The upside is that you are only entered in the 50 mile race. While you wallow in pain and stumble with cramps at the finish line, the 100 milers turn around and do the entire thing, out and back, again....
 |
| The full 50.2 mile course |
There's almost no need to go into depth about the other sections of the course. There were climbs and descents, tree roots and downed logs to hurdle. Compared to any other east coast trail I have run on, it was decidedly less rocky and less technical. There were occasional bouts of soft trail covered with luscious pine needles that make your legs feel 10 years younger and two hours fresher. (Seriously. I wanted to kiss the ground.) The course is surrounded by green hills that feel like a warm blanket to those like me who are regularly trapped in an urban concrete jungle. The entire race crew and collection of entrants are good people - happy to be there, happy to participate, understanding of how to help and how to mutually support.
And so at about 8.5 miles into the race I found myself on the downhill section of road. I tried to use the momentum and avoid a quad-bashing controlled descent, so I kept the cadence high and tried to avoid lingering too long on any footfall. I regularly train on a nearby .3 mile hill of this grade. This one kept descending for a total of 1.1 miles, then hooked up with a couple turns for another .4 miles of milder downhill leading to the next aid station. I definitely felt it at the bottom, a little tingle throughout my legs. Having learned a huge lesson from Traprock's festival of hamstring cramps secondary to inadequate salt intake, I was grateful to have packed and carried 8 salt tabs to supplement said stations.
Barely out of the aid station was the ski lift hill. I took my two chunk of peanut butter and jelly so slowly nosh as I ascended. No sense on blowing all your energy trying to ascend fast; rather, you must take care of yourself. The tingle from the downhill became the odd sense I have not experienced since college at Iowa. That was my last time I worked out in a gym, where if you are not careful with effort levels and angles on an elliptical you'll cut off blood flow to your feet and get the numb-tingles in your toes. I developed the same response while marching up the ski lift hill.
While I wouldn't call my training for this race perfect, I did have the Escarpment Trail Race to add a new mix of hills. It is the same cumulative elevation gain of 10,000 feet though squeezed into 18 miles. But on the Escarpment Trail, the grade is steeper and the terrain is rocky enough that, in effect, the course is a stairwell on steroids that requires use of handholds. Here, it is a smooth incline aside from the bumbles of mud and grass heaps. Not steep enough to use your hands (aside from on your thighs as Euro "hiking poles"), consistent enough that your ankle is on constant stretch or your calf is constantly in contraction depending on your ascent technique. A few times I turned around to go up a dozen steps backwards just to take the pressure off for a few seconds. Scott, the 100 miler ascending at my pace, gave a knowing smile. That led to the first of a handful of nice conversations with fellow runners.
You turn the corner at the top and have a steep descent on a gravel road, again trying to not bash your quads too much now that your whole leg is on fire. Then you ascend another steep section. There's a couple of rolling stretches mixed with a couple of steeper ascents - a fancy way of saying I have no recollection of what happened during that stretch. All I remember is a not-quite-but-almost hand-over-foot ascend up a mud hill.
Steadily a young woman in a pink tank top gained on me fast throughout the entire series of climbs. Turned out to be Rachel, a 100 miler with whom I previously had a small chat during the benign initial section. Every uphill she would power hike easier than I've ever seen before. She was kicking ass and taking names. But it still helped my confidence, because for all the distance she'd close on me during an ascend I could in turn recreate on descents. It turned out to be a consistent parlay of order for the first 25 miles. Rachel was so positive and full of youthful spirit that at a point I had to ask her age. "Twenty four. Yea, I'm older than I seem." I told her it was more of a benefit than she realized. She went on to describe that she absolutely loves hills to the point that she gets giddy. And when she is further and further into a crazy long race she becomes deliriously giddy, apparently much to the dismay of we older (or, as in my case, "older") and more cynical folk. We had a lot of fun joking about when we'd next pass each other. And it was a blast to run for so long with another female.
But I digress. After getting through the multitude of false top-outs you eventually make the long descent on the backside of the loop. Your legs can't open up on this kind of grade. Well, at least not if you are a mortal such as I am. I tried instead to sit my butt back and keep a high foot cadence. And breath between the winces and muscle twinges. Eventually you make it back to the same aid station as before. That whole loop mess? 4.2 miles in one hour.
