Humanity Check - Bull Run Run Race Report

Due to it's conflict with Boston Marathon, I have only run Bull Run Run 50 Miler once before.  It's a shame, since it's a beautiful course along a river, surrounded by blossoming flowers, and it's put on by an amazing running club (VHTRC).  I have wanted to return for years - and finally 2014 provided the opportunity.  To be honest, I think I was more anxious and excited for my friend, Meghan, who was running her first 50 miler, but I certainly wanted to have a strong race also.

I found my friend Kathleen at the start, and we shared the first hour or so - swapping stories and enjoying the trail.  I was amazed at how effortlessly she ran on the flat trails, while I was struggling to keep pace on anything that wasn't uphill or downhill.  I knew she was in for a great race, and ultimately I let her go on the flats as I settled into my pace. 

(High Five with Kathleen in the early miles, photo by Bob Gill)

 

I found myself sharing miles off-and-on with a ton of folks in the early sections, and enjoyed the company.  The day was starting to heat up, and my focus was more on fueling and hydration rather than my pace - so I welcomed the company any chance I got. 

Even with my best efforts to hydrate well, just past mile 20, I could feel my body shut-down.  I was bone-dry and overheating...I had stopped sweating.  I was able to keep a good pace through 25 miles, but I was literally cooking as my body could no longer cool itself.  At the aid stations, I would cool myself down by pouring water over my head, but that would last about a mile before I was dry again.

I had to walk - I was too overheated if I ran.  With Meghan at the race, I felt guilty with even thinking about dropping out...so I just kept walking.  Folks passed me in droves, and I kept walking.  Folks asked me 'are you really sponsored by Inov8?' as they easily passed by - gone well before I was able to respond with 'I think I'm representing Inov8 just as well by not quitting when the going gets tough'.  I didn't feel tough.  I wanted to cry, but knew I had no fluids.  I dry heaved a few times, but luckily everything I was taking in stayed down.  I stopped at every stream crossing to throw water over my body.

(One of the infamous water crossings, photo by Mike Bur)

 

I stumbled across the finish line after 10 hours and 40 minutes of effort - humbled by what a bit of heat can do to me, and scared that it didn't take much to completely destroy me.  I was proud that I stuck it out and didn't give in, I know it was great mental training...but I lost so much confidence in my ability to overcome even something as simple and inevitable as heat.  Turns out, I am only human, and these days happen.

In hindsight, I think I learned that I am not someone who acclimates to heat easily.  It takes me a few days of sweating before I can perform in heat...so racing on the first 'hot day' of the year was just never a possibility.  I think I did everything right (fueling, hydration, pacing) or at least to the best of my ability, so this result was inevitable.  It was a rough day, but I survived. 

Unfortunately, Meghan also suffered in the heat, and missed the mile 38 cutoff time.  She is determined to finish a 50 miler, so this hasn't derailed her.

(Meghan, enjoying the early miles, photo by Bob Gill)

Like a Band-Aid - Leatherwood Ultra 50 Mile Race Report

"You should just do it like a Band-Aid. One motion, right off!" - Jerry Seinfeld

Brian and I kick-started our ultra season this past weekend at the Leatherwood Ultras in North Carolina.  We both opted for the 50 miler - which I was extremely apprehensive of this early in the season, but with Massanutten 100 miler looming in the near future I figured I had to just go for it just as Jerry Seinfeld suggested - 'one motion, right off!'.  With the course actually being about 52 miles, and with 10,000+ feet of climbing (unknown how much, reports range from 10,000 - 15,000 feet!), we figured this was just the type of race to kick our butts and get us prepared.  Of course, the call of dirt trails (as opposed to the ice/snow we're still running on in western Mass) certainly helped make this decision easier.

So, we ventured down to NC, drove to the horse ranch/race head quarters, and camped out.  We woke up to find it misting outside, but otherwise comfortable weather.  It was odd to be getting ready for the race, and realize that I didn't recognize many faces - but grateful to have a few familiar folks to chat with pre-race. 

