by Crozet Running Club - John Andersen
This past Saturday Dan Spearin, Jeff Lysiak, and I all proudly represented Crozet as we traveled to the northern reaches of Massanutten Mountain to run Catherine's Fat Ass 50km trail race. For those of you unfamiliar with what a "Fat Ass" event is, it is essentially a low-key run usually put on by a running club or bunch of friends with no entry fee, no bibs, and generally just nothing official about it at all. There are Fat Ass events all over the country and this particular event was unofficially hosted by the Virginia Happy Trails Running Club, an awesome trail running club centered in Northern Virginia.
I knew a few other runners who were going to be there but I have to admit I was a little concerned over the lack of detailed prerace information available. I am a planner, but I was getting the feeling I was going to be "going with the flow" for this one. The only prerace info we got an email sent on Wednesday that mostly stressed the need for "...beer. Good beer. More beer is a good thing. Again GOOD beer. Cold and good beer is best!". Also in the prerace email were some words of encouragement; "I have not had a chance to do trail maintenance this year, so be prepared for the unexpected." Hmmm, what were we getting ourselves into? Well the one thing we did know was that it was going to be HOT! Like 95 degrees and humid hot. Despite all the common sense warning signs of catastrophe (running 31 miles on rocky trails with over 6000ft elevation in 95 degree heat with questionable trail markings...) we headed off truly excited for an adventure. We knew it was going to be a good day when we saw a bear in the middle of Jarmans Gap Rd not even a half mile from home! We got to the race early and after meeting and greeting with some other runners, we gathered together for the prerace briefing. Turns out one of the forest service road access gates was closed so the race director was unable to access parts of the course and thus the course would have to be redirected...and would also have one less aid station... and would not be marked at all. Crap. He then went on to verbally give the new course instructions, "....take the red trail up to the purple trail, then turn down the orange trail, then go up the hill, then down the....". Seriously?! I can't remember that! I shrugged to the person next to me who shrugged back. Crap. Go with the flow.  The course "map". Seriously.
As I was trying to process this information, the race director yelled out "ok, Go!" and people starting running towards the single track trail that left the parking lot.
This was rapid decision time regarding my goals for this race. First, let me preface that like many a Fat Ass event, there really was not a competitive vibe here at all. I would say pretty much everyone there was out there to have a good run and a great time. That's actually the beauty of the trail running world in general - it just seems overwhelmingly laid back and fun. So I must say despite the uneasiness of what exactly I was getting myself into, I was in great spirits and ready to have a great run - my first ultramarathon distance mind you! Despite never having actually ran over marathon distance, I was never worried about the distance itself. I have been racking up plenty of weekly mileage and elevation where finishing 31 miles itself wasn't going to be the challenge. The real question was "how hard can I push myself and for how long?". For some reason I really wanted this question answered today. Oh yes, it would be answered! I jumped out onto the trail and eventually caught up with the front runners. About a mile into the course we saw a little bear cub jump out of a tree and run away. Good sign #2! Two miles in, we came to a trail intersection. A few of the guys who had run the course before decided that they wanted to run the original 50k course, not the new 50k course for the day. Apparently in a fat ass, the course is negotiable... Thus, those of us who had no idea where we were in the first place decided to follow the original route guys and there began my detour entitled "Oh man, I chose the wrong guys to run with...". Running with me were Keith Knipling, who has run over 130 ultramarathons, and Neal Gorman, an elite ultrarunner who currently holds the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning course record (the fastest cumulative time running the Western States 100 miler, Vermont 100 miler, Wasatch 100 miler, and the Leadville Trail 100 miler all in one summer!). WTF was I thinking!! Ok, to give me credit, Keith was feeling pretty tired from running a bunch of hundred milers this summer and Neal has been recovering from a nasty virus. It seemed like it was shaping up to be a nice run... 
The first 4 miles took us 1900 ft up to Bird Knob overlooking the Shenandoah Valley below. There we met up with Martha and Dave, two runners who seemed like they were also up for an easy day. After climbing for 4 miles, the prospect of an easier run was more appealing...
