Mountain Mist 50K-January 23rd, 2010-Huntsville, Alabama
This was my first Ultramarathon and it was expected to be very challenging. There is about 3,500 feet in elevation gain, rated #3 of 5 for Elevation Gain and #4 of 5 for Terrain by Ultrarunning.com, and after four days of heavy rain the entire trail was a mix between a full on river and a muddy swamp. Slow going for everyone but great weather for the race time and a great event overall. I finished 55th of 247 finishers. A full race report is listed below.
It was cold, it was windy, and my internal level of excitement was far lower than it was months ago when I signed up for this race. It’s 7am in Huntsville, Alabama about an hour before the 8am start time to the 2010 Mountain Mist 50K. This will be my first ultra marathon and for the special occasion I made the trip from Arizona to Alabama in the winter to run this wooded, single track that inevitably will be covered in mud after four days of rain and a tornado touch down two days before the race.
The Monte Salo lodge served for registration and a heater as the few hundred runners circled around each other stretching and warming up for the start. Numbers bounce off the walls as you hear one another talking about their hopeful finish times and the number of times they have run this race. I hang near my friend Brett, a three time veteran of the race and an annual top 20 finisher, until the race trying to listen to everyone’s stragedy in hopes I can get some kind of insight into the race. My first marathon was about five weeks prior in Tucson, Arizona and I felt good going into the last week prior to this race. That is until I had a tragic “sitting at my desk when my knee when out” incident that left me with an inexplicable feeling in my right knee feeling oddly similar to when I tore my meniscus in the same knee 7 years prior. Perfect.
At this point there was nothing more I could do prior to the race. I had a big pasta meal the night before, hydrated to the max several days leading up to the race, slammed my bagel and gel’s prior to the race and limited my water intake just before it. Bathroom break was successful a few minutes before the race and I lined up near the start line sizing up the competition.
Everyone seems to know everyone well…they all knew each other. It seemed like a group run with friends more than a competitive race but that certainly changes in any race once the gun goes off. I had left my water belt at the floor of the car at the last minute in a decision to “save weight”. I stuffed some chocolate covered espresso beans, electrolyte pills, two gels into my shirt pockets and went banked on aid stations being enough. I’d come to seriously regret the decision later in the race.
All my training in Arizona was on extremely rocky, loose, dirt trails with no covering. A lot of hills and steep climbs accompanied all my runs so I was confident I could handle the hills. My stragedy going into the race was, “Run when you can, walk when you can’t” a mantra Brett had taught me. Seemed simple enough but really comes in handy when I start dragging on the straightaways. My goal on time was to finish in under 7 hours but I hoped to break the 6 hour mark. My knee would be the deciding factor as it still felt “loose” and a little unstable minutes before the race. I threw on a Pro-Tec strap under the kneecap at the last minute and it seemed to help stabilize the knee a little more.
7:55 am. Five minutes to the start.
It’s so cold outside. I’m really wondering if I should have brought another shirt and just ditched it when I was warmed up. Brett said the wind disappears on the sides of the mountain so I shouldn’t worry. I’ll have to trust him on this.
7:57am. Three minutes to the start.
Everyone is pushing towards the front. The first half mile is on a paved road leaving the lodge parking area before it jumps into the narrow single track that starts a bottleneck. The goal is to push harder the first mile to get ahead and create a cushion before getting stuck behind people on the trails that might be going too slow for your pace. Umm…we’ll see.
7:59am…1 minute to start.
I can’t believe I am going to go run 31 miles in less than a minute. Stupid. (this seems to be a reoccurring thought just prior to my races…)
8:00am…the gun goes OFF!!!
We jump out to a quick start and stretch out quickly. I’m right behind Brett and his friend Eric. I’ll see how long I can hold this pace with them. We reach the bottleneck area well out in front of the majority, probably only 15-20 people in front of us. This is good I think as I fly down the trail until my first glance at my watch nearly lands my forehead against a rock on the ground in front of me. Rookie mistake but hitting the single-track gets my excitement level way up.
Mile 4
My knee feels like it’s wrapped with weights. This isn’t good. I’m still right behind Brett and in front of Eric, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it but I’m still there. The more cushion I can create the better.
Mile 5
There goes Brett. He just passed four straight people and I’m not sticking with that pace or I’ll die. As in my heart will literally explode. And….there goes Eric. And I’m alone…
Aid Station #1 37th Place
I reached the first aid station in 53 minutes. Then I promptly wasted 2-3 minutes doing who knows what. Just sitting around drinking water and HEED like I didn’t have any with me. Oh yeah, I left it in the car. Idiot. Damn that girl just blew right by me.
Mile 7
I’m getting loose now. I usually feel horrible the first 5 miles of any run and then my legs warm up and I get into the groove of things. Right after the aid station I started to feel great. Zipping down the trail, grabbing the trees and spinning around to keep from slipping in the already excessive mud. People are flying in front of me with Kellie Smirnoff leading the group and all females. We escape the forest and head into the Powerline Trail. This open area under a string of high power cabling is VERY muddy and very rocky but I’m feeling good and Kellie and I get to talking which helps break the monotony. She’s trucking right along despite her legs being probably half the size of mine. Earlier in the lodge she told me she had run a 3:18 marathon years ago but hadn’t ever done an ultra and had never run a trail race. Wow. She’s got me beat for sure.
