The day was Saturday, July 7th and it started with my alarm at 3:45am. The race was 2 hours away and I was driving myself. That was probably my first mistake. I've done this before with 50k races, no problem. I won't do it again for a 50 miler.
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| Jenny knew she couldn't come so she made this poster for me to take along |
The race was run in Ohio's Salt Fork state park. It was a 10.4 mile loop repeated 5 times. The cutoff time listed on the website was 11 hours. My fastest 50 mile time to date was more than 12 hours. So I knew it was a tall order but I had done some math with my recent training runs and figured that as long as I could stay close to a 12 minute mile pace I could make it.
So here is how things went down.
First loop: 1:57:57
Everything felt fine, of course. I settled in behind a group of runners. We were going a little slower than I had hoped to go but I didn't want to push it so early in the race. One of the main topics of discussion was the 11 hour cutoff and whether or not we would be able to make it. It seemed that the consensus was what I had come up with -- to shoot for 2 hours per loop, 12 minute miles; that would be a 10 hour finish, giving some wiggle room for the later stages of the race.
As I came in to the aid station at mile 6 I felt hungry, which worried me a little bit. They say if you start feeling hungry it's too late. So I ate a PB&J square, some chips and was feeling pretty good leaving the aid station. After the aid station the group I had been with separated and I came up behind a girl who had some experience with this race and many other ultras. I asked her if she thought 11 hours was a reasonable cutoff and she immediately said "definitely not." She said she had asked the race director about it at packet pickup and he told her they would keep the course open for 12 hours, longer if they had to. That was good news for me, but I was still planning on shooting for 11 hours.
Second loop: 2:02:18
I finished my first lap just a few minutes before the start of the 10 mile race so I knew they would be flying past me soon. Sure enough they came, but after the first group of speedsters passed I kind of settled in with some of them. I tried to basically keep the pace from the first lap and made it close enough. My race time was right at 4 hours and that's just where I wanted to be. No real problems...yet.
Third loop: 2:08:22
I was feeling alright as I started out for the third loop. I was just trying to stick to that 12 minute mile pace as I went out. Before long I came up behind a guy who I had seen earlier. I ran behind him for a while and we chatted. I think it was his first ultra experience and he was doing great. So many awesome people that you meet at these races -- that's one benefit of of a course with multiple laps, you see the other runners more frequently and get to know them better.
My pace did slow somewhat during this loop, maybe because the dang horseflies were furiously attacking my head on the grassy part of the course. No matter how much I swatted them they persisted in dive-bombing into my hair. It was a lot of fun. That and the heat/humidity all contributed to wearing me out pretty good by the time I finished that loop. Then I made the mistake of considering the fact that if I had registered for 50k, I would be done now. Oops. That definitely didn't make the last 20 miles any easier...
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| Somewhere in the 3rd loop, I think. Steve Pierce is the professional photographer who kindly covered the race. He did a great job. See all the race photos here. |
This loop was rough...really rough. All race, I knew that if I was going to get into trouble it would happen in the 4th loop. Sure enough, as I began the last 20 miles my stomach began voicing its protest to what I was doing. It felt like nothing I ate was clearing my stomach. I wasn't getting any benefit from eating because it was just sitting in my stomach, sloshing around and making me nauseous. The water in my bottle was tasting bad too, like stale plastic, making it difficult to stay hydrated. My legs were aching, but not worse than I expected or had experienced before. I started walking...a lot. The heat was taking its toll and I was getting dehydrated. Problem was, the water in my bottle was nasty and I felt that drinking it would only make me more likely to vomit. Vomiting doesn't usually help with hydration issues. I forced myself to take sips here and there but probably drank less than half the bottle in the 6 long, slow miles before the aid station. They said it was 6 miles anyway, but I'm pretty sure they stretched it out to 10 or 12. Either way, as I walked the road section leading to the aid station I knew I was in bad shape.
