A Stroll in Central Park 12-Hour Run 2/12/11 (Race Report)

On February 12, 2011, I completed A Stroll in Central Park 12-Hour Run with a distance of 52 miles.

Photo courtesy of Perry Sebastian

Central Park is an expansive 85-acre ball park in Cumming, GA with a 1.03-mile paved asphalt loop that circles baseball fields and overlooks a disc golf course. The paved asphalt loop is an ideal setting for a fixed-time endurance event and, when the Windward Road Runners presented A Stroll in Central Park 12-Hour Run with Feet Geek Technical Insoles as the sponsor, I jumped at the chance to test my ability on this course.

The race website for A Stroll in Central Park advertised the course as a flat asphalt loop, but the course was not entirely flat.  Instead, the path rose with a gentle incline at the race start, descended a gradual downhill leading to the outer baseball field, then slowly climbed back up to the end of the loop as the course was run in a clockwise direction.  I enjoyed the slight variance in elevation, because the gradual downhills allowed me to pick up momentum during a run and the hills gave me a chance to slow my pace for energy conservation. Runners were allowed to circle the course in either direction, so a change to the counterclockwise route in the final miles allowed me to work different leg muscles at different times.

On the morning of February 12, as I woke up and made preparations for the 45-minute drive to Cumming, GA, my energy level was at a low point.  During the past few months of Christmas celebrations and Atlanta snow storms, I had encountered a couple of speed bumps on the road to weight loss and I was having a difficult time staying motivated and positive.  Instead of tapering for this 12-hour event as I should have, I had completed a 20-mile run with my Galloway training group the previous weekend and struggled through that run with unexpected difficulty, apparently due to fatigue in my calves after racing the brutally steep Hogpen Hill Climb 17K on January 29.  My primary goal for A Stroll in Central Park 12-Hour Run was to complete my age in miles, since I had turned 39 three days before the event, but I was wary of my ability to accomplish this goal as I dressed in my running clothes on this cold Saturday morning when I just wanted to stay in bed.

Fortunately, the weather predictions indicated a beautiful clear sunny Saturday, where the 30-degree morning chill would soon give way to 50-degree temperatures, so I expected a day of ideal running conditions.  To prepare for a cold start, I dressed in running pants, a long-sleeved running shirt, and a running vest, then placed shorts and short-sleeved shirts into my drop bag to change into as the temperatures warmed.  As always for my longer runs, I wore compression shorts to prevent chafing and I wore double socks for blister prevention after putting baby powder on my feet.

I wore a brand new pair of New Balance 850 shoes, my favorites for pavement running, and placed a second pair of the 850 shoes into my drop bag.  I never needed to put on the backup shoes in the drop bag and my fresh New Balance 850 pair went through one-sixth of their recommended running life on their first day of use.

I arrived at Central Park just minutes before the start and pinned my race number to my running pants as the Race Director, Lia, stood on a picnic table and gave final instructions to the runners.  I was not able to greet all my friends at the start, but I knew that I would have plenty of time to talk to each runner several times on the loop during this 12-hour event.

The race started in a low-key fashion as we were all herded to the marked race path next to the parking lot and aid station pavilion.  Since my Garmin watch only had a battery life of ten hours, I had decided instead to wear a lighter Timex Ironman stopwatch to help me pace the laps.  On my other wrist, I wore a GymBoss interval timer that I had learned to appreciate during my Galloway training runs, because it has a vibrating interval alert and the loud beep can be heard over traffic. For this race, I initially set the GymBoss for 3-minute-run/1-minute-walk Galloway intervals.

I began running with Richard, a friend who was planning to complete his first 50K distance at this event, and Daniel, who had recognized me from my previous online race reports.  For the first mile, I was able to keep up with both runners when I resumed normal running pace after each of my walk breaks.  I was relieved that the race course had more scenery than expected, since the ball parks were elevated above a disc golf course with subdivisions in the distance and a large water treatment facility that was under construction just past the park boundary.  A fierce wind gust greeted Richard and me as we circled four baseball diamonds to make our way back around to the aid station and several runners commented the freezing temperatures.  This cold wind that blew across the last half of the clockwise course would be an adversary throughout the day and I soon realized that I would not be changing into shorts or short-sleeved shirts after all.

The first few laps were pleasantly uneventful as I moved steadily with my 3/1 Galloway intervals.  As always during my recent ultramarathon events, I planned to take in 300 to 400 calories every hour by eating gels or aid station food every half hour on the half hour.  30 minutes into my run, I ate my first Crank e-Gel. I later realized that the variety of food on the aid station table was much to my liking, so that first gel turned out to be my one and only gel of this event.  My drop bag, which has my name printed several times in permanent marker on all sides and provides constant amusement for race volunteers, lay on the side of the path along with the drop bags and camp chairs of other runners, so I had easy access to the occasional S-cap or Band-Aid.

I soon realized that I was pacing myself too fast at over five miles an hour.  While this pace seemed comfortable at the time, I knew that a blowout was inevitable.  When I finished 13 laps, I decided to reprogram my timer for a 2/1 interval pace.  I must have started running faster during my 2-minute run intervals, because the change to a slower interval pace had only a negligible effect and I was still moving forward at a five mile-per-hour speed.

