(...and this one took place on 10/20/2012)
Lead-Up:
This is now the second "long race" this year that I've decided to do with not anywhere near enough training. I really, really hope that I a) learned my lesson today and b) will not be making this mistake again. But since I'm such an idiot, I'll probably make this mistake again. My training consisted of about 1 month of light 15-20 mile weeks with long runs of, oh I don't know, maybe 8-10 milers? I wasn't even trained for a 5k, let alone a 6 hour trail ultra. My thinking was that all of the elliptical, light jogging and moderate swimming (especially kickboarding) I'd been doing at the health club over the past year got me in sneaky good shape so that I could make up for the light training buildup and be able to pull this thing off. Rule #1 of running training is Specificity: you need your training to mimic the event you're training for. The other Rule #1 is, don't go into a serious race like that undertrained.
The race was in St. Pats park in Northern Indiana on the Michigan / Indiana border, just a little north of Notre Dame / South Bend. The main event is a 24 hour loop race on a 3 mile trail course, and my minor little claim to fame is that I think I'm the only person to have at least started all three events in the short 3 year history of this very, very cool event. (Started, not necessarily finished) Once again the course was fantastic, the volunteers were spectacular and the aid/support was spot on. This race continues to really impress me; the directors are an absolute credit to the sport of ultra-running.
Getting There:
Lost, part 1: Since the race was taking place on the weekend of a Notre Dame home football game, every hotel in town shamelessly price-gouges the hell out of everyone who even thinks about getting a room in/around the South Bend area. It makes me sick. So to defy those scumbag hotel directors I decided that I would get a room in Benton Harbor, MI, just a short 30 miles away from the race site. So Friday afternoon I'm driving west on I-94 and come to a massive traffic jam; apparently the highway is closed ahead because of a 12 car pileup. So, I get off 94 and take a long, convoluted "emergency route" for at least 45 minutes which probably only gets me about 7 or 8 miles up the road, at which point I get back on and finally make it over to Benton Harbor. My instructions told me to get off the highway at exit 33, but it turns out the correct answer should've been exit 29. As a result I drove all through downtown Benton Harbor and all the way to St. Johns, until finally backtracking, finding the right road, driving through a long stretch of dicey area (who knew a town with a name like Benton Harbor would have a ghetto?) and finally arrived at my motel. I think I'm finally going to get one of those GPS things for my car. The motel room was a almost comically bad; no heat, no carpet(!), it smelled, but I was too tired to care anymore so I got to bed somewhat quickly, slept but woke about 3 or 4 times (as is always the case the night before a big race) and headed out the next morning with a 2 hour cushion for a 30 mile drive.
Lost, part 2: My instructions told me to hang a left on Meadowbrook Road and take it over to 31 south. So I did, and I drove, and drove, 10 miles, 20 miles, through pouring rain, until I ended up on a dirt road that led straight to hell before turning around & backtracking. I found 140 South, figured anything heading South would be good so I took it. More countryside BFE, ended up in Niles, MI, pulled over a couple times to study my road atlas, finally found a way over to 31, took that to the turnpike and then by the grace of God I got off at the correct exit. Drove north on Business 31, hung a left at Auten Rd., hung a right too early and missed the entrance, backtracked again and found the entrance, flew up the road and got there with 30 minutes to spare before Race time. No problem. I am Totally, DEFINITELY getting a GPS thing for my car. Apparently I'm even more of an idiot than I originally thought.
Race:
It was cloudy, damp and cool. Rained on & off all day the two days prior, I thought the course would be a swamp but turns out it was very runnable, only a couple of small puddles. And the scenery was absolutely beautiful; the trees were at the tail end of peak colors, with exploding yellows practically making the day brighter all by themselves. I saw several photographers throughout the park taking advantage of the scenery. Anyway, it's a 3 mile loop, so that's kind of the gauge you use to track your progress. My sole mission was to hit 9 loops which would give me 27 miles. Wanted at least a marathon. I went out too fast, ran the entire first two loops without any walk breaks, and got through them in just over an hour which banked plenty of time for later, which I would need. The other Rule #1 of ultras or just plain old marathons is never, Never go out too fast and try to bank time. It will always bite you in the ass guaranteed.
