Angeles National Forest Trail Race 25K

As I sat down on a boulder alongside the trail, I could feel this intense wave of nausea rising quickly. I had slowly been ascending for the past hour in temperatures hovering around 100. Each step becomes increasingly more difficult the further I go. My breathing was more labored as my heart felt like it was going to come beating right outside my chest at any minute. And I still had 3 miles left to go before the finish line.

Formerly known as Mt. Disappointment 50K, the Angeles National Forest Trail Race had been on my list of races to do for a few years now, but for a variety number of reasons, never got around to doing it.

From what others have told me, it’s a really difficult race, and it’s an absolutely brutal race.

Because I was going to be participating in the 12-hour Cirque Du Griffith Park two weeks prior, and I wasn’t familiar with the ANF Trail Race course, I decided to sign up for the 25K (the shortest of three distances offered) and recruit two friends in doing it with me.

Start to Red Box: Miles 0 to 5.7 (It could’ve been 5.4 miles)

Before the 7 AM race start, at the top of Mount Wilson, the temperatures were already in the 80s. Weather stalking started a week before, and from the looks of it, we were headed straight into a heat wave. As race director Gary Hilliard stated in his written instructions, “This race course is hard even on a good weather day.”

Knowing I didn’t sufficiently heat train, I was feeling a bit underprepared, even with the amount of races I had done this year alone. But I was going to relax and enjoy this day as much as possible with friends Crystal and Roxanne. The heat wasn’t going to keep us away, nor did the heat keep the mosquitoes away.

After receiving our 20-minute pre-race instructions from Gary, we all took off down the paved road and just before the trail, we saw Gary standing there directing us where to go.

We hiked the rocky trail through the Mueller Tunnel and started climbing a narrow technical single track on the Upper San Gabriel Peak. Some spots had only space for one foot at a time and you could see sections disappearing into some serious dropoffs. Slowing on this section was the only way to go here.

We exited onto a fire road and down some steep, slippery trails, getting closer to the first aid station at Red Box where unbeknownst to me there was an 8:50 AM cutoff time! Even though I looked at the logistics page, I somehow missed the spots where the cutoff times were listed. I tried not to stress over it because I figured as long as we kept moving we’d be fine. And we were, at least for the first one.

My strategy at Red Box was to get in and out as soon as possible. The water in my pack was enough to carry me through the next 5 miles, but I added ice and watered my bandana.

I had gels with me so I didn’t need any food, which was a good thing because I heard the aid station didn’t have any. I honestly found this surprising. Maybe someone forgot the goods or was running late, or figured not many runners eat much at the first aid station anyway. However, neither the website nor race instructions had mentioned there wouldn’t be any food available which was quite unfortunate for those who needed something.

Red Box to West Fork: Miles 5.7 (or 5.4?) to 10.8           

We kept an easy, steady pace on this runnable downhill section, but the area was hot and exposed. The air didn’t move and it felt stuffy and humid. But as long as we kept moving steadily, we’d have no trouble reaching the next aid station cutoff time.

When we started the race, we said that if anyone needed to slow down, or wanted to speed up, it was okay. And if someone slowed down for something, we slowed down automatically so the other person could catch up. For the most part, we were together or near each other, but in this area, Crystal started to fall behind.

Roxanne and I slowly kept moving because we knew Crystal was a strong runner and would catch up so we weren’t worried. That is until Crystal caught up to us and said, “I threw up.” We were 8.5 miles in, and a couple of miles away from the aid station.

I gave her a piece of ginger candy in hopes that it would help settle her stomach long enough to reach the aid station. She kept walking while Roxanne and I slowly ran up. As we inched closer to West Fork, a Forest Ranger was walking towards us, and asked us how we were doing. I’m not sure if this was common practice during this particular race, or if they just happened to be in the neighborhood to check on any folks that are out there on such a hot day.

We said we were fine, but our friend wasn’t feeling so well. He kept walking towards Crystal while Roxanne and I continued.

As we neared the West Fork aid station, I heard the voices and cheers for us and wondered if they were going to pull us from the race because we were a few minutes past the 10:00 AM cutoff. But they didn’t.

A nice gentleman grabbed my hydration pack to fill it with ice and water, while another guy doused my head and neck with ice-cold water, and then I got another soaking with more ice-cold water from a young lady. They were all so wonderful, and so much appreciated! Especially getting sponged off with that ice-cold water because it was so hot out there.

