Boulder Field 50K - September 12, 2026

The Boulder Field.

For my third Boulder Field 50K report, I've dispensed with the usual linear narrative and grouped stories by themes.  For more traditional reports see my 2024 and 2021 reports.

FOOD AND DRINK

The five (the first one is visited twice) aid stations on the course are stocked with the usual feasts that trail runners expect: cookies, candy, orange slices, soda, electrolyte drinks, water, potatoes and grilled hot food.

But sometimes there are secret menus, if you know where to ask.

Bacon Special

Coming into the first aid station (just past mile 5) I compliment the volonteers are the excellent  spread they have prepared for us: including grilled cheese sandwiches, bacon, and boiled potatoes. But, I tell them, the second aid station is better.  They look puzzled and remind me that this station is the second aid station, which we will revisit after five miles on the up and down trails that lie ahead.  I tell them when I have done the race in the past, the second visit has pototoes fried in the bacon fat, or bacon on the grilled cheese.

AS 1 & 2. Dan on left.

As I exit the steep switchbacks to Hickory Run Trail one of the volunteers loading a car recognizes me after the 100 minutes it has taken me to go the five miles and tells me to see Dan at the aid station, which is just 100 yards ahead. Arriving, Dan spots me and says that he has something special for me.  There is a tray covered with aluminum foil and in it is a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich along with fried potatoes. Plus there is extra maple bacon, which Dan tells me he gets from New Hampshire.  I eat, and leave with my hands full of strips of bacon and grilled sandwhiches.

Special Hydration Liquid

In previous years, the aid fourth aid station, on the Stage Trail (mile 17) has had special beverages (made with water, malt and hops, processed by yeast), but only if you asked for them.  I've been looking forward to this stop for days, and am crushed when the volunteers inform me that they have none. This is strictly in accordance with regulations as Pennsylvania state parks, including Hickory Run State Park, where park staff and rangers enforce a blanket ban on the possession and consumption of alcoholic beverages.  

However, they recognize that there have beer special beverages available in the past, and suggest that I ask for "Zack" (a nombre de cerverza) at the next aid station.  

After crossing the Boulder Field I get to the aid station (about mile 20) get some things to eat, refill my hydration pack and say, "I was told to ask for Jim, or Tom, or Scott, or someone whose name I've forgotten to see if he has anything special for a thirsty runner."  "Zack" tells me that it is he whom I seek, and invites my over to his truck, which contains, in the back seat, a cooler that has refreshments that have come from Canada.  Opening a can in the bed of the truck he hands it to me.  I pour some on the cold, golden carbonated beverage into my collapsabe silicon cup and drink it down.  Then I pour a second (my cup is small and the can was large), quaff my thirst, thank "Zack" and properly refreshed, proceed on my way.

LOST AND FOUND

I often tell runners that it isn't a trail run unless you get lost or fall down.  I manage to not fall down, but still scrape my shin on a protruding stick. I do check the get lost box, not once, but twice.

On the Shades of Death trail around mile 12 I miss ribbons indicating that the trail turned right and go straignt. Gradually the path begins to deteriorate and I come to a stop to reconoiter my situation.  Fortunately, a second runner behind me has also gone how I did and we consult.  He has a course map loaded on his device and can see that we need to backtrack a bit.  We do and are quickly heading in the right direction. At most we have added a tenth of a mile to our race and two or three minutes.

About a half mile after leaving the aid station at the start/finish where I changed shirts and left my poles, I overtake Victor who is power walking the race.  We become engrossed in conversation and gradually approach State Route 534.  As we near it I realize that it isn't where we should be.  We turn around and in a couple of minutes we see the ribbons that indicated that we should have taken a hard left from Gamewire Trail onto Gamewire Road. The detour has cost us about a third of a mile and maybe five or six minutes.

TRAIL FRIENDS

 On of the joys of trail running is getting to meet new people and share stories with them.

