This advice, some of which I swear by as noted by the header of my blog, was key to me finishing this race.
But let me start from the beginning. The day started off great. I had made the trip down to Arkansas with my uncle Dale Humphrey and Tom Gladfelter. Tom woke up at about 2 AM. Dale and I woke up at 4 AM. We all got ready and headed over to the race start at Lake Sylvia. As we drove over, I noticed what looked like lightning in the distance. The weather forecast had been a moving target all week, but there was a 40% chance of rain for race day as of Saturday morning. I laughed to myself because that would be our luck – It stormed like never before at Kettle Moraine (I ran this
in June), and it also stormed pretty well at Vermont (Tom ran this one and Dale paced). So it was looking as if we were cursed. Oh well, what could we do? Just run.
As we gathered at the starting line, I moved up to the front to make sure that I had a good position. My plan was to run with the front pack for as long as I could. If I could stick with them for the entire race, then I’d be sitting pretty at the end. If not, I’d just fall back into a comfortable pace and let the race come to me.
The shotgun went off and we were off. I was running in about 5th place for quite a while as we made our way along Hwy 324 and turned off of the paved highway into the woods on Brown’s Creek Rd., a gravel road. We wouldn’t see pavement again until the very end of the race. The last ½ mile or so of the race comes back in on 324 from the other way.
It was still dark so we used our lights for the first hour. I ran the first 7-10 miles with the eventual winner Tom Brennan. He was the winner of the race as well back in 2006. Of course he made no mention of it, so I had no idea who he was until I saw him again during the awards ceremony.
For the first 10-15 miles I ran hard up the uphills, and down the downhills. The gravel roads eventually gave way to single track along the Oauchita Trail. I love single track running. So I was happy to move from the gravel roads to the single track. But another change was in the making as well. The skys grew darker and darker as the morning progressed, and eventually it began to storm. It stormed for about the next 2-3 hours as we made our way through the single track section, and back onto the gravel roads at the Lake Sylvia Aid Station (Mile 16.4). Unfortunately this was the last we’d see of the single track for the remainder of the race. From here on out it was either maintained gravel roads, Jeep roads that were less maintained, and 4 wheeler roads that were barely roads. Some of which I don’t think any of the above could traverse.
As I continued down the course it continued to storm. By now I was soaked to the bone and my shorts were constantly drooping down so I had to keep pulling them up. You see, they have that loop type of drawstring that I have no idea how to use. I eventually asked someone at the Rocky Gap Aid Station (Mile 28.6) for a pair of scissors and they just happened to have some, so I cut the string and just tied them up. WOW, what a difference that made. I felt like a new man. But my shoes weighed what seemed like 10 lbs each from the rain and mud as well. I would have to wait until the rain stopped and until I reached the halfway point (Powerline Aid Station) where I had a drop bag full of new stuff. Only about 20.4 more miles to go until I could get new shoes and socks (If it’s not still raining when I get there).
By the time I had reached the Lake Winona Aid Station (Mile 31.9) I was not doing so well. It was apparent that I was starting to feel the affects of running so hard from the start, and not hydrating or eating as well as I should have been. I think that with the rain and cooler temps I lost focus of the need to stay on top of these major details.
As I left Lake Winona I started to feel bad. Bad as in – I don’t think my legs can take much more of this and I’m only at mile 33 – kind of bad. Bad as in – I wonder if I can walk the remainder of the course and finish in 30 hours – kind of bad. I had been in the top 5-10 runners for the first ¼ of the race. I was now starting to fall back and at the Pig Trail Aid Station (Fitting name because the course here was nasty. Lots of big rocks and washed out roads) I was informed that I was now in 13th place. I started to doubt myself, feel bad for myself, and make excuses to bail out soon. I thought hard as I made my way to Club Flamingo from Pig Trail. As I lumbered into Club Flamingo I was greeted by a festive group of volunteers (I think they had started drinking already). A few of the girls started to tell me how great my legs looked. I looked at them and laughed and said “Well, they sure don’t feel good” We all had a good laugh and I moved along on my merry way to the Smith Mountain Aid Station.
You may ask – Smith Mountain? Yes, from right after Lake Winona Aid Station to the B.M. Road Aid Station was a long long long climb up Smith Mountain. It was about 15 miles of going up and down, but mainly up. I think I walked the majority of those 15 miles too.
By the time I made my way through the Smith Mountain and then into the B.M. Road Aid Station, I had thought up a plan and many excuses of why I should quit and started to ask the crew at B.M. Road how I could drop. They asked why and said that I looked great and to keep going to the next aid station which was the Powerline Aid Station. If I still felt bad there I could drop there and get a ride back to the starting area. I said “Awesome. I’ll drop there then. I’m done.” And made my way down the trail to Powerline. Between Smith Mountain and Powerline a train of runners passed me, all encouraging me to keep it up, saying good job etc.
