"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 :)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Thursday, November 12, 2009
OT100
There's really no place I can start this race report other than thanking the vast number who made it possible. Kyle Amos told me before the race that anyone who is able run a hundred miles should count themselves very blessed & lucky that they are even able to attempt something like that, and I definitely do thank God for all he's blessed me with, physically, mentally, life-situationally, and most certainly friends to see me through this. Brian Longfellow & Jenn Bernstein, my pacers & crew. Debbie Webster, Julie Toft, James Barker, Colleen Voeks & Deb Johnson, my cabin & van buddies, unofficial crew & hug buddies. Paul Schoenlaub, Stuart Johnson & Lee Hess, race directors/coordinators extraordinaire. Nolan Ming, fellow runner who was my unofficial pacer for part of the night. Ben Holmes, Gary Henry & Darin Schneidewind (and many more) for inspiration to actually attempt this. Kyle Amos & Danny Miller (and many more) for advice on how to not die doing this. Webbie, Shelley Flones & Sophia Wharton for making sure I wasn't dead or dying afterwards. Those two random ladies to let me basically put my whole weight on them to hobble the 50' from the finish line to a car. Stacey Amos, Tony Clark and all of the many aid station workers, radio operators, volunteers, National Forest Service folks & Bass River Resort staff who made this race possible. THANK YOU. Much more to say, but (hopefully) I'll let the story tell itself.
As a couple of my previous race reports have mentioned, the OT100 has predominated my thoughts for a few months now. First 100 miler, kinda strange it would do so, eh? Makes it rather difficult to know where to start, since the whole story probably begins back at the end of July - February - previous October - ok, if I was really trying, I could link it back to the 4th Quarter of 5th grade. We'll see where this goes, but one thing's for sure - it will be long. :-P
Left for Bass River Resort Thursday night with Debbie, James, Julie & Deb. All of our luggage + my race supplies + aid station supplies made for a very full van - I had to sit on the topper to get it zipped shut. James put up very well with conflicting opinions about driving & directions from us peanut gallery folks, and I enjoyed the healthiest chicken burger Sonic had to offer + Cherry Limeade. Drive was shorter than Google reports - we took 2 (3?) wrong turns + dinner stop & still made it from West of the 435 belt in Shawnee to Bass River Resort in under 5 hours. Note: if you're arriving in the dark, while BRR has big signs, they're not lit and easy (so we're telling ourselves) to miss. And I don't think we did too horrible of a job waking up Lee, Stuart, Paul & Cindy unloading into the cabin. (SORRY)
You know you never sleep well the night before a race, and two nights before is the time to make sure you get a good nights sleep, right? Well, I hadn't been sleeping well all week, but did that night! Got up around sunrise, Webbie had brought an egg bake so had 4-course breakfast. Stuart & Lee went out to finish marking the course (rains the previous weekend had disrupted their marking time table), Paul was chopping down trees to feed into his printer for race packets, and everyone else went for a run on the OT while I packed drop bags.
Bit of a dilemma with drop bags. The first crew access is at mile 17.6, Sutton Bluff, which is where our whole crew would be working the aid station. The next is Brooks Creek, mile 43.5, which I wouldn't arrive at for at least another 6 hours. Based on that, I suggested to my crew/pacers, Jenn Bernstein & Brian Longfellow, that they didn't need to come over Friday night but instead could leave Saturday morning & not meet me until Brooks Creek, around 4 in the afternoon at 24hr pace. HOWEVER, cell phone service at BRR was basically non-existent. I could get a bar on our porch with Sprint, but Verizon, T-Mobile & something else were all dead for the weekend unless you drove a mile back up the road. I had planned to leave my crew box of supplies with Webbie and have Jenn/Brian call her to meet up & get it, but that was looking less likely. So I made a game-time decision to put all of my perceived "needs" into a large drop bag for Brooks Creek, and all of the "wants" into the crew box, to be left at our cabin at BRR. Also packed small drop bags for the two aid stations that could have them prior to Brooks Creek, but not afterwards, figuring on being crew-dependent. Being my usual type-A self, I made an annotated list of what was in each bag/crew box, and if you're interested, I uploaded it to the files section of the OT100 Yahoo! group email list.
Colleen arrived, everyone got back from the run, showered, and we all got busy stuffing race packets, making signs for the Sutton Bluff aid station, and lunching. I believe there was some stapler drama, but that is not my story to tell. :) I had developed a suspicion (but can't remember the rationale behind it) that diary products were causing me stomach/bowel problems on long runs, and was cutting them out in the 48hrs before the run (down from my usual 1/3+ gallon of milk per day - seriously). I pooped less during the race than usual, but am not sure if I can fully assume causation here. Was eating every 1-2 hours - chicken noodle soup, raspberry applesauce, egg bake, powerbars, OJ, bagel + hummus, not sure what else.
A thought on pre-race fueling for ultras, that may not be that popular. I really think the emphasis on eating a lot and drinking constantly in the 24-48 hours before an ultra is overblown. Carbo-loading in based on the theory of packing in glycogen stores, but even a trained endurance athlete who has depleted and then supersatured their glycogen capacity has, at most, 90min of fuel stored in that format. The rest is coming from fat stores and what you take in during the event itself, and since it typically takes 24-48 hours for your body to convert excess calories into stored fat, eating for that purpose is not logical. Eating a lot in the day beforehand may pump up your glycogen stores, but not in a way that is really going to affect your overall performance in anything ultra distance. In fact, I think it kind of hurts me - if I start off TOO well fueled (or hydrated), I feel fine longer into the race. What's the problem with that? I don't get into a habit early of eating & drinking, because I am seriously not hungry/thirsty and have a much harder time making myself take things in from the get-go, where a consistent fuel intake from the start would help me much more. I would conjecture that fueling during a race is much more important than pre-race, and it might behoove me to sometime try an ultra where I start out, if not hungry, no more fueled than I would on a regular day. Similar with water - it's hard to drink when I'm not thirty, but if I start out supersatured, by the time I can finally make myself down decent quantities of water, I'm in hydration-debt & working to make it up. I'm definitely not saying that I or anyone should enter an ultra calorie or water deprived, but I think that, as long as you have a reliable watering & fueling infrastructure in place for an ultra, it might be fine to enter a race with no difference in your intake than on a regular day. And it might also help prevent bonks, as per my above reasoning - if you're consistent from the start, you won't reach that all-too-familiar point where your pre-race loading runs out and your body is transitioning to primarily using fuel taken in mid-race. Would love to hear thoughts on this, and can back up some of my points with articles - please let me know if you want me to dig out that info.
Back to the narrative. Hiked the quarter mile over to the main lodge at BRR, where packet pickup started at 2p. The lodge had Wi-Fi! I helped hand out packets a bit while checking email, listservs, sports scores, Plans/blogs, and generally finding my powers of concentration zeroing out as the actual race schedule of events started. was very grateful to find a well wishing email thread on the Hawks list. :)
Dinner from 4-6p in the lodge was pretty good - white flour pasta with both veggie & meat sauces. Green beans that I assume were from a can with bacon (Colleen didn't realize the latter & I got to induce a spit-take later :-P) Wheat, white & rye rolls, and pre-dressinged (ranch) iceberg lettuce salad. And brownies. And pink lemonade. Most racers had arrived by dinner, and Paul gave the pre-race briefing afterwards on the porch since the weather was so ridiculously nice. Yes, for November 7 in Missouri, race weekend conditions were highs in the 70's, lows around 50, 5% chance of rain (didn't happen) and, as weather.com put it, "abundantly sunny". Most of the briefing had to do with course markings & directions. There's more than a few events on the OT100, and quite a few flags/markers out. Ours were orange & silver striped - both tape & flags, and the whole thing was on the OT, so their blazes were along the whole course as well. They reported the course as quite extensively marked, with examples of all the marking materials and directions about specific sections. Fortunately, while the previous weekend was very wet, the course had dried off in the warm week & was in good shape. The first 20-40 miles of the trail had sustained extensive storm damage in the spring, and the OT Association had done an amazing job cleaning it out, but there were still a lot of downed trees & root holes to report. Also, the last 3 miles of trail leading into BRR had yet to be completed, so we would finish coming in on a gravel road.
Actually managed to sleep about four hours that night, after three hours of tossing about. Since the race is a point-to-point, buses take you from BRR to the starting point. There's no parking at the start, so you either have to take the bus, or be dropped off - no space (or permit) for vehicles. It's about a 2-hour drive from finish to start, so the bus left at 3:30a. Nice, early morning preceding an all-nighter, eh? Also, the buses are school buses, so no on-board potty. We did stop for a pee break at the side of the road about halfway down, though. And there were port-o-potties at the start. Buses arrived at around 5:15, folks either milled around nervously or sat on the bus where it was a bit warmer, Paul gave 15, 10, & 5 min warnings, and we were off. There was something unique & cool about the starting "gun", but I forgot what it was...
At the start, I was wearing two layers on top, both thin technical, shorts, SmartWool socks, Mizuno Wave Ascends, and my Camelbak waist pack. No gloves, tights, hat, etc. Headlamp for the first 20min (which gratefully were being collected at Grasshopper Hollow) My pack held a liter of water, and I had two Hammer Gel flasks, container of S-Caps, small stick with duct tape wrapped around it, two extra Gel packets (to be given away/used for emergencies), a trio of extra AAA batteries, and a printed, folded & sandwich-bagged list of course waypoints, just in case.
The start was very bunched up - there's about 30' of clearing between the road & the trail, not even enough room for everyone to be off the road at the start, and needless to say, unless you were up in the front 5-10, you were walking for at least the first 5min. Had to keep telling myself that it's a long race, not to get impatient, take it slow, and I did - for the first hour. I was just so relieved to finally be running again after my taper that I picked it up a notch, and felt like I was cruising along pretty well. Got to know Tommy Roias, who had run some of the other ultras I'd been at, and Carina Winkler, who was a SIUE grad student from Germany and running not only her first 100, but her first ultra of any kind.
I can rather lump the whole first 40 miles together - tough. Like I said before, there was clean up from storm damage, but the first 40 miles were really tough to run. Besides skirting the huge root holes all over the place, there were still numerous trees to climb over, the trail was hard to find, and it was quite uneven - mostly cambered rather than smooth cut, with oodles of hidden rocks under the leaves, and almost no flat sections - constant either/or on the ups & downs. I was continually surprised in checking my times at the aid stations how slow my actual pace was. Tommy, who I was with for most of the ways into Brooks Creek, thought we were putting down miles somewhere in the 10min range, while in actuality we were barely holding onto 13s. Having a sub-24hr goal, I was trying to gain some margin during the daylight before the inevitable night slowdown, but couldn't without pressing much harder than was smart.
Was great to see Kyle & Stacey Amos and Tony Clark at Grasshopper Hollow (8mi aid station), along with their special "Gary Henry: 2 Picture Limit" sign. Got lost for 3-5min after Grasshopper when the course encountered a Jeep Road - this was actually included in the pre-race briefing, but still it took 5 of us to figure out where to go. Course's largest water crossing at Bee Fork (mi 14.2) was cool, deep (2') and refreshing. View coming in to Sutton Bluff was amazing - from up on the bluff, you could see & hear the aid station from over a mile away. Was great to see Webbie, Julie, Colleen & James there, and made sure to get hugs from them all. Ended up running with the lead female for most of the first 40mi - Carina for the first 10, then some other lady, and then eventual winner Rachel, who pulled away a bit before Brooks Creek. Started "hallucinating" early - got kind of lonely/bored, and everything looked like a person/aid station - the large moss rock is the top of a tent, right? Was already getting some muscle soreness by mile 25, and while the official race packet says there are NO NS-AIDS at the aid stations, I asked if there were any "unofficial" ones at Johnson Hollow. They found a Tylenol for me, which I was most grateful for (Paul & Stuart, please don't disqualify me!). Really would have liked to grab one of the horses at that aid station for a few miles as well. :) Had my tunes in my drop bag for Gunstock Hollow (34.8mi) - plan was to make it the first third on my own, the second third with music, and the last third was a pacer. :) Really just wasn't feeling all that great - everything was working - legs, stomach, head, etc, but nothing was great. As I put it, "everything's in the green, but just barely". Worried me because I knew if (when) anything started getting explodey, I didn't know where I could pull some reserves from, but consoled myself with thinking it was good race management that everything was declining at equal rates. Also, heat started coming in mid-afternoon (high of 75), and I was drinking a lot more than planned. Got super scared when my pack went dry halfway through the 8.7 mi stretch from Gunstock to Brooks Creek.
