ray miller 50k 2015

If you’ve read a few posts in the past month or so, you may have known I had a little race coming up called the Ray Miller 50K. Initially, I signed up for the 50 Mile back in July, but as time went on and training wasn’t going as well as I planned, I decided to chop 20 miles off my day and jump down to 31 miles.

To say I was excited for Ray Miller would be a slight understatement. I was seriously GIDDY with anticipation because I feel like I’ve been waiting years to do it. Come to think of it, the first time I start training for it was 3 years ago, so yes, it’s been on my radar for awhile.

Days leading up to the race I felt good considering I lacked some running mojo and energy the past few weeks, but mentally and physically I felt ready. I was seriously ready. Having a not so great week at work, there wasn’t anything I looked more forward to than spending several hours, okay pretty much all day, on the trails. And I constantly reminded myself of this throughout the day.

Arriving out to Point Mugu around 6AM, one thing became immediately apparent — it was windy. After picking up my bib, tank, and handing off my drop bag for mile 19 (Danielson Ranch), it was time to line up and hear the pre-race instructions from RD Keira Henninger where she quickly informed us of the conditions we were about to face.

As I recall she distinctly said something to this effect:

Friday night, the area had winds upwards of 75 miles per hour so there are going to be some downed trees on the course. Sorry about that, but unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do, so do your best. 

Shortly after taking off, our trail took us immediately into single track and we had a lot of single track throughout this race. As we made our way up, there were a few things floating around in my head.

First, WOWZAAA!! What a view!! I could not get over the spectacularly breathtaking views!! I’ve said this many times before and it hasn’t change. Trail running offers views most road races don’t offer. Sorry (not sorry), but it’s true. Knowing what view was awaiting me is why I wanted to run this race. There. I said it.

I tried to look for dolphins or whales, but couldn’t see any.

Second thought I had floating in my head — I can’t wait to run DOWN these uphills at the end!!

And third, the winds were seriously intense and unfortunately, these were not tail winds. Wouldn’t that have been nice? No, early on I realized Ray Miller wasn’t going to make it easy.

Around 5 miles in, I reached the first aid station, but I didn’t stop and kept going. At this point, I caught the first few runners in the 100K and 50 Mile divisions telling them all “good job.”

The next couple of miles had us running through mostly flat single track terrain through wispy trees and brush. Everything was going smoothly with having the best energy and hoping I could keep it all day. That swiftly changed at mile 7.

I was coming down a stretch of downhill just before I was about to ascend upwards. As I ran down a step, my left ankle rolled under my foot ever so quickly and sharply. Now, I’d like to blame the three ladies who were hot on my heels, but it was my own damn fault for not letting up and knowing better. The first lady quickly asked me, “are you okay?” And in my usual nonchalant fashion, “oh yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” It hurt but it wasn’t overly painful as I experienced last year. Now THAT was pain.

I stopped for a moment to let the sharpness wave over my foot and pass. Just then a woman I tend to see at these races showed up and we immediately went into hugs and a “Heyyyy!!” We’ve seen each other at last year’s Griffith Park Half Marathon & 10K, as well as at Paramount Ranch, and it becomes a quick familiar friendly reunion. Of course she asked me how I was feeling and I mentioned what happened. She offered me Advil and Ben-Gay to rub on my foot. I skipped the Advil, but took the Ben-Gay to rub on my foot and the cooling effect was soothing. Maybe it was more for mental comfort.

Slowly ascending up the mountain, thoughts of quitting never entered my mind. Not for one second did I even think about not finishing this race. While my foot did feel some discomfort it didn’t hinder me from moving at all. If the intensity was too much to bare and potentially severe enough to become an injury, then yeah, I probably would’ve cashed in my chips for the day, but I knew what pain from a sprained ankle feels like and this wasn’t it. I even thought about Keira Henninger who completely pancaked her foot recently at a race and still managed to finish in second place no less. What?!

Anyways, what I felt today didn’t compare, but I made sure going forth I needed to be even more cautious and aware of how I was placing my foot. And for the rest of the race there were only brief moments of periodic reminders of what happened because my foot didn’t feel anything many times, at least not until later in the race.

As I made my way up this stretch of climb, I sidled up to a guy who was making his way up slowly. In my normal ordinary custom, I asked how he was doing. “Well I popped my hip somewhere around mile 1,” he replied. Being this was his first ultra, I could tell he was already not having a great experience. Having just tweaked my foot myself, I didn’t want to unload any of own my minuscule anxieties and worries on him, so I simply told him, “Well the good news is you’re still upright and moving. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other no matter how slowly. Run when you can and walk when you need to.”

Telling him these things may have been more of a reminder to myself than anything else.

We leap frogged for a bit, until later on I passed him and kept going. I honestly don’t know if he finished or not.

Three hours into the race, I took my first Hammer Gel. And my last. There was something that didn’t sit right with me and I was scared if I took more, I’d have GI issues. For the remainder of the race, I subsisted mainly on CarboPro, and I realize after years of toiling around trying to find something that doesn’t upset my stomach, I finally found it. Hallelujah! So I am sticking with CarboPro until the day it doesn’t work for me anymore!