The RD called everyone to the 'starting line', which amounted to us standing in a semi-circle around him in a field next to the finish area.  He gave a few pre-race announcements, the national anthem was sung, and then he yelled 'go'.  The entire pack of folks stood still for a moment - no one knew which direction the race actually went from that field.  Brian and I happened to be on the wrong end of the pack, so once everyone started actually running, we were both weaving past most of the field.  It was still a bit dark, but I hoped it would be light enough by the time we hit the trails so I didn't bring a headlamp.

Anyway, after the momentary confusion, the race started.  The course started with a mile of pavement, and a lead pack of about 10 (including Brian) took off and gapped the field, I was in the next 'pack' of 2.  The early miles passed quickly, as I fell into stride with a local runner.  It was quickly apparent that the course, mostly on horse trails, had mainly clay underfoot and would be quickly deteriorating with the rain.  The first downhill of the course was a mess of slick slop - much like snowshoe running, I could plant my heel and skid for several feet before bounding to the next foot.  This might be a long day, but with the mud it would also be a fun day.  After 2 hours of running, the skies opened up and the rain started falling in earnest.  I was certainly enjoying meeting new people as we shared miles and laughed about the muddy trails, but glad to have my raincoat on to keep my upper half relatively dry and clean.

(Enjoying the early miles)

 

While I was apprehensive about my current fitness, I had decided to break the run into manageable chunks to focus on.  I was optimistic that I might be able to run around 10-hours for this course - the online 'predictor' for this race told me that my anticipated finish time was 11:30, and the current women's course record was around 10:45, so I don't know why I focused on a 10-hour finish...other than the fact that I didn't want to run for longer than 10 hours.  So, I decided I was going to accomplish this by running 3 hours for the first (16 mile) loop, 3 hours for the second (15 mile) loop, and 2 hours for the last two (10.5 mile) loops.  My plan was to try to run conservatively early, so I could hopefully save some strength and energy for the later miles.  This is all to say that as I finished the first loop in 3:12, I started to readjust my expectations for the day.  Maybe the prediction of a 11:30 finish was more accurate.

The second lap climbed immediately, giving me an opportunity to refuel and do a quick 'system check' on my body.  Everything felt ok, and I found I was enjoying the sloppy conditions.  It was slow, but at least I was moving and having fun.  Again, I fell into stride with a few local runners and we chatted to pass the miles.  In and out of the 21 mile aid station, and I realized that with my watch reading 4:05, I was officially on my longest run in 4 months.  Our little pack ran a mile up the road, and to the stream crossing. 

Apparently, the stream was typically about ankle deep, not even enough of a race feature to include in the RD's race description.  However, with the consistent rain, this crossing was knee deep at the shallow parts and mid-thigh deep in the deeper parts, and the current was strong.  Even trickier, the turbidity of the water was such that you couldn't see where you were planting your feet.  The three of us took our time to carefully pick across the river.

(Brian and Jonathan, ultimately 1st and 2nd finisher, crossing the river)

 

After crossing the river, we climbed a few more  uneventful miles to come upon the Rawhide Aid Station - which would be the main on-course aid station for the rest of the race.  From there, we seemed to plunge down 6 increasingly slippery and muddy miles.  I think I lost my companions in this time, as I remember sliding down the steep and slippery slopes alone.  My shoes were suctioned off my heels many times - luckily never coming off.  This mud wasn't just on the flats, as I had experienced at Pineland Farms last year (a.k.a. Mudfest 2013); this mud was even on the steepest ups and downs - I don't know how it was possible, it seemed to defy gravity.  Before long the course merged with the last mile of the first loop and made its way to the start/finish area.

I'll admit, I was a bit confused as these trails merged together.  The first two laps of the course were both marked with pink flagging, and they intersected and crossed multiple times, and even appeared to merged together and separate apart.  I don't know how that was possible with both laps being marked with the same color flagging.  If you want to recreate the course map, I suggest you take a handful of spaghetti and throw it on the floor - that's what the course map looked like.  I am incredibly amazed that the RDs found a way to weave us all around, cross us over trails previously...and yet I never took a wrong turn or ever had reason to question that I was on the correct trail.  Proper marking on a course like this could have easily been a disaster.  It boggled my mind how it was done effectively, but I was impressed.

