Pictured above: Katlyn Evans (Me) arriving at mile 25, Old Pueblo 50 Mile Endurance Race. Photo by Erik Woods.
The height of my training for the Old Pueblo 50 Mile Endurance Race coincided with the first two months of my 1-year accelerated nursing program, making the accomplishment of this race that much sweeter. It was challenging to take the time away from school to train, and even more challenging to train doubly exhausted. Never-the-less, I muscled up and powered through.
Fortunately, race day fell on the Saturday before Spring Break, allowing me to leave an elephant of educational stress behind. The race is located in the small town of Sonoita, Arizona. The Racelab Team and I stayed at La Hacienda de Sonoita, a quaint little bed and breakfast that was much more accommodating and comfortable than any standard hotel. (Envision a common living room where you can cozy up with your teammates and a full kitchen to prep your race day breakfast!)
Race morning always comes early, 3 AM wake-up call. Kentucky Camp, where the race begins, is about a half hour from town and a quarter mile hike down the hill from the parking area. As with most ultras, the vibe was low-key - arrive, pick up your bib number and wristband, wait for the start. And the start, of course, is a line drawn in the sand.
The morning was cold, but the forecast promised a beautiful day. I opted to wear shorts with calf sleeves and a lightweight jacket over a tank top. With a 5-minute warning, I shed my sweats and huddled with the other runners at the start line. After a few brief logistical announcements from the race director, a barely audible "Go!" sent us off to greet the sun.
The hill that you originally hiked down from the parking lot is the hill that you climb as you begin the race heading out of Kentucky Camp. I started out slow, knowing that I had a long day ahead of me. The dawn light in combination with all of the runners' headlamps made the first few miles easily visible. You come up onto a ridge just as the sun is rising, and the view is breathtaking. This is one of the aspects of trail running that I have grown to love...racing the sun to the top.
Pictured above: Old Pueblo 50 Mile Endurance Race, Sunrise.
The first 7 miles of the race take you through areas of fun single track, coming down off of the ridge as you enter the first aid station. I was happy as a clam arriving at mile 7, feeling strong and eager, but holding my energy at bay.
Pictured above: Katlyn Evans (Me) at the mile 7 aid station.
After leaving mile 7, which will also later be the mile 29 aid station, you head out on a wide Jeep road. Be on the look out for course markings, as you quickly veer off to the right. There are rolling hills throughout until you get to mile 13, your next aid station. This is good place to take a breather and refuel, as it is the beginning of a long, hard climb, subsequently followed by a very rocky descent. During this climb was when I finally shed some of my morning layers, kicking my heart rate up a notch and feeling the sun's rays on my back. I walked a good portion of the climb in an effort to conserve energy. There were a few seasoned Old Pueblo runners who passed me at this point, and I had to keep my negative thoughts under control. Each runner has their own set of strengths and weaknesses, and I knew that running this hill was not worth it, for me, today.
Pictured above: The top of mile 15 before a rocky descent.
As you near mile 19, you follow another dirt road to the left. It is wide and relatively flat, a nice break after coming off of the rocky descent. I had an opportunity to link up with a few other runners during this stretch. They had both run this race before and offered great information about what was upcoming in the course, notably that the second half is a bit more difficult than the first. There is an aid station somewhere along the way, but it was not at mile 19 exactly. I enjoyed a salted potato and a sip of coke at this aid station, which is not what I normally choose to eat/drink while running, but it tasted heavenly!
I was feeling pretty good, a little tired (to be expected), but good. I could tell that my training had been effective; I had minimal soreness and still felt strong energy as I ran toward mile 25. I was looking forward to seeing the Racelab Crew at mile 25 and just focused on a steady pace to get me there. I was enjoying the scenery and even saw a few beautiful wild horses.
Pictured above: My Racelab coaches, a.k.a. Pit Crew, at mile 25 - Johann Warnholtz and Bettina Warnholtz. Photo by Erik Woods.
I refueled at mile 25, but did not really need much else, other than a sunscreen touch up. I took more salted potatoes and coke at the aid station; it tasted too good to be true and was obviously what my body wanted. A note on nutrition: besides potatoes and coke, my race nutrition consisted of organic applesauce squeeze packets and homemade "portables", such as banana-peanut butter rice muffins, banana-nutella rice cakes, and oat-protein "amazeballs". I am an advocate for eating whole, natural, real food both during training and on race day. For more information, check out the Feed Zone Portables cookbook (http://feedzonecookbook.com/portables/).
You continue on the dirt road as you head out of mile 25. You will be on this road until you reach the mile 29 aid station, formerly mile 7, where you will start to back track across the morning single track terrain. These 5 miles are a steady, gradual uphill. The sun was beating down now, and I did a run-walk mixture during this portion of the race. The nice part of this section is that there are a lot of spectators coming and going from mile 25 to cheer you along. Pay attention along this stretch though. A couple of us went the wrong way for a few hundred feet. Luckily, another runner called out to us to turn around. You are supposed to continue straight, toward mile 29, but the morning markings are still visible from where you turned off of this road after mile 7 earlier in the day. This was the only confusing area that I encountered along the course.
