Spooner Lake at dawn was completely still. The surface of the water like a sheet of glass reflected the trees on the opposing shore cut only by a layer of fine, early morning mist. The air was crisp and cool. Fresh. Runners gathered around the tents and did final race preparations and just before 6 am we were called to the starting line. With little fanfare, we were off. The first steps of a long journey. A journey that began long before this day, with a dream and a goal, and a glimmer of hope that I could survive what I was about to embark on.
The first mile is a wide open dirt road which undulates gently and winds towards the trail head. The 146 runners worked to space themselves appropriately within the crowd. By the time we hit the Marlette Trail we were running single file, switchbacking up the mountain. The trail was wonderful. Packed dirt, few obstacles. Perfect. I stopped several times to take pictures and appreciate the views. Soon I began a descent toward Marlette Lake which we circled on the trail. Words cannot even express how beautiful it was in the early morning. I had the hugest grin on my face the whole time. It was more amazing than I could have even imagined. I arrived at the first check point Hobart Aid Station (AS) at around 7:30 am, 6 miles in.
From Hobart to Tunnel Creek I was still feeling good and smiling a lot. This section of the trail was probably my most favorite (though I think I will probably say that again about other segments). I traversed several large snow fields. After one snow field in particular I round the corner of the mountain and am stunned with a panoramic view of the lake. I run through meadows of wildflowers feeling like I am in the Sound of Music. After the meadows, I enter the woods again and run down switchbacks, through large fields of boulders as we approach Tunnel Creek at 11 miles. I ran into TC smiling at 8:50 am.
The next segment of trail is called the Red House Loop. It was probably the most interesting portion of the trail. I ran down a very steep, tough descent. Once I reached the bottom it was like running through a rain forest (without the heat and humidity). The vegetation was thick. There were several water crossings which I initially tried to cross without soaking my feet. Once I realized that this was going to be impossible, I had a lot more fun. There were only about 3 crossings that were ankle deep. The rest I was able to skip over on the rocks. I was surprised that the water didn't really bother my feet and my Cascadia's seemed to dry pretty quickly. There was one climb in the middle of the loop and then after passing Red House, there was one final climb, up the very steep grade that we had descended earlier. Just before heading up this climb, I passed a 50k participant who was struggling. I reminded him that he had only to climb out and then he was on his way back to the finish line. He looked very young and I admired him for attempting such a grueling course.
On the climb out of the Red House Loop I felt nervous for the first time since starting the race. Suddenly I was feeling like Oh my God this is tough. My thoughts never turned negative. Just a little reality check for what was to come. My sister informed me that the Red House Loop is what gives the TRT Ultra the "taste of Hell" part of their motto. This was a bit of a relief since I knew I'd be hiking up a black diamond ski slope later in the day. Couldn't be worse than this, right?
I arrived back at Tunnel Creek AS and found a few boiled, salted potatoes to munch on. I sat down and changed out of my soaking wet socks into a dry pair. I applied a little moleskin to my pinkie toe as I could feel a hot spot. I tried to assess my sister's status (she had started an hour earlier than me, entered in the 100 mile run) but the volunteer told me that their computer system didn't allow them to search. She remembered her brightly colored socks though and knew she had passed by. As I started out on the trail away from Tunnel Creek, I ran into my sister within about a hundred yards. She was heading back to TC, crying. She explained that she had made it a mile or so and was feeling dizzy. Rather than try to make it the 12 miles to Diamond Peak, she decided to return to TC and drop out. I convinced her to walk with me a little and try taking in some salt. Soon she was feeling better and we kept going. We paused at Bull Wheel AS to fill our water and indulge in a little shot of beer that the volunteer offered. It was the best beer I've ever drank. It numbed my legs enough and gave me a little carb boost. Off we went to finish the last 9 miles to Diamond Peak where her crew would be waiting.
The 9 miles to Diamond Peak were the toughest mentally for me. I had a suspicion that my sister was planning on dropping out. I purposely didn't talk about it until we were within a half mile of the AS as I didn't want us to make any decisions until we had to. Also, I know how things can go downhill once the thoughts turn negative and I tried to avoid that as best as possible. Looking back, I wished I had tried some positive reinforcement as we both wish that she would have continued to 50 along with me. We power hiked and ran through the woods north of Lake Tahoe. Turning lakeward with 4 miles to go, we finally reached the downhill and cruised. At this point my right ankle hurt like hell and my left plantar fascia was screaming. Having heard only horror stories about plantar fascitis and what a bitch it is to get rid of, I was contemplating dropping out as well.