This was my low point of the race. I had gone from top 5, to top 10, to now maybe top 20. My legs were Jello already. I figured that if I quit now I might still have a chance to get back to the starting area in time to gather my stuff and get to the airport to catch the next flight home and sleep in my own bed that night. I would be able to wake up at home in my own bed.
I thought about all of the people that were waiting to see how I fared. From the kids that I help coach on my daughter’s Cross Country team, to the parents and teachers that we know and talk to at our Church/School who knew what I was doing this weekend and would certainly ask next week when I saw them, to anyone who reads this blog, to my parents, to my friends, to my co-workers. Up to this point I kept telling myself that I couldn’t let them down. That I had to do it for them. That I don’t have the option to quit because I had to report back to them. But now I had thrown that all out the window and rationalized the fact that – Hey, sometimes people fail. It certainly doesn’t make them a bad person, it just makes them human. I figured that they would all understand and eventually forget about it and I’d be off the hook. I would tell my oldest daughter that I had failed and try to teach her what she can do to be better than me (Not at running Ultras but at succeeding). I would delete this blog and act like it never happened.
This thought process went on and on over a 3 hour period as I made my way up Smith Mountain and back down the other side into Powerline. It was an agonizing struggle in my own head. It was the worst low point I had ever dealt with. It was so intense that I decided to bow out at Powerline, go back and try to get a ride to the airport so I could fly home that night (Saturday) and be home with my family. I would announce to them that I had given up running and would now focus all of that time and energy that I spent training on them. I pictured a jubilant celebration as my wife would have a party to ceremonially burn all of my running stuff. I pictured myself, my wife and three girls huddled in a big super bowl touchdown type celebration as we celebrated my release from the chains of running that had oppressed us for decades. Mind you we have only been married for 10 years (As of Oct 2) and our girls are 10, 7, and 11 mos. But it was DECADES in my mind at that moment.
So, I’m slowly making my way into Powerline and an older gentleman comes strolling up next to me. We discuss my plan to quit and he reassures me that it’s ok. That it happens to the best, and moves on ahead of me into the aid station.
There’s a large contingent of runner’s crews there waiting for them to come in. They all cheer for me as I come in. I give them a quick glance like “Thanks, but I’ve had enough”. I weigh in and then sit down and proclaim that I’m done, give me my drop bag, when’s the next shuttle come by (Still trying to get that flight out tonight). There’s a doctor there asking me many questions. I answer them all as I sit there in the chair. Then, all of the sudden I hear the Race Director Chrissy Fergusuon’s voice. I hadn’t noticed that she was at this aid station until now. She’s yelling “Who wants to run? I need a pacer over here.” Then she walks over to me and says “You aint quittin’. Look at you. You look fine! Tell me why you want to quit.” I said “My head’s just not in it today.” She looks at the crowd of people that are now watching me sit in this chair, trying to rationalize with Chrissy who is extremely persuasive and blunt. Then she looks at me square in the face and says “Let me ask you something. Are you telling me that when you wake up tomorrow morning and look at yourself in the mirror, you AREN’T going to call yourself a Pu--y (alternate word for kitty cat)?” I had to think about that for a second, then I laughed because she was really calling me out here, and said “No”. She said “Ok then, Chris here is going to run with you to the next aid station. Just get there, see how you’re doing, and go from there. If you’re still feeling bad you can drop there, but I’m telling you, you look fine. And if you finish you’re going to thank me, so you will owe me a trip to Maui.” Chrissy's account of what happened is also captured in the local newspaper here.
Ok, now I was mad that she had basically shoved me out of that aid station saying “No way are you quittin’ on my watch.” I felt like a little kid who had just been scolded, or better yet, a dog who’s been in a fight with a badger or something who comes home and the owner says “You dumb dog” and just slams the door in their face and leaves them outside to lick their wounds all night.
I got into my drop bag, grabbed my new dry shoes and Injinji socks, applied new Desitin to my feet, and put the new shoes and socks on. THAT hit the spot. I felt like a new man just from the new socks and shoes. But still, very upset that nobody agreed to let me quit.
So my new pacer Chris, who looks about 25-30 and had been enjoying pizza and beer until my sorry a-- came along, and I walk out of Powerline with a plan to get to the next aid station which is Copperhead Road. I did look forward to making it to this aid station because a couple that I had met a few times prior at Three Days of Syllamo and at Kettle Moraine was heading up this aid station, Paul and Cindy Schoenlaub. Paul is an excellent ultra-runner. He’s run Hardrock many times, along with many many other races (I don’t know his full resume but I know it’s impressive). He’s always been very encouraging to me when I talk with him. I guess I have started to look up to him a little bit as a role model, as I do my uncle Dale, even though we have only met a few times.
