One Month Later--A Look Back

Now that a month has passed since finishing the Umstead 100 I thought I'd look back at what stands out from my experience, and where I go from here.  Rather than the usual "did this right, did this wrong, learned this", I'll stick to things that have left a strong impression on me.

The Start:  I'm usually pretty relaxed right before a race.  This one wasn't much different in the hour leading up to the race.  Right until we started moving, then it became real and I almost had a panic attack:  OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO BE RUNNING ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT AND MAYBE LONGER!  WHAT DID I GET MYSELF INTO!  WHAT IF I CAN'T DO THIS?!?  I'M VERY AFRAID! 100 MILES!  I DON'T EVEN LIKE TO DRIVE THAT FAR!  (heh, we've all heard that, haven't we?  No, I didn't really think that last one.) And then a feeling of relief came over me that after nearly 7 months since I got into Umstead and have trained, planned, worried and generally let it consume my life, it was finally here and it would either happen or it wouldn't.  No more wondering, it was Go time.  After that I focused on running a very easy pace and not get sucked into anyone else's speed.  The enormity of trying to swallow 100 miles whole faded as I broke the race into bite sized pieces.  Run a mile between 10 and 11 minutes.  Repeat.  Eat something.  Walk the uphills.  Get to the aid station.  Finish the loop and refuel.  Repeat.  This is what I do.  I'm a runner.  A long distance runner.  A freaking ultra long distance runner.  And I will do this.

Hitting my goal times for 5 loops:  I had a plan for running a 24 hour race which I detailed in my previous posts.  The reality was that I could only hope to have the patience to hold myself back early, and the strength to only fall off 10 minutes per loop later.  I was pleased when my first loop came in a mere 19 seconds off my goal.  I was smiling as loop 2 was just 36 seconds off.  Loop 3 went well and I'm laughing as I came in a whopping 2:25 early, and thinking about what anyone who paid attention to my plan and is following me online must be thinking, that I am running hard and then standing 1/4 mile from the turnaround to nail my splits.  But I'm not.  I'm running by feel and glancing at my cheap Casio watch maybe 3 or 4 times per loop.  Loop 4 I'm a minute 49 seconds fast and my shoulder is hurting from patting myself on the back.  Loop 5 I'm just a few more minutes ahead and as I come past all the crew stations into the start/finish turnaround I just want to scream "LOOK AT ME, I'M STILL RIGHT ON PACE!" Of course it all fell apart during loop 6 but it was so much fun to have 100K of the race go so perfectly on plan, even if it wasn't the full 100M.

The C-c-c-old:  The forecast was all over the place in the week leading up to the race, but ultimately called for cold.  The day time temps never got out of the low 40s, cooler than expected, but that made for very comfortable running.  Night time temps hit the low 20s as forecast.  I was feeling pretty comfortable as the sun went down, right up until I threw up.  Then I immediately got terrible chills.  It was like a bucket of cold water was thrown on me.  I guess I just ran out of fuel and it all caught up to me but I was almost paralyzed with chills, even though it was still above freezing.  I survived until I got into the lodge to warm up, and even though it probably was below freezing when I left the lodge, I was stabilized and felt fine the rest of the night and early morning to the finish.  But I will never forget how cold I felt in the middle of loop 6.

Mayhem at the Lodge:  As darkness fell during loop 6, the course got peaceful.  No more hikers and bikers sharing the trail.  The 50 mile runners were mostly finished, plus some runners had dropped.  The field was spread out.  The woods were dark, and quiet.  It was almost eerie.  At the end of the loop, having made the decision that I had to sit to refuel in the warm lodge or my race was probably finished, I walked into the lodge.  It was like a being dropped into Times Square, or maybe a battlefield hospital.  I had visions of hunkering down by the fireplace, sipping soup by the dim light of the fire and talking in subdued tones.  Instead, there were florescent lights blazing, a loud din of people talking over each other, and the fireplace totally blocked by cots full of blanketed casualties.  Total sensory overload!  I suppose it was good, because I never got too close to the fire nor did I ever get very comfortable in there.  As bad of shape as I was in, I was actually thinking that I belonged out in the cold, quiet, dark woods rather than inside in the mayhem. 

