100 mile endurance run. 26hrs17min5sec. 15000 ft of climbing. 15000 ft of descending. Two sunrises. Lots of new friends. My first 100 miler is in the books. Here's how it all went down.
::Early Miles with Mike:: Race check-in is at 3am. I arrived at 3:02. And the rest of the Type A's followed. Four alarm clocks. That seems to be the average that the Type A's I talked to used to guarantee a wake-up. Not that many of us slept. I put my head down for an hour or two but was up at 1:30am watching a movie about the Western States 100.
Mike McCulley from Pensacola, FL, who I just met the evening before (despite running the Mississippi 50 miler within about 15 minutes of him) was at the start and ready to roll. I'll admit it. I tried to ditch Mike. At mile 0. I lined up at the start line and didn't look for him. He found me. Nothing against Mike but he doesn't have boobs and I'm something of a solitary character by nature. But he found me at mile .3 and started talking.
I decided by mile 5 that I was cool with it and that when I was ready to move on I would. This was the first bit of me letting go of my control of the day. What unfolded was twelve hours of us running together. I was the quiet one and despite my initial desire for solitude I eventually warmed up to my running partner.
Mike and I have a lot in common. Military brats. Introverted in high school, eventually getting more social later in life... Mike more so than me, obviously. We covered a lot of ground in 12 hours of discussion. Family. Marriage. The Navy. School. Politics. And even some running.
Running with Mike was a very good thing. It kept both of us slow. We both ran the Mississippi 50 miler in less than 9 hrs. We set out to slow that down a bunch. Walking up hills. Light jogging the remainder. We admitted our Type A nature and worked to not talk about pace, mileage or anything numeric. We had dropped to the back of the pack but we were both cool with it. Neither of us had done a 100 miler and didn't want to risk explosion later on.
These early miles were on gravel roads. There are four main types of surface on the course. Most of the race is packed gravel. It's wide and smooth... my favorite for running. Then there's singletrack trail. This is the ultra purist's wet dream. Smack in the middle of nature. Roots, rocks and stream washouts to challenge your catlike reflexes. Reflexes not catlike at mile 80? Eat root you tool. There was some grass or meadow. Tall wet grass with mud below. Very uneven to run on but not much of it on the course. And last we had some pavement but I'd say less than a mile.
By mile 21 we saw Mike's wife at the first handler station. It made me look forward to seeing Terp.
They have three types of aid station. Unmanned aid stations are just a table with flexible jugs of water and Heed electrolyte drink. Manned aid stations are a big upgrade including food, medical supplies, cheering volunteers and some shade. Handler stations are an even bigger upgrade with your drop bags and your handlers (friends and family). Every 3-4 miles you get an unmanned station. Every 6-8 you get a manned station. And every 15-20 you get a handler station. They've done a great job of putting them where you need them.
::Oh, Those Beautiful Vermont Hills:: Vermont is a beautiful state. Rolling hills, lush forests. It's captivating. Unless you trained on the flat Silver Comet or in flat Pensacola, FL. I thought of Andreas climbing in the Gaps: "puta madre!" Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Nothing was flat. Constant climbs and descents. Some long. Some short. Some steep. Some gradual.
North Georgia has hills that are similar. The difference is that in Vermont they have meadows. The net result is awesome. You'll travel for a while and then it'll just open up into an incredible scenic vista, thanks to the lack of trees in the meadow. In Georgia the vistas are there but you can't see them (so are they really vistas? If a vista falls in the forest and there's nobody around to hear it...). We used to search high and low for viewing points that were 25 feet across. In Vermont the meadows clear an entire hilltop and the view is inspirational.
Mike and I realized early on that this wasn't what either of us had expected. The only thing to do is to keep moving. Slowly. We, like everybody in these races, walked the uphill sections. Not casually. Not race walking. Something in-between.
::"It's Flat for the Next 15" = Straight Up for Miles:: So we get to mile 21 and we're talking about all of the hills. A senior Vermont vet encourages us by saying that "it's flat and rolling for the next 15 miles." Encouraged, we leave the aid station talking about how good it'll feel to get back into some forward motion. As we turn a corner not 1/4 mile away we embark on our biggest climb thus far.
It was the first singletrack technical section worth mentioning. Footing got more difficult. Rocks and roots appeared. Nothing horrible but definitely a step up in mental energy from the gravel roads. Oh, and more leg work and heart rate. And steep. Lean forward and touch the ground steep. And never-ending. Every time we made it to what we thought was the top we'd look ahead and see more climbing. If this hill had a name it would be Mr. Grab Yer Ankles.
We were in a little group that included a local Vermont runner. I told him how I enjoyed seeing Vermont when my GPS took me off-track down some dirt roads getting to the race start. "Did you even get out of the car," he asked, chiding me lightly. Here's how he described tourists: "In Vermont here's what we know about tourists... they'll come up here and look around... and then go home... hopefully." Very nice guy and very interesting to hear about the local view. Vermont locals love their state.
