On Sunday I ran my first long-distance trail race - the Dam Good Run 40k - where I actually had to traverse the distance. I say it that way because I've ran races of this length before, even trail ones; but they were timed races, running the same 1-4 mi loop over and over again (Soulmates CYA 6 hour race, Soulmates Tryptophun Rhuns 6 hour, and Across The Years). But The Dam Good Run would require me to run what was essentially an out-and-back course consisting of 40k in total length - lots of ground to cover. For awhile now, I had been wanting to do a trail marathon, and locally this was as close as I could find. Plus with my volunteer credits, it was a free race entry for me. If things didn't go well, I could back out and not be out a ton of cash for an expensive race registration.
Come race day, I was pretty nervous, mostly due to fears of getting lost or seeing a rattlesnake. I felt confident that I would finish, though, and had hoped for a time between 6-6.5 hours. I didn't know anyone doing the 40k distance, although I had my friends Kelli, Stormie, and Laurel there doing the 4 mi and later saw some friends arrive for the 26k. But I would be on my own for this adventure!
Laurel had arrived for packet pickup and we were able to say hello before I had to group up at the start line for the 40k race start. The pack was small - I found out later, 57 starters. I purposely put myself towards the back in an effort to give the faster, more experienced runners the space they need and avoid getting in the way. At 7am, we were off!
The race started out on the road for about 2-3 miles and crossed the Waddell Dam, which I guess isn't normally open to the public. Eventually this road met up with another road and then we had to do a wide right turn to put us on the trail.
The very few people who were behind me at the start had all passed me by now, except for one guy wearing the green shirt from Pat's Run that took place the day before. But once we were on the trail for a bit, he passed me too on a long stretch of flatness. I'd catch up to him on the inclines and pass him, and he'd pass me again on the flats and downhills. We continued on like this for a while until we both just gave up and decided to run together.
"Ugh, I was in shape when I signed up for this! But then I got sick and was out for the past two months!" Pat's Run said. Great. I'm in probably the best shape I'll be in all summer and I can barely keep up with the guy. "Have you run this race before?"
"No, not this race. I'm not a very experienced trail runner at all, really. This is my first long distance that doesn't consist of the same loop for six hours," I responded.
"Oh yeah, I can't do those!" he said. "The temptation to quit would be too much."
"True, it is a big mental game."
"So you seem to be keeping the pace I want to finish at. What are you thinking, five, five and a half?" I assumed he was referring to my overall finish time.
"Well, six would be pretty great!" I said. 6 hours would have been great, but I knew 6.5 hours would be more realistic for me today.
"Yeah, I said between six and six and a half. But I'm having trouble keeping pace. Every time I run, my heart rate spikes."
"Do you live here locally?"
"Yeah," Pat's Run replied. "You were going to ask me if I was used to the heat."
"Well, yeah. That was what I thought of." And I didn't have any more advice so we just continued on in silence for a bit.
The second aid station (Agua Fria) of the course came up around what I think was mile 5. We ran up together and Pat's Run stopped off to talk to some lady that looked like she brought him a hydration pack - up to that point he was using a handheld water bottle. All I heard was, "Do you want this?" I filled my handheld with ice water, took a piece of watermelon, and left. I needed to keep going while I felt good, and Pat's Run would catch up with me anyway, he always did. The next part of the race went through a riparian preserve (I call this the "Jurassic Park part" of the course) where I had to do two stream crossings (fun!).
I kept looking back when I heard footsteps, thinking Pat's Run must be coming, but it was just some of the 26k runners passing me. I never did see Pat's Run again. Although I didn't get his name, I'm assuming he was one of the five people that dropped from the race. Other than being passed by 26k-ers, I was alone.
So now there was a lot of "Good job!", "Keep it going!", "You got this!" going on every time I was passed. I just laughed. I knew I wasn't doing a good job, just a good enough job. I couldn't even see any of the other 40k runners. But I was keeping a good pace (for me) and stuck with it.
The next aid station was the "Two Cow" station and I recognized Dawn there running it. We had volunteered at Mesquite Canyon together.
"Oh Dawn, I'm the last 40k person!" I whined.
"Oh no you're not. Some guy just went back up the hill and said he wasn't going to finish the race."
"Oh," was all I said to that. I'm pretty sure that still meant I was the last one on the course. We chit-chatted about how I was feeling and some upcoming races we might see each other at. Then I tried to politely depart as all the conversation would add up, in my mind.
The next aid station was Scorpion Bay and this marked the turnaround point for the 26k runners. It was close, about 2 miles from Two Cow. Behind me I could hear a guy yelling his "Good job"s and "You got this"s as I presume the runners were passing him, then passing me. Eventually he caught up to me too.