K2
We reached K2 before we knew it. This would be the first of the 3 big climbs and the easiest of the three. We all slowed to a good power walk even though I was very tempted to run the entire thing. My training on hills felt like it had paid off but I’d heard enough people talking about how you can burn yourself out on the hills by running them. So Kellie and I resorted to a quick walk, passed a few people and trucked along through the trail.
Aid Station #42nd Place
Kellie passes me just before Aid Station #2 at around the half marathon mark. We come in at 1:43:33 and I feel pretty good. I again waste too much time bs’ing with the volunteers but there were so nice it’s hard not to. Kellie is pulling away from me with every wasted second. A couple more people speed through the Aid Station. Should I be sitting here so long? No.
I bolt out of the aid station with a Hammer gel but quickly realize I have no water on the trail to wash it down. So I resort to sucking small amounts at a time. Not effective and it makes me want to puke. Violently.
Mile 14
This mud sucks. Not just a little bit either, it just sucks. Every step is in a puddle of mud and soft, sticky leaves making it impossible to take a step without sending a spray of mud all over. I don’t know how running 20 more miles with wet feet will feel so I keep up with my idiot attempt at keeping my feet dry.
Mile 15
Seriously with this mud? !
Stonecut-44th Place-2:40:55
Are we running through this cave? WTF?! Are they really having us wind our way through this cave over these rocks? This race is freaking awesome. And mildly sadistic. I can’t believe how long we are in this little cave and I equally am in disbelief when I see what the climb is out of it. I joke to the guy behind me as we come out of the climb, panting, “That’s not even funny. That was just mean to throw that in there.” …Silence. Clearly I’m not funny.
Mile 15.5
Downhill??? This is great. I’m sprinting this section to make up for that pathetic crawl I just did out of that dungeon. They should just offset unless I slip in the mud and shatter my femur. I recklessly speed down the trail narrowly escaping hospitalization with each step.
Hey! There’s an aid station already. Oh, it’s a cruel trick and I have to climb this entire mountain and come down a different side before I reach that aid station. Cruel. I wouldn’t reach that aid station for more than another hour….
Mile 16.9- Aid Station #3-Dropped to 97th place??-Mile 16.9
Half way. What a morale booster but I’d have to say I’m really tired of running in the mud. And running alone. I think I just ran four straight miles without seeing a single person until I came across some crazy Asian lady who was screaming something to me as I ran by at lightening fast speeds. I probably got mud on her. Well, at least people are not passing me. Must be my huge calves. And they have Asians in Alabama?? There was a real nice section of large rock covering the trail providing some nice technical running on a somewhat dry surface. Now it’s just a matter of ticking off the last few miles…I wonder if I’m even in the top 50 right now??
Mile 20.9- Aid Station #4- Landtrust-50th Place-3:40:57
Every hill I dread is the next big climb. I throw some trail mix in the pocket of my shorts. I’m not really sure why I did that…they were still there when I finished but it seemed appropriate at the time. I took off after the aid station feeling good with some water and HEED and some cookies and followed another group that passed me because I wasted valuable time drinking water at the aid station. I did feel much better after a few peanuts and a bunch of water. I picked up the pace and snaked my way through the rocks, crossing a few wooden bridges, mud holes and river crossings. I make it a goal to get past these few people and then to catch the man and woman that skipped through the Aid Station. They are a ways ahead but occasionally I can see them before they round a corner.
It takes me over a mile of continuously difficult terrain, a few more river crossings that I just plowed through recklessly until I am right behind the two of them. As with each encounter with fellow runners I almost just want be running with someone for motivation more than to pass them. It’s a constant battle of body language when behind someone to keep them from thinking you want to pass or just want to be behind them. As expected once I caught the woman she asked, “Want to pass?” Still gasping from the pace I had to hold to even catch her I only muttered, “I’m good”. We putter along at a solid mid 8 minute pace, up and down and through the never ending merciless mud and rocks. We catch another Masters runner and are running as a foursome, the dreaded Waterline Climb becoming a more and more present drama inside my head. This is where music comes in but alas…course rules against it.
I ask the woman (who I later find out to be Sally Brooking) how much longer until we reach the Waterline and before she can even respond we reach it. This long, gradual climb of single track that everyone drones on in a silent walk. I somehow end up in front and lead the pace. I have no idea what pace to keep but can feel my calves burning as I push out a 15 minute hiking pace up this slope, trying to stay ahead of these veteran runners and not hold them up or get passed again. It’s not entirely too steep at this point and I contemplate for a second running this section but take the unspoken advice from the older, more experienced runners and continue pushing the hike. Kathy Youngren catches us and I joke to the ladies that they are in a dead heat for third place. Missing my humor and in the typical humility of experienced runners, Sally quickly concedes and allows Kathy to pass, neither caring what their placement was. They both head past me and start running.
