal.
The last six miles of the race had been difficult and it caused my legs to cramp up pretty badly after I walked back to my car. I spent about thirty minutes alternating between laying down in my backseat and sitting in my camping chair soothing the cramps, but it was a small price to pay for the epic experience. It had been one hell of a day. The visit to the pain cave during those last four miles was exactly what I needed after all the crazy stuff that I had been through over the summer. The 2026 Noble Canyon 50K was not only a great test of endurance and an awesome adventure, but it was the perfect reset button. The pain cave isn't such a bad place to be because it makes me stronger, and I'm grateful for that. Until next time!
