Momma said there'd be days like this....Iron Mountain 50 Race Report

There I was, 48 miles and 11 1/2 hours into the day's run, sitting in the middle of the trail right beside what had just a few minutes ago been the contents of my stomach, wondering where I go from here. The dark haired woman's words ringing in my head "You'll regret it later if you don't finish." It was as though I was having an out of body experience, this couldn't really be me, struggling with every ounce of fight left within just to scrape out a finish. And yet, even that was uncertain at the moment.

The day had started out with plenty of uncertainties. Worried about my stomach due to G.I. issues the past few long runs,  I was fairly worked up about my stomach in the days preceding the race. I was so worried about my stomach that I didn't really even contemplate finishing times or make a race plan other than to pack Imodium, Pepto and Tums first  among my things when gathering the weekend's gear.

Instead of my pre-race ritual Pepto, I took Imodium, distressed about my stomach as I was. It really did seem like a good idea at the time, and it worked, I didn't go to the bathroom all day.  However, I think had I taken Pepto instead as is my usual M.O. I may have had a vastly different day. In addition to the liquid Imodium I ate two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drank some grape Gatorade. I also took two S caps.

We got to the race start and I noticed lots of people walking around eating and eating. I decided to take a GU, thinking it was better to be full of food then hungry. The race started at 7 am and ran along the flat, gravel Creeper Trail in the town of Damascus for nearly five miles. I started out slow, once again, probably not the best idea. I'm honestly beginning to think I don't know what I'm doing. Anyways, I could still see Todd, Kevin and Chelsie up ahead so I didn't fret my pace. But then at about mile three my stomach started to bother me. It wasn't serious, just a slight wave of nausea. I was able to keep running, holding a steady 9:20 pace until we got off of the Creeper Trail.

We exited the Creeper Trail just about five miles in at the first aid station. Due to the nausea I stopped at the first aid station and got a drink. Afterwards we hit single track and a small climb and I took to walking. It wasn't steep but I just felt like walking. Gina, Dru and Rebecca caught back up with me and I told them my stomach was bothering me. Dru offered me an S Cap but I wasn't sure that would help. I just followed Dru's footsteps, trying to shake the nausea and find my race. I listened as Dru told another runner about the Mountain Junkies series and just climbed as well as I could. Dru is a good climber and I started to feel better as we hiked steadily along. At the second aid station my stomach was feeling better but I wasn't having much desire to push myself.

In the next section I started to pick the pace up a little, I passed Dru and caught Cheyenne and we ran a short ways together. I saw Horton who asked how I was. I told him I thought I was burnt out, that I was having a hard time finding any desire to run. He replied "That isn't good." To be honest, I was hoping for a little more wisdom from him, but I figure he thinks I'm a head case and it wouldn't do any good wasting advice on me anyhow. However, after I passed him I did find a little desire to pick it up. Maybe in spite of the fact that I believe Horton feels that way.

I passed Chelsie headed into Skull's Gap and she said she felt good but was taking it easy on her ankle. The runner behind me introduced herself, Leah and we talked for a few minutes. At the Skull's Gap aid station I drank some Mountain Dew and refilled my vest with more GU. I saw Brian Keefer who was volunteering and he said he thought Kevin Corell was only ten minutes ahead of me. I grabbed some watermelon and pringles and headed out.

Leah and I talked some more as we started the next climb and then leap-frogged a bit. I hiked yet covered the distance well. As it leveled out a bit I took to running and turned on my iPod. I was starting to really feel good. I ate on schedule and took another S Cap or two. I was working on dwindling the time between Kevin and I. I was probably being cocky. I looked at my clock and started to work on bridging the gap between us, I figured if I could hold pretty steady I could run 10 hours, if I slipped a little I could run 10:30. Not great but with the start I'd had I was content.

At the next aid station I had some more Mountain Dew and watermelon and headed out with two guys and a girl. It was downhill  on a gravel road and I stayed steady keeping the three runners ahead in sight. We turned left onto a single track trail and I talked with the guy who was directly ahead for a few minutes. Then we came to another gravel road that was almost all downhill. At first it was great, I caught and passed a few runners still keeping the girl and guy from the previous aid station in sight and working on that 10 minute gap. I would even run the short uphills. And then, after a few miles of downhilling the nausea came back. I opened a GU and tried for a few minutes to eat it. Finally I stopped moving, tried once more and dumped the rest of the packet so I could put the empty wrapper back in my vest. I took to running downhill again but the nausea just kept getting worse. I thought it may be the heat and humidity bothering me so when thunder clapped I was hopeful for a storm despite the sun still shining overhead.

