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.