At 5 a.m. the alarm announced it was time to get up. I got out of bed and sleepily dressed myself. I ate a powerbar and then went downstairs and had a bowl of cereal. A little after 5:30 we loaded into the van and drove the couple miles to the Potomac Campground where the start of the race was located. Jim and I walked toward the start/finish area and inquired about where we could leave our bags. I ate a banana and we jumped in line for the bathroom where we chatted with a couple other runners about just what we had gotten ourselves into.
As the line to the bathroom shortened in front of me, the race director announced that we had 15 minutes until the start of the 50 miler and the 50K. After taking care of business, Jim and I immediately went to the starting area which was back out on the road. Runners were milling around in the road waiting on the start of their epic runs. Race-day friendships rekindled as all the area ultra runners talked about their recent races and caught up on family news. A few last-minute announcements and race rules were called out, and then a cow bell clanked signaling the start of the race.
A long descent on the dirt road eased us into the first mile of the race. Spirits were high among runners as we jogged along enjoying the slow pace instead of the blistering starting pace of most shorter races. Soon we turned off the road and onto a single-track trail. The trail slowly wound upwards and Jim and I monitored our pace trying to keep from running too fast. We were clocking about 8:30 miles which was a little fast, but it was difficult for us to slow the pace. The field had yet to spread out, so there were many runners in single file on the trails chatting amongst themselves. Jim and I started talking to a guy named Ron and another woman named Sarah.
Ron was running his first 50 miler after doing an ironman the previous year. I wondered about Ron though as he was running in a cotton t-shirt and shorts that looked suspiciously like basketball shorts. Sarah, on the other hand, was a trail-hardened veteran. She had done over 300 marathons and ultras in 25 years and had won the Leadville 100 and the Vermont 100, among others, and had previously held the course records on several courses. Jim and I chatted with Ron and Sarah as we continued along the narrow trail.
Eventually the trail crossed a road where we saw our first Forest Ranger who was monitoring runners as they passed. The course then paralleled at barbed wire fence with a scenic overlook to the surrounding hills. We followed the fence line for mile or so before encountering our first gate. We'd been given stern instructions to make sure to close all gates on the course to make sure we didn't let any cows out. After passing through the gate, we ran up a hill and through a pasture dotted with trees. There was evidence of cows everywhere on the ground, but there were no animals anywhere to be found. The trail leveled off and then a short way later we arrived at the second gate where we turned left onto a gravel road.
A couple hundred yards later, the road turned to the right and began a nice descent. Jim and I realized we were still running at too fast of a pace, but I told Jim that I wasn't going to slow down on a downhill. There was a pretty big hill ahead we had to climb, so I told him we could slow when we started up it. The big hill turned out to be an optical illusion. When we got there it turned out to be a short, easy climb. It was about this time when Jim mentioned to me that he had some...well..."stomach issues." We continued a nice easy descent when Jim told me he was going to have to duck off into the woods. We agreed that I would keep running and he would eventually catch up to me. After Jim departed, the road seemed to fall over a cliff. The descent became very steep, so I blazed down the rest of the hill which ended up being about a mile or so.
The bottom of the hill marked the first aid station, which meant I'd completed somewhere around four miles. I took a PowerGel and drank some water before reentering the forest on a single-track trail. The trail immediately started uphill regaining some of the elevation lost on the long descent. The previously blazing pace downhill quickly turned into a brisk hike up some short, but very steep sections. I'd run a twenty feet or so on the flat sections and then hike up the hills. This continued for awhile as I dodged a few pockets of mud that speckled the trail. Eventually the trail me with another road crossing and I had to go through another gate.
After safely secured the gate behind me, I turned to run through the field in front of me and looked out over the landscape. I exclaimed out loud, "Oh, wow. Nice." A runner behind me said, "Yeah it is. This is the nicest part of the course." We started chatting. He had run the race the year before. He previously lived in Brooklyn, so we talked about the different parts of Brooklyn. At the end of the field, he called out for me to watch out for an enormous mud pit that stood directly between me and the next gate leading back into the forest. I swung around that, went through the gate and proceeded downhill on the trail deep into the woods.