The area we ran through had incredible houses. Each one picture perfect with a fence, green lawn, lake and scenic vista in the background. About 1000 post cards waiting to happen. Turns out many of these are owned by non-Vermonters. Lots of money in the area, coming up from New York City which is about three hours away. Michael J Fox has a house in the area, I learned from an aid station volunteer.
::Finishing the First Fifty:: "Is this where the course goes," we asked. "It's uphill so it's got to be the right way to go," answered the other runner. We got a chuckle. How can an entire state be uphill?
Mike and I just kept moving and talking for the rest of the first 50. At the first optional weigh-in Mike was a few pounds down. I forgot to do the weigh-in so I wasn't sure where I was at. We both began to chug water and Heed at the aid stations. Then an hour later we both peed four times in an hour. But by the first aid station we were both at acceptable weights. I had gained 2 lbs and was at 165.
They weigh you throughout the course to make sure that you're not losing or gaining too much weight. If you lose 6% of your body weight they make you rest and hydrate, a fate worse than foot loss for a runner trying to finish in a certain time. If you lose 7% you're out of the race. If you gain weight you can get pulled too. The goal is to keep people smart about their fluid/electrolyte balance.
::"Up Half a Notch" and Buckle Fever:: As we neared the end of the first half of the run I started checking the watch and saw that we'd be under 12 hours. This triggered buckle fever in me. You see, if you finish in under 24 hours you get a belt buckle. I know, a little odd. But it's big in ultrarunning to "buckle" (verb).
We finished in 11:45 meaning that there was zero chance that we'd buckle. Mike realized this. I was in denial. I had buckle fever. I told Mike I was going to "turn it up about a half a notch." My legs felt fine. Like 100% fresh. Nothing like the end of the 50 miler. Nothing like the end of the marathons. I just felt perfect.
So I apologized to Mike for breaking up our partnership and I slowly moved forward. For a while I passed folks. I'd run with each for a while to see how their race was going. Everybody's so nice at these things. I figure that I increased my heart rate by about 10 beats per minute.
::Mile 60 Crash:: But that 10 beats per minute added up quickly. By mile 60 I wasn't hurting in the legs. I was just feeling fatigued. The pulse increase had slowed my stomach's absorption rate and at the same time increased my body's demand for fluids, salts and glucose. The balance of fluids and gels that got me through 50 miles in comfort had been disrupted. This took its toll. I was aware of it and backed off the pace. But it takes a long, long time to get things back into balance. Two hours or more. And just as I realized my issues the terrain began to rise, big time.
A huge set of climbs in the late 50's really had me demoralized. I had met Pat and then he dropped me. Almost all of the people I passed had caught up and were little dots on the never ending, always climbing gravel road ahead. It was also the heat of the day. I was sweating a good bit.
By mile 60 I was in full crash mode. Not ten miles prior I had felt perfect. But a set of decisions and race circumstances had thrown me into trouble.
::Damon: "You Have to Want It":: I met Damon who was very willing to help me out. He's done some insane number of 100 milers. He told me how the rest of the course went. Not that I could understand it or internalize it. He shared some tips and tricks.
I eventually caught up with him but I was demoralized and hurting. This is when Damon said something incredible. "Around mile 60 or 70 the race becomes more about what's in your head... you've got to want it," he said. It was a turning point. He was right. Then he ran ahead dropping me. I was left alone again, struggling with what he had said.
::Switching Motivation is Hard to do in Realtime:: I had heard things like what Damon said to me before. It's in the ultra magazines. It's in the ultra videos. It's on the ultra mailing lists. It's part of the collective lore of ultrarunning. But it never made sense until I was at that point of distress. Suddenly it did make sense.
Why was I out there? I wanted to be able to say that I had completed a 100 miler. Simple. And that motivation got me to sign up for the scary race. To train the long hours. To drive nonstop to Vermont from Atlanta (RTarded, BTW). And it got me to the 60 mile mark.
But at mile 60 that motivation failed. I didn't care whether or not I could tell people that I had run a 100 miler. That's an ego-based thing. It's empty. It simply didn't matter. While previously it carried my legs through a 50 miler in the heat at mile 60 in Vermont it wouldn't carry me to the next turn.
Realizing my motivational problem was big though. Damon's statement didn't help me figure out what my motivation was. It helped me realize that my motivation was flawed. It made me realize that I had to either have another reason to continue or drop.
So I started to search. And you know what? It's hard to find motivation for something when you're doing it. It's like changing a tire on a car while driving down the highway. It's hard to describe but the current situation that you're in interferes with your ability to analyze your motivation.
I worked at it for many miles. I thought about the discussions Paul C and I had concerning intellectual self vs. emotional self. I thought about my family. I thought about Danielle and her perseverance. The book Deep Survival. The book No Shortcuts to the Top by Ed Viesturs. I thought about everybody who's wished me well. I thought about my blog. I thought about Ava and what she would want me to do.
At this point I was searching.
