PCT 50 2016 race recap

Another year rolled around and another chance to run the PCT 50. Last year we had a freak snow storm in the mountains the day before the race, which made everything a little more interesting. This year I felt like it was the opposite. The weather report indicated that it would be dry, warm and windy.

In the mountains, windy can be dangerous. During one of our practice runs, it was so windy that we had to occasionally stop running during gusts to make sure we weren't blown off the edge. There are several sections of completely exposed areas that can make running in true high winds challenging. And winds really make the hardest part of getting ready for a race harder, what am I going to wear? (Yeah, I know, I'm such a girl sometimes.)  After much debating with my fellow sister runners, we decided tank tops and shorts with sleeves and gloves. Well, after the first 2 miles we didn't need the gloves or the sleeves.

But enough about the high fashion of ultra running, what actually happened? Were there any snakes? Did you fall down? Did you crash and burn horribly? I know you have sooooooo many questions!

Race morning started out early, as they all do. My friend M drove me to the start (same as last year) and my family would come and get me afterwards. I know, I'm pampered. I'm Asian and a woman, so apparently my day driving skills are already marginal at best, so my husband thought it best to drive me home. The last two years it was very much needed because I was a wreck, better safe than sorry.

Pre-race silliness.

As the race director started the race, and everyone was jockeying for position, I eased into an opening to make my way down the terribly uncerimonious start. The race starts you out in a ditch, literally. We slowly wound our way under the interstate and began our meandering climb. The first 13 miles of this race are a slow and sometimes arduous climb over occasionally rocky ground. It was an absolutely beautiful morning! I felt like Goldilocks, it wasn't too hot or too cold, my arm warmers were rolled down around mile 2 and I was so excited to M at 3.7 miles so I could hand off my very unnecessary gloves. The next 2 miles or so follow a ridge line that makes passing a little risky, so anyone unhappy with their position in the conga line of runners sprinted for a better position. But, really? It's 3.7 miles into a 50 mile race. There is sooooooooooo much more running to do.

Coming into the first aid station I was greeted by one of my favorite trail runners Jeff (the one who first started getting the ultra bug in M's head). I grabbed some snacks (orange slices and the world's driest pretzel), had a friendly volunteer tie my arm warmers to my pack in case I needed them later and I headed out of the aid station to start the real climb. This section will also be in SD100, so I'm making myself LOVE it, every single rock. This is the section where I noticed the most people start to fade. People who were previously snarky and not overly pleasant to run with were suddenly falling farther and farther behind. I tried to implement a fast walk over sections that were not very runnable and run any section I was able.

Before long the next aid station came along! My very fast friend, Ricky and M were there to cheer us and offer lots of words of encouragement. I noshed on more oranges, refilled my pack with water (added some citrus Vitalyte powder) and headed out.  This aid station is one of my favorite sights, because now the course levels out and the scenery changes. And after a hard 7 miles of climbing, it is finally nice to be able to run. It was fun to keep swapping spots with the same few people for this segment until the next aid station came into sight. I always worry I will miss this aid station because it is down the hill from the actual trail, and you need to check in and out of each aid station. It's always so well marked, and they usually have a volunteer telling you about the turn, but I still worry about it. This aid station, Todd's Cabin, is 17 miles into the race, so ONLY 8 more miles until the turn around! Whoohoo!

Leaving the aid station the course rolls a little more until you break free of the tree line and get exposed to the sun again. On the plus side, you start a gradual downhill run until the next aid station at Penny Pines. On the negative side, it's an out and back course, and what goes down must go back up. I finally saw some of the front runners around mile 20/21. It was so nice to see how strong they all looked! As I made my way down, and down, and down the mountainside, I took an aggressive turn and nearly ended up on my face when I planted my foot in a pile of loose sand as opposed to hard rock. I couldn't decide whether to laugh hysterically or just keep running. I decided to keep running. The course came upon another beautiful ridge line, this one overlooking the Anza Borrego Desert. So amazing, usually we stop and take a moment to admire the view, but not today! And boom, suddenly I was at Penny Pines and so many friendly faces came in view. Everyone was so happy and cheerful, and you know what? It was a great time to be cheerful! 22 miles in the bag and only 3 to the turn around.