I continued a short conversation with the guy behind me as we traversed the single track, which eventually wound its way back up the hill and over a few boardwalk sections. Once again losing altitude, I got a little too comfortable and neglected to watch my footing. My toe clipped an exposed root and all my weight went forward landing me on my side. I quickly got up and started running again as I brushed myself off. I was half-expecting to take a fall, but not until later in the race when my body was tired. Falling 7.5 miles in was a surprise. After losing a little more elevation, the trail spit me out to the second aid station where I stopped to grab some fuel. I was there for no longer than 20 seconds when Jim came running out of the woods. He had caught up to me.
Jim's family was also at the stop, so they snapped a couple of pictures of us and asked how we were doing before I led us back into the forest. The single-track quickly turned into large pockets of mud that we were attempting to dodge but with little luck. Since I'd done almost all my training in my Vomeros, I'd decided to run in my them instead of running in my trail shoes, and the Vomeros were doing little to stave off water or mud.
Jim and I were both feeling pretty strong and were cruising along on the flat, open sections at a good clip making sure we were staying in our target pace zone. The temperature was still magnificent and the air felt light and clean to breathe. These flat sections were a treat. The only obstacle was dodging horse manure, but after mud, rocks, roots, and hills, the manure was not slowing us down.
Much sooner than anticipated we spotted the next aid station in the distance. Upon seeing the station, Jim asked, "Is that my mom?" Another look proved the figure to be a 10-year-old boy. We both laughed as Jim said, "Well she's short and they both have the same haircut." Still laughing, we got to the aid station and refueled. I started walking up the next hill as Jim finished up his stop and then caught up when we got to a gate at the top of the hill.
Looking forward, I could see another cow pasture spread out before us with a worn trail slicing through it. Fording a small raving put us into the field where I quickly realized how difficult this flat stretch was going to be. The cattle had dimpled the trail with hoof prints so thoroughly that every step risked an ankle sprain. Slowly, carefully navigating the pasture still resulted in several rolled ankles, but luckily none were injury-inducing. On the other end of the field, the trail ended abruptly at a wooden box sitting next to the barbed wire fence. Draping over the fence and onto the box was a piece of old carpet. The trail continued on the other side of the fence.
Still relatively full of energy, Jim and I quickly scaled the box, carpet, and fence in one fell swoop and disappeared back into the trees where more single-track and mud greeted us. Once again, we found ourselves spit out onto a road--this time paved--for about a quarter of a mile uphill section. Jim and I decided to walk most of this ascent to save our legs for the trail sections. At the top of the hill, there was another Park Ranger checking numbers and a "water only" aid station. I refilled my water bottle and then Jim and I ducked back into the trails.
Once again dodging scattered mud holes on the trail, Jim and I made our way through the forest rising and falling with the topography of the park. I had been feeling some rumblings in my stomach, but I was hoping I could hold out until the end of the loop as to not have to experience a "call of nature" like Jim did earlier in the race.
The course was marked with pink flagging tape and arrows and had been fairly well-marked throughout. However, Jim and I approached what looked like a fork in the trail with no flagging tape or arrows. We stopped and looked around. Taking the right fork seemed to be correct, but we weren't completely sure. We gambled. We went right. As we continued there was still no flagging tape. There were no arrows. Just as I was starting to get nervous, I caught sight of a pink strip hanging from a tree.
Relieved to know I was on the right path, Jim and I found ourselves traversing a series of boardwalks over the forest floor. The boardwalks were precarious because I never knew if I was going to step down on a board that was secure or not. Many of the boards flexed quite a bit, while others were solid. This was exacerbated because the boards were laid in the parallel direction of the trail. If I were to step on two boards at the same time, it was possible that one would flex while the other would not resulting in a serious ankle roll. Some of the boardwalk sections we completely loose resulting in interesting footing as Jim and I both place our weight on them at different times and places.
