War Eagle 25k

Awake at 2am to drive through strong thunderstorms on Arkansas back roads to get to a trail race by 5:45am...definitely qualifies as insanity.  Got packets picked up and numbers pinned on.  Visitor's Center was opened by some lovely park staff who allowed us to come inside out of the rain.  Race staff announced that the start time and pre-race meeting would be delayed due to the rain.  Apparently it was delaying the arrival of many of the runners.  Once the majority of the crowd arrived and the lightning settled down to just the cloud to cloud type, we were sent out into the pouring rain to seek our fates with the infamous advice, "in case of lightning, make sure to stand next to someone taller than you."  6:30am start time had become 7:15, but that wasn't too bad.

The race was much tougher than I had anticipated.  Severe thunderstorms.  Lack of sleep.  Stress from being on “vacation” for a week with extended family.  Fighting illness/pain for most of the week.  Didn’t eat right on race morning.  Didn’t have my race day energy bars that I use for long runs.  Didn’t have Lucy to run with me.  Course was less technical, but it had many LOOOOONNGG hill climbs that were quite steep and lasted ½ mile or longer.  Mentally and physically I wasn’t in the right place during the race.  However, I have discovered that it was much tougher on the other racers than I thought.  During the last 4 miles of the race, I got passed by several 50k racers.  I assumed that meant they were on their second lap and were finishing the 50k before I finished my 25k.  I was alone (couldn’t see anyone ahead or behind) on the trail for most of the race, so I also assumed I was dead last in my category when I finished.  It turns out that those 50k racers were on their first lap because they had an extra 3 mile jaunt through the woods at a point that 25k trail splits off.  So, I was able to jump ahead of some of the 50k runners without realizing it.  So the 20 people that passed me still had another 15 miles of race left.  I was very discouraged when I thought that the race felt so tough to me, but it appeared that several people had run a 50k on that trail in under 4hours.  It turns out that I was NOT last in the 25k—there were two women who came in after me.  It also turns out that the first 50k racer didn’t finish until about 30 minutes after me.  That means that I achieved 3 of my goals for the race.  1) I finished.  2) I wasn’t last in my 25k category. 3) I didn’t get lapped by any 50k runners. 

During the race, I almost threw in the towel at an aid station and quit.  Before aid station 2, I was tired, hungry, sick to my stomach, discouraged, and my legs were starting to cramp.  We were told that the first aid station was about 5 miles into the race, and then there would be aid stations every 3 miles or so.  When I looked at my watch, it appeared that I was going just slightly faster than a snail.  That was discouraging to think my pace was that slow.  I was really struggling.  I was all alone in the forest on a little trail in a thunderstorm, and I hadn’t seen another person for about 30 minutes.  I was convinced I must have made a wrong turn, but I couldn’t figure out where it would have happened.  I had started planning my dropout.

It turns out that it is closer to 7 miles to the first aid station (but I didn't know this yet.)  The folks at the first aid station were nice, but they didn’t seem as knowledgeable about long distance trail running.  When I got to aid station 2 (which I was thinking should be about 8 miles into the race) I encountered 3 experienced ultrarunners who knew all the right questions to ask about what I needed, and they managed to give me just exactly what I would need to get back on track.  Cup of Gatorade for electrolytes and hydration, cup of warm coke to settle my stomach, PB&J for fuel, banana for leg cramps, funny conversation and an offer to hang out as long as I wanted because I was a girl, and they like it when girls will talk to them.  LOL  I was in serious danger of quitting before that encounter, but I was able to pull it back together.  Then they told me I only had 3 miles to the next aid station and then 2 more to the end of the race.  What?  I was over 10 miles into the race and didn’t realize it.  At that point, I knew however bad it got, I could make it 3 miles to the next aid station even if I had to crawl.  And I wouldn’t quit and make someone drive me back to the start/finish with only 2 miles left, so I knew I would be a finisher. 

I ran for a while before I started to get passed by folks I assumed were on lap 2 of the 50k.  I was discouraged again, but I knew I would at least finish.  The last 2 miles are brutal.  One giant downhill that lasts about ½ mile followed by an even larger uphill that goes another ½ mile followed by a mile-long section with multiple small uphill grades. 

I managed to finish in 4:09:30.4.  It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t under my goal time, but I finished.

Once I got some dry clothes and cleaned off the outer layer of mud in the visitor’s center bathroom, I knew I needed food.  The finish line food was supplied by a local catfish restaurant.  They were frying chicken strips, catfish, and hush puppies at the finish line.  I tried to eat a chicken strip, but one bite into the process, my body let me know that wasn’t a good idea! 

By the time we drove into town to find some lunch, I was convinced that I wouldn’t run my 50k in July.  I just couldn’t be ready.  I hurt this morning when I got up, and I was so sore.  I even told Evil Jeremy and Speedy Beth at dinner tonight that I might not be doing it.  But now that I’ve looked at the race results, I’m not 100% convinced that I can’t do it.  If I can run 25k in a thunderstorm after being sick/hurt for a week, maybe a 50k is possible in 6 weeks.  It will be an interesting decision process. 