My pacer, Neily, was waiting for me as well, she will get to run the final 22 miles with me to the finish. I gave away free sweaty hugs to all my friends, ate some salty watermelon chunks and potatoes, and left to go to the turn around. I love this segment because I get to see so many of my friends. And I got to see every single one of them, except Scooby,  who I saw earlier because he is crazy fast. I managed to get a picture of everyone smiling and happy. At the turn I was greeted by 2 amazing ultra runners, Ang and Scotty. It was so nice to see them. Partially because now I can turn around, but also because they are genuinely fun people and so happy to see how you are doing during the race. A little joking around and some shenanigans and off to run back to the start.

Beer with Scotty

Ang mugging for the camera with me.

Back to Penny Pines and pick up Neily for the final 22 miles. In addition to Neily, I added Dave to my posse. So we spent 22 lovely miles getting to know about one another. I've been trying to work out my nutrition lately, usually any runs longer than 45 miles I end up a nauseous mess. So I wanted salty, calorie dense food. I packed prosciutto in my drop bag, it was so delicious! Yes, I was eating prosciutto on the trail (we already verified I'm a little spoiled, right?). 

My 'posse': Neily, me and Dave. 

The return from Penny Pines to Todd's Cabin is a grind. The fun, easy, gradual downhill is now a slog back uphill. And it's exposed and pretty warm. This is also the where your stomach can start to go south. So, more fast walking and trying to eat and drink. My first PCT, this section killed me. My second I expected it and tried to not meander, I felt like this year I did better on it. It was so hot, and so very dry. My lips kept drying out and my cough was worse than normal. I really wanted an ice cold coke at Todd's Cabin, that is a thought that took root and settled in my mind. I finally caught my friend Spring at mile 28 and we spent a few miles toggling for the lead.


When we finally saw the turn to Todd's Cabin, I saw 2 little boys sitting just off the course with their grandfather, I starred hard and thought they looked an awful lot like Spring's boys, but I've never met them. I came awfully close to asking, but decided against it. As we got to the aid station, and had a cup of Shasta cola with a single ice cube (as close to a cold coke and I could get), Spring came into the aid station and asked if I saw her boys up top. Lol, it was them! I munched on some watermelon to go with my cola and headed out of the aid station with my little posse. 17 more miles to go. I can't recall too much of this portion, I just recall being warm, wanting something ice cold to drink, and to be done. But when the trees started to thin out and we came within view of Dale's, my spirits picked up.

Dale's means 13 miles left, overall downhill. Rocky, hard to find your footing downhill. The second leg (or in this direction, the next to last leg) is always so incredibly slow. I never feel like it's going to end and I will get to see the aid station in the helicopter landing area (I don't know if it really is a helicopter landing area, but that's what it looks like to me). We slogged on, nothing hurt like crazy, but I was just tired. As we made our way slowly to the end, we saw another runner ahead of us on the trail, and suddenly she came running back towards us. Yikes! Snake! We grabbed some rocks to try and scare it off the trail so we could run past, and after a few tense minutes, we finally saw him leave. We did not waste any time running past.  Well, that bit of excitement got us moving until the last aid station! I was so glad to see it, I had to pee pretty bad and after the whole snake debacle I was not prepared to venture off into the shrubs. I asked one of the volunteers which bush made the best coverage and he directed me behind a car, good enough for me.

I had more watermelon, some orange slices and got ice water dumped on me (surprise!). Then my posse and I headed out for the final 6 miles. Whoohoo! Last year I felt like the walking dead leaving the aid station, this year I was practically dancing to get done. I probably should have turned on some music, I really would have been dancing.  We made the slow trek to the start line, and about 4 miles out I could feel my stomach start to make a turn south. Instead of just ignoring it because it was only 4 more miles, I forced myself to eat a gel. After another mile I felt better. The last bit looks all the same, so it's hard to judge how far until the finish, so you kind of have a rollercoaster of emotion for being done. At the next to last gate you get giddy, almost done! Voices start filtering through from people waiting at the finish area and you are just so happy to be done.

