Jemez Mountain Trail 50K

I ran the Jemez Mountain Trail 50K in Los Alamos, NM this past weekend, which is one of my favorite races. I keep coming back year after year to enjoy the beauty of the land and to test my mettle under the always challenging conditions. The terrain is tough, with short steep climbs in and out of deep canyons as well as a long slow grind topping out at 10,400’ elevation on the Pajarito summit. This event offers 50 mile, 50K and 15 mile courses, with staggered start times, so you can pick the level of misery you would like to experience. This year I chose the intermediate suck level.

Valle Caldera National Preserve on a cler day

This was my 9th attempt. In years past, I’ve completed five 50 milers, one 50K and have had two DNFs, one for runners being halted mid-race for a freak snow storm! I was running down the mountain in heavy cold rain while it was snowing on the peak. When I arrived at the the next aid station at the bottom, they informed us that the race was called off because some runners at the top were suffering from hypothermia and other cold related injuries.

Los Alamos and the Jemez Mountains

These mountains are not to be disrespected. I’ve had plenty of suffering and misfortunes running in the Jemez Mountains including a dislocated shoulder after a hail and lightning storm in the Wildland 52K race in Jemez Springs, NM. 

Read my post: Running Adventure Gone Wrong

(Don't ask me about those charts at the bottom, these smart people work at Los Alamos National Lab) 

I’ve run in every kind of conditions here including cold, rain, lightning, snow, hail, sleet, sneet, and heat; sometimes all of it in the same day! I’ve experienced the bliss of the spectacular view of the Valle Caldera, from the peak of Pajarito as well as suffered the misery of running on bruised aching feet in the heat of the day. One year, in the 50 miler, I almost missed an aid station cutoff time because I was farting around taking too many pictures. In my first attempt of the 50 miler, I got altitude sickness and had to quit at around mile 30. Heartbreaking!

Fortunately, this 50K went smoothly, even though the weather forecast was calling for showers and thunderstorms all day. The morning was cool with the peaks shrouded in an opaque fog, so I packed all the mandatory gear; a rain shell with hood, gloves and hat in case of another freak snow or hail storm. My pack was bulging leaving little room for food. (I tend to bring my own snacks that are a bit healthier than aid station fare.) 

I felt surprisingly good all morning despite not sleeping well the previous night due to altitude (7300’). I passed a few runners early on as we ran through canyons and pine forests. Tall pock marked cliffs from past volcanic eruptions rose high above the trail on both sides. This area sits on the rim of a collapsed volcanic crater known as the Valle Caldera with many interesting rock formations, some made of pumice, ash, and tuff blown out millions of years ago. These sometimes appear as flowing concrete and can be formed into interesting shapes and hoodoos like those in Kasha-Katuwe Tent Rocks National Monument between Albuquerque and Santa Fe. 

The cone-shaped tent rock formations are the products of volcanic eruptions that occurred 6 to 7 million years ago and left pumice, ash, and tuff deposits over 1,000 feet thick. Tremendous explosions from the Jemez volcanic field spewed pyroclasts (rock fragments), while searing hot gases blasted down slopes in an incandescent avalanche called a pyroclastic flow.

The race is run on every sort of terrain you can imagine, from hard packed dirt trails, smooth forest roads, rocky forest roads, rock filled gullies (called trails), bumpy tufts of grass and across slabs of hard rock. Did I miss anything? (Probably.) Three miles in, we began to climb and that was the trend for the next 10 miles, gaining almost 3000’. I pulled out my trekking poles and tried to keep a steady fast walking pace. I enjoyed the cool refreshing air under an overcast sky. Tall dead trees, from past, fires could be seen through the misty fog creating an eerie backdrop. Otherwise, there wasn’t much of a view. 

My legs were getting tired form the steady slog upwards, but I eventually made it to a crest and got some relief by running down a rocky road for a while where I cruised into the third aid station. I usually just fill my water bottles and keep going instead of lingering in aid stations. After filling up, I ran another several miles, mostly downhill, and then reached the Ski Lodge aid station. I took a short break here to strip off a layer since I was starting to get hot. I ate some of my food and took off to tackle the most challenging part of the race. 

Pajarito Ski Lodge

This stretch is a 1000’ steep climb straight up a black diamond ski slope that is no joke. I reached the bottom and looked up where I saw what looked like a string of tiny ants slowly making their way up. Some people were moving steadily, while others were just standing on the slope, a miserable look on their face. I started my climb and had to stop every 10 steps or so to catch my breath. I began to gain on a few people which motivated me to take a few more steps before stopping. My heart was beating so hard and fast that I could hear it thumping inside my head. 

I took my time, but still passed one guy who was really struggling. I looked downslope and a young couple were making fast progress so I stepped to the side to let them pass. My legs were burning and rubbery at this point and a few more folks passed me. Eventually I made it to a service road that went downhill for a little while. It wasn’t long though, before I was again climbing up another ski slope steeper than the first one. 

The Caldera on a clear day

Finally I made it to the top and ran through some trees to a big open clearing on Pajarito Summit where sits a blue bench made of repurposed boat oars, skis and adorned with bicycle wheels. Usually there’s a spectacular view here that looks down into the collapsed volcano, a wide valley of lush meadows, surrounded by tree covered peaks. Sadly, the view was obscured by fog, so I asked a fellow runner if he wouldn’t mind snapping the obligatory summit picture of me sitting on the blue bench instead. He agreed and I reciprocated and then we continued on down the mountain. 

Just climbed a mountain, still smiling!

In no time we reached a short steep slope with a patch of slushy snow. I glissaded down while using my poles to curb my speed. I could have easily gone around this obstacle, but the course flag was at the bottom of the snowy slope and that would have been considered “going off course” (cheating). Besides, it was way more fun to “ski” down, increasing my chances of slipping and going ass-over-teakettle while my fellow trail mates watched in amusement.

