Ultra-Marathon

2010 Oriflamme Race Report
2009 Noble Canyon Race Results
2009 Noble Canyon Race Report

The PCT / Cuyamaca Experience

By Victor Runco.

Due to a most unfortunate Marine helicopter crash a few days before the scheduled Pacific Crest Trail 50 Miler 2009 the race was moved to the first 50 miles of the San Diego 100 Mile Endurance Run. Due to the difficulty of the PCT 50 most runners were in good spirits and feeling confident about the change of venues…..their attitude would soon change.

The race started off easy enough but we could tell we were in for a “scorcher” as it was already warm at 6 am without a cloud in the sky. John “El Cubano” Martinez shouted “Go” and the Cuyamaca 50 started! Myself, Whitney, Stephen, the McDaniel’s, Tom and our new found Dirt Devil, Erin from Yuma (Ok originally from Maryland) grouped up. Angela “hardcore” Shartel was already in the lead. Our most mature Dirt Devil, Ben Anella was bringing up the rear. Toby from Active.com was hanging with the group and explained he needed to finish the race quickly so that he could make it to a Bar-B-Q back at his place. The initial climb was about 1000 feet in the first five miles. It wasn’t too bad but was enough to thin out the crowd really quick…..very different from the PCT which is similar to a “stop-and-go” traffic jam for the first 3-4 miles. By the time we ran into the first aid station at Sunrise Hwy Horse Camp the Dirt Devils were breaking up. Jen the “marathon maniac” McDaniel and her hubby Mike had pulled ahead, possibly in pursuit of Angela “hardcore” Shartel. We left the aid station in a hurry and continued towards the Pedro Fages aid station back on Sunrise Hwy. This part of the 50 is really nice. The scenic views from the Pacific Crest Trail are inspiring and you get to run downhill thus generating a ‘runner’s high” amongst the mountains. It was here that the Dirt Devils continued to separate. With the McDaniel’s long gone, Tom and Stephen, feeling the runner’s high really poured it on, leaving Myself, Whitney and Erin on our own. So we stopped and took some pictures. As we neared the aid station I recounted a training run, not so long ago on this exact trail. There was still snow on the ground and Stephen and I had run through freezing, knee-deep water. Now here we were, the temperature still climbing, no tree cover and we were only at 12 miles……with 38 to go. This was going to be tough!

As we pulled into Pedro Fages aid station we filled our packs, had a bite to eat and made small talk with Scott Mills (race director for the SD 100 Mile Endurance Run) and Keith Kirby (SURF club president). Just as we were preparing to leave our support crew, Krista and Danielle came screeching up in their bad-ass Ultra mobile…..my Honda Civic Hybrid. They were disappointed that they had missed most of the Dirt Devils but promised they would be at the next aid station when we got there. I left in a hurry as I needed to step off the trail and “take care of business’.

We were heading back to the staging area which would be our 3rd aid station and mile 19.3. The sun was really pouring it on now and it wasn’t even nine o-clock. We stopped in a beautiful meadow to take some pictures and soak in the beauty of the trail. We wondered out loud if the rest of the course would be this beautiful. We were all fearful that the remainder of the race would have no tree cover. Fortunately for us portions of it did. We made a couple of stops so we could get Whitney’s water bottle out of Erin’s backpack. To Erin’s horror the hydration pack she had purchased before the race had burst at the staging area before the start of the race! So now she was running with Whitney’s 24 ounce bottle in her backpack and having to stop every time she wanted a drink. We dropped in elevation from 5000 feet back to 4000 winding down fire roads finding ourselves right back where we had started a few hours earlier, Cuyamaca Camp. We were all feeling pretty good. That was about to change.

True to their promise Krista and Danielle were waiting for us at Camp Cuyamaca. They gave us the lowdown on the rest of the Dirt Devils. Angela was in the lead for the women. The McDaniel’s had been through and were doing great. Tom and Stephen also had gone through. The report was that Stephen wasn’t looking a little dehydrated. I was a worried because Stephen had recently told me how glad he was that I was running. Because of my knee injury during our training he had run with Tom and Brent a few times and said that they ran a little too fast for his liking. Well here it was. Race day and Stephen was doing what a lot of first time long distance runners do. Go out fast and burn. I crossed my fingers, said a prayer to the ultra-gods on Stephen’s behalf and went back to business. I had broken through the big toe on my Injinji socks so I changed them for another pair and switched shoes too. Whitney hurried to use the only available restroom and Erin decided she was only going to bring a 12 ounce hand bottle supplied by Krista. She was tired of having to stop to go into the backpack for her bottle. That would prove to be a mistake.

