I’ve DNF’d two races so far in my running career, but when you look at Ultrasignup, you only see one. The story you don’t get from Ultrasignup is that when I was out here in 2020 and had a bad time both out there on course, and with some life stuff before the race, I bailed on the 50 miler and dropped to the 50k.
The truth on top of that is that not only did I unofficially DNF the Oracle Rumble 50 miler, it also meant a second DNF on top of it for the 2019-2020 Southern Arizona Triple 50 series, which I had registered for.
So coming back out to this race, I had some serious unfinished business that needed to be addressed.
Whoops, a Dumb Hat
On the way down to Tucson for the race, I realized I had forgotten the legionnaire hat I usually run with when the weather is cooler, but not in time for it to be reasonable to turn back around to get it. So we stopped at the rest stop at Picacho Peak in search of a bandana I could use instead. As luck would have it, they had some cheap legionnaire hats instead! I was able to get one that was… not exactly my style, but would do the job.
It’s the one you’ll see in the race photos of me.
Bus Ride Sun Rise
When you do the 50k or 50 mile distance at this race, you have to be shuttled out by bus to the AZT trailhead on Freeman Road, and you run back to Oracle State Park from there. It takes about an hour and a half, and you start in the dark. Sunrise happens along the way.
My niece Robin, who was doing the Triple 50 series with me, was staying with us at our AirBnB, so we went out to the race together and shared a seat on the bus for the ride out. We got our bus ride sunrise and it was really, really pretty.
It was breezy at the trailhead, which made it chilly at that time of the morning, but I was happy to have those breezes later on in the day.
My new friend Shannon, who I met at Colossal Vail because she was late to the race and started out at the back with me, was also late to this race.
Race Start
So the race started, and in a pattern that was becoming familiar, Robin cruised off ahead of me, and Shannon slummed it with me for a while.
I think the first miles of this race are super fun. The terrain is rolling and rocky in places, but not too bad. And you pass through cholla forests, which I think are very cool and beautiful, but of course also terrifically treacherous.
I ended up running with Shannon for quite a while this time, longer than at Colossal Vail and longer than I expected. This was both good and bad.
Cramps
Good: Shannon is super fun and we had a good time trucking along together. We shared the experience of nearly having our eyes put out when we caught up to another group of runners, and one of them was swinging their trekking poles around pretty haphazardly.
Bad: Shannon is faster than I am (like most people) and I think I pushed it a bit keeping up with her. We did a long stretch of trail that was climbing overall, but mixing in short flat or downhill stretches. Eventually we parted ways as she moved on ahead of me, and I cruised along by myself for a little while.
I came to a nice, runnable stretch of downhill at about mile 16 and decided to stretch my legs out and push my pace a little bit. My right quad was the first to register a complaint and was followed shortly by my left. They weren’t the worst cramps I’ve had, as I was able to stretch them out and start hiking again (I have had cramps that have fully locked up my legs and rendered me unable to move normally), but still – cramping legs are cramping legs.
I went into troubleshooting mode and started testing to see what I was going to be able to get away with. Turned out that if I hiked for a while, I could the jog for a while and get right up to the threshold of cramping again and then back off.
It was time for some positive self-talk.
Beat, But Not Beaten
So as I was cycling through the hike-run-cramp loop, I started hammering what I was feeling into the mantra that I would use to remind myself of these moments later on in the race to keep me going.
I wasn’t going to be able to run the race the way I wanted. This is a feeling I know all too well. My legs hurt, and I knew it was going to become a challenge to make the race cutoffs. And, full disclosure, I don’t love this particular course.
But there was no way in hell I was going to quit this race again.
And so, the words came together. I felt very beat, worn out and tired by having another bad day out at this race, but if I refused to quit, I still wasn’t beaten.
“Beat, but not beaten,” I said, and I repeated it over and over and over again for the remainder of the race.
Fair Weather
It wasn’t all bad. The last time I was out there, it was a warm and sunny day. This time at least, it was overcast and breezy. It was actually pretty nice for most of the day.
An Amazing Race Photo
So I went on and the miles ticked away. I got through one of the rougher stretches of the course and made my way to the Tiger Mine aid station at mile 28.
Here’s the thing with being a back-of-the-pack runner. Mostly it’s fine and I’m not super concerned about it as long as I get the race done. But one thing that is consistently a bummer is how often race photographers don’t hang around a photo-op spot long enough to catch the stragglers like me.
So whenever I am trailing the pack and come across a photographer who’s waited long enough to take a nice photo of me on course, it means a lot to me, and I am tremendously grateful.
And when it’s really good, I’m blown away. This photo looks like it felt to be out there that day and puts me right back (in a good way).
Decision Intersection
I didn’t take many pictures that day, but I took this one. You continue the 50 mile race by going left. Right takes you in to the 50k finish.
This time I went left.
A Magical Transformation
You cross under highway 77 to get to Decision Intersection, and something magical happens to the quality of the trail when you do. The highway is the boundary to Oracle State Park, and the quality of the trail improves significantly there. You spend the whole race up to this point (about 29 miles) trucking along on rocky AZT singletrack, and when you enter the park, it smoothes out and becomes way more runnable. It is lovely.
