If there is one aspect of my running that I prize highly, it is my ability to consistently improve, whether that means beating my PRs or running negative splits during a workout with 12-400m repeats. I especially pride myself on the mental part of the game, which is to appear downtrodden or beaten, and then to pick off people ahead of me at the end of a run or race. They look back, assume that I have no chance, and then find themselves passed in the last few meters. (It must run in the family, because in February, my sister, Riva, faded in the first five miles of the Cowtown Marathon, decided to drop out at 10 miles, couldn’t find her ride, and regained her strength to win the marathon!)
In September 2001, I chanced upon the Bulldog 30K and 50K. A friend of mine in the Hash House Harriers mentioned that it was a really great AND challenging race. Despite my earlier statement that I am always trying to improve my times, I am also looking to be challenged. In a 5K/10K back-to-back, I want to improve my COMBINED PR, because running your fastest in the first race ruins you for the second.
This was not a very highly publicized race, and I was lucky to get an entry at all. I had run one other 30K in February 1998 (double loop, some roads, some trail), and so expected to run a comparable time. I had a few hashing friends in the 30K, a few in the 50K, and a few TRH runners in the 50K. Unlike most of the other trail runs I had done, this was 95% trail and 5% fire roads. Also, unlike the other 30K, this was 19.5 miles!
My strategy in this race was to run as if I was running a back-to-back 5M/10M race (with apparently another 5M tacked onto the end…). I had a nice pace going for 5 miles, until the path narrowed, and kept going up and up and up. A constant thought on my mind was that I could do with an aid station soon and how come I wasn’t carrying water like everyone else? Actually, this thought came into my mind quite frequently during the run, and I got quite frustrated every time I had to walk. I was also amused by the supplies at the aid stations – it would be a little difficult to grab a cup of water, defizzed coke, pretzels and gummi bears and just keep on running. I knew how far it was to the next aid station, but how long would it take me?
The last aid station of the race came at mile 17, just after a rather difficult stream crossing, which at its easiest point was waist-deep on me (my waist is at about 4 feet!). I loaded up on pretzels, but I was already cramping so much, I could hardly do more than just walk really fast, and finished an hour over my best time.
I spent most of my afternoon at the finish line, waiting for people to come in, and I decided to wait for two TRH 50Kers, Mitsuye Morrissey (55) and Yukie Mochida (72). These two were always running some ultra or another, and Yukie had actually received a letter in 2000, telling her she was the second-best ultrarunner in her age group for that year. Mitzi finished in 7-1/2 hours and Yukie in 8:08, and was actually quite disoriented trying to find the finish line. I asked them, “Why do you do such long races?” thinking that most of my non-running friends complain about walking ONE mile! Both gals said that it was a challenge to prepare for, usually pretty scenic and and different than those cattle calls that most shorter distance races are nowadays. They suggested a race in March 2002 called the Way Too Cool 50K in Cool, CA.
After checking out the information, I ascertained that the date of the race was two days after my 31st birthday, and that 50K is 31 miles! Since I have an affinity for numbers, I decided that this would be the best birthday present to myself. Additionally, I could visit my college friends who mostly live in nearby Davis (also where I started running). The one difficulty would be getting into the race. They make the application available on December 15th, you could only apply by mail, and it usually filled up in 2-3 days! We were concerned that, being in Southern California, the mail would take longer than that of locals. All three of us, however, did get in, and I arranged a ride to and from the race from an old running teammate in Davis.
Now, what of training? I supposed that with an ultra so close to the marathon distance, that my training should be similar, because I would need to push myself just another hour (wait, just another HOUR?) longer than a marathon. However, I found during the few months I spent preparing that I had little time to get in Long Slow Distance runs, and instead would tack on 10 miles onto tempo runs when I had time.
My training was further suppressed in February when I got a bad hacking cough and sinus infection/allergy attack and couldn’t breathe properly. Finally, the week before the run, when I was to taper and not run too much, I coordinated a Hash House Harriers run (and ended up with 18, 6 and 5 miles the first three days of the week). Probably due to being sick, I had great trouble in getting enough sleep. The weird dreams began again, and I tried to get myself into mode by thinking about the course before I went to sleep – highway crossing, 15-16 stream crossings, and single track trails – but instead dreamt of running an endless road race… in dress shoes.
