Race and Run Reports
- The pivotal run.... the 8 miler in the heat of the summer that made me realize what I fool I was for wanting to run an urban marathon. This run changed everything about my attitude and thinking about trail running.
- My report of my first 20mi run
- The mega-report of my first ultra, Dances with Dirt 50k
- Yet another mega-report, this time from my 2nd 50k just four weeks after DWD....Glacial Trail
- Pacer report from Hardrock 1999. Pretty long, but good in its own way.
- My first 24 hour track "run", Across The Years in Phoenix, AZ.
- Squaw Peak 50 Mile Run 2001. Orem/Provo, Utah. My first 50 mile finish. Lots of fun.
- Hardrock 2001 - the 56 mile report. Report of my 2nd DNF at Hardrock.
- Lake City 50 2002 (San Juan Solstice 50). I am a finisher! Woohoo!
- Lake City 50 2003. I have now finished ONE race TWICE. Amazing, no?
From feuchta@gbvaxa.uwgb.edu Mon Dec 8 07:56:19 1997
Date: Mon, 14 Apr 1997 18:35:26 -0600 (CST)
From: Tenacity
Cc: DEAD RUNNERS SOCIETY
Subject: I (heart) runnin'
:) :)Hey, I had a *great* one today....
Once again decided to get off my lazy ass and do something. So I get
dressed, and look at my city map for a new place to go. The standard
residential loops just aren't cutting it anymore.
So there's this park...Baird Creek Parkway. "Baird's", as it is
affectionately known by the XC team. This is the park we go to do our
"oh-please-just-shoot-me-now" hill workouts. :) It is 4 miles from
school, a real bummer of a "warm-up". That's the front side, where
all SIX sledding hills are. These are not your normal sledding
hills...nay, children (well, high schoolers actually) have DIED on
these hills crashing into the barricades at the bottom. So, lets just
say that the average hill there is 125m long and at a 45 degree angle
(+- 10 degrees).
Anyway....the whole park area is much bigger than this little part,
and we have ventured into the back trails only a few times. No
longer! :-) The back side is about 1.5mi from my apartment...
perfect! I decided to just venture over there and do a sort-of loop
around it and back to my place. A big square, if you will. I got
over there and found an entrance trail, and headed in. The creek
area, where the trails are, is about 50' below the level of the
surrounding area, so I had to watch my knees on the "on-ramp". :-)
I meandered around on the trail, which seemed to be the main one,
going from one end to the other. (The park is about .5mi X 2mi) I
figured I would just go to the other end and get on a road at the
other end. Wow, do trails RULE! :-D
My knees were so happy to be on dirt (damp, mushy dirt even) that
there was no way I was just going to go out the other end. I got down
there, and found some sort of a turnaround point (on a "closed" trail
- ha!) and kept going back the direction I came. Well, the creek is
pretty wide - too wide to jump, anyway - and I was now on the other
side of it, running along some RR tracks. Marble-sized gravel is not
my thing, I discovered. I found my way back onto some sort of trail
and moseyed on. "Some sort of trail" being the operative term here.
I was still having fun, but the trail was only barely discernable from
the rest of the woods. Good enough. It was when I started getting
off the trail that things got interesting.
It was loads of fun, trying to figure out where the trail was, but
crashing through the woods was getting to be obnoxious. Mostly
because I wanted to be *running*, and I couldn't very well. So I kept
looking for a decent place to cross the creek to get to the real
trail. I am not a good flowing-water-body crosser. My balance is
fine normally, but put me on a 3" log over a 15' crossing, and I start
to lose it. I finally found a 10" log to scamper across, but this was
almost at the other end of the park already. So I decided I had
enough fun for the day...I got a cool gash on the back of my calf from
some unremembered sharp nasty thing. I trotted back the distance to
my apartment, and checked the watch... 1:21!!! :-) About 7.5, given
walking time and all...my farthest since October.
And there seems to be MANY trails I never even got close to... *grin*
Andrea
_____________________________________________________________________________
| __/\__ | Andrea Feucht, Green Bay WI USA |
| \ / "Live a love of life..." | feuchta@gbvaxa.uwgb.edu |
| |/\| -James | http://gbvaxa.uwgb.edu/~feuchta |
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From feuchta@gbvaxa.uwgb.edu Mon Dec 8 07:56:47 1997
Date: Mon, 28 Jul 1997 17:24:01 -0500 (CDT)
From: Tenacity
To: drs
Subject: Swimming through the 20-mile barrier
SV (short version): Yesterday. I did it. 20 miles. Hot. Sticky.
LV: Okay, this run was supposed to be done on Saturday. Howev-ah, I
started it, got about 1 mile, and said to myself, "Self, I think I would
rather die on an ultra than on a wimpy training run for an ultra." You
see, I started the run at 3 in the afternoon. Not exactly the coolest
hour of the day. So I decided to pack it in and head out as early as I
could get out of bed the next morning. (Side note: I work a weekend
night-shift job as well as an 8-5 weekday job, so my getting-up-early-mode
is a little whacked right now)
Sunday is *supposed* to be "only" in the 80's with whatever appropriate
humidity to work up to the 110+ range. This is as compared to Saturday,
which was in the 90's, minus the humidity. Then I also hear about a cold
front which will be coming through soon. I silently hope it comes through
Saturday night....
After conking out Saturday night at around 9pm, I sleep well until about
midnight, at which time I am unable to sleep again until about 3 or 4 am.
Doncha just love night-shift jobs? So I wake up around 7, determined to
get out and running ASAP. Undecided as to what to eat (I usually do not
eat before runs), I think I found some chocolate and granola cereal to
munch on. Then after retrieving the various water vessels from the
fridge/freezer, I grab shoes, my first aid bag, and my last goo (Pocket
Rocket x3, and one Gu). And a chopped up cantalope.
Out to the trail.... a short trail description: this is the Arboretum
trail which encircles the UWGB campus. It is very close to 5mi around
(+- .1mi likely), with an additional loop which can add .5mi to the
length. This is how I did my 16 miler, 1 normal loop, 2 loops with the
extra section. The trail is about 30% gravel, 65% woodchip/dirt, 5%
asphalt. It is very gently rolling, overall pretty flat. Nothing like
the Ice Age trail! :)
So, off I go at 8:10am (checked on truck clock...no watch yet (batteries
died)). The first lap is uneventful, except for this new technique which
I am experimenting with: the walking break. I know where the halfway mark
is on the trail, so I am aiming for a break right around there. The
general idea is to walk about 5min every 30min, but having no watch, I'm
guesstimating all these times. The walks were likely closer to 3min, at
intervals from 20min-40min. I only did one break out on the trail, and a
short full stop at the end of each loop, to fill water, slurp goo, and
stuff. Before starting I drank a little water, took a Succeed cap, and
also tossed back a preemptative Excedrin (for the coffee I didn't drink).
...GOO interlude.....
I have been gamely testing out various brands of goo for flavor and
function, and of my test subjects, the best so far is Pocket Rocket.
Lemon-lime flavor. The taste is mild and not too sweet, and the price is
usually $5 or less for a 6-pack, which is competitive (unfortunately). I
was hoping to score bigtime on Clif Shot, since ounce per ounce it is the
cheapest goo out there, but the flavor is like frosting-flavored
toothpaste. WAY too sweet, and a bit too thick, as well. And that's only
the vanilla flavor. I still have an unopened tube of Chocolate-Peanut.
The Horror! The other brand I have tried is Gu, plain flavor. It seemed
to go down fine, and the mild vanilla flavor is detectable. I need to
give this one another try, since I was in a biased position when I
consumed that packet (more details in the run report...). I also had
flashbacks to the DRS thread when "what plain Gu *really* tasted like" was
the topic of debate. Not a pleasant thought. :P
...........end GOO interlude............
Okay, back to the run. So, at the end of the first lap, I topped off the
water bottle (only drank 1/2 bottle so far), had a Pocket Rocket (P/R),
and another Succeed cap. I have not run long runs *without* these Succeed
caps, so I'm not sure if they really work, or if I just have a great
tolerance for them and the heat at the same time. [Oh yeah, Succeed
electrolyte caps were designed by Karl King, and are sold by a little
company in the Kettle Moraine whose name escapes me now... email me if you
want more info on Succeed stuff]
I was pretty warm and getting soaked with sweat already, but overall, the
run was going well. Off I went again, for lap 2, a.k.a. Lucifer's Lap.
By this time, it was really starting to heat up, and I was noticably
drenched. But, I was definitely not drinking enough. I've never *had* to
drink much on my runs, so my stomach is not used to the sloshing. It's
getting better, though. Anyway, around mile 8-9, I decided that the 1mph
breeze that was wafting through was making me feel a bit.... ummmm...
chilly.?! Oops, wrong answer! I KNOW that this is not a good thing, but
I am so psyched on doing the full workout, that I vow to become a camel on
the next stop and go slower overall. The weird feeling of being chilled
diminishes by the time I get to the truck again. I drink A LOT of water,
and at this point I have the Gu. [which is why my opinion on it cannot be
trusted] I take another Succeed, and assess the situation.
I feel a bit better, but knowing I am only half done, I start very
timidly. This seems to help the water absorption, and soon I am running
again. I am noticing that my clothes are soaked. So much, in fact, that
I am getting an infrequent drip-drip down the back of my legs from the
bottom of the back of my shorts. How weird. I have not had any of the
usual chafing problems this time, partially because I am so slimy with
sweat. Partially because of the thin layer of Vaseline I got after the
2nd lap, as preventative measure. I still have the remnants from *last*
week's wounds.
The first and last mile of the loop are unprotected by shade, so
they are the toughest parts of every lap. Getting through them means
either that a nice shady woods section or a truck pit stop is coming soon.
I see a few other runners out, but only once do I pass them. Laps to
them, maybe, are done on a track (in saner weather). I see lots of slow
moving bicycles carrying families and older couples. Must be a Sunday
thing. The only "serious" cyclist I see is on the road out by my truck,
as he nearly runs me over at 30mph. Oh well, he had nice legs, anyway.
;-)
At the end of lap 3, I see another runner about to start parked behind me.
He's not very friendly, as he only grunts a response when I tell him to
have a nice run. He has no water, and I wonder about the sanity of that.
Of course, he only could be going a few miles.
I also notice on the 3rd lap and beyond, that my pony tail is no longer
swish-swishing behind me, but laying limply, heavy with sweat. And I have
thick hair... sheesh.
For the next loop, I take along the extra goo that's left, to be used on
the walking break. I have been trying to drink much more on the last
loops, and my average is going up. The first 2 laps I drank 1 bottle, the
3rd I drank 2/3 bottle, and the 4th I will consume a full bottle. I also
drink from a stash in the truck every stop, about 4-8oz then.
The 4th lap is good, but very different. My senses are aware to every
thing that is going on with my body. I feel my knees, and my snapping ITB
on the outside of my right knee, and my achilles. My left arm seems to
have a weird tight muscle in it that only hurts on the walking breaks. As
to those walking breaks, they seem to help, but as I don't have any
experience *not* doing them, it is of course difficult to make a
judgement. They also shorten the laps, in a strange way: I don't really
want to do them, as I feel like I am cheating when I walk in the middle of
a run, so the fact that I am apprehensive about doing them makes the few
miles before them go a little faster. Strange. I also timed the breaks
to coincide with the longest stretch of pavement on the trail, so I'm not
pounding on that surface too much.
In the final miles, it seems my sense of smell is amplified immensely. A
walker passes me, and I recognize the perfume she is wearing, placing it
to someone who was in a class with me years back. Maybe the same woman.
As I run past the bay, the thick watery-fishy-moldy smell is almost
unbearable, and is the only place where I think I may have the opportunity
to digest that goo. Then its up a pavement hill, walking this time, and
along the golf course. I see different golfers every lap, and I wonder if
any of them comprehend someone like me. Back across that sweaty, open,
sunny flat stretch, I am thinking of the end. "only 1.25 mi to go...only
*about* 1.25 mi to go...only just over a mile to go...." and so on. I
have thoughts of kiii-yapping in glee when I get to the end, and doing a
victory dance.
