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If you really want to confuse someone, tell them you’re running the Pacific Crest Trail 50-mile race through the beautiful Laguna Mountains in east San Diego. Before entering this race, there were no mountains in San Diego that we were aware of, Laguna was a place to meet overly friendly men with perfect cuticles and Pacific needed an “a” on the end to become a beer. The world made perfect sense.

After running in the 2007 PCT50, we’re singing a new geography tune. With an elevation gain of more than 7,500 feet, the PCT50 definitely runs up and down something large; if it’s called the Laguna Mountain range, than who are we to argue? The PCT50 delivers some of the most spectacular topography in the most unexpected area. Having driven Interstate 8 to transport Mexican families into the U.S., we’ve passed this area a dozen times and thought it was just another place for America’s Most Wanted to assimilate into some obscure community. This seems to be a re-occurring theme but the PCT50 is less than two hours from Orange County and once again we had never truly visited the area before. Leaving silk plants and cell sites resembling palm trees is tough, but venturing to the PCT50 reminded us that we need to leave our home theaters and experience everything this planet has to offer — even if it means doing it by foot.

It was freezing standing around after check-in at 5 a.m. I was bundled up, but Kyle Hoang was shivering so much he made me cold. He reminded me of Alexander the purple Otter Pop that my kids drip all over the house. Kyle looked like he was having a seizure but then I remember he had no insulation with a body fat composition of negative 7%. He works at REI and doesn’t have the warmest jacket in the entire universe? Is it me? As I’ve documented many times, Kyle is a running machine and the official human gallstone; sooner or later, he’s gonna pass. Kyle would place 5th in this year’s event (8:36). Not bad for a Popsicle.

Seconds before the start, Kirk Fortini introduced himself to me as a fan of The Run Down. Maybe he doesn’t have cable or still lives with his mom. I’d never met Kirk before but remembered him from Twin Peaks 50/50. He’s the Arnold Schwarzenegger of trail running and looks like a personal trainer who got lost on his way to the gym. His biceps are the size of my ego and his bulging green shirt was ready to explode. With absolutely no desire to do squats or inverted curls at Todd’s 24 Hour Fitness, I ran a few meters ahead of Kirk and noted his presence as a possible source of anti-inflammatory steroids, a gold foil bikini or post-race body shave. Kirk looked haggard (that’s being kind because he can beat me up) two miles before the turnaround as we passed each other going opposite directions. I figured he was terminating early but in true Arnold form, he managed to mumble “I’ll be back.” And, 13 ½ hours later, he was!

There would be no RD race instructions on this chilly May morning. After the three- minute warning expired it was “GO” from race director El Cubano and we were off. The race begins adjacent to Interstate 8 so it wasn’t surprising when we immediately hit gridlock. Too early for road rage and having left my 9mm Glock in the glove box, everyone quietly stacked up and then spread out, stacked up, then spread out again. Dean Dobberteen cut over the double yellow line to get out in front but he did it with such style and grace I doubt it was a ticketable offense.

After negotiating the first half mile, it dawned on Mike Mazza that he left his hat and iPod on the starters table. Accustomed to direction-filled street race check-ins, Mike was obviously thrown by the personal nature of the PCT50 early-morning greet and had problems multitasking at dawn. And he claims to live in Orange County? I saw him turn around and figured he was setting the new course record for earliest DNF but in actuality he was going back to fetch his precious belongings. As he disappeared toward the cars, I found myself humming a Men Without Hats tune and it all seemed very ironic. After next running into a tree and falling approximately three times, Mazza then passed me at mile four. Trying to see if he would turn around again, I told him one of his car windows was down and someone might jack his ride but he sells insurance and told me to get lost. I wouldn’t see the recently converted street speedster until well after Penny Pines. Mike finished his first 51-mile run in (9:53). I like it when people go the extra mile for me but am not sure how it feels to go the extra mile for oneself.

The first six miles to the initial Fred Canyon aid station is a nice rocky ascent. At this juncture, you’re so rested and pumped that you don’t really pay close attention to the technical nature of the trail. It’s something you’ll definitely notice on the return trip. If we had one dollar for every runner who said, “I don’t remember that” on the back portion of an out & back, we’d be rich. “I don’t remember that hill” is a good one. The early downhill portions take on a whole new flavor going back up them 6 to 11 hours later. How soon we forget.