Pretty soon I reached another ski service road and then picked up the Pajarito Canyon trail which led down the mountain. I passed one young lady who was limping along with make-shift poles made out of dead tree branches. I stopped to ask if she was injured and she replied yes, but said she could make it to the next aid station. I checked to ensure she had enough water and then continued running down, but was still concerned because it would be several hours before she arrived. At least there were plenty more runners on the course who could help her if she needed it. 

Los Alamos in the distance

I kept a pretty good pace, despite a lot of ankle twisting rocks underfoot and was able to pass a few folks on the way down. I made it in to the next aid station at mile 21 and reported the injured runner to the volunteers and they said, “we’ve been looking for her!”. She was running the 50 mile race and should have arrived by this time, so while they were concerned that she was hurt, they were relieved that she wasn’t lost. No search party needed.

Anyway, it was pretty hot by this point so I filled up my bottles and took off. This section was mostly downhill with one steep precarious cliff where I needed my poles to keep from sliding on sandy slabs of rock. I fell here in a past race and lost a water bottle from my waist belt, so I took my time to avoid a hospital visit. After gingerly negotiating this steep descent, I arrived at a knee high cable running parallel to a highway with a one foot high bench conveniently placed underneath. Ironically, there was a volunteer crossing guard who instructed me to be careful using the step to get over the wire. “Is it electric!” I asked and he chuckled. How kind of them to provide this assistance after we have already climbed a 10,400’ mountain, traversed a snow mound, bombed down a steep baseball-sized rock filled gully; just having poled down a cliff face. Nevertheless, I used my sticks to help keep my balance while stepping over the wire. (I’m scared of heights, you know!)

I made it across without incident and soon entered the Los Alamos National Lab of Manhattan Project fame. There was a sign warning runners not to take any photos, but I soon became distracted by a beautiful Mountain bluebird and I pulled out my camera. Luckily it flew away and then I remembered, NO PHOTOGRAPHY! At that moment, I expected to be gang tackled by the CIA. Soon I reached another very steep descent on a series of narrow switchbacks along a precipitous drop off, the county outdoor ice rink below. I took my time, because a fall here would really ruin your day. I don’t think you would stop tumbling until cratering on the hockey rink. I cheated death once again and safely arrived at the ice rink aid station, mile 25, where I filled up my water bottles again.

The next part was an equally steep climb up and out of Los Alamos Canyon, where my burning quads bore the brunt of the effort; my arms shoring up my lower body with my poles. I struggled to the top of the steepest part, but then the next couple miles continued uphill which was very disheartening after having already covered the distance of a marathon. 

My mood started to sink, so I pulled out a couple of mandarins and ate them while I walked. I began to wonder why I suffer through these races over and over again and then I remembered the wise words of the Vietnamese peace activist and zen master responsible for bringing mindfulness to the West.  In The Art of Living, Thich Nhat Hanh writes:

I don’t exercise to get fit 

or be healthier; 

I do it to enjoy being alive.

The happiness and joy of practicing mindful movements nourishes my body and mind. With each movement I do, I feel how wonderful it is that I can still do it. Exercising like this, I enjoy having a body; I enjoy being alive. I accept life and my body just as it is, and I feel so much gratitude. Even as we age and experience ill health or pain, we can still profit from the moments when the pain is not too strong. If you can still breathe, it’s possible to enjoy your breathing. If you can still walk, it’s possible to enjoy your walking. If you can get in touch with the elements of peace and freshness within you and around you, both body and mind will benefit, and it will help you embrace the difficulties and pain in your body…

Recognizing impermanence allows us to cherish the days and hours that are given to us. It helps us value our body, our loved ones, and all the conditions that we have for happiness in this moment. We can be at peace knowing we are living our life to the fullest.

In reflecting on these words, I realized how grateful I am to still be healthy enough to spend time in spectacular wild places; challenging myself, while living life to the fullest. As my body ages and I continue to adapt to the unpleasant changes, I have to constantly remind myself of this: the key to ultimate happiness is accepting what is. Just be what you are, not what you want to be. This moment right here is enough.

My spirits eventually picked up. Perhaps because of this contemplation, or it simply may have been because I was running downhill again. At any rate, I cruised into the final aid station, mile 28, which was decked out like an Irish pub, complete with Guinness stout and Celtic music. I’m a very boring ultrarunner and passed on the stout so I could complete the last four miles in an upright position. It was grueling even though I was finally closing in on the finish line. I managed to pass a few more runners as most were walking at this point. 

I reached town and skirted a few neighborhoods and entered a dry creek bed lined with tall pines. Just when I thought there couldn’t possibly be any more climbs, I started to ascend again, but just for a short while and then I ran along the side of a mesa on a windy hard packed trail. The last bit was through a steep narrow gully of eroded volcanic tuff that required the use of my hands in a few places, but I made it to the top and slinked into the finish line after about ten and a half hours. Ten years ago I finished the 50K race two hours faster which means that I will have to keep adapting as I continue to get up there in years. 

Finisher pottery by B. Toya

The Jemez Trail Run is a great mountain race for many reasons, and I am grateful to all the volunteers and staff who work so hard to organize this event. The awesome finisher awards are handmade pottery by the Toya family of the Jemez Pueblo. The Jemez people have a long standing history of running.

My collection, grateful to the artists

Throughout history, the Hemish people have run for religious purposes, communication, health, travel, sport, war, hunting and to foster bonds between villages. Tribal men and women of all ages have participated in these running activities for generations.

Read more here. 

See you on the trail.