Even though I wasn’t running very well, it was still a very welcome change.
A Timely Reminder
And so things went on for the next 8-9 miles or so, through the Kanally Wash aid station and on toward the one at American Flag. This part of the course is an out and back route, with American Flag being the turnaround point, so runners ahead of me had made their turnaround and were coming back past me on their returns.
The sun was going down, and things felt like they were going okay. I was still moving along and making progress.
And then I ran into Shannon, making her way back – later than I had expected. I had figured that she was way ahead of me like she had been at Colossal Vail, but it turned out she was having kind of a rough day too. So we chatted for a bit, and as we went our different ways, she said something about the time, so I checked my watch.
It seemed… curiously close to the cutoff time at the American Flag aid station. I did some quick runner math and realized I was right on the edge of missing it at my current pace, and I needed to pick it up a bit.
So I picked it up… but only a little bit because that was all I could manage, with 15-ish miles left to go.
The Race to American Flag
Here’s the fun thing about being in a hurry to get to the American Flag aid station – it’s hidden like it’s in witness protection.
Part of the way you pass the time in ultramarathons is trying to figure out just how long it’s going to take you to get to the next aid station. The thing with these races is that all posted distances are approximate, and you never know whether they’re on target or off, and by how much – until you actually lay eyes on them.
So I “sped” my way toward the aid station, checking the clock more and more frequently. Robin had made her turnaround and passed me on her way back, led by her pacer – new for this year, the race had added the option for runners to pick up a pacer at American Flag. We said hi but didn’t chat much, as we were both feeling the clock. Mine was a little more pressing.
I continued on, and the clock continued counting down. My deadline was 6:30 PM, and 6:30 PM was getting close. I still wasn’t seeing the aid station. it was completely dark by now, and aid stations usually have plenty of light, so I got to the point where I really felt like I should be seeing it… And 6:30 PM kept getting closer and closer.
Finally, I crossed the highway that meant I was actually very close, and I still couldn’t see any sign of the aid station even though I knew it had to be there. And finally, with less than five minutes remaining before the cut off, the trail turned and dropped over the side of a hill, and there was the American flag aid station.
Fortunately for me here, when I was making my race plan for my aid station drop bag at Canal wash, I didn’t anticipate this being a long stop, and had packed enough supplies to fuel my run both to and back from American flag. So I didn’t need much here, I just needed to refill my water and get going again.
I was in and out of the aid station in less than a minute. It was 6:28 PM when I left.
The Race to Kanally Wash
I found out quickly that I was officially dead last on course. Within the next few minutes, I passed several runners who were coming into the American flag aid station, and it was past 6:30.
Thanks to the many, many hours that I spent in this position during Stagecoach, this wasn’t totally unfamiliar to me, so I settled in for what I knew would be a long next several hours
It was completely dark, and I was fully alone, And that was okay. The night had become very chilly, and I think that was actually working in my favor. It seemed like the cold air was acting like an ice bath for my legs, and I was having less trouble with cramping than I had earlier.
And there’s not really a lot more to tell of the next several hours, other than that the moon rose, the trail twisted and turned, and ultimately I arrived at Kanally Wash.
Oh, I did see a deer off trail. That was cool.
I only had a few minutes before cut off at Kanally Wash too, but they seemed less concerned about it there than they had at American Flag. I verified with them that I was indeed last on course (I was pretty sure already, but they confirmed), and got on my way to the finish line.
The Sweeper Surprise
And like the stretch between aid stations I had just completed, there wasn’t a lot to tell about the next several miles alone in the dark. I had plenty of time to make it to the finish line before the final race cut off, so I wasn’t concerned about making that, but of course I needed to keep moving.
Eventually, I made it back to decision intersection, and the second time you see that during the race you go right, towards the finish line.
From decision intersection, you spend some time in Cherry wash, a sandy stretch of trail. I have been through many times. But somehow this time it seems like they had made the stretch twice as long as it has ever been before.
As you exit the wash, the trail turns back on itself as it goes up a hill, and so I was able to see that behind me. There was a lone headlamp. It had to be the course sweeper, coming up behind me, because we had already established that there were no other runners left on course behind me
“That’s fine,“ I thought to myself as I watched it. I wasn’t surprised to see it back there, and there was still some distance between me and them, so I kept going.
The next time the trail turned, and I could see the headlamp behind me, it was very close, and I got nervous. As I watched for a moment, I could see it gaining on me quickly. So I continued on for another short distance, and then waited for the headlamp to catch up to me. It didn’t take long.
“What’s going on?” I asked as the sweeper approached. “Am I in trouble? It seems like I still have plenty of time.”
He laughed, and reassured me that I was fine. He said that he had spent the last several hours by himself alone in the dark, and he just wanted to run with somebody else for a while. So I told him that I had been doing the same and welcomed the company.
Dead F-ing Last
And that was how I covered the last several miles of the race. The sweeper was stopping periodically to pick up the trail marking flags and ribbons, and at a couple of trail intersections with a lot of markings, I helped him with some of them. I didn’t hate it.
As we made the final approach to the finish line, he dropped back to let me run in alone. And so, with just under 10 minutes remaining, I was the final finisher of the 2024 Oracle rumble 50 miler, my first DFL race finish.
