Woods Ferry 24 hour (or 5 hour) Run

Yesterday I drove up to Woods Ferry Recreation Area between Chester and Union, SC for the Woods Ferry 24 hour Run put on by Terri Hayes. The course was a 7.75 mile singletrack loop to be repeated as many times as you could or wanted in 24 hours. I didn't train for this race: I assumed that my fitness from training for and running the Burning River 100 five weeks ago would carry over to this race. I figured recovery was more important, so I had an easy five weeks with the longest run of the month being 19 miles.

Given my difficulties with heat at Burning River and the singletrack nature of this course, I knew it was going to be a tough race so I set a tentative goal of running 80 miles. I have thought of one day (many years down the line) attempting a Grand Slam, so I thought this would be a good test of how well I can recover from a 100 miler. The race was scheduled from 4pm-4pm, so I planned to take it easy until it cooled off a little, rack up miles through the night, and then be careful and cautious with the heat the next day. I was doing this race for fun, and wasn't glued to my goal.

It was very hot and humid at the start. Somehow, because of how people were standing, I ended up starting out the third person in the race. It took a couple miles for enough people to pass me that I felt more comfortable with where I was in the pack. The course was harder than I expected: the hills were often steep and long (or maybe Charleston is just making them seem that way) and there was lots of debris on the trail, covering those roots and rocks that actually were stuck in the ground. I made it to the 4.2 mile aid station having already wiped out on a branch down over the trail and having already drank my whole water bottle.

Here I met up with Andrew, whom I had talked with before the race. He had done 50 milers but never anything longer and was shooting for 90 or more miles. He and I were evenly paced and it was great to have company in what I had been expecting to be a very lonely race. My IT band was hurting a little but I didn't worry about it; it often makes its presence known in races. We finished the first lap, went by the main aid station and our own piles of stuff and set out again in about 1:40.

It was still hot as we started the second lap. I was drinking at a faster rate than I ever had before, but I still found myself lightheaded for much of the second lap. Because of this, I was already having a hard time keeping track of eating, but going by feel was working pretty well, especially since the heat made me wary of getting nauseous. Andrew and I kept running together, and my IT band was getting worse. As we finished the second loop, I tried to decide whether I should take ibuprofen or not. I had done so in races before, but I didn't like the idea of taking it so early in a race (only 15.5 miles in). I was dehydrated, but I don't think this occurred to me at the time as a reason for my lightheadedness. Rather, I worried that I would just be masking the pain with the pills and allowing myself to hurt it more rather than helping it heal. After all, I was just out here for fun, not for a certain goal—I decided not to take any.

We started the third lap with our headlamps ready. The first half of the loop was generally steeper than the second half of the loop, and we hadn't gotten very far when the pain in my knee became very sharp, forcing me to walk at points, even on uphills (it's usually worst on downhills). I knew at this point that I would have stop soon. I thought about turning back immediately: this would have saved me about five painful miles, but I decided to go ahead and finish the loop. That way if it became dramatically better I could decide to keep going.

It didn't get much better. I was still able to run a good bit, because I knew this was my last lap and I just wanted it to be over. To get down the steep downhills, I started doing this straight-legged walking/falling gait that actually made pretty good time; I think Andrew was jogging behind me at the same pace. I felt bad stopping the race and leaving Andrew alone; he would have been a great running buddy through the night. He needed a few extra minutes at the aid station and I was thinking about driving back to Charleston that night, so I went on ahead. It had cooled down and other than my knee, I was feeling good. I limped/ran the last 3.5 miles to complete 23.25 miles in 5:21 and call it.

Though I would call this equivalent to a DNF (I didn't even make it ultra distance), I must point out that the race website said “You can run your age or more in 24!” In fact, I am just two weeks shy of 23.25 years old.

Now I'm sitting back in an air-conditioned Charleston apartment having showered and slept. Hopefully Andrew and many others are still out there running for another 7 hours. I'm confident I made the right decision to stop when I did: my knee hurts walking around and even just sitting here. I conclude that five weeks is probably not long enough to recover from a 100 miler—at least for some one as inexperienced as me. I had been thinking during the race that this pain was out of the blue, but Nathan reminded me that it had bothered me in Burning River also and I remembered that I felt it even in my last three mile run on Thursday. Also, my dad made some comment just last week about me being biomechanically gifted as to not have to deal with injuries, so I'm feeling a little jinxed (just kidding dad).

Nathan and I are planning to run Terri's FATS 50k which falls on his birthday (Oct. 2) as our next race. Hopefully between now and then I can find a balance between getting my knee better and maintaining enough fitness to do a 50k.

-Jordan

Burning River 100 Race Report

I have heard many ultrarunners say that their goal for a certain 100 mile race is “just to finish.” After this weekend, I know that there is no such thing as “just” finishing a 100 mile race. Out of 279 runners who started the Burning River 100, only 143 finished. Finishing itself is a great achievement, regardless of time.

I know this now. At the start of the race, I was entertaining notions of running sub-24 hours. I had it in my head that this was a relatively “easy” course, I had the confidence of running 100 miles in 22:33 at a 24 hour event, and somehow I thought that being able to run 5 miles in 90 degrees meant that I was heat-acclimated.

The race started at 5 AM on Saturday in Willoughby Hills, OH. Nathan and Heath drove me to the start, and it was so nice to not have to worry about directions. After making it through the slowest moving porta-potty line ever, we started off for an initial 10 miles of rolling hills on road. I walked a minute out of each ten as well as some of the steeper hills. I met up with Mike Dacar, a running buddy from Durham, and ran several miles with him. It was great to catch up! We moved onto some trails which were rolling but not technical. Mike started having stomach problems so I went on ahead. He would follow just a few minutes behind me the whole race, finishing not far behind.

After a few more miles of rolling trails, I was a little concerned because my legs had started getting tired as early as 10 miles in. I reminded myself that I could run a very long way on tired legs, but I was still feeling down—plus it was already getting hot. Then we hit a section of singletrack and I felt like I came to life: this section was more technical with steeper hills, but to me this meant fun and interesting while using different muscles. I imagined that I could tell who was more of a road runner and who was a trail runner, as a few of us moved steadily up the pack while others seemed like they were moving backward.

There were signs leading up to the next aid station (mile 23.4) in rhyming form, which I enjoyed. The first said “Ignore the heat.” While inspiring, this may not have been the best advice since I should have adjusted my plan to allow for the heat. I had a freezie pop which helped to cool me down.

I started running with a woman named Amy from Colorado who had previously run Leadville, Western States and Vermont—so she was a bit out of my league. I enjoyed her company though, so I stayed with her longer than I should have. We hit trails that weren't technical or particularly hilly, so there was no place that forced us to walk and we ran a good bit. Finally we came to a section that was exposed to the sun with only a few patches of shade here and there. It was probably 80 degrees by now, so I made a point to walk some of the shade patches and let Amy go, which I should have done sooner.

I hit the Station Road Bridge aid station (33.3 miles) in a little under 7 hours, and was still thinking I could run 24 hours. I took a minute at this aid station to lose my shirt and bandage some blisters and Ashley whipped into action, taking over dealing with my nasty feet. I made a comment that my quads were cramping as I sat down, and she immediately started rubbing them. She was amazing!