When I finally got there, I emptied my bowels (which did make me feel a little better), got some soda and sat in the shade. I just needed a few minutes to collect myself before going out again. The hardest part was NOT thinking about the fact that I still had 14 miles to go. Another first time ultra-runner who I had run with earlier in the race came in and sat down by me on the grass. He was having some knee problems but his stomach was fine. He actually ate some pizza which made me a little jealous. As I was getting to the bottom of my pepsi cup I heard the people at the table talking about the cutoff. By now I knew that 11 hours was out of the question but I was hoping to finish in 12, if they let me. "Yeah, we'll probably pull 'em if they don't start the last loop by about 4:20," I heard them say. It was 3:00pm. Time to go, I guess. We both got up off the grass and started down the road. We ran together for the next 4 miles to the start finish area, complaining about cutoff-times and other issues we had with the race. Some of our complaints were probably justified, others were not, but we were both exhausted and the conversation kept our minds occupied until finally the start-finish area came into view.
Fifth loop: 2:30:25
At the aid station I asked the timing guy what my split was for that loop. I wanted to know if it was reasonable to expect I could finish in under 12 hours or not. He looked at me and said, "Just go, you're fine. Just start your last lap." He told me they weren't going to pull people as long as we were moving and it wasn't dark out. I assured him I'd be done before dark, he told me my split and I went on my way, after re-fuelling with pepsi. That's the only thing I trusted in my stomach.
Somehow, I was feeling a little better. "Run what you can," I told myself. It became a mantra and I focused on that thought, running almost everything that was flat or downhill. The 6 miles to the aid station dragged on and on and on. I was passed by my friend from the end of the 4th lap (I had left the aid station a while before him). He was apparently doing much better because he was flying and ended up finishing almost 20 minutes ahead of me. Somewhere along the way I downed a Gu because I was desperate for fuel. Maybe it helped, maybe not but I needed something to keep me moving until I could get more pepsi at the aid station. Finally, after what seemed like forever, I came out onto the road and made my way to the aid station. There, I drank some soda, said thanks to the excellent volunteers (who had been there all day, no replacements) and began the home-stretch, repeating to myself, "run what you can" over and over.
I wanted to finish strong, running as much as I could of those last 4 miles but my body was pretty well spent. I ran what I could but it wasn't much more than I had run the first 6 miles of the loop. Mentally, it was a huge boost knowing that I was approaching the finish line. 11 hours came and went, and I found myself wondering if I could finish in 11:30. The way I felt, I thought "probably not." But I kept running where I could and hoping for the best. When I finally turned the corner out of the trees to see the parking lot ahead I was determined to power in to the finish line. My muscles, however, didn't agree. They had been abused and starved for most of the day and finally were protesting by cramping. With every step I could feel my calves knotting up. I've never had bad cramps during a race before, but I've also never been this dehydrated. I just needed them to hold on until I crossed that finish line. And, thankfully, they did. Altering my gait a bit, I was able to keep running/hobbling to the end.
No matter how good, bad, or ugly a race may be, few things are as sweet as crossing that finish line.
As I crossed the finish line I dropped my bottle (per tradition) and walked to the steps to sit down. I felt relieved that it was over, happy that I earned my medal and didn't quit, and worried about my body recovering. I was also very thankful to God for blessing me with a healthy body to be able to run, and for creating a beautiful world that I was blessed to spend all day admiring.
Finishing time: 11:27:51
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| Crossing the finish line |
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| I sat like this for quite a while after finishing |
After crossing the finish line I sat on the steps for a good long while. The volunteer there was very kind to give me a cold wet paper towel to cool-off with. She also offered to take some pictures for me because she knew I was there by myself.
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| Cool medal, huh? |
Everything that happened during the race and after combined to make this race my most difficult ultra-running experience yet. Is it going to keep me from running or racing? Not a chance.
Thanks for reading.
Happy trails.
