Siskiyou Out Back (SOB) 50k

In ultrarunning, as in so-called "real life," things do not always go according 
to plan.  Sometimes this can be a good thing.  It was so for me at the 8th 
running of the Siskiyou Out Back 50k, on July 14, 2006.

I was in Western States this year, and felt that I probably would not be even as 
competitive as normal in the SOB, only three weeks later.  To ensure that this 
would be the case, I volunteered to mark the course, as I had done the year 
before, and beribboned the 31 miles on the Wednesday and Thursday before, aided 
by my friend Dan (he introduced me to running 14 years ago, and I am now getting 
even by introducing him to ultrarunning).  

But at WS, I ran out of water during the infamous trip through Duncan Canyon, 
and ran out of time a few miles later at Dusty Corners, so there wasn't that 
much to recover from.  Even so, I figured the marking expedition would slow me 
down substantially, so I drew up a set of splits aimed at a 7:30 finish and 
taped them on my Clip2 bottle.  When I showed up at the Mt. Ashland lodge at 6 
AM for the early start, I was aware that no one over 70 had finished the 50k, so 
I might have a chance at an easy course record.  

That chance looked rather remote after I saw 70-year-old Bill Robbins listed 
among the entrants.  He is demonstrably better than I am (he broke 7 hours at 
McDonald Forest earlier this year, as against my best time of 7:06 six years 
ago), so I decided to stick to my plan and see how it went.

The start is slightly uphill through the parking lots, and gives you an early 
taste of the 6500 ft. elevation before dipping down a forest service road for 
about half a mile to the Pacific Crest Trail crossing.  From that point on, the 
course is mostly on single track trail that can only be described as a heavenly 
running surface, mostly forest loam, relatively free from roots and rocks.  
There are two road sections of 3.4 and 2.7 miles, and these nearly eliminate 
two-way traffic on the single track.

The course, as a whole, follows the ridge between the Klamath and Rogue River 
National Forests, heading out to the southwest to within a few miles of the 
California border (and back), offering spectacular views of forested terrain on 
both sides, with Mt. Shasta appearing majestically in the distance.

The first five miles, through the Grouse Gap aid station to the Willamette 
Meridian A.S., traverse a series of open bowls separated by low ridges, one of 
which, around four miles, is short but quite steep.  By Willamette, I had picked 
up 7 minutes on my schedule, and was feeling pretty good.  I was running with a 
couple of people who were new to the course, and told them that there was a long 
downhill after Willamette that they could blast down, but that on the return 
trip, around 24 miles, they would have to ease up, to have something left for 
the six or seven miles of easy running at the end.  Following my own advice, I 
pulled into the main aid station at Siskiyou Gap 14 minutes ahead of schedule, 
at nine miles.

The next seven miles are more demanding.  The road section, 3.4 miles to Wrangle 
Gap, is not steep, but it winds around relentlessly, and the temperature is 
usually getting warmer.  You get back on the trail after Wrangle, and a very 
lovely forested trail it is, but it is still climbing, even after it hits the 
road again for a short half mile or so to the Jackson Gap A.S.  In the seven 
times I've done this race, this is usually where I feel the worst.  
Nevertheless, I reached Jackson, a little past halfway, in 3:17, over 20 minutes 
ahead of my schedule, and began to realize that I would probably break 7 hours,

This thought encouraged me to blast down the 2-mile road to Wrangle as if angry 
bears were on my track, eating up another 8 minutes from the now rather 
pointless schedule.  Coming up was the jewel of the course, the trail around the 
back of Red Mountain between Wrangle and Siskiyou.  I spent a lot of time 
admiring the views there while marking the course, so I didn't mind hustling 
over the sometimes mildly technical trail, taking care not to fall on the narrow 
parts between the rocky cliff on the right and the several-hundred-foot drop on 
the left.  One expects to see the bones of careless runners moldering in the 
meadows far below.

At Siskiyou, I picked up my second bottle of Clip2, enjoyed a beautiful violin 
serenade, exchanged greetings with friends Jim Clover and Robert Taylor, and 
took off for the short run to Long John Saddle, where I refilled my water and 
drank extra to get ready for the Two Mile Hill.  This is definitely a walking 
hill for ordinary mortals.  I find slow walking discouraging, so I walked pretty 
briskly and took a breather for a few seconds every 100 yards or so, a technique 
I learned from horses about 60 years ago.  Quite a few 7 AM starters passed me 
during this section, heading for sub-six hour times.  After the hill, I started 
using them as pacers, picking up the tempo for a hundred yards or so until I 
started getting out of breath, then relaxing the pace until the next one went 
by.

I was greeted at Willamette by Mexican music, delivered by a gang of apparent 
banditos who made me feel I must have taken a wrong turn and gone too far south.  
This is the really good part of this race, where you realize that it's all a big 
party; the Big Hill is gone and you can cruise home for lunch and conversation.  
The tough little hill near Grouse Gap is now inclined in the other direction, 
and sheds you nicely downward to the aid station.  Familiar sights begin to 
appear: the raised wooden causeways through the meadows, the families of hikers 
out enjoying the trail, and finally the road pops up through the trees, telling 
you it's just a brief climb in the hot sun up to the parking lot, and then 
you'll be hurtling (or in my case, toddling) over the pavement to the finish 
line.

I came in at 6:33, nearly an hour faster than expected, making this one of my 
most satisfying races ever.  Bill Robbins showed up a few minutes later, so I 
had done well not to loaf around out there.  We realized that we had met before, 
during the 2000 McDonald Forest (my first ultra), where we had sat side by side 
at one of the aid stations, discussing mud.  (He reminded me that I had asked 
him if we were done with the mud.  That being McDonald, of course, it was just 
getting started.)  Others I met along the trail included one of my running 
buddies, 63-year-old Lathan Brinkley in his first ultra, a strong AG 4th at 
6:41; and Timothy McGinty, who came all the way from Cleveland, Ohio, and 
leapfrogged with me most of the day.  It was nice to see three local runners in 
the top four, including first place overall.

Many thanks to Marilyn and Tom, and the many others who make this race the jewel 
of the Siskiyous!

Peter Fish
Gold Hill, OR
wtc48@charter.net
October 4, 2006