CHIMERA 100k
(Its long, get comfortable)
I went to Southern California this past weekend to run the inaugural Chimera 100k. The race, a sort of figure 8 loop, was set to run concurrent with a 100 miler except the 100 milers would do a difficult out and back at the end. The weather guessers called for great temps, 50’s to low 60’s, 50-60% chance of showers and light wind. Sounded perfect for me.
I got into town Friday afternoon and with not much to do I drove up the Ortega highway to check out the start. In the valley it was cloudy with a light drizzle, the further up the highway I drove, the worse it got, rain, then wind, then fog. Driving out the spur road to Blue Jay campground and the start/finish I could barely see past the front bumper in the fog and the wipers were on high to keep up with the rain. I stopped at one spot and got out to check out the dirt . . . .sandy or clay?? . . .sandy would be wet but manageable, clay would be muddy and sticky and maybe a good reason to sleep in Saturday morning. Sandy, thank goodness. I made my way back to the highway dodging mini rock slides and huge puddles along the way. I don’t mind running in a little weather, but I was really hoping conditions would relent at least a little in the next 12 hours.
3:00 AM Saturday morning and the clank of room doors up and down the hallway woke me from a pre-race, half -sleep haze. With the sound of things you would think the race was starting on my floor. Between nerves and a broken fan on the room refrigerator I had not slept much. I had to go over everything twice because my head was in such a haze. 5:15 AM, number pinned on, gear packed and ready to go, race start in 45 minutes ( I am always right on time)
Even though I had been there the night before, I got lost in Blue Jay campground trying to find the start. It was so foggy I could have driven right through the registration tent and not known it. Finally I saw course marking ribbons and eventually a sign emerged from the fog that said park on the right, I grabbed the last spot. It wasn’t really raining, kind of misting, but wet everywhere. From the weather report I knew it was supposed to get worse as the day went on, and it was already bad. I quickly changed strategies. I was planning to wear my Nathan waist pack and carry a hand bottle, but quickly switched everything to my Race Pack so I could carry a little more fowl weather gear. I also tossed an extra, extra shirt in my drop bag along with gloves and extra, extra socks. I threw on my heavy-duty Gore-Tex jacket, figuring I would take it off after the start.
I cruised quickly the five minutes down the road to the start just in time for roll call and the pre race briefing. Steve, the RD, announced we would be running the planned high course rather than the optional 20 mile loop course. Time to knuckle down for the full ride.
The countdown and we were off. Within 10 minutes the rain had intensified. I kept my Jacket on and pulled the hood over my head. The first 9 miles of the course was a loop, out and back to the start/ finish. It was all single track and, from the ¼ mile I could see, beautiful. It was billed as very technical, but after running in the Wasatch, seemed quite mellow. I took it easy and hung around my usual middle of the pack pace. The rain was coming in waves. I cruised through the aid station at 1:40, already 15 minutes ahead of my planned split. (I always wonder when that happens if it’s good or bad, am I going too fast? But I felt great, so off I went at that pace)
We ran pavement for a ways, maybe a mile or two? Then crossed onto what we would run 90% of the race on, truck trail? Where I come from we call them dirt roads. The road was fairly rocky and with the rain there were ample puddles and mini creeks to dodge so it kept things from being too brainless and road like. The road followed a high ridge line and rolled up and down through many 200-600 ft climbs. The rain and fog continued and the higher we got more the wind kicked up. The wind wasn’t bad on the leeward side of the ridge, but when the road crossed to the windward side it was blasting the rain sideways and right into your face.
By the 2nd aid station about mile 13 I was soaked right through a really high end Gore-Tex jacket. I had been passing people along the way and one thing I noticed is everyone seemed extra friendly . . .maybe it was because it was too wet for headphones so everyone was wanting to chat . . .or maybe it was the conditions . . .nice to know someone else was crazy enough to be where you are, doing what you are doing.
The thing that amazed me the most were the aid station volunteers. They were out there up- beat, cheering every runner and helping us with whatever we needed in that nastiness. I would cruise in, they would pull me into the tent for a short break from the torrent, shove food and hot soup at me, fill my bottles, and graciously hold the door open for me when I left. Unfortunately, the wind would eventually blow 2 of their aid station tents off the mountain.
On the long climb up to Santiago Peak, about mile 23, it was raining harder than I have ever seen it rain!! Just stomping down water! I have grown up hiking, climbing, skiing and running all over the West and other parts of the world and I can honestly say this was about the worst weather I had intentionally been outdoors in. Apparently, the peak got over 9 INCHES of rain that day!! I really can’t describe it and there is no way to overstate it, it was raining hard! All that kept going through my head was that seen from Forrest Gump where he is describing the rain in Vietnam .
I left Santiago aid station with no one in sight in front or behind. It felt really lonely out there in the fog by myself. I ran downhill for a while without seeing a soul. I was starting to wonder if I was the only one dumb enough to continue. Then I saw two people start to emerge in the fog in front of me. Next thing I knew they were gone. I looked up and they had taken a hard right hand turn onto a lesser dirt road (truck trail). I couldn’t see markers at the turn, but the people in front were clearly in the race. One of them turned out to be a strong local runner, a Spanish guy named Flacko, all he had on was his running gear and a big black garbage bag, as I went by I asked if he was o.k., all I got was a big smile and “si, muy frio” Which I think means “yes, very cold”. As I slowly pulled away from Flacko, I panicked a little thinking, “wow! I’m glad I saw them turn otherwise who knows where I would have ended up?” Turns out we went up some mysterious 2 mile out and back, to tear a page out of a book on top of a small peak? I, nor many others, saw that in the course description.
After the out and back, it was a mile and a half to the next aid, maple springs, mile 29. I picked up my drop bag threw on some dryer clothes and I was off, a little behind Flacko and his garbage bag, he was in and out fast, with one other guy from the California area. Turns out we were the last few people to leave that station before they closed the race. We followed the course through about 6 miles of hard rollers and then to 3 miles and 2500 ft of fun single track decent into Silverado Canyon. We got there to find the place packed with relived and shivering runners. If we would have been 5 minutes slower, we would have found out about the cancelation and could have taken a direct 7 mile decent into Silverado rather than the rolling 9 mile loop. . .but I guess it was a better training run to have done the longer, harder route.
Fortunately, we didn’t wait too long for rides. To the credit of the RD’s and the good people involved in the race, a bunch of cars showed up within 45 minutes to an hour at most. It was about an hour and a half ride back to the start/finish where we were greeted with hot, delicious, homemade soup and drop bags waiting. The rain continued and even intensified as night fell and the temps dropped, reconfirming in I think most everyone’s mind that the correct decision was made to call the race.
Even though we all got a DNF, I think this will be one of my most unforgettable races. As miserable as the rain was, as much as I wanted to finish, there was something magic about being out pushing that hard while mother nature pushed back even harder. My training was paying off. At about 40 miles which is where I was at when we got to Silverado, I felt pretty fresh and had been moving at a sub 12 min p/mile average. (which is good for this slow guy) I was able to push my pace hard to that point and was moving up in the field steadily. For some reason I felt better on the climbs than the downs, maybe a little stiff muscles due to the weather? My nutrition was great, no nausea at all. Chimera is a great race, well organized, great staff, great shirt, awesome engraved beer stein, and even a sweet finisher metal. The scenery, at least up to the first 20 feet off the road, was great. I will try to get back for Chimera II.
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