Smith Rock Ascent 50k
The Smith Rock Ascent 50k Trail Run. AKA The 54k 50k. Yeah, there was a surprise 2.5 miles tagged on at the end. Doesn't sound like much but watching my GPS get closer to 31 miles and knowing there was no way it was going to be over then was a little unnerving.
I had been looking at this as an "A" race. I did the 25k course last year. I love this place and this is my kind of trail. Smooth singletrack with some rocky technical sections, a couple of big climbs (and descents, unfortunately) and lots of open scenery to keep me inspired and motivated. BUT....the last couple months have been full of stress, distractions and injury so my "A" race would now be a supported training run. Didn't matter. I love running here and that's all that mattered.
I headed down the night before to camp in my van. There's an on-site walk-in campground but they don't allow car camping so I found a campground about eight miles down the road. Skull Hollow Campground. A little bummed at first since I wouldn't just be able to roll out of the van and walk to the starting line but once at the the campground the calm and peaceful setting made me forget all about that. Of course My van looked a little creepy and out of place how I just rolled in, parked, ate and went to sleep while everyone else seemed to be setting up for a whole party for the weekend. campfires, food on the picnic tables, chairs, etc. It felt appropriate. This whole area has always left a very dark, heavy, ominous impression on me. After reading "A Strange Piece Of Paradise" (http://www.strangepieceofparadise.com/) I knew why. When I say "dark and ominous" I don't mean it in a negative way. I just feel a lot of power and magic here. Way to much to jump on and take for a joy ride.
Heading to the start that next morning I missed my turn and had to take a detour. On the way, I saw something crossing the road, I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking at and then I realized it was A badger! A fucking badger! I knew then it would be a good day. Can't argue with badger magic.
The race started with an epic 1,500 ft climb that took us over the "rock" and sent us going up and down over desert rollers for around the next 20 miles. I was feeling good. Not necessarily strong or in form but tough. I FELT TOUGH.
It was warm so all I wore was shorts, shoes and a waist pack with some gels, my phone and a mojo bag. no shirt, no socks, no water. This was the first time I had worn barefoot shoes for a run this long but they felt great. like I was gliding over the rocks. Found a new stride, even.
I was on mile 22 and looking at a a sub six hour finish. I knew this didn't really mean anything. Anything can happen in an ultra but I felt good and was sticking with my plan. Walk in to each aid station (about every five miles) stop and eat and then walk out eating. On hills instead of attacking and blowing up, I would run 100 steps then walk 200. over and over until the top. Then I could follow through without having to recover. This method actually catches and passes a lot of people. Then mile 22 happened.
I had been on about a four mile roll when I felt a thorn in my shoe and there was no way I could keep running with this thing so I stopped to shake it out of my shoe. Bending over, taking off then putting back on that fucking shoe was the absolute hardest thing I did all day. For some reason, once I stopped and took off my shoe, everything fell apart. I wrestled my shoe back on and somehow got moving again but it was done. I was done. That 100/ 200 steps thing....I was doing that on flat ground. So was the people I was running with so it wasn't too bad but I was still falling apart. There was a group of eight of us that just kept leapfrogging eachother and I could see the same thing had happened to them. We had made it to a small canyon by this time and we all knew a 2,000 ft climb was coming but no one talked about it. no one talked about anything. We finally made the big climb and at mile 27 we came to our last aid station. A couple of Portland's top ultra-runners were woking it and they recognized me from some of the portland races so that gave me a minute to talk and get my mind fresh for a moment. It was cool to talk about some of their recent races and one of them is headed to run the Western States 100 in a few days and it gave me a little perspective to help me through six more miles.
I headed out but I was still falling apart. The cool thing is, it didn't bother me. I've been here so many times and it's almost my second home. While I only had a few more miles and my mind had gone to some very dark places, my feet were killing me and all kinds of weird little places on my body had weird little pains and issues going on, I knew I could go for hours and hours longer. When I'm in that place of pain and confusion I almost don't want to leave. I've worked my fucking ass off to get there and I don't want to let it go. It's mine and it's pure. No one can take it and I can't fake it. Everytime I go there, I leave something behind. I also bring something back with me.
On the long downhill to the finish I caught up with a girl who was struggling pretty bad. the downhills were tearing her feet apart and her knees were giving in. I hung back and we ran it in together. I needed the motivation to run it in instead of walking and I think she just needed a little company. You get so far out there at times that you forget that there's still people in the world.
So when at 22 miles I was looking at a six hour finish, that next 12 miles turned it into a seven hour finish. Yeah, what should've been another two hours turned into three.
At the finish I had hot dogs, hamburgers (no buns, of course), chips, cokes and ice cream. yeah, ICE CREAM! I was barely five feet across the finish when I took my shoes off, went straight to the food and sat down on the grass and started tossing all kinds of groceries down my neck. Along with "high fives & good jobs" to those others who ran with me most of the course.