I headed back out again, except now it was getting really hot (the high was 88 ). The volunteers were wonderful (and there were over 400 of them!), even following me around at aid stations with icy sponges pressed against the back of my neck. Heat wasn't a factor in my New Year's 24 hour race, and in that race I ran strong until mile 94 when I became very nauseous and was forced to walk the last 6 miles. The nausea came much earlier this time: it started at mile 43. I knew I needed to keep eating, so I got a piece of pizza from the Snowville aid station, which sadly had no snow.

While Burning River was a wonderfully well organized race, the pizza they had was not good. I walked a while to force it down and so I broke out of my rhythm. My walking breaks were very long and my running periods short. I felt crummy and twice tried to stop: once under the pretense of stretching and then just to sit on a log. Luckily, this section was full of mosquitoes who punished me for stopping and forced me to keep moving, however slowly. I knew that sub-24 hours was no longer a reasonable goal, and wondered whether I would even finish. I decided to just focus on getting to the next aid station where I would meet my crew and could regroup before heading out again. Since the section took me so long, I ran out of water and was dehydrated by the time I reached Boston Store at 49 miles.

My crew went into a flurry when I arrived, even buying me a popsicle. I think I spent 25 minutes at this aid station to sit in the shade, eat my popsicle, drink, take an electrolyte capsule, drain blisters and use the bathroom. It was the first time I had gone in 2-3 hours (a long time for me) and it was definitely not clear and copious, so I needed to drink more. The next section was only 4.4 miles but I went ahead and carried two water bottles: one with water and the other with diluted gatorade. I drank both and peed twice in this section, so I was doing better. It was a good thing too, because my crew was discussing when and how they should advise that I drop out if I didn't get rehydrated.

I picked up Ashley as a pacer at mile 54.5. I was still nauseous and had to force myself to eat. It was hot and I walked a lot. I was starting to worry that I could slow down so much as to miss the cut-off time of 30 hours, so I asked Ashley to push the pace when we walked. There was a good bit of technical trail in this section that wasn't really runnable, at least at this point of fatigue. There was also some road, but the pounding was painful so I walked most of this too. Poor Ashley got stuck with the worst shift in terms of how I was doing: she kept trying to make conversation but I usually only gave her one-word answers. I managed to pick up the pace a little towards the end, mostly because I was worried we would run out of daylight before getting headlamps. As we came into the Happy Days aid station (63.9 miles) I made a list of no fewer than nine things that I wanted to accomplish at this aid station. I never would have remembered them all, but Ashley did!

Heath took over pacing duties at this point. The sun set just as we left, dropping the temperature considerably, and I finally figured out how to manage my nausea. I would force myself to eat about 100 calories worth of food even though I had gotten to the point where I wanted to throw up as soon as the food touched my lips. I walked while eating and until my stomach would settle somewhat (this was usually 5-10 minutes) and then if the course allowed, I could actually run the next 20-25 minutes nearly nonstop. Heath was very familiar with most of the trails we ran, which was helpful especially since it was completely dark. I was thrilled when we came into the Pine Hollow 1 aid station and saw that Nathan and Ashley had been able to get me a Papa Johns pizza since I couldn't stomach whatever the race was serving. Heath and I kept moving, covering a total of ~17 miles for his scheduled shift at a much better pace than I had maintained since mile 40.

We came into the Covered Bridge aid station where I would switch to Nathan as a pacer-- except I had sped up so much while running with Heath that we arrived at this station a full half-hour earlier than I expected. We missed Nathan on the way in by just a minute and then couldn't find him, but Heath managed to even look excited about tagging on an extra 5 miles to his shift, which was already the longest one. The next section had even been made out to be the toughest one on the course. I had wanted to get another slice of Papa Johns but really just wanted salt so I got some raman noodles and we were off again.

I didn't think the trail was too bad: the main challenge was that it was muddy and since it was dark you couldn't see the mud until you were already sliding in it. There were some steep hills in it, but not as bad as some of the earlier hills, which made me feel like I was losing my balance because of their steep grade. After I had spent the last 40 miles feeling like throwing up, the catharsis finally came so quickly that I didn't even have time to aim for the side of the trail. I don't know how many times I vomited as I stood there, but enough that my abdominal muscles were cramping by the time I was through. I walked awhile but was soon able to run again and generally felt better. My shoes were soaked through and I had the sense that my sock was scrunched up, so I wanted to fix it when we got back to Covered Bridge. But the sock was fine: I would discover at the finish that it was actually the skin of my foot that had folded over on itself, looking like a deep cut and forming a painful blister on the ball of my foot.

I dropped off the hero Heath and picked up Nathan for the last 15-16 miles of the race. A good bit of this section was road, which hurt more on the bottom of my foot (which I think is maybe bruised as well) and so I couldn't run as much of it. Nathan and Heath had both told me that I had moved up in the standings at every checkpoint except one (the one at mile 49 which was my low point) and was now 70th or so. I decided I wanted to shoot for 62nd, because my race number was 62 and I just thought that would be fun. I also set a new time goal of sub-27 hours, which only required a 20 minute pace to the finish. It was good to have Nathan with me at the end, because he pushed me to run even when I didn't want to and told me that I was running strong whether or not I actually was. We came up to the long set of stairs two miles from the finish that I had been dreading for months and found that they weren't that bad: since my limiting factor was now the blister on the bottom of my foot my muscles didn't mind the stairs too much. The last mile was road. It hurt but I still ran a good chunk of it Heath and Ashley joined us for the last 100 meters and I crossed in 26:27 to receive my first belt buckle from the race director.

Some stats:
64th overall, 15th female
~14 packs of shot blocks consumed
7 blisters
0 tears (but I wanted to)
100.8 miles
3 awesome crew members

I'll post pictures on facebook because the blog doesn't seem to want them!

-Jordan

Countdown to Burning River

There are just 19 days left until I take on my first 100 mile trail race: the Burning River 100. I've been looking forward to this race for about nine months now, and am very excited. To keep the actual race report to “reasonable” length. I decided to go ahead and cover my training and goals in this pre-race post.

Since I tend to train and then set my goals based on how well training has gone (Is that backwards of most people?) I'll cover training first. The first run I did specifically for Burning River preparation was the Freedom Park 24 hour run where I ran 100.5 miles in 22:33. After this, 100 miles was no longer such a mystical distance (though of course Burning River adds the challenge of trails and less frequent aid).

After Freedom Park, I knew I had seven months until Burning River—lots of time to get burned out or injured. So I made an unusual New Year's Resolution: For the month of January, I would only run when I wanted to, and never just because I thought I should. This led to very low mileage totals for the month (I think I did about 15-20 miles a week). Then it was February, and time to start training.

In the months February through May, I started working on adding back in some long runs and upping my mileage. But my training was inconsistent at best: a consequence of being busy with medical school studies and far enough out from my race that I could justify doing less. Luckily, I had registered for a few low key ultras in May and June (40 miles, 50 miles, and 50k) to run as training runs, which kept my laziness in check.

In June, I was finally able to find some consistency in my running. I ran two ultras and still kept my weekday runs going as well. After running Chattooga River 50K with Nathan for our first anniversary, I had two weeks left until starting my taper. I wanted to make the most of them, but I was not without soreness for the race. If you read Nathan's report, then you know that a shorter ultra like a 50K is just a way for a RD to make a more challenging course with the extra daylight she has available, so the race was tough.