::Giving Up the Ghost:: As if things weren't already going poorly, I suddenly realized that the watch was the bearer of additional bad news. I wouldn't be "buckling." I should have realized it when Mike did. I should have realized it when my stomach went bad. But I didn't. So at about mile 65 I gave up the ghost. There would be no sub-24 hour finish for me.
Talk about a blow. Between you, me and the wall I expected to buckle, no problem. But always cautious I put on the blog that I wanted to first finish and then buckle, if possible. I had no motivation in the tank for a 30 hour finish. I had no hours training where I even once considered finishing after 24 hours. I always visualized and attempted to internalize a 24 hour event. I wasn't even sure I had brought enough flashlight batteries to go through the entire night! It just wasn't ever a consideration.
And now it was the reality. My real goal... the one that had motivated me... was lost. So as I was struggling to find motivation after Damon's comments I was also struggling to find a goal to apply it to.
I was lost.
::Running with Damon Lease:: Eventually around mile 66 I caught up with Damon and we talked some more. Now, realize that the four miles to Camp 10 Bear would take about 45 minutes or more. But we were over the hills and were able to cruise some gentle downhill gravel roads as the daylight waned.
Damon, like all ultrarunners I've met, was very willing to share with me. And he's an incredible resource. We talked about blister tapes and methods. Nutrition. Tim Noakes' Lore of Running (incidentally, the first time I've heard the classic tome referenced in open conversation... I've read it twice).
Then discussion turned to family, motivation, goals, etc. This was something that I noticed. As you ran with somebody you started out with the basics. "How's your race going?" Training. Running stuff. But then if the chemistry was right things would progress to bigger life issues. I think it's the nature of these runs that challenge people to confront themselves.
I'm always conscious of my leeching. I want to provide some value back to the person who'd being so kind as to help the newbie. I hope that I do provide some of that value as we get into the life issues. I make sure that they hear me understand what they told me so that they don't think they're just throwing words into a trash can.
During this time I also ran a bit with Pat Wheatley from Montreal. He was dealing with blister issues but was still running strong.
I had no idea whether Terp and Rusty would be at Camp 10 Bear. I had kind of hoped to see them at Margaritaville but they weren't there. It was tough for them to find me.
::Terp and Rusty in the House: Camp 10 Bear, Mile 70:: As Damon and I cruised into Camp 10 Bear I saw Terp! What a motivation! I was ecstatic! Thanks to the great conversation with Damon I was already feeling better. Seeing Terp made my day. I was on top of the world!
Rusty was there too and helped fill some water bottles. I took my longest aid station break so far... about five or ten minutes to chat with them, see how their trip went, etc. We took some photos. And I got weighed in... I was up one pound at 164... very good.
I grabbed my headlight and overly expensive flashlight. As I departed Camp 10 Bear I had a spring in my step and some energy in my brain.
::Oh, Seriously... That's How It's Gonna Be?:: And not 1/4 mile out of Camp 10 Bear I hop onto a technical singletrack climb. I'm alone again. Darkness is closing around me. I think I'm ready to take on the world and then this hill takes it all away. I do well enough for the first 30 minutes or so. But then it continues, up and up. The problem with the footing is that it hurts my feet which are doing incredibly well overall but have one hotspot on my right pinky toe.
Eventually the singletrack starts to roll a bit but that's not much help. The downhill is so steep and technical that I'm hurting myself going down. As it is finally fully dark I'm working hard to find balance between the area light on my head and the night-vision-killing super light that I paid extra for (I am RTarded). Rocks and roots jump out at me.
Then it happens... my big right toe and a rock connect. I screamed out into the darkness as pain shot up the nerves in my foot and leg. I had to hop around and catch my breath. It was a big blow and I wasn't sure I didn't break my toe. But I continued. I was actually proud that I continued quickly. I didn't want soreness to set in. I knew that I had to move immediately or risk letting the injury take over. Still, it hurt.
Then it happens again. I won't copy and paste the above paragraph though.
Then again, left foot.
I say out loud, again to the darkness, "oh, seriously... that's how it's gonna be?"
Through this period I'm still searching for my motivation. I'm moving forward but I'm not motivated. Dropping comes up frequently in my mind. I have nothing to hold on to. This is the best way to describe it. When the motivation fails and the goal disappears, why are you out there?
The one thing I have going for me is that Damon told me that from mile 78 - 85 there are gravel roads. At the time I didn't realize how much I loved those smooth gravel roads. I longed for their smooth surface, even if it was going endlessly uphill.
::Darkness = Dark Times at Mile 81:: And I made it to the gravel roads. And the foot pain subsided somewhat as I got into a rhythm on some rolling hills. But it wasn't the panacea I had hoped for. Progress was terribly slow. It was completely dark. I was completely alone. I realized that having Mike to talk to would have been nice. I had no mile markers but I had to be turning 18 minute miles. A drunken snail could do better.
But the big problem was that I hadn't solved the motivation riddle. As Damon had told me, it had become a race of the mind. My muscles didn't hurt that much. I had felt foot pain like that before. My stomach was ok. But why continue? Because I wanted to be able to tell people I had run 100 miles? Bullsh*t. Who cares? I'll tell them I ran 80. That's just as impressive, isn't it?