After a few miles of running over rocks the size of cats and dogs, we came to a gravel road which we would run on for the next 7 miles. This is when I overheard Neal say something to Martha like "well, we can't win all of our races like you Martha...". "Wait a minute" I said, "is Martha also some kind of super elite runner?". Turns out Martha has been busy over the past few years winning first place and setting course records in everything from half marathons, to the Charlottesville Marathon, to the Highlands Sky 40 miler this summer. Meanwhile we're burning up 7 minute miles on this gravel road.... Oh man, I picked the wrong people to run with..We finally came to the first aid station which was a blessing. I filled up with water, threw down a Gu, and quickly ran into the nearby stream to douse myself with its cold refreshing water. It was starting to get pretty hot. Keith had told us to leave him a while back and Dave wasn't feeling well and decided to cut his run short. It was now me, Neal, and Martha. First time ultrarunner with two first placers. And by the way none of us knew where exactly we were going. The folks who knew the route had now bailed. Fortunately a few of the guys at the aid station gave us great directions for the next 10 miles of trail and we were off. As the gravel road began to climb, we kept running, passing by several groups of runners who I thought were wisely walking. Oh man, I picked the wrong people to run with...After several miles of uphill on the gravel road, we got back onto what was perhaps the prettiest and most treacherous trail of the day. This trail literally went straight up a stream called Morgans Run. At times, there was no trail, you just walked in the middle of the stream until you saw something that looked like a trail. Did I mention all the rocks were as slick as ice?! But by this point, about 15 miles into the run, anything that got Neal and Martha to slow down was a good thing, even if that meant walking up a river. Finally the trail left the stream and we were running again. Suddenly Neal (in front) starts screaming and takes off in a sprint, slapping all around him. Right behind him Martha starts doing the same. In an instant, I see the reason and was too late to stop. A huge hornets nest had fallen earlier and broken open right in the middle of the trail! For some reason I couldn't stop and just sprinted right through it, like running through fire. Hornets hurt!! The three of us sprinted for a few hundred yards and took inventory. Several stings each, but everyone ok. All agreed that hornets suck. We finally got to another "aid station", which was Gary Knipling standing next to Pitt Spring - literally a 3 foot wide spring in the ground. He had a big pitcher in his hand and told us all to bow down as he "baptized" us with the cold water from the spring. This was one of the best things I have felt in a long while. "Can I drink from the pitcher Gary?" I asked...I didn't care that it came from some untreated mountain spring, it looked so clear and cold that I couldn't resist and drank about half the pitcher. Best glass of water I've ever had. 
A few more miles of gravel road running until we reached the last "real" aid station. I learned that elite runners do not mess around at aid stations. I had heard so much about aid stations at ultras, with a buffet laid out of soda, Gatorade, cookies, watermelon, chips....but alas, I chose the wrong people to run with...I would just quickly fill my bottles then run to the nearby stream and douse myself in water while they quickly ate. Then I would hastily shove a Gu in my mouth as I followed them out of the aid station. It was really getting hot by now, up in the 90's for sure and SO humid. I could feel that the heat more than anything was starting to get to me. We were now at about mile 20 and I knew I was entering that special "mental" zone in a run and had to hang in there. But then we turned onto the purple trail.