Was nervous coming in to Brooks Creek - would Jenn & Brian be there? They had left that morning, and had to make an unplanned stop at BRR plus get new directions from there to Brooks Creek, and I was running about a half-hour ahead and what if they had encountered unexpected problems on the way and there was no cell phone service and and and...they were there! I think it would have been a huge mental blow to me if they hadn't, but it was SO SO SO GOOD to see them. They had everything there all laid out so that once my mental checklist disappeared I could just look & point (great idea!), made sure I ate & was fueled, helped me not to forget my headlamp, chatted me up & generally just gave me such a boost.
Able to hold off on the use of my headlamp until Highway DD (51.0mi), where I was told I was running in the top 20(!) but shortly after I headed out from that aid station, the enormity of going the whole night in the dark when I'm tired and rather alone began to hit me, and I started walking a lot, very mentally down. Tommy caught & passed me, and then Nolan Ming, who I had passed about 10miles before, caught me as well. We chatted briefly and then he moved on ahead, and after he got about 100 yards, I realized how much of a boost I got just from that passing encounter and caught back up to him, where I begged him to let me stay with him until I got my pacer. He was agreeable, and is one of many who saved my race. I stayed with him for about 15miles in the dark, and not only did he save us from getting very lost twice, but he kept the pace going well, me mentally focused, and brought us into Hazel Creek. Without him, I may have well dropped due to the mental downs by that point, and I owe him a big debt of gratitude.
Brian & Jenn had been doing a bit of conspiring, and rather than Jenn taking me the 13mi from Hazel Creek to Berryman, she was going to hold back b/c of flu recovery, and Brian was going to take me from Hazel Creek all the way to Henpeck Hollow, which is further than a marathon. Brian, and experienced road marathoner, had told me before that he didn't understand how/why I would go on a training run further than a marathon, and he certainly wouldn't unless he got a medal for it, so I was very pleasantly surprised by this. Got a makeover at Hazel - traded out the chafing Camelbak waist pack for the Nathan one, changed shoes, shirts, re-lubed, etc. As I told Jenn in the video she took of me, I was having fun "off and on". Right IT band a bit sore, left shin tweaking a bit, the chafing on the back, but no blisters.
Nolan took off ahead of me, as did someone else who came in behind, but Brian & I started out and quickly caught that guy. It was so good to have him along - we chattered about anything & everything, walked the ups, ran the downs, and ran most of the flats. He kept me mentally strong and moving and I can't really express how night & day different it was to have him there. We found out at Machell Hollow that I was in 11th - I'm not used to so many folks dropping, and this rather surprised me, since we hadn't passed anyone. Didn't find out, however, how to pronounce "Machell" - even the aid station folks didn't know. Brian & I kept going strong, and about 2.5 miles out of Berryman, we saw headlamps ahead. Started to strategize a bit, and told Brian that we were now running until we caught them & were past them out of site. The runner & pacer were walking medium-slow, and I was remembering the Andy Henshaw Leadville report of "you gotta break their heart". If I really was in 11th, and they were 10th, oh man, I wanted that top ten & wanted to go by them in such a fashion that they wouldn't even think of trying to stay with us. Perhaps a bit harsh, but having something competitive to obsess over at this point really helped. Came into Berryman in "stealth mode" - trying to deflect our lights on switchbacks so we were less visible, talking only quietly, and generally trying to gain as much margin as we could. I was probably rather ridiculous coming into Berryman when I was jogging up trying to shush all the folks cheering by putting my finger to my lips and shining my headlamp at my face. Sorry! Got more food down at Berryman, another "just in case" Ibuprofen - though really nothing but my shin was sore, and I hit it with IcyHot. Kyle told us that basically everyone was walking at this point, so I felt good about our run-walking & being able to hold on to top 10, maybe even move up a bit.
Took off out of Berryman before the "11th-formerly-10th" folks made it in, also running to appear strong as we passed them (there's a 1/4 mi out-and-back from the trail to the aid station). Brian noticed after a half-mile that my waist pack was empty, and offered to go back to Berryman to get my bottle, but I wanted to keep going & told him to forget it - I could make it in with just aid station supplies (bad idea). I was getting very paranoid - stopping & shushing Brian every now in then because I thought I heard voices, making him check behind us for headlamps, and generally being ridiculous. Kept me focused, though? BUT, about a mile out of Billy's Branch (mi 88), we DID see headlamps behind us, moving strong and running. Tried to hold them off, and got in & out of the aid station about 15 seconds ahead of them, but they caught us soon after. Then...my shin exploded. Really, it did so before they caught us, but what was tender and sore before now was having sharp pains with each step. Massaging it didn't help, Ibuprofen wasn't doing anything, and I could barely step on it without gasping. We went from a strong run-walk to slow hobbling in about a half-mile - downhills killed, flats hurt, only inclines felt mediocre. I remember Paul Schoenlaub telling me on a run back in June that the only two reasons he would drop in a 100 were if he was in a life-threatening situation or risking causing himself permanent damage, and I didn't think either was the case here, so I kept hobbling on. It was around 4a now, and I had known since Highway DD that my 24hr goal was gone, but I had still been hoping to get under whatever Paul & Stuart end up setting as the "silver standard", and keep my top 10. That quickly changed to "finish" - I don't know how to spell DNF, not for my first 100.
Compounding my problems were the now slower pace means I was generating very little body heat, and I began to get very cold before two long. Brian & I talked about it, dropped it, talked about it, dropped it, and finally when I was shivering constantly and somewhat dizzy still about 2 miles from Henpeck, we stuffed some Snickers down my gullet, he gave me his extra shirt, and he gallantly ran ahead to the aid station to procure extra clothes for both of us. I kept stumbling forward, but was scared. I knew if I had a conscious choice, I was going to finish, but as dizzy and cold as I was, I hoped I didn't pass out. Had my arms tucked into the body section of my shirt, was holding it up over my mouth to breath in, furnace-like. Snickers helped a lot - I got less dizzy, at least. Brian made it back before a half-hour had passed with lots of clothes, and got me bundled up. We hobbled into Henpeck barely making 30min miles - I would stop & crouch every half-mile or so for a minute - the five miles from Billy's to Henpeck took us just over 2:20. The sun was up by Henpeck, so I was warming up. Tried to put some more food down, and I honestly don't remember what, if anything, I had. Took a bunch more pocket Snickers though.
Jenn & I set out after 10min, hobbling along, and she had the great idea to grab a tree branch as a cane for me. That helped in some rough spots. After two miles of barely making headway, I got impatient and told her that as long as the pain was the same amount, I might as well run as best I can rather than walk. That lasted all of 4 minutes, as while I could run as well as I could walk (and thus move faster), I had no mental juice to sustain the effort. Was surprised that really no one had caught me, as slow as I was moving - only two people thus far. That last seven miles on in just plain sucked though. Moving so slow, not feeling up to talking, sleepy - Jenn was an angel for putting up with me. Thankfully, the last 3.5 miles were on gravel, so the terrain was smoother than I could move a bit faster. If I was in any runnable shape, I could have easily put down sub-10 on those - my legs felt quite fresh, so add frustrated to the list. People started catching & passing, and I went (by my count) from 13th to around 28th. Not that it matters at this point. Hobbled, hobbled, hobbled, down the road, along the back side of the resort, across the field, along the horse pasture while people were cheering. Turned the corner with 50' to go, handed Jenn the stick and tried to run - made it two steps, and settled for a hopping, left-foot dragging shuffle across the line & in. 28:44. I made it.
Kind of a blur after this - got my buckle, gave Jenn & Brian their thank you gifts, hugged many people, probably ate some things, stubbornly insisted on going back to the cabin to shower (which involved using many weight-bearing shoulders and crawling up stairs), "packed" (threw things into tubs), and went back down to watch Gary Henry finish. Checked the results, and saw I was 18th - guess more people ahead of me dropped, plus a few who passed me that I thought were racers must have been pacers. Happy about that placing, but feel kind of weird about it. Turns out only 56 of 136 finished - 44%. The winner said it was harder than Leadville(!) I kind of wonder about the causes of the low finishing rate. I know the course was tougher than expected, but I also wonder about the entrant pool. From what I've heard, this race had a lot (40%+ of the entrants) of first-time 100 milers. Carina, who I mentioned earlier, had never done further than a marathon. I heard about another guy who had never done further than a half-marathon - including in training. Just makes me curious to what extent the low finishing rate can be attributed to 1. Heat 2. Tough Course 3. (related to 2.) Cut-Offs being too strict 4. Atypical entrant field
I am definitely coming back next year, and hope this is the start of a 10-year streak for me. What will I do differently? The main thing is alter my pacing - the last 60 miles were quite runnable, analogous to what I'm used to at Clinton Lake but with longer hills. I (and everyone, I expect) just beat ourselves up so bad on the first 40 that we couldn't take advantage of the latter 60. Once I get a couple more 100s under my belt to make sure this is possible, I plan to take the first 40 as easy as I can, regardless of pace, and see about hitting the last 60 hard(er). Other minor changes - Biofreeze in the med kit, Ibuprofen in the S-cap container, different waist pack since I'm tired of the chafing from my main one, carry an extra layer at night. Not much. Take away my shin problem & the hypothermic problem (mostly) disappears, and take away the push on the first 40 and the slowness (hopefully) on the last 60 is lessened for an overall better time. Looking forward to Rocky Raccoon in February now. :)
There's probably more to say, and I may add it at some point, but thank you again to all who made this possible. Brian, Jenn & Nolan, without whom I wouldn't have finished. Debbie, Ben, Gary, James, Kyle, without whom I wouldn't have started. And my God, without whom it wouldn't even be possible.
More Photos / Videos courtesy of Jenn!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Heartland 50
Time for my second go at the 50mile distance, this time at the Heartland 100/50, also known as the Spirit of the Prairie Run. It's Kansas' sole (currently) 100mi run, and one that I've heard much about from Nerd/Hawk friends. I've had it penciled in to my race calendar since mid-July. Unfortunately, it filled up in mid-June, and it was only thanks to the awesomeness of Bad Ben that I was able to sneak in and officially be a registrant 11 days before the race itself. Was planning on heading down anyways - would ask around about pacer/crew/aid station volunteer needs if I couldn't run.
I was nervous about this race! Didn't expect to be - I realized afterwards I didn't have any definitive goals except "Don't Bonk" and "Beat my Voyageur Time". But the sheer quantity of random mini-stress attacks about minuscule details in the week leading up to the race spoke against my "it's-all-good" outward demeanor.
Was originally expecting to drive down Saturday morning at dark-o'-thirty, but co-worker Keith mentioned he wouldn't mind closing Friday (minor miracle), and I would be free to boogey down for the pre-race briefing and dinner. The race is held in Cassoday, KS, which has a population of 99. It's the only exit for 30mi either direction off of I-35, and contains some houses, one tiny gas station, and a community building, which 125 runners + at least 3x that number of pacers, crew & race workers took over for the weekend. Craziness. Co-race director Randy Albrecht (an accomplished ultrarunner in his own right) gave us directions for this 10th running of the race, the most significant of which was the weather. Friday was pretty nice - mostly sunny, low 50's, not too much wind. Saturday - nope. *Might* break into the 40's, possible rain at any point in the day, and windy. This being a gravel road, open prairie run, any weather that happens we would be right in the middle of. A bit nerve wracking for a group of trail runners used to being sheltered by trees and the like. Pre-race dinner was great - all the fixin's you might find at a church potluck, and all prepared by one amazing Mennonite lady + helpers. Various salads, veggie dishes, beef brisket, chicken breasts, bread, etc. Plenty of good fare for omnivores, veggies, and in-betweeners like myself. I had brought a can of great northern beans as a just-in-case supplement, and downed it with dinner anyways. Stomach had been a bit unsettled, but I chalked it up to nerves. Said hi to Gary Henry, Paul & Cindy Schoenlaub, Jim & Sandy Beiter, and a bunch more folks I somewhat remembered from Flatrock.
At Heartland, I was hoping to learn a lot about the workings of a 100-miler, so that I'd feel better prepped for Ozark Trail 100 in a month. After hanging out with Darin Schneidewind, his family and other Topeka folks (John Knowles, Kyle Phillips, Jenn Franklin & family), I headed over to the *cough* campsite, where Colleen Voeks, Jim & Sandy Beiter, plus many more of the race folks were parking by the start/finish line & camping in our cars. Despite numerous previous plans to sleep in my car, this was my first actual experience. Once the sun went down, two things rapidly happened - it got COLD and it got DARK. Only lived in the city a year and I'm already not used to country darkness. Sheesh. After laying out some prep for the next morning, it was pretty easy to tuck in to the car - BUT - how to sleep. Do I lay the front seat back to nearly horizontal? Do I sleep curled in the back seat? The trunk? Ended up going with option #2, which did not hurt my back like I was worried. Read some Trail Runner magazine and drifted off around 9:30p, alarm set for 5:00a.
