From the Mountains to the Desert: Anza Borrego Cuyamaca 50

In February, Alaska Airlines was having a big sale, so we took advantage and flew to San Diego for a break from the PNW winter. On our last day of the trip while we were camping in Anza Borrego Desert State Park, I got a call from my dad telling me that his colonoscopy results had come back and he had colon cancer. It was the worst day of my life; I was heartbroken. Since his diagnosis, Dad has gone through intense rounds of chemo, radiation, a full colectomy and recently completed his last round of chemo. I am beyond relieved to report that Dad is doing great. In honor of his difficult journey, I decided to return to southern California to run the Anza Borrego Cuyamaca 50 - miler on December 7th.

Course recon the day before. It was warm and sunny.

My training block leading up to the race was very consistent and without any setbacks. In terms of mileage it was my best training block ever. I was able to get in four 90-mile weeks with one race-specific workout and a weekend long run every week. I felt very prepared and especially confident going into this race because of all the work I had done.

This race allows pacers the last 20 miles and I was hoping my husband, Tad, would be able to pace me. Unfortunately, due to his ongoing knee issue and just the logistics of it, as the race got closer we realized this wasn’t going to happen. On our group long run two weekends before the race, I told my little group that Tad wouldn’t be able to pace and, jokingly, that anyone was invited to fly down and pace me. A couple days later I got a surprise message from Corinne and Kevin that they had booked tickets and would be there to support my race! I was so excited that I’d get to run the later portion of the race with them. Corinne and I met during both of our 50-miler debuts and ran most of the race together. To have her with me added an extra layer of special. Also, it was a huge relief for my anxiety as I wouldn’t have to navigate or be alone during that last stretch down into the desert, the most remote part of the course.

I knew that the early winter storms in the mountains east of San Diego would make the course extra spicy. Two days before the Saturday race, the race director sent out an email to prepare racers for rain, snow, downed trees and flooding. All of which is rare for southern California, but such is the nature of trail running.

The race started at 6:30am so picking up my bib number and warm-ups were done in the pitch dark. There was a light mist, but the temperature felt warm to me (it was 49, but not a PNW 49). Many of the other racers were in full tights and face masks – evidence that such weather was not the norm here. I started out in my La Sportiva Dash long sleeve, Waft Tight short and the fleecy Stretch Glove with the lightweight Iliad Gore-tex jacket in my pack and my new favorite racing shoe, the Kaptiva.

Minutes before the start, I met Fanny Barrette, who was visiting from Calgary and is a fellow Ginger Runner Crew member. Good luck at Western States, Fanny!

On paper, the course looks fairly fast. First, the California trails are known to be less technical and fast. Second, almost all the climbing (5000 ft) is between miles 7 and 26. Third, the last 15 miles loses some 2500 ft. Fourth, there is that nice comfortable California weather. Because of this, I thought a sub 8-hour race might be possible and decided to get some splits in place that I could reference. We came up with a plan of 1:07 every 7 miles. Of course, every 7-mile chunk is different but at least that’s a rule of thumb I could go by. We do this because it’s easy to figure out on the fly, 7 miles 1:07, 14 miles 2:14, 21 miles 3:21, etc. It’s an easy pattern to figure out even when you get wonky out there and brings you in 49 miles at 7:49 with a couple minute leeway for sub 8 hours depending on how long the course actually is.

I started comfortably, following Elizabeth who was leading through the first aid station at 6 miles. I started to pull away at the start of the first climb and was able to extend my lead throughout the race. I wasn’t alone for long because I heard someone scream after getting smacked in the face from one of the many low-hanging branches. It was Dan, who knew me from my Ginger Runner appearance and introduced himself. He provided companionship through the next two aid stations, and even helped me up and over a massive tree that was blocking the trail. At 7 miles, I was 2 minutes under pace. I had actually expected to be under by much more, but the technicality turned out to be more challenging than expected. When I first saw Tad, Kevin and Corinne at a random place on the course around 8 miles, I was in 9th place overall.

Once through the second aid station at mile 13, we ran through a stream and started up the second climb. By this time the rain was coming down steadily and at mile 14ish as we headed up the mountain, it started to pour. This lasted a good 20 minutes. My long sleeve shirt and gloves were drenched, but I knew that I had a change of clothes waiting for me at the mile 25 aid station. Suddenly I started to hear “Refugee” by Tom Petty. For those of you who are unaware, I love Tom Petty. I smiled and took it as a sign. The rock music was coming from Jose, who was my personal DJ for the next couple miles until the rain was coming down so hard, he had to put his phone away. At 14 miles, I was now over my sub 8-hour pace by 3 minutes. I knew I’d be off the next two sections; the only question was how much and whether I could make it up over the last 15 downhill miles.

I pulled ahead of Jose. It was after then that my anxiety caused me to stop for the first time. I stood there for about 20 seconds and then saw Dan coming up the trail. I started running again. Dan soon caught up on the downhill to the third aid station at mile 19. We shot right through the aid station and started the toughest section of the course. I pulled away on the next climb and moved into 8th place. Now alone, I was weaving in and out of branches and slopping through puddles and mud. The rain was so heavy now water was getting in my eyes and blurring my vision. At the top of West Mesa Climb, a hiker was coming towards me and said, “you look like you’re having so much fun.” You know what? I really was.

During this section, I again got this overwhelming fear that I was alone and not on the course (even though every intersection was well marked). It wasn’t after I had passed someone to move into 7th so as soon as I stopped and looked back I saw his outline through the trees and that was enough comfort to get me going again.