Anyway, as I cruised in to the start/finish area, my watch read 5:48.  I was thrilled to be ahead of my predetermined 10-hour splits...I don't know how it happened, but maybe a 10 hour finish was still possible.  I quickly refilled my bottle, I wanted to start my first 10 mile loop and keep this momentum going.

(Jason, 10 miler champ, showing how muddy the course was)

I think it was at that aid station that someone told me I was the 1st female.  While I guess I didn't see any females in the lead pack at the start, it was nice to have confirmation - you never know who might sneak away in the cover of dark.  However, without knowing where the 2nd female was, or who she was, and knowing that I was likely going to tire as my training in no way prepared me for the later miles...it was of little comfort.

So, off to the same one-mile road run to access the trail for the 10-mile loop.  As I turned onto the trail, I was greeted with the worst mud of the day.  There was a large 10-mile race on this loop earlier, so about a hundred runners had already chewed this climb up.  The mud was so bad that I had to walk portions that I would have otherwise ran - but running just put too much pressure on my footfalls, and I would end up sliding back down again.  I had to hike, being mindful of my foot placement to make forward progress.  It was a long slow hike to get back up to the Rawhide Aid Station. 

From there, the course did a 5-mile 'lollipop', which could potential give me some info on where the 2nd place female was, and who she was.  I enjoyed that this was some of the first runnable, gently rolling sections of the course.  But, my lack of training was starting to catch up with me as I noticed myself getting discouraged at my slow pace and finding excuses to justify walking up a gentle uphill.  Mentally, I was falling apart.  I took a gu in hopes that a bit of sugar influx would somehow fix the problem.  I didn't see another female, but heard she had passed through that aid station; it meant that she wasn't farther back than 30 minutes (my split for the circle in the lollipop), but could have right on my tail for all I knew!  I kept checking over my shoulder, also worrying that Brian could potentially lap me, which would have been a devastating blow to my confidence.

(My muddy legs, post-race.  You can barely recognize the Inov8 Roclites!)

Upon returning to the Rawhide Aid Station, I worried that I had taken too long and that this 10-mile loop would take me longer than the 2-hour anticipated.  Luckily, the downhill was steep and quick; I felt like I literally slid back down to the paved road, and then had the one-mile stretch to return to the start/finish area.  7:54 on my watch - wow, I would be cutting it close, but it looked like I could potentially finish right around 10-hours.  I just needed to hold it together for another lap.

I ran strong out to the start/finish area, knowing that I was about to double back on the one-mile paved road section.  If was I going to see the 2nd place female, I would need to appear to be running strong.  'Hold it together for this one mile' I told myself.  As I ran this section, I saw a few guys that were behind me, but not the 2nd place female.  I saw Brian running fast down the road - about to finish.  We exchanged a few quick words, but he was quickly gone as he cruised to victory in about 8 hours.  As I reached the trail, I breathed a sigh of relief - having not seen the next female, I knew I had at least a comfortable 20-minute lead. 

The last time up the steep muddy climb was the most challenging.  I was tired, and I found myself stumbling around sideways, at times forgetting that I should be trying to make forward progress.  The mud was so challenging and making this climb much more difficult than it should have been.  I reached the Rawhide Aid Station about 5 minutes slower than my previous lap, and I was devastated and spent.  I wasn't quite sure how I would find the energy to finish this thing.

