My female work colleagues cooed when they found out I had Valentine's
Day off, eye brows raised and hands flapping. I think I actually
snorted while laughing in reply. Were we to spend the weekend at some
couple's spa or hot springs or some place wearing matching robes and
surrounded by water features... undoubtedly we would be bored in about
five minutes. Instead we ignored the day, as we always do, while
traveling to a race. We were heading to Moab, Utah, heading west out of
the valley for the first time since moving here last fall.
Moab's
Red Hot 55k was our first race since relocating to Colorado. The lack
of trees means constant views of Utah's incredible landscape including
Arches National Park, the La Sal Mountains, Canyonlands National Park,
and the Colorado River while traversing terrain ranging from jeep roads,
sand filled jeep roads, and trails leading over giant rock structures
with slick rock. A third of runners wore
Hokas,
the same uber-cushioned shoes I used during the latter two thirds of my
hundred miler last September. I noted this but did not fully interpret
the meaning behind their massive popularity at the time. Four thousand
cumulative feet of elevation gain and loss sounded fun and refreshing
despite knowing that I had but half my usual mileage and a quarter of my
usual climb/descent training. It was also the steepest field for a
trail or ultra that Nathan and I had ever been a part of, with easily a
dozen recognizable men and women.
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| Moab's Red Hot 55k elevation profile, per my Garmin 210 |
And, it was warm
enough that we wore SHORTS. Glow-in-the-dark white thighs were happily
on display by myself and others. That was a ridiculous treat.
Red
Hot started by ascending a mile long double wide jeep road on the edge
of a ridge. It was runable, and I cautiously kept a good clip until
just feeling plain silly and returned to my usual uphill hike that is
not that much appreciably slower than others' uphill run. The sun was
up already as the race started at 8:00 a.m., but the fresh morning sun
made for a beautiful multi-colored landscape across the already
watercolored rock. Then down we went into a canyon. I missed downhills
more than is sane, and so I let myself use gravity and momentum and
have fun with the descents so long as they were not super steep and
precarious.
My
legs could feel that they had little descent training, but overall felt
okay. My right rectus abdominis began to cramp from eccentrically
controlling my trunk, so as much as I had fun flying down the hill for a
mile I had to slow my pace and leg people go by. I tried slowing my
breath, but that almost made it worse. I then thought back to some
newer pain science research being used by fellow PTs, where adverse
breathing patterns cause altered CO2 levels in the body. But whereas
historically everyone pushed for belly breathing, this is often not
necessarily the case. CO2 levels can be both high or low, thus making
bodies excessively acidic or alkaline within a mere few minutes. Should
this be sustained, which it is for days/weeks/months for some people,
it can cause the unexplainable pain that continues when there may be no
other significant injury present. So I purposefully increased my rate
of respiration, and the cramps went away within the next minute.
Magic.
At some point we hit aid station (AS) 1. I don't
remember if this was in the canyon or after some initially steep
climbing again. Either before or after AS 1 we turned onto Metal Masher
Road, another jeep trail that slowly leads up to the top of the rim.
You do not realize the impact of the subtle uphill until it starts
accumulating and your legs feel heavy. Nathan was continually near or
close by through all these miles, which was the most we've spent
together in any race. It was fun to chat with another runner, saying
"Yes, my husband is also running -- there he is!" Another descent and
we hit AS 2 (mile 13), then ascended again to a dirt road that was
relatively flat called Arth's Pasture. Somewhere a few miles later
Nathan progressively fell off my pace. Without any trees around I could
turn around and wave at him from a modest distance away. AS 3 (mile
17) came and went. The real terrain then began to show itself as easy
trails gave way to steep climbs up broken rock. I had held something of
an 8:30 per mile average, which then dropped down to 12:00 per mile,
15:00 per mile, 18:00 per mile.... I arrived at AS 4 (mile 22) feeling a
bit of the miles but overall okay. I poured salt into my water
bottle. Salty water tasted
wonderful.
Leaving
AS 4 I no longer had sight of Nathan. But an ultra friend I met during my first fifty miler in New York, Will, coincidentally moved to central CO within a few weeks of my
moving to the San Luis Valley. Will was also at Red Hot. We were able
to connect and chat prior to the race start. I figured he was up ahead
of me like he had been in previous races. In this section he caught up
to me, chatting with others along the way. We ran with two or three other women for a few miles, in a nice little supportive pack.
The boulders became huge rock
hills with substantial angles that were up to 20% grade per my Garmin. For the first few miles
of that section I definitely slowed on the climbs but then made up the
difference flying down the rock on descents. That was probably not the best choice, considering the unforgiving nature of rock and the length of the descents. By about mile 27 my quads
were demonstrably stiffening and my right foot was over the inversion
baseline of traversing hills horizontally. It became a full-on ultra
shuffle. Check out that elevation profile again and you'll understand why. I stayed
kinda-sorta-relatively with Will and the other ladies before
slowly puttering out. I came to the last aid station (AS 5, mile
28/29) after the others left.