Finally an aid station appeared. I told the volunteers I was nauseous and they offered me a popsicle which I took and I drank some Mountain Dew as one of the volunteers put some pringles and a quarter PB&J in a sandwich bag for me. I headed off back into single track trail, feeling worse with every step. I stopped in the first creek crossing and knelt down and poured water on my head and washed my face hoping the cool water would refresh me, lessen the nausea. I was finding it very hard to eat and the stomach trouble had gotten me down mentally. When Leah and one of the runners I'd run the downhill section with approached on an uphill section of single track I stepped aside and just followed their lead.

This was I believe the shoe sucking section I'd been warned about. It was single track with sloppy sections with unsure footing. I didn't loose my shoe but I picked up a lot of mud and muck. I stayed with the group as we picked up another male who looked as though he'd fallen and we climbed along the waterfall together. When we reached that aid station I got ice in my bottle, perhaps I am not drinking enough water I thought. I drank some more soda and ate grapes and watermelon. I left the aid station thinking Leah had left and I was hoping to stay with her. I followed the single track for a brief stint until it came out on a gravel road. I didn't see Leah so I ran thinking she had pulled ahead while I was getting fruit at the aid station. I was running along well and then the nausea hit hard. I had to start walking on a downhill section. I passed a group camping and forced myself to run by them. But shortly after I was doing almost less than walking, just crawling along at a snails pace, overwhelmed with nausea.

Earlier in the day when I had been plagued with nausea and wondering why I was even out here to run 50 miles I had contemplated a DNF. I'd gone back and forth on it until I'd remembered the Grindstone training run a few weeks ago when Brenton Swyers asked if I'd ever DNF'd. I had been able to say no. I decided that in two more weeks should someone ask me that question I would like to be able to say the same thing. But now, 33 miles into this thing, I was hitting bottom. Leah came upon me once more, she'd apparently not left the aid station before me and asked if I was okay. I told her I was nauseous. She asked if I thought it was an electrolyte imbalance and said I should try to throw up. Then she told me that she'd gotten sick at Old Dominion in June and that even though she'd ended up dropping she had felt better. I stopped then and bent over, with Leah basically by my side, this poor sweet angel, and threw up everything. Once, twice, three times. A male runner stopped and asked if I was okay and I was pretty embarrassed that he and Leah had to witness any of this. Leah told me she would let them know at the next aid station that I was sick and left but not before giving me the sweetest look and most tender of hugs.

After they left I walked a short ways but realized that I did feel better. I took to running again and as I turned off to the left onto more single track the threat of a storm became an awesome rain shower. I ran well to the next aid station and told myself that I wasn't going to quit. The worst was over. I got to the aid station as Leah was leaving and she asked if I was going to go on. I told her I felt better and I was going to try. The volunteers were awesome, they offered me a chair, which I declined, worrying I'd never get back up. One gave me a cup of ice water and another suggested I try banana. I emptied the trash from my vest into my drop bag and got a few more GU. I left feeling pretty good. I looked at my watch. Eight hours in but only about 13 miles left.  I figured if I ran well I could still finish in a time of 10:30 or 10:40. I ran a little ways, figuring what kind of pace I would need to maintain and a little worried about fueling back up when only a little while later the wheels came off and the nausea came back.

This is when a just sort of bad day, became a truly bad day. I was nauseous once more, but could only dry heave. I couldn't stomach the thought of more GU and yet I didn't have the energy without trying to force myself to eat. I was walking along through mud and muck, slipping occasionally and I decided I wanted out. I thought long and hard about the prospect of a DNF, I decided I didn't really care. I didn't care about running 45 miles and quitting. And then a minute later I would tell myself "Thomas' don't quit", whatever this takes even if it's more than 12 hours, you have to finish. Back and forth. But this just drained more energy. I sat down once when the nausea and mental crap became too much to carry. I started hiking again and soon I began to be passed by what seemed like dozens of runners, all looking strong and telling me I did to. One man offered me a Fig Newton when I told him I was nauseous but then he realized he didn't have it on him. He felt bad but told me I was moving smoothly enough he thought I'd finish. I didn't bother to tell him I didn't really care.

