The Cayuga Trails 50 course is a double out-and-back with a few sections of a large lollipop or parallel routes. That meant some interaction with the elites as they flew in the opposite direction, and some blind pursuit. Ithaca's gorges include huge waterfalls flanked by stone stairs with nicely graded trails on the back side. Essentially, we would run over and down two gorges before turning around to do them in reverse, then repeat for lap number two. Originally the course was estimated at 6500 feet of total elevation gain. Apparently someone did a training run along one loop of the course, and their Garmin touted 5000+ feet, which would have meant 10,000+ feet over the whole race. And since Virgil Crest (my race report) was measured with the same National Geographic topo software as the original Cayuga estimates, Virgil Crest would then be closer to ~13,000 feet instead of its estimated 10,000. No one knew for sure, but Garmin/NASA was assumed to be more correct. Regardless, it promised to be a day of hills at some degree lesser intensity as Virgil Crest. Another reason to run my own race.
So I toed the line with merely one goal: finish under 10 hours.
[All photos are by Nathan, using a manual focus lens on a digital camera body.]
 |
| Start line, with elites at the front. I'm hidden half way back toward the shelter. |
The first hill began with forest road just shallow enough to cautiously run, leading to informal stairs made of railroad ties and then eventually to the famed rock stairs by Lucifer Falls. I hiked the stairs and focused on minimizing strain on my calves, also not wanting to slide on slick rock so early in the race. Then a little downhill, and we were at the Old Mill aid station. I was surprised by trail quality. This being the east coast, you assume knobby and uneven rocks underfoot for most of the way. Aside from tree roots, the stairs, and purposefully downs logs (to dissuade mountain bikers, who are not permitted on these trails), the remaining tread was smoothed dirt, thin grass or a layer of cushy pine needles that make your knees feel some ten years younger.
 |
| Coming into Old Mill |
 |
 |
| Runners rounding Old Mill on their way out |
Coast along a short stint of flat forest road, and then you meet the steepest ascent of the day. Not horribly long, but steep enough that recent years of hikers have mangled the land from skidding out and they newly created switchbacks were marked off so no one would bypass. The switchbacks were still at something of a 45 degree angle. That was most definitely hiked. Even the guy who won said he had to power hike a bit of it. Over the top and you start to descend, again getting to open up your stride, leading to a creek crossing. I honestly don't remember where the other two of there crossings occurred. One tip toed over rocks with a few wet toes, one was ankle deep, and one was mostly just over the knees but with a few steps where you sink to mid-thigh. You cross each creek four times thanks to the out-back-out-back format.
Anyways, after that creek came the mud flats. Ian mentioned creating a mile of trail where one did not exist before, and I'm assuming this is the place. On the first pass the mud was just a little tacky. Second pass, and indents were all over. Third pass and troughs crisscrossed the trail with scant foliage available for tread along the side. Fourth pass was 6-inch deep troughs turning to active swamp, leaving you covered in goey viscous mud up to your ankles and doubling the weight of your already soaked shoes. Once beyond the mud and through the grass field (gorgeous!) then its more forest road and such leading down to the bottom of the other gorge/waterfall to the Buttermilk aid station.
Buttermilk was the turnaround point, sending you up a different set of rock stairs to eventually regain the trail, mud flats and all, whence you came. That which you flew down you must go up. With the waxing and waning rain/slight sun/drizzle, even pass looked just enough different. While power hiking up where I had so much fun previously going down, I overheard one runner asking "Does anyone recollect even going down this in the first place?" The main exclusion that comes to mind on the return trip was the steep switchbacks, which was descended on parallel trails further north. Going down the stairs was relatively okay, occasionally having enough room on the side to avoid the railroad tie stairs but otherwise keeping a high cadence and (just in case) high knees. When I came down the forest road I again saw Nathan taking photos of runners. He said something encouraging, then said "I'll see you at the shelter [the start/finish/turnaround]. I can take a shortcut." Yea, yea, thanks for rubbing it in.
Nathan had my food bag ready to go. More of the same -- my extra packet of salt tabs, more water, and now I started adding soda at the aid stations (Coke to be exact).
As I took off for lap two I saw Adam, a guy I met a few minutes beforehand who was running his first ultra. He left the shelter headed for the parking lot, then realized he was running off to nowhere and turned to rejoin the course marked by pink flags in the ground. I teased, "Thought you were packing up to head home!" I get very excited when people go for a new race distance. We chatted a bit, and he had some good questions about pacing my found habits (frequency of salt pills, types of "food," etc). I got a bit ahead on part of the runable uphill, then he caught up on the stairs, but once the downhill hit he fell back again.