Saturday - had the most splendid waking up ever! Actually woke up at 4:45, before my alarm, noted the time, started the car, curled back into the sleeping bag and when the alarm DID go off, got to get dressed & eat breakfast (bran flakes :) in a nice, WARM car. Saddled up, hit the port-o-potty, and hit the mandatory check-in. Skittered around nervously with everyone else, decided to start with three layers up top instead of two (but lose the third at the first aid station, as evidenced by my pinning my race number to the front of the second layer) and shorts. It was announced that the 50 milers were going to start about 75 yards ahead of the 100 milers. Walked down to the start, glanced at my watch - 5:57a. Oh crap! I completely forgot that I had promised my bud Debbie Webster that I'd make sure there was a group hug at the start! Sprinted back to the other start line and gathered Darin, Jim & Gary for a hug. Of course Gary was lame and took a picture instead of joining in, but we hugged, I wished them all luck one more time, and sprinted back up to my start line with 30sec to spare.
Gun goes off! Plan for today is to go out at 11min pace and see how long I can hold that. My only previous 50mi was Minnesota Voyaguer, which is a tougher course in which I bonked pretty hard. My time there was 10:50, so I figure if I can hold 11min pace, that plus aid stations should put me in around 9:30, or at least under 10hrs if I run into some trouble. Go out pretty conservatively - definitely not Greg Burger style (just kidding), but 100 yards into it, I'm leading the race! Ahh! Another guy near my age pulls up, and we learn that each other's name is Brad. The following conversation ensues:
"Ran this before?"
"Nope."
"Me either."
"Got a headlamp?"
"Nope."
"Me either."
"Know where the course goes?"
"Nope."
"Me either - let's have some fun"
About a mile in, some of the faster guys cruise on past - I say Hi to Kyle Amos, Paul, etc, and I let Brad go soon after to settle in to what feels like 10-11min effort. Darin & I had planned on going out together to hold each other accountable to not starting too fast, but he started behind me & haven't seen him yet. First poop at mile 3. Hit the first unmanned aid station in 39:30...ummm...this is mile 4.6 - definitely not 11min pace. Oops. Back off a tad, but feeling good so I go with it. Sunrise is around 7a, and with it comes (of course) the wind. North wind. Brisk. Roll through Battle Creek, the first manned aid station (Willie Lambert's Great Plains Running Company) at 8.2 feeling good, still around 9min pace. With the wind, decide to hold on to the outer layer. At this aid station, I am enabled to add another electrolyte replenishing beverage to my list of "things that can potentially make Brad puke". Conquest. Sorry Hammer Nutrition - you make great Goos, but both HEED and Conquest cause the stomach to tango.
Darin catches me soon after and we head along together. Except...rather than restraining each other, we feed off each other and start catching folks. It isn't until Darin & I catch back up to Paul that warning bells start going off. We back it off a bit more, but still feel good. Except! Pack = Fail! Goos are falling out on the road, I have to stop, pick them up & stuff them back in 3 times! The third time, my numb fingers drop the whole pack & EVERYTHING spills out. Darin stops for a pee break while I repack & manage to keep from cussing, and zipper shut my Goo pack. Sheesh.
Course is very straight, on gravel, country roads. You mostly run in the tire paths. No water crossings, only one small muddy spot worth noting. You'll go the same exact direction for 4-6 miles at a time before hitting a right-angle turn. Hills are rolling, all are runnable with fresh legs or fresh determination. With hills, I find there are some that will zap you only if you let them (mental), some that will if you're not paying attention (big enough to be trouble if you don't get mentally prepared), and some that will zap you no matter how tough your mindset is. Heartland is full of Category 1, only has a couple Category 2 (at least on the 50mi course), and none of Category 3. With this being a flat, open course where you can see miles of the course stretching ahead of you with little to distract you, it is very much a mental game - if you don't let the course get ahead of you, you'll be fine, but once you start giving the difficulties more attention than they merit, you're on a slippery slope.
Darin & I roll into Lapland a bit later than I expected - I thought it was 15.4mi into the course, when it's really 16.8. Didn't realize how much I was anticipating it until it started to fray a bit on my mental game. Darin and Jim's crew (including Colleen) are at Lapland, and it's great to see some smiling, familiar faces. Have to wait while a PB&J is made, but fresh=good and take it on the run, sharing with Darin. We've hit some northward stretches now, and the wind is really becoming a factor. Still feeling it, and I begin to stretch out a bit from Darin. Feeling good, and I figure as much as we've gone so far at this pace, we're each either going to really pay for it or amaze ourselves. My money's definitely on the former.
Around mile 21, we hit a directly northbound stretch, right into the teeth of the wind. It was definitely the most memorable part of the run, weather wise, and could have been the toughest, but it actually helped me, I think. This is the mileage where my legs usually start getting distractingly sore, but with just shorts on, it was like running in a perpetual ice bath. If I can't feel the pain, is it really there? Cruise into the Teterville aid station at mile 25 (my turnaround) feeling good. I've only counted three runners passing us heading back, and am wondering how in the world I missed so many folks, so I ask the aid station folks if I'm really in 4th. They tell me 3rd(!) - one of the guys had a pacer. Well, bonk city, here I come. Not to mention that in the whole first half of the race, I have only now finished off my water pack (500ml) plus three 4oz cups of liquid at aid stations. Double Oops.
You know how you're never supposed to do anything new during a race? Well, an awesome friend, Rachael Gordon, had given me her old MP3 player on Wednesday, and I hadn't gotten a chance to try it out before race day, but I really wanted to. But I hate having ear phones actually in my ears. So I fumble around for at least 8 minutes getting my numb fingers to safety pin the headphones to my headband and get everything situated, then roll out with a final good luck to Darin and Gloria Gaynor in my ears.
Oh. My. Goodness. Colleen had told me before the race that for her, having music while running is like snorting crack. And she is so right. I swear I felt nothing the next 5 miles but a bass beat - so many folks I went by coming into Teterville must have been staring at the runner with black hoops dangling from his headband, talking to the wind and having arm spasms every which way. So many songs just call for air guitar solos no matter what you're doing, right? And I actually got myself into oxygen debt from singing along. Don't know what my pace was (fast), don't care - it was AWESOME. Also, in all that I forgot to check my split at the turn around, but I think it was somewhere around 4:08-4:12.
Back into Lapland the second time, starting to get a fueling routine down, which will help me at Ozark. Baked potato wedges first for quick energy, then some Pringles for salt, then some PB&J so something sticks in my stomach. Goos at least every hour (should be twice an hour but I can't eat while running & hate to take walk breaks unless I need them). Water as much as I can, which is still not enough, but I know how sore I get so forcing myself to take water breaks every couple miles now. Haven't had any salt so far...we'll see how that goes. And then whose head pops into the aid tent? Shelley Flones! Another familiar face. Though, as loopy as I was getting + not wearing my glasses, I'm sure I gave her the strangest Who Are You? face when she poked in. But she forgave me, and gave me ibuprofen! Yes, another new thing on race day, but considering my lack of hydration, I was fortunate to be as soreness free as I was at this point, and thought it wouldn't hurt to try to aid the wind chill numbness in that.
The stretch from Lapland to Battle Creek was probably the hardest for me. It was leaving Lapland and still seeing no one at all in the visible mile down the road behind me that I realized I might very well place 3rd unless someone ran amazing negative splits or the wheels completely came off. But that meant there was no one around - just me, my tunes, the wind, and gravel road. And cows. Can't forget them. This stretch was just about maintaining and trying to keep the wheels from wobbling too much. More drinking, more goos, less air guitar solos. The thing about ultras and my legs is, unless other variables are put into play (creeks, STEEP hills, rocks that break up your stride), once I get about 10mi in, whatever pace my legs have been going is what they'll fall into naturally. Or grow tired of and reduce me to walking. On this stretch, I decide my new goal is to not walk - to actually run the full 50 miles, with no walk breaks except the short, necessary ones for goo/water. But no walking for walking's sake.
Low point of the race (seriously) - my new MP3 player decides to play Billy Joel's Piano Man and Weird Al Yankovic's Ode to a Superhero (parody of the previous song) back-to-back. Not exactly the most motivational song, and I was struggling some, wanting a more quick tempo song. AND THEN. For the only time that day, it skips and restarts Ode to a Superhero when it was within 20seconds of finishing. Same song. 3 times in a row. Not cool.
Battle Creek couldn't come up again fast enough, grab my usual fare plus a solitary peanut M&M (blue) for good luck, and head out. My ears keep straining for footsteps behind me - I really want that 3rd now. I've never placed anywhere near as high in an ultra before, and this would be a real breakout. I know most of the elite competition is in the 100, but still feel I could be top 10 if everyone was in the 50. Who knows. Mentally calculate and recalculate my pace & goal time, and realize I'm basically a lock for sub-9hrs (unless I walk). Everything is basically followed with the phrase "unless I walk" now, and my determination not to is what I cling to (plus Weird Al Yankovic, They Might Be Giants, etc).
Hold Steady. Keep the Wheels On. Don't Walk. Hold Steady. Keep the Wheels On. Don't Walk. The unmanned aid station at 4.6mi is a solid point for me, and I realize I'm going to make it. I'm not going to walk. I'm going to finish sub-9 (maybe even sub 8:30). I might finish 3rd. I keep myself buoyed with a mental montage of good finishes from previous runs, and click away. Without my glasses on, it isn't until about 3 miles out that I finally can make out the water tower that marks where the start/finish it. Very encouraging to me - the end is in sight. A mental playback of a Debbie Webster Woohoo! helps me find a bit of reserve and pick it up a step or two. Down the stretch, turn the corner, a half mile and DONE.
8:17. 3rd. Also, first half around 4:10, second half 4:03 (discounting time at Teterville). I mean, really? I negative split an ultra? I never negative split ANYTHING unless I make precise plans and pacing. Plus I burned that first half with Darin. What??? Not to sound big headed, but I'm slightly in shock. PR by 2:33. This potentially opens some doors...
Weather ended up completely nuts - 37 was the high, and that was sometime mid-morning. Clouds moved in after that, and the wind blew all day. That last part is what I forgot to factor in - wind is never an issue with the trees, and I'm used to disregarding that part of the forecast. Quite the opposite here - in open prairie, if there is wind, it is the main thing you notice. 20+ mph most of the day and night (slacking off a bit after midnight Sat/Sun). Never did lose that 3rd layer. And to top it all off - Sunday was gorgeous like Friday was!
Could say more, but I've written so much already. Real quick - Shelley is an angel for taking care of me at the finish, Topeka Trail Gator Hunter Munns saves my bacon when I discover I'd locked my keys in the car (deja vu) by playing along very well pretending my car is his (for Triple-A), I grill burgers for finishers until Bad Ben shows up, and we head out to set up Mirage Aid Station at the 4.6 unmanned mark. First time with extended aid station staffing, quite fun. Long, cold night for he, I, Shelley & Poochini - I wore 6 layers up top, 3 below + 3 socks and sat a foot from the propane heater most of the night and was still shivering in the tent. Was actually harder than when I was running because of the cold and sitting. 1.5hrs of sleep, German movies, inane conversation, staggering, freezing runners. Propane runs out around 5:30a. I send 250+ texts through the night with my own mini race cast of how folks are doing. Mt. Dew Code Red is my go juice.
Kyle finishes 4th in 17:37, first time Heartland had four runners under 18hrs), Darin and I pull a double - he comes in 5th in 18:19, WAY ahead of his 22hr goal and neither of us suffer bonks from our stupid starts. Paul finishes 7th after chasing down a guy 90 seconds ahead of him at our aid station, we save Gary Henry's butt ;) on his way to a solid 27hr finish. Other folks kick butt in the 50mi - John & Sam Kevern come in 9:11 and 9:21, 7th & 8th overall (Sam is 2nd female), John Knowles 9th in 9:30, Willie Lambert 13th, Kyle & Jenn 22nd/23rd. Good times are had by all and now you're quite tired of reading my poor excuse for prose. If you actually want to hear more, check with your psychiatrist to make sure your meds are up to date, and then come join me on the trails! :)
Thanks to Bad Ben, Shelley, Debbie, Hunter, Colleen, Darin & family, Gary, Kyle, Paul, Randy, Jim Davis, James Barker, the whole Tuesday night crew, all aid station & race workers, the multitude of other folks I'm forgetting and of course the Big Guy upstairs for everything. Y'all are why I run - it's not just that I can't do this alone, it's even if I could, I wouldn't. Y'all make it worth it.
I was nervous about this race! Didn't expect to be - I realized afterwards I didn't have any definitive goals except "Don't Bonk" and "Beat my Voyageur Time". But the sheer quantity of random mini-stress attacks about minuscule details in the week leading up to the race spoke against my "it's-all-good" outward demeanor.
