My wheel season ended in fall. I squeezed in the December “D” race as annual run fitness indicator; the long-term goal is Badwater in 2015. Huntsville 50k trail run is a low-cost way to taste trail ultra.
_Bigger Bite than I could Chew
I changed the distance when writing the registration check. 50-mile and 50k were the same price. 50-mile is a 4-lap event. I could bail at 12.5-mile increment without having to call a cab. President Bush taught me the importance of exit strategies.
At packet pick up, it was easy to differentiate between the “slightly ultra” vs. the “almost double” runners. The 50-milers radiate special vibe. I realized I could be in over my head this time. I stuck with the distance: this was a learning experience; finding out the breaking point was more valuable than getting a finisher’s jacket. I re-promised myself: no crazy chances; quitting is an option.
_Technology Conspiracy
Google Map betrayed. The hotel was nowhere near the dot on the satellite map.
I decided not to bother with HRM due to lack of sweat at low temperature.
I left the GPS in the car overnight; the battery drained within minutes of powering up. The manual weren’t kidding about the unit’s operating temperature.
The iPod headphone developed contact issue at the start.
_Pace Planning
Plan A:
Walk at 15:00/mile pace the first lap then decide what to do for the other 3 laps. Shoot for 11-hour finish. Foot pain scrapped this idea after multiple walk trials.
Plan B:
Hold 12:00 pace. 1 hr cushion for breaks and walks. Researches on trail running showed that constant pace was unrealistic.
Plan C:
10 min (20:00 pace) walk + 20 min (11:00 pace) run the first 2 laps (5:30). This plan relied on a working GPS.
Impromptu Human Pacer
I walked to back of the 182-runner start and shamelessly asked for everyone’s marathon time and projected 50-mile time. I settled on Sharon’s 3:50 marathon time and 10 hr projected time and asked her to be my pacer.
_The Course
First 1/3 of the 12.5-mile course included a long section of soft-pack dirt with turnaround at top of the hill. Energy bled with each step, but I felt good about my chance to finish. Next 1/3 had everything: dirt packed hard by motored vehicle, gravels, and narrow path, lots of elevation changes. Last 3rd was mostly dirt trails with obstacles: tree roots, debris, and branches.
_The Long Run
I started out chatting with Sharon side by side. Like many runners that morning, she’s from Colorado; running was center of her daily life. Soon I ran behind her when trail narrowed. There were some branches in the way. She went around them while I jumped over. Our feet collided in mid air; we both fail. Not a good start. Following so close was a rookie mistake.
We saw the leaders coming down the soft pack dirt with urgency of someone in need of bathroom. They reminded me of characters in Japanese samurai films. I wondered how they could sustain the effort for another 45 miles.
Sharon asked me if I was eating. “A little.” “Area you drinking?” “Couple oz per rest stop.” “You need to eat and drink!” She seemed horrified. I explained I needed little fluid at the temperature and little carbohydrate at the heart rate. Wasn’t a convincing argument with a dead GPS and no HRM. “Energy and cardio aren’t my problem. I’m not much of a runner. I'm a speed skater.” She looked puzzled. “I'm like Apolo Ohno, minus the talent and sex appeal.” That she understood but was skeptical as I ran noisily kicking branches and roots.
I had a tough time with road surface and kept rolling the ankle. Downhill was toughest. Breaking took a lot out of my shins. I was untrained for this. I started walking and wait for a slower pacer. I finished the first 12.5-mile loop in 2:35, a reasonable start.
Lap 2 was similar. I was overly optimistic on soft-pack dirt then lost confidence tripping over stuff during the landmine sections. The theoretical 20-mile wall went by unnoticed while I focused on my footing. Lap time = 2:45.
Lap 3. Fatigue set in. It felt like last miles of a marathon except I had 20 miles to go. I walked the soft-pack dirt hill thinking all was lost. I caught one of the samurais who lapped me earlier. The guy wore #1 and looked spent. "This is hard," I whined. "It's supposed to be hard." The 2005 winner smiled as he hobbled away.
_Swallow a DNF
3 miles before the 3rd lap finish. Of the 50-milers around me, making the 8.5-hour cutoff became the focal point of our lives. We had 29 minutes.
I weighed my options: my weakened quads should have enough for 15.5 miles. I felt shin splint developing but could ignore it. I was still tripping over debris, rocks, branches, and roots. Could I handle this section in the dark? The goal was getting one step closer to Badwater. Running on uneven surface half blind wasn’t part of the deal. This wasn’t worth the wrist injury.
The fight went out of me at the moment of the decision. All the sudden I couldn’t handle 20:00 pace. Runners passing me both directions urge me to beat the clock. I thanked and congratulated them. I took off my headphone and heard the silence and appreciated the woods for the first time. I was so lucky to be here.
_Post Race
2 chocolate shakes, 3 hotdogs, 1 cheeseburger, and a grill chicken breast later, long drive home. The gravity of my race started to sink in. My longest run to date on a certified course on surface I supposedly couldn’t handle. Shin splint and sore quads. I got away with another one.
Monday. The chiropractor assessed the damage and suggested taping for my next trail run. I was surprised how well my lower back held up. “Don’t question it,” he recommended while cracking my neck. I had little negative thoughts about my body at that moment. The glorious sushi buffet from previous night was a great way to start my 2.75-month off-season. No weight watching, no races, no scheduled trainings. My near future will be full of fun workouts, tasty food, and couch potatoing.
I can’t wait for 2009 season.