So Chris and I got to talking and it turns out that he also ran at Three Days of Syllamo this year, so I then connected the dots as to why he looked familiar. He drives a Prius, and so does my Uncle Dale, and they were checking each other’s Prius out at that race. What a small world…..
Chris says “Ok, as your impromptu pacer, I have a strategy for you. You need to start drinking more of this Perpetuem and Heed and get your energy levels back. Seems like you haven’t been taking in enough fluids so that might be why you’re falling off right now.” I agreed and we continued our way into the Copperhead Road Aid Station. We didn’t waste much time there. I said hello to Cindy Schoenlaub, but Paul was playing with the fire, so I just moved on. Chris checked my time and I was still under the cut off to make it to the finish in 24 hrs. I thought this was pretty amazing given the way things had been going for the last 3 hours or so.
This next stretch was one of the longest of the race. It was 5.7 miles from Copperhead Road to Chicken Gap (Turnaround to head back the way I came to the finish – See map above). Chris encouraged me to just keep moving along and not go too hard so as to allow myself some time to get hydrated and get myself back together. We’d re-evaluate coming back from Chicken Gap. I agreed. On the way there Suzie Spangler, whom I had met on the airplane flight to Little Rock came up behind me. We said hello and ran together for quite a while. Also, along this stretch the leaders started coming back the other way past us, so I could pretty much see where I stood.
When we reached Chicken Gap I ate the best darn ham and egg sandwich I’ve ever had. That really hit the spot. After I got to the turnaround and started heading back I started feel better. We came upon Uncle Dale about 15 minutes after we left the turnaround, so he was closing in on me. I think after I saw him is when I decided that I was going to finish, and finish strong.
Soon it was dark and could only see with our headlights. I eventually came up to Tom, my Uncle’s friend, who was still heading out to the turnaround. We exchanged encouraging words and moved on our ways. I started running harder when I could (Anything downhill or flat), and power walking as fast as I could when I couldn’t run (Anything uphill). We methodically made our way back to Copperhead Road where I took a very rewarding bathroom break. That also hit the spot and I was feeling better than I had in quite a while.
When we got back to Powerline the aid station workers were surprised to see me. I think they had figured I was done when I left the first time. I weighed in again and was just 1 pound above the weight cutoff for sitting down until I had taken in more fluids and gained some weight back. I took note of this and made sure to tell Chris so he knew to keep pushing the fluids on me. We checked the time and I was 15 minutes ahead of the 24 hr cutoff, and was in 28th place. NOT good in my mind. I had come here to finish in the top 10 and hopefully around 20 hours. Chris’ friends and brothers were there at Powerline. They saw us off with a hippie glow stick dance that certainly made my day. It was hilarious.
We slowly made our way back up the other side of Smith Mountain (Opposite the way I had come previously). As soon as we made it to a spot where I could run, I did. I actually ran hard. It was a tough section of rocks covered by tall grass. I had walked this entire section during the day. This time, it was pitch dark and I was running harder than I had the entire day. This is when I decided I was going to shift it into high gear and push for the best time possible. I was feeling great and starting to get into a groove. I felt like a sub-24 hr finish might be within reach at this point. I kept asking Chris to check for me, but he kept me focused on moving from Aid Station to Aid Station, not thinking about how far I had to go to the finish.
We made our way back up Smith Mountain, coming into the B.M. Road Aid Station I ate quite a bit, shoving everything I could in my mouth. Mainly chicken noodle soup and PB&J sandwiches. We didn’t waste much time and headed on up the mountain to the Smith Mountain Aid Station. When we got there I ate more soup, M&Ms, and another sandwich. Then I had a cup of Coke with lots of ice. WOW, that hit the spot. So I had three more and proclaimed that was the best damn Coke I’d ever had, and took off.
I checked back in with Chris and he estimated that I was on track for a sub-24 hr finish, but to focus back in on Aid Station to Aid Station thinking. So I did. I ran as hard as I could to Club Flamingo and then to Pig Trail. I was making up quite a bit of lost time now. Chis was encouraging me and reminding me to keep taking in the fluids. I believe this was key to the second half of my race.
As we left Pig Trail Chris asked me what my PR was for the 100. I told him – 23h 23m. He said, “Ok, you now have a chance to beat that.” So I started pushing even harder, all the while taking in as much fluids as possible without puking. By now the Perpetuem was flirting with my gag reflex. The minute it hit my tongue I wanted to hurl. I had been drinking the stuff all day long. At one point Chris said “Well, are you going to drink it or not?” I said “I’m psyching myself up for it” He laughed and said “I can see that”.
I drank as much as I could before coming back into Lake Winona, where they would weigh me for the last time. I told Chris I was going to try to leave my pack on just in case I was low. They busted me and made me take it off. But I was good to go. I was actually one pound heavier than I was when I weighed in on Friday. That was almost a 7 pound gain in weight from Powerline. Maybe the scales were off a bit. That seems a bit high to me.