The purple trail, as advertised in the limited prerace information, was evil. It climbed 1600ft over four miles, the last two of which were just plain hell. We had picked up another top notch runner Matt Bugin (who just won the Bel Monte Endurance Run 50k this year...oh man..) and Matt, Neal, and Martha seemed unfazed by the heat and elevation. I was starting to physically bonk. Mentally, I was actually ok. I was pushing myself really hard which was my goal of the day. However despite my pushing they were pulling away ever so gradually. For most of that climb I was about 2-300 yards behind. I was getting so hot that I was getting chills and goosebumps. Bad. At that point, I knew I was starting to bonk. Oh how I just wanted to stop and sit in a stream for a while. What the hell is wrong with these people? Arent they hot? Why are they just running right by that stream without getting in and laying down? The last mile of the purple trail was so steep that it was just switchbacks and you had to have your hands pushing your knees down while you hiked. I was redlining. I remembered something I had heard Ian Torrence say on a podcast once though. He said you can always unbonk. He also said to remember to focus on what you're good at. So, even though I had no appetite, I ate two Gu's and drained my second to last bottle of water. I decided just to run my own race at that point and gave up on my goal of hanging with these elite runners. WTF was I thinking?! And then, the purple trail ended! I felt like I had just gotten rid of a demon. The trail turned straight down a rocky hill for a few miles and the elites were nowhere to be seen. But I fancy myself as a good downhill bomber and decided to bomb away. Although I'm sure by that point my version of bombing down a rocky trail looked more like a 90 year old man going down stairs... As I kept on the downhill, something great happened...I unbonked! I was suddenly back to having fun, feeling some energy and wouldn't you know it somehow caught up to my group again. The next 7 miles were all mental. As we slowly descended back down the mountain it became hotter and hotter. It felt like we were running down into a sauna. I was overheated, out of water, and my legs were done. But I had somehow hung with some incredibly talented runners for 30 miles. I make no illusions that I am at their level - they could have dropped me in a second if they were racing. But I certainly met my goal of pushing myself for this distance to see what was there. And there I found the great reward of running. I wasn't competing against anyone or even for a certain time. It was just mind vs. body for 5 hours and 45 minutes. Not many times in our busy lives do we get to feel the true thrill of accomplishment and when we do it is something to be cherished and remembered. There was no finish line or big clock. Just a couple of tents filled with people who gave you a big "Ayyyyeee!" when you arrived and wanted you to sit down and hang out for a while. We sat in the heat, talked about running and whatever and cheered our friends as they finished their mind/body battle in the heat. Nobody got lost, nobody got heat stroke. It was a great day! |
Monday, July 29, 2013
"Race Report": Catherine's FA 50k Trail Run
Monday, June 17, 2013
Highlands Sky Long and Bloody Race Report
Highlands Sky is a tough, technical 40 (41) mile race in and around West Virginia's Dolly Sods Wilderness and finishing at Canaan Valley Resort State Park. The word is that it runs more like a 50 miler, even though the profile doesn't look all that imposing after 2 early climbs. My plan was to start conservatively and not exhaust my legs in the first half, and make up time in the flatter/downhill, less technical second half. What I didn't expect was the punch that would put me on the canvas mid-race and nearly KO me.
I arrived shortly before the pre-race pasta dinner in the lodge, which should be nice after the renovation is done. Rooms in the outbuildings look like they haven't been updated since the 80s, but mine was adequate. Sat with Tammy and Rick Gray and some other VHTRCers at dinner. Tammy offered a ride with them to the start in the morning, which was convenient and appreciated.
The weather looked good, high 40s to around 70 and dry. But there had been a lot of rain, and we were told the course would be wet. Quite an understatement.
The race started at 6am with 2 miles on the road to spread out the field before we hit single track trail and the first muck and the first climb, about 2300 feet over 6 miles in the Monongahela National Forest. The first mile or so was pretty gentle and the pace seemed slow but I held back and let a few people by while passing only a couple. The grade increased, and in some places water was pouring down the trail, the path of least resistance. There was some stinging nettle, but my calf sleeves protected me well. It gets cooler as we go higher, and the clouds and fog keep it very comfortable. Somewhere in here we have the first of 3 major creek crossings, which are running fast enough that the guide ropes are very welcomed.
At around 4700 feet we top out and drop to Roaring Plains, still above 4000 feet. A few sections are dry, but there are long sections of shoe-sucking mud and/or ankle deep water. Many try to find higher spots to run on but it seems like a lot of effort is spent hopping from side to side and trying to keep balance. I'm already soaked so I mostly just straight-line it when there's not an easier way to avoid the hazards. A couple times I step in knee deep holes but no harm is done, and once I catch something and land almost spread eagle in the mud, just barely keeping my face out of it. For road runners looking at finish times and wondering how they can be so slow for barely more than a marathon and a half distance, imagine running on a road with long stretches of rain filled potholes, and having to either run through them or wear out your legs hopping between them on muddy ledges not even a shoe width wide in many places. Or running in a muddy roadside ditch after a long rain might be more accurate. Tack on 5400 feet of climb and 4800 feet of drop for good measure. I knew it was a tough race, I didn’t realize it would be this bad.