Was originally expecting to drive down Saturday morning at dark-o'-thirty, but co-worker Keith mentioned he wouldn't mind closing Friday (minor miracle), and I would be free to boogey down for the pre-race briefing and dinner. The race is held in Cassoday, KS, which has a population of 99. It's the only exit for 30mi either direction off of I-35, and contains some houses, one tiny gas station, and a community building, which 125 runners + at least 3x that number of pacers, crew & race workers took over for the weekend. Craziness. Co-race director Randy Albrecht (an accomplished ultrarunner in his own right) gave us directions for this 10th running of the race, the most significant of which was the weather. Friday was pretty nice - mostly sunny, low 50's, not too much wind. Saturday - nope. *Might* break into the 40's, possible rain at any point in the day, and windy. This being a gravel road, open prairie run, any weather that happens we would be right in the middle of. A bit nerve wracking for a group of trail runners used to being sheltered by trees and the like. Pre-race dinner was great - all the fixin's you might find at a church potluck, and all prepared by one amazing Mennonite lady + helpers. Various salads, veggie dishes, beef brisket, chicken breasts, bread, etc. Plenty of good fare for omnivores, veggies, and in-betweeners like myself. I had brought a can of great northern beans as a just-in-case supplement, and downed it with dinner anyways. Stomach had been a bit unsettled, but I chalked it up to nerves. Said hi to Gary Henry, Paul & Cindy Schoenlaub, Jim & Sandy Beiter, and a bunch more folks I somewhat remembered from Flatrock.
At Heartland, I was hoping to learn a lot about the workings of a 100-miler, so that I'd feel better prepped for Ozark Trail 100 in a month. After hanging out with Darin Schneidewind, his family and other Topeka folks (John Knowles, Kyle Phillips, Jenn Franklin & family), I headed over to the *cough* campsite, where Colleen Voeks, Jim & Sandy Beiter, plus many more of the race folks were parking by the start/finish line & camping in our cars. Despite numerous previous plans to sleep in my car, this was my first actual experience. Once the sun went down, two things rapidly happened - it got COLD and it got DARK. Only lived in the city a year and I'm already not used to country darkness. Sheesh. After laying out some prep for the next morning, it was pretty easy to tuck in to the car - BUT - how to sleep. Do I lay the front seat back to nearly horizontal? Do I sleep curled in the back seat? The trunk? Ended up going with option #2, which did not hurt my back like I was worried. Read some Trail Runner magazine and drifted off around 9:30p, alarm set for 5:00a.
Saturday - had the most splendid waking up ever! Actually woke up at 4:45, before my alarm, noted the time, started the car, curled back into the sleeping bag and when the alarm DID go off, got to get dressed & eat breakfast (bran flakes :) in a nice, WARM car. Saddled up, hit the port-o-potty, and hit the mandatory check-in. Skittered around nervously with everyone else, decided to start with three layers up top instead of two (but lose the third at the first aid station, as evidenced by my pinning my race number to the front of the second layer) and shorts. It was announced that the 50 milers were going to start about 75 yards ahead of the 100 milers. Walked down to the start, glanced at my watch - 5:57a. Oh crap! I completely forgot that I had promised my bud Debbie Webster that I'd make sure there was a group hug at the start! Sprinted back to the other start line and gathered Darin, Jim & Gary for a hug. Of course Gary was lame and took a picture instead of joining in, but we hugged, I wished them all luck one more time, and sprinted back up to my start line with 30sec to spare.
Gun goes off! Plan for today is to go out at 11min pace and see how long I can hold that. My only previous 50mi was Minnesota Voyaguer, which is a tougher course in which I bonked pretty hard. My time there was 10:50, so I figure if I can hold 11min pace, that plus aid stations should put me in around 9:30, or at least under 10hrs if I run into some trouble. Go out pretty conservatively - definitely not Greg Burger style (just kidding), but 100 yards into it, I'm leading the race! Ahh! Another guy near my age pulls up, and we learn that each other's name is Brad. The following conversation ensues:
"Ran this before?"
"Nope."
"Me either."
"Got a headlamp?"
"Nope."
"Me either."
"Know where the course goes?"
"Nope."
"Me either - let's have some fun"
About a mile in, some of the faster guys cruise on past - I say Hi to Kyle Amos, Paul, etc, and I let Brad go soon after to settle in to what feels like 10-11min effort. Darin & I had planned on going out together to hold each other accountable to not starting too fast, but he started behind me & haven't seen him yet. First poop at mile 3. Hit the first unmanned aid station in 39:30...ummm...this is mile 4.6 - definitely not 11min pace. Oops. Back off a tad, but feeling good so I go with it. Sunrise is around 7a, and with it comes (of course) the wind. North wind. Brisk. Roll through Battle Creek, the first manned aid station (Willie Lambert's Great Plains Running Company) at 8.2 feeling good, still around 9min pace. With the wind, decide to hold on to the outer layer. At this aid station, I am enabled to add another electrolyte replenishing beverage to my list of "things that can potentially make Brad puke". Conquest. Sorry Hammer Nutrition - you make great Goos, but both HEED and Conquest cause the stomach to tango.
Darin catches me soon after and we head along together. Except...rather than restraining each other, we feed off each other and start catching folks. It isn't until Darin & I catch back up to Paul that warning bells start going off. We back it off a bit more, but still feel good. Except! Pack = Fail! Goos are falling out on the road, I have to stop, pick them up & stuff them back in 3 times! The third time, my numb fingers drop the whole pack & EVERYTHING spills out. Darin stops for a pee break while I repack & manage to keep from cussing, and zipper shut my Goo pack. Sheesh.
Course is very straight, on gravel, country roads. You mostly run in the tire paths. No water crossings, only one small muddy spot worth noting. You'll go the same exact direction for 4-6 miles at a time before hitting a right-angle turn. Hills are rolling, all are runnable with fresh legs or fresh determination. With hills, I find there are some that will zap you only if you let them (mental), some that will if you're not paying attention (big enough to be trouble if you don't get mentally prepared), and some that will zap you no matter how tough your mindset is. Heartland is full of Category 1, only has a couple Category 2 (at least on the 50mi course), and none of Category 3. With this being a flat, open course where you can see miles of the course stretching ahead of you with little to distract you, it is very much a mental game - if you don't let the course get ahead of you, you'll be fine, but once you start giving the difficulties more attention than they merit, you're on a slippery slope.
Darin & I roll into Lapland a bit later than I expected - I thought it was 15.4mi into the course, when it's really 16.8. Didn't realize how much I was anticipating it until it started to fray a bit on my mental game. Darin and Jim's crew (including Colleen) are at Lapland, and it's great to see some smiling, familiar faces. Have to wait while a PB&J is made, but fresh=good and take it on the run, sharing with Darin. We've hit some northward stretches now, and the wind is really becoming a factor. Still feeling it, and I begin to stretch out a bit from Darin. Feeling good, and I figure as much as we've gone so far at this pace, we're each either going to really pay for it or amaze ourselves. My money's definitely on the former.
Around mile 21, we hit a directly northbound stretch, right into the teeth of the wind. It was definitely the most memorable part of the run, weather wise, and could have been the toughest, but it actually helped me, I think. This is the mileage where my legs usually start getting distractingly sore, but with just shorts on, it was like running in a perpetual ice bath. If I can't feel the pain, is it really there? Cruise into the Teterville aid station at mile 25 (my turnaround) feeling good. I've only counted three runners passing us heading back, and am wondering how in the world I missed so many folks, so I ask the aid station folks if I'm really in 4th. They tell me 3rd(!) - one of the guys had a pacer. Well, bonk city, here I come. Not to mention that in the whole first half of the race, I have only now finished off my water pack (500ml) plus three 4oz cups of liquid at aid stations. Double Oops.
You know how you're never supposed to do anything new during a race? Well, an awesome friend, Rachael Gordon, had given me her old MP3 player on Wednesday, and I hadn't gotten a chance to try it out before race day, but I really wanted to. But I hate having ear phones actually in my ears. So I fumble around for at least 8 minutes getting my numb fingers to safety pin the headphones to my headband and get everything situated, then roll out with a final good luck to Darin and Gloria Gaynor in my ears.
Oh. My. Goodness. Colleen had told me before the race that for her, having music while running is like snorting crack. And she is so right. I swear I felt nothing the next 5 miles but a bass beat - so many folks I went by coming into Teterville must have been staring at the runner with black hoops dangling from his headband, talking to the wind and having arm spasms every which way. So many songs just call for air guitar solos no matter what you're doing, right? And I actually got myself into oxygen debt from singing along. Don't know what my pace was (fast), don't care - it was AWESOME. Also, in all that I forgot to check my split at the turn around, but I think it was somewhere around 4:08-4:12.
Back into Lapland the second time, starting to get a fueling routine down, which will help me at Ozark. Baked potato wedges first for quick energy, then some Pringles for salt, then some PB&J so something sticks in my stomach. Goos at least every hour (should be twice an hour but I can't eat while running & hate to take walk breaks unless I need them). Water as much as I can, which is still not enough, but I know how sore I get so forcing myself to take water breaks every couple miles now. Haven't had any salt so far...we'll see how that goes. And then whose head pops into the aid tent? Shelley Flones! Another familiar face. Though, as loopy as I was getting + not wearing my glasses, I'm sure I gave her the strangest Who Are You? face when she poked in. But she forgave me, and gave me ibuprofen! Yes, another new thing on race day, but considering my lack of hydration, I was fortunate to be as soreness free as I was at this point, and thought it wouldn't hurt to try to aid the wind chill numbness in that.
The stretch from Lapland to Battle Creek was probably the hardest for me. It was leaving Lapland and still seeing no one at all in the visible mile down the road behind me that I realized I might very well place 3rd unless someone ran amazing negative splits or the wheels completely came off. But that meant there was no one around - just me, my tunes, the wind, and gravel road. And cows. Can't forget them. This stretch was just about maintaining and trying to keep the wheels from wobbling too much. More drinking, more goos, less air guitar solos. The thing about ultras and my legs is, unless other variables are put into play (creeks, STEEP hills, rocks that break up your stride), once I get about 10mi in, whatever pace my legs have been going is what they'll fall into naturally. Or grow tired of and reduce me to walking. On this stretch, I decide my new goal is to not walk - to actually run the full 50 miles, with no walk breaks except the short, necessary ones for goo/water. But no walking for walking's sake.
Low point of the race (seriously) - my new MP3 player decides to play Billy Joel's Piano Man and Weird Al Yankovic's Ode to a Superhero (parody of the previous song) back-to-back. Not exactly the most motivational song, and I was struggling some, wanting a more quick tempo song. AND THEN. For the only time that day, it skips and restarts Ode to a Superhero when it was within 20seconds of finishing. Same song. 3 times in a row. Not cool.
Battle Creek couldn't come up again fast enough, grab my usual fare plus a solitary peanut M&M (blue) for good luck, and head out. My ears keep straining for footsteps behind me - I really want that 3rd now. I've never placed anywhere near as high in an ultra before, and this would be a real breakout. I know most of the elite competition is in the 100, but still feel I could be top 10 if everyone was in the 50. Who knows. Mentally calculate and recalculate my pace & goal time, and realize I'm basically a lock for sub-9hrs (unless I walk). Everything is basically followed with the phrase "unless I walk" now, and my determination not to is what I cling to (plus Weird Al Yankovic, They Might Be Giants, etc).
Hold Steady. Keep the Wheels On. Don't Walk. Hold Steady. Keep the Wheels On. Don't Walk. The unmanned aid station at 4.6mi is a solid point for me, and I realize I'm going to make it. I'm not going to walk. I'm going to finish sub-9 (maybe even sub 8:30). I might finish 3rd. I keep myself buoyed with a mental montage of good finishes from previous runs, and click away. Without my glasses on, it isn't until about 3 miles out that I finally can make out the water tower that marks where the start/finish it. Very encouraging to me - the end is in sight. A mental playback of a Debbie Webster Woohoo! helps me find a bit of reserve and pick it up a step or two. Down the stretch, turn the corner, a half mile and DONE.
8:17. 3rd. Also, first half around 4:10, second half 4:03 (discounting time at Teterville). I mean, really? I negative split an ultra? I never negative split ANYTHING unless I make precise plans and pacing. Plus I burned that first half with Darin. What??? Not to sound big headed, but I'm slightly in shock. PR by 2:33. This potentially opens some doors...
Weather ended up completely nuts - 37 was the high, and that was sometime mid-morning. Clouds moved in after that, and the wind blew all day. That last part is what I forgot to factor in - wind is never an issue with the trees, and I'm used to disregarding that part of the forecast. Quite the opposite here - in open prairie, if there is wind, it is the main thing you notice. 20+ mph most of the day and night (slacking off a bit after midnight Sat/Sun). Never did lose that 3rd layer. And to top it all off - Sunday was gorgeous like Friday was!
