Sunday, December 27, 2009

FA "50", 12/26/2009, Pinckney State Rec. Area

Week prior:
I received a couple emails regarding a "Fat Arse 50" on 12/26 at Pinckney recreation area trails, home of races such as Run Woodstock and DWD Hell. There's an 18 mile loop and a 13 mile loop, which for runners works out perfectly because if you do the 13, that's a 1/2 marathon; do the 13 twice, that's about a marathon; do the 18 and 13, you've got a 50k; do two 18's and a 13 and you've got about a 50 miler, etc. etc. And the email stated clearly that it did not matter in the slightest how far you chose to run; just show up & run as far as you'd like. In a way this was bad, because in the week leading up I would literally change my planned distance every hour or so, based on how I felt. (Feelin' old; I'll just do 13......Feelin' pretty good, I'll do the 50k......Feelin mediocre but still pretty decent, it would be cool to do a "marathon" in January in Michigan.....Feel awesome, I'm doin' 50 miles.....etc. etc.) Apparently I need structure in my life; in hindsight it probably would've been better if I had a specified distance that I was told to run. On one of those emails it indicated how we, um, really weren't supposed to be there, and if the DNR asked us, we should just say we were there for a run with some friends, not an official or unofficial Fat Ass run, otherwise they'd turn us all away. (I didn't see any DNR folks, so that was a non-issue) In other words, it wasn't an Official Fat Ass race; but then Fat Ass races by their very nature aren't really Official, so I guess it all made sense. There was no race director, no entry fee, no prizes, no trail markings, it was basically just a free-for-all. My kind of "race".

Day of:
I got up late, made a last minute decision to actually do this, left the house a little later than I wanted to, drove for an hour & once I got down there I got a little bit lost, meaning I wouldn't arrive at the unofficial 9am "start" of the "non-fat arse 50" until about 9:05. As I drove down the park entrance road toward the parking lot I saw two people coming at me hanging onto each other for dear life as they crested the top of a hill, and then 3 other folks all holding onto each other for dear life at the base of the same hill. The road had a Lot of ice on it, but for some reason I didn't really notice as I drove. I surmised, from seeing this, that the entrance road was maybe the early part of the trail (the other race I'd done in this area started at a different location, so I was a little lost at the start). But then I thought those folks probably tried to get started on the regular trail, the start of which was closer to the parking lot, but since the condition of said trail was such a disaster, they decided to head up the road a bit and jump on the trail there. They were hanging onto each other for dear life, on the Easier route of the two choices. This would be a test of survival, not endurance; the word of the day was ICE.

The previous day it was windy and very rainy all throughout Christmas Day, and then apparently overnight, before any of that rainwater had a chance to drain into swamps, rivers and/or lakes, it suddenly, dramatically froze. Right there, in the middle of the trail, in the middle of the hills, in the middle of everywhere. I would've had to camp out the night before in order to know for sure if the ice was the result of freezing rain or a hard freeze upon completely saturated woods, but I didn't, it didn't matter and I would soon learn that a dangerous amount of the trail terrain was a whole new level of treacherous, insane and diabolical.

It was like a luge course for squirrels with usually (but certainly not always) runnable shoulders on one/both sides littered with no-leaf-plants, no-leaf-mini-trees, fallen leaves and every possible mixture of mud, frozen mud, ice, snow, roots, leaves, rocks, frozen leaves, frozen rocks/roots, frozen slippery muddy leaves with a combination of ice and varying amounts of slippery snow, etc......but back to the squirrel luge phenomena. You know how on trails, there's kind of a dug-out 1 foot wide track right in the middle of many trail sections that's sunken in a little lower than the rest of the terrain, and it's kinda U-shaped? Well, imagine that part with 1/2 to 1 inch of SOLID ice running all along it. That was the running conditions for at least 25% of the entire trail. The only possible way to cover ground in many sections was to run on the elevated "shoulders" of the trails, where there was crunchy snow and some semblance of traction. I regularly did a kind of "slalom" running where I'd take a few steps on one side of the mini-luge, then a couple-few steps on the other side, then switch back for a few steps, etc. Of course, even on some of those raised, crunchy-snow "safe" areas it got slippery. I haven't been running very long, but I've never seen anything like it and never thought I ever would.

Of course, I spend a lot of time reviewing the Forum pages of RWOL, and in the past month or so I kept reading things like, "Drill screws into the bottom of your shoes," and "buy some yak traks", yada yada but I figured hey, who needs it? Me in my infinite wisdom thought for some reason that Michigan trails for some reason never freeze, at least not with solid ice. I figured they would either be covered with enough snow (crunchy or fluffy) that provided decent footing, or would just be wet with leaves, debris & etc. so that they would provide some semblance of traction and be passable. This day, however, was kind of a nightmare scenario of solid ice masked with a layer of 1/2 inch of fluffy snowcover to make for all-but-impossible conditions. I would only be able to tell if ice was coming up by long-streak-tracks made by prior runners who had slipped and/or fell thus exposing the solid ice below the newly fallen snow.

