Red Rock Wannabe

1. I wanted to run Red Rock 50m (but the race was last week)
2. I wanted to see what it was like to do a 50m run alone
3. I wanted to test certain ideas I had that might make running 100m possible for me.

I have problems that show up after I’ve run a long time (where “long time” is dependent on effort level, temperature, altitude, water consumption). Unfortunately it is practically impossible to test solutions for this since the “long-time” tends to be much longer than I achieve on any training run.

I noticed last month that if I stashed extra water and ran the marathon at a slower pace then I didn’t have problems even given the extra heat. Well it’s hard to stash water for the Red Rock course, so I thought I’d just try running it at a slower pace. I had also noticed that eating cliff bars seemed better for me than eating GU.

OK. I wasn’t going to race, just try to average 4mph. I’d pause to take pictures of wildflowers to get little breaks (well, not many wildflowers now. Ferns!). I’d carry 12 cliff bars (that proved difficult, but I didn’t want to stash them outside overnight) and no GU.

I posted an event on FaceBook. Even though I wanted to run it alone, I was also a bit nervous of being out there for 12 hours alone. Almost immediately 2 people I’d never heard of said “Maybe” to the event. This disturbed me. You need to plan for a 50 miler, you can’t just show up on the day — at the very least you need to stash water. I tried to make it clear that this would be difficult and either they needed to tell me, or stash their own water. But the night before a third unknown person said “Maybe”. I’d already stashed my water, and there was no way they’d be able to. I was worried.

I stashed some water at Camino Cielo and Cold Spring (mile 6) — Heidi told me there was plenty of water there from last week, but I’ve had water disappear up there and didn’t trust that info (It was there). Then I thought to put a gallon near the end of Paradise Rd (or FS 5N18, or Gibraltar, or whatever it’s called there) at Red Rock (which is about mile 17) and another at the start of Mattias Connector (about mile 19).

Clearly that leaves a long gap between Camino Ciello and Paradise, but there are no other easily accessible points in between.

Unfortunately when I got to Lower Oso there was a large sign ROAD CLOSED.

I should have brought a bike.

There was no way I was going to walk the 6 or 7 miles out to Red Rock (and the same back). Even Mattias was 5 miles or so. I really didn’t want to do this the day before trying to 50 miles. But I could go up Arroyo Burro Rd. and stash some water at mile ~24. Not great. But better than nothing.

So now I had an 18 mile run without a water stop. Not good. I was going to have to carry handheld water bottles as well as my 2liter camelback. I hate handhelds. I never drink enough from them and they make it much harder to stop and take pictures. I wouldn’t need them until after Camino Cielo, so I could run up with them empty…

The next morning I got to San Ysidro trailhead a little early (I was running the race inside out, because San Ysidro is easier to get to than Rancho Oso. Cheaper too). And I decided I would not wait for any “Maybe”s. I didn’t want to encourage people to run 50miles with no preparation.

I set out. My camelback felt light. I realized I had forgotten to fill it with water at home. Great. Just great. I’ve never done that before.

Well it’s only 6 miles (albeit straight up) to Camino Cielo and there was lots of water there. I’d make it.

I started a little before 6 and it was pitch dark.

As I ran up beside San Ysidro creek it chattered noisily, but when the road actually forded it, the roadbed was dry. Our creeks are odd.

On the climb up to Girard trail the sky began to lighten

And the full moon set.

I got a little lost at the hot springs in the dark and ran up the wrong trail for a minute…

When I got to Cold Spring the sunrise was nice…

There are some great-berry manzanita blooming further up Cold Spring (first I’ve seen this year) and then another on Montecito Peak, and more all along the course.

I did climb up Montecito Peak, even though no one gave me a medal.

But what I wanted to see up there was a little patch of ferns I had noticed back in October. Back then they were all shriveled up from the summer’s heat or drought, or something. Now where I grew up the only ferns that shriveled and revived were call Resurrection Ferns and were Polypodys so I assumed these were too. But when the rains came I realized that California Polypody doesn’t do that, but Goldback Fern does, so I assumed these were that. But when I went and looked at them they weren’t a bit like either. They are some sort of Lipfern, probably Colville’s

As I trotted on up to Camino Cielo, I realized I hadn’t taken the oath. So I yelled it out to the uninterested sky: “If I get lost, or injured, or dead, it’s my own damn fault!” Perhaps more appropriate today than usual…

The threadleaf ragwort on Camino Cielo still has one bloom. I saw no others alive anywhere else.

Water!

Brrr. It is freezing!

