Finding an interesting race or adventure around my father’s birthday has become a tradition I get to look forward to nearly every August. We've gone skydiving, river rafting, climbed Mt. Elbert, and run a marathon in Iceland. So when he told me about the Area 51 Extra Terrestrial Midnight Marathon/Half/51k, it seemed like the perfect addition for this year. Interestingly, it was also my third trip this summer to the American southwest desert. Grand Canyon was in May. Death Valley was in July. And now Nevada would be August. I’m completely in love with the desert. I don’t know if I would want to move there, but I could be happy living and running in the desert. Some people would use the word ‘desolate’. I prefer the word ‘solitude’. One of my running friends, David Holmen, ran this race last year and he was coming back again this time to run the marathon distance. Dad and I met David in Iceland back in 2011 and he keeps me in the loop with his (almost weekly) marathon reports from around the world. I looked forward to the chance to see him again and catch up over a pre-race dinner.
I’ve done quite a few 50k races, but this was my first 51k race. I never took the time to think about it beforehand, but there were some other firsts as well that definitely played into the experience I had out in the desert on the night of August 18th, 2013. I had dreams of setting a new 50k PR since this was a road race and I went into it pretty well-rested with strong legs from six months of quality running in 2013, but there were also some mitigating factors that made me think this may not be the race for me to go full-out on. First off, it’s a fun race and I didn’t want to miss out on the experience of the Nevada desert and the various people dressing up in alien costumes. It's also a 51k race instead of a 50k race, meaning that I'd have to run even faster to break my record. This was also a hilly course at altitude. Ok, so 4500’ may not count as altitude for some people, but I live about 30’ above sea level. And truth be told, there was only one hill, but it was a 1000’ hill and it was 13 miles long right out of the gate. There was also the very big fact that I failed to take into account that the midnight race would be starting when I had already been awake for 18 hours.
And then there was the broken toe.
The day of the race, I somehow managed to break my pinky toe on the bed frame at the hotel. It was annoying as hell and as it swelled up, I wasn't sure how much that would affect my running, but that pretty much solidified my decision to just take this race easy and enjoy myself rather than going hard for a record. Only hours before the race, I found out that one of my Internet running friends, Libby Jones from the Dallas area, was also in town for this race and also running the 51k. With thoughts of attempting a PR out the window, I opted to run with her for some company and to catch up in person. This was a good choice. We are both chatty runners and we had no shortage of conversation. Sometimes I wonder what other runners around me think when I’m running with someone and holding a casual conversation about this or that. I figure if it bothers someone, they will either get away from us or ask us to be quiet. That’s fair.
After a long bus ride out into the middle of nowhere, the buses stopped to unload the marathon and 51k runners. The half marathon and 10k runners would have their start further up the road. I said goodbye to dad as the buses drove on ahead of us and I hung out with Libby and Dave to wait for the midnight start. Dave took his position toward the front of the pack and Libby and I dropped way back as we took off. Sure enough, the hill crept up on us early. In the dark, it’s not obvious that you are running uphill, but you feel it. You also feel the air get a bit thinner as you approach a mile of altitude. The night was clear and the moon was nearly full (technically a waxing gibbous moon) and the stars were amazing as they always are when you are out in the desert in the middle of nowhere.
Unfortunately, most of the wildlife we saw wasn't really alive. Huge jackrabbit carcasses littered the road where they had lost battles with oncoming vehicles and we even saw a dead desert fox. Finally, my bright headlamp caught a glimpse of a living rabbit bounding off into the brush and we satisfied ourselves that we had, in fact, seen some desert wildlife.
We started seeing the mile markers for the half marathon right around our own mile 7. The half marathon runners were dropped here so that they can finish at the general store in the tiny town of Rachel, Nevada. Actually, everyone finishes there, but the marathon and 51k runners have to overshoot it, then run out to a turnaround and come back to town to finish.
We crested the hill as we moved through a mountain pass just past mile 13 and then we began our slow descent for the next ten miles. My broken toe had not been bothering me at all up to this point, but you run differently on the downhill and I could feel it throbbing a bit. I played with my gait to try to find a stride that worked without running strange. Favoring a sore spot is a sure-fire way to destroy your legs over the course of a long run and I wanted to avoid that if possible. Throughout the race up to this point, Libby and I held a 12:00, to 13:00 per mile pace, which was comfortable for both of us. We sorted out our water and salt intake as we went and the fact that I had to take a few quick bathroom breaks on the side of the road told me I was drinking enough. I ate a little bit too and my nutritional intake felt pretty spot-on.