"All right, c'mon! We got this! The turnaround is just on the other side of the hill!" he said.
"Um, I kind of signed up for the 40k." Meaning, your turnaround is just on the other side of the hill, not mine.
There was what felt like a long pause. "That's okay, you're looking strong. You just keep going, keep doing what you're doing. You'll get there!"
I just laughed.
I made it to Scorpion Bay not long after. The "I" family was manning this aid station. I knew who they were, but not sure they would recognize me, which I was thankful for at the time. Everyone in this family is ridiculously fast when running, so even though we show up to a lot of the same races, we tend not to see each other except for a few minutes before a race starts. They were so helpful!! They took my handheld from me, filled it with ice, asked me about 10 times what they could do to help me. But I couldn't think of anything. There wasn't really anything they could do to make me fast, but I knew I could finish.
As I headed back out on the trail again, Turnaround Guy started cheering for me really loud. "YEAH GIRL! YOU GET IT! WHOOOOOOOOOO!"
I just laughed, and shook my head. What do you say to that?!
So now I was really, really alone. No 40k runners to be seen, no 26k runners to pass me now that I had traveled past their turnaround spot. But I figured, they let me continue on from the aid station, so I'm doing good enough to finish. And I'm glad I continued, because some of the most beautiful parts of the course were just now coming up.
There's a floating bridge you have to cross, I'm not sure of the significance of it but it's kind of neat to see, and the flatness was a welcome sight. About 50 ft from the entrance to the bridge, I saw Jamil Coury taking video for what would probably end up being some promo material for the race. Great. I hope he can at least edit it so it's not obvious I'm dead last.
"Yay," I said as I passed him from behind, tired and winded.
"Good job, you're doing great," he said in that authoritative, supportive, race director kind of way. Please don't let him be filming me right now.
The rocks and clay were turning red now, and it was kind of a cool sight to see. And soon, 40k runners on their way back from the turnaround point(s) were starting to pass me from the other direction, so at least I knew I was going the right way.
I was less than a mile from the Cottonwood aid station when some 40k runners on their way back out said, "Watch out, we got some wild burros around here!"
I just laughed.
"Hey, I'm not kidding!"
"Oh, I know," I replied. "I just didn't think I'd get the chance to see any." I never did.
Cottonwood aid station was like an oasis. It was one of two turnaround points - there was a short out-and-back detour I had to take after this - but kind of the biggest milestone of the race. I didn't recognize the people working out here but they were incredibly helpful. Thank goodness for great volunteers! They took my pack off, filled it with ice and water, filled my handheld for me, and I ate a bunch here: peanut butter & jelly, bean rollups, gummy worms, watermelon, pretzels, and ginger. "So... I'm pretty sure I'm the last one," I told them. "There was a guy I thought might be behind me [Pat's Run], but I haven't seen him in a long time."
"That's okay!" the aid station lady said. "We're not going anywhere!"
I just laughed. "Thank you for being out here."
One of the gentlemen at the station started giving me information about the trail I'd be on next, how long it was to the next aid station (back to Scorpion Bay), and maybe some other stuff but I was pretty pooped and didn't process it all. I just kind of waved as I left with a bean rollup in my hand.
So I head back out and have to take this Yavapai Point trail for an extra out-and-back thing before I can finally head towards the finish line. OMG, the trail is so steep and narrow I felt like a mountain goat out there, only they are far more agile then I was at this point. When 40k runners would pass me from the other direction, we had to slow down and kind of turn 90 degrees to get by each other, the trail was so narrow. I'm basically just hiking at this point because it is straight. Up. Wild Burro Warning guy passed me. "If I told you the view was worth it, would you believe me?" I didn't say anything. "Well, it is." Okay.
I'm starting to run out of mountain so I know I'm almost there. Then I saw a guy with a big camera. "Are you the race photographer?!" I asked. I recognized him from when he was taking pictures on the Dam, but that was like, what, mile 2?!? Then I kind of felt bad. Was he waiting on the top of this mountain just for me to get here? The last 40k finisher?
"Yes I am," he said. "Ouch! I just got a piece of cactus in my foot!"
"Oh my god! Can I do something?" Now I really felt bad.
"Nah, it's been happening to me all day. So you think you're the last one?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I'll try to hurry."
"Only another 300 yards or so to the top." I thanked him and started on my hike. I'm cussing a lot by now, but I made it. I gave the turnaround sign a tap with my water bottle. When I turned around, I saw this:
And then I was like, "Oh, okay. I get it now. This is awesome." I don't think I had ever even seen this part of the lake before, ever. And I was only one of about 50-ish racers who got to see it today!
