Cougar mountain 50k
October 27, 2013
31 miles & 7,200 ft. gain
Cougar & Squak Mountain
Two friends experience different journeys along the same trails, managing to start and finish together. Sprite reminisces about the training, the race, and the elapsed time and distance between who those friends were back then to where they are now.
I sit upon the old, faded couch of my living room sipping red wine listening to my trail running buddy divulge details of the route she wants to explore the following day. How it covers an 11-mile section of the 50k she really wants to run this October. How she kinda doesn’t want to do it alone. How she thinks we could do it.
My sips become gulps. I nod along. The distant echoes in my brain claim, this is simply a phase. Or a test? She’ll find someone more fitting to run it with. While my lips form the words, “Ohhh-kaaay.” She turns to face me sitting up taller with a grin, “So you’ll do it?!” I wince and parrot, “I’ll do it.”
The following day as we run along sunny stretches of trail on an oddly hot, humid day in May for Western WA, my trail running buddy reminds me of the pinky promise we made the evening before. Deep down, I know I’m in for it. That I would actually have to train. To stop drinking the night before long runs. Or any run at all. Despite my dehydration, I’m oddly fine throughout this run and deem myself capable of pulling off a 50k adventure.
TRAINING
Did you ever see that video of two dogs on separate treadmills next to each other? The German Shepherd on the left running happily while the German Shorthaired Pointer stands on the side of their treadmill merely pawing at the churning platform. Guess which one I was during our training? I ran 3-5 miles here and there or none at all if it rained. Mainly, I hiked all the uphill battles.
At some point we decided to run the trickiest 11-mile middle section of the route every Thursday evening after work as well as start from the beginning of the route every Sunday for longer runs, adding mileage each consecutive week. As Fall set in we began to lose light by the time we started our Thursday evening runs, causing us to become hyper aware of critters and creatures creeping through the forest. In a section with a long, steep dip eyes reflected back at us sending shivers down our spines. Fortunately, the animal was of the deer variety as opposed to the cat species. I do not wish to know how often we were tracked by those mysterious cats lurking though.
We also experienced fun moments like getting caught in a lightning storm on Cougar Mountain. While pretending not to notice the lightning, I began counting between flash and boom to gauge whether we could make it to the car in a reasonable time or not. Then I heard a quiet, high pitched call of my name behind me. I knew my trail buddy was terrified of lightning after experiencing an evacuation due to fire caused by a strike during a backpacking excursion with her dad.
When I turned around and spotted her clinging to a tree the color draining from her face, I calmly offered to bail at the houses only one mile forward. We didn’t end up needing to stop but later found out how close and frequent the lightning had been to us. We heard reports of the radio tower being struck on the other side of the mountain from the trails we edged along. Oddly, lightning is kind of a rare occurrence in Western WA causing locals to run to the windows to watch in wonder every time it occurs.
Even today, I remain in disbelief I accomplished this feat.
When one of us was low, the other carried us through. Alternating the responsibility just happened. No fuss. No complaints. The turns in boosting morale happened organically. Two weeks before the race we still had not signed up for the event. I still questioned my ability despite completing five miles less than the actual race distance the week before the race. What’s another five miles after all?
THE RACE
The Cougar Mountain race map
The Squak Mountain course for the 50k
It’s been 12 years, meaning much of the morning prep for the race is hazy in my memory. The big fanfare for my entire friend group, since we were all heavily invested in the trail running community, made it more fun and more nerve-wracking to attend the race and I certainly felt jitters as we made our way to the trailhead that morn. Eventually though we set off on our adventure on foot by rounding a field at the Sky Country Trailhead on Cougar Mountain in wet grass to loud cheers and laughter from friends following our journey.
LK peering out to ensure all is going as planned
10 miles down. The crossover to Squak gear check while my ex attempted to be cute and clever and my trail running buddy and her ex look on unamused.
The first 10-mile section was by far the easiest portion; very little loss or gain helped us keep a 9-minute mile pace on the slick path of fallen leaves. By the time we arrived at the road to crossover to Squak we felt warmed up and ready for the rest of the grueling mileage. Squak happened to be my favorite mountain of the Issaquah Alps and I was not concerned by the steep portions ahead.
The forecast full of rain, I hardly noticed that it began sleeting on us while traversing Squak Mountain. Fallen leaves protected us from too much mud and pine needles kept the ground gentle on our joints. We lingered a little too long at the food table at the bottom of Squak before the climb back up and over to Cougar but the salty treats were simply too hard to put down and the friendly faces too kind to walk away from easily. By the time we skittered across the road back to Cougar Mountain, my hip flexors were tired and grumpy with me. All 10 of the final miles would be an uphill trudgery.
