Eagle Endurance Last Chance 50k Race Report

After spending the last few years sharing in and marveling at Jordan's ultra-running accomplishments, I've had the quiet desire to try one on my own. Not having touched my bikes since we moved to Charleston, I've found running long distances mimics much of the endurance I enjoyed in cycling. And after years of reading the literature, I finally tried some lightweight, 'semi-minimalist,' low heel-to-toe drop shoes, which have kept me injury free and allowed me to get my most consistent mileage since I trained for a marathon in 2008. So I set a goal for this winter race season; two 50ks a month apart, to see if my body can take it, with my sights set on something even longer next winter...

The first of these races was the Eagle Endurance Last Chance 50k here in Charleston, put on by Chad Hoffa, and so named because if the Mayans turn out to be correct, this will have been the last weekend to run a 50k before the world ends. I'd done a number of Chad's trail races this year, enjoyed each (okay, Dirt Dash was pretty darn hot...), and looked forward to spending a long day in the woods and supporting a local race director and fellow lover-of-trails.

After stressing over the weather report before the race (with a week to go, we were enjoying December temps in the high 70s here in the low-country), the morning of the race dawned chilly and gray; perfect weather for a 5 hour run. The start finish of the out-and-back course was deep in the Francis Marion Nation forest, but still only an hour from our apartment. I had quite the support crew to follow me; Jordan came to shout encouragement and wisdom, and our friend Kirsta blew her duck call to cheer on me and a number of other runners she knew.

There is often little pomp at the start of an ultra; at the requisite time, Chad just said good morning, everyone have fun, now go! The trail immediately narrowed to pine straw covered single track, and the pack spread out fairly quickly. I soon discovered that while researching the course, I may have misjudged the technical nature of these trails. The elevation was of course pancake flat, and the trails looked to be mostly dirt, a few roots, and the fore-mentioned pine straw; the trail running equivalent of running on pillows for 31 miles. We quickly discovered that the leaves and pine straw were hiding numerous small holes and shallows; the perfect size to catch a toe or hyper-extend an Achilles and send a runner tumbling (as many did in the early going). I realized it had been at least a month since I'd done any proper trail running, so tried to make my way as quickly and carefully as I could.

While somewhat featureless itself, the trail led through continuous woods, occasionally crossing dirt fire roads, a nice reminder that we weren't too far from civilization. I spent most of the first 7.5 miles chatting with other runners, catching up with some and meeting new folks. We were so wrapped up in conversation that we blew right through the first aid station, I waved to Jordan and Kirsta, and dove back into the woods. This second section had the most variety, including a two mile stretch that had recently been 'swept' of leaves, and consisted of good flowing singletrack. The trail was clearly marked throughout, although one short section of overgrowth caused a moment's concern and a few seconds walking in circles (getting lost is just part of doing an ultra). After fighting with the laces of my shoes for a couple miles, I got a strong second wind, and cruised the last few miles into the next aid station at the turn-around. My goal was to break 5 hours, and reaching the halfway point in 2:15, I knew I had a comfortable lead should I start to fall apart in the second half.

And fall apart I did. I don't know if it was a mental thing or the Pringles I ate at the aid station (usually one of my favorites), but it took me over 30 minutes to get back into a rhythm after the turn-around. I could really start to feel the mileage in my legs, and keeping a good pace took more and more mental effort. The toughest part was back on the flowing singletrack at mile 21; my favorite section on the way out. Jordan always talks about 'dark times' during ultras, and just to accept them and remember that they do indeed pass. This one finally passed once I reached the last aid station, had some flat Coke (a race favorite that did work), and learned that I was placed just outside the top ten overall. I estimated that the last 7.5 miles would probably take at least ten minutes longer than on the way out, which was pretty spot on. After the pleasant distraction of conversation during the early parts of the race, I didn't see another runner for the last 11 miles. I was greeted at the finish by Kirsta's duck call (a nice variation on the cowbell), a vuvuzela, and Jordan chasing me down the trail for the last 100 yards.