Michael

On the Skyline Trail I meet Michael.  Like me he is using trekking poles. He offers to let me pass him and I tell him I'm okay - and then we start the age game. He tells me that I'm not in his age group.  No, I reply, YOU are not in mine.  It's time to turn our cards over.  Turns out we are in the same age group, since he recently turned 70. (Little do either of us know, but there is a 72-year old well ahead of us.)  Michael's Achilles tendon is bothering him, perhaps from overuse, or maybe becasue he did a six-week hike across Romania in June and July.  On the switchbacks to the second aid station he picks up speed, then doesn't linger there and I will not see him the rest of the day.

Victor

Having changed my shirt and ditched my poles at the start/finish aid station, I head out onto the second part of the course.  I about half a mile I catch up to someone power walking and slow down to walk and chat with him.  He is Victor and this is his first 50K, although he has trail experience at shorter distances.  We talk of many things, so much so that we miss a turn (see above).  His walking is nearly as fast as my running as he finishes only 25 minutes behind me.

Adam and Dani

Along the Boulder Field Trail I come upon Adam and Dani, a couple mostly walking the course.  They tell me that their 20-year old son is ahead and running his first 50k.  They have hidden a car key at the start so that he can access the car when he finishes.  Adam says they saw a bear the day before.  Dani notes that she is afraid of bears, but Adam isn't. To balance the scales, Adam reveals he is afraid of snakes, while Dani points out that she is not. Neither has seen one this day.  We leapfrog a couple of times, mainly due to my aid station lingerings, but I eventually leave them for their leasurely stroll around the course, finishing in 10:11. 

Emaad, Claire, Beth and Eric

And the usual gaggle of friends, who run the race, but at their own pace:

Running spouse Emaad, who has run so many races with me.  We run together for about a half mile and then he is gone to finish his third Boulder Field 50K in 8:53.

Claire, a recent Bethesdan from the West Coast, who we meet at a local pub run, and eagerly agrees to join us.  It's her first introduction to eastern trails.  She gets caught in the Porta-Potty line and starts after everyone has left the start ("I wasn't sure which way to go," she says later) but blasts past me and most everyone else for a podium finish as third female overall in 6:17.

Beth and Eric, who we met at Water Gap 50K last year. They have come out from NYC and although dinner plans for Friday night don't pan out, we spend some time with them at the end. Eric finishes in 6:58 and Beth in 8:15, which is good enough for second in her age group.

SURFACES

All trails have a variety of surfaces.  Boulder Field has perhaps more than most.  Rather than describe them, here are pictures of many, but not all, of them.

Pine Hill trail - mile 3

Hickory Run Trail - mile 5.5

Gould Trail - mile 5.8

Shades of Death Trail - mile 11.5

Shades of Death Trail - mile 11.8

Stage Trail - mile 17.5

Across the Boulder Field - mile 20.2

Boundary Trail - mile 22

Crossing Fourth Run - mile 24.5

Fourth Run Trail - mile 26

Fourth Run Trail - mile 26.5

Ridge Trail - mile 28.3 (looking back)

Stage Trail - mile 29

The finish - mile 31
(Photo by E. Burki)

FINISHES

I finish in 9:21, but am officially recorded as 9:24, as the finish line voluntees/staff weren't there when I came in. No matter, but as a result I did not get my finisher's Wetterhaus. I already have six from previous races, so not a problem.  I'm third in my 70+ age group, but get no reward for that either. ( I believe that while the top three finishers in the other age groups get awards, only the top finisher in the 70+ group is acknowledged. Or maybe because the finish line was unstaffed at the moment I cam across. (If the former, seems like blatant ageism.)  I'm the oldest finsher by three years.

Night Train 50K DNF - June 20, 2026

Gathering the Pride

Arriving at Camp Paradise State Park, we spot Markus and Sonia and their two children.  They have driven over from where they are vacationing at Lake Anna to tale part in the Night Train events.  Sonia is running the half marathon and Markus is joining Emaad and I for the 50K.

Markus and Emaad confer at the start.

Markus had originally thought he would target a six hour finish, but has now revised that down to a five hour target.  That means that once the race begins we won't see him until we see him returning on the out-and-back course while we are still headed outbound.