When I reached the next aid station, I noticed something I hadn’t eaten in a while. Watermelon!!! Oh, my sweet darlin’ watermelon! I ate a couple of pieces and made my way towards the start of a 5 mile loop.

Making my way during this trek I couldn’t stop thinking about how late it felt. By this time, it was only around 9:30AM, but it felt so much like it was 4:30PM! How did it get so late?  Having the shadows follow me certainly didn’t help me think otherwise because it appeared as if the sun was going down.That was such an odd feeling.

While I can quite enjoy the downhill portions, this 5 mile loop had quite some rocky, uneven terrain with tons of rocks. I couldn’t get a good steady rhythm as sometimes, in those rare moments, I can.

At one point, I could hear a bell ringing from a cyclist barreling down the trail. I swiftly moved to the side to let them pass and as she did, the cyclist yells out to me, “YOU ARE AWESOME! HAVE A GOOD RUN!!”

I just said, “Thanks!”

After this moment, I started thinking. Did she say that because I was kind enough to move over? Or, because I was part of many runners she saw out on the trails doing this race? I’d like to think it was the latter, but we will never, ever know.

A little time after that, I finished my rocky downhills, and came upon another cyclist who stopped to take a breath.

“How much more you have to go?” He asked.

How dare he make me do mental math. “Umm, about 16 more miles.”

The sound of saying “16 miles” was sweet to my ears. At this point, it was no longer 31 miles left to go, or 20 miles. It was 16. Sweet 16.

What wasn’t so sweet was the hill so graciously awaiting me. Hell Hill. And it lived up to it’s name.

Slowly, step by step, inch by inch, I made my way up focusing on the idea it was only less than a mile of climbing to reach the top. By this time the sun was fully up and the heat was kicking in.

Reaching the next aid station, after the Hell Hill climb was over, I refilled my handheld with CarboPro because they had it there, and set off again. As I was leaving some random guy running the 30K made some off-handed remark to me.

“You look grumpy.”

“Excuse me? I look grumpy?”

“Don’t worry about it. Everybody looks grumpy at this point.”

Umm, okaaay. 

He may have confused me looking grumpy from me trying to do mental math. I realized I was over half way done and the possibility of a PR could be within my grasp. So instead of me being concerned over what he perceived, I knew I had 3 miles between me and my drop bag. Let me just focus on that right now and not the state of my “grumpiness.”

After Hell Hill and that helluva comment, I was looking forward to some nice downhill single track and got it. Floating down this trail was much easier, or I should say more smoothly, compared to the 5 mile loop I had just completed. When I got to the bottom and the end of the single track, I was on a nice large dirt road making my way towards the next aid station which was only about another mile from here.

I came upon a volunteer who pointed up the trail and said, “there’s some shade just up at that tree.” Nice!

When I got to the tree, I couldn’t help by ask myself: Uhhh. Is this the shade she’s referring to? Is this the tree she was referring to? I passed through it in a millisecond.

Finally reaching Danielson Ranch at Mile 19, I immediately went to get my drop back, and I could feel the heat upon us. Now, the heat was there, but I’ve had much, much worse. This was tolerable. Or maybe it was all the heat training I did over the summer and during the course of this training which prepared me for it.

As a girl went to get my drop bag, I exchanged my handhelds (I had another one prepared with CarboPro waiting for me). During this process, a guy took my hydration pack and filled it up with ice and water because the next, and last, aid station was 9 miles away. As I was standing right next to him and waiting, another runner says to me, “Can I get more water?” I said “yeah.” He looks at me and tries to hand me his handheld bottle. Oh, did you want me to fill it up with water? Sorry sir, I’m waiting for my own hydration refill. Just then, a volunteer says to the guy, “I’ll get you more water” and reaches out for this handheld. Thank you volunteer.

After leaving Danielson Ranch, the trek became an endless supply of climbs, climbs, and more climbs. Never ending. My favorite saying (and yes I created it) in trail running is this: What goes down, must come up. So original, right?

Surrrre, enjoy those nice downhills. You know you’re climbing back up, don’t ya? Sincerely, Trails

During these miles, I came up to the turn where those running the 100K and 50 Mile had to take. And can I just say, I don’t think I experienced a bigger sense of relief for having dropped down from the 50 Mile to the 50K. Knowing how I was feeling right then, I knew I made the best call for me.

However, the 50K proved very challenging in and of itself even right at this moment. I really needed to tap in my mental power. For the most part, my head was in this race. Every time I had a momentarily lapse of feeling less than energized about how much further I had to go, or having my left foot remind me it was no longer 100% healthy since mile 7, I just thought of how overwhelmed I’ve been feeling at work. During these moments, I kept repeating to myself, any tough day on the trails is better than any good day in the office. As so I was told by my Twitter friend, Rich. This race and these trails were my saving grace.