A volunteer probably saw
my face before she said, "It's only five more miles from here, and its a
lot easier than what you just finished." I hoped she was right.
Thanking her, I began my trot after the others.
Without
trees I could see them between a quarter and half mile in front. I had
no pride maintain - I hiked every slight uphill and shuffled over the
few flats and downs. The size of the hills lessened and the trail
curved more, taking the others out of sight. About a mile after AS 5
began a series of time-carved drainage routes. Just as I was
contemplating my level of tiredness my right foot caught a lip and down I
went, splayed across the rock onto my right ankle, knee and elbow.
Pretty sure I gave some unintelligible grumble of a yelp. I made myself
get up and start walking immediately before the actuality of what
happened set in. It was similar to Cayuga Trails last June, where I
somehow pulled out the muscle memory of a dancerly body roll instead of
letting myself whip straight down. No open wounds except for
superficial scratches on my elbow. I scanned the surroundings,
surprised to find no other person around to see or hear it. Big
breath. Return to the shuffle. Just a few more to go.
The
trail changed from solid rock to sandy dirt on relatively flat jeep
trails again. Here I managed to shuffle past a few others in worse
state than I. With about a mile to go the trail started to finally
descend along the side of a ridge on the Poison Spider trail, winding
switch backs with music and cheering somewhere around the far corner.
It is always amazing what the knowledge of the finish, or as others call
"smelling the barn," can do for your form and pace. I sped (that's a
relative term here, people) along in eagerness to finish, passing
another few with broken quads along the way.
Time: 5 hours 50 minutes 49 seconds.
21st female, 98th overall
Much
like the near instant rigor mortus after Pine to Palm, I slowly hobbled
to my drop bag to get my coat and top layers. Warm weather or not,
once I finish my temperature plummets. I dutifully drank my protein
shake and refilled my water bottle. I found Will, who finished only a
few minutes before me, and we had a nice post-race chat. Then I went to
the finish line again and kept watch for Nathan.
After 45
minutes I still had not seen him. I took a very slow stroll through
the crowd, making sure I hadn't missed him at some point. Picked up a
small bowl of chilli with some corn bread. Was watching the finish line
from a distance when Will came up to me again.
"Where's the gift?!?"
"Mmm?" It was all I could reply with a mouthful of food.
"The Gift. You know Nathan's name means 'the gift', right?"
"I had no idea. I also have no idea where he is."
Will
saw the growing look of concern on my face and stood with me for a few
more minutes. He works Sundays, so he had start his drive home very
soon. We exchanged pleasantries once again and he took off.
I
took up post once again directly by the finish line. Soon I realized
another woman next to me was also nervously awaiting the arrival of her
husband. We joked about our hubbies' history of death marching
themselves to the finish despite having issues for the last 15+ miles of
a race. The joking became mutual delineation between the bizarre
running forms of those in the distance, trying to help each other pick
out if it was either husband. It was now nearly two hours after I had
finished, and the awards ceremony was commencing. The number of
finishers still coming across the line dwindled remarkably. I kept
telling myself to give him time, but something in my gut told me things
were not right. I checked my watch and decided five more minutes and I
would inquire with the folks running the finish line roster to see if he
had dropped at an aid station or if he was continuing on.
I
felt a tap on my shoulder, whipped around, and found Nathan standing
behind me with shoulders rounded and arms pinned to his sides. I
reflexively jumped into bear hug mode. He startled, mainly because he
had dropped due to unremitting nausea and vomiting. He made it to mile
22, dropped, had to wait an hour and a half for the station to close
down, then it took at least an hour for the off-road jeep to make it
down the same 30+ degree slopes we had trudged up to bring Nathan to the
finish. When I realized he was shivering I then gave him my down
jacket and declared it was time to go.
Nathan somehow
held it together on the shuttle ride to the start line and then in the
car ride back to the hotel. I dropped him off and went in search of
seltzer, ginger ale, unsweetened tea, and anything that might seem
appealing should his stomach calm and he then want food. Later I found
out he vomited upon entering the hotel room, barely making it to the
toilet. The rest of our evening was composed of watching whatever
television show that seemed interesting enough but had little movement,
slowly sipping fluids, eventually giving Nathan a bath since he could
not stand or sit on his own for more than 10 seconds (during which he
commented "Is this what its going to be like when we are ninety?"), and
then moments after returning to bed Nathan upchucking what little fluid
he'd had into the trash can I carefully placed next to the bed.
Mercifully he then fell asleep for the rest of the night. I stayed in
the second bed so that my turning would not jostle his stomach.
By
the next morning he had some gastric sensitivity but overall the nausea
was gone. A few pieces of bread upon waking then became an eleven
o'clock brunch in Durango while en route to home. His legs were fine
and barely felt having done 22 hard miles the day before. I was
hobbling without the ability to bend my knees, but very satisfyingly so.
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| Sunset over Wolf Creek Pass, from our drive home |