Could say more, but I've written so much already. Real quick - Shelley is an angel for taking care of me at the finish, Topeka Trail Gator Hunter Munns saves my bacon when I discover I'd locked my keys in the car (deja vu) by playing along very well pretending my car is his (for Triple-A), I grill burgers for finishers until Bad Ben shows up, and we head out to set up Mirage Aid Station at the 4.6 unmanned mark. First time with extended aid station staffing, quite fun. Long, cold night for he, I, Shelley & Poochini - I wore 6 layers up top, 3 below + 3 socks and sat a foot from the propane heater most of the night and was still shivering in the tent. Was actually harder than when I was running because of the cold and sitting. 1.5hrs of sleep, German movies, inane conversation, staggering, freezing runners. Propane runs out around 5:30a. I send 250+ texts through the night with my own mini race cast of how folks are doing. Mt. Dew Code Red is my go juice.
Kyle finishes 4th in 17:37, first time Heartland had four runners under 18hrs), Darin and I pull a double - he comes in 5th in 18:19, WAY ahead of his 22hr goal and neither of us suffer bonks from our stupid starts. Paul finishes 7th after chasing down a guy 90 seconds ahead of him at our aid station, we save Gary Henry's butt ;) on his way to a solid 27hr finish. Other folks kick butt in the 50mi - John & Sam Kevern come in 9:11 and 9:21, 7th & 8th overall (Sam is 2nd female), John Knowles 9th in 9:30, Willie Lambert 13th, Kyle & Jenn 22nd/23rd. Good times are had by all and now you're quite tired of reading my poor excuse for prose. If you actually want to hear more, check with your psychiatrist to make sure your meds are up to date, and then come join me on the trails! :)
Thanks to Bad Ben, Shelley, Debbie, Hunter, Colleen, Darin & family, Gary, Kyle, Paul, Randy, Jim Davis, James Barker, the whole Tuesday night crew, all aid station & race workers, the multitude of other folks I'm forgetting and of course the Big Guy upstairs for everything. Y'all are why I run - it's not just that I can't do this alone, it's even if I could, I wouldn't. Y'all make it worth it.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Race Reports still to write
Psycho Night 10K
Mud & Muck 5K
North Shore Trail Run
Heart of America Marathon
Flatrock 50K
Other races older than 2 months (if I can remember/care to)
Mud & Muck 5K
North Shore Trail Run
Heart of America Marathon
Other races older than 2 months (if I can remember/care to)
Flatrock 50K
Kicked off the fall ultra season with the Flatrock 50K, which is billed as Kansas' first ultra (now in its 15th year) with the motto "If you look up, you're going down".
Felt pretty good going in - I'd done Darin Schniedewind's "40mi on his 40th" with him about a month before, and then the Heart of America marathon in Columbia on Labor Day, plus plenty more runs in the 15-20mi range. Headed down Friday night, planning on sharing a camping spot with Chris Farney and his wife Caitie.
Backing up a bit, I had a slight(?) freak-out earlier in the day Friday. Unbeknowst to him, Gary Henry had planted a bug in my ear during a run the previous Saturday, when we were talking about the inaugural Ozark Trail 100 coming up in November. Somehow, he said something (I don't remember what) that got me connecting to all the longing I'd felt upon reading Ultrarunner Magazine and seeing the names of people receiving their 10-year buckles & whatnot, wondering when I'd get to start my own streak. It finally occurred to me that I'd be more-or-less ready if I wanted to try Ozark and get my own streak started, so I spent the week mulling it around, hoping to bug some folks for advice on recovery times (with my already full race plans for the fall), age, etc. I had offered to pace John King, and messaged him, to which he replied he had found another pacer and wasn't needing me.
So I'm noodling, and RD Paul Schoenlaub sends out an email Friday saying that, basically, OT100 is filling up faster than expected - he didn't even expect it to fill. I suddenly feel that decision time is now and start freaking out. So I call good friend & fellow ultrarunner Debbie Webster in a tizzy at work & talk her ear off, and she recommends I call Kyle Amos, one of the top ultrarunners in the midwest, for advice. Do so on the ride down, discuss what shape I'm in, what my plans are, and he counsels me that as long as I don't do crazy things in the race I've entered 2 weeks before OT100, he thinks I should be good to go. With those very soothing words, I arrive at Elk City Lake State Park, set up my tent, and head over to packet pickup with a freshly printed entry form & check in hand for Paul, who is also running this race. Eeeee!
Ok, back to the actual race I'm reporting on. Pack my drop bag, lay out my race gear, and head over for the pre-race dinner. Delish & bountiful - spaghetti, sauce, and meatballs on the side (yay! for us non-beef eaters), plus salad (onion vinigarette dressing!) & rolls. Had a great time hanging out and chatting with Paul and his wife Cindy, Sophia Wharton, Greg Burger, Bad Ben Holmes, Chris, Caitie, and many more. End up hanging out at the shelter until almost everyone has left, just reading back issues of Running Times, chilling & enjoying the saving of batteries. Head back to the camp site where I help stoke up the fire and Chris, Greg, Caitie & I hang out for a bit before turning in around 9:45. Evidently it rains during the night, but shout out to fellow Trinity (Church of the Nazarene) guy Brian Longfellow for hooking me up with a nice, dry tent.
Up at 6a. No...wait...6:15...ummm...6:35? Eventually up, change in the car, and hike the quarter mile on down the road to the shelter for the pre-race briefing. Because of the rain, the time limit gets extended an hour. Must be rather slick out there; good thing I wore my dancing shoes! Runners hike en masse another half-mile down the road to the start. Realize that, oops, I forgot breakfast. 45 of us in the 50K; 25K folks start an hour later and they aren't around yet.
RD Eric Steele counts us down (wearing his bad-ass Badwater shirt) and we're off. Paul, Greg & a young buck in a Team Nebraska blazer take it out, with Chris & I a few yards behind. Duck off the road & now we're into the woods. Wow! Sweet climb, sweet rocks, sweet narrow clefts in between huge boulders to run through. It is a bit slick, and I take a minor spill a half-mile in. Oops. Chris & I run together for the first 2.5 or so, and then he peels away as I stop to pee. Very encouraging for me - I have peed a grand total of one time in 4 previous ultras and know I need to focus on hydrating. Realize it's rather ambitious considering the course and my previous 50K PR being 6:18 (12:11 pace), but I'm hoping to hold down a 10min pace today, and would very much like a top 5. Through the first aid station, I'm putting in 10min effort, but the rocks and general unevenness of the course are holding me to an 11min pace. Oh well. Shout out to the first aid station, which I shall call the "Punk Rock Aid Station" - 3 young dudes with punk haircuts, shirts, and a van blaring alternative/punk rock audible for a mile radius serving up chips, gatorade, M&Ms and all the standard good fare. Definite thumbs up.
Couple of guys catch me in the next few miles, and I basically just conserve & cruise. Course is definitely runnable throughout, just not at an even pace or stride - you're always shorting, cutting, flexing or otherwise dancing around rocks of all shapes & sizes. Very few patches actually require you to slow to a walk, but very few stretches actually let you fall into your normal stride. I like this, but worry it will change when I'm tired later. Contrary to what I'd been led to expect, the course is very well marked. Blue blazes visible every 10-15 paces, actually painted on the ground on rocks in places where you really can't look up. Only problem is the lack of flags/markings on sharp turns - I probably lost 3-5min throughout the race having to stop and look to see where the trail went when it turned unexpectedly. Didn't get off course, though.
Tick right along through the first half in 2:48 (15.2 is the turnaround), holding onto 11min pace easy, not seeing anyone that close in front or behind me. Shake my head at and scramble over/through the waterfall(!) at mile 11, avoid the cockleburrs at mile 13, and tromp the mud at mile 14. Team Nebraska passes me heading back while I'm still around mile 12 - he's at 18 miles in only 2:26ish, and I'm worried local ultrastud & friend Caleb Chatfield's course record of 4:29 is in danger. See Paul on the back while in the mud, he's about a mile ahead of me, with Chris following 200 yards behind. Greg is running 4th, a quarter mile back from them. 5th & 6th are about six and eight minutes ahead of me, and 8th is at least 10 behind.
Shout out to everyone on the back - very nice & encouraging to see the whole field played out. Nice battle in the female race - 1st through 3rd are all w/in a quarter mile of each other, with Sophia in 2nd. Starting to get hungry - I still can't eat on the run, and it's hard to convince myself to stop & walk when I'm actually caring about my pace & time (aka, racing) as opposed to just looking to finish. I've put down the accelerator a bit more, hoping to catch 5th/6th, and am asking at each aid station, "How much time do they have on me?". "4 minutes" is the answer. "3 minutes." "5 minutes". Arrgh. I'm pulling a good pace for the 2nd half, but can't seem to make up any ground. Stomach starts actually growling at mile 21, burn through the last of the 5 goos I packed, which was quite insufficient. Snarf at the aid stations - baked potatoes are good, but there's no PB&J. Need something that will stick in my stomach, but peanut M&Ms are the only option for that, and I'm not in the mood. Le sigh.
Have a couple of weak(er) spots where I have to back off for a half-mile or so, but pretty much still feeling strong at 11min pace. Grab the KU score at the 9.6 aid station, keep trying to pull on the guys ahead of me. Finally hear the melodious sound of the punk rock aid station, and pull in asking how much time to catch the next guy. "4 minutes." What did the fish say when it ran into the cement wall?
Not feeling like I can catch them now, I just concentrate on keeping the slightly-wobbling wheels on to bring it home strong. Come through the last mile of rocky hill, and am heading down the switchbacks out of the woods when I see movement ahead of me. At first, I think it's one of the straggling 25K folks that I've been passing, but this shape is moving a bit too fast for that. Pull out of the woods and see - it's my 6th place guy! Think to myself that I've got to put a move on, blow by him before he can react - there's a half-mile of flat, straight road to go. I manage to pull alongside at a good clip but as low on gas as I am, just can't muster up the Andy Henshaw-style "break his heart" surge. He matches my pace, and we pull each other for a quarter mile until he starts to move ahead. I'm pulling ergs of energy from anywhere I can, but it's just his day, and he crosses the line 4 seconds ahead of me. Definitely need to work on that kick. Dang - 7th again. Just like North Shore. Just like Psycho Night Run. Just like Summer Intro. Not that I'm complaining, but it's starting to get a little repetitious. ALSO - 5th place wasn't that far ahead - 6th (who shall henceforth be called by his name, Scott) & I could see him on the home stretch not too far ahead of us on the road, looking back at intervals to see how much we were gaining. End up in 5:46:05, four seconds out of 6th and 20 out of 5th.
Other than being rather hungry, I feel good - the least tired or sore I've yet felt at the end of an ultra. I've peed not once, not twice, but 3 times(!!!) in the course of the race, and my only fall was that one at a half-mile in. Beautiful weather - 50's at the start, mostly sunny & 70's by the finish. Other than dropping my outer thin long-sleeve at the Punk Rock Aid Station on the way out, not a spare thought about temperature regulation. And the course is simply beautiful - first ultra I've done where I seriously want to come back & do as a day-hike. Rock clefts, scrambles, waterfall, clearing w/ fire pit at mile 8 - definitely have to try.
Congratulate Scott, and find out that 5th place was none other than Greg! He's fast! And I finished within 20 seconds of him! Wowserz! Not only that, but I pretty much ran even splits - 2:48 out, 2:55 back (plus a bit farther at the end since the finish is further down than the start). New 50K PR by 32min! Except for lacking a kick, I'm pleased as punch with my race, and ready to go kick it at Heartland 50in two weeks. Team Nebraska ended up winning by a lot, but missed breaking Caleb's record by 2min (silent, guilty cheer). Chris ended up getting 2nd in an awesome 5:07, Paul third in 5:28. Bad Ben brings it home in 7:13, which is super considering he's rather undertrained, a bearded Levi Bowles (who for some reason I haven't mentioned yet?) not long after in 7:22 for his first ultra, Sophia is 3rd female in 7:50ish, and another not-yet-mentioned friend Christy Craig matches her time from last year, also on much less training. In the words of my alma mater Grinnell College's cross country team, a good time was had by all. :)
I take a shift with a cowbell for folks finishing, eat heaping plates of spaghetti and whatever else I can find, and generally chill - Sophia watch w/ Ben, PBR time with Levi & his Irishman, chat more with Paul & Cindy about OT100, flitter around Eric at the finish line, etc. Planning on staying for the awards ceremony and "Flatrock Fire", which I've heard will wrap up around 8/9p, in plenty of time for me to get back to KC by midnight for church the next day. Tear down my tent in the "shove it still assembled onto the roof of my car and drive it down the road to the race headquarters so I can tear it down while still hanging with folks but mostly just look ridiculous" method, and pee about 6 dozen more times. Look at the post-race chili longingly, but it has beef in it. :( Most folks leave by awards, but a good few dozen folks are around to clap & cheer as awards are presented, and we get to see "King Eric" in his crown, robe & sword knight another runner into the 10-consecutive-year-finisher "Flatrock Hall of Pain", accompanied by a funny ode by the first inductee into that society. Take advantage of the deal offered to register for next year's Flatrock already, at 50% off this weekend only! :) Find out that the Flatrock Fire actually is a long-into-the-night ritual (as chef Warren puts it, "it wraps up around 3 or 4 am, which is when most folks pass out), and decide to head home, already planning to make sure I can stay the 2nd night next year.