All in all, it was a great race, and a great success for an inaugural event. The convenience couldn't be matched; an ultra practically in our back yard! The trails were well maintained and indicative of the area, giving out-of-towners a true impression of low-country trail running. I hope to do this one again next year, assuming we get the Chance! 

Chattanooga Mountain Stage Race - Nathan's post

As Jordan has already written a great play-by-play of our recent running of the Rock/Creek Chattanooga Mountains Stage Race, I thought I’d add some ‘color commentary’ from the point of view of an enthusiastic but relatively inexperienced ultra-runner. 

Stage 1: Raccoon Mountain

As always happens in a taper, the mind and body begin to play tricks on a runner.  In the week leading up to the race, my plantar fascia began to tighten and my right IT band began to hurt; signs of past injuries that I thought I’d long ago overcome.  As race day approached, my anxiety worsened; I’d always been good at doing consecutive big miles on the bike, but considered myself a ‘fragile’ runner, prone to injury (or prone to over-diagnose injuries), so completing 60 miles over mountainous terrain after living in Charleston for 2 years was no sure thing.  We both went into the first day with a plan to run as easy as possible; running hard today would only make the second and third days harder.  We appropriately staged ourselves deep in the pack at the start line.  After the start, it took a good 30 minutes of passing and being passed to finally find an unhindered pace.  While this was frustrating, Jordan assured me that it was par for the course at every trail race she’d ever done.  We reached the first and second aid stations in surprisingly little time, leading to discussions that the course sections must be short.  I’d decided to wear a small Camelback instead of carrying a handheld water bottle, and just topped off the reservoir at each aid station.  We had also brought plenteous packets of Shot-bloks, so we blitzed through each aid station, usually passing a handful of runners at each. 

The Raccoon Mountain reservoir is a wonderful playground for the outdoorsy type.  The course we took circumnavigated the man-made lake, and featured a number of scenic overlooks of both the lake and the Tennessee River.  One frustrating facet of trail-running (as opposed to hiking) is the lack of time to appreciate such scenery.  Many of the trails we ran were technical enough to require a lot of concentration; much of our time was spent with head down, trying not to fall.  The trail called the Small Intestine was particularly entertaining; it looped back on itself so often that at many points, you could see dozens of runners all going in totally different directions. 

After we passed through the final aid station at 13.3 miles, our conservative (and wise) pace was starting to frustrate me a bit, so I ran ahead to stretch my legs for the last 5-ish miles (yes, with 42 miles left to go for the weekend; I am still new at this ultra-running thing).  I met up with a runner named Jimmy from Arkansas, and we cruised over the next few miles, finally joining a group of six runners that were trying to figure out how many miles we had left.  The many switchbacks and consistent tree cover played havoc with GPS devices (a frequent topic of conversation that day), so estimates among the group varied widely as to how far we had to run to the finish line.  As it turned out, Jordan had accurately predicted we’d cover the remaining 4.7 miles from the last aid station in about 50 minutes, so I ran quietly at the back of the group, confident we had about 5 minutes of running left.  No one in the group accepted my invitation to stage a sprint to the line, so we crossed the finish of stage one en-masse.  My legs still felt fresh at the end, and I was optimistic about the next 2 stages. 

Stage 2: Lookout Mountain

Much of our discussion leading up to the race concerned how we’d handle elevation changes.  Living in Charleston, SC, it’s hard, nay, practically impossible to do adequate hill training.  While we’d spent a good amount of time running the Ravenel Bridge and doing hill workouts on the treadmill, it had been a while since either of us had run a proper mountain.  Stage 1 had been advertised in the race literature as “flat, for east Tennessee,” whereas stage 2 featured 2506 feet of elevation gain over 22 miles. 

