I ran my first 50k last weekend. Can you believe that? I was there and I still can’t quite wrap my
mind around it! I’m amazed, thrilled,
and so very proud of myself. It’s
difficult to put all of the feelings into words but at the moment, I feel
absolutely invincible.
As race week approached, I was on top of the world. The taper left me full of energy and the anticipation
was just about more than I could stand.
No fear of race day, I just wanted to be there and get it started. I had trouble sleeping the weekend
before: going over my outfit choices,
what would I pack in my hydration pack, would I use a drop-bag, and just in
general wondering what it was going to be like.
I felt excitement, but no fear.
My training this spring had me confident and well-prepared. Fortunately, as the week went on my sleep
improved so I got to race day well-rested and well-fueled.
The 50M and 50k races started at 6:15 am, just late enough
that the trail was visible and we didn’t need headlamps. I planned to start the race with a friend and
we’d see how the day went. We had both
trained with heart rate monitors and planned to stick to that through the
race. I was giddy at the starting line,
I just couldn’t wait to get going. The
race started and we were doing it. We
were going to run 31 miles before the day was done. Unbelievable.
The race started out on a gravel road that quickly dumped us
onto the muckiest horse trail I’ve ever seen.
It’s described as “shoe-sucking” because that’s exactly what the mud
does to runners who haven’t tied their laces tight enough. We were glad that this year we were running
the ultra distance: that meant we got to
be some of the first to tackle the horse trail.
By the time we’d hit it last year during the half marathon, it was a
swamp! It was still nasty, but not quite
as bad. We had to walk most of this because
the effort of traversing the mud was enough to push us up and out of our heart
rate zones. Beep beep beep!
Eventually, we ended up on a single track trail. Ahh, that’s
more like it! We settled into a more
reasonable pace once the mud and slop was gone.
As we got to our 4th mile, we heard fast feet coming up
behind us and moved to the side to let the faster runner pass. We asked if he was running the relay (they
started after us). Hhe replied no and
asked what mile we were on. We told him 4 and he said he was on mile
9: he’d been with a group that had
gotten lost already! I can’t even
imagine how demoralizing that must have been to have already run 5 extra miles
that early in the race. Ugh, I felt
awful for him! And we resolved not to
let that happen to us!
I am not familiar with the trails that we ran on at that
point so events there are a blur to me: we took a gel at mile 6, ran by a lake,
passed a girl that looked like she was on the verge of a DNF (she didn’t), and
obeyed our heart rate monitors. I was
feeling great: legs were good, I was breathing easily, we
wondered how our friends were doing, and the miles ticked by.
At about mile 9, we got to the Hesitation Point aid
station. This brought me to trails I
knew, so I was actually a bit disappointed that we took the logging road rather
than the trail. It was the easier path
of the two, but I’d been looking forward to familiar terrain. Not to fear though, it was only a mile or so
until the road got us back to that trail and I was happy to be in an area I
knew. These felt like easy miles to me,
both physically and mentally. After this
section though, I again have trouble remembering what happened when.
There was an incredible aid station with music and the most
divine orange slices. We leap-frogged
with a trio of runners until we eventually left them behind. We heard voices but couldn’t tell if they
were in front of or behind us. One of
my favorite things was getting to see our friend who was running the 50 mile
race: he was on his second lap as we
were on our first and he was WINNING! He
looked great, chatted for a bit as we climbed up a crazy-steep hill, then he
asked us to holler when second place came through and he was back to his
race. (Second place didn’t come by us
for more than an hour!) We went
off-trail and had to claw our way through mud to find roots and rocks to pull
ourselves up the hill. That was stupid
crazy fun.
I knew there was going to be an awful set of stairs before
we got to the Nature Center. I’d not
seen them before, so I was picturing the worst.
Happily, I didn’t find them nearly as bad as the ones at McCormick’s
Creek. I’m not sure if that was because
of better pacing, better conditioning, or race-day magic. Whatever it was, I was thrilled! What I wasn’t so thrilled by was the
pavement. Once we got to the Nature
Center, we ran on pavement for over a mile.