So hour 1 was pretty solid; hour 2 things started going south, namely with my left achilles, left knee, left IT band, right foot, right hamstring, and one of my hip flexors, I think my left one. I started doing a lot of Gallowalking, which helped and I was still moving pretty well. By the time I hit 3:00 on my watch I was in bad shape, doing mostly walking and not particularly enjoying that walking. Plus my stomach was at least making suggestions to my brain that maybe barfing might need to at least be part of the conversation. The good news was that my legs still seemed to have a lot of life, and I figured I'd better walk fast, which I was able to do. As I approached 4:00 on my watch my legs were downright Screaming at me; they had no more life in them, they were miserable, I was miserable, everything was miserable. I actually groaned audibly a few times, when nobody was around of course.
This race is a fund-raiser for a gal named Faye who developed ALS (Lou Gherig's disease) 10 years ago and at this point is only able to move one finger, which she uses to communicate to the outside world. Otherwise her entire body is completely unusable. Whenever my inner voice would get especially whiny & bitchy I would think about Faye and grudgingly shut that inner voice down & keep moving. Somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00 on my watch I started to feel a little better; maybe my body finally switched from calorie-burn to fat-burn? I really don't know what happened, but after completing my 8th lap (24 miles) at 5:08 and not being sure if I could finish the 9th lap by the 6 hour mark (if I didn't, that last lap wouldn't even count), I decided to head out anyways because come hell or high water, I was going to get 27 miles in, even if the official results would only indicate 24. So about 1/2 a mile into that 9th lap, all the pain, agony and suffering almost magically disappeared from my legs and I was able to start doing a significant amount of running again. Still had ITB issues but was able to run a good bit. I got through my 9th lap in only 37 minutes which meant I had time to squeak out a few 1/4 mile mini-loops to fill out the full 6 hours. Final tally was 27 and 3/4 miles, good for third place in the 6 hour race. (3rd out of 4)
Hindsight:
The thing that made this a really weird race was that I literally "bonked" for at least 2 hours (which is way too long for a bonk), but then I got a second wind almost out of nowhere and was able to start running again after I thought for sure my legs were completely 100% fried. The other thing was that I hit my hydration and fueling goals pretty much right on the nose, but that didn't seem to do a bit of good--I felt great, then I felt like dog hurl, then I felt great again almost regardless of my hydration & fueling. I don't know if this day will "inspire" me to start running more & getting back into better shape & all that other stuff. Running just isn't important to me like it used to be... However I did see a lot of very positive, good things and met a lot of wonderful people, and it reminded me of why I developed such a fondness for going-long in the first place, which makes me think that I should get back into the whole running thing more seriously again. It's a really good world to be a part of. We'll see. Maybe the biggest surprise of the whole event is that I didn't get lost on the race course like I did on the way to it and ended up running into Missouri or Kentucky. I'm left with a question on my mind: is 27.75 miles a marathon, or an ultra? It's in that weird in-between dead zone...
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Marathon #3 -- Carrollton
(This race took place on 11/12/11)
I was watching Family Guy on a Friday night, saw a couple of TV commercials for “Saginaw’s only marathon”, and decided to show up & toe the line two days later on a cold, sunny Sunday morning for my third marathon (and first spur-of-the-moment marathon). There was a steady but light wind that would grow throughout the day to become downright nasty. Only about 50 of us doing the full marathon, probably 70-100 doing the half marathon.
It was about an 8.8 mile loop through a rather bleak combination of industrial wasteland and heartland Midwest that we’d do three times. We went past some homes, through a wooded area, past more homes, through a warehouse district, and along some farmland, before finishing up next to more homes. The most drastic course feature was encountered when we ran under the Zilwaukee Bridge twice each loop. The course was definitely flat and being marketed as a good course to BQ on. If they wanted to make it a cool course, they would have us running ON the Zilwaukee Bridge once or twice, but then it wouldn’t be a BQ-type of course.
