MY FIRST 50-MILE RACE:

THE 2005 MOUNTAIN MASOCHIST

I guess I’ve been thinking about “my limit” for a few years now – How far can I go?  How long can I run?  How much physical and mental stress can I put my body through before it becomes too much?  From 2000 to 2002, I found some answers in the sport of adventure racing. . . and I learned a lot about myself in the process.  I figured out that I didn’t want to learn new sports like mountain biking, whitewater rafting and kayaking (although individually, they are lots of fun) and achieve a level of proficiency in each that one can only get by spending lots of time away from spouse and home.  I learned that I didn’t want to feel closer to my teammates than to my husband, Karl.  And I learned that financially, we could not afford for me to be an adventure racer.  I learned that what I really wanted to do was concentrate on my running – trail running specifically.

So I concentrated on my trail running, and in January of 2003, completed the Mountain Mist 50K (31 miles) race in Huntsville, Alabama with Mike Baird, my trail buddy.  Then I got pregnant through in vitro fertilization, and in December of that year, Karl and I were blessed with triplets!  Would I ever get back out on the trails?  Would I ever do another long race?  Well, I’m happy to report, yes and yes! 

On Saturday, October 15, 2005, Mike and I completed the Mountain Masochist 50-Mile Race in 11 hours and 50 minutes.  Let me tell you all about it.

Our preparation started with research, and it turned out to be very important.  Reading the website and an article printed in TrailRunner magazine (September 2005); printing out race reports from a few 2004 participants; scouring everything over and over for clues about the race and the course and what we could expect along the way.  What worked and didn’t work for those participants.  We learned what a “Horton Mile” was, and we learned that the course is actually about 54 miles.  A “Horton Mile” is a distance estimated by Race Director David Horton to be one mile, but is probably longer.  We learned there would be a 12-hour time limit.  We learned that the Aid Stations would be so well-stocked with food that we probably didn’t need to carry much in a waistpack; and some Aid Stations would be accessible for spectators (So I could see my family out on the course).  Most of all, we learned that we were in for a great experience.   We signed up early and started training in June.

At 6:30 a.m. on Race Day, we started near the back of the pack.  Now that I’m trying to write about it, the first half of the course is one big blur to me.  However, I do remember a few things:  Running the first 3 miles by headlamp, because the sun didn’t come up until 7:00 or so. . . Mike dropping the ibuprofen and losing some of the

tablets (really, Mike, not a big deal!). . .   Rolling my left ankle and telling myself to pay attention to what I’m doing. . . An older man who was making a scratching noise with each stride – I think he was slightly dragging one foot – but also seemed to be keeping pace with us. . .  Mike and I at the front of a group of six or eight runners going up a long hill, and nobody passing us for a while because they were working just as hard as we were, and the pace was good. . .  Striking up a conversation with a young man from Alaska who is attending college in Lynchburg (this guy said before deciding to train for the Masochist, his longest run was six miles). . .  Finding out from one woman that she’d been pulled out of the 2004 race with one mile left to go, because she wasn’t moving fast enough to finish before the 12-hour time limit. . . Checking my watch at each Aid Station and making sure we were always ahead of 12-hour pace (I was not going to get pulled out in the last mile, even if it killed me). . . Lots of beautiful scenery to glance at, but never having enough time to stop and really look. . . Trying to remember which Aid Stations were accessible for spectators, and wondering when I’d see my husband Karl, his sister Erika and the kids.

            They were at Aid Station 10 – the approximate halfway point.  Mike and I were alternating one minute of walking and one minute of running, and we happened to be walking as we rounded a turn and saw Karl standing there with the camera.  He said “Aw, come on, RUN!” because he didn’t want to take a picture of us walking.  We ran for the picture, and I stooped to give Daniel a kiss as he stood in front of Karl.  We continued into the Aid Station, where I had a bag of clothes and other stuff I thought I might need at this point.  I gave Charlotte and Madeline each a kiss and sat down to change my socks and shoes (my socks were wet, and wet socks can cause blisters.  Not what I needed this early in the race!  Also, I was wearing my road shoes, and would need my more stable trail shoes for the second half, which is said to be tougher – more single track trails – than the first half).  Mike got the food he needed from the Aid Station and headed back into the woods.  When I was ready, I had to run to catch up to him.