I could use that water belt about now. My mouth is dry and my breathing is heavy. My muscles ache for water and I kick myself over and over again for leaving my water belt in the car. Waterline steepens out and I recognize the trail from last summer’s jaunt through the trees and up the waterfall. I see the ladies trucking on ahead and I try to pick up the pace without slipping in the mud and falling to my near death in the rocky riverbed below. I notice a metal pipe protruding from the ground along the trail and quickly put it together why the name is attached to the trail. Climbing up some more the trail drops down to the river below and a beautifully cascading waterfall. Crossing the river to the other side there is a full vertical climb up the ledge about 25-30 feet to where an older man is standing apparently for safety reasons. I reach hand over head to any area that can pull me up, my legs deadening from the climb and the mileage already on my body. I joke from below, “This is just mean.” Nothing. I didn’t even get a smile. I continue my suffering until I breach the top and drop down again to the river to cross once more and then see the other runners far, far above me. I had it in my mind that the last section was the “Big Climb”. This was not the case. Queue mental breakdown.
This isn’t running, this isn’t even HIKING. This is climbing, reaching for tree branches above you to pull yourself up and plant another step. Everything is mud and footing was a forlorn idea from the days of sunshine and drought. I’m seriously dehydrated to the point where I’m mentally taking note of any negative symptoms that I might start experiencing. I feel very lightheaded and I have to pause a few times to catch myself. I know I’ll be fine but I really should have just dipped in and drank some river water and took the risk. People are catching me, I have to get moving….
At the top of the big climb it just keeps going up but at least now the trail widens to more than a foot and you can keep a solid walk. Running is just not happening for me here. No way. I actually instead spend the next two or three minutes calculating in my head the remaining miles and an average walking pace to see where I would finish if I just walked the last 8 miles…the runners that were behind me catch up to me and I joke with them with that very thought. They clearly had the same thing in mind as we all start a slow trot together. I run alongside them for the next half a mile as we creep closer to the 25 mile aid station. I have to stop to pee and let them pass. I’d been holding it for miles now although I don’t know why. We are in the woods… I struggle to actually go for some reason and discover why when I start peeing 10W-40 oil instead of nice clear urine. I need to seriously drink some fluids…
Luckily I was just a few hundred yards from the checkpoint. I see the signs leading us there and the volunteer checking bib numbers. I love those people and every time I see them I feel an unreasonable need to impress them with my pace. So I speed up and go by with a smile as if I wasn’t about to crawl into a hole of mud and leaves 1.3 minutes ago.
Mile 24.9- Aid Station 5-4:23 53rd Place
Across the street is the aid station and everyone looks really, really excited to see me. I can’t determine why but I know that fifteen glasses of water and HEED will do the trick while I figure it out. My race stragedy has turned from finishing the race to finishing the next LEG of the race. I stand there drinking cup after cup of water, down some GU, eat some chips, a cookie and finally take off. After 9 minutes I finally take off from the station….I’ll never learn.
Mentally I know I only have a 10k race left. Just 6 more miles. I know from the course maps that I have to go across some generally level areas, drop down past the “marathon distance” and into McKay’s Hollow before climbing back out to Aid Station 6 at the Rest Shelter. From there it’s a level sprint the last mile plus to the finish.
Physically my insides are beat up, my legs are throbbing, my arms are even tired of swinging and my ankles are beat to hell from all the rocks. It could be worse though. I am not running on empty yet and in about 4 seconds the Double Latte gel pouch of goodness will enter my bloodstream and take over my heart’s pumping of blood to my vital organs. Oh yeah…there it is. Like an IV drip of crack.
25.4 Miles- I should have pounded 11 of the Double Latte’s. because their affect is just not the same at this stage. My body is on serious calorie deficit and one just didn’t do it.
25.5 Miles-Are we running a fricking riverbed? This sucks. It’s like they had dump trucks just drive in this week and drop the rocks too big to sell to landscaping companies. Miserable. You can’t run this you can only scramble over it. Don’t even dare look at your watch or check out the squirrel staring at you or you’ll be eating a rock before you take another step. I really struggle here and I can feel a solid time slipping away from me and subconsciously know that when the race ends I’ll look back at this mile section as one area I really needed to kick it up. But right now, it’s just not happening and I’m just plugging along in my “I want to lay down shuffle” waiting for the downhill. I just got passed and couldn’t be more dispassionate about it.
Sure enough the trail dips down and into a mess of fallen trees, giant rocks and eroded single-track. I was passed a quarter mile ago on the straightway from a nice gentleman with the Southern twang you come to expect from Alabama. We chat for a while and run together for a bit. On the downhill’s though he struggled to maintain his solid pace while I came back into my own. I flew down the decline hoping to make up lost ground and after being passed by two other guys on the downhill into McKay’s I caught them and passed one of them back. I reached the “marathon” distance of 26.2 miles in 4:42 and continued on the guy’s heels until he finally dusted me after a few river crossings. I feel pretty decent right now.