Runners mill about waiting for the 6 p.m. start.

The race starts promptly at 6 p.m. We leave Camp Paradise and head west, crossing High Bridge in less than a half mile. The 2400 foot long former railroad bridge provides excellent views of the Appomatox River valley 125 feet below.

Crossing High Bridge.

In a bit my right hip begins to hurt.  I didn't know why.  My back had bothered me in the weeks before, but that had gone away.  When I walk, the hip is pain-free.  Running for more than a few strides brings pain.

Entering Farmville.

I take a pair of 200 mg ibuprofen tablets and go on, while waiting the usual twenty minutes for the pain reliever to kick in.  Meanwhile, we approach Farmville, I use a trialside toilent, we pass an herb garden alongside the trail, pass Three Roads Brewing and reach the first aid station (mile 5.7) at the old train station.

Trailside herb garden.

My condition is improving but I'm uncertain how far I can go.  I turn down a shot of Fireball ("I'll get it on the return," I say) grab a slice of pepperoni pizza and go on.  I tell Emaad to go on.  The race allows 50K runners to drop to the half-marathon during the race, so that is an option.  I also figure that even if I go beyond the half-marathon turn around, I can still turn around and finish a long half marathon.

The half marathon turnaround
(later in the evening).

By now I'm pretty much at the tail-end of the runners.  In fact, I'm not certain that I'm not DFL.  But I get the the turnaround and feel well enough to continue.  The Tuggle aid station is about another 3.5 miles. I now feel good enough to try to get there. The hip pain is gone.

Emaad early on.

The Lion of  the Serengeti

The trail is flat and frequently straight, befitting of its ancestry as a railroad line.  Far ahead I see two women whom Emaad and I had spoken with earlier.  Seeing them provides an opportunity to engage in a mind game to provide an incentive to keep up the pace.

I am now the lion of the Serengeti and they are antelopes who are my prey.  I am a patient lion as the distance is great and they may be fast and bolt if startled.  But they are unaware of the stealthy beast stalking from behind.

I occasionally look behind me to see if there is anyone else.  It's hard to tell.  Maybe there is a figure or maybe not. No matter.

Then I see that they have stopped and one is helping get something out of her friend's pack.  One is in\jured! The lion is now confident that he can run down the weakened prey.

Over a couple of miles I gradually eliminate the distance between us.  Finally, within striking disance, the lion pounces.

"How y'all doing," I say.

The one explains that her knee is bothering her.  I sympathize, offer ibuprofen (declined) and return to walking.  They run off, but the lion is not troubled; he knows that he can catch the prey again.

Tuggle Aid Station

I catch up with the antelopes at the Tuggle aid station (mile 11) and decide to go on, knowing that I can always turn around if need be.  I'm in and out of the aid station pretty quickly.

It's about 8:30 p.m. leaving the aid station and now it is getting dark.  In another mile or two night has fallen and the headlamp is necessary.

But I've now caught up to a runner or two.  We chat and move forward.

Feral Feline

Suddenly my compnion jumps to the side and gives out a yell.  Out of the corner of my eye I spy a black shape dash past his leg, but cannot tell what it is.

"It's a cat," he says 

Before reaching the Prospect aid station I see Markus coming toward me and we exchange greetings.

Prospect Aid Station

The Prospect aid station (mile 15) is an opportunity to sit for three minutes and evaluate.  My hip is fine but my back is starting to talk to me.  The turnaround is only a mile further, and once there, the course will give back the sneaky hundreds of feet of gradual climb since Farmville, so there is no reason to turn around now (Oh? Google "summit fever.").  On the way out to the turnaround I meet Emaad who is inbound. 

The 50K turnaround.

Reaching the turn around I take care to count how many runners are still outbound.  I count four, including the antelopes.

Back at the Prospect aid station (mile 17) I see another runner outbound.  He is so far behind everyone else that I wonder if he will be pulled from the course as it is unlikely that he will make the eight and a half hour cut-off.