For the first few hours, though, I was all smiles and I enjoyed running along with friends, old and new, along each lap.  Jon, a friend and talented ultrarunner who frequently wins awards at races, passed me on every lap with a high-five and words of encouragement.  Drew, another fast ultrarunner, was focused with an eye on the prize for this event, but still had well wishes for everyone in his path.  Candy, a friend whom I had recently introduced to the Galloway program, was in great form throughout the event and we cheered each other on throughout the day.  Jenn, with whom I had run at Twisted Ankle Trail Marathon and the Atlanta Fat Ass 50K, was running with a co-worker as she trained for her upcoming Umstead 100-mile race.  Another friend and fellow GUTS (Georgia Ultrarunning and Trailrunning Society) member, Vikena, was using this event as a warm-up for her Iron Horse 100 the following weekend.  These more-experienced runners would pass me frequently as I joked to others that they were running above my pay grade.

Sam and Lisa, a couple that I had known for a few years from my participation on a local music website where I occasionally write album reviews, had recently started competing in races and were both running A Stroll in Central Park with the intention of completing their first 13.1 distance.  For some reason, the sight of these friends that I had always associated with my non-running life cheered me up each time I encountered them on the course and helped relax my psychological game by reminding me that this fixed time event was intended for fun without pressure.  Sam and Lisa have made impressive progress as runners and I look forward to seeing them at future races.

At one point, I encountered Ashley, a speedy runner who had recently completed her first 100 race at Bartram, and her husband, Daniel, as they took aid supplies out of their vehicle.  They resumed running as I passed and we stayed together for a half mile, joking with each other and enjoying a fun-spirited talk about politics.  Ashley maintained a fast constant pace that astounded me through the entire 12 hours and it was no surprise to see her finish in a tie for second place behind Drew.

Megan, a runner whom I had met at Hot To Trot 8 Hour Run last summer, talked with me as she passed by early in the race.  When I asked her what her goal was for the race, she said, “52.4. That's two marathons.”  I replied, “I like that goal. Let's both shoot for that.”, although I knew that my own chances for running anywhere close to 50 miles were slim at best.

When I finished 15 laps in under three hours, fatigue settled on me and I knew that I had started out too fast at over five miles an hour.  When my stopwatch displayed the three-hour mark, the realization that I still had nine hours left to go fully dawned on me and I decided that even my modest goal of running my age in miles was too lofty.  I started to mentally berate myself for running 20 miles the week before instead of enjoying a proper rest taper.

I continued to grab handfuls of food every other lap on the half hour.  A handful of gumdrops hit the spot early on.  Some peanut butter sandwich segments appealed to me the next time around.  When I grew concerned that I was not taking in enough sodium, a plate full of beef jerky appeared on the aid station table at the right moment.  I love MoonPies and there was always a plentiful supply of them at each stop, so I took advantage of the opportunity to eat them without fear of weight gain.

I was ashamed that my Galloway 2/1 intervals were proving to be more taxing despite my intent for them to relax my pace and, when I finished 20 laps in barely over four hours, I hit the wall.  The GUTS group had set up an impromptu aid station area at the start/finish and I briefly sat down for the only time during this event so that I could put on my Zensah compression sleeves to relieve my aching calves.  Tom, a GUTS volunteer and friend, asked how I was doing and I told him that I did not have much energy left, but that I would keep moving.  Tom reminded me that I had willpower going for me and that I could reach 50 miles.

I walked the next two laps without running and was surprised that I was still able to clock 15-minute laps. I decided that I would do my very best to maintain that 4-mile-per-hour pace as long as I could.  I knew that 50 miles was a long shot, but, since I had told everyone in the days leading up to this event that I was going to run my age in miles, I was dead set on at least finishing 39 laps.  I felt sapped of energy and I did not know how I would do it, but I was going to finish those 39 laps or die trying.  After two laps of walking, I reprogrammed my interval timer for 1/1 intervals.  I was in for some slow going, but the relaxed interval times would at least get me running in some semblance again.  Brad, a friend with whom I had run at this year's Atlanta Fat Ass 50K, seemed to be suffering just as much as I was each time I saw him on the course and I was comforted to know that I had a partner in pain.

As the loops continued, the early afternoon sun gave way to warmer temperatures and I considered changing into shorts, but I always decided otherwise when the winds attacked me on the last half of the course and I started freezing again.  In the days following this event, my forehead and scalp would peel from sunburn and I would regret that I had not applied sunscreen during the run.  As I circled the course in the cold wind, however, the problem of sun exposure did not come to mind.

My GymBoss interval timer malfunctioned at this point with a blank screen and a constant vibrate. I could not get the GymBoss working again, so I begrudgingly removed the battery and took the device off my wrist. Shortly after I finished 26 laps and earned my marathon distance, I passed the GUTS area and returned my broken GymBoss to the drop bag.  When my friends asked how I was doing, I just shook my head and told them that I had nothing left at all.  Tom advised me just to run the downhills on the loop and walk the rest if I was too tired to keep going.  That advice sounded good to me, so I kept going.  When I encountered Candy on the course a few minutes later, she noticed my tired appearance and encouraged me to take a break from the asphalt by walking and running on the grass next to the asphalt path, as we had all been given permission to do.  I went over to the grass on the outer perimeter, because I was adamant that I would rather go a slightly longer distance on the outer perimeter than use the grass on the inside of the loop.  I felt instant relief as I ran on the grass instead of the asphalt and soon found that I could run for longer stretches and only walk the uphill portions.  I was obsessive about maintaining a 15-minute-per-lap pace and I occasionally increased my speed for an extra time window if I needed to stop for a bathroom break or refill water at the end of a loop.