We placed ourselves a little farther forward in the pack, still a little anxious about what the day would bring.  The first mile was on a nice wide gravel jeep trail, which gave the field lots of time to spread out and easy opportunities to pass.  At just over 10 minutes in, the course abruptly took us into the woods, and we came to a sudden halt.  Looking up the steep hill to our right, we could see 4 or 5 switchbacks packed with runners, all slowly scrambling up the hillsides.  The last 2 switchbacks at the top were steep enough to require ropes to climb: my immediate thought was, “oh, this is awesome!”  Looking back down, I was reminded of the famous switchbacks of L’Alpe d’Huez, so frequently featured as a decisive stage in the Tour de France.  I was suddenly struck by the grandeur of what we were doing; while not professional athletes by any means, we were taking on a multi-day challenge that required persistence, stamina, mental toughness, and just plain guts.  That feeling only continued as we hit the top of a ridge that offered expansive views of the valley below and I thought, “Is there any better way to spend a weekend?”

The end of the first loop brought us back through the start finish area, and we headed for Lookout Mountain, where the real climbing would begin.  Some of our elevation gain went unnoticed, as the trail gently climbed to the loop around the mountain.  Once there, the climbing began in earnest.  We covered a number of steep, exposed sections where the heat became a factor for the first time.  On the way up, I chatted with a runner Dan from Chicago that was using this race as training for the Leadville 50 Miler; which seemed appropriate as we were climbing under power lines… 

The course off the mountain and back to the start/finish was largely uneventful.  We knew (or thought we knew) exactly what we had left; a repeat of the first loop, but in reverse.  When I started thinking about the mileage of the different sections, the numbers didn’t quite add up.  But since we felt that a number of the sections of the last two days might have been short, I didn’t worry too much.  The highpoint of the loop was the decent of the aforementioned switchbacks (traversed VERY slowly), down to the valley where I was convinced (convinced!) the course would take us to the gravel jeep trail and straight back to the start/finish.  That’s why I almost ran over the course markers taking us off the jeep trail and back up the hill, into the woods; I just didn’t believe it.  The technical trail followed a wide mountain creek for a half mile, and Jordan got a gap on me through the tougher sections.  Suddenly, the trail widened and turned straight into the creek, with no bridge or rock to climb over, and volunteers waiting on the other side to take my picture.  Realizing the intent of the race organizers, I waded through the thigh deep water, thankful for the cold, and wanting badly just to sit down in the creek (I’d get that chance soon).  The course took us back to the jeep trail, and I was surprised at how heavy running shoes are when filled with water.  I sprinted to the line, almost catching Jordan in the process. 

At the post race party at the start/finish, I discovered one of the true joys of life: after a solid day of running, getting to sit waist deep in a cold mountain creek, and drink a cold beer.  It felt like life couldn’t get much better…

Stage 3: Signal Mountain

One thing that has surprised me this weekend is the competitiveness of the field, and how factors like age and gender don’t matter as much in ultra-running.  It’s much more about experience, knowing one’s mind and body, and the skill of running over technical terrain.  On stage 3, I realized I needed a lot more practice…

I was still a little anxious about the 3^rd and final stage; I’d never run so far in so short amount of time.  But I was also happy; a large part of me didn’t think I’d make it this far un-injured and able to continue.  The organizers had promised to be more forgiving with the time limits on the final stage, so at worst, I knew it would be a long day in the woods (which is always better than a long day at work; that’s why we consider this a vacation).  Whereas the elevation profiles for the first 2 days were impressive, the last day was just scary.  The first 6.6 miles consisted of a saw-tooth out-and-back that would certainly serve to warm up the legs and trash the quads for the remaining 13.4 miles… 

We made it to the first aid station and back without incident, making our way carefully down the steep hillsides and across the very wobbly suspension bridge over Suck Creek (didn’t quite live up to its name, but the day wasn’t done yet…).  The course then took us on a long loop around the edges of a plateau above the river.  Our footing was made problematic by the dense flora on both sides of the trail; often you couldn’t see where your next step would be.  I couldn’t help thinking about how much poison ivy I’d probably been exposed to; I’ve encountered it so many times in my life that I’ve basically developed an allergy to it.  We finally made it to the second aid station, which was a mere 2.4 miles from the third; I couldn’t figure out why they were so close.  It shouldn’t take us long to run 2.4 miles, even as tired as we were.  Turns out, those 2.4 miles were the gnarliest, rockiest, most technical trails I think I’ve had to cover.  The trail would sometimes level out for 50 feet, only to send us back through another rock garden (or boulder garden).  The footing was treacherous, and my progress was slow, while Jordan pulled ahead.  The last insult before the Signal Point aid station was a series of very steep staircases leading up to a picnic area with gorgeous views that I didn’t have the energy to appreciate. 

