From the Desert Towards the Ocean
Thursday night, fully aware of what I was doing, I got on a train in Tucson and headed out to California to run my first 100K. The woman assigning the seats on the platform was pretty surly, assured me they planned to have a full train, and that there would be trouble for me if I tried to sit in a different empty seat. Unfazed, I boarded the train, dropped off my pack in the lower luggage area and headed upstairs. Surely enough, there was a woman in the seat next to mine, comfortably spread out, with she and her things occupying both seats. I started to put my ticket up above the seat and she looked at me uneasily. 'There are plenty of empty seats you know. I'm coming from Chicago, I'm very tired. There are plenty of empty seats.' I tried to explain the demands of the woman on the platform...
'She is a terrible woman. She is just a mean and nasty human being' said the woman in the seat. A few others chimed in.
'Yeah, she's got a real attitude.'
'She's rude.'
'I don't know what her problem is.' etc.
Then I tried to explain my plan to the woman in the seat next to mine.
'I'm sorry she's been rude to you, I've just learned over time to pick my battles. I have no intention of occupying this seat, but if I put my ticket here, she's likely to leave us both alone.'
'Well, there are plenty of empty seats. She is just a nasty woman.'
'I get that, and I'm sorry. Don't worry about me, I'm headed to the observation car, I have no intention of sitting here.'
With that, I made my way to the observation car, leaving behind me a continued discussion by multiple passengers about the 'nasty, horrible lady.' Fortunately, as I reached the observation car, I found it mostly empty (as is generally the case around 11pm). I set my stuff down in a double seat and watched Tucson roll past the windows as we headed towards L.A. I started to read my book until my eyes were too tired to continue tracking words on a page, then laid down on the floor, covered myself with my blanket, and fell asleep.
I woke up around 4:30am, somewhere not far from Palm Springs. I transferred myself from the floor to the chair, poured some coffee from my thermos and read some more of my book. I snapped a couple pics of the wind turbines with my phone, and was surprised to hear that we were running ahead of schedule. I started to think about the days ahead.
Fast Forward: Santa Barbara, Familiar Strangers and Ranches
Made it into Santa Barbara around lunchtime, dropped some of my things off in a locker at the hostel, and wandered about. Dipped my feet in the ocean, ate lunch at a cafe, sat at a coffee shop and awaited the arrival of Tiffany and her friend Christi, who were kind enough to give me a ride. Tiffany sent me regular text messages updating their arrival status. When I settled at the coffee shop she said they'd meet me there. Having had multiple e-mail exchanges we both felt some familiarity with each other. Having read each others blogs, we more or less knew what the other looked like. Still, I couldn't help but laugh at myself when I sent a text describing what I was wearing and where I'd be sitting, and she sent a reply describing herself...it felt like a sitcom blind date scenario, or some Scorsese inspired clandestine meeting of criminals. I chuckled, it was amusing.
We found each other, and the three of us headed up to Los Olivos to the ranch where the race would be held. We only missed one turn, which we figured out on our own- no thanks to the invisible GPS woman hiding somewhere in Christi's dashboard. The two waivers I had packed (two, in case I misplaced one) were nowhere to be found. Luis had warned us: no waiver, no ranch, no race. Fortunately, Tiffany had brought one for each of us- just in case- so I was saved.
The drive out to the ranch, and the ranch itself, was incredible. It is so beautiful out there! We rolled in, set up our camp and checked in with registration. While setting up my tent I realized my stake bag was missing (what the heck! I swear the Borrower's took it a long with my waiver) and again, I was saved by Christi and Tiffany who were able to spare me three stakes, which was plenty. Soon after we were set up, it was time for an informal talk about barefoot running, hosted by Barefoot Ken Bob. It was fun, Ken Bob was entertaining, and Ted (known as Barefoot Ted in McDougall's book Born to Run) and Micah True (aka Caballo Blanco) also gave their two cents worth.
Then, Luis broke down the race details. Basically, if you're on the pink loop, follow the pink flags, which will be on your left, most of the time, except for when they aren't. If you're on the yellow loop, same deal. If you see yellow and pink flags together, don't freak out. Blue flags, don't go there. Three chalk lines across a road, don't go there. Trash, don't leave any, if you see some, pick it up. Don't poop on the trail or the road. Most importantly, respect the ranch, respect each other, and have a great time.
The evening was filled with music and campfires and socializing. Luis called quiet and lights out around 10 and warned us all that we better be at the start line by 5:45am, and not to worry, he would wake us all up.