I got to see Terp and Rusty around mile 78. I was not a happy camper. They saw the change in me immediately. For the first time in the race I sat down. "You were just too happy before," Terp said. They helped me get food. I made a big decision to try some solid food which I hadn't done until then. I had some Ruffles chips. Holy crap good. I had more.
Terp and Rusty clearly were at a loss to help but wanted to so badly. I could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voice. They wanted me to put on a heavier shirt. Kept trying to coax me into wearing it. I was fine temperature wise. I told Rusty he'd find his shirt cut up and hung in a tree in effigy if I took it with me. They backed off the shirt and I hated being a crabby runner.
Off I went again. Into more darkness. More hills. Alone.
This was my lowest point in the race. I stumbled left and right. Couldn't focus on anything. Let my blood sugar and caffeine levels get way too low but just didn't care. I was done. Over. Done. I simply had no reason to care.
I remembered Damon talking about sitting down at mile 81 and seeing the finish in a previous Vermont 100. I thought that'd be helpful to see the goal. Then I decided that it wouldn't be... but that sitting in a chair would be heaven. And that if Damon, super runner, could drop out at mile 81 (as he did his first year) then I could do the same and still possibly come back for more. I decided that I'd go the next three miles until mile 81.
These three miles took what felt like eight years to complete. But I kept thinking about my chair. Oh, that plastic $3.99 Walmart f'ing chair was going to be glorious. More stumbling on gravel roads. In the darkness bright eyes looked back at me. I bright-lighted a few deer within 20 feet. And a skunk on the trail. "If you spray me I'll kill you," I told Mr. Skunk. And I probably would have.
For the first time a person passed me and neither of us spoke. The woman was stumbling too. Here we were, two humans battling some beast (my beast as yet undefined) with nobody in sight and we couldn't even muster a quick "hi." Low. I pride myself on saying hi when I run. Through the worst neighborhoods in town. On the Silver Comet. I challenge myself to get a smile, by smiling myself. At one of the aid stations earlier in the day they said that they thought I was the most happy and mellow competitor they'd seen. But now, heading up to mile 81 I couldn't do it any more. Wanted to. Couldn't.
I finally saw the aid station in the distance at the top of a hill. It took me a good five minutes to get to it. Four bottles of water and a cheap lantern welcomed me. Mile 81 was an unmanned aid station.
It was a crushing blow. I sat down on the side of the road. Hunching my shoulders over I lamented that I hadn't dropped at mile 78 where there were people. Now I'd have to walk to the next stop to drop. I was done. Cooked. Toast. Out.
::Rob Apple and Susan Donnelly... Angels on the Trail:: And up walk two faces I had seen before in Atlanta. I thought Walker Williams was the only Atlantan in the mix. But I had seen these two before at the Fat Ass 50k and the Sweetwater 50k. "You're from Atlanta, aren't you?" I said. Susan said no... another crushing blow that had me questioning my mental capacity. But I knew I recognized them. After a quick couple of questions we realized that while not from Atlanta (they're from TN) they do some of the GUTS races and I had seen them there.
I was still on the ground. They filled their water bottles. And then one of them said something like "you can't stop here... you'll freeze" as they departed. Instantly I popped up. I have no idea how or why. I just did. And I ran with them.
Rusty later heard the story and figured it out. They had made a decision for me. I couldn't stop here. It wasn't an option. I had to move on. With that decision out of my control (remember that theme from before?) I was somewhat freed to move forward.
I hated leeching them but needed to. At first we didn't talk a ton but they did relay that even walking I could finish. I explained that it was my first and that I was having a very rough spot. And they embraced me, encouraging me. The one key thing they told me was that even walking I could finish the race in under 30 hours.
Bam! At that moment I regained my goal. I wanted to finish in under 30 hours. I still didn't know why. But I knew that I had a goal. I suddenly wanted to finish.
This boost helped me want to continue just enough to eat a gel with caffeine in it. That helped. I could see straight again. And I was able to tie myself to Rob and Susan, not worrying much about the bigger perspective of the race.
I would stay with them to the end but I didn't know it at the time. I figured they'd drop me. And I still wasn't sure if I was welcome. Gaining some mental acuity, I realized after a solid couple of hours running beside them that they may not want me there at all. I apologized for leeching and told them that they could vote me off the island at any time. They assured me that they were cool with it and that other runners had helped them through tough races of their own.
So here's the thing about Rob and Susan... they're experienced. This was Rob's 494th ultra marathon... his 20th 100 miler. And Susan, who was pacing this one for Rob to get a quick 30 miles in recovering from an injury, has done 19 100 milers. They shared a ton of incredible stories as the hours went by. And out of kindness to me they chose stories where a) they had been miserable and b) they had finished. It was clear that they knew what I was going through and what would help me move ahead.
