Race Report – Ret Taylor

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I entered the Bimbler’s Bluff 50K (31 miles) ultra marathon as my first attempt at any distance beyond the standard 26.2m (42Km), of which I’ve completed five. It was held on Sunday, October 25, 2009 on the trails of the nature preserves north of Guilford, CT. Guilford is a small town along Interstate 95 about two hours from my place in Manhattan.

The day before the race I was feeling in good shape having put in some relatively high mile weeks leading up to it and tapering the week of. In fact, with the tapering I was finding that I had all kinds of excess energy. It would take me hours to fall asleep and my libido was through the roof.

I booked a hotel room in Guilford where a lot of the racers would be staying and at the last minute, I decided I would ditch the rental car and take the train up to New Haven. I’d get around from there any way I could. I figured that my need for a ride would prove an impetus for meeting more people at the race. I also relished the uncertainty of it and thought that it would lend more to the adventure. I was right on all accounts.

I arrived in Guilford in the pouring rain 15 hours before the start of the race and went directly to a pub called KC’s where we could pick up our numbers and feast on pasta. I sat at the bar between two groups of local guys going to town on some local brews. It was strictly water for this guy but I was tempted to have a pint. I had packed a few bottled Stellas for post race and I consoled myself that they were waiting for me.

It was easier falling asleep that night and I slept soundly, waking up a few minutes before the 5:30am wake up call. I was dressed and ready to roll by about 6. I was thinking that if I hung out in the lobby, I ought to be able to spot my fellow racers and would see if I could bum a ride to the start. It didn’t take long.

I met Mark and his wife getting OJ and bagels in the lobby. Mark was a high school cross country and track coach in Massachusetts and we got on great. He offered a ride and we were off by about 6:30.

At the start, the sun had just come up exposing some very interesting clouds. I had brought my camera and these clouds would prove to be the subject of the only picture I took that day. I had planned on carrying the camera with me and wish I had but left it behind at the last moment not wanting the extra weight. Runners were showing up and milling around the start, which was held on the field of a grade school adjacent to the preserve. A little before the 8am start, the race director, a very nice guy named Jerry “Mr. Bimble” Turk gave a speech, told us all to behave and to try not to get lost. A short time later, we were lined up at the start where the national anthem was sung by two racers. Standing next to a group of cadets from West Point and feeling the camaraderie of these fellow nutters who were all about to spend their Sunday running ridiculous distances through the woods, I found it to be a powerful moment.

When the proverbial gun went off (really just a yell of “go!” from Mr. Bimble) the race began with an inauspicious start. With 50K to go, no one was moving at too exciting of a pace. We jogged around a soccer field and then hit the trail. It was single track and we were forced into single file. Having had hard rail the entire day before, the trail was as wet as could be and covered in wet leaves. Not ideal conditions but that’s all part of it.

I ran the first two miles with a guy from Maine named Zach. I felt that we went out a little fast but I wasn’t willing to ease off the pace. After a couple miles I loosened up and started feeling good. I left Zach and started pushing the pace. I was amazed at how difficult the footing was with fist sized rocks and forearm sized roots, huge puddles and slippery leaves everywhere. I wanted to take in the beautiful scenery with the colorful fall leaves but I really had a to pay attention to where I placed every step. Little did I know that this section would prove to offer the best traction on the course and it would only get worse.

I was using the strategy of walking the steeper uphills and found that I did not loose much ground on those that would run them and that I would soon catch up and surpass them on the downhill. I passed a few people this way and at mile 5 or 6 I passed two guys that were running together and clearly friends. As I passed, one of them said something to me about Valentino Rossi and how he wanted to punch me because I was looking to be enjoying all of this. Strange and its possible I misunderstood him but it was the only time since high school that a competitor had said anything but encouragement. I was enjoying it and I didn’t know what an Italian motorcycle racer had to do with anything, which is what I told him… as I left him behind.

At mile 8 or so the puddles turned into ponds. It was difficult navigating around them without getting stuck in the bush. I led the charge with Valentino Rossi and couple others behind me. It was a solid mile of this and looking back, it was one of the more fun parts of the race. It required athleticism and split decisions as to which side to pass on.

From around mile 5 my eyes had been tearing up for some reason. I would wipe them with my hands now and then as I ran. At mile 9 I wiped at my left eye and felt my contact crumple and fall out. I couldn’t get it back in with my muddy hands and knew it was a goner. I tried to press on with only the right one in but my depth perception was thrown off by this and I was having trouble navigating the footing. After a minute I pulled out the other one and took a look around. I have a low prescription and can see decently without them but I don’t wear them because I like to. It turned out that this would be one of the worst parts in the course to not have 20/20 vision.

The guys that I had led around the gigantic puddles quickly passed me, including Valentino, when I was dealing with the contacts. It would have been very useful to have had them in front of me as the trail became all but impossible to follow. Really it became a bushwhack up and down some small ravines. There was nothing to follow except for some red and white ribbons that we spaced out now and then. They would have been hard enough to find with my contacts. It took me much longer than it ought to have throughout this section but when I heard the faint sound of cheering I bushwhacked toward it.

