Neal began his journey across the Santa Barbara Mountains at 6pm on July 10th. We are all super proud of him! He came in 12 place. Got a sweet blingy belt buckle at the end! He is AMAZING! Here is his race report from Mid August 2015:
2015 Santa Barbra 100 Race Report - Neal Hinson
It’s been a month now, and the swelling is gone. I can walk normal, and find my routine back
to pre-race normality. However, I still
have a keen memory of the 32 hour odyssey that was the 2015 Santa Barbra 100.
It all started with the stars aligning. My career and life are complicated. Back in March, I knew that if I did not sign
up for a 100 miler this year, it would likely have to wait another 2 years
before I could dedicate the time to train.
So search I did for that perfect race.
I’m not expert at the distance, but not a rookie either. I finished the Bear 100 back in 2012, and
attempted Pinhoti back in 2013. Pinhoti
ended miserably with me getting sick, and then giving it to my crew.
I found the SB100 on accident, but the timing was perfect,
and the calendar space was open so I signed up.
Then I read the fine print. It’s
a tough race YO! 26,000’+ of vertical,
90+ degree temps, trails that are well, not maintained like the perfectly
groomed stuff in Auburn. Anyway, I’d
already paid, time to train.
I showed up on race day with my crew of one awesome brother
in law! I saw the celebs, Eric, Rocket,
and Dean, and dreamed of what it would be like to race, dare I say compete with
these guys. With a few hours to spare
before the 6 PM start, I curled up under a tree to get a few pre-race
ZZZZ.
The 6 PM start was great!
Sure enough, the rabbits took off and I didn’t see them for a
while. The first aid station was
Buckhorn, roughly 5 miles in. The trails
and double track were in great shape, well-traveled, well maintained. I was hoping this would be a general
foreshadowing for the race. The climb to
Buckhorn was benign. After the AS (aid
station), the decent was pleasant and fast.
The single track was in great shape and I coasted down comfortable with
the pace, and enjoying good conversations with others. I caught up with Errol “Rocket” Jones. I gave him a hard time for going out too fast
as I ran along side. He jibed back and
told me to mind my manners around the “elders”.
Making my way into the Falls AS mile 10, I doctored up a hot spot on my
heal, and was off into the night.
The scenery thus far had been breathtaking. The temps were pleasant with a nice breeze. I watched the sun set against the coastal
range and could not imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
Falls AS to Live Oak AS was uneventful, but coming into Live
Oak, it was clear that a party was going on.
Lights on hula-hoops, neon body paint and everything in between awaited
the runners as we came streaming in. The
volunteers really made it a special place and tended to our every need. Continuing on to Red Gate the hills went up
and down, all runnable, nothing spectacular.
A bobcat eyed me as I came through the brush. Tarantulas and scorpions waived as I
traversed their part of the mountain as well.
The rest of the wild life was of the ultra-runner variety. An Irishman kept me in good spirits as I descended
to a race low, and wild man came flying down the trail in the opposite
direction until we told him he was going in the wrong way. The happiest guy in the world used his selfie
stick to get a trail side picture of us as we tread toward the turnaround. All between the hours of 10pm and 6 AM. This was truly my habitat.
Climbing out of Red Gate AS mile 22 I knew this march toward
the top of Cold Spring Saddle Mile 30 was going to be the longest stretch
without aid. I wish I would have
remembered that on the way back. The
trail was in some places, an idea, more than and actual thing. There was a place on the side of the mountain
where it looked like it should be, but was either swallowed up by Mother
Nature, or just faded under scree and sand.
Either way, it was a place you had to “see to appreciate”, neither of
which I could do, since it was night, and I did not appreciate it. In some places the slope was such that a
wrong step or slip would easily put you sliding down the mountain 10-20
feet. Yikes! I passed slowly and only slipped a few
times. I already knew that I was not
looking forward to coming back that way even in the daylight. Then there was the Poison Oak. It was to be waded through in most
places. A week after the race, the
attending physician told me this was one of the worst cases he had ever
witnessed. Dang.
Arriving atop Cold Springs Saddle AS I was greeted again by
the world’s greatest volunteers, fed a yummy quesadilla, handed an ice cold Red
Bull. Life was good. I could smell the ocean, and feel the sea
breeze; it was only 4000 feet down the mountain, and 10 miles away. The decent into Montecito AS mile 37 was
fantastic. I love to run downhill, and I
clicked off the miles as I enjoyed the early morning ocean views. The Pacific was lit up with buoys and boats
doing who knows what before the sun came up on a Saturday morning. These were great miles, but I was still
holding back. I wanted to hit the
turnaround feeling great, so I kept the throttle back. Rolling into Montecito I was greeted by a
father and sons team, got some hot food, and thanked them for their
sacrifice. The boys were a hoot! The climb to Romero Camuesa was tough but
enjoyable since it was still cool. As
the sun came up, I reveled in the views of the mountains and the ocean, what a
perfect combo. Mark, my brother in law
met me there Mile 42 and informed me that I was in 12th place. I didn’t care, yet, and took my time to get
all I needed to make the 16 mile out and back to Lagunita Del Cielo. This was my favorite part of the run. Early morning, I was running a southerly
ridgeline. To the west was the vast
Pacific Ocean and Santa Barbara 4000 feet below, to the east the sun was
casting its illuminating hellos on the peaks and valleys of the coastal
range. It was a perfect moment in time,
and I ran right through it.
As I approached the turnaround I saw the front runners come
past, they looked like they were in great shape, and not slowing. When I reached the AS (mile 50.1) I met some
of the coolest dudes that ever worked an AS.
