“During the first two rainy and muddy miles of the American River 50-mile Endurance race, I could tell my father was smiling upon me through the clouds and parting away my doubts.” Carmen Micsa
Are you one of those people who swears not to do something as crazy as running a 50-mile race, but then you end up doing it anyway? Yup! That’s me. I remember two years ago when I started trail running with my awesome and super upbeat Trail Mix runner friends and heard them talk about their upcoming American River 50-mile race. “That’s like running two marathons on top of each other,” one of my friends explained. “That’s crazy,” another guy replied. That day, I said to myself: “Yup, I will sure pass on running 50 miles. What’s the point anyway?”
Two years later the morning of my race, I got to hear my husband tell me a few times that I was crazy running in the rain and mud and doing my first 50-miles. “Are you sure you don’t want to give up the race this year and maybe do it next year when you’ll have better weather?” my husband asked me while driving me to Brown’s Ravine. “Of course I’m sure, honey!” I replied, pretending to laugh at my husband’s wimpy suggestion. “Ultra runners are not scared of mud and rain. On the contrary, they are like happy pigs rolling in the mud and gushing out with joy while splashing through water, dirt, and mud,” I clarified.
First 25-Miles of AR-50 Running Through Puddles – A Tale of Rain
After I sent my bags with dry clothes and shoes to wait for me at Beal’s Point and at the finish line, I used the restroom and went to huddle under the pop-up tents waiting for the race to start. The rain came down by the buckets, soaking the ground and my socks, but definitely not my spirit. For some reason, I kept smiling and telling myself that I was ready to run my first 50-mile race. Finally at 6 a.m., surrounded by my crazy ultra runner friends, the morning darkness, and lots of excitement, the race started. I wore my headlight and paid extra attention to my feet, trying to avoid the puddles and the poison oak that came on early. Unlike other races, my father watched over me from Heaven at around mile two when I could see the clouds scatter like bad dreams and my doubts parting. I was happy and felt good to run. I also chatted with different runners on the course and stayed between 9 minute pace and 10 minute depending on the hills, as I knew I had to conserve energy.
A few miles into the race and I already hit the bike trail, which made it easier to keep my running smooth and more consistent. Around mile 5, or so, I came across Sara, who told me: “Hey, I know you! You passed me at the Chanoako 50K race and you were so fast on the flat portions.” “Yeah, I remember, “I replied and started to run with her, chatting about ultra running, races, nutrition, English, since she told me she was an English teacher, and so forth. Only in her late 20s, Sara impressed me with her maturity and determination to do well in life, teaching, and running. Unlike the last 50k race, when I finished ahead of her, this time she killed it and finished more than 2 hours ahead of me. I was proud and happy for her!
To my great surprise, once I got to the top of the steep hill on the Pioneer Express trail by Hazel, which was the same spot I had done hill repeats with my awesome coach Robert Ressl-Moyer, who had to work hard on my schedule, and my teammate Genevieve, one of the volunteers told me that I was the 12th female. I felt encouraged to keep up my pace and hit the trails together with other runners. I was looking forward to getting to Beal’s Point, which was at mile 25 so that I could change my drenched clothes and shoes.
After a few miles of running on trails with my Nile Pegasus road shoes, I hit the bike trail again and kept on going towards Beal’s Point. My plan to run at 9 minute pace was not easy to execute, since the hills kept coming at me. I decided to not worry if I hit 9:30 pace and just keep on running. Soon I could hear the cheering from Beal’s Point and knew that I was close. I picked up my pace and ran strong through the start line arch at Beal’s Point that showed my official time for the first part of my 50-mile race, which was 4:17. I was pleased and headed towards the aid station, where I ate bananas, pretzels, and chips. My first drop-off bag was waiting for me and I went to the bathroom to get rid of my wet clothes, or more precisely to wrangle them off of me. They stuck on my wet skin, making me lose momentum and precious time, but after about 10 minutes of pushing and pulling, I was dry and ready to run the trail portion all the way to the finish. I sent a quick text message to my husband and my awesome friends and racing teammates Andrea and Adam to let them know that I was leaving Beal’s Point and that I would see them soon. How soon would that be, you might ask? How long would it take me to run the next 16 miles till reaching Rattlesnake Bar, where my friend and pacer Adam Mclearan would pace me to the finish line? I had no idea what would come next!