(2nd place 50 mile female, Lee, showing how muddy the course was)

 

But, I just tried to run the first minor downhill, then ran a bit of the flats, and found my stride was still strong - I didn't have anything physically wrong with me, the only thing holding me back was my mind.  With the knowledge that my legs were still good, I was suddenly filled with the urge to try to finish this as fast as I could - I wanted to be finished and have a beer; my 'finish the f*cker' mentality took over.  Luckily, I have so many friends who inspire me and I focused on that - my mind swirled with thoughts of my WMDP teammates who are all gearing up for Boston and have been running incredibly strong, and of my training buddies who have suffered through 0-degree snow runs at 5am to help me get in my miles...and my pace started to improve as my stride extended and my spirits lifted.  I imagined my friends at home, getting updates on my progress and supporting me from afar.  If I could just continue to draw inspiration from those around me, I knew I would be ok.  Luckily, I was also buoyed by passing runners on their first 10-mile lap and sharing encouragement with them as I went by, as well as seeing some of the runners I had shared previous miles with heading out as I was heading back along the stick of the lollipop.  Seeing familiar faces, even if they were folks I only met a few hours earlier, was an amazing boost of energy - I felt like I was running amongst friends, we slapped hands as we passed and shared encouragement.  I hadn't realized how lonely I had gotten out there.

Back to the Rawhide Aid Station, and I knew it was a muddy 15 minutes to the bottom of the hill, then a one mile road cruise to the end.  I checked my watch, and while I had run the lollipop as fast this time as last, I knew I was going to just miss the 10-hour mark.  I did what I could to come as close as I could - enjoying the last few slides down the steep muddy slopes, marveling at how epic this mud was, thinking that this race would be one that I would talk about for a while, and enjoying that even after 10 hours, physically, I was still feeling fairly solid. 

(Showing off my unique trophy, happy to have survived)

 

I crossed the finish line with a smile, plenty of mud covering my body, and pleasantly surprised to have had a great day overall.  I had started in about 11th place, and systematically worked my way up to 5th place - final time, officially 10:00:15 (but I'll note that my watch read around 10:05).  It was certainly rough conditions out there, as only 55% of the 50 mile runners actually completed the course.  Brian and I are both been pleased to have our first run on dirt this year go so well (even if it was technically mud, not dirt), to have found that our endurance was solid even after the long and harsh winter, and fortunately we both got the win with our efforts out there.  We were awarded beautiful handcrafted trophies that were welded out of horseshoes - special enough to be displayed on our mantle at home (where we love to decorate with the most creative and unique trophies).

I would highly recommend this race to anyone who wants a fun, low-key but challenging race with a great atmosphere.  Post race, even with the rain and the mud, runners continued to hang out, have a drink, eat some great food, and enjoy the scene as they cheered runners through the finish.  The course was tough, but do-able - not the hardest race I've ever run, but certainly up there.  There weren't any views today, but we passed several vistas where I imagine there are great views on a sunny day.  This is a 50-mile race where you know you ran far and feel incredibly accomplished to complete it!

(2nd place 50 mile female, Lee, shows her shoes post-race - yup, mud penetrated everything)

Quick Snowshoe Season - Kickoff and Wrap-up

With minimal snow until February and snowshoe races getting cancelled due to lack of snow, I almost didn't get an opportunity to snowshoe race this winter, again.  With the Snowshoe National Championships taking place in Southern Vermont, it seemed a shame to not participate in that race - but without a qualifier race I wouldn't be able to.  I've been excited about the Snowshoe Nationals ever since I heard they will be held at Prospect Mountain Ski Area - I have been racing there (cross country ski racing that is) for as long as I can remember.  Now that I think of it, I think I even tried snowshoeing for the first time when I was at Prospect in college and there was a snowshoe demo going on.

Luckily, the weekend before the Championships, there was a 'last chance' qualifying event - and it happened to be the Massachusetts Snowshoe Championships also.  So, on Saturday morning I drove out to Pittsfield State Forest for the Curly's Snowshoe Race.  I was hoping to run smart and conservatively - the goal was to qualify for Nationals. 

I warmed up with friends, enjoying the amazing and welcoming feeling of the western Mass snowshoe community.  As one of the traditions of this fun-loving group of people, they have developed the 'targets' which they have one male and one female per race wear (it's a reflective vest with a target on the back...it's supposed to literally make you a target for folks to try to catch).  It's a type of hazing that they do for fun...and for the first time this weekend I was asked to wear the target.  Go figure - I don't race snowshoes for 3 years, and they welcome me back with the target!  It's all part of the fun!