27.5 Miles
The mud issue cannot be stressed enough. Just when the course and distance itself had deconstructed your body you have to wrangle with several inches of mud and water holding you down risking injury with each step. My acceptance of the mud had stubbornly not fully come to fruition yet and I still would find myself trying to leapfrog puddles despite the inch think mud caked onto my legs and shoes. It is what it is and just as I had completely reached my last string of patience with it I reached the last climb. I am almost done. Right after this miserably masochistic mountain they put in at mile 28 of a 31 mile run. Hilarious sense of humor. Hilarious.
Mile 28-Coming out of McKay’s Hollow to Rest Shelter
I see the runner that finally sped away in McKay’s hollow just ahead and two other runners up ahead. I make it a point to push it hard up this hill. “Run when you can, walk when you can’t”, continues to run through my head. Run. Run. Run. Push it up this hill. Kill this switchback. This is nothing. This isn’t even that steep. Push it. Catch that guy. Push it. Push it. My heart rate is through the roof but I’m catching the guys in front of me and nobody is anywhere near the back trail. I think of catching these guys and finishing strong on the final hill. I come in just ten feet behind the other runners to Aid Station 6 almost catching them despite them having a large lead to start the climb. The final station and only 1.6 miles to the finish. It took me 1:20 to clear Aid 5 to Aid 6.
Aid Station 6- 29.6- Miles Rest Shelter
“I ran up that entire hill. Full speed. I only walked the part you guys could see.” I quipped to the volunteers. …..Silence….. Crickets really… Clearly my sarcastic sense of humor is completely ineffective in Alabama. “Just kidding, I walked the whole thing. Is that water?” I say in a stumbling attempt at redeeming myself. “Thanks for being here!” I head out before the blank stares sap my remaining motivation.
The Final 1.6 miles
I trot out at a faster pace than I had done in hours as I find a nice fire road clear of mud and debris. Michael Green comes up on me and we settle into a nice pace pushing for a solid finish. He tells me of his past finishes at Mountain Mist and how he had to pull himself out at mile 26 last year due to injury. Took him two and a half hours to climb himself out. I mentally start determining if I can break the 6 hour mark with my remaining time and distance. With thirty minutes to go and less than two miles…I should be set. I start to relax as Michael starts to push his pace. The trail winds on a flat, winding route through the barren trees and my lungs start to revolt at Michael’s seemingly breakneck pace. I push to hold with him but after a little over a half a mile even his eight minute mile seems unbearable to me at this point. I settle for mid eight minute miles and come up on a couple runners and push past them politely. One bridge and then another. I’m feeling good and I start to think about the finish. Should I do a double back flip at the finish? No, I’d probably break my neck. Plus I can’t do a double back flip. What the hell am I thinking?? I want some pizza. Focus. Focus. Is that the same guy I’ve passed fifteen times? Why would anyone be walking with half a mile to go? Holy shit is that the finish line????!!!!
Finish Line 30.9 miles…
It snuck up on me but the sight of the Lodge and a few kind fans cheering us on brought new life to me. I always have to push it hard and sprint full out at the end of any race but I struggle really light it up today. I watch someone pull around the corner to the finish and then I see one guy running within reach. I stretch it out and as we head into the very last turn to the right before the finish he sees me. He looks to me on his left and I push it around the outside corner in full stride. People start cheering and the small crowd push us both on to rip it up on the last stretch. I pump my arms hard in my last attempts of the race, the last few yards engulfed in the cheers of the crowd and the thrill of finishing such a grueling race, and barely pass in front of him for that small victory. We are instantly covered with an emergency blanket and someone runs up to me and takes the bottom half off my race bib and hands me a paper with a #55 on it. I deliriously walk in circles and shake hands with Wayne, the guy who raced me to the finish. We pass on “Great Runs!” to each other and I nearly fall down in dizziness. “That was MISERABLE!” I yell out to anyone listening. The thirty bystanders all bust out in laughter. Now they laugh?!
I headed over to the lodge entrance, slip off my completely muddy shoes and head inside. It’s warmth and energy engulf my drained body as I head to the bathroom. Before reaching my destination I see the biggest stack of pizzas and dive into a delicious piece of Dominos as I chug cup of HEED after cup of HEED. I’m in a euphoric heaven with the reality of a better than predicted finish, a warm cabin, and delicious food being shamelessly shoved in my face. Brett walks in from wherever he’s been relaxing for the last hour since he’s been finished. He seems to be surprised to see me so “soon” with my final time of 5:42 surprising even me. We talk of the race and his 18th place finish, 5:04 total. The excitement peaked when I completed the walk to the Finisher’s Table to collect my award for completing the race. An individually crafted slate plate depicting Mountain Mist 50K Finishers Award 2010. It immediately became my prized possession and I cherished the moment I held it in my hand. Somehow the last 5+ hours of debilitating running seemed immediately worth it as I held this piece of slate in my hands. It’s the small things that get me.
The crowd was great and everyone’s mood was high with the finish but we passed on extended celebrations and headed on back to the house. Driving back to Brett’s house I kept thinking back to sections of the race, areas I struggled, areas I excelled and thought about what I would do differently if I did this race again. What could I do differently in my training, would I log more miles, more hills, more downhill? Either way I’m coming back. Either way I’m beating my time next year. Either way I’m beating Brett one day.
