|
Mountain Masochist Trail Run 2006 Race Report Kevin
Holley The
Mountain Masochist Trail Run called again this year.
The 2005 race was so much fun I couldn’t wait to run it again.
Masochist is advertised as a 50 mile race, but it is generally
accepted that the course is 54 miles long.
Early in the year I decided to put a good effort into training to
see if I could improve over last years 10:29 finish.
I set an early goal of breaking 10 hours.
But training went so well that as race day approached I improved
the goal to 9 hours 30 minutes.
I even had a “stretch goal” in the back of mind:
if everything worked out right, I felt I had a 9 hour performance
in me. I
still today think that 9 hour time was possible, but things didn’t
quite work out perfectly… Race
morning dawned cold.
Bitter cold. Temperatures
were close to the teens when we boarded the school buses at 4am for the
one hour ride to the race start.
I don’t know if it ever warmed up out of the 30s out on the
course. Shallow
puddles were frozen over.
Mud puddles had ice crystals in them.
Yes, it was a cold day.
I relaxed on the bus, listened to some tunes, and tried to
concentrate on my race strategy:
go out smooth and steady but quicker than last year, run 9 minute
miles, try to run most of the hills.
Keep my breathing under control.
I wore an Underarmour t-shirt, long sleeve technical shirt,
running vest with back pockets to hold gels and tissues, half-tights,
Smartwool socks, my new New Balance 872 trail shoes, a knit hat, and
gloves. This
ended up being a pretty good setup for me.
I saw folks with much more on, and even some in just tee shirts
and running shorts – I don’t know how they do it! We
started on the Blue Ridge Parkway at 5:30 am and it was pitch dark.
Several runners had head lamps and flashlights, so it was pretty
easy to see the road and stay safe.
I felt like I got off to a nice start.
My only gauge was my breathing, and it was very much under
control. I
felt good, about the only concern I had was that my feet were numb.
The ball of my right foot felt kind of like my sock was folded
under it, but it wasn’t.
I think my very cold skin against the very cold sock just fit
together differently.
Our first hill of the day comes at mile 4, and it is maybe a mile
long. I had
set a mini-goal of running this entire hill but keeping my breathing
under control. Mini-goal
accomplished. At
about mile 6 we leave the roads for the trail.
I had wanted to be in good position here.
Last year I ended up behind a large group of folks that walked
the whole way – and had to walk myself since it was all single-track.
I definitely had my chance to run the trail this time.
But…the trail seemed a lot longer and lot steeper than I
remembered…so while I did run most of it, I did give in and walk a
couple of the steeper parts near the top.
After the single track, we run several miles on old jeep roads.
The road were wetter than they were last year, and you had to be
careful not to accidentally step in water puddles, or worse yet half
frozen mud puddles. Generally,
I could watch the runners in front of me and anticipate where the
puddles were and be prepared.
Unfortunately, for a while I had no one in sight in front of me
and I had to “go it alone.”
This is where my first misstep(s) happened.
The race had many more leaves on it this year since it started a
few weeks later, and oftentimes the leave were hiding puddles below.
At some point I went the wrong way around one of the large mud
puddles, and my right foot sunk completely in the mud, getting my entire
foot and shoe wet. On
most other days, this would be only a minor problem – as the
Smartwools would dry my feet out.
But with temperatures in the 20s at the time, there wasn’t
going to be much drying out happening.
At some point soon after that I managed to get my other foot wet
as well. And
because of the cold, the moisture on the top of my shoes actually froze
in place. I
guess waterproof socks or shoes would have been a better decision for
the day, but I did not have this problem a year ago and had not
anticipated it. Anyhow,
I was still able to run as I had hoped.
Nice and steady, running most of the hills.
Every hour I had an electrolyte capsule, every 90 minutes I took
a gel. I was
a little concerned that I might not be drinking enough, but with it
being so cold I just wasn’t real thirsty.
I did force myself to drink at every aid station and I had taken
in some Gatorade from my carry bottle.
And as always, I had chugged a full Gatorade at the starting
line. I
managed to NOT step in the creek at mile 12 that had got me shin deep
last year. I
had set another mini-goal to run all of hill that starts at about mile
15 and is close to 3 miles long.
3 miles with no undulations, no points that level off, just plain
up hill. I
remembered walking almost all of it last year and wanted to see if I
could make it this year.
Well, I didn’t.
But I came real close!
I only walked about 100 yards and this was very close to the top.
At the top I got my first time check.
18 miles and I was at 3 hours on the nose.
That seemed perfect to me.
I was running well under control, I was at nine hour pace, and I
felt good. My
only physical “concern” was the ball of my foot and my numb feet in
general. I
resigned myself to the fact I would probably have to stop at the halfway
point and change into dry socks.
Rats. The
next several miles are all down hill.
I cruised down them, feeling pretty good, enjoying my day,
admiring that the later race date gave us much prettier views
with the leaves showing their color.
And I also noted that my right hip was starting to ache.