I trudged on and several more people passed me, a girl named Emily I believe was one, she was so happy to see me, she said she'd thought it'd been the apocalypse it had been so long since she'd seen a runner. It wasn't long after this that I got dizzy and a little worried for my health. I sat down on a log and started playing out scenarios where I was the last runner out in the woods and that some search and rescue team was going to find me out here passed out along the side of this log. I didn't feel like myself at all. It was scary.

I managed to get up and keep moving forward to the next aid station but it just got uglier and uglier. I was a complete mess and moving on empty. I decided I had had enough, I was dropping at the next aid station. This was difficult to swallow and I think I got a little pouty about the decision.  Then I heard the call of a woman's voice yelling "runners you're near the cut off, hurry up you have ten minutes to make the cut". And for some reason I ran towards that voice.

I made it to the aid station as they were packing up the canopies. I stood there for a moment and one volunteer asked what I needed. I quietly told her I had been nauseous all day and had been throwing up. I poured a little Coke in a cup and drank it. I was waiting for someone to save me. I was waiting for my time to run out. And then a woman with dark hair shouted at me (and she may not have really shouted but it seemed like shouting at the time) to get whatever I needed and get out of the aid station. I told her, through quivering lips that I thought I was going to drop. She said, "NO, get whatever you need and go" and the other volunteer said "She's been throwing up and is nauseous" and the dark haired woman says "You will regret it, just go, you have time. You know what the cut off it right? Just grab what you need and keep moving. It's only 7.5 more miles." I moved over to the table and with tears collecting in my eyes I grabbed a ziploc bag and in it put some grapes, some pringles and some M&Ms. And I walked away.

I am not sure I've ever felt the way I did just then. I know now that I absolutely needed that push, but I was not thankful for it. In the next few miles I was a roller coaster of emotions. I started out trying to run after the coke and grapes, but the nausea was only getting worse. I stepped aside and let three guys go past me and I was certain that I was out there alone after they walked by. As they disappeared I had thoughts of calling to them and telling them to send Todd for me because I really wasn't sure I'd make it. I was certain I wouldn't hit the 12 hours but I figured at this point it was just about doing the distance regardless of the cutoff.

I tried to hike the best I could because running made me so nauseous that I had to stop and bend over the side of the trail after each short jaunt. I made it to the bottles and ran right by wondering where the rocky decent I'd heard rumor of was. Instead there was more climbing, I was down to the last hour though I'd left the aid station with just over two hours to go and only 7.5 miles. Finally I arrived at the rocky decent and I couldn't even walk without the nausea making me stop on the side of the trail, but nothing was coming up, and I think that was as much as anything because I was afraid to throw up again, I hate getting sick.

Finally it became too much, it was 11:30 hours in and I knew I still had over two miles to go thanks to the sign that said 2 miles to Damascus and just wasn't going to make it at the rate I was going. I stopped still as soon as another wave hit me and vomited again and again, projectile style with grapes and coke coming out of my nose until nothing else would come out, it scared me, my heart was racing faster than it had pumped all day (or so it felt). I sat down on the trail beside the contents of my stomach and was just absolutely defeated in a way I am not sure I've ever felt before. But my stomach did feel better. So I got back up, it was 11:30 on the watch, I had a half an hour still to make it back to the pavilion in Damascus. And so I ran.

I ran every step and prayed that the road to Damascus was close. I saw something up ahead but I couldn't tell if it was water or pavement, was I hallucinating? As I got closer I saw that it was pavement. I had been told earlier in the race that it wasn't a mile to the pavilion once you hit the road. I still had time. With an empty stomach I was able to run every step to the pavilion.

So in a nutshell I had nearly as bad a day as I could have had (nausea/vomiting are better than an injury) but I finished. I just wish that the finishing felt better. I am sure in a few days or weeks to come that I'll be more positive about finishing, but for now I'm kind of still empty towards the whole experience. I am thankful for the volunteer, whose name I didn't get but was told it was Rick Gray's wife. She did give me the final push that I needed. I'm thankful for all of the volunteers at the aid stations and the other people out on the trail, so many of whom I didn't even get a name. I'm thankful for all of the friends I've made and especially those who let me shower in their RV (thanks Frank and Christy).

There may be more later, but for now...

-Alexis