A runner whom I had met at Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon, Heidi, had started running the laps in the opposite direction and she had a smile each time I saw her along the way.  I was walking for much of the course with increased exhaustion, so I marveled at Heidi's constant running pace where she never seemed to lose energy.

It is amazing how one small accomplishment can turn the tide and motivate a runner to keep going.  When I completed 30 laps and started along lap 31, I realized that I would beat my 50K time record by 40 minutes at the end of that lap.  This knowledge invigorated me, because I realized that, even if I failed to run my age in miles, I would at least be going home with a new 50K benchmark.  I was overjoyed as I finished that lap and, characteristic of my lifelong craving for attention and approval, I told everyone along the course about my new 50K time record.

Pain persisted, despite my mental boost, and I was still struggling to stay upright.  Fortunately, an ultrarunning friend, Lara, who had kept me company at previous races, showed up to volunteer the afternoon shift at the aid station table and offered to walk with me for a lap. Lara and I talked about our races and I enjoyed her recap of the Sweetwater Half Marathon that she had completed that morning.

Eight hours and 45 minutes into the race, I completed lap 39 and successfully accomplished my primary goal of reaching my age in miles.  Since the course was 1.03 miles long, I was informed after that lap that I had actually reached 40 miles in 39 laps.  I was relieved to still be attaining my pace of four laps per hour, so I did not stop to congratulate myself.  When I finished lap 40 at the nine-hour mark on my stopwatch, I made the announcement official that I had beaten my 40-mile time record by over an hour.  I now had two personal time records under my belt in one day.

As I reached my two new time records, I also reached a new level of exhaustion.  My legs were killing me after the 40 laps and, although I now felt confident that I could finish ten more laps in the next three hours to reach my secondary goal of 50 miles, my body had gone into a state of mutiny.  An ongoing blister in my left little toe that I had wrapped with Kinesio tape was hurting, I was increasingly shivering in the wind along the last half of the loop, and my eyes kept involuntarily tearing up.

When I passed the GUTS area after completing 42 laps, Kim, a runner who had just arrived at the park to cheer everyone on, asked me if I wanted some company, and I gratefully accepted.  Kim told me excitedly about her Freedom Run 10K race that she and her son had completed earlier in the day.  I was in a loopy daze as I congratulated Kim on her age group award and rambled on about my own experiences during the day.  Twice during the loop, Kim noticed that I had not properly sealed the cap on my Amphipod handheld water bottle and that drops of water were spilling on me.  Each time, I looked at my bottle with a blank expression and pushed the cap to seal it shut. Thankfully, Kim had been raising children at home, so it apparently did not faze her that she had to take care of one more child along this course.

Shortly before I completed lap 43 with Kim walking beside me, Jon passed in the other direction.  Jon, who had continued to motivate me with his kind words and strong pace, suggested that I try completing the loops in the opposite direction to give my legs a different workout.  I decided to take him up on this advice and, when I passed the start/finish aid station, I informed the lap counters that I would be changing directions. The relief on my body was instantaneous as I enjoyed running the extended downhill stretch that characterized the counterclockwise direction of the course.  The two hill climbs on the other side were steeper in incline, but it did not take me long to walk up each one and continue running.  I thanked Jon profusely the next time I saw him.  I relished the opportunity to see most of the runners in the other direction that I had missed repeatedly during each lap and each encounter elevated my spirits higher.  When I passed Jenn in the opposite direction, she asked me if the change in directions was working and I encouraged her to try it.  A couple of laps later, Jenn passed me in the same direction and exclaimed, “This direction is better!”

The sun set and darkness began to fall over the park.  I struggled particularly hard during a loop and, when a friend, Kat, ran by in the opposite direction and asked how I was, I told her that I was in a daze, but that I would keep moving.  Kat reminded me to eat something during my next pass by the aid station.  Another friend, Samantha, had arrived to volunteer at the race and I thanked her and her daughters for grabbing some Ramen noodles for me on two different occasions as I passed by the aid pavilion.  The warm food was a blessing and I immediately felt more coherent.

Disaster struck when I was halfway through lap 47.  I was enjoying a long running stretch without walk breaks as I was realizing with amazement that I would actually be able to complete 50 miles.  Suddenly, an excruciating pain shot through my left foot as my skin exploded inside my shoe and I felt fluid soak my socks. I cried out loudly and stopped in the middle of the darkened asphalt path.

The inside of my foot felt like it had been slashed with a jagged piece of glass.  For the next quarter mile, I could only limp along as I winced with each step.   I realized that a blister that I was unaware of all along had formed during the run and suddenly burst.  Jon ran up behind me and asked me what was wrong, because he had apparently heard me yell out.  I forced a smile and told him about the blister.  He sympathized, told me that this had happened to him before, and then encouraged me to have the GUTS volunteers doctor the blister when I finished the loop and reached the aid station.

