Jemez Mountain 50 Miler 2019

This past Memorial Day Weekend I made my annual pilgrimage to Los Alamos, NM to run the Jemez Mountain 50 Miler. This race is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you are going to get. In this area, there can be unpredictable weather, drought, wildfires and even a bear attack. These types of events have forced the race to alter the course almost every year. This year was no different. Although we weren’t allowed to run in the Valle Caldera National Preserve where a woman was attacked by a bear during a marathon several years back, the National Forest Service allowed us to run on previously burned trails that have since been restored.

Valle Caldera National Preserve

The morning weather was a pleasant 50 degrees where about 110 of us started out in the dark with headlamps. In just 30 minutes or so the sky began to lighten and we passed some honeycombed cliffs of tuff (volcanic ash). Close by is the Bandelier National Monument with similar cliffs where ancestral pueblo people built homes carved into the tuff. The beauty of the Jemez is what keeps me coming back year after year.

Jim Stein took this cool photo. Check out his website here.

Tuff cliffs, volcanic ash

Soon the sun came up casting a golden hue on the surrounding hills and wildflowers along the trail. I tried to keep up with the pack knowing that I was already probably one of the last runners. I didn’t mind though, because I mostly run races to take in the scenery and enjoy the outdoors. I pulled out my camera and took advantage of the early morning light.

As we climbed along the Guaje Ridge, the town of Los Alamos and the LA National Lab came into view. The mountains are scattered with dead trees from previous fires with the occasional blackened sentinel still standing watch over the landscape. The scarred slopes are contrasted by bright green patches of new growth aspen. After climbing for quite a while I reached a meadow and transitioned onto Pipeline Rd where I could see the Pajarito Ski Mountain in the distance which was my destination. By this point a lot of the lead 50K runners started to pass me. They began their race an hour later than the 50 mile runners.

I stopped at the next aid station and ate some fruit and grabbed a handful of potato chips before continuing on. The next section was pretty flat with some rolling hills. Huge trees were down all around from recent snow storms, but the race organizers had spent the last month cutting logs and clearing the trails. Their hard work was apparent and very much appreciated. After passing through a grassy meadow and running for a spell I knew I was nearing the Ski Lodge Aid Station. This is the same area where a lady was on the side of the trail puking last year when I approached. Suddenly my head started to feel swimmy with a lot of pressure and my stomach was on edge. This must be the place where your body starts to really feel the altitude. 9200’ here, but I had another 1200 feet to climb up to Pajarito Mt (10,400’).

I made it to the lodge at mile 15 where I got my drop bag and ate some banana bread and boiled potatoes. I put on sunscreen because there is less atmosphere to block the Sun’s UV rays at higher altitudes. Did you know that UV exposure increases 4% for every 1000’ you climb? Me neither! How did the human species survive for eons without the internet telling them how much sunscreen to apply? Anyway, I ate some watermelon, topped off my water bottles and headed out. 

Los Alamos National Lab. Home of the Manhattan Project.

Having run this race frequently, I had mentally prepared myself for what was about to come. A black diamond ski slope straight up the mountain! When I reached the bottom of the slope I could see a line of runners snaking their way up the grassy hill so I got in line and began a slow methodical plod up the mountain. Well, I don’t know how methodical it was, but I do know it was slow. Luckily I brought my trekking poles that I used to lean on for short periods of time when my heart was beating out of my chest. I passed a few runners on the way up and some 50K runners passed me. Almost everyone though, had to stop frequently to put their hands on their knees to catch their breath. This slope is no joke! 

The ski slope.

Finally we reached the top of the ski slope where views of the Valle Caldera could be seen in the distance. I stopped to take pictures of the beautiful vista and to watch the misery on the faces of those climbing up. Sometimes we need suffering in our lives to help us remember how good we have it. Laz Lake of Barkley Marathons fame said it best, ”People are obsessed with comfort to the point that they forget; if you don't have any discomfort in your life, how do you know when you feel good?”