Finally aid station 2 comes after 8 miles, and I refuel on continue on. For the first half I use my Nathan Endurance Vest with 70 oz bladder of water, and a 10 oz bottle that I'll refill every aid station and mix with Perpetuem. Hammer Gel for nutrition, and Endurolytes for electrolyte replacement. The only solid food I eat is a couple Zone Perfect bars and whatever looks good at aid stations, usually banana chunks and pretzels. In the second half of the race the aid stations aren't as far apart so I swap my vest for my Nathan Trek waist pack which holds a 20 oz bottle that I mix with Perpetuem. I also carry an all-purpose bandana, ginger and Imodium pills in case of stomach issues, a blister patch, and a small packet of lube in case of chafing. Fortunately all I'll need today is a couple of the ginger pills, and the bandana.
After AS 2 and Flatrock Plains comes a big drop, 1200 feet over 2 miles. The water was annoying on the climb and flats, but on the downhill it's treacherous. I take my time making my way down, and I'm not the slowest one. I'm watching my step so carefully that I take a branch to the face and it actually ends up between my teeth! Luckily it's not sharp so it's funny. Finally it levels off and climbs 1000 feet in 2+ miles to the next aid station. I still feel good and I'm running where it's not too steep, able to run more uphills than I had been in training.
A short climb after AS 3 and we're on Red Creek Plains. In some places the views are open and incredible. Also incredible is how much water is up here. The trail is almost always either a foot under water, in 4 inches of mud, or very rocky. You can run it, but very slowly and you can't lose focus and let your mind drift. I trip in one place and once again catch a low branch between my teeth. Never had this happen before, and now twice within an hour or two!
Finally, about a mile from the next aid station the trail dries out and is much more runnable. I take stock and as difficult as the course has been, I'm still in a good mood and have been for the entire race. There will still be some rollers but the climbing is really done, and most of the technical sections are behind me. The mud and water have slowed me but my legs don’t feel tired. I've never had a good race beyond a 50K, but maybe this will be it.
And then it happens. My foot catches the lip of a rock and before I can even get my hands out, BAM! Face plant right into a rock. I see stars and am stunned. I had heard some guys a bit behind me so I don't even try to get up. A few seconds later 2 or 3 of them come up and pretty quickly realize this was a hard fall. They tell me my nose is bleeding, but I figure out its on the bridge and not from inside. I worry about my teeth but I feel with my tongue that I didn't chip them. I talk with them and assure them that I'll be ok and will just walk to the aid station to get checked out and they start to move out, but first one of them checks my eyes and all seems fine. All pretty standard stuff for trail runners to do, but still I am very appreciative that they did stop to help. I saw the guy I talked with the most after the race and thanked him again, and he was very happy and a bit surprised to hear that I finished.
After my standing 8 count, I continue on, and even jog a bit, though I'm spooked by the rocks. I soak my bandana with water and hold it to my nose but there doesn’t seem to be much blood. I get to the Road Across the Sky a bit before the aid station. Crew is allowed here and I see Tammy driving as she's heading out, which confirms that Rick is ahead of me as expected. She yells some encouragement and then her eyes get wide as she sees my face so I know it doesn't look good. She tells me after the race that she wanted to stop but was afraid I'd use it as an excuse to drop. That actually wasn't even on my mind but it's still good tough love.
I had my drop bag here and I had hoped to switch packs and move out pretty quickly but I figure sitting for a minute is a good idea. A volunteer offers a wet wipe to clean my face, and even though tradition says to wear your blood proudly, I figure I ought to clean it and make sure it’s not flowing. I also decide to take time to change into dry socks even though my feet feel ok. My shoes (Inov8 319) are doing well so I slip them back on rather than switch. I burn about 10 minutes here, but I feel like I'm good to go with my smaller pack and my mp3 player for the dirt road section.