The last .25 is in the woods again, up and down, and down the last hill to
the gravel finish. No ki-yap is even in my head now. Just the cessation
of movement. And the consuming of lots of water. I take another Succeed,
and drink some water. But not enough. I know I should drink more, but I
have no stomach for it right now. I meekly eat a few cubes of cantalope,
and attempt to towel off. Every synthetic inch of fabric is *dripping*
wet. So much for synthetics when the humidity is 95%.
I towel off what I can, and put dry clothes on for the drive home. No
matter that its a sweatshirt and lycra shorts...they're DRY! :)
Total time for the run: 3:35, almost exactly what I predicted. (and I
wasn't predicting a 110 heat index) Next week I will peak out at 24, and
begin a long slow taper.
If you read this far, you are amazing. :)
My knees hate me today,
Andrea
______________________________________________________________________________
| __/\__ | Andrea Feucht, Green Bay WI USA |
| \ / "Dirt rules." |-- naturalscience@geocities.com --|
| |/\| -Sean Ogle | http://www.geocities.com/ |
| | ResearchTriangle/Lab/2112 |
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From feuchta@gbvaxa.uwgb.edu Sun Dec 7 20:32:10 1997
Date: Mon, 08 Sep 1997 11:49:04 -0500 (CDT)
From: Ultrafiend
To: drs ,
Subject: I came, I danced, I limped... (Dances w/ Dirt 50k)
I'm not sure if this is going to be long or woefully short yet. We'll see
how involved I get in this. :)
Prehistory: I wanted to do a marathon after being done with college XC,
planned for one in May....biffed the training, and reset the goal for
Chicago 10/21. Well... I decided/realized that CONCRETE IS BAD. Trail is
good. I looked for a trail 'thon or 50k in the fall, and found this tasty
little ad: "Rocks, Mud, and Uncontrollable Forces of the Universe". What
properly-masochistic runner can resist a banner like that?? Never mind
the fact it was only 6 weeks away - and a full 6 weeks BEFORE Chicago
(which is when my training was planned to focus on).
So...I asked The List for help. ;) And then I took the most extreme
advice I got... my long run was then at 14m. The weeks (long runs) before
the race went like this: 16-20-10-25-12-0. Due to work/school conflicts
and general laziness, I did not run at all for 9 days prior to the
race....which may have hurt me. I'm not sure yet.
Dances with Dirt is 3 races: a 5-person, 100k relay; a 100k ultra, and a
50k ultra. As I read more about the course and got the initial packet, it
just kept getting more....interesting. I found out Gregg Heinrichs and
Pat Mitchell (Patty Wagon) were going to be there. Gregg was doing the
50k, so at least I could tag with him for awhile. I mailed Mr. Wagon
about it, and he sent me back DESCRIPTIVE horror stories of his training
runs on some of the legs of the course. He was actually starting to get
me worried. I figured that it was probably good, since the worse I
thought the course would be, the greater the probability it wouldn't be
that bad in reality. I was right on that one, anyway.
Gregg said he thought a 6:30 finish would be a good training run for him.
I thought....hmmm, my 25'er was 4:30...shouldn't be a problem!
BWAHAHAHAHAH! I now know better than to make silly pacing judgements
based on FLAT trail (where I train) and try to apply them to trails that
are straight outta HELL. Literally....
Hell, Michigan is not actually passed through on the course, but the
100k'ers get darn close, and even so, how could any RD pass up the
opportunity to list the race as taking place in Hell?
One thing I planned well - to expect to spend the whole weekend. Good
call. I don't think I would have made it back home if I had to drive
after the run. I took off work/school/work#2 for Fri-Sun, and left early
Friday morning. (Note: I HATE driving in the Chicago area. This thought
will be reinforced again on Sunday) Arrived in Ann Arbor about 4pm. (This
will all be put in perspective later) Went to the two running stores and
bought stuff. RaceReady shorts and a Solo Pack bottle carrier. Kept
checking the vehicle clock so I would make it to the camp before 8, when
there was supposed to be an informal meeting. So I left town at 7 and
showed up just after 7:30. Asked about the meeting, and was told, 'well,
its 8:30 now, its informal, etc'. I figured the meeting had been
postponed a half an hour.
There werent many people there, so I just hung out for awhile, found a
place to park (nice guy let me park in his campsite), and prepared the
DROP BAG. I definitely overpacked that puppy. A full duffle bag of crap
for me to rummage through later. Oh well, better to have more choices
than NONE! (more on this later, too). Set the alarm for 5:30 (start at
8am, but the start is 25mi away, and the shuttle vans start leaving at
6:15am). The 100k starts at the campground, and all the races finish
there, so basically to get to the 50k start you have to go to the other
side of the loop. The 100k'ers would be starting in the dark, at 6am.
So my alarm goes off...I get up around 5:45 and get dressed and am just
stretching out of the truck and I see a few of the vans leaving. I
note that even though its early, its kinda light outside. I wondered why
the 100k'ers would need flashlights for this. But that was only a passing
thought in my groggy morning mind....
I finish collecting things and go over to the tent and ask Randy (RD) how
many of the vans have left so far. He looks at me and deadpans, "all of
them." I widened my eyes a little and asked him if he was serious. He
says yeah and shows me his watch, "It's 7 oclock". I'm amazingly, very
calm about this. He tells me how to get to the start, and I repeat it for
him, then finish pinning my number on and go back to the truck. I am sort
of in shell-shock, since I just woke up. One of the other guys standing
there said something about my being so non-reactive, and I said something
to the effect of, "well, it woudn't do me any good to freak out, would
it?". The only problem with driving over (besides it being damn
inconvenient, and not getting to eat breakfast, pee, etc) was that I would
now have to beg someone to either drive my truck back to the finish, or
drive me over there after the race to get it.
Now, on the drive over to the start, if FINALLY occurs to me: I changed
time-zones!!! I lost an hour on the drive over, and never even realized
it. When Randy spoke of the meeting, saying "its 8:30", he really meant,
"its 8:30 NOW", not 7:30 like I thought. Sheesh. Actually one of the
things I thought about on the drive over was the extra interesting section
I could now add to my race report because of this! :)
Okay, I'm sure you want to hear about the RACE, right?
The start of the race was in (actually near) a graveyard, so the leg was
aptly named, "dead man talking". (The leg names all have some weird
history to them, which I either don't know, or don't have time to get
into. Check out the complete leg-by-leg description at http:// ) I
located some other women who were communing with the dead, and helped them
water some shrubbery. Ahhhh, now at least *that* was taken care of. And
I ate a bagel on the way over. Not enough, but something, anyway.
We got started after the preliminary warnings about getting lost, and like
the half-awake idiots we were, RAN up the first half dozen hills. The
first leg was fast and uneventful, and actually, I won't be giving much
description of the course, since I DON'T REMEMBER. Most of it is a blur,
and I remember disjointed events rather than whole sections. For example,
at some point during the race, I crossed: many snarly berry patches,
several boardwalks, a few boards-as-creek-bridges, hundreds of hills,
dozens of sandy patches, ran by many lake shores (which, for some reason,
I kept thinking was the SAME lake. Looking at the map reveals that we ran
past dozens of lakes along the course. Silly XC-trained me...), etc, etc.
To me, the race didn't even seem like a race. It seemed like several
training runs strung together. All the walking that I did didn't help,
either. I've been conditioned for 10 years now (my whole running career)
that walking is BAD, walking is CHEATING, walking is for WIMPS, etc. If
anything, I was taught to run UP hills, and walk DOWN them. So the whole
thing seemed rather surreal to me. The only thing that let me know it was
more than a normal run was the increasing pain after the halfway point.
OH YES, speaking of the halfway point. Also known as the "where the HELL
is my drop bag?" point. Somehow, my drop bag never made it there. The
two things I was most looking forward to were the dry socks, and bagels!
Someone at the aid station gave me an extra pair of socks, which was very
nice, except they were COTTON. Oh well. Dry is better than wet, for the
moment.
There were 7 legs in the 50k, with the approximate distances of: 5.6, 4.5,
5, 3.1, 3.1, 4.75, 5.25. From about the middle of the second leg until
the middle of the fourth, I ran with a very nice woman from Pittsburgh. I
never got her name, though. I also saw and talked to Mary Gorski, and got
some more encouragement to do Glacial Trail in a month. ;)
Okay, going on.... the third leg, the one before the drop location, was
called The Beast. Very well named, too. I don't recall it being
extremely hard, however. Probably because I was running and talking with
other people most of the time. It really takes your mind off your legs.
During this leg, I crossed paths with Patty Wagon, who for some reason was
yelling "dead runner!" way before I saw him...actually, he may have been
yelling at Gregg, who was ahead of me at that point. He high-fived me as
he went cruising my at what looked like 6 minute pace.
The fourth leg was fast! And the fifth....very slow. (both are 3.1
miles) I came into that aid station and got lots of comments of how I
didn't looked tired or sweaty at all. HA! "All my pain is internal,
guys". The next leg went strangely, as it was going real slow, and I
figured I had about 2 miles left, when I came upon the next aid station!
How weird. But I definitely have the WORST sense of distance of anyone I
know. This was also the last aid station, with a "fast" 5.25 to go now.
These last 2-3 legs I nicknamed my "death march" legs. Running really
hurt, and walking hurt a little less. I tried to walk fast when I was not
running, but that didn't seem to work out too well. The bottoms of my
feet screamed at me, and my quads had been trashed since about the halfway
point. At least my ITB had shut up after its 10 miles of whining early in
the race. Sometimes during those last miles I felt like really picking up
the pace mentally, but just wasn't getting the legs to cooperate. I felt
like I was full of energy, but it was trapped in my brain, leaving my legs
sputtering and putt-putt-ing along.
I had been leapfrogging a guy named Jerry (with no water), and on this leg
I left him behind, never to be seen again. Strange, because when I looked
at the results later, I think he finished a half hour after me(?!). I
wonder what happened to him.
I almost got turned around at a 3-way trail meeting about 2 miles from the
finish. I only figured out after I got home what that 3rd direction was
for...it was where the 100'ers came out from the other direction to head
into the finish. It took me the next mile to reassure myself I didn't go
the wrong way, and made it the rest of the way in. Of course, I got lots
of misinformation from people along this last stretch ("its a half mile!"
- said at 1 mi out; "its less than a mile!" - said further down the path).
The last encouragement I got was, thank god, accurate...from some relayers
doing a cool down, they said, "its only about 600 yards, REALLY!". So I
picked up the pace a little and cruised in.
I got lots of cheering at the finish, which was really cool, as some of
the other runners had spread the word during the race that this was my
first *anything* over 25mi. I got a "go dead runner!" from Gregg. :) I
was wearing my drs singlet for the race, by the way...with the "VIAM"
covered up and replaced with "DIRT!". :)
Hmmm, I think that's all I have to write right now.
What I've gleaned from the race... training must be TERRAIN-SPECIFIC to
be successful. My training trails were flat, and this stuff was anything
but. I think that physically, I was ready to run a fast 50k on the same
trails I trained on....in 5:30 or less. But the damage that was laid on
my legs from the unfamiliar terrain killed me by mile 15. The rest of the
race was spent just trying to run as much as possible. I never had any
doubts about finishing...it was just a question of how slow and in how
much pain. I finished in 7:45, by the way...the equivalent of 15min pace.
Even with the amount of walking I did, I find that pace hard to believe.
I'm tempted to want to believe Patty Wagon's estimations of how much they
UNDER measured the course. But I don't know...maybe I was walking a 25min
pace, and running 12.
I also don't think I ate enough at the aid stations. A few pieces of
candy here and there, and a gatorade refill was about it. I think at the
end the cumulative effects of dehydration, lack of food, and trashed legs
really did it.
But, like any good masochistic runner, I had fun. :-D Hopefully I'll be
protein loading enough this week to get my recovery going to do Glacial
Trail in a month....
Still limping,
Andrea
(and....its time to finally change the .sig!)
______________________________________________________________________________
| __/\__ | Andrea Feucht, Green Bay WI USA |
| \ / "Dirt rules." |----- feuchta@gbvaxa.uwgb.edu ----|
| |/\| -Sean Ogle | http://gbvaxa.uwgb.edu/~feuchta |
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From feuchta@gbvaxa.uwgb.edu Sun Dec 7 20:32:27 1997
Date: Mon, 06 Oct 1997 09:26:48 -0500 (CDT)
From: Ultrafiend
To: Them's crazee cool runner dudes
Subject: Dances w/Dirt ain't got nuthin on GT! (Glacial Trail, 10.5.97)
Okay! I'm back, alive, and at work. This Sunday race stuff is weeeerd.
