I had been looking for my next ultra – something new, when I happened upon the Nine Trails Ultra in Santa Barbara. Since I was unable to travel to Dallas to be with my family, I hoped to spend Thanksgiving with my cousins in nearby Carpinteria and then run this race on Saturday, the 29th. In my unemployed state, this was an ideal race – FREE!
Prior to the race, I tried to get an inkling about the course from some of my crazy ultra friends, but no one had done it. I heard comments like “a hike through boulder fields,” and “I think it’s tough,” but basically that reinforced my usual thoughts on ultras – cross country (hence the “hike” and “boulder fields”), therefore tougher than a road race.
Registering for the race just meant filling out a form online and waiting for confirmation. I also printed out a map from online to look at the elevation changes. The site said 10,500 feet of climbing. That seemed inherently doable, since the Bulldog 50K (only 4 miles shorter) was 9,000 ft of climbing and descent.
Then, Friday night, at the race briefing at the race director’s house, was this statement made clearer: 10,500 feet of climbing, 10,500 feet of descent! What made me a little happier was that the race director was the Grand Mattress of the Santo Barbara Hash, so possibly they wouldn’t be too serious. She also made it clear that there was no time limit on the course, which is a nice sentiment, but I did not plan on being on course in the dark!
Race morning began quite early – 6:30am – and it was a bit cold out. I got my stuff together (a water bottle and ClifShot stuffed into my hat) and headed down to the start. I struck up a conversation with a gal named Cindy, who had met Laura and Chuck at Saddleback Marathon last year. She told me she hadn’t decided whether she would run the whole thing, or just half. Another runner, Robert, told me that 10 hours was a good finishing time, which was only 20 minutes faster than his Avalon 50 time. Great! This is as hard as a 50-miler!
And then the race was off! Uphill. So I began by walking. When it leveled off (the race director said, there’s 40 feet of level ground on this course), I jogged slowly. I rehydrated myself the best I could. I stayed in a pack of 4-5 runners who knew the course. We reached the first aid station (5 miles) in 70 minutes (14 minute miles). Refilled the water bottle and continued on.
Then a super-steep stretch (1400’ in one mile) uphill. Basically, just walking the whole way. The downhills were a bit unrunable, only because they were fairly steep and rocky. It was beautiful countryside, though. My next stretch was covered in 70 minutes (only 4 miles this time – 17 minute miles). We ate some pretzels, potatoes, salt, salt, salt, and I had a ClifShot.
We continued downhill for a few more miles, and then I made a wrong turn. I probably would still be wandering around except a lady walking her dog guided me back to the course. I don’t know how far off course I got, except that I never saw the group of people I was with until they were heading back. Finally, I reached mile 13 in 4 hours, 10 minutes, just after seeing the first leader coming back.
The last 4-1/2 miles until halfway saw us on a wide firetrail with a steep uphill, followed by a steep downhill. I spent about 10 minutes running with an elderly Indian gentleman, but his knees struggled with the downhill and I left him behind. When I reached mile 17.5 (the turnaround), I stopped and took off my shoes to retape a blister). Everyone was very helpful and asked me several times if I was going to continue or quit (at this point, about 40 of the 100 starters had quit already!). I wanted to finish no matter what, although my legs were already starting to cramp.
At this point, it was a major scramble moving up the fireroads, because I would cramp if I took more than a shuffle step. In fact, one or two times, I did cramp, squatted down to alleviate the cramps and fell over and my legs spasmed for 3-5 excruciating minutes (giving me road rash on my elbows) before I could stand and shuffle again. A man heading towards the turnaround greeted me after one such incident (after I had righted myself) and I said, “Oh, you JUST missed me at my worst!” The other time, I was passed by an older woman, who asked me if I REALLY wanted to continue. I did. I reached mile 22 in 6:55. I was cramping really badly. However, this aid station had nothing other than water. One volunteer gave me her corn chip crumbs, and as I started up the hill, another volunteer jogged after me and poured “Emergency Rehydration” super salt into my Gatorade. Just behind me, was the older Indian gentleman, having the same problems. We shuffled up the hill together, and once the cramps subsided, had a nice walk and talked of different literature we had read for a few hours.
At 9:29 (or about 4pm), we reached the 9 mile to go aid station. The volunteers there were telling us we should quit, because there was no way that they would wait for us to finish. Also, I didn’t have a flashlight. A runner that had zoomed by me earlier, offered me his (bought for 99 cents the day before). I gladly took it and I told Bhagwan (the Indian gentleman) that we would finish NO MATTER WHAT! He told me he was thinking the same thing, but glad to have my company. Knowing that the last aid station would not have anything but water, I poured a handful of rock salt into my bottle and took my last ClifShot.
Since the cramps had subsided, I took the opportunity to cruise (walking) to the top of this paved trail (500’ in one mile). At the top, I waited for Bhagwan, and took a pee break. We started descending as best we could before darkness set in. We were pretty sure we were the last two on trail, though we had been told that there were still 3 behind us who hadn’t quit.
We avoided using flashlights for as long as we could, but soon it was imperative that we did. About a mile out from the 5 Mile aid station, we could see a light coming behind us – one of the three guys behind us (later, I found out that it was the guy who “missed seeing my worst moment.”). Lee, said that he had attempted this race 5 times, and finished twice. We all decided to stay together. Twenty minutes later, we saw lights coming from in front of us. It was a few of the Aid Station volunteers making sure we were all right. They escorted us down to the aid station, where I was able to refill my water bottle (after drinking Gatorade/salt water for the past two hours). Just five miles to go, and we had been out on the course for 11 hours, 55 minutes.
The last few hours were VERY dark. I was glad to have good company and someone to pass the time with. Alone would have been extremely difficult. Lee started getting very excited when he saw the lights of the finish area (I couldn’t see them until we were nearly upon them.) about 20 minutes out from the end. Lee’s wife (the lady who told me not to continue after some spasms) came to escort us in. And we were greeted by the race director, Patsy, and her assistant, Tara, who gave us big hugs and kisses (did I mention they were extremely inebriated?) and bowls of (now cold) soup. “The last finisher is a hasher! That’s so-o great!” said Patsy, and I couldn’t exactly extricate myself from her grasp. “You’re Emmett, right?” “Yes.” “Your cousins were worried about you. They’re coming up to meet you. I told them that you’re still on course and have that endurance instinct. You’ll finish, and you did!” (104 started, 56 finished)
I’m still giddy that I finished, and still can’t walk normally even 4 days later. Who knew I could do challenging exercise for 14 straight hours!