Once off the boardwalk section the trail straightened out for a slight downhill section that was riddled with exposed roots. We had to slow our pace to dodge the minefield of roots, but eventually we made it back out onto a more "normal" trail section that began to climb again. I looked at our mileage and realized we should be nearing the end of the first loop. After a few twists and turns, we rounded a corner and saw an aid station next to a pond. This thoroughly confused--and scared--me. Either the mileage was way off or the section between this aid station and the end of the loop was going to be very difficult. Those were the only two explanations I could think of for there being an aid station at this point.
I refueled and refilled water wondering what was in store for us. We left behind the aid station and passed another pond and then turned back into a more wooded area. The course went through sections of open area before returning to the trees. Jim and I had caught back up to Ron and Sarah who were beginning to wonder if we were still running on the correct trail. We all agreed that there really wasn't anywhere to miss a turn, but Ron and Sarah were still quite skeptical and stopped to look around while Jim and I continued on.
I wasn't really doubting anything until the route was questioned. As I continued running without seeing any markers, doubt really started to creep in. A wrong turn would make sense because my mileage was off. It would make sense because our pace seemed a little slow. Jim and I continued slowly along the path as the other duo milled around behind. I finally rounded a corner, squinted my eyes, and saw a sign with an arrow in it. Jim and I yelled back and then picked up our pace. When we turned the corner where the arrow was, we spotted the start/finish area about fifty yards ahead. We rushed through to the cheers of the small audience stationed there.
I immediately made a break for the bathroom and tossed Jim my water bottle to fill. I met Jim back at our drop bags. I quickly took a few big drinks of my flat Mt. Dew, took a couple Endurolytes, and grabbed a handful of beef jerky. With that Jim and I left behind the start area to begin our second loop. We were less than a third of the way done.
There was a trail that sliced through the woods which cut off the road we ran from the starting line to the initial entrance to the forest. Jim and I jogged the downhill section which eventually spat us out on the road, which we crossed and then reentered the trails. For the first time, we were running a familiar trail. We knew what geography was ahead of us, but we were sure what was ahead of us physically. As we climbed the hills of at the beginning of the loop, I consulted our mileage and Jim consulted his watch. We did some quick math and realized we were still on pace to come in around 8:30:00, but we didn't have the time cushion we thought we were. There was a chance to still make our goal, but we knew it was a long shot because fatigue would eventually take over and slow the pace.
Jim and I continually asked how the other was feeling. I was still feeling pretty fresh and said he was feeling good as well. We weren't charging up inclines, but we were both able to tackle the uphill sections with some ease. We came out of the trees at the first road crossing where one of the overlooks was. First thing I noticed was that the fog had burned off giving us a fantastic view of rolling pasture and farmlands in the distance. We were once again following the fence line on the way to the first gate of the loop. We cruised the turns of the fences and then through the gate. Jim and I both noted that we had yet to see a cow in any of the gated areas. We continued up the hill and into a sparsely treed area, which put us at the gate exiting the pasture. A few hundred yards on the gravel road put us at the turn toward the first aid station. However, we both knew there was a long descent first.
We took on the slow decline and a small hill with ease knowing that gravity would keep us moving on the next section. Jim mentioned that once again he was feeling his "stomach" troubles returning. After realizing we were at the same place on the course that he had to stop the previous loop, I told him that we were at "his spot" if he need to make another pit stop. We started down the steep decline and gravity was trying to pull us much faster than our pace. I told Jim I was going to open it up and just let it go because it hurt too much to try and slow down. We agreed we would meet back up at the base of the long hill. I flew down the hill and when I got to the bottom, I noticed Jim had opened it up a bit as well because he wasn't too far behind.
Another runner that had been in our general vicinity--both ahead and behind us at times--was a girl who's pace was almost rhythmic. It was obvious that she was not a rookie at the ultra distance. She was right behind us as Jim and I approached the first aid station. I asked Jim if he needed to stop because I was fine skipping the station. He agreed that he did not have a need to stop, so we hung a quick right into the woods as the volunteers helpfully yelled, "we have water, heed, pretzels, and..." Their words faded as we began the quick hike up the steep inclines that burned my quads after the hamstring pounding descent of the road. We followed the same procedure I followed on this section on the first loop. Run the short flat sections. Hike the steep sections.