Feral Felines

Appoaching the spot where the black cat spooked the runner outbound, I see a pair of yellow eyes looking at me low from the other side of the trail.  Approaching, my light illuminates a young cat watching me, but not the one from earlier.  A few more yards down the trail another pair of yellow eyes appear, and these belong to the earlier cat.

The Tawny Scrawny Lion

My lower back is starting to hurt. When I get to the Tuggle aid station (mile 21) I sit down.  Another runner comes in and also sits.  The aid station volunteers are starting to pack up. but they still provide us with all that we ask for.  I tell David that I'll wait for him before heading down the trail.  In a bit he is ready and we go on.

We chat, but after a bit he tells me he has to sit again.  He takes a seat on one of the old concrete footings from what had been a base for railroad signals.  I go on, mostly walking.

After a bit two headlights come down the trial toward me.  I step off the trail. A Park Ranger pickup pulls abreast and asks if I need assistance, as they have had a report of a runner in distress.  I assure them I'm OK, inform them that I left David sitting and we both go on in opposite directions.

Now my back is really barking at me.  I'm reduced to walking, and after awhile David overtakes me.  Then Alex overtakes us.  We three go on and I start to talk about dropping at the Farmville aid station.  Alex reminds me of adivce I had given him hours earlier - if you think you are going to quit, slow down time and sit for at least five minutes before dropping. 

Finally we can see the lights of the Farmvile aid station.  But my back is agonizing.  I follow what David had done earlier - I sit on a concrete footing to relieve it. He sits with me.  It isn't more than a couple of hundred yards to to aid station but I sit for three minutes before getting up and going on.

The End

At the Farmville aid station (mile 26.3) I drop into a chair and note the time.  The Fireball is long gone.  I drink some Coke.  David and Alex have some aid station food and beverages.  The encourage me to go on.  The antelopes arrive. Sooon they are all gone.  I sit.  Five minutes passes.  My back still hurts.  I weigh the pros of finishing versus the cons of nearly two hours of pain trudging along  the rails-to-trails path in the dark, on a path that I have run twice in years gone by. Once last thing to check.

I call Emaad.  He is about a mile from the finish.  Before the sttart I gave him the extra car key in case he finished before and wanted to chill before I arrived.  I tell him I'm going to drop and ask him to pick me up.

I tell the aid station workers that I'm dropping so they can call it in.  I'm getting cool and they let me sit in their car to stay warm.  

Mismatch

Sunday morning, as I pack up my clothes and shoes, I take a second look at my shoes. They are different - I wore my old Altra trail shoe on the left foot and my current Topo trail shoe on my right.  Further, the right shoe had a heel pad, making it slightly higher than the left.  That may have caused the hip issue. As to my back, it had been bothering several weeks before but seemed cured by race day.  But the shoes and the early hip problem likely didn't help.

Altra on left; Topo on right.

Results

I went 26.4 miles in 7:02 in my DNF.  Markus finished in 5:35 good for third place in his age group.  Emaad finishes in 7:29, ten minutes faster than in 2022.  Sonia runs the half in 2:08, good for fitth female overall. and first in her age group (by 21 minutes!).  

And that runner who I saw outbound at Prospect?  She continued on and finished in 10:06 - or past 4 a.m.

Swag: bib and sticker.

Rocky Raccoon 50K - February 14, 2026

 Anxiety I - Weather

The weather for Rocky Racoon 50K is troubling.  Showers and rain are predicted, but with percentages in the 40 - 70 percent range.  And some are predicted to be heavy.  How will this affect the footing? The temperatures look OK, so hypothermia isn't an issue. But I don't want to be wet.  Since the course is basically two loops I figure to leave a change of clothes in my bag at the start/finish and run with a disposable poncho.

Anxiety II - Training

Since pacing for 26 miles at Rio del Lago on November 1, have have exactly two runs that could charitably considered longish - the 10 mile Turkey Burnoff on November 29 and 7.6 miles on January 18.  And it isn't like I have logged many miles at all - 68 miles each in December and January. With the generous 14 hour cutoff I figure I can do the race on muscle memory.  And anyway. as I frequently say (perhaps as an excuse), training is bunk.