The week immediately after Chattooga was amazing. Two days after the race, I ran what may have been a 5K PR—in a tempo run. Three days after that, I ran 40 miles in one day and only stopped then because I didn't want to be late for dinner. I ended up with 70 running miles, 5 speedwalking miles, and 2 weightlifting workouts—a really good week for me even if I weren't starting the day after an 8 hour run. I felt like I had traded in my legs and my lungs for a better set: I was invincible.

My feet weren't included in this trade though, and I ended up with pain in my left metatarsals—forcing me down to a meager 22 miles for the following week. The time off is helping it though, and I made myself a metatarsal bar out of moleskin to put in my running shoes to allow myself to limit the damage I incur while running.

Now it is taper time. Marathoners talk of “taper madness:” the mental difficulty of running so little during the taper period and worries that fitness is dropping. I've never experienced this because I've always been in school and needed the extra time to catch up on the studying I missed during peak training. But now, I've been forced into a four week taper when I'd intended three weeks, and I'm not in school this summer. My hope is that my foot will allow me a 24 miler 2 weeks out from the race, and that will keep my nerves settled.

In terms of goals, for a 100 miler my goals need to first be: 1. to survive and 2. to finish. To my mothers and grandmothers: the first is not in question. The second should be enough of an achievement on its own, especially for a first 100. But yet when people ask me what my goal is, I know they want an answer in terms of time. And so I tell them I want to run sub 24 hours.

If any experienced 100 miler runners are reading this, you may be thinking that a newbie ultra runner should just be trying to finish, and worrying about time is foolish and will only make me go out too hard and die off. So let me clarify: I will not be thinking about pace or time at all until I get to somewhere in the 50-70 mile range. Then, if I am in a place where sub24 is reasonable, I will absolutely go for it. If not, I'll re-evaluate and make a new goal.

But putting aside what my goals should be (to finish) and what people want to hear (time goal of under a day), my real goal is to have a good time, and I think that will be easy. Nathan, Heath and Ashley will all crew for/pace me and I know that'll be a blast. I can't imagine a more fun and more suitable crew for me, and since I'm not competing in the USATF championship associated with the race, I get to switch off between the three of them as pacers for the last 47 miles.

I'm also looking forward keeping up with three friends who are also running in the race: Mike Dacar, Lana Kovarik, and Robert Crosby. Mike, I believe, would be doing the race regardless of whether I was (and it will probably be a piece of cake for him after some of the stage races he's done). However, Lana tells me that I put the idea to do Burning River in her head, and she in turn talked Robert into it. So I feel a bit of responsibility for both of their entries. I've spent many hours running with Mike in Umstead, so it will be fun to run a few miles with and root for each of them throughout the race.

So for the next twenty days, I just have to avoid going crazy and get my foot back to normal. If you're interested, you can follow me, Mike, Lana, and Robert at this website: http://www.burningriver100.org/webcast.html during the race. And of course, I'll post a report soon afterward!

A First Anniversary Celebration (Chattooga River 50k race report)

To celebrate our 1 year anniversary this past weekend, Jordan and I ran the Chattooga 50k put on by Terri Hayes. Supposedly, this was my idea. Right now, I’m still too tired and sore to claim the inspiration, but I’ll admit to growing more and more curious about ultra marathons as I supported Jordan through her races in the last few years. The opportunity to mark the first year of our marriage with a run seemed too appropriate to pass up; I mean, we spent much of our first week together running! So yeah, I guess it was my idea…

Jordan has blogged about Terri’s races before, and this one lived up to all our expectations for scenery and challenging trails. A large portion of the race was on the Foothills Trail near Oconee State Park, an area where I spent a lot of time hiking as a Boy Scout. I remember the Foothills Trail being quite challenging; it seemed like the trail builders were never content to let the trail remain level, it always climbed up and down ever little hill and rise that they could find. Sixteen years later, the trail hasn’t changed; it is still very strenuous, even treacherous in places where trees have fallen across it or rains have washed it out. It is also just as scenic as I remember; the section of trail we ran follows the Chattooga river, which offered us secluded picturesque views to briefly distract us from what we were doing.

The race start/finish was at the Cherry Hill Recreation Area, west of Walhalla, Seneca, and Clemson. We stayed with Jordan’s parents in Greenville the night before (who fed us massive amounts of pasta), which cut down on our travel time the morning of the race. We got there just as the sun was coming up, pleasantly surprised (nay, ecstatic!) at the low humidity and low temperature. After enduring a few pre-race stomach jitters (in my experience, an upset stomach on race morning is actually a precursor to a good race), we were ready to run.

The race started right on time; Terri is quite an efficient race director. We were a little late getting ready (I’m slow in the mornings), so we missed the race briefing, but hoped we’d have people in view to follow when the trail turned. The first section was a seven mile out and back, from the start to the first aid station. We quickly discovered it consisted of one long descent that of course we would have to climb on the way back. I also discovered just how well-known Jordan is in these races. Compared to larger footraces, ultras are more like a family affair; this race was limited to 74 starters, and I’m convinced everyone knew someone else that was running. After the first aid station, we caught up with Mike Riggins, with whom Jordan had run a good portion of an ultra earlier this year. He was quite familiar with the trails we were running, and guided us onto the next section of trails, a ten mile section on the Foothills trails between aid stations.

It was this ten mile section that made up the majority of the race, and contained its most challenging parts. As I said before, the Foothills trail is never content to remain on level ground, and this section is no exception. We set an easy pace with Mike and Mark, tried to conserve water (we both carried two 21 ounce water bottles), enjoyed views of the river, and chatted as the miles passed by. At this point I was still feeling good, happy to be spending a day in the woods with my wonderful wife, our legs comfortably eating up the trail. We arrived at the second aid station at 17 miles and were greeted by Viktor, a volunteer who seemed to have been waiting just for us as he said, “You’re here! Eat something, drink something!” I discovered later that he is a good friend of Terri’s, and though only having run for a year, he is already an accomplished ultra-runner. I got some Coke and potato chips from the aid station (the Shot Bloks we took with us left me craving salt), and we started off on the next section, another out and back that took us downhill for two miles, then right back up the way we came and back to the aid station. Since I’d been rationing my two water bottles on the previous ten mile section, I made a point to drink both bottles during the next four miles to catch up on hydration. We made it down to the little bridge that was the turn-around point, and went back up the hill, passing runners and warning them not to go any farther than the bridge, lest they add to their mileage for the day.

We took a few minutes at the aid station (this time greeted with, “You’re here again!”) to stock up on water and food, as this was the last chance we had before the finish. There was a large crowd of runners there, so we slipped out on to the trail to try to stay ahead. We estimated that we would finish in about 2.5 hours (it would be closer to 3), so I set my watch timer to try and ration my water accordingly. This was the part of the race that had me the most worried, but also the most curious. The farthest I’d ever run was a marathon (Marine Corps back in ’08), and I’d only managed a broken up 24 miles during training for this race, so I didn’t know how I would react as the miles added up. We decided to walk the up-hills and run everything else, taking frequent walking breaks, stubbornly pushing forward. That worked until I landed wrong on a root and tweaked my left knee; a slight injury, but it made running downhill very painful, so now we were reduced to running the flats (rare on the Foothills trail), and walking everything else. Jordan has spoken of having ‘dark times’ during a race, and I definitely had one, arguing with the trail and with my knee with every step. I found my way out of it when we stopped to dunk our visors in the river, and Jordan gently reminded me to eat. For the rest of the race, she led me through the woods, setting intermediate goals (“let’s run to that tree, and then we’ll take a walking break”) and relentlessly pushing us forward. My water rationing plan worked almost perfectly; I think I ran out about 12 minutes from the finish. We crossed the line hand in hand, and with a kiss, to much applause from the volunteers and earlier finishers. We finished in 8:12:46, a time that Jordan says tells more about how challenging the trail was than how fast we ran.