I started talking with an old timer at Lake Winona who was showing me his sub-24 belt buckle and was telling me that I had it in the bag, and that I should be damn proud of myself. He said he’s so proud of his he wears it every day. He gave me a pat on the back and said “You look great and you’re able to eat! You got this in th bag son! Now get goin’ and I’ll see you at the finish!” That was pretty cool.
This is where I took it to another level. I asked Chris how we were looking for a sub-23 hr finish now. He said it would be awfully tough, that I’d have to run pretty hard to do that, and kind of brushed it off. I said “Ok” and decided that if I was close I was going to try. I didn’t tell him I was going to try, I just decided in my head. So I started running harder and harder. I was running faster than I had all day and I was now on about 20 hours of running non-stop.
I felt very fresh so I didn’t waste any time shifting it into high gear. I passed quite a few runners on the way from Lake Winona to the finish. Maybe 10-15. Chris said “Man, I kind of feel sorry for these people. You’re passing them like they’re standing still”. Something clicked in me and I was running like a madman now. We stopped briefly at Electronic Tower and I ate more food, then at Pumpkin Patch (Which had lighted jack-o-lanterns lining the route to the aid tent there. Very cool. Especially since it was the last stop before the end.
I kept the pedal to the metal all the way into the finish. The last section was the longest of the entire race (6.4 miles), but it sure went by fast. I couldn’t believe that I had come back from such a low point to finishing strong, and setting a PR in the process. Just never thought that would happen when I was down during the day. As we closed in on the finish it seemed like it would never ever just be there. I kept looking and kept seeing lights, but I would get upset when I saw that it was just a sign reflecting from my headlight. As we made our way up the road and within view of the finish, I turned to Chris and said “UNREAL!! This is all because of you! Thank you!” He denied any role in the whole thing as we crossed the finish line at 22hr 54min. Chrissy was there to greet me, but it was still pitch dark (About 4:54 AM) so she didn’t notice it was me until I simply said “I didn’t quit”. She turned and looked at me and said “Oh my god! Number 61!? You owe me a trip to Maui!! And this guy ran the ENTIRE way with you?? UNREAL!!”
I got checked by the doctor and didn't even have one blister. The only way you could tell that I just did something crazy was to look at my legs. I had quite a few scratches on my shins. Otherwise, I came through clean. We didn't have a place to go back to to sleep because we checked out of our place Saturday AM. So I tried to sleep on the concrete floor of the shelter at Camp Ouachita that was race headquarters. I may have slept for an hour at the most. My body was still in GO mode, and hurt quite a bit, so it was hard for me to sleep. Dale and I went over and showered at the campground area at Lake Sylvia as we waited for the rest of the runners to come in.
At the awards ceremony Chrissy told my story and everyone had a good laugh. The trip home was brutal. I just wanted to sprawl out somewhere and pass out, but I couldn't. I went from the race to the airport, to the plane, to my car, and then finally home by 11:30. It was very frustrating. I had been up for 44 hours straight. As I lay in bed, although I was very tired, I had a hard time winding down and finally falling asleep.
It was all just very unreal. I have to thank God that Chrissy and Chris came together and saved that race for me. Chris was a gift from God. He was the best pacer I could have asked for. I guess I owe Chrissy a trip to Maui now too…. Once again, I just hope I get a chance to pay forward all of the help and encouragement that I received from a great group of people at the Arkansas Traveller. The Arkansas Ultra Running Association is a great group of people. I found that out first hand last weekend.
So let’s recap –
“Ignoring your inner wussy and dealing with the facts of the situation is always the best bet. If the facts are that you are not hurt or sick, then you can run.”
"Run when you can. Walk when you have to. Crawl if you must. Just don't give up."
Remembering what the older gentleman (I found out at the awards ceremony that he was a Grand Slammer) had told me on my return trip through Lake Winona, I have worn my buckle every day to work this week. I have received many questions, odd looks, and compliments on it. Usually it’s a simple question, but the response is not so simple. I usually say something like – “Do you know how hard I worked to get this belt buckle!?” Then explain it to them, and they usually look at me and wonder if I’m crazy. My answer to that would have to be yes. Crazy = Fun.
My next race is coming up soon – The North Face 50 mi in Wisconsin on October 25th. Maybe I’ll see you there….
Next up for me is possibly the Illinois Fat Ass 50k in McNabb, IL. I ran it last year. It’s a 10 mi out and back course, so that’s basically 3 trips back and forth. I’m not much for these types of courses, but if I’m going to run the McNaughton Park 150 miler, it’s time to start liking loops. McNaughton Park 150 mi is 15 10 mile loops. That’s mentally tough for me.