I drank some Coca-Cola and contemplated eating some watermelon but knowing I had a huge amount of climbing ahead of me, solid food made me nervous. I stuck with my Huma Gels, water, and salt tabs.

Before leaving West Fork, the gentleman who filled up my hydration pack with water and ice, gave me the rundown of what was coming up and told me in a mile and a half there would be a stash of water to fill up my pack if I needed to.

The next several miles to the finish were going to be challenging, to say the least. We were going from about 3,000 feet of elevation, up to 5,700 feet of elevation (back to the top of Mt. Wilson), so if I do the math, that’s a gain of 2,700 feet in 5-ish miles.

To put this in some context, my last trail run before this race was 5 miles, barely over 900 ft of gain, and maybe with an altitude of 300 feet. Extremely small potatoes compared to what I was about to face.

West Fork to Finish: Miles 10.80-ish to 16.2

After dipping my head under the shower, Roxanne and I started to walk up the trail. We didn’t know where Crystal was, but we didn’t believe she was too far behind, and if we were slow enough she’d catch up.

As we pressed on, we saw a young female runner walking towards us. As she approached, I asked her how she was doing. She said she was fine and kept going. Roxanne and I didn’t know what to make of it. She either decided to go back to West Fork, or we were on the wrong trail headed in the wrong direction. We were not on the wrong trail.

The heat was intense and slowly Roxanne began drifting farther behind me. It also dawned on me that I must’ve missed the stash of water because I was clearly past a mile and a half.

When I reached the start of the Kenyon Devore Trail which according to the sign was 3.5 miles from Mt. Wilson, I noticed a couple of guys sitting down, and right next to one of them, were the gallons of water!

It took me 41 minutes to walk 1.5 miles and here I was, seriously thinking I had missed them! The guy sitting next to the water asked me if I wanted to add more to my pack and I decided to do so just in case.

He topped me off, put the water down, and then started to ascend the trail. It was at that very moment I realized he wasn’t a kind and wonderful volunteer. He was a kind and wonderful runner! This guy saved me in another way, but I’ll get to that in a second.

I waited a minute for Roxanne and then I started to walk up slowly knowing she was just behind me. When she reached this point, she said she needed to sit down. I pressed on and as I did I came upon the guy who so graciously offered to fill up my pack.

As I walked just ahead of him, he asked me, “How many miles did the sign say to Mt. Wilson? 3.5?”

I turned around slightly towards him, “Yes 3.5.” And when I turned to take a step that’s when I saw the long black scaly body suddenly start slithering away from the trail, angrily rattling into the brush. In an instant, I screamed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a snake! Don’t you see it?”

“No.”

“Don’t you hear it? It’s so loud!”

“No.”

I stood there keeping my eyes on the snake to make sure it didn’t start to coil up. It wasn’t happy, but I don’t think it was looking to fight because it kept moving along. When it was a couple of feet away, I bolted as quickly as I could from that spot.

As I was walking, I kept thinking that maybe it wasn’t a rattlesnake, but rather, a bullsnake that looked like a rattler, sounded like a rattler, but wasn’t a rattler, and was also non-venomous. Of course, I wasn’t gonna back to check it out. (Later, I would look at photos of both and the one I saw resembled more of a rattlesnake. I just couldn’t see the tail very well because it was blended in with the dry grass.)

Snakes are always a possibility on hot weather days, and this is one reason I am not a huge fan of single track, especially on hot weather days.

Had that guy not been there and asked me that question, I might’ve run right into the snake not realizing it was on the edge of the trail before it was too late. I’m calling this one Divine Intervention! Thank you for looking out for me!

The further I climbed up, the worse I started to feel. Each step and breath was getting harder to take. And my heart was racing. It was time. I had to sit down.

I needed a few minutes to slow down my heart rate and catch my breath. By this time I was somewhere around 4,500 to 5,200 ft. Of course, that’s just a guess. Needless to say, I’m not used to being at that altitude, and I can’t help but think it was a contributing factor to how I was feeling.

When I sat down, I immediately tried to relax my breathing so my heart rate would calm down, but all I felt was this intense need to throw up. The nausea rose in my body and I was bracing myself. I’ve never felt this way in any race I’ve ever done.