After a half mile, I was pleased to discover that I could run again after the blister had fully drained.  I still felt a dull ache, but the abrupt stabbing sensation was gone. I now had two laps to go to complete 49 laps and, therefore, hit my 50-mile goal on the 1.03 mile loop.  I decided to keep moving without stopping to treat the blister, because I knew that I would not be able to resume running if I did.

When I returned to the start/finish area, Tom joined me and accompanied me for the reminder of the event.  I have always handled solitude well, but I was grateful for company so that someone could divert my attention away from my constant pain and exhaustion.  With Tom walking beside me, I finished lap 48 just after the 11-hour mark. I unwrapped a MoonPie as Tom refilled my water bottle and we joked with other volunteers as we set out for lap 49.  We cheered for Drew as he passed us a couple of times with another GUTS runner, Perry, pacing him for the end stretch.  When we completed the loop and returned to the aid station, the lap counter informed me that I had reached the 50 mile mark.  Tom urged me to continue for the duration of the 12 hours to have the time on my feet for training and I agreed.  I told the lap counter with a smile that I liked the idea of having 50 laps on the course and not just 50 miles. 

As Tom and I walked the course for lap 50, my ailing body was pulled along by amazement and disbelief that I had just finished 50 miles in less than 12 hours.  Tom repeatedly congratulated me as we discussed whether or not to keep going after this lap, when I would reach the 51-mile mark.  I realized, with Tom's encouragement, that the purpose of a 12-hour fixed time event was to take advantage of that full time to push myself for maximum distance, even if I had already met my goals beyond expectation.  I was happy as I crossed the lap counter line with 50 laps under my belt, but my watch informed me that I still had just over 20 minutes left before 12 hours were up. I kept going with Tom at my side.

A third of the way into my final lap, I broke into a slow run, excited that I still found the energy inside myself to run after 51 miles.  I slowed down to a walk for the first uphill climb, then resumed running.  When Tom and I reached the second and final hill climb, I told him that I wanted to keep running and bring it all the way home. As we ran up the hill and turned the final corner that would take us to the finish, I sped up to a faster pace. Just before I made it to the lap counter station in a near-sprint, I yelled out my race number in the darkness and was greeted by cheers from runners gathered at the finish.  When I stopped, the lap counter confirmed that I had completed 51 laps and had, therefore, totaled 52 miles.  Race Director Lia looked at her watch and informed me that she did not think that I had enough time for another lap.  I laughed and said, “Thank you!”, because the last thing in the world that I wanted to do then was to go out for another lap.  My body had finally shut down for the night.

I walked down to the main aid station pavilion and congratulated friends as I picked up my finish plaque and ate the best slice of pizza that I had ever tasted. As I returned to the GUTS area, the lap counter told me that I had finished my run roughly 100 yards short of 53 miles and that he could have my plaque changed to 53 miles for me if I wanted.  I thanked him for the information, but told him that I was happy with my official 52 miles.  I thanked Jon once again for his constant support as he rested at the GUTS area before going back out again to log some additional mileage in preparation for an upcoming 100-mile race.  I congratulated Drew and Ashley for their winning times and thanked them in turn.  I spent several minutes saying goodbyes before returning to my truck.

My 1.03-mile lap count for each hour of A Stroll in Central Park 12-Hour is as follows:

Hour 1 – 5 laps

Hour 2 – 10 laps

Hour 3 – 15 laps

Hour 4 – 20 laps

Hour 5 – 24 laps

Hour 6 – 28 laps

Hour 7 – 32 laps

Hour 8 – 36 laps

Hour 9 – 40 laps

Hour 10 – 44 laps

Hour 11 – 48 laps

Hour 12 – 51 laps (52.53 miles)

Average pace = 4.37 miles per hour.

Thanks to the Windward Road Runners for putting on an outstanding race event.  Thanks to my friends, runners and volunteers alike, for making this a fun day to achieve my proudest running accomplishment to date.

See you on the trails.

Jason

Hogpen Hill Climb 17K 1/29/11 (Race Report)

On January 29, 2011, I completed the Hogpen Hill Climb 17K with a finish time of 2:03:37.

Photo courtesy of Stefan Eady

The Hogpen Hill Climb 17K takes place in Helen, a small town in the north Georgia mountains that changed into a replica of a German Alps village to attract tourists after its local logging industry went into decline many years ago.  The race starts in downtown Helen and ends at the Appalachian Trail crossing on Hogpen Gap for an elevation gain of roughly 2,500 feet.  Hogpen Hill Climb normally happens in the middle of January, but was postponed this year due to extreme conditions in the wake of a snow storm that swept through Georgia three weeks ago.

I was going into this race at a disadvantage, because, during the past three weeks, I had allowed the same snowy weather that shut the city of Atlanta down to shut my fitness routine down as well.  After completing the Atlanta Fat Ass 50K just hours before the snow blizzard hit the city, I made the mistake of being sedentary for several days and taking too much advantage of the decidedly less-than-healthy food selection at the Target store that is located within walking distance of where I live.  I enjoyed productive long runs over the two subsequent weekends, but had still not fallen into the habit of intensifying my mid-week workouts, and, as a result, I reversed some of the major fitness gains that I had made over the past several months.  I fortunately returned to my weight loss fitness routine during the week before Hogpen Hill Climb, but this was too little, too late, and I correctly anticipated that I would be struggling on the mountain hills of this course.