            From Aid Station 10 to 11, we worried about our pace.  Up to this point, we were consistently about 10 minutes ahead of 12-hour pace; however, at #10, Karl told us that we were only six minutes ahead.  We had to walk much of the route to Aid Station 11 since it was mostly uphill, and we thought we’d get a pace warning.  I started thinking about what it would take for me to quit this race.  I couldn’t tell Mike that I was too tired or my muscles were too sore, because I’d still have to walk myself to a vehicle, or a rock to sit on.  And if I can do that, then surely I can get myself to the next Aid Station – they’re so close together!  I decided that I’d have to have a bone sticking out and lots of gushing blood, or actually be told to leave the course.  Mike and I talked about it and he agreed that we’d keep going until an Aid Station volunteer told us we’d gotten too slow.  As we got near, I heard music in the air and remembered that the article in TrailRunner magazine said we’d hear music and due to the terrain and the race route, it would fade for about 10 minutes, and then it would come back.  I appreciated that small tidbit of information and knew it wouldn’t be long before we got there.  When we arrived at #11, we were surprised to find ourselves back on pace, and not warned!  

            The Aid Stations were loaded with all kinds of quick-energy foods:  mini-sandwiches made of ham and cheese or peanut butter and jelly, M&M’s, boiled potato chunks with a plate of salt nearby (athletes lose a lot of salt by sweating, and it must be replaced in order to keep going), lots of different cookies, candy bars broken into bite-size chunks, banana chunks and orange slices.  Beverages included:  Mountain Dew (slightly flat, so the fizz wouldn’t upset anyone’s stomach), water and Conquest, a Gatorade-type energy drink.

            On our approach to the Loop, we encountered about 10 horseback riders, and they were very considerate as they stopped their horses so that we could pass without spooking any of the animals.  One rider asked if we were really going to run the whole 50 miles, and I told him the distance was more like 54 miles, and yes, we’d be running and walking it.  He was a pretty big guy, and I think he was impressed.  As we entered the Loop, I appreciated that they let us have the trail we needed, and they all went down a different trail; one that apparently didn’t intersect the Loop.  I’m not sure if I was dreading or looking forward to the Loop, but again felt comfortable knowing something about it – specifically, that it’s probably not five miles, as Horton Miles calculate it.  I recognized the moss-covered trail, and then the leaf-covered rocks.  What I didn’t expect were the huge boulders that were all over the place!  Made me wonder what force of nature put them there, and when.  Wow.  Simply humbling. 

            Shortly after the Loop, a fellow runner told Mike that we “first-timers” needed to catch the guy who was on the trail ahead of us, almost out of sight.  Mike was informed that our would-be “target” had completed 16 Masochists!  Eventually, we did catch him, and Mike asked how he was doing.  His response:  “I’m just trying to hold it together.”  I hope that he did.   

            I didn’t expect to see Karl, Erika and the kids at any other Aid Stations, but they were at #14.  What a happy surprise!  I sang a little song for them:  “We’re gonna finish!”  Again, I had to stop for kisses and a couple of the kids wanted to taste what was in my bottle.  Mike and I refueled and filled bottles, and we were off.