Once we got passed the steep sections, I realized two things that I noted to Jim. The first was that the flat section wasn't really flat. We had now logged about 21 miles and I realized that we were actually running on a slight uphill that I didn't notice the first time around. It was a little harder going than the first time through. The second thing I noticed was something else slowing us down. The large number of runners who had tromped through the trails had kneaded the mud and expanded the mud holes to many times their original sizes. It was considerably harder to go around them. The other factor that made them more difficult was that the mud had begun to dry out slightly, giving them a much better grip on shoes. Sometimes we went around the outside of the mud holes. Sometimes we went through the mud. And sometimes I noticed a new trail blazed beside the mud that skipped it completely.
Eventually we came out of the forest, crossed the road, and then went through a gate to the scenic pasture. Jim dropped back behind me to snap some pictures of me running through the field and then caught back up to me. We went through the gate on the other side of the field and then started back downhill. I commented on how glad I was that the trail was pretty much downhill to the next aid station. Jim corrected me, and I quickly realized that I had completely blocked out a big uphill section and a couple boardwalk sections. Eventually, we got through to the downhill section I recalled, I pointed out to Jim where I'd taken a spill on the previous loop, and then we were at the second aid station where his family was once again waiting for us.
I refueled while Jim mingled with his family. His mom snapped a picture of us and then we ducked back into the trees onto the single-track. We dodged roots, mud, and rocks for a short while until we were spit back out onto the first paved road of the loop. As we ran uphill, we passed an older gentleman that was running very awkwardly and very slowly. He looked like he was in serious need of a bathroom. I noted this to Jim. We both laughed. I told Jim that the only reason we could laugh is because we both knew the "squeezed cheeks" running form. We knew it as any distance runner does. We've all been there. Nature doesn't always operate on your running schedule as Jim had already proven earlier on loop one.
We ran up a good section of the hill and then took a short walk break. When we stopped running, I glanced over and realized we were passing the bed and breakfast that we were staying in for the weekend. Earlier we had decided that the trail past it must be on the short loop at the end of the race. Somehow we had both completely missed passing it on the first loop. We reached the corner, turned off the road, and began running again.
Jim and I cruised along the flat horse trail. I once again asked Jim how he was feeling and he said, "Umm, good." I laughed a little and told him that each time I asked him how he felt that the "umm" got a little longer. He laughed and then told me that I looked solid and my pace was robotic. At a little over the halfway point, I was actually feeling really fresh and strong. We continued to push along the flat section trying to get our average pace back down in the easier sections. Soon we approached the next aid station, where I grabbed a fig newton, refilled water, and grabbed a couple M&Ms. I told Jim I was going to continue walking while he took advantage of the aid station. I didn't want to stiffen up, so I kept moving.
I made it to the top of a short hill where I opened the next gate. Shortly after, Jim was back with me as we tried to dodged the severely dimpled cow pasture. Surviving the minefield of hoof print holes, we ended up at the box and carpet again. I went over first followed by Jim.
Soon, we caught up with Sarah and started talking to her. She informed us that she was only running the 50K, but she had run over 300 races between marathon and ultra marathons in the past 25 years. Her pace was steady, light, and methodical as she cruised down the trail. We asked her what had happed to Ron and she said she thought he had gone out much too fast. Jim and I both agreed. I asked Sarah about several 100 mile courses and she told me the advantages and disadvantages of the courses and what she thought was the proper progression in moving from the 50 mile race to the 100 mile race.
I asked Jim how he was feeling and he replied, "Ummmm.......good." I turned to him and replied, "Jim I know you pretty well. That 'um' was drawn out. I don't think you are feeling that great." He admitted that he had been hurting since around mile 23 or 24.