P.S.  The trails were beautiful.  I wish I had felt better so I could enjoy them more.  

PsychoWyco Run Toto Run

Up at 5:45 am on a Saturday. This is surely the first sign of insanity...

Quick shower, throw on the selected running clothes, chow down some oatmeal, feed Lucy, double check the drop bag, grab Lucy's leash and leader, and we're out the door by 6:15.

It's an hour drive to Wyandotte County Lake--home of the Trail Nerds, the WyCo cougar, and some of the toughest trails in the Midwest.

Arrive at 7:20. Parking spots in the lot reserved for 50k/20 mile runners are filled, but we find a place along the road without having to take the shuttle from the marina lot a mile away. It's a lonely wait for the 8am start. (I've never started a race without having friends or family there.) Lucy meets several canine friends--some she's met before like Elliott Snickerfritz, some new friends like Cici and some who we may never know their names.

We make one last trip to the "facilities." Porta-potties really are an upscale luxury when you consider that the rest of the day you will be availing yourself of the available bushes and trees along the trail!

Waiting for the call to the start line.

Bad Ben may look like a happy-go-lucky race director on his way to announce the start of the race, but he's really contemplating the sadistic course he's laid out for us. Mwahahahaha...such an evil laugh inside his head!

Right before 8am Speedy Beth shows up (her 10 mile race starts at 9am.) It is great to see a friendly face, but she has bad news. Jeremy woke up sick and will likely not be there to pace me for miles 11-20. Disappointing news, but I will have the next 174 minutes to prepare myself to do battle with those miles on my own.

And the clock strikes 8, and we're off.

It's a short 1/4 mile to the entrance to the labyrinth...errr trail system.
As we're climbing the first hill towards the trails, we stop jogging since there seems to be a backlog of folks at the entrance. Turns out everyone is running slow because we're entering this...

About 2 miles into the course, we make it to aid station 1 hosted by the crew from Moosejaw. Fabulous crew offering all the ultrarunning essentials. We get Lucy a quick drink, eat a bite of oatmeal bar and head off into the WyCo Triangle for a nice 1 mile jaunt up and down and up and down and around and back. Lucy keeps seeing people running the opposite direction on trails near us. She wants to know why we keep going the long way when there is clearly a shorter path back to where we came from. A short time later, we made it back up out of the WyCo Triangle and bid farewell to the folks from Moosejaw. Lucy looks at me like we are completely nuts for running a mile to end up 30 feet farther down the main trail.

We're off to seek our adventure along the trail. We're doing well and feeling pretty good so far. About mile 4.5, we encounter the first slippery downhill section. Steep and winding and mud so thick and slick it's like Bambi on the ice. I twist my ankle and come up hopping at the midpoint of the hill which scares the one guy behind me on the hill more than it scares me. I yell back that I'm okay. (Do you know how many times, I've done that in training? We don't stop for twisted ankles, we keep running!) We successfully navigate the remainder of Fall Down Hill and make it to the bottom of the dam. We climb the Dam Hill while getting passed by the hiker in khaki pants and find the mirage also known as aid station #2 hosted by the GOATz: Greater Omaha Area Trailrunnerz. Before we even get to the station, they're taking Lucy's dish from me and filling it with water. They feed her peanut butter and jelly on tortillas which makes them an instant favorite in her list of new acquaintances! We're now at about mile 5 and heading into the tough half of the loop. Little did I know just how tough this was going to be.

There was a half mile of paved road to get us to Fester's Wander--a section of trail blazed by a canine. Steep downhills coated in slick, muddy ooze complete with signs that say slow down, no really you need to slow down, SLOW DOWN!! And if you don't heed the signs, you'll slide off the edge of the hill and roll to significant injury at the base of the mini-mountain. As there were currently no corpses, injured runners, or rescue crews on scene, I'm assuming those who came before me heeded the signs. Once we make it to the bottom of the valley, we turn a corner only to be reminded that what runs down must also run back up. I face a hill with a grade steeper than any I faced while attempting to climb the 14er last summer. Thick, oozing, slippery mud trampled by 276 other runners is taunting me. As I look up, and up, and up I see two ropes stretched out beside sections of trail. Those ropes transfer this ascent from the "impossible...you're an idiot for even thinking you can make it up this hill" category to the "difficult...you'll get muddy...you're still an idiot but you'll make it up the hill" category. I almost stop to take a picture, but I'm afraid to stop that long for fear I will lose my nerve to attempt this hill.

We successfully navigate the ascent along with several other smaller hills and make it back to higher ground.

Now the trails are coated with deep, shoe-sucking mud in the majority of places. My quads, and calves and glutes are screaming at me as I continue pushing my body.