The Finish:  A bit anti-climactic, actually.  Since I walked every step of the final 25 miles save for the last 50 yards, I wasn't as spent as I've been for most races I've done.  I didn't know how emotional I would be coming into the finish, but I held it together.  Finishing up the loop I was still a bit apologetic for walking so much and finishing 2.5 hours slower than my goal, but as I finished I pumped my arms, and then it hit me that I had finished 100 FREAKING MILES, which I had serious doubts that I could ever do.  I pumped my arms at least 3 more times and again hurt my shoulder patting myself.  Great feeling.  Part of the reason I did this race was to test my limits.  I hit a really rough patch where I think everybody pretty much figured I was done, and I got my butt back on the trail and finished it.  Ugly as sin, but a finish nonetheless.  Maybe I never really hit the darkness in this race, but I was really worried going in that if things got tough I might fold, and I never got close.

Disappointment:  It's not fair.  Dammit, I had it.  I was absolutely dialed in for a 24 hour finish.  I did everything right.  I just had bad luck with my stomach.  Nope.  That's just part of endurance running.  It's no different than if I'd have gotten lost, injured, or if my legs had just given out.  Whatever your weakness is, that's what's most likely to get you, though it could be anything.  With me, it's nutrition.  I didn't get it right, and it kept me from hitting 24 hours.  I get it.  It is fair. 

The Lack of Suck:  One reason I had avoided a 100 miler is that I figured at least half of it would just suck.  I would hate life and swear I'd never run again.  Why should I do something that will make me feel so, so miserable?  Instead, I really only had about 3 hours out of 26+ that really stunk, and even then I still had the mindset to get through it.  Most of my 50 miles have had longer times of suckitude than that.  This 100 miler went better than any of my 5 (4 finished) 50 milers.

I'm Awake.  Really:  Never once felt sleepy.  I figured sleep wouldn't be much of an issue for me, but it went even better than I thought.  I don't even remember yawning, and never had the urge to stop and take a nap even as I passed right by my car loop after loop.  I was more worried about my last pacer falling asleep on me.  In fact, I only dozed a bit on the 3 hour car ride home, and when I got home I stayed up until about 10pm and only slept about 8-9 hours.

Post-Race Agony--Not:  I had been warned that I would be stiff and sore and barely able to walk the couple days after the race.  Most likely due to walking the final 25-30 miles, I actually felt pretty darned good.  I woke up the next morning with very little stiffness, though I was walking badly due to huge blisters that popped up on the last loop.  I was ready to run the following weekend.  I tried a hilly 12 miler 2 weeks after and paid for it with sore quads, but shorter runs have been mostly fine. 

I'll Never Ever Have to Do This Again...But I Might!:  My mantra to get through this was to finish, so that I would never have to do it again.  I knew if I failed I'd be compelled to try again.  But if I finished...I was a 100 mile runner and I wouldn't have to prove it to myself or anyone else again.  Funny thing though.  I left something on the course.  I could've done better.  24 hours was not in the cards that day, but I can do it.  And I know my strengths, that I can stay awake and alert.  Maybe a mountain 100 is my forte, like Grindstone.  But hills eat up my legs, so maybe not.  Maybe another shot at sub-24.  Tunnel Hill in Illinois looks like a flat, non-technical 100.  2016 maybe?  Thinking about it.  Not committed.  We'll see.  Not really sure I want to focus on a 100 rather than running more 50Ks and marathons.  This fall is dedicated to getting a safe Boston marathon qualifier for 2017, when I get 10 extra minutes for turning 55.  The important thing is, I finished a 100 and still want to keep running.

OK, Congrats, But Get Over Yourself:  Got it.  I ran 100 miles.  So have a lot of my friends.  The world didn't change.  Earthquakes killed thousands in Nepal.  Chaos in Baltimore.  California is still in serious drought.  The Cubs probably still won't win the World Series.  Don't be That Guy who expects everyone to recognize him as The One Who Ran 100 Miles.  Somebody tell me when I forget this.  But give me just one more time:  I ran 100 miles!