(Enjoying some single track, sporting the target)

The race went out fairly frantically, which is typical for snowshoe racing.  Maybe it's just that snow flies everywhere for the first 200 yards...but snowshoe race starts always feel so chaotic.  Anyway, I fell into a good rhythm behind about 10 guys.  About 1/2 mile into the race the trail widened and went up a good climb - and I surprisingly ran past the group of guys I was with...pleased that my strength training was paying off.

I settled in behind Ken Clark, but quickly asked to pass him as my climbing legs felt good and there was more uphill.  I gapped him by about 15-20 seconds and enjoyed the twisty-turny single track downhill to the 1 mile mark.  After a few quick turns on snowmobile trails, I took a wrong turn, and Ken caught back up.  He fell into step behind me for the next mile, before he offered to set the pace.

(Ken and I, locked in step)

 

Now, Ken and I have run numerous snowshoe races together - his sets an incredibly even pace, so I when he offered to set the pace I stepped aside and let him take the lead.  As he went by, he encouraged me to stay with him.  I followed his instructions, and followed his lead.  At times I would be right behind him and cutting back my stride to not overtake him in the single track, and would be itching to ask him to let me take the lead for a bit - then I would remember that I was racing the Jones 10 Miler the next day, so I needed to hold back, especially since there were no female ahead of me so I wasn't fighting for a place.

So, I let Ken set the pace, giving him encouragement every 1/2 mile or so just to be sure we kept the pace up...but in general I was running fairly comfortably.  After about 3 miles the trail went past a frozen pond, and I took the opportunity to look up, think about the moment, and realize that I was having so much fun!  Ken must have laughed as I exclaimed to him 'I forgot how much fun this is!  I don't know why I stayed away for so long!'  Somehow in the years of minimal snow and tough winter weather, I had missed the opportunity to snowshoe much for about 3 years...and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed this goofy but challenging sport that often takes you to some beautiful snow-covered vistas - I was glad to remember the joy of the sport and the community.

Now, my race didn't go without some drama.  After mile 2, I began to notice that it felt like the middle strap in my left snowshoe came loose, but I didn't look down to see...I figured it would be ok.  After mile 3, it was incredibly loose but with another guy only a few seconds behind Ken and I, I just tried to ignore whatever equipment malfunction I was having.  By mile 4 I finally glanced down to find that my shoe was completely untied!  At that point we were 1 mile from the finish so I decided I could just do my best to control the snowshoe and get to the finish.  It was pretty crazy at time - and resulted in numerous kicks to my inner calf due to the unsecured snowshoe!

(Trust me, there's joy in those eyes!)

 

So, at the last mile to go, I glanced back to see that Ken and I had gradually pulled away from the next guy back.  I was feeling great and it felt like Ken was starting to tire - I was really cutting back my stride and almost called to pass him.  But, I was determined to remember that I was racing the next day...and that I certainly didn't want to put in an effort to pass Ken when he had done all the work for us over the last several miles.  I stuck behind him and enjoyed the ride to the finish.  It was a good thing I didn't pass him - with 1/4 mile to go he put in his finish surge and I had to really pick up the pace to stay behind him!  We crossed the finish line 5th and 6th in the race, and I had finished 1st female to claim my Massachusetts State Snowshoe Championship and qualify for the National Snowshoe Championships next weekend.  Moreover, I had renewed my love for snowshoe running - only regretting that several poor winters had made me forget!

Fast forward a week, the bruises on my inner calf were still visible and painful, and I was heading up to the Snowshoe National Championships at Prospect Mountain Ski Area.  I was excited to finally be here, looking forward to having my mom there to cheer me on (it's been a while since she's seen me race), and really excited to represent my team, Western Mass Distance Project, in the team competition.

