As much as I would have enjoyed eating the rest of the cookies, these volunteers clearly enjoyed them more (and if they knew how much thru-hikers value their food, they would realize how strong of a gesture this was). And I enjoyed watching them enjoy the cookies. And hopefully they were able to enjoy me enjoy them enjoying their cookies, though that may be too taxing a thing to think about when you've got cookies on the brain. The only thing I'd be thinking about in that case was how they got on my brain, and why not in my mouth instead, where it would be so much easier to get them to my stomach where they belong. Thank you again for the cookies, Jerilyn, on behalf of the trail crew as well as myself.
I didn't toss my cookies for this reason, but was happy that this act broke my trail magic dry spell. There is no other plausible explanation to the following days' bounties. The very next day I ran into Spoons and Miracle Zen relaxing on a pass next to a big red cooler full of fruit and muffins (magic #1). I wouldn't have seen the cooler as it was doing a good job of hiding off the trail, but Spoons and Zen had been paying attention to the trail gossip, and had known where to look. I was a bit jealous when they told me that while I had been sleeping in a fly-infested motel a couple of days ago, they had been having a campfire cookout of hotdogs and beer by a lake. Boy was I jealous. I was only partially consoled later that day I ran into another trail crew of about 8 backcountry horsemen (it goes without saying that they were all in cowboy hats), where I was offered an apple (magic #2) while I was on display fielding PCT questions from the audience. But I was still reeling over my lack of hotdogs and beer. For the rest of the afternoon, I kept imagining that the shelter I was going to get to that night (one of the extremely few shelters on the trail) would be full of weekenders who were having a cookout with hotdogs and beer, and would offer me some. Unfortunately, that did not happen. Yes, there were weekenders there. Yes, they had a campfire. Yes, they were roasting hotdogs and drinker beers. And yes, they did offer me one of each. But not "some". (magic #3).
One day later I found myself next to another big red cooler (magic #4) full of soda, beer, cookies, cheese, and fruit. Not only was it fully stocked, but it was put there only one day prior. Lucky me. I was sitting at this cooler trying to control myself from eating its entire contents (there are other thru-hikers besides me, even though I was alone and there weren't actually any other thru-hikers besides me) when I overheard a couple of people drive up to the trailhead and start talking about setting up an aid station for the Cascade Crest 100 (CC100) mile race. Apparently, I was sitting at mile 23 of the course. The organizer of the aid station offered me a couple of donuts (magic #5) and later was given free reign at the snacks table (magic #6).
I stuck around for a couple of hours, in which Spoons and Zen showed up. They were a bit shy about asking for food. But I know the ultra community, and I know how generous they are, and how similar ultrarunners are to thru-hikers, and so I gently nudged them towards the table. They still were a little hesitant even after the volunteers told them to go ahead. I sat back and enjoyed the spectacle of them waiting until enough heads were turned to grab a couple extra handful of snacks, only to appear as natural as could be while eating and talking to the volunteers. Apparently, they too were struggling with the dilemma of how much to eat and how much to leave to the other just as hungry people who were going to follow in their footsteps.
After watching the lead runners go through the aid station, we decided to continue hiking. But instead of walking away, we made our exit by running through the aid station (from the woods just before it) amid lots of cheers from the crowd. It's possible to run with 30 pound packs on, just not very easy. As soon as we were out of sight, we went back to hiking.
We got passed by runners, but eventually made it to a non-aid station tent, home of a PCTA volunteer crew helping to maintain the trail. They do this trail maintenance the week of the race on purpose, so they can take some time off and watch it. But with only 150 runners, they have lots of free time between participants, which they were eager to kill by cooking us hamburgers and feeding us beer (magic #7).
Spoons, Zen, and I spent about 25 miles of the PCT that happened to coincide with the CC100, getting passed by runners, enjoying the food (and fans) and the aid stations (magic #8-11). We were having such a good time that we didn't want it to end. But it had been a really long day. It was 11p, and I had hiked 38 miles (to their 44). So we did what any rational people in our shoes would have done. We dropped our packs. Then we set out to run the last 50 miles of the race.
We quickly became known to all runners and volunteers throughout the race. One of my favorite parts was later on when a pacer said to his runner "Thru-hiker coming through". The runner turned around, looked at me, and asked "Do you really want to pass me?" I told her I did, if she didn't mind. "Really?" I don't think she could believe it.
We stopped to talk to everyone who wanted. Took pictures with everyone who wanted. And told our story over and over to all the people who could not possibly understand how three PCT hikers were running in their race.
In our defense, none of us were strangers to running. I had run a couple of hundreds before. Spoons had run a half-marathon (13.1 miles), and Zen had a previous long run of 7 miles. So it's not like we didn't know what we were doing.
On one hand, you can say that we came into this race totally unprepared. But on the other hand, you can say that we trained harder than almost all of the competitors. We had been exercising for ten hours a day, five to six days per week for the the last four months. We had been climbing mountains. We had been hiking at altitude. And all that training paid off handsomely. I have never had such an easy time at an ultra. I have never had so much fun at an ultra. We were laughing and picking huckleberries and goofing around and just having the time of our lives while all the people we kept passing (after we dropped our packs, I don't think anyone passed us) were struggling to stay awake, struggling to keep from vomiting, seemingly struggling just to keep moving forward.
The only downer of the run was when Zen started getting a pain in his knee acute enough that he decided it was better to drop out then risk ending his PCT hike. Spoons and I thought it was a wise decision. But we missed him. So when I heard 25 miles later that he was a mile ahead of us coming backwards to catch up and take us home the last six miles to the end of the race, I was more than just happy. I ran as hard as I could to meet him, gave him a quick hug, took a quick drink from the energy drink he was carrying, and told him to go get Spoons who was by then struggling a bit. At the previous aid station, he needed to sit down for 10 minutes or so, and had be moving a bit slower ever since. Jogging still, just slower.
I got to the next aid station (mile 96), and waited for them. I don't know what Zen told him, but by the time they got there Spoons said "Let's go!" He didn't even stop to refill his water bottle.
Zen ran us to the finish line where we heard the announcer say "These guys didn't start with us, but they are ending with us. Welcome to Easton, PCT hikers". We put on our CC100 shirts that the race director gave us, took more pictures, answered more questions, and enjoyed more of the after race trail magic.
- Ultra-bandit
ps. A bandit is a runner who doesn't enter a race, but runs anyway. We may be the first bandits of ultramarathoning
Love this! We leapfrogged each other all through the night and next day and finished just about the same time. You guys added so much fun to the race. It's too bad the PCTA is trying to limit trail races on the PCT moving forward.
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