July finally threw me into the training that I've needed for September's big race. The focus was two back-to-back weeks of extensive elevation gain. July 12th was volunteering at Hardrock, offering 10,000 feet of gain over 28 miles. July 19th was Speedgoat 50k, held at Salt Lake City's Snowbird ski resort, with 12,000 feet of gain over 33.5 miles.
My Garmin's battery only lasts 8 hours tops, and this time it cut out after about 7:45. I finished in 8h 11m 25s. The course was supposedly 31.5 or so miles, and I thought my Garmin was making up stuff when it was 2 miles ahead of the aid station demarcations, but everyone I asked had the same data. This was not a reason to complain. It was only more evidence that my Garmin simply could no longer keep up.
Missing: last 4.5 miles and the winding descent to the finish.
I treated the race like a training run. Managed to progress from 125th to 100th to my eventual 87th place overall (17th female) as the climbing accumulated. Some of it was quite steep, just shy of hand-over-foot and on loose terrain. It was awesome. The aid station volunteers were *amazing*. I saw three others I met (one who helped clear the first section with me, one other volunteer, and a racer I sat next to during the awards ceremony) and four others I recognized from Hardrock the week before. There's more than a little something special about the ultra community.
Temporary tattoos of the race were given out before the start. Guess where I failed to apply sunscreen.
But the biggest benefit was the overall picture. After living in a new part of the country for nine months and wondering if I was able to participate in my beloved hobby to the degree that I wished (longer work hours with an earlier start, car commute, etc), I finally got the proof that it works. Nine months is a long time to wonder if you've shot yourself in the foot when considering your goal race. I may not have logged the consistent higher mileage I had been last year (usually about 10 miles per week less) due to acclimating to altitude for a handful of months, but I was able to perform what I considered to be decent efforts along some hard courses.
The other big factor was that I did it myself. As in no one accompanying me or crewing me, no one to drive when I was tired or exhausted, no one to help plan things. It was all me - the long drives, the logistics, the actual mileage, the parsing through new social groups. I very firmly belief that everyone should feel comfortable enough with themselves to get on a plane alone, to go to a movie alone, to operate as a single entity. It had been quite a while for me, and these two consecutive weekend trips sure fulfilled that need. With all the second guessing that was in the back of my mind, I needed something like this to solidify where I am within my own self, my progress, my goals.
My female work colleagues cooed when they found out I had Valentine's
Day off, eye brows raised and hands flapping. I think I actually
snorted while laughing in reply. Were we to spend the weekend at some
couple's spa or hot springs or some place wearing matching robes and
surrounded by water features... undoubtedly we would be bored in about
five minutes. Instead we ignored the day, as we always do, while
traveling to a race. We were heading to Moab, Utah, heading west out of
the valley for the first time since moving here last fall.
Moab's
Red Hot 55k was our first race since relocating to Colorado. The lack
of trees means constant views of Utah's incredible landscape including
Arches National Park, the La Sal Mountains, Canyonlands National Park,
and the Colorado River while traversing terrain ranging from jeep roads,
sand filled jeep roads, and trails leading over giant rock structures
with slick rock. A third of runners wore Hokas,
the same uber-cushioned shoes I used during the latter two thirds of my
hundred miler last September. I noted this but did not fully interpret
the meaning behind their massive popularity at the time. Four thousand
cumulative feet of elevation gain and loss sounded fun and refreshing
despite knowing that I had but half my usual mileage and a quarter of my
usual climb/descent training. It was also the steepest field for a
trail or ultra that Nathan and I had ever been a part of, with easily a
dozen recognizable men and women.
Moab's Red Hot 55k elevation profile, per my Garmin 210
And, it was warm
enough that we wore SHORTS. Glow-in-the-dark white thighs were happily
on display by myself and others. That was a ridiculous treat.
Red
Hot started by ascending a mile long double wide jeep road on the edge
of a ridge. It was runable, and I cautiously kept a good clip until
just feeling plain silly and returned to my usual uphill hike that is
not that much appreciably slower than others' uphill run. The sun was
up already as the race started at 8:00 a.m., but the fresh morning sun
made for a beautiful multi-colored landscape across the already
watercolored rock. Then down we went into a canyon. I missed downhills
more than is sane, and so I let myself use gravity and momentum and
have fun with the descents so long as they were not super steep and
precarious.
My
legs could feel that they had little descent training, but overall felt
okay. My right rectus abdominis began to cramp from eccentrically
controlling my trunk, so as much as I had fun flying down the hill for a
mile I had to slow my pace and leg people go by. I tried slowing my
breath, but that almost made it worse. I then thought back to some
newer pain science research being used by fellow PTs, where adverse
breathing patterns cause altered CO2 levels in the body. But whereas
historically everyone pushed for belly breathing, this is often not
necessarily the case. CO2 levels can be both high or low, thus making
bodies excessively acidic or alkaline within a mere few minutes. Should
this be sustained, which it is for days/weeks/months for some people,
it can cause the unexplainable pain that continues when there may be no
other significant injury present. So I purposefully increased my rate
of respiration, and the cramps went away within the next minute.
Magic.
At some point we hit aid station (AS) 1. I don't
remember if this was in the canyon or after some initially steep
climbing again. Either before or after AS 1 we turned onto Metal Masher
Road, another jeep trail that slowly leads up to the top of the rim.
You do not realize the impact of the subtle uphill until it starts
accumulating and your legs feel heavy. Nathan was continually near or
close by through all these miles, which was the most we've spent
together in any race. It was fun to chat with another runner, saying
"Yes, my husband is also running -- there he is!" Another descent and
we hit AS 2 (mile 13), then ascended again to a dirt road that was
relatively flat called Arth's Pasture. Somewhere a few miles later
Nathan progressively fell off my pace. Without any trees around I could
turn around and wave at him from a modest distance away. AS 3 (mile
17) came and went. The real terrain then began to show itself as easy
trails gave way to steep climbs up broken rock. I had held something of
an 8:30 per mile average, which then dropped down to 12:00 per mile,
15:00 per mile, 18:00 per mile.... I arrived at AS 4 (mile 22) feeling a
bit of the miles but overall okay. I poured salt into my water
bottle. Salty water tasted wonderful.