I walked a short bit to let my legs breath while I stuffed my face. Short, since the trail paralleling the loop is but a couple minutes away. After the jarring introduction to the loop it all seems easier. You simply use denial when it comes to knowing you'll do the loop in reverse at some point. This section and the fifth section were when Rachel and I were together as much as the parlays would work out. The fourth aid station had watermelon and oranges. I moaned audibly as I inhaled. As we closed in on the fifth aid station and turnaround point the rolling hills created a resultant downhill, so I pulled away from Rachel at some point. Somewhere in there was a very big near fall, my left foot catching on something. Not until I was within a mile or two did I see anyone on the return. One guy told me that I was the second woman on the course. For now, I thought. Just keep moving.
I dunked a potato into a bowl of salt, smiling as I laboriously chewed and waved thanks as I left. It felt like only a few minutes, though it may have been more, when I passed not just a few but a crew of folks still headed outward. In that crew was Rachel in the lead, to whom I gave a hearty high five and a holler, and three other women amongst a handful of men. You figure there's a train chasing you, but you don't expect a literal running train. Eesh. Just keep moving. I also saw Elaine, who had a marvelous second wind and thus a second place finish at the Traprock 50k. Realized to late for a high five, so we exchanged hollers. A little scary to know who is tracking you down, but energizing at the same time.
A half hour later a woman in bright clothing suddenly appeared behind me. I was trying to use the momentum but cautiously, knowing that the loop was out there waiting our return. I let her by with some encouragement. I decided to try to maintain third place. I also saw my mother in-law's coworker who was doing his first 50 miler with little training secondary to a farming accident over the summer. His wife managed to spot me before the start, so once I heard of his reasons for nervousness I had given all the practical advice I could think of. He wasn't sure he'd finish, and yet he was maybe 4 miles from the turnaround. Good stuff! I was glad to see him still out there.
After the aid station of watermelon goodness at mile 30 the uphill started again. I again hiked, hoping that my power hike would at least hold off the other women from the power train. I actually hoped Rachel would catch up again, but I knew she had to spread her energy over twice the distance as I did. She might have lingered at the aid station for good reasons. You never know. I saw a dude a ways up ahead who I recognized from a brief exchange earlier, and managed to slowly reel him in. You focus your eye on them, add in a conscientious breathing pattern, feed off their pace to help your momentum, and then thank them as you pass. As we exchanged sentiments about "hanging in there" I noticed a woman running - yes, running - up the hill behind us. Sh*t balls. As we crested and made our way through a few rolling hills I tucked in behind my conversation mate for a few minutes. I hoped that she was blowing her steam by running and that my judicious hiking would win out in the end to maintain third. Once the downhill started I let loose as much as the now goopy, mud slung, downhill and yet side slanted trail would let me. I saw neither of them any time I looked back. At some point on that descent was a 5+ foot slide down a mud incline. Yahoo.
Eventually I passed the aid station. Grabbed more peanut butter and jelly sections, and started the reverse of the loop. Just as I got out of sight of the aid station I heard someone yell, "There's Heather!" followed by cheering. Sh*t balls. On this kind of a hill you can't judge, you can't force. You just survive. Just keep moving. I saw another guy I recognized, Michael, up ahead. He was not having a good time. Once nearby we exchanged commiserations. He told me to fight back for second place. I laughed and said I was trying to simply hang on to third. I kept hiking up around the bend (let's face it, "power" hiking is a relative term at this point...), only to hear Mike call out that Heather was indeed running up this hill too. Sh*t. Balls. I grumbled something of a thanks for the heads up, let out a big sigh, and told myself to run the less severe inclines.
I held her off for a bit, but we were only half way up the climb and the grade got steep again. (On the elevation graph, it's the hill leading up from mile 36.3.) We eventually hit the dipsy-doodle hills on top, and as I gently began to jog along a momentarily flat/down stretch she finally matched me.
Me: "How the hell have you run up all these hills?!?"
Heather: "I don't know!"
Me: "Have you done many ultras before?"
Heather: "No. Just road marathons. This is my first ultra."
Me: "Dude..."
After a few beats of silence to let that sink in, the sadness of forfeiting a spot was immediately replaced by complete awe for her performance. Both she and Rachel should do Sky Running events, where the races tend to go straight up significant mountains much like the ski lift hill but longer.
