I am an Ultra Runner

Five years ago, I would not have thought I was capable of uttering such words, but I have done it. I still, officially, have not run a marathon, but I have a 50k under my belt. Despite the pain I am experiencing today, there are multiple silver linings beyond simply finishing a 50k. Since I burned at least 8000 calories yesterday, I don't feel guilty about a few extra indulgences today. I made my "world famous" homemade chocolate chip cookies this weekend, so I have eaten some cookie dough as well as the finished product. They have never tasted better.

I felt good yesterday morning. My legs felt rested, and I had more than enough fuel to carry. I had a solid fuel plan, and I was ready to give it everything but pace myself according to the 33 miles ahead of me. Paralleling the many accounts I have read of people running ultras (usually longer ones, but, hey, I am new at this) I experienced multiple highs and multiple lows. Of those, many were extreme highs and extreme lows. I felt awesome by the first aid station at about 12.5 miles, after a seven mile climb followed by a shorter climb to the 4000+ foot summit, where good friend Hugh Bouchelle was waiting to snap a few pictures, and others were waiting to help me stuff my face with all manner of ultra-staple goodies. What lay ahead was a seven mile descent, and it kicked my butt. From past experience trail racing and training, I know that downhills can be much harder on the legs, and additionally beat up the rest of one's body. Well, this was the longest continuous period of downhill I had ever experienced. Before I rolled into the next aid station, about 19.5 miles, I was ready to quit, not right there, but I was ready to take the safety net. One of the reasons I chose this race was the "party route," a cut off after the final aid station (at about 24.5 miles) that shaves about seven miles off the race. I was looking at that as a serious option. Besides, I was hurting, and aid station two is not quite two-thirds of the way through.

Before I hit aid station two, I experienced all sorts of emotions, some of my lowest lows were among them. I thought about Leah Marie, waiting at home, wondering how I was doing and being constantly attacked by three crazy little boys. I wanted to get home as soon as I could, so that contributed to my decision a little later on to take that safety net party route. Fortunately, I also had the pleasure of running with some wonderful people, Helen, Carol, Bob, and Sarah. They all pushed, encouraged, and supported me in so many ways, especially in the ways I needed it the most, mentally and emotionally. Helen dropped out at this aid station. The amazing woman is eight weeks postpartum, and she was using a breast pump to keep herself comfortable for the run. Sadly, it broke before aid station two, and she was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She left me with a few aids in the form of salt pills and ibuprofen. Huge helps.

A couple miles out from aid station two, I just couldn't keep up with my running companions, and then the lowest of lows soon followed. I seriously nearly found myself in tears. What a long strange trip it had been, just to that point. I decided I would push myself and run to the final aid station as if I was going to take the party route, which I almost completely convinced myself to do. When I reached the aid station, two wonderful people were there to meet my every need: prep food, pour me drinks, restock my drink supply, etc. Most importantly, they were there to give me encouragement, to push me to continue, to make me want to finish the whole race. I loaded up on some high fructose corn syrup (that you Coca Cola), grabbed a couple fun size candy bars, and loaded my hat up with ice. Then I took a deep breath and forced myself to begin the grueling four mile climb that began the final eight miles of the whole race.

Mostly, the emotional lows had disappeared. I felt great after the final aid station; I felt great for a while, even the fact that most of the four mile climb was almost straight up did not drown my high spirits. However, after a while, I started to worry. I had been climbing for a while, and I knew the final big climb (there were still some shorter ones ahead) ended with a turn. With a minimally marked course (a volunteer had lain out the occasional arrow made of flour), I wondered whether I had missed a turn. Fortunately, I had not, and my spirits soared when I started the long, mostly downhill four-mile homestretch. I found myself flying at times, but then I hit a few rocky points that slowed me way down and a handful of climbs that really started to piss me off because they seemed to last forever. Will this ever end? "Bloody hell," I yelled more than I can count.

When I made the final turn and could hear a small group conversing and then saw the cars in the parking area, I took off and finished fast, with my head high, and my spirits higher than ever, aided by Hugh Bouchelle greeting me and a hefty amount of cheering and even more when Q, the race director, announced that it was my first ultra. He then made me feel better and even more part of the group by dumping a giant cooler of water over my head.

Long before the race ended, I had decided it would be a long time before I do anything like that again. Well, I learned a lot about myself yesterday. The most important thing I learned was just how tough I am. Bob had said at one point in the race that if I complete that loop, I could do any 50 miler he knew of. That's when I first realized I had picked a hellacious race for my first ultra. Well, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, and I am already looking forward to my next 50k, stronger, wiser, and faster. Although, it will probably be a while before I brave a 50 miler.

An Increasingly Daunting Task

I am exhausted. I can hardly function. My legs are sore, and my ankles ache. I ran a measly 3.5 hours yesterday, and it was pretty slow (though I forced myself to pick up the pace for some of the miles and probably should not have done so) and it was on virtually flat terrain, mostly on the Chessie Nature Trail. Next Saturday I will run about 33 miles up and down mountains. The more achy and tired I feel, the tighter my muscles feel, the more I wonder whether I will survive, let alone finish. I have been tapering since my 6.5 hour run a little over a week ago, but I feel more exhausted than ever, more beat up than I did after that run. Doubt is the runner's worst enemy. If I don't mentally prepare well for this herculean effort, I fear I will bonk long before the final aid station. I wish I had been running more in training, working harder, doing more hill work outs, losing more weight (I am still caring 20 pounds more than when I was rocking triathlons a few years ago). Add to that stress job issues and a new semester just over three weeks away, and I am a wreck. Just breathe. Just. Breathe. Ya feel me?

Hm. I am not sure what this blog post intended to accomplish.