Ozark Trail 100 2010

"To me, there's really only two reasons not to finish an ultra - either you are risking permanent injury, or it's involuntary - e.g. missing a cutoff or passing out"* - Ozark Trail 100 RD Paul Schoenlaub

I discovered new lows. You've heard of a running high? Newtonian physics would dictate that there are also running lows, and I dug deeper than ever before this weekend.

The short version:
For the first 40 miles, I was out of it both mentally and physically. My legs had no bounce and my head was not into the race. I have never questioned so early in a race my commitment to finishing. I hit a good stretch from shortly before Brooks Creek (mile 43) until Machell Hollow (mile 76) until the wheels came off quite suddenly right around mile 76.
Very little running happened after this point, and walking/staggering of various speeds on a cold Ozark night took me into Billy's Branch (mile 88) wearing five layers and still needing an hour of sitting wrapped in electric blankets to get warm. Two miles later, I told John Goble, my pacer, "I'm dizzy, my vision is blurry, I'm staggering and I'm scared", and proceeded to sit down next to a tree and cry. I quit. Again, I quit that race, right then and there. John let me sit, cry it out, and then said "Alright, let's get moving". He held on to me until I could walk straight and kept me moving slowly until we crossed the finish line.
Same place, two minutes slower than last year. I'm still not sure I actually did finish, but everyone keeps acting like I did, so might as well smile. :)

The long version:

Pre-Race

Ozark one year ago was my first 100 miler. I knew one was coming for me, and I had been planning on Rocky Raccoon in February, but the lure of an inaugural event in the state where I lived plus the effect of reading so many stories of folks who had completed X races in a row wound me up into wanting to start my own streak. I finished last year. It was hard, I learned many new things, and got myself a new chronic injury that weekend that persists still today. This was year two - I was one of a dozen returning veterans in the race's sophomore year, knew the course, knew the hardships, had a dozen more ultras behind me in experience now - I could handle Ozark this year...right?

Heartland 100 miler four weeks beforehand took a lot out of me. I was as razor sharp as I've ever been for that race. And the recovery took longer than any ultra I've done before. Normally, two weeks after a 100, I'm ready to hit it hard again. Two weeks after Heartland (and thus two weeks before Ozark) I was still sluggish and easily tired. I knew I wasn't at my best going in, but I hoped my course knowledge plus residual fitness would help me to something along the lines of a 24 hour finish, which I hoped might also be top-10.

Rolled into race headquarters at Bass River Resort around lunch on Friday - was great to see Paul, Stu, Deb, Cindy, Laura & the whole crew getting everything prepped. Helped some, ate, chilled with other early arrivals and just generally soaked in some positive nostalgia. Races like this are really like family reunions with one difference - a bunch of vaguely familiar people you don't know, and a whole bunch you do - the difference being you're really excited and happy to see the ones you do know. :)

Oh, and met my pacer, John Goble. John had posted on the OT100 listserv about four weeks before the race offering his pacing services. Not wanting to take something I considered a luxury from someone else who might consider it a necessity, I waited two weeks before emailing him. He was still available, so we exchanged some emails, phone calls, and finally met about 12 hours before race start. Great guy, new to ultrarunning and just having completed his first 100 at Arkansas Traveler five weeks before, running a stellar 23:05 for 7th place!

Nighted at a hotel in Cuba, MO with John, then got up at 3a to drive down to the race start. Ozark being a point-to-point race (rather than loops or an out-and-back), you have to shuttle down to the start, get dropped off, and then run back. We caught up to the back of the race caravan and followed them, except that they took a wrong turn a mile from the start. After following for a minute, I told John "this isn't right", grabbed a map, and pulled a U-turn. We got to the start at 5:15a and the caravan didn't arrive until 5:40. Oops. Made for nice short lines at the Port-O-Potties!

Start to Grasshopper Hollow (8.0mi)

23 degrees at the start. *teeth chatter* - did I mention I am solidly a hot-weather runner, at least relative to cold? At least there wasn't much wind. Surprisingly, three layers was comfortable once we started.

