"Why? What goes through your mind when you sign up for these things?"
I sat in a chair sipping hot soup and enjoying the immense satisfaction of knowing that I had run a good race and finished. Despite hurting all over, I felt good.
The question was posed by the spouse of a fellow ultra runner who was still out on the course. It was a fair question, not uncommon, and yet difficult to answer.
"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," I laughed. He laughed too, and didn't press the issue. My wife already told me I was incoherent and I'm sure he didn't want to stress my already fritzed out brain.
It wasn't until the next day I read this little saying:
You Never Know How Strong You Are Until Being Strong Is Your Only Choice.
That's it, I thought. That's why I run ultras. There comes a time during each of these 30 plus mile runs where your body screams "Stop" but you don't stop; you can't because the finish line is still a good 20 miles away and you made a commitment to cross it. And even though it seems daunting, even impossible, to think of the miles that lie ahead you keep putting one foot in front of the other, step after step, mile after mile. Sure your mind wigs out (its not uncommon for ultra runners to hallucinate) and your body may collapse occasionally, but time after time, you rise again and somehow find the strength to take another step and go another mile. Proving that you are stronger than you ever thought and that the impossible is only unattainable when you cease to strive for it.
Rocky Raccoon 50 Mile Endurance Run
The weather was perfect. I feared that running in February would pose all sorts of discomforts (I hate to run in the cold) but race day dawned with temps in the low 50's and the promise of 60 to 70 by mid afternoon.
The course was perfect. Rocky is set in Huntsville State Park, about an hour north of the Houston Area, in a wooded park. The trail is mostly soft dirt with a few roots here and there ;). It is relatively flat and has a reputation as a fast course. Many a PR was set at Rocky.
The aid was perfect. As many ultra runner know, the life of a race often lies with the volunteers and the aid stations. Rocky's aid stations and volunteers were OUTSTANDING. On a scale of one to ten, they get eleven.
I was less-than-perfect. Coming out of the New Year's Double where due to illness, I was forced to drop from back to back Marathons to a Marathon followed by a half marathon, my confidence may have been a little shaken. I had also intended for Rocky to be my first 100 mile run but was forced to drop to the 50 miler due to scheduling conflicts. To simplify a complex situation--I was not 100% going into the race.
Mindi took it upon herself to be my crew. For anyone who hasn't had the privilege of "crewing" before, it is an extremely dull and unrewarding job that is usually done out of sheer love. Crew's wait for hours while their runner plays in woods. At the aid station, the crew attempts to see to the needs of an often exhausted, glycogen-depleted runner who usually thinks his/her needs are the only thing that should matter. Runners are not always as kind and appreciative of our crew as we ought to be.
At 7:00AM, an eiery cry rose from the woods and over 300 runners began what would be a full day of running, walking, eating, puking, bleeding, limping crying, and more running. An additional 300 runners had left an hour earlier on their way to run 100 miles. We call ourselves "Ultra Runners," the rest of the world calls us "Crazy".
The 50 Mile course consisted of three 16.67 mile loops with 5 aid stations along the way. Mindi was able to be at the first (Mile 3), second (Mile 7) and last (Mile12) aid stations. The fourth and fifth aid stations were too far off the main road to be accessed by crews.
I finished my first loop in under four hours. I had two concerns: I was sweating a lot--which meant I was losing a lot of fluids and electrolytes, and my knee hurt. A given amount of pain is expected during an ultra...but I hadn't expected to hurt this bad until 25 or 30 miles. I changed my knee brace and added some extra athletic tape for additional support, drank as much coconut water as my stomach could handle and headed back out for more.
By the time I reached the first aid station on my second loop, I knew I was in trouble. The new knee brace, despite the extra athletic tape, was not helping my knee at all. Every step sent shocks of pain through my leg. I could deal with that..yes, but could I deal with that for another 30 miles...
I sat down on a log and tried to evaluate the situation. I had run 20 miles (roughly). My pace was good (I hadn't set any particular goal because I had planned to run the 100 mile race). I was sweating a lot, but I was still peeing which meant I was sufficiently hydrated. All was well...except the knee. I tried to adjust it and winced in pain.