We grab some beers on the way home and as we pull into Brett’s driveway my mind wanders to how I felt after the finish with 31 miles in my legs, a virtual reality check of my knees, feet, hips, stomach. I couldn’t help but expand those thoughts to, “could I go another 19 miles….”
It was cold, it was windy, and my internal level of excitement was far lower than it was months ago when I signed up for this race. It’s 7am in Huntsville, Alabama about an hour before the 8am start time to the 2010 Mountain Mist 50K. This will be my first ultra marathon and for the special occasion I made the trip from Arizona to Alabama in the winter to run this wooded, single track that inevitably will be covered in mud after four days of rain and a tornado touch down two days before the race.
The Monte Salo lodge served for registration and a heater as the few hundred runners circled around each other stretching and warming up for the start. Numbers bounce off the walls as you hear one another talking about their hopeful finish times and the number of times they have run this race. I hang near my friend Brett, a three time veteran of the race and an annual top 20 finisher, until the race trying to listen to everyone’s stragedy in hopes I can get some kind of insight into the race. My first marathon was about five weeks prior in Tucson, Arizona and I felt good going into the last week prior to this race. That is until I had a tragic “sitting at my desk when my knee when out” incident that left me with an inexplicable feeling in my right knee feeling oddly similar to when I tore my meniscus in the same knee 7 years prior. Perfect.
At this point there was nothing more I could do prior to the race. I had a big pasta meal the night before, hydrated to the max several days leading up to the race, slammed my bagel and gel’s prior to the race and limited my water intake just before it. Bathroom break was successful a few minutes before the race and I lined up near the start line sizing up the competition.
Everyone seems to know everyone well…they all knew each other. It seemed like a group run with friends more than a competitive race but that certainly changes in any race once the gun goes off. I had left my water belt at the floor of the car at the last minute in a decision to “save weight”. I stuffed some chocolate covered espresso beans, electrolyte pills, two gels into my shirt pockets and went banked on aid stations being enough. I’d come to seriously regret the decision later in the race.
All my training in Arizona was on extremely rocky, loose, dirt trails with no covering. A lot of hills and steep climbs accompanied all my runs so I was confident I could handle the hills. My stragedy going into the race was, “Run when you can, walk when you can’t” a mantra Brett had taught me. Seemed simple enough but really comes in handy when I start dragging on the straightaways. My goal on time was to finish in under 7 hours but I hoped to break the 6 hour mark. My knee would be the deciding factor as it still felt “loose” and a little unstable minutes before the race. I threw on a Pro-Tec strap under the kneecap at the last minute and it seemed to help stabilize the knee a little more.
7:55 am. Five minutes to the start.
It’s so cold outside. I’m really wondering if I should have brought another shirt and just ditched it when I was warmed up. Brett said the wind disappears on the sides of the mountain so I shouldn’t worry. I’ll have to trust him on this.
7:57am. Three minutes to the start.
Everyone is pushing towards the front. The first half mile is on a paved road leaving the lodge parking area before it jumps into the narrow single track that starts a bottleneck. The goal is to push harder the first mile to get ahead and create a cushion before getting stuck behind people on the trails that might be going too slow for your pace. Umm…we’ll see.
7:59am…1 minute to start.
I can’t believe I am going to go run 31 miles in less than a minute. Stupid. (this seems to be a reoccurring thought just prior to my races…)
8:00am…the gun goes OFF!!!
We jump out to a quick start and stretch out quickly. I’m right behind Brett and his friend Eric. I’ll see how long I can hold this pace with them. We reach the bottleneck area well out in front of the majority, probably only 15-20 people in front of us. This is good I think as I fly down the trail until my first glance at my watch nearly lands my forehead against a rock on the ground in front of me. Rookie mistake but hitting the single-track gets my excitement level way up.
Mile 4
My knee feels like it’s wrapped with weights. This isn’t good. I’m still right behind Brett and in front of Eric, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it but I’m still there. The more cushion I can create the better.
Mile 5
There goes Brett. He just passed four straight people and I’m not sticking with that pace or I’ll die. As in my heart will literally explode. And….there goes Eric. And I’m alone…
Aid Station #1 37th Place
I reached the first aid station in 53 minutes. Then I promptly wasted 2-3 minutes doing who knows what. Just sitting around drinking water and HEED like I didn’t have any with me. Oh yeah, I left it in the car. Idiot. Damn that girl just blew right by me.
Mile 7
I’m getting loose now. I usually feel horrible the first 5 miles of any run and then my legs warm up and I get into the groove of things. Right after the aid station I started to feel great. Zipping down the trail, grabbing the trees and spinning around to keep from slipping in the already excessive mud. People are flying in front of me with Kellie Smirnoff leading the group and all females. We escape the forest and head into the Powerline Trail. This open area under a string of high power cabling is VERY muddy and very rocky but I’m feeling good and Kellie and I get to talking which helps break the monotony. She’s trucking right along despite her legs being probably half the size of mine. Earlier in the lodge she told me she had run a 3:18 marathon years ago but hadn’t ever done an ultra and had never run a trail race. Wow. She’s got me beat for sure.