::Time Warped Miles:: I got to see Terp and Rusty again at about mile 88. Twelve miles to go. A quicker stop. I wasn't delirious any more but the miles were going slowly. The three miles between aid stations took close to an hour. Doing the math I realized that I still had hours to go. These miles in the dark were slow going.
Rob and Susan set a good pace. But there were times on the uphills where I really struggled to keep up. In fact, we had three or four people start to leech us (well, Rob and Susan) and then get dropped. I often had to dig very hard athletically to keep up with them.
::Sleep Walking Deathmarch Before Dawn:: At about 3:30am I went into another deep, dark place. I was laboring to keep up with Rob and Susan. I couldn't see again. I was stumbling back and forth across the road. Susan would yell back "keep up" or "no stumbling." It was helpful that she said these things as orders, not as recommendations or observations. They were orders. Keep up. And I did. I was able to snap out of it for a moment, shuffle ahead and then go back to my deep dark place.
Rob and Susan talked. I had some time to think. I had my goal... to finish the race in under 30 miles but I still had no motivation. I still didn't know why I was doing it. Thoughts of dropping crept back into my head. But even worse, thoughts of letting Rob and Susan go frequently crept in there too. For 30 minutes or so the phrase "I'm gonna let you guys go... thanks for the help tonight" was on the tip of my tongue. But I never let it slip out. It took a lot of effort to keep it in. To keep going. Later on I was proud when Susan looked to Rob and said "and he didn't even whine much." That was huge for me.
::Sunrise Mood Boost:: About ten times throughout the day and night I had heard that the sunrise brought energy. Books, websites and magazines say the same thing. Bullsh*t I thought... I love the night... I have a killer light... I don't like the heat... I'm all about the night. I didn't believe that the sunrise would bring any energy.
But it did. Like a light switch I was out of my dark place. I was able to see. I was able to focus on the road ahead. I was able to run. I started to try to be the one that triggered the switch from walk to run as we crested a hill. Every time I did so it was a huge boost. Susan took a photo of the sunrise.
And then somewhere around sunrise, when you could still see the stars and there was a nice orange glow on the horizon, I found it... my motivation: I want to be the sort of person who finishes this sort of race. It sounds similar to "I want to be able to tell people that I've finished this race" but it's very different. The motivation is on being a person with a certain set of qualities. Not on being a person with a credential on his resume. That shift took me about ten hours of running and lots of mental anguish to make. By the time it happened I had a much deeper sense of what "a race like this" really meant. It's not so much the distance. It's what happens along the way. It's the way that you have to deal with your mind. As I saw this race unfold before me throughout the day I realized that it's something very different than what I had expected but something that I wanted to be part of.
I realize that this sort of thing sounds flakey and overbaked. Google the race and every race report you read has similar statements about changed lives, mental challenges, etc. I was skeptical too. I've done some long endurance events and gone into difficulty but I've never had to marshal the sort of resources that people talked about. And I've had some spectacular explosions. I've been in the suck with 20+ miles to go on the marathon at the end of Ironman Florida. I've been on Hogpen on my wedding day bonked out with two hours to get to the altar. I've run 50 miles in early season heat and thrown up for hours. So surely all this talk on the race reports was just drama.
So I encourage you to believe the same about my race report... that this is just drama. And who knows... maybe it's just that. An attempt to make a rather basic thing (run 100 miles) sound important. But it's the closest I've come to understanding a real survival situation yet. And ever since reading Deep Survival I've been fascinated with that topic.
::Final Singletrack Push:: With the daylight and motivation rocking we found a final singletrack to the end. Susan decided to run out ahead and for some reason I went along. Running uphill. Running downhill. I had a runner's high at mile 98. It was amazing. I felt like a million bucks. I felt the joy of running. Cruising in and out of the trees. Seeing the sky. You get the picture. It was awesome. I thought about some of my first runs as a kid in West Point, New York, running at 6am before school to the back gate down Lee Road.
It was a short section... only about a half mile or so. But it was amazing.
::Low Key Finish:: From there we took it easy getting to the end. As we exited the trees we saw about ten people sitting around two poles and a finishing banner. Golf claps. So low key. It was awesome. The accomplishment was in my head, not at a finishing line.
Terp and Rusty didn't get to see me finish. We missed them at Polly's, the handler station at mile 95. Terp really wanted to see me cross the line but by the time we connected I wasn't too psyched about the walk back to the finish line. I'll photoshop it some day... and I'll be shirtless with a six pack.
::An Adventure with Luck:: Luck played an incredible role in the day. At each step something helped me along. Deep Survival would say that I marshaled the resources... that I dug motivation out of Damon, for example. I don't know... maybe. It all just seemed lucky to me. If Rob and Susan hadn't found me on the side of the road I wouldn't have finished. If Mike hadn't been there to keep me slow for the first 50 then the last 50 would have been even worse. If Damon hadn't told me that my Motivation Emperor had no clothes on at mile 66 I probably wouldn't have found his clothes at sunrise. It's just all amazing how these pieces... these people really... fit together to make the adventure.
