Jemez Mountain Trail Runs -2009

I enter this race after just completing some of my best events. I start this race with at least 3 demons. Butt, ankle, pants falling off.

Robert and I learned 2 years ago to to not party before this event. That is difficult, as our wedding anniversary is at the same time.

Race day start, begins around a cool 40 degrees, dry. 10 - 30 per cent chance of precip, dry trails, perfect race conditions. The posse shack is open to hang out in, so we do not even have to go outside till just before the gun. I start in a short sleeve shirt, Moben sleeves, Golite windbreaker/jacket, shorts, and Montrail Hardrock shoes.

5am and it's time to go. We head out down the pavement and then through the horse corrals. I immediately realize that the waistband in my race-ready shorts is not as tight as it used to be. I had decided to bring my camera, and the extra weight was causing an uncomfortable droop. So I was immediately struggling to keep my shorts above my knees.

We go through the horse corrals and then back around to drop down on single track through deep cut horse trail. It is easy trail but in the dark and early in the race we are bunched up. We head through a tunnel.

I am running with John and Mike. As we stop for photos. John calls me trail mom and Mikes says I am a lot of folks trail mom. I got some warm fuzzies from that. Onward to Mitchell trailhead (5.3 mi.) We could drop our flashlights here, but I wanted to leave mine in my drop bag at Pipeline aid station, so I added it to my already drooping drawers. Here begins the climb up Guage Ridge, a good, long climb I share with Jeff L. He recalls our hill repeats a year ago at Guadalupe Mountains, and I tell him we will have plenty of hill repeats today!! We reach the top and begin the switchbacks down. Many parts with loose dirt and unsure footing, so I am careful.

We then head through a really pretty wooded section near a creek that included climbing a 10-12 foot ladder over a dam. I always enjoy the sound of running creeks. Eventually, I arrive at Caballo Base aid station at mile 10.1. I top off my bottles, knowing that water is limited at the top to the amount the hardy volunteers could carry up. This is a steep, 2-mile climb, accented by having to step aside to yield to the downhill runners. I see Josh, 50k runner already coming down., and most of my 50 mile friends on the way down as well. I begin a cat and mouse game with Naresh, where I pass him on the uphills, and he passes me on the flats or downhills. Jeff and I arrive at the top at about the same time, enjoy the view, and get our picture taken.

The path down is as steep as the one up (imagine that!) and again some loose footing. One of these days I will be a better downhiller. I try to take advantage of the downhills, but also want to stop and take pictures of friends. I am a bit behind timewise where I want to be, but am not really concerned at this point. Just above Caballo base aid station, I hear Jeff call to me that there is a bear to the right! I spot him and pull out my camera. As I am snapping a shot or 2, the bear gives me a look like "What the hell are you doing?" I think, "I am getting the hell out of here!" Jeff later told me the bear was growling, but I did not hear that. When I got to the aid station, I showed the photo to one of the volunteers. He commented that it wasn't a big bear, but it looked big to me. He said he was going to "shoo it off". OK.

From Caballo base (14.2 mi) to Pipeline has yet another climb. I come upon Jeff and Laurie U. resting on a log. Then a bit further on, Mike is pulling himself together. I am also in a low point. One of my concerns going into the race has been a nagging pain in the butt (piriformis). It is fairly painful, and I am heading towards mile 17 with a mile 45 shuffle. Both little toes are hurting, so I decide I will switch from Hardrocks to Patagonias at Pipeline.

I finally arrive at Pipeline. It is good to see Robert there, and he helps me with my drop bag. He seems concerned about my arrival time, and pushed me out of the aid station as quickly as possible. I leave Pipeline at about 6 hours, having covered 17 miles and have 6 hours to make the next 19. Regardless, I am here and I get to run in the beautiful Valles Caldera whether I make the next cut-off or not.

I am at the famous drop into the Caldera. I knew it would be a steep scree slope, but it was still more so than I expected. Barbara, says there is no way, I say, yes, you can do it, still not totally realizing how steep it was. I chose going down the first 50-100 yards on my butt. I am finally able to navigate on my feet, but Mike, Naresh, and Barbara have passed me up. Even though I had just changed shoes and was wearing gaiters, I took the time to dump the dirt out of my shoes and socks and clean between my toes. There was still way too far to go to have sand-induced blisters. Still feeling the pain in my butt, I decide I need to take some ibuprofen. I had been hoping to hold off until I had gotten through this long section, but it had not been very hot, and I felt I had plenty of water. I needed some pain relief to get out of the shuffle and make up some time. I catch up to Barbara on this slightly downhill jeep road leading to the Valle Grande aid station at mile 21.

We head out on a large grassy field, but rocks are hidden below the grass. Flags mark the trail across the field. Running is more difficult than it seems it should be. After a bit, I stopped to look behind me. We had been slightly climbing across the field, and behind me I discovered another beautiful view.

The next challenge is a rock field. Mostly 7-20 inch loose and wobbly rocks on a steep incline that lasted maybe a quarter of a mile. Naresh and Barbara pass me as I struggle. I finally get across the rock field, and the course keeps going up and up. As I get near the top, it gets colder and windier, so I put on my Golite. I reach the "top" and, wouldn't you know it, the course veers left and keeps on going up. Finally reaching the top, I look around and soak in the fabulous scenery. I am not feeling much hope of making the 12- hour cut-off and am at one of the points where I secretly hope I miss it. However, I still have to get there, so I move on. The trail finally turns into a smooth, slightly downhill single-track through a pretty meadow. The ibuprofen has worked some magic, the running feels effortless, and I decide that I DO want to do all I can to make that cut-off and finish. I also remember that hardest climbs have been done.