"What do you need?" my beautiful crew captain asked.
I had to admit a hard truth to myself: I could handle some pain...but this would be too much. I would not be able to continue running for 30 miles with this pain. The way I saw it, there were two options:
1. DNF: Drop out of the race, go home shower, lay down, enjoy the weekend and hate myself for the next six months. OR
2. Take an Ibuprofen.
I chose the lesser of two evils.
"When I see you again, will you bring some vitamin I?" I asked. Mindi looked at me dubiously for a moment, knowing that I hate to run on drugs because it can do major damage to your kidneys and it prevents your body from strengthening itself naturally. But the look in my eyes must have explained the balance between pain and determination because she nodded, helped me up and pushed me in the right direction.
 |
| Rash from the knee brace |
I would still have to run close to ten miles before I got any relief. I found that my knee hurt just as bad walking as it did to run, so I ran. Step by step, mile by mile. I reached the aid station affectionately named "Damnation" where crews could not get. The aid station volunteers were everything a runner could ask for. I got some food and some salt pills. By this time, my muscles were starting to cramp due to lack of salt (I think). I drank as much water as I could and filled my water bottle. I needed to get a TON of water down if was going to take those pills.
I made my loop and headed back towards towards the fourth aid station. The cramping had increased despite the extra salt (I don't think it had hit my system yet) and I wanted to slow my heart rate some so the medicine I planned to take would be effective and not just burn off.
As I limped to the next aid station, God blessed me with another gift. My good friend and training buddy, Ace, ran up behind me. Ace was running 100 miles in this race. He was also experiencing some difficulties so we ran, walked and limped along for several miles. Running with Ace took my mind off the pain and monotony of running over 30 miles. We didn't keep a fast pace but we kept moving forward.
As we moved through the Damnation Aid Station for my final trip, Ace split off to follow the 100 mile course and I cut across, following the 50 mile course. I refueled as best I could and trudged on toward my last aid station.
An ultra is an adventure. There are a lot of ups and downs. I came up on a racer who was literally crying. Its always a little awkward to see a girl crying...
"How's it going?" I asked.
"I tore my (ok, I honestly don't know what exactly she tore, but it sounded really painful and judging from the tears, it probably was). I'm going to have to drop out out at the next aid station," she sobbed.
What do you say to that?
She had run close to 40 miles and would not finish the race. Another friend of mine ran 71 miles (of the 100 mile race) before having to drop out due to injuries.
I had been struggling with knee pain for the last 30 miles. Fortunately for me, the pain did not seem to be getting worse. "Its only pain," I told myself. The scary-make-you-drop-out-of-a-race pain is that which leads to permanent and serious injuries. I was lucky to struggle with only pain.
It was just over 4 miles to the finish line. I had run almost 46 miles. It was time to finish this thing. I kissed my beautiful wife/crew chief goodbye and told her I planned to pick up the pace a bit. I grit my teeth and ran out of the aid station. The pain in my knee was still full force. The Vitamin I I had taken had all but worn off. "Its only pain," I told myself and ran. I lengthened my stride and pumped my arms. My garmin said I was doing an 8:30 mile average. My goal was to not let anyone pass me during these last 4 miles. Not that I'm a jerk (ok, I'm something of a jerk) but I wanted to finish strong--and put the last bit of myself into this race.
I came up on and passed several runners. Each time I passed one, I tried to increase my pace, knowing that it would be so disheartening to be passed by someone flying along at that stage that the runners being passed wouldn't have the heart to try and keep up.
I crossed the finish line after running for 10 hours and 58 minutes. It was bittersweet; I planned to run 100 miles at this race. It wasn't possible and frankly, if I was forced to admit it, I probably couldn't have finished it if I had tried. I sat down, ate some soup and enjoyed the feeling of knowing that I had run a good race (and PRed by more than an hour and qualified for WS100--if I had the resources and luck to get into it). I sat visiting with Mindi and a couple other people whose spouses had psycosis similar to mine.
"Why? What goes through your mind when you sign up for these things?"
Sometimes you need to find out if you're strong enough.