It was then that my stomach started to cramp - not my abdomen/intestines, not even an abdominal muscle. My actual stomach. Never experienced that before. I was already periodically hiking my legs back to life. Now I had to do the same for a visceral organ. I tried pacing my breath, but this wasn't CO2 related. I hunched over and stuck my fingertips as far under my left ribs as I could while still moving forward (your muscles don't just turn off, so I couldn't really get in there) and did my best to mobilize my stomach on the move. I was able to take the sting off so long as I was on a flat section or an uphill. Somehow running downhill was what aggravated things.
Mike caught back up to me, and we began our own parlay that narrowed with each passing as we made our way through the remaining dipsy-doodles, alternating between my stomach and his hamstrings. At one point Mike was ahead and no one was behind, so I took my only pee during the race at 7 hours 40 minutes in. I managed to catch back up to Mike again. Then Heather came running back towards us asking if we had missed the turn. We reassured her that we were on course. My mind sparked a glimmer of hope that maybe I could fight for third after all. We found the turn off down the mud slide, which Heather had passed before turning around, and off she pranced while the downhill flared up my stomach again. I think that glimmer of hope lasted a whole twenty seconds. Reality check: just finish the damn race in one piece. Right.
We hit the first of two big downhills on the loop. It was harsh on the legs, but steep enough that the pace was still relatively slow and so by some good grace did not aggravate my stomach. We turned to head up the last climb of the loop, spotting Heather just about to crest the top. Mike: "She's still running." Me: "Yup. Friggin' Energizer Bunny." She was even wearing a pink tank top. Despite being out of ear shot I still wished her a finish just as strong. Mike and I fell into step and opted for good conversation. We were suffering, but we had a good time. We didn't see Heather at all when we hit Mars Hill headed down. And we probably looked, and sounded, ridiculous as we made our way down to the aid station.
Heather was not too far ahead of us leaving the aid station, but I also knew that the road hill awaited us. We did our best plod-along jog on the less severe incline, switching to a hike the moment we hit the base of the main drag. Heather was still running. Definitely the ultra shuffle, but definitely running. Mike and I laughed and kept up the conversation. Soon another guy popped up next to us. Hadn't a clue where the hell he came from. Apparently he had seen us and made an effort to catch up. Safety in numbers. We welcomed Ethan to our hobbling group.
Eventually we made it to the remaining section and a half of forest trail. We ran as a group for a while. Eventually Mike got a second wind, so Ethan and I cheered him on as he took off. I had to walk a bit for my legs again after hurdling a handful of logs, so I then cheered on Ethan as he took off. Bit by bit I made my way to the last aid station. I picked out a potato chunk with high surface area and dunked it into as much salt as I could get. The volunteers cheered for my salt acquisition methods, then laughed for a good minute as I stood motionless and moaned in my salty euphoria. This is the delirium that comprises the latter chunk of ultras. More watermelon, and off I trodded.
The last section was a blur. Every five or ten minutes of shuffle-run was followed by at least a few minutes of hiking and poking at my stomach. I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure no other females were coming from behind. The only two who appeared were from the relay race, so they were actually running and were full of vigor and good wishes. With about two miles to go I caught back up to Ethan, and the two lead 100 milers passed on their second outbound trip. I gave them a big high five, and they reassured me that I was close. What felt like a gently rolling nothingness at the start of the race became a slight downhill to the finish that wreaked havoc on my stomach. I kept walking and poking. Ethan eventually passed again. Thankfully no one came from behind. I managed to keep Ethan in my sight, and with a half mile to go I managed to shuffle-jog through the objections from my stomach, the idea of being done outweighing the pain.
After all that, would I do that race again? Yes :)
Total time: 10 hours 25 minutes. Fourth female, 13th overall out of just over 100 finishers. Only 21 minutes behind the lead woman, and 9 minutes after the gazelle Heather. Manage to best my Bear Mountain 50mi time despite the increase in elevation. Mike finished just after her, rounding out the top 10 overall, Ethan just behind Mike and ahead of me. Rachel came through at 10 hours 40 minutes, but in my stupor of recovery I missed getting to cheer on the start of her second half. I saw Scott as he loaded up with food; he made it to the base of the ski slope loop for a total of ~60 miles but dropped at that point. Better to take care of yourself when you need it. And my mother-in-law's coworker Allen? He finished in 14 hours 42 minutes. Attaboy.
My full stats, as per the race results on the Virgil Crest Ultras website:
 |
| They still weighed about 2 pounds each the next morning. And they smelled gloriously. *Gag* |
No comments:
Post a Comment