I knew the weather wasn’t going to be perfect and I
knew that the course wasn’t going to be in tip top shape. But I was
still very excited for the race to begin.
I
woke up early that Friday so I could continue my 44-day running streak
since December 23. Amy and the kids picked me up from school at 3:00
and we left for Huntsville State Park. It rained quite a bit and I
wasn’t looking forward to setting up camp in the rain or spending the
whole evening in the tent. And I was hoping that it wouldn’t rain too
much so Amy wouldn’t get stuck in the tent all day Saturday with three
kids. After about 15 miles the roads looked dry and the rain had
stopped. Maybe it’d be dry up there. We got camp all ready and not too
much later it started raining for awhile. The rest of the evening and
night were just fine and quiet.
I woke up at
4:40 to start getting ready and to make sure I could find a ride from
our campsite to the start/finish. (I didn’t want to have Amy wake the
kids and all just to drive me over when I knew lots of people would be
heading over there anyway.) While brushing my teeth (which ended up
being the last time for two whole days), it started drizzling. That was
fine. I could handle that. Back in the tent and changing into my
running clothes, it started raining pretty hard. This is definitely not
what I wanted, at least not right now. I’d have been okay with it if
it started after the race began. But I don’t get to choose what the
weather will be. I looked out of the tent and across the street to the
restroom and saw a car was parked there with lights on. I got my drop
bag and a half loaf of French bread for my breakfast and ran through
huge puddles to get into the bathroom to ask this guy for a ride over to
the start/finish. “No problem.” Ultra runners have got to be some of
the nicest people I’ve ever met in my entire life.
My
feet are already rather wet and there’s a quickly growing crowd
underneath the tent at the start/finish. Just 30 more minutes until
starting time. 10 minutes. I’ve been standing next to a couple guys;
one’s from England and the other from Portland, OR. Since this is my
third 100-miler, I’m not very nervous- just excited to get running. 3
minutes. I think the rain has stopped, but who cares. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO!
And we start shuffling out of the tent and walking up the path that
all of us hope to be coming back on within the next thirty hours (of
course with all 100 miles finished).
After a few minutes I see the guy from Portland
that I was talking with earlier. “Jon?” “Yeah.” “Matt.” “Oh hey.” We’d
end up spending the next 55 miles side-by-side talking mostly about
running, but also about lots of other random topics and sometimes there
were stretches of silence. It’s not every day you get to run with
somebody for nine and a half hours. The only times we were apart was
when we returned to the start/finish at the conclusion of every loop,
and that was only for a few minutes before we headed back out for the
next loop.
Despite
the amount of rain, most of the course was just fine. There were,
however, several large and unavoidable mini swamps that used to be
trails. When I reached to first of these I wanted to try to avoid it.
But considering how far out I’d have to wander, it was a better and
quicker idea to just go straight through it. This ended up being just
fine. Sure my feet would feel like they were drenched (which they were)
but after a few minutes they’d feel “normal” or maybe I just didn’t
notice it anymore. So this became my strategy throughout the rest of the
race. And when I saw others trying to avoid the mud pits, I’d jokingly
tell them that they were missing out on the best part of the race or
that there were no points for finishing clean.
The
hardest thing was after sundown and all the muddy parts became nearly
invisible even with a flashlight. Anticipating this, I tried to
memorize where the muddy spots were on the downhill parts and where the
best spots were for avoiding these troublesome areas. However, a lot
of the time they all meshed together and I’d have to re-figure it out
as I got there.
Being my third 100-miler and having already run
this course before, I was hoping to greatly improve my finishing time
(despite all the rain). I wanted to make sure that I started out a bit
slower so that I’d be able to still have energy to finish strong
instead of lots of walking intermingled with some running. There were
nearly 400 starters and I had no intentions of running someone else’s
race. Just start out with an overly slow pace and know that I’d be
happy I did after 60 miles. I finished the first lap in 3:48:09 and in
138th place, which was nearly 20 minutes slower than last
year’s first lap. But I was okay with this as it still put me on pace
for finishing just over 19 hours (even though I wanted to finish
sub-19). One thing I definitely wanted to change this year was to not
spend as much time in the aid stations, especially the start/finish. I
had to take a bit of time and lube my chaffed nipples before my shirt
rubbed them off my chest. I decided against lubing up my groin which
was not a good idea. So I made sure both sensitive areas were lubed
each time I finished a lap.