Finally, race day had arrived. It was a bit overcast, having rained on my birthday (though not in Southern California, natch), but rain was not expected, and about 35 degrees. The drive up was not unusual for me because I lived in the area for 8 years, until we reached the turnoff for Cool. Just a couple of miles off Interstate 80 is another world of beautiful trails, two-lane highways and verdant hillsides. Bob, my ride and Davis running friend, pointed out various sights from the course – where we cross Hwy. 49, where we emerge from the forest line, and parts of the Western States (for which this is apparently a training run), and we were about an hour early for the race. I spent most of this hour sipping from my 32 oz. Gatorade bottle and deciding how many GU packets I could fit inside my cap (which makes a good substitute for pockets when you have none). I entered the outhouse queue with just enough time to spare before the start, whose prelude was classical trumpet music. A few procedural announcements and we were off, right on time.
The course began roughly downhill on a paved road. Those who had not allowed enough Port-A-Potty time were peeling off to take care of business. It was a bit crowded at the start and was further hindered by participants’ cars flanking one side of the road, but soon we were off onto the muddy muddy path. Bob had cautioned me earlier that it would be a bit muddy, but I was not at all prepared for the degree of muddiness. I liken it to how the Olympians moved on those clapskates: the front of your shoe slides forward and the back sklurped into the mud. I was sure to take very light-footed steps in the muckiest parts, as I did not want to follow in the footsteps (per se) of those in front of me who had their shoes sucked off their feet!
In the first 6 miles, there was a lot of downhill, which I tried to take easy to cushion my knees. Some parts were VERY steep, VERY narrow, with water running down through the center. I am a bit uncomfortable with people rushing down behind me, because at my height, I don’t have the best balance, so periodically, I would step aside to let faster people pass.
At 10K, we reached the first aid station (53:00). Although I was not in need of much, the one thing I desperately wanted was to add water to my Gatorade bottle, because the Gatorade was too strong. I also grabbed a handful of pretzels and gummi bears in an effort to get some salt and sugar into my system. The least appealing item at that point was what looked to be raw potatoes dipped in salt and partially peeled bananas. I decided that I would take my first GU in another hour. The run continued over Hwy. 49. Although they could not stop traffic, it was not particularly busy at 9am. The trail continued on an undulating single-track trail, and mostly we kept in a line. A few people would pass but it was generally just like a medium-speed hike. There wasn’t a lot of talking, mostly people asking, “Do you need to pass?” I did strike up a conversation with one guy who said that his birthday was in two days, whereas mine had been two days ago. Of my 31/31 plan, he said, “That’s cool.” I said, “No, it’s Way Too Cool.” Ba-Dum-Bum!
It was difficult to determine what pace we were going because of stopping and starting and staying together. I figured my best bet of determining how far we had come was by remembering how many streams we had crossed (because I had counted from the map how many were between which aid stations). It looked like there were about 16, though Bob said that was a rather high estimation. Thus, anytime that I had to leap over or splash through a puddle, I would count it as a stream crossing. By the time we reached the second aid station at 14.5 miles (2:20), I had counted 25. So much for that.
When I reached the aid station, my cough from my continuing cold was acting up. I re-diluted my Gatorade bottle, had some chicken broth, and decided to try the potatoes with salt (to my surprise, they were boiled! Phew!) I didn’t think that I would be able to move with any fortitude if my cough began again, I took with me two Jolly Ranchers hard candies and sucked on them for about 30 minutes each. This, however, prevented me from taking GU (which I know should be at consistent intervals, and not every hour or so…) until about 100 minutes after the first. I was not certain that it would do any good anyways, because my legs were getting VERY tight. Even the smallest stream (2-3 feet across) was too far to jump across because if I extended my legs further than an foot apart, I would get shooting cramps up and down my legs.