K2
We reached K2 before we knew it. This would be the first of the 3 big climbs and the easiest of the three. We all slowed to a good power walk even though I was very tempted to run the entire thing. My training on hills felt like it had paid off but I’d heard enough people talking about how you can burn yourself out on the hills by running them. So Kellie and I resorted to a quick walk, passed a few people and trucked along through the trail.
Aid Station #42nd Place
Kellie passes me just before Aid Station #2 at around the half marathon mark. We come in at 1:43:33 and I feel pretty good. I again waste too much time bs’ing with the volunteers but there were so nice it’s hard not to. Kellie is pulling away from me with every wasted second. A couple more people speed through the Aid Station. Should I be sitting here so long? No.
I bolt out of the aid station with a Hammer gel but quickly realize I have no water on the trail to wash it down. So I resort to sucking small amounts at a time. Not effective and it makes me want to puke. Violently.
Mile 14
This mud sucks. Not just a little bit either, it just sucks. Every step is in a puddle of mud and soft, sticky leaves making it impossible to take a step without sending a spray of mud all over. I don’t know how running 20 more miles with wet feet will feel so I keep up with my idiot attempt at keeping my feet dry.
Mile 15
Seriously with this mud? !
Stonecut-44th Place-2:40:55
Are we running through this cave? WTF?! Are they really having us wind our way through this cave over these rocks? This race is freaking awesome. And mildly sadistic. I can’t believe how long we are in this little cave and I equally am in disbelief when I see what the climb is out of it. I joke to the guy behind me as we come out of the climb, panting, “That’s not even funny. That was just mean to throw that in there.” …Silence. Clearly I’m not funny.
Mile 15.5
Downhill??? This is great. I’m sprinting this section to make up for that pathetic crawl I just did out of that dungeon. They should just offset unless I slip in the mud and shatter my femur. I recklessly speed down the trail narrowly escaping hospitalization with each step.
Hey! There’s an aid station already. Oh, it’s a cruel trick and I have to climb this entire mountain and come down a different side before I reach that aid station. Cruel. I wouldn’t reach that aid station for more than another hour….
Mile 16.9- Aid Station #3-Dropped to 97th place??-Mile 16.9
Half way. What a morale booster but I’d have to say I’m really tired of running in the mud. And running alone. I think I just ran four straight miles without seeing a single person until I came across some crazy Asian lady who was screaming something to me as I ran by at lightening fast speeds. I probably got mud on her. Well, at least people are not passing me. Must be my huge calves. And they have Asians in Alabama?? There was a real nice section of large rock covering the trail providing some nice technical running on a somewhat dry surface. Now it’s just a matter of ticking off the last few miles…I wonder if I’m even in the top 50 right now??
Mile 20.9- Aid Station #4- Landtrust-50th Place-3:40:57
Every hill I dread is the next big climb. I throw some trail mix in the pocket of my shorts. I’m not really sure why I did that…they were still there when I finished but it seemed appropriate at the time. I took off after the aid station feeling good with some water and HEED and some cookies and followed another group that passed me because I wasted valuable time drinking water at the aid station. I did feel much better after a few peanuts and a bunch of water. I picked up the pace and snaked my way through the rocks, crossing a few wooden bridges, mud holes and river crossings. I make it a goal to get past these few people and then to catch the man and woman that skipped through the Aid Station. They are a ways ahead but occasionally I can see them before they round a corner.
It takes me over a mile of continuously difficult terrain, a few more river crossings that I just plowed through recklessly until I am right behind the two of them. As with each encounter with fellow runners I almost just want be running with someone for motivation more than to pass them. It’s a constant battle of body language when behind someone to keep them from thinking you want to pass or just want to be behind them. As expected once I caught the woman she asked, “Want to pass?” Still gasping from the pace I had to hold to even catch her I only muttered, “I’m good”. We putter along at a solid mid 8 minute pace, up and down and through the never ending merciless mud and rocks. We catch another Masters runner and are running as a foursome, the dreaded Waterline Climb becoming a more and more present drama inside my head. This is where music comes in but alas…course rules against it.
I ask the woman (who I later find out to be Sally Brooking) how much longer until we reach the Waterline and before she can even respond we reach it. This long, gradual climb of single track that everyone drones on in a silent walk. I somehow end up in front and lead the pace. I have no idea what pace to keep but can feel my calves burning as I push out a 15 minute hiking pace up this slope, trying to stay ahead of these veteran runners and not hold them up or get passed again. It’s not entirely too steep at this point and I contemplate for a second running this section but take the unspoken advice from the older, more experienced runners and continue pushing the hike. Kathy Youngren catches us and I joke to the ladies that they are in a dead heat for third place. Missing my humor and in the typical humility of experienced runners, Sally quickly concedes and allows Kathy to pass, neither caring what their placement was. They both head past me and start running.