This year I ran PCT in 11:48. I'll take that time! I approached this race as a training run for SD100 in 3 weeks, feel out the nutrition and don't overdo it, and save my legs for the big race.  It was so great to see so many friends out cheering, volunteering, pacing, snapping pictures and just plain being awesome!

My hubs. He had kids soccer, a birthday party that kept getting extended, carting around our brood and some other kids and making the drive out to get me! Such a rock star today, and my biggest supporter. 

Robert, me, Spring, Becca and Mark

The whole gang! Louka, Natalie, Robert, Ricky, Becca, Mark, Scooby, me, Sal, David,
(circling back to the front) Gloria, Neily and Steve. Awesome group of runners! 

What to do, what to do?

I can't decide if Facebook and Pinterest are making me a better person or just driving me insane. 

Thanks to Pinterest I have completed 6 scarves in the last 2.5 months and I'm now working on what will become the most expensive throw in my purchasing history. Seriously, I could have bought a designer one for what the yarn is going to end up costing.  And sleep is a distant memory. 

Facebook is great at reconnecting me with old friends and their lives and all, but when I see a post about the amazing (hard as hell) run my friends did that day, it kind of makes me feel inferior. You know what I mean? So now I have it fixated on my head I NEED to go run hills. How am I going to keep up with them in the mountains if I'm not putting in my time? If all my runs are flat and easy, my legs are going to cry when I drag them up a mountain. 

So I went scouting nearby places to run. I recall a route I have only run twice since moving here 6 years ago. It's a hill that is 1.5 miles long. Yuck. But, since the PCT 50 is basically 13 miles straight uphill, under better pull up my big girl underroos and get running. 

On my enjoyable way down the hill, I spot this cute little grassy hill and wonder if the city will get mad at me for doing repeats on it. Or maybe I can just roll down it, that would be fun. 

Do a little house shopping. I'd like to live here I think. 

And boom, now I'm at the bottom and have to run back up. Gulp...yeah, I know what you are thinking. It doesn't look intimidating does it? It doesn't feel that bad when I drive it either. 

At nearly the top I spy a 1/4 mile little hill. Repeats? Why yeah, sure! (Maybe next time I bring more water, gasp!). 

But the view was worth it. A little glimpse of Point Loma and the Pacific Ocean. 

And the next day? Still feeling inferior, find another hill!!!!  (Yeah, that's not a picture of a hill.)

There's the hill. 

And there...

And here.

And a stop to admire another great view (ok, to pant and gasp for air and swear at myself!).

Before starting that trek back. 

And just when I thought I was done. Damn it. One more hill. 

But, my mountain run Saturday was far less painful than I figured it to be. And for my first run back in the mountains since November, I think I did ok. I'll get you those pictures tomorrow. It was a great day out there! 

But I still don't know if I like or hate Pinterest and Facebook. 

What have I done?????

You know that 'holy crap' moment when you realize exactly what you have done? Sometimes it's because you  just spent an obscene amount of money at Costco (you know you've done it), maybe you just bought a ridiculous pair of shoes (guilty), or you just bumped your car into something (yikes!). Yeah, that moment. I've been living that moment since getting confirmation that I was accepted to run in the San Diego 100 Mile Endurance Run. What?????? The stuff just got real. Really, really, real.

Remember my last race? It's kinda hard for me to forget it. And I would love to! I liken it to paying to be tortured for over 6 hours. Hell on a mountain. A BAD day. With altitude. But.....in for a penny in for a pound I guess. Some people never learn. If you fall off the horse... blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.... So, on June 3, 2016, instead of celebrating the last day of school with my two boys, I will be swearing, cursing, moaning and occasionally running up a few mountains.

How have I been preparing you might ask?

I bought shoes of course! 3 pair of Altras should get me through training and the race, right? Shoes, check!

I'm tweaking my diet to eat a little less junk and better food to help my body run better. It's a work in progress.  Diet, check!

I'm working on overall strengthening. Every year I tell myself that I need to cross train more, this year I'm making it happen. I'm into my second week of overall strength training mixed with some shorter runs. My legs are zapped. Tomorrow I rest and Saturday I have my first decent length run in the mountains with a few dirt lovin' friends.

And so it begins.

