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Tag Archives: Ultra Marathon

More Tales of Ultra Running

03 Wednesday May 2017

Posted by Richard Watson in Running

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Canyons 100k, Running, Ultra Marathon

This was my second attempt at the 100k distance at the Canyons. At least it wasn’t raining this year. But after leaving Cal 2 and reaching the river with what I thought might be food-poisoning like nausea, something loud came barreling down the mountain through the understory – headed my direction.

“What now?” I thought.

A large brown bear landed squarely on the trail not ten feet in front of me and gave me a good looking over.

Fortunately, California bears are mellow – not like the grizzly bear in Alaska who still carries a grudge about the extermination of its cousins (ursus arctos californicus). I actually said “hello” out loud. Correctly reasoning that I was friendly, the bear executed what to my eye looked like a perfect pirouette and charged off in the other direction. I once heard it said that bears are not good down-hill runners. I am now in a position to refute this assumption.

But one-quarter mile later, I was on the ground for a different reason. The nausea was not improving, and I had abdominal pain. So I sat down. Then the rapid and shallow breathing that precedes a good technicolor yawn started. So I lay face down. That’s when other runners started coming by.

And this is what I find most endearing and comforting about the ultra-running community. To a person, everyone stopped and asked what had happened. Was I alright? Did I need water, s-caps, anything? Did I want them to stay and help in anyway? Runners were willing to give up their goals of finishing before cutoff to assist, which is why this is such a noble sport.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you. Just nauseous. If you could mention that I might need help at the aid station. Don’t let me hold you up…I need to rest for a while before I get moving.” Since brevity is the sole of wit, I condensed things a bit to “nauseous, resting, will get going, thanks!”

It was relaxing in a way to lay face down on the trail. The river was making river sounds, there may have been some birds chirping…there were lots of mosquitoes (but again, California mosquitoes are mellow compared with Amazonian mosquitoes). I did, however, notice it was getting cold and dark. This thought had me sitting-up debating which direction I should start to walk. Where would help be coming from?

Do I head uphill for two and one-half miles in the dark, or west along five and one-half miles of nice rolling trail? Well, I knew what the answer had to be. It was just hard to convince the body that help would come from Cal 2 (uphill) rather than Rucky Chucky.

Within five minutes of moving, Lesley Dellamonica and Naomi Plasterer came barreling down the hill charging in a way that would have made that bear nod gently in reverent praise. Afterwards, they said my face was white as a ghost, which is a hard look to pull off with a sun-burn. But they placed me between them, and we slowly made our way uphill, occasionally trying to get me to drink some flat soda, and occasionally, me pausing to sit on the trail for a moment.

I could go into minutia about how the rest of the evening went, but I’ll just end by expressing my immense gratitude to everyone who assisted along the way. There was never any doubt that I would get back up that hill. And that was mainly due to the optimism and encouragement of my companions, Lesley and Naomi. They kept me moving. There was also Bill Hunter at Cal 2 who checked that I would be fine and eventually drove me and another bedraggled runner back to Foresthill. There was Carrol Lindsay, the nurse at Foresthill who let me rest on a cot with a warm blanket and tried to feed me various edible tidbits – all the while saying I was looking better as time passed. There was the volunteer who retrieved dry clothes from my car. And finally, there was the Race Director, Chaz, who showed compassion at Foresthill and put on one-hell-of-an-awesome event. All these precious pieces of the chain that pulled me up from the river and the darkness, all these awesome people, these awesome runners…these are the kind of people who get things done! Thank you for making the world a better place…

Will there be a third attempt next year? The adventure continues…

Since there is no photo of me laying prone on the trail, you’ll have to make do with this…

the-hill

“Running? up that Hill.” Photo courtesy of Naomi Plasterer.

Almost Skunked – American River 50 Mile Endurance Run

21 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by Richard Watson in Running

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

American River 50, AR 50, Running, Trail Running, Ultra Marathon

The line of runners was being held up by a skunk. Our fearless cat from Kauai had recently tangled with a skunk and had come out on the wrong end of things. He required a good dousing with Skunk Odor Remover followed by a vigorous bath. This thought was on my mind as I was somewhere along the last ten miles of the American River 50 on Saturday, April 5, 2014.

Kekoa from Kauai

In the later stages of an ultra, you tend to swap places in the line with the same runners. You come to know them as they pass you and then you later pass them as walk breaks are taken. The process is repeated a number of times – somewhat like the instructions on Skunk Odor Remover – rinse and repeat.

Stopped ahead on the single track trail were two runners with whom I had been keeping company. They were pointing at something just ahead in the middle of the trail, and there was an odd smell. With a precipitous drop to our right and a steep slope to the left covered with poison oak, there wasn’t anyway to get around the skunk which had its back to us – tail up.

AR-50-1

What it feels like to finish sans skunk.

“Throw something at it,” was suggested by a voice from the group that was now piling up behind us.

“Don’t kill it!” was appended to the first request by another.

The lead runner tossed a small rock in the direction of Pepé Le Pew who moved to the side of the trail but still with tail up ready to fire.