On the day of this race, runners were treated to abnormally warm 60+ degree temperatures and beautiful clear skies.  I arrived in Helen just before noon to find the temperature pleasantly chilly, but I knew that I would heat up quickly when the race began.  I opted to wear a long-sleeved shirt under a short-sleeved shirt, just in case I needed to ditch the long sleeves at some point on the route, but I was happy to be wearing running shorts in January.  I ran into several friendly faces as I picked up my race number and joined the crowd at the start line in front of the Helen Fest Hall. When I asked a couple of veteran Hogpen runners if most people ran the entire race course, they laughed and replied that very few people actually ran the entire time without walking.  Although the Hogpen Hill Climb is only 10.5 miles, I was told to expect my finish time to match my normal half marathon times.

I started the race next to Sarah, a fellow GUTS runner who assured me that I would not have any trouble deciding when to slow my pace on this race route.  To conserve my energy before the massive climbs later in the race, I decided to run with a leisurely 10-minute/mile pace from the very beginning.  This pace enabled me to converse comfortably with other runners as we wove through the Bavarian-style buildings of downtown Helen before starting a mild ascent that took us out of the main town area and over the Chattahoochee River.

The first mile of the race ended with a 200-foot hill climb as we proceeded beside the rustic houses on Ridge Road.  Many runners slowed to a walk early on for this climb, but I had resolved to maintain a running pace, however slow, for as long as I could.  I encountered another GUTS runner, Wes, along this stretch and he advised me that it was a good idea to power-walk when I got to a point on the course where I felt like I was just jogging in place.  Fortunately, Ridge Road seemed to have as many downhill slopes as uphill, although I knew that we were getting higher and higher.  I kept forcibly slowing my pace, but still managed to pass quite a few runners as we exited Ridge Road and ran through beautiful farms along Georgia 75.

Peer pressure during a race can be good or bad, depending on the circumstances.  As I ran up each hill during the first few miles, I noticed that several runners were walking these hills.  I wanted to see how far I could run before changing over to a power-walk, but I increasingly wondered if I would be serving myself just as well by power-walking with long strides with the same charging power-walk pace with which I tackle steep climbs during ultramarathons.  I passed by a handful of runners who wore triathlon shirts and sported the trademark Ironman Triathlon tattoos on their lower shins.  If I was passing Ironman finishers, then I needed to take caution. Still, I kept running, even when my running pace was just a plodding jog.

The pastoral farmland surroundings of Georgia 75 came to an abrupt end as we turned onto Richard B. Russell Scenic Highway for the steep climb up to the finish.  For the remainder of the race, the scenery consisted of one steep road as far up as I could see with shady trees on either side.  Since the roads were not closed off to traffic, I joined other runners along the right side of the road, as instructed, so that cars could pass by both ways.  I obeyed my hill running instincts and jogged up the steepening road with baby steps to save energy.

The advice that Wes had given me resounded in my head. “If you spot a tree ahead of you while you're running and that tree doesn't seem to be getting any closer, then it's okay to start walking.”  So far, the trees in the distance got a little closer with each step, so I ran.

I passed the Mile 5 marker, drank a cup of water from the aid station and ate a Crank e-Gel while still running.  I noticed that every single person on the road ahead of me was walking as the hill turned up at a sharply steep angle.  At mile 5.3, I started walking.

Fortunately, I could move along at the trademark Jason Power-Walk, with long strides that benefited from months of anaerobic heart rate treadmill workouts at a 10% incline.  I caught up with others one by one and picked them off as I charged up the hill.  My decision to walk was no excuse to take a vacation, so I made sure to quicken my steps and make the most of my stride.  I resumed running when I reached a crest and enjoyed a mostly downhill run during the sixth mile. 

Photo courtesy of Sally Brooking

Halfway through the sixth mile, the road turned up again at a steep angle. I passed a veteran runner who told me, “The party's over now. It's all steep from now on.”

The wheels on the Jason Bus fell off between Mile 7.5 and Mile 8.5.  The hill climb was at its steepest along this stretch and I slowed my power-walk down to a slow baby step walk.  Miraculously, I still managed to pass a handful of runners.  We all gave thumbs-up signs to one another and enjoyed conversations to pass the time.  As I talked with another veteran Hogpen runner, I expressed regret at not being able to run the entire distance, he told me that I was doing just fine and that I was going pretty fast.

I started running again just before Mile 9, when the road crested again to reward me with a fun downhill stretch. I took advantage and ran at a fast pace, even when small hill climbs interjected over the next half mile.  The Garmin was getting closer to the two-hour mark and my pace seemed to skyrocket.  Even when I resumed walking at the Mile 9 marker, my enthusiasm was carrying me along to the finish and I was moving faster than before.

I caught up with two runners just in time to overhear one of them tell the other that the proper technique was to run until fatigue, then start walking.  I took the “run until fatigue” to heart and started to run again up the hill.  This did not last long, though, and I was soon power-walking up the steepest incline yet.  When that incline turned out to be a false summit and I was greeted by more road at a temporary descent instead of the finish, I ran again.  I was beginning to see huge icicles on the cliffs next to the road that indicated colder temperature of the high elevation.

During the last half mile, I walked quickly until one volunteer informed me that the finish was just around the corner.  I started running just in time to have my picture taken by Sally, another GUTS runner who had finished earlier, and I grabbed a cup of Gatorade on the run from a uniquely-located aid station beside the road just 500 years or so away from the finish.  I turned the corner at a slow pace, but then ran faster as I saw the finish line materialize over the horizon of the hill summit.