Short version: yesterday I did the GT 50k, made it through a minor bout
of dehydration & hypoglycemia, and finished with a 1 hour PR (over my 1st
50k) thanks to Susan, my "pacer". :D
The long(er) version.... this won't be too long, since I won't be
chronicling my training progression like I did for the first 50k (Dances
with Dirt). After DWD, I rested lots, and took Karl King's advice to do a
20-miler 2 weeks after/2 weeks before GT. That worked out fine, but then
I got in a complacent rut and didn't run again until 2 days before the
race. Lazy, lazy.
I was actually kind of apprehensive about this race, since I knew I hadn't
been getting much sleep for the past 2 weeks, and was constantly being
exposed to sick people at work. I felt more prepared for DWD. Anyway, I
made it to the race (on time! ;) and once again wore my DRS singlet for
the event. Since the aid stations were from 5-8mi apart (only 4 of 'em) I
carried my handbottle as well as my single bottle belt, which *still*
wasn't enough. I started out with water in both, and planned to drink all
the SUCCEED I could at the aid stations. I originally thought the aid
stations would ONLY have water & SUCCEED, but found out they had food as
well. I still decided to carry a few granola bars, candy, dried fruit,
and Gardettos (the latter two were never touched). Good thing I did, as
the granola bar helped me enormously later on.
The first 6mi went Sloooooooooooooow. I was running alone. I have made
this "brilliant" discovery that solo=slow, partner=fast. About the DWD
reference in the subject line: NO section of Dances was as crappy as this
6mi stretch, which had the footing only a mountain goat would appreciate.
I certainly didn't. I have decided I will take steep
up/down/up/down/up/down with good footing over bad footing anyday.
Anyway, after the first aid station I latched onto a short powerful woman
with strong, quick strides named Susan. I wanted to get an idea of what I
was in for by asking her what time she was looking for. She was
recovering from some race, and "just wanted to finish". Well, "just
wanting to finish" means a different thing to someone who normally
does sub 6hr than it does to someone who wants to just stagger across the
line. So I braced myself. I told her that I will try my best to stay
with her, and if she doesn't slow down much in the second half it will betough.
I'm trying to find out my splits yet, but I know that I got to the first
aid station (mile 6) at 1:18, a good pace. And I think it was about
10:45a at the next one, which was at about 13+ mi, so 1:27 for that
stretch, which seems fast. To me, that stretch went by like 3 miles, just
because we were talking so much!
My mom and aunt were waiting for me there (my parents live an hour from
the race), and had rice krispie bars for me and a can of iced tea. Yeah!
I don't do well with the carbonated stuff while running, so that was
perfect. This aid station was in a cool location - you had to descend a
huge set of steps to arrive at it, and had to leave by another hugestaircase.
The next section went pretty fast, as the turnaround was about 2-2.5 mi
down the trail. But from the turnaround to the aid station was slow, plus
we both stopped to rejuvenate the foilage along the way. I drank the rest
of the tea at the station, got a tomato for the trail, thanked mom and
auntie ;) for coming, and took off. Hooboy, if this 7.5-8mi stretch went
by like 3 before, this time it picked up that 5mi that was lost along the
way. I *know* I wasn't drinking enough, since I had barely finished one
bottle before the next station. I filled them both up for the next long
haul and we geared up to go. (water only...no SUCCEED left)
Holy long haul, batman! I told Susan when we left the aid station that I
was toast. At first she thought I meant from the sun. Well, sort of, but
I mean TOAST. As in, 'I am now entering the death-march zone' toast. The
mental part of the race. And I was feeling pretty mental at that point
for continuing on. But she kept me going. That last 8 mi we weren't
going much slower than the way out, which is impressive. And the last 6,
well they were slower, but not nearly as slow as I would have been by
myself. But then a weird thing happened. About 3 to go, I smacked the
wall. Whatever energy that was in my legs was gone, my stomach felt
queasy, and the cool breeze was starting to feel cold. I almost let her
go, then surged a little and caught up again, then after another few
hundred yards let her go. I told her about my stomach and she offered me
some Immodium, but I didn't think it would help. I was almost out of
water, which shows how much I drank since the aid station. I had been
walking for about 10 minutes when it dawned on me: blood sugar! I must
have crashed. I ate my Smore's granola bar, let it sit for a few minutes,
and felt....BETTER! Hoohoo! I wish I would have figured that out about
15 minutes earlier.
The other thing that may have contributed to the weirdness was the large
volume of water I took in in a short time, without increasing my Succeed
e-caps doseage accordingly. In any case, I ran almost all of the last 2
miles, and ended up finishing only 4 minutes after Susan (and 1 minute
after Julie, whom I knew from working Ice Age with her...she passed me
while I was walking). Final time 6:48:51, about an hour faster than DWD.
And I feel better now than I did the day after that race. I wasn't very
sore immediately after this race....Gregg remembers how much I whined
about standing up/sitting down after DWD! So that's a good sign, I guess.:)
Overall, I felt that this race was just as tough as Dances with Dirt, all
their pre-race hype notwithstanding. I was very intimidated by the race
descriptions and the preliminary reports (Patty Wagon!), but it turned out
to be "not too bad". GT was definitely in the same league, with worse
footing at times.
I am pretty happy about how the race turned out, and I got some experience
with some normal ultra problems. Didn't take any diggers (apparently
not-too-well-known slang for face-plants) but I had some near-misses along
the way. Acquired a nice looking bruise on the back of my calf from some
stick I tripped over. Should look real nice by tomorrow.
This will likely be my last ultra of the season....but I'll never say
never. I know the 6hour "barrier" is easily attained with some more
training, and a 50-miler can't be too far off...heehee.
Post race stuff.... I talked with Eric Somethingorother, the youngest
runner there besides me (and he had 7 years on me), who finished 3rd
overall behind Steve Szyalkskskdjdksk ;) from Oshkosh and Roy Pirrung. He
was not an unattractive guy, but I think he was married. Too bad. ;) I
commented to him about how ultras seem to be having these young pups
squeak in to some of the tough races with unbelievable times (Mike Morton)
and that soon enough, some 19-year-old is going to discover that he can
run 100mi and not get injured....
I also ended up finishing 1st in the Women's open division, since I came
in ahead of the *other* under-40 female. And I scored some samples of
CLIP from Karl. Thanks again! :)
Then....last night I had a dream about some 100miler, where Mike Kail had
just finished. I was standing over a pile of drop bags and I heard this
younger sounding voice, so without looking I said something like, 'M D
Kail, you know, I was just telling someone how young pups were going to
take over ultras soon....' (by the way, I looked up, and it was him,
so I didn't start talking to the wrong person...that only happens in
real life. :) Weird dream, huh?
Thanks for reading!
Andrea
______________________________________________________________________________
| __/\__ "Thunder come, | Andrea Feucht, Green Bay WI USA |
| \ / I say bring it on..." |----- feuchta@gbvaxa.uwgb.edu ----|
| |/\| -LBCT | http://gbvaxa.uwgb.edu/~feuchta |
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Andrea L Feucht
Subject: hardrock
Date: Thu, 22 Jul 1999 23:30:22 -0600
Hardrock 100 1999 report
After a long vacation, I am finally back at home and in the midst of a
brand new job. I'll get all my thoughts and experiences down on 'paper'
here for everyone to read…
NOTE: The race description itself starts a bit farther down, with a
section header of "***THE RACE". Look for that if you don't want to read
the pre-race stuff.
Trip plan: to pace Eric Robinson at Hardrock for 42 miles, from Grouse
Gulch to the finish. I paced Eric last year, over 2 sections totalling
35 miles. I was going up 2 weeks early to socialize and acclimate.
Trip start, June 25 (Friday). I left Albuquerque, bound for Silverton,
CO at about 11am, stopping in Durango to buy an old book from a cool used
bookstore. I arrived in Silverton around 5 or so, and promptly met
Bozena, who was staying at Charlie Thorn's house.
After meeting Bozena, and finding out that Charlie would be in the next
day, I went to begin catching up on sleep. Saturday was busy as Charlie
and Steve Patillo showed up, and everyone went on trail marking (except
me). That evening I met one of the runners, Regis Shivers (Jr), who
seemed to be very nice and also very excited about the race. (I also
feel obliged to add that I'm a sucker for brown eyes... ;-) )
Lots of other runners were floating in and out, and of course at this
point it is hard to remember all the names - and many times I also only
remember first names, so please keep this in mind if I don't supply last
names for lots of the runners.
Sunday - trail marking, Sherman to Maggie. A long day, lots of fun, met
many new people (including Rollin Perry, who drove many of us the 2 hours
to get to Sherman; Cathy & Jim Ballard, and Sue Johnston).
Monday - trail marking, Grouse Gulch to Sherman. Glissading ecstasy!
Ginny LaForme, Mark, and I even trotted up higher on the snow slopes just
to get a better long slide started. :-) Met up with John DeWalt on the
way - always a treat. Picked up lots of stones coming down from Handies
(my first 14'er summit).
Tuesday - I went to Durango to buy lots of junk food and other supplies
for the race. I took the opportunity to develop my film from the trail
marking the day before, and also from a few weeks back when Charlie,
Steve Patillo, Brian Scott and I went to Grant Swamp pass to install Joel
Zucker's memorial plaque.
Wednesday - I went up Kendall mountain, and ran down, hard, with the
intent of punishing my quads to test them before the race. While up
there I saw an elk and her baby (elkling?) taking a midday rest. That
was pretty cool. I passed Gary Wright on his way up on my way down, and
we were able to chat for awhile after we both were back in town, sucking
on lattes at the Avalanche coffee shop. Unfortunately, on the way down
that long rocky road from Kendall, I was feeling some pain in the front
of my lower left leg. After I got down, it got worse. That wasn't a
good sign. I gingerly touched the area that was bothering me... Nope,
not good at all.
That evening I met Eric Robinson ('my' runner :-) ), who had just arrived
in Silverton, and hung out with him and Matt Mahoney. It turns out that
Eric and Matt both had had the symptoms I had in my leg - I found out it
was Anterior Tibialis tendonitis, and the verdict was to STAY OFF IT. At
least for several days, anyway. And ice it, and the usual NSAIDs....
So, aside for meeting new people everyday, which is always great, I was
in for about 5 days of boredom in a town with a population of 500. The
library and the wonderful Jackie Lighthauser were about all that kept me
sane. And another trip to Durango and the wonderful SUPER Wal Mart.
Sometime over the weekend I go on the Maggie - Silverton trail marking
trip, and I have to stop at Cunningham (after only 7 miles) because the
tendonitis is hurting so much. The fact that I'm injured only hurts a
little physically, but its TICKING me off mentally, because I've been
looking forward to this race for so long. I want to pace that whole 42
miles - for Eric and for myself. I go back into the ibuprofen and icing
regime 100%.
Tuesday - another day off gets a brief respite in setting up tables in
the high school gym for Joel's memorial service tomorrow. There I meet
up with 2 long time support email friends, Julie Nelson and Heidi Schutt.
Heidi is there with her husband Larry to work the merchandise tables and
sell their own stuff from Running Delights. Julie is there to crew and
pace her husband Jim, and also has their 3 fiesty kids in tow.
Wednesday - Runner check in and long trail briefing in the evening. I
also get out and see the last few miles of the course. I still want to
be prepared for whatever my tendon will let me do this weekend. After
that little jog, I meet up again with Regis and Robert Youngren, who has
just arrived in town from Alabama. I first met him last year when he was
cleaning up a Grand Slam at Leadville. He now has his normal hair color,
and is still running strong.
At this point, I'll rehash some of the stuff I said in an earlier post
about arriving 2 weeks early to acclimate. Certainly, there ARE people
who can show up just before the race and run well, if not great. Case in
point is Hans Put, who came in from New York 2 days before the race, and
finished 2nd overall. On the other end of the spectrum are those that
show up 2 weeks in advance or more, and do all the course markings, and
feel great, and blow up sometime during the race. We are all
individuals, with different reactions to altitude. Some people were
never meant to go above 7000', some can acclimate well enough to do
29,028'. But for the most part, MOST people will get a huge benefit from
arriving 10 days to 3 weeks early to give their bodies a chance to adapt.