Anyway, off we started and after about ¼ mile I was already about 5th from last place. I thought I was going along at a decent clip (10 minute miles is a decent clip for me for the marathon distance). I seem to start out near last place in almost every race. So I settled in, trying to come up with a good goal for the race. I rationalized that any goal would be extra-conservative, since I’d done a 100k only three weeks prior and wasn’t sure how I’d hold up. When I awoke that morning, the goal was to break 5:30. When I got to the starting line, the goal was to break 5:00. A mile in I started thinking about sub-4:30, which would be close to a PR for me (which some days I think is pitiful, until I remember the whole 21-year-smoker thing in my history), but at about that same time I came up with another, even better goal—try to run the entire marathon, with no walk breaks. Every race I’ve done from marathon up to 100k has had numerous walk breaks throughout, and I remember reading in the past about how some “purists” (a.k.a. running snobs) felt that people aren’t really ‘marathoners’ unless they run the whole thing. I’ve always wanted to run an entire one just to see if I could, and this appeared to be as good an opportunity as any. The running season was drawing to a close so I wasn’t too worried about lingering effects, the weather was decent (but cold and windy), and the legs felt solid.
So, I zoned out & ran, trying to ignore the uninspired, dreary, tepid, sterile scenery and the wind that we spent a great deal of time running right into the teeth of. From about the halfway point through to the end I started passing run-walkers one at a time; my IT bands started going south around mile 23; left knee started getting real bad with a mile to go but I made it to the finish in I think 4:39 without any noticeable damage (later discovered a blister on a pinky toe, my first toe blister from running). I think I finished middle of the pack. Also had negative splits (2:20, 2:19), which was good I guess. For three days afterward I had a nagging, persistent cough that I’m blaming on the car exhaust from going under the Bridge, and/or from the exhaust of probably 3 dozen rumbling semi trucks going by at various points throughout the race. Plus there was harvesting going on in one of the fields, might’ve contributed as well. Or maybe it’s just bad air in Saginaw, made worse by those unceasing winds.
Couple of nice things about marathons—you don’t have to worry nearly as much about nutrition/hydration, you’re done and headed home in only ½ a day, and though you’re beat up from the effort you’re not completely chewed up & destroyed like run-over Spam the way you are with Ultras. Despite the wind, the landscape & the IT Bands, I really, really enjoyed this race and am thinking about doing many more marathons in the future. I found out that this race qualified me to become a Marathon Maniac (since I’d done 3 races of marathon distance or longer within a 90 day period), so of course three days after the race I joined. Perhaps this will inspire me to do more 26.2’s, maybe even work on getting my PR down to around 4:00 or below.
Biggest Drawback—got beat by a 71 year old! *@$@&%^ Maybe my goal should be to never get beaten by somebody in their 70’s/80’s ever again.
I was watching Family Guy on a Friday night, saw a couple of TV commercials for “Saginaw’s only marathon”, and decided to show up & toe the line two days later on a cold, sunny Sunday morning for my third marathon (and first spur-of-the-moment marathon). There was a steady but light wind that would grow throughout the day to become downright nasty. Only about 50 of us doing the full marathon, probably 70-100 doing the half marathon.
It was about an 8.8 mile loop through a rather bleak combination of industrial wasteland and heartland Midwest that we’d do three times. We went past some homes, through a wooded area, past more homes, through a warehouse district, and along some farmland, before finishing up next to more homes. The most drastic course feature was encountered when we ran under the Zilwaukee Bridge twice each loop. The course was definitely flat and being marketed as a good course to BQ on. If they wanted to make it a cool course, they would have us running ON the Zilwaukee Bridge once or twice, but then it wouldn’t be a BQ-type of course.
Anyway, off we started and after about ¼ mile I was already about 5th from last place. I thought I was going along at a decent clip (10 minute miles is a decent clip for me for the marathon distance). I seem to start out near last place in almost every race. So I settled in, trying to come up with a good goal for the race. I rationalized that any goal would be extra-conservative, since I’d done a 100k only three weeks prior and wasn’t sure how I’d hold up. When I awoke that morning, the goal was to break 5:30. When I got to the starting line, the goal was to break 5:00. A mile in I started thinking about sub-4:30, which would be close to a PR for me (which some days I think is pitiful, until I remember the whole 21-year-smoker thing in my history), but at about that same time I came up with another, even better goal—try to run the entire marathon, with no walk breaks. Every race I’ve done from marathon up to 100k has had numerous walk breaks throughout, and I remember reading in the past about how some “purists” (a.k.a. running snobs) felt that people aren’t really ‘marathoners’ unless they run the whole thing. I’ve always wanted to run an entire one just to see if I could, and this appeared to be as good an opportunity as any. The running season was drawing to a close so I wasn’t too worried about lingering effects, the weather was decent (but cold and windy), and the legs felt solid.