Having crewed for a number of Jordan’s races, I thought I knew the ultra community pretty well, but it is a different experience to participate. I was surprised at how friendly and uniformly supportive everyone is; racers and volunteers alike. I also noted the variety of individual approaches concerning gear and race strategy; everyone has their tried and true method of eating, drinking, and racing. For my race, I carried two 21 ounce Nathan water bottles (yes, that is the brand name). I drank 9 of them during the race, so 189 ounces; not near enough, but that was all I could get. I ate 4 packs of Shot Bloks, a couple handfuls of potato chips, two boiled potato wedges (just for the experience; they’re a staple of ultras), a third of a banana, and one M&M (a treat!). I came away with a good bit of muscle soreness (to be expected) and 2 blisters, but feel I faired pretty well for my first ultra. I’m already being tempted by Terri’s FATS 50K that happens to fall on my 30th birthday. Running my age (plus) might just be an opportunity too appropriate to pass up.

Bethel Hill Moonlight Boogie 50 Miler Race Report

If you spend an afternoon perusing web pages for ultra races, you will find that most of them of quite friendly, welcoming, and encouraging. There are a few however, that plainly send the message: “Stay the hell away if you know what's good for you.” The Moonlight Boogie fits into this latter category. One of the two pictures on the website features as big a snake as I've ever seen outside of a zoo (and I grew up in a swamp) and the text brags about starting temps around 85 degrees with no shade and a dropout rate of 40% among veteran fifty milers.

So why was I doing this race? I needed to get a 50 miler in for training for Burning River 100, and this race was relatively local (3 ½ hour drive to Ellerbe, NC) and cheap ($30 entry fee). The race started at 6pm, requiring running through the night, and advertised “heat, hills, and humidity.” I was looking at it as worst case scenario training for Burning River and I was bracing myself for a suffer-fest.

The course was 5 laps of a ten mile course, all on road: a six mile loop plus a four mile out-and-back. After a very long race briefing accompanied by thunder rolls and heat lightning, panicked runners sprinted off to the porta potties. Then the marathoners and 50 milers lined up to start in separate directions and we were off!

Lap 1

I groaned as I started running: my legs felt stiff and tired. Doing races as training runs has really taught me to appreciate how much tapering helps when I actually do it. Weather on this lap was a blessing: everywhere we ran in had just rained, but somehow we were never in the rain itself, allowing for unexpectedly cooler temps. Don't get me wrong: I was sweating just standing around waiting for the race to start, we spent much of this lap running through steam rising of the pavement, and an oppressive wave of humidity rolled for a mile or two, but it just wasn't as miserable as I had been planning for. I was rather discouraged for much of this lap because I could see so many people ahead of me. I thought I must be at the back of the pack. I would later learn that the marathoners had only run their 0.2 miles before following behind us, and it was actually mostly them who were ahead of me. I ran much of this lap with a man named John, and finished the lap around 1:46 (the plan was to run two hour laps for a total time of ten hours.)

Lap 2

I pulled ahead of John at the start of this lap and ran alone for most of it, as I would for the majority of the race. And I'll just go ahead and admit it: I was grumpy. For the entire first 28 miles, I was annoyed that my legs felt crummy from the start and having a hard time wrapping my mind around staying up all night to run 50 miles on paved roads that all looked exactly the same (two lanes, hills, woods on either side). I had spent the first lap walking most of the uphills and a steep downhill to save my IT band, but I realized the downhills felt the worst. So I switched to a general run 5 minutes, walk 1 minute pattern, regardless of uphill vs. downhill. This worked well on the six mile loop, but was tougher on the out-and-back which was essentially two miles downhill and then turn around and run back up. There were a few patches of light rain which felt nice, and by the end time I finished the lap with a split of just under 2 hours, it was DARK.

Lap 3

I was soon convinced that this was the most monotonous race I have ever run. Yes, more so than 102 laps around a .98 mile course. With the moon hidden behind storm clouds for almost the entire race, it was far too dark for to run without my headlamp on. This meant I could only see a few feet ahead of me, and I basically spent the last 33 miles of the race with nothing to do but follow the white painted line on the road. I really wanted to quit during this lap, even though my legs were starting to feel better. I've never experienced an urge to quit before, but I was so bored and lonely. Other runners were out on the course, but to me they were just bobbing lights that would blind you if they looked at you, and without the facial recognition I felt less of a sense of community as I usually do at these races. Then it started to rain, and a man named Eric Fogleman caught up with me on the out-and-back. He was walking the whole two mile hill back up to the start, but he walked really fast (he had about six more inches to his legs than I do) so I stayed with him for this hill and chatted. He corrected my thinking that I was at the back of the pack and we talked about some mutual ultrarunning acquaintances. I felt much better after this, clocked another 2 hour loop, and took off for the last 20 miles.

Lap 4

As soon as I started the fourth lap, the rain started coming down hard. Even though I was running in a circle, the rain always seemed to be shooting directly into my eyes. We were all caught in a downpour for over an hour, and there was lots of thunder and now some bolts of lightning mixed in with the heat lightning so I was starting to get a little scared. In spite of all this, I was feeling great, both mentally, and physically. The 5:1 pattern was still working well and allowed me to run most of the uphills, which was tiring but felt better on my legs. It serves as anecdotal proof of the importance of flexibility in race strategies for ultras. The storm was moving away, but I still gave Nathan permission to pull me from the course if he thought it wasn't safe (and I promised I wouldn't get mad at him for it). It continued to rain for an hour or more longer, but without the same driving force so that it was much more manageable. I finished another lap in a little under two hours.

Lap 5

I picked up my pace a little as I started the six mile loop of this lap, or at least I thought I did. For the last two laps, I ran alone the entire time. I passed a number of people during these final laps, but I was actually lapping most of them so we didn't run together at all as I passed. As I cruised into the 43.5 mile aid station for my last water bottle fill up, I heard country music, smelt cigarette smoke, and had a man in a cowboy hat help me with the water cooler-in case I had forgotten I was in the middle of nowhere. I saw something coiled in the grass beside the road which I hope was a fat, short garden hose and not one of the area's rattlesnakes. I was able to speed up for the last 4 miles of the race and run almost the entire hill back up the finish (mapmyrun.com rates it as a category 5 climb by cycling standards) to finish in a time of 9:35:46. I have no idea where I finished place-wise.

As I hobbled from the finish back to the car, I told Nathan “I felt so much better while I was running than I do now! I should have just kept going. Remind me in the future that a finishing kick in a 50 miler is just not worth it.” Luckily after a couple hours my legs felt much better (though I'm not about to head out for a run today).

A few notes: I must give props to SmartWool socks—My shoes were filled with water for the entire last 20 miles and yet I didn't get any significant blisters.

Food: I ate 5 ½ packs of shot blocks, a PB and J sandwich, ¼ of a hamburger, ½ can of Pringles, a rice cake with PB spread on it, 2 saltines, some gatorade, and a sip of ginger ale. I was nauseous when/after eating for much of the race but it never got to to point where I had to slow down or wasn't able to eat.