The three of us continued chatting about ultras as we dodged the ever-expanding mud holes. Sarah was out in front answering our questions when I heard Jim yell out. I quickly turned to see a sock-footed Jim trying to bring his run to a stop in the middle of a large section of mud. Jim had taken an ill-fated step into the mud, which refused to give his shoe back. His momentum carried him forward and he took a couple more strides through the mud sans one shoe. Sarah, Jim, and I laughed at Jim's misfortune. Sarah told us to take a picture and send it in to Trail Runner Magazine. I snapped a couple pictures of Jim retrieving his shoe from the black, sticky mud while Sarah continued her run. It was the last we saw of her.
Once Jim had his shoe back on, we continued onward. Jim took more care in giving mud a much wider berth rather than forging straight through. As we continued to wind through the trails, we heard someone coming up from behind us. Jim noticed it was Ron. He was still hanging on. We yelled back and him and he gave us a friendly yell back. A few minutes later Jim told me he was going to have to succumb to another call of nature. His "stomach" issues had returned in full force. Jim darted off the path as Ron caught up and passed us.
Jim told me to go on and we'd reconvene somewhere along the way or at the start/finish area. I tucked in behind Ron and the two of us forged on through the mud. We passed a few people and then Ron finally told me I should just go ahead and pass him because he was starting to get tired. I passed him and pressed on alone passing a couple more people before I exited the forest and began the long paved uphill section. I ran about halfway up and then took a short walking break before attacking the rest of the hill. I glanced back and saw people in the distance, but I had already put a big distance between myself the the people behind me. I wondered if Jim would catch up. I knew he was starting to fatigue, but I knew he was a strong runner.
I saw Jim's family at the top of the and let them know he had to make a stop. I filled my water bottle from the cooler at the edge of the trail leading back into the forest and then took on the forest alone. I went made my way through the tangle of roots on the forest floor, tripping a few times, but always being able to regain my balance before falling. I ran through the long boardwalk section and came through to the next aid station in what felt like very little time. When I came around to the aid station, I saw there were several families fishing in the pond and relaxing in the sun. I sort of envied them. Then I heard a woman telling the volunteers that she was about to finish the 25k. She had signed up for the 50K, but decided to drop down to the shorter distance. I tasted blood. It was my first confirmed person to lap. I was closing in on a 50K and this woman was barely finishing her first lap. I bid the volunteers farewell and told them I'd see them in a few hours on my last lap.
Ignited by the boost from lapping the woman, I cruised past the next couple ponds, down a short hill on an open section and back into the woods. I had eclipsed the 30 mile mark and was closing in on the end of my second lap. I was still feeling pretty good--at least as good as one can feel after running over 30 miles--but I was realizing how brutal the last stretch of the loop was. There was nothing overly difficult about it, but it was just steep enough in sections to make it challenging. It was just technical enough that it made footing annoying. Around every corner I kept looking for the arrow marking the turn to the end of the loop, but corner after corner my hopes were dashed. Finally, I ran up a short hill, turned a corner and spotted the arrow. I heard the crowd cheering and sped through to the end of the loop.Once again, I went straight for the bathroom. Once done there, I went directly to my drop bag, picked up my flat Mt. Dew and took a huge drink of it. I took a couple Endurolytes and then looked up to spot Jim rounding the corner. He had only been a couple minutes behind me. I grabbed some beef jerky and told him I was going to start walking the loop to stay loose. He acknowledged and told me he would see me in a couple minutes. With that, I was on my way to tackle the third and final large loop.
I started walking down the hill while munching on my beef jerky. About halfway down the trail Kelly passed me and remarked, "you are walking on the downhill?" I briefly laughed and replied, "well, I'm eating and waiting on my friend to catch up." I made it to the road crossing with no sign of Jim, so I decided to jog slowly until he caught up. I started jogging when I reentered the trail on the opposite side of the road and eased into the uphill attack. Just when I was getting worried because there was no sign of Jim, I heard him yell "I'm right behind you." I glanced back and saw his figure through the trees.
Thinking Jim was caught up and we were ready to go, I picked up the pace. When we got to the next road crossing signaling the section where we followed the fence line, Jim as only about ten feet behind me. I asked him once again how he was feeling and this time he really paused and then said, "Ummmmm good." We crossed the road and began our run along the mostly flat fence section. I noticed Jim had already fallen back, but it looked like he had stopped to take some pictures.