So, I zoned out & ran, trying to ignore the uninspired, dreary, tepid, sterile scenery and the wind that we spent a great deal of time running right into the teeth of. From about the halfway point through to the end I started passing run-walkers one at a time; my IT bands started going south around mile 23; left knee started getting real bad with a mile to go but I made it to the finish in I think 4:39 without any noticeable damage (later discovered a blister on a pinky toe, my first toe blister from running). I think I finished middle of the pack. Also had negative splits (2:20, 2:19), which was good I guess. For three days afterward I had a nagging, persistent cough that I’m blaming on the car exhaust from going under the Bridge, and/or from the exhaust of probably 3 dozen rumbling semi trucks going by at various points throughout the race. Plus there was harvesting going on in one of the fields, might’ve contributed as well. Or maybe it’s just bad air in Saginaw, made worse by those unceasing winds.
Couple of nice things about marathons—you don’t have to worry nearly as much about nutrition/hydration, you’re done and headed home in only ½ a day, and though you’re beat up from the effort you’re not completely chewed up & destroyed like run-over Spam the way you are with Ultras. Despite the wind, the landscape & the IT Bands, I really, really enjoyed this race and am thinking about doing many more marathons in the future. I found out that this race qualified me to become a Marathon Maniac (since I’d done 3 races of marathon distance or longer within a 90 day period), so of course three days after the race I joined. Perhaps this will inspire me to do more 26.2’s, maybe even work on getting my PR down to around 4:00 or below.
Biggest Drawback—got beat by a 71 year old! *@$@&%^ Maybe my goal should be to never get beaten by somebody in their 70’s/80’s ever again.
Ultra # 7 RR -- St. Pats 24 Hour
(Just realized I hadn't posted this RR on here...this race took place on 10/22/11)
INTRO
Take an entire month off from running, and then run an ultramarathon.
Sounded like an interesting plan at the time, and though I had some palpable dread about the likelihood of spectacular failure going in, I also had that pre-race excitement that makes ultramarathons (and running in general) the coolest sport, ever. So after a fitful night’s sleep I showed up for another opportunity to run in a circle as many times as I can in one day. In the week or so leading up to the event I was only called “Insane” twice, so it appears my friends/family/co-workers are getting used to my hobby.
The main mantra about the sport of ultra-running is: “each of us is an experiment of one.” Perhaps I’m more of a diabolical mad-scientist than most, but regardless there were two very particular things I wanted to try to learn. One: how would I hold up in a race after taking an entire month off from running. Two: could I pace myself correctly to avoid a repeat of Achilles Tendon Hell that I had to deal with the year prior and still get in at least a minimum ultra distance (31 miles or more). As it turns out I learned two very valuable lessons during this race, but they weren’t what I expected. Training and pace did play minor roles, but the day’s big lessons were about breaking through numerous walls and the importance of a positive attitude. Further proof that you just never know what to expect on race day.
Back to the beginning: on Sept. 10-11 I ran 50 miles, from 4pm to 4:30am, and about 9 hours of that ‘running’ was under moderate rain. The entire experience was very negative and miserable for me, and though I didn’t create any serious health problems to my legs/feet and avoided pneumonia, my feet in particular seemed more fragile than usual for the weeks afterwards. With the St. Pats race looming on Oct. 14-15 I didn’t want to try running and risk injury during that month between races, so I just did low-impact cross-training (elliptical, swimming) and hoped for the best. I was in good physical shape, just not in good ‘running shape’. The two are surprisingly different.