Next time I promise I'll wait more than 7 hours after finishing to write a race report so I forget some details and it isn't so long. In two weeks, Nathan and I do the Chattooga River 50k together for his first ultra so he will write the race report for that one.

Thanks!

-Jordan

Snapshots of France: Week 1

As I'm sitting to write a post about our first week in France, I'm a bit overwhelmed about where to begin and what to include. There's been a week packed of delicious food, incredible views, challenging runs and hikes, interesting historical sites, and precious time with family. So I won't even try to mention all of the wonderful things, but here is just a taste:

When we arrived in Paris, we had already been awake for over 24 hours, but we still had to stay up and about for another half-day to beat jet-lag. We were still very excited to be there and see Mom and Dad Garris!

Paris was a whirlwind; we had scarcely been there two hours when some one asked us, "Vous etes de Paris?" "Non." We were hardly qualified to give directions! We had a wonderful lunch/dinner (what do you call the 6th meal you've eaten since you last slept?) and Nathan vowed that from now on, whenever given the option between poulet (chicken) and canard (duck), he would choose le canard because it was so good. We summitted Arc de Triomphe (spectacular views of Paris without the crowds of the Eiffel Tower), sleepwalked through many other sites and subway rides, and finally went to bed!

The next day was more relaxed, and we had a delightful lunch with Ari, a friend and roommate of mine from Duke. Ari had lived in Paris for the past year with her husband Max (congrats you two!) and so she could make a good recommendation for lunch...yummy! It was great to catch up with Ari, and we sandwiched lunch with touring the outside and inside of Notre Dame. Notre Dame was spectacular:
but there were also other little treasures to be found in the crevices of the streets of Paris, such as what I remember to be called the Eglise de Saint Severin, which we enjoyed touring more peacefully without the herds of tourists:

And, of course, we took the obligatory picture with the Eiffel Tower background:

While Paris was fun, we are not city folk, so we boarded the train to Clermont-Ferrrand in the countryside of Auvergne. France is, of course, known for its cheese around the world, and Auvergne is known for its cheese even within France. We selected no fewer than 6 types of cheese at the grocery store, 4 of which were from Auvergne, and most of which we have already polished off in meals that revolved entirely around the fromage.

Clermont lies in the valley of a chain of extinct volcanos, (puys). Thus, it is within a short drive, and sometimes even walking distance of a number of great trails. First we climbed Puy de Pariou with several classes of schoolchildren on field trips, and a couple days later we hiked up Puy de Dome, an even more popular tourist spot and home of ruins of a 2nd century Roman temple and less scenic weather station. There were several folks running up the Puy de Dome trail, which is a very steep and challenging path! One man even started back in town, running twice as long up the mountain to include what we drove to reach the parking lot. If only more folks in the states were so active and adventerous! Here we are on top of Puy de Pariou with Puy de Dome behind us:
We've also been able to visit two castles so far: Chateau Murol and Chateau Rocher. Murol has been restored in places, and several rooms are set up to demonstrate life as it once was there. It was fun to imagine!
As we entered the chateau, we were greeted by the delighted squeals of about a hundred French children. We had arrived at the chateau just as a group of chevaliers (knights) were doing a reenactment. They had fun showing off their armors and weapons and we had fun watching them and the kids' reactions.
We also enjoyed touring the little village of Charroux, selected as one of "Les Plus Beaux Villages en France." We ate in the cafe, shopped at the candlestore, mustard shop, soap store (with soap with a toy in the middle pour les enfants!) and painter's store. We even stumbled upon an adventure race that came through the village, with racers arriving on mountain bike and then scrambling around the town on foot, searching for markers. It was hard not to give them hints, but we did cheer "Allez, allez!"

We achieved our goal of running 30 miles during the week, with 2 runs up to Parc Montjuzet, which Nathan frequented when he lived here before, a run around Lac Chambond in a thunderstorm, a run uphill through the town of Royat and then up a mountain on trail (we can still feel that one in our legs) and then a run on the Tour de Puy de Dome trail here:

Does this sound like a lot of running, hiking, and walking? Indeed it is, and thus we have been able to eat like kings while we've been here. My favorite restaurant has been the Auberge de Mazayes:

A simplified version of my meal there; an aperatif (a mix of champagne and juice I believe, with very light cheese crackers/bread "to tempt the tongue," un vin rouge (red wine), cauliflower soup, pounti pruneaux (tasted like it had spinach, sausage, cheese, prunes, stuffing), canard (with potatoes, cured ham, and yummy sauce), selection of cheeses, and finally fondant aux chocolats. I'm still full. Nathan's entree (more like an appetizer in France) was my absolute favorite (melted St. Nectair cheese!)

I also had a wonderful Cherve Chaud salad at an Auberge at the base of Puy de Dome. The toast on top has olive oil, melted goat cheese, herbs, and honey.

We have lots more pictures of food, but I don't want to taunt too much.

If you're wondering why we suddenly have pictures on our blog, it's because we've been spending the week with our own photographer, Dad Garris! We're so grateful to have pictures!

Tomorrow we're off to Chamonix (and Mont Blanc) for a few days of even more fun. Thanks for reading!

-Jordan

Enoree Passage 40 Miler

Yesterday Nathan I and drove (okay, Nathan drove, I napped because it was 4 AM) to Whitmire, SC where I ran the first race in the SC Ultras on Trails Series for 2011, the Enoree Passage 40 Miler. Nathan did a 20 mile training run heading south while ~70 other runners and I ran north for 20 miles on a portion of the Palmetto Trail. This race was a first for me in that I ran with the intention of completing it as a training run, something I have shied away from doing in the past because I worried I would exert myself too in the "race" atmosphere. I wanted to cover the distance of 40 miles with preparation for Burning River in mind, and then be able to have a normal training week of at least 60 miles immediately after.

I had heard good things about the races organized by Terri Hayes, a 67 year old ultrarunner seeking to give back by putting on low key SC ultras (which she also runs) with no set entry fee. The only negative thing I had heard was that people often got lost in the races. I thought it would be ridiculous for some one to get lost in the Enoree Passage race--you just stayed on one trail for 20 miles and then turned around and came back. However, the word "trail" means different things to different people. Much of it was quite overgrown, and my legs and even my arms are covered in scratches from all the plants I ran through (no verdict on whether I contracted poison ivy yet, but it will be a miracle if I didn't). There were several points where I had to stop and look around for awhile to figure out which way the trail went--it took a lot of concentration to stay on the right path. So some folks did take wrong turns, and thus earn "bonus miles."

When it was 7:30 and time to start, Terri urged the speedy folks to line up closest to the trailhead. Nobody budged and everyone was still standing in clusters well behind the line she indicated. After waiting a few seconds for some one to move, she finally just said, "Okay, well, go!" With that, we were off on the most abruptly started race I've been in.

The beginning of the race was beautiful. The temperature was in the 50s, and the horse poop was fresh (we only had 1/2 mile of that though). I was running with a woman named Traci and really enjoyed her pace and her conversation. Nathan would make fast friends with her husband, a fellow cyclist, while waiting for me at the finish line. Unfortunately, I needed to make a potty stop so I ducked behind a tree and told Traci I'd catch up with her soon. Ha! I wouldn't see her again until the turnaround at mile 20. So I kept running on my own, waiting for a tough hill or a technical section to tell me to walk. Nothing. Hmm, running this whole thing would probably not qualify as keeping it easy. I forced myself to walk a couple hills and cruised into the 5 mile aid station having hardly walked at all.