The mile 29 aid station volunteers were a hoot! They had music playing, an abundance of energy, a row of camping chairs, and ginger beer! I stopped to dump a rock out of my shoe and partake in some bubbly ginger goodness.
I took off feeling ready to tackle the next stretch, but was quickly humbled by the need to walk a lot of the hills. Remember, this is the descent into mile 7 from the beginning of the race that you are now climbing back up. I started to lose some of my mental willpower, and I was struggling with the fatigue and knowledge that I would not see my Racelab Crew at mile 33. When I arrived at mile 33, I really needed the energy that had been at mile 29, but it wasn't there. The volunteers were nice enough, but not very helpful. There were swarms of bees. I filled my camelback and ate a slice of watermelon. A few other runners took an opportunity to sit down, but I knew the next 7 miles were going to be tough and I decided to just keep going.
Miles 33 to 40 were the worst part of the race for me. The terrain was not horrible, mostly rolling mild to moderate hills interspersed with flat stretches. However, my body was hurting and my mind was playing enemy. I could feel the soreness in my legs, and my glute muscles would cramp intermittently, forcing me to slow down or walk. I was exhausted and mostly alone during these miles. The sun was hot. I ran, I walked, I cried, I ran some more. It was a vicious cycle, and the miles were creeping by ever so slowly. The only thing that allowed me to push through mile after mile was knowing that I would see my coaches, Johann and Bettina, and the rest of the Racelab Crew, at mile 40. I knew that if I got to them, I would be okay. They would hug me, provide me with a little TLC, and push me onward. I kept trying to hold back my tears, telling myself that I could cry when I got to mile 40.
I saw a blur of yellow (Racelab) as I came around the bend into mile 40, and as Johann and Bettina reached me, the tears started to flow. They swooped under my arms, made sure that I was not injured, and assisted me to the aid station. The medic came to check on me, asking me a series of pertinent questions, which as a nursing student, I completely understood, and it lightened my mood a little.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"No," I replied.
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes, I've been eating for the last 40 miles," I said.
"Have you had anything to drink?"
"Yes, I've refilled my camelback at every aid station," I told him.
"Have you peed?" he asked, with a critical eye staring at me.
"Yes, at least every 10 miles," I responded, confidently.
"You'll be alright!" he told me.
I knew he was right and that I would be just fine.
And just like that, there were people all around me. Bettina sat me in a chair, and she did not ask, but she told me that I would be taking a break for a few minutes. One of the many attributes of Bettina is that she is not only an amazing coach, but she is a mother at heart, and what Bettina says, goes. Johann refilled my camelback with water and my homemade portables as Bettina rubbed my legs with Dr. Hoy's. Stephanie changed my socks. Daryl's lovely daughters stripped my soggy, salty arm warmers off and replaced them with a clean pair. Erik took photos. Gus, Cheri, Nora, and Maggie offered words of encouragement. I sipped on vegetable soup feeling grateful for all of these amazing people that were supporting me.
A gentleman, whom I had run with off and on between miles 19 and 40, passed by. He has finished the Old Pueblo 50 at least 10 times, and he told me that if I left this aid station, I would finish this race. I promised him that I would.
Pictured above: Katlyn Evans (Me) and Johann Warnholtz, Mile 40. Photo by Erik Woods.
Thankfully, Johann ran the last 12 miles with me, and it felt good to have some familiarity. While every muscle in my body ached, he kept my thoughts positive. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I was on track to finish before the sun went down, so that put a little pep in my step as well. Getting to the last aid station at mile 46 was not too bad, all things considered. But, after mile 46, there was one last climb, and it was a doozy. I asked Johann to take a photo of me at the top, to remind myself later of the accomplishment that I felt in that moment.
Pictured above: Katlyn Evans (Me) just past mile 46 after the last big climb of the race. Photo by Johann Warnholtz.
The last few miles were kind of a blur. We ran along one last ridge before descending back toward Kentucky Camp. From the ridge, you could faintly see the lights from the finish. It was within reach.
I remember giving one final push to run strong through the finish.
Pictured above: The best sign I had seen all day!
Pictured above: Johann Warnholtz and Katlyn Evans (Me), Old Pueblo Finish Line.
I completed 51.19 miles in 12 hours, 13 minutes, and 7 seconds. And it felt g-l-o-r-i-o-u-s!
Thank you to everyone who supported me both throughout my training and on race day! This was a wonderful race with beautiful landscape and fabulous volunteers.
Every ultramarathon is a challenge, an opportunity to learn, and a memory to cherish.
Cheers!
