it’s dark. i’m alone. all i hear is my own breathing. all i see is a round spot on the ground, lighted by my headlamp, where my foot is going to land next. i can feel it… it is getting stronger… it defeats me. the ruthless grip of fear. 38 miles into the race i get in the car that would take me to the finish line.
it was no surprise that twin peaks would be a hard race. having run most of the course in training, i knew what i was in for. or so i thought. i knew how hard the trails were, how brutal the climbs. but i had no idea how challenging combining these trails into a single run of 50 miles would be.
right from the start, a 9-mile climb up harding truck trail, i knew this would be a lonely run. as i saw the headlamps move quickly up the trail and disappear, negative self-talk took a strong hold of me. why do i have to be so slow? but soon anger and self-pity were replaced with acceptance and gratitude. i turned my music on, put a smile on my face and just kept going up the hill.
i reached the aid station at the top of harding truck trail after 2 hours and 20 minutes. i refilled both my bottles, took a hammer gel, and continued my way up, now on main divide road. the out-and-back trail to the top of modjeska peak was only 2 miles away. it was a short climb, but the trail was steep and very rocky, requiring full attention, especially on the way down.
back on main divide road, i continued on to the aid station at the top of santiago peak, 4 miles ahead. there i got a mental boost from the friendly volunteers, drank, ate, and refilled my bottles. it felt good to finally be going down after santiago peak. i thought this 8-mile stretch on main divide road to the west horsethief trailhead would be all downhill, but it included an unexpected (and tough) 5-mile climb to the top of trabuco peak. i hadn’t run that part of the course before.
at the aid station at the top of trabuco peak i got compliments for having “a beautiful smile after running 23 miles”. that’s always good to hear, but i wasn’t even halfway through the race, and a lot could (and would) change later on. i refilled my bottles, put a handful of pretzels in my fanny pack, and started my way down west horsethief trail. this 4-mile portion of the race was both a blessing and a curse. sure, i was going down, but the trail was so steep and rocky, i couldn’t just run down at full throttle. i learned that rather quickly after a few slips and a couple of near falls.
at the mile 27 aid station i filled one of my bottles with 20 oz of red bull and the other with a strong mix of cytomax and water. i’d need some extra energy to face the brutal climb up holy jim trail. i was fully aware of the challenge that awaited: i had run up holy jim two weeks before. on fresh legs. i knew this would be much harder then, after 27 miles.
this was by far my slowest portion of the race. it was also the hardest. during this climb i experienced every possible emotion. my mind raced from the extreme poles of euphoria to the depths of despair. and everywhere in between. i sang. i talked to myself. i talked to my bottle of redbull. i tried laughter therapy. i repeated all sorts of mantras. i delivered voiceless cries into the void; they painted the rarity of utter agony, as beauty.
i was at 32 miles when i saw the top of the holy jim trail. back on main divide, i still had to climb 3 more miles to the top of santiago peak, before i could enjoy the last and “easiest” part of the race: 6 miles down main divide road followed by 9 miles down harding truck trail, back to where i had started in the morning.
my stop at the top of santiago was a quick one. they were shutting down the aid station and packing up to leave. i had both my bottles filled with orange sports drink, ate the best tangerine ever, and started my way down, after assuring my fellow oc trail runner skip that i was warm enough, had my headlamp, and was ready and willing to run the remaining 15 miles in the dark.
i shut the music off for night running. the sun was setting and it had the deepest, most incredible red color i had ever seen. i felt blessed for being at the highest point in orange county at that moment. i had the best seat in the house! oh, the hidden treasures of being a slow runner…
i was feeling really good. it got dark quickly once the sun had set, and i turned my headlamp on.
within minutes i began to feel afraid. the battle inside my head started. i feel good. it’s pitch dark and you’re on your own… it is a downhill run to the finish. it’s night time, when mountain lions start to roam… i only have about 12 more miles to go. it’s still gonna take you at least 2 hours… i’ve done 50 miles before, i can finish this. not if you get attacked by a mountain lion… that was it. forget about snakes and everything else. my biggest fear when running or hiking is that a mountain lion will jump at my neck. i was freaking out already. i felt like such a wimp. i’ve come this far, only to be defeated by fear?… i saw headlights coming my way. i secretly hoped it was skip’s truck, so i could ride to the finish… and it was.
I’m so glad your run ended safely, if short. Your post just serves to remind us that running 50 miles is as much a mental battle as a physical battle.
Nattie I have no doubt you had the mental toughness to finish that route. BUT running alone in the dark up there CAN be dangerous and you made the right choice. I was happy when I heard the report at Santiago that you were going to finish. Then I was happy when I heard you got in the truck as I was worried about you running alone and part of me wished there was a way to get up there to Harding and run down with you. I was secretly hoping you had found a running partner to stick with you through the finish. That is a tough course and people dropped out before you did. All things considering you did a FANTASTIC job those first 38 miles!
nattie, that was a stirring post, how inspirational.
i am so happy to have met you, and you do have the most gorgeous smile!
Nattie – you are a beautiful soul. I totally feel your fear! I had the same thoughts and I was running alone during the daylight! I could not have done it in the dark! You are such a tough, tough girl and I hope to be as strong as you! I am so happy to hear you went with your gut and got in the truck. You made the right choice! That trek back down was spooky to me too…again I was running in the daylight! Great job Nattie! You did awesome!
I know what you mean about the fear. I was racing the sunset (which was an amazing red that can’t be explained), and loosing the race. I then had to keep my cool running for 60 minutes or so in the dark, music off so I could hear the attacking lion and react. I was frustrated that I would be killed after 48 miles and not even get to finish. So I called my wife and felt worse, as I was still stuck on the never ending trail. If Skip would have come by, I would have jumped in at mile 49; anything to avoid the attack that my emagination and I were sure was eminate. Best regards, Mike Kennedy
What an awesome effort you made! You are definitely not a wimp! I think you made the absolutely correct decision. Good job! : )
You are a great inspiration to me, and proof that it doesn’t matter how fast one runs, just that running takes you somewhere. I am so happy you made the tough decision to get off the mountain. It was the right one. No one belongs up there at that time. No one. : ) You are so special.
am i being trite if i say that your story is inspirational as have several of the other runners’ stories have been? so be it. if running an ultra is as much a mental as well as a physical challenge, then you clearly met it and surpassed it by making the clear-headed decision of running another day. great writing and story telling, nattie.