Who put a train in the middle of my 100K? (2014 END-Sure Race Recap)

I’m not kidding about the train.

The night before END-Sure, I stayed with one of my favorite North Dakota people (okay, favorite outside of NoDak too, but that didn’t sound as fun) who was gracious enough to let me come late Friday, totally mess up their dinner plans, go to bed at 9 pm and leave the next morning at 6:30 am.  That night as well as the next morning I had a pretty epic headache which had a little to do with getting up three hours before my normal internal alarm clock but a lot to do with the fact that I was venturing into the unknown – the 50k+ running distance.

I’d never been to the campground where the race started, so I sped my way there, speeding past my fellow Breathe Magazine blogger Tim in a cloud of dust because my GPS said I’d arrive barely before the race start.  I arrived with plenty of time, however, and chatted a bit with the other racers around a campfire while we waited for the race to start.

The day was beautiful. It was definitely chilly, but the sun was out and with the layers I was wearing, I knew I’d dressed appropriately.  Chilly but not freezing while standing around = about perfect while moving.  The race started at 8 am on the dot, and we ran a bit on a gravel road until we reached the trail start.  The guys at the front of the race were moving fast, but a few of us held a slower pace towards the back, knowing that we’d need all of the energy we could get at the end of the day.

I’m sure I’ll say over and over, but the course was truly stunning.  The first part of the course was more technical, with semi-mountainous hills, snow and ice covering portions of the trail, and wooded areas.  Since this was the first 15k of the race, I was feeling really good, and after spending the first mile or two with Tim, moved ahead a little bit, walking up the steeper inclines to save energy and pausing to take pictures of the course for Breathe Magazine.  I caught up to the other woman running the race at around mile 4, and we ran together for a bit.  She’s a trail veteran, and gave me a lot of helpful insight (as well as awesome course commentary) including her fueling plan which by now (with her experience) was to eat by feel, but was at least every 30 minutes when she started.  At this point, I was still fueling pretty well, eating a Perfect Foods Bar (the new VEGAN bar that I love) in small chunks every 15-30 minutes.

 

The first race checkpoint was at 14-17 miles, and I started suffering a bit mentally before reaching the checkpoint.  One of the mistakes I made was not wearing my GPS watch.  Although trail running isn’t necessarily about splits, I didn’t know if I was running too fast (which I may have been, I’m not sure) and I had no idea when the next aid station was coming.  Finally reaching the checkpoint was a huge mental boost, and I refilled my CamelBak before heading out on the out & back .7 miles on the road (added to make the course a true 100k).  Heading down that road I felt so strong, not realizing that a headwind was at my back.  Turning around, however, I got my first taste of the headwinds that would plague me for the next 50k.  The winds were tough, and while I pushed through and kept running, I was realized to finally leave the roads and start back on the course again.

I had been looking forward to the next portion of the course since the beginning – it was where the grasslands started, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the undulating hills.  This portion of the course was really just rolling hills with mostly flat sections, and I thought I’d breeze through.  All of that may have been true if it hadn’t been for a headwind that was so strong, it would push me to the side when it’s directionality changed (albeit briefly and not often enough).  My energy was flagging fast, and I had to resort to power walking much sooner than I’d planned.  Rachel made me feel a bit better about that, as she was walking too to save her energy for the second half of the race.  Sometimes I have nightmares where I’m running but not going anywhere, and that was how I felt all 25k of this portion of the course.  I ran whenever the wind changed from directly into me, when it diminished a bit, or when the course had a downhill portion, but those were few and far between.  I’d also started to hurt, notably on the fronts of my knees (where, despite no falling or walking into walls that I can remember, are bruised today.  Is it possible to get a bruise from the inside?) and my quads and hamstrings.  The pain wasn’t fun, but it was the wind and early walking that really hurt mentally.  I started to get angry at the wind, which was ridiculous, and I knew that, but it was just so frustrating.

I was moving slower than I planned, about five miles an hour when suddenly, right in the middle of trail, there was a train.

At first, I wondered if this was the hallucinations that I’d read about, but everyone else saw it too, so I stretched a bit as I waited for the train to pass.  This is part of why I love ultramarathons – if this had been a marathon or shorter race, you know everyone would have been irrationally angry if this interrupted their race.  This was a little surreal, but it wasn’t like any of us were going anywhere fast, so a five minute break was just that – a break from the wind that I needed.

From that point on, the race got tough.

I didn’t have my GPS watch, so I had no idea how close I was to the next checkpoint, and the headwind was really starting to mentally get to me.  Shortly after this point, Rachel passed me for the last time, but I kept her in sight until the next checkpoint.