Last year, I wanted to start out slow and controlled, so I placed myself near the back at the start. This led to 10 frustrating miles of half walk, half run while stuck behind other runners on narrow singletrack, which was a bit too controlled, so this year I wanted up front. If I thought I could do top 10, I might as well start near there. Nice pack of six starting out - Burch, Creehan, Gibbs, Doias, Ruttum and myself, the usual fresh-legs feel of the start of a race. Let them go after about four miles not wanting to press it. DST was still in effect, so dark through the first hour. Evidently, the first 14 miles were rather bramble filled not two weeks before the race, and the RDs spent copious hours clearing the trail before race day. I can believe it, based on how what remnants there were tore up my legs - can't imagine how bad it was before their work! Kept Ruttum and John Cash from getting lost. Friendly faces Paul, Stu & Mike Mehrwin at Grasshopper.

Grasshopper Hollow to Sutton Bluff (17.6mi)

Ouch! Root holes abound - I told Cash that we're adding a new skill to technical trail running - alongside Loose Rock Downhills and Hidden Roots in Ankle Deep Mud comes Rounding Root Holes. A twofer bit me - rounded one hole only to fall directly into one that started right where the previous one ended. Fortunately, my fall was stopped by a nice solid raspy root right across mid-shin. Nothing like bloody swelling early-on in the race to prep you for the inevitable later on.
I think I fell more in this first stretch than I did the entire race last year - and that was with knowing how rough the course would be! Also, the views coming off the bluff into the campground are still beautiful, and it still takes forever to get to the aid station from the point where you can first see it.
Note to self - you will want to change socks here after Bee Fork, the biggest water crossing on the course (mi 14.1) so next time pack decent socks in your drop bag!

Sutton Bluff to Stillwell Hollow (22.8mi)

Was it really in this stretch that I had already started to question my sanity in doing this race? 20 miles in? Legs were already feeling it, mentally I was spacing, and it wasn't four hours yet. Sheesh. Trail less rough. Great to see Flatrock RD Eric Steele and crew at the aid station

Stillwell Hollow to Johnson Hollow (28.0mi)

More of the same. Schoenlaub clan at the aid station. :) I believe I knew most, if not all, of the aid station crew at 11 of the 13 aid stations - and one of where I didn't was a crewed aid station. Especially at night, it was a serious boost to know not just what but WHO was coming up.

Johnson Hollow to Gunstock Hollow (34.8mi)

Dave Walch caught up, and we played tag through Hazel Creek. Mentally a total space case, can't get any rhythm going, admitting to myself that I wasn't having fun, but still persisting both well under 24 hour pace and hopping between 7th/8th place.

Gunstock Hollow to Brooks Creek (43.5mi)

This is where I ran out of water last year barely halfway between the aid stations, and made sure to add an extra handheld in my bag at Gunstock this year - and it was a very good thing I did! Down to one layer for this section. About three miles out from Brooks Creek, it becomes very flat & runnable, with a lot of long, shallow downhills - my favorite for pushing the pace. Was finally able to relax, and came into the aid station in decent spirits. Had a brainstorm to have John walk with me for a ways out from the aid station - that way I could fill him in on how I was doing without stressing about spending too much time at the aid station. I believe my summary was "My mental game is gone, and my mom called - she said I left my legs at home. Other than that, everything's going well". Started grabbing gear for night, knowing we had passed the hottest part of the day.

Brooks Creek to Highway DD (51.0mi)

Got some tunes going, and finally got into a groove, even running the majority of uphills, which I hadn't been doing to that point for lack of self-motivation. Wanted to take advantage of the last few hours of daylight. Realized my fueling was going amazingly well. I depend mostly on Boost! for my calories - 360 per 8 oz plus antioxidants, electrolytes, etc. Never caused stomach problems. With drop bags at Gunstock, Brooks and Highway DD all so close, I had planned to drink a pair at Gunstock, and then one each at the latter two. Without even thinking, I downed a pair at Brooks and didn't even realize it until 4mi later. Thinking, "Huh, I wonder..." I turned the trick again at Highway DD, and counting some extra aid station fare I'd taken in earlier in the race, I was far and away setting a PR for both total calorie intake and intake per hour! 3270 in the first half alone!