::Blisters, Mentality and Soreness:: My hour and a half of taping paid off. Kinesio Tex tape, very expensive and overnighted by my father to the hotel, worked. I had only had one painful blister on my right pinky toe. Left foot was solid all day. Now, I had other blisters... quite a few in fact. But none of them hurt as I ran. And I did have hotspots... it's not like running was comfortable... but it wasn't the hot fire burning pain on every step that I so feared going into the event.
I went to the med tent to have my pinky blister worked on. One of the nurses said that I had some good "mentality." I was alert, smiling and talkative. How couldn't I be? I had found this motivation and goal and achieved them with some new friends and my family. It was wonderful.
It's a few days later as I write this. My legs are a little less sore than they were after the 50 miler. This makes sense... I went a lot harder on the 50. My legs were twitchy in the car on the way back to Atlanta. Made it tough to drive so Rusty did most of it. My blisters are healing. I think I'll go out for a quick 20. Not.
::Thanks to Terp and Rusty:: Having Terp and Rusty up there was huge. A massive boost whenever I saw them and incredible support getting back to Atlanta. This event was tiring for the crew. They had to navigate tons of winding dirt roads in the middle of the night so that they could wait for hours as I ambled on to the next handler station. It's boring thankless work. Even worse that Ironman spectating because there are so few participants... and the women don't wear as much spandex. But they do get to actually help the athlete. That's fun. Maybe someday Ava will be there at an aid station handing me a bottle of water. That'd be cool.
::Thanks to Friends and Family:: The support from all of you has been incredible. The emails, phone calls and instant messages has been motivational and wonderful. I only hope that by sharing this experience you gain something. I know that one of my main conclusions from the race is that it doesn't make sense until you do it. But maybe some of the process to discover my motivations is helpful as you go and climb your own mountains. Danielle with her recovery. Blair with his cycling. Marc with his rTarded mountain bike rides. Dana with her competitive cycling. Etc. Etc. Etc. We all have our journeys and goals. Thanks for taking part in mine and helping me out along the way!
05:23:42 AM: It's 4:21am local time. I slept well and feel good this morning. Race starts at 6am.
06:49:46 PM: Alive. Completed in 8:45:36. Hung with second place woman, Anita Fromm, who motivated me throughout and then dropped me on second half of last lap, beating me by twelve minutes. Gave it my all and more in the first heat run of the season. Vomiting, nausea and near-fainting for solid hour and a half afterwards. Now, three hours later i've forgotten clothes at the hotel room, towel streaked to the minivan, tried to use canadian money in the vending machine and found blisters on my feet and side balls.. Still feel pretty horrible and my lower intestines are lit up like a christmas tree. Thanks to everybody who's touched base. You are appreciated. I'll get a full summary up as soon as I can. And just in case you're under the delusion that this run proves I have big balls, understand this: I listened to avril lavigne on my fastest lap. That should put me back on par with the Porsche-driving Dominic "Small Balls" Turano (just kidding big guy).
Next day: Alright, some recap action.
I woke up race morning and had my usual oatmeal and whey protein. No meat for three days prior in an attempt to avoid lower intestine problems (result: lower intestine problems. bonus: only after the race.). Getting to the race start was painless and GPS didn't get me lost. We were about five miles onto dirt roads, in a state park in south east MS.
The starting area was very low key. Much more so than a triathlon. Which is interesting because compared to cycling events triathlons are like Woodstock. The night before Annette, who organizes the lakecity50.com said that triathletes are "just insane." Somewhat ironic because most triathletes live in fear of the run and call ultra runners "psychotic." To each their own. I'll float between the groups as best I can. I was acutely aware of the fashion differences between the two and was looking forward to delving into some of the more human/social differences. Being a military brat I've long-known that every social group exhibits certain surface differences but that you only really understand the group when you look underneath. My approach is to quickly adopt the fashion/terminology/etc and then probe veterans in the group with a lot of questions, admitting my new status in the group.
I checked in and talked to the race director for a few minutes before getting geared up. Very nice guy who described the massive amount of work required to work with the forest commissions to put the race on. "You have no idea," he told me.
It was warm enough for shorts and a short sleeve shirt with the sun not yet over the horizon. A dense fog was pervasive. About ten minutes before the start everybody congregated near the start line. I met Terry from PA… a big tall dude with a long beard. He was wearing full red to protest the inclusion of a turkey hunting warning on the race handout which said "don't wear red." Very nice guy and a long-time runner. I explained my predicament (first 50 miler) and he was quick to offer advice and spent a good bit of time talking to me about his runs and experience. For this I was very thankful.
Just as the race started I met two guys running together who were also doing their first 50. They had missed the spaghetti dinner and asked for a re-brief. I told them to follow the orange, avoid the yellow and not to wear red. So, we were off.
I made it a point to keep the heart rate very low for a good while, not knowing the course or the distance. I slowed whenever I got near 138bpm or so, roughly my average for my ironmans. It was an easy pace but I knew that the distance would add up. The group spread out a good bit quicker than it did on the 30 mile runs I've done. I took this to mean the group was more respectful of the distance.