I all but fell down the escarpment that led to the road and the first aid station at mile 10. Despite the difficulties I’d just had over the last mile I was in great spirits and loving every moment of the race. I ran into the aid station with a huge smile on my face feeling great. I had a little water, a couple oranges and pressed on… straight up hill.

The elevation gain from mile 10 to 11 was the steepest of the race and included some short sections where hand over hand climbing was necessary. Running was all but impossible as the trail led to the top of the bluff from which the race took its name. The view from here was gorgeous; rolling hills covered in fall colors with small New England farms spotting the landscape under a brilliant blue sky. [singlepic=5329,280,200,,right]

From there the course was mostly downhill until the next aid station at mile 15 although it was very tough running with poor footing and a not always clear course. I got lost at mile 14 when I missed a turn onto a dirt road and ran an extra quarter mile in the wrong direction. I was all but sprinting to get back on track, angry with myself and wanting to make up time. It felt good to be moving quickly on flat ground and good footing and I felt a runners high coming on. My pace dropped and I quickly covered a half mile or more before I almost stepped on the biggest turtle I’d ever seen. It was in one of the “puddles”  and when I stopped to check him out, I came out of the runners high, which made me realize that I had missed another turn! I couldn’t believe it! I had been off course for 10 of the last 12 minutes. Worst of all, I was really pushing the pace so I had covered a lot of ground. I would figure at least a mile total.

After I got back on course, the 15 mile aid station came quickly. I was relieved to be there and it was nice to see the support. Again, I was all smiles and by this time everyone was calling me Smiley. I had a couple bites of a doughnut, some orange slices, filled my hydration pack with Gatorade and was back on the trail as quickly as I could. Some racers must have stayed at the station for a while as I passed several shortly afterward. I was feeling good although I was having trouble seeing where the trail was. I felt that I was not being slowed by my legs and endurance, but by my poor eyesight.

I pressed on through a rolling section of six or seven miles of single track and forest roads passing racers now and then and enjoying the day. I hit the 20 mile aid station an hour or so later and saw the Valentino Rossi guy and his buddy leaving as I arrived. I chatted up the volunteers there, had some M&Ms, some more oranges, a refill of the pack and was back to business.

I was soon lost AGAIN, running approximately a half mile off course. It would have been worse had not another runner heard me from his position above the ravine I was headed down and called to me. I ran with him briefly and then feeling good, I pressed the pace. At about mile 22 we hit the first section of the course, which was laid out like a “Q”, this being the tail. What I had thought was so difficult before now felt like a manicured lawn and I opened up even more. Also, I knew this section from before and was not worried about getting lost. Big mistake.

I caught up to Valentino’s buddy at the puddles, promised him one of my waiting beers and pressed on. A mile later I had Valentino in my sights. He was a quarter mile ahead on a long straight uphill.When I passed him the second time he was as nice as could be, told me I looked strong and encouraged me to go for it. He was sucking wind hard and I promised him my last beer back at the finish.

At this point I was at about mile 26 with 5 to go. I was still feeling good although I was drinking a lot more and my legs were hurting on the downhills. I was still enjoying the hell out it but I knew I would need to dig deep to finish strong.

I hit the last aid station at mile 28, I think and blew right through it. With only 3 to go I was ready to get it done. I passed two more racers shortly after and then I finally hit the wall. With no hills in Manhattan and none in my training, the downhills were killing my IT bands and it was incredibly painful to do anything but walk down the steepest sections. Focused on the pain and in a thick section of woods, I missed another turn and lost another seven or eight minutes correcting it. This proved to be the low point of the race. Not only was my body tired but my brain was acting up. At one point I had an overwhelming desire for some French’s yellow mustard and I loudly blurted out to myself, (the only occasion of talking to myself) “mustard sandwich!” Crazy, I know.

I could sense the finish line though and ran hard for the last mile, enduring the pain on the downhills. I put my iPod on for the first time and hit replay three times on the most kicking tune I’ve ever heard (Partouze by Steve Angello & Sebastian Ingrosso and remixed by Jean Ellan). My good buddy, Haytham had sent it to me the day before all the way from Saudi and it shaped me right up.

When the woods opened up to the school, spectators and finish line, a wide smile came to my face and I sprinted the last 100 meters grinning cheek to cheek.

I finished in 6:00.18, good enough for 14^th place out of about 60 I believe. I was pleased with this as I felt I had done my best. The contacts falling out and all the time and energy I spent running the wrong way was a killer. I figure it cost me at least 50 minutes and 5 positions. I’ll be sure to address that in the next race, of which I plan to have many more.

My smile at the finish line vanished, however, when I saw Valentino already sitting in the grass with his shoes off. Getting lost that last time cost me a victory over him but I chalked it up for what it was and when I was handed a burger smothered in… mustard! the smile came right back.

In the end, it was a great race and a fantastic day. I met some real class folks that understand and/or appreciate this sort of challenge/lunacy and I proved to myself that I’m capable of a lot more. I got a ride back to the city with a top ranked triathalete and a very nice guy named Jason who I had first offered one of my waiting beers to back at mile 22. As for the beers, they went unopened. After 50K, they just didn’t sound as good.