It is not a sure fire way to success, just as showing up a day before is
not a guaranteed way to DNF. Acclimating is a way of 'stacking the
rocks' in your favor. I don't have the authority to speculate on how
Robert would have finished, had he shown up 10 days earlier than he did.
But he *did* finish, and very well indeed. Congratulations, Robert. :-)
***THE RACE!!! (finally)
Friday - 5:30am, Silverton High School. The adrenaline I imagine to be
in the air is electrifying. It is getting light when everyone begins
their 30 to 49 hour journey, in the glow of a beautiful pink sunrise.
Right after this, Dale Garland (RD), his dad, and the main radio guy ar e
about to drive over to the mineral creek crossing (mile 2.?) And I jump
in for a ride. We wait awhile for the first runners to come into sight
at about 6:25. It is great to see every runner, finally; even in one
group at the start, they were all so bunched up it was hard to pick out
lots of faces. Everyone gets across the creek by 6:35, with only some
stumbles, no complete dunkings or serious falls. So far, so good. 47:25
left on the clock...
After returning to the high school, I meet Julie and Heidi, and we all go
to breakfast.
At some point on Friday I planned to sleep in preparation for the night
ahead. I had made up my mind to start pacing Eric at Grouse Gulch, as
planned, and see what happens with my tendonitis. Eric's parents were
going to meet him at several aid stations along the way, but I wasn't
particularly interested in being in a car all day.
I wander back to the gym at about 10am and immediately find work at the
Com table, entering runner data into the computer database (the reason
why results with splits were available right after the finish). I work
there for the next 10 hours, and find it addicting to be SO connected to
the race. We hear all the radio transmissions between aid stations, and
hear when each runner goes in and out of the stations. Twice, at 2pm and
5pm, I break away to post an update to the Ultra list. After that I lose
my connection (the library closes), and I am unable to answer all the
emails I get about how particular runners are doing. Sorry bout that -
no time! The Ultra list will have to wait from 5pm Friday until
approximately 5pm Sunday for any more results from Silverton. Poor
guys... (that's not sarcastic)
By 8pm I was very tired, and decided to take a quick nap before meeting
up with Eric's mom to go to Grouse Gulch around 10. Due to adrenaline
and circumstances, I only sleep about 5 minutes. Oh well, I tried.
We made it up to Grouse around 11pm, and settled in for a few hours wait
for Eric and Bob Ross(his pacer for that section). Got to see some great
runners in and out of there - all three lead women, who were within
minutes of each other: Betsy Kahlmeyer, Betsy Nye, and Sue Johnston. I
got a tip from Steve Simmons before the race to watch out for Sue, and he
appears to know what he was talking about - she was looking great. Also
saw... Tyler Curiel, sportin' some polka dot Clifton tights, Regis,
getting the full service treatment from his family, and many others...
I was around when Tim Hewitt was doing is now-famous technicolor yawn on
all fours, but I missed it. Way to tough it out, Tim. :)
At some point we heard Eric had come through Engineer at 11:30pm, which
meant he should be at Grouse in about 2 hours, at 1:30. I got everything
loaded up (I was using a small backpack again this year, after trying out
a waist pack and HATING the bounce of it) and dressed warmly for the trip
up Handies, and waited.
Eric rolled in right on time at 1:40, and promptly let us know that he
would leave by 2am. He sat down and allowed an inspection of his feet by
Mom, and got new socks, along with grilled cheese and a breakfast burrito
(full service, this aid station!). Soon enough, we were ready to go, at
1:58am.
Up, up, up.... We hit the Grouse-American pass at 3:30, when my Princeton
Tec 4aa flashlight conked out. Only 90 minutes on fresh batteries -
sheesh. Eric, who had the same flashlight, was having no problems. I
got out my other one, a 2AA of the same variety, and we went on. The
batteries in that one would thankfully last the next 2 hours until
daylight.
Going down into American Basin was.... interesting. We couldn't figure
out the best way to do it, since the snow was rock hard - way too hard to
glissade on - and at a steep enough angle to freak us out. Eric made his
way down on some rocky stretches, and I sort of glissaded in a squat
position. That actually worked pretty well, because the tread in my
shoes was so aggressive I couldn't go very fast.
We made it down, and picked up the trail again on the way to Sloan Lake,
and the punch. Once punched, on we went again towards Handies, sucking
on Gu on the way. Right after the punch, I spied a Powergel wrapper on
the ground and bent over to pick it up, and was immediately plagued with
a sharp chest pain, which lasted all the rest of the way to the top. I
was concerned about it, since I've had 'excercise induced angina' before,
but not this bad. I had to breathe very shallowly to keep it under
control.
A few hundred feet from the top, I turned off my light and was in awe at
the coming dawn. This was the first time I had been out at that time of
day, and it was great! We got to the top, and I blinded us by taking a
self portrait of Eric and I with the flash on. After reaching the top,
somehow my chest pain had gone away, and I finally realised what it was,
so I told Eric. A few years ago I had the same thing, and found out that
it was likely a form of 'tendonitis' of the cartilage between the Sternum
and one of the ribs, called CostoChondritis (swelling of the intercostal
tissue). It made perfect sense, since it hurt at every breath, and it
started with a sudden move (picking up that wrapper). I felt much
better, since if it was true heart pain I would have freaked out a bit
more. (YOU'RE WELCOME, Powergel litterbug!)
Anyway... a small crisis was resolved, and now we were looking at one of
the most "fun" parts of the course: the descent into Boulder Gulch
towards Sherman. All I can say if you haven't been on it is: "Ow, my
knees!". We made it down okay, with the strange occurance of a double
fall on the lower trail. Eric skidded on some loose rocks and went down
hard, with me watching. He was getting up and looking at me a little
dazed, when I stepped on a big rock that decided at that moment to obey
gravity. That meant I had to obey gravity, too, and I landed hard on my
ass. Ouch. Well, aside from the humorous value, I was unscathed, as was
Eric from his fall. Good thing.
We (practically) rolled into Sherman (70mi) at 7am. This aid station won
for best service and nicest people - they just hovered around us and
catered to every request. I never found out where the garbage bag was...
everytime I uttered the word 'garbage' or 'trash' an open hand would
magically appear in front of me to take it. Amazing. They made Eric an
extra strong coffee, but only after he fell asleep eating a sandwich. He
said he had a dream about eating a sandwich. Hehe. :-)
I made a bad decision at Sherman. My tendon was bothering me down
Boulder Gulch, and I should have listened. But by the time I had sat
down for a few minutes, it felt better, and uphill walking doesn't bother
it much. I decided to keep going. Besides, I was having fun with Eric.
Why should I stay at the aid station and wait hours for someone to give
me a ride back to Silverton?
Off we went. The stretch between Sherman and Pole Creek aid station is
loooooong. It seems the aid station will never come. Lots of up, lots
of flat, and several stream crossings later, we get there. Somewhere in
that stretch I inadvertently practice my sleepwalking skills. I would be
walking along the singletrack trail, absently following Eric's heels, and
then I would.... zone out a bit. After a bit, I would look around and
wonder for a few brief moments what I was doing there, and who that guy
in front of me on the trail was. It was really weird to get disconnected
like that. Freaky and kind of cool at the same time.
At Pole Creek (79mi), Eric got another sandwich (he discovered a new
favorite at Sherman: cheese and mayo) and I got a stale bagel. It was
okay, I guess. I finally was feeling good enough to eat solid food.
(Earlier my stomach was a little queasy - I couldn't fathom chewing and
swallowing food) That perked us up a bit, and we slogged off towards
Maggie.
Another long, slow stretch... over this whole section since Grouse we
were averaging 2 miles per hour. Eric was feeling unusually tired, not
hurting really, just out of energy. He tried jogging a little a few
times, but only could keep it up a short distance. We kept a good
walking pace, but walking was about all we did for 25 miles.
Coming down the last steep trail into Maggie, my tendon had had it, and
so had I. It hurt just to stand up. If I could get a ride out of
Maggie, I would stop there, but otherwise, I would face a 4 mile, steep
walk down to the highway to get a ride to Silverton. If that were the
only option, I would keep going to Cunningham with Eric, since there are
only 4 downhill miles on that section anyway, and his mom would be there
to drive me back. The downhills, by the way, are what really abuse the
tendon. Uphills don't bother it (much).
It turned out that even though pacers are not supposed to stop at Maggie,
it was Pacer Drop Out Central there. Another pacer was already there
waiting for a ride to town, having stopped after taking his runner all
the way from Ouray (about 42 miles). It didn't look like a ride was
forthcoming, so I started out with Eric. We got a hundred meters or so,
when I heard shouting from the aid station. A vehicle was just pulling
up - a ride! I went back to check it out, and Eric went on, knowing I
could catch up if whomever it was with the truck wasn't going back to
Silverton. It turned out it was the wife of a pacer, who was somewhere
between Maggie and Cunningham, headed back towards us (so we thought).
He had fallen behind his runner (Tyler Curiel, I think), and decided to
go back to Maggie. Why, I don't know, since there is much better access
to Cunningham. So his wife was trying to find him. We waited over a
half an hour, long past when he should have been back, when we heard a
radio message that he was in Silverton at the high school. He had gone
to Cunningham anyway, and got a ride to town with someone. So Chris (the
other pacer waiting) and I piled in the truck with this woman (I forgot
the name...) and her kids, and we rocketed down the road.
After getting back to town, I realized I couldn't get any new clothes or
anything, since my truck keys were with Eric's mom at Cunningham. So I
just hung out, chatted with people, watched several people finish, and
waiting for her to come back from Cunningham after Eric had passed
through.
After leaving Maggie, Eric realized that the slow section we had just
done was exactly what he needed to recover a bit for the final push. He
regained some energy, and cruised into Cunningham, where Bob Ross (his
mom's husband) was waiting to pace the last stretch. Good thing, since
Bob is fast. And Eric was finally ready to go fast. The last 9.2 miles
are wickedly steep, both up and down, until the last 3 miles, which are
rolling gently. Most people at this time in the race take 3 ½ to 4 hours
to do the section. After dark, they take close to 5. Eric left
Cunningham at 4pm, and actually started to consider the fact that he
*could* finish under 37 hours (7pm). Last year, with better training,
his finishing time was 38:32:xx. Bob was thinking the same thing, as
they sped off towards Silverton.
I was in town, wondering what was going on. At 5:30 or so, Eric's mom
showed up, and I got some warmer clothes finally. She said the two of
them looked great when they left, and even stripped down to just shorts
and one layer on top for a fast finish. She thought they might be in
around 7:30 or so. We kept watch, just in case they went faster. We
watch several more runners finish, but no Eric yet. At about 6:55, we
see two runners coming, but with bad eyesight neither of us can identify
them. It *looks* like them, and it looks like the right clothes, but
we're not even sure until they are less than a block away. Just a few
minutes earlier, I had made a mental note that if they didn't come around
the corner for the last few blocks *right then*, Eric couldn't break 37
hours. Well, it was them, and finally we screamed and cheered as Eric
practically sprinted in to the tape, at 36:59:03, and immediately jumped
on top of the Hardrock, standing up there with a huge grin on his face.
We reminded him to kiss the Hardrock, and he kissed his hand, then
slapped the rock. (cheater) ;-)
That was it. The anticlimax of the last 38 hours. We all just wanted to
get some sleep, then.
Its really hard (unless you've just finished the race, I suppose) to go
to sleep that second night of hardrock. I wanted to stay up and see
everyone finish! I felt I wasn't being a good spectator by not cheering
in those 9pm, 1am, 4am finishers. But I slept, anyway.
The next morning we all assembled at the gym at about 5am, to see the
last few runners in, and also see about 4 runners finish after the
cutoff, including Bozena in 48:30, and Todd Burgess, in a heart-wrenching
48:03, all because he got off course and lost a few minutes in the last
few miles.
People milled around from then until 9am, when the awards ceremony is
held. Results were available at about 8:30, with complete splits for the
aid stations, a survey, and 2000 applications included. Excellent job,
everyone, to get those out! :-)
The awards were great, the food was great, but the fruit was frozen,
again. Other than that - a great time was had by all.