Leaving
AS 4 I no longer had sight of Nathan. But an ultra friend I met during my first fifty miler in New York, Will, coincidentally moved to central CO within a few weeks of my
moving to the San Luis Valley. Will was also at Red Hot. We were able
to connect and chat prior to the race start. I figured he was up ahead
of me like he had been in previous races. In this section he caught up
to me, chatting with others along the way. We ran with two or three other women for a few miles, in a nice little supportive pack.
The boulders became huge rock
hills with substantial angles that were up to 20% grade per my Garmin. For the first few miles
of that section I definitely slowed on the climbs but then made up the
difference flying down the rock on descents. That was probably not the best choice, considering the unforgiving nature of rock and the length of the descents. By about mile 27 my quads
were demonstrably stiffening and my right foot was over the inversion
baseline of traversing hills horizontally. It became a full-on ultra
shuffle. Check out that elevation profile again and you'll understand why. I stayed
kinda-sorta-relatively with Will and the other ladies before
slowly puttering out. I came to the last aid station (AS 5, mile
28/29) after the others left.
A volunteer probably saw
my face before she said, "It's only five more miles from here, and its a
lot easier than what you just finished." I hoped she was right.
Thanking her, I began my trot after the others.
Without
trees I could see them between a quarter and half mile in front. I had
no pride maintain - I hiked every slight uphill and shuffled over the
few flats and downs. The size of the hills lessened and the trail
curved more, taking the others out of sight. About a mile after AS 5
began a series of time-carved drainage routes. Just as I was
contemplating my level of tiredness my right foot caught a lip and down I
went, splayed across the rock onto my right ankle, knee and elbow.
Pretty sure I gave some unintelligible grumble of a yelp. I made myself
get up and start walking immediately before the actuality of what
happened set in. It was similar to Cayuga Trails last June, where I
somehow pulled out the muscle memory of a dancerly body roll instead of
letting myself whip straight down. No open wounds except for
superficial scratches on my elbow. I scanned the surroundings,
surprised to find no other person around to see or hear it. Big
breath. Return to the shuffle. Just a few more to go.
The
trail changed from solid rock to sandy dirt on relatively flat jeep
trails again. Here I managed to shuffle past a few others in worse
state than I. With about a mile to go the trail started to finally
descend along the side of a ridge on the Poison Spider trail, winding
switch backs with music and cheering somewhere around the far corner.
It is always amazing what the knowledge of the finish, or as others call
"smelling the barn," can do for your form and pace. I sped (that's a
relative term here, people) along in eagerness to finish, passing
another few with broken quads along the way.
Much
like the near instant rigor mortus after Pine to Palm, I slowly hobbled
to my drop bag to get my coat and top layers. Warm weather or not,
once I finish my temperature plummets. I dutifully drank my protein
shake and refilled my water bottle. I found Will, who finished only a
few minutes before me, and we had a nice post-race chat. Then I went to
the finish line again and kept watch for Nathan.
After 45
minutes I still had not seen him. I took a very slow stroll through
the crowd, making sure I hadn't missed him at some point. Picked up a
small bowl of chilli with some corn bread. Was watching the finish line
from a distance when Will came up to me again.
"Where's the gift?!?"
"Mmm?" It was all I could reply with a mouthful of food.
"The Gift. You know Nathan's name means 'the gift', right?"
"I had no idea. I also have no idea where he is."
Will
saw the growing look of concern on my face and stood with me for a few
more minutes. He works Sundays, so he had start his drive home very
soon. We exchanged pleasantries once again and he took off.
I
took up post once again directly by the finish line. Soon I realized
another woman next to me was also nervously awaiting the arrival of her
husband. We joked about our hubbies' history of death marching
themselves to the finish despite having issues for the last 15+ miles of
a race. The joking became mutual delineation between the bizarre
running forms of those in the distance, trying to help each other pick
out if it was either husband. It was now nearly two hours after I had
finished, and the awards ceremony was commencing. The number of
finishers still coming across the line dwindled remarkably. I kept
telling myself to give him time, but something in my gut told me things
were not right. I checked my watch and decided five more minutes and I
would inquire with the folks running the finish line roster to see if he
had dropped at an aid station or if he was continuing on.
I
felt a tap on my shoulder, whipped around, and found Nathan standing
behind me with shoulders rounded and arms pinned to his sides. I
reflexively jumped into bear hug mode. He startled, mainly because he
had dropped due to unremitting nausea and vomiting. He made it to mile
22, dropped, had to wait an hour and a half for the station to close
down, then it took at least an hour for the off-road jeep to make it
down the same 30+ degree slopes we had trudged up to bring Nathan to the
finish. When I realized he was shivering I then gave him my down
jacket and declared it was time to go.
Nathan somehow
held it together on the shuttle ride to the start line and then in the
car ride back to the hotel. I dropped him off and went in search of
seltzer, ginger ale, unsweetened tea, and anything that might seem
appealing should his stomach calm and he then want food. Later I found
out he vomited upon entering the hotel room, barely making it to the
toilet. The rest of our evening was composed of watching whatever
television show that seemed interesting enough but had little movement,
slowly sipping fluids, eventually giving Nathan a bath since he could
not stand or sit on his own for more than 10 seconds (during which he
commented "Is this what its going to be like when we are ninety?"), and
then moments after returning to bed Nathan upchucking what little fluid
he'd had into the trash can I carefully placed next to the bed.
