After a rousing success at Rim to River last fall, I was inspired to get back into regular training and set a goal of finishing three 100 mile races this year. I talked to Rebekah Trittipoe about doing another hundred with a generous cutoff. We looked at a few options and selected this one based on the ultrasignup description. It sounded like an excellent option to give Rebekah time to finish, and me an “easier” race to focus on pacing, fueling, and night running without stressing about cutoffs or complex logistics with drop bags or remote locations.
We set out to training and were very consistent for the last few months. I thoroughly enjoyed training with Rebekah-she is such a legend and inspiring on many levels. No wonder she is a coach-it just comes naturally to her. She is always positive and encouraging, and has so much wisdom about both ultrarunning and life in general. It was a gift to train with her.
We drove up to the race on Thursday evening. The race didn’t start until 2pm Friday, but we both figured we’d rather get a good night’s sleep, not worry about early alarms or traffic, and have a relaxing morning before the race. Since the weather forecast was looking cold and wet, we had a little arts and crafts project that night making mylar blankets into ponchos. This was a tip from my friends at the Women’s 100 Miler Project. I was super impressed with how small it folded up, and it weighs almost nothing. Definitely a boost of confidence for a cold night.
The hotel graciously gave us a late checkout, so after sleeping in (as best we could), repacking our drop bags, and checking the weather forecast a dozen times, we enjoyed some HGTV and general lounging around before heading to the park where the race was held.
The forecast for the race was temps in the 40s and rain for Friday and the first half of Saturday, but then Saturday afternoon it was expected to clear up and warm up to nearly 60. The aid station/headquarters for the race was a very nice 60x20 tent with clear walls, and there were tables for drop bags, plenty of chairs for runners stopping in or crew, and a great aid station setup. We found a spot for our drop bags, chatted a bit with other runners (including my friend Sharlota who had also been at Rim to River), and waited for the prerace meeting, which mainly consisted of the RD telling us about how gentle the trails were and how everyone would have plenty of time to finish. After an understated “go” from the RD we were off.
The first 0.2 miles or so was down a paved path, across a few bridges, to a trail. Then there was a fairly steep climb. There was a light steady rain, so all the rocks were slick, but it didn’t seem too bad so far. The course was not especially well marked-at turns there would be a few reflective streamer, but there were almost no confidence markers anywhere on the course. I missed a turn from a prominent wide gravel trail onto a small side trail the first lap and stopped at least five runners from making wrong turns throughout the race. But we did eventually make our way through the course. There were a few short sections of what I would call runnable, not technical trail-but the longest was probably about a half mile and overall, I would say at least half of the loop was very technical. There were no easy miles, no runnable gravel down to the aid station. Without having seen the course but going off the description, I thought two hour loops would be entirely doable throughout the event, including time at the aid station. The loop is only around 7.2 miles. But my first loop, subtracting the time for the wrong turn, still took around 1 hour 40 minutes. Since that was my time on fresh legs, I pretty quickly realized that just finishing by dark the next day (around 29 hours) would be a big accomplishment.
So around and around we went. No particular views on the course, just up the rocks, down the rocks, across the creek, across the dam, aid station. Rinse and repeat. Every lap felt a little tougher, especially when it got dark. Some navigational paranoia was always present since I had missed the turn the first lap, and when it got dark it looked different all over again. But I kept on trucking. I changed my socks and shoes repeatedly trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) to stave off blisters. The aid station volunteers were very kind and attentive.
We did have a few hours where the rain had let up, which was very nice. At midnight the 50 mile runners joined the course. Overnight the temperatures got very cold, with snow flurries falling for about two hours. Then shortly after sunrise, a storm rolled in. It warmed up just enough to turn to a hard, cold rain, with winds around 30-40mph, and occasional small hail in the rain. I used that Mylar emergency poncho for about four hours under my rain jacket. I wasn’t toasty, but I wasn’t shivering, even though it was brutally cold and wet. A success I would say. But the rain utterly trashed the already technical and slick course. Rocky hills turned into creeks, the trails were flooded with ankle deep puddles and mud. Around this time the 50K and then 25K runners joined the course. This upped the difficulty for a few reasons: first, we more than doubled the amount of feet tromping through the mud each lap, which quickly ruined any sense of runnability, and second, even though I knew this would happen, I grossly underestimated how discouraging it would be to be passed by fresh spry runners around 300 times.