At mile 21 I was 3:38 which was 17 minutes over my sub 8 hour pace and with the conditions I pretty much decided that time was out the window. Now, I was just focused on effort.

I made it to the Paso Picacho aid station which was the half-way point and our campground from the previous night. Tad, Corinne and Kevin were there waiting for me with a fresh Dash long sleeve shirt and dry Trail Gloves. I also took the Gore-tex Iliad jacket out of my pack and put it on. I had a pair of Gore-tex Kaptiva but decided not to change shoes. Amazingly, my Kaptiva were staying in place and causing me no issues at all despite being soaked and caked with mud. I was now in 5th place overall and 4th wasn’t too far ahead.

Due to part of the course being under water, an aid station was moved and the point where we were allowed pacers was adjusted from 30 miles to 25 miles. This meant I’d have Kevin pacing me an extra 5 miles from miles 25-35. This section had the final climb, up and down Stonewall Peak, and then started the gradual descent to the desert floor. It was during a small part of this stretch – around mile 30 – that I had a low and had to walk for a bit on even slight uphills. Running through the mud, snow and deep puddles was requiring more energy and fatiguing my legs much faster than if it had been a dry day. I stretched out my calves and ate a pack of Seattle Gummy Company’s EnergOn Qubes. That seemed to wake me up and I was able to get going again. I felt bad for Kevin because the rain and fog were obstructing any views for him to enjoy.

We passed one runner on the descent of Stonewall, but another came up on us right before the aid station. His English was hard to understand (but much better than my complete lack of Spanish) but he asked if I was Maria Dalzot. That always gives me a boost of inspiration knowing I have support from complete strangers.

The trees began to thin and we arrived at the mile 35 aid station. I felt very under-dressed because the volunteers were wearing tuxes. After a delicious cup of coke, Corinne and I were off for the final 15-mile stretch. The colors were starting to change and the rain was starting to let up. We bombed down a jeep road for miles and magically landed in the desert. We pulled away from my new friend, Ramiro.

While the course profile show that the trail is flat, we didn’t consider the fact that I would be running in sand. This was yet another challenge as I headed into the final 10 miles. We had to weave in and out of cacti which also made the miles slower.

Trying to conserve energy, I was cutting the tangents. At one point, I swerved too close to a Cholla cactus about my height. About six or so “bulbs” broke off and attached themselves to me. The needles went into my Gore-tex jacket, through my shirt and into my skin on my upper arm. It hurt like hell. I wanted to take my jacket off anyways, so I told Corinne, “let’s just take my jacket off,” thinking they would come right off. Apparently, the Cholla is especially dangerous because it has a barb on the end of its needles. The needles were so deep into my skin that Corinne had to pull my jacket inside out and very aggressively down my arm to get it to come off. The “bulbs” rolled down my arm reattaching, ripping out, reattaching, ripping out down my arm and hand as she pulled it off. It was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced while running. Somebody walking their dog on the trail heard me screaming F-bombs all the way down the trail and came running to see if everything was okay. Luckily the final aid station was only a half mile away.

Blood was dripping down my legs and hand, so I had to carry my pack while Corinne took my jacket. The head of the aid station saw Corinne with my jacket and yelled that there was no crewing at this aid station and I was in jeopardy of being disqualified. After she saw that I was in need of medical attention, she was more understanding. I had purple welts on my arm from where I pulled the needles out with my fingers and the nurse with tweezers. Thank you to everyone at that station who helped me out.

Getting help from the medical staff at the last aid station.

At that aid station they had a big present all wrapped up and if you ran with it the rest of the way (7 miles) you got to keep what was inside. Obviously, there was no way I was doing that!

With a mile to go I could see the camp where the finish line was waiting. We made the turn into the campground and who of all people was there to greet me? Why it was Richard Simmons, of course! He said, “Are you ready to finish this thing? Come on, let’s go!” and he led me to the final left where I made the turn into the finish.

I channeled Dad's courageous spirit and physical tenacity through the relentless rain and brutal run-in with a Cholla cactus and came away with the women's win and 4th overall. Full results here. To see Tad’s Instagram take-over on my account (@mariadalzot) during the race, click on ‘ABC 50 mile’ in my story highlights.

Overall, I felt good – I had no stomach issues, no fueling or hydration problems, no cramping, no blisters or foot issues, no pains, no past injury resurfaced, and I had a positive mindset the entire race. I loved running this race. I know a big part of it was having Corinne and Keven with me in the later stages. But I also loved how strong I felt, even when it was hard. This has been the most satisfying end to the year, and I am filled to the brim with gratitude. The rest of the year will be spent resting, reflecting and relishing time back east with my family.

With Pinnacle Endurance Race Director, John Martinez.

Thank you to race directors, John and Vito. It’s not easy to orchestrate an inaugural race, let alone one with course changes and inclement conditions. Thank you to all the volunteers who braved the miserable weather. Tad came away with a cold from standing in the rain and wind, so I hope you are all well and healthy.

Thank you to Kevin and Corinne Saylor – I am so touched by your encouragement. Thank you for making this such a positive experience for me. I can’t wait to return the favor!

Thank you my team of sponsors who have been a great support all year long: La Sportiva, Native Eyewear, Ultimate Direction, Trail Butter, Active Points Wellness, Align Chiropractic, Terrain Gym, Lily Trotters Compression Socks, and Seattle Gummy Company.

Cheers to the end of 2019. I’ll see you in 2020.

Maria DalzotDecember 12, 2019