The second lap
proceeded just as the first. As we were now past the last aid station
and ready to meet up with the two-way part of the trail, I noticed that
we were probably gonna be a bit faster than last lap. I had never had a
negative split and was really excited to have one now. We finished the
second lap in 3:40:22 and in 78th place. 40 miles and
almost 7 ½ hours of running completed. The best part of the third lap
is that you reach the half-way point. A few miles after this was when I
began my solo trek for the next 29 miles or so. The third lap finished
in 3:42:19 and in 50th place. Slow and steady wins the race. Well, not really wins it but it sure beats a lot of the rabbits.
The
fourth lap is great because you only have one more when you finish it.
The only problem is: it’s one whole entire 20-mile lap to still
endure. But I was prepared and took my mp3 player along for the lap
until Josh Udy paced me for the last 20 miles and I’d have someone to
talk to. I listened to a book (Next- a Michael Crichton novel about
genetic engineering) for the whole time except a few spots when I was
talking with a fellow runner. About 7 miles into this loop was when I
needed my lights again. I was feeling fine, considering I’d already run
67 miles. It was a very uneventful lap though I did notice I was
walking a bit more on some of the smaller hills I was running earlier.
But oh well. I did notice that on the 6-mile loop from DamNation back
to DamNation I was running a lot (at least I considered it a lot). The
same thing happened on the long straightaway before the Park Road aid
station. I was feeling great mentally and physically as I finished the
fourth lap in 4:07:21 and in 31st place. Seeing Josh I said,
“I hope you’re ready to run!” since last time (at Cactus Rose) we
ended up taking 8 ½ hours to go 25 miles.
Just
20 more miles. An entire lap. I don’t want to do another lap. I just
want to be done. It was difficult getting started on this lap and we
walked/ran for the first couple miles. But then, just like I did on the
previous lap, I was able to find it in me to go strong on those
backside hills (or speed bumps if you live somewhere mountainous) and
continue that through most of the rest of the loop. I warned Josh about
the mud “puddles” also. He seemed to enjoy striding through them as it
reminded him of Fiji- traveling in the dark on muddy hills.
We left DamNation for the last time and I thanked
them for their super work, love and support, and bid them farewell for
the last time. Eight more miles to go. “I’ve walked up most of this
hill each lap, but I need to run parts of it.” Josh never seemed to be
bothered by my ‘let’s go’ or ‘okay I need to walk’ instructions
(especially when it was time for walking). The best part of having a
pacer isn’t to have them push you along and tell you that you’re doing
great, that if you just run this fast you can
get this time, or to try to compel you to stop walking so much and get
running. The best part is just having them there next to you. They
don’t even have to say anything (though 20 miles would be a long time
of silence). Just being there is so refreshing. What else says true
friendship like running for four hours in the middle of the night with
no reward but the company of your friend? Pacers don’t get T-shirts or
trophies or the sensibility of having finished any race. They get a hug
and a big thanks for going far beyond what normal people would call a
favor.
Having left the last aid station, I
only had about 4 miles to go. Ninety-six percent of the race completed.
I can do this. No problem. I could start feeling the finish line
pulling me in with its tractor beam. There were a few times when my
legs forced me to walk for a bit, but I still had control of the
override button and was able to relatively soon. With about a mile or
so remaining, the time was 1:24 a.m. I wasn’t going to even beat my
last year’s time. “Sure you can. You have 11 minutes.” Then whatever
energy I hid away for this moment was found and we started running.