I could use that water belt about now. My mouth is dry and my breathing is heavy. My muscles ache for water and I kick myself over and over again for leaving my water belt in the car. Waterline steepens out and I recognize the trail from last summer’s jaunt through the trees and up the waterfall. I see the ladies trucking on ahead and I try to pick up the pace without slipping in the mud and falling to my near death in the rocky riverbed below. I notice a metal pipe protruding from the ground along the trail and quickly put it together why the name is attached to the trail. Climbing up some more the trail drops down to the river below and a beautifully cascading waterfall. Crossing the river to the other side there is a full vertical climb up the ledge about 25-30 feet to where an older man is standing apparently for safety reasons. I reach hand over head to any area that can pull me up, my legs deadening from the climb and the mileage already on my body. I joke from below, “This is just mean.” Nothing. I didn’t even get a smile. I continue my suffering until I breach the top and drop down again to the river to cross once more and then see the other runners far, far above me. I had it in my mind that the last section was the “Big Climb”. This was not the case. Queue mental breakdown.
This isn’t running, this isn’t even HIKING. This is climbing, reaching for tree branches above you to pull yourself up and plant another step. Everything is mud and footing was a forlorn idea from the days of sunshine and drought. I’m seriously dehydrated to the point where I’m mentally taking note of any negative symptoms that I might start experiencing. I feel very lightheaded and I have to pause a few times to catch myself. I know I’ll be fine but I really should have just dipped in and drank some river water and took the risk. People are catching me, I have to get moving….
At the top of the big climb it just keeps going up but at least now the trail widens to more than a foot and you can keep a solid walk. Running is just not happening for me here. No way. I actually instead spend the next two or three minutes calculating in my head the remaining miles and an average walking pace to see where I would finish if I just walked the last 8 miles…the runners that were behind me catch up to me and I joke with them with that very thought. They clearly had the same thing in mind as we all start a slow trot together. I run alongside them for the next half a mile as we creep closer to the 25 mile aid station. I have to stop to pee and let them pass. I’d been holding it for miles now although I don’t know why. We are in the woods… I struggle to actually go for some reason and discover why when I start peeing 10W-40 oil instead of nice clear urine. I need to seriously drink some fluids…
Luckily I was just a few hundred yards from the checkpoint. I see the signs leading us there and the volunteer checking bib numbers. I love those people and every time I see them I feel an unreasonable need to impress them with my pace. So I speed up and go by with a smile as if I wasn’t about to crawl into a hole of mud and leaves 1.3 minutes ago.
Mile 24.9- Aid Station 5-4:23 53rd Place
Across the street is the aid station and everyone looks really, really excited to see me. I can’t determine why but I know that fifteen glasses of water and HEED will do the trick while I figure it out. My race stragedy has turned from finishing the race to finishing the next LEG of the race. I stand there drinking cup after cup of water, down some GU, eat some chips, a cookie and finally take off. After 9 minutes I finally take off from the station….I’ll never learn.
Mentally I know I only have a 10k race left. Just 6 more miles. I know from the course maps that I have to go across some generally level areas, drop down past the “marathon distance” and into McKay’s Hollow before climbing back out to Aid Station 6 at the Rest Shelter. From there it’s a level sprint the last mile plus to the finish.
Physically my insides are beat up, my legs are throbbing, my arms are even tired of swinging and my ankles are beat to hell from all the rocks. It could be worse though. I am not running on empty yet and in about 4 seconds the Double Latte gel pouch of goodness will enter my bloodstream and take over my heart’s pumping of blood to my vital organs. Oh yeah…there it is. Like an IV drip of crack.
25.4 Miles- I should have pounded 11 of the Double Latte’s. because their affect is just not the same at this stage. My body is on serious calorie deficit and one just didn’t do it.
25.5 Miles-Are we running a fricking riverbed? This sucks. It’s like they had dump trucks just drive in this week and drop the rocks too big to sell to landscaping companies. Miserable. You can’t run this you can only scramble over it. Don’t even dare look at your watch or check out the squirrel staring at you or you’ll be eating a rock before you take another step. I really struggle here and I can feel a solid time slipping away from me and subconsciously know that when the race ends I’ll look back at this mile section as one area I really needed to kick it up. But right now, it’s just not happening and I’m just plugging along in my “I want to lay down shuffle” waiting for the downhill. I just got passed and couldn’t be more dispassionate about it.
Sure enough the trail dips down and into a mess of fallen trees, giant rocks and eroded single-track. I was passed a quarter mile ago on the straightway from a nice gentleman with the Southern twang you come to expect from Alabama. We chat for a while and run together for a bit. On the downhill’s though he struggled to maintain his solid pace while I came back into my own. I flew down the decline hoping to make up lost ground and after being passed by two other guys on the downhill into McKay’s I caught them and passed one of them back. I reached the “marathon” distance of 26.2 miles in 4:42 and continued on the guy’s heels until he finally dusted me after a few river crossings. I feel pretty decent right now.
27.5 Miles
The mud issue cannot be stressed enough. Just when the course and distance itself had deconstructed your body you have to wrangle with several inches of mud and water holding you down risking injury with each step. My acceptance of the mud had stubbornly not fully come to fruition yet and I still would find myself trying to leapfrog puddles despite the inch think mud caked onto my legs and shoes. It is what it is and just as I had completely reached my last string of patience with it I reached the last climb. I am almost done. Right after this miserably masochistic mountain they put in at mile 28 of a 31 mile run. Hilarious sense of humor. Hilarious.