Miles 6 (Fred Canyon) to 13 (Dale’s Kitchen) include some of the most challenging sections of the PCT50. The trail gets steep in areas and has numerous turns and loose rocks. Eric Kosters and I got a whiff of something and figured it must have been a rotting deer or someone cooking menudo. Just then some guy comes bolting out of the brush and bounces off looking light as a feather; we don’t think he flushed or put the lid down. Because of the high shrubs or just the time of morning, this area seemed to be the favorite restroom stop for the runners. At first we figured it was just the animals relieving themselves but the odors reminded us of our grandfather’s bathroom and we held our breath and picked up the pace.

From Dale’s Kitchen to Todd’s Cabin is some of the prettiest forest you’ll see –  short of hanging out with Bambi and sharing an Otter Pop . The trail has a roller coaster flow and the shade is a welcome savior.

By far, the hardest part of the course is the steep single track in and out of Todd’s Cabin. You know John “El Cubano” Martinez (unstable) gets a big kick out of this little arrangement. Fine John, you have your RD fun and inside jokes with KM, GH and GK. On behalf of the participants, The Run Down has filed with the runners union and next year’s entrance will be blocked by lazy Teamster members; half of whom will die of heart attacks just reaching the trail. This is almost America and we have rights.

Todd’s Cabin to Penny Pines is extremely exposed and on some of the ridges you get completely cooked. This is the first opportunity you get to see the awesome desert view to the east. The only other time I ran this trail was during April’s preview run when it was completely covered in snow. Needless to say, the contrast in weather from my last encounter was the difference between heaven and hell –  or, “American Idol” season one and this current crappy version (come back, Sanjaya!). Snow was replaced by dirt and rocks, crisp air was replaced by oven-hot dragon’s breath and cloud cover was replaced by the nonexistent ozone layer.

To say I was disappointed to find out that Penny Pines wasn’t an adult movie star is an understatement. Penny Pines to the turnaround is as vast and barren as it gets. It reminded me of my checking account. The awesome desert view is hard to enjoy when you feel like having a baby –  without an epidural — would be a more pleasant experience than what you’re currently doing. At this juncture, there are lots of runners headed the opposite direction and you better get over or get ran over. The trees in this section were obvious victims of a massive forest fire. All black and lifeless, they suddenly reminded me of my legs. That was good because I had forgotten about the pain for 10 minutes and was ecstatic to get back to more self- pity and internal doubt. What a great Saturday! Maybe I’ll get hit by a car tomorrow — driven by a hamburger-seeking Paris Hilton, of course — and feel better.

The turnaround is rather uneventful. I had expected a band or at least a sign, “Good Luck You’re Halfway Home.” Instead, the grim reaper with an umbrella greeted us, recorded our bib numbers and pointed to the end zone 25 miles away; great, go long. This ridge was hot and the only shade was being used by some lost fisherman. We felt like grabbing the umbrella like in Capture the Flag but resisted and moved on.

The return trip is a game of survival just trying to stay alive from aid station to aid station. I felt like a sea lion swimming from iceberg to iceberg avoiding predators. The Penny Pine drop bag area was good for a few laughs. I knew Kirk Fortini (Arnold) was at least 45 minutes back so we rifled through his drop bag only to find a 5 x 7 glossy picture of Jessica Deline (Twin Peaks RD), a naked Ken doll and a Nicole Simpson Pez dispenser. To each his own, live and let live, judge not thy neighbor…I hope he gets some help, that sick son of a gun.