“It’s unusual for them to be out at this time. Perhaps he is ill.”

Great…now we have to deal with a rabid skunk.

One of the two runners ahead of me uttered an expletive and started to run up the left bank.

“You’ll get poison oak!”

“I’m probably already covered with it.” True, leaves-of-three were vibrant along the trail all day.

As I was weighing the merits of poison oak versus skunk spray, the other front runner made a dash for it. I instantly decided to match his stride reasoning that the first runners past would confuse the skunk before action could be taken. This proved correct. And as far as I know, the rest of the pack came through unscathed.

It was another superb day on the trails. Perfect temperature, outstanding volunteers and flawless organization on the part of Race Director Julie Fingar. Several news articles repeated a remark that AR50 is now the largest 50-miler in the country. Well done!

P.S. Much to my surprise, I did not get poison oak on me…Next up, the Canyons 50k on May 3.

pepe le pew

Dick Collins Fire Trails 50

03 Saturday Nov 2012

Posted by Richard Watson in Running

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Dick Collins Fire Trails 50, Fire Trails 50, Running, Trail Running, Ultra Marathon

 Saturday, October 13, 2012, Contra Costa

Somewhere along the Bridle Trail close to the half marathon mark. Photo courtesy of Pete Beck Photography.

“You should hate your pacer.”

Diane Forrest was explaining her philosophy, or art, of pacing as we were running somewhere along the last portion of the Dick Collins Fire Trails 50 mile run. She was telling me how she had unleashed a torrent of foul language at her pacer during the later stages of the Western States 100, when from behind us came a kind of proclamation.

“I am going to hurl.”

There was to be no argument with this defiant announcement. Although not a literal statement of fact, the emphatic challenge of this remark was – “I am going to walk for awhile. See if you can make me do otherwise.”

Diane was pacing Jennifer Blake over the last thirteen miles of the course, and Jennifer had clearly reached a moment when she needed to stop, dig deep, and summon her reserves. But the pacer is relentless. It’s the job.

Then my watch made a chirping sound.

“What’s that for?” – came Diane’s query, her ears missing nothing.

“That’s to remind me to eat,” was my response, although I made no effort to do anything of the kind.

“What have you been taking?” Diane inquired very reasonably.

“Usually a Gu… (awkward pause) …I suppose I ought to have one.”

You see, a pacer also thinks for you. After a time, there is no blood flowing to your brain, since your muscles are not very good at sharing. They tend to use every drop of it, leaving nothing for non-vital functions such as thought and digestion, which is a pity, because all that food you’ve been ingesting has not been digesting. Think of an air traffic controller with planes stacked up for miles attempting to land in foggy weather and you’ll have a sense of the resulting stomach nausea.

“What have you been taking for electrolytes?”

“Umm….doesn’t Gu have electrolytes?”

“You need more than that.” Digging into her pack, she handed me a few S! Caps.

“Let’s run to the next uphill!” And so it goes…

Perhaps most importantly, the pacer looks after you. It is a selfless act that is paradoxically usually not appreciated until well after the finish. But I was secretly elated to be running with Diane and Jennifer. They graciously let me tag along for the last six miles. To minimize the level abuse hurled (that word again!) in my direction, I resolved to wait until after we finished to tell Diane that I was having a good time. And, at the risk of revealing something that could be used against me during some future run, the truth is that pacers are Angels.

The day in the Bay Area was angelic as well – clear skies and moderate temperatures with beautiful views of San Francisco from the ridge line – what pilots might call “ceiling and unlimited visibility.” The Fire Trails course is an “out and back” run that winds through several East Bay regional parks. Over 50 miles the vertical ascent is 7,800 feet. Since you finish where you started, the descent is also 7,800 feet.

The most daunting hill in my mind occurs after leaving the Steam Trains aid station. Here, you begin a 1,500 foot descent to the turnaround four miles later at Tilden Park. This didn’t seem too bad on paper. But the thought rolling around my head as I carefully wound towards sea level was – I am going to have to come back up this hill. But another truth about ultra running is that most people power-walk the up hills. Perseverance and patience are the necessary skills.

The three of us persevered and finished after dark with our headlamps lighting the way. My official time was 12 hours 39 minutes – a rather nice day spent on the trail.

…………………

I would like to thank my wife who, since her leg was in cast (something to do with rescuing a cat from Kauai), was with me in spirit during the run, and my parents who let me park my weary body for the night in Vacaville.

Many thanks go to all the volunteers who are also Angels. At Sibley, I asked for two cups of coke and a wondrous volunteer handed me the bottle to finish. And thanks to Chuck Wilson, heir to the Dick Collins legacy, who volunteered at Steam Trains and filled my water bottle both times.

Lastly, to that efficacious pacer, Diane Forrest, you kept me going, and I am thankful. By the way, I also had a good time!

Ultra running makes me a better person in that I become more compassionate, thankful and understanding. At the beginning of each run, I have faith that the sun will set at the end of the day, and at that moment, I will find that I have finished the race.

The course.

Looking a bit stiff on a slight uphill just after Fish Ranch Road and about 20 miles. Photo courtesy of Pete Beck Photography.

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