Anxiety III - Alligators

The usual pre-race email brief is routine until at the very bottom, when the reader is directed to a note from the Texas Parks Department about Huntsville State Park being the home of alligators.  Is this Florida? Or Louisiana? Who knew Texas had gators? Apparently many people, but not me.  Can an untrained runner outrun a gator in the rain? It is not reassuring that the Alligator Safety page states gators "can outrun or out swim the fastest person for the first 30 feet." I'm not the fastest person in any case.

Race Day

Emaad gets ready to run.

Anxious?

Emaad and I arrive reasonably early and are directed to a parking spot convenient to the start/finish.  We complete our race preparations, find a place under a picnic table to protect our bags from any rain and join the crowd at the start line.  After getting last minute instructions from the race director and his gorilla assistant, we are off.

The course is well marked.  It rolls a bit but is is mostly two-wide and reasonably smooth dirt, with occasional rocks and roots. For Eastern trail runners like Emaad and I it is a less technical course than we have at home.

In addition to the 50K there is are 50-mile and half marathon races. With staggered starting times and slightly different variations of the course's loop, runners from all three races are soon intermingled.

Race director and gorilla assistant.

For awhile we run and chat with a trio of 50-mile runners.  I tell one of my well-worn stories of special beverages at an aid station in a different race and one of the trio tells me he couldn't do that as he has been eight years clean. He tells how he stopped after stealing his son's Adderall to support his habit.

A half marathoner tells how she had to beg off from a bike ride so she could run, but was still going to go walk with a friend later in the day.

We come across a runner prone on the ground on a dirt road section of the course surrounded by others trying to help him.  In a bit an ATV comes speeding to help him, followed by a pick-up truck.  Later, I go along with a runner who is also a firefighter.  He and a fellow firefighter had stopped to help the runner who was down and had possibly had a seizure and fallen, or fell on his head and had a seizure.  Later, we could see an ambulance, with lights on, waiting for the injured runner.

Lake Raven looking toward the Lodge.

The initial part of the trail along the shore of Lake Raven provides a good view of the Lodge (built by African-American crews of the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1937) at the start finish.  We run a bit with Spirit of Running who is making a YouTube video of his effort after DNF'ing last year.

Once we get to the other side of the lake we are close to its edge and I am hyper-alert for gators.  I see none. I repeat the paranoia passing this section on the second loop.  Perhaps even more so then, because being mauled, killed or eaten by an alligator so close to the finish would be - disappointing.

Signs

In addition to well marked trails the folks at Tejas Trails provided a large number of inspirational and humorous signs in a number of languages:

Early in the second loop a few drops of rain start to fall. I get out my disposable poncho, which is really nothing more than a very thin, transparent yellow trash bag with holes for the arms and a hood and struggle to put it on. My head goes in an arm hole and I weave along the single track trying to get things sorted out.  A woman runner comes along and rather than give the usual "on your left" warning she tells me to get out of the way.  I do, but I'm peeved at her lack of the usual trail manners. (Revenge comes a few miles later when I pass her.)  After about five or ten minutes the rain stops and I remove the poncho, never to put it back on.

Emaad crosses a wooden causeway.

With six or seven miles to go Emaad takes off. I run on with a woman who tells me that her husband is picking her up at the finish. "It's Valentine's Day," I note, "He should be there with flowers for you." I see them at the finish.  He does not have flowers, but she is happy to see him nonetheless.

Emaad cheers me as I finish. He finished in 7:47.

I finish in 8;18:32, good for 135 of 171 overall, 94 of 112 males and 2 of 2 in my age group. There are 16 DNFs (91 percent finishing rate). I'm the oldest finisher, by two years.

As we leave the park it starts to rain.  Twenty minutes later there is a deluge and driving is nearly impossible.  Our timing is good, but we think of the 50-mile runners still on the course caught in the storm.

But none of my anxieties came to be, so it was a good day. 