Soon thereafter I met Dan, and my roll reversed. Dan had nine 100 milers under his belt, so I asked all sorts of questions about running through the night and sleep deprivation. We got so caught up in it that we didn't realized we missed the turn leading downhill to Buttermilk until we were about a quarter mile beyond. "I don't remember this lake from the first lap." "But we're still on the white trail. Did we miss it, or did the flags get pulled off?" Luckily when we hightailed it back to the last flag we found the turn. Not too bad to only add on a half mile when you went off course. Often that could mean miles of random trail searching. We became a little more silent at point and focused on using the downhill to regain some of the time we lost.
 |
| Dan finishing the descent to the start/finish shelter to finish lap one. |
Murphy's Law. I let myself get too pleased about my progress. Don't know what it was. Tree root, perhaps? At just after nine hours of racing I caught something with my left foot, smashing my next to last toenail and possibly my big toe as well. Flung down to the ground with arms splayed and water bottle flying. Still managed to land on the right side. Why, or better yet how do I always land on the right side?? Pretty sure I let out a Charlie Brown-esque scream. Immediately got up, got my bottle, wiped my muddy hands on my sweat soaked shorts, and started walking. A woman had been leering in the background for a while, and now she passed. "How are you doing?" A common question that I ask anyone I see walking. Did she see and/or hear my fall? I managed a benign response. "Oh, hanging in there. We're getting close!" "We sure are!" Another minute or so, the jello legs faded and I was able to trot again.
Came into that aid station and immediately downed three cups of Coke and took another salt pill. Keep the mind working, or at least try. About three miles to the finish, per an aid volunteer. Maybe he read my facial expression. I gave them a hearty thanks, noting 40 minutes to finish the last three miles for my goal of ten hours. I knew there was descent on the stairs and forest road, couldn't remember how much vertical variance in between. These races tend to average twelve minute miles for someone like me, assuming you don't have an obstacle that really slows you down. Time to go for broke. Every downhill was now do or die. Every uphill was to be run if possible, or if not then power hiked through any cramps or pain. I kept looking down at my shoes, at the Beads of Courage attached with twist ties, currently being drug through 50 miles of mud so that they can encourage a little sweetheart like Abby through the scary parts of their treatment for severe and/or terminal diseases. I thought of Dan Wheeless, who by sheer determination and calm tact managed to complete bike centuries with better form and consistency than those with six times as much riding per week of training under their belts. If they can (or in Dan's case, could) get through genuinely painful moments, I can get through this. One glance at those beads and that sure as hell shuts up the complaining part of your brain.
I've never run so much during an ultra before. Down and down and down, not worried about stumbling anymore so much as just physically getting to the bottom as quick as I could. The stairs gave way to railroad tie stairs, which gave way to trail an eventually to forest road. I was suddenly aware of the amount of downhill and couldn't remember how much was there the first time. Then, like magic, I saw Nathan's red rain shell, waiting at the same point. A few pictures and he took off the for finish, shouting "Go for it. She's only got thirty seconds on you." That meant I was catching up, but I knew with a quarter mile to go I wouldn't be able to make up the deficit. I still high-tailed it, opting for at least a strong finish.
 |
| Final descent to the finish. |
 |
9 hours 48 minutes. Bingo.
Turns out that last girl to pass me who finished a mere 30 seconds ahead? She was tenth. Fall or not, had we not missed that turn then I might have even made ninth. But, that's how trail racing goes. And who could look badly on a race result thirty seven minutes better than your previous personal record? But what was most amazing was knowing that, while I may have been glad to be done, I could have kept going.
And that, my friends, is how you re-kindle your motivation after a mottled spring.
 |
| Post-race toes. |
time: 9:48:15
avg pace: 11:42/mile
place: 11th female, 37th overall
race: 164 starters, 132 finishers (38 of which are female)
splits:
intake: 1 1/3 Clif bars
3 1/2 packs GU Chomps
11 salt pills
1/4 PB&J
~5 liters of water
~32 oz. Coke
1 big stumble, recovered
1 wipe out
3 black toenails (some re-bruised, 1 newly darkening still)
1 bruise outside right knee
