The Idea
At the start of the 2017 I felt inspired to try and run long
this year. Although I have run regularly
the last 13 years, it had been 3 years since I had run a marathon, and 6 years
since I had run anything longer than 4 hours.
It just seemed like this was the year.
That was, of course, no guarantee it would happen. Life and injuries have a habit of getting in
the way of training, especially when the demands for training are very time
consuming. After finishing the 100K
(Javelina Jundred) two weeks ago the question I kept coming back to was: “How
is it that some of my goals I actually accomplish and others remain on the
scrap heap of wishes and preferences?”
There are lots of things I “intend” to do, or would really like to do,
but many (most?) of them don’t happen.
Somehow, this one got done.
My plan for the year was to do a “training race” this
summer, which turned out to be the 6 hour run I did in July, and if that went
well I would signup for the Javelina Jundred (100K). I was able to run the July race without
incident, and since I couldn’t come up with a good excuse to not run the race,
I signed up and started ramping up my mileage in August and September.
It Begins
The race is in the desert, in a climate I had not trained in
for quite a while, and on a surface that I never trained on (rocky and sandy
desert soil), with changes in elevation I never experienced in training. I knew this going in but I’m used to it since
it’s been true of all my out-of-town races; such are the joys of being an
Illinois runner.
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| Sunrise in the desert |
I arrived at the starting line relatively injury-free but
always concerned about the dozens of maladies I had faced during training that
could rear their head at any time. I was
struggling with a hip and Achilles problem so I did a “power taper” (e.g. I
shut it down pretty significantly) the last weeks before the race.
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| Nice and relaxed before the race (not so much) |
62 miles is a long way so I had to trick myself into not
thinking about how far I had to go. I
purposely did not think in terms of “how many miles to go” or what percent done
I was at any point during the day. As we
started off at 7am, with the sun rising in the desert, I knew I would be out
here all day, and well into the night so no use thinking about any of that
stuff, just keep moving.
The first half of Loop 1 was generally pleasant with the sun
getting higher in the sky but temperatures in the low 70s. The course is setup around (roughly) 20 mile
loops where the first half of the loop is uphill and the second half mostly
downhill. The grade is slight at the start
and I just stayed near the middle/back of the pack. When I reached the remote aid station (about
10 miles in) I found my drop bag, reapplied sunscreen and body glide, and
refilled all my bottles with Gatorade and headed back towards the start line. The first part of the downhill section was the
most enjoyable running I experienced; the heat was not yet an issue, the trails
are relatively open, and the slight downhill allowed me to run the quickest
miles I would run all day with little effort.
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| Don't make a mistake here |
The ending of loop 1 however was a different story and was very
different from the rest of the course.
It had a strange “lunar” feel with some nasty terrain and undulating
hillside single track with switchbacks.
I was glad we would not see it again (it was only part of loop 1). I began to feel the heat of the day but I was
run/walking most of the way and still felt OK.
The course also became a little busier here as I started to catch some
of the 100 mile runners (they started an hour before us) who were conserving
energy for the long day (and night) they had ahead of them. It was starting to feel hot and the first
loop was 22 miles down (but who’s counting).
During my first loop I did a pretty good job of eating. I used my usuals (Clif bars, gu packets, some
bananas). I drank Gatorade almost
exclusively.
I came in and my crew were awesome having everything ready
for me. I grabbed some replacement food,
sat down and enjoyed a couple short minutes in the shade. I was happy I had made it through the first
loop without any serious issues and now it was time to face the heat.
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| End of Loop 1 |
Loop 2 – None Like It
Hot
Obviously my major concern on loop 2 was staying cool. Since I have no experience running far in
hot conditions I used the “what is everyone else doing” approach to deciding
when to run and when to walk. As soon as
I would get to what felt like a normal run pace, I would start to feel my
heartrate going up and my head getting lighter and I knew I needed to slow
down. The next 10 miles was a strategic
walk/run trying to keep moving without overheating. During this portion I also was able to try
out two new ways of coping with the heat; ice sleeves, and an ice bandanna. At each aid station I would fill my sleeves
with ice to keep my arms wet and cool.
Other than some initial ice-burn when the ice would clump up it really
did the job. The other thing I started
was rolling up my bandanna, filling it with ice and having it lay on the back of
my neck. This felt good for a while but
I felt like my head was still burning in the sun. Later on loop 2 I tucked the bandanna into the
back of my hat and used it to cover my ears and the entire back of my
neck. Then I simply soaked it with ice
water at each stop. This proved a way better
use of the bandanna (live and learn).
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| Only Selfie of the day. Bandanna over the neck |
On the “not so wise” strategy idea, I switched at this point
to 3 hand bottles, one of which I kept in my belt holder and one in each
hand. While this allowed me to carry
plenty of liquid between stations, it also was a major hassle. Getting food out of my pack, adjusting my
bandanna, moving ice in my sleeves, everything was a struggle. I did notice most people used the over the
shoulder packs to carry water and the reason became apparent on loop 2. Rookie mistake.
This is where things started to get tough and I began to see
some people at rest stations or in one case on the trail (thankfully being
attended to by medical staff) who were suffering really badly from the
heat. It was a good reminder to keep it
under control.
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| Working on the ice sleeves |
My stomach started to revolt on me as well. Food I had previously been able to eat
without incident was now causing major stomach discomfort. Clif bars were sitting in my stomach like 250
calorie piles of paste. Even my much
beloved sport beans let me down as I couldn't eat them without my stomach
complaining. So once again I doubled down on liquids for my calories. The heat was taking it’s toll and I was
slowing down, but I was still moving forward, which was the main goal.
As I neared the end of loop 2 I realized my feet were
becoming uncomfortable. I was getting
hot spots on various parts of my ankles and feet and knew I needed to address
this soon to avoid full-fledged blisters.
