This article was originally published in the September 2024 issue of UltraRunning Magazine. Subscribe today for similar features on ultra training, racing and more.
We all know ultrarunning has inherent risks, and that’s one of the reasons we all sign up for these crazy adventures. Wild animals, getting lost, falling, dehydration and medical issues, just to name a few, keep us on our toes because there’s no telling what will happen out on the trail. Below are stories from my own experience as well as two other runners who have been in the sport for a while. We’ve shared our experiences in an effort to give a few pieces of hopefully helpful advice.
Photo courtesy Sandy Baker
Sandy Baker
Age: 62
Home: Foresthill, CA
Participation in ultras: 16 years
What Happened: I was doing a nighttime training run with six friends, running the reverse direction on the American River 50 course from the Auburn Dam Overlook towards Beals Point. At about 10 miles in, a friend running in front of me shouted, “What’s that?” I turned my head to point my headlamp where her light beam was shining and just 20 feet off the trail, two big round eyes shined back at us. They were low in the brush and were on the front of the animal’s head, not on the side, like a deer. I traced the outline of the head with the beam of my headlamp and realized the ears were perched up high, on top of the big round head.
“It’s a cat,” I shouted back. With half of our group up the trail past the cat’s position and the other half still behind us, we had to quickly decide whether to turn back or keep going.
We quickly decided to keep moving and hustle everyone past the bush. And then, 5 minutes later, we realized we were lost. While this was back in 2013, one of the women actually had a map app on her phone and, after some fumbling, we were able to establish a direction back to the main road.
Would you make any different choices if you were in the same situation again?
Yes. I would pay attention to the trail. It ended up being a very long night, running down Auburn-Folsom Road at 1 am. Those car headlights drifting towards our headlamps were likely more dangerous than the crouching cat.
Do you approach long runs/races differently based on this experience?
We did another night training run a couple years later on that same course. This time we had a crewed aid station at the halfway point just as a safety check-in, and we made more noise as we went. Most important, we didn’t get lost. As we passed, we pointed out where we made the wrong turn into the “lion’s den.”
What advice do you have for others who might find themselves in a similar situation?
Have fun and run at night with friends. In the end, everyone was fine and we had a great memory to share.
Photo courtesy Evan Kimber
Evan Kimber
Age: 47
Home: Superior, Colorado
Participation in ultras: 17 years
What happened: I ran and finished Hardrock in 2023—a dream come true, as I had been qualifying to run the race since 2014. The course was counterclockwise, meaning we had to climb over the notoriously difficult Virginius, Oscars and Grant Swamp Passes in the last third of the race.
After making it through snowy Virginius (where we used microspikes) and semi-snowy Oscars, Grant Swamp Pass was the last of the trio. There was a snowfield just before the very top of the climb, otherwise it was the usual loose scree field scramble. Before my pacer and I started the arduously difficult ascent, we noticed at least two other runners ascending the pass above us (one in the middle and one a bit higher up).
As we initially started, a volunteer let us know that none of us were on the correct or intended line/couloir to get up to the top. Each time I tried to climb, I would stumble backward as the loose rocks destroyed my footing and caused me to slide. I made it up a small bit and heard a roar of “Rock!” from up above. A dislodged rock was flying down the pass, caused by the runner at the highest point. We shrugged it off. But then, a few moments later, we heard a much heavier panicked roar from up above, again yelling, “Rock!” I would describe this more as a boulder than a rock, as it became dislodged and started flying down the pass at breakneck speed. As it hurled its way down, further desperation ensued from my pacer (Ryan Smith) who yelled at me as it came straight for my face. In what was only a single moment but felt like an eternity, I literally jumped over to my left and slid down a few feet. Ryan looked incredibly relieved, as the boulder had missed my face by probably a foot or less. My life flashed in front of my eyes. Had I not jumped to the left, I could have been dead.
Would you make any different choices if you were in the same situation again?
Of the many challenges, I was a true novice at Hardrock (first time running the race and first time on the course). If you’re doing Hardrock for the first time, I would advise getting out on the course. If I do Hardrock again, I definitely plan to not be behind any runners on the scree field passes. Lastly, “more is better” when it comes to Hardrock gear.
Do you approach long runs/races differently based on this experience?
An unconventional aspect of my running is that I do consistently high weekly volume (80+ miles, over 70,000 miles in 18.5 years of running) but you will almost never see me doing a long run. Instead, I do 12-mile runs daily and will use 50k or 50-mile races as training runs if I’m doing a 100-miler. This aspect of my running remains unchanged. However, for races, this experience implores me to be better prepared with understanding the courses and reinforcing proper gear and race strategies.
What advice do you have for others who might find themselves in a similar situation?
Advice to future Hardrockers and other high mountain courses: research the local conditions intensively and pack microspikes along with some kind of self-arresting tool (ice axe, crampon, tent stake, etc.). Second, when ascending scree fields/passes like these, check with a volunteer first (if anyone is there) or research if there is an intended route or line to take. Lastly, if there are others in front of you ascending, be patient and let them get up first.
Photo courtesy author
Erika Hoagland
Age: 42
Home: Fairfax, CA
Participation in ultras: 16 years
Description of what happened: In 2015, I ran Rio Del Lago 100 for the second time. My goal was to break 19 hours and if all went really well, break the course record.
After finishing the race, my husband, Karl, and I made it back to the hotel and I jumped in the shower. I began to feel a little light-headed and the next thing I knew, I was slumped down in the tub with water shooting out of the wall where the faucet used to be (as I fainted, I completely ripped the faucet off the wall). Luckily, I didn’t hit my head on the way down, but I was still out of it and not feeling great. I laid in the tub for 15-20 minutes and then, with Karl’s help, tried to make my way out of the bathroom and into bed and fainted again. That’s when Karl decided to call the paramedics who took me in an ambulance to the hospital. Once at the hospital, the doctor gave me an IV and after a couple of hours, I was totally fine.
Would you make any different choices if you were in the same situation again?
Yes! I ran RDL again in 2019 and was by myself in the hotel room afterward. Since Karl couldn’t be there with me this time, I promised him that I would be extra careful and sit down in the shower after the race to ensure that if I did pass out, at least I wouldn’t hit my head. I didn’t faint this time and have learned since the original incident that the heat from the shower causes your blood vessels to dilate which moves fluid into the legs through gravity causing a drop in blood pressure. The drop in blood pressure can result in fainting—the technical term for this is vasovagal syncope.
Do you approach long runs/races differently based on this experience?
I do. Since that experience, I try to continue to hydrate with electrolytes after I finish in an effort to get my body fluids back to a more normal state. It is so hard to stay on top of hydration in long races and seems that most ultrarunners have their electrolytes out of balance near the end. I also sit down in the shower after any 100-mile race for at least the first few minutes. If I feel okay after a bit, then I always stand up with the idea that I’ll sit back down at the slightest feeling of being lightheaded.
What advice do you have for others who might find themselves in a similar situation?
Keep hydrating and get some food at the finish. If possible, give yourself some time to recover before jumping in the shower. After this incident, I talked to my friend and ultrarunning veteran Ann Trason and she told me that she had also fainted in the shower after a race. One of her pieces of advice was to not jump into the shower first thing after finishing. She knows a thing or two about racing and recovering, so I heeded her advice. When I fainted, it was less than an hour between finishing and showering. Lastly, sit down in the shower or be very mindful of any lightheadedness so you can react before it’s too late. The biggest risk is hitting your head.