Get home. Cook and eat a half-pound of bacon (among other things), and an amazing smoothie* (recipe below). Sleep. Still jittery around OT100. Wake up, church, unpack, realize I've left my shoes at the shelter. Email Eric, no one picked them up. Nuts.
*Nearly Naked Smoothie:
-1 banana
-1 mango
-1 kiwi
-1 tangerine (navel orange may be substituted)
-6-8oz strawberry yogurt
-1/2 can of guava nectar (essential)
-2 cubes of ice
Blend until well mixed & mostly smooth.
Felt pretty good going in - I'd done Darin Schniedewind's "40mi on his 40th" with him about a month before, and then the Heart of America marathon in Columbia on Labor Day, plus plenty more runs in the 15-20mi range. Headed down Friday night, planning on sharing a camping spot with Chris Farney and his wife Caitie.
Backing up a bit, I had a slight(?) freak-out earlier in the day Friday. Unbeknowst to him, Gary Henry had planted a bug in my ear during a run the previous Saturday, when we were talking about the inaugural Ozark Trail 100 coming up in November. Somehow, he said something (I don't remember what) that got me connecting to all the longing I'd felt upon reading Ultrarunner Magazine and seeing the names of people receiving their 10-year buckles & whatnot, wondering when I'd get to start my own streak. It finally occurred to me that I'd be more-or-less ready if I wanted to try Ozark and get my own streak started, so I spent the week mulling it around, hoping to bug some folks for advice on recovery times (with my already full race plans for the fall), age, etc. I had offered to pace John King, and messaged him, to which he replied he had found another pacer and wasn't needing me.
So I'm noodling, and RD Paul Schoenlaub sends out an email Friday saying that, basically, OT100 is filling up faster than expected - he didn't even expect it to fill. I suddenly feel that decision time is now and start freaking out. So I call good friend & fellow ultrarunner Debbie Webster in a tizzy at work & talk her ear off, and she recommends I call Kyle Amos, one of the top ultrarunners in the midwest, for advice. Do so on the ride down, discuss what shape I'm in, what my plans are, and he counsels me that as long as I don't do crazy things in the race I've entered 2 weeks before OT100, he thinks I should be good to go. With those very soothing words, I arrive at Elk City Lake State Park, set up my tent, and head over to packet pickup with a freshly printed entry form & check in hand for Paul, who is also running this race. Eeeee!
Ok, back to the actual race I'm reporting on. Pack my drop bag, lay out my race gear, and head over for the pre-race dinner. Delish & bountiful - spaghetti, sauce, and meatballs on the side (yay! for us non-beef eaters), plus salad (onion vinigarette dressing!) & rolls. Had a great time hanging out and chatting with Paul and his wife Cindy, Sophia Wharton, Greg Burger, Bad Ben Holmes, Chris, Caitie, and many more. End up hanging out at the shelter until almost everyone has left, just reading back issues of Running Times, chilling & enjoying the saving of batteries. Head back to the camp site where I help stoke up the fire and Chris, Greg, Caitie & I hang out for a bit before turning in around 9:45. Evidently it rains during the night, but shout out to fellow Trinity (Church of the Nazarene) guy Brian Longfellow for hooking me up with a nice, dry tent.
Up at 6a. No...wait...6:15...ummm...6:35? Eventually up, change in the car, and hike the quarter mile on down the road to the shelter for the pre-race briefing. Because of the rain, the time limit gets extended an hour. Must be rather slick out there; good thing I wore my dancing shoes! Runners hike en masse another half-mile down the road to the start. Realize that, oops, I forgot breakfast. 45 of us in the 50K; 25K folks start an hour later and they aren't around yet.
RD Eric Steele counts us down (wearing his bad-ass Badwater shirt) and we're off. Paul, Greg & a young buck in a Team Nebraska blazer take it out, with Chris & I a few yards behind. Duck off the road & now we're into the woods. Wow! Sweet climb, sweet rocks, sweet narrow clefts in between huge boulders to run through. It is a bit slick, and I take a minor spill a half-mile in. Oops. Chris & I run together for the first 2.5 or so, and then he peels away as I stop to pee. Very encouraging for me - I have peed a grand total of one time in 4 previous ultras and know I need to focus on hydrating. Realize it's rather ambitious considering the course and my previous 50K PR being 6:18 (12:11 pace), but I'm hoping to hold down a 10min pace today, and would very much like a top 5. Through the first aid station, I'm putting in 10min effort, but the rocks and general unevenness of the course are holding me to an 11min pace. Oh well. Shout out to the first aid station, which I shall call the "Punk Rock Aid Station" - 3 young dudes with punk haircuts, shirts, and a van blaring alternative/punk rock audible for a mile radius serving up chips, gatorade, M&Ms and all the standard good fare. Definite thumbs up.
Couple of guys catch me in the next few miles, and I basically just conserve & cruise. Course is definitely runnable throughout, just not at an even pace or stride - you're always shorting, cutting, flexing or otherwise dancing around rocks of all shapes & sizes. Very few patches actually require you to slow to a walk, but very few stretches actually let you fall into your normal stride. I like this, but worry it will change when I'm tired later. Contrary to what I'd been led to expect, the course is very well marked. Blue blazes visible every 10-15 paces, actually painted on the ground on rocks in places where you really can't look up. Only problem is the lack of flags/markings on sharp turns - I probably lost 3-5min throughout the race having to stop and look to see where the trail went when it turned unexpectedly. Didn't get off course, though.
Tick right along through the first half in 2:48 (15.2 is the turnaround), holding onto 11min pace easy, not seeing anyone that close in front or behind me. Shake my head at and scramble over/through the waterfall(!) at mile 11, avoid the cockleburrs at mile 13, and tromp the mud at mile 14. Team Nebraska passes me heading back while I'm still around mile 12 - he's at 18 miles in only 2:26ish, and I'm worried local ultrastud & friend Caleb Chatfield's course record of 4:29 is in danger. See Paul on the back while in the mud, he's about a mile ahead of me, with Chris following 200 yards behind. Greg is running 4th, a quarter mile back from them. 5th & 6th are about six and eight minutes ahead of me, and 8th is at least 10 behind.
Shout out to everyone on the back - very nice & encouraging to see the whole field played out. Nice battle in the female race - 1st through 3rd are all w/in a quarter mile of each other, with Sophia in 2nd. Starting to get hungry - I still can't eat on the run, and it's hard to convince myself to stop & walk when I'm actually caring about my pace & time (aka, racing) as opposed to just looking to finish. I've put down the accelerator a bit more, hoping to catch 5th/6th, and am asking at each aid station, "How much time do they have on me?". "4 minutes" is the answer. "3 minutes." "5 minutes". Arrgh. I'm pulling a good pace for the 2nd half, but can't seem to make up any ground. Stomach starts actually growling at mile 21, burn through the last of the 5 goos I packed, which was quite insufficient. Snarf at the aid stations - baked potatoes are good, but there's no PB&J. Need something that will stick in my stomach, but peanut M&Ms are the only option for that, and I'm not in the mood. Le sigh.
Have a couple of weak(er) spots where I have to back off for a half-mile or so, but pretty much still feeling strong at 11min pace. Grab the KU score at the 9.6 aid station, keep trying to pull on the guys ahead of me. Finally hear the melodious sound of the punk rock aid station, and pull in asking how much time to catch the next guy. "4 minutes." What did the fish say when it ran into the cement wall?
Not feeling like I can catch them now, I just concentrate on keeping the slightly-wobbling wheels on to bring it home strong. Come through the last mile of rocky hill, and am heading down the switchbacks out of the woods when I see movement ahead of me. At first, I think it's one of the straggling 25K folks that I've been passing, but this shape is moving a bit too fast for that. Pull out of the woods and see - it's my 6th place guy! Think to myself that I've got to put a move on, blow by him before he can react - there's a half-mile of flat, straight road to go. I manage to pull alongside at a good clip but as low on gas as I am, just can't muster up the Andy Henshaw-style "break his heart" surge. He matches my pace, and we pull each other for a quarter mile until he starts to move ahead. I'm pulling ergs of energy from anywhere I can, but it's just his day, and he crosses the line 4 seconds ahead of me. Definitely need to work on that kick. Dang - 7th again. Just like North Shore. Just like Psycho Night Run. Just like Summer Intro. Not that I'm complaining, but it's starting to get a little repetitious. ALSO - 5th place wasn't that far ahead - 6th (who shall henceforth be called by his name, Scott) & I could see him on the home stretch not too far ahead of us on the road, looking back at intervals to see how much we were gaining. End up in 5:46:05, four seconds out of 6th and 20 out of 5th.
Other than being rather hungry, I feel good - the least tired or sore I've yet felt at the end of an ultra. I've peed not once, not twice, but 3 times(!!!) in the course of the race, and my only fall was that one at a half-mile in. Beautiful weather - 50's at the start, mostly sunny & 70's by the finish. Other than dropping my outer thin long-sleeve at the Punk Rock Aid Station on the way out, not a spare thought about temperature regulation. And the course is simply beautiful - first ultra I've done where I seriously want to come back & do as a day-hike. Rock clefts, scrambles, waterfall, clearing w/ fire pit at mile 8 - definitely have to try.
Congratulate Scott, and find out that 5th place was none other than Greg! He's fast! And I finished within 20 seconds of him! Wowserz! Not only that, but I pretty much ran even splits - 2:48 out, 2:55 back (plus a bit farther at the end since the finish is further down than the start). New 50K PR by 32min! Except for lacking a kick, I'm pleased as punch with my race, and ready to go kick it at Heartland 50in two weeks. Team Nebraska ended up winning by a lot, but missed breaking Caleb's record by 2min (silent, guilty cheer). Chris ended up getting 2nd in an awesome 5:07, Paul third in 5:28. Bad Ben brings it home in 7:13, which is super considering he's rather undertrained, a bearded Levi Bowles (who for some reason I haven't mentioned yet?) not long after in 7:22 for his first ultra, Sophia is 3rd female in 7:50ish, and another not-yet-mentioned friend Christy Craig matches her time from last year, also on much less training. In the words of my alma mater Grinnell College's cross country team, a good time was had by all. :)
I take a shift with a cowbell for folks finishing, eat heaping plates of spaghetti and whatever else I can find, and generally chill - Sophia watch w/ Ben, PBR time with Levi & his Irishman, chat more with Paul & Cindy about OT100, flitter around Eric at the finish line, etc. Planning on staying for the awards ceremony and "Flatrock Fire", which I've heard will wrap up around 8/9p, in plenty of time for me to get back to KC by midnight for church the next day. Tear down my tent in the "shove it still assembled onto the roof of my car and drive it down the road to the race headquarters so I can tear it down while still hanging with folks but mostly just look ridiculous" method, and pee about 6 dozen more times. Look at the post-race chili longingly, but it has beef in it. :( Most folks leave by awards, but a good few dozen folks are around to clap & cheer as awards are presented, and we get to see "King Eric" in his crown, robe & sword knight another runner into the 10-consecutive-year-finisher "Flatrock Hall of Pain", accompanied by a funny ode by the first inductee into that society. Take advantage of the deal offered to register for next year's Flatrock already, at 50% off this weekend only! :) Find out that the Flatrock Fire actually is a long-into-the-night ritual (as chef Warren puts it, "it wraps up around 3 or 4 am, which is when most folks pass out), and decide to head home, already planning to make sure I can stay the 2nd night next year.
Get home. Cook and eat a half-pound of bacon (among other things), and an amazing smoothie* (recipe below). Sleep. Still jittery around OT100. Wake up, church, unpack, realize I've left my shoes at the shelter. Email Eric, no one picked them up. Nuts.