One thing I’ve learned is that when I felt nauseous in the heat, I wasn’t drinking enough water so I continued to sip.

After sitting for a few minutes and feeling the nausea wash over me, I decided to continue walking. I might’ve taken 5 or 10 steps before the need to sit down again came roaring back. I felt exhausted and dizzy, and my heart was about to pound right out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe. And then the chills and goosebumps joined the party. This wasn’t good. I knew if I didn’t listen to my body I’d be heading into serious trouble so I sat there and longer this time.

The minutes ticked by and I reached the noon cutoff time for the finish. When I reached the finish line, whenever that was, I was preparing to be told I missed the cutoff time, and here is my fabulous DNF. It would’ve been a hard-earned DNF, but I would’ve accepted it.

The only thing I cared about was, knowing my friends were okay, and I didn’t pass out on that mountain never to see my family again. And so I sat there marveling at how beautiful the mountains were. It was so peaceful and quiet and I could’ve sat there for the rest of the day, but I knew eventually I had to start walking up again. The only way out of this was through, but not until I felt ready.

It took me nearly an hour (58:31 to be exact), to go one mile between miles 13 to 14. During those last 3 miles, I took about 4 or 5 rest breaks, which was certainly a PR right there.

During this time, I imagined how I might’ve been feeling had I chosen to do the 50K instead.  I didn’t have any desire to do the 50K, but something told me the 25K would provide plenty of challenge, and I was right.

After my final rest break, I began walking and came upon two Rangers walking towards me. I’m not sure if this was standard practice to check on us during this race, or if they just happened to be in the area.  I forgot to ask them.

How are you feeling?

Not great, but I’ve been sitting down and resting here and there.

Did you throw up?

No. My body wanted to earlier but I didn’t.

Have you eaten anything?

Not since the last aid station. I’ve been pretty nauseous so I didn’t feel like eating anything, but I’ve been sucking on ginger candy.

Ginger candy is great. Do you need any water?

No, I still have some.

They took out two large solid blocks of ice packs and placed one under my neck, pressed against the carotid artery where I held it with my left wrist. The other ice pack was placed on the backside of my neck.

I was with them for several minutes and they were so wonderful!

“How much longer until the road?” I asked.

“About one and a half to two miles.”

WHAT?

I feel like I’ve been walking the same one-and-a-half to two miles for the last one-and-a-half to two miles! I did sign up for the challenge, right? Why yes I did.

The good news was the trail wasn’t so steep anymore and it was mostly shaded. It was still hot, but it wasn’t exposed.

Seeing the Mt Wilson antennas was such a glorious sight! I can’t describe how elated I was to be within reach of the top.

Before reaching the road, I stopped for a few seconds so a wonderful lady could spray cold water onto my face. I could taste the salt running down my face and in that moment, I could pass for a potato chip.

Making my way onto the road, I wound my way towards The Cosmic Café and heard my name being yelled out. And then I saw my sister, and Crystal was with her!

It took me close to 3.5 hours to go the final 5.4 miles. Nearly an hour and a half after the noon “cutoff” time, I crossed the finish line, received my medal, and my long hot (with some grueling moments towards the end) beautifully exhausting day in the San Gabriel Mountains was done.

Post-Race

As we sat there waiting for Roxanne to finish, Crystal told me all about how her race had ended. Her details are not for me to tell, but I’ll say this, no race and no medal is ever worth jeopardizing health over.

Everybody reacts differently to the elements, but the takeaway is, that every race is a learning opportunity regardless of the outcome. However, you learn so much more from the ones that fall apart.

When Roxanne finished, we compared notes and had very similar experiences. We even hit our heads on the same tree! Okay, I’m not exactly sure it was the same tree, but chances are it was.

Just before leaving, I passed by race director Gary Hilliard as he was walking in my direction, and I told him thank you.

“How did it go today?” he asks me.

I was honest.

“Your race kicked my ass. During that last stretch, it felt like I had been hiking since Thursday!” He laughs.

“This was by far, not just my toughest 25K, but my toughest race ever!”

By the look on his face, he appeared pleased.

And so was I.

Thank you to race director Gary Hilliard and all the wonderful volunteers and spectators for their enthusiasm, support, and encouragement! Thank you to the Forest Rangers for checking on us! And congratulations to all who toed the line on this day!

Thank you for reading!