My lungs were still a little toasted from the efforts of the last three weekends but I knew that lungs wouldn't be my limiter so I didn't let it worry me much. For the first lap I kept to myself and listened to my audiobook. The course didn't have many hills at all and the surface was cushy. Some stream crossings. Some mud. Not too many roots. By the end of the first lap I knew that this run would be much more enjoyable than the 30 miler on 100% concrete.
I made a mistake wearing relatively new gear. The injinjis were giving me some hot spots on my feet so after the first lap I switched to my regular socks and put a bunch of body glide on my toes. Seemed to help within a few miles.
Second lap I found myself running with Terry from PA. Again, very helpful guy, willing to answer a lot of my questions. The 50k running women from MS said that they enjoyed listening to our conversation. I learned about Terry's father who was a pro basketball player, 6'8" and tough as nails. He twice hit roots while talking and tumbled… I apologized profusely and eventually decided I was distracting him too much. While running with Terry my heart rate dropped to the low 120s. This was a good thing and I was cool with a lot of people passing us.
On the out and back section near the end of the second lap I saw Anita Fromm who had leapfrogged me a couple times in the beginning, said hi and then moved well ahead through the second lap. She had a woman running directly behind her. As I started the third lap I was running with the woman who had been behind her. She said that it was her first 50 but that she'd done 10 marathons before. We leapfrogged a bit before she dropped the pace a notch. I was feeling great on the third lap. It was getting warm but I felt like I could go on forever. I eventually caught Anita near the end of that lap and ran with her for a little while. She was kind enough to encourage me and tell me that I was having a good first 50. It's great having an outside opinion because I was expecting the dreaded explosion at any moment.
Ok, on the music, why avril lavigne? I had been listening to my audiobook and it was fine but as noted by Marc and Dana during Sufferfest, we often get mad at our music after a while. It just gets annoying. I tried some metallica but after a few minutes it faded into a cacophony of noise. Same with prodigy. I put the ipod on mix and after a few songs an avril lavigne tune came on and the mix of vocals and light-hearted pop just fit for some reason. Who knows. I went with it.
There were no bag drops… after each lap I opened up the back of the minivan and grabbed whatever I needed. "What is this, a day spa?" yelled Anita as she passed through the start area using her declared pre-race strategy of minimizing time at aid stations. We again ran together for a few miles, leapfrogging a bit. At one point I realized that when she was behind me she'd drop back 50 yards or so. When I was behind her I'd be within 10 feet. I asked her if this was rude or otherwise not acceptable (like, say, halfwheeling in a casual group ride) but she said she was cool with it. Still, I'll be careful with this. I imagine that many people are more solitary and wouldn't appreciate it.
I figured that the miles had to eventually get me. I started having some trouble keeping up. Anita offered some cliff bar blox with caffeine. Life saver. On laps two and three I ran the entire time with a package of caffeinated blox. But heading into the last lap I forgot to bring my cola-flavored blox. Amazing how things work out, eh? Whenever my mood dipped I'd take some caffeine and it'd pick me back up.
I experienced some of the mood cycle acceleration that you read about in long races, but nothing dramatic. There were spots where my mood would just flip, for no apparent reason. I'd just work the nutrition and positive thinking and be back in stride in no time.
About halfway through the final lap my pace dropped off and I walked up a hill. Anita passed me for the final time saying "only a 10k left now… you can't walk at this point." True enough. I started running again and didn't stop until the finish. I was off my lap three pace, but I was moving.
In the end I finished in 8:45:36. I was very happy with the time. Anita made a 50 mile PR of around 8:33. As much as I wanted to stand around and talk the race and badwater with her I was feeling woozy and nauseous. Kind of a shame because she took off before I could compose myself (an hour and a half later).
As reported previously there was vomiting and near-fainting. I sat in the car for fifteen minutes waiting for things to settle. I think last year I recounted the ten minutes after a long run on the comet that had me a little spooked. The sensations were similar but a little more pronounced. My heart rate wouldn't drop and I felt like throwing up. Then my lower intestines lit up like a christmas tree.
Walker Williams, from Georgia, offered some crystallized ginger but my stomach was already on a roll and threw them out quickly. They were tasty though… thanks to Walker for taking the time to look after me. He mentioned that Rich Schick, from Atlanta, may have a run happening soon.
It took a solid hour and a half to get my wits about me again. At one point I walked out to a picnic table to lie down and then couldn't make it back to the minivan. I'd stand up, lose vision and have to take to the ground. I swear, I remember looking the twenty feet to the minivan thinking "how the hell am I gonna get back there?" Eventually I lucked into a reclined feet up position on the pine needles. Looking up at the tall pines swaying in the wind I was finally getting good blood to the head and digestive systems. My condition slowly improved.
