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
