Monday, May 13, 2013

Ice Age Trail 50 Race Report (5/11/13)

50 miles in 11 hrs and 31 minutes.


Pre-Race
Rolling out of the tent in sweat pants and a thermal shirt at 4am race morning, there was an obvious chill in the air but the early hour conditions foreshadowed just the type of weather I prefer to run long in: cool and overcast.  After wrestling for some time in an attempt to restart the fire from the night before, Annie "Prometheus" Werner crawled out of the tent and took over the duties while I started to boil water for coffee and oatmeal on our portable stovetop.  In under 5 minutes, we had a roaring fire and it was time to change into my running gear and focus on the race.
Cooking up the oatmeal and coffee with a roaring fire
I had burned too much time ineffectively struggling to relight the fire; time was short and I ended up eating oatmeal and burning my mouth with the scalding coffee on the 30 minute drive to the start, as Annie drove and Bella rode in the back, wondering why we'd left a perfectly good campsite full of sticks so early in the morning.  This would be my first attempt at running an official ultra marathon (I'd run 32 miles last year in honor of my sister's 32nd birthday, but that was a solo venture) and I just hoped I had it in me that day.

The start line seemed innocuous enough, a parking lot swathed in lycra covered athletes, arriving in cars that boasted various distances of merit attached to their rear bumper by way of magnet.  One car was so committed as a mobile tool of ultra advertisement, the license plate read "RUNA100."  I quickly realized that, as a first timer, I might well be in the minority, which was both comforting (lots of wisdom on the trail) and worrisome (would I be able to hang???) at the same time.


The Race

Loop 1
I started in the back (and stayed there for the rest of the day).  The first loop of the course was a 10 mile jaunt through prairie, with tree coverage sporadically interspersed throughout a trail wide enough to typically accommodate several runners wide.  By unanimous decision, the hills were walked and I followed suit with the majority rule ahead of me.  I conscientiously check (and re-checked) my watch for pace, inevitably slowing down as the numbers reflected too fast a pace.  The original goal had been to finish in 10 hrs and required a 12min/mile pace.  Given the topography of the prairie section, I rationalized that an 11 min/mile pace was warranted and would strategically give me a buffer for the later miles.  Later I would regret this decision.

The start of the race!

I ran solo for the first few miles, focused on staying relaxed and enjoying running on a new trail.  Eventually, I fell in with a group of veteran female runners, each having ran the IAT50 an obscene number of times, not to mention having finished notoriously challenging 100s (Western States, Leadville, etc.).  The rest of the miles passed quickly as we gave meaning to the term 'conversational' pace.

Ending the prairie loop, Annie was waiting with refreshments and a change of shoes.  Slipping out of my road shoes in favor of trail shoes and grabbing a PB&J, I ran off, forgetting to shed my comfortable red thermal shirt I'd left on for a warmup.  I love that thermal too much to just toss it at the next aid station and committed myself to wearing it for the next 10 miles.  

Loop 2
Loop 2 started the single track running that would last the rest of the race, thinning out the runners and introducing the real hills.  Occasionally, we would exit into open prairie and scenic views before delving back into the woods again.  The terrain was beautiful and the scent of pine refreshing (ahhhh, the fresh scent of conifer!).  The soft bed of pine needles generously donated by the groves of conifers cemented that glorious tree as a true tree among saplings, in my humble opinion.  The shift from dirt and rock to soft pine was a welcome one when it came and missed when it passed.  Aid stations were thoughtfully placed, seeming to arrive early in the beginning of the run and late towards the end, just as they should.  The volunteers staffing the stations were incredible; patiently filling cups and bottles and ensuring that each running received what they needed.  If trail karma exists, the volunteers should be reaping their reward soon.  The up and down terrain was consistent but not overly taxing and I maintained the 11 min/mile avg pace with minimal effort.

The turnaround point of loop 2 was around mile 20.  Annie was again waiting with Bella and I changed out of the sweaty cotton thermal and into the long sleeved Skippo tech shirt I'd brought "just in case."  It was chilly enough to warrant a light jacket, but I had not thought of that "in case" and the long sleeves would have to do.



The return to loop 2 brought about a painful departure from my earlier race plan, when at mile 25 my right quad seized up and started to cramp.  I'd been taking S! Caps roughly every hours and had been mixing the occasional Heed elixir in with my water, but apparently my leg muscles were not satisfied with the current accommodation.  I finished off one of the 6oz. bottles of water/heed I had been carrying, popped an S! Cap and resolved myself to walking.  The cramping passed and I was able to run a couple miles before the cramping returned.  This was going to be a challenge.  In the past, I'd found that sports drinks (such as Heed) could temporarily relieve the cramping, but at the cost of one very unhappy tummy.  If I was going to run the next 25 miles, I needed to tune into my body and walk a tightrope of nutrition.  Once I made it to the next stop, I drank a cup of Heed, a cup of water, filled my bottles with the half and half concoction and, listening to the will of the body, also had a cup of Ginger Ale.  A good choice.  After a few munchies and feeling refreshed, I relaxed back into a slower pace.  Along the way to the next aid station, I managed to make another set of trail buddies and the miles passed under a steady stream of conversation.

