What the Hell Just Happened? Pine Creek Challenge 100
So, Rog and I got talking about races. Imagine. "Pine Creek Challenge" he said. "You’ll PR" he said. "Grand Canyon of the East" he said. "Good tune-up for Oil Creek" he said. "Watch out for snakes" he said. "Lots of Amish" he said. "It gets darker than dark" he said. "Lots of wildlife" he said. "You’ll love it" he said. Rog----good thing you’re wife is a nurse.
I
was a bit rushed to get out of work and drive to the race site. First week of school is always
hectic. I spiced things up with a
bout of food poisoning. Yuck. I
tried unscessfully to defer to the 100k.
I was turned down flat.
Ok. Time to do what I
do. I got up at 4 and headed to
the Portal Potty. Saw a bear in
the distance. This is off to a
great start. Did I mention this was my 13th 100 miler? Lucky 13!
The course starts with a 5 mile out and back section that I
would complete twice. The first 10
miles were fine. It was nice to
see the entire field and say hello to those I knew.
Then the rain started.
It was the kind of rain my daughter calls “drip drop PLOP”. As soon as my brain had time to register
the first sprinkle, the sky opened up.
It would stay raining for the majority of the race, alternating between
drizzle and pelting. It. Just. Didn’t.
Stop. I felt
pummeled. Oh, and I forgot
my hat in the car. (and my gaiters---shut
up Gary). There was no way I was
going to stay dry. Thanks Mother
Nature, love you too.
The majority of the race takes place in this breathtaking
canyon. Mountains surrounded me,
and when the fog would lift, I could see them. A bit concerning was the amount
of bear scat on the trail. Hold on
to that---it will be important later.
At night, we would get fairly long stretches without much
noticeable rain. That’s when the
critters came out. Mother Nature,
I sincerely apologize for whatever wrongdoing I have done to you. Please consider a bit less fury on race
days.
The canyon truly does get darker than dark. Honestly, I have never seen such
darkness. I am not afraid of the
dark. I am not afraid of animals
that go bump in the night (except bears—not my cup of tea). Last night, I was afraid.
It was such a small field; I spent most of the race by
myself. The canyon walls were so high; there was no connection to the outside
world. I couldn’t use my
phone. My iPod died at the Beast,
and I haven’t yet replaced it. I
was alone with my thoughts.
Literally, miles separated one runner from another.
First I saw deer.
Beautiful. Then
raccoons. Playful. Then a possum. I think it was a possum. It had red eyes. Then a porcupine the size of a laundry
basket. Oh, and birch trees every
ten feet (my new least favorite allergy). Also, I could hear something being attacked. Then..the bear.
It was about mile 80.
I was running where the trail buts against the wall of the canyon. Again, darker than dark. One moment there was silence, the next
a huge rustle in the brush. It
came about 20 feet behind me, made some sort of grumbling noise, while pacing
back in forth, staring at me the whole time. My one and only
thought was “I hope this doesn’t hurt too much”. Then it unceremoniously padded off toward the river. I know you are supposed to act tough
with black bear, but that just wasn’t within my capabilities. I was terrified.
Once again alone (-ish) in the canyon, with blackness all
around, I was scared to move. I
contemplated hiding out somewhere until the sun came up, but that’s not
me. I was getting out of that
canyon. I found my brave and took
that first step. It was the hardest
step I’ve taken so far, in any race.
Eventually, I met up with another group of runners. Stories of wildlife were shared. We didn’t necessarily run together, but
it was nice to know others were around.
I was okay then.
With five miles to go, nausea hit me hard. I was back in that pelting kind of
rain. I was waterlogged and I just
wanted to get this dang thing done.
Those last five miles cost me a PR. The sky cleared for, I swear, no more than a minute, and I
saw an eagle. I muscled through. No PR, but I knew I completed my most
challenging race so far. The
weather. The wildlife. My body. Each was a major obstacle, and each, at one point, caused me to
seriously consider stopping. I’m
proud of this finish.
I collected my finisher mug—which is sitting beside me right
now, filled with warm cider. I plan on building it it’s own
shelf. This finish was special. I can’t say I loved it, but I do feel
an awesome sense of satisfaction. This
one is going to stick with me.
By the way Rog: No snakes. No
Amish.
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