Next we had about 1/2 mile of road with some fairly significant hills. I knew I should walk at least some of the hills, even though it would be easy to run them. Everyone around me was running everything, and I worried that I was too far up in the pack. It's not too fun to keep getting passed by people, but I resisted the temptation to pick up the pace and run with them. I spotted a man just ahead of me who was also walking some on the hills, and caught up with him. His name was Mike, and he was also training for a July 100 miler. We both were quite comfortable at the same pace, and enjoyed the company as we usually run races alone in the gap between the fast folks and the cut-off beaters. The course was so beautiful at this time, with a number of wooden bridges and boardwalks, lots of huge logs down that made challenging obstacles and some more open areas that we knew would be hot later. We hit the 10 mile aid station and set off again.

Unfortunately, I had to pee again, so I let Mike get a little ahead to take another stop. I definitely wanted to catch back up and keep running with him. When I started back running, I could see him ahead in the woods, running so fast that I thought he was a mountain biker. I tried to catch him before giving up-my legs were already starting to get sore. Since this was the second time I had lost my running buddy for this reason, I had learned my lesson: People will smoke you when you stop for the bathroom. The next three or four miles were rough because it was the hardest section of trail to navigate and I didn't have anyone with me to help me decide which way to go or call out to me if I made a wrong turn. Some one came up behind and I was so excited to have some one else to run with, but he actually just wanted to pass me. Finally I caught up with runners Wendy and Jason. They were walking in a section I wouldn't have chosen to walk, but I just wanted a social moment so I chatted with them for a few minutes before I went on ahead. After that, I felt much better as I entered the 15 mile aid station, where I think my watch read a time in the low 2:50s. I was hoping for a time around 8 hrs, and I thought that was quite reasonable since I was likely to hit the turnaround point in under 4 hours.

I felt great leaving the aid station, and I found myself running with a sort of sense of urgency, which was just silly. Maybe it was because I could feel the heat coming and this section was very open, so I wanted to get it done before the temps hit the predicted 80+ degrees (running in the heat is definitely a weak point for me). Or it may have been because I wanted to see how far I could get before I saw the lead runners coming back the other direction. Finally I calmed down, and enjoyed cheering the returning runners on. The lead female looked very strong, and I enjoyed the snippet of conversation I heard from the two men behind her trying to determine whether it was even possible to catch her. I finally guessed that I must be within 5-10 minutes of the turnaround when one of the runners headed the other direction told me I had about 1 1/2 miles. What?? I couldn't believe that the last section was the longest one. Finally I saw the aid station beside a lake, but no real clear trail to get there. I could easily run directly to it, but I didn't want to cut the course. So I started running in the opposite direction around the hill I was on. "Jordan, this way!" I heard Mike yell. Oh good, I can just run straight there.

Leaving the aid station I saw Traci coming in with two other women. She had taken a wrong turn and earned herself a bonus mile. This was even her first race past 34 miles. She didn't seem too worse the wear for it though, and I hoped she would catch me soon (she ended up finishing about 30 minutes or so behind me). My time as I left the aid station was 4:01:47. Hmmm, I could try for slightly negative splits to finish in eight hours, or I could respect the heat and keep my promise to myself to run easy. I chose the later which was a good call, because the heat made tasks such as figuring out which way the trail went and climbing over downed trees take much longer for my fuddled mind. I estimate it took me an entire minute to get over most of the trees--they were just too big around. I was surprised at how many people I was passing, especially since I had just seen how far ahead of me they were at the turnaround. Many of them had passed me or dropped me on the way out. My legs really didn't feel sore at all anymore, and my main concern was the heat. It was a nice mental advantage to be running trail I had already run before-I could check off the 15/25 mile aid station, then the big bridge, then the jeep trail....it gave me a sense of moving forward. I hadn't realized just how much of the course wasn't shaded until now, when it was probably 80 degrees and mostly sunny.

I was hot and my water bottle was empty when I hit the 30 mile aid station. I stood staring at the food for a couple minutes, trying to figure out what if anything I could possibly eat. Nothing. I had a couple swallows of gatorade and decided I would just try to eat my shot blocks on the course, which ended up being fine. The 30-35 mile section presented a new problem. My IT band, which had been a little sore for the majority of the race, was now quite angry at me, probably for running 40 miles on uneven trail without bothering to taper first. It was even to the point that I was starting to run with a bit of a limp. I realized that if it got any worse, I might need to drop at mile 35, even as pathetic as it would be to quit 5 miles from the end. But this wasn't my goal race, and hurting myself to set back training for Burning River would be just stupid. Regardless, I would definitely take some ibuprofen at the aid station. We hit the 1/2 mile road section and there was a pretty big hill up ahead that I realized I should probably walk, but I wanted to catch up to the guys ahead of me first for the company. However, once I started running up the hill, my knee suddenly felt great, and my legs still really weren't very sore so I just kept running. I cheerily entered the aid station and a volunteer asked me, "Do you need anything?" "Nope! Just water." "Okay...ibuprofen...-" "OH YEAH! Ibuprofen, please!"

Onto the final section. It had seemed so easy on the way out--oh, maybe that's because it was more downhill then and thus more uphill now. No matter, my knee still felt great and I was going to finish. I was running along cheerily, fighting through sand I didn't remember from the way out, following the orange blazes...hang on: I'm supposed to follow orange FLAGS but YELLOW blazes. Whoops, okay backtrack to the main trail.

Usually the last 5 or so miles of the race are always the worst for me in terms of walking too much, etc. It's got to be mental: When I run a 50 mile race it's 45-50 that are terrible but if some one tricked me into thinking that the race was 55 miles, 45-50 would be fine. But, amazingly, this section felt much the same as the others. And for the last 2 miles or so, I was able to run without a single walking break, even with a little kick at the end. I finished with a final time of 8:15:52, and I'm pretty sure I was 4th female.

All in all, I think the race was a great success. My legs felt pretty good last night and today (though the true test will be when I go for a run tonight) and I had a lot of fun. The temperature was really nice for sitting around, so we enjoyed hanging out for an hour eating pizza and watching friends I had finish. When we got home, we went out to Applebees for margaritas and bacon cheeseburgers...yummy yummy. The entire day was wonderful and a great way to celebrate the end of a block of medical school. I'm very excited to do the Chattooga River 50k with Nathan for our anniversary!

(What I ate: 5 packs of shot blocks, a couple ritz crackers with PB, probably a full banana broken up over the race, some PB and J, some ruffles potato chips, a rice cake, a couple pieces of salted boiled potatoes, and some gatorade)

Thanks for reading and congrats for making it through my lengthy report! I think Nathan will be writing up his run as well.

-Jordan

The Botched Long Run

The long runs of a marathon/ultra training program are fickle things. Sometimes, they’re great; conditions are ideal, the miles slip away without much effort, and one can look forward to limited muscle and joint soreness the next day. And other times, they are entered into the log-book as ‘learning experiences.’ This weekend was one such run, a 15 miler that stretched to almost 17, in unexpected high heat and humidity (a gift of the low-country). This ‘botched’ run prompted me to review and add to my list of lessons learned from past long runs.

1. Always know where you’re going. Over long distances, carrying extra food and water is not practical or even possible. Extra stuff means extra weight, so carry only what you need. To achieve this delicate balance, one must run only as far as anticipated. Getting lost means running extra mileage, which means less water and food. And when you run out, those extra miles can be miserable. That being said,

2. A bad day in the woods is better than a good day at the office. While not original, it helps to remember that as you’re plodding through the woods, swatting black flies and dodging snakes and catching the umpteenth spider web across your face, you could be at work.