Second Part of My 50-Mile Race – A tale of Mud and More Mud
As I ran around the lake to get onto the levy, I saw my good friend Tracy Bedwell run right ahead of me. She looked strong. I was happy for her and knew that she would most likely finish ahead of me. The first few miles on trail went pretty good, even though my pace dropped into the mid 10s. The sun was out shining by now, so I felt giddy and rejuvenated, as you can tell from my aid station stop.
The steep hills kept coming, so I had to power hike a few of them while admiring the Folsom Lake to my right. The sun shone, making the trail glitter with gold. The clouds stopped frowning and being grumpy, so I felt encouraged and tried to push my pace, but my body was a little worn down, so I listened to it and ran slower.
As I kept running, I soon got to stretches and stretches of mud that slowed me down to a walk. I kept thinking positively that it was just a short muddy section and that the trail would clear up soon. No chance!
Around mile 33, I realized that I was completely out of water, so I asked one of the runners when the next aid station was coming up. He said that the next one was at mile 38 at Horseshoe Bar. I gulped, feeling my dry throat and said to myself that I had practiced this in my last long 24-mile run with my friend Tracy, when we both were left without water and food. At least, this time I still had two Spring energy gels, my new favorite all natural and real food nutrition, which never made me feel sick at my stomach. I ate them slowly, squeezing the delicious contents with care and determination to get fuel in my body, since I was out of water. I wished I had turned into a camel and access fresh water from my hump, but no. I had to remain the thirsty ultra runner, plugging along.
The mud continued to wind down the meat grinder portion of the trail that not only grinded my feet, but also my spirit. I was disappointed at my pace, but at no time did I think of dropping out of this crazy 50-mile race. The next thing that kept me going was to run, walk, power hike to the next aid station at mile 38, and from there to mile 41, where my friends and pacer were waiting for me.
The love of running gives us hope, determination, creative resources to solve our physical and mental problems that arise during tough and long races. I was without water for about five miles and during that time, all runners passed me, even a few 70-year-olds who looked perky and happy, as opposed to me who kept getting slower and slower. Instead of getting mad for being passed by so many runners, I felt a huge surge of gratitude. On the one hand, I was grateful to be running my first 50-mile race. On the other hand, I was humbled to grasp the ultra runner’s philosophy of running, which is mainly finishing what you started whether you run, walk, hike, or crawl – that indomitable spirit. True grit!
While fighting to keep my shoes on my feet and not lose them to the voracious mud, my father watched over me again and sent me Dan to run with for a mile, or so. Dan was my father’s first name and I was running with Dan! The gentleman’s real name was Donnatti, which is Italian. He told me that when his parents came to America, they could not keep the Italian name, so they changed it to Dan. A tall, slender man in his mid 60s, Dan kept me company until his legs felt good and he took off. My legs did not feel that surge and my left calf muscle was super tight by now, which had caused my left knee to hurt and be in pain as well, but my soul and spirit had become unmoored – no mud could bring down my desire to finish this race. As I walked through mud, I talked to my father and felt the warm sun on my back. Before I knew it, I could hear loud screams and cheers and I found myself surrounded by my crazy awesome Trail Mix friends who were in charge of the Horseshoe Bar aid station.
“It’s so great to see you, guys!” I said as happy as a person walking days and days through the desert only to finally come across an oasis. “You’re like an oasis in the desert!” I told them. “I have been out of water for six miles (the five miles all of a sudden turned into six, or I was delirious) and my calf muscle is super tight.” “I got pickle juice for you, Carmen,” said my awesome friend Debbie Tavalero Pearson. “I’ll take it,” I replied while stuffing my face with potato chips, bananas, and oranges. While I was eating and telling my friends that I could not accept their fireball little alcohol shots, because I would get drunk and fall on the trails, Brad De Luchi was already refilling my water pack with a sense of duty and purpose that he is capable of out of dedication for his fellow runners. He is an amazing human being and a true ambassador of trail running. Thanks so much, Brad for replenishing my water and splashing some life into my stride to continue and eventually finish my longest and toughest race.