I spent another night at the campground but it wasn't quite as peaceful. My body had completely given out on me. I could barely stand while my mind was still in the race. I had to crawl from the bed in my van to the door to go outside. I was covered in blankets and sleeping bags with a fever and still freezing. So bad my teeth were chattering. I hadn't been this bad since my 2nd marathon about ten years ago. Since then I've ran marathons, 50k's, 40 milers, even a 50 miler but never have I went this "deep" and left this much out on the course. And as it turns out, brought this much back with me. I got a glimpse of something and I'm going back for more.
I had been looking at this as an "A" race. I did the 25k course last year. I love this place and this is my kind of trail. Smooth singletrack with some rocky technical sections, a couple of big climbs (and descents, unfortunately) and lots of open scenery to keep me inspired and motivated. BUT....the last couple months have been full of stress, distractions and injury so my "A" race would now be a supported training run. Didn't matter. I love running here and that's all that mattered.
 |
| the creepy van at skull hollow |
Heading to the start that next morning I missed my turn and had to take a detour. On the way, I saw something crossing the road, I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking at and then I realized it was A badger! A fucking badger! I knew then it would be a good day. Can't argue with badger magic.
The race started with an epic 1,500 ft climb that took us over the "rock" and sent us going up and down over desert rollers for around the next 20 miles. I was feeling good. Not necessarily strong or in form but tough. I FELT TOUGH.
It was warm so all I wore was shorts, shoes and a waist pack with some gels, my phone and a mojo bag. no shirt, no socks, no water. This was the first time I had worn barefoot shoes for a run this long but they felt great. like I was gliding over the rocks. Found a new stride, even.I was on mile 22 and looking at a a sub six hour finish. I knew this didn't really mean anything. Anything can happen in an ultra but I felt good and was sticking with my plan. Walk in to each aid station (about every five miles) stop and eat and then walk out eating. On hills instead of attacking and blowing up, I would run 100 steps then walk 200. over and over until the top. Then I could follow through without having to recover. This method actually catches and passes a lot of people. Then mile 22 happened.
I had been on about a four mile roll when I felt a thorn in my shoe and there was no way I could keep running with this thing so I stopped to shake it out of my shoe. Bending over, taking off then putting back on that fucking shoe was the absolute hardest thing I did all day. For some reason, once I stopped and took off my shoe, everything fell apart. I wrestled my shoe back on and somehow got moving again but it was done. I was done. That 100/ 200 steps thing....I was doing that on flat ground. So was the people I was running with so it wasn't too bad but I was still falling apart. There was a group of eight of us that just kept leapfrogging eachother and I could see the same thing had happened to them. We had made it to a small canyon by this time and we all knew a 2,000 ft climb was coming but no one talked about it. no one talked about anything. We finally made the big climb and at mile 27 we came to our last aid station. A couple of Portland's top ultra-runners were woking it and they recognized me from some of the portland races so that gave me a minute to talk and get my mind fresh for a moment. It was cool to talk about some of their recent races and one of them is headed to run the Western States 100 in a few days and it gave me a little perspective to help me through six more miles. I headed out but I was still falling apart. The cool thing is, it didn't bother me. I've been here so many times and it's almost my second home. While I only had a few more miles and my mind had gone to some very dark places, my feet were killing me and all kinds of weird little places on my body had weird little pains and issues going on, I knew I could go for hours and hours longer. When I'm in that place of pain and confusion I almost don't want to leave. I've worked my fucking ass off to get there and I don't want to let it go. It's mine and it's pure. No one can take it and I can't fake it. Everytime I go there, I leave something behind. I also bring something back with me.On the long downhill to the finish I caught up with a girl who was struggling pretty bad. the downhills were tearing her feet apart and her knees were giving in. I hung back and we ran it in together. I needed the motivation to run it in instead of walking and I think she just needed a little company. You get so far out there at times that you forget that there's still people in the world.
 |
| back on track |
At the finish I had hot dogs, hamburgers (no buns, of course), chips, cokes and ice cream. yeah, ICE CREAM! I was barely five feet across the finish when I took my shoes off, went straight to the food and sat down on the grass and started tossing all kinds of groceries down my neck. Along with "high fives & good jobs" to those others who ran with me most of the course.
I spent another night at the campground but it wasn't quite as peaceful. My body had completely given out on me. I could barely stand while my mind was still in the race. I had to crawl from the bed in my van to the door to go outside. I was covered in blankets and sleeping bags with a fever and still freezing. So bad my teeth were chattering. I hadn't been this bad since my 2nd marathon about ten years ago. Since then I've ran marathons, 50k's, 40 milers, even a 50 miler but never have I went this "deep" and left this much out on the course. And as it turns out, brought this much back with me. I got a glimpse of something and I'm going back for more.