It wouldn't be bad to be a 10 mile finisher. Lots of people will drop distances today because of the trail conditions. I was so proud of 10 miles 7 months ago. I could live with another 10 mile medal. My brain desperately pleads with the rest of my body to just give in and be done in 3 more miles. We're tired and muddy and slightly injured. We could be done and go eat brunch. My pacer is probably not going to be there. I still have to go through the infamous Three Hills trail section which is aptly named for the three long, steep hills that occur in the last 2 miles. But then my heart kicks in and reminds me just how disappointed I will be with 10 miles today. I haven't truly used up what is in the tank. I have more to give. I am a trail runner. We aren't going to do the smart thing...at least not today!

I attempt to navigate a muddy gulley and end up landing on my knee in the mud. Grab for a bush to hold on as I slip. End up grabbing a thorn bush. Oops! Doesn't seem too bad. Wipe off mud. pick out thorns. Keep going.

I start seeing signs letting me know there are 3 miles to go, then 2 miles. Then the last aid station. It's time for Three Hills which always makes me wonder which mathematically challenged person named this section because there are clearly more than three noteworthy hills! We trudge on and make it through each hill.

At the top of the last hill, we begin hearing cowbells. The finish line is about 1/4 mile away around a corner and down a hill.

It is decision time. When I reach the finish line, I have to make a choice of crossing the line or being funneled into the route back to loop 2. As the cowbell gets louder and I hear cheering, the decision is easy. I have to try to do loop 2. I have to know I made every effort. I'd rather have a DNF on the 20 than a medal for the 10. I'm coming down the hill and hear familiar voices. I hear Tony...and then I hear Jeremy. I do have a pacer!! I would have tried without and am pretty sure I would have made it, but I know with an experienced ultrarunner friend to keep me on track, I'm going the distance! I see my split time, and although I may be at the back of the 20 mile pack, my 10 mile split is 31 minutes faster than my 10 mile finish time from July! Woohoo!!

Quick change of shoes and socks, shed the extra layer of pants, drop the jacket, and we're off!

Back into the trails and into the mud. It's worse. How could it get worse? Oh, yes, now there have been approximately 1000 pairs of feet coming through. Slogging through the mud is more enjoyable when you have a friend to talk to, but the first 2 miles are taking forever! Then the Moosejaw aid station comes into view. And they have bacon! Real, fresh cooked bacon! If you're not used to hanging out at ultra races, you may be shocked by the kinds of foods stocked at aid stations, but there really is a method to the apparent madness. I know that I shouldn't try new foods in a race, but it's BACON!! Totally worth the risk. So Lucy and I enjoy some yumminess before hitting the Triangle. I'm running more and feeling good. I can do this!

We make it back to ankle twisting hill and skate down. We climb the Dam Hill again and encounter the amazing crew at the Dam aid station. This time, Lucy gets cheese quesadillas. She's in LOVE with these volunteers. She may leave me for them if I'm not careful... A quick porta potty stop is in order which is good since I haven't peed in over 7 miles!

We walk most of the paved hill. We hit the big downhill and my Achilles starts to twinge...a lot. Now my ankle hurts, my Achilles hurts, my calves hurt, my quads hurt, my glutes hurt, and I'm a mess. But it's just as far to go back as it is to finish. So we plunge into the woods. Mud! Hills! More mud. More hills.

Jeremy and I begin to discuss the deep philosophical issues of the day like the uses of the word Smurf. It's a descriptor, a noun, a verb, an expletive. Really, what other words do you need if you can say Smurf. Things can be smurfy or totally smurfed. You can say smurf you or smurf you very much and they have very different meanings. We get some strange looks as we get passed. (Isn't this what everyone discusses at mile 17?)

We see this sign and realize I haven't lost my sense of humor...

...because we want to lay down on the road and have our pictures taken. Being literal can be so amusing!

At the last aid station, I get 2 S-caps and 3 cups of Gatorade (since my hydration pack ran dry at mile 6) and Lucy gets more treats and water. We take off through Three Hills. Some of the hills were one slow, painful step at a time, but I was running more of the flats and downs. I make my way up the last uphill section and am greeted by two spectators who start yelling, "100 meters of flat, 100 meters downhill. Kick it in!!" We round the bend into the downhill and I hear the cowbell and the crowd and I see THE FINISH LINE!!! We. Did. It! Lucy and I finished the toughest 20 mile course anywhere near here on one of the muddiest days of the year.

(The sticker is already on my car now.)

Lucy gets her own medal, too! :)

In other race day news, my friend Heather and her running buddy, Leora, finished their first 10 mile trail race!!

And Speedy Beth ran her 10 mile in 2:12:04 which exactly ties her varsity cross-country running son's time from July!

**This race report is merely one crazy runner's recollection of the day's events, and may be heavily influenced by pain, exhaustion, and endorphins. If anyone remembers the course differently, write your own blog! ;)