There was no point in walking anymore because I didn’t need to run once
I finished this loop. I felt bad for each person I passed as I knew
that had at least one if not two more laps to complete and that they
knew I was about to finish (why else would someone be running up these
hills?). But that feeling would soon pass after a few seconds and I’d
be back to focusing on getting to that finish line. We were now out of
the forest and next to the main road. Just a few more side streets to
cross and then one final left turn onto the last straightaway to the
finish. I was picking up the pace to the point where Josh was starting
to fall behind. But a couple points about this: 1) Josh is not a 20-mile
runner. He really only does about 5 or so when he does run. 2) Even
though I had already run 99 miles and Josh only 19, Josh was just going
to cross a line and go home while my body was going to be drenched in
happiness because of what I had just completed.
I
didn’t bother turning around as I came up to that last corner. “Sprint
it all the way in!” He didn’t have to tell me. My legs were already
doing it. I flew down to the line like I was about to get out-kicked at
the finish. My final time: 19:36:24 and in 26th place. Not
too shabby considering the less-than-favorable trail conditions. I also
felt a lot better about how I ran this race (less time in the aid
stations and lap times that were closer together). Out of 218 finishers,
I was in the top 12%.
Having
congratulated me over and over and telling me how amazing I am, Josh
was ready to drive me back to the campsite and then go home. I,
however, wanted to wait for Jon, the Portland guy I ran over half the
race with. “Are you sure?” I was. I needed to. It was the right thing
to do- to congratulate him on his finish and then to thank him for the
fun 9 ½ hour companionship. I got my drop bag and Josh left. Changing
into warm and dry clothes was a must. The top half was easy; I could do
that by myself. It still took awhile, but I changed into warmer
clothes. Getting my warm up pants on was another story. Lucky for me,
the volunteers are even nicer people than the ultra runners. One of
them helped me get my pants on. I felt like Drew (our 2-year-old) when
he’s less-than-cooperative in getting his pants on. He even offered,
multiple times, to change my socks for me. But since my clean and dry
shoes were in my other drop bag, I declined the offer. Plus I didn’t
want to see how bad my feet were. So I sat in a chair waiting for Jon
to finish. “If you see/hear runner 150 come in, could you let me know?”
I asked a couple of volunteers. I must have fallen asleep or missed
him when he came through because I never did see him. But he made it to
the end in approximately the time I remember him saying that he
wanted. So I sent out my ‘good for you’ vibes and asked a guy that was
about to leave for his hotel if he wouldn’t mind taking me to my
campsite. “Where is it? Sorry. Of course I can.”
I got back into our tent around 5:00 a.m. Sunday
morning, about 24 hours after I woke up. Amy was worried, as she was
expecting me to have returned much earlier. When I woke up around 8:00
a.m., I knew I needed to shower. My legs from my knees to my ankles
were caked in dry mud and my feet had been wet for over 24 hours. I
hobbled over to the showers and proceeded to attempt the removal of my
socks. The mud had dried and as I pulled on the toes, the socks ripped a
bit. When I finally got them off my pruned feet, I noticed that the
socks were beyond repair and just threw them away. I also discovered
that on my left foot, the big toenail appeared slightly elevated from
where it should have been. I had never lost a
toenail before but was pretty sure that this one would be lost. Maybe
I’ll put it on a chain and where it as a necklace. Yeah right. I hate
jewelry. The hot shower was very nice and
relaxing. Though I could have stayed there much longer, it seemed that
the hot water was starting to run out. Amy packed up camp by herself as
I walked around with Lena. We picked up my other drop bag and we left
for home. The boys got their first nap in 2 days and I enjoyed a lot of
relaxation in a bed. And I can’t wait ‘til October when I can do
another 100-miler and kill my body all over again.
I
know I hardly mention Amy and the kids at all during this. It’s my
selfish version of the race. But Amy single-handedly took care of three
kids all-day Saturday while I played psycho runner man. I owe her so
much for her dedication to and understanding of the weird need that I
have in this unusual hobby of mine. She carted the kids around to a
couple points on the course to cheer me on and just to see me for a
little bit. A little girl at one point asked her mom, “Why didn’t you
bring the other kids?” “Because I’m not as brave as her.” I truly have a
wonderful companion and am so thankful for her unselfishness.
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