So I climbed. And climbed. Until eventually I didn’t. At least for a little bit. The course would have a total elevation gain and loss of 9,000ft. Yep, lots of climbing today.

I made it out to a field of gentle hills and eventually into a canyon where it really got interesting.

Remember those downed trees, I mentioned Keira told us about during our pre-race talk? Well, they were here. And there were quite a few. Many of them were maneuverable with a quick leg swoop over it, and of course I thought, these aren’t that bad!

Coming upon the massively large downed tree I surveyed the area to see if I was in the right place. As luck would have it, the pink ribbons were on the other side of the tree. Good news is, I didn’t take a wrong turn anywhere.

I look left. I look right. There is no place to go around it. I look left again. Nope. I look right again. Nada. I place my hands over it to see if I could climb over.  My hands were above my shoulders. Finally, I looked below it and there I saw my only option. The space below it was about 3 feet.

After a few minutes, I came to my senses. The only way out of this jam is to crawl underneath. I had to. Unless I decided to call it quits and live the rest of my life in this secluded canyon with no WiFi, there was no other option for me. If I wanted to continue, I had to move it. Looks like I’m getting down and dirty.

If I allowed my mind to think there may have possibly been a snake underneath it, I don’t know what I would’ve done. Freeze with fear probably. I may have waited until someone else came along and went before me, but who knows when someone else would have come along? It was now or never. Dropping down to all fours, my thoughts were focused on getting dirty. That’s it. I took a deep breath and as quickly as I could, scurried underneath the tree, over to the other side. Ahh relief.

My thoughts immediately went into, please let that be the last downed tree. It was. Saved the best for last, huh Ray Miller?

Shortly after leaving the Redwood, I reached the final aid station. What was on my mind was Coca-Cola. I wanted some and I drank 2 cups of it with ice. Ahhh. Talk about refreshing. I rested for about 2 minutes and then took off again.

About a quarter mile down from the last aid station were 3 huge arrows directing us to turn right to start up the switchbacks climbing back up and then one final steep climb. It was a shorter, much condensed version of Hell Hill. Straight up. It also reminded me a whole lot of Hogback Trail in Griffith Park. Gotta say, I’m so happy I trained on that trail.

But just before making this right turn, I noticed a woman running straight down the road. I recognized her from earlier. I don’t think she realized there was a turn here. Quickly I yelled out, “HEYYY!!! RUNNERRRRR!” She didn’t hear me and disappeared. Later at the finish line I’d see her. She ran another mile down the road before realizing there were no pink flags indicating where to go and turned around.

I felt bad for her. Trail running can be tricky in the sense we not only have to be aware of our footing, but also what direction we need to go in. I always get nervous when I don’t see a flag for awhile but this course was pretty well marked.

She wasn’t the only person who almost missed a turn. Later on, I saw another woman going up a hill, but I noticed the sign to turn left that said “STRAIGHT AHEAD.” Again, I yelled out to her. “HEYYY!!” Luckily she heard me and turned around. “ARE YOU RUNNING RAY MILLER?” “YEAH,” she replied. “THE TURN IS RIGHT HERE!” She ran back down the hill and said, “Thank you so much!! This is the 4th time I almost made a wrong turn and I’m about to start crying because I want this race over with.” Turns out she was running the 50 mile and I honestly don’t blame her. I’m glad I was able to save one person from going in the wrong direction.

Although my energy was slightly waning during this time, one thing became quite apparent — my feet were killing me! They hurt so badly. And it wasn’t pain I felt in my left foot from rolling it. Everywhere my feet just hurt. The rocks and terrain really tore up them up, and I tried desperately to take my mind off them by remembering this pain will only be temporary, and the sooner I finish, the sooner I can stop moving.

When I saw mile 28 on my Garmin, I knew all those uphills we had at the beginning, would be coming back again, but this time, I’d be running down them. Sure enough. Around mile 28.5, with painful feet or not, I hit the zone and started flying down them hills. The only time I stopped was when I hit a corner and saw a family of five coming up.

“You only have about three quarters of a mile left,” the father said.

“What?”

The man turned to his left and pointed down.

He says, “The finish line. It’s right there.”

I turned my head to the right and saw the row of cars and tents and people at basecamp. I wanted to cry.

“Thank you!!” I yelled out. And I took off running. Non-Stop.

Another quarter mile later, I picked up someone who had a friend running the race. She ran right behind me, even offering to carry my hydration pack to lighten my load. We talked, and turns out we both ran with Team NutriBullet a couple of years ago. I hadn’t seen her since.

While it was nice chatting, I honestly really wanted to focus on running and flying down this mountain, because making that final quick turn was within my reach.

And then, I reached the finish line, taking an hour off my first 50K race (Sean O’Brien) and giving me a PR! I finally ran Ray Miller.

Ray Miller, I waited a long time for you. You were tough, but you were oh so worth the wait, and the four blisters.

Thank you to race director Keira Henninger, her volunteers, and wonderful aid stations for amazing support and another race that seriously kicked my booty.

Thank you for reading and Happy Trail Running!