By this point the race felt like a slog. I was nowhere near my goal pace. I wasn’t enjoying the course. There was very little that was even runnable, even though my legs felt strong. I was sleepy. It was tough.
I kept on trucking. Gradually the other runners finished their races and I ran more alone. All day I had been trying to catch up to Rebekah, but she was moving too well for me to make enough ground on her. Finally as I finished my 12th lap (of 14) I found her in the aid station. She had realized that with the course as awful as it was, there wasn’t going to be enough time for her to finish. I knew she was right but I was so disappointed for her, and I felt bad since I had convinced her that she is still strong enough and fast enough to finish another hundred. (She absolutely is, and if this course had been as advertised, or if the weather had been better, she would have finished with no issue.) She decided to do one more lap and then wait for me to finish. We set out together and hiked for a bit before I took off to do my last two laps.
For those last two laps I didn’t even try to run, I just power hiked as quickly as I could. I debated stopping honestly, because I had been more invested in Rebekah’s finish than my own. I decided I may as well finish the thing out. The blisters were bothering me but I just went into all business mode, just power through and get it done. For the last lap I took my headlamps again as I knew it would be getting dark. I had just enough battery left in my phone to play most of a podcast and let Rebekah know when I was approaching the end of the loop. Finally, I emerged from the woods, ran across the dam for the last time, and crossed the parking lot to the finish.
Takeaways
There were some really positive things about this race. I had a wonderful training season with Rebekah. Actual race day, the aid station was very good. The large enclosed tent with room for chairs and drop bags was a very nice race headquarters. The volunteers were kind and attentive, and rotated through a variety of foods throughout the race. If you are going to have crew or pacers, the loop format make the logistics much simpler, and there was a playground and bathroom building right next to the tent. I think the RD meant well with this race. There are several distances to choose from. The race location was easy to get to and there were several hotels and fast food restaurants within 10-15 minutes from the race. I like the buckle design.
Unfortunately, the biggest impression I’m left with is that this was the most deceptive course description I’ve ever come across in any race. If this is meant to be for new, hesitant, or slower runners, there needs to be some significant adjustments in the course. If it’s going to be a technical course, it needs to be advertised as such. Confidence markers would go a long way, and this seems entirely reasonable, especially when there’s only seven miles of trails to mark. There really aren’t any views on the course, just a small lake next to the aid station. Obviously the weather made the course especially tough this year, but it would have been technical with a decent amount of climbing regardless. (I got over 16K feet of climbing, although it’s advertised at 13K.) The race director seemed surprised when people told him it was very technical, but then again, he opened the prerace meeting with some comments about the trails not being technical, don’t argue with him, and there’s no reason why everybody shouldn’t finish. If you want to market a race to less confident runners, you should probably be more in touch with what they would feel is technical.
I went into this race looking for a chance to practice steady pacing, running through the night, and consistent fueling on an “easier” course. It turned out to be one giant exercise in mental training. Keeping negative thoughts at bay. Staying focused on the task at hand when it is not what you expected and isn’t fun. Pushing through running on wet, gritty, blistered feet. Not giving up after being passed hundreds of times. Staying in it while watching your expected time continue to slip by hours. Not quitting at any of the thirteen convenient opportunities to do so. Pushing through brutally cold, wet weather with wind blowing cold rain into your hood and sleeves. And all without being punctuated with the occasional confidence boost of an easy downhill mile or the beauty of a surprise breathtaking view that fills you with joy and energy.
I’m so thankful for training partners, for the ability to run, and for what I learn and improve with each race. Clearly I’ve nailed down more of what I enjoy (and don’t enjoy) about a course. This has me very much looking forward to Fat Dog 120, which I know has incredibly beautiful views and much more runnable trail. And even a tough day on a trail is still a good day.