The Road Across the Sky goes for over 7 miles across the Dolly Sods, which is a designated wilderness area. Logging and a major fire years ago took out the trees, and with the rugged weather what grew back looks more like northern Minnesota or Canada than anything this far south. There are breaks where the views are wide open. For race purposes, what you have is a rolling non-technical packed dirt road where you can make up time, but it's dead straight and pretty imposing to see how much of it you have in front of you. Plus it's very exposed so the sun can take it's toll on a hot day, but today's there's a breeze and it's not that bad, and it‘s not buggy. It takes a minute to loosen up from sitting too long, but I'm able to crank out an 8:30 mile on one stretch, though I haveto walk more stretches of the uphills than I'd like. My mp3 player stops after about 2 songs. Apparently it bumped on in my bag and drained the battery. My legs are starting to give out, and my nose is throbbing some. The fall is still on my mind too much and I'm wondering if I'm using it as an excuse to take it easy, or I really am physically affected, but in any case I'm spiraling down.
Finally we're off the road and into the Dolly Sods on the Bear Rocks and Raven Ridge trails. It's beautiful open highlands, with views in all directions. I think how nice it would be to curl up with a book under a shade tree and take a nap. It's mostly runnable with some muck, but my legs just don't want to go. I clock a 17 minute mile and vow I won't have another. I almost hold to my promise, but in the wrong direction with a 17:57 mile. Then 2 more in the 17s and then a couple more even slower. When I look back at why my time was so slow, this is the place I had the most control over. I stop caring about time and just enjoy the views, but I'm not in a very happy place for these miles. I won’t quit, but I really, really want it all to be over.
Aid station 7, and they promise downhills after a short climb. Someone comments that we have 90 minutes to run 8 miles to break 10 hours, and I shake my head and know I can't do it. But wait! The race director said we were routing around a "butt slide" section on the ski slopes since Timberline didn't want us ruining the bike trails in the mud, so the course is probably really 40 miles, not 41. 7 miles, I can probably do in that time.
I struggle on a rock hopping section and people appear from nowhere and pass me. I hang onto them for awhile and they sail away. We get to the top of Timberline Ski resort and start down a ski run, and the running starts to come easy for me. I'm starting to reel back in many of those who have passed me. So many of them were encouraging when they passed me, and I try to return the good will. Back on another dirt road, and the final aid station appears at mile 36.9, confirmed by my GPS watch. A sign says 4.1 miles left. So is it really 41 miles, or 40? I hope for the best and run with short walk breaks. A paved road section should feel good after such difficult terrain, but it always seems tough in a trail race. At least it has some good views of the mountains we‘ve put behind us. We run a grass trail parallel to the highway, but it's so marshy and slow that I know I can't make it if it's 41.
The park road comes, and I try to remember how far it is to the lodge, and I know we loop around to get behind the building. Mile 40 is approaching and just ahead I see a sign that says "I mile left". So, it is 41, and a bit more. My watch says 9:52 and seconds aren't displayed, so I'd have to run sub 8 for the final mile+. We leave the road and the trail rolls and there are still some mucky sections. I run what I can because I want to finish strong, but the 10 hour mark passes and I can't see the finish. Finally it comes into view, and I cross at 10:04.
Overall, even though my time was slow, I'm happy that I finished pretty strong and nothing was really hurting. My feet usually hurt the worst on a rocky course, and they actually feel pretty good. This really was like a 50 miler, by far my toughest run since knee surgery last year, and I made it. I’ve proven to myself that I can do everything I did before the torn ACL, just not quite as fast. The course was by far the prettiest I've run on. I can definitely see coming back, hopefully on a drier day!
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Shenandoah National Park Weekend
by Marc Griffin
 |
| Day 1, Mile 0 |
A
friend of mine -- Charles West -- heard about a group of people that were heading up
to attempt to run the entire Shenandoah National Park section of the Appalachian
Trail, which is 110 miles, in 3 days beginning Friday, May 24th.
Knowing that I am up for anything and a little crazy, he forwarded the
email on to me. I have been looking for
something a little bigger to do this year and this sounded perfect. I immediately emailed Matt Smythe, and I was
in. The plan was to stay Thursday night
in Front Royal, get up early and be on the trail at 6 am to cover the first
38ish miles on Friday. After we finally
found the trail head we took our “before” picture and set off around
6:15am. There were 4 of us total, Matt,
Amie, another Matt, and myself. It was
cool but very nice running weather.