Hit the halfway point at 10hr 43min - well within 24 hour pace. Jen Eichelberger, the aid station captain, was also coordinating a food drive at Ozark, so dropped off the can of tuna at the aid station that I had duct taped to my waist belt at the start. When asked, I said "I'm a ultrarunner - since when do we ever do anything the easy way?"

Highway DD to Martin Road (59.2mi)

Easy terrain - flat creek bottoms, solid surfaces. Kept up the rhythm. Darkness hits right before the aid station, and I start to bundle up. Gloves, three layers (top partially unzipped) and hat.

Martin Road to Hazel Creek (68.5mi)

Darkness brings a downturn in mood as it always does, but as a friend says of me, I avoid "turning into a pumpkin", unlike the total mental crash of last year. More walking now, but it's power-walking and still good spirits and am honestly having fun now. Good to see John at the aid station for the start of his trek with me.
At the aid station, find the warmest place to completely strip down to re-layer for the night is next to the campfire out in the open, so I *suggest* to the rest of the crew/volunteers there that they might want to "take a look down the trail". Tights, shorts, four layers up top + emergency heavy jacket around the waist, two pair gloves and thermal headband.

Hazel Creek to Machell Hollow (76.1mi)

I said beforehand that one thing that can really ruin me mentally is if I believe I should already have made it to an aid station and it's still not in sight. Unfortunately, I "remembered" Machell being at 75.1, and the extra 12+ minutes to get there really ground on me. Otherwise, was great having company in the form of John, and he did a good job getting me to run those places I had the energy to but mentally was having trouble driving myself along. I told him to expect a 1/3 run/walk ratio at this point, but he had me going more like 3/1 and being comfortable doing it. Norm (friend & pacer from Heartland) was here. Felt good, felt confident, 24 hours was within my grasp.

Machell Hollow to Berryman Campground (81.5mi)

I got cold. I put on the heavy jacket. I was still cold. I pulled up the hood. I was still cold. I cinched up the front so I was breathing into the jacket interior like a mini furnace. I was still...cooler than was comfortable. We walked. My energy sunk. What changed? How so fast? I wish I knew. Five layers! Five! I know my body loses its ability to temperature regulate after ~50miles, but this was ridiculous - I had never been so well dressed for cold weather on a run before - including below-zero wind chill runs last winter! Couldn't be fuel - I was still on a PR calorie pace. Yes, it was the first cold run of the year, and the first hot/cold are always the hardest to adjust to, but still!
John was very helpful, suggesting running in spots where the trail was clear (since with my lack of flexibility after 75+ miles visibility of trail mattered more for ease of running than uphill/downhill), reminding me to drink, and keeping up good conversation. About a mile out from Berryman, I remarked to him that I wished Kyle & Stacey Amos were at this upcoming aid station like last year. I was having some pains on the inside of my right knee that I hadn't experienced before and would have liked Kyle's advice.

Berryman Campground to Billy's Branch (88.0mi)

And guess who was at the aid station? Kyle & Stacey! I had totally spaced that they were running it. And not only that - they had fresh cooked french toast and BACON! BACON! BACON! Mmmm...bacon............................................ What? Oh...race report. Started following cravings rather than my pre-race fueling plan, eating what looked good rather than strictly downing Boost! with supplemental grazing. Realize 24hour pace is now a long-shot. I'm only 20min behind it at this point, but as bad as I'm feeling, I need to concentrate in moving forward without the added stress of a pace goal.

