Its been a long time since I've blogged. Even longer since I've run a 50k; which is what I did this past weekend. This is not to say that there haven't been any house projects to blog about since last October (there have been tons!) or that I haven't run any interesting races since my last 50k in August 2008 (I have!), but "running" thirty-one miles through the mountains provided me with ample time for introspection and prompted these reflections.
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| Still standing...! |
Saturday morning started just before 5 AM, with a "shower" in Bodyglide. A friend showed me the stuff before the 2008 Death Valley Marathon and any run over 20 miles since then hasn't been pleasant without it. I ate half a Bodos bagel and poured two huge cups of coffee. My dad, who drove down from New York, and I jumped in his truck and were off. The race was being held at Wintergreen which is about an hour from where I live in Charlottesville.As we approached the Blue Ridge Mountains the fog started to descend on the mountains. The pre-dawn temperature was in the high 50s, fantastic for a long run. It had poured throughout Central Virginia the day before, which also helped cool things down.
The big event on the day was the UROC 100k race. Some of the best runners from around the country were at Wintergreen to compete in what was being billed as the Superbowl of Ultraracing (one of the many reasons I stayed away from the 100k!). The elites were off at 7 AM; the rest of the field at 7:15.
Something strange happened during the half-hour or so between the start of the 100k and 7.30. My dad, who hadn't run in some 6 weeks due to an injury, suddenly felt well enough to do the 1/2 Marathon. He had signed up in July but was "injured" in August. He took inventory of the clothes / gear he had brought up the mountain. If he wanted to run, he'd have to do it in a pair of hiking shorts and needed to borrow one sock and a running shirt from me. Other than that, and though he hadn't done a 10 mile run in over two months, he somehow figured he could run/walk his way through the whole thing.
While he was changing into my "backup" gear, I noticed that the race course had changed, A LOT. Apparently on Wednesday (three days before the race!) the directors decided to double up on some of the 100k course and avoid a grueling final 5-mile, 2500 foot climb. Luckily, I was fairly well acquainted with the revised section as it had been part of the the 1/2 Marathon course I'd run in the previous two years.
While he was changing into my "backup" gear, I noticed that the race course had changed, A LOT. Apparently on Wednesday (three days before the race!) the directors decided to double up on some of the 100k course and avoid a grueling final 5-mile, 2500 foot climb. Luckily, I was fairly well acquainted with the revised section as it had been part of the the 1/2 Marathon course I'd run in the previous two years.
At 8 AM both the 50k and 1/2 Mar races took off. As part of a new strategy, I took off very slow. In the last 50k I ran, the Mount Disappointment 50k in Southern California, I started way too fast. By mile 10 I was exhausted and walked a good portion of the last 20 miles. This time would be different; I wouldn't get suckered into expending all my energy on the first climb. Admittedly however, I was a bit jealous of the general abandon with which the bearded-shirtless guy sprinted out of the gate.
In hindsight my strategy was probably off by 30 seconds, though I couldn't have known it at the time. Right after the first mile mark I was in roughly 20th place out of 200 or so runners. Accidentally (?), someone in those first 20 people set off a hornet's nest-booby trap that would entangle runners all the way back to my dad, who was running towards the end of the pack. Without warning, a swarm of hornets attacked me from the right side of the trail and I was swatting them off with two very ineffective, water-bottle holding hands. I felt stings everywhere and started hearing shrikes up the trail behind me. The stinging on my own body stopped after 100 years or so. And after another 1/4 mile I was mentally clear enough to take inventory: six stings, including the one that crawled up into my hat. My dad, about 150 runners back, got 5 stings. I hoped mine weren't enough to trigger an allergic reaction. The only other time I'd sustained multiple bee-stings was while mowing the lawn in high school. That adventure ended with me passing out in the ER. I didn't want a repeat. It would be 4 more miles to the first aid station (if I needed to drop), though it would definitely have sucked if I had trained all summer only to be taken out at mile-one by some pesky bees.
As the downhill continued and we came out onto Wintergreen Drive, I started to get into a groove. Hornets be damned, I was going to keep running. After a fairly steep uphill to Reeds Gap (where I finally caught up to a 3-month pregnant woman who had passed me on the downhill!), I buzzed through the second aid station at 9.8 miles feeling pretty good, especially after I dumped a dozen or so rocks out of my shoes. The pregnant woman went screaming by me again after briefly describing her desire to turn around and only do the 1/2 Marathon. Ultra runners are of a different breed...
The second 10-miles felt great. They were largely a rolling descent into Lake Sherando via the Blue Ridge Parkway and some nice single-track. I started catching people in the back of the 100k pack who had taken off 45 minutes earlier. I kept up the 10-minute per mile pace I wanted to hold through to the final climb. [For those uninitiated with mountain running, take your typical road pace and add 50% (at least!) to your time. In a long road race, my pace is generally around 7-minutes per mile; in the two 50k races I'd done previously, I hovered around 11-minutes per mile. Between rocky trails, steep mountains, and aggressive wildlife, the pace slows appreciably (at least, those are my excuses!)]. For this race, my hope was that in the three years since my last 50k, I had somehow learned how to pace myself rather than burn out early.
At 18 miles, I hit the second "lake" aid station and started what would be a long, rolling 9-mile ascent back up to Reeds Gap. My pace slowed but I still felt good. Around mile 20 I found the pregnant woman and bearded-shirtless guy down in a stream off the trail. Apparently her foot had swollen pretty badly and she had it sitting in the cold water. She had twisted it on a rock heading down and ran a few more miles before calling it quits. The bearded guy turned out to be her fiance. They both dropped. The race didn't really matter to him anyway; he was using it as training for the 100 Mile Grindstone in two weeks. Sheesh... Their child is going to be born with running shoes on...
By the time I got back onto the Parkway the mountains were completely socked in with fog. For the final 9 miles I didn't see another runner. It was somewhat lonely, but also relatively relaxing; as relaxing as a 9-mile run after you've already done 22 miles could be I suppose. I rolled through the aid station at mile 27 on pace and with only one mile of "running" left. The final 4 miles were 1 steep mile down, 3 steep miles up. My strategy was to run the downhill mile and powerwalk the final three. I'd been here before. The Mt Disappointment 50k ended with a brutal three-mile uphill. I only hoped that the Ibuprofen and salt tablets I'd choked down at mile 26 would help me not feel the searing pain in a portion of my lower-quads that I'd never known existed before I started "running" 50ks. Halfway up the hill I started running a bit. Strange... I actually felt good.
The final 1/2 mile or so was, generously, downhill. No one was cheering as I came in, in part because there are no crowds like there are at even the smallest marathon. And even if there was a crowd you could only see only a 100 feet or so anyway due to the fog. I think I only saw the timer when I finished. The one person who did see me within 10 seconds of finishing was my dad. He'd since changed into my spare hiking shorts after finishing his race. "Injured" though he was, he managed to win his age group in the 1/2 marathon! I hope I can hang like that when I'm in my late 50s! While writing this post, I received a text from him that said: "trouble walking BIG time today; feels good in a strange kind of way. hope you are ok."
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| Dad and I following the 50k. |
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| Rehydration strategy back at the house. Poured from a growler purchased at Devils Backbone. |
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