Mercifully he then fell asleep for the rest of the night. I stayed in
the second bed so that my turning would not jostle his stomach.
By
the next morning he had some gastric sensitivity but overall the nausea
was gone. A few pieces of bread upon waking then became an eleven
o'clock brunch in Durango while en route to home. His legs were fine
and barely felt having done 22 hard miles the day before. I was
hobbling without the ability to bend my knees, but very satisfyingly so.
"The Traprock 50k is a 3 loop course of approximately 10.5-11 miles per loop. There will be two separate races (one and three loops). It is a rolling course with 50% technical single track on the Metacomet Trail. The balance of the course in double-track.
Consisting entirely of rolling forest roads or single track that can be extremely rock, the course will provide a true test of the runner's fitness and mental stamina. You should only consider entering this race if you are confident you have sufficient running experience such as having completed a recent road or trail marathon."
The course loops around Penwood State Park in northern Connecticut with a total elevation gain of ~2300 feet per loop, or ~6900 throughout the race (3 loops total). This was meant to be a tune-up race for TNF's Bear Mountain 50mi, which has a total gain of 7038 feet. Captain obvious here didn't consider that the equivalent elevation has a 20 mile difference in how quickly it accumulates. Needless to say, this is the first race where I literally swore at the hills.
Mix that temperatures in the 70s without acclimation, and you've got yourself one heck of a butt kicker. Or, in my case, inner thigh kicker.
Nathan and I left Friday evening after I got off work. Our "economy special" turned out to be a Fiat.
Our rental car. Toot toot.
Had to post it because it was so weird. Manual shifter with an automatic clutch. Weird.
We stayed overnight at a CT hotel in the vicinity of Bradley International Airport. I got up Saturday at 5:45, went to get coffee from the lobby. Another woman had barely entered the lobby when she asked if I was doing running the 50k. Barely awake, a 25 minute drive from the race, and already the day was taking shape. We swapped a few stories before heading back to our rooms. That got me excited. Ultra races tend to be filled with very supportive people, those who are very inclusive and open minded and concerned about those around them. You smile and cheer each other on. There's usually none of the eat-my-dust-I'm-better-than-though-with-better-suped-up-high-tech-clothing-than-you like that found in road races. Another reason why I like races out in the woods.
The drive went without fail -- always a good sign when Google Maps ends up correct. The parking lot was super small. We were one of the last to snag a spot in the parking lot adjacent to the start, and I was thankful for the wee little toy car. Soon followed check in, donning race gear, lubing up, getting through the bathroom line, and putting my drop bag next to the race route.
The pre-race meeting started a little after 8:30. Two Londoners were announced as racing the 50k, then going on to run the Boston Marathon on Monday. Brave souls. As we grouped for the start, I saw a shirtless and head-shaved dude jump to the front of the line. I turned to the woman next to me, saying "if anyone runs the first hill, it'll be the naked bald guy."
Loop #1 was all about discover -- what will I get myself into three
times over today? Eighty meters from the start was the first climb, at
least 45 degrees. Many of us ran the bottom of it, swept up by the
excitement of the start, though soon caved to hiking. Naked Bald Man,
as expected, ran up the hill and was out of sight pretty fast. So
started a day full of endless hills.
The hill that started (via up) and finished (via down) each loop. Hills never look their true form in photos. Had you fallen while on the way down, you'd surely have pitched head first into a rock and ended up with a spinal cord injury.
Rarely did the route level off into something on which you could relax. The few gently rolling bits were composed of lots of loose rocks or a broken road that had lots of gnarly peaks and cambers and was thus was no less easy. The one blessing was the the first ~5k of the race was the most technical, including the good sized Stairway to Heaven that I'd consider a trail equivalent to Hospital Hill in Kansas City (for those who know of it). After that first 5k the intensity would ease off a bit, so each loop would get "easier" by the time you became even more tired. Supposedly. There loop also included an out-and-back lollipop, an ascend along a ridge where a vertical drop-off teetered some three inches from the edge of the trail, some winding through a collection of smaller up/down/up/down twists, some suffering over the aforementioned broken road, then most of the gnarly initial 5k all over again but from the other direction.
First loop felt good. Finished it in 1:37:46, held place as 2nd female the whole time. Only one stumble -- no fall -- just before the lollipop from not picking up my right foot enough. Had some nice conversations with a group of guys, including Greg who is training for Western States (one of the pinnacle US ultras) and another who ran Western States in 2009 and had lots of good stories to tell. Came into the home base aide station in good spirits and with a good outlook for the day. Grab more gels and fluid, and zip-zip head out for the second loop.
About five steps up that initial hill the fatigue started to hit me. Surprising, since a mere five minutes earlier I was feeling okay. Maybe it was the accumulation of that long downhill to home base but with delayed effect? It was getting hotter, not a cloud to be seen. Aid stations were no more than 4 miles apart, so I ran with a bottle and my usual sip-and-switch-hands every 5 minutes. I was running on my own at this point, since the fellas from before had taken a few of the technical downhills a little jollier than I. My old lady knees need to take the rockier downhills a little more deliberate, a little slower. Hit Stairway to Heaven with heavy legs. Not even half way into the race and I was talking to myself. Deep breaths, use your hands, take your time.
I realized then that I forgot to grab more GU Brew powder from my drop bag, so I had only water to go with. Big difference between fluid with no salt and fluid with 250mg per ~20 oz. Would I regret it? Didn't know. Made a point of eating gels or small food bits often to try to make up the difference. I tried Heed at the next aide station, the electrolyte drink by the brand Hammer. Hammer supports lots of smaller races, which is good of them, but damn if their Heed drink is NASTY. Not the race directors' fault, not Hammer's fault; my own digestive system's fault. I regretted getting Heed by about 10 minutes after that aid station. Made myself drink it, because with the heat I needed to keep drinking anything I could get.
