Calico ET Full Moon Midnight Marathon Race Report

I’ve been slacking on writing up the post-marathon race reports, and one of these days I will catch up! Right now I want to tell you about Calico ET Full Moon Midnight marathon because it was one of the most insane experiences I’ve ever! (And being stuck on a plane without internet means writing!)

This was by far the most challenging marathon I’ve had the privilege of running. Jessica and I signed up for this way back in January thinking we would have ample time to train, but as usual, life happens and we kinda ended up winging it like we did for Newport. 

The logistics for this race was tight. Too close for comfort. I’ll preface this to say it’s always better just to add an additional day beforehand to give yourself rest time. There was no rest time here. I don’t remember why I booked a late morning flight (probably budget or kid care related), but thanks to delays, I ended up getting into Vegas about 3:30pm. Bib pick up happened after dropping off my bag in our room at the Silver Sevens Hotel, which was the host hotel. 

Silver Sevens: The host hotel

Word of advice if you ever run the ET Marathon, book elsewhere. I think we chose it just because it was the host hotel. But, as Jessica says, this sad, dated hotel smells like cigarette smoke and broken dreams. I’ve stayed in less-than-stellar hotel rooms, but this entire place was in badly need of a complete renovation. The carpets were stained, the elevator creaked, and the card keys barely worked half the time. The nicest area was actually the pool, which we didn’t even use.

After bib pick up, we decided to grab a bite to eat at the cafe in the same space. The cafe was located on the second floor, in a supposed non-smoking area, but I’m guessing decades of smoking allowances on the lobby level just permeated the entire building. I had my burger with a side of stale cigarette. 

After dinner, we retreated to our room to lay out gear and wait for the 8:30pm bus to the start. Jessica arrived earlier in the day, managed to get a post dinner nap in. I laid on the bed with my eyes closed hoping to conserve whatever energy I would need later on. 

Soon we heard the commotion of runners outside and made our way to join the crazy people all dressed in reflective gear. Some people wore alien related outfits. Apparently there is a costume contest. The race director (who was running around with a giant speakerphone and a lit pool noodle strapped to her back) announced to everyone to “get on the bus” and so we did. The ride to the start took two hours. I tried to nap again, but failed to get anything longer than a 15 minute snooze thanks to the bus driver’s crazy driving. 

Bus drop off: Extraterrestrial Highway

Finally the bus pulls over to the side of the road at about 11:15pm, and opens the door without any announcement. Half the people stayed on, the other half looked around and wandered off. We went outside to figure out if this was where we needed to go. 

Once outside we were greeted by a bunch of runners in headlamps, glow sticks and reflective vests. Some people had blinking lights wrapped around their legs, some people wore glow in the dark headbands and glowing backpacks. A guy with a pointy tin foil hat walked by. Two ladies with matching light up tutus lined up by the portapotties, which had glow sticks hanging on the doors. A motorcycle parked nearby had an “abducted alien” tied up in the back. It was surreal.

The "White" Mailbox

We finally located the “white mailbox” (which was actually black) and waited on line to take the prerequisite photos. After watching a couple of people in front take crappy washed out photos, I suggested they use their headlamps as a spotlight to stop the flash glares off the reflective vests. That worked, and my good deed for the day was complete. 

At 11:45pm all the 5K, 10K and half marathoners loaded back onto the bus to get to their starting lines. Our start was the lone stop sign. At 11:58pm, the race director reiterated that “the buses will wait for NO ONE! So gauge your pace and made sure you get to the finish by 8:00am!” The photographer asks us to gather around for a group pic, snaps one, and at midnight we were off!

Now, I’d love to tell you that Jessica and I ran. But the reality is that we arrived to the start undertrained. Add to it race day airplane travel, desert conditions, summer temps, and altitude difference, we took things at a baby snail’s pace. Our only goal after being denied a finish in Nashville, was to complete the course. A Goal was the 51K. B Goal was the full. We'll see where we're at once we reach Mile 20. 

The first ten miles was spent adjusting to conditions. It was a slow march straight uphill on Extraterrestrial Highway. The moonlight was super bright, so we turned off the headlamps to let our eyes adjust, and watched as the faster runners pull away until eventually they were blinking dots in front of us. There were two Marathon Maniac ladies behind us, followed by a slow rolling cop car. They caught up to us for a bit, and the four of us went a couple miles as a group, chatting about the races we did, our favorites and such. Eventually they fell back again, and Jessica and I moved ahead accompanied only by the moonlight, and an occasional car passing. (We'd turn our headlamps on to warn them, and then turned it off when they passed. There was something soothing about running in the dark.)

"Only in darkness can you see the stars." - MLK

By Mile 11, the hardest part of incline began. There were alternating warm and cool breezes coming off the sides of the mountains that kept us cognizant of where we were, but the arid air was starting to hurt our eyes. At several points I felt like I had to close my eyes because the air was so dry, and that heightened the other senses. I felt a tug from my left shin due to the slight slope of the road, so I moved towards the middle. Then every time we heard an approaching car car we made our way back to the left side and turned on head lamps high until they passed safely. Sometimes the cars slowed down and veered out of our way. Some flew by when we were on the graveled embankments. Luckily it wasn’t a constant stream of cars, and the relatively straight road with hills gave us enough notice to make our way over whenever a car approached. 