Now I'm going downhill and jogging, using gravity to my advantage. I start getting closer to Race Photographer and I see he's in picture-taking mode. "Yeah, look at me going fast!" I said.
"Good job! See you at the finish!"
Oh yes. Yes, you will see me at the finish.
Things from here on out go pretty well, I breeze through Scorpion Bay, and I am making much better time now that I can go downhill rather than up. And what's that? I can see another runner ahead of me.
Okay, as long as I keep running while she's walking, eventually I will catch up to her. And I did! As I approach, I say, "We're almost done!" We are almost done... There's about 8k left of the race by the time I reach her.
"Eh, I'm dropping at the next aid station. Something's wrong with my foot. Something's... It's just not right."
And I'm a horrible person because the first thing that goes through my mind is, That means I'm still last. But I would never say that. Instead, I try to be reassuring. "Well, we should be coming up on the next aid station [Two Cow] any minute now. Hang in there."
"Thanks," was all she said. We rolled into the aid station within minutes of each other. There's a volunteer here who also was at Scorpion Bay just a short while ago. "Well, I'm still the last runner," I told him. "But if I finish before 3pm it means you get to pack up early."
He just smiled and said, "You're almost done. We'll see you at the finish."
Oh yes. Yes, you will see me at the finish.
So there's no more aid stations between me and the finish line now. Every time I see a sheriff directing traffic, or another volunteer, I'm calling out, "I'm the last runner!" I'm wearing it like a badge now. When I'm done, we're all done. Someone has to be last. Today is my day!
It's getting hot now and I'm slowing down despite my desire to finish. "Where the $@&# is Frog Tanks?" I keep saying out loud. No one's around. Frog Tanks trail marks the last kilometer or so before I can finish. And of course when I get to Frog Tanks, it's like straight up again. I wanted to finish strong, and I'm walking, but when I get to the top I can see the Aravaipa Running flag like a beacon in the distance. Two sheriff officers I had seen earlier are at the top for the last road crossing.
"I'm here," I stammer out.
"We were wonderin' if maybe you fell down out there!" one of the sheriffs says. Gimme a break. "Just follow on in, in between the cones. You're almost done!"
"Okay."
"Just right between the cones!" the other sheriff says.
"OKAY." And I run as fast as I can, which is not very fast, across the finish line in 6:35:25. DFL. But a finisher. And I promptly went to get my free pizza. And then went out for Mexican food with my dad after that.
After having a couple of days to process everything, although it was a weird feeling to be last after having feared it my entire running "career", I feel okay with it now. I finished. I was on my feet for 6.5 hours and covered almost 25 mountainous miles, saw some incredible sights. No, I don't want to do it again, but I also think I will always remember the experience.
Come race day, I was pretty nervous, mostly due to fears of getting lost or seeing a rattlesnake. I felt confident that I would finish, though, and had hoped for a time between 6-6.5 hours. I didn't know anyone doing the 40k distance, although I had my friends Kelli, Stormie, and Laurel there doing the 4 mi and later saw some friends arrive for the 26k. But I would be on my own for this adventure!
Laurel had arrived for packet pickup and we were able to say hello before I had to group up at the start line for the 40k race start. The pack was small - I found out later, 57 starters. I purposely put myself towards the back in an effort to give the faster, more experienced runners the space they need and avoid getting in the way. At 7am, we were off!
The race started out on the road for about 2-3 miles and crossed the Waddell Dam, which I guess isn't normally open to the public. Eventually this road met up with another road and then we had to do a wide right turn to put us on the trail.
The very few people who were behind me at the start had all passed me by now, except for one guy wearing the green shirt from Pat's Run that took place the day before. But once we were on the trail for a bit, he passed me too on a long stretch of flatness. I'd catch up to him on the inclines and pass him, and he'd pass me again on the flats and downhills. We continued on like this for a while until we both just gave up and decided to run together.
"Ugh, I was in shape when I signed up for this! But then I got sick and was out for the past two months!" Pat's Run said. Great. I'm in probably the best shape I'll be in all summer and I can barely keep up with the guy. "Have you run this race before?"
"No, not this race. I'm not a very experienced trail runner at all, really. This is my first long distance that doesn't consist of the same loop for six hours," I responded.
"Oh yeah, I can't do those!" he said. "The temptation to quit would be too much."
"True, it is a big mental game."
"So you seem to be keeping the pace I want to finish at. What are you thinking, five, five and a half?" I assumed he was referring to my overall finish time.
"Well, six would be pretty great!" I said. 6 hours would have been great, but I knew 6.5 hours would be more realistic for me today.