I hadn’t realized how cold the water would be. I can barely force myself to drink, and when I fill my handheld bottles they numb my hands. There’s not much left of my gallon jug after I’ve taken three liters out of it so I decide I’ll carry it down to Forbush and stash it there. That way, on the return journey, it will be two miles closer and that may be important.

There’s a currant blooming on the trail down to Forbush, and the last hummingbird trumpet blooming just after Forbush. The Barberry down near the grotto has buds but isn’t blooming yet.

There is less water in Gibraltar Reservoir than there was in June.

Hmm. This is about a quarter of the race (or half way to Rancho Oso).

First glimpse of Red Rock, about 1/3 into the race

Even though there is no (car) access to Red Rock the pit toilet was unlocked. Which was nice.

Then there’s the run along Paradise Rd. with all the fords. After a bit I was convinced I’d missed the trail — but then I remembered the year before I had this same conversation with myself and the lead woman, and we hadn’t missed it. So I kept going.

It’s kind of nice to know there will be no vehicles on the road as you run down it.

Then Mattias Connector climbs straight up for a bit. I walked, and after a mile connects to Mattias Trail.

No matter how many times I run it (in this direction) I always have the same reaction to this trail. Each time I see a ridge in front of me I am convinced that will be the last ridge, once I get there I’ll find the road. Instead I find another dip and another ridge (which surely is the last ridge — but it isn’t either).

Eventually the last ridge takes me by surprise and I run down Arroyo Burro Rd. After a mile or two I finally reach my water bottle, artfully concealed behind a rock (no one cleaned it up! Yay!).

And then Arroyo Burro trail, and then the Rancho Oso trail. There is a no trespassing sign, but I ignore it. I want to do the full course. I doubt anyone will care. No one does. I don’t see anyone at all. I run down to the finish line, switch watches and head back.

There’s a nice little goldback fern fiddlehead just opening…

I get back to my aidstation, fill up again. There’s not much left in the water bottle so I decide to carry it with me, again. Oh, and I might as well take a salt tablet.

Suddenly I’m a lot thirstier and I drink a fair amount of water.

It is hot now. Most of the course has been in the shade, but now it is noon and the sun is high. When I get back home I check and see that the day’s temperature in SB is 9°F higher than it should be for this time of year. I wonder if I’ll ever see (what used to be) normal weather again?

I should be OK, I’ve been going about 4MPH.

When I get back to Red Rock I put all the cliff bar wrappers I’ve generated in the dumpster there. I also pick up about 5 GU packets that someone left outside the pit toilet.

I climb out of Red Rock up the trail and onto the road. I’ve been eating half a cliff bar every half hour, and when the time comes for the next bar I get the dry heaves. Damn. I was hoping that if I went slowly that wouldn’t happen. It took longer to happen (8 hours instead of 6), but it still happened and far too soon for a 100 miler. I was also hoping that cliff bars wouldn’t do that to me, but they do. So the test was a failure. I still don’t know how to run long.

I walk for a bit and am able to finish my half cliff bar.

Actually I walk for about 20 minutes (downhill) in hopes that will settle my stomach, but it doesn’t. So I start running again.

I’m alternately running walking now (and not eating) until I get to the Grotto. I’m still averaging 4 mph.

But from the Grotto up to Camino Cielo we have 3 miles of straight uphill and I’m dead beat. I hate not being able to eat and feeling nauseous. There is no way I can run. So I walk. Slowly.

I reach my stashed water bottle. I simple pour out its contents. I haven’t been drinking much either, and there’s more in 2 miles if I need it then.

Someone is camping at Forbush and has lit a fire. I smell it as I trudge past.

I have a few blocks. The thought of a cliff bar is revolting, but I try one of the blocks. It goes down easily, so 5 minutes later I try another, and a third.

I begin to feel better (but I keep walking, not running). And I wonder if maybe all I need to do is walk for two hours? (It hasn’t worked in the past, but I ignore that).

I can see the top of the ridge line with the pine trees on Camino Cielo

I was hoping I’d get there in time to see the sunset, but my body has rebelled.

Still there is a nice afterglow when I reach the top.

And as I turn the bend there is the whole city spread out below

I find I can run downhill again, and I feel much better than I did.

I’m glad I don’t need to climb Montecito Peak in the dark.

In the half-hour it takes me to get down to the trees, it has become much darker.

I eat a couple more blocks, but my stomach objects to any more. Sigh.

I get to the bottom. About 13 hours. Pleased to have done it, but I wish I knew how to run more than 8 hours… Somehow I need to drink more.