My trail running buddy pulled ahead as I hiked and pouted in misery for a while. Eventually I caught back up ready to complete the final miles together in better spirits and proud of pulling this adventure off. Encouraged to speed up for the finish line, I leapt over the chip reader directly next to my bestie—a metaphorical representation of team accomplishment in addition to our efforts to be there for each other through highs and lows during this overarching experience—claiming a spot in the ultra community by completing this long distance run.
However, the race director just had to determine the singular top female finisher and my extended leg pointed toes dancer leap managed to surpass the finish line one hundredth of a second faster. Not fair. My trail running buddy definitely won that race! My whiny self along Bear’s Marsh trail certainly didn’t deserve first female that day. We managed to pull off top ten too, despite a full 45-minutes slower pace than the previous year’s first female finisher. The director did let us keep the #9 spot together documenting the same time of 6:30:15 for us on the results page leaving out the #10 spot for posterity.
From left to right: crossing the finish line, showing off our first place female awards, and laughing with the race director about finish line results
POST RACE
Saucony Kinvara trail runners
Tread comparison: worn out training pair on the left and fresh race day pair on the right
After the race we went out for pho to warm us up, I believe. Although that could have been my memory from the previous year when my ex ran the race. Hmm, not sure. Shrug. I do recall not being sore the next day. Astonishing, I know. I worked a regular shift at Starbucks and had no issues squatting down as needed. My muscles were tired but not in pain. Which means, I really could have pushed it a little, right? Ahhh, well. Next time.
Squak Mountain
Planting the hard won Douglas fir starts along my favorite section of the 50k route.
The goody bag of awards the two of us won included Douglas fir trees to represent the cover we ran under that day. They remained in my fridge for two months before we finally remembered to take them with us on one of our trail runs to plant somewhere special. Planting in December is probably not recommended but we found a favorite spot along the Squak portion of the 50k route that seemed just right for those little trees to flourish. I checked in regularly. I don’t think they made it.
By now you’re wondering why hasn’t she offered a name of this particular trail running buddy? Possibly you picked up even more quickly by the emojis covering the face in the pictures. Yup. This is Bennie.* My personal Benedict Arnold. How did she become a traitor you ask? Classically.
When I wizened up and ditched the narcissistic ex, she opted to date him. You didn’t expect that did you? I heard your gasp and felt you grasp at your pearls. Yes, it’s true. She broke the news to me over our bowls at Chipotle one weekend post run stating, “I’ve thought about it a lot and if I’m going to risk losing this opportunity and losing you, then that’s the risk…” not quite able to finish the obvious. That she knew she would lose my friendship.
I wished her the best and faded away. Heartbroken. Another friend couldn’t believe I would let that get in the way of our friendship. How could I not? No one talks about the loss of friendships by the pain of betrayal from our closest girlfriends and how emotionally difficult it is to process. We discuss death. We discuss romantic breakups. Yet, we don’t utter how gutted we feel after a best friend deceives us and we lose the rhythm steadily built over years of friendship. I, myself, continued on and didn’t realize the impact until years later.
Now as I write this on the anniversary of that 50k date, we still haven’t spoken since that fateful day. Not even connecting on socials (I unfriended her). I never bothered to snoop or to ask after her. Maybe that’s the Pisces in me (never cross a Pisces by the way). Maybe I was supposed to forgive her. Maybe it turned out for the best? I certainly missed the thrill of an adventure buddy with equivalent pacing and fortitude, and who could connect on a je ne sais quoi level.
Lately I’ve been reminiscing a lot about my 50k experience and the Bennie Arnold event. I know why. It’s not just that this time of year wraps us in nostalgia. Over this summer I’ve found some solid hiking buddies, especially one in particular that makes me think of the circular route life pulls us in. All this contemplating, and me writing this piece, symbolically a chance to skip a flat rock across a creek to release the pain of the loss. A chance to embrace those old, sweet memories for all that I was granted during that portion of life.
Time to realize how lucky I was to have someone in my life so difficult to say goodbye to (thank you for your quote, Pooh bear!) rather than continue to be a victim of Bennie’s actions. It’s true too, I feel ready to move forward with the knowledge of the opportunity renewed in my life today. All things circle back to us when we’re ready for them. It’s not a replacement though. It’s simply a gift.
*In case you missed the first mention of Bennie, you can find it in my adventure buddies post.