Normally, we don’t cover our personal race day escapades but, we’re making an exception because this was my first 50-mile run and I made so many errors that it served up too much editorial material to pass on. I ran the entire race with buddy Eric Kosters, the glamour stud from north Orange County (chicks dig him; he’s also popular in Laguna). Eric and I met during our first 50K back in November 2006 so it was appropriate that we experienced the new 50-mile frontier as a team. We were the slow-motion version of “The Nielsen & Moore” show. Finishing was the only goal. Eric was smart and fully supported by his Mom, Dad, fiancée and son who were also gracious enough to assist me in various ways. If there was a book on what not to do in a 50-mile race, this would be one chapter:

1. Never give out your Friday night accommodation plans to fellow nomadic participants. Rob Cowan, Michelle Barton and Kevin Nasman, easily zeroed in on my whereabouts and were my floor-dwelling roommates at the Laguna Mountain Lodge. These are three of the greatest human beings I know and I wouldn’t trade Friday night’s pre-race gel, tabs, electrolyte product face off for the world but… I couldn’t sleep with so many bodies in the room. With an eerie feeling that someone was standing over me, I felt like I was getting robbed. Plus, the lodge owner warned me that max room occupancy was two per room and I feared a power tool, goalie mask and some homemade sausage might be in the works. “The Laguna Chainsaw Massacre.” End result, rest but no sleep.

2. Running 50 miles with a pre-existing injury isn’t the best idea. With tendonitis in my left ankle I had prepared myself mentally for some pain. Six miles into the run, my ankle felt so bad I considered dropping. I started popping so many anti-inflammatories I looked like Robert Downey Jr. at breakfast. Nothing worked. I eventually had to run at a slight side angle while doing my best impersonation of the illusive snow crab and today I would be the PCT50’s “Deadliest Catch.” While it looked completely lame, my bizarre running technique occasionally cut the pain for 10 seconds here and there.

3. Wearing new 2-in-1 compression shorts was a recipe for disaster. Michelle Barton had helped me locate these shorts and I had forgotten she’d do anything to beat me. It worked. The crotch blew out at mile 25 and chaffing isn’t a word to describe the friction. At times I was shooting sparks and had become a serious forest fire threat. Handfuls of Vaseline brought intermittent relief (and fond memories of pre-adolesence) but it was so global that I ended up driving home on a wet towel in my birthday suit. I envisioned some nice family driving by in a raised SUV and having to explain to the CHP officer why I was naked. I wondered if you could still enter the PCT50 as a registered sex offender.

4. I made the huge mistake of using the bathroom at Todd’s Cabin and ignoring the ultra credo, “Beware the chair.’’ After running 30 miles, I don’t recommend going inside any fixed structure. Out on the trail, I couldn’t tell how tired and hot I was but sitting down on a nice cool toilet I began to realize how wiped out I really was. The bathroom carpet was floating and undulating like an ocean swell and when I reached out to grab it I got nothing but air. Running around in the forest, it’s hard to tell if your focus or perception is off due to the vastness and undefined nature of the surroundings. Go in a bathroom and its “Poltergeist” with fixed objects moving around like the inside of a pinball machine.

5. Having never used hand-held hydration carriers, my arms weren’t prepared for the thousands of mini-curls 50 miles would produce. Sunday, I struggled to pull a few Post-Its apart.

6. Never having a blister in my entire life, I figured there were rocks or twigs in my shoes and just blew off the various burning sensation from mile 33 on. The stinging sensation actually took my mind off the tendonitis. Taking my shoes off at the end of the race, I was shocked to see five toes completely obliterated. Looking over to my left, I noticed my never-opened Body Glide dispenser sitting undisturbed in the car door pocket. Good thing I brought that. I would use it later on my face cheeks while slapping myself silly during the ride home.

Dirty Girl Xy Weiss (12:09) was present in her full body suit, covered toe to toe in thick understated fabric. OK, just seeing if you were paying attention. With Xy around I feel like I’m being chased by Barbarella gone wild. Her outfits are such a stark contrast with the natural surroundings that I can’t decide if I’m in an ultra or at an outdoor Go-Go bar. Absolutely the nicest person you’ll ever meet, this tenacious H2-driving deputy district attorney has finished more ultras than I can tabulate in Excel. Personally low on sodium, at mile 43, Xy kindly offered to let me lick the salt off her body. Had I not just recently lubed my crotch with Vaseline, I would’ve taken her up on the offer but was still trying to calm myself down after the self-inflicted goose; maybe this routine will be an aid station table dance next year.

The Hungarian Hovercraft, Akos Konos, was the first runner to pass me going the opposite direction. The obvious leader by a sizeable margin, Akos would go on to win in a course record time of (7:50). How he stays so clean I have no idea. Just shy of eight hours, which happens to be most folks’ normal work day, it was just another day at the ultra office for this elite athlete.