A Chicken, A Cow and a Shotgun
With a hoot, a howl and some very loud Merle Haggard, around 4:45am, Luis woke everybody up. After a couple of Merle songs I found myself shaking off the morning chill, getting dressed in my tent and singing along with Alabama. Things were already off to a great start. When I made my way over to the start/finish staging area I was delighted to see that Luis had transformed himself overnight into a chicken. Now the mysteries of the universe were made clear: truly, the Chicken came Before the Egg.
The morning was chilly, but not unbearable. There was a campfire, hot water and coffee. Chris Scott- RD for the Coyote 2 Moon races- was dressed as a cow, and everyone was in good spirits. As the start time drew nearer, Luis gathered us all together, gave us one more run down of the basics, and then he turned the microphone over to Caballo Blanco. We then repeated a pledge similar to the pledge Luis had taken on his first adventure in Copper Canyons...the experience that planted the seed for this race in the first place. More or less, the pledge stated that we should respect where we were, have a good time, and when things go wrong, it was our own f'n fault. We were then introduced to Mr. Chamberlin, who had graciously allowed us to hold this crazy event on land his family has cared for since the early 1900's. Then, before I knew it, we were lined up at the start, and with a shotgun blast we all set off on our own adventures.
Round One
There were four different races going on simultaneously: a 10 miler, a 50K, a 100K, and a 100 miler. The course consisted of two ~10 mile loops, one pink, one yellow. According to Luis, the aid stations to be found on each loop were 'about a water bottle apart.' The precision of this race was fantastic. Seriously, it was so laid back, but simultaneously every necessary detail was taken care of. It really made it easy to have a great time. As it often occurs at ultras, you start your day surrounded by many people, and eventually you find yourself alone. I appreciate all of the chances to meet other runners, and equally value the time alone. Even if its just a 'hey, how's it going,' 'good morning,' or 'looking good,' it's nice to have that sense of community.
My first ten miles went really well. It was wonderfully overcast, cool but not cold, and the scenery was great. I ran a bit with Barefoot Ken Bob until he picked up a little more speed to get the propeller on his hat to get moving. He was running the ten miler. Not long before the finish of the pink loop I was passed by Caballo Blanco, which I thought was pretty cool, I couldn't really tell you why, it just was. At the completion of each loop, Luis was there to put a mark on your bib, to keep track of which loop you were on. I happily received my sharpie stripe, grabbed some food and got ready to go.
I set out on my first yellow loop and was feeling good. This loop was also gorgeous, and included what became one of my favorite sections along some ridges where you ran through a sweet section of single track surrounded by sage, sweetgrass and such, and it smelled incredible. As I rounded a corner towards the end of the yellow loop, I recognized the old rusted out equipment that signaled I was very close to the start/finish line. This would become one of my favorite sites on both Pink and Yellow loops.
Round Two
Twenty miles under my belt at just under four hours, I was feeling great and ready to roll. I headed out on my second loop, looking forward to seeing what looked familiar and what I had completely failed to notice the first go-round.
Sure enough, while coming up a hill I noticed some rows of grapes being grown. I was pretty certain I remembered those, but I had no recollection of the houses that were there. And then there was the road. Had we really run by a road? There was a pink flag. Okay, guess we did. How could I have not noticed some very large houses and a road? Oh well, keep moving.
I finished my second pink loop right around two hours, putting me at six hours total. I was keeping a consistent pace and feeling strong. In my mind, I had remembered the first yellow loop as being tougher than the pink. I got my stripe from Luis, and set out on my second yellow just slightly apprehensive, but looking forward to the challenge.
Well, just as I hadn't remembered the houses and the road, my legs had tricked me on that first yellow loop. Now, its not to say that it was easier, if anything it was a bit burlier than the pink loop, but the rhythm of it just felt right, so I was able to really nail it. My second yellow flew by, and before I knew it, I was at the old rusted equipment again, and ready to head out for my last set of loops.
Round Three
I grabbed what I needed, got another mark on my race bib, and hit the trail. I was excited at the thought of what I was about to accomplish. I knew that, upon completing this final pink loop and setting out on my final yellow, that I would have officially run the furthest I ever had in my life. My feet were certainly starting to feel fatigue from the forty miles I had already run, but they were staying strong, as were my legs. Throughout my run I had practiced focused breathing meditations. It helped me maintain a consistent pace, and kept my asthma at bay. It also helped me focus on gathering my strength- call it Chi, Energy, whatever you like, but its out there, and for me at least, in those moments where you have to 'dig deep,' focusing, and gathering Chi, that energy, helps me keep moving. It was somewhere around what I would guess was about three miles into my last pink loop, seemingly out of nowhere, my lungs rebelled. My chest got tight, my breath was short, I was wheezing and had to slow down to a very sluggish walk. I tried my best to not get frustrated, to focus on my breath, and to ride it out. I had already come so far, there was no way I was going to throw in the towel this far into the game.