*Nearly Naked Smoothie:
-1 banana
-1 mango
-1 kiwi
-1 tangerine (navel orange may be substituted)
-6-8oz strawberry yogurt
-1/2 can of guava nectar (essential)
-2 cubes of ice
Blend until well mixed & mostly smooth.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Minnesota Voyageur 50 Mile Trail Race
First 50 under my belt!
Started thinking about doing a 50 in mid-May when I found out how many of the KC Trail Nerds would be heading out to Oregon for the PCT 50 Mile run near Portland/Mt. Hood. Considering that I have lots of friends out there, throw in the possibility of a cross-country road trip, and ice it with a nice ultramarathon - what else could you want?
Well, for starters, $$$. Flying would be too expensive, and in order to drive the route, I'd need a traveling mate to split gas costs with. After over a month of searching, no such mate could be found. BUT, it'd be a shame to waste the 6+ weeks I'd spent optimistically training, so I started looking for another possibility. After finding out about the Minnesota Voyageur 50 Mile race the same day up in Duluth, MN (calculating that it would be barely within my gas budget) and getting a hearty recommendation from 5-time finisher Bad Ben, I decided to do that instead.
Got some serious running karma beforehand. A group called Sage Hospitality is sponsoring a promotion called Give A Day, Get A Night, in which they'll give you free lodging in exchange for 8 hours of documented volunteering for a registered non-profit. With the hours I've spent race volunteering and weed whacking, and having one of their participating hotels in Duluth, Bad Ben was more than happy to sign off on my time. Running volunteering pays for running lodging. :D
Arrived Friday afternoon to Carlton, MN (pop: 810) for packet pickup, and found out that the race was part of (or at least coincides with) the town's summer festival. Headed over to the hockey rink(!) for a spaghetti feed and to hopefully chat up some other runners. As was mentioned two years ago in Gary Henry's Voyageur race report, no luck for non-beef eaters, so I had two heaping plates of unsauced spaghetti.
Met a family of ultrarunners - the 33 year old daughter (Kathleen) and her father (Norm, 70) would be running tomorrow, and the mother had a broken arm, so she would "only" be running the 5K that night before. Found out that Norm was the same gentleman mentioned in Gary's report who in 2007,
"A few miles out of the turnaround ... had realized he wasn't going to make the 6-hour cutoff. But instead of going on and taking himself out at the 25-mile mark, he turned around and headed back to DNF at the finish. He said he didn't come to the race to just do 25 miles." I like this guy - instead of legitimately being pulled off the course after 25mi, he actually bends the rules so that he could run 44mi.
Ended up eating with a nice 26-year-old guy from Colorado Springs named Brooks, who was hoping for a sub-8 hour and was planning on spending the night in his car. Just had to pass the good running karma along, so invited him to room with me. We watched most of the 5K together, talked with some local residents (who had lived in town all their life and had no idea Voyageur existed!), and headed to the hotel.
Duluth is beautiful! Driving into it on I-35 coming over the hills to see it laid out before Lake Superior made me gasp!
Only the second ultra I've used drop bags for, still feeling out what I'd need, so packed my three for the next day with everything I thought I might conceivably want. Hope to pare that down once I get a bit more experience. (Comments welcome here) Forecast called for scattered rain pretty much all day, so waterproofed things in ziplock bags, finished reading Once A Runner (not really related to ultrarunning, per se, but the author does an excellent job of communicating the intimate details of running in general) and drifted off to sleep.
Arrived an hour early, milled around, got stuck in the line for the john (as usual), and geared up.
Goals:
1. Finish
2. Sub 10 hour would be nice
3. Mark Inbody & Steve Plumb were also up representing the Nerds, and it'd be nice to finish near (or beat) them.
Plan is to reign myself in for the first 25mi and then let loose whatever is left on the way back.
142 starters. Down the city street three blocks, onto the asphalt bike trail and out of town onto a trail in a half-mile. First section was nice & technical, bordering the St. Louis river. Slick rounded river rocks instead of the sharp edged rocks we have here in MO/KS made footing a bit more tricky, but pleasant way to start. EXCEPT. Hornet. Or biting fly. Whatever it was, 2 miles in I yelp as a sudden sharp pain erupts from the back of my thigh and I see something twice as big as the biting flies at WyCo fly off, laughing at my attempts to swat it. Couple locals running behind me get a guffaw at my expense.
Quite a few fellow runners remark on my Trail Nerds jersey. :)
Swinging bridge! Over a beautiful river gorge! Can't help myself - turn a few pirouettes to take in the full view, start bouncing on it, hit it just right to get about 2' of air. :) First aid station, 3.4mi in at 32min. Too fast. I feel like I am noticeably reigning myself in, but still holding sub-10min pace. Hmmm....
Trail broadens to double track, no too technical. Still feeling good, taking salt every half-hour and a goo every hour, plus various aid station pickings. Trying to polish off at least a liter of water between each aid station. Keeping a nice, even pace with little effort and somehow I'm still right at 10min pace.
Fun little deep ravine that we go in & out of gets me thinking of a fun race concept - Rim to Rim to Rim to Rim to Rim (Etc). Find myself a nice deep gulley, whack out 5mi of trail, and sponsor an out-and-back race that has zero flat sections, just weaves in & out. I'd love it, at least. We'll see...
Hit the infamous Power Lines at mile 10.6 - whee! I love hills! I'm told that there are 7 hills in this section, but only two are beyond ordinary - super steep, non-switchbacked medium length hills of single track bare dirt. Would be quite hard if there was any mud, but dry as a bone and very runnable. I do remember Ben's advice to resist my inclination to burn them - for one hill - and generally enjoy myself. :-D
Keep ticking along steady until Fond du Lac, 15.5 mi in. Still not feeling a thing, so start letting myself stride out a bit on some fun downhills. 10min pace going strong. Start thinking my sub-10hr goal is a piece of cake (if I hold 10min, I'd be in at 8:20!). Taking goos & salt regularly, drinking, just enjoying the beautiful woodland scenery.
Race leader Andy Holak passes me heading back around mile 21, looking fresh. I hit the last aid station before Turnaround Zoo at 21.7 miles in, letting the pace slow up a bit (finally) as I'm starting to feel it in my legs a bit, and suddenly OH CRAP PAVEMENT. Lots of it. 0.7+ mi pavement uphill, and then interspersed pavement & mostly gravel trail until the half-way point. It's hard to describe how horrid pavement feels after 20+ miles of trail.
Count myself around 45th as I meet people coming out from the turnaround (Brooks is running 10th). For the first time ever in an ultra, decide not to change my socks/shoes halfway through. Yay Merino socks! Yay Sophia, Mizuno Rep & Pub Trivia night teammate extraordinaire! My new Ascends are holding up great! Hit the turn around just under 4:30. Sub-10 is in the bag, right?
See Mark Inbody only 6min behind. Really start to feel the pavement heading out from the turnaround. By the time I hit that long paved downhill, my feet are quickly becoming hamburger style. I feel the toenails committing seppuku with each step. Insert walking here. Mark catches me.
Then my arch-nemesis comes into play. I've consistently dealt with major leg muscle soreness on practically every run I've done over 18miles since January. Tried adjusting fluids, salt, calorie intake, shoes, etc to no avail. Didn't occur at Psycho WyCo 50K a few weeks beforehand, so I was hoping I had the problem beat. Nope! After the pavement comes major soreness - no cramping or sharp pain, just an impossible-to-ignore loud ache. Struggle to keep 12-min pace, more walking. First thought of "20 more miles? How am I ever going to finish this, let alone a hundred" enters my mind.
I stop to pee! For the first time ever in an ultra! It's rather yellow, but the fact I'm peeing means I'm doing a good job of hydrating during an ultra, right??
Hot spot on my big toe, stop to get it taped up at Fond du Lac. Thanks for the Duck brand Duct-Tape bandages from Christmas, Mom. See Steve Plumb & father for the first time, they've been gaining steadily on me since the turnaround. Also 15 miles to go seems much more manageable than 20.
Aid station workers have been frustrating thus far. The elementary school brigade was out in force in the morning, which was cool to see, but they knew little about aiding a runner. The one kid I handed my waist pack to to fill ended up completely twisting the hose & water sack inside the pack, which cost me a few minutes to undo. Also - no pitchers, just lots of cups. So I could refill my water pack at a rate faster than "trickle", ended up reaching under the table (or in one case, grabbing out of a guy's hand after a frustrating exchange) for the gallon jugs of water they were using to fill the cups. Good selection of food though, and the turnout at each station is impressive. Just wish they could have perhaps placed one experienced ultrarunner at each station who could teach the rest of the volunteers how to help runners. If I was one of the folks there running Voyageur as my first ultra, I would have sorely missed the valuable counsel ultrarunners can give you mid-race. The Nerds have spoiled me.
After a few walk breaks, feeling good again and ready to show the Power Lines who's boss. And I do. I can't help it - I burn the hills, catcall, laugh, suck oxygen, and generally act like a speeding goof. Despite the forecast, it hasn't more than misted yet, the hills are perfectly dry, and I just power up them. Know I'll pay for it later, but am having too much fun to care.
Once the mental boost from the hills passes, the next five miles are rough. A fellow I'm running with tells me that "You run the most even pace I've seen", which I happily take as a compliment, considering that's exactly what I'm trying to do. As Dory from Finding Nemo says, "just keep swimming, just keep swimming". Sore sore sore, but alternatingly refusing to whine or looking around to make sure no one has a shovel.
Hit the 5.2 mile aid station with my right calf completely locked up, soreness almost overwhelming. Have realized by this point that it's major lactic acid build-up, and am drinking as much as I can handle (which evidently isn't enough). Take a look at my watch (which I purposely put away at the turnaround) and see that I've really fallen off pace - I'm at 9:30 with 5 miles to go; no way I'm pulling a sub-10 now. Sad. Decide to walk the next stretch, rather than continuing my soreness-shuffle, in hopes of being able to run the last 3.4mi technical fun finishing stretch. Have about a dozen people pass me, which is frustrating this close to the finish.
Successfully prevent myself from running the one tempting hill on that stretch, hit the final aid station feeling...better. Less sore. Start moving again, realize that, at least for now, I can ignore the pain enough to put some mental energy into moving my legs faster. Suck it up and tell myself it's no different from hitting the three mile mark at Clinton Lake long run, start moving at a decent pace. NOW it starts to rain, a regular down pour before too long. Can't help but think that I would have avoided this completely if I had just met my goal time. But I'm in cruise control on towards the finish, legs pumping, soreness ignoring, rock hurdling, and actually re-passing a half-dozen of the folks. Half-mile of pavement at the end almost breaks the tiny bit of zone I've built up, but bring it in strong for a 10:50 finish. Oh well, it was my first 50, and sub-10 will come this fall at Heartland or Blue Springs
Except for the ending rain, weather was perfect - started high 50's / low 60's, finished in mid-70's, scattered clouds all day, humidity nothing noticeable for this Midwestern boy, temperature regulation didn't merit a stray thought from my mind all day.
Also first ultra that I haven't fertilized the trail somewhere along the lines of the race. *Shrugs*
Showers are available in the school after the race! But the hot water is gone. Enjoy my third pasta meal in a row with the post-race lasagna & salad. No Jello salad, though - I've been in MN 24 hours and am quite disappointed. Look for Brooks - he's nowhere to be found, but his car is there. Find Kathleen, Norm & wife and sit to chat for a bit. She finished well, just over 11hrs, and Norm didn't make the final aid station before the 6-hour cutoff, so he had to drop there. They say they'll be at Rocky Raccoon, so looking forward to seeing them again.
Sit around for much too long getting cold & stiff, since there's no awards until 8p. Directors end up moving the ceremony to 7:20 so people can head out. Was somewhat surprised to get a mug instead of a medal. Nothing was mentioned in the literature, but in my experienced, I just assumed all ultras give medals or buckles.
Still no Brooks, but his car is still there. Wonder if he made his goals of top-10 and sub-8. Expect that I'll see him at the hotel later, and head back. Stop off at the grocery store for buffalo wings, salt & vinegar chips, and Naked juice. Mmmm... Watch some of the Transformers movie and drift off.
Am tired enough in the morning that I decide not to take any scenic routes on the return trip home, and head back to KC, tired, happy & sucking on my new Voyageur water bottle. :)
Lessons learned:
-I'm at a level where I can easily tick off at least 15 miles at 10min pace. :)
-I get sore because of lactic acid build up. I need to drink more. I am already drinking much more than my body is telling me I need. Grrr. Reading/research shall commence.
-How you feel at mile 30 is not how you feel at mile 47 (or 35, 40, 38.1023, etc)
Post-race note: someone posts a link on the UltraList Monday after the race with an article about Voyageur. I skim it and find the next-to-last sentence says that Brooks Williams, 26, of Colorado Springs, CO was taken to the hospital after collapsing a half-mile from the finish. Oh, crap - I don't have his phone number, and am trying to find him on Facebook. Prayers are appreciated.