In a way, I feel sorry for the lead runners. How many times do they have to say “looking good” to half-dead zombies going the opposite direction? It’s really like telling a migrating salmon you know is going die to have a nice day. It doesn’t really make much sense, though I understand the good intention. Akos is the consummate professional but you know he sees some of us and thinks, “Maybe lawn bowling would be a good sport for you.’’ Now, after also winning the Lake Hodges 50K, I wonder if Akos will be going for the San Diego Triple Crown by winning the San Diego 100. Being the big-purse sport that ultra running is, I’ve heard that winning all three ultras gets you a digitally re-mastered copy of “Howard the Duck.” Wow, what motivation.

Second-place male would go to locale favorite Jerry Armstrong (8:21). No doubt Jerry trained hard on these very trails and his familiarity with the surroundings paid big dividends. Dehydrated, Jerry really pushed himself the last six miles to fight off the charging Dean Dobberteen and pacer.

Dean would take third in (8:26).

Having been dealt a personal tragedy with the passing away of his wife three weeks prior, Perry Edinger gets The Run Down’s vote for most impressive, effort finishing forth at (8:32). Our prayers and astonishment are with Perry.

I spotted Michelle Barton heading back down the trail towards Todd’s Cabin. In her new ruby-red team Salomon outfit, I didn’t know if I should say hi or check the delivery status of my Domino’s Pizza order; I think it’s the matching red hat that makes me want to tip her for the extra garlic sticks. If the iMichelle was in fact sponsored by Dominos, they’d have to change their slogan to “3 Minutes or Less.”

Whether Michelle was going to win the 2007 PCT50 female division was never in question. Lately, her running has hit new levels as she quietly stalks guys like Dean Dobberteen and Kyle Hoang. Michelle’s athletic ability is only superseded by her grit and competitive determination. Amazing things sometimes come in small packages. The startling thing about Michelle is that she not only competes and wins almost every race she enters but that she’s a single mom, works every day, trains and helps everyone she comes in contact with (and her hair is awesome!). Her daily life is an ultra effort and she handles every second in the same manner she does when barreling down technical singletrack: with unending style and grace.

Michelle was the first person (OK, only person) to call and congratulate me on simply finishing. I checked later and she had even left a previous message apologizing for not being able to stick around for me at the finish line. I mean, who has that kind of time except security guards? Michelle would go on to place first in the women’s division and sixth overall in a blistering time of (8:44). While it was unconfirmed at press time, Michelle’s sub 9 hour finish may be the new PCT50 women’s course record. Race officials are checking to see if illegal alien Consuela Alvarez’s 2003 time of 8:22 while being chased by the border patrol is actually valid. After setting last week’s course record at the Wild West 50K, it would’ve been scary what Michelle may have done with just a little more rest. But as Michelle uniquely puts it, “Just thinking about tapering is tapering.” Classic iMichelle version 3.2. Her new software update appears to have been installed with no bugs.

As for second- and third-place females, Susan Solomon would bring home the silver Mercedes Benz in (10:39), and all-around cool gal Anne Langstaff would capture the coveted bronze Corvair in (10:41). Anne had a one-hour fight with her locks after the SJT50K, so hopefully the PCT50 produced a better hair day.

Rob Cowan (Robo), the diminutive dirt dynamo, needs help. If anyone knows a good shrink, feel free to pass over the info and we’ll have Rob picked up and subsequently treated with electroshock therapy. Saturday’s PCT50 was Rob’s seventh ultra in seven consecutive weekends. His yard must look like crap. I can’t imagine he hustles around all day Sunday getting caught up trimming the geraniums. Rob isn’t home on weekends and isn’t exactly the guy you ask to help move out of your second-story apartment. Rob is the guy you call if you want to hang with one of the toughest, friendliest and positive persons on earth. Relatively new to ultra running, keep an eye on his results. He seems to get stronger with every race and I wouldn’t expect to see him out of the top 10 unless he’s pacing me. Rob finished in overall ninth place at (9:18).

