Southern Fried 50/50 50k Recap

I had a 50k on the books for this weekend, but after two weeks (and three events) of hard racing, my legs had a lot of accumulated fatigue. My let foot, especially, has been feeling the strain. I wasn’t sure if I should do the 50k on my training plan as a race or try to fit in the miles on my own. A race has supported aid stations and super nice people, but I am competitive. I didn’t want to push myself too hard and burn myself out before I even came to my target race.

A note about my “training plan” and “target race:” I am self-coached, and because of some health issues, I often can’t sign up for a race until a few days before because my blood levels can unexpectedly drop precipitously. My tentative plan for the next year is a 50-mile race in October/November, a 100-mile race in March (hopefully Umstead), and an Ironman next July/August. Obviously, I’ll have to sign up for the 100 mile race and Ironman well in advance, so it’s of critical importance that I consider my shorter distance races and training on a week-by-week basis. I plan for the upcoming week the Sunday before it starts.

So. A 50k on the plan, and what to do? Race, of course. It was the most logical option to keep me motivated to run all morning. And while I wasn’t refreshed enough to go out and race it, I felt like a little motivation to run competitively would hurt me. Plus, I really want to run the races that are geographically close to me. It makes financial sense, but more importantly, I want these races to stick around and be here for a while. For that to happen, people need to register, pay, and show up. Now, of course, my dithering about whether to run or not, combined with my panic about the condition of my foot (stress fracture?!? Metarsaglia? Plantar fasciitis? All of the above? None of the above?) and needing to get the final good health sign off meant that I missed online registration. I emailed the race director to see if it was even possible to sign up late (I am every race directors worst nightmare). She said yes, I said yay. And I prepared to do the damn thing.

The Southern Fried 50/50 is an unusual ultra distance run because it takes place mostly on bike trails (read: pavement). This meant that the pounding on my legs would be much harder than a normal trail race and, given the August Georgia heat, would get progressively hotter and more miserable as the day progressed. I had to wake up at 3:30 am to get to the 7 am start on time, and it was a refreshing 70 degrees at the start (90-ish percent humidity). I’m still acclimating to southern heat + humidity, so I intended to bank mileage at the beginning, before it got too hot.

The course started at the beginning of the Fall Line Trace Trail. It was barely light as we set off. Not sure who I was running with, I settled into the middle of the pack, behind a group of very chatty 50k runners. While I am usually happy to chat later in the race, at the beginning, I just want to set my pace in peace. After a little over a mile, the course went off the Fall Line Trace trail to my favorite part of the course, the Flat Rock Trail. This section of the course was very hilly, and I saw my opportunity to put some distance between myself and them, so I pushed the pace a bit on the hills to establish some space. After the three-mile or so loop, I had built a considerable margin that would only grow as the race continued and things heated up. At this point, although I didn’t know it, I was third-place woman, but I was still much farther back in the overall standings (i.e., men included). I’d maintain my placement with the women after a very short stint leading, but would make my way up the overall standing as I passed man after man all race long.

My major race fail was failing to find a way to use the restroom before the start. I had driven about an hour to get there and arrived late, so I scrambled to get water and didn’t see a bathroom opportunity. I hope one would appear along the course, as if by magic, but it wasn’t until mile nine that I found one along the trail. Aside from water/salt imbalance, the major cause of stomach issues for me whilst running is a full bladder, so my reluctance to go of course for a pit stop meant that I was setting myself up for a major stomach meltdown.

Which happened. My legs were feeling strong as I went through the first aid station, and I had passed the second place woman runner and had the leading woman in my sights. I was eating and drinking according to plan. Finally, I saw a restroom around mile 9, and with relief I made the stop. Coming out the aid station, the now second place woman was just passing by, so I settled in. Feeling temporarily great, I ran strong, passing the second place woman again and banking miles while it was still only manageably hot. The course along the Fall Line Trace Trail is beautiful and well-shaded and gently sloped downhill (which I didn’t realize until I ran back). I ran well through the second aid station. Shortly after, however, the stomach problems that had been rumbling became intense, and I had some pretty severe cramping. I ran with the second place woman for a few miles until we passed a port-a-potty, and I had to stop. She kept going, and didn’t see her again until the finish.

