Ghost Town 38.5

Hillsboro, New Mexico

I was very excited to return to Hillsboro, New Mexico this year. Not only was I returning to my first Ultra, but I was also going to be running with my best friend and running partner Brad Niess. Last year my performance was hindered by lack of training, but this time I prepared both mentally and physically.

The Ghost Town 38.5 is challenging in that it combines both elevation and weather. It starts at around 4500 feet and climbs to nearly 7000 feet. This will prove to be quite an obstacle for someone residing just yards from the Pacific Ocean. Also the temperature at the start was a mere 13 degrees; quite a bit cooler than my daily morning runs where the mercury usually tops in the 30’s.

Brad and I arrived in Hillsboro with our crew member, Carroll on Friday. We stopped by Susan’s place to register and chat. Also in attendance was Susan’s husband Matt, a hard-working and instantly likeable guy. In addition to putting on a well organized event, Susan makes the runners feel like part of her family. This in itself will keep me coming back.

On Sunday morning the runners gather at Susan’s cabin which gives us a chance to warm up and mingle. We get a 5 minute warning (“My race starts on-time!”) and we head outside. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO! The first 6.3 miles are along highway 152 between Hillsboro and Kingston. Over these first six miles the elevation climbs 1000 feet but it’s hardly felt. The real challenge here is keeping the hands from freezing. This year I brought along some pretty thick gloves and my finger tips still begin to ache. I follow Brad’s lead and stick the water bottle under my arm and keep my hands in the pockets of my vest. I filled my water bottle with Raspberry Electrolyte Drink which by the second aid station was the consistency of a 7-11 Slurpee! Each time I take a drink I get a shock to the system like jumping into cold water. I make a mental note to ask the runners from the colder regions how they run ultras with a water bottle!

Although I did my best to focus on the course, the elevation was becoming a challenge. Even running on the flats, my breathing felt like I was running uphill. Brad and I reached the turnaround together but he immediately ran behind Matt’s truck and looked like he was going to puke. I grabbed some juice and apple slices. After a quick change of clothes I told Brad I was leaving. On the way back he was having a difficult period. I held back for as long as was comfortable and then tried to coax him forward. I’ve ran with Brad through a half a dozen ultras and the guy has a talent for rising from the dead and finishing strong. After calling back with some encouragement he told me to go ahead. I hated to do it, but at around mile 22 I made the decision to run my own race.

Now on paper, the Ghost Town course looks deceptively straight forward; after all, the majority is run on a service road with some elevation change. The course becomes highly technical between miles 16 and 24. To say the road is not maintained is an understatement. Remarkably, the calories I took at the turnaround have kicked in. For the first time in the run I’m having a good time and waving to runners going the opposite direction. I can’t reach the #5 aid station soon enough though. The weather has drastically improved and I strip down to one shirt and my tights.

The majority of the course on the way back is down hill except for one section about 2 miles which is uphill. This is perhaps the first time I start to question my sanity for undertaking this course again. What is it about this sport which draws a person to repeatedly punish oneself? Am I a masochist or sadist? Perhaps I was starved for attention as a child or am I hypoglycemic? I make another mental note this time to google sanity when I get home.

By the time I get back to the highway, Brad has yet to materialize. Its 2 miles to the last aid stations and I tell myself if he shows up after that, it going to be a foot race to the finish. Knowing his propensity to appear out of nowhere, I find myself peering over my shoulder. One of the joys of the Ghost Town during this time of year is it gives me the opportunity to gauge my fitness. The last miles are a rude awakening that I’ve got some conditioning to look forward to. I’ve adopted the run walk approach still peering back and prepared to make a break for it should anyone appear. I’m able to finish strong. Susan cheers all the runners in and this year she tells me she thinks she’s seen what I’m capable of. I beg to differ; I’ll be back!