February 14, 2004

A Valentine's Day to remember.....
"Please stop"!  "Shut up"!  This conversation continued between my body and brains for approximately 34 miles over the course of six hours and 14 minutes.  A mild case of schizophrenia that apparently rears its ugly head to ultra runners at some point during a race.  Since I had never run an ultra before, or a marathon for that matter, I had no idea what I was in store for.

The night before started out innocently enough with loads of carbs in the form of pasta and ended in a bunk house full of 16 males with tales of ultras past and the typical sophomoric fart and snore competition.  The day of the race looked good.  Nice weather, not too cold, no rain and partly cloudy skies.  The biggest decision was what to wear, gloves, no gloves, hat, no hat, long pants, shorts.  The options appeared endless.   If you asked some of the veteran runners your decision of what to wear could cost you the race.

The aid stations were awesome!  Since I have only run 10 mile races in the past, I am use to seeing water as the option of the day at aid stations.  Well, not in ultras, pull up a chair and prepare to feast yourself into a food coma.  Now this is something that could cost you the race.  Despite what I wanted, I decided on conquest and a doughnut hole.  Of course, at the first station there were already rumors of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at future stations. Could this be true?  Forget running, I just want to eat.

Despite all of the tales of what to expect during the ultra, I do not recall the information regarding a dip in a subarctic stream, not just one, two and least we forget, what you see on the first leg of the race, you will be seeing again.  The good news is that on the turn-around trip to the finish line, my swollen feet actually  enjoyed the numbing effects of the cold water. But nothing was more depressing than leaving the sanctity of the finish line and heading back out to complete the loop one more time, that took some intestinal fortitude, but I wanted that finisher shirt.

I was actually cursing my friends that convinced me to run Holiday Lake about mile 24 or so and was already working on the story as to why I would never be running another one.  But a funny thing happened after I crossed the finish line about an hour later, I felt good.  Sure I was glad to be done and I was hurting, but I did it.  I finished.  So where did I put that application for Promise Land?  I hear they are serving burgers at the finish line.

Paul Arnett