Susan Donnelly

With a 3-day event looming next weekend and a 50K the weekend immediately after that, it would have been easy to go through the entire 50 miles of Old Pueblo this weekend focused on what’s ahead.  Or my finish time.  Not to mention that vague “how am I doing compared to last year?” thought that can come creeping in.  Thankfully, by now I know better.  

The course wouldn’t have let me do that anyway.  For one thing, the Old Pueblo 50 in Sonoita, Arizona, is spectacularly beautiful and ever-changing.  You run through canyons, chaparral, dry washbeds, running creeks, past ruins, along active mine claims, and remote ranches.  On a smaller scale, the trail is decorated with wildflowers (saffron-colored poppies, pink fairy dusters, red penstemon, orange globe mallow), yellow cholla fruits hanging down from the vicious branches, stark century plants, and bushy green junipers.  It’s easy to see why over 50 movies have been filmed here.

Then there’s the desert-y smell – dry and slightly exotic.  You can even smell water when you’re nearing a creek bed.  And quiet.  Blessed quiet…

We started essentially last, climbing up in the cold (31 degrees), dark morning from the start at the historic mining site of Kentucky Camp (5142 feet), an old cabin and outbuildings.  Dawn arrived soon after over the mountains to the east and just like last year, it was all reds, yellows, and early morning clouds and we continued to climb.

The course is shaped like a dumb bell.  The first loop is a mix of dirt road and single track through the chaparral.  The colors are all tan grass and pine green trees.  On the way, we passed a ranch and a small mining claim where the owner and dog were living in a tiny trailer, complete with generator, and had left clothes and gear from the day before in the wash below ready for the next day.  A long climb up eventually takes us over over Gunsight at 5451 ft, where the view on the other side toward Tucson is so expansive it gives you momentary vertigo.

We descend, of course, way down to a road and the Helvetia aid station, then head back up dirt road in the grassland- a snake (non-poisonous, thank you), and cheery poppies the color of a Buddhist monk’s robes.  After that, is the ascent up Box Canyon road to the end of the first dumb bell at the California Gulch aid station (28.8 miles).  It’s blissfully sunny, around 63 degrees and there’s a nice breeze.

It’s back over the short connector road, then around the second loop.  This loop is less grassy overall, with more short steep ups and downs, not so many long vistas, and (surprise!) water crossings.  We wind around and start passing other runners having a hard time on the climbs this late in the race.  We pass more mining claims and the windmill that’s the race logo.  Lots of people are camping in this area near the creeks.  It’s supposed to be world-class birding area.  

We pass through the Cave Canyon aid station (38.7 miles), playing bagpipe music as usual.  I’ll take that any day over the usual pop.  Somehow it always seems to wind me up, whether I need it or not.

Rob says this second loop of the course is harder but like last year I’m starting to feel absolutely fantastic and we’re coming to the part I adore – the single track at the end.  It’s easy, dusty footing, generally downhill and hemmed in close by knee-high grass on both sides so you feel like you’re flying.  It’s candy.  I could run this all day long.

As we pass through the last aid station, Gardner Canyon aid station (46.2), the sun that has been disappearing over the western mountain for the last hour is suddenly gone and just as suddenly, it’s cold again.  We’re a few miles from the finish and have to add clothes and turn on our headlamps.  We climb again, then descend into a long wash area where the trail is well-marked with glow sticks.
But even looking around, it went by in the blink of an eye.  Poof!  There was the finish line, where we had left it at the start, surely a few moments ago.  And now it will be another entire year before I’ll be able to do this again.

Tomorrow will come on its own.  Look around, take it all in, and enjoy being alive right now.

Posted: Monday, March 9, 2009, 9:54 pm | Tags: Blog | Respond | Trackback