3. No matter how you feel, you’ll eventually feel better. There are high and low points to every run, no matter the distance. At low points, it’s important to remember that they are temporary. As long as you keep moving, things will improve. The reverse of the statement is also true, but why dwell on the negative?

4. After you see one snake, every tree root, stick, or branch looks like another snake.

5. Do not challenge an experienced ultra-runner. At the end of a long run, no matter how spry you may feel, do not test an ultra-runner by trying to up the pace or drop them. She will hurt you. As she should.

6. If possible, allow someone else to run/ride down the trail to collect the spider webs. If you are the first one down the trail, a hat with a visor is a must. A fencing sword is even better (a stick will also do).

7. Burgers are a must-have food after a long run. Come on, you didn’t run that far for nothing! And you need the protein!

The Hat-trick

Having recently moved to Charleston, SC, finally recovering from plantar fasciitis in both feet, and revising a number of training plans for various racing goals, my 2011 racing season has begun. With little room to ride a bike between the traffic and the gutter in the low country, I’ve decided to forgo triathlons for the time being and concentrate on running. And being married to an accomplished ultra-runner helps a lot too… So for 2011 I’ve targeted a few races, the first of which was the Gate River Run 15k in Jacksonville, FL. Both Jordan and I had done this race twice before, running fairly competitive times when you consider the 15,000 starters. I’d placed in the top 10% the two previous times I’d raced (for which finishers are awarded a special hat), so my goal was to score a ‘hat-trick,’ placing top 10% for the third time in a row.

Having focused on more mileage with less intensity since rehabbing my feet, I had no idea what sort of performance I could put together. The distance wasn’t a worry, but I hadn’t run fast for this distance in over a year. Also, our recent move to the low-country has limited our hill training opportunities (though running the Ravenel Bridge is one of my favorite things about Charleston), so the Hart Bridge (locally known as ‘the Green Monster’) at mile 8 made me especially nervous.

The weather on race day was perfect: though we had to scrape ice off our windshield, the temperature and humidity were low enough to allow a fast race. My finishing time from last year allowed me to be seeded in the front most corral, right behind the pros, but my anxiety over starting out too hard pushed me to the back of the section. If my racing history was any indication, I would start out too hard, suffer in the middle, then finally calm down and gain some control over my pace for the last few miles.

After the ‘cannon’ (plagued with technical difficulties, the race director just said ‘go’), I tried to run smooth, keep control of my breathing, and not worry about the people passing me or pulling away. My split at mile 1 was 6:45, a full minute faster than I’d planned. I made a conscious decision to relax and slow down, and mile 2 was a 6:47. Not enough. Mile 3 was a 7:10; better, but my stomach was acting up and I’m sure the sounds I was making led fellow runners to believe I was about to lose my breakfast. In miles 4 to 7, I found a comfortable and consistent pace, clocking miles between 7:10 and 7:15. After that, the ‘Green Monster’ started to loom bigger, both in my mind and in the distance. My form was falling apart, and I planned to take a short walking break through the last aid station at the base of the bridge (an ultra-running trick I learned from Jordan), then again half-way up the incline. These brief pauses helped both mentally and physically, and I crossed the finish line less than minute slower than my two previous times, which was still fast enough for the prized ‘top 10% percent’ hat.

Now it remains to be seen how quickly I can recover from this effort; Jordan and I are planning to run a 50k together in late June, and if all goes well and I stay un-injured, my next goal is to better my marathon time this winter. We’ll see…

And now for something completely different

Yesterday Nathan and I each ran our third Gate River Run 15k. I grew up in awe of my parents as they trained for and ran this race when I was little, so it's always been a special one for me. For this reason, I was willing to make an exception to the typical type of race I run (~200 people on a trail). The River Run had about 15,000 finishers and is the national championship 15k--so it is by definition a big road race.

My training for this race was pretty minimal: I knew the mileage would be no issue and beyond that I just threw in a couple speed and hill workouts in the 2-3 weeks leading up to the race. I also competed in MUSC's Class of the Classes last weekend-representing the first year college of medicine by finishing towards the back of the pack in the 1 mile and 5k races. Beyond that, I was just going to wing it.

The morning of the race we woke up to ice on our windshield--on spring break in Florida! We arrived early and sat in the car shivering for awhile before jogging a mile or so. At the start, it was suddenly hot (okay, 50) but with all those people packed in the corrals I ended up tying my jacket around my waist before we even started moving. We had seeded positions based on our past times, but somehow there were still way too many people ahead of me and it took over a minute for me to cross the starting line.

Last year I went out too fast in this race and then slowed down at the end and I wanted to avoid that this year. I needn't have worried because I didn't have a choice of my own pace: I was constantly stuck behind people going far too slowly for their starting positions. As I weaved around folks, my first mile was 8:45 (10:03 including crossing the starting line). I was halfway through the race before I was able to set my own pace. I started working on chipping away at my overall pace, trying to get it down to sub 8 min overall. Since I was carrying my own water bottle, I didn't have to stop at the water stops except to slow down for the folks who were stopping in front of me. I also was able to keep well hydrated without making myself nauseous from gulping down water at the aid stations. I even ate 3 shot blocks during the race and I think this helped. I don't think I know how to race without them anymore!

For the next few miles I was so focused on keeping up my negative splits that I had forgotten about the big bridge at the end of the race until I got to mile seven. I started running up it and hit mile 8 about halfway through--this was my first mile mark reaching the sub 8 min mark for overall pace. It's not a very long hill (maybe half a mile? definitely shorter than the one in Charleston but also steeper) but it really hurt given the place it has in the race. Luckily they were blasting Marine Corps chants from the top to give us the extra boost we needed. After the top, it was a downhill of just under a mile and then .3 miles of flat to the finish. I felt like a had plenty of energy left so I passed a bunch of people in this last stretch. It was great to be able to finish a race still feeling so good.

My final chip time was 1:14:05 (just 2 seconds faster than last year) and I was 28th out of 757 in my age group. I also got a hat for being top 10% of female finishers (it was black this time). I was happy with these results but also frustrated because I still felt like I had a lot of energy left at the end and my legs haven't been sore at all since the race. My pace was probably better suited to a half-marathon. Apparently they are considering having a wave start next year which should help.

In spite of these frustrations, it was still a really fun race. The bands along the course were awesome and I got to have the experience of racing without ever really feeling bad. Nathan and I both enjoyed ourselves in Jacksonville (and got to see Aunt debi and Mimi) and are now relaxing in Clearwater with Grannie and Poppop. Nathan's race report will be up very soon!

--Jordan

Freedom Park New Year's Ultra Run

To celebrate New Year's, I spent 24 hours running the .9859 mile asphalt loop of Freedom Park in Morganton, NC as many times as I could. The simple course made things like aid and footing easy, but it also made the race mentally challenging and perhaps risky as I generally avoid running on pavement to prevent injury. Nathan, of course, was there as crew, and set up our tent just before the timing mats that runners crossed each time we completed a lap. The weather was amazingly perfect: chilly at the 8 AM start but then progressively warming all the way to the 50s and melting most of the snow during the afternoon before falling back down to the low 40s for the early hours of the new year.