Jeez that was long. Thanks for reading. See you at the race next year,
when I will be sporting my own race number. :-)
ACROSS THE YEARS 2000/2001
I'm going to make this "short" (compared to some of my other race reports,
which have hit 20k).
This weekend I did my first 24 hour track stagger. It also ended up being
my first 50 miler, ever.
Why a stagger? Well, I 'wanted' it that way. I have been rehabbing my
knees for the last 6 months, doing weight training, stretching, and lots of
time on the elliptical trainer, and a little bit of running in the last 2
months. I have been feeling good, and wanted to test my limits with a crazy
race entry. I entered the 24hr Across the Years race in Phoenix, after
hearing favorable reports about it in previous years. I knew it would be
hard, slow, and painful.
I decided I could do 50 miles without a problem, but really set my goal at
100K. To do a 100K in 24 hours you must average around 23 minutes per mile,
assuming you do not take a sleep break. I figured if nothing really
"broke", that would be certainly reasonable. I planned to walk most of it,
as I hadn't been out for more than a 3 mile run in months. (I know I tend
to write lots of sandbagger reports like this, so if you want to delete now,
feel free....)
Short version, from my perspective: the first 8 hours were great. I ran a
little, walked a lot, and at the end of 8 hours had about 25 miles logged.
The next 2 hours started to go downhill, and from 10 hours on, it was more
or less pure discomfort. After taking 8 hours to go 100 laps, it took
another 11.5 hours to do another 100 laps. Then I crashed.
Longer version: I had problems from the very beginning with the one thing I
never expected: my feet. I have a mild case of athlete's foot that tends
to flare up a bit after xmas every year (when I am sharing a shower at home
with my brothers). So it was in that flared-up state when I began the race.
Within an hour, the balls of my foot and between my toes felt like I had
been walking on hot coals. In the next couple of hours that feeling
developed into what felt like a burning bruise. That's about as good as it
got. I got some steroid cream from the medical people and that helped....
for about an hour. I stopped almost every 2 hours to change socks, change
shoes, add more vaseline to my feet, etc. Nothing seemed to help. I
realized that even though it was pretty damn uncomfortable, it wasn't
getting any worse, so I resigned myself to that condition for the duration
of the race. Once I had accepted that, I felt much better mentally, but it
still bothered me quite a bit.
Around 8 hours I had begun to tighten up in my hamstrings and hips, and I
knew it would only get worse. Up until that point I had been having quite a
bit of fun, talking with other runners, watching the many talented people
lap me over and over and over again. My knee wasn't hurting a bit (I was
very happy about that!) I too, had been lapping several people who were
just strolling along the course, probably at 20minute pace, while I was
doing 16min. They would lap me later on in the night, going that same 20min
pace. I should have learned something from them earlier in the day. Around
8 hours I figured I was set to get 100K. I could even slow down a bit and
still have a bit of a cushion. Then it got cold. After the sun set, the
temperature dropped from around 70 and sunny to 40 and pretty dark. The
track was well lit, which probably helped keep some of us awake, although on
a few occasions I found myself wishing they would turn the lights off and
let us go on by moonlight. Its not like would could really get lost....
I put on all the clothes that I had (polypro shirt, 3SP windshirt, windblock
fleece jacket, hat, gloves, pants) and was cold after about 11pm. I think
it was because I had slowed down enough that I wasn't creating much heat. I
tried to keep a steady intake of hot chocolate. I was craving broth, but
they just had those ramen noodle cups, and I drank one of those and threw
away the noodles. I'll suggest plain broth for next year....
I felt really tired as soon as it got dark, which I wasn't expecting. I
talked with Mona Landfield a bit around this time, and she gave me some
great advice - what is important is what you learn about yourself. I
already knew that, but it really helped to have someone else repeat it.
She even recommended that I take a short nap, so that I would have the
experience of having to get up stiff and keep going. Unfortunately she left
just after 12 hours (9pm), after logging 51 miles. I was very envious. At
that point I had about 36 miles, and was stopping every hour to stretch,
elevate my feet, and ponder my insanity. I was very anxious to get to 50
miles, and I figured I could get there around 3am. After that point, I had
almost totally decided to stop. I went through a really low mood swing
around 10:30, and decided to take a nap. I crashed in the tent with my feet
elevated, and woke up about 45 minutes later. Moving HURT. I got up,
slowly, and went outside. I got back on the track, and started walking,
very slowly. My hips were very stiff, so short strides were a necessity.
It took a few laps to even get close to how fast I was going before, but
after that point, I felt great. I still felt like one of those bendy dolls
after a few years of hard playing, but mentally I had just gotten a huge
boost by the fact that I had KEPT GOING after waking up in such sorry shape.
I walked around with a smile on my face for awhile after that. I had
learned that I was capable of one jumping one of the big ultra-hurdles, and
it made me very happy.
Then it was time for our New Year's party, complete with fireworks,
sparkling cider, balloons, noisemakers, hats, and sparklers. That revved
everyone up for a good 20 minutes or so. :-) But with 9 hours to go, it
didn't last very long. Knowing that at this point I couldn't possibly hit
50 miles before 4am (because of the nap), I decided to not inquire about my
total laps until 4am. Then I would be close enough to get excited about
continuing. My pace had slowed to about 5:30-6 minutes per lap, down from 4
minutes during the daytime. I plodded on, stopping to elevate my feel
occasionally, but mostly cursing my decision to be out there, and sometimes
being happy that I was there - getting the experience meant a lot to me.
At 3:50 I asked how many laps I had. Based on my pace, I was expecting a
number between 180 and 195. 202 is the magical 50-mile number. "196" was
the reply. I was excited. 6 laps to go.... I chanted that over and over
again. Then 5, then 4, then some hot chocolate, then 3, then 2..... then
the final 1. Strangely, my body picked up on the mental decision I had made
to stop at 50, and those last 6 laps hurt even more than usual. But I
pulled into an ultra-shuffle-jog-bounce for the last 50 meters to complete
lap 202. I went to the tent, and crawled into the sleeping bag, and slept
cold for 3 1/2 hours. At 8am I hear Joe Dana calling me, "Andrea, only 1
hour left...". I laid awake listening to the shuffling feet go by,
shuffling faster now because the final hour has arrived and milage goals
must be met. I got out of the tent at 8:30, vaguely aware that I need to
really really verify that I made 202 laps, in case I need to do one more.
At that point I knew what it was truly like to be stiff. Wow. By the
walking I did over to the main table, my speed was about 15-20 minutes per
lap, and not getting any better. Good thing I found out I didn't have to do
any more laps. Then it was over, and several people completed their 100
miles in that last hour. I was very happy for them.
In retrospect, it all looks better. Could I have not taken that nap and did
100K? Maybe, but it surely would have been close and very painful. All day
after completing the run, I could barley move. Walking was slow, and
bending or sitting down required planning. That may have been much worse,
had I continued. Today I am much better, with the "usual" residual
soreness. I have been packing in the fluids, and I know that is helping.
We had a touch of greatness on the course, with Ann Trason present and
putting in 3:30 marathons back to back. She retired after 80 miles, after
about 11 hours (I think). We also had Peter Bakwin showing us all how slow
we were (although he didn't begin matching and surpassing Ann's speed until
after 8 hours - which indicates how fast she was going), and Stephanie Ehret
crewing for him. She was really fun to talk to and incredibly sweet. And
of course young James Bonnett-Castillo, running to beat his dad's best of
108 miles, at age 13. I met many many cool people, like Mona Landfield of
CA who helped me with my blister care, and Joe Dana whom I talked to quite a
bit, and Sharon Price who passed the marathon distance for the first time
ever and was only on the track every other hour. Thanks to everyone who was
out there, especially Paul (I found my knife!), the RD. The race was very
well organized, and everyone helping out was very nice and friendly the
whole time. We even had pizza delivered at 7pm. Yummy.
Overall I am very happy I did it, if not a bit disappointed I didn't stick
it out for the full 24 hours. But it was the first time I've done 50 miles,
so it is a milestone nonetheless. And I think my new 19:25 50mile PR will
be easy to beat. :-)
Thanks for reading.
Andrea
http://tenacity.net
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"If you can see the light coming out of the other ear,
you're an ultrarunner." - Unknown
SQUAW PEAK 50 MILE TRAIL RUN
I hope this is the first of many reports from this fine race this year. :-)
I am still getting together the pictures that were taken during the race, so
I will post that link once they're organized.
First, my thanks to John Bozung and his cast of amazing volunteers. The
race was well-planned, VERY well marked, and it was generally a great time
for everyone. One of the most distinctive parts of this race is the
no-cutoff finish. If you make the 33 mile cutoff, you can take as long as
you want to get to the finish, which eases the mind when you are already
stressed out. If you were to walk from the 33 mile aid station all the way
in, at a pretty leisurely pace, you would get to the 46 mile aid station
before dark, so the last 4 miles on the road are perfectly navigable in the
dark. Next year I'll have to go a bit faster so that most of the food will
still be left at the finish. :-)
This was my second attempt at 50 miles, and, as I have been telling people
for weeks before the race (in a committment-making burst of optimism), my
first 50 mile finish. It was exciting, painful, calming, stressful,
debilitating, exhilarating, nauseating, and AMAZING, and I enjoyed (at least
at some level) every single moment of it.
I spent all day Friday driving up from Albuquerque to Orem with the SO, an
11 hour jaunt. I always forget just how long of a drive it is, until I do
it again.
John spent a bunch of time talking at the pre-race briefing about the
importance of hydrating because the weather was expected to be hot, sunny,
and generally miserable for running. Thank my lucky stars that didn't
happen... I think that type of weather would have been devastating to my
race.
Race day started, like pretty much all ultra race days, in the dark and
waiting in line for the porta-toilet. I exchanged greetings with the people
I knew - Ernst Baer and Emily Loman, Julie Nelson, Jennifer and Gerry Roach.
I was also to see a few more familiar faces along the way, and meet some
Hardrockers, as well.
The first few miles I talked with Julie, and then she dropped back to avoid
the crash-and-burn that got her last year. We headed up the trail to the 5
mile aid station, and I got to talking with Anita Bower, who had run the
race last year. Very nice woman. The two of us hooked up with Jennifer
Roach, and I though I was set. I was running with two people who had
finished under 15 hours last year, so everything was golden. We stayed
together for the first 16 miles, up and up and up to an aid station on a
windy jeep road pass. Fabulous views were all around, of the Wasatch range,
and of the Provo-Orem metro area, and the mountains to the south. It was in
the 70s and cloudy, perfect running weather. Anita and Jennifer and I kept
each other on a good pace and the miles passed quickly.
After leaving mile 16, it was a long, long downhill on a jeep road to the
next aid at mile 22. Jennifer took off, and Anita and I hobbled down a
little more slowly on our fragile knees, in awe of Jennifer's resilience.
Soon, Julie caught up (she had held back until that 16 mile saddle) and blew
past us as well. I wasn't going to get to talk to her again for awhile.
Everything was going pretty well, I was drinking what seemed like a
reasonable amount but actually probably wasn't much at all. During the
entire race I'd be suprised if I drank 100oz total. It was staying down
well, but I had no interest in food and tried to keep the calories coming in
through beverage alone. Obviously that wasn't enough, either. Anita left
me around mile 19 and I leapfrogged her until the 22 mile aid station, where
I briefly saw Julie on her way out. My knees were not hurting yet, but they
were what I call "twingy", and my stomach had just started to get queasy on
that long downhill. I sat down at that aid station and contemplated taking
off my shoes to investigate my hot spots. I decided not to, on account that
they had not changed in sensation since mile 5. I wanted to avoid taking my
shoes off as long as possible, hopefully until after the finish line.
Anita left shortly before I did, and said "I'll go slow so you can catch
up". Famous last words, as I now know. I saw her about 200yds down the
road as I left the aid station, and by the next one I think she was 10
minutes ahead of me. I had a bad stretch there. 3.something miles of
pavement and I walked damn near the whole thing. I was hurting and starting
to feel sorry for myself. A bad train of thought to board...
