I started the year with the goal of finishing every race in the LUS (Lynchburg Ultra Series), which includes three 50Ks and one 50 miler. The Mountain Masochist Trail Run. That was all really, just finishing them and getting the jacket that goes along with it.
The 50Ks (Holiday Lake, Terrapin Mountain, and Promise Land) came and went this spring, each with their own goals met and lessons learned. But then came Masochist. And the six month gap between it and the other races. Just enough time to get in really good shape right? Or in my case, to train and train and train and burn out a month before the taper should start and not even want to run.
My problem is this: I like to run. I enjoy it. It is fun to me. Training is not always like running for fun. Too much structure, too much pressure. Did I get enough miles this week? Was that long run long enough? Was that tempo run fast enough? Am I fueling right? By September running was becoming work. And I have too much going on in my life to take on another job.
By the time Masochist got here I had adjusted my goal from just wanting to finish, to wanting to finish in 10 hours. My wife, and ever optimistic training partner, was convinced that she probably couldn't even finish the race in the 12 hour cut off. Everyone who knows us was secretly (or not so secretly) betting on how well she would do come race day. I'm pretty sure that there was a pool going, betting on how badly she would beat me. I just wish they would have let me get in on that action.
One week out from the race, in the middle of my 2 1/2 week taper, I had a great run with some of the guys I'm fortunate enough to get to train with. Explaining to Jason Captain on a long climb what my race plan was, I found my Zen Spot and totally stopped stressing about the race. "The hay is in the barn," he says, meaning that the training was done. There was nothing left to worry about except thing like fueling and clothing choices. And I've never much worried about fashion.
At the start of the race I was feeling good. Thanks in part to our terrific crew Kristen and Blake, whose job it was to worry for me about hydration and fuel all day. So I was left with nothing to stress about except whether or not my socks matched.
The first eight miles of the race were a lot of fun. You climb almost constantly, but it was very runable.
The definition of runable changes almost constantly during a race, the runability of a hill is inversely related to the number of miles you have run to get to that hill. As a matter of fact there are points in the day where steepness plays almost no role in determining the runablity of a hill. If you are sufficiently tired, a bump in the road becomes a hike break.
But those first eight miles flew by, I passed and was passed by Alexis several times, I saw other friends and we wished each other luck, and I just felt completely good. Coming out of the second aid station I felt a little pain in my right ankle, so I took it easy on the down hill that followed. After that the work started.
And after that I didn't see Alexis again until the end, there were rumors whispered at aid stations "She's 3 minutes ahead of you," "She was here 12 minutes ago," "She is on fire!," "She's looking really strong," "I think she came through 30 minutes ago, but she was just a blur so I can't be sure." I was happy for her, and this actually helped me hold it together at a few low points. 'If the queen of self doubt can have a great day,' I thought to myself, 'then so can I.'
The ankle pain hurt of that first down hill, but it vanished on the next climb, and I was able to put it out of my mind. The first half was going great for me. I was on my pace goal or a little ahead of it at every aid station. My crew was more help than I could have hoped for, and the weather was awesome.
As I trudged up to Long Mountain Wayside, tired but in good spirits, I was having serious doubt that I would even see any snow that day. I convinced myself that the course conditions were exaggerated to try to intimidate us runners, and that I was going to have a great finish well under my 10 hour goal.
I was wrong. It happens once in a while.
When I got to The Loop, Blake started to run with me. I hadn't expected him to pace me in until after The Loop, but this was good with me. I enjoy running with people. Blake told me as we headed in that it was going to be slow. The front runners who usually run the 6 mile loop in about 45 minutes were in there for 1:13. Still, I had a hard time believing it was going to be that big of a game changer.
Once again, I was wrong.
Not only did the snow slow us down quite a bit, but the extra strain of my balancing muscles was really working on that ankle. By the time we trudged out of The Loop, 1:34 after going in, my right ankle was on fire again.
I was fortunate to have Blake with me at this point, because he kept me distracted from the pain, and I was fortunate for several miles of snow-free road. At the Salt Log Gap aid station (41 miles) I told Blake that I had never run any farther than this before. He cheerily told me we still had a long way to go. Blake was great like that, he would tell you how hard it was going to be, but he sounded so happy about it that I had to doubt it was really going to be as hard as he said.
I tried to run the climb out of Salt Log Gap and Blake warned that I was probably wasting my energy unnecessarily, but I couldn't help looking at my watch and seeing my 10 hour goal looking harder and harder to hit. When I left The Loop I had to maintain a 12 minute/mile pace to the finish, but the ankle and the snow seemed to have other plans for me.
We reached the Forest Valley Aid Station, and things got worse. The wooded section from there to the next aid station was as bad or worse than The Loop conditions. There was more walking than I would have liked, and even walking in the snow was starting to hurt my ankle. That 4 miles in the woods felt like 20.
By the time we reached the final aid station I knew my 10 hour goal was unattainable. I had four miles to go and 34 minutes to run it. The worst problem was my foot, by this point every step hurt. I tried to convince myself that it hurt to run and to walk so running was the better option since it would end the misery sooner, but downhill running was not in the cards for me.
I finished with a time of 10 hours and 12 minutes. The last 12 miles I ran/walked at a 13 minute/mile pace. It seems that sometimes 1 minute per mile is just not as easy as you would think.
I did not reach my time goal this year, but I am still very very pleased with my Masochist finish. My friend Frank 'the tank' Gonzales told me that in better conditions I could have been 30 minutes faster. Clark Zealand, the race director said that we had the worst course conditions in the 30 year history of the race.
Most of all, I am happy that 50 miles seemed so easy to run. I know I'm complaining about the snow and my ankle, but over all I just ran and felt like I could keep going. Especially when my foot hurt too bad to run, I was frustrated because I still had the strength and will to run.
Next year, LUS + Hellgate 100K!
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