I kept running with a glance back at each corner to see where Jim was. It appeared that he was falling farther and farther back. I had a dilemma. Long ago, Jim and I agreed that either of us could take off if they were "feeling it." However, we also both wanted to run the entire race together. I knew Jim was starting to fade. I also knew I was still feeling pretty good. I reluctantly decided to keep moving and see if he closed the gap or caught up at the next aid station instead of stopping to wait on him. By the time I got to the gate leading into the first pasture dotted with trees, Jim was nowhere to be found. Kelly and I were basically leapfrogging each other.
When we entered the pasture, she asked me where my friend was and I said that I wasn't sure, but I thought he was starting to fade. Her and I passed a couple of older ladies who were likely 25K runners, then we flew through the section of trees, out the gate and onto the road. We both started descending the road side-by-side through the rolling section. Once we hit the long, steep downhill section, I had to open it up. It was really starting to hurt to open it up down the steep hill, but it hurt even more to try and slow down. I grunted through the uncomfortable drop and
eventually arrived at the first aid station.
I stopped to fill water and refuel. Kelly had caught back up at that point and she charged into the woods ahead of me as I glance back looking for any sign of Jim. With no visible evidence of him advancing on my position, I started on my way again. I quickly caught up to Kelly as we were both tackling the sections that were much too steep to actually run. The first signs of real fatigue were starting to kick in as my quads felt stressed. I fought through the uphill section and wound my way through the trail passing Kelly and moving along the more flat sections at what felt like a good pace.
I popped out of the forest, crossed the road, and then went through the cow pasture with the amazing view of the surrounding area. I passed a couple more people in that field before ducking back into the cover of the trees. Once on the single-track, it was impossible to not feel alone. Someone could only be a few hundred yards ahead or behind, but you would never know. If you were traveling roughly at the same pace, you may not see them for an hour or more. It was a stark contrast to running road races, especially the huge road races of New York City. I liked it in a way, but the race definitely became more difficult mentally to do alone.
I got to aid station two and just as I was about to leave, Kelly came out of the trail behind me to make her stop. She took little time at the aid station and actually started back into the run before me. I ran into the trees not too far behind her. We talked a little and I asked her how many ultras she had done. She said that it was her fifth 50 miler, which explained her consistent pace.
My nutrition felt great and energy level seemed pretty good as well. I had a pretty positive outlook on the next 14 miles or so. I soon came out on the uphill section of paved road that went by the bed and breakfast we were staying at. Jim's family passed me in the minivan and asked me if I needed anything, but I declined. I took a short walking break up the hill and then started running again once I turned onto the open horse trail. Without the tree cover, the heat was starting to make itself known. I enjoyed running the flat section, but I knew too much time in the open sun would quickly drain my energy.
I passed Kelly again and continued the horse trail to the next aid station where I noticed an older guy with a long gray beard laying on the ground trying to stretch out. From the talk, it appeared that he had been there for a long, long time. I figured out that I was lapping him, which gave me a little more energy. However as I left the aid station, the energy was quickly sapped from me as I went up a short ascent. I walked a short way, opened the gate and shuffled through the field. I noticed that with close to 40 miles on my feet, my stride had turned more lazy, however, the shuffle seemed more effective in preventing a rolled ankle in the field heavily covered with shallow craters created by the cattle. When I finished crossing the field, I was once again at the box next to the fence.
There was a guy already there that was readjusting his shoes and socks. He told me to go ahead of him. I placed my foot on the box and hopped up. Feeling my quads strain to lift me up, immediately exclaiming, "ow, that hurt." The guy just started laughing. I jumped down on the side and felt my entire legs strain to absorb the impact. I walked a few paces to try and shake out the feeling and then started running laboriously again.
