Headwaters Trail Runs 56K Part 2

June 18, 2022

A group of day hikers sat at the saddle as I approached. They said kind things to me as I finally got a look into Deadfall Meadows. Glorious alpine lakes and rocky terrain stretched before me. It was time to turn on the jets as I started running again down into the meadows and lakes below. I smiled as a cold cloud of fog and light snow kissed my face.

More people were heading up now and I passed many as I was going down exchanging encouraging words. The valley and mountain peaks above inspired my decent. I tried to make sure I was running as much as possible as time felt like it was getting away from me. I rounded the corner of one of the lakes and passed the photographer. I smiled for pictures as I kept moving.

The trail kept my legs busy heading down at varying grades. Meadows intermixed with trees and cold streams crossed the trail many times over. My feet were wet and the cold water of the streams felt like a short ice bath. I tried to soak in the beauty and felt fortunate I would get to experience it twice. 

I always think that you get a new experience every time you run a trail. You get to experience the trail one way or the other and your mind is always in different places too. Every run is different, even if it is the same.

As I got lower into the meadow I could tell that I was finally almost to the aid station. The woman who crushed me on the climb before was now my partner as we navigated a tricky section. We crossed a stream and then were in the mud. The kind man from the beginning of the race passed me here and we exchanged encouraging words as we both tried not to slip, slide, or lose our shoes.

A few more mud and stream crossings awaited us before the aid station came into view. They brought out the cow bell and cheered us in. We stood and ate snacks at the aid station for a while. I had some potato chips and a pickle. I was trusting my body to tell me what it wanted and what was okay for the day. I used the porta potty before gathering myself to climb all of what I just came down.

“I can do this,” I muttered to myself leaving the aid station. “I can do anything.”

Back into the mud I went across the meadow back to the main trail. Just after the mud a nice stream cleaned my shoes and socks. How convenient. Now the trail went up. 

I felt good after resting. I was wondering if those thoughts from before would come back. For now I needed to soak up the return views. The clouds had burned away and the sun was beating down now. The views up the valley and surrounding mountains. Alpine paradise.

I hiked up fighting with the midday sun. My running partner from before caught back up as the photographer caught us on her way down. I smiled as I awkwardly tried to follow the photographer’s directions and fight gravity back up the hill.

Pretty soon my running partner left me in the dust as she hop-skipped up the hill. I was taking it one step at a time and feeling pretty good about my pace. Enjoying the view, but also getting a bit tired. 

Nagging thoughts were coming back into my head as I felt discouraged by my unrelenting but slow progress. I wondered if maybe I wouldn’t make it up this hill and wondered if I was one of the last people. I wondered how I could be giving it everything I had, doing my absolute best and this was still the best I could do. I wondered why I felt this way after coming so far and continuing to move forward.

How could I do so much and still doubt how far I’ve come, how hard I’ve worked and how many hours I sacrificed. My heavy legs trudged uphill with the aid of my trekking poles and my unwavering and stubborn attitude. My mental state was in turmoil, but my body still knew what to do. 

I was not bleeding, dying, or in uncomfortable pain. I was tired, but moving forward. I was uncomfortable, but not incapacitated. There was no other option but to continue. I walked up a steep section and was back at one of the lakes. It was perfectly still and the mountains above reflected off it. I stopped for a breath and a quick picture before moving onwards and still upwards.

Another short climb to the next lake and then another short climb to the saddle. I had this, even if I was somehow dead last (I definitely was not in last, silly brain) I was going to do this. 

I looked up at Mount Eddy from the highest lake and carried on forwards. Just a quick climb left and then it was literally all downhill. My legs were heavy and my mind was numb with fighting negative thoughts with positive encouragement. It felt like a monumental effort as I made my way up just a little bit higher.

I stopped at the saddle for a 360 degree view. I looked back at the meadow I just came up and snapped one last picture. I was ready to run.

11 miles of downhill awaited me. I knew the trail before me as I had spent so much time walking up it before. It switched back across the alpine slope. If I could get up that hill, there was no stopping me now. I ran down the hill as fast as my legs would take me, my hiking poles helped keep me from slipping and lessened the load on my ever protesting joints.

As good as I felt, lingering thoughts of being in the back came into my head. I had not seen anyone since that woman passed me. Did everyone else quit at the aid station or get cut off behind me? I tried to shift my focus back to things going well. Nobody told me I had to stop and my body was still moving. Running 35 miles is running 35 miles. Who cares if you come in first or last? Nobody I knew would care anyways.

The hill dragged on as familiar landmarks I noted on the way up came into view. I was moving well and the scenery felt the same yet different from the other direction. There was no reason to be discouraged and no reason to give up. 

I tried to shovel food into my mouth, but the jarring movements of actually running made eating difficult. My stomach was doing backflips and loop-de-loops as I moved at an unwavering pace. The pace my body allowed, the pace that actually felt surprisingly good.

Ah well, if I couldn’t eat I just needed to drink water and get to the aid station. The trail carried me along in the same direction and heading downwards along the Sacramento River. The further down I went the more the river roared beside me. 