RACE
I showed up, was actually ready at the start this time, and off we went. The course was the same as last year, 3 miles (maybe a tad bit more) of trails, mostly double-track, mostly flat but lumpy, two small hills (one down, then one up), very runnable terrain and beautiful scenery. The weather for the entire day was sunny, cool and excessively windy (but in the woods we were surprisingly sheltered from the wind). My mood was good and for some reason I got it into my head that if I hit any problems along the way, I simply wouldn’t worry about them; just keep moving. My legs started to feel significantly trashed around mile 12, hit my first ‘wall’ around miles 16-17, the second wall in the 20’s, the third wall at around mile 33. After 11 laps I was pretty much done, and after the 12th lap (at mile 36) I was Positive I was done. My legs, mind, body, soul and everything in between were just completely & totally done.
But one thing was bugging me: someone marking the trail with little flags yesterday had dropped a few in the middle of the one significant downhill, and on a ¼ mile stretch of trail afterward, there were some serious potholes in the trail, I’m guessing they were caused by people pulling big rocks out of the ground of the trail for their gardens, but that’s a wild guess. So I got it into my head that I needed to do some trail maintenance: one more loop where I would scoop up those flags, stick them in the ground right in front of the potholes and help the “real” competitors avoid the potholes once it got dark (because it was about to get dark very soon). I went to the food table, ate about an entire large potato worth of salty potato, ½ an orange worth of orange wedges, and had my bout with “ultra-karma”.
You can read into this however you want, roll your eyes, whatever. I’m just relating the story as it happened. As I headed out for loop 13, I wanted to curl up & die; only 10 minutes later, a little over ½ mile into loop 13, on my way to “paying ultra dues with some trail maintenance”, I started feeling like a million bucks and it was like the race had started all over again. (Looking back, apparently I just needed food.) I scooped up the flags and planted them in front a couple of the potholes, and then started actually running again for the first time in a couple hours. In the meantime, some dude at the barn who was a friend/relative of another competitor was probably going stir-crazy because he heard me talking about the flags and the potholes to the race directors, so he immediately got out there and was filling in the holes with a shovel, dirt and a little water as I was coming through. We did our thing to help everybody get through the rest of the race without snapping an ankle; we potentially saved the race for somebody! (Or, not)
So daylight waned, it stayed windy, I saw 9 deer as dusk turned to night (might’ve seen the same 2 deer 4 times) and on we went. There were some really impressive runners taking part, lapping me over & over again, while forward I strode, mostly just walking at this point. My thighs and feet were turning to hamburger, but this didn’t seem to concern me too much. My IT band was getting fried all of a sudden as I approached the 50 mile mark, but as soon as I mentioned this to one the aid station folks, a lady who was a yoga instructor and I think a physical therapist worked me over with the foam roller & some stretches, and off I went, renewed again (though still significantly hamburgerlike).
The fun of my day was starting to dry up at this point but I hoped to at least hit 100k, legs now congealing into a chili/meatloaf combo. My feet & legs were really badly painful at mile 60 (a little beyond the dull agony of the last 14 hours) so I did one last lap, hit 63 miles, and called it a day, after a little over 17 hours. I always get concerned when doing these distances because with so many muscles, tendons & ligaments as trashed & destroyed as they get, you always worry something extremely important (like a large Achilles Tendon, or a foot bone, or a femur) might just snap with any step. They never do and those fears always (usually!) end up being unfounded, but with so much agony, sleep deprivation, wear-&-tear and all around physical deterioration, it’s hard to make rational observations about anything.
POST-EVENT RATIONAL OBSERVATIONS ABOUT ANYTHING:
I listened to a lot of music, from start to finish until my mp3 player’s battery went dead just before my last loop. Some others started the first couple/few hours without music, then brought theirs out later; I might do this next time. Ate appx. 25 gels, probably 4 entire potatoes, 3 full oranges, 7 bags of Sport Beans, 8 FRS chews, a handful of trail mix, a piece of pizza and a bottle of Powerade (in addition to all of that water). Mainly stuck with one Endurolyte pill per hour, added a couple extra later on. It was my first time using Ibuprofen during a race (I believe in it but only very sparingly, once every 8 hours or so). I out-ran the life of my Garmin, which was pretty cool. I’d always read that the human stomach can only handle appx. 220-280 calories per hour; there were a couple of times when I think I had up to around 400-500 at once, without stomach problems. However I had stomach problems later on, around 15-17 hours and especially after I was done; I had a post-race ‘meal’, which did not want to stay down but thankfully did. I pee’d a LOT, maybe 25 times during the course of 17 hours. This was way more than I’ve ever pee’d in a distance race before, not sure if that was good or bad (but there were no lingering effects afterwards).