Mount Laguna Marathon 11/8/15

Don't let people fool you, don't listen when they say 'ultra runners are the best, they are so nice and welcoming...'.     Ultra runners suck. They con you into all sorts of races. Sweet talkers, every single damn one.  Why? Why? Why did I sign up for this race????? Why?????

I really should have called it a day after Cuyamaca. Boom, first 100k done, it's now fall and 'racing season' is over.  Sleep in, gain weight, rest. Sounds good right?   'It's a great race, it's only 26 miles, you'll love it.'  No, I hated miles 4-26. Hated it. Bleh. Ok, I'm done whining, I just really needed to say it. 

Mount Laguna marathon was a very well put on race. Small and intimate with amazing volunteers. Volunteers are the heart and soul of a race, really. They see you at your most tired and challenged and find ways to help you, they push you out of the aid station, they take time out of their day to feed you, they go out early and mark the course, and then clean up after you run by taking down all the flags that kept you on course. 

Two of my road racing friends like to get a little dusty on occasion and joined me on the trails today. It was a nice and balmy 35 degrees when we arrived at the start, but quickly warmed up to perfect running weather. We really lucked out on the weather today! No rain and no wind. 

The race started out on softly undulating packed dirt roads before hopping in the Pacific Coast Trail. The route joins the PCT at one of my favorite segments of the trail; it's flat, soft ground with great tree coverage. The beginning of the race is a mixture of very runnable hills, with a couple of great drops around mile  6, and again at 17 before a steady climb  from18-20. 

Fall happens in SoCal, you just need to keep your eyes open and visit higher altitudes than the beach.  The views were amazing during the race. It almost made up for how beat down I felt.  I started that morning with an icky stomach, barely managing to eat a slice of bread and a banana.  I also had a whopper of a headache.  Water didn't sound like something I really wanted, so I waited until the first aid station to take some Advil with some Coke. I'll count not drinking anything until mile 5 as dumb move number one. 

I've been running races for about 13 years, primarily half and full marathons, and only recently moved on to the trails. And I've noticed that I need to eat  more when running trails. But my icky stomach kept me from eating. I felt my energy levels drop and my legs getting heavy. So....not eating = dumb move number 2. 

This old rusted out car is a fabulous marker for a popular aid station location up in the mountains. When I see this car, I always know that I'm within 1/4 mile of the aid station at Penny Pines, which really helped today. 

After Penny Pines, I plodded along. Walking, grumbling, occasionally running and just having a grand old pity party. I'm so glad I was not running with anyone for the rest of the race, because it was ugly. Whine, whine, whine. Grumble, grumble, grumble. Ugh. 

 A small 2 miles of climbing before a great downhill run at mile 17, unfortunately my nutrition and hydration had been so bad that by this time I was a wreck. I got to Noble Canyon Trail, but instead of heading downhill (glorious, glorious downhill) the route had us head back up the mountain. Really, it wasn't super steep, but I didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Coming in to the last aid station I told myself I would eat something. Anything! So far that day I had a piece of bread, a banana, 1/4 blueberry muffin, 1/2 a Coke,  3 slices of orange, and 3/4 a packet of very stale Probar chews. Probably not enough to push me through 20+ miles in the mountains. Food, I needed food. Browsing the food available, I saw they had a beautiful, scrumptious, mouthwatering Julian Apple Pie! Hmmmm, I had a half a slice of pie and had a volunteer help me retrieve my bag of roasted cashews from my pack.  I ate half a slice of pie and 6 cashews, it was amazing what some food will do. I felt slightly better. And with only 6 more miles it felt doable. Then they threw in this gem (log below). Ack, climbing that was no fun. I honestly stood back and contemplated first going around (but both ends were in brambles) or going under.  Really, going under. Finally sanity prevailed and I found a way to clamber over. It was ugly and it hurt, but I got over and went on my merry way (can you feel the sarcasm?). 

The portion of the race that shall be referred to as 'that damn log.'

Don't get me wrong, I was still pretty wrecked, and I stopped at every opportunity to take a pictures (photos below!). But, I was determined to not let anyone pass me. No one had done so for a few miles now, and that's really all I had left mentally. 'Don't let anyone pass you.' 