"If you don't have any discomfort in your life,
how do you know when you feel good?"

Anyway, we ran down a dirt road for a short while, but I knew the climbing wasn’t over yet. Just in case any of us didn’t suffer enough earlier, the race course took us up another log strewn slope; the steepest one so far. We topped out at 10,400’ and ran through a forested section and popped out on the other side with the grandest view in all of New Mexico —the Valle Grande. This collapsed volcanic crater has created huge grassy meadows; the largest being the Valle Grande. In years past, we ran through this beautiful caldera that has abundant wildlife like deer, elk and bear.

Valle Caldera National Preserve

After taking in the sights, I continued down the mountain passing the infamous blue bench made from old boat oars, skis and bike wheels. A group of runners approached from behind me and one of them exclaimed, “You have to tag the bench; it's mandatory!” I had never heard of that tradition, but I ran back 20 yards or so and tagged it for good luck anyway. When I headed back down, runners were glissading down a huge snow mound which looked like an accident waiting to happen. I, therefore, went around the snow, picking my way through ankle twisting boulders and large tufts of grass.

The blue bench is made of oars and skis.

After running through the upper ski area, I picked up a single track trail that wound down the mountain. I tried to make up for lost time because I had a 12:45 PM cutoff looming and I wanted to be there with plenty of time to spare. Runners who are too slow may switch to the 50K race at the 25 mile point, but I wanted to make sure I was able to enjoy the full 50 miles of misery. After all, I’m very passionate about endurance running and if you know the original meaning of the word “passion” then you know it means "to suffer"! 

wildflowers were plentiful

The trail was twisty and technical in spots with lots of round rocks filling the gullies. This caused my feet to slip out from under me several times. The lower I went, the hotter it got and I had a hard time eating. I nibbled some fresh apple slices to keep my blood sugar up, but my nutrition was minimal. I made sure to drink plenty though, and also took electrolyte capsules to stay hydrated. 

Snow capped Sangre De Cristo Mts

I finally made it to the 25.5 mile point with more than 30 minutes to spare so I took a short break to eat and then took off again. I slogged up the mountain where the heat was intense. Occasionally, high on the ridges a breeze would bring some temporary relief. The views were spectacular though with the snow capped Sangre De Cristo Mountains in the background and colorful mesas rising from the valley below. After about three miles of climbing I ran downhill for a while reaching another aid station.

Los Alamos, NM

The next section really took it out of me and I was all alone at this point. There was a two mile series of switchbacks straight up to the Guaje Ridge that we had run earlier. Instead of running along the ridge though, we had to climb over it. Once at the top we had to go straight down another series of treacherous switchbacks. It was all I could do to keep gravity at bay to ensure I didn’t lose my footing and go ass-over-teakettle all the way to the bottom of the mountain. I used my poles to keep my balance as I slowly descended. Occasionally my feet would slide out from under me, but I was able to catch myself before getting too out of control…usually. The descent was almost as slow as the ascent because of the tricky footing and I started to worry if I would finish the race in time.

Guaje Ridge

Once at the bottom, I hit a stream and headed up the Guaje Canyon. I reached a little dam where there was a dam waterfall. A dam volunteer was waiting there and instructed me to grab onto a climbing rope and pull myself up a dam cliff face to reach the upper part of the dam waterfall and stream bed above. I made it up the dam cliff with no trouble, but then had a hard time knowing which way to go. DAMN! He said to just head up through the canyon so I followed the stream a short distance and then saw some rock cairns marking the route. There wasn’t much of a trail and I couldn’t really run, so I just sauntered along taking in the scenery. 

The dam waterfall

The canyon was rugged with dead burned trees teetering dangerously all around while goblin-like rock formations towered overhead. A bubbling stream meandered peacefully through the otherwise ominous looking landscape. Occasionally the cairns led me out of the stream bed and up onto a high bank, but soon I would drop back down into the rocky watercourse again. The constant grinding in and out of the stream bed wore on me and I became lethargic and was moving slowly. The heat was intense in the gorge and I was sweating profusely. I ate some more food hoping to get an energy boost. The creek seemed to go on forever, but eventually I crossed to the other side and began another steep climb out of the canyon. 