Swag: shirt, medal, parking sticker, bib, socks (purchased)

Pacing at Rio del Lago 100M - November 1, 2025

 Prelude

At 615 a.m. I'm standing on the sidewalk across from the Lake Natoma Inn waiting for Emaad to run by. For him it is about mile 6.5 of the Rio del Lago 100 Mile Endurance Run (RDL) which began at 5 a.m.  I could have been running the associated 50K with him, but decided that $200 was too much to pay for a race that would be mostly on bike trails.  Instead I've volunteered to pace him the last 31 miles of his race, which means I'll get to run 50K for free, and mostly on trails.  It's a win-win for me, and a win for him, as he will have a pacer when he is most in need of encouragement.

Right on schedule, he comes by at 6:18. I run a couple of hundred yards with him, bid him good luck and go back to bed.

A few hours later, about 9 a.m. his wife Saira and I drive to meet him at Beals Point (mile 21.7) which is also the start/finish of the race. The first part of the race is a loop on mostly flat, wide trails, paved and dirt, that go south and then back north to Beals Point before heading north to the Sierra foothills.

He arrives about 9:30 a.m. and changes from road shoes to trail shoes, drops his light that was necessary for the 5 a.m. start, and drinks a coffee beverage.  He's in good shape and is about 18 minutes ahead of his ultrapacer,com 29- hour pace card.  That is his target and a full hour ahead of the 30-hour cutoff. He has started to develop blisters, but that is not unusual for him.  He makes a couple of other adjustments and bids us good-bye.

Saira and I head off for a day of sight-seeing in Sacramento, visiting Old Town Sacramento (a surprising number of candy stores, even for a tourist area), looking at the Delta King riverboat, now a restaurant and hotel, and spending a couple of hours visiting the California State Railroad Museum. We return to Folsom, and after having dinner, I try to get some rest and sleep, as my pacing duties are coming up.

Slowing Down

RDL provides real-time tracking at many of the aid stations and we can see Emaad's progress is steady. At Granite Beach (mile 26.6) and about a mile short of where the hills begin, he is 15 minutes ahead of his 29-hour schedule. He keeps the 15 minute cushion through Rattlesnake Bar (mile 36). By Overlook (mile 45.5) he has given some back, but is still 8 minutes ahead of the pace card.

But things start to slow down after that as the day, and the course, start to erode the cushion. At No Hands Bridge (mile 49.3 and essentially the halfway point), Emaad is 12 minutes over his 29 hour pace. The ten mile stretch to the next aid station at Auburn Lakes Trail (mile 59.8) puts him 18 minutes behind his pace card, but he is still 42 minutes ahead of the 30-hour cut-off.

I'll be meeting him at the next aid station at Cool Fire Station (mile 69.5).

Game face.

Showtime

About 11:30 p.m. Saira and I leave the inn for the aid station.  The road is a two-lane winding mountain road into the foothills. Saira is driving and is clearly not enjoying the task.  At one point we spot a pair of deer standing of the opposite side of the road, which does nothing to make the drive more enjoyable.

Arriving at the aid station about midnight, we park and Saira get out to await Emaad.   Runners come and go into the aid station. She has various things on the list of things he wanted her to bring: a coffee drink, Ensure, socks and shoes. The temperature is in the 50s, so I stay in the car to stay warm - and to stay off my feet.

He arrives at 12:38 a.m. He is 29 minutes behind the 29 hour pace card, but still 31 minutes ahead of the 30 hour cut-off. He is a bit tired and his blisters are bothering him.

No Hands Bridge

We head out and run, or mostly walk in the company of several other runners and their pacers.  This portion of the course is mostly a long downhill.  About mile 71 the trail parallels CA49 and we can occasionally see headlights of cars on the winding two-lane road below. It isn't seeing the cars that starts working on my mind; it is the steep slope between the trail and the road.  I begin to fret that a misstep and I'm rolling down that incline. And since it is night, the only thing one sees is the circle of trail in front of oneself illuminated by one's headlamp. In the dark, a foot or two to the right, is the unseen abyss - at least to my imagination.