This did not concern me, as generally when I overdo it
physically, it is my left hip that hurts.
So I kept on trucking down the hill.
But after the down hill section, my race started to change
dramatically… In
the space of a couple miles, incredibly, I went from feeling great to
feeling lousy, really lousy.
My hip hurt more.
My legs were starting to feel like lead.
And I got tired, really tired.
The wheels were coming off, and I didn’t know why.
I knew it couldn’t be my conditioning.
I had trained hard.
I also didn’t think I had run too fast, as my breathing had
been under control the whole way.
It could be dehydration, but it was probably energy deficit.
I was bonking.
This really surprised me, because I had taken several gels and
really thought they would be enough (if I think back to my first ultra,
the Uwharrie 40, I should have know better!). I’m thinking that the
cold weather might have contributed.
While the body might not need as much hydration in the cold,
perhaps it consumes more energy in the cold trying to stay warm.
In fact, my friend Martha tried to tell me this the night before
at the pasta dinner, but my busy mind was only half listening (this is a
fact that would not surprise my wife!).
So at the aid station at mile 24 I tried to eat some food.
I had another Gel; I took some ibuprofen.
I tried to eat a boiled potato (they tasted so good last
year…), but it was really dry and unappetizing.
I spit most of it out.
I settled for a stack of Pringles and hit the trail.
During the next 2+ miles to the half-way station I got more tired
and sore. It
took a lot of effort just to get to the aid station.
I knew I was in trouble, being that I was only half way and the
hard part of the course was yet to come.
It was time for a major pit stop. I
found my drop bag and sat down next to it.
I had to dig for my socks, because of course they were at the
bottom of the bag. I
took my time with the change.
My feet looked OK, with no blisters coming.
Yes, the dry socks felt really good.
I chugged a Gatorade.
Had a gel. Drank
more Gatorade. Forced
myself to eat half of a Cliff bar.
Then I got up and headed for the trail and Buck Mountain.
It was about a 5 minute pit stop and when I left I was at 4:39 on
the clock. That
was 9:18 pace, but I knew the end result would be slower.
Likely, much much slower.
I never thought about a DNF, but I did start thinking 10 hours or
slower was in the cards. Buck
Mountain. If
“mountain” is in the name, you know it’s bad, right?
It’s bad. Miles
or rocky old jeep trail straight up the side of a mountain.
All I could do was trudge up.
I had set another one of my (now irritating) mini-goals to run
some part of this climb.
In an effort to achieve at least this, I managed to shuffle for
maybe 100 yards or so a couple times.
Hardly accomplishing the mini-goal.
I stopped to pee, more for the opportunity to rest than because I
really had to go. I
was able to confirm dehydration was not the problem.
Quite a few people pass me going up the mountain, which made my
sad state of affairs even more discouraging.
I came to the conclusion that my hard work has made me a very
good hill runner, but I will never be a mountain runner like some of the
crazies who were passing me.
As I trudged up the mountain I started to get really nauseas.
This moment in time would definitely qualify as a lowlight in my
running career. When
you are maybe a half mile from the top, you round a bend and the trail
levels off for perhaps a few hundred yards.
All of a sudden you can hear the Rocky theme song blaring from
the top. Then
the trial turns straight up again.
The climb is difficult, very difficult.
There are signs along this section with inspirational bible
versus on them. Unfortunately,
they were unable to inspire me… Finally
at the top. There
was a very nice couple there serving vegetable soup.
I’m still feeling sick, but I readily accept the soup and
downed it. I
had half of a ham and cheese sandwich.
At the last second I also drank down a glass of Coke.
Sometimes Coke helps my stomach, and also I thought perhaps it
could wake my stomach up just in case it had “gone to sleep” or
something (hey I’m no doctor….).
A sign leaving the aid station read, “Next aid station 2.6
miles. ALL
DOWN HILL.” I
knew it was a lie, but it still gave me a little lift.
The next mile and half, for sure, ARE down hill.
And I tried, with success, to run the entire down hill section.
During this time my stomach was playing all kinds of tricks on
me. One
moment I’ll burp and feel a bit better; that made me think the Coke
was a good idea.
The next moment I’m about to lose my cookies, and I think the
Coke wasn’t such a good idea.
I made it to the next aid station and forced myself to eat some
banana. I’ve
got to tell you, these aid stations are like smorgasbords.
They have cookies, candies, all kinds of chips and fruit, drinks
and sodas, you name it.
But none of it looked appetizing to me.
I now had a couple miles until the infamous “Loop” section of
the race. The
loop is advertised as a 5 mile section, but I would estimate it is
closer to 7 miles long.
And it is tough.
I have some chicken & rice soup and a gel before entering
this section. The
only real runnable part (for me) is the beginning couple of miles.
They are downhill on a mostly smooth trail.
Then the trail turns very rocky and hilly.
People are still passing me at this point (felt like a hundred
already had). As
I’m climbing over rocks I hear yet another person closing in from
behind. At
some point I look back to see that it is a younger lady approaching.