We ran out of Camp Cuyamaca still feeling optimistic. After all I have two PCT 50’s and the Noble Canyon 50K under my belt and I was feeling pretty good. Plus, we only had 30 miles to go. These optimistic feeling were soon shattered. Crossing over highway 79 on our way to Paso Picacho aid station at 25.3 miles we hit a hill….a big hill. We now call it Mount A-Hole. This thing seemed to go straight up for about a mile or more. As we passed other runner’s we heard expletives that would make a sailor blush. Then we encountered runner’s heading the opposite way. They explained they were DNF’ing themselves (DID NOT FINISH). The heat and Mt. A-Hole were proving to be too much. Subconsciously I know we were all questioning our own determination. But we kept going forward. Finally we crested the top. Erin was out of water. She was pissed that she had not brought the other bottle. By now the sun was almost overhead and we were feeling it. Whitney and I played “camel’ for Erin on our way down, allowing her to drink from our packs. The road down seemed to take forever. We almost went the wrong way into the campground instead of turning left. We even saved another runner (Edgar) from going off course. As we made our way down the trail the aid station was in sight! We galloped in spotting Krista and Danielle waiting for us. Supposedly now Stephen was feeling great and filming a documentary and Tom was feeling like shit. There was a turn of events! Just 6 miles previously it was the other way around. Jen McDaniel was doing great and had blown through a while ago….minus Mike. Mike had not come through? We hadn’t seen him which meant he was lost! Apparently Angela Shartel might be lost….no one had seen her or recorded her coming through Paso Picacho! It wasn’t too hard to believe. By her own admission Angela can get lost anywhere…and does. Just as we were readying to leave there was Mike McDaniel! He had run off the trail 2 miles out of the way! He told us to go on and that he would try to catch us. We figured the worst was behind us; I mean there couldn’t be anything worse than Mt. A-Hole, could there?

As Whitney, Erin and I left Paso Picacho we encountered a group of hikers on our left who shouted encouragement. We felt renewed and began another ascent. As we plodded along we noticed we were not seeing any trail markers. This seemed impossible as Scott Mills had marked the course extremely well. We decided to turn around and go back down the mountain wondering where we went wrong. Before long we saw the now obvious trail markers on our right and immediately realized what had happened. The group of hikers we had passed had been in our field of vision blocking our view of the marked trail. Oh well, so we add an extra mile or two. We headed out now on course through a truly spectacular single track trail making our way towards Big Bend aid station. We were a little bummed because now we wouldn’t find Mike McDaniel…..wait there he was…off course again! Mike came running towards us after taking a wrong turn. He thought Whitney, Erin and I was way out in front (not knowing we too had gone off course) and in his attempt to catch us had veered of course again! (Mike would eventually run 54 miles that day) Happy to be together again we cruised around Lake Cuyamaca enjoying the views of the lake and pausing to take some photos. Before long we could see the aid station in sight and with renewed vigor crossed highway 79 and ran into Big Bend aid station at mile 30.4. As we pulled in I noticed one of our Dirt Devils anxiously waiting for her father. Jen Anella was waiting for her Dad Ben, a veteran ultrarunner and the oldest Dirt Devil.

We immediately got the scoop on Tom and Stephen from Krista. Evidently Tom was not doing so well and Stephen was riding high. Danielle had decided she would leave Big Bend and run with her husband, hopefully inspiring him. She left in good spirits and her oversized earrings still in her ears. Her ears would pay the price…in blood.

After filling our packs we decided to head out. On our way one of the aid station volunteers let us know that we had 3 miles of steep climb ahead of us before we would reach Milk Ranch Road. Great, another hill, just what we need.