The aid station/barn is a perfect finish/start spot; there was electronic timing this year; the co-race directors got everything right. This is SUCH a well-handled event. Being in a good mood the entire day seemed to make the whole experience infinitely more enjoyable than my last race. If I do any future ultras and I wake up grouchy, I’ll be sure to pretend that I’m happy, but hopefully I’ll just wake up in a good mood & won’t have to worry about that.
I almost fell over trying to get out of bed the next morning because my legs/feet hurt so bad; 4-5 days later nothing hurt and I felt I could go running again. Amazing how quickly the body heals. 63 miles/17 hours was the longest I’d ever gone; looking back I now feel like I could’ve gone longer, but at the time I didn’t. And though I seemed to give everything I had and pushed my body to the limit, I feel like I came up short for some reason. It’s a strange sport.
INTRO
Take an entire month off from running, and then run an ultramarathon.
Sounded like an interesting plan at the time, and though I had some palpable dread about the likelihood of spectacular failure going in, I also had that pre-race excitement that makes ultramarathons (and running in general) the coolest sport, ever. So after a fitful night’s sleep I showed up for another opportunity to run in a circle as many times as I can in one day. In the week or so leading up to the event I was only called “Insane” twice, so it appears my friends/family/co-workers are getting used to my hobby.
The main mantra about the sport of ultra-running is: “each of us is an experiment of one.” Perhaps I’m more of a diabolical mad-scientist than most, but regardless there were two very particular things I wanted to try to learn. One: how would I hold up in a race after taking an entire month off from running. Two: could I pace myself correctly to avoid a repeat of Achilles Tendon Hell that I had to deal with the year prior and still get in at least a minimum ultra distance (31 miles or more). As it turns out I learned two very valuable lessons during this race, but they weren’t what I expected. Training and pace did play minor roles, but the day’s big lessons were about breaking through numerous walls and the importance of a positive attitude. Further proof that you just never know what to expect on race day.
Back to the beginning: on Sept. 10-11 I ran 50 miles, from 4pm to 4:30am, and about 9 hours of that ‘running’ was under moderate rain. The entire experience was very negative and miserable for me, and though I didn’t create any serious health problems to my legs/feet and avoided pneumonia, my feet in particular seemed more fragile than usual for the weeks afterwards. With the St. Pats race looming on Oct. 14-15 I didn’t want to try running and risk injury during that month between races, so I just did low-impact cross-training (elliptical, swimming) and hoped for the best. I was in good physical shape, just not in good ‘running shape’. The two are surprisingly different.
RACE
I showed up, was actually ready at the start this time, and off we went. The course was the same as last year, 3 miles (maybe a tad bit more) of trails, mostly double-track, mostly flat but lumpy, two small hills (one down, then one up), very runnable terrain and beautiful scenery. The weather for the entire day was sunny, cool and excessively windy (but in the woods we were surprisingly sheltered from the wind). My mood was good and for some reason I got it into my head that if I hit any problems along the way, I simply wouldn’t worry about them; just keep moving. My legs started to feel significantly trashed around mile 12, hit my first ‘wall’ around miles 16-17, the second wall in the 20’s, the third wall at around mile 33. After 11 laps I was pretty much done, and after the 12th lap (at mile 36) I was Positive I was done. My legs, mind, body, soul and everything in between were just completely & totally done.
But one thing was bugging me: someone marking the trail with little flags yesterday had dropped a few in the middle of the one significant downhill, and on a ¼ mile stretch of trail afterward, there were some serious potholes in the trail, I’m guessing they were caused by people pulling big rocks out of the ground of the trail for their gardens, but that’s a wild guess. So I got it into my head that I needed to do some trail maintenance: one more loop where I would scoop up those flags, stick them in the ground right in front of the potholes and help the “real” competitors avoid the potholes once it got dark (because it was about to get dark very soon). I went to the food table, ate about an entire large potato worth of salty potato, ½ an orange worth of orange wedges, and had my bout with “ultra-karma”.