Guaje Canyon

I saw some runners up ahead and tried to catch up to them by power hiking as fast as I could. I used my poles to help my progress, but my heart was racing and pressure mounted in my head the higher I climbed. I was feeling the altitude in a bad way. Pretty soon I saw a young lady kneeling by the side of the trail with a guy, probably her pacer, standing over her. I approached and asked if she was OK. “Yes, I’m fine; I was just finally able to puke is all,” she exclaimed. Well, alright! Bonus points right there! I wished them luck and continued the upward slog and it was a rough climb indeed. I felt like I could also vomit by this point, but somehow was able to hold it together. I finally topped out and ran a flat section for a bit.

I reached another aid station at mile 40 and was concerned that I was not going to make the last cutoff time at 8:15 PM because I was moving so slowly. It was mostly downhill for the rest of the race though, so I didn’t dawdle and just ate a few pieces of watermelon and got out of there. The first part was another steep short uphill slog, but I knew once over that, the rest would be smooth sailing. Soon the puking lady and her pacer passed me, but we leap frogged each other all the way down the mountain. I ran as fast as I could to make sure I was going to make the cutoff time and I finally made it to the aid station with 20 minutes to spare. 

I donned my headlamp because I knew I wouldn’t finish before dark. With 4.5 more miles to go I continued on with a nauseous stomach. I realized I didn’t eat enough food throughout the day and the heat and altitude took its toll on me. I ran as much as I could, but lost my desire to push myself. I simply put one foot in front of the other and embraced the misery. Nevertheless, I knew I would finish unless something drastic happened. A rattlesnake bite, bear attack, broken ankle or an all out zombie apocalypse was about the only thing that could stop me now. 

As I approached the last several miles, a few runners passed me including puking girl, leaving me in the DFL position. I mustered enough strength to run the flat parts, but then I hit the last few hills that led me back up to Los Alamos. I walked the last part and made the final climb, a steep eroded gully, into the finish area. After running for 52 miles with almost 11,000’ of elevation gain, It felt so good to finally stop and sit for a while. I was very happy to have finished my 5th consecutive Jemez 50 Miler in 16:15. Having fulfilled my passion for endurance running for the day, I knew what it was like to truly feel good. Without misery and suffering, there can be no bliss, right?

Mile 12, still feelin' fresh

I very much appreciated the help of volunteers and race staff throughout the day and enjoyed sharing the trail with such friendly runners. Congratulations to Amanda, aka Puking Girl, for a strong finish. I believe it was her first 50 miler! I was grateful to have received another beautifully crafted handmade pottery by Benjamin and Geraldine Toya of the Jemez Pueblo. The pottery is meticulously crafted using all natural materials. 

Toya Family pottery

The JMTR website writes: 

First the clay is dug by hand, 5 gallons at a time. All sticks, rocks and impurities are removed via sifting through a large wire mesh then through smaller wire mesh until it is pure. Volcanic ash is dug by hand, and mixed 1 gallon to the 5 gallons of clay. The ash must also be cleaned of sticks, rocks and impurities. The ash is worked through a very fine silk cloth until it resembles talcum powder. The clay and ash are mixed together with water to form a workable material. The clay is rolled by hand into long strands. The strands are coiled to form the pot, then the coil pot is smoothed by hand. The red and white paint on the pot is made from boiling rocks the Toyas have gathered. The black paint is made from boiling wild spinach they have harvested. After the spinach has been boiled it is then buried along with native prayer. The turquoise paint is made from dried, ground up mulberries. Per tradition, the rocks, spinach and mulberries are boiled only in rain water that is collected and stored in jars until it is used for the boiling.

See you on the Trail.