They whipped me up a hot breakfast with beans and tortillas. Loaded my water bottles, and sent me on my
way. Then, something interesting
happened. I saw a guy approaching me who
looked just like Dean Karnazes. Oh
Snap! It was him, I read his book, I
follow him on FB, I’m a fan, he’s not supposed to be behind me! We spoke for a second, he said the wheels
came off and he was still going to power through. I thought, of course he is, he’ll pass me at
mile 70 or so. For now however, I was
ecstatic and feeling good. I gave myself
permission to race, and began to pass as I made my way back to the finish
line. Coming back into Romero Camuesa
mile 58, mark told me I was in 8th place. I knew where 7th and 6th
were, so off I went on a doomed fishing expedition, trying to reel them
in.
Casting prudence aside, I cruised to Montecito when I met
back up with Rocket, he was done, and I was dismayed for him. I invited him to accompany me on a “hard
walk” up to Cold Spring saddle again, and he declined with a laugh saying the
only way he was leaving was via mechanized means!
As I left, I noticed this part of the trail was exposed, and
it was starting to heat up. This was the
last big climb and I wanted to get it out of the way before it got too
hot. About a mile outside of Montecito I
recognized my folly; I should have stayed in the AS until I was rehydrated and
ready to continue. I was a bit premature
in my departure, which would have a cascading effect of my overall hydration
plan.
The climb to Cold Spring Saddle was brutal, toasty and
exposed. Every time I thought I was
there, I turned a corner and saw more and more up! Rolling into Cold Springs Saddle AS mile 70 I
was moving well, but it was a façade. I
slammed a Red Bull and some other beverages, but failed to rest and hydrate for
the next stretch, which was the longest stretch without aid.
The next 8 miles goes just like every other ultra-nightmare. There I was running on the hot exposed side
of the mountain, and then I ran out of water.
Next, I started to get hot, real hot.
Then, I started to walk, finally, I just laid down, right in the middle
of the trail. The wheels came off like a
Greek tragedy, and he was behind me.
Little did I know I was less than a mile to the AS. Lots of 100K’ers passed me; they were out of
water too. Finally, I cooled off enough,
regained strength, and got up and walked it in to Red Gate. There, I knew that I needed at least 30
minutes, and 2 liters of water. I made
up my mind that I would not leave, until I could pee. Like I said, Ultra Nightmare. On the bright side, I was now 3-4 hours off
my expected pace, people I had passed hours ago went flying by Mark up ahead,
letting him know that his runner was on the side of the trail. Mark took action, he got on his mountain bike,
and rode 3 miles up the trail to find me sitting at the AS trying to
rehydrate. He later told me that he
thought my race was over. It
wasn’t.
Part 2.
The walking dead run, sometimes. When I left Red Gate, I had been sitting for
an hour or so, swelling had begun, and I was as flexible as Gumby in the deep
freeze. I promised Mark that I would run
again, it just might take a few minutes.
It took an hour, but I eventually fell into a shuffle. We decided that at Live Oak AS, I needed a
complete overhaul. I would bathe in the
mud hole, change shorts and shoes (after 80 miles) and re-lube. The pain was incomprehensible as I skinny
dipped in the mucky pond and exposed my massively chaffed skin to who knows
what. I was past caring though. I now had a one track mind. The dreams of a 27 hour finish had long
subsided. After the overhaul, I got out
on the trail and ran. Dean Karnazes
showed up at the AS right as I was leaving and was the perfect motivation to
start running as fast as I could. I was
not going to get passed again.
As the night set in, I was running scared to the
finish. I did not want to get passed,
and fear was on my side. The trails from
this point on were in great shape, and I was kicking myself for not taking
better care of my body. I should have
been cruising here, but everything was a struggle. I passed through Arroyo Burro, and finally
met up with Mark at the Falls AS. He had
agreed to run…well walk now the last 10 miles with me. From Falls AS to Buckhorn it was 5 miles. Mostly uphill, but good trails that were easy
to navigate. The last 28 hours had taken
their toll on me, and for the first time, I had some pretty interesting
hallucinations. Nothing extraordinary,
but one stump turned into a golden retriever looking bear that waived at me as
I went by. Water on a road crossing took
a three dimensional form that left me confused as to which way to go. I was in rough shape, and fell silent and
Mark and I pressed to the finish.
Reaching Buckhorn, I sat for a bit, and enjoyed some food as I prepped
for the final 5 miles. The old saying
that 95% complete, 100% to go rang true.
The toughest 5 miles of my life were next, and they were on smooth
downhill gradients. As we made our way
off the mountain, Mark asked, if someone came up behind you, would you start
running? I said NO! I’d let them pass. 5 minutes later, we got a glimpse of a
headlamp from behind, and I started to run.
With about a mile to go, we took off, and Mark laughed at me. I embraced the pain and overall humor of the
situation as blistered feet, chafed body parts, sleep deprived brain, and
everything else crossed the finish. I
found the first chair, and sat down, knowing my fate was the same as the Petrified
Forest. The Race Director shook my hand,
gave me a nice blanket and a turkey burger and pronounced me done…pretty sure
he meant “well done” since the meat was falling off the bone.
Our plan was to pitch a tent and sleep it off in the camp
site, then drive home in the morning.
Problem was, no shower, and I needed to get clean. A couple of gals took pity on my plight, and
snuck me and Mark into their campground where there were public showers. After that, it’s a blurr. We ended up parked on the side of the mountain
sleeping in the back of the truck. When
the sun came up we were in paradise found overlooking the city and the ocean. I was indeed petrified as I set the world
land speed record for the slowest walk to the bushes for a good morning relief.
I was a hot mess.
Swollen legs beyond recognition, poison oak everywhere, and skin so chafed
it started to scab up, but I did it. And
I felt amazing!
The Crew: Mark provided amazing support!!
Look at that swag!!
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