I saw the lead woman heading back from the lollipop as I was heading onto it. She called out "I'm pretty sure you'll pass me on this lap." Hah! I love the thought, but that's definitely not going to happen. I kept cheering her on. She looked fresher than I felt. Maybe she felt the same about me? Either way, she was holding steady and I wasn't interested in any kind of pursuit. I then hit the exact same rock with the exact same stumble, only this time my left foot was the culprit. Duh, Laura. Duh. I blame the second loop's clumsiness on being distracted by the Heed nastiness. At least this time I didn't have three witnesses behind me.
The climb up the ridge felt harder, felt super slow. Still running alone at this point. By the time I hit the aid station at the start of the broken road I caught back up to Greg. Or maybe he was slowing down to my speed. Either way, we mutually commiserated while trudging along. By the time we hit the ascend towards the start/finish he was definitely slowing. At this point of the race, nearly 2/3 done, you cruise at whatever speed you can cruise regardless of whether this allows running buddies or not. Maybe stumble is a better descriptor than cruise. Whatever. Point being, you gotta rely on your central pattern generators to their full out extent.
The 17k started an hour after the 50k, so Nathan was done by the time I looped through the start/finish. I had a pretty flat affect by this point. My second lap time was 1:48:56, 11 minutes slower than the first. And while trying to podium was not on my to-do list for this race, it was nice to try and hold position if I could. I was downing as much soda and oranges and GU gel as I could at every aid station, but it was getting harder to eat. I didn't get as bloated as the KC 50k last August, but some sorta abdominal funkiness was developing.
Third lap was hard. The initial climb was exhausting. A dozen steps into my final ascent of the Stairway my right hip adductor muscles started to spasm. Think of a charlie horse, then apply that to your entire inner thigh.I've never experience that before. Had to stop and rub it a bit. Tried ascending in step-to pattern with my left leg, only for those inner thigh muscles to spasm as well. What the hell? I'd take one step and cower in pain. I tried smaller steps, got the same response. I ended up physically grabbing each inner thigh and holding on while adamantly gripping my gluteal muscles to try and make them turn on more and hopefully do more of the work. Again, thankful that no one was around to see such shenanigans. It was still a struggle, but I finally got to the top. Oddly enough, running at that point had no semblance that the spasms had ever taken place.
This time I did not trip while on the lollipop, probably because I was walking more sections than before. I was really surprised that no one had yet caught me, considering how much I had slowed down. I saw some familiar faces headed out while I headed in. Didn't see the lead woman, so she was flying like I expected. As I left the lollipop I saw a few more familiar faces. Everyone was at a similar interval as before, so that meant we were all having problems in our own ways but nonetheless the entire race had universally slowed. Well, maybe not Naked Bald Man, but he's in a different league. At the aid station just after the lollipop, one worker asked "You doing okay? You don't look quite as fresh as before." I grumbled through my orange slices about my thighs really feeling it. He offered some of their saltier grub. I turned it down since the sight of it made me a little nauseous. Anything but fluid would cake in my mouth and clog my throat.
Ascending the ridge didn't feel as bad this time around, probably because the Stairway had been so difficult. I ran some of the small hills that I'd previously hiked, since apparently a plod-along "run" was less painful and less spasm-producing than hiking. Near the top I tripped again with my left foot. Didn't fall, but whacked my left fourth toe something good. Spent the entire up/down twisty section wondering if the toe was bleeding and if I still had a nail.
Eventually I hit the last aide station at the start of the road. They were also out of soda. It may seem counter intuitive to drink soda during a race, but when you're stomach is slightly (or at times largely) upset as is common in endurance races the high fructose corn syrup can go a long way to help settle things down. Much like drinking ginger ale or sprite when you have the stomach flu. Plus, in these cases the caffeine can be a big help, even if purely for mentation's sake. But most aid stations were out of soda on this last lap, and they were out of oranges. I consoled myself with the knowledge that there was about three miles to go. Three looong miles.
As I started to head out the woman who had held 4th for much of the race, Elaine, came tearing up to the aid station. Where the former 3rd place woman was at was unknown. I tried to chat a little and compliment her on having something of a kick left over. She was in the zone -- flat facial expression, ear buds blasting music, an invisible cord pulling her forward with much more pep than anyone else around. She gave a small grunt of a reply and took off.
I stumbled along next to another guy who had slowed to my pace. Here was when I started groaning every 10 seconds. It's a mix between kittens who purr to console themselves when scared and Harry's self-consolation and insomnia entertainment in When Harry Met Sally. F-i-n-a-l-l-y hit the the ascent toward the finish. Started hiking, inner thighs spasmed again. Stop, grab, groan, proceed. Spasm. Stop, grab, groan, proceed. Forced myself to "jog," which kept the spasms at bay. Just. Keep. Moving. Forward.
Third loop took 2:36:34. I sat down about 30 feet beyond the finish line. It felt wonderful. I managed to hold third place. Full results (including loop splits) here. Apparently the announcer was calling out bizarre non-factoids for every finisher. A lovely race staff/volunteers brought me two ice packs for my old lady knees. I kept them for the car ride home to use on my wasted inner thighs. Very grateful for that. Probably the main reason I can walk today.
Overall, a very well run and VERY well marked course. The joke made in the pre-race meeting was that if you managed to get lost on this course then you should stick to road racing. I whole heartedly agree. Like I said earlier, half of me feels confident about Bear Mtn next month while the other half is nervous about the 20 extra miles. Hmmm. We'll see. If I totally freak out in the days leading up to the race I can always downgrade to a shorter race. In the mean time I'm glad today, the day after Traprock, is a Sunday. I couldn't imagine performing maximum assist transfers on these legs. And I'm still pulling dirt goobers and salt chunks out of my nose this morning.