We ran out of the woods onto the road that leads to the Diamond Peak Lodge. WM was there to meet us and I grabbed his phone to call my husband. I think I'm done, I told him. He asked what was wrong. I told him of my foot/ ankle and overall pain and fatigue. The phone cut out, and while waiting for a return call I checked into the AS. I mentioned to the volunteer that I was hurting and thinking of dropping but I told him I'd let him know for sure. I stepped on the scale (which wasn't required of 50 milers, but I was curious how I was doing with salt and hydration). My weight was 142 lbs. which scared me a little because this is my normal morning weight and I would have expected to have lost a couple of pounds by this point. Now I'm worried that I'm taking too much salt and retaining water. My sister had pointed out my swollen fingers....
The aid station volunteer sent over a bucket of ice to soak my foot. My husband called back and told me to stretch out my calf. He reminded me that ultimately, no one cared about this except me, but that I would be disappointed if I quit. He told me to think about it and call him back. I ate a few Oreos and drank some Pepsi. Without even really thinking I changed my socks and shoes, emptied my pack of solid food (opting instead for gels and gummy orange slices which are much easier to eat when you can't breathe), picked up my gear and started walking. I called over my shoulder asking WM to call my husband back and tell him I'm still going. I left the DP AS with 1 1/2 hours to spare before my cutoff.
It was 2 miles and 2500 ft of elevation gain from DP back to Bull Wheel. The first part of the climb is switchbacks up a service road. I got lulled into thinking that this was it. (I am not a skier, so even though I knew I would be hiking a black diamond, I didn't really know what this meant.) Soon enough I turned a corner and stared at the longest, steepest, most desolate climb I'd ever laid eyes on. The Crystal Ridge ski run. I didn't stop. I continued to put one foot in front of the other, though my stride length was dramatically shortened. There were a couple of false summits which allowed me to turn around and appreciate the views and how far I'd come. During the actual summit itself I couldn't turn around for fear of falling off the mountain. An hour after leaving DP AS, I reached the top. As I summited, medical personnel were loading a competitor into a helicopter to be removed from the mountain. I thought to myself, what exactly has to happen to warrant spending $40k on a heli-lift off of the top? I wished whoever it was quick return to health and continued on my way back to TC.
I don't remember a lot about the 3 miles back to Tunnel Creek, other than I was feeling dizzy and thought I maybe should sit down rather than risk falling off the cliff as the trail narrowed. I was weak and dejected when I approached the AS and dropped into a chair, hanging my head. Immediately, a volunteer was in front of me asking how I was doing and recommended that I speak to the doctor for a moment, just to make sure everything was OK. They ushered me into the medic tent and began taking my vitals. I was relieved to see that I had dropped 2 lbs over the last 2 hours (I was not taking too much sodium!). My blood pressure was fine at about 120/80. My pulse was 91, and my oxygen saturation 98. They questioned me as to my preparation for the race, and what other endurance events I had participated in. They listened to my heart and lungs and questioned my symptoms. They questioned my urination since the start of the race (I had gone only twice in about 10 hours). I was looking for anything, any reason whatsoever, to beg for a ride back to Spooner. (TC is the only place other than DP that it's even possible to drop out, the rest of the AS are too remote.) The doctor reassured me that I was merely dehydrated and hypoglycemic. He encouraged me to sit a few minutes and take in some food before continuing. They gave me more soda and refilled my hydration pack. Never once did he offer a ride off the mountain. It was as if quitting were not even an option since I was physically fine.
Leaving Tunnel Creek for the final time, I knew I would be finishing. I set my watch to beep at me every 15 minutes as a reminder to eat and drink. (Why didn't I do this earlier???) The volunteers at TC sent a set of mountain bikers to shadow me for a couple of miles to make sure I was OK. I can't tell you how much this makes me want to cry when I think about it now. It was the most selfless, generous act but they pretended like it was nothing. One biker cruised ahead about 2 1/2 miles and waited at the top of the switchbacks for me, while the other one stayed right behind me. Having her there made me feel like I wasn't alone. Like if I collapsed on the trail, I wouldn't be left for dead. Every 15 minutes I ate a sugared gummy orange slice and drank water. Soon I was feeling better and the energy returned. My shadow stopped to help another woman who was struggling on the trail and I continued on. As I passed the second mountain biker, I assured him that I was feeling much better and thanked him for keeping an eye on me.
I was feeling significantly better, but maybe not as great as I imagined. Before I knew it, I was hallucinating. I saw a fat man in a white T-shirt standing outside his cabin. Funny, I thought, I don't remember there being a cabin along this part of the trail. I thought he was barbecuing. Until I got closer to him and realized that he wasn't there. Neither was his cabin. As I approached the snow fields for the final time, I was joined by two ladies from South Africa and Germany. Stick with us, they said, we are shuffling! So I stayed with them until we got to Hobart AS. It was so nice to have company! They were cheerful and positive. We struggled through the snow which had melted a little during the day and had become very slick. At one point we had to sit down and slide down a 12 foot snow drift (which was fun other than my ice-burned hands!).
