I went in a marathoner and came out an ultra trail runner…. I am humbled and forever changed ~Shelly L. Hess
Race Day—Oriflamme 50k
No matter how many marathons I’ve ran, race day is always a
little nerve racking and my anxiety that morning was 10-fold. I set my alarm early and actually woke up 10
minutes before it was due to go off. There wasn’t time to hit the snooze
button, I jumped out of bed and started my pre-race routine. I fed the beagles (I have 3), ate my
breakfast, got dressed, prepared my hydration pack with Tailwind, and checked
my car at least three times to make sure I had everything I needed—shoes,
socks, gaiters, Camel Bak, sunscreen, peanut butter packs, pretzels, salt
packets, Cryoderm for my hip, and Kool-n-Fit for my calves.
I left my house around 4:00 am as I had planned. During the
hour drive from my house my mind wandered back to my first day of kindergarten. I was a very shy and timid girl. I was afraid
of the world, and going somewhere new by myself absolutely terrified me. My sister walked me to class that first day
and all I remember was running after her down the hallway crying and pleading
with her not to leave me. Reflecting
back on that moment I was in awe of how far I’ve come. I was also wishing my sister was with me
because I felt that same sense of nervousness and fear of the new experience I
was about to encounter. I was worried
about being out of my element, not fitting in, not being good enough to be
there. I was also nervous about the
trail. Under different circumstances I
wouldn’t have started out the race with such a negative Nancy attitude, but I
was mentally prepared for a DNF. Physically
I felt better and my knee and my hip seemed to be healed, but I knew there was
a possibility the injury would rear its ugly head and I wouldn’t be able to
finish.
After the long drive up the winding hills to Julian, I
finally got to the start line. There were a few other cars already parked when
I arrived. It was pitch black (what I
like to call the dark dark…. nighttime without city lights and streetlights). Everyone
was bundled up. One thing I’ve learned is you can’t choose the weather on race day. A cold rainstorm had swept through San Diego
County that weekend. The cooler
temperatures were welcomed. Even the rain before the race was nice because the
sandy areas were a little more compacted than usual. I just hoped the rain held off until later in
the evening as predicted (fortunately Mother Nature was on our side and it
did).
I sprayed on
sunscreen and took advantage of one last opportunity to pee before I went over
to pick up my bib. I nervously told the crew who was checking us in that it was
my first ultra and first trail run and then I asked them if they needed my
ID, I the fact that I was a newbie was
apparent to them because they said they don’t check IDs, they trusted us. It actually made perfect sense, who in their
right mind would willingly run that kind of distance for someone else, plus
it’s a really small tight-knit community where everyone knows your name.
I put my race shirt and the adorable beanie they gave us in
my car and lined up at the start with the other early starters. I was pleasantly surprised and relieved when
I saw a familiar face—Yen. She was one
of the pacers during the race where I got my marathon PR. I don’t think she remembered me right away,
as a pacer during the road races I’m sure she meets a lot of people. To me it was like a celebrity sighting. I took
advantage of the opportunity to let her know what an impact she had on me. I immediately thanked her for helping me get my
marathon PR during Surf City 2016.
We all gathered around the start and waited a few minutes.
Then John, the race director, said go and we and we were off. I found my place towards the back of the pack
behind Yen. I was comfortable with her
pace, I knew if I could stick with her I would have a strong chance of
finishing. She truly was my angel that
day.
We were well into the first mile before I realized I didn’t
turn on my music. I don’t know if it was my excitement about seeing Yen and
getting started or my nervousness about this new challenge I was taking on. My
first ultra and my first trail race. I’m
still surprised I forgot to turn on my music. It’s my tradition to start every
race listening to Cowboy Mouth’s song “Go.”
It’s comical, I had read a few articles where the authors recommended
runners try running without music. The thought of it always seemed impossible
to me before. Something magical happened
on the trail. I quickly realized I
didn’t need to hear the music; I just took in my surroundings. In fact I didn’t
even turn on my iPod until mile 19 when we started the climb back up the hills
(I’ll get back to this).
Yen and I stayed together. We chatted off and on about
different races, how nice the course was, and she gave me a little bit of
insight of what to expect. Around mile
5, I was following behind her and started admiring her gaiters. As I was thinking to myself, so that’s how
you put them on, I suddenly realized I had forgotten mine. I was bummed. I did all of that research and
finally found a pair that worked for me and I left them in the car. I tried not to let it get me down. I decided I would just deal with it.
We ultimately made it to the first aid station. Everyone was so friendly and helpful. I was very grateful for their
hospitality. I didn’t need water; I
still had Tailwind in my pack. I ate a
small piece of banana and we were off.