The
first day came and went with easy running mixed with quite a bit of
hiking. It was hard to hold back and not
run too fast, especially on the beautiful down hills. As we got closer to Skyland Resort where we
would spend the night, the temperature started to drop and the wind picked up a
lot! We got to Skyland around 4:30pm
took showers and had a great dinner at the restaurant there. The second day came very quickly and we set
out around 6:00am. It was cold and
windy; I put on as many layers as I could but could still feel the wind through
everything.
The
trail was beautiful and I was still feeling pretty good. This day would be approximately 44 miles and
some of the toughest trail of the weekend.
I felt pretty good until we hit Swift Run Gap which is Rt.33 coming out
of Harrisonburg. These mountains were
big and just one after another. Somewhere
in here we saw our first bear, it ran at first but then stopped about 50 feet
off the trail and just watched us. We
sat there for quite a while just watching him.
It was a mutual attraction. We
slowed down quite a bit in this section but continued on and finally made it to
our campsite at Loft Mountain Campgrounds around 7:30pm. Luckily, we had the best crew in the world --
Matt’s mom and dad. They had ordered
food for us before the Loft Mountain kitchen closed at 7:00pm. By the time we washed up a little and set up
our tents, it was time for bed and time to try and stay warm. Who would have thought the temperatures would
get down below freezing this close to June!
The
third and final morning came very quickly and we were again on the trail by
6:30am, finally the wind stopped and the sun and warm temperatures came, it was
a very nice change. We only had 27ish
miles to cover and we took our time and enjoyed it. We came into Rockfish Gap at approximately
2pm and had a small celebration. It was
sad to see it end.
I
really didn’t know any of the runners or crew going in but we had such a great,
epic experience together. It was cold,
it was rocky; we suffered together, cheered each other on, and celebrated
together. What more could you ask for? I
heard a few whispers about doing another adventure like this continuing south
from where we left off next year, I’m In!!!!!!
 |
| Day 3, Mile 110 |
Run Recap
Sunday, April 28, 2013
My First 100 Miler
by Jason Farr
I went to Raleigh, NC on April 6, 2013 with the goal of running my first 100 miler in 24 hours. Well, the last part didn’t happen, but I never lost sight of the fact that actually finishing was most important.
The Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run consists of 8 loops; each loop being 12.5 miles with approximately 1,000’ of vertical gain, or 8,000’ over 100 miles. The plan was to run each of the first 4 laps in 2.5 hours and come through 50 miles in 10:30. I went through 50 miles in 10:31, but the first two laps were each around 2:15. Classic rookie mistake; thinking I could “bank” some time by running what felt like such an easy pace early on, only to suffer later!
The course is run on amazingly soft trails through a beautiful state park. Although the course is all “runnable,” it’s definitely not flat. In fact, the “rolling hills” felt like mountains by the last two loops! My nutrition consisted of simple things that I knew I could stomach; mostly Perpetuem, gels, bananas, melons, potatoes, PBJ, and pretzel sticks. As it got later, darker, and colder, I really enjoyed the warm broth and even some some coffee at the Aid Stations.
The weather was great but dramatically different during the day and night. Saturday afternoon temperatures were in the low 70s with what felt like blazing hot sun. I even shed my shirt during the 4th loop! Low 70s don’t seem hot, but in early April, it was by far the warmest day I’ve experienced since before winter. During the night, temps dropped into the mid 30s. Between slowing down and my body’s seeming inability to regulate temperature - or do much of anything after 20 hours of running - I definitely felt the cold.
The first three loops (about 50k) were easy. Although I went out too fast, it never felt hard, and I enjoyed talking with people as we clicked off the early miles. In retrospect, I should have been even more relaxed and worried less about time and pace. Still, what felt so easy early on was faster than the plan I had set for myself. Lesson learned; stick to the plan!
Umstead allows pacers after 50 miles and my wife Lisa joined me for the 5th loop. Since I had started “feeling the miles” during loop 4, her presence was a welcome relief from the emerging aches and pains. But around 57 miles, things started going south. I discovered blisters located in identical places on the inside of each big toe. Lisa ran back to the AS (about 1/4 mile) for band-aids while I drained the blisters using the safety-pins from by bib-number. We carried on, but after that, pretty much everything hurt. I took a little extra time after loop 5 (100k). It was getting dark. My stomach hurt. I had blisters... and more than 50k to go! But after a full change of clothes, a Red Bull and an Alka-Seltzer (miracle drug!), I was ready for the night!