The next obstacle is a fence across the trail. I see flags on my side and the other side of the fence and look to see if it would be easier to go over or under. I see some rocks stacked up, and it looks like a good place to go over.

Finally the Pajarito Canyon aid station appears (28.7 mi.). I am happy that I have had plenty of fluids to make the long stretch. I quickly top my bottles and get some Spiz and Heed from my drop bag. I notice they have some New Belgium Mighty Arrow Beer, ask for a cup, and they oblige. I commented on their keg of home-brew in the back, and they said I was not the 1st Texan to notice. I asked if they thought I still had a chance to make cut-off. Yes, but there was still some climbing ahead. With no time to dilly-daddle, I continue on.

I push steadily on to the Townsite Lift aid station at Mile 32.6. I have about 1 hour 20 minutes to make 3.4 miles. Seems do-able, but the volunteers caution I still have 2.7 miles up before the down. All I can do is hunker down and go up. Up and up. I find myself on a rolling X-country ski trail for a bit, and then hit an open area near a ski lift. No flags.

Shit. I look around and decide to go back to the last flag. Heading back, I see someone just above me. He points to some trodden grass and convinces me that is the trail. We go a bit further, but still no flags and I do not think it is right. I say I am going back to the last flag. I turn around, "speed" off, and he follows. Shortly, I see the missed turn, marked, but I had passed by it. I holler to the guy I found it, heard him respond, and started going up again. And up. And around. Where is that blue bench Larry talked about? I see a guy resting on a rock and he says I am almost at the bench. He does not think there is time to make it. Come on, we can try, I say. It looked like he was gonna get up, but I am not sure if he did or not. I see the blue bench, but there is no time to sit down and enjoy the view. I finally reach the top and see the descent. Joly Jemez!! It is a very steep, barely discernable trail. I think I have like 18 minutes (to reach and clear the aid station) and this kind of downhill is not a strength of mine. It's time to put on the superman cape and go for it. I see yellow and purple below, and realize I am gaining on Henry. He steps aside as I get near. "Come on Henry, we can make it, "I say. Henry says he's done. "Keep going. You can do it!" And I can hear his footsteps behind me.

The trail widens and flattens and I am at the deck of the Ski Lodge aid station (36.2 mi.). I am not sure if I have made the cut-off, or, if so, can still clear in time. Robert is there waiting and cheering. I have my bottles ready, ask for water in both and will be out of here. The volunteer tells me I have made the cut-off and to go ahead and have some soup and whatever else I want. What a relief! And can soup ever taste good!! Mike is just outside the aid station, waiting. Joe has just walked off a few minutes earlier. Henry has made it and is going on as well. Robert walks us out of the aid station till the turn-off to his truck.

The pressure is off, but we still have 14 miles to go. I am still catching my breath. Mike, Henry, Jeff (from NTTR) and I continue down a dirt road through an open field. We are now back on the course that is part of the 50K also. We catch up to Joe and Ulli (one of Joe's friends from Hardrock). Joe is quite happy to see us. Pipeline seems to come quickly as we swap stories.

At Pipeline (39.1 mi.), I refuel and, with darkness to arrive before a finish, I get my fanny pack and flashlight, put on a long sleeve shirt, and switch from the Golite to the Marmot Precip around my waist. Rain has threatened off and on all day, but never sputtered more than a few drops. Fred from NTTR joins in on our group. We climb a fairly steep road, talking of DFL-ing together. The trail narrows and starts going downhill and Mike and I pull to the front. I am enjoying the group, but the legs are wanting to go a tad faster, so I let them. Mike pulls ahead of me, I am slightly ahead of the group. There is a lot of downhill in this section and a little rocky. I encounter and pass a couple from Minnesota. Cruising along, damned if I don't trip on a rock and take a tumble, water bottles flying. The couple is right behind me and ask if I am ok. I have a bloody knee and bruised hands, but nothing serious. They offer to walk with me, but I tell them I have friends on the trail behind me. I walk a bit to assess the damage and get the brain back on track, then continue to carefully walk/run. After all I had been through, I did not want to screw up now. The wind kicks up again, I feel a few drops of rain and I feel cool enough to put on the jacket. I see a rainbow!

Coming around a bend, I startle a person with a garbage bag wrapped around him. He says is just moving a bit to warm up. I had just arrived at Guaje Ridge aid station (42.8 mi.). The cold, windy day may have been good for the runners, but hard on the volunteers. You gotta thank them.

The next section was supposedly about 5 miles, but it took forever. Joe caught up to me and it was good to have company again. We decided a brisk walk would get us to a finish. Darkness falls, where is that aid station? We finally arrive at a very cheerful Santa and the elves aid station, Rendija Canyon (48.1 mi.). I remember this station being very upbeat 2 years ago when I was there. Again, gotta love those volunteers. We leave the aid station, climbing some more (I thought we were done with that!) We are being very careful not to miss any markers. This is not the time for bonus miles. Finally we go through the tunnel again and know the finish is near. I keep looking for the deep horse ruts, finally see them, up the little gully and on to the street and the final yards to the finish. Joyce and Robert are there to cheer us. Sixteen hours and 40 minutes, but a finish.

Mike surged enough to put about 40 minutes on Joe and me, the Minnesotans were close behind, then Ulli, Fred, Jeff and Henry finished in the next 15 minutes.

Many friends from the shorter races and those who just ran faster were there to greet us at the end. What a wonderful bunch! Our finisher award was a choice of a beautiful piece of pottery from a local native American artist.