I was getting close to the aid station now. The trail was getting rockier and the dirt was an orange color. I watched my footing as I continued in a run. In just a bit I could dig into my drop bag for the Starbucks rice crispy I had longed for. My mouth watered at the thought of the sweet, salty, and sticky goodness I was about to eat.

I also hoped my friends had made it. Even if they did not come up to the aid station, I was nearing the finish too so I would get to see them too. Things were coming back together after falling apart just as they had in every race I’ve done so far. 

A sharp right turn had me on the last downhill to the aid station. I could hear some talking and cheers started as I came into view. My friends leaped out of their chairs to cheer and I smiled a big dumb grin that washed away all my doubt. The aches in my body lifted if only just for a moment as they bravely hugged my sweaty body.

I was for sure going to finish this, I thought as I dug through my bag. There was so much food inside but my hand sifted through only for the rice crispy treat. My friends and the wonderful aid station volunteers offered help as I ripped open the rice crispy treat. My hands working overtime to try and grab my flasks from my vest as well. My brain going in 100 different directions. Only a 10K remained in this race. I’ve run that 6 mile distance countless times. 

I grabbed what I thought I needed, listened to encouragement, and maybe cracked a sarcastic joke or two before telling my friends I would see them at the finish line. I ran along the road and quickly dropped down onto single track. The culmination of a long day was here and I was ready to run to the finish.

The trail seemed new and was cut into the slope beside the river. I headed downhill letting gravity carry me. I was the best I could be in the moment I was in. 

The rice crispy rolled around my stomach. It’s sugary sweetness supplied my body with a stomach ache, but also much needed nutrients. I willed it to settle as I moved as fast as my body would carry me. My poles easing the strain on my legs, saving me from rolling my ankles, and even saved me from a few for sure moments I would have hit the deck.

I came around a corner in surprise to the woman who passed me on the uphill laid out on the trail ahead of me. My body would not let me yell so I pulled in close before making sure she was ok. She slowly got herself back up to her feet as I assessed her asking if anything hurt or if she needed me to stay with her. She thanked me while she tested out her movement.

She told me she would be able to continue and I offered her one of my poles, but she politely declined. One last time I made sure she seemed okay before setting off again down the trail. I hoped I did not just leave someone who needed assistance. I continued to wonder if I should have gone or not, but decided to continue as she encouraged me to carry on.

The trail undulated mostly making its way down the river valley. A few uphill sections broke up the intense pounding of the relentless downhill. Though my body wouldn’t allow me to run them. I tried to be patient with myself since I knew now I was going to finish. 

My trekking poles saved my tired legs countless times on the loose rocky trail. My hands were fatiguing from holding them for so long, but their importance could not be understated in my current success.

A new challenger appeared in front of me now. He had left the last aid station as I approached. I thought maybe I could catch him as we both turned toward the river for one last ford. There was a rock path across and I tried to stay on it to the best of my ability. 

One weird step and I was off balance. There was no reason to risk falling so I gently stepped down into the cool knee height water below and trudged my way across. On the other side I started to run again. I decided I was not going to walk any more if possible.

With the new goal in mind I shuffled forward. The competitor in front of me saw me coming and started to run too. Even if I didn’t catch him, maybe I could motivate him. We were on a road now and I was running. He would run to stay ahead of me and walk when needed, but I was determined, relentless now that I knew the finish was not far.

We continued to accordion like this along the road. I checked behind me and saw no one, so my focus was ahead. This was it, time to leave nothing behind. I carried forward on my two legs and two poles trying to emulate the run skipping motion I saw the woman doing up the hill.

Familiar landmarks came into sight as we neared back where we had first come over the river nearly nine hours ago. I smiled and felt a weight lift. There was no doubt now, I was going to finish and I was going to run there.

We made a hard right back on the trail we started on. I could tell the runner ahead of me felt that same weight lift from their body as the distance between us increased. I saw more runners ahead and I convinced myself maybe I could catch them too.

I rocketed forward embracing my new motivation. I caught a few of the runners and kept running. The weight was coming back down and my body was screaming, but I was not done yet. A short climb away from the lake and a left hand turn caught me up with one more runner. 

I turned on the last bit of gas I had as cheering noises came into my ears. This was it, the furthest I’ve ever been. There was a finish line now and I crossed it to a wave of cheers. My friends were there waiting for me to tell me how impressed they were. A wave of exhaustion and pride fell over me.

Another accomplishment, lessons learned, and stories to tell. I ran the furthest I ever had in an effort to go even further the next month. If I could do this, then I was ready for the 50 miles coming. I had doubts, moments of discomfort, but I still never gave up completely.

Not sure if I am stubborn, strong-willed, or just dumb, but days like this just have you out there living. Making simple decisions to drink water, keep eating, or keep going. Sometimes it feels like maybe it was going to be impossible, when all along there was no reason to ever doubt myself or my training.

No reason to doubt the sacrifices in time and effort or the strong unwavering belief my friends and family had in me. It always seems so silly to look back on and realizing how much mental effort is wasted on worrying if I don’t live up to my or their expectations. In the end it only matters that you went out and gave it your best. It’s not always going to work out, but there are always more chances to get it right.

Special thanks to my good friends for driving out to cheer me on. It really meant the world to me to have you there to cheer and support me. Thank you!