So, of course, after my initial report my family freaks out. Maybe they should. And I appreciate the support. But I was never in peril. There were lots of people around and I knew that at any moment I could have simply said "I need help" and they would have taken care of me. There was an ambulance 25 yards away. The drama I recount is mostly in my head… it's scary when your body isn't acting normally… and I know that there are important lessons in that fear so I try to capture it accurately on the blog. I actively remembered lessons from the book Deep Survival and went through checklists every few minutes to determine whether I was in an actual survival situation. There were moments where I got very worried about not being able to keep water down and/or see straight, but generally I knew I'd be ok.
I wouldn't have it any other way. I pushed my limits and will be stronger for it. I would have been disappointed had I finished and felt fine.
Today, the next day, as I write this I feel surprisingly little muscle pain. Twenty four hour DOMS should have set in by now but I'm only getting joint pain. And some blister pain on my feet. My digestive systems are working properly.
Big thanks to everybody who checked in with me before and after the race. Without the support of everybody I know there's no way I'd be able to have so much fun with my little adventures.
05:21:45 AM: Up and preparing for a run. Cold and windy out.
07:17:55 AM: Here in Rockmart. Early. Temp dropped about five degrees between Atlanta and the starting location. Surprisingly there are a good number of folks already here. Most are milling about in confused-looking flight patterns. Most realize after two minutes that, while ok for running, their clothes don't work for standing around... they duck into their cars shortly after a quick, and apparently unsuccessful, jumping jack and hand rubbing session.
07:20:03 AM: Loaded up Michael Crichton's latest book called Next on the iPod. Listened to the first hour on the way out. Seems like a decent biotech thriller.
07:29:58 AM: Holy f I froze balls standing in a two person line to get my race number. It's cold out. 22 degrees.
07:45:03 AM: Doing final gear prep and then we'll be off. Not sure about my clothing but I think I'll be ok.
12:57:15 PM: Finished: 4hr40min.
02:49:35 PM: Back home now. Here's the recap:
It was incredibly cold at the start and the organizers were thankfully conscious of this fact, only holding us near the start line for a couple minutes. We started at the baseball fields past Rockmart and ran back towards the big tunnel. It was about 24 degrees at the start.
Within a few minutes I realized that I had dressed to perfection. A capilene base layer and a shell with gloves kept me warm but not too warm. I wore a hat as well.
The first eight miles were uphill. I took a nice easy pace, listening to my audiobook. I felt some soreness in my right calf but not my left and ate salt tabs to keep it to a dull roar. Unfortunately I was low on salt tabs today so had to ration them out and probably didn't take in as many as I should have.
The next seven and a half miles to the turnaround were wonderful. I was feeling fresh and it was a nice gentle downhill/rolling hills. I stopped at the rest stops and, always being the only runner for six people to service, I had some fun with them, joking around etc. One guy called me the happiest runner out there which I took as a great compliment.
Then the turnaround. The wind hit me. Sometimes stronger, sometimes not there. But a big factor in the next seven miles. It made my hands and core colder. I had to fidget and adjust things a lot more. On top of that I was running uphill. Miles 19-22 were very mentally demanding. I didn't feel like I was moving at all.
Then at mile 24 my lower intestines lit up. Lots of pain and the usual remedy of passing gas wasn't working. I stayed with it for a few more miles but the pain was mounting. Then I realized that I had caught up with the guy in front of me. But the pain was too great. I had to jump into the woods for some quick and explosive Number Two.
As I exited the woods I saw that somebody behind me had caught up. But I felt good again and was able to put some speed back on. We were about five or six miles from the end and I thought I could hold him off.
But the intestine pain came back with about three miles to go. I thought I was going to explode but I didn't want to make another stop. I knew there was a porta potty at the finish and I fixated on it. In the end I got passed with about a half mile to go. My stomach issues cost me two spots, bumping me from 9th to 11th. While this sounds great, realize that there were only about 25 people there. My finishing time was 4hr40min. By the end of the run it had warmed up to a whopping 36 degrees.
Never have I been so happy to Number Two in a porta potty. Did you know they're putting sanitizing hand gel into them these days?
My legs were toast at the end. Very little turnover and lots of pain. I blew my salt plan and obviously messed something up with my nutrition. I had hoped for a confidence builder going into next month's 50 miler but now I'm just terrified. I couldn't have run another 50 yards today. And my pace wasn't anything to write home about (but it was apparently something to blog about).
Still, a good training day. Scaring myself with the 50 miler has kept my running base with me over the winter and that was my original goal.
Thanks to GUTS for putting this run on. And thanks for the most excellent Patagonia Capilene long sleeve shirt! Very cool!
Awesome day for a run. Raining almost the entire time. Mud. Streams. Rocky slopes. Slippery roots. Great time. Atlanta GUTS put this run on at Kennesaw Mountain. Took it at a nice easy base pace. Saw Rich Schick there. Even coming off an injury and making "fiery rectal deposits" (quote of the day) caused by spicy evening eating he whupped up on me. Mike Cosentino from Big Peach Running won the day. Fun was had by all but I had to bolt quickly afterward when I got a message from Terp that Frec's in the hospital getting a c-section for Frec Jr. Thanks to all who put the run on!
Fat Ass 50k/30mi Trail Run