I crossed the finish line of Hogpen Hill Climb as the overhead clock read 2:03:37.  I was just happy to be finished with this insane race, so I was all smiles when I joined other runners on the shuttle bus that took us back to the start area.

I barely missed the sub-2-hour finish time that I was hoping for, but I am happy that I was able to finish Hogpen Hill Climb 17K with a time not far removed from my half marathon pace, as dictated by conventional wisdom.  I would like to run the entire course without walking in the future, so this gives me incentive to train harder.

As I walked back to my truck, I briefly spoke with another runner who congratulated me and told me that this was his second Hogpen race in a row.  He said, “There are two types of runners at Hogpen Hill Climb. There are the first-timers and then there are the crazy people.” I smiled and promised him that I would be back next year.  It's now time to push my training to the next level.

See you on the trails.

Jason

GUTS Atlanta Fat Ass 50K 1/9/11 (Race Report)

On January 9, 2011, I completed the GUTS Atlanta Fat Ass 50K with a finish time of 7:38:30.

Photo courtesy of GUTS

The Atlanta Fat Ass 50K, a low-key event for members of GUTS (Georgia Ultrarunning and Trailrunning Society), takes place every January and is advertised as a fun way for trail runners to burn off Christmas indulgences. This year's unofficial 50K was held on the trails of Sweetwater Creek and consisted of a 5.4-mile loop that would be completed six times in a clockwise direction to total 32.4 miles, giving runners some bonus distance for the free price.

The 2006 film, Casino Royale, is the only one of the 22 James Bond movies to include a scene in the rain. Since I began running four years ago, all of my races have miraculously taken place in dry weather and I have been comforted in the hope that my running life will resemble a James Bond movie by featuring action-packed adventure under clear skies. My good luck weather streak came to an unfortunate end on January 1, 2011, when I ran the Atlanta Track Club Resolution Run 10K in the pouring rain. When early weather forecasts predicted a “wintry mix” of rain, sleet, and snow on the day of the Atlanta Fat Ass 50K, I wondered if the new year had summoned a black cloud to drench me during each of my 2011 races. Fortunately, the last-minute weather forecast improved to show that precipitation would hold off until late in the evening of January 9 and I was reassured that my tradition of dry weather races was restored. Dry weather does not necessarily equal comfortable weather, though, and, when I woke up to 18-degree temperatures on the morning of this ultramarathon, I knew that I was in for a physically and mentally challenging day on the trails.

I was recovering from a severe cold that had knocked me about earlier in the week and forced me to work from home just a few days before this race, so I had to be cautious when planning the proper insulation from the winter chill. I doubled up on my socks, as I have during past ultramarathons for purposes of blister protection, but I used a pair of wool socks as my second layer this time around. I wore a pair of comfortable technical running pants over a pair of compression shorts and compression leg sleeves. For my upper body, I wore two long-sleeved running shirts over a short-sleeved technical shirt and a Saucony Epic Run Vest that I had purchased the day before. Running gloves and a warm running hat completed the outfit. Since I would be able to leave clothing in my drop bag at the end of each 5.4-mile loop, I had no reservations about starting the race with multiple layers.

I decided against running with my Camelbak hydration pack, because I was concerned that the water would freeze inside the non-insulated drinking tube. Instead, I brought one handheld water bottle along for the race.  I love Nathan handheld bottles, with their 22 ounce capacity and their key loops inside the bottle pouches, but the lids of the Ultimate Direction bottles are better, because of the finger loop where I can rest my thumb for a relaxed running form. As I prepared for this race the night before, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the Ultimate Direction bottle lids fit perfectly on the Nathan handheld bottles, so the Atlanta Fat Ass 50K would be my first race with my new makeshift hybrid bottle that featured the best of both worlds.

I picked up a friend, Jenn, on the way to the race and we arrived at Sweetwater Creek in the dark just before 7:00 in the morning. As Jenn and I sat in my truck and procrastinated going out into the weather to the start area group shelter, I joked with her that this was the most intimidating moment of a winter ultramarathon, because I knew that I would soon have to leave my heated vehicle and spend an entire day out in the brutal cold. After we saw more runners arrive, we finally went into the group shelter, where I enjoyed saying hello to the familiar faces of several GUTS friends. After congregating around a fireplace and a warm kitchen area for a short while, we were all herded out into the cold for the start of the run. This year's Fat Ass 50K Race Director, Kena, gave a brief summary of the multiple-loop course and wished us well on our way.

I always start in the back of the pack for ultramarathon races and this event was no exception.  I ran with a friend, Amanda, and her dog, Roxie, as we made our way down a short paved road section before entering trails that would take us along the banks of Sweetwater Creek for a couple of miles. We soon found ourselves running with Susan and Rob, two accomplished ultrarunners and great friends who have encouraged me through many a tough race, and I brought them up to date on some recent IT band troubles in my left knee that had led to my withdrawal from the Rocky Raccoon 100 Mile that I had planned as my first 100-mile attempt on February 5. In the weeks following my most recent ultramarathon, the Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run in December, I had experienced IT band pains that reduced me to a hobble after running distances over ten miles or so. After weeks of daily foam roller workouts and a recent deep tissue massage, I had finally enjoyed a pain-free 14-mile run on the first weekend in January, but I still opted to withdraw from Rocky Raccoon 100 and give myself longer than a month to recover completely from the IT band symptoms. When Susan and Rob voiced their support for my decision, I was reassured that I had done the right thing by backing out of the February race and postponing my initial 100-mile for later in the year.