In about a mile we reach No Hands Bridge, a former railroad bridge over the North Fork of the American River. The trail is wide, smooth and, since it is on an old railroad right of way, straight with a gentle grade. 

In less than a mile we reach the No Hands Bride aid station (mile 72.6).  Emaad has been going for 21:03 and is now 56 minutes behind his 29 hour goal pace.  In other words, he only has a 4 minute cushion to make the 30 hour cutoff. It is going to be hard, but the closer we get, the better off we are.

Ticks. I hate ticks.

Overlook

Now we start the section with the last major climb of the course.  It is just over 4 miles to the next aid station, but it involves a mostly steady 700 feet of climb. Initially it is a gentle uphill.  I spot a pair of women ahead.  One is standing on the trail. The other is squatting at the side.  I get ready to ask if she is okay but realize that isn't why she is there.  My eyes and light promptly swing back to the trail.  We will see her in the same pose a bit later. That's trail runners for you.

At one point I'm ahead of Emaad.  I stop and wait.  Then I become concerned that he is ahead of me. A quandary - wait or go on?  Another runner and his pacer come along.  I ask them if they had seen him and they assure me that he is still behind and coming.  He had stopped to make an equipment adjustment. I resolve that as his pacer, I need to keep him in sight at all times.

Before we get to the aid station I manage to trip and fall, scraping my right knee.  We were walking, so it wasn't a hard fall, but I'm wearing shorts and draw blood.

When we reach the Overlook AS (mile 76.8) one of the aid station workers gets out the first aid kit and wipes down the knee with some alcohol wipes.  

Time keeps slipping away. Emaad has been going for 22:42, which is 62 minutes behind the 29 hour pace, or more critically, two minutes behind the 30 hour cutoff.  He is going to have to make up that time over the next 24 miles.

Trail gully.

Rattlesnake Bar

The next aid station Rattlesnake Bar, is almost ten miles further on.  Fortunately, it is going to be downhill, and according to the course map, once we get there we are finished with both long climbs and descents.

The first part is on a not-very-steep downhill paved park road.  I urge him to run as this is a section on which we have a good change to make up some of those two minutes, and he responds favorably.  We don't need to sprint, only move quickly. And we do. At one point we come to an intersection with another park road. We see no ribbons indicating which way to go. We look and then wait for other runners to come along to indicate the proper direction. 

After three miles of downhill on the paved road we come to the Cardiac water station (mile 80). It is unmanned, but there are large water coolers.  I fill my hydration pack while Emaad goes on.  I quickly catch up to him and in about a half mile the pavement ends and we are back on single track.

The trail is near the river and generally without any significant up and down. But it is dark and there are rocks and roots that require one's attention to stay upright.  Around mile 84 we pass over the Newcastle Powerhouse, a small hydroelectric generating plant.

In about a mile and a half we try to figure out how we are going to cross a moderate stream of water. Emaad doesn't seem to recall this area on his outbound journey earlier, and as we search around a runner on the trail above yells at us that we have gone off the trail.  We bushwack a bit uphill are regain the Pioneer Express Trail. I now have checked both boxes of my "it isn't a trail run unless you get lost or fall down" adage.

When we get to Rattlesnake Bar aid station (mile 86.2), Emaad heads to the medical tent to have his feed attended to, and I go to get his drop bag so he can change socks and have a coffee drink.  The medics put moleskin on the blister on the bottom of a foot but refuse to lance the blister, citing the risk of infection.  They urge him not to linger as the cutoff is approaching. 

We hustle out, but things are beginning to get ominous. His time is 25:29 for Rattlesnake Bar, which is only six minutes ahead of the 30-hour pace. And that pace does not take into account any time spent at aid stations.

Dawn is coming.

Horseshoe Bar

But we are still moving and the next aid station is only 2.6 miles ahead.