The Meadows aka The Biggest F'ing Field in the World.

A reminder that this is the great outdoors and predators are all around us.

Finally, an indicator to the finish! 

We were told that the last few miles would be gently rolling with a climb at the end. I enjoyed the gently rolling portion a lot. I didn't enjoy the sadistic climb at the end. 

A cruel cruel climb to the end. 

Whoop whoop, coming in with a smile.

Ah, sweet sweet finish.

So happy to be done. 

I can say, in all honesty, that I got my butt handed to me in this race. I didn't train adequately, I didn't hydrate, and I certainly didn't eat well the day of the race. What did I learn? Don't freaking take a marathon for granted. 26 miles is a long way to run, and you (I) really need to prepare, get your (my) head on right and eat something.  And that pie is good. If they have pie at an aid station, have some.  Pie is so very good during a race. 

Cuyamaca 100k Oct. 3, 2015

Races seem like a much better idea when you are in the comfort of your own home, cozy, sated, hydrated and NOT running. 

Last weekend I participated in the Cuyamaca 100k Endurance Run. My best description of this race would be: the slowest and hardest 50k I've ever run ... followed by another 50k.  You can read more, but that's the bare bones of the race. 

I registered for this race late and was waitlisted for over a month. In the meantime I ran a timed 24 hour race (Julian Station  Full Moon Ultra). After completing 64.8 miles, in 0.57 mile loops, I settled in my car to drive home. Imagine my surprise when I randomly checked the waitlist and saw that I was the pending applicant for the Cuyamaca 100k. 

After a one month taper/recovery from  Julian Station, the morning of the race arrived. The race starts at 630 sharp, and is located approximately an hour drive away. M actually volunteered to drive me to the start, and my family would pick me up. Having been told by the race director that parking could be challenging, we planned in arriving at 5am, giving us plenty of wiggle room the morning of the race.

We were fairly surprised that after several weeks of scorching weather, we exited our car to temps in the high 30's. We were unprepared for this little development. But thankfully the main hub to check in and gather was indoors, and so much more comfortable. I picked up my bib and race goodies and met up with friends. Now the wait....

Ready to run!

The race started off with gentle rolling hills and scrub allowing the pack spread out. I tried not to get sucked up to the front of the pack at the start, knowing my speed limitations. Primarily, I do not have much speed!  I'd love to say 'I felt great! Everything was going according to plan!' But frankly, my hamstrings hurt and my Achilles was annoying me. Attempting to settle into a nice easy run, I had a chance to chat with lots of other runners.

The race is broken up into 3 loops (32, 12 and 18 miles) and each loop is assigned a color. Each runner is given a bracelet at the start to designate what color markers you should be following and exchanged for a different color bracelet when each loop is completed. This really came in helpful later, when the paths intersect and you are very tired. 

The first aid station came around mile 8, and to tell the truth, I had no idea where the aid stations were located. You know that friend that never knows the route or how to get there? Today that was me. Some runners come with a plan, course/nutrition planned out, etc. I arrived with stuff I think I might need and stuff I hope I won't need and just ran. At the aid station I asked my helpful volunteers 'soooooo....... how many miles to the next aid station?' Or just look for the signs they had posted. 

Loop 1 is definitely the most challenging, not only is it the longest, but you have the biggest and longest vertical climb contained in it.  You are still trying to pass slower runners, and making way for faster runners.

I spent most of the first 50k playing leap frog with my friend G. She would have a good stretch, leave me behind, then I'd play catch up and vice versa. Where the first 8 miles were lovely and undulating, the next 14 were (what felt like) an unrelenting straight uphill march, in the sun. Perfectly beautiful and absolutely treacherous if you choose to simultaneously admire the view and attempt to make forward progress. Sticks, stones, and uneven paths made it difficult to look around. 

Mixed in with the climb, you also have the opportunity to run through tall grass and hope your foot isn't going to step on something slithery or a hole. Always exciting.

The volunteers at the Peak were amazing. They ran out to relieve you of your pack to get anything you might need or want started before you get there. I met my pacer (if i decided I wanted one) and the top and she showered me with attention. She also made me take 3 salt pills, something I had never taken before, but I'm fairly certain saved me during the run.