In an effort to not hold her up, I stop on a large rock and offer
some encouragement as she passes by.
The rest of the loop is downright tough.
Very difficult footing.
A couple times I “tweak” my left knee by stepping awkwardly
on the rocks. That
starts up a sore spot that stays with me the rest of the day.
I start to feel a hot spot on the ball of my right foot. This
is the same spot that troubled me at the beginning of the race.
I am somewhere around mile 38 at this point, much too early to
think the problem won’t get worse.
I decide I’ll likely have to stop at the aid station for some
maintenance, probably in the form of duct tape.
But in the mean time, I stop (another good excuse for a rest!)
and take my shoe off.
I pull my sock as tight as it will go and then tie my shoe pretty
tight. This
seemed to help. Heck,
with a little luck I might not need that maintenance… I
think this is the point where the fog started to lift.
I did not realize it at the time, but things were getting better.
You’re not supposed to feel all that good at mile 40 of a tough
race, so feeling more normal doesn’t necessarily translate into
feeling a lot better.
I was very relieved to finish the loop.
I ate some more banana and headed down the trail.
The next section is mostly down hill, and I managed to run most
of it. I was
at first disappointed to realize that after the aid station we had a 1.5
mile section that included a full mile that ran straight up the side of
a mountain. This
forced me to walk. But
I think the walk was the nice “break” I needed.
After the walk, I knew things were getting better.
I had about 10 miles left to make up some time. But
first I had to traverse the last tough section of the course.
It includes an old no longer used section of the Appalachian
Trail. On the
steeper potions, you could feel yourself “peeling out” on top of the
leaves. For
the most part you couldn’t even see a trail through all the leaves,
just white streamers in the trees marking where we were supposed to go.
Incredibly, I managed to run the flat sections and even some of
the up hill sections.
I was back on my game! The
last aid station finally appears. What joy!
The sign says, “2.9 Miles to Go.”
My watch reads 9:00:xx.
OK, if (and that was a big “IF”) the mileage is accurate, all
I have to do is run 3 10-minute miles and I’ll break 9:30.
I remember that it is almost all down hill, so I should be able
to do it. That
would be one huge victory! So
I start hammering down the mountain.
I pass quite a few of the people that had passed me earlier,
maybe 6 in all. At
one point you have to do a hairpin turn on a switchback and I lose my
footing on the leaves and fall down on my side.
Sheesh, I made it through 50 miles of tough terrain only to fall
on the soft leaves at the end.
As I got up I thought I felt my hamstring protest a bit, this
brought back bad memories of last year. I
was feeling very strong then, but couldn’t run very fast because both
hammies were threatening to lock up.
No worries though, my legs were fine this year. As
I continue to cruise down the hill I catch up to the nice young lady
that had passed me in the loop.
I told her that, really, I wasn’t “racing” her – but it
sure was nice to see her again.
(After the race I told her the reason it felt so good to catch up
to her was that I had hit rock bottom in the loop and felt like I was
standing still when she passed me.
In the nicest way possible, she replied, “That’s because you
WERE standing still when I passed you.”
Doh!) Anyhow,
she asked if I though the mileage to the end was accurate.
I told her from what I remembered it was, but I couldn’t be
sure. And on
I went, I think I was running pretty fast at this point. I
started watching the time on my watch.
As 9:20 came and went I knew the mileage wasn’t accurate,
because it surely hadn’t taken 20 minutes to run just 2 miles at the
pace I was running. When
I finally saw the “One mile to go!” sign, my watch read 9:24:4x.
It is well known that this is the ONLY accurately measured mile
on the course. (As
it turns out, the rumor I heard after the race that I tend to believe is
that the “2.9 miles to go” sign really means 2.9 miles to the “one
mile to go sign”…just part of race director David Horton’s
“Horton Mile” calculator.)
So
I have to admit I was a bit disappointed to see the time on my watch.
It meant that there was no way I could get a 9:30 time.
But I think the overwhelming emotion was relief.
Yes, relief. You
see, I knew I could have run a 7 minute mile at that point if I needed
to, it would have hurt like no tomorrow, but I could have done it.
There was no way, however, that I could run a 6 minute mile.
So this meant I got to cruise in that last mile, not worrying
about my time. I
took the opportunity to reflect on the race I had run.
I took the opportunity to appreciate the scenery.
And I took the opportunity to feel pretty good about my day of
work. I
finished in 9:32:12.
Good enough for 46th place and a 57 minute improvement
over last year. I’m
very happy with the result. As
it is with most things in life, of course, things didn’t work out
exactly as planned. We
prepare hard, work hard, and make the best decisions we can make in the
time at hand. But
in the end life is life and it is not always perfect.
And we certainly can’t control all the things around us.
The end result of our efforts is important, but the journey to
get there is just as important and perhaps even more rewarding.
My journey over the last several months has been very rewarding.
I send out a big “THANKS” to all of you that shared it with
me. Kevin
|