Back among the trees, I ran through dodging the mud sections and laughed as I passed the area where Jim had lost his shoe the loop before. I was still feeling bad for leaving him behind, but at the same time, I didn't want to slow down knowing I was feeling relatively strong. By the time I made it to the long, paved uphill section, I hadn't seen anyone in a long time. I thought that I would catch sight of someone on the road, but there was no one. I ran a short ways and then walked a large portion of the hill. I ran the last section of the road and then stole a glance back to see if anyone was around. In the distance I saw a small shape slowly coming up the hill about where the trail met the road at the bottom of the hill. With that, I turned right and went back onto the single-track.
I was approaching the 44 mile mark and had about 10K left in the race. I was definitely starting to feel fatigue set in. The strength I had before was quickly draining. My legs felt less pliable and my feet felt like I was trying to transport two bricks across uneven terrain. My mind was beginning to falter as well. I was having to fight urges to stop and walk. A quick restroom break turned into a walk for fifty meters or so before I realized I was walking on level ground. I had to make a deal with myself to run the flats and the downhills and walk the uphills. I trudged through the roots, allowing myself short walking stints to regroup my head and body whenever I stumbled. I didn't feel like I was out of energy. I could still move forward, but my muscles were just tired. I successfully navigated the long boardwalk sections and then walked the uphill section afterwards. I was remembering how I flew up these hills on the previous two loops. They weren't that steep. Now they felt like scaling a mountain.Eventually I saw the sign indicating the ponds were near, which meant the final aid station before finishing my final big loop. When I got to the campground signaling the turn to the final aid station, I heard someone behind me. I turned and heard Kelly say, "Its just me, I think the last station is right around the corner." We both ran to the station and stopped for refueling and water. There were a couple runners there relaxing who had run the shorter races and were already finished with their day. They informed us that a new course record had been set for the men's and women's 50 mile distances.
The volunteers said, less than two miles left. Kelly and I both remarked, "yeah, then another 4 mile loop." One of the volunteers looked at us funny and said, "You guys are 50 milers? Wow, you look way too strong. I thought you were finishing the 50K!" I took that as a compliment. Maybe I looked strong, but I wasn't feeling it. Kelly left the aid station before me. I trailed behind her, but she was quickly putting distance between us. By the time she turned off the trail at the last pond, she was a good 50 meters ahead of me. It was the last I saw of her. She finished second overall for women.
I went down the short downhill section wincing in pain as my quads exploded with each step. I slowly slogged my way down the trail, wishing every turn was the end of the loop but knowing my wishes were empty. I had to walk most of the uphills and then had trouble making myself start running again once I hit the next flat section. Any downhill was painful as my quads were screaming at me to stop the madness. As much as I wanted to walk, it was more painful to restart running than to just keep going, so as much as possible I just forged on. I finally came upon the boardwalk section that I knew marked the last stretch before catching sight of the arrow pointing to the end of the loop. However, when I turned the corner, my hopes were dashed. There was no arrow. Corner after corner there was nothing. Eventually I came upon another boardwalk. I had forgotten there were two.
I turned the corner and saw the fabled arrow! I picked up the pace, turned the corner and entered the finish area. As I came through the race director asked, "are you going for a baby loop?" I announced, "of course I am!" The small crowd cheered at hearing that I was going for 50. I got a little boost of energy and blew past my drop bag knowing I had less than 4 miles left to completion.
The rush I got from the crowd quickly faded as I followed the familiar downhill trail down to the road crossing. There was a series of railroad ties that were in place on the trail to prevent erosion. I'd previously vaulted over them while running downhill. Now it felt like I was trying to navigate the 800m high hurdles. I had to break stride and step over each tie in an attempt to prevent myself from tripping over the barriers. I made it down the trail and crossed the road knowing that it was the last time I'd see that stretch of the course. I entered what I thought was going to be my last section of familiar trail. I had to navigate uphill to a perpendicular trail. On the previous loops, we had turned left, but this time a right turn awaited me.
Feet more shuffling than striding, I began my ascent of what I thought would be the final hill of course. I made it up to the parallel trail and made a right. The new course was both exciting and slightly scary. I was excited to see new geography. I had no idea what awaited me ahead. It was also scary because I had no idea what awaited me ahead. The trail leveled off and wound through the trees much like portions of the larger loop. There were some small mud holes, but nothing too terrible. I was running looking around at the terrain when I glanced down and saw something move. My heart began racing as I was able to adjust the position of my foot just before stepping on a snake. I glanced back and saw a small greenish-yellow snake slithering away. Although there are no poisonous snakes in New England, my years growing up in Texas have conditioned me to always think "rattlesnake" first.
