Promise Land 50K+ - Part 3

Within minutes of leaving the Colon Hollow Aid Station, I felt the first big pattering drops of cold rain hit the top of my head.  I quickly pulled my windbreaker off the back of my hydration pack and slipped it on (over my pack and all) as I continued down the course, which was on a gravel road at this point.  The rain quickly went from a few big cold drops to deluge in a matter of minutes.  The winds picked up, the thunder and lightening drew nearer and nearer and I could feel the temperatures dropping with each step I took.  I wasn't quite as concerned about the lightening as I might have been if I'd been up on a ridgeline.  I knew there wasn't anything I could do about it, so I might as well keep moving forward as best I could.

Over large portions of the course, I had run in the company of other runners.  Sometimes side by side chatting and conversing for a few miles here and there, at other times it was just having somebody not too far ahead or behind that served to keep you company.  Here I began a section of the course where I felt very remote and isolated.  For large chunks of time, there was nobody within sight.  I was getting colder by the minute as the rain soaked through my clothing (my windbreaker was not waterproof).  I so regretted having let my arm warmers and gloves go in that drop box at AS1.  Oh well, nothing for it now.  You just gotta keep moving to stay warm and aim for that relentless forward progress.  

The trail conditions were rapidly deteriorating.  Lots and lots and lots of mud and puddles.  At some points the trail was actually covered in a fast moving stream of water that was about an inch deep.  I had to chuckle at the time and energy I had wasted earlier in the race trying to keep my feet dry at those first few stream crossings.  Now it was just a matter of plowing on through all the puddles and the mud and trying not to lose your balance.  I was actually glad to see larger puddles and streams as it gave me a chance to wash some of the heavier caked mud off my shoes as I passed through.

Post race pic of my mud caked shoes.

Some pretty inane chatter can populate your thoughts during these ultras.  Right now I was rehearsing various scenarios and how they might play out if I happened to fall and injure myself so that I couldn't run any more.  Grab the next runner that passes by, demand all their clothing (so I don't die of hypothermia), and send them off running naked (and hopefully faster as a result) for help?? Maybe I should have just plugged in to some tunes or something...

That rain kept me company from mile 22 to mile 26.  It only started to let up just as I approached the Cornelius Creek AS 6 again.  I made the aid station about 50 minutes ahead of the cutoff.  Runners seemed to have bunched up here (maybe they had been taking shelter under the aid station tent during the storm?) and I got to see many of them on the short out and back spur to the aid station.  For some unknown reason, I didn't grab much food at the aid station.  I had my heart set on some PB&J quarters and when I got to the table and they didn't have any of those left, I just snatched a section of orange and headed back out.  Not such a great move on my part.  I look back on this point and still scratch my head wondering what the heck I was thinking.  Evidently, not much.  That aid station was the last one before facing the infamous 3 mile long climb up Apple Orchard Falls Trail and "The Steps" and I had drained my fueling bottle completely.

Right out of the aid station you immediately start that 2000' climb.  Everybody was slogging along as best they could.  I was heartened a little in that I felt strong enough to pass several folks during this climb, but it was only because their slog was a bit more pitiful than mine.  My pace was slowing as I began to shiver and ran out of steam.  (I later found out that the temps had dropped to the high 30s).  I didn't have any snacks within easy reach.  Everything was buried away in my hydration pack and would necessitate me stopping and taking my shell off.  I was loathe to stop for anything for fear of losing what little momentum I had.  The idea of taking off what little protection I had from the cold was even more unattractive.  I decided to just keep slogging away step by step.

On a sunny day, the Apple Orchard Falls look like this. (Photo from the News & Advance)

This was the best shot I could manage in the rain.

I feel a little disappointed that I didn't get to admire Apple Orchard Falls much.  They truly are a beautiful multi-tiered cascade bouncing from ledge to ledge down a 150' high cliff.  With all the rainfall we had just experienced, the falls were flowing strong with a loud roar and lots of spray and mist.  I just felt too cold to do more than grab a few hasty pics before putting my head down and moving on.  There are fabulously constructed wooden viewing platforms and bridges by the falls that lead you directly to the base of the infamous wooden steps...over 140 of them.

"The Steps" (over 140 of 'em!)

As I prepared myself mentally for this ascent, I reminded myself that as hard as I felt this climb was, the folks who had built these stairs put in a lot more hard work and effort than I was right now.  Hands to tops of thighs for a little extra boost, keep moving, keep moving...

Wet, cold and tired, but still making forward progress.

Again, amazingly enough, I was able to overtake a few "runners" over this next section of trail.  The rain had eased off completely and I was able to look around once again and admire my surroundings.