At the segue just before the second loop, around mile 30, Annie was again waiting with fresh peaches, a pb&j and words of encouragement.  Coincidentally, this would also be around the time the front runners were finishing the race.  Oh...if only I could be so fast!  I filled my bottles again and went back to the trail.
Nearing the end of loop 2


Loop 3
Roughly 1 mile in after leaving the aid station, the leg cramps struck again, this time harassing my calfs as well as my quads.  I bid farewell to my trail mates and returned to walking.  This was clearly going to be the pattern and I committed myself to more S! Caps and more of the dreaded Heed.  Loop 2 ended as Loop 3 began.  The land of little hills gave way to the land of climbs, as I stared up at a climb that a passing hiker promised was "well worth the view."  I would make sure to remember that on the way back!  Committing myself to the hike, I fell behind two more soon to be trail buddies.  We started to put some miles down, with the occasional cramp taking me out but somehow catching back up before I pulled ahead about a mile out from the turnaround point.  Loop 3 was my favorite section of trail, but my least favorite section to run that day, landing in the unfortunate realm of "I'm exhausted, my legs keep cramping and damnit there's no WAY I'm making 10 hrs."  Loop 3 offered more climbs and drops, with three muddy crossings.  If I were to go for a training run in the area, this would be the loop I would choose.

The turnaround of loop 3 was at mile 40.  Annie was prepared, camera in hand, and carrying whatever refreshments I may need.  I'd ran out of the gels I'd packed (3) and decided to load up on a couple more.  I had decided to reduce gel intake to mitigate any stomach problems from the unanticipated intake of Heed.  The whole foods and Heed, I hoped, would be enough in terms of replenishing my glycogen stores.  I had also been feeling a pain in my right heel for the last several miles.  Looking down, my outer ankle bone had fiendishly doubled in size.  I sensed a conspiracy forming on the right side of my body and was very disappointed in its behavior.  There was nothing to be done about it now.  Leaving the aid station seemed an unattractive, but ultimately necessary, choice.  I lingered longer than I probably should have before finally saying goodbye and catching up with the two trail buddies I'd met earlier.  

The beautiful views of the Emma Carlin trailhead
More of the landscape at the turnaround point of loop 3.  Such a beautiful trail.


Only 10 more miles left....
 I focused on the job still to be done and started to put some miles down, walking the hills and leaning back on the surprisingly painful downhills.  With 45 miles down and 5 miles left, I entered "the dark zone."  There wasn't a large, cathartic blowing of a gasket but more so being on the losing end of a steady war of attrition.  I had been battling leg cramps for HOURS, the sun looked to be setting soon and I had been standing since sunrise.  I ran the numbers in my head: if I walked the rest of the way I MIGHT make the 12 hr cutoff.  I revisited what I could have done differently: train more? started slower? blood doped??!!  Over the next mile or so, I decided I never wanted to run again and that sitting down was the only thing I wanted to do.  So I did.  I squatted next to the trail, keeping my feet below me and allowing my butt to drop - giving me both a break from the running and a nice stretch to the quads.  What was I going to do?  How would I feel if I decided to stop?  ...wait...decided to stop?  Who said I was going to stop?!!  I'm not stopping with less than 5 miles left!  I groaned back to standing and started to shuffle ahead.  Looking down, occasionally my pace would drop to 12 min/mile and at those times, I felt like I was flying.  I've never worked so hard to move so slow.  Throughout this steady battle, a fellow first timer was also travelling through this land of darkness.  We managed to trade leads back and forth, and it often felt like when I was descending, she would pull ahead and through some type of momentum induction pull me forward again.  Soon the sounds of announcements could be heard through the trees and I knew I was close.  On my way, I passed one of the veteran females I'd met earlier in the day, as well as a trail buddy from loop 2.  I was inspired by how positive they were, after so many hours of endurance.  After 1 final climb, I saw the finish and sprinted towards it.  Objective observers may dispute the use of the term sprint.
Running to sit down!

I'd finished it.  In a time of 11 hrs and 31 minutes, I'd managed to cover 50 miles on foot, injury free.  What did I do to celebrate?  I sat down.

Sitting down.