Here's a little comparison of what the winner, Naked Bald Man -- otherwise known at Ben Nephew, who is sponsored by Inov-8 and has quite the respectable ultra record -- looked like in his finish at just over 4 hours as compared to my own shuffle to 3rd female and 16th overall at just over 5 hours 33 minutes:
Realized I never posted the rest of the photos from August's race. They are a mix of photos from race photographers who keep clicking so long as they see a bib number in front of them and also from my Dad's phone. You can see the progression from 6am dark to 11am sun, fresh race clothes to sweat patterns to fully saturated, calm stride to make-it-work-and-not-be-painful-slog, calm face to oh-thank-goodness-it's-over relief.
6am start.
Rounding the first corner (50 feet into the race).
Ran the first few miles with this guy. We both started out ahead of our desired pace. He managed to hold his pace better through the end.
It's always fun to move between inadvertent running partners in long races.
Miss Blue went on to take 1st woman. Obviously I started too fast if I was in range of her for the first 6 miles....
Somewhere around mile 15, where I didn't see any other runners for 30+ minute stretches. Thankfully the course was well marked with officials at various corners, or else I'd have thought I were running off through Kansas somewhere.
At the bottom of Hospital Hill. I didn't study the route that much, so didn't know it was coming (or that it had such a known name until talking to folks after the race). This was at mile 28. The moment I rounded the corner I immediately started walking. One mile at an average 10% grade. Um, yeaaah. No way I was running that one.
The one photo that managed to catch my bloated belly. Increasing temps nearing (or into) the 90s, only GU electrolyte products, no food, a monthly cycle due at any time (sorry fellas, its a regular issue for female racers)... not a good mix on for the belly.
Still trudging up Hospital Hill. This was moments before my Dad called out "It's all downhill from here!" Ears too saturated to hear the comment, thankfully.
Is that a smile with only a couple miles to go? I forget if I was trying to look calmer than I felt. P.S. That seemingly bulging vastus medialis of my left quadriceps? Swollen and overworked, nothing else. I also credit side lighting.
Now that is a smile. Specifically "Oooohhhh thank you thank you thank you" before madly searching for oranges and watermelon.
Yup, sums up how I felt at that point. Glad. To. Be. DONE.
Dunno what's going on here. Some sort of post-race stumble that wasn't nearly as coordinated as this makes it seem. Maybe it took me 20 feet to actually stop? I'd believe that, since my quads were refusing eccentric work by then.
Somehow still able to run after 31 miles, with the finish line 50 feet away.
[This was meant to be posted two days ago, but internet problems and travel got in the way. So it goes. Back home now, having attended only one day's worth of classes this week thanks to hurricane Irene flight snafus, spending time with my energetic kitties (who seem ridiculously small after spending time with other, normal and/or big cats in KC), finally getting my apartment put together, and getting back to normal life.]
Lo! Ultra marathon #2 is in the bag, and I even came out of it with a photo that makes me look like a runner! Nice work, Dad. It's probably because the finish line was about 50 feet away and I was desperate to sink into an ice bath and drink a soda.
I'm very satisfied with my time and performance: 31-ish miles in 4hr 44min 36sec, which was good enough to finish as the 4th woman and 21st overall. Went through 5 or so bottles of Gu Brew, 6 or 7 gels, wrung out my shirt 11 times, minimal inner thigh chafing, no alien toenail aggravation, and only one very small blister at the end of my left 4th toe that I didn't notice until the next day. I also finished by 10:45 in the morning; after 9 a.m. was hot enough, and I was glad to be done that much before noon. I couldn't imagine still being on the course once afternoon sun angled in for full frying effect. After the race I immediately consumed half an orange from the bins just across the finish (why wasn't this food available mid-race?!?), a bottle of Pepsi while submerged in belly deep ice water, and quarter of a watermelon once plopped into the shade not far from the Gore-Tex tent ice bath. I wasn't able to speak much until I got half way through the watermelon. Big thanks to my family for bringing that and the Pepsi for me. Odd the things you need after such an endeavor...
Turned out that a few elites showed for the event, with Michael Wardian heading up the 50k race at 3:02:34. Wardian cheered on the rest of us runners for our 6:00 a.m. start, with his own race starting at 6:30 to add the challenge of catching everyone. Second place overall was over 36 minutes later, meaning Wardian passed us everyone and still crossed the finish line 6 minutes before the next guy. He passed me while I was heading east along the Missouri River towards the new 71 Hwy bridge, somewhere around the half marathon point, his 5:52 per mile zoooooom looking effortless as compared to my 8-ish min/mile pace alternating with walking stints for a 9:08 per mile average. Especially because I was starting to feel the effects of running the first hour much faster than planned....
The route included turns at what seemed like every third corner. I saw a handful of KC that was familiar, but mostly I saw tons of areas that are off the beaten path or were simply unknown to me. My memory of KC's hills was correct, though I was surprised at how unrelenting they felt as I progressed farther through the course. The hills just kept going. Every once in a while a cop would remark that the course was relatively flat for the next while. I'd breath a sigh of relief and trod on ahead, only to find a nice downhill that inevitably leads to a corresponding uphill. I stopped listening to non-runner's interpretations of what was to follow, because by mile 20 the non-visible uphills felt enormous. Here I am at mile 28, coinciding with the bottom of Hospital Hill. Granted everything burned at this point, but the 10% grade over the course of a mile was not easy. I started my walk immediately after turning off Grand Street:
At the very end saying "It's all downhill from here, heh heh" was my Dad. I warned my brothers the night before that any comments of "only 27 more miles to go!" are, in fact, not funny despite what it seems to the spectator, and that I'd veer off course long enough to bob them in the heads if they pulled anything like that in the early miles. Dad says he had already walked up and back down the hill to see what it was like so he sympathized, though it's probably better off that I didn't hear him at that point.