We got a short reprieve from the technical trails as we ran up the hill out of the Signal Point picnic area, and into a neighborhood.  The course veered off the paved road, and we ran right by the front porch of a small nursing home, the residents of which were out in force to cheer us on.  We then turned on a groomed gravel trail and I thought, “I can do this for 8 more miles!”  That reprieve didn’t last long either, as the trail went through more rock falls and back down to a creek where it seemed we were required to climb over every single fallen tree and root ball.  This was definitely the hardest part of the whole weekend.  Jordan had gone ahead again, and I walked most of the section, eating the last of my food, and thinking dark thoughts about trail builders and running shoe designers (I’d been developing two huge blisters all day).  After losing track of time and distance, I finally wandered into the last aid station.  The volunteers said the last 3.6 miles were all rolling jeep trail, which was the best news I’d heard all day.  I was able to keep a high pace for most of the rest of the race, taking strength from the thoughts that I’d soon be done and would have completed 60 miles in 3 days.  Jordan was waiting for me at the finish (she’d pulled away by over 7 minutes), and I was bonking hard, so I scarfed down 2 bowls of pasta before we had to get in the car to come back to real life. 

Jordan and I had an absolute blast doing this race.  That feeling of running the last 3 of 60 miles, feeling strong and fast when I expected to be stumbling down the trail, is one I won’t soon forget.  Despite the current urge to scratch all the skin off my shins (I did indeed find that poison ivy), I would do it again in a heartbeat.  I told Jordan on the way home that the only negative from the weekend is that she may have lost me as a crew member for her next race.  But she’ll have gained a running buddy for it…

Chattanooga Mountains Stage 3: Signal Mountain

They weren't kidding about the 20 miles at Signal Mountain being the hardest day of the 3 day Chattanooga Mountains Stage Race.  It had some brutal climbs and descents and miles of incredibly technical trail.  I absolutely loved it!

Nathan and I got to the starting line with some time to spare: time for self-doubt to creep in as I rubbed my sore legs.  Since I finished 147th on the first day and 132nd on the second day, I was hoping to continue my streak of moving up the pack.  My legs were making my wonder if that was possible.  Once the race started, I felt much better.  My quads shouted at me on the downhills, but their complaints were no match for the momentum of gravity.

The first 5-6 miles were mostly steep ups and downs.  We went down one mountain, across Suck Creek (I promise not to make any bad puns) on a very wobbly suspension bridge, up another mountain, and then back down it to the 3.3 mile aid station--we didn't reach it until 41 minutes into the race.  Then we turned round and did all of this in reverse.  The course mandated at lot of walking (at least for us, the top runners probably ran most of it) but by the time we came crested the third climb, my legs had loosened up considerably.  A woman we were running with gave us the layout of the course, telling us the major climbs were over and the last 3.5 miles were very runnable.  It sounded as though the hardest part was behind us.

The next few miles were lightly rolling along the ridgeline with some beautiful views.  We couldn't look at the views much though.  The course was technical enough that you could either look up or run; there was no doing both at once, especially given the cliff that was often at our immediate right.  We were able to move up in the pack a little by running the gradual uphills that others walked and we cruised into the 9.8 mile aid station, looking forward to the short 2.6 mile segment ahead.

It may have been 2.6 miles, but it was not short.  The trail was arguably the most technical I have ever run, and I've run some gnarly courses.  Every once in a while we'd get a smooth 50 meter patch and run, but it was mostly hopping around rocks, climbing over logs and boulders, stepping carefully down rocky descents.  This sort of trail is actually a strength of mine, so I pulled ahead of Nathan a bit.  The trail became difficult to follow, and Nathan and a couple others caught up to me.  One of them knew the course well and told me that yes, we were supposed to go up those really steep staircases.  So much for the climbs being over! 