Just before the course leveled out around mile 20, I flashed my headlamp across the ground in front of us and I jumped when I nearly stepped on a HUGE tarantula. It startled me, but it didn't put the fear in me the way almost stepping on a snake does (and that has happened far more times than I'd like to admit). I was fascinated so I stopped and went back to look at it. I should have taken a photo. Before we went on, I yelled back to some runners 30 seconds or so behind me to watch their step for the giant spider. I don’t get to say that often enough in everyday conversation. Libby was hanging tough, but she was starting to get a little bit of an unsettled stomach so by the time we hit Rachel and the aid station, she stopped off for a moment to sort herself out and sent me ahead alone. That’s when I decided to see what my legs had left in them. It was also right around the point where the course flattens out for the remainder of the race.
So at mile 22 with 11 miles to go and already being thoroughly exhausted, I turned on my workout playlist, turned off my headlamp (the almost-full moon was so bright I could see just fine without it) and stretched my legs to see what kind of juice I had left in me. Pat Benatar’s “Shadows of the Night” came up on random and I cannot imagine a more perfect song at 4AM on a lonely highway in the Nevada desert. I rocked out and my pace dropped below 9:00 in the course of about ten strides. I had no idea how long I could sustain it, but I felt incredible. My broken toe was completely forgotten as I charged on, flying by walker after walker and throwing out exclamatory support to every runner I passed coming or going. I wanted all of them to see me whiz by and think, “Damn that guy must be feeling great,” because I was.
I hit the aid station at the marathon turnaround at mile 23 and the attendant asked me “Marathon or Ultra?” I yelled out Ultra and probably threw up the devil horns or something equally ridiculous as I ran by without stopping for water. I had stayed on top of my water consumption as well as my salt and even calories up to that point and I felt like I could get away with traveling light for the next few miles. The road was straight and mostly flat and far ahead in the darkness I could see the red and blue lights of a police cruiser parked at the 51k turnaround. It seemed like it was a world away. My pace stayed strong, though. I watched my mile splits tick off in the low 9s and sometimes in the 8:xx per mile range.
I pride myself on my workout playlist. It’s almost entirely 70s and 80s rock and power metal with a few extras thrown in. Despite the fact that it is over 11 hours long, I can be pretty sure that any song that pops up on random will be just what I need to keep going. Pat Benatar, Rainbow, Van Halen, Yes, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Boston, Metallica. I hit the final turnaround and thanked the volunteer. I could see a smudge of purple over the eastern mountains and I knew daylight was just around the corner. The temperature was in the low 60s and the cool breeze felt great on my hot arms and legs. I love the fact that I can sweat properly in the desert, unlike in Texas where I sweat and the moisture just sticks to me until it gets thick enough to run down my legs and soak my socks and shoes. Out here you sweat, it evaporates, and you cool off.
Solitude was the name of the game as I passed a runner every few minutes until I hit the marathon turnaround and then I started seeing a lot more of the runners trickling in. By this point, everyone had turned off their headlamps and the spectacle of a beautiful desert morning raised most peoples’ spirits. At least it seemed to judging by the smiles and cheerful greetings we shared with each other.
As daybreak came upon us, I could see the small town of Rachel three miles in the distance and the buildings that marked the finish line. The faster pace was making me tired, but I figured I could gut it out for another half hour. The sooner I was done, the sooner I could rest. And so it went, I picked off runner after runner except for one guy who seemed to be dead set on not letting me pass him. I slowly crept up to him and we chatted a bit and it was obvious he still had a burst of speed left in him. As he took off, I wished him well and told him I’d see him at the finish. When I could see the final mile marker a little ways ahead, the playlist switched to Kashmir. It’s a slow song, but it has a great building rhythm and it will forever be associated with hill workouts. It seemed an appropriate tune to end my day on. I passed the mile marker, turned right into the parking lot, and crossed the line doing a little dance.
I got cold pretty quickly once my body cooled down. My shirt was still very wet from the sweat, but I had thought to bring a spare shirt in my pack and I also had my nifty Brooks running jacket with me the whole time. It weighs almost nothing and it had proven its value on my Grand Canyon double crossing. I put it on and I stayed comfortable. I met up with dad and we chatted about our races. He was very happy with his result. Apparently the race director had singled him out at the start of the race since it was his birthday. We took a few photos of the alien kitsch around the general store and then sat down to wait for our buses. I was hoping Libby would finish before we got on the 7AM bus, but she had not come in yet and I just didn’t have the energy to wait around any longer. I even skipped breakfast. All I wanted was a hot shower and some sleep. I had been away for right around 24 hours when I crossed the finish line and it hit me all at once when I sat on the bus for the two and a half hour ride back through the desert to Vegas.
