For those who prefer linear, here is the short version: from La Posta Quemada Ranch we ran south on the Arizona Trail for 16.9 miles in about 4:11. We turned around and ran north on the Arizona Trail for 24.8 miles in another 7:20. We turned around and run south on the Arizona Trail for 8.5 miles in 2:44 until we returned to La Posta Quemada Ranch for a total elapsed time of 14:15:47. There we stopped running and accepted the finisher's railroad spike.
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| Finisher's spike. |
Encounter
"It's a Moave," Avery says.
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| Rattler! |
It is about three feet long and stretched out on the trail, head facing us. It is deathly still. Emaad comes forward to take a picture. I toss small pebbles in its direction hoping to urge it into the undergrowth on either side of the trail - or to see if it is alive. It does not move. At all. We are at a standoff. Finally Emaad decides that we need to go around, and he steps on a flattened dead prickly pear cactus and goes around. The snake still does not move and no unseen ones strike at him. Avery and I follow.
Safely past, I kick dirt toward the still unmoving snake's tail. It whips its head around and I bolt down the trail, not interested in further interactions. We warn several runners headed in the opposite direction of what may lie ahead for them.
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| Early on. |
Ultra aid stations are invariably staffed by helpful volunteers. But the five aid stations (four of which one visited twice on the double out and back course) were beyond outstanding and worthy of five-star Yelp reviews for service. They all had the usual assortment of ultra-race food: cookies, potato chips, candy, PB&J sandwiches, gels, various hot food and water and sports drink. But they also had volunteers who immediately offered to refill your pack and bring food to me as I sat down to go through my drop bag. There were tables at the Sahuarita Aid Station, so one could sit and easily rummage through a drop bag. And sitting around a table with other runners was even more convivial than the usual friendliness that occurs among ultrarunners.
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| Where's Waldo? At Sahuarita Road AS. (Photo by E. Burki) |
There is Always Someone Crazier
Southbound, after crossing through the tunnel under I-10 (about mile 7) we come across someone with a backpack and a worn baseball cap. He was a through hiker, headed south to the Arizona Trail's southern terminus at the Mexican border. He had been on the trail about seven weeks, and only had maybe another 50 miles or so to go to finish his 800 mile journey. He was content in his journey and we wished him well.
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| The I-10 tunnel. |
Later in the day, perhaps approaching La Selvilla aid station (mile 36) we come across another thru hiker. He's been on the trail for six and a half weeks or so. By then dusk is approaching, but he doesn't seem fazed.
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| Headed toward Sahuarita Road AS (Photo by E. Burki) |
Emaad leaves the Sahuarita Aid Station northbound (mile 22.8) ahead of me. I'm changing shirts, refilling my pack, giving raw honey packs I picked up on the trial to other runners and getting a bite to eat. Although we generally run together it isn't unusual for one or the other of us to leave an aid station alone and have the other catch up.
I head out and after a bit can spot him a little ahead. The trail drops down into a dry wash that goes under Highway 83, then makes a right out of the wash on the other side of the road. After a bit the view of the trail opens up and I can see a pair of runners ahead, but not Emaad. I begin to think that he has sped up and passed them. I'm not making any progress in catching up to them, but as the trail ascends and descends the rolling desert I can't see him either ahead of them or behind them.
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| Headed south. (Photo by The Viking) |
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| Near the southern turnaround. (Photo by E. Burki) |
Then a voice calls my name. I stop and look across the canyon. It is Emaad. He's behind me. (Turns out his bib number was 9, not 6.)
When he catches up he explains that he made a wrong turn at the wash passing under Highway 83. In that short period I passed him, unaware that he had left the trail. He was likely never more than a quarter to a half mile behind me, and said that he could occasionally see me ahead.
Good that he caught up, because out rattlesnake encounter lay less than a mile ahead.
Dark Places and the Zone
Marathons have "the wall," a spot in the race when things start to go wrong and you feel exhausted. Ultras have their own version of the wall, a dark place where doubt and despair set in. It may be physically based, but it is more a mental state.
I enter the dark place around mile 34 or 35, with the rattlesnake behind and La Selvilla aid station a couple of miles ahead. This is the longest stretch of the race between aid stations, 7.2 miles from Gabe Z to La Selvilla. We've been going for nine or nine and a half hours. The sun is getting low. And we are going up and down the sides of Posta Quemada Canyon. What really gets me down, I realize later, is that the aid station isn't where I thought it was going to be.
The whining commences. I should have signed up for the 55K. I could have bailed at the 55K turnoff. I'm tired. Why do I do these things? The uphills are steep. There are too many uphills. Where is the aid station? Whine, whine, whine.
Finally we reach the aid station. They tell us us we have about an hour to get to the Pistol Hill aid station (mile 39.1) three miles ahead to make the 11 hour cutoff.
There is something about having a short-term goal to focus one's attention and get out of the cave of darkness. Three miles - one hour - 20 minutes per mile. Doable. Let's go.
After a mile or so Avery, who had fallen behind us, passes us. The La Selvilla volunteers had lit a fire under him as well. He goes on.
We make Pistol Hill in about 44 minutes, with about 16 minutes to spare. I plunk down in a chair, get a headlamp from my drop bag, and get a refueling from the accommodating volunteers. One reminds me that I have ten minutes to get going, another says 11. No matter. Off we go. No pressure now. We have four hours to go 11 miles.
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| Sunset on the way to the northern turnaround. |
Emaad, on the other hand, has entered the dark lands. While I try to cheer him up, the shadows are internal, and one ultimately has to find one's own way out. What finally works for him is hearing the music from the finish a half mile out and then seeing the lights from the trail.
Now perky he accelerates toward the finish. I continue my steady pace, or plod. He stops and yells back that he will wait for me. I tell him to go on, and he finishes 26 seconds in front of me.
Avery, having accomplished making the cutoff, eases up the last few miles to finish in 14:31.
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| Swag: Shirt, poster, Huppy Bar, bib, finisher's spike. |