Training for this race was abbreviated since I just raced a 50 miler in October but it generally went well. There were a few spots where I was more conservative that I would have liked to be due to old and new injuries sprouting up, but I quickly beat these pains into the ground with ice, advil, and a brief drop in mileage. With the blessing of an easier block in med school, I still managed to post my highest mileage week to date: 70 miles total (5 of those speedwalking, 65 running). Other than this modest increase in peak-week mileage, my training looked very similar to my training for 50 mile races.

I really had no idea of what to expect of myself in this new sort of race, so I set three tiers of goals for myself, planning to pick the most appropriate one at the halfway point of the race. As a baseline, I wanted to rack up 51 miles, simply more than I had ever run before. What I considered my most realistic/likely goal was to shoot for 75 miles, and my "reach" goal was 100 miles.

The first 20 laps went by very quickly. I ran some laps with other runners, chatting, and some laps solo. Each time I crossed the timing mat I took a minute to walk and usually eat something before resuming running. With this pattern, I averaged a little under a 10:30 pace for the first 20 laps.

After the first 20 laps, I decided I need to slow my pace down, so I started walking the steepest parts of the small hills on the backside of the course. There were 3 such hills and I walked sections of 2 of them and planned to keep this up until I had completed 40 laps. Even walking 3 times a mile, I was still averaging 11 min/mile. However, I still felt great (other than some sciatica which I muffled with some advil) and I wasn't straining so I kept up the quick pace. On my 34th lap, I caught back up with Chris, a man I had run with earlier, and I asked him whether we were still on the same number lap. He said he thought that I was actually a little ahead of him according to the leaderboard (whiteboard at the timing mats where they displayed the top ten runners) and that he thought he was on lap 33. I replied, "No, I'm on lap 40 so you're way ahead of where you think you are!" It was another couple of miles before I realized that I had mentally jumped ahead 6 laps--apparently counting is very difficult for me when running for so long.

After 35 laps, Nathan joined me for 15 laps. It was nice to have some company (I generally like to set my own pace in races rather than falling in with others which leads to a lot of time spent running alone). After 40 laps, we started walking the entirety of each of the 3 hills, but we were still running about 75% of the course. 2-3 times per lap I would need to double check with him which lap I was on--I was still having issues counting. At this point, I decided that as I was likely to slow considerably when it got dark, I wanted to get 50 miles in by sundown (about 9:30 into the race). With Nathan by my side, I reached the 50 mile mark (just under 51 laps) around 9:25 into the race, a 50 mile PR by 34 minutes. After this, we did a celebratory lap where we walked an entire lap and I ate a burger that the aid station volunteers had made for dinner.

I started out my 53rd lap alone again, but feeling awesome. I was well fed and my legs felt relatively fresh from just having walked. I maintained the run/walk plan I had held since lap 41, but when I was running, I felt like I was running about a 8:30 pace (this is probably not true, my perception of pace after that many miles isn't so great). I was also still very well hydrated--for the entirety of the race I was stopping for bathroom about twice an hour (apologies to any non-ultrarunners reading this, but we ultrarunners like to keep track of how often we pee). Since I had reached 50 miles well under 10 hours and was feeling so good, I knew I had to go for 100 miles. I was also doing pretty well overall (though I had to correct the race staff about my gender) but I made a conscious decision not to worry about how I placed and just try to get my mileage goal.

At lap 62 I stopped to change from my Asics 1150s to my Asics Gel Kahanas but this was a huge mistake. The Kahanas smushed my toes together and my already blistered digits were in agony. The shoes also felt as though they were painfully stretching my feet length-wise, reminding me of a torture device. I stumbled through that lap as quickly as I could before changing back to the 1150s, which felt wonderful. I maintained the sock change I had made however, and running on brand-new soft cushy Smartwool socks (thanks for the Christmas present, Nathan!) helped with the constant pounding on the hard pavement.

Every ultrarunner experiences periods of highs and lows in a race. Often the lows are associated with a deficit in calories, water, or electrolytes, but they don't have to be. My first low of the race came around mile 65 as Nathan tried to sleep and I stopped by the tent to grab some shot blocks. My hands were too cold to open them myself, I couldn't get them open with Nathan's pocketknife, and after 65 miles of running I had lost the dexterity to close the pocketknife. After about 5-10 minutes of fumbling around with things and cursing, Nathan came outside, helped me, and got me handwarmers. As silly as it may sound, this set me off for almost 10 miles of an emotional low point. I knew it would pass eventually, so I just kept pushing on until it did. Since this first low point was mostly emotional rather than physical, I don't think I slowed much. I finally came out of it when I ran a lap with a woman named Lana who is also from the Charleston area. I even ran hills which I had been walking (she was doing the 6 hour race which had just started so she was running more than I) to keep chatting with her. Then I found Chris again and ran another lap with him. With these social interactions, I felt worlds better.

After lap 77 and thus over 75 miles, I walked another celebratory lap with Nathan to recognize the landmark. When we finished the lap, it was just over 10 minutes until midnight but my grape-sized bladder had to go. I was scared to use the nearby porta-potties in the dark having dislocated my shoulder falling out of one last summer, so I took off for another lap to use the real bathrooms just off the course. While I could still run a 10 minute mile at this point, I couldn't run a mile and take a potty break in 10 minutes, so I was a little late to celebrate the New Year. After a kiss and a few sips of sparkling grape juice, I grabbed my ipod and took off, planning to walk another lap with Nathan after 90 miles.

These miles were pretty rough, but having the ipod helped. I was starting to tire of the food options but still doing well with nutrition. I alternated between eating shot blocks and chips or a piece of cold pizza (at this point it had been sitting out for awhile). Nathan and I walked lap 93 and then I went back to running, planning to walk lap 102 with him (mile 100), take a nap, and then go back out and walk a few easy laps for "bonus miles." When I finished lap 94, he had changed into his running clothes, and was prepared to run every other lap with me until I reached 100 miles. I was so excited that I nearly cried.

However, as we started lap 97, my weariness of the food options exploded into a huge wave of nausea. I could only walk this lap, stopping a few times to try to vomit. I felt a little better after this lap, but I still couldn't imagine eating any solid food even though I needed it to have enough energy to run. The only calories I consumed for the last 6 laps (about 2 hours) was about 10 ounces of gatorade and a cup of hot cocoa. This produced a significant calorie deficit and thus I could only manage to walk. Nathan walked with me these entire last 6 laps, which was incredibly helpful. He would hold whatever I was drinking and usually some food I had thought I might be able to eat but never managed to. I ran the last stretch of the course to finish 100 miles in something like 22:33 (I forgot to stop my watch and results aren't posted yet).

Given the events of the last few miles, I knew I was done for the race. I sipped some chicken broth as the sun came up and tried unsuccessfully to sleep some in the tent. Finally Nathan packed up and we headed for breakfast about 30 minutes before the race even ended. At that point, I was 2nd female and 4th overall and I'm pretty sure the final standings were the same (update-a number of men passed me after I finished so I ended up 6th overall). The winner ran 119 laps (~117 miles) with a foot injury before recognizing his large lead and calling it a night several hours early and the first female (2nd overall) was truly amazing-she kept the same steady pace for the whole race, hardly walking at all.

Overall, it was a great race. I certainly didn't expect to run my first 100 mile race before Burning River in July but it was a great way to get a taste of some of the challenges before adding in the extra factor of trails. But before thinking about Burning River, my next task is to recover from this race!

-Jordan