She is such an inspiration and her dedication kept me going far longer than I think I would have.  I finally reached the next checkpoint, irrationally angry about the wind, but still feeling mostly positive about the race and the course.  I re-filled my water again, and headed to the final checkpoint.  The wind was relentless though but it course did change directions enough to allow me to run again, which was helpful.  I also started to listed to some podcasts, and that kept me going as well.  As the last few miles counted down to the mid-point of the race, I started to feel like even walking quickly was tough and I started to entertain ideas of quitting.  At one point, I was a bit lost in my podcast and veered off the trail for a mile or so until I figured it out, and had to backtrack to find the right trail.  Everything hurt, but the pain came in waves (as it often does) and I could deal with that – it was the wind that I let get me down and it just felt so relentless.

I stumbled into the 50k checkpoint, and decided to change into my trail shoes which don’t provide as much cushioning as my running shoes, but since I anticipated more walking, would grip the trails more and hopefully give me more traction on the sandy portions of the trail (note: uphill + sand + headwind = feels like moving backward AKA the definition of crazy). I wanted to change my socks, but I was pretty sure that I was on the way to losing both of my big toenails and didn’t want to see that just then, so switched my shoes, took four ibuprofen and was back on the trail in 10 minutes.  Somehow changing my shoes and being around the positivity that was the END-Racing crew made me feel like I could do it again, and I was feeling strong again.  I also picked up my Garmin which I’d had the foresight to pack, and plunged back onto the course.

The headwind that had plagued me on the way there was now at my back at times, and I was able to run again for portions of the course.  I also realized that I’d fallen a bit behind on my fueling, and ate every time my watch beeped (every mile) regardless of how fast I was moving.  I was dragging, but I made it to the next checkpoint where I re-filled my water.  I also met a fellow racer, Jason, an all-around cool guy, who stuck with me for a few miles as I was able to slog through the course.

 

I slowed down again, and he was feeling strong so he headed off (he finished the race too, his first 100k!).  I was feeling pretty beat-up at this point, and as the wind changed directions and the sun started to set, I realized that I was getting cold.  The wind, regardless of the direction, was bone chilling, and while I’d pack my drop bag with some warmer items, I hadn’t calculated how cold I’d be when moving as slowly as I was (about a 18-minute mile pace).  I had a few crazy highs on this course (the first part of the out & back at the 15k mark when I was running with the headwind at my back) but now I had some crazy lows.  As the wind became a consistent headwind again and the sandy hills started, I had moments where I cried.

Not the attractive RomCom crying, but some shoulder’s heavy ugly crying, where I just felt wretched.  I think I knew at this point that I couldn’t continue, and I started thinking about how I’d let everyone down by not finishing, especially myself.  I promised myself that I’d keep moving until I couldn’t physically take another step, but also knew that I needed to keep the race staff in mind.  At a certain point (maybe mile 45?) I couldn’t run at all any more, and as the sun went down, the wind kept going and I started to shiver, uncontrollably.  I also started to get a shooting, acute pain in my right foot, but everything hurt at that point – and I think I would have kept going if it wasn’t for the cold. One thing on it’s own (or even two things) I would have pushed through, but the combination and especially the cold was too much.

I reached the 75k point knowing that I was done, but hoping that I wasn’t.  I went out on the 1.4 mile out and back just hoping that I’d find another energy boost, but couldn’t do much more than stumble even with the headwind at my back.  As I pushed back through the headwind to the check point, I was weepy and shivering.  I asked the supporters to let me sit in car to warm up.  I knew sitting was the death knell but I still wasn’t ready to drop.  I sat in that car for an indeterminate amount of time with the heat blasting at me.  I was simultaneously shivering and sweating and I finally told the crew I was done.  It wasn’t a relief.  It felt horrible, I wanted more than anything to just feel warm so I could go back onto the course and stumble my way to the finish. At that time, I simply couldn’t.

I didn’t stop shivering until after an hour in a hot bath three hours later.  I didn’t really start beating myself up until Sunday morning.  Laying in bed, barely able to move, I wondered what would have happened if I’d just kept moving.  Ridiculously, I even wanted to go out and run the remaining 25k, but I’m not sure what I thought that would prove.  Instead, I took it easy, re-hydrated, and felt really, really sad.  I’m still sad.

In retrospect, I can’t say that just one thing went wrong.  I do feel like I should have included some longer runs in my training cycle as the training plan I follow was for a 50-miler AND a 100k, and I think I needed more some more mileage to feel ready.  More importantly, I needed more trail running experience (and some running on the trail itself).  Although the wind was wicked rough that day, the course was probably always fairly windy, and if I had been able to do more runs on the course to prepare myself, I think that would have boosted my fitness and confidence greatly.  Finally, I needed to have more warm clothing options for the nighttime portion of the course (even a parka).  NoDak winters are cold, and at the pace I’d slowed down too, I needed an actual coat to stay warm.

END-racing did an amazing job – their support is so good, and they were positive and well-organized.  The community is awesome too, and I met great people who I can’t wait to run and race with again.

Yes, again.  I was able to keep myself from running 25k the next day, but you better believe this isn’t my last 100k attempt.