Mr. Brightside

So I ran my first 50miler yesterday, the Stonecat 50mile in Ipswich, MA, and came away with mixed feelings.

The day started, as they all do, with an alarm going off well before I was ready to get up. After a quick breakfast in the hotel with a couple dozen fellow Stonecat-ers, I was at the check-in site at 5.30am. Got my number, milled around and listened to some music until the RD gave his pre-race speech. He gave us the usual info, what colors to follow, what arrows to look for, what aid would be available and then dropped a gem of a comment and said that they had to adjust the course at the last minute and the total distance would now be a solid 54miles and dropped the term Horton Miles.  Now, I fully expect the given distance of a trail course to be taken with a grain of salt, but I’d rather know the total AFTER I’ve ran it. Not before so that I dwell on it throughout the race. So on that bombshell, it was outside to the starting line.

The weather outside was pretty dreary. The skies were overcast and there was a thin mist/slight drizzle falling but the temp was in the 50s so there was no chance of pre-race hypothermia. I’ll take a little time here to describe the course. The layout was similar to that of the Bluff in that there was a loop section accessed by an out and back stick section, but the Stonecat stick was less than a mile long leaving more than 12 for the loop. The course was a mix of single track and dirt/gravel fire road (I’d say 65/35, but that’s just a guess) and the terrain was very accomodating and runable with the only obstacles arising when the trail crossed old stone walls. The course rolled quite a bit and was only interspersed briefly with a couple of flat sections. The trails wound their way through your basic New England woodland, some awesome pine sections, through marshland, along the banks of a lake and skirted the edge of the plowed fields of a farm. There was even a small water crossing when the trail passed by a marshy area and the water was flowing over the trail into a little runoff stream on the otherside. This part of the trail was a few hundred yards long and along with the flowing water, there was a long stretch of standing water. There was really no way around it but that didn’t stop people from trying. It gave me great pleasure splash straight through it while runners ahead of me gingerly tip-toed around the edge. HA. This is a trail race. Get over it. The course was well marked with orange streamers, flags and arrows of paper plates which made it nearly impossible to lose your way but I didn’t let that stand in my way and succeeded in missing a turn and bringing my record to 3 for 3 in trail races this year (Curly’s, the Bluff, Stonecat). Apart from the start/finish, there were two aid stations at miles 4.5 and 7.8 well stocked and superbly manned. The volunteers were GREAT; friendly, VERY helpful and encouraging. Can’t say enough about these fantastic people.

Back to the starting line, I purposely located myself in the middle of the pack, hoping to avoid my tendancy to outrun myself at the beginning of races and soon settled into moderate pace. I had a couple of goals in mind for the race ranging from ambitious to attainable. First, I wanted to finish under 9hrs, which I thought was well within me to achieve. Second, I hoped to run under 8hr20min, which I thought was a solid goal. Third, my ambitious goal was a sub 8hr finish (thank you Forrest for throwing that one out there) and lastly, I wanted to run the whole course without walking any part of it. In my only two previous ultras, both 50k’s, I had to walk at some point which is for me akin to somebody trying to stay up all night taking a quick nap. It just doesn’t feel right to me and I wanted the satisfaction of running the whole thing. After the “stick” the loop begins with a very  long but moderate hill and I was surprised at the number of people walking up it. This trend continued the whole race with people walking up every incline we came to and while I understand late in the race your legs give out and you are forced to walk, shouldn’t you try to run? Aren’t hills to be expected on a trail race? Anyway, I continued on and focused on maintaining my pace but about halfway through the first lap, my legs started to ache and soreness began creeping in. By the end of the first lap, I knew something wasn’t right. My legs were killing me, aching all over. I shouldn’t be feeling this way until at least halfway through. Energy wise, I was fine and I had no choice but to continue, albeit slightly concerned. I started my second lap at 2hr 6min and I knew my 8hr goal was out of reach but I felt like 8hr20min was still within my reach. Throughout my second lap, my legs got worse so I tried hyperventilating to force oxygen to my legs hoping that would clear any built up acid and I lengthened my stride to try to stretch the legs a bit but this only slowed the progress of the pain. I never felt like my energy was low or that my legs were tired, they simply ached as if i had already run 30miles. My second lap finished at 4hr20(ish) and my third at 6hr30min. There was nothing for the pain now, execpt to focus on breathing and continue to run. The big kick in the sack came as I set off on my 4th and final lap. On painful legs, I faced my final lap determined to finish and with my 8hr20min now seemingly out of reach I focused on getting as close to it as possible. The dreaded thought of not making my 9hr goal now loomed on the horizon and wanted to waste as little time as possible but as I headed out, I overheard two spectators saying they expected the leader any minute now. I thought, that can’t be right. They must mean an hour or so. As I headed across the field along the “stick” I heard loud cheers and encouragements from the trail ahead and around the bend comes the first place runner, steaming along heading towards the finish line. I couldn’t believe it. Here I am, starting my last lap and he’s finishing his. Talk about disheartening.  All of a sudden, it felt like I was all alone at the back of the pack and I really had to dig deep to motivate myself to keep going. The first 3 laps actually passed by quickly. It didn’t feel like I had been on the trail 6.5 hours, despite what my legs said, but that 4th lap was by far the hardest. The trail was marked with milemarkers, which I hate, and it seemed like days would pass between each one. The image of the finish line and the trail that still lay ahead of me weighed heavy on my mind and I fought hard to stay in the present. I played songs in my head to help avoid thinking ahead and focused on reaching the next aid station. Along the way, I would pass other runners and although we would exchange greetings and encouragements, it felt good to pass them. As I left the trail for the final time and headed across the field towards the finish line, I used what energy I had left to sprint (i felt like I was sprinting, to everyone else, I’m sure it looked like a quick jog) and crossed the line in 8hr 40min 9sec. From there, it was all I could do not to collapse in a heap.

In the end, I came away with mixed feelings. I was disappointed a bit with my time and angry that my legs gave up so early in the race, but on the other hand, I was able to overcome the pain, run the entire course without walking, complete the 50+ miles and finish under 9 hrs. Again, I have to say the course was great and very beautiful and the volunteers were PHENOMENAL, so a big thank you goes out to them all.