The course is run on amazingly soft trails through a beautiful state park. Although the course is all “runnable,” it’s definitely not flat. In fact, the “rolling hills” felt like mountains by the last two loops! My nutrition consisted of simple things that I knew I could stomach; mostly Perpetuem, gels, bananas, melons, potatoes, PBJ, and pretzel sticks. As it got later, darker, and colder, I really enjoyed the warm broth and even some some coffee at the Aid Stations.
The weather was great but dramatically different during the day and night. Saturday afternoon temperatures were in the low 70s with what felt like blazing hot sun. I even shed my shirt during the 4th loop! Low 70s don’t seem hot, but in early April, it was by far the warmest day I’ve experienced since before winter. During the night, temps dropped into the mid 30s. Between slowing down and my body’s seeming inability to regulate temperature - or do much of anything after 20 hours of running - I definitely felt the cold.
The first three loops (about 50k) were easy. Although I went out too fast, it never felt hard, and I enjoyed talking with people as we clicked off the early miles. In retrospect, I should have been even more relaxed and worried less about time and pace. Still, what felt so easy early on was faster than the plan I had set for myself. Lesson learned; stick to the plan!
Umstead allows pacers after 50 miles and my wife Lisa joined me for the 5th loop. Since I had started “feeling the miles” during loop 4, her presence was a welcome relief from the emerging aches and pains. But around 57 miles, things started going south. I discovered blisters located in identical places on the inside of each big toe. Lisa ran back to the AS (about 1/4 mile) for band-aids while I drained the blisters using the safety-pins from by bib-number. We carried on, but after that, pretty much everything hurt. I took a little extra time after loop 5 (100k). It was getting dark. My stomach hurt. I had blisters... and more than 50k to go! But after a full change of clothes, a Red Bull and an Alka-Seltzer (miracle drug!), I was ready for the night!
The folks who organize Umstead go out of their way to help people finish 100 miles. For example, volunteer pacers are available for runners who don’t bring their own crews. Although I had Lisa with me for the fifth loop, she (understandably) wanted to sleep a few hours so that she could join me for the last few miles during the early morning hours. I wasn’t sure if I wanted a pacer - particularly a complete stranger - but with fullon darkness and increasing pain, I figured a little company couldn’t hurt. A local runner named Mike Forte joined me through much of the night. He was incredibly patient and encouraging; running when I wanted and walking when needed. We seemed to talk about everything imaginable, which really helped take my mind off the pain and absurdity of running at three o’clock in the morning. Thanks, Mike!
Sometime during the 6th loop, probably around mile 68 or 70, things got really hard. Coming into the 7th - and next to last loop - it was clear that breaking 24 hours wasn’t going to happen. A few thoughts came to mind; one was what my friend (and race volunteer) Charles West told me when I expressed concern about going too fast after lap 2. He said, “you’re not racing, you’re completing.” Pacer Mike echoed that sentiment and reminded me that finishing 100 miles - regardless of time - was still an incredible accomplishment. I realized that I could literally walk the last 30 miles and make the cutoff time of 30 hours. What difference did it make if I was 24:30 or 29:59? I came to finish 100 miles, and I didn’t want to risk that by getting greedy over my finishing time. So I slowed the pace and alternated between 4-5 minutes of easy running and 2-3 minutes of brisk walking. Doing this, I still managed a decent pace, but more importantly, started feeling better!
I headed out for the last loop fully confident that I could finish. With a renewed sense of purpose, I put in my earbuds, got lost in some tunes, and even picked up the pace a little. I met Lisa again after a few miles and her excitement and company was a great boost! She laughed at me as my “running” resembled a drunken stopper, weaving side to side along the trail. She informed me that I was wasting a lot of energy by not going straight. She also made me keep eating as my stomach was in full-on revolt. By that point all I could really digest was broth and coffee from the Aid Station. I did force down one or two gels, but with the finish so close, I mostly just relied on whatever fumes were left in the tank and kept moving forward.