Running legend Eric Clifton aka Wild Pants heard the horrendous singing behind him and knew it was none other than happy boy Cowan (Robo). Not wanting to be passed by the Energizer Bunny, Eric slapped into overdrive and fought Robo off for eighth place at (9:15). Eric later informed Robo that had he snuck up behind him and passed quietly he would’ve let him go and settled for ninth. Fortunately for Eric, Robo has so much fun running he sometimes forgets it’s a race.

Kevin Nasman, fresh off his first 50-mile effort at Leona, finished in sub 10 hours at (9:49). Kevin is a nutritional nut and runs efficiently with little wasted effort. A hardcore vegan, I’ve never seen one person carry more vegetable product impersonating meat in my entire life; soy jerky? Kevin and Michelle Barton shouldn’t be allowed in the same room. Once they get talking about their favorite vegetable protein it’s a feeding frenzy as they compare products and share samples.

Michelle is a hardcore vegan. I surmise she’s not clipped into the whole food chain thing where humans sit on the very top and can eat whatever they want. Had Michelle been born a zucchini she’d probably be eating filet mignon. You know what they say, “The grass is always tastier on the other side.” During the pre-race prep, the herbivores mentioned mirco-greens and I lost it. What the heck are micro-greens? Does everything need a designer name so the suppliers can charge more? Small alfalfa sprouts gets the point across. If you want a half a sandwich you don’t go to Subway and order a micro-grinder. I’m running a 10K today, oops I mean micro-ultra.

Mt. Disappointment RD Gary Hilliard (10:59) passed Eric Kosters (12:00) and I just after Todd’s Cabin. He was surprisingly friendly as an RD planted mole but we supplied him with whatever information he requested. He claimed he hadn’t run a 50 miler “in some time” and was in relative cruise mode. With this crew, “in some time” can mean three weeks so we wished him well and off he went.

Saw Andy Kumeda (10:03) for a fleeting moment and then he was gone. I’ve chased Andy around so many mountains that not seeing him for the entire race I felt betrayed. If you’re going to trail break with someone, I think a phone call or email is in order.

Based on Jennifer Foreman’s Leona Divide performance, I knew it was only a matter of time before she asked me to get out of her way. Of course, she is polite so it didn’t go exactly like that. Wearing the brand-new Orange County Trail Runner’s blue tech shirt, she looked so stylish I wanted to squeeze her but her husband is a police officer and they tend to have strong forearms for choking people so I hugged Eric instead. He just stared at me and asked me not to do that again without notice. Jennifer would finish strong in a time of (11:42).

OK, is Carmela Layson (12:03) the best person in the universe to run with or what? Her upbeat personality and smile are a true boost. How she maintains the attitude is beyond me. I could win the lottery and not be in as a good mood as Carmela projects 45 miles into a run. Maybe she has GEICO.

Always great to see Fred Pollard (13:24). By traveling at a comfortable pace, Fred got incredible value out of the PCT with one of the lowest individual cost-per-minute rates on the mountain.

There was a legitamate journalist in the crowd with Dan Brenden (10:33). He, like a real editor, wisely avoids social-unrest writers like me.

An ultra without Hwa Ja Andrade (13:24) is like a day without traffic; not going to happen.

Ultra web master Daren Sefcik file-transfer-protocoled his way through the world wide trail web in a comfortable (11:15). I tried catching up with Daren but trail bandwidth was minimal, and didn’t allow me to load properly.

Hawaiian Iron Man finisher Robbi Woolard would cruise in at (13:40). Thinking it was a triathlon, Robbi spent 4 hours looking for her bike after 26.2 miles. Robbi was last seen swimming in Lake Morena. Somebody needs to de-program her.

Aid station volunteers are always awesome unless you’ve ever run in the Turrets 50 Miler: shit, nice shorts moron, get lost….I will say, the level of ultra expertise at the PCT50’s aid stations is truly unsurpassed. When you have stellar runners and people like Lake Hodges RD Kevin McGuinness filling up your water bottles, it gives you that added boost of confidence that you’re doing the right thing with the right people.