You can read into this however you want, roll your eyes, whatever. I’m just relating the story as it happened. As I headed out for loop 13, I wanted to curl up & die; only 10 minutes later, a little over ½ mile into loop 13, on my way to “paying ultra dues with some trail maintenance”, I started feeling like a million bucks and it was like the race had started all over again. (Looking back, apparently I just needed food.) I scooped up the flags and planted them in front a couple of the potholes, and then started actually running again for the first time in a couple hours. In the meantime, some dude at the barn who was a friend/relative of another competitor was probably going stir-crazy because he heard me talking about the flags and the potholes to the race directors, so he immediately got out there and was filling in the holes with a shovel, dirt and a little water as I was coming through. We did our thing to help everybody get through the rest of the race without snapping an ankle; we potentially saved the race for somebody! (Or, not)
So daylight waned, it stayed windy, I saw 9 deer as dusk turned to night (might’ve seen the same 2 deer 4 times) and on we went. There were some really impressive runners taking part, lapping me over & over again, while forward I strode, mostly just walking at this point. My thighs and feet were turning to hamburger, but this didn’t seem to concern me too much. My IT band was getting fried all of a sudden as I approached the 50 mile mark, but as soon as I mentioned this to one the aid station folks, a lady who was a yoga instructor and I think a physical therapist worked me over with the foam roller & some stretches, and off I went, renewed again (though still significantly hamburgerlike).
The fun of my day was starting to dry up at this point but I hoped to at least hit 100k, legs now congealing into a chili/meatloaf combo. My feet & legs were really badly painful at mile 60 (a little beyond the dull agony of the last 14 hours) so I did one last lap, hit 63 miles, and called it a day, after a little over 17 hours. I always get concerned when doing these distances because with so many muscles, tendons & ligaments as trashed & destroyed as they get, you always worry something extremely important (like a large Achilles Tendon, or a foot bone, or a femur) might just snap with any step. They never do and those fears always (usually!) end up being unfounded, but with so much agony, sleep deprivation, wear-&-tear and all around physical deterioration, it’s hard to make rational observations about anything.
POST-EVENT RATIONAL OBSERVATIONS ABOUT ANYTHING:
I listened to a lot of music, from start to finish until my mp3 player’s battery went dead just before my last loop. Some others started the first couple/few hours without music, then brought theirs out later; I might do this next time. Ate appx. 25 gels, probably 4 entire potatoes, 3 full oranges, 7 bags of Sport Beans, 8 FRS chews, a handful of trail mix, a piece of pizza and a bottle of Powerade (in addition to all of that water). Mainly stuck with one Endurolyte pill per hour, added a couple extra later on. It was my first time using Ibuprofen during a race (I believe in it but only very sparingly, once every 8 hours or so). I out-ran the life of my Garmin, which was pretty cool. I’d always read that the human stomach can only handle appx. 220-280 calories per hour; there were a couple of times when I think I had up to around 400-500 at once, without stomach problems. However I had stomach problems later on, around 15-17 hours and especially after I was done; I had a post-race ‘meal’, which did not want to stay down but thankfully did. I pee’d a LOT, maybe 25 times during the course of 17 hours. This was way more than I’ve ever pee’d in a distance race before, not sure if that was good or bad (but there were no lingering effects afterwards).
The aid station/barn is a perfect finish/start spot; there was electronic timing this year; the co-race directors got everything right. This is SUCH a well-handled event. Being in a good mood the entire day seemed to make the whole experience infinitely more enjoyable than my last race. If I do any future ultras and I wake up grouchy, I’ll be sure to pretend that I’m happy, but hopefully I’ll just wake up in a good mood & won’t have to worry about that.
I almost fell over trying to get out of bed the next morning because my legs/feet hurt so bad; 4-5 days later nothing hurt and I felt I could go running again. Amazing how quickly the body heals. 63 miles/17 hours was the longest I’d ever gone; looking back I now feel like I could’ve gone longer, but at the time I didn’t. And though I seemed to give everything I had and pushed my body to the limit, I feel like I came up short for some reason. It’s a strange sport.
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