A short stop to admire the view that my hard work earned me before heading downhill to the campgrounds.  That's when the real fatigue started in. I was certain I started feeling tired just after mile 28. And I still hadn't completed the first loop, and still had more than half the race left. I was also SUPER hungry! Real food hungry. I didn't want my gels, or chomps, or water. I wanted a pizza. A whole pizza. 

I settled for a dry turkey sandwich after I made it back to the campground and started out on loop 2. I think by far, loop 2 was my favorite. It was beautiful and peaceful. And short. I couldn't help but take the time for a picture of the lovely tall grass. 

Some runners I was trying to catch in the distance. Little black specks.... see them?

Looking decent, if not feeling if not

awesome.  

About 2 miles before G got a good radio station and ditched me.

Gators, gators everywhere!!!

This aid station was a sight for sore eyes, and arms. I started feeling a hot spot on the backs of both arms about 1-2 miles out from this aid station. So I spent a good portion of that time running with my arms out to my sides. Backs of my arms, how completely random and weird. But the 'Gator Pond' had a hugetub of Vaseline to help, and some great spirits to boost my tired spirits. 

Never a good thing to be warned of, but always good to know! 

I finished loop 2 just as the sun was setting, so the final 18 miles would be in the dark. Thank goodness a friend told me that it would be windy at Sunrise highway, because I just wanted to be done, and may not have taken the time to change if she didn't mention it. I switched over to a longsleeve, downed some soup and grabbed my headlamp.

Back up the hill, this time following the yellow tape flags marking the course. I ran by myself, chasing G who left the campgrounds as I was came in. Running in the dark was surreal. I don't know if it was the excitement of this being the final loop, the cooling temperature or just having some food in my stomach, but I ran a fair portion of the flat grassy section. I kept an eye out for the mountain lions because I kept smelling what I thought was mountain lion urine (that, and I remembered that sign earlier). I was sure there was a pissed off feline hiding in the grass just waiting to pounce. It picked up my pace a bit.   No mountain lions sighted.

I finally caught up to some headlamps in the distance. I did a nice fast hikes up the hills, ran on the flats, and ran runnable portions of the downhill. The headlamps (and the fatigue) made finding my footing a little tricky on the rocky downhills. 

I was so menally drained, that at one point I kept thinking that the mist/fog patches that we kept going thru were the result the cold air condensing my breath. It wasn't until a fellow runner mentioned the fog that it even occurred to me that there was any! 

I finally caught up with G at Sunrise highway, mile 51. Only 11 more miles to go!!! I had been worrying about at what point in the race my stomach was going to turn on me, and so far it was cooperating. I left Sunrise in good spirits and excited about being SO close to the finish. Five miles to the next aid station. Five rocky miles. 

At the final aid station I was still feeling ok and planned to run as much of the remaining 6 miles as I could. I should have been prepared for the wheels to fall off...  The first 2 miles were great. Excitement for nearly finishing and non dead legs propelled me. Until my stomach said 'Ok, enough. I'm tired of bouncing. I want to be done.' Then every time I attempted to run nausea flooded through me. I could walk, and I could hike fast, but I could not run. And I didn't think it was bad enough to take the time to remove my pack and get my crystalized ginger to nibble on. But it was time. I did 2 more miles at a fast walk. Watching my estimated finishing time slip by, then the estimated finishing hour slip by. I was demoralized. This sucked. 

Time to stop being a baby and suck it up and go. I tried to run, made it 20 yards before my stomach really let me know it didn't appreciate my efforts. Tried again, made it 10 feet, same results. But, now I felt so much better! And it was downhill,  time to run. 

I was able to run more than I walked the remaining 2 miles and finally finish. 17:32. Not stellar, but given it was my first 100k on a true trail, I'll take it. 

I came into the race without the proper respect to the distance. It was only 12 miles more than a 50 miler, right? I forgot that 50 miles was damn tough, and I still needed to get there before getting to the additional 12. Live and learn. I'm so glad I had my family at the end to bring me home and my great running friends waiting to cheer me into the finish. I know that if I had never started running with the Trail Crashers, I would not have even signed up for, or finished this race. Thanks guys!