In no particular order I remember running up and down various hills in the Plaza, running down a red brick road into Roanoke Park (I haaate running on brick, so was glad when this half mile stretch was done), along Brookside, past the Liberty Memorial, seeing Bartle Hall and the Sprint Center, running through waterfront park towards the 71 Hwy bridge, a very long traverse of the roads in Kessler Park, a lot of Gladstone Boulevard (wherever that is), many many many many neighborhoods that I can't begin to remember, running along the center of downtown roads that had 4 lanes in each direction but no cars (told ya, the cops were awesome!), past Crown Center and Hospital Hill, and then a blur of absent surrounds as I watched the street numbers grow from 38th Street to the finish at 47th Street. Somewhere in that last blur was the KC Art Institute and the contemporary museum, because that's when I knew that the finish was finally around the corner.
Full credit is due to the hundreds of cops and handful of volunteers who directed traffic. They were absolutely wonderful. Never was my passage through an intersection or traverse along a street in need of consideration other than placing one foot in front of the other. I never even needed to pause, as they held traffic when I still had a good 10 seconds of hobbling to go before enter the intersection. Quite different from the street rat traffic game one gets used to in NYC. The difference is that most races will close off streets for so many hours on race day. Since this was a long race but with comparatively small number of entrants, it didn't make sense to close of streets completely with the likely large gaps that would develop between runners. Considering that they (hopefully) did this for all 100+ entrants of the 50k as well as for all the marathoners and marathon relay-ers, they deserve a huge amount of recognition. I thanked as many as I could, and those times I couldn't speak I tried to wave and smile.
What made the greatest impact on the race was the lack of food. I've never heard of an ultra marathon that doesn't at least serve cheap white bread peanut butter sandwiches and bananas. I wonder if paying for the traffic control took loads out of the race budget. Aide stations were spaced every 2 to 3 miles apart, and most were only stocked with water and electrolyte fluids. Other than fluids, every other aid station had a small collection of gels. Usually anything past 2 hours and I need food. The thought of 5 hours without any sustenance made me nervous, all the more reason to walk more hills than planned. I force fed myself gels every 30 to 45 minutes, and by the end they were becoming hard to get down. My digestion came to a relative halt and my stomach felt bloated, but I still managed to come in under my 5 hour goal.
Three days later, Tuesday, I managed a 36 minute jog/run that for now seems to have helped my quadriceps rigormortis. It also occurred to me today that I have now completed two ultra marathons, which makes me feel much more legitimate in terms of kicking off my endurance escapades. Very satisfying in the classic endurance way -- a process of feeling absolutely stoked pre-race, then mid-race hating your supposedly good "judgement" that got you here, and once a half mile from the finish line the exhilaration returns and you can't wait to sign up for the next one. I do look forward to the NYC Marathon in just over two months time, though I also look forward to future races on trail instead of big, wide, paved roads.
Lots going on since I last posted, namely moving a mile north into West Harlem/Hamilton Heights and trying not to screw up my back a week before the TNF Kansas City 50k. I spent the better part of the last two weeks prepping for the move. I'm used to moving semi-frequently what with rent prices changing, roommates changing, etc, and I enjoy the opportunity to purge more than I normally would and to reassess where life has taken me. However, I must say that this move ended up being the most stressful due to the need to prep two apartments. The roommates were a non-issue in terms of stress, thankfully, and it was mainly arranging items. Usually I purge to simplify, pack it all away and head on out. This time I needed to prevent redundancy of items (printer, kitchen stuff, etc), establish bicycle storage, and help figure out how to hide items such as newspapers from the 1860s so that the cats would not claw them in ritualistic paper sacrifice or get cat hair on them (which can damage them in the long run).
The other headache is that the new apartment is the 6th floor of a pre-war walk up building. My old apartment is also on the 6th floor, and I usually took the stairs unless loaded down with a backpack and two canvas bags stuffed with groceries and cat food. I've only used Craigslist movers before, and that was my budget for this year too. I planned to help, as I always do, particularly getting things up the 5 flights. But, since I was honest about the walk up situation from the get go, none of the Craigslisted movers returned my call or email. I had to fall back on actual movers. Made the process super smooth, though cost a little more than I had hoped. At least nothing is broken and the process is done.
The Great Move was carried out Saturday morning. The mega-prep was Friday. The new apt is actually closer to 1.2 miles north. I wanted to get the cats, bikes and my computer up there the day before -- items I'd rather not leave to the will of movers, even if packed well. I also had a third load to take to Salvation Army, and there were a handful of objects such as old wooden two drawer filing cabinet that needed to be placed with the garbage outside the building at the new place. The day went like this: walk from new apt to old apt, finish packing a few items, walk load to Salvation Army, walk home, walk cat prep items (litter box, food bowls) and computer to new apt, take out 2-3 loads of garbage, walk home, ride bike #1 to new apt, walk home, ride bike #2 to new apt, walk home, pack up kitties and take subway to new apt, lay on floor so the stress in my back could go away.
By my counts I walked 7.5-8 miles and ascended 55 flights of stairs (11 sets of 5 flights each), half the time carrying crap. Saturday morning I woke up with sore biceps and semi-tired legs. But, again, the move is done. Thankfully. And the kittehs acclimated uber fast, despite the trauma of a ride in cat carriers.
Latest antic by Sadie: while Nathan and I were in the other room, she snagged the remainder of a calzone off the table and lugged it 6 feet away without any evidence of dragging it. She and Merus love love love cheese. She was happily trying to decide between licking or nibbling at the melted mozzarella when we found her. She's a very small kitteh, and the remaining calzone was nearly the size of my fist. Can't wait to find out what she'll catch and bring for display once she becomes a mountain kitteh....