All in all, I consider it a success. I had a great birthday with my dad. I got to meet some old friends again. I got to participate in a very well-run race in an exotic location. About the only thing I missed out on was a UFO sighting.
Here’s the Garmin log.
I’ve done quite a few 50k races, but this was my first 51k race. I never took the time to think about it beforehand, but there were some other firsts as well that definitely played into the experience I had out in the desert on the night of August 18th, 2013. I had dreams of setting a new 50k PR since this was a road race and I went into it pretty well-rested with strong legs from six months of quality running in 2013, but there were also some mitigating factors that made me think this may not be the race for me to go full-out on. First off, it’s a fun race and I didn’t want to miss out on the experience of the Nevada desert and the various people dressing up in alien costumes. It's also a 51k race instead of a 50k race, meaning that I'd have to run even faster to break my record. This was also a hilly course at altitude. Ok, so 4500’ may not count as altitude for some people, but I live about 30’ above sea level. And truth be told, there was only one hill, but it was a 1000’ hill and it was 13 miles long right out of the gate. There was also the very big fact that I failed to take into account that the midnight race would be starting when I had already been awake for 18 hours.
And then there was the broken toe.
The day of the race, I somehow managed to break my pinky toe on the bed frame at the hotel. It was annoying as hell and as it swelled up, I wasn't sure how much that would affect my running, but that pretty much solidified my decision to just take this race easy and enjoy myself rather than going hard for a record. Only hours before the race, I found out that one of my Internet running friends, Libby Jones from the Dallas area, was also in town for this race and also running the 51k. With thoughts of attempting a PR out the window, I opted to run with her for some company and to catch up in person. This was a good choice. We are both chatty runners and we had no shortage of conversation. Sometimes I wonder what other runners around me think when I’m running with someone and holding a casual conversation about this or that. I figure if it bothers someone, they will either get away from us or ask us to be quiet. That’s fair.
After a long bus ride out into the middle of nowhere, the buses stopped to unload the marathon and 51k runners. The half marathon and 10k runners would have their start further up the road. I said goodbye to dad as the buses drove on ahead of us and I hung out with Libby and Dave to wait for the midnight start. Dave took his position toward the front of the pack and Libby and I dropped way back as we took off. Sure enough, the hill crept up on us early. In the dark, it’s not obvious that you are running uphill, but you feel it. You also feel the air get a bit thinner as you approach a mile of altitude. The night was clear and the moon was nearly full (technically a waxing gibbous moon) and the stars were amazing as they always are when you are out in the desert in the middle of nowhere.
Unfortunately, most of the wildlife we saw wasn't really alive. Huge jackrabbit carcasses littered the road where they had lost battles with oncoming vehicles and we even saw a dead desert fox. Finally, my bright headlamp caught a glimpse of a living rabbit bounding off into the brush and we satisfied ourselves that we had, in fact, seen some desert wildlife.
We started seeing the mile markers for the half marathon right around our own mile 7. The half marathon runners were dropped here so that they can finish at the general store in the tiny town of Rachel, Nevada. Actually, everyone finishes there, but the marathon and 51k runners have to overshoot it, then run out to a turnaround and come back to town to finish.
We crested the hill as we moved through a mountain pass just past mile 13 and then we began our slow descent for the next ten miles. My broken toe had not been bothering me at all up to this point, but you run differently on the downhill and I could feel it throbbing a bit. I played with my gait to try to find a stride that worked without running strange. Favoring a sore spot is a sure-fire way to destroy your legs over the course of a long run and I wanted to avoid that if possible. Throughout the race up to this point, Libby and I held a 12:00, to 13:00 per mile pace, which was comfortable for both of us. We sorted out our water and salt intake as we went and the fact that I had to take a few quick bathroom breaks on the side of the road told me I was drinking enough. I ate a little bit too and my nutritional intake felt pretty spot-on.
Just before the course leveled out around mile 20, I flashed my headlamp across the ground in front of us and I jumped when I nearly stepped on a HUGE tarantula. It startled me, but it didn't put the fear in me the way almost stepping on a snake does (and that has happened far more times than I'd like to admit). I was fascinated so I stopped and went back to look at it. I should have taken a photo. Before we went on, I yelled back to some runners 30 seconds or so behind me to watch their step for the giant spider. I don’t get to say that often enough in everyday conversation. Libby was hanging tough, but she was starting to get a little bit of an unsettled stomach so by the time we hit Rachel and the aid station, she stopped off for a moment to sort herself out and sent me ahead alone. That’s when I decided to see what my legs had left in them. It was also right around the point where the course flattens out for the remainder of the race.