[Interjection, for background purposes.... My main goal in this whole
shebang was "Aid 8 by 2:30pm". That is the only cutoff in the race, at mile
33. So you get 9:30 to do just over a 50k, then you can take your sweet
time to the finish. My whole focus was on that time, and everything seemed
to be going well until around mile 19.... ]
..... so there I was, trundling down the road, thinking that I needed to get
to the next aid (26 mi) around noon to make the 2:30pm cutoff feasible.
Since I had left mile 22 at 11:05am, and I thought at the time that it was a
full 4 miles to the next aid, I got to thinking that I would get there at
around 12:30pm, and there would be no chance of making it to Aid Station 8
by 2:30pm. This got me on a pretty negative psychological downward spiral,
thinking everything from how nice it would be to be done at noon, to how if
I can't even finish this damn race I have no business being entered in
Hardrock and I might as well drop out of that, too. I was pretty depressed,
and on top of that, I wasn't doing anything to make my situation better.
Instead of speeding up to have a chance at the cutoff, I was slowing down.
I was mighty suprised to come into view of the aid station at noon, and then
once I got in, to hear them say, "so, the cutoff at aid 8 is now 3pm". It
was stressful to hear it, yet exhilarating as well, because I had literally
been saved from myself and my negativity. I got a little food, a smoothie,
and more powerade, then took off again. I had been going 7 hours, and I
knew time wise that I wasn't even half way done. But I was happy, even if
my feet were killing me. To get my energy back up, I got as much food down
as I could, and I made my way up the road. I had thought I was the last
person through the aid station, but a few people passed me on the road. I
got to aid station 7, mile 29.6, at just after 1pm. I knew I was good to go
for making the cutoff at aid station 8, and I might possibly even make it
there by the original cutoff.
Now I was feeling very happy, and my stomach had recovered most of the way.
I was all alone, practically skipping up the trail. What a beautiful
section of the course! A narrow singletrack trail, winding through a
flowery meadow, and then a large grove of aspens, up to a ridgeline. Down
again on a trail, meeting up with a jeep road, and following that road for
about a mile. I felt good enough to run the last mile, and let out a
triumphant "woo HOO!" as I came into aid station 8 at 2:45pm.
I ate, I drank, I nearly forgot all about my drop bag but I remembered it at
last and had my long-awaited Frappucino. Didn't need anything else out of
it, which I think is a good thing. I had 2 drop bags total and ended up
taking 1 thing out of each one. Of course I also had my very SO Dave along
and he gave me moral support at miles 22, 26, and 46, which was very
helpful, especially when he told me at 26 (when I felt like crying) that I
looked "fresh as a daisy". :-)
I finally pushed off at 3pm, with the knowledge that the sweep was leaving
right behind me and, hiking, they planned on 3.5 hours to Windy Pass, then
another 2.5 hours down to the finish. I thought I could better that by a
half hour on each leg. I made good time and passed 5 people on the way to
Windy Pass aid station, at mile 40.5. I felt good, if tired. My main
problem was my feet, which ached pretty badly, and a newly popped blister
was stinging a bit in there. The long "death-climb" of 1300 feet in a mile
really wasn't so bad (there's much worse on the Hardrock course, so at least
I'm seasoned in that experience), and in the middle of it I caught up again
to Anita and Julie. Anita had been having a hard stretch, so Julie had
waited for her before the start of the climb, and they were now together.
We finally made it to the aid station at about 6:15, later than I had hoped.
I still thought we could do between 15:30 and 15:45 finishing time, which
meant a little over 2 hours getting down the last 9.5 miles.
My god, that trail! Holy canole, it was a mess. Sure, if you're Karl
Meltzer and completely fearless the trail is mostly runnable, but Julie,
Anita and I were going on trashed feet, trashed knees, and man were we slow.
Anita got a bit freaked out going down because she said her hands and arms
were going numb, so she took off, hoping to get down as soon as possible.
Julie and I stayed together, running a little, but mostly stumbling and
cursing the way down. We gave ourselves permission to bitch as much as we
wanted during this stretch, so bitch, moan, and whine we did. Most of the
way down you can see where the aid station is, and it is much farther on
trail than line of sight. We knew how far down we had to go to get there,
but we seemed to be losing elevation much too slowly to be getting anywhere.
It was frustrating. The two nice parts about that section was the
conversation I had with Julie, and the wildflowers lining our path as we got
lower. But man, that was the longest 6 miles I think I've ever gone.
(Until, I bet, the 6 miles from Divies-Little Giant pass to the finish at
Hardrock this year... :-) ).
We finally bottomed out, then had to run across a long meadow, and down some
road before we got to the aid station, the last one. Julie was very happy
to see her friend Mike Tilden there, and I got introduced. We took off
again, and Julie said that we should run to get it over with. I was
reluctant to go along, but more reluctant to lag behind. Besides, it hurt
no matter what I did, so running wasn't so much worse than walking. So we
ran it in. 3.5 rolling downhill miles on pavement. Ouch. We made it to
the park just as dark was taking over, and crossed the finish line together
in 16:20 (9:20pm).
The big buffet I was eagerly awaiting was mostly gone, so that was
disappointing. But hey, when I'm as slow as I am, I'm just glad they kept
the finish line open. I got a bunch of chicken and a popsicle, and that
suited me fine. Anita had come in just under 16 hours, so that was cool,
and Jennifer (whom I hadn't seen since mile 16) had finished under 15 hours.
Emily Loman finished exactly when I predicted she would - just as I was
getting into the 33 mile aid station, at 9:45 into the race. :-) Way to
go, Emily!
I obviously didn't eat/drink enough during the race. That's going to have
to change for Hardrock. Had the weather been what was predicted (hot,
sunny, and 90) rather than what it ended up being (mild, cloudy, and 70s), I
would have bit the dust and most likely DNFed.
Other than that, I had a good race. I knew my feet and knees might bother
me, so I didn't let that get to me mentally. Nothing serious was hurting -
just all normal fatigue and soreness. That was very refreshing
psychologically. I feel very good going into Hardrock, and am excited that
I'll be there to acclimate in just 4 weeks!
Take care everyone,
Andrea, in ABQ
http://tenacity.net
-----Original Message-----
From: Feucht, Andrea L.
Sent: Tuesday, July 17, 2001 6:52 PM
To: 'ultra@listserv.dartmouth.edu'; 'drs@listserv.dartmouth.edu'
Subject: HR 56 race report
Well, for me it was the HR 56, anyway.
This one will be short, I think. I arrived in Silverton 9 days before the race, immediately went to 13000,
and did that again twice more before race day. Might not have been enough - I'm still nursing some theories
about "what went wrong".
I felt fine before the race, and felt prepared - I had finished a good 50 miler on June 2nd. Because I felt
prepared and ready to finish, I was also very nervous. I was very afraid of becoming wacked out on the 2nd
day and/or 2nd night and falling off a cliff or just wandering around lost somewhere.
So I found me a pacer for the last 40-some-odd miles, and got to the nitty gritty details of the race:
planning apparel, foot care, and drop bags.
Race day arrives and I am set. I feel good. I can do this.
I meander over the first part of the course at a good pace, hitting KT (12.1) right around 4 hours. I am
out in 5 minutes, after getting more drink and a sammich. The next stretch is fun, as I leapfrog with Rollin
Perry, one of my Hardrock heroes. Over Grant-Swamp, where I pee on top as a salute to Joel Zucker (who used
to drink about a bottle per mile on the Hardrock course). A fun slide down, and I try to catch up to
Jennifer Roach. I do not, but it makes me run hard into the aid station, about a half an hour behind
schedule. Something is not going well here, I am working really hard and not really going so fast.
The next climb I do very well on - 3000 vertical feet in an hour and a half. I hear later on that that is a
very good pace. Maybe it kills me for later - who knows? I run down into Wheelbarrow basin into a black storm,
hunching over as I jog, trying not to be a big lightning target. I see no one on this stretch, except when
Rollin passes me on the downhill. The gravel wide trail into the town of Telluride is also long and boring
and longer than I remember. Then I am in Telluride to refuel, change socks, eat, get my long sleeve shirt,
and out again in 10 minutes flat. Well at least my aid station times are good.
Up to Virginius. Geez, why does every section seem longer than I remember it? I seem to be going well, not
having to stop or rest, but my pace is abysmal. I feel fine. This really sucks.
I get to the pass a full hour behind 48 hour pace, at 8:45pm. It is just getting dark as I leave to rappel
clumsily down through rocks and ice. I make it to the bottom of the third "pitch" just as it is dark enough
to really need extra light. I turn on my new Bison light. Very nice. It advertises "at least" a 5 hour burn
time. Plenty to get me to Ouray and part way up to Engineer.
Duane Arter passes me on the way down to Governor. Sorry Duane, but I have to say that when this guy passes
you, you know you are in trouble. Duane is very relentless and persistent, but he is not fast.
In Governor at 10pm, I eat something and continue on down Camp Bird road, a 7.5 mile boring but runnable
stretch into Ouray. I don't really run it, though. Not sure why. About 2 miles down the road, my Bison
light, my only light, with my only batteries inside it, dies. Gee this is fun. I panic. Then I stop panicking
and keep the light off long enough to let my night vision come on. I can barely make out where the road is
going, but at least I am past the rocky part of it. There are tall trees on the sides, obscuring what little
starlight I am getting. No moon is out.
I tiptoe down the road, gradually getting faster, but never more than probably 20min per mile at best. Once
in a while I flick on the flashlight for the 1/2 second at a time it will work before it fades again so that
I can reassure myself I'm still on course. Even though I know there are no other roads around here to get
lost on. This whole situation costs me at least an hour.
I get to Ouray at 1:30am, about 3 hours behind 48 hour pace. I borrow a flashlight from Marty, one of the aid
station guys, and also pick up my new flashlight in my drop bag - a very bright green LED. I leave at 2am,
knowing pretty well that I will not make the cutoff of 10am at Grouse Gulch. My only "fun" on this part is
crossing the river. It was deep and fast from the day's rain - about up to my mid-thigh. I had to grab the rope
with both hands and pull myself across. The stretch up to Engineer is so slow I am not sure what exactly was
wrong with me. I was sleepy, yes. I saw phantom runners on the trail, yes. I counted the switchbacks up the
first part of the trail (16). But I wasn't really tired or fatigued or in much pain. My feet sort of bothered
me, but I had prepared for that reality.
I got to Engineer at 8am, just as they were about to set out down the trail to find me. They radio'ed me in,
and I heard the Silverton radio guy say, "Well, if she's coherent, she can either continue to Grouse or wait
and head in with you guys when you pack up.". Of course I'm coherent! I may be glacially slow, but dammit I
am not incoherent.
I leave there also around 8am, and make it to the pass at 9am. I now have a long ways to go down to Grouse.
My mind had put it earlier at about 4 miles, but really it is about 6. I am somehow magically hydrated now
and I must stop to pee every 15 minutes. About a mile to the Grouse aid station I meet up with my pacer,
who is now sadly without a job. My first words to him are "I am so sorry." He escorts me to the aid station,
where they kindly offer me a burrito and a coke, as they take down the yurt. I find out that many people have
dropped here. It is interesting that so many always drop at Grouse, even when it is only 40 miles into the race.
Up to Engineer aid, 113 (out of 117) runners were still in the race. After Grouse, it was 91.
I get a ride back into town with Brad, my pacer, and suggest that he may want to hang out at Cunningham
(91 miles) and pick up a runner there. After I have stopped, my knees, which were my undoing last year and
so far this year have been mostly quiet, completely go to pieces. I have problems for the next 24 hours just
going up or down any step. Maybe I shouldn't have stopped.
I find out that many of my friends have dropped. Emily Loman, Lisa Richardson, Joe Clapper, Ginny LaForme,
Susan Gardner, Chris Nute and many many others. This is sad, but I am still in a daze. I didn't purposely
drop - they made me stop. That was my goal this year. I was going to keep going until I finished or I was
removed from the race. But stopping in that manner makes things seem less real. I am still wearing my race
medical bracelet. I am contemplating keeping it on until I get my shit together and figure out how to crack
this nut of a race for next year.
Only a few days later I feel almost normal again, except for my lingering fatigue and melancholy. I felt much
worse for longer after my 50 miler. I will just try my best to drink and eat good protein, and then start
running again in about a week.
See ya'll out on the trails.