John & I had good conversation coming out of Berryman - so good we didn't notice the T-intersection to take us back on the right trail. It was so well marked there's no way we could have missed it, right? After about 20min, we get worried - it should only have been a half-mile and we're not walking that slow. We don't recognize the part of the trail we're on. Three possibilities - we're still coming up to the T, we've headed back down toward Machell, or we took the correct turn and didn't notice. At least, there's not any other options - right?
I send John on ahead to run and see if he can find anything, while I walk on. After 20min, he's not back and I get very worried - the few times we'd got off trail thus far, I'd been the one to get us back on, since I both had the "feel" down and remembered enough from last year. What if he got off trail and didn't realize? What if we were backtracking? What if we were lost? And so on and so forth the downward mental slope accelerates. I tell myself if I don't see him in 15min, I'm turning around. Fortunately, he shows up five minutes later reporting that he thinks we took the correct turn and just didn't notice. He points out a Berryman Trail marker of the type I had been desperately searching for (and missing, I guess), which I knew confirmed we were going the right way and hadn't wasted any time.

Now that that distraction is past, I notice I'm cold. And I'm tired. (and evidently I'm retroactively whiny.) Mentally that stress about finished me off. Stagger now better describes my pace. All I can think about now is how slow we're moving, how crappy I feel, etc. At least John's there three steps ahead of me so all I have to do is concentrate on following his footsteps and not actually have to be present in my surroundings, worry about checking trail markings, etc. How did this race do this to me again? I didn't feel this crappy at this point last year, not by far. I tell John I have the aptly appropriate lyrics from "Underdog" by Audio Adrenaline running through my head:
"Been beat up. Been broken down. Nowhere but up when you're facedown on the ground. I'm in last place, if I place at all, but there's hope for this underdog."
Start doubting my ability to finish again. Only hope is that by now, I'm far enough under the cut-offs that I know 30min miles plus an hour at each aid station will still get me back in time.

Billy's Branch (88.0mi)

James Barker and Deb Johnson are godsends. So caring, so well prepared. Sit in a chair. Get covered by electric blankets. Cold. Five layers + 2 electric blankets and cold. Took us two-and-a-half hours to traverse that 6.5mi. Fall asleep for almost an hour. Don't even realize it until I'm awoken again. Told I need to get moving. Don't feel like I slept at all. Still cold even when I get up.

Billy's Branch to Henpeck Hollow (95.0mi)

Tired. Cold. Brain stripped down to what Bad Ben Holmes calls "reptilian" - functioning only on a basic survival level. And this reptile wants to curl up and hibernate or whatever it is reptiles do in winter. I slowly stagger two miles down the trail behind John until stopping and calling him. I say, "I'm dizzy. My vision is blurry. I can't walk straight. I'm scared". That last bit was my call of surrender. I felt closer to passing out than actual consciousness. I knew we needed to go back to the aid station and throw in the towel. Even that was 50/50 me collapsing and having to be carried in. I sidestep over to a tree, slide down it until I'm sitting, and start crying. Frustration. Shame. Exhaustion. Misery. I thought I had felt crappy during a race before, but this was new ground.
We sit there for a while. I mumble apologies and exclamations and cough and hate on myself. John listens. Doesn't say much, at least that I remember. I start to run out of tears. We sit a bit more. He asks if I can get up, I respond, he holds my arm, and we start to stagger together - forward, not backward. Consciously moving toward the finish, not back toward the aid station.
(Want to note that I've never actually passed out, and a small bit of irrational me was actually pushing to keep going until I did so, just for the experience.)
We move slowly, but we get there. Less dizzy. Daylight helps. Schoenlaub family again. Pack a pocket of mini candy bars just in case.