So at mile 22 with 11 miles to go and already being thoroughly exhausted, I turned on my workout playlist, turned off my headlamp (the almost-full moon was so bright I could see just fine without it) and stretched my legs to see what kind of juice I had left in me. Pat Benatar’s “Shadows of the Night” came up on random and I cannot imagine a more perfect song at 4AM on a lonely highway in the Nevada desert. I rocked out and my pace dropped below 9:00 in the course of about ten strides. I had no idea how long I could sustain it, but I felt incredible. My broken toe was completely forgotten as I charged on, flying by walker after walker and throwing out exclamatory support to every runner I passed coming or going. I wanted all of them to see me whiz by and think, “Damn that guy must be feeling great,” because I was.
I hit the aid station at the marathon turnaround at mile 23 and the attendant asked me “Marathon or Ultra?” I yelled out Ultra and probably threw up the devil horns or something equally ridiculous as I ran by without stopping for water. I had stayed on top of my water consumption as well as my salt and even calories up to that point and I felt like I could get away with traveling light for the next few miles. The road was straight and mostly flat and far ahead in the darkness I could see the red and blue lights of a police cruiser parked at the 51k turnaround. It seemed like it was a world away. My pace stayed strong, though. I watched my mile splits tick off in the low 9s and sometimes in the 8:xx per mile range.
I pride myself on my workout playlist. It’s almost entirely 70s and 80s rock and power metal with a few extras thrown in. Despite the fact that it is over 11 hours long, I can be pretty sure that any song that pops up on random will be just what I need to keep going. Pat Benatar, Rainbow, Van Halen, Yes, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Boston, Metallica. I hit the final turnaround and thanked the volunteer. I could see a smudge of purple over the eastern mountains and I knew daylight was just around the corner. The temperature was in the low 60s and the cool breeze felt great on my hot arms and legs. I love the fact that I can sweat properly in the desert, unlike in Texas where I sweat and the moisture just sticks to me until it gets thick enough to run down my legs and soak my socks and shoes. Out here you sweat, it evaporates, and you cool off.
Solitude was the name of the game as I passed a runner every few minutes until I hit the marathon turnaround and then I started seeing a lot more of the runners trickling in. By this point, everyone had turned off their headlamps and the spectacle of a beautiful desert morning raised most peoples’ spirits. At least it seemed to judging by the smiles and cheerful greetings we shared with each other.
 |
| You can see miles ahead of you once the sun comes up. |
As daybreak came upon us, I could see the small town of Rachel three miles in the distance and the buildings that marked the finish line. The faster pace was making me tired, but I figured I could gut it out for another half hour. The sooner I was done, the sooner I could rest. And so it went, I picked off runner after runner except for one guy who seemed to be dead set on not letting me pass him. I slowly crept up to him and we chatted a bit and it was obvious he still had a burst of speed left in him. As he took off, I wished him well and told him I’d see him at the finish. When I could see the final mile marker a little ways ahead, the playlist switched to Kashmir. It’s a slow song, but it has a great building rhythm and it will forever be associated with hill workouts. It seemed an appropriate tune to end my day on. I passed the mile marker, turned right into the parking lot, and crossed the line doing a little dance.
I got cold pretty quickly once my body cooled down. My shirt was still very wet from the sweat, but I had thought to bring a spare shirt in my pack and I also had my nifty Brooks running jacket with me the whole time. It weighs almost nothing and it had proven its value on my Grand Canyon double crossing. I put it on and I stayed comfortable. I met up with dad and we chatted about our races. He was very happy with his result. Apparently the race director had singled him out at the start of the race since it was his birthday. We took a few photos of the alien kitsch around the general store and then sat down to wait for our buses. I was hoping Libby would finish before we got on the 7AM bus, but she had not come in yet and I just didn’t have the energy to wait around any longer. I even skipped breakfast. All I wanted was a hot shower and some sleep. I had been away for right around 24 hours when I crossed the finish line and it hit me all at once when I sat on the bus for the two and a half hour ride back through the desert to Vegas.
 |
| This is pretty much the entirety of Rachel, Nevada. |
All in all, I consider it a success. I had a great birthday with my dad. I got to meet some old friends again. I got to participate in a very well-run race in an exotic location. About the only thing I missed out on was a UFO sighting.
Here’s the Garmin log.