Andrea, in ABQ
alf@prolaw.com
http://tenacity.net
What follows is a disjointed timeline of the events leading up to my encounter with the San Juan Solstice
50 on June 22, 2002. Names may not be 100% accurate, nor will minute-by-minute accounts of trail encounters.
Such is the brain of an ultrarunner... Enjoy!
------------------------------------------------------
The first time I attempted Lake City 50 was in 1998. My first experience with the San Juans had been a mere
few weeks earlier on the Hardrock course, and I thought, "well if I can pace someone at Hardrock, surely I can
do a 50 in the same environment...".
I had my neophyte ass handed to me on a rock-strewn platter.
In 1999, paced at Hardrock again, and got injured. No Lake City 50. In 2000 & 2001, DNF'ed at Hardrock.
Ego & body too bruised to attempt Lake City again.
2001 (June) - Ran Squaw Peak 50, barely finished in 16:20. Overall, was fun, but I was mostly trying to use
it as a pre-Hardrock shakedown. Jury is still out on if it "worked".
2002 - Not running Hardrock, so have entered San Juan Solstice 50 (fka Lake City 50) to avenge my years of
butt kicking by the San Juans. MUST get one of those Finisher visors.
Spring, 2002: Mileage about the same as last year (~10-15 miles per week, mostly as a long run). Terrain
similar to last year as well, a slightly inclined gravel road.
May 2002: I go on 2 multi-hour trail runs on terrain that actually "resembles" that of the mountains - it
sucks, but I feel good afterwards. One is actually in the San Juans, up to 13,000'.
Early June 2002: 2 more terrain-specific trail runs, each of 2-3 hours, including long steep pounding downhills.
THE RACE:
The West is burning down. Less than a week before the race and a new fire, the "Million", begins near South
Fork, 60 miles south of Lake City. It grows quickly and adds to the smoke load already being endured from the
likes of the Missionary Ridge fire in Durango. Jerry Gray, the new RD, assures that the race is still on.
Unfortunately, South Fork lies at a road juncture necessary to get to Lake City from the south, and HWY 160 is
closed between Pagosa Springs and Alamosa. Very bad. The other (southerly) way to get there is over Cinnamon
Pass or Stoney Pass from Silverton. I've been over both before, and NO THANKS. Planning on an 8 hour drive
instead of 5 1/2, I leave ABQ at 11am to make the 5-7pm dinner and briefing. Then I hear the news that 160 is
open again. Yippee!
Coming through South Fork, I see the crews and the smoke and the tendrils of new smoke from hot spots on the
hillsides. Then I turn north towards Slumgullion Pass, and Lake City.
As I cross Slum, I am deeply disturbed. The air is a grayish rotten yellow, like old smokers' teeth. It smells
like wet campfire, and visibility is about a mile. And my eyes burn. This is Very Bad.
Figuring that the race will be called off on account of "no air to breathe" I go to the dinner, and learn that
of course the race is still on. I only half jokingly ask if there will be Visine at the aid stations. The
volunteers do not know.
Other than the haze, I feel good. I know I can finish - barring compound fracture ("if the bone's not
showing....") - my legs feel strong and I have no pre-race jitters. I'm just not sure I care to be out in
the beautiful San Juans if I can't see them.
I meet up with my hotel-mates, Steve and Sherry Mahieu, and a few other ultra friends, from Albuquerque and
beyond. I also see the eventual race winner, a little tiny thing named Anthea Schmid. In runners, fast things
often come in small packages.
The pre-race food was GOOD! It was a pasta buffet with well-made varieties of pasta and many sauces to pick
from, and brownies from the Dark Lord himself. Hehe. Apparently the tab was picked up by a local benefactor,
so as to allow more of the race fees to be donated to the local EMT group (the beneficiary of the run this year
and into the future).
Then we all head back to our hotel and someone promptly has a pre-race beer/social gathering in their room. I
guess its a good way to sleep well the night before. :-) But its a great chance to talk to some ABQ runners I
hadn't met before, and catch up with the rest that I had. And my appreciation for Fred Abramowitz continues to
grow...
RACE MORNING!
Urgh. 3:45 wake up alarm. Good thing I packed *most* of everything the night before. Get dressed, eat some
food, go to check in at 4:30. Come back to room and WAKE UP roommates - sheesh, they're cutting it close. Go
back to starting line at 5 till 5, and take up spot in the very back - where I belong. Then we're off.
First 3.x miles is up a gentle dirt road, so we shuffle it, and get to the trail turnoff in about 35 minutes.
By then it is starting to get light, just in time for the trek through the woods, and the first (and worst) climb
of the race. We're going up about 4000 feet in 5 miles. Whee! The trail rolls for a bit and then the MONDO
climbing begins and doesn't let up until we have crossed the 13,000' mark.
Here's something interesting... as the light comes up and the sun begins to illuminate the mountains around us,
we realize - WE CAN SEE THEM! The dawn light is warm and CLEAR and we are all very excited about this turn of
events.
I feel good, although climbing always makes you feel worse than you should. Fred has adopted a few of the
female first time runners and is giving them orders now and then: "drink!" "time to eat! everyone eat
something, about 100 calories!". Its comical, but actually helpful. I hate eating while running and the reminder
is good. GU, blech.
Just after the sun comes up, so do the clouds and we are rained on for a short period. Long enough to *consider*
getting out the jacket, but not enough to do anything about it. The swirling mists will taunt us all day, but no
more rain will fall on this little band of slowpokes.
We reach the first aid station at mile 8. I can hear them before we can see them and let out a hoot. They
SCREAM excitedly in response. I continue to yell out my food order, "egg mcmuffin and a grande latte!".
Whether it gets a laugh I don't know. So we get to them and have water, saltines, and oreos. The latter two
are a bit dry, but the saltines definitely taste good. The aid station is packed in, so their stock is minimal.
I forgive (barely) the lack of lattes.
On we plod, for the rest of the climb (about another mile or so). Into the gathering mists, above treeline,
to a lazy curve of a saddle. The wind has picked up and those 40 degree mists are COLD, so we have donned our
jackets. We traverse a knife edge saddle that has turned the mist into a beautiful display of aerodynamics and
air flow. The mist flows up the slope, then curls under as it goes over the steep edge. Very dramatic looking,
and seeing this it is easy to understand how cornices form.
Then the first downhill, and it is a doozy. The first half mile is awesome, as you are going down a grassy
ridge towards the trees and a drainage path. The views are worth the price of admission. (FYI, the course
profile is here: http://www.lakecity50.com/profile.gif, for your viewing pleasure as you read this account)
I have slowed somewhat on the last climb, and now on this downhill I pass several people (this is a new thing
for me, woohoo!) and pick up a few minutes of lead time on my group, before I have to stop for a off-trail
adventure, about halfway down. During which time they all pass me again and get 5 minutes on me, of course.
I keep flying down the hill and pass 2 more people that I do not know and remember that this section is very
long.... where is the ^%#& aid station?? Finally I get there, mile 15.something, and find my gang about ready
to take off. I stuff a bunch of food in, get refilled, and head out. I am a good 25 minutes ahead of my bad
1998 pace (& 30 min ahead of the cutoff), so I'm satisfied.
The next stretch always seems shorter than advertised, so I give thanks for that. It is about 4 miles on a
flat & smooth gravel road, then 3 miles up a very steep but still passable Jeep road to the Carson townsite.
I leapfrog with Pat Scott and Marilyn Collette (I think) the whole way, and we also encounter lots of ATVs on
the road. Mmmmm.... exhaust. The rocky road is steep but I plod it steadily and at a pretty good pace, and
get to the aid station (22 miles) now over an hour ahead of cutoff. Woohoo - that is where I need to be.
Not worried about dumb cutoffs so I can just do the running stuff.
In and out of the aid station, which is itself about halfway up the 2nd major climb, we must continue further
up the jeep road until we can join up with the Colorado Trail, on the divide. This section is long and hot
and LONG, just like I remember. Good thing my hamstrings haven't mutinied by this point, like they did in 1998.
UP, up up, I catch up to Fred, Amy Hayes, Pat, and Marilyn, and also Sherry Mahieu (who is sweeping the course
with Steve, and their late wake-up time is finally put into perspective). We reach the real trail and slog up
to the actual divide. Everything is beautiful up here, and the haze from the smoke is barely visible - a sign
of our continuing good luck.
I get to talk a bit with Sherry as we roll along the divide, on the most dangerous part of the course. It is
2pm and we are on a grassy ridge 13,000' in the sky with no cover nearby. Good thing the clouds are keeping
their distance. We pass the point where I dropped in 1998, and I am still feeling good. Marilyn is having a
hard time on the uphills, but other than that we are all in good spirits and chatting away the afternoon. I
am developing some hot spots on my feet, but in the place where I expected them, so I have no plans to remove
my shoes just yet. I've often found that taking off and then replacing one's shoes has the effect of changing
something slightly and causing more discomfort in the long run. So I leave them on, unless its going to be a
LONG time before I get to stop.
We are now in the long, meandering downhill stretch between miles 25 and 40. We will lose some 4500'+ feet in
that time, along with gaining around 1000' in short uphill stretches. Our intent is to get to the next aid (32
miles) by 3pm, but none of us is positive where it should be, so we grow dejected as the time flies by. Fred
and his little crew are worried, so they take off and gain 5 minutes by the time I reach it, at 3:25. They are
just leaving, and I don't stay long.
OH! The guitar guy! About a half mile before the aid station, there was a guy sitting alongside the trail,
playing an acoustic guitar and singing. Something folksy, I don't remember.... but the dude looked very familiar,
like someone I knew from Hardrock. Never did find out who it was [ed. It was Roch Horton (I found out eventually)].
Anyway, after the aid station, there is a meandering gentle uphill and I run along with Pat and Marilyn, then
pass them and catch up to Evelyn Carter, and pass her as well. I am shuffling along, in some pain, but doing
alright. I keep drinking, something I always have a problem with while running, and it seems to be doing the trick. I never drink water during races - I figure I can use all the calories I can get, so I drink whatever the sponsored sports drink is, and sometimes that can backfire. Usually it is something decent, like Succeed! or a similar formula, something easy on the stomach. Today it is some weird brand that I have not heard of before, and have since forgotten, but it works.
After the gentle uphill, there is a long flat section, and then the nastiest downhill of the race, on a rocky
jeep road. It is only 2 miles or so, but it hurts the feet mightily. Pat and Marilyn catch and pass me, and
Evelyn catches up to me so we run together. About halfway down I can tell we are getting close, and I tell her
that we will get to the aid station by 5:30 - plenty of time to finish. She is VERY excited by that - evidently
she had been worried about missing the cutoff - so she takes off down the hill. This stretch is supposed to be
9 miles, but it goes by like 7 (taking less than 2 hours). This factors into the rest of the race.
I try to keep up, but my speed is somewhat reduced by my hot spot - turned blister - turned POP! inside my
sock. OW! I get to the aid station just as she is leaving and wish her luck. I figure that because she is
tired I will catch her on the next uphill, but I will not see her again.
I take a little time at this aid (mile 41), emptying gear into my drop bag to save weight, and eating more
food. I still have about 3 hours to go, not a short amount of time when you've been going all day. I decide
to not take my shoes off to treat my blister - Steve Mahieu is there and he recommends that I not, since the
stinging pain will go away on its own. Then I take off, for the last 9 miles. I have 3 1/2 hours to finish,
plenty of time for someone not limping along.
I follow the new trail through the brush (cut because drivers had complained about the runners using the
highway on this stretch), and actually hesitate before a nasty 10 foot drop-off that I must jump down.
Some trail. But then I reach the "real" trail, and begin the upward climb. This hill is purportedly the
worse of the whole race, because of its proximity to the end, but I find it just fine. I still think the
first climb is the worst.
The only thing not fine about this section is that it is supposed to be 6 miles to a minimal aid station at
the last high point. I'm thinking more like 7+. It drags on, through meadows and woods, before finally
getting to the enthusiastic volunteers (one of whom was also at the 22 mile aid, what a trooper!). I am
thusly informed it is 3 miles to the finish, which of course turns out to be more like 4+, in accordance
with regaining those "lost" miles from the stretch before the last aid station.
