My first ultra, the Fools 50Km Trail Race is in the books. My goal was simple and two-fold: keep moving, don’t die. Mission accomplished. Sort of. I did die a thousand deaths out on the trail. Finishing was an achievement for me as I am not a runner. Six months ago I hadn’t run in years. When I ran it felt unnatural and awkward. I vowed to change that. And so began my mission.
The location for the race is idyllic, in Croom which is in the Withlacoochee State Forest near Brooksville FL. We started at 7 am, it was still dark when we assembled at the line for the pre-race briefing, but when the gun went off there was just enough light to see. Temperature was perfect, nice and cool.
We started out down the dirt road and then made a right onto a sandy trail and off into the wild. The pace was fairly brisk from the gun, but eased up substantially later on. I found myself running with “Jeff” and it turned out he grew up in NC and knew a friend of mine, so we had a lot to talk about. Although the pace wasn’t hard, with hindsight it was too hard for a first time ultra runner with very few miles in his legs, and I paid dearly later on in the race.
The trail varied from hard packed dirt, to soft “sugar” sand, from flat and undulating to sharp drops down crevices and gullies, from open hot plains through dense cool forest; it certainly kept the run interesting. The 50 km race consisted of two 16 mile laps through this varied terrain.
Back in the opening miles I felt very good and felt like I was well within my limits, very comfortable. Passing on the single track trail was not easy as you had to run around the person in front, so you had to pick a point where you could run on the side of the trail, free of brush and trees. Jeff and I got separated about 5 miles into the race when we came upon a group of 3 or 4 runners and he passed them just before a steep drop into a ravine and I was held up behind the group, which proceeded overly cautiously down the steep drop and through the rest of the ravine and climb out. I did not see Jeff again until the finish.
About mid way through the first lap, the wheels came off. I started hurting. All over. And it got progressively worse. I walked for a couple of minutes but that didn’t seem to help, so I kept running, but my running had turned into a shuffle. At first I thought it was just a momentary blockade that would pass, but it never did. The second half of the lap was agonizing and seemed to take forever. I passed an aid station without refueling as my bottle seemed to be half full. Big mistake. Shortly afterwards I realized I had miscalculated and my bottle was almost empty. I shook it to get a couple more drops out of it. Note to self: top up bottle, no matter how full it is, just to be sure. My morale sank lower. I seriously contemplated abandoning the race. In fact, I was convinced I would have to abandon the race as I could not imagine being able to finish in the condition I was in, and I wasn’t even half way. Something was very wrong, I knew I should not be feeling this bad so early in the race.
At last I came in to the start/finish camp. The clock showed 2h 34m but I already knew that my audacious goal of 5 hrs was out of reach, and I no longer cared. My basic goal to finish now seemed in jeopardy and that’s all I cared about. As I stopped in the start/finish and looked down, the ground seemed to be receding, I felt like I would fall over if I didn’t hold on. I looked up and the feeling passed. I glanced down and the ground once again seemed to slide away from me. I supported myself and closed my eyes. I didn’t fall over. Phew. I was dehydrated, but at least the pain had subsided. I cautiously started out on the second lap and told myself, “this is not a 16 mile lap, this is an interminable lap.” And it was.
I started out slow and felt if things remained this way I could finish, very slowly, but at least I thought that it was conceivable that I could finish. A mile later and that confidence was shattered when I started experiencing a sharp pain in the top of my left foot. It was so sudden and intense that I started hopping and limping when it struck. Where did that come from? I had to stop. I sat on a tree trunk loosened my laces and massaged my foot for a few minutes. This was all new to me, never before had I hurt so much on a run, yes, maybe after 20 miles or so, but never in the early miles. Again I contemplated abandoning, I definitely couldn’t run like this, even walking was agonizing. If I continued and things got worse I’d really be stuck out in the wild, at least now I was only 2 miles from base camp. But then what? My goal was to finish, surely I could do that even if it meant I had to walk or crawl, and things weren’t that bad yet. As long as I was able to move I would move in the direction of the finish line. I got to my feet and shuffled down the trail.
My foot felt better, the sharp pain had been reduced to a dull ache. I could handle that. My progress was still painfully slow. The rest of the run alternated between running 5-10 min then walking for 1-2 min. That helped break up the run into chunks, I could easily suffer for 5 minutes if I knew there was break in sight. It was an ordeal, but a manageable one. I reminded myself of my simple goal, “keep moving, don’t die”. I told myself as long as I kept taking another step I was winning.
The mile 22 Aid Station was a sight to behold, another milestone, a bit closer to the finish, and an oasis where I could relax for a minute. A quick drink and I was informed that it was 4 miles to next aid station, and then only another 3 miles to the finish. I told myself, “I can survive 4 miles and crawl 3″.
That 4 miles felt like 10. I kept running and walking for a minute or two then running for a minute, or two, or three. It was hard to tell. Consumed with pain, I had no will to do anything other than move my body towards the finish. Walks got longer, runs got shorter. I was breaking down.
Two runners caught me and passed me. I kept them in sight. Finally we approached the last aid station, at mile 28, or so we thought. We were told that the finish was “only another 5 miles”! I felt like I had been punched in the face. That was nearly double what I was expecting. As the other two guys chatted, I decided to hit it and just keep going until I dropped. I decided to keep running non-stop to the finish come what may. It was only five miles, and either I’d get there sooner, or I wouldn’t get there at all, and that would no longer be my problem.
The two guys soon caught up to me and I let them past, but stayed on their heels. As we approached a hill they began walking, and my super slow shuffle up the hill was just fast enough for me to overtake them. The sand made the hills arduous, my running pace was only slightly faster than walking speed up the hill, but I carried on. Over the top I had opened a gap, and my body hadn’t deteriorated further, I was encouraged and kept going. We approached a second hill and I ran slowly up and the gap widened further. When I reached level ground and looked back they were nowhere to be seen. I settled into a pace I thought I could hold and plodded on. As I approached a forested area I heard faint footsteps behind me and glanced back to see one of the guys 40-50 ft behind. He had come from nowhere. “We must be approaching the finish,” I thought, and increased my pace a little — as much as I dare. A few minutes later and the shadowy figure behind me was gone. I kept the pace up thinking the finish was imminent.
Five minutes later I was still struggling to hold the pace with no end in sight. I couldn’t let up, I knew I’d break down and start walking, and that would be that. I kept on… and on… and on. It seemed to never end, hill, corner, field, woods, up, down, bend. At one point I thought I heard voices and assumed I was coming in to base camp. I got a spring in my step. It was nothing, it was just me and the trees.
A few minutes later and suddenly I burst out of he woods into sunshine, I was crossing a road, and there were people sitting in chairs cheering, and tape and a clock. I staggered across the line and almost fell over. I could not bend down to remove the timing chip from my ankle. I took whatever was handed to me, and nodded as people spoke. I felt completely shattered. But I had completed the mission. I expected to feel some elation at finishing, it was more of a dull relief that the agony was over.
That “runner’s high” thing is a myth.