The pre-race was a blur of warming up, seeing friends (including my friend Tim, the blond-haired pretty boy who ran cross country with me at Clarkson), scrambling to get to the start, and finding my mom for a quick pre-race hug.  I lined up about a row behind the starting line - I know I start like an ultrarunner, not as fast as most folks.  Before I knew it, the gun went off, and a crowd of 140 females surged forward to start the 10k snowshoe race.  It took a moment to take that in - I had toed the line with about 140 females, all doing a snowshoe race, it was just incredible! 

(Women's race start)

As expected, the race started out fast and furious.  Far ahead, I could see that Amber, the eventual champion, immediately gapped the field.  I could see that there was a chase pack of about 20 females, I was clinging to the back of that pack.  On the first climb, I passed a few folks and felt great!

The first few kilometers of the course looped around the start/finish area, and the crowds were tremendous.  It was amazing to pass a wall of sound, picking out my name as folks encouraged me along, and realize how many folks were out there supporting a snowshoe race - it still blows my mind!  I was certainly amped up from the crowd support and the excitement of the race. 

However, after about 2km, the course went out on the trails, and wouldn't return to the start/finish area until we had less than a kilometer to go.  I knew the course climbed for the first half, so I was excited to use my strength to hopefully move up the field.  However, my body just seemed to shift into 'tempo mode', and unfortunately it wasn't responding to being pushed any harder than that.  I got increasingly frustrated as two ladies ahead of me alternated hiking and running the uphills, yet I never closed the gap enough to pass.  Something was wrong, my body wasn't racing.

We crested the top of the climb, and I was amazed at the view of the mountains in the distance.  I smiled, and enjoyed the trails as we tumbled down the side of Prospect Mountain.  I was passed by a few ladies on the downhill, as they more aggressively attacked the downhills - and my legs, stuck in 'tempo mode', just happily jogged along.  I was truly battling - my head was so frustrated that my body wasn't performing, yet my heart was so happy to be here and taking in the moment.  I did my best to listen to my heart.  I played games with myself, such as every time we dropped onto a ski trail I would try to guess which one we were on - hoping to motivate myself to run faster to see the next corner, in case it would give me a clue.  Having skied every inch of this venue for years, this was a fair game to play - and certainly entertained me.

(Cresting the top of the climb at Nationals)

With about 1km to go, the trail dumped us out to the top of a downhill slope, and the course 'slalomed' down the slope.  I laughed as I thought about how it was so much easier than the many times I've skied down this slope - I didn't even see any mattresses tied to trees (you know, to 'protect the trees' from the damage of skiers slamming into them)!  It was fun, and I enjoyed kicking up snow, falling down the ski slope, and getting closer and closer to the finish line crowds.

At the bottom of the slope, there was a small loop around the start/finish area before we crossed the line.  With someone closing in behind me, I was able to motivate my body just enough to hold her off.  Ultimately, I finished 17th overall (but with 2 Canadians ahead of me, I was 15th in the US Championship), which was certainly a respectable placing.  However, I would be lying if I didn't say that I was a bit disappointed - I know what a strong performance feels like, and this most certainly wasn't it.  While I was pleased to have finished as well as I did place-wise, I wish I had 'had it' on race day to see what I am really capable of.

(In this moment, my head was winning the war)

Luckily, I couldn't wallow in my frustration and disappointment too long, because I was surrounded by folks who had exceeded expectations and done really well.  My teammate, Ashley, had finished in 3rd position!  The two of us, along with Dawn and Danielle, represented the Western Mass Distance Project, along with Dion Snowshoes (which we all use and love) to finish as the 2nd fastest team there!  I was proud to have contributed to that effort, and very relieved that even on a good day, my time wouldn't have moved us into 1st place.

(WMDP, Danielle, Dawn, myself and Ashley, 2nd fastest snowshoe team in the US)

 

At the end of the day, I was very happy to have finally participated in the Snowshoe National Championships.  I am proud of my friends who raced well!  I enjoyed seeing so many friends and taking in the amazing community of people.  And, I was excited to share the day with my mother, who hadn't seen me race in years (perhaps not since my last collegiate ski race, which was at Prospect!).