Started thinking about doing a 50 in mid-May when I found out how many of the KC Trail Nerds would be heading out to Oregon for the PCT 50 Mile run near Portland/Mt. Hood. Considering that I have lots of friends out there, throw in the possibility of a cross-country road trip, and ice it with a nice ultramarathon - what else could you want?
Well, for starters, $$$. Flying would be too expensive, and in order to drive the route, I'd need a traveling mate to split gas costs with. After over a month of searching, no such mate could be found. BUT, it'd be a shame to waste the 6+ weeks I'd spent optimistically training, so I started looking for another possibility. After finding out about the Minnesota Voyageur 50 Mile race the same day up in Duluth, MN (calculating that it would be barely within my gas budget) and getting a hearty recommendation from 5-time finisher Bad Ben, I decided to do that instead.
Got some serious running karma beforehand. A group called Sage Hospitality is sponsoring a promotion called Give A Day, Get A Night, in which they'll give you free lodging in exchange for 8 hours of documented volunteering for a registered non-profit. With the hours I've spent race volunteering and weed whacking, and having one of their participating hotels in Duluth, Bad Ben was more than happy to sign off on my time. Running volunteering pays for running lodging. :D
Arrived Friday afternoon to Carlton, MN (pop: 810) for packet pickup, and found out that the race was part of (or at least coincides with) the town's summer festival. Headed over to the hockey rink(!) for a spaghetti feed and to hopefully chat up some other runners. As was mentioned two years ago in Gary Henry's Voyageur race report, no luck for non-beef eaters, so I had two heaping plates of unsauced spaghetti.
Met a family of ultrarunners - the 33 year old daughter (Kathleen) and her father (Norm, 70) would be running tomorrow, and the mother had a broken arm, so she would "only" be running the 5K that night before. Found out that Norm was the same gentleman mentioned in Gary's report who in 2007,
"A few miles out of the turnaround ... had realized he wasn't going to make the 6-hour cutoff. But instead of going on and taking himself out at the 25-mile mark, he turned around and headed back to DNF at the finish. He said he didn't come to the race to just do 25 miles." I like this guy - instead of legitimately being pulled off the course after 25mi, he actually bends the rules so that he could run 44mi.
Ended up eating with a nice 26-year-old guy from Colorado Springs named Brooks, who was hoping for a sub-8 hour and was planning on spending the night in his car. Just had to pass the good running karma along, so invited him to room with me. We watched most of the 5K together, talked with some local residents (who had lived in town all their life and had no idea Voyageur existed!), and headed to the hotel.
Duluth is beautiful! Driving into it on I-35 coming over the hills to see it laid out before Lake Superior made me gasp!
Only the second ultra I've used drop bags for, still feeling out what I'd need, so packed my three for the next day with everything I thought I might conceivably want. Hope to pare that down once I get a bit more experience. (Comments welcome here) Forecast called for scattered rain pretty much all day, so waterproofed things in ziplock bags, finished reading Once A Runner (not really related to ultrarunning, per se, but the author does an excellent job of communicating the intimate details of running in general) and drifted off to sleep.
Arrived an hour early, milled around, got stuck in the line for the john (as usual), and geared up.
Goals:
1. Finish
2. Sub 10 hour would be nice
3. Mark Inbody & Steve Plumb were also up representing the Nerds, and it'd be nice to finish near (or beat) them.
Plan is to reign myself in for the first 25mi and then let loose whatever is left on the way back.
142 starters. Down the city street three blocks, onto the asphalt bike trail and out of town onto a trail in a half-mile. First section was nice & technical, bordering the St. Louis river. Slick rounded river rocks instead of the sharp edged rocks we have here in MO/KS made footing a bit more tricky, but pleasant way to start. EXCEPT. Hornet. Or biting fly. Whatever it was, 2 miles in I yelp as a sudden sharp pain erupts from the back of my thigh and I see something twice as big as the biting flies at WyCo fly off, laughing at my attempts to swat it. Couple locals running behind me get a guffaw at my expense.
Quite a few fellow runners remark on my Trail Nerds jersey. :)
Swinging bridge! Over a beautiful river gorge! Can't help myself - turn a few pirouettes to take in the full view, start bouncing on it, hit it just right to get about 2' of air. :) First aid station, 3.4mi in at 32min. Too fast. I feel like I am noticeably reigning myself in, but still holding sub-10min pace. Hmmm....
Trail broadens to double track, no too technical. Still feeling good, taking salt every half-hour and a goo every hour, plus various aid station pickings. Trying to polish off at least a liter of water between each aid station. Keeping a nice, even pace with little effort and somehow I'm still right at 10min pace.
Fun little deep ravine that we go in & out of gets me thinking of a fun race concept - Rim to Rim to Rim to Rim to Rim (Etc). Find myself a nice deep gulley, whack out 5mi of trail, and sponsor an out-and-back race that has zero flat sections, just weaves in & out. I'd love it, at least. We'll see...
Hit the infamous Power Lines at mile 10.6 - whee! I love hills! I'm told that there are 7 hills in this section, but only two are beyond ordinary - super steep, non-switchbacked medium length hills of single track bare dirt. Would be quite hard if there was any mud, but dry as a bone and very runnable. I do remember Ben's advice to resist my inclination to burn them - for one hill - and generally enjoy myself. :-D
Keep ticking along steady until Fond du Lac, 15.5 mi in. Still not feeling a thing, so start letting myself stride out a bit on some fun downhills. 10min pace going strong. Start thinking my sub-10hr goal is a piece of cake (if I hold 10min, I'd be in at 8:20!). Taking goos & salt regularly, drinking, just enjoying the beautiful woodland scenery.
Race leader Andy Holak passes me heading back around mile 21, looking fresh. I hit the last aid station before Turnaround Zoo at 21.7 miles in, letting the pace slow up a bit (finally) as I'm starting to feel it in my legs a bit, and suddenly OH CRAP PAVEMENT. Lots of it. 0.7+ mi pavement uphill, and then interspersed pavement & mostly gravel trail until the half-way point. It's hard to describe how horrid pavement feels after 20+ miles of trail.
Count myself around 45th as I meet people coming out from the turnaround (Brooks is running 10th). For the first time ever in an ultra, decide not to change my socks/shoes halfway through. Yay Merino socks! Yay Sophia, Mizuno Rep & Pub Trivia night teammate extraordinaire! My new Ascends are holding up great! Hit the turn around just under 4:30. Sub-10 is in the bag, right?
See Mark Inbody only 6min behind. Really start to feel the pavement heading out from the turnaround. By the time I hit that long paved downhill, my feet are quickly becoming hamburger style. I feel the toenails committing seppuku with each step. Insert walking here. Mark catches me.
Then my arch-nemesis comes into play. I've consistently dealt with major leg muscle soreness on practically every run I've done over 18miles since January. Tried adjusting fluids, salt, calorie intake, shoes, etc to no avail. Didn't occur at Psycho WyCo 50K a few weeks beforehand, so I was hoping I had the problem beat. Nope! After the pavement comes major soreness - no cramping or sharp pain, just an impossible-to-ignore loud ache. Struggle to keep 12-min pace, more walking. First thought of "20 more miles? How am I ever going to finish this, let alone a hundred" enters my mind.
I stop to pee! For the first time ever in an ultra! It's rather yellow, but the fact I'm peeing means I'm doing a good job of hydrating during an ultra, right??
Hot spot on my big toe, stop to get it taped up at Fond du Lac. Thanks for the Duck brand Duct-Tape bandages from Christmas, Mom. See Steve Plumb & father for the first time, they've been gaining steadily on me since the turnaround. Also 15 miles to go seems much more manageable than 20.
Aid station workers have been frustrating thus far. The elementary school brigade was out in force in the morning, which was cool to see, but they knew little about aiding a runner. The one kid I handed my waist pack to to fill ended up completely twisting the hose & water sack inside the pack, which cost me a few minutes to undo. Also - no pitchers, just lots of cups. So I could refill my water pack at a rate faster than "trickle", ended up reaching under the table (or in one case, grabbing out of a guy's hand after a frustrating exchange) for the gallon jugs of water they were using to fill the cups. Good selection of food though, and the turnout at each station is impressive. Just wish they could have perhaps placed one experienced ultrarunner at each station who could teach the rest of the volunteers how to help runners. If I was one of the folks there running Voyageur as my first ultra, I would have sorely missed the valuable counsel ultrarunners can give you mid-race. The Nerds have spoiled me.
After a few walk breaks, feeling good again and ready to show the Power Lines who's boss. And I do. I can't help it - I burn the hills, catcall, laugh, suck oxygen, and generally act like a speeding goof. Despite the forecast, it hasn't more than misted yet, the hills are perfectly dry, and I just power up them. Know I'll pay for it later, but am having too much fun to care.
Once the mental boost from the hills passes, the next five miles are rough. A fellow I'm running with tells me that "You run the most even pace I've seen", which I happily take as a compliment, considering that's exactly what I'm trying to do. As Dory from Finding Nemo says, "just keep swimming, just keep swimming". Sore sore sore, but alternatingly refusing to whine or looking around to make sure no one has a shovel.
Hit the 5.2 mile aid station with my right calf completely locked up, soreness almost overwhelming. Have realized by this point that it's major lactic acid build-up, and am drinking as much as I can handle (which evidently isn't enough). Take a look at my watch (which I purposely put away at the turnaround) and see that I've really fallen off pace - I'm at 9:30 with 5 miles to go; no way I'm pulling a sub-10 now. Sad. Decide to walk the next stretch, rather than continuing my soreness-shuffle, in hopes of being able to run the last 3.4mi technical fun finishing stretch. Have about a dozen people pass me, which is frustrating this close to the finish.
Successfully prevent myself from running the one tempting hill on that stretch, hit the final aid station feeling...better. Less sore. Start moving again, realize that, at least for now, I can ignore the pain enough to put some mental energy into moving my legs faster. Suck it up and tell myself it's no different from hitting the three mile mark at Clinton Lake long run, start moving at a decent pace. NOW it starts to rain, a regular down pour before too long. Can't help but think that I would have avoided this completely if I had just met my goal time. But I'm in cruise control on towards the finish, legs pumping, soreness ignoring, rock hurdling, and actually re-passing a half-dozen of the folks. Half-mile of pavement at the end almost breaks the tiny bit of zone I've built up, but bring it in strong for a 10:50 finish. Oh well, it was my first 50, and sub-10 will come this fall at Heartland or Blue Springs
Except for the ending rain, weather was perfect - started high 50's / low 60's, finished in mid-70's, scattered clouds all day, humidity nothing noticeable for this Midwestern boy, temperature regulation didn't merit a stray thought from my mind all day.
Also first ultra that I haven't fertilized the trail somewhere along the lines of the race. *Shrugs*
Showers are available in the school after the race! But the hot water is gone. Enjoy my third pasta meal in a row with the post-race lasagna & salad. No Jello salad, though - I've been in MN 24 hours and am quite disappointed. Look for Brooks - he's nowhere to be found, but his car is there. Find Kathleen, Norm & wife and sit to chat for a bit. She finished well, just over 11hrs, and Norm didn't make the final aid station before the 6-hour cutoff, so he had to drop there. They say they'll be at Rocky Raccoon, so looking forward to seeing them again.
Sit around for much too long getting cold & stiff, since there's no awards until 8p. Directors end up moving the ceremony to 7:20 so people can head out. Was somewhat surprised to get a mug instead of a medal. Nothing was mentioned in the literature, but in my experienced, I just assumed all ultras give medals or buckles.
Still no Brooks, but his car is still there. Wonder if he made his goals of top-10 and sub-8. Expect that I'll see him at the hotel later, and head back. Stop off at the grocery store for buffalo wings, salt & vinegar chips, and Naked juice. Mmmm... Watch some of the Transformers movie and drift off.
Am tired enough in the morning that I decide not to take any scenic routes on the return trip home, and head back to KC, tired, happy & sucking on my new Voyageur water bottle. :)
Lessons learned:
-I'm at a level where I can easily tick off at least 15 miles at 10min pace. :)
-I get sore because of lactic acid build up. I need to drink more. I am already drinking much more than my body is telling me I need. Grrr. Reading/research shall commence.
-How you feel at mile 30 is not how you feel at mile 47 (or 35, 40, 38.1023, etc)
Post-race note: someone posts a link on the UltraList Monday after the race with an article about Voyageur. I skim it and find the next-to-last sentence says that Brooks Williams, 26, of Colorado Springs, CO was taken to the hospital after collapsing a half-mile from the finish. Oh, crap - I don't have his phone number, and am trying to find him on Facebook. Prayers are appreciated.
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