We refilled on water at the station and one of the other racers told us that the next section was "like a dream" compared to what we had just done.  That was the case for about a mile, and then the trail reverted to its rocky state, only marginally better than the previous section.  It made for a tougher course, but worked to my advantage.  I worked up through the pack and left Nathan behind, thinking he would probably catch me in the 3.5 mile runnable section at the end which would favor his speed.

When I looked over my shoulder on a rare section where you could see more than 100 ft of the trail behind you and couldn't see Nathan, I realized I didn't want him to catch me.  Having the mindset of racing him made it a lot easier to push than waiting for him to catch up with me did.  The trail was very tough to follow; there were a few well placed race flags to indicate that the course went over this boulder, up that switchback, etc. and without them I definitely would have gotten lost.

I got through the last aid station quickly and took off on the last section: jeep trail and double track gravel.  I knew I needed to push it because Nathan could run this very quickly.  My legs felt the best they had all day and there was lots of flat and downhill, so I moved well and had fun.  The was one steep climb that I had to walk early in the section, and another at the end that I wouldn't have walked if I had realized just how close I was to the finish, but I ran quickly for the rest of the section.

I finished in 4:13, my lack of finishing kick allowing two runners to pass me in the last 100 feet.  But I managed to crack the top 100 with a finish for the day of 99th place.  Nathan came in at 4:20 for 114th--he also moved up in the pack each day and was only 3 minutes behind me in the overall standings because he took off on the last section of the first day after faithfully running with me for the first 14 miles.  We ended up 117th and 123rd overall.  There were a lot of really excellent runners at this race!

The whole event was wonderful--I loved all three of the courses and the sponsors and organization were top-notch.   I am putting this race series in a special category of races I want to make a point to do again along with the Umstead Marathon and Bull Run Run 50.  Nathan had a blast as well and I think surprised himself with his abilities in running more than he's ever run in 3 days before.  He may want to give a post from his perspective as well.

Thanks for reading!

-Jordan

Chattanooga Mountains Stage 2: Lookout Mountain

Today's race was 22 miles that promised to be more challenging than yesterday. We had done everything we could to recover: yesterday included compression socks, ice, advil, leg rubs, lots of water/gatorade, a nap, a huge pizza, and a walk around downtown Chattanooga. Yet our legs were still stiff and sore as we started off down the gravel path that made up the first mile of the race. The wide path made it easy to spread out and run our own pace, but we came to a standstill as we turned on to single track with a set of switchbacks so steep and technical that three ropes were required at the top. It took us about 10 minutes to go two tenths of a mile as we waited for a hundred runners in front of us to navigate the ropes. After that, the climb became runnable and we set a better pace.

The trail opened up and widened as we summitted, allowing beautiful mountain views and faster running. Our legs felt surprisingly fresh, but my IT band hurt on the downhills, making me worry about the rest of the day, let alone tomorrow. We entered the 5.7 mile aid station back at the start/finish at 52 minutes. Considering the delay on the climb, we're pretty sure the first section was short.

Next up was the big climb: a 10 mile lollypop that took us to the top of the mountain before coming back through the start finish again. We did well on the way out, moving up the pack, our legs still feeling great. It was mostly a gradual uphill with a few tough steep climbs—90% runnable for us.  After the aid station at the top we started back down.  There was a little more climbing, but it was mostly downhill the next five miles--generally gradual, some really fun on tight winding trails.  At 15.5 miles, we came through the start/finish again at 2:52, trying to ignore the top runners who had already finished and were climbing into the ice bath.

The last loop was the first loop in reverse.  We ran/walked the climb up and then were able to run well until we came to the rope climb down, which we took especially carefully.  Then we were back on the gravel, an easy mile to finish, picking it up a bit---why are those flags blocking the way?  

The course sent us back onto very technical single track that we hadn't had to do on the way out, adding a little distance and a considerable bit of time since much of it required walking.  I pulled ahead of Nathan a bit and after about a mile we came to a wide stream crossing to soak our feet just before the finish.  As we went back on the gravel road Nathan started to catch me again, calling out to me at the finish that I'd better hurry or he'd catch me.