Photo courtesy of Sean Oh

The initial trail section of the loop, marked by blue tree blazes, consisted of several switchbacks that repeatedly took us to the creek banks and then back into the woods away from the creek. For the most part, this was an easy single-track trail, but occasional tricky terrain demanded situational awareness. I had to work my way up several wooden erosion control steps on the hills and then descend carved gully trails by running along one edge or the other. The blue-blaze trail took a sharp downhill on its final return to the creek by way of crooked railroad crossties and I occasionally grabbed a tree to balance myself. When Amanda and I reached the creek, we caught up with Scott, a friend with whom I had run a handful of races at Pine Mountain. Scott's humorous demeanor brought a smile to my face as he immediately began commenting on my lack of a love life and asking every female runner along our way to help me find a girlfriend.

As Scott and I ran along the sandy trails beside Sweetwater Creek, followed by Amanda and Roxie, we encountered Jennifer, a friend from Alabama with whom I had run several previous ultras. Jennifer had made a wrong turn and doubled back on the trail to look for me so that she could run with a familiar person. Scott and I immediately noticed that Jennifer had icicles hanging from her hair and her iPod wire. This interesting visual set the tone for this event in the harsh freezing temperatures that we were all toughing our way through.

The four of us, along with Roxie, followed the trail loop markers to a white-blazed trail section that continued along Sweetwater Creek to a boulder area where we took turns descending a steep near-vertical rock face. This boulder descent would increasingly grate on my nerves with each subsequent lap on this loop trail, as my feet felt greater fatigue under the miles that I had racked up. When I heard after the race that another runner had fallen and bloodied her head on a rock, I correctly suspected that the injury had taken place along this section of the trail.

The white-blazed trail finally took us away from Sweetwater Creek and proceeded down a relatively flat section beside a small stream before climbing up to a jeep road that passed by a lake. The infamous “Jack's Hill”, a long gradual jeep road climb that seemed to get steeper with each lap, greeted us and Scott and I talked about our upcoming race schedules to take our minds off the climb. Since this was just past the mid-point of the loop and I ascertained that we had run for just over a half hour, I ate the first of my Crank e-Gels. I regretted a decision that I had made earlier in the morning to run without my Garmin watch, because my normal ultramarathon strategy of taking in nutrition each half hour on the half hour would be adversely affected and I would have to take in my nutrition on an estimated schedule.

When we reached the top of Jack's Hill, we were rewarded by a series of rolling dirt road hills that took us back to park campsite areas near the race start. Cold wind hit us as we ran out into open meadows along the road, but the freeze was offset by the ease of the terrain. After a mile of near-effortless running, we reached the final section of the loop, an easy twisting single-track cushioned by pine needles that took us back to the short paved section to the start area group shelter.

Everyone in the group went separate ways at the group shelter aid station and restroom.  I said hello to some volunteers at the lap timing aid station tent beside the shelter while I refilled my handheld water bottle and grabbed some food to take with me for my second lap. I almost cracked a tooth when I placed a handful of Skittles into my mouth, only to realize that they were frozen. I then took a couple of wrapped caramel candies with white sugar in the middle and stuffed them into one pocket of my running pants to eat later into my second lap. I am not sure what these candies are called, but these caramels with the white sugar in the middle proved to be a lifesaver throughout the rest of this ultramarathon, because I would take two or three of them for each lap to eat at various intervals for quick energy.

I talked a reluctant Scott into joining me for a second lap. Jennifer told us that she would wait for Amanda, who was inside getting water for Roxie, so Scott and I began our second lap by ourselves. Shortly after we left the paved area and hit the single-track blue-blazed trail, Scott fell behind and told me to keep going without him. I kept my pace and decided to follow Sarah, an veteran ultrarunner and GUTS race director.  I did not keep up as well as I would have liked, but I did finish my second loop significantly faster than I finished my first. During this second lap, I sharpened the strategy that would carry me for the remainder of the six loops by walking the uphills and cautiously descending the tricky sections of the technical blue-blazed trail, then running most of the final two miles of the loop without stopping after I reached the top of Jack's Hill.

The temperatures remained below freezing, but I was soon sweating inside my multiple layers. When I reached the group shelter at the start, I removed one long-sleeved shirt and the short-sleeved shirt to place in my drop bag, leaving one long-sleeved shirt on under my vest. When I took off for the third loop, I immediately realized that my decision to remove the layers had been a wise one. I was running lighter without sacrificing warmth, since I could still move at a decent speed. My enthusiasm was short-lived, though.

Fatigue and mental desolation hit me early during the third loop. I was completely alone at this point and regretful of my decision to leave Scott, Amanda, and Jennifer behind, because the familiar settings of the loop trail were etched into my memory by now and I could have used some company to elevate my spirits. My feet had started to hurt in my Montrail Hardrock trail shoes and I decided that, after several subsequent ultramarathons, that these shoes were worn out. I was also losing energy fast and I blamed the cold that had kept me ill earlier in the week. Since the Atlanta Fat Ass 50K is not an official race, a great many of the runners drop out halfway and leave with the “Atlanta Half Ass” distinction of having completed just over a half marathon distance. The debate whether or not to drop out of the race plagued me throughout this third venture around the trail route.

