Leona Divide Revisited

Leona Divide 2012 was my first 50 mile race. It was my first significant trail run and a huge accomplishment for me.

When I signed up for 2013 I was looking to capitalize on the fact that I have improved greatly as a runner and tackle Leona 50 head on.

Unfortunately, that isn't what happened. A nagging and still yet to be fully diagnosed injury plagued me all of April. I wasn't running much and even spent time in a dreaded boot.

Going into LD I wasn't sure I could run. I was scared and unprepared. I was experienceing significant dread. The reality was that if I didn't run or couldn't run Leona, San Diego 100 was probably out as well. I wasn't ready to accept that.

In the week leading up to the race I decided that the 50 miler was probably a bad idea, but the 50k was achievable. I knew I could walk every step of the 50k and finish before the cut off time of 13.5 hours. When I told Brady that I was dropping down before the race started, he said to me, "Why are you quitting NOW?" It broke my heart a bit. I thought he was disappointed in me. When I explained to him that I needed to see if I was even healthy enough to finish any distance, he seemed to understand. Looking back on it now, I think he was disappointed that we would not run the race together again.

The night before the race I didn't sleep. I was really scared. I am not scared to DNF, that wasn't it. I was scared to be injured. I was scared that I would get a mile into the race and realize my leg wasn't any better and that I was going to continue to be on the disabled list. I was scared, as irrational as it may sound, that I would never run again. That old enemy doubt was taking over.

We made our way to the start in the wee hours of Saturday morning. Brady drove and I worried. We were lucky enough to park very close to the Lake Hughes Community Center that served as the start/finish area. We picked up our bibs and swag and took it back to the car. I was a bit disappointed in the goodies this year. They really didn't compare to what we got last year.

As the feeling of doom washed over me, I told Brady, "I have never felt more unprepared or less capable before a race. I am not sure this is going to turn out well." He reassured me as we watched everyone gather at the start.

Jimmy Dean Freeman gave another unforgettable pre-race brief (the words M-f'ing hot day come to mind) and we were off. Brady took off like a shot and I never saw him again. I got teary eyed and prayed for a safe run for both of us.

The first few miles involve climbing on fire road away from the Community Center. It is pretty crowded and the weather is cool. I was happy that my leg didn't hurt and I was able to move up the hill pretty well. About 3 miles into the race I noticed a lady running next to me in new looking Hokas. I said to her, "It is a beautiful day to give those Hokas a beating, huh?" She agreed and that began a 12 mile friendship. I learned her name was Pam, she was 62 (amazing!) and an experienced ultra runner. Pam was more than happy to walk when I did and I was thrilled to have her company. Talking to her made me forget the feeling of doom.

Pam is amazing in her Raw Threads Red Queen shirt

We enjoyed the scenery and getting to know each other through the first aid station. At one point we realized we may have been off course. Another runner came up to us and thought the same thing. Long story short, we had missed the turn that would have put us on the PCT and off the fire roads. It was not becuase it wasn't marked... we just totally ran past it. I blame good conversation :)

We made our way back to the course (after a significant climb that we didn't have to make) and on the beautiful section of single track with an amazing view.

We hit the second aid station and more single track. Unfortunately, I either sped up or Pam slowed down, because I lost her and was not able to see her again until much later and only in passing.

I made it to mile 16 and the base of the first significant climb. I was thrilled to find a port-o-potty there. The course lacked any potties last year, so this was a pleasant surprise. After filling my pack and emptying my bladder, I started the climb up the hill. It was really hot by now and this hill is no joke. Ever so slowly, I walked to the top. Many of the faster runners were already on the return portion and I had to move off the course to let them by. A few times I rested under the shade that was so few and far between. 

There were a few runners that seemed to be in much worse shape than I was. I offered help and kept moving. I was almost to the top when I saw a photographer taking pictures of the runners coming towards us. I made sure not to walk in front of his camera as I made my way by. I got a about 10 feet ahead of him and he yelled out to me, "Ma'am, can you please move completely off the trail so I can take the picture of the incoming runner?" I did what he asked, but I must admit, I was insulted. I shouldn't have to to stop my race and move 'completely off the trail' for anyone to get a good picture. I am aware of trail etiquette and I always yield or move for faster runners. This guy wanted me to put myself in a bush so he could get a good picture. Not cool.

I realized I had finished my entire 2 liters of water just as I hit the top of that climb and saw the aid station at mile 20 and the 50k turn around. I was thrilled to find they had ice and Uncrustable sandwiches. They may just be the best ultra food ever. They are white bread PB&J sandwiches that are in packages so they don't get hard. I gladly accepted ice and cold fruit from the volunteers, checked in with the radio operators to tell them I dropped down, and made my way back to the trail.

Weird little creature hanging out on the trail sign

Although I was hot and tired, I wasn't feeling leg pain. It was a glorious realization! The ice in my pack felt great on my back and I was in good spirits. Not long after I started the decent I came across my friend Fred. I was happy to see him, but sad to hear he was dropping out and just making his way to the next aid station. He was suffering from several issues related to the heat.

At some point we came around one of the many switchbacks and I lost my footing. My left leg went the wrong way and my body followed. Unfortunately, there was a cliff to the left. My right leg buckled under me and I slid for what felt, at the time, like forever. I remember thinking that I was a goner. I just knew I was going over into the canyon below. When I stopped sliding I realized that a bush had kept me from that fate. I looked up at Fred and he looked horrified. I think I almost gave him a heart attack. I realized I wasn't badly hurt, but my hands were on fire and I had a branch sticking in my shirt.

The bush that kept me from falling into the canyon below. This picture does not do the situation justice!

Sitting on the trail after my fall. Trying to lose the "oh shit, I almost died" feeling so I could finish.

Very thankful the branch didn't give me a trail side mastectomy, but bummed it ruined my shirt!

Fred and another runner helped drag me out off the bush and back on to the trail. I told Fred he could go ahead if he needed to, but I had to sit down. I was really shaken up. I was so thankful to be relatively unhurt and ok. Fred stayed with me and I think we sat there for about 20 minutes as I worked up the courage to move again.

After we started back down the trail, I was scared. I was scared to fall again. The single track is very narrow in places and I didn't trust myself or my footing. We joked that Fred was going to hold on to my pack to keep me upright.

Eventually we made it to the aid station at the bottom of the hill. Fred sought out a ride to the finish as I found some food and filled my pack. I was determined to finish. I knew there was another hard climb to tackle, but since I wasn't hurting, so quitting was not an option. I thanked Fred for saving my life and we said our goodbyes. I dreaded what was to come, but knew it was the last climb of the day and felt ready to go.

Those 3+ miles of climbing were brutal. They were completely exposed to the sun and it was the heat of the day. Several runners were sitting on the trail looking utterly defeated. I felt that way, but kept moving. I knew that every step was one closer to the summit and relief. Once I hit the top, it was a great feeling to find shade and those amazing views beyond the mountains. I was elated to have pushed through the heat to the final 5k of the race that is blissfully down hill.

I tried to run, but my endurance is shot. Turns out a month of only cross training takes its toll. My sweaty and tired self crossed the finish in 9:25. A 50k personal worst time by over 2 hours, but I didn't care. The good news was that my leg was fine. Not a hint of pain. I was so relieved to have pushed the fear aside, avoided the urge to hide in the car while Brady ran, and earn another ultra finish.

I know now that I can attempt San Diego. I won't have a PR performance and it may just be ugly the entire way, but I have the confidence that my leg is healed and I know how to persevere to the finish. I can thank everyone involved in Leona Divide for the opportunity to earn my confidence back!