We finished in 3:47, a pace that was actually faster than our pace from yesterday.  We took full advantage of the great post-race set-up, icing our legs in the creek and refueling with the provided pasta and beer. 

We are absolutely loving this race.  The courses have been so much fun--especially today!  I've decided it's a great distance because the cumulative mileage is significant enough to require endurance but the daily totals are low enough that issues like nausea and dehydration don't come up as long as you're smart.  I've not had any of the emotional ups and downs that come with ultra running either--probably due to both the shorter distances and having constant company.

One more race to go tomorrow--the really hard one, Signal Mountain.  It's only 20 miles, 2 less than today, but we've been told to expect to run 30 minutes slower than today.  But first, we get to eat and sleep again!

-Jordan

Chattanooga Mountains Stage 1: Raccoon Mountain

Nathan and I are one stage into our running vacation in the mountains of Eastern Tennessee.  We drove up to Chattanooga from Greenville yesterday via the scenic route and stuffed ourselves with bread and pasta for the first stage of the Rock Creek 3 day stage race: 60 miles covering a different mountain each day.  We were both a little under-trained for the event: the most I did was back-to-back 20 and 16 and he did 3 days in a row of 10 miles, but we are just here to have fun and celebrate the end of Step 1 of the USMLE exam and nearly two years of marriage.

The goal for day one was a simple one.  All we wanted was to finish feeling good, and of course to have fun.  The first stage was the easiest we'll have: 18 miles that were advertised as "flat...for Eastern Tennessee."  We put ourselves at the back of the pack (perhaps a little too far back) and entered the woods with over 200 runners (255 registered, 211 finished today).  We got caught in the walk-jog traffic that you get with any single-track race with more than 100 runners but soon found our place with a group of women from Asheville.  We followed their pace for the first 8 miles.

We loved the course!  Definitely more rocks, roots, and hills than you can find in Charleston.  Not what I would call flat, but quite runnable.  We got through the 8 mile aid station more quickly than the rest of our group and navigated the appropriately-named small intestine trail on our own.  At the 13.3 mile aid station, Nathan decided he would go ahead of me for the final section to stretch his legs a bit since I was running fairly conservatively.  Both of us passed lots of people in the final 5 miles, but given the 3 day nature of the race, this was the equivalent of passing some one at mile 15 of 60--not very consequential.  There were some steep downhills in this section caused sharp pains in my IT band, but the last 2-3 miles were flat, even by my standards.  It was mid-70s by the time we finished, and I was glad the race was the distance it was.  Any further and dehydration would have become a factor, but as it was we were able to finish feeling good as planned (aside from the tree branch I took the gut just before the finish).

Nathan finished in 3:07 for 134th and me in 3:11 for 147th.  I knelt in the ice bath to ice my IT band (with my feet sticking up in the air because they cramped immediately in the freezing water) but Nathan didn't like the look of all the dirt floating around it--understandable.  We enjoyed the nice weather at the finish for a while before coming back for showers and leftover pasta--having a fridge and microwave in the hotel is wonderful!  The whole morning was just plain fun.  We suspect the next two days, the mountainous stages, may be more hard than fun.  But since it's vacation, we will enjoy the pain.

-Jordan

Harbison Forest 50k

You know when you're fairly out of shape and struggling to find motivation to run, so you sign up for a tough 50k that's only 5 days away? If you nodded yes, then either we're already good friends or we should be. If you shook your head no, then you're probably reading this because you love me in spite of this fundamental difference in our personalities, and I appreciate that!

Prior to yesterday, I had gone four months since starting an ultra, and five months since completing one. After (mostly) healing the IT band syndrome that caused my drop from my last race, recovering from mild colds, and rising above general laziness, I finally got back to running some. I ran a few 30-45 mile weeks with a couple long runs in the 20-25 range, the last of which I bonked hard on. I think this might have left a bitter taste in my mouth for running, and traveling for Christmas provided lots of easy excuses, so I posted a couple weeks with mileage totals in the single digits. And then I came back home, and still didn't feel much like running.