"That's a strange rock up ahead... OMG! Is that... a cow?!"

The next two miles proved the most difficult, but we were rewarded by shooting stars and the Milky Way... as well as the sounds of coyotes in the distance, a snake on the road, rabbit road kill, and a couple of dead cows. In a moment of middle-of-the-night hilarity we kept approaching this “really strange looking black rock” until we shone a light on it and realized it was a bovine cadaver stiff with rigor mortis. The desert wind carried the lovely dead smell downwind and we booked it after being simultaneously freaked out and amused! It became fodder for the subsequent mile.

Half the stations were DIY refill stations

For the first half, some of the aid stations were either manned by a single person, or unsupervised with a giant jug or two filled with water and HEED. When we reached the halfway station, there were two friendly ladies there that decorated their table with balloons and had a mini spread of pretzels, ginger snaps, gels and electrolytes. We finally reached the top, and their celebratory table gave us a nice mental boost! I was super happy to have picked up the bacon jerky. The combination of salt and protein helped in the latter stages, and was a welcomed change in flavor from the Gu. The only downside was getting a bit burp-y from the jerky. But the burps provided immature entertainment on an otherwise quiet stretch of highway. (We were like two giddy kids delirious from the lack of sleep.)

The lovely ladies of Mile 13 aid station

After a porta potty stop half a mile down the road, we came across these cattle guards and some more turns, and even managed to run a bit with the hardest part behind us. To be honest, I don’t remember much of the second half before the sun came up. I was kinda in a haze from lack of sleep, dry air and darkness. And we were going through the motions, turning on our headlamps and moving to the gravel embankment every time we heard and saw headlights. My system was thrown out of wack and my stomach was letting me know I should be sleeping and not running. TMI, I made the most pit stops ever out of any race I’ve ever done. At one point I had to “moon the moon” because I drank too much water. It was funny because a porta potty appeared only a quarter mile after, and it was a lovely view against the rocks with the moon in the background. Jessica took advantage of it while I crossed the road to snap a pic for perpetuity (while she was inside).

Porta potty in the moonlight

By this point the sky was starting to lighten up, and that gave us a bit of energy. At mile 17ish the road opened up and the sprinkling of town lights appeared several miles away on the valley floor. It was like a mirage because my eyes couldn’t register what I was looking at. Eventually the tiny dots came into view and grew into houses, and the dawn light cast a muted pastel glow across the peaks. With the moon still glowing bright, and the sun about to break, we pretty much stopped before descending into town to take in the view and snap photos. It was simply too amazing not to stop, and take it all in. 

Requisite timed selfie

After spending a considerable amount of time on photos, we realized we wouldn’t make the cut off point to complete the 51K distance, and we didn’t want to try our luck, so we resolved to just finish the full. After a weather-related DNF in Nashville in 2017, and a sickness-related dropdown to the half in Birmingham in February, I was determined to cross Nevada off my list this year. 

By mile 20 the sun was up, and the last 10k proved mentally and physically challenging. You had to run past the town of Rachel (population: 54), where the finish line was, head 5k straight with nothing but fields on both sides, then then turn around and double back. That last portion was rolling hills with no shade. Did I mention the sun was fully up? 

The "large rock" at the marathon turnaround point

The last aid station was at the turnaround point. The aid station lady said to us that out turnaround point was “at that large rock over there.” She yelled to us when we reached it. Somehow Jessica had some reserves in her tank, and with 1.5 to go, she booked it, and left me in the dust. I kept looking out for the two Marathon Maniac ladies behind me, but on the return, I didn’t see them or the cop car escort. I slow chugged it enjoying my newly crowned status of being dead last, (a rather common place these days.) 

When I reached the turn to the finish, one of the race supervisors called out to me, “You have 30 seconds before cutoff!” Somewhere I heard Jessica yell my name. There was clapping and cheering from some of the finishers (no doubt they were relieved that they didn't have to wait any longer!) My legs responded by giving everything to cross that finish line. I need this time to count and Usain Bolted to the finish with mere seconds to spare. After I crossed, I doubled over, overwhelmed by exhaustion, and waited for my stomach to settle. When I straightened up, a fellow runner came by and patted me on the back. The official time keeper placed a medal around my neck, and a cop offered to take a photo of me at the finish. It was quite the dramatic finish! 

Nevada: check!

I must admit, it is those moments as a runner that I live for, where you feel you have nothing left to give but somehow manage dig deep and offer up something you didn’t realize you have. Those moments teach you a lot about yourself, how life throws curveballs and you do your best to adjust... or something inspirational like that! 

Anyway, this was by far my slowest marathon ever, but at this point, does it even matter? I'm okay I got to cross a state off! State #16 in the books!