            It was after Aid Station 14 that I started to worry about both of us, for different reasons.  Somehow, I had convinced myself that #14 was the last Aid Station, and I didn’t realize it until I asked Mike what the mileage was on the sign back there.  He said it was 41 or something, and I said “WHAT???” and pulled my map and elevation chart out of my waistpack.  Sure enough, two more Aid Stations to go – and a whole lot more distance than I’d thought!  It took a few minutes to come to grips with this, and I didn’t even try to figure out how I got the number of Aid Stations wrong.  I just tried to put it behind me, and keep on plugging along, one foot in front of the other.  As for Mike, he became very quiet – no conversation at all – and wasn’t running any flat sections, few as they were.  We made it to #15 with our usual 10-minute cushion, which was reassuring because this was THE big, important cutoff place.  I think it was somewhere around Aid Station 14 or 15 that I asked him if he felt we would finish.  He said he wasn’t even thinking about finishing yet; that we hadn’t gotten far enough for him to think about it.  That kind of sobered me up, and I told myself that it did make sense; we still had to cover another 10 Horton Miles at least.

            After Aid Station 15, we were climbing some singletrack and Mike was still very quiet.  Suddenly, he sat down on a tree that was blocking the trail!  It was this moment that I was most concerned.  I asked if he needed a gel (or if he’d taken one lately, or something like that) and he indicated that he could probably use one.  I gave him my last GU.  He took it with whatever was in his bottle, got up, and continued walking.  In about 10 minutes he was starting conversation again, and picking up the pace on any flat or downhill sections.  I told him I was glad he was feeling better.    

            Aid Station 16 was a welcome sight!  The sign there said it was three miles to the finish, and I asked one of the guys to give it to me straight – is it three, or four, or what?  He said “It’s three-point-something.”  That was good enough for me.  We left there with both of us feeling much better than we had in a while.  Although these last miles were downhill, the early ones were treacherous, with large, loose rocks on both sides of the two-rut-road.  Mike finally started letting himself think about finishing, but we knew we still had to be careful.  Careful, OK.  But I was still determined to have fun.  When we came to any water in the path, I jumped right in with both feet (they were already wet anyway), and tried to get Mike wet.  The cool water – it was from little streams, not stagnant puddles – felt great on my tired feet.  I could feel blisters on the bottoms of both feet but I’ve had blisters many times before, and knew I could finish with them AND a smile on my face.  We talked about finishing in a tie, holding hands.

            When it was obvious that we had left the forest and had entered an area of civilization, I started getting really anxious about finding that “one mile to go” sign.  Somehow, I found a bit of extra energy and ran ahead of Mike, down a gravel road, constantly looking ahead for the sign or for another white course marker.  When I saw the sign, I yelled back to Mike, and was surprised to find him close behind me.  I remembered from my pre-race research that we would need to turn left onto a paved road, and finish next to a flagpole.  I felt really comfortable knowing these little facts. . . almost like I’d been there before.

            The last 200 or 300 meters were really great, as we first saw what we were certain would be the finish area.  Then I saw someone sitting on a rock on the left side of the road, and as we got closer, recognized Sarah Donley, our friend and training partner for our North Carolina training workouts (she finished in 10:37).  She clapped for us, and that made me feel really good.  A little farther, other people were clapping.  The finish banner, the flagpole, David Horton in his yellow jacket waiting for each finisher (just like in the magazine article), and I completely forgot about finishing in a tie.  All I could think about was “I have to make this be over” and I crossed the line just two seconds ahead of Mike, and collapsed into David’s arms, crying.  I got my hug from the Race Director, and this tale is finally complete.

            This race was definitely doable for the first-timer – and I feel my research helped a lot.  I felt comfortable knowing ahead of time that the course was actually about 54 miles, based on the fact that “Horton Miles” are looooong miles.  I think it kept me from going insane, especially in The Loop and between Aid Stations 15 and16.  And I appreciated knowing ahead of time about the music blaring from Buck Mountain – the theme from “Rocky”, which would fade away and then come back.  Knowing about the “one mile to go” sign and the left turn onto the paved road were, to me, critical end-of-the-course details.  

            All in all, I’m really glad to have this race under my belt.  Thanks, David Horton, for a fantastic experience!