Leona Divide RD Glenda Kimmerly handing out finisher metals was an added bonus and neat surprise. These folks are so overqualified we felt like they should’ve been running and we should’ve been replenishing the potatoes. Logistically , keeping ice around for the entire race is not easy; especially in heat. Having ice the entire race was huge. A cold-sponge bath at the final aid station turned Eric Kosters into a new man. All the assistance was fast and competent. In many cases they had us ready to go before we were ready to go. On the return, the seven miles between Dale’s Kitchen and Fred Canyon seemed like 70 miles but all in all the assistance spacing was good and took advantage of what the geography had to offer. We can’t wait for next year’s ice baths and five-minute massages. That “El Cubano” pulls out all the stops, doesn’t he?

I will always remember the PCT50 for one thing. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life to see a freeway. Hitting the last aid station at Fred Canyon, you could see the beautiful trucks and hear the methodic downshifting of the Peterbilts and Macs as they slowed down for the immigration check point. It sounded like waves crashing on the beach. I imagined the fresh smell of carbon dioxide or burning diesel. If somebody had honked I would’ve soiled my shorts. It was such a boost that I felt like hugging a border patrol agent or some compact Mexican family of nine sneaking thru the brush. The 8 freeway meant my car was near and the finish was at least a reality. Too out of sorts to do simple math, Eric and I were more than 10 hours into Saturday’s jog and we had well over one hour to go. Had I realized that, I would’ve thrown a temper tantrum that would have made Michael Richard’s comedy night racial rant look like a Sunday school speech. Fortunately, my brain made no such connection and we merrily pressed forward, spirits high. Crossing the finish line some 12 hours after stepping over it for the first time, we had just run 50 miles for a pulled pork sandwich.

Would we run the PCT50 again? You bet. This section of the PCT is some of the most technical singletrack in Southern California. With no way to get into a true pace groove, the changing terrain favors runners with multiple personalities. If you get lost on this well-marked trail, have your head examined. I was really happy to see the words HOT spelled out in white gypsum because I thought the stifling heat was my imagination. I may have slipped on some additional Gortex layers had it not been for the subtle reminder.

El Cubano reported the morning low of 27 degrees with a daytime high of 77 degrees. However, I could care less what the weather was like inside his limited addition Eddie Bauer RV. My mood ring displayed temperature readings of over 95 degrees. I travel with fourteen cats and when only five survive the car lockdown, I know it must have been a scorcher.

Parking was as easy as it gets. You practically stop in the street and get out of your car. Finisher medals were cool, the shirt was high quality and the post-race meal was rewarding. Do you need to run 50 miles for a pork sandwich? Is Arby’s a realistic alternative? Maybe yes, but what the PCT50 delivers you can’t buy. Having never ran 50 miles before, I came to the conclusions that a 50k and 50 miler have only one thing in common: they both happen to be outdoors. When you spend as much time as I did on the PCT50 mile course, you have lots of time to think of alternative names that might also describe the event. Listed below are some of our favorites.

• Border Patrol 5000
• Turn Right at Mile 24 and Die in the Desert 50-Mile Run
• Escape from Mexico 50 Mile Sneak
• 3 Million Rocks and a Cabin
• Prime Crying Time 50

Ultra marathons are exploding. Next year’s PCT50 will sell out so sign up early. Please introduce yourself to The Run Down’s Greg Hardesty or myself at your next ultra race (look for upcoming recaps of the Bishop High Sierra 50k, Shadow of the Giants 50k and Holcomb Valley 33-Mile Run) so we can document or embellish your achievement. My nurse has to flip me and change my Depends, so it’s lights out. Please leave us your comments. We love to hear from you.

Written and reported by Charlie Nickell

Edited by Greg Hardesty (OC Register Reporter)

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2007 PCT50 Summary

When: Saturday, May 12th
Where: Laguna Mountains, CA (east of San Diego)
Race Directors: John “El Cubano” Martinez

Course Description: 100% singletrack run on the Pacific Crest Trail through hilly mountains ranging in elevation from 3,000 to 6,000 feet. Course features a 25-mile out-and-back.

Number of starters: 104
Number of finishers: 84
Success rate: 81%

Top three male finishers:
1) Akos Konya  7:50
2) Jerry Armstrong  8:21 
3) Dean Dobberteen  8:26

Top three female finishers:
1) Michelle Barton  8:44
2) Susan Solomom  10:39
3) Anne Langstaff 10:41

Web site: http://www.PCT50.com

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