I vaguely remembered that area from last year’s half, but during the
half you are only on pavement for a short distance. I didn’t know that we’d be on it so long, so
I was driving my running partner crazy because I knew that around each and
every bend we were about to turn back onto the trail. Ugh…that section was horrid for so many
reasons. The pavement hurt my feet, but
we needed to take advantage of the smooth surface to make up some time. Awful.
I just wanted to be back on the softer trail surface, even if it would
mean a slower pace.
We finally got to the aid station that marked the return to
the trail. I grabbed a couple more
M&M’s, a pretzel, and an orange slice and we were back on the dirt surface. Aaaahhh….I remember thinking that I really
didn’t feel any worse than I had at mile 9 or 10. That wasn’t going to last much longer. The hard-packed dirt trail soon gave way to more
horse trail slop. That mud seemed to
suck the last drop of energy out of me.
I couldn’t wait to get that mud behind me. Suddenly, I was so mind-numbingly tired.
We were at mile 27 (distance PR!) and in hindsight, I think this was
more of a mental wall than a physical one.
There was some significant physical pain (my right big toe of all
things), but I think that knowing how close we were to the finish was somehow
giving us permission to acknowledge the fatigue. Once we let that creep in, it took center
stage.
We were looking forward to getting back to the single track
that would dump us out at the top of the abandoned ski slope. Every time we’d see a break in the trees, we’d
get excited and ask “is that it?” So
exciting once we really were there! Then
we looked down the hill. Unlike the
muddy horse trail at the beginning of the race, this time we were some of the
last runners to cross this section. Most
of the 50k, marathon, half, and 10k runners had already come through. All of the vegetation had been stripped from the
mud as the other racers had slid, skidded, and slopped their way down that
initial drop. We hoped to remain
upright, so we scoped out a good spot to make our descent. My friend went first: she grabbed a low-hanging tree branch and
used it like a rope to rappel down the drop-off. I gave her enough room so that the branch
wouldn’t whip back and hit me, then used the same branch to follow.
The old ski slope was overgrown with waist-high grasses,
briars, and saplings, but the previous runners had beat down a pretty good path
for us. We were so tired. It was only a mile from here to the finish
and we were just about completely spent.
A short briar bush was in the path and my friend plowed right over the
top of it. Why? It was too much work to go around it! We both found that hysterical and had a good
laugh, which gave us a bit of a boost.
Not a lot, but every bit helped!
The course took us down the ski hill, across a field, then
down to the creek. We had been looking
forward to the creek for miles. We knew
from last year that the cold water would be a welcome relief for our exhausted
feet and it was every bit as wonderful as we remembered it. Blessed cold water! We waded through the creek for a hundred
yards (or was it a thousand?), then we were practically within sight of the
finish. Our friend who’d won the 50M
race was at the edge of the woods waving us in!
He high-fived my friend and ran in with us until just before the finish,
then told us to take it on in.
The most incredible sight greeted my eyes. Many of our friends from our running group
had run shorter events of the day and had been done for hours. I thought that there might be a few who’d
stick around to see us finish but I didn’t expect the reception we got. Almost every one of our friends was there
lining the finish chute. Screaming. Cheering.
Holding out their hands for us to slap as we went by. For us.
FOR US! It was almost more happiness
than I could bear. I have the most
amazing friends and they made me feel like a rock-star as I crossed the finish
line. My mom was there, too, but I
couldn’t find her until after I had gotten my medal and she found me.
So what does this finish mean to me? It means that something I thought “impossible”
a year ago wasn’t. It means I’m tougher
than I ever gave myself credit for. It
means I want to do this again and do it better.
It means that I get to take a couple of weeks off of training and then I
get to do it again as I prepare for Flatrock in September. It means I have earned my stripes as a trail ultrarunner. It means that I shouldn’t be afraid to try
new things because the only thing holding me back is myself.
Some silly stats because I like numbers:
Official finish:
9:05:48.94
My max HR for training:
144
Average HR during the race:
137
Average pace for the race:
17:33
Average pace/HR for the first 20 miles: 17:35/138
Average pace/HR for the last 11 miles: 17:32/136
Number of Ignite Reload Gels eaten: 6 (generally every 6 miles, the last one was
2 miles from the finish)
Weight loss since January 2013: 20 lbs
Weight loss since January 2013: 20 lbs
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