Mile 28-Coming out of McKay’s Hollow to Rest Shelter
I see the runner that finally sped away in McKay’s hollow just ahead and two other runners up ahead. I make it a point to push it hard up this hill. “Run when you can, walk when you can’t”, continues to run through my head. Run. Run. Run. Push it up this hill. Kill this switchback. This is nothing. This isn’t even that steep. Push it. Catch that guy. Push it. Push it. My heart rate is through the roof but I’m catching the guys in front of me and nobody is anywhere near the back trail. I think of catching these guys and finishing strong on the final hill. I come in just ten feet behind the other runners to Aid Station 6 almost catching them despite them having a large lead to start the climb. The final station and only 1.6 miles to the finish. It took me 1:20 to clear Aid 5 to Aid 6.
Aid Station 6- 29.6- Miles Rest Shelter
“I ran up that entire hill. Full speed. I only walked the part you guys could see.” I quipped to the volunteers. …..Silence….. Crickets really… Clearly my sarcastic sense of humor is completely ineffective in Alabama. “Just kidding, I walked the whole thing. Is that water?” I say in a stumbling attempt at redeeming myself. “Thanks for being here!” I head out before the blank stares sap my remaining motivation.
The Final 1.6 miles
I trot out at a faster pace than I had done in hours as I find a nice fire road clear of mud and debris. Michael Green comes up on me and we settle into a nice pace pushing for a solid finish. He tells me of his past finishes at Mountain Mist and how he had to pull himself out at mile 26 last year due to injury. Took him two and a half hours to climb himself out. I mentally start determining if I can break the 6 hour mark with my remaining time and distance. With thirty minutes to go and less than two miles…I should be set. I start to relax as Michael starts to push his pace. The trail winds on a flat, winding route through the barren trees and my lungs start to revolt at Michael’s seemingly breakneck pace. I push to hold with him but after a little over a half a mile even his eight minute mile seems unbearable to me at this point. I settle for mid eight minute miles and come up on a couple runners and push past them politely. One bridge and then another. I’m feeling good and I start to think about the finish. Should I do a double back flip at the finish? No, I’d probably break my neck. Plus I can’t do a double back flip. What the hell am I thinking?? I want some pizza. Focus. Focus. Is that the same guy I’ve passed fifteen times? Why would anyone be walking with half a mile to go? Holy shit is that the finish line????!!!!
Finish Line 30.9 miles…
It snuck up on me but the sight of the Lodge and a few kind fans cheering us on brought new life to me. I always have to push it hard and sprint full out at the end of any race but I struggle really light it up today. I watch someone pull around the corner to the finish and then I see one guy running within reach. I stretch it out and as we head into the very last turn to the right before the finish he sees me. He looks to me on his left and I push it around the outside corner in full stride. People start cheering and the small crowd push us both on to rip it up on the last stretch. I pump my arms hard in my last attempts of the race, the last few yards engulfed in the cheers of the crowd and the thrill of finishing such a grueling race, and barely pass in front of him for that small victory. We are instantly covered with an emergency blanket and someone runs up to me and takes the bottom half off my race bib and hands me a paper with a #55 on it. I deliriously walk in circles and shake hands with Wayne, the guy who raced me to the finish. We pass on “Great Runs!” to each other and I nearly fall down in dizziness. “That was MISERABLE!” I yell out to anyone listening. The thirty bystanders all bust out in laughter. Now they laugh?!
I headed over to the lodge entrance, slip off my completely muddy shoes and head inside. It’s warmth and energy engulf my drained body as I head to the bathroom. Before reaching my destination I see the biggest stack of pizzas and dive into a delicious piece of Dominos as I chug cup of HEED after cup of HEED. I’m in a euphoric heaven with the reality of a better than predicted finish, a warm cabin, and delicious food being shamelessly shoved in my face. Brett walks in from wherever he’s been relaxing for the last hour since he’s been finished. He seems to be surprised to see me so “soon” with my final time of 5:42 surprising even me. We talk of the race and his 18th place finish, 5:04 total. The excitement peaked when I completed the walk to the Finisher’s Table to collect my award for completing the race. An individually crafted slate plate depicting Mountain Mist 50K Finishers Award 2010. It immediately became my prized possession and I cherished the moment I held it in my hand. Somehow the last 5+ hours of debilitating running seemed immediately worth it as I held this piece of slate in my hands. It’s the small things that get me.
The crowd was great and everyone’s mood was high with the finish but we passed on extended celebrations and headed on back to the house. Driving back to Brett’s house I kept thinking back to sections of the race, areas I struggled, areas I excelled and thought about what I would do differently if I did this race again. What could I do differently in my training, would I log more miles, more hills, more downhill? Either way I’m coming back. Either way I’m beating my time next year. Either way I’m beating Brett one day.
We grab some beers on the way home and as we pull into Brett’s driveway my mind wanders to how I felt after the finish with 31 miles in my legs, a virtual reality check of my knees, feet, hips, stomach. I couldn’t help but expand those thoughts to, “could I go another 19 miles….”