Back at Hobart, I smiled for the first time in a long time. A young girl handed me a poker chip that said "Hobart 2011" and "Good Luck". I smiled and told her I was going to make it. I grabbed some soda and boiled potatoes and continued on my way. It was roughly 3 miles to the last check point at Snow Valley Peak, the highest point of the course and also the "Glimpse of Heaven" in the race motto. I enjoyed the first couple of miles through the woods, but soon I was dumped out into an open meadow, complete with more snow fields and brutal winds. The views were gorgeous, but I couldn't help but think, when will I get there?? The boy scouts who man the SVP AS place signs out lining the last mile of the course. I was so not appreciating their efforts as I wondered how many more signs I would have to read before I made it to the top.
I reached the SVP AS and was shivering. I sat near the heater while the volunteer filled my hydration pack and I got my windbreaker on. I ate some chicken noodle soup, regrouped with the ladies I had been with up until Hobart and we started out on the descent. I didn't know it at the time, but I left SVP with only 30 minutes to spare on the cutoff. The first two miles became more of a hike as the vegetation stood waist-high and we had trouble navigating around the boulders on the trail. I knew it was all down hill from SVP so I was feeling a little sorry for myself that we weren't able to run. But eventually we dropped out of the meadow into the woods for a lovely downhill run. With 5 miles to go, I spotted WM who had trekked backwards from the finish to run with me. I was never so happy to see a familiar face.
He was the model safety runner and picture of encouragement as he told me how good my pace looked and how well I was doing. All lies, I was sure! I talked to him about things I had gone through on the trail, wanting to drop out at TC, hallucinating, the beauty of the trails in the morning light, the water crossings, and the endless uphills. He talked to me about my sister, and his two hour run that he did after returning her to the hotel. It was then that my husband had suggested that he trace backwards and find me. We ran together, enjoying the trail. This was his first trail run and being a trail lover myself, I hoped that he loved it too. I kept apologizing for walking every time there was a even a slight incline but he insisted he didn't mind. The sun was setting and we worked hard to get to Spooner Summit before we needed the headlamp. WM passed his headlamp onto the gal from South Africa as she (expecting to be done before dark) was without one. We paused at SS to fish mine out of my pack and then continued on at a slightly slower pace.
I must have passed at least a half dozen people in those last 1.7 miles. I could hear the music at the finish and see the lights. I knew I was going to be able to stop running soon, but it took forever for that finish line to appear. I ran through the finish, and much like the start of the day, there was little fanfare. I hugged WM and thanked him for running with me. I hugged my sister and accepted the bouquet of flowers she presented me with. And then we hobbled off to find the car and some warm clothes.
Looking back on the day I am a little in awe of my accomplishment. I struggled to find my way over a very long day (15 hours and 16 minutes). Since my first (and only) 50k was 5:25, I thought for sure I'd be finishing around 13 hours or maybe less. I didn't respect the altitude and what it would do to my ability to breathe. I didn't respect the elevation change, the relentless ups and downs that waited for me as I traveled through the mountains. Now, I know what it takes and I know I can do it. Faster? Maybe, but who really cares? The point is I set a goal, I got to spend an entire day on the most beautiful course doing what I love- challenging my body and my mind. I want to go back to Lake Tahoe and the TRT Ultramarathon. I want to experience the trails again, and see what else they might teach me. My husband and one of my best friends asked me why I would want to do it again. Why not pick a different course? See something new. Try something easier for a faster time. It's difficult to explain. I could only say that if you knew how I feel, you would understand. It's a passion, a calling. A friend of mine once said that there are mountain people and there are ocean people. I love the ocean, but it doesn't speak to me the way that the mountains do. I can only answer the calling, the whisper in the trees, the sun shining over the lake, and know that I am home.
6 comments:
I am so PROUD of you. You are my hero!
You're so hardcore, Mary! I'm pretty sure if we looked up hardcore in the dictionary - there'd be a pic of your smiling face. Super proud of you and your effort! Keep up the great work!
Wow, that's incredible. I felt like I was there with you. Awesome - what a challenge!
Wow - thanks for sharing, I felt like I was there with you. Beautiful and incredible. Quite the accomplisment.
Christina
Beautiful Post! I was captured! I look forward to a tast of Heaven and Hell someday myself!
just read your post. i'm heading out from san diego early tomorrow morning to run the 2012 TRT 50. this will be my 2nd 50-miler. your narrative had great information, and i am now teary-eyed in anticipation of the wonder and beauty and challenges of the day.
thanks for sharing
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