In other news, I got an email from TNF regarding the upcoming race. It is a long-ish email discussing weather. Apparently, when TNF decided on the date and location of the race they never considered what August means in Missouri, or even what summer means in Missouri. The email included this:
Alert Level
Temperature Range
Conditions
Recommended Actions
Rules in Affect
Low
Below 80 degrees
Good
Enjoy the event!
n/a
Moderate
80 - 88 degrees
Less than ideal
Slow down. Be alert for course changes.
Hydration system required.
High
89 - 95 degrees
Potentially dangerous
Slow down, consider stopping. Be alert for course changes.
Hydration system required.
Extreme
Above 95 degrees
Extreme and dangerous.
Event cancelled.
Athletes required to stop.
The first thing I saw was the "rules in affect." Hydration systems, be they a bottle or hydration pack or whatever, are required if the temperature gets at or above 80 degrees. I planned to use one the whole time, with the attempt to get in 3/4 to a full bottle of GU Brew (electrolyte drink stuff) per hour. That's what I always do on my long runs, regardless of summer or winter conditions. Relying on aid stations that are spaced an average 2 miles apart means I'd have anywhere from 16 to 20 minutes between fluid intakes, more if I needed to walk any sections.
Then I saw "athletes required to stop" should the temperature raise above 95 degrees. Hey TNF, did you notice that you chose a date at the end of summer, meaning that we've all had July's heat wave to acclimate? For those who may not remember, the Chicago Marathon had a peculiar heat wave a few Octobers ago, with temperatures just shy of 100. I'd say that's different -- average daily high for early October is 65-70 degrees, so a heat wave is much more of a jolt. Even still, the Chicago Marathon removed the competition and stated it was then a fun run, encouraging people to take it easy. Notice how they didn't simply cancel the event. Average highs for late August in KC are about 86. Should KC reach 95 on race day then this would merely match the preceding month and a half. Meaning, it should be expected. That's what happens when you schedule a race in the midwest for the middle of August. If you think its un-runable, then you should have thought about that before creating the race in the first place. The Badwater Ultramarathon, 135 miles long, runs through Death Valley during the summer. Temperatures vary from 40 degrees to potentially 130 degrees throughout the race. You may have to run on the white paint to avoid melting your shoes. But considering that those are the expected possibilities of the selected course, the race is never cancelled. Granted I am a native of MO and know what lovely heat and humidity are possible, but you'd think the race directors and other runners would also have considered such things.
Please understand that I'm not arguing any of this to diminish the difficulty of running in the heat. Since signing up for the race, I have considered this race to be between nothing more than me versus summer weather. It is not going to be a fast race, and those attempting heroic finishes need to have trained accordingly. I signed up for the race, I take responsibility for choosing a potentially hot race, I have trained in the heat (lately have been wearing long pants and shirts to keep up my head tolerance even as New York's heat has eased), and I'm going to be ridiculously pissed off if I'm forced to stop mid-race. Liability can be an annoying hurdle. Luckily the highest I've seen predicted for this Saturday is 90, which won't even hit til midafternoon. Should all go according to plan then I'll be done around 11am-12pm.
Now to go find the sunscreen that actually stays on when I sweat. It ends up hovering in a re-fluidized state atop a layer of sweat, but it stays in place and does its job so long as I don't try to rub it in with the sweat. Many other errands to follow too. Kansas City tomorrow! Will get to see family and a few friends from back in the day. Hot spit! At least this time packing will be a small operation.
Long and slow aerobic exercise is a better expectorant than guaifenesin (aka Mucinex) any day of the week. Kept Sunday's mileage to 12.5. Was much easier to pull over and hack out a glob or two in the woods of the Palisades than to do the same in Central Park. Usually I need to bend over to facilitate the process, or at least get level with my hands on my knees, but I've been able to clear things while staying vertical the last two days. Not the prettiest sound, but whatever. It works. The green globs pair well with the light blue shirt I had on today.
Two and a half weeks until until the next big race. That's 18 days, to be exact. With the work hours of my affiliation and my morning preference I've grown accustomed to 75 to 80 degree weather with a decent amount of humidity. Struck me today as I set out at 8am, rather than my usual 6am, that my race estimates place me as finishing at 11am. And, I'm wondering what the shade situation is going to be. My mom found out that a PTA colleague is running the half marathon while her husband is also running the 50k. Apparently they drove the route, said it was very scenic and would hopefully help the mental portions of the race. But what about shade? How far back are the trees? How often does the sun travel straight down the road? This is the map according to the participant guide from the North Face race website:
TNF Endurance Challenge Kansas City 50k route
50k elevation profile
North-south and east-west travel look much more similar than I originally thought. The elevation is not much worry. I'm actually glad that it varies, as truly flat courses give me the worst cramps and boredom. Aide stations are available every 2ish miles, but I'm still going to run with a bottle. I need to decide if I'm going to wear a shirt/tank or not. However much it feels silly to run wearing a sports bra and biker-style shorts, the issue is avoiding problems. Whereas common distances for races require physical preparation with a little bit of a mental game plan, ultras require the trifecta of physical, mental (monkey-brain hits somewhere around mile 20-24, which is why clear course marking is uber important), and logistical preparation. (And this race is nothing compared to even the "easy" 100milers!)
Take today's run, 8 miles including four 10-minute intervals around the variable Central Park loop from 8-9am. Half way through I thought to myself "Gee, this shirt isn't doing half bad with the sweat. I might be able to stay decent for the race." Then 5 minutes from the end everything was saturated just shy of the point where the sweat drains down into my socks and shoes. Today was only 1 hour; the race will likely be 5 hours, maybe more if its super hot and more walking is necessary. That's a loooooong time for your clothes to hang heavy, lightning fast quick-dry synthetic materials or not.