Henpeck Hollow to Finish (102.0mi)

Not moving quite at 20min/mi pace, but forward. With sun comes warmth, and I start talking more, spirits rising some. Dizzy spells still; the candy bars help a lot.
The finish has been, well, finished this year. Storms from spring '09 had meant that the final 4mi of trail of the race course hadn't been cleared by race day last year, so forest service roads made up the last stretch. This year, the trail is open, which means we can see Bass River Resort from a ways off. A long ways off. Knowing the finish is coming turns the grim "if we make it" comments into exhaustedly sarcastic but ultimately hopeful remarks about the nonsensibility of switchbacks heading away from the direction we now know to be the finish and various versions of "if there's ONE MORE HILL, I'll...". Realize I will make it. My hoped for 10-year-in-a-row-in-the-first-10-years streak is still possible.
Finally warm. Hit points a mile-and-a-half off, three-quarters off, and then the finish is in sight. We cross. I get my buckle. 28:45 - two minutes slower than last year, when I painfully hobbled the last 13mi in 6.5hr with a "disintegrated" left shin. 18th place - same as last year.
Still not sure about it. I quit, I gave up, if it had been up to me, I would not have finished. Does this count?

Post-Race and Other Thoughts.

Thank you John. It is a certainty I would not have finished without you. Thank you for pushing me. Thank you for listening. Thank you for refusing to listen when appropriate. Thank you for patience far beyond the level of reasonableness. Thank you for refusing to recognize that I quit. This was only your first time pacing, and I can't wait to see how good your next charge gets it.

Thank you all aid station volunteers - especially James, Deb, Kyle, Stacey & Cindy. You saved my...bacon. :) Your patience, commitment to the runners' well being, advice and creativity on food were all spectacular.

Thank you consortium of six ham radio clubs, for providing a safety net in a cell phone dead zone without which this race would be impossible.

Thank you fellow runners for your jokes, encouragement, extreme efforts and willingness to push beyond all reasonable limits. Finisher or not, you're all rock stars.

Thank you Mom, Alyssa, Brian Longfellow, Nick Kietzman-Greer, Trail Nerds & Hawks & Gators & Masons & all running friends, Dr. Janice Louden, housemates of this masochist, and many more for advice, support and mainly just general putting-up-with-ness. :)

Thank you Paul & Stuart, for creating this wonderful, horrible, teaching and rewarding experience. For being out there to cheer and help at the early aid stations, for all the work you put in beforehand clearing trail, marking and doing administrative head-spinning to make this race happen. Eight more, and I know in a week I'll be saying I can't wait. :)

Musings:

Two new PRs from the race: Least Chafing and Most Calories Consumed. The former thanks to BodyGlide (first use in a race) and the second at approximately 5500, depending how rich the Amos's french toast was. :)

Showers at Bass River Resort, 20' from the finish line, are a wonderful thing.

When my stomach goes to pot, I crave solid foods. Noodle soup turns my stomach. I'm told craving solid food over semi-liquid is a good sign. Not sure why. +2 to Schoenlaub clan at the finish line going above and beyond on my request for some hot, solid food and cranking out a couple dozen grilled (turkey &) cheese.

The 25+ miles between crew access points between both Sutton Bluff/Brooks Creek and Brooks Creek/Hazel Creek make it very hard for crew to anticipate arrival time of their runner - so much can change.

Bacon. 'Nuff said.

Always carry one more layer of clothing than you plan on wearing during a 100-miler. Always.

Ozark Specific:

It was cold enough in the morning that with the crossing at Bee Fork, when I rolled into Sutton Bluff and attempted to change socks, I had to deal with frozen shoe laces.

You will want to change socks for sure at two places: Sutton Bluff (after the largest water crossing on the course) and Berryman (after the second-largest and LAST crossing - you'll have dry socks till the finish)

The first 17.6 miles are ROUGH and you'll do as much dancing as running. Don't have a pace goal. Don't push it. Stay alert. It will beat you up some regardless - be prepared for this mentally.

3 miles before Brooks Creek, it gets very flat and runnable. This continues basically until Hazel Creek. Make sure to take it easy until then so you are ready to use this.

There's a large hill for at least a mile into Billy's Branch. It will be dark and you will be quite tired when you hit this. Remember it - you don't want the mental drain of it catching you by surprise.

More to come...




*paraphrased - everyone who knows Paul would recognize that this summarizes at least five minutes of chatter :)