Siskiyou Out & Back 50 miler

California's Mt. Shasta

    Two weeks after missing the cut-off at mile 40 at the Mt. Hood 50 mile, I'm either getting an opportunity for "redemption" or just another chance to wreck my body and soul over what many would say is a pointless activity. At the very least it's an excuse to go hang out on some amazing trails, taking in beautiful views, meeting interesting people and hanging out in Ashland, OR. One of my favorite towns.
    I did this same race last year, it was my first (and only) 50 mile run. Finishing in 10:40. I probably ran about 43 miles of it with just a couple short breaks of walking until getting a boost in spirits at the mile 45 aid station and running as hard as I could manage all the way to the finish. Things didn't quite go that way this time around.
    Any of you who know me or have read this blog know I've been dealing with a lot of set backs this year. Nothing too damaging, just some life stresses and injuries that have left me with some spotty training the last few months. All of which just seems to be a never ending cycle that feeds on itself. it is what it is. That's ultra-running...that's life. some days (or weeks, or months) are good, some not so good but you keep moving. Just keep moving. As long as you can take ONE MORE STEP. Seems to be my mantra these days.
    I had assessed what went wrong with my Mt. Hood race and what I could've done to turn it around. Short of going back in a time machine to correct some bad training techniques I had experimented with months earlier, the best thing I could do was stay positive, motivated and not let anyone else's "dark moments" get in my space. I knew it would be a more challenging day than last year, I just didn't know how much more.
    I started out right on pace. Looking at covering five miles an hour. I knew I would crack at some point but if I could get to the turn around point in five hours it would bank some much needed confidence. I made it in 5:15. Only 15 minutes down from last year. Not bad.
    I turned around and started back. I was doing alright. Starting to walk here and there but not so much out of getting tired in as much just walking through technical sections. I knew I was probably getting a little heavy footed and figured walking through these sections was better than picking myself up in them from a rock or root grabbing my toe. About mile 33 I came up on a woman walking and just as I passed she started dry heaving. It was bad, real bad. Very violent and I was afraid it could get a lot worse. I tried to stay with her but she wouldn't let me. I argued a little but she was pushing me away. The next aid station was about a mile or so away so I just tried to get there as soon as I could so they could start getting ready for her or maybe send someone to walk with her. By the time they got it together she was making her way up the hill. I was now about 30 minutes behind my 5 m.p.h. pace but still not bad. Holding up much better than I expected and I headed back out. Next aid station three miles away at mile 38.
    This was an easy section for me. Just an open dirt road with a slight downhill. At one point, I started giggling uncontrollably, then crying. sobbing really, all the while still giggling. No reason, just this incredible wave of emotion and gratefulness for being able to do things like this. For being able to appreciate this joy in suffering and share in it with others on their own personal journeys as well.
    The next aid station is a "water only" aid station but I like this one. Two really cool ladies that have worked it both years I've ran this (and several more I later found out) and they always call me "rockstar." The long hair, tattoo, shirtless thing, I guess. Anyway, they always seem to be having fun and it's really contagious. And to be honest, these volunteers are probably the best race volunteers I've ever encountered. I recognize several from last year and I've never been treated with such rockstar pit-stop service as I have been each time I've done this race. More on this later.
    Leaving this aid station, there's a section we don't do on our way out the first time. It's only about three miles but It's the longest three miles of my life. I remember last year during this section I thought I had went off course and found myself getting more and more frustrated until I finally recognized a course marker. That didn't help so much as I was already in that dark place. This time around I knew I was on course but it didn't help. You see, by now I had covered over 38 miles and this piece of trail gets pretty technical. Lots of big, sharp jagged rocks sticking out of the ground so you have to watch every step and a few spot that hug the side of the wall so you don't want to take any chances of tripping. Some guys can breeze right through these sections but not this guy. I was getting really tired of start/ stopping so I just started running and of course it didn't take long and BAM! left foot kicked a huge rock firmly embedded. I wasn't gonna take off my shoe but I knew something wasn't cool. I run in VERY minimalist shoes and without socks so protection was at a minimum. Feet were already feeling like hamburger. I finally made it out of that section and to the mile 41 aid station. Getting out of there was a big morale boost. I could still manage some running here and there but it was getting less and less. there were several of us that meeting up at aid stations and seemed to stay a couple hundred yards apart the whole time. Sometimes we'd get close enough for a few words but for the most part we were just this army of walking dead.There were some kids at the last aid station (mile 45) and just from their expressions we must've looked pretty bad. They looked truly frightened.
    I get into the aid station and sit down to dump the dirt and rocks out of my shoe. I could now see my toe, it was screwed. And I had a cut on my toe on the other foot. No idea how the hell that happened. I start to put my shoe back on and my legs start to seize up. I try a few more times but it's bad. I can't bend them and when I force them they start to seize the other way. This is where the AMAZING volunteer work comes in. This guy, this freaking hero of a guy, actually takes my dirty, bloody feet and shoves them into my shoes. He gets my shoes back on, pulls up the tongue of my shoe and ties them back tight as hell and tells me I got 5 more miles to go and they don't have room for me in the van so I can't DNF. I know as bad as I felt and looked there were others that were looking a lot worse (and would be a few more) and I wasn't the only one they would tell that too. Those guys knew how close we all were and weren't gonna let us miss it because of some cut-off time. I got up and dragged my broken self back on the trail. I was ONLY walking by this time. I would try to run but couldn't hold it.
    I finally got to the last mile stretch and started running. Well, in my mind I was running. What other people saw me doing was something much more pitiful. There were RV's and campers parked all along the road cheering me on so i HAD to "run." I would've probably walked it in if they hadn't been there.

it only hurts the last 7 or 8 hours

    I crossed the finish line. 12hrs 17min. after I started. My mind and body a wreck but my soul completely on fire. The Eric that started the race that morning was NOT the Eric that crossed the line 12 hours later. This was far from my best run. Even farther from my most enjoyable. This was, however, one of my most important runs. I started the race already in pain and went through a lot more as the day went. I had to call up a lot of resources for this finish. Past training, race experience, LIFE experience, childhood memories, attitude, love, hope, I could go on.....I had to call on them all and more. I found myself with several people finishing their first 50 miler and that pulled me through. I could feel their strength, fear, pain, joy. I needed it all, Training wasn't enough this time.
If there were a way I could wrap up this feeling and experience and give it over to everyone I've ever loved or cared about, I would. But we all have to find our own prolonged source of pain and beauty.