This situation was not eased by the fact that at mile 19 was the infamous Ball Bearing hill, touted as 7-tenths of a mile and 700 feet of vertical climb. It was about triple the width of the single track trail, with a rocky waterfall up the center, and squeaky slippery mud on either side. I opted for the waterfall, because a slip on the mud could re-induce cramps. The problem was that I could not take very big steps (or cramped if I did). The hill was in two segments, with a nice little bend in between so that you got the feeling that you had reached the end, only to find another steep incline waiting.
At the end of Ball Bearing, however, was a repeat of the last aid station, except that now we were at 20 miles (4:02). Although my resolve was still strong to complete the race, I knew that the longer I stayed at the aid station, the longer I would be out on the course and I would just have to plod my way in. I took another two Jolly Ranchers, a defizzed coke and a handful of gummibears, pretzels and as much salt as I could stomach.
The course continued mostly on the same path we came out on, except for a nasty Goat Hill (say it slowly and you’ll get the idea…) with Burma Shave-like signs – “Only 8 minutes to the top,” and “Almost there…” Actually, the signs were just about right, but I still needed to grab onto trees to get to the top more easily. This was the second to last aid station and 26.2 miles (5:20).
I realized that I would only have to slog a few more miles, and at this point, it was all icing – I had never traveled so far in one day and I had never run so long (longest marathon time – 5:28:30 (Big Sur 1997)) – though I was a bit disappointed, because my pre-run goal was under 5 hours.
The next 5K was interminable. I remembered much of the course, but alas, it is difficult to remember exactly when certain turns took place… in reverse. I either thought that I was completely off course or that the last aid station and Hwy. 49 was just around every corner for 15-20 minutes. When I finally heard the sound of cars and not waterfalls, I had reached 29.4 miles (6:00), and had little reason to stop. My Gatorade bottle was full (though 90% water now) and I really just wanted to get in and get something to eat.
The last mile was fairly memorable, and the muddiest of the entire course. What had been muddy in the morning had now been trod on twice by 3-400 people and was really muddy. At the worst of the stretches, when my shoes nearly came off (when I was too tired to go around), I was forced to go a longer route, wide around the mud. My usual finish of striding out was stopped by severe cramping and the last 200 yards being solid mud. My final time was 6:24:35, only 30 minutes ahead of Mitsuye and about an hour ahead of Yukie.
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What I learned:
ENJOY IT. In an ultra like the Way Too Cool 50K, the trail’s the thing. You’re out there in nature, and you should enjoy the journey. WTC is one of the larger 50Ks in the country, and yet, you get to share this experience with just 500 other people. The weekend before, I had watched friends participate in the Los Angeles Marathon and there were over 23,000 people. THAT was not a special experience.
TAKE IT SLOW. One person I ran portions of the trail with commented to me early on, “I don’t normally start out this fast!” (9-minute miles) I realize that I have to take the starting out slow advice truly to heart. People who complete 100 mile races in under 24 hours are doing a little faster than 15 minute miles. If you can maintain a certain slow pace in the beginning, you will be better off down the road.
TRAIN FOR ENDURANCE. Long Slow Distance (LSD) was not necessarily what I needed, but dealing with a lot of running, with a mixture of fast and slow. Just a note for those of you who say that I should have a LOT of LSD, I am probably a foot taller than you!
TRAIN WITH AID. I have practiced a lot with GU, water and Gatorade, but what would have been helpful would have been to run with someone assisting me and feeding me some of the same items (gummi bears, candy, pretzels, defizzed coke, salty potatoes) periodically on training runs. It’s never best to run while trying something new.
I still have the running bug inside of me. I participated in a 5K race two days after Way Too Cool (I walked, because I do try and let myself recover, but hate to miss a race!) and a 51 year-old runner collapsed and died of a heart attack at the finish line. It made me realize that life is short and you need to live your life to the fullest. I definitely plan to complete some longer distance races and also improve upon my 50K time.
Running is 10% athleticism and 90% inspiration. I may not look the part, but if I set my mind to it, I can do anything!
If you are interested in doing a trail run, trail race or ultra, talk to me after the runs and I will get you some additional information.