Although not hot-hot yet, the next few miles, until we hit mile 13, were the toughest of the race. My stomach was cramping, and I slowed to a slog. It was starting to heat up too, the course here largely bore the brunt of the sun. I knew that my only option was to keep pushing, because I wasn’t going to quit. So that’s what I did. Finally, we entered Columbus and the trail turned onto the RiverWalk. The scenery was beautiful – I’d never been here before, but I have been thinking about moving to Columbus, so my mind started to wander as I passed potential living options. As I mused, suddenly, we were at the aid station at mile 13 (or so).

This aid station was unique, as the course was designed so that we would pass this aid station four times. Already an out and back course, we ran an out and back jag at mile 13 and again around mile 16. After this out and back, we then ran to the 50k turnaround (the 50 mile runners kept going) and then the out and back jag again and then headed back to the start, which was now the finish. While the out and back, out and back, and out and back was confusing, this was the highlight of the course for me. I was able to see where I was in relation to other competitors, but more important, I got to see other runners, talk to them, and encourage them. I recovered from the stomach problems and started feeling strong again. I left the aid station for the last time feeling strong, with a hydration pack full of ice.

The heat was in full force now, and I watched as the temperature increased from 81 to 82, and then to 85. With the sun beating down, the heat felt physically oppressive and I instinctively slowed down. This part of the course was directly in the sun. I knew I just needed to keep moving until I was back on the Fall Line Trace Trail again. This was also where I realized that the course had been gently and not so gently descending since the start, so the course was now gently and not so gently ascending to the finish. Combined with the heat, the only thing to do was moderate my pace so I didn’t overheat and push on. As I ran, I dreamed about my return to the shade of the trail. Because the course was just a 50k, the out and back broke the race into two manageable 15 mile chunks, so in a short time, I was back on Fall Line Trace Trail again.

At the second to last aid station, I filled up with ice again. I had let myself get too dehydrated early in the race, and now I was exceptionally thirsty and couldn’t drink enough water. Aid station volunteers said that there was only about 1.5 miles of unshaded trail left in the course, which turned out to be true. In fact, for perhaps the first time at any race ever, race volunteers only told me 100% correct information (e.g., how much was left in the race, the nature of the next part of the trail). That alone made this race totally worth it.

In the sunny portions of the course, it was so hot that I couldn’t run, so I power hiked a 12-minute mile, which given the conditions, I was very happy about. At the out and back party, I’d started passing man runners (alas, not the first and second place women), and this continued the rest of the race. I’m motivated by seeing racers ahead of me and slowly reeling them in. In the shaded portions of the trail, after a little recovery, I could run, so for the next 10 or so miles, I walked through the sun and ran the shaded portions: all mostly uphill, but nothing prohibitively steep. The trail had markers that indicated how much of the trail was left – and while this was helpful, since I again did not wear a gps watch, because we left the trail for the same loop around flat rock park, I only had a general sense of how much was left.

I made it through the final aid station, feeling strong – so strong that when the volunteer said we only had six miles left, I assumed he was wrong. Surely, we had more course left to run? Somewhat skeptically, I pushed on using the six miles left to calculate how much I had left to run at each trail marker. Finally, I saw the turn off for the Flat Rock Trail loop. The course led us in the opposite direction on the loop we took the first time we took the loop, and while it might be because I’d just run a marathon and some, it felt much steeper in the reverse direction. However, I like hills, the steeper the better (I will rue the day I say this, I’m sure). Here, I passed the last man runner I’d pass before the finish, and finished the loop strong. With just a mile left, I pushed on.

At the finish, I immediately started staggering, and slowed to bend over. I didn’t realize until that point how hard the race had been. I was completely beat, not because of the distance, although 31 miles is no joke, but because I most races of that distance I do on the trails, which are easier on the body. But, most important, it was hot. And humid. The the sun reflected back hardcore from the pavement. I don’t think I’ve ever raced at that intensity in this level of heat. There was a a gazebo at the finish, and I sat there for thirty minutes, drinking ice water, unable to move. Luckily, there was a great group at the finish, volunteers and the race organizer, so it was a perfect recovery location. I confirmed that I finished third woman – results haven’t posted yet, so I’m not sure where I fell overall. After recovering a bit, I hobbled back to my car, shoes untied because my feet were on fire.

I suspected this was gong to be harder on my body than the last two weeks of racing, and while my quads and hamstrings are fine, my shins and feet are in some serious pain. It’s a good thing I have a recovery week coming.

In short: Great course, well-organized, amazing volunteers, and super race organizer.