In places the trail is deeply eroded with straight, ditch-like gullies.  At one point I straddle one, then start to slip and try to jump to the other side.  I stumble and stay upright, but my hydration bladder flies out of my pack, as I had not looped it in when I refilled it. I have to stop, remove my pack, and reinsert the bladder.  Perhaps while doing this I drop my reusable cup (RDL is a cupless race) as later in the day I no longer have it.

Gradually the sky starts to lighten. Rosy fingered dawn is with us.  Folsom Lake is no wine-dark sea but Emaad's journey, like that of all the RDL entrants is on an Odyssey of his own.  Saira plays the part of Penelope, awaiting the return of the hero, not to Ithaca, but to the finish line. I am Polites, true friend and crew member.

Rosy fingered dawn over not so wine dark Folsom Lake.

Homeric thoughts stowed away, we continue. Approaching the Horseshoe Bar AS, (mile 88.8) we overtake a runner limping badly.  It is likely that his journey is coming to an end.  At the aid station, I use the portapotty, then take off my long sleeved shirt and tie it around my waist.

And we move on.

Granite Beach

All through the night we shared the trail with other runners and their pacers.  But gradually we see fewer and fewer, as some go ahead, and some disappear behind, likely dropping out. Now, it is just the two of us.

On the Meat Grinder.

Emaad asks how are we doing. I equivocate, knowing that we are falling further and further behind pace, but on the other hand, recognizing that we are still moving. Every step now is one less later.

The race does not allow poles. He picks up a rather thick branch to use.  After a mile or two he discards it as too heavy.  I find a thinner one and give it to him.  It serves for awhile and then breaks.

While there is not much in the way of elevation change the course has roll to it, and rocks and roots.  This is the Meat Grinder section (there is a sign that identifies it) and given his blistered feet, aching quads and general tiredness, running is out of the question.

At a couple of places I have to offer him a hand so that he can step down. In other places he uses rocks of the side of the trail for support. 

Finally he sits on a rock for a bit of a break.  When he says that the crevasse on the other side of the trail looks like a good place to nap, I tell him we need to go on.

He didn't refill his flasks at the aid station and has run out of water.  I refill one with water from my pack.

I text Saira, "He beat." She asks what is is estimate finishing time. I respond that "there's a 40% chance he quits at Granite Beach." I'm being optimistic, but keep it to myself.  Like Penelope, she retains hope that her Odesseus will make it. "He's stubboran and wants to finish," she replies.  She asks his likely finishing time.  I reply with "between 11 and 12."  I don't say that the cutoff is 11.

Out of the Meat Grinder the course get flatter, the trail wider and the surface smoother.  No matter.  He can no longer run.

Two women wearing red shirts catch up with us.  They are the Safety Sweepers.  Their presence confirms that Emaad is the last runner on the course.  We chat with them, but because they are the sweepers, they never step in front of us.

Approaching Granite Beach
accompanied by the Safety Sweepers.
(Photo by S. Burki)

Emaad finally announces that he will drop at Granite Beach. I let Saira know so that she can meet us there.  Based on the pace card I'm carrying and the mileage measured by my Garmin I keep texting her a countdown of our distance to the aid station.  I'm off and it begins to annoy me that we are not there yet.  Finally the sweepers point out a lifeguard station in the distance and tell us that is where the aid station is.

When we get there, Saira awaits. The volunteers have started to close down the aid station. But they still offer us solid refreshments as well as things to drink. Emaad walks to the timing mat, crosses it and announces he is officially dropping. His time is 29:40.

By the Numbers

There are 197 official finishers and four unofficial (over 30 hour) finishers. There were 88 DNFs, but only two others besides Emaad made it to Granite Beach. Only about 61 percent of those who started finished.  Later, he recognizes that he had underestimated the difficulty of the course with its 12,000 feet of climb and descent. And the deceptively easy, flat and fast (he ran a 50K PR) at the beginning.

For me, I went 26.7 miles in 9:55, an average pace of 22:15. My Garmin logged 4368 feet of total ascent and 5427 feet of total descent.  Of course, I hadn't run 69.5 miles previous.

Swag: Pacer bib.