We left Big Bend minus Erin and started our climb. Our glutes and hamstrings were on fire. Mike’s knee began acting up. Stabbing pain in the lateral side of his knee. We stopped to massage it and apply some sports cream. Whitney and I were secretly worried. It appeared that Mike was getting Iliotibial Band Syndrome! If it continued to worsen we weren’t sure whether or not he would be able to make it. I mean we still had about 19 miles to go. We continued marching up the fire road surrounded by blackened, dead trees, victims of the previous year’s fires that almost burned Julian. The scene was fitting, we felt like death too. We crossed paths with lots of other runners on this hill. Each one of them swearing out load or dropping the F-bomb under their breath at the tortuous mountain. When we finally crested the top we paused for a picture and aptly renamed the hill Mount F-bomb! In the distance we could see Stoneface Mountain. We would eventually come back to circle this landmark again. Excited by the coming descent Mike, Whitney and I took turns in the lead. Carving our way down the mountain we struggled to avoid rocks and twisting our ankles. I decided to take the lead for awhile and was running at a pretty good clip when…..SNAKE! I leapt over the snake and called out the warning to mike and Whitney. Later Mike would comment on my ability to jump so high after 33 miles. I don’t care how tired you are. When you see a snake in your way you find the energy to jump…pretty high. The sun was now really taking its toll on us but we persevered and found Milk Ranch Road aid station.

As we came into the aid station Scott Mills was like a one man gang. Feverishly filling our packs, handing out salt tablets and squeezing icy water over our sun burnt scalps…all the while avoiding being stung by the million yellow jackets that were swarming around us. Our packs filled once again we headed out towards what would be our last aid station at mile 42.4, Sweetwater bridge.

Leaving Milk Ranch we headed up yet another steep hill. Myself, Mike and Whitney with Erin now falling back with another group. Erin decided to stop at the spring to get a rock out of her shoe. Finally cresting the peak we started our steep descent towards Sweetwater. At this point we were on a mission. Not a lot of talking going on just pure grit and determination. We passed a runner or two and another snake finally spotting Sweetwater Station off in the distance. With a burst of energy I took off running under the bridge, crossing a stream and up a hill to the welcoming site of the last aid station and all of its friendly volunteers.

As usual Krista was deftly filling packs, forcing runners to eat potatoes and salt and generally giving words of encouragement. The report was that Tom was doing better, Stephen was doing fantastic and that Jen the “marathon maniac’ was in a stupor, barely able to stand and put one foot in front of another. Yet, she had stumbled out of Sweetwater towards the finish determined, although delirious. Also Angela “hardcore’ Shartel had reappeared and was in the lead! Unfortunately no one had seen Big Ben Anella! Had the heat and F-bomb claimed him? We said our goodbye’s and thanked all of the aid station volunteers knowing we were now on the last leg of the race. Only 7.6 miles to go! We were almost there!

Leaving Sweetwater we were in relatively good spirits. Whitney took the lead when no sooner we encountered another F*&%$#@ing hill! We could not believe it! Our glutes and hamstrings had had enough. We trudged on, dejected but determined. Mike, although savoring the experience decided it needed to end. He took off running up the hill, floppy hat flopping, leaving Whitney and I in the dust. Where did that energy come from? We found out soon enough as we got our “8th wind”. The trail turned from dull fire road into green single track with wildflowers adding a colorful yellow hue to the meadow. Wow! Too bad the whole run didn’t look like this. Whitney and I were now picking up steam cruising downhill and passing a couple of runners here and there. They shouted words of encouragement as we passed. We knew we were getting close when Whitney spotted the school bus parked at Camp Cuyamaca. There it is! With a renewed burst we splashed through the creek and on towards the finish to the sounds of 50 mile finishers cheering us on. There was all the Dirt Devils, Mike, Tom, Stephen, Jen, Krista and Danielle……and cold beer too! John “El Cubano” Martinez awarded us our much deserved medals and we were congratulated by all the other finishers. It was 6:30 pm……12 ½ hours had passed as well as 50 miles beneath our feet (unless you were Mike…then about 54 miles). We drank our beer and cheered as the other runners came in. The there was Erin….she made it. Her first 50 now under her belt she proudly displayed her battle scars, blisters on her feet that would make an ER doctor squirm. Good job Erin! With the sun going down we all said our good-byes heading our separate ways with the last words “what is our next ultra”?

Click here to see the results.