There was a 50k that weekend in Columbia that I had gone back and forth about running for awhile. I originally intended to train well enough to race it, but didn't get back to running soon enough for this. Since I could drive to Columbia, run the race, and drive back in less than a day, I decided to go ahead and run it in an effort to inspire myself back into a running routine. I was determined to stay very conservative, walking one minute for every ten run for the entire first lap.

It was still dark when I got to to the race, and I was confused enough about where things were that I decided to do without a drop back at the halfway point (the course was two laps of a trail 15.5 mile loop) and just carry everything I needed for the whole race. It was a little warmer than I expected, so I wore a light jacket without winter hat or gloves to cut down on what I would have to carry later. The jacket would last less than a mile before I tied it around my waist; it was very warm for January. I stopped by the restrooms and enjoyed a giggle over the 25 men waiting for their bathroom while the women's line had only 2 people (and a man in one of the stalls). I wish I had had a camera to snap a photo which I would caption “Justice.”

This was a pretty big race with 180 participants, which meant that when we hit single track about half a mile into the race, there was a long line of us all forced to run the same the pace. I ended up letting lots of runners pass so I could keep my promise to myself and start walking early. This resolution was tested a lot during the first nine miles of the race, which are among the easiest I've run in a trail race. Luckily, I partnered up with a woman named Jackie, who was running her first 50k. We chatted along the way and kept each other from going out to hard. The pleasant company and short distance between aid stations meant that stations kept surprising me with how quickly they popped up. Towards the end of the loop, she stopped for the restroom (what my dad calls the “Big Green Door”) and I went ahead and started picking up the pace, just slightly for now. We were in the more challenging part of the loop, but I was especially worried about a section which was rumored to be the hardest part of the course. I asked a man I was passing when this part was coming up and he told me we'd already passed it. It's amazing how taking it easy makes hills seem manageable!

I headed out for the second lap at 3:08 and was feeling great. The rules I made for myself about walking only applied to the first lap, so I was eager to see how many people I could pass on the second lap. There was another man who was moving up steadily through the pack who I started running with. Turns out I had run with him before—it was Mark Nowling, also from Charleston. He had run the first lap with a friend and was now cutting himself loose. After a couple of miles, I let him go: our pace was too slow for him and probably too fast for me. I kept chipping away at the runners in front of me and now enjoyed the benefits of a bigger race: I could almost always see some one in front of me and ended up passing about 35 people during this lap. I wasn't feeling as great; various injuries gave periodic surges of pain. Even though it was January, it was hot (70s) and the bare trees provided almost no shade. So the regular heat-associated nausea and dizziness were popping up, but none of my maladies ever were significant enough to slow me down much.

As I hit 25 miles, I realized that I had a shot at negative splits, but it would require me going pretty hard for the toughest part of the course. I had never achieved negative splits before in an ultra or even a marathon, so I definitely wanted to try for it. I knew I was going to be close as I came up on a woman around mile 29 or 30. “Are you Jordan?” she asked before I even caught up to her. It was Janice Willey, whom Mark had connected me with on facebook but I had never been able to meet. As much as I wanted to chat with her, I still had to shoot for my negative splits. “You go run your race!” she cheered for me as I ran ahead. I put in one of the strongest last miles I've done in an ultra, and crossed in 6:14:15, beating my split by two minutes.

I ended up 78th overall and 8th female. Janice was two minutes behind me and Jackie crossed in another half an hour—45 minutes ahead of her goal. Mark was 30 minutes ahead of me, all of which he made up in about 12 miles. Also, big congrats to my friends Howie, Maggie, and Tyler who all ran their first 50k at Salem Lake in smoking fast times. Of course, they're always smoking fast.

I was happy with the day—it was the furthest I've run in five months and a good springboard to get me back to training (maybe with Janice? Who knew there was an ultra runner in Charleston the same pace as me!) Thanks for reading and happy trails!

-Jordan