"Yeah, I said between six and six and a half. But I'm having trouble keeping pace. Every time I run, my heart rate spikes."
"Do you live here locally?"
"Yeah," Pat's Run replied. "You were going to ask me if I was used to the heat."
"Well, yeah. That was what I thought of." And I didn't have any more advice so we just continued on in silence for a bit.
The second aid station (Agua Fria) of the course came up around what I think was mile 5. We ran up together and Pat's Run stopped off to talk to some lady that looked like she brought him a hydration pack - up to that point he was using a handheld water bottle. All I heard was, "Do you want this?" I filled my handheld with ice water, took a piece of watermelon, and left. I needed to keep going while I felt good, and Pat's Run would catch up with me anyway, he always did. The next part of the race went through a riparian preserve (I call this the "Jurassic Park part" of the course) where I had to do two stream crossings (fun!).
 |
| Stream crossing 2 of 2. Photo Credit: Gladys Rionda, AZ TraiLeggers. The barbed wire fence made this one interesting. |
So now there was a lot of "Good job!", "Keep it going!", "You got this!" going on every time I was passed. I just laughed. I knew I wasn't doing a good job, just a good enough job. I couldn't even see any of the other 40k runners. But I was keeping a good pace (for me) and stuck with it.
The next aid station was the "Two Cow" station and I recognized Dawn there running it. We had volunteered at Mesquite Canyon together.
"Oh Dawn, I'm the last 40k person!" I whined.
"Oh no you're not. Some guy just went back up the hill and said he wasn't going to finish the race."
"Oh," was all I said to that. I'm pretty sure that still meant I was the last one on the course. We chit-chatted about how I was feeling and some upcoming races we might see each other at. Then I tried to politely depart as all the conversation would add up, in my mind.
The next aid station was Scorpion Bay and this marked the turnaround point for the 26k runners. It was close, about 2 miles from Two Cow. Behind me I could hear a guy yelling his "Good job"s and "You got this"s as I presume the runners were passing him, then passing me. Eventually he caught up to me too.
"All right, c'mon! We got this! The turnaround is just on the other side of the hill!" he said.
"Um, I kind of signed up for the 40k." Meaning, your turnaround is just on the other side of the hill, not mine.
There was what felt like a long pause. "That's okay, you're looking strong. You just keep going, keep doing what you're doing. You'll get there!"
I just laughed.
I made it to Scorpion Bay not long after. The "I" family was manning this aid station. I knew who they were, but not sure they would recognize me, which I was thankful for at the time. Everyone in this family is ridiculously fast when running, so even though we show up to a lot of the same races, we tend not to see each other except for a few minutes before a race starts. They were so helpful!! They took my handheld from me, filled it with ice, asked me about 10 times what they could do to help me. But I couldn't think of anything. There wasn't really anything they could do to make me fast, but I knew I could finish.
As I headed back out on the trail again, Turnaround Guy started cheering for me really loud. "YEAH GIRL! YOU GET IT! WHOOOOOOOOOO!"
I just laughed, and shook my head. What do you say to that?!
So now I was really, really alone. No 40k runners to be seen, no 26k runners to pass me now that I had traveled past their turnaround spot. But I figured, they let me continue on from the aid station, so I'm doing good enough to finish. And I'm glad I continued, because some of the most beautiful parts of the course were just now coming up.
There's a floating bridge you have to cross, I'm not sure of the significance of it but it's kind of neat to see, and the flatness was a welcome sight. About 50 ft from the entrance to the bridge, I saw Jamil Coury taking video for what would probably end up being some promo material for the race. Great. I hope he can at least edit it so it's not obvious I'm dead last.
"Yay," I said as I passed him from behind, tired and winded.
"Good job, you're doing great," he said in that authoritative, supportive, race director kind of way. Please don't let him be filming me right now.
The rocks and clay were turning red now, and it was kind of a cool sight to see. And soon, 40k runners on their way back from the turnaround point(s) were starting to pass me from the other direction, so at least I knew I was going the right way.
I was less than a mile from the Cottonwood aid station when some 40k runners on their way back out said, "Watch out, we got some wild burros around here!"
I just laughed.
"Hey, I'm not kidding!"
"Oh, I know," I replied. "I just didn't think I'd get the chance to see any." I never did.
Cottonwood aid station was like an oasis. It was one of two turnaround points - there was a short out-and-back detour I had to take after this - but kind of the biggest milestone of the race. I didn't recognize the people working out here but they were incredibly helpful. Thank goodness for great volunteers! They took my pack off, filled it with ice and water, filled my handheld for me, and I ate a bunch here: peanut butter & jelly, bean rollups, gummy worms, watermelon, pretzels, and ginger. "So... I'm pretty sure I'm the last one," I told them. "There was a guy I thought might be behind me [Pat's Run], but I haven't seen him in a long time."