There is some more tedious meandering through meadows, mostly flat, and I am freaking out. I know I need to
lose some 2000 feet before the finish, and every extra flat section means the downhill will be that much steeper.
Eeesh. Finally I reach the "trail", called the Waterdog. The evil, evil, bastard Waterdog.
This trail is like a jeep road that never saw much success because YOU CAN'T FREAKING DRIVE IT. Go look at
the profile again: http://www.lakecity50.com/profile.gif
This *&^%%$ hill I'm limping down starts just after mile 46 and goes (on the map) for 2 miles. This is much
more than I bargained for, and I am pissed. 2 side-by-side curved wheel ruts that produce no comfort for my
stumbling feet. This is the double diamond of running trails. I fly down it, more angry by the minute, and
catch up to Fred, Pat, and Marilyn. Amy has dropped at mile 41, so now it is the 4 of us, wondering if it was
really only today that we have gone insane, or if it happened years ago and we can only tell at moments like
this....
I have given up on my earlier fantasy of finishing in 15 hours (by 8pm, 2 1/2 hours after leaving mile 41),
and I now also give up on finishing in under 15:30. But I know I will finish under the time limit (16 hours),
so all my energy goes into just fuming about these last few miles.
We get off that godforsaken hellmouth deigning to call itself a trail, and are now just north of town, on gravel
roads, making our way home.
There is at least another mile, so Marilyn and I get into a walk/run pattern and decide to finish together,
with the guys. We keep hobbling in, not getting into an actual jog/run until we are certain we can do it all
the way to the finish, which is about a block beforehand. The guys stay behind us, and Marilyn and I finish
together in 15:46:20 & 15:46:23, and the guys in 15:46:28. Woohoo!
Evelyn, that scamp, has finished in 15:29. Way to go girl! My friends Susan and Ken finished wonderfully for
their FIRST 50 milers - Susan went under the old women's course record, only to be beaten in overall time by
Anthea (the first woman to ever go under 10 hours). And Ken went under 11 hours, as did another ABQian, Kurt
Coonrod. And of course I got to talk to the wonderfully insane DR Dave Horton (up training for Hardrock), who
also did right around 11 hours. Nice job, everyone!
I've waited 4 long years to get this finish, so when offered the choice at the award ceremony of an old dorky
finisher's visor (white for sub-16, blue for sub-12, red for sub-10 hours) and the new stylish baseball hats, you KNOW
I'm taking that lovely white visor. Dorks ahoy!
Next year, I'm doing sub-15, maybe even sub-14. Might I get to sub 12 before they run out of blue visors?
Who knows....
Andrea Feucht
Albuquerque, NM
http://tenacity.net
-----Original Message-----
From: Feucht, Andrea L.
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2003 10:45 AM
Subject: Lake City 50 Race Report (long)
This was my 3rd attempt and 2nd finish at Lake City 50 (now known as San Juan Solstice 50).
I was amused to realize that this is the first race I have completed more than once.
The very interesting thing to also realize as a newbie ultrarunner is that you can NEVER base expectations
on what happened the year before. Every year is its own thing, to be compared with nothing. Sure, knowing
the course better is a benefit, but other than that, its all starting from scratch.
To wit: I trained HARD this year (for me). Actually doing runs twice a week or more since November, gradually
building up the long run from 2 to 10 hours, and doing lots of mountainous training, which I didn't do much of
last year. I also did a 50K training run 4 weeks before the race, as the best shake-down of our training. We
did that 50K in 10 hours, a nice easy day (and a hard weekend, since I had done a 22 miler the day before that).
I had also been lifting weights 2-3 times a week since April of 2002, so I really felt READY.
Last year I finished in 15:46, and it was a bit of a struggle. This year, based on my training, experience,
and knowledge of the course, I wanted sub-14. It would be the perfect training run for Leadville.
I finished in 15:28, feeling slightly better than last year. But I also didn't feel like I could have gone
much faster without blowing up. I really hope that won't kill me at Leadville. I CAN finish Leadville; I CAN
finish Leadville; I CAN finish Leadville..... Hope Pass is wussy, Hope Pass is wussy, HOPE PASS IS WUSSY! Whew,
ok I feel better. Moving along...
This year, I also took along my training partner, Laura. She had done a 50K race and the Silverton Silver (25mi)
but no 50 miler. I assured her that with the training we had been doing, we were way ahead of what I did the year
before, and I finished then, so all she needed was a little mental discipline and she would be fine. We drove up
with her doting fiance', whose answer to my "so what are you going to do during the race?" question was "worry.".
I told him to buy some beers and relax. He did the former, but not so sure on the latter.
Here's the detail......
Race morning, pre-dawn, shrug into the clothes, the pack, etc. Join the crowd and when the race begins I find
the back of the pack people and hang with them. NO running the first 3 miles, I have resolved. I do not want
to have any chance of going out too hard, and later I expect to make it up.
A change from last year - after hitting the real trail, there are 9 stream crossings in about 3 miles which
require foot dunking. The logs that span some of them are completely coated in ice (this proves fatal for at
least one runner's race). Some of the crossings are knee deep or more, which means for legs that really never
warm up until about 2 hours into the day. This may be one of the "slowdown" factors.
Since I have been on the real trail, I have gone ahead of my 4 back-of-the-pack compatriots, and start passing
others. By mile 8 and the first aid station, about 15 are behind me. I take this as a good sign that I started
out slow enough and am gaining ground. Unfortunately, I am only gaining ground, not time. I get to the 8 mile
aid station 3 minutes slower than last year, not the 10-15 faster I had hoped.
Like last year, as I approach the aid station and can hear the voices I let out a loud WOOOOOO! and they respond
in kind. And when they ask me what I need, I of course ask for my usual: breakfast burrito, grande latte, egg
mcmuffin. Unfortunately they are fresh out of all 3, so I take some M&Ms. As I reach down for the chocolate
nuggets covered with sugar, I get a noseful of the fragrant cloud hanging over this backcountry aid station. A
cloud that suggests.... hmm... HERBS. *grin* So that's why they are so cheerful. I tell the lead friendly
yelling guy, "It smells like *someone's* had a good breakfast already!", and he grins and says,
"YEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!", sounding not unlike Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. With a chuckle I head on up the trail,
forgetting to ask them to save some for when I finish.
There is another 1000 feet to climb before this first (and worst, IMO) climb is over. We cross treeline, and
start moving along a ridge where last year we saw beautiful clouds swirling over the cliffs. This year the views
are unobstructed and it looks like it will be a HOT day. Trying to drink lots, I am so far peeing every 2 hours.
Good sign.
I move off the main ridge and start heading down another ridge straight for treeline, getting a great view of
the next ridgeline we will be on, from miles 24-30. This section always goes on longer than I think it will,
and finally I start closing in on the Williams aid station, at 15.7 miles. I get there about 10 minutes slower
than last year, another oops. Laura is who knows how far behind me, and unlikely to make this cutoff unless she
has some great downhill speed. I start feeling badly, since I drug her here, to the hardest 50 in the land, as
her first 50. I really wanted her to finish to vindicate herself as an ultrarunner (and ultrarunning in general)
to her fiance', who seems more convinced that we are all nuts as time goes on.
The change this year which is slightly different.... only about 2 more runners after me made it through Williams
- making 10-12 that did not (including ALL of my walking buddies from the beginning). The last 2 times I was on
this course I was close to the last runner through, as well as being the last runner in the pack overall. There
were not people who didn't make the cutoff, not this many in any case.
So I see Laura's fiance' at Williams, and let him know that she is still coming, but I don't know how far back.
I get refilled on everything and head down the road. My sense of direction couldn't be worse, as I am very
excited to get off this road and onto the Carson jeep trail, I make a WRONG turn! I see a bunch of flags off
on the left side, and for some unknown reason think that the Carson road is the next left. 20 minutes later
I am back on the original road feeling very chagrined and embarrased. About a 1/2 mile later the real Carson
road shows up, this time unmistakable (because of the huge "CARSON, 4 MI" sign at the beginning - duh), and I
start plodding up that.
In about 10 minutes I catch and pass Jennifer Roach again, who is suprised to see me coming up from behind.
I give her my sad story and tell her I hope to not let it happen again.
Before too long I catch up to another group of women and we get to the Carson aid station in the heat of the
day. I dig through my drop bag and take out some gels and down a V8, and get some vaseline smeared on my feet.
The duct tape I put on in the morning has (as usual) all slid off and I now have some hotspots in the usual
locations. I think I might need to look into antiperspirant on my feet for upcoming events....
A large group of us leaves together, up the road to the divide. I am feeling pretty good, although with the
typical fatigue of a 20 mile effort already behind me. We hike up to the divide, and I pass the women one by
one at about 3 miles per hour to their 2.9 (*grin*). We are all going so slow it feels like we are in a
geriatric time warp kind of event. I wonder if I would go faster with one of those walker things....
Up to the only summit on the course, and then the LONG traverse along the divide. Up, down, rolling,
rolling..... Only one little snowfield to cross and lots of open, exposed sunshine hitting my skin, here at
12,500' feet. Finally the descent begins and I head towards some marshy bushes and then trees - the aid
station is now about a 1/2 mile away. I pass the point where Roch Horton was last year, playing his banjo &
singing, and he is sadly missing.
I reach the 31 mile aid station, which is now about 1/4 mi farther into the meadow than it was last year,
and fill up on PB&J and fluid. I am not eating enough and can tell. My stomach sometimes seems nauseous,
but then I realize it is just *empty*, so that's disturbing. Too many gels and not enough real food, methinks.
I am running with Laura from Evergreen, and we are feeling pretty good. We take the next section into
Slumgullion pretty fast, even running when the boys we are with are unable to (Matt & Dennis). Down the dirt
road we plod, and finally the downhill section of jeep road that is the last few miles to the aid station, at
mile 41.
Slumgullion is the last bastion of aid before the finish, and the last aid station to have a cutoff, which
we are well ahead of. Laura my friend is there (I find out here that she dropped at Williams after missing
the cutoff and being sick), and I chastise her for, well, that. My snarkiness is not always well thought out.
She had a bad day, and there will be better ones. I shouldn't discourage her by implying that she failed.
That's for when we are training. ;-)
Onward out of the aid station, and to our eventual finish. Up the fabled horrific climb (its really not bad
at all), 2000' feet gain in a few miles. But it is through a gorgeous stand of aspens and this being late
afternoon they are glowing in the rich sunlight. Then through some meadows.... many, many meadows. I lost
count, but it seems like about 8 of them before we reach the important one: the one with the final small aid
station that signifies we have 4 miles to go, and most of it downhill.
There is a short stretch of rolling terrain until we reach the fabled Waterdog trail which I cursed so freely
last year. This year I have decided to be nice to Ms. "Scenic and Expertly Challenging" Waterdog, and in a
weird way it pays off. Perhaps I am in much better condition than I was at this same juncture last time
around and I don't have much to whine about, but regardless it is a much easier descent than I remember.
My feet feel abused and my legs tired, but I have nothing real to complain about. We keep watching the time
and decide that we can make it under 15:30, so we run. And run. And even run once we hit the flat pavement
in town, which hurts but it doable.
The running gets easier when we can see the turn we must make - from that turn it is a few hundred feet to
the finish line. There are people cheering and that DEFINITELY makes it easier to keep running, so we beat
the clock in the end, coming in at 15:28:50. This is a 20 second per mile increase in speed over last year
for me (even counting my screw-up on the "carson" road).
We watch the final finishers come in after us, including Jennifer Roach who finishes not long after the
final cutoff of 16 hours. Then I eat mac & cheese in the hotel, and go to sleep with the assistance of my
new best friend, Tylenol PM.
In the morning I feel well, if a bit limpy, and have coffee before the awards. I meet a few more runners,
includuing Paul Pomeroy, who is as nice as he is cute. I encourage him to come out to Hardrock in 3 weeks,
but he has many things going on this summer so yet more time away from his family is not recommended (by his
family).
At the awards I am excited to see everyone again who was leagues in front of me in the race. I pick up my
finishing hat (since I already have the white visor) and pose for some Albuquerque group photos, then it is
off for the drive home..... I have 3 weeks to recover for Hardrock now.
Andrea Feucht
Albuquerque, NM
"Do you believe in the one true edge,
By fastening your safety belts and stepping towards the ledge?" - Cake
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