Before I even got started, as I first approached the trailhead I came upon 6 people that were debating on where Else to go, because the running conditions at this place were so impossible, they had decided they wouldn't even try it and were going to leave. Then, in Only the first 1/2 mile of my run I saw 4 other people running in the opposite direction of me, basically returning to the parking lot & giving up because the trail was so un-runnable. And I still hadn't decided on whether to go 13, 18, 26, 31, 36 or 49 miles yet. It was snowing at a fairly decent clip, and while I had been hoping to see some tracks to follow, in fact there were only two sets of foot prints in front of me. Now, 13 hours later, I realize that the "official" start of the trails was probably up that road near where I saw those few folks hanging onto each other for dear life as I drove in. But I didn't realize it at the time; I just figured they got an early start and they didn't leave any tracks because they were somehow miraculously running on sold ice.

During my first mile I came upon a very nice lady who had a map and gave me some instruction regarding the differeing 13 vs. 18 mile trails (there was no map at the trail head). Between her showing me where to go, my one pit stop and the tentative stepping on the early trail terrain, my first mile took, oh, just over 20 minutes. Uh boy. This could be a long day. It had been snowing at a fairly decent clip earlier in the morning, and by now it was coming down a little heavier. I mentioned to this gal that it would be great if we got at least an inch or two of snow becuase that could make running a lot easier. (At which point I thought about the fact that to non-runners this last sentence might sound like an attempt at sarcasm, but runners in snow-friendly regions would appreciate the sanity and rationality of this comment)

I caught up with another gal who stepped aside on the trail because she must've thought I was actually a good runner or something, but about 5 minutes later she then blew by me easily & I never saw her again. Then a few minutes later there were a group of about 6 people who came up, passed me, and then disappeared with little or no apparent effort, while, quite frankly, I really wanted to run with and talk to these fellow lunatics. I felt like I was flyin' & haulin' just to try to keep up, to no avail. Man, am I old and slow and not fast.

Shortly after this I came to the spot where, if I wanted to go 18 I'd need to go straight, whereas if I wanted to go 13 I should turn right. Based on those people going up the road holding onto each other for dear life and just an inkling notion, I figured that I missed a loop somewhere and if I went in the direction of the 18 mile loop, I'd make it back to the parking lot in significantly under 18 miles. So, I went straight, which meant the 18 mile loop. There were stretches where I was almost trailblazing as I proceeded about 4 or 5 or 6 feet right and/or left of the main trail area, and there were sections where I would take a couple/few steps on the right side of the trail, and then 2-3-4-5-6 steps on the left side, and then a few steps on the right side of the trail, etc. etc. It was simply impossible in many places, but runners just seem to find a way, which is what I did (as did others out on those trails on this day). Some guy came up on me from out of nowhere, checked to see if I was alright and then just as quickly passed me & disappeared. Another person effortlessly running way faster than me.

Despite the un-runnable running conditions, despite the cold & snow & Christmas waist-fat, I actually felt pretty darn good running during the runnable stretches. The fuel-for-the-day that I was experimenting with was FSR, which I started taking every 1/2 hour after the first hour of the run. Throughout I seemed to have a mix of really light foot falls (especially on the flats, uphills & icier spots) and heavier traction-creating footfalls on the downhills. And I still had plenty of legs at least 12 miles into my run. I fell hard 3 times (well spaced-apart throughout the run; appx. at 1 hour, 2 hours and 3 hours), and all three times it really didn't feel pretty good because I was falling on solid ice. I dreamed up a brand new idea for a shirt:

***************************
RUNNER

FALLER
***************************

As I closed in on the imaginary "finish line" which was basically the parking lot, I decided to be thankful for what I got out of this day and quit while I was ahead, so to speak, so I decided to not do a second loop. I figured if I kept going, I was only one mildly faultly footstrike away from a bashed knee cap, fractured hip, broken arm, concussion or worse. As a result of either not starting up the road a bit (instead of at the trailhead) or missing a turn early on, that 18 mile loop only worked out to 15.25 according to my Garmin. The time was 3 hours, 30 minutes on the nose. It wasn't an ultra, or a marathon, but still it was a good solid weekend long run, a 25k I guess, it was a hard run (these are very hilly trails), my feet & ITB's and hips and especially my back were all very sore and tired, and I still had to get back to Flint an hour away to return Christmas gifts. So now, forever more, no matter what kinds of running conditions I find myself amidst, I will always be able to say, "Well, I've run in worse conditions", because although I've run in all kinds of rain, snow and bitter coldness, I don't think anything will ever compare to this.