After what felt like a really long time since leaving Cornelius Creek, we crested up to an old forest service road and were greeted by a very encouraging volunteer who was there to direct us up the right trail.  Only 0.9 miles to the top he let us know.  I told him I was VERY happy to see him. I knew this intersection meant we were almost there and this was a section of trail we'd covered before.

Next stop - Sunset Fields Aid Station!  I could feel my spirits picking up.  I knew I needed some food and I needed it fast.  Once again I had my heart set on a PB&J.  As the aid station drew within sight, I saw all of the volunteers gathered around a single runner who was standing there shivering uncontrollably with chattering teeth and badly shaking limbs.  They were trying to dress him in their extra clothing.  For some unknown reason he was trying to turn down the extra layers.  I asked one of the volunteers for a PB&J and he broke away from the group to help me out as most of the food stuffs had been put away.  While this volunteer offered to hastily pull together some peanut butter on a slice of bread, I downed some more Mountain Dew and glanced at the hypothermic runner.  He was a young guy who had passed me going very fast many, many miles before.  I got the impression then that he hadn't done many mountain ultras as he was dressed in one of those really lightweight full body track suits and some shorts.  I didn't remember seeing him carry or wear any water bottles either.  Here he was, reduced to a shivering mess, but still determined to go on.

As I grabbed my peanut butter sandwich, the hypothermic runner headed out in front of me at a pretty good clip with a few extra layers over his torso.  I thanked the volunteers and left the aid station.  About 300' down the course, the hypothermic guy had stopped running and was walking very, very slowly.  I asked him if he needed some help getting back to the aid station but he just shook his head, looked off down the trail and kept shuffling along.

Downhill - hurray!!!  I really thought I was going to be able to fly at this point.  I'd made it to the top, I'd refueled, the rain had stopped and my spirits were good.  Minor complication though...the trail was a MESS.  You could see huge skid marks in the mud where people who'd come before had slipped and slid and washed out everywhere.  I began running on the side of the trail where at least there were some rocks and grass to provide traction, but it was still really, really slow nerve racking going.  I kept expecting to slip and fall any moment.  My lightning fast speed on this single track descent?  Oh around 18 min/mile ;-)
 

I was so relieved to finally make it to the last aid station back at Overstreet Rd.  The solid feel of that gravel road under foot felt fabulous.  I waved briefly to the aid station volunteers (who were all huddled up under layers of coats and blankets under the canopy) and headed on down.  I knew I could make good time here, but I also knew I still had 2.6 miles of downhill ahead of me.  At this point, one of the runners I had passed on the climb up Apple Orchard came flying by me.  He called out "Gotta get it while the gettin's good" as he flew by.  I wished him well on keeping up that breakneck pace.  If he had it, best to use it indeed.

OK, concentrate on footing, concentrate on rapid turnover, pace yourself, get it done!  The homestretch!  Race volunteers had spray painted a line across the course at the 1 mile mark.  I kept hoping for that line to appear so that I'd know I only had to endure one more mile.  I felt like it took FOREVER to finally see that beautiful painted line.  I passed several runners during the descent and did catch up to the flying guy about a quarter mile from the finish line.  He was going much, much slower now.  I don't think he'd realized how long 2.6 miles could feel, even on a descent.

The sign that marks the final chute to the finish.

I was so happy to finally see spectators' cars and that Promise Land sign on my right.  As I turned into the field I about wiped out on another huge patch of car churned mud.  I didn't quite know which way the finish line was and headed down the route by which we'd exited the meadow earlier that morning.  Wrong!  Luckily a few folks were milling around and were able to correct me quickly. I charged across the last little bit of wet, wet meadow and dropped under that finish line banner with a time of 9:10:14.

Dr. Horton was right there to greet me.  With a big hug and an even bigger grin, he immediately asked "What did you think?"  Without hesitation, my immediate response was "That was awesome!!!"

I was grinning like an idiot and my legs were starting to tremble and shake from the final downhill exertion.  I quickly grabbed my finisher's award (an awesome pair of really nice Patagonia shorts) and headed into the pavilion to track down my wool blanket.  Aha!!!  There it was right where I'd left it this morning.  I quickly wrapped it around myself and finally began to feel warm again for the first time in hours.  Congratulations from nearby runners, shared smiles and hugs all around.  I headed for the chow line and dished up a huge plate of food courtesy of Mrs. Horton and her fabulous kitchen crew volunteers.  Hamburger, chips, pickles, fruit salad, potato salad, ... It was fabulous!  I'll definitely be back to run this one again next year.

Sharing some finisher's joy with Dr. Horton