Mount Taylor 50k

 

An exceptionally well marked course...Mount Taylor race report

On September 29, we gather in the pre-dawn chill, 145 of us intrepid souls, for a day of celebration: of the changing seasons, of the beautiful mountains, of the sport of ultra running.  David and I have driven to Grants from Las Vegas, New Mexico the night before, along I-40, straight into a gorgeous sunset.  We’re excited about this race. New Mexico has been our home for decades, but we have never climbed Mount Taylor, and we’re curious. The inaugural Mt Taylor 50k begins with an unceremonious “Three-two-one…Get out of here!” at daybreak, around 6:30 AM.  The sky lightens from grey to blue as we make our way up a dirt road and son turn onto a beautiful, leaf-covered trail.

The timing of the race is perfect:  the changing leaves have erupted into an impressive  fall panorama. The sun rises over the aspens, an explosion of brilliance in shades of gold, contrasting with the bright blue above them.  Life is good, in spite of the relentless uphill towards La Mosca, the first, but not only, significant climb of the day.  I run next to Randy, and we decide to shoot for sub-6:30 together.  Animated conversation ensues.  Randy is an example for what makes our sport so enjoyable and unique: I met him a year ago in Pagosa Springs, when we suffered through the last few miles of the Devil Mountain 50-miler together.   Though we haven’t seen each other since, we are able to pick up our conversation right where we left off and slide back into the easy camaraderie of old friends.  He has trained on the course and advises me, wisely it turns out, to save some energy for the last few miles.

Absorbed in the beautiful morning and the rehashing of recent ultras, I overlook a devious rock in the middle of the trail and land face first in the dirt.  Playing tourist is not a good idea, though a big temptation. A quick check reveals that all body parts are present and accounted for, and though my knees are bloody, they still function.  A kind aid station volunteer offers first aid, but also tells me I’m in fourth place.  I feel a twinge of ambition. I am in the top five, and besides, dirt clots blood very effectively.  Off we go, more miles and more beautiful trails are waiting.  We practice controlled speed on the downhills, plod up the uphills, marvel at the beauty of the CDT, and soon begin the long climb to the top of Mt Taylor.  Here, Randy leaves me behind.  I’m no slouch on uphillls, but he must have learned his powerhiking skills from a mountain goat. I can’t keep up.  Gasping, I finally reach the top and take a moment to savor the 360 degrees of gorgeous views of  green and gold.  I feel at peace, with life, with nature.  Even hardcore atheists can have their spiritual moments.

It’s all downhill from here…not quite.  For a while, I fly, propelled by the promise of lower altitude, more oxygen, and only six more miles to the finish.  I imagine a cheeseburger calling my name and soon catch up with Randy, who has been nursing a cramp.  Five more miles to the finish..wait, what is this? Another climb is staring us in the face.  Another mountain, not just a little hill.  We groan. We curse. We barely inch forward and upward.  But we eventually make it to the top,  where the last aid station greets us.  Two and a half miles to the finish, mostly downhill.  I look behind me and see another woman approach.  Ambition, forgotten during the last grueling climb, perks up again. I am determined to hang on to my 4th place and race ahead.  It’s not smart to run a technical, steep downhill as fast as possible.  It’s even less smart to do so on tired legs in the last mile of an ultra.  Sure enough, I crash, for the second time today.  More scrapes, on both knees.  Halloween is still a month away, but I could go trick-or treating right now, covered in dirt and grime and blood, as a zombie queen.  I manage to scramble back on my feet and keep going, still ahead of Stephanie, and cross the finish line in 6:08, bloody and exhilarated.   Ken Gordon, RD of the world’s best inaugural ultra, suggests I take a picture of the carnage for future advertising.  Ultrarunners do have a slightly sick sense of humor.

 

I gather my award, a beautiful and unique poster, along with a finisher’s bracelet and medal.  The finish area is humming with positive energy and infused with the aroma of burgers on the grill.  Runners come across the finish line, exhausted but happy, David among them, proud and happy.  Congratulations and hugs are everywhere.  This is ultrarunning at its best: a spectacular day in the mountains, surrounded by beautiful scenery and good friends. Thank you, Ken, for putting on a first class event.  A giant thank you to all volunteers who helped with aid stations, course marking, and all the details that make an ultra a celebration.  This is a good time to be alive and running.

 

2 thoughts on “Mount Taylor 50k

  1. SKA Runner

    “Bring Out Your Dead!!!” looks like the Zombie Queen is still having a blast.

    I am resting for a few weeks, strained my Hammy, that is what I get for trying to keep pace with Greek Gods. I have been doing intervals with these old guys (50-60 year olds), who look like classic statues of Greek Gods, and run like they are in their twenties – sixty year olds that can run sub three marathons – WTF? Either way I am giving my Hammy a rest for a week or two.

    When you coming back to Colorado? Pikes Peak Fat Ass? Hope all is well and keep up the blogging!

    SKA

    Reply
  2. Pingback: EnduranceBuzz.com » Mt. Taylor 50K 2012 Results – Shaun Martin and Katie Arnold Take Home Win Inaugural New Mexico Trail Adventure

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