Reflecting on the whole thing, it’s clear that I made a lot of the classic rookie mistakes. Went out too fast. Took too much time through aid stations... especially between each loop. I also had no idea how my body would respond after 14 or 15 hours. Still, I learned a lot of lessons. Some say the golden rules of ultrarunning are “eat before you’re hungry, drink before you’re thirsty, and walk before you’re tired.” Well, I followed the first two rules really well. But you can’t “bank” time, in a 100 miler. The extra thirty minutes I gained by doing the first two loops fifteen minutes faster than I planned was completely gone well before the 100k mark. It’s also important to maintain forward progress. I lost large chunks of time between each loop. There’s a fine line between taking care of yourself and wasting time. I’m glad I addressed my feet (blister) issues early, but I know that I could have been quicker between each loop and through the Aid Stations.
Even though I had hoped to finish in the dark, experiencing the second sunrise was surreal. With a mile or two to go it was clear that I would actually accomplish my goal. As I ran down the trail toward the steps leading to the finish line, I choked up a little and was overwhelmed with emotion. I forced myself to run up the steep trail leading to the finish line feeling both ecstatic and obliterated at the same time. The clock said 25:47, but that didn’t matter. I had done it! I had run 100 miles!
Even though I had hoped to finish in the dark, experiencing the second sunrise was surreal. With a mile or two to go it was clear that I would actually accomplish my goal. As I ran down the trail toward the steps leading to the finish line, I choked up a little and was overwhelmed with emotion. I forced myself to run up the steep trail leading to the finish line feeling both ecstatic and obliterated at the same time. The clock said 25:47, but that didn’t matter. I had done it! I had run 100 miles!
Running 100 miles became a journey of curiosity and self-discovery. Could I do it? What would it be like after 100k? All I can say is that strange things happen when moving forward on foot for that long. I don’t know why some of us willingly subject ourselves to such ordeals, but whatever our reasons, and whatever it was that happened to my mind and body out there in the middle of the night, I liked it.
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Thursday, March 21, 2013
When I am closest to death I am the most alive...
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| GDR finisher award |
Christian:
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| Sunrise after the first 3hrs |
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| Switchbacks? What is that? |
The race went pretty good for me, I kept up to par with nutrition and hydration and enjoyed breathtaking views the ups and downs had to offer. Despite the gnarling terrain everybody was
in good spirits, and up for chats as one would expect in a trail race. I ended up running the last 12 mi or so with a new trail friend, Lee Shane. This was great since my legs were fried after the early mountain miles so it was easier to trade walking in favor of running. Lee and I took turns motivating each other to keep shuffling and finished after 15:22hrs.
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| Final mile during sunset |
Marc:
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| Run Bum's motivators along the trial |
We started the day with the biggest climb of the race that lasted about the first 5-7 miles. Then the pain started, for the next 31 or so miles we went straight up and straight down each mountain we came to. The climbs were approximately one mile in length but they were steep, and the descents were just as steep and knee pounding, and they came one right after another, no flat in-between.
After the first 38 miles of all single track it turned into fire and service roads for the remainder of the race. The word is next year he found more trails to connect and the course will be changed a little to get more trail near the end of the race. Either way these dirt and gravel roads were a blessing. You could finally relax and well by this time mostly walk, but at least it wasn’t as steep.
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The final mile was another adventure, you lost 1500 feet in less than a mile, yes this hurt quite a bit. Lastly the race was said to be 60 miles but the lady I finished with had 65.4. This wasn’t really a big deal except during the heat of the day it got up to 80 degrees and I ran out of water between aid stations thinking it was only 6 miles but it felt more like 8 or 9. I ended up finding a stream and drank from it and cooled down.
Cut off times this year were 28 hours but I see next year it will be 24 hours, which gives you plenty of time. Over all it was a great race, especially for the first year. I am sure lessons were learned and things will be a little different next year. I would recommend this race but make sure you train for relentless STEEP hills.
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| Hanging bridge along the way |
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| Lots of streams and rivers on the course |
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| Sunset finish |
Monday, February 18, 2013
Holiday Lake 50k++ Race Report
Andrew Zapanta
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