There comes a point where I can't stand it any more, so I take off the shirt and tuck it into the back of my waistband. Considering there is no place to drop stuff along the way (unless I see a family member willing to accept a shirt looking like it was just pulled from the salty Dead Sea), that means I'm effectively running with a flaccid tail that continues to collect and then drip sweat. On the other hand, if it is super sunny with no shade to mitigate, then my skin might want the coverage. Ever see images of runners crossing the Sahara? Long sleeves and hats with a back flap hanging over their neck. I plan to use sunscreen regardless. Once the race is 10 days out then I can start stalking the weather. In the mean time I'll work on my best misty-light-rain-with-full-cloud-cover dance. Here's hoping July was the climax of the summer *knock on wood*.
These days I'm also planning an upcoming move. I'll travel a whopping 20 blocks (1 mile) north, but am currently playing the purge game. The kittehs find the piles of clothes most interesting to lay on, so I have to be careful to keep things closed up in bags if I plan to donate them. I bought the little monsters a cat bed so they can get their stink on it now and have something familiar at the new place to help them adjust. Sadie hogs it, making bold power plays. Wondering if I need two. At least when I bought it from PetCo it ended up only costing $14 after taxes rather than the listed $24.99 before taxes, and its machine washable (a big factor helping me reduce bed choices). One of few places where having those silly little cards meant to help the business track traffic and purchases has immediately offered actual benefit to me.
Anyways, the cats have been at their shenanigans and I have been home to see more of them. I also discovered my digital point and shoot has a video setting for "miniature," meaning a shallow dept of field weighted to the middle of the frame and using 1/10 of the normal amount of frames per second. Kind of fun, though I'm still working out the kinks, such as minimizing camera movement to reduce audience nausea with the sped-up feed.
Fighting over rights to lay on my CPI, which is my midterm and final "exam" of an evaluation from the affiliation. Notice how I'm so very *sarcasm* concerned with possible damage to it. Sadie manages to throw Merus off the bed, so I think she won this round:
Merus happily walked into the not-quite canvas sack when I looked away. They LOVE canvas, and will lay on anyone's book bag if and when mistakenly left on the floor. Sadie got jealous, never realizing that there was a second bag right behind them. I intervened when Merus started backing Sadie into a corner; I think she (Merus) got her revenge:
Sadie likes to hang over the edge (and, as noted above, atop the clothes to be donated soon); Merus like to play dead:
6:04:15, 2nd female and 29th overall. 4854 feet of total elevation gain, 9708 feet of total elevation change. Tripped at least 20 times, but never went down. Pretty good for my first ultra.
The real ultra studs were in the 50mi race, of which the men's podium passed us 50k-ers in the last few miles despite having started 2 hours earlier. That was amazing to see, particularly since this was during the race's roughest stage between Queensboro and 1777 aid stations - 2.5 miles worth of loose rocks the size of my fist piled deep atop what used to be a forest road, not a speck of dirt available for relief, and for the last 1/2mi the rock road becomes a 30-45 degree hill.
This leg sticks in my memory because my body was putting up with it but my mind was starting to shut off. I was fortunate that two fellow racers, Joe and Marco, who helped me continue to put one foot in front of the other during the last 10 miles. I couldn't thank them enough, both during and after the race. I know all the reasons for which pacers are present for safety's sake for races longer than 50mi, and now I've experienced first hand just how beneficial they can be. I ran with Joe from a couple miles before Anthony Wayne #2 to half way to Queensboro, and the rest of the race from there on out was with Marco. Were it not for them, I would have stopped dead somewhere around mile 26 and just cried. But seeing Marco bounding up behind me with encouraging words forced me to keep going. All the walking I did to as part of my training (I only run 3, occasionally 4 times per week; the other days I walk the 6-7 miles to school) payed off big time, since I was only fighting the mental will to finish rather than fighting the face that I was on my legs all day. Meaning, the only thing missing from my training was the experience of having raced an ultra before. But you gotta start somewhere.
I ran with Patricia through the middle, longer leg from Arden Valley to Anthony Wayne. She looked calm and consistent. I was thoroughly impressed. My intention was simply to finish - to stay true to my own pace as dictated by effort level, to drink every 5 minutes whether I wanted to or not, to eat at every aid station unless it made me puke, and to cross the finish line. In truth, I expected a minimum of 7 hours. As it ended up, I entered the first three or four aid stations as the first female. The reception was entirely different to being in the lead. Volunteers immediately offered to fill my bottle with whatever I wanted, smiles and supportive words flew all over the place. Trish had the lead from Anthony Wayne #2 through the end, but even then my entering the Queensboro aid station at mile 25.3 was received with a guy smiling and announcing "2nd female, 50k" and sounding a cow bell. Totally awesome. I'm sure it was the luck of having the real big-wig females in the 50 mile race, and east coast trails are less popular than west coast due to their propensity for tons of loose rock and going straight up/downhill rather than using switchbacks. But it was awesome nonetheless.
Other gear decisions that I'm glad to have made in the month leading up to the race. My previous kit included Body Glide, spandex-style running shorts, Smartwool socks, Brooks Cascadias, and Nuun/Camelback Elixer. Trial and error, and reading recommendations from other such as Running&Rambling, lead me to the following, all of which made an incredible difference: Aquaphor knee length running tights (shorts never stay down on me), DryMax socks (not a single blister! no alien toenail baby!), Montrail Rogue Racers (again, no alien toenail baby!), Gu Brew, and chugging Pepsi at each of the aid stations from Anthony Wayne #2 on.
Also must give major props to Nathan, who finished at 6:51:14. It was his first ultra too, but he barely trained thanks to a crazy work schedule. We did the Easter half marathon fun run that's part of the Holiday Marathon series put on by local runners in Van Cortlandt Park, and he had a few other hour long runs. That's it. And yet he still managed to finish sub-7 hour. I would have DNF were I in his shoes. Determination? Lots of time on his feet at work? Natural ability? Probably yes to all and then some. Hopefully next time he'll be able to train and run it the way he'd prefer. Still, proud of him.
