South Bay Cowboys

I signed up for Leona Divide the first minute registration opened on January 1, 2016.  I was committed to completing my first ultra race, though unsure about the path of training to come.  At the time I had been suffering from leg pain along my left shin, that I’d soon find out from an MRI was the beginning of two stress fractures.  I was also signed up for the LA Marathon on February 14th, so I was concerned about having two upcoming races while being told by the doctor to lay off the running.  So I spent most of January not running.  But in early February, I began using the stair climber at the gym to build up some base for at least the marathon.  My leg was feeling better, but my cardio was slipping away.

The next decision was simple.  I’d run the LA Marathon, and if I felt worse off after the race due to my stress fractures, I’d reassess having Leona Divide as my first 50K.  If my leg felt no worse off, I’d take that as a green light that I was healed enough to begin training for Leona Divide.  I ran the LA Marathon, and it was what it was, but I felt no worse off after the race.  So the training began.

Training

For wanting to be an ultra distance trail runner, I had no idea what the hell I was doing.  After the LA Marathon, I spent three weeks recovering with no real plan on how to train for an ultra that’s on trails.  I train on pavement and didn’t really know how to start training on trails.  As far as I was concerned, I was going to run locally then show up on the day for the trail race.

Fortunately, one day after a Wicked Club run Billy Yang offered to go running with me in the Santa Monica Mountains.  I have to admit, I’m writing this in April 2017, almost a year after Leona Divide 50K, so a lot has transpired in terms of ascending the distances, but I can trace my beginning confidence in regular solo runs in the mountains back to that first run with Billy.  We did 17 miles starting at the Los Leones trailhead.  It was muddy, but getting a taste of Parker Mesa Overlook, Eagle Rock, Musch Trail, and Trippet Ranch, I was sold.  I began to drink the ultra, trail, and adventure run juice and just craved more.  This run showed me that I had no excuses to drive up to the mountains and run alone.  All of a sudden entire mountain ranges were unlocked and open to running.  No longer was I limited to the length of the Strand.  Over the next five weeks of training leading up to Leona Divide, I made it up to Los Leones every single weekend to get in a 17 to 20 mile trail run.  Peaking with a 67 mile week, three weeks out from the race, I felt healthy and prepared on race morning.

Race

I made it to the race start by 5:00 AM, early enough to avoid the congestion of cars trying to park.  I had never felt more nervous before a race.  After a condensed five week training block, following my recovery from stress fractures, I was about to plunge into the great unknown of ultras.  I’d either complete the run successfully, which would motivate me to strive further, or it would be a disaster of an experience and my naive running ambitions would die with the race.  Though I had a race plan, I really did not know what I was getting myself into.  

Ten minutes out, I made my way to the starting line, freezing, while carrying my headlamp and handheld.  I felt out of place, though I was in the exact right place.  We started right at 6:00 AM, and I began at an easy pace for the initial climb, following in line with fellow runners.  I listened in on the chatting and friendly banter of the other runners.  It seemed that for everyone else, this was just another, normal run.  Everyone seemed so comfortable and experienced, while I was wound up.  After a length of road and fireroad, we all ran through the first aid station at Spunky Road and onto the single track of the Pacific Crest Trail.  I ran with the group, continuing to push on the uphills.  For the next six miles, I enjoyed swift running while taking in the views of the sunrise over the Pacific Crest Trail.  My wound up worries slipped away, and I was enjoying the beauty of pushing my body and being on the trail.  This is what it’s about.

Making it into the next aid station at Bouquet Canyon Road, I immediately pulled out a baggy of pre-portioned Tailwind, and fumbled pouring it into my handheld.  Topping off the bottle with water, I turned and made my way back the way I came.  Though I was still feeling good, the way back began with a big climb.  I was forced to hike.  I felt a bit disappointed that I was hiking, but everyone else was too.  Ok, so maybe it’s ok to hike during trail runs.  I ran when I could, and hiked when I had to, until I made it back to Spunky Road aid station.  

At the aid station, I followed the same routine.  I fumbled with a baggy to refill my handheld with Tailwind and water.  I also found a salty snack to eat and downed some orange soda.  This whole aid station thing with food and soda was a new thing for me.  I wasn’t sure what I should and shouldn’t eat, for fear of upsetting my stomach or not mixing well with the Tailwind.  Quickly I was off for the long stretch toward San Fran Road aid station.  Though climbs slowed me down, I was still mostly running.  The end section toward the aid station is all downhill, so I confidently bounded down.  

Again, I followed my routine, sticking to the plan, and refilled my handheld with Tailwind.  I drank some extra water and was out again quickly.  The brief stop allowed my legs to tighten up enough that the climbing really began to hurt.  I dragged myself back up and out of the canyon and finally made it to flatter sections that I was able to run.  Getting closer to Spunky Road meant more uphills that slowed me down even further.  

Clicking past 26 miles, I realized I had hit the marathon distance.  Though I didn’t feel great, I felt a lot better than on my first marathon race one year prior.  I kept pushing, knowing that after I hit the Spunky Road aid station, it would all be downhill.  After sputtering, but keeping on the pressure, I turned a corner of the trail and caught sight of the aid station.  Freshly motivated, I ran in, chugged an orange soda and ran straight out to pound the downhill with everything I had left.  For three miles, my pace increased, and I passed four people.  In the final 200 meters I was at an all out sprint and charged over the finish line.  I received my medal and wandered over to the side in a euphoric stupor.  I finished in a  time of 5 hours 34 minutes and 1 second, what I would consider a huge success for my first 50k.

For some veterans, it was just another race, for others like me it was an ambitious, insane goal.  The door had opened and I was beginning to believe that through planning, execution, and grit, anything is possible.