ANGEL’S STAIRCASE 50K 8/13/11

So this was a James Varner (aka Rainshadow Running) race. For any of you who have experienced one of James’s races you know what this means. For the rest of you, it means incredibly challenging, steep, at times confusing and you may need to consult a map (we did only once!), slightly dangerous, fun, and located in a spot that could easily go down as the most beautiful place you’ve ever ran. With all that said, my friend Jim told me he had registered about a month ago. That was all it took for me to join in. I knew the area was gorgeous, as friends had biked there in the fall and raved about it, so I signed up. The registration read, “This can not be your first rodeo,” and that was all I really skimmed over before filling out the application (including past 50K’s) and submitting. I called Jim to tell him I had signed up and he said something along the lines of, “it’s going to be an asskicker,” and then told me all the information I neglected to read on the course information website. Remote wilderness (no drop bags), 9000’ gain, 50K+ (it’s never just 50K with 50K’s it seems), elevation, hot and exposed. Hmm… that fine print sure does tell you a lot sometimes…

After a few weeks of training here in Idaho and a week of some serious Z-catching, it was time to disembark on my journey. Heidi was stoked on the weather on Friday and called it an early day so we could all enjoy the afternoon. I hopped in my car and headed north. Eight hours later, I was pulling onto Gold Creek Road. It was just about 10 PM and I had to be awake for check in at 4:30 AM, so I skipped on trying to find Jim and Adam and went to sleep in the back of my Subaru. I would recommend finding the flattest spot possible, but had decided that anything would do and picked a spot with a bit of a downslope. Despite sleeping like a baby, this led to me waking up at 3:30, rolled into a ball against my hatchback door. Finally, 4:30 rolled around and I changed into my running clothes and headed further up Gold Creek road to the check-in at Foggy Dew Trailhead.

Just before the race, James briefed us on the course. James is a funny guy and always has something good to say…this briefing started with, “Who here has seen Fight Club?” We all raised our hands or nodded. “What is the first rule of Fight Club?”

Mostly in unison we all said, “Don’t talk about Fight Club.”

“What is the second rule about Fight Club?”

“Don’t talk about Fight Club.”

I had no idea where this was going and in the wee hours of the morning could only think, “huh…are we being sworn in or are we not to talk about Angel’s Staircase? Is that where this is all going? You’d think he’d want us to talk about the race…what’s going on here?” I looked at Jim and he seemed perplexed as well.

After some debate it turned out that rule one was, “be careful,” and two was, “be careful.” Since it was super remote and hours away from any medical help, injuring yourself would turn into one hell of an effort.

Promptly at 6:00 AM we were off! The course really is straight up, 5000 feet of gain, in the first eight miles. After sleeping curled against a hatchback you can imagine how well the legs go straight uphill. I ended up behind a guy with the shiniest calves I have ever seen. Shaved - I’d figured and started wondering while cruising along, “how are his legs so shiny? Mine aren’t that shiny.” Yes, these are my thoughts after not much sleep. “I wish mine were that shiny, I’m sure I’d be much, much faster.” Jim and I slowed the pace after finding a good spot in the group and two hours later topped out along the ridgeline after which the race is named. At 8000 feet high, Angel’s Staircase is something to see and experience. Views in every direction provide glimpses of the sea of jagged peaks known as the Cascades, including beautiful forests, lakes, volcanos, and glaciers. We were both feeling good. 25K runners had hit their turn around point and everyone was hooting and cheering each other on. Yeah, most of us were suffering already but it is much less noticeable when you are smiling at the same time…and it’s not frequent that you find yourself suffering and smiling. It was the start of a great day.

Turned out everyone we encountered on the trail (volunteers, dirt bikers, hikers, horseback riders) were all incredibly friendly. Must have been the scenery and near perfect temperatures. Could have also been the fact that they were so happy not to be doing the race and found us to be amusing. Either way, the vibe of the day was positive. Hours later after several ups, downs, creek crossings, aid stops, meadows full of wildflowers, you get the picture, we hit the last uphill. Only 10-14 miles left…no one could really decide how far exactly. Jim suggested that I, “let the hammer down,” if I wanted…aka: take off in a fury. That’s something I’d typically do, but can lead to a number of disasters. Did it once before thinking I had four miles left but I really had twelve. No, I cannot keep the same pace for twelve miles as I can for four and ended up cramping badly and hating myself. So we cruised along together. Tragically, his “hammer” comment made me think of Sledgehammer, and next thing I knew I was humming the tune. After the last climb, photos were taken and we came upon a USFS worker with her chainsaw. She said she was building a bridge that we’d get to cross just down the trail. Of course, Jim chimed in, “You know, I was going to run with my chainsaw today… just figured it be too showy, you know.” Somewhere in the final downhill, I lost Jim. Figured he had turned around to get the hot USFS chicky-babe’s number but it turns out he had to tie his shoe…uh huh. Anyway, I was trotting along with the only line that anyone knows from Peter Gabriel’s song Sledgehammer repeating over and over again in my head. Yes, this is exactly what happens about 30 miles into a race. Half giggling and happy because at this point there really shouldn’t be any doubt about finishing…and I’d be finishing and feeling really good. This had never happened before.

Well, somewhere in the last five miles my water bladder in my Camelback decided to spring a leak or the cap wasn’t on correctly. Either way, it leaked all down my lower back and butt. Suddenly I was suffering from chafing in areas that are not to be mentioned but you can figure out for yourself. This was not ideal as the last five miles seemed to be the most technical, at least for me. Could have been because of my lack in coordination, or because there were angular irregular rocks scattered all over this downhill, with a nice coating of super dry, moon-dusty dirt on top. Some of the rocks you don’t even see because they are hidden under the dirt so well. So there I was, “Don’t wanna be….your Sledgehammer…dun da,” strategically holding my shorts to help with the chafing down under, cruising right along and the next thing I know I am laying down on the trail. Yep, I made it 30-some odd miles before falling over. Given, I had not injured myself, but there is nothing worse than having to lift your entire being off the ground after running that far. It might be the hardest thing imaginable at that point. I got up and thought, “uh I am covered!” The hours of sweating acted like adhesive for the unfortunate dust coating I was now sporting head to toe. After attempting to brush it off, I gave up, and continued on…song in head, shorts all skewed.

The finish was wonderful. Cheering, people, food. Really, what more can you ask for? I grabbed a plate of pasta and a burger and sat down. Jim wasn’t far behind and did the same. Met a nice group of people who came all the way up from Texas for the race. Talked with James a bit too. Took a quick dip in the river to wash off the still caked on dirt and cool down. Was hoping to see Seth and Kelly before heading out, but I had to take off pretty quickly to get home at a reasonable hour. Have dogs and chickens to tend to, you know…and there will be other races where I see those two.

This was, without a doubt, the most beautiful race I’ve ever done. Might sound crazy, but even after being in Nepal, I stood on top of Angel’s Staircase, looked around, and said to Jim, “there really isn’t any place in the World prettier than the Cascades.” He agreed.