"That's okay!" the aid station lady said. "We're not going anywhere!"
I just laughed. "Thank you for being out here."
One of the gentlemen at the station started giving me information about the trail I'd be on next, how long it was to the next aid station (back to Scorpion Bay), and maybe some other stuff but I was pretty pooped and didn't process it all. I just kind of waved as I left with a bean rollup in my hand.
So I head back out and have to take this Yavapai Point trail for an extra out-and-back thing before I can finally head towards the finish line. OMG, the trail is so steep and narrow I felt like a mountain goat out there, only they are far more agile then I was at this point. When 40k runners would pass me from the other direction, we had to slow down and kind of turn 90 degrees to get by each other, the trail was so narrow. I'm basically just hiking at this point because it is straight. Up. Wild Burro Warning guy passed me. "If I told you the view was worth it, would you believe me?" I didn't say anything. "Well, it is." Okay.
I'm starting to run out of mountain so I know I'm almost there. Then I saw a guy with a big camera. "Are you the race photographer?!" I asked. I recognized him from when he was taking pictures on the Dam, but that was like, what, mile 2?!? Then I kind of felt bad. Was he waiting on the top of this mountain just for me to get here? The last 40k finisher?
"Yes I am," he said. "Ouch! I just got a piece of cactus in my foot!"
"Oh my god! Can I do something?" Now I really felt bad.
"Nah, it's been happening to me all day. So you think you're the last one?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I'll try to hurry."
"Only another 300 yards or so to the top." I thanked him and started on my hike. I'm cussing a lot by now, but I made it. I gave the turnaround sign a tap with my water bottle. When I turned around, I saw this:
Now I'm going downhill and jogging, using gravity to my advantage. I start getting closer to Race Photographer and I see he's in picture-taking mode. "Yeah, look at me going fast!" I said.
"Good job! See you at the finish!"
Oh yes. Yes, you will see me at the finish.
Things from here on out go pretty well, I breeze through Scorpion Bay, and I am making much better time now that I can go downhill rather than up. And what's that? I can see another runner ahead of me.
Okay, as long as I keep running while she's walking, eventually I will catch up to her. And I did! As I approach, I say, "We're almost done!" We are almost done... There's about 8k left of the race by the time I reach her.
"Eh, I'm dropping at the next aid station. Something's wrong with my foot. Something's... It's just not right."
And I'm a horrible person because the first thing that goes through my mind is, That means I'm still last. But I would never say that. Instead, I try to be reassuring. "Well, we should be coming up on the next aid station [Two Cow] any minute now. Hang in there."
"Thanks," was all she said. We rolled into the aid station within minutes of each other. There's a volunteer here who also was at Scorpion Bay just a short while ago. "Well, I'm still the last runner," I told him. "But if I finish before 3pm it means you get to pack up early."
He just smiled and said, "You're almost done. We'll see you at the finish."
Oh yes. Yes, you will see me at the finish.
So there's no more aid stations between me and the finish line now. Every time I see a sheriff directing traffic, or another volunteer, I'm calling out, "I'm the last runner!" I'm wearing it like a badge now. When I'm done, we're all done. Someone has to be last. Today is my day!
It's getting hot now and I'm slowing down despite my desire to finish. "Where the $@&# is Frog Tanks?" I keep saying out loud. No one's around. Frog Tanks trail marks the last kilometer or so before I can finish. And of course when I get to Frog Tanks, it's like straight up again. I wanted to finish strong, and I'm walking, but when I get to the top I can see the Aravaipa Running flag like a beacon in the distance. Two sheriff officers I had seen earlier are at the top for the last road crossing.
"I'm here," I stammer out.
"We were wonderin' if maybe you fell down out there!" one of the sheriffs says. Gimme a break. "Just follow on in, in between the cones. You're almost done!"
"Okay."
"Just right between the cones!" the other sheriff says.
"OKAY." And I run as fast as I can, which is not very fast, across the finish line in 6:35:25. DFL. But a finisher. And I promptly went to get my free pizza. And then went out for Mexican food with my dad after that.
After having a couple of days to process everything, although it was a weird feeling to be last after having feared it my entire running "career", I feel okay with it now. I finished. I was on my feet for 6.5 hours and covered almost 25 mountainous miles, saw some incredible sights. No, I don't want to do it again, but I also think I will always remember the experience.
Comments
Post a Comment