Thankfully my crew was up for a trail version of a pedicure. There are many things you can ask your
friends to do but cleaning your nasty, trail-feet is not one of them so my wife
was tasked with the washing, cleaning, drying and applying of band-aids. My crew got me filled up and fed me some
Fritos which was my first real food in a long while. I also downed a Dr. Pepper; which after 8
hours of lemon lime Gatorade tasted BE-U-tiful.
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| End of Loop 2 |
On the topic of Gatorade, I drank so much lemon lime
Gatorade I thought I would piss green (if in fact I could piss, which I couldn't). I hardly ever filled my bottles with water,
reserving water for dousing my head and neck.
Crew member extraordinaire Don started loop 3 with me for
maybe a mile or so. I felt OK starting
loop 3 and had the extra encouragement that the sun was getting very low in the
sky and soon the heat would dissipate. I
ran most of the way to the first aid station and refilled, ready to run into
the night.
Loop 3 - The Night
Gets Dark
The next section is the biggest uphill as well as the most
technical part of the course. I was
hitting this section around mile 46. It
was dark now and I had my (inadequate) headlamp lighting the trail in front of
me. I kept up with a couple of people
for a few miles and then we became separated somehow. This was the section where I really felt the
lowest. I felt utterly alone (although I
would see a headlamp pass me going the other way every 5 minutes or so) and my
legs began to cramp up pretty significantly.
I was also having trouble navigating the terrain and kept tripping over
rocks on the path as my footing became more careless. The segment is 6 miles and I feel confident
that was the longest and slowest 6 miles I’ve ever travelled (run seems too
generous). To make matters worse my
headlamp fell off my head and separated into two pieces. The light still worked but I was unable to
get it reconnected to the headband so I ended up carrying my light for the last
half of the segment. My watch had run
out of battery by now so I had no idea how far it was to the next aid station
or any idea how slowly I was travelling.
Eventually I made it to the aid station which by now was in full party
mode with a disco theme and music playing.
The irreverence helped my mood.
After I grabbed my backup headlamp from my drop bag I headed
back out for the last 10 miles. I had
eaten some more, guzzled a cup of Gatorade at the station before leaving and I
was beginning to feel a bit better. Most
importantly, the uphill was over. The
downhill segment was a breath of fresh air and my mood improved significantly
as I was able to run again. In fact I
ran most of the way to the next aid station (5+ miles) and felt great. 4 miles to go. It was going to happen, I was going to
finish. A lot of things went through my
head in those last few miles. As I was
coming back to finish my third and final loop, I noticed all the people coming
back towards me. They were the 100
milers heading out on their fourth loop.
I remember thinking: “who are these people and why are they doing this?”. ;-)
Eventually I saw the lights of the finishing area. More than anything it was just a huge
relief. My crew was able to find me on
the way in, despite the fact that all the bobbing headlamps look pretty much
alike. I ran the last couple hundred yards around the finish area, and it was
over.
Epilogue
The logistics of this race are manageable, but fairly
daunting to someone without much experience doing this. One thing I didn’t realize is how important
it is to have a support crew in an event like this. I cannot thank them enough, they were awesome
and helped me get to the finish.
Throughout the event the other runners were amazing. Even
though you didn't see a lot of people, whenever you did everyone was so
encouraging. There were plenty of shouts
of “great job”, “good work” and just a general sense of encouragement. There's
a sense that everybody's in it together, everybody is just trying to finish,
and it makes for a really good vibe.
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| Some of the cast of characters...it was right before Halloween so some great costumes |
Whatever goal you accomplish there will always be something
out there that is a little more. It
doesn’t apply to just endurance athletics but a lot of life. Some of those things are good, some are
not. It is up to each of us to decide
when we have reached the logical end of a progressive goal. It’s hard to step off the staircase sometimes
but it’s important to count the cost as well.
I feel pretty confident I’ve found the furthest I’m ever going to
run. Do I think I could run 100 miles? Yes, if
I trained and circumstances were favorable I think I could; but that’s not a
good enough reason to do it. It feels
weird to say “this far and no more” but that is very likely the case.
Thinking back over the year there were any number of things
that could have gone wrong to make this run not happen. Preparation can take you only so far but
circumstances beyond your control have to fall into place as well. As I mentioned earlier, I keep reflecting on
how and why I was able to do this when so many other things on my “to do” list
remain undone. I can only think that
somehow running is more consistent with how I was made and therefore it just
makes it easier to find the time and put up with the “drudgery” that you need
to do to prepare. I’ve never been good
with nuance, which is a shame because so many worthwhile things in life require
nuance. Running, for the most part doesn’t
require nuance. So maybe my next step is
to appreciate and learn nuance and apply it to a new thing. Yea, time to think about that.
If you’ve read this far you must be really into this stuff
so forgive me for a tangent as I close.
I know a lot of people don’t understand why anyone would do something
like this. I mean, it is guaranteed
suffering, even on a good day. But I
know that many people who participate in these ultra-events do so because they
love what lies on the other side of the suffering more than they hate the
training and race day discomfort. It’s
not for everybody, but it’s generally a good thing for those who embrace
it. When you are running for 15 hours
you have a lot of head time. As I was
out on the course I thought about what a privilege running this event was. I essentially get to choose my discomfort and
I have the option of “opting out” if I ever get into too much trouble. I may know it will suck, but I also know it
will end soon, and after three or four days I will be back to normal. During the race I thought about someone I
know and love who didn’t have that option and luxury. Someone I know who never signed up for the
pain, never had the option of opting-out when it got too tough. Someone who had to live in different degrees
of suffering for years with no chance to ever opt out. How small is this in comparison?