We started our descent down into Oriflamme Canyon. I didn’t really realize how big the hill was
while we were going down. We were
almost to the bottom of the first hill when the first of the elite runners
passed us. We cheered him on and he
cheered back. Everyone was very
supportive as they ran ahead of us. It
felt familiar and safe, like being in the CrossFit community.
Once we made our way down the first hill the course was flat
for a short period of time. Then we started making our descent down the second
hill, the one I had read about in so many blogs posted by other runners. No
words or pictures can describe how intense it was. While many runners were breezing by us and
taking advantage of going downhill, Yen and I paced ourselves so we wouldn’t
slip and fall. I welcomed that strategy.
I didn’t want to do anything to aggravate my knee or my hip.
Once we reached the bottom we started running along the
desert floor. It was sandy, but as I mentioned earlier, the bottom layer was
pretty compacted from the rain. Just as
I was getting used to running in the sand out of nowhere I felt an excruciating
pain on my leg near my ankle. I looked down and noticed a huge cactus ball aka
jumping cholla had made its new residence on my leg. I immediately panicked and tried to dislodge
my new stowaway, but realized that wasn’t going to work because the spines were
so sharp and painful. I was looking for something to help give me comfort so I
could pull it off when Yen suggested she use her walking stick. At that point I
didn’t care how she got it off as long as it was removed. She started swatting
it and each time she did I felt it start to come off. It was a mix of pain and relief as the barbed
wire like spines were released from my skin. I am pretty tough and can endure a
lot, but needles have a way of breaking me down! I don’t even like to get a TB test for
work. I was a damsel in distress and
started crying. Right about the time Yen had successfully removed the ball of
spines from my leg two really handsome runners
(special thanks to my heroes #99 and #44). stopped to assist. Blood was gushing from my leg. Yen pulled out a napkin before I was able to
grab a Kleenex from my backpack.
Fortunately one of my other rescuers had tape. He immediately started bandaging me up. Once I was taken care of they started running
again. I regained my composure and
pride, and then Yen and I started running again. We were only at mile 12…. we still had a long
way to go.
We continued to make our way through the desert floor.
Everyone at the aid stations was so friendly and supportive. Everyone was
surprised I chose Oriflamme as my first 50k.
Most of the volunteers runners or race directors. Yen introduced me to a lot of race directors
that day. I left the race with a list of others to run.
Yen and I made good time; happily we made it to the turn
around before the cut off. As we started
to make our way back Yen warned me it would take us longer because of the
incline. I was very cautious was we
crossed back through what I now call the trail of the evil needle bombs aka
jumping chollas.
Before I knew it we were at the base of the infamous hill. Words
cannot describe the long and winding steep ascent out of Oriflamme Canyon and
pictures don’t give it justice so I’ll talk about strategy. As we
started our way up I decided it was time for reinforcement and I took out my
iPod. Listening to music was like having
good friends along the way cheering me on…. I was ecstatic to hear a new
favorite, Eve Selis singing, “I still have a long way to go.” Yen and I just kept moving up the hill at a
nice steady pace, one foot in front of the other. Every once in awhile I looked down, just long
enough to try to capture the perfect picture.
I quit looking up because whenever I thought we were almost to the top,
I realized it was like mirage in the desert—a façade just teasing, taunting,
and challenging us.
When we reached the top where we were greeted with a
refreshing box of water bottles strategically placed there just in case we
needed a boost until we reached the next aid station. Yen was surprised there was so much water
left. Runners weren’t drinking as much because it was so cool that day.
The trail flattened just for a brief period of time and then
we were making the climb up the second hill.
It was much different from the first one, challenging in a different
way. We were greeted at the final aid
station with hot soup and ginger ale.
Fortunately we made it there before the cut off and were allowed to
continue to the finish. We were ready to
take on the last six miles of “rolling hills.”
Honestly, those last few miles seemed like the longest part of the race.
Physically I was feeling fine, it just seemed like we were close to the road we
needed to cross, but the trail led us in a long parallel direction.
After what seemed like eternity we finally crossed the
road. It was just a short mile to the
finish. As we were heading back I started
looking for my BCBG hooded packable jacket that I had tucked away in a bush. I
had read about that trick in another runner’s blog. Even though I labeled it, I learned the hard
way I should have brought a less attractive jacket that I didn’t care about.
Despite my search efforts I did not find it.
(I even went back after the race
to look for it. I was sad and
disappointed, but rationalized losing it by thinking whoever took it needed it
more than I did. )
Crossing the finish line was monumental. I had done it—I was officially an ultra
marathoner. I’m sure this has been said
before, but my words sum up my experience from running the Oriflamme 50K:
I went in a marathoner
and came out an ultra trail runner…. I am humbled and forever changed ~Shelly
L. Hess
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