I then encountered another long section of boardwalks. Leaving behind the planks of wood, the trail began to fall away under my feet. Descending could only mean one thing. I had to be headed back toward the finish line. My spirits were lifted in spite of my heavy feet. Sometime soon I would cross the road where the race initially started and then cruise to the finish of my first 50 miler. The trail continued to unveil before me and I continued my slow progress to the finish. Ahead I saw another trail where we were to turn to the right, which confused me. A huge weight came crushing down on me when I realized what had just happened. The small loop rejoined the large loop just past the final aid station. I still had about a mile and a half before the finish and it was going to be rolling landscape to the finish.
I felts as if someone had just told me I still had10 miles to go. Defeated, I pressed on, but I couldn't motivate myself to run uphill. My body was refusing. The slightest uphill felt like I was
trying to scale a 12-foot fence. I slogged uphill and slowly shuffled through the flat sections while watching the tenths of a mile tick off my SportBand. I was under a mile from the finish and that knowledge couldn't even provide any sort of mental lift. Fatigue had taken over and there was little I could do about it. Usually, when I have a mile or less remaining, I can tough anything out, but with just four-tenths of a mile remaining, I couldn't even get my legs to carry me up and incline. I had to walk. I kept looking back expecting someone to catch me. I was moving so slowly that I knew someone had to be closing in. I could only hope it was Jim so that we could finish together.
I finally got to the second boardwalk and knew that the finish was very near. Even knowing how close I was, I could get my body to move any faster until I rounded the corner and saw the glorious arrow. As soon as I saw the little red savior, I felt a smile grow across the width of my face. Previously hidden adrenaline was released into my system and I felt a high never felt before. My heart raced. My legs pumped. My pace increased. I rounded the corner at the arrow and spotted the finish line and the lingering crowd. I opened it up, stretched my stride, and bounded for the finish. The pain and fatigue were gone. And then I crossed the finish line. I had done it. I'd run 50 miles.
The race directors took the tearaway section of my bib and recorded my time, 9:19:20. I immediately went to my bag and finished off my Mt. Dew, drank some water, and then searched for something sweet. I grabbed a Sunkist as Jim's brother-in-law came to greet me. We went over to the finisher's board to see that I had finished 11th overall. I'd finished an hour slower than my goal, but I'd finished. That was all that mattered. I finished and I was happy, yet I felt bad for not finishing with Jim. His family told me that he had started his baby loop about five minutes before I finished.
Knowing Jim was still out there, I decided to go back to the last corner and wait for Jim to come into view. It wouldn't be official, but I was determined to finish with my friend. I half limped, half walked back to the final corner and sought out some shade right next to the arrow that had earlier ignited my spirits. I sat down and waited. And waited. I had no clue how long it would take Jim to finish his loop. I remembered how much I had suffered on my baby loop. A figured came into sight and I started to get up, but it was a girl coming in from her final large loop. I sat back down. I kept glancing at my watch. Finally Jim came into view. I jumped up, forgetting I'd just run 50 miles. I yelled for him as he ran toward me. I ran over to Jim, we shook hands briefly, and I said, "let's finish this." Jim had that familiar energy I'd felt earlier. I fell in beside him and matched him stride for stride as we raced toward the finish line. A few meters from the finish line, I gave him an easy shove in the back and peeled off to the left. Jim crossed the finish line and I walked around to congratulate him.
Jim was the 12th place finisher, roughly 25 minutes after me. I apologized to him for leaving him behind and in typical fashion, he brushed it off saying I did as I should have. We'd both accomplished our goal of finishing the 50 miler. Pain receding that night we were already talking about what was up next and returning for the race next year.
see the rest of the pictures here.
1 comment:
that's amazing. wow, my friend, congratulations!
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