The Last Nine Miles to the Finish Line
I had left the Horseshow Bar aid station with renewed energy and focused on running, walking, power hiking, or crawling to mile 41, where my pacer and all my other dear friends were waiting for me. The hills and mud fest continued, but I knew that once I reached Rattlesnake Bar, the next aid station, the running should be easier, as I had my awesome friend and pacer Adam Mclearan to run with me to the finish line. I was also looking forward to seeing my best friend and training partner Andrea Brizendine, who took the day off to come support and cheer on me, for which I was very grateful. My other friends Mark Riggle and Ron were volunteering at that aid station and they also made my day with their smiles and dedication to us “wretched” souls out there.
After imagining my arrival at mile 41, I finally got there. My friend Andrea sat on a folding chair right in the front. I was elated to see everyone and I pulled a Shalane Flanagan and said: “Fuck yeah!” My friends laughed, as I rarely say any bad words. Adam and Mark had me sit down and eat. I told Adam that I wanted to get going as soon as possible, so after hugs and another “Fuck yeah,” Adam and I took off on more runnable trails with the sun warming our backs.
Adam and I climbed a steep hill to get on the trails away from the aid station, after which I started to feel better and we had a great stretch of running fueled by jokes, as Adam is quite funny and smart, and a few more aid stations. The wild flowers spread joy and hope to the muddy trails, lifting up my mood, and infusing me with a stronger desire to keep on going and get to the finish line, where my sweet husband was waiting for me.
After this good stretch of running and talking, the last four miles, which were all uphill came. My calf muscle was quite tight and I had no desire to try to run up those steep hills, so I told Adam that I was walking until I could run again. I also told him that this 50-mile race was the toughest thing I had done in my life, even tougher than giving birth. At least I felt that way. “I am not running another 50-mile race,” I told Adam, as the hills kept coming at us. “Not today,” he replied calmly. “Ha!Ha!”
The sign with 2 miles to finish came up and I still had no desire to try to run up those steep hills, which is why we had more runners pass us. I just wanted to finish and eat some warm food. Even my walking up the hill was slow, but I kept at it and focused on keeping the left calf muscle and knee as comfortable as possible, if you can call running 50 miles a contentment. We were getting closer and closer and by now I knew I would finish. My coach Robert who had helped me so much with all my training called me. I answered my phone, since I was walking and told him that I would be done soon and that the mud had been crazy. Then we got disconnected.
With less than half a mile left, something miraculous happened. My pain lifted up like fog hanging over mountains. My body felt as fresh as if I had just started my day with a casual jog. My being rejoiced and tears came down my cheeks. I cried and ran. I ran and cried with Adam behind following me. I ran over the last hill, as if it were as flat as a pancake. I sprinted to the finish line and threw my arms up in the air with the clock behind me showing 12 hours and 2 minutes of running, walking, hiking, and crawling. Right after I crossed the finish line and saw my husband and my friend Andrea, I broke into tears and could not control myself. It was a cathartic cry. I could finally release all the emotions, hardship, bad weather, much slower pace than anticipated, and JUST CRY. After 12 hours of being out there, crying made me happy. It was a joyous ending! It was a 50-mile long cleansing of my soul through rain and mud. I did it, as you can see in this awesome video taken by my friend Andrea!
The vegetable soup and hummus vegetarian wrap sandwich wrapped it nicely for me. It felt good to sit down and joke with my friends who had already made bets that I would still run another 50-mile some day. Maybe not a 50-mile soon, but I might try the 100K race next year. Who knows? When we believe, it is all possible and attainable!
For more info on running and real estate, whether buying or selling, please e-mail me at carmenmicsa@yahoo.com, or call me at 916-342-2446. Running for real estate with joy!