Breathe in, Breathe out, Repeat.
Focusing more on my breath than anything else, my progress slowed, but didn't stall. After about five minutes of slow going and labored breathing, I managed to get things under control. My body felt stiff, and any attempts to speed up my sluggish pace proved fairly fruitless. So, I let it go. I just kept moving, I tried to stay as positive as possible, and shuffled along as quickly as my lungs and my legs would allow me. Slowly but surely I moved along, and eventually I found myself at the rusted equipment. I was officially nearing the home stretch.
The Royal Treatment
I made my way to the start/finish staging area and was met by Luis with a damp towel. 'You want to cool down with this towel? It'll feel real good, get all that salt off of you?' I think I mumbled 'sure' and before I knew it I was getting a cool down from the RD. Now, if that's not royal treatment, I don't know what is. I felt like a prize fighter getting a pep talk and a shoulder rub before being sent back into the ring to deliver the final knockout. Luis asked how things were going, I told him about the weird asthma fluke, the stiffness I was feeling, and how I had slowed down quite a bit. 'You going back out there?' he asked.
'Oh yeah, I didn't get this far to give up now.'
I asked how far out he thought Tiffany and Christi were. He said they were out there, and moving well. I explained that I was afraid my next lap might be as slow as the the last one I had just completed, and felt bad knowing that they (my ride) could potentially have to wait around for me for hours. Could he please tell them that, if they needed to take off before I finished, I was sure I could find another ride into Santa Barbara. He said sure, and he was certain he could find me a ride if I needed it. He told me I was awesome, to keep it up, and to keep moving. I ate the last of my dehydrated bananas that I had in my drop bag. My hope was that the potassium would help the stiffness subside, and make it easier to move along on my final yellow loop. It was around 5:20, I had been on the course for ~11 hours, 20 minutes.
Each Step, A Milestone
Within the first mile the bananas did their job. The stiffness brought on by my mini asthma episode started to move out of my body and forward progress became less of a challenge. The rhythm I had consistently found on the yellow loop found my legs again. My breath was focused, my mind was focused, and there was a smile plastered on my face. Each footfall took me closer to my goal, and each footfall took me into a new realm of distance running. Dusk was approaching, and I made it my goal to finish before having to turn on my headlamp. I picked up the pace, as much as I could, and kept moving along.
I reached the ridges and smelled the sage and sweetgrass one last time. Now, you can think it overly sentimental, or hokey, or strange, but throughout the day I gave thanks to that race course and for the opportunity to be out there for this experience. As I moved closer and closer to my goal, my thanks increased. There was no doubt in my mind that I would succeed.
The Rusted Equipment Around the Corner
There it was, the rusted equipment. I picked up the pace. I knew I had just two miles left, in the form of an out-and-back mile that began at the start/finish line. As I came closer to the staging area, Tiffany was there, she recognized me, gave me a hoot and a holler, snapped some pictures, and cheered me on. I smiled, kept going, and made my way out to the turn around. As seems to be habit in these races, the grin on my face grew exponentially as each step passed. I made it up the final hill to the turn around, did not sit in the tiny red 'runners only' chair, and headed back to the finish line.
The sun was starting to set, I was losing the last bits of daylight, but I was not going to turn on my headlamp. I dug a bit deeper, and made for my last push. I planned to run across that finish line. And while it may have been a slow run, it was a run nonetheless. Tiffany cheered me on (She's AWESOME!), she snapped some photos, a smile on my face, and all of a sudden, it was over. At fourteen hours on the dot, I had completed my first 100K.
Luis was there, he gave me a high five and a hug, and I gave him a smile and many thanks. All of the volunteers were incredible, all of the runners I met throughout the day were great. The families hanging out all day supporting their runners who smiled and clapped and rang cowbells and told me 'good job' and 'you look great' were fantastic and something to look forward to on each loop.
And so, though I can justify the length of this race report relative to the length of the race, I'll leave this story here. I spent the day after the race wandering the beach and streets of Santa Barbara, my feet a bit tender, my legs a bit sore, but no more than could be expected. I spent much of today walking around L.A. and composing this lengthy report.
Thanks again to everyone who made this experience possible. And thanks to all of y'all who survived my verbosity and made it to the end of my report. Watch out for when I run my first 100miler, that's promising to be a novel the way these reports are going.
http://web.me.com/luisescobar/born_to_run_ultras