My resolve was further diminished when I returned to the group shelter after my third lap and saw several runners who were sitting around a warm fireplace after stopping their race at three loops. I decided not to waste time and immediately went to my drop bag to change out of my Montrail Hardrocks into a pair of Montrail Sabino shoes that I had fortunately brought as a back-up. When I went back outside to the aid station tent, Kena and a few other aid station volunteers encouraged me to go along on my fourth lap as I grabbed more caramel candies for the trip.

The fourth loop of this six-loop ultramarathon was the toughest. I was just over the halfway point, but still many miles from the light at the end of the tunnel. I enjoyed negotiating the easy stretches of the trail and saying hello to a handful of runners that passed me, but I was cold and exhausted. I decided that I would walk the vast majority of the trail for the fourth lap to save energy.

This decision to walk most of my fourth lap was thankfully short-lived, as a friend, Ronnie, caught up with me and started a conversation. Ronnie was on his fifth lap and enjoying an easy pace. I encouraged him to pass me whenever he wanted to, but he stayed beside me for a long while as we made our way down the tricky vertical rock face section and along the sandy creekside sections that were marked by sporadic tree roots. When we left the creek along the short section of flat trail that led to the lake, I started running again. I found that I had more energy than I realized and that I was happy to pick up the pace. I lost my footing just before the lake and fell as I tripped on a tree root. After Ronnie helped me up, I realized that I was completely unhurt, save for some battered dignity. We resumed running until we reached Jack's Hill and power-walked to the top. Ronnie asked if I wanted to run the rest of the loop in and I agreed. We ran at a good pace while we talked about nutrition and I listened to Ronnie explain the benefits of his vegan diet.

My mood and my energy had improved noticeably when we got back to the start area tent. I knew that Ronnie wanted to run a fast sixth lap, so I wished him luck as I walked easily for the start of my fifth circle around the 5.4-mile trail. I enjoyed a brief conversation with Jon, the winner of this Fat Ass 50K, as he walked along the paved section for a couple of minutes with me before going back to the shelter to celebrate his finish. Buoyant on the good wishes and company of friends, I negotiated the technical trails of the first half of my fifth loop at my slowest pace yet, but with a smile and a newfound enjoyment of my day.  I found the energy to run for longer stretches when I reached the top of Jack's Hill, but made time for some increased walk breaks to save energy for my final loop. Two friends, Woolery and Matthew, caught up with me along the dirt road stretch as they were finishing their final lap. I enjoyed talking briefly with them and wished them luck on their upcoming Rocky Raccoon 100 Mile race, telling them that my only regret about withdrawing from that race was that I would not be there to see them both finish the distance with flying colors.

I reached the end of my fifth loop and noticed that the number of vehicles in the parking area had noticeably decreased. I asked a volunteer, Kim, if I would be holding anybody up by going out for my final lap and she reassured me that there were still several runners behind me on the course. The clock timer read around 6:20:00 and I knew that I needed to put a fast final lap in to finish before the eight-hour mark. Another friend, Perry, encouraged me and said that I would have no trouble running my last lap in an hour and half.

I started my sixth loop with a run just after three other runners, Brad, Cameron, and Bruce, had started their final loop as well. I caught up with Brad shortly after I started the technical blue trail hills, but I never did see Cameron and Bruce again until they reached the finish area shortly before me. Knowing that I only had five miles left, I ran with increased momentum, stopping only to walk some of the tricky technical areas where I knew that I was too tired to watch my footing as I needed to.

I power-walked quickly up Jack's Hill, popping a couple of the caramel candies during my climb. When I reached the top of the hill, I started running and continued to run nonstop all the way to the finish. Just as I had run the final miles of the Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run without stopping in December, I enjoyed a similar second wind this time around and noted my improvements as a runner that allowed me to dig deep and push myself to a run in the final miles of a long race. I was still one of the finishers in the back of the pack for this ultra, although most participants had dropped out of the race early, but I was given a fresh shot in the arm of motivation by knowing that I was fortunate to be able to run nonstop for a couple of miles at the end of a 32.4-mile trek.

I reached the finish line of the GUTS Atlanta Fat Ass 50K (54K?) in 7:38:30. I had missed beating my personal 50K record of 7:23:23 at last year's Fat Ass 50K by 15 minutes, but this year's course was tougher and at least a mile longer. I was overjoyed to have finished this year's run in less than eight hours.

I went into the warmth of the group shelter and enjoyed hanging out with others around the fireplace.  I congratulated a new friend, Aaron, who had just finished his first ultramarathon with an impressive sub-7-hour time. I talked strategy with a handful of runners who were planning to join me for Pinhoti 100 Mile at the end of 2011 and I told them of my plans for a handful of night runs on the Pinhoti trail, although those hot summer runs seemed a long way away on this afternoon while we sat at a warm fireplace as the below-freezing temperatures dipped outside on the eve of Atlanta's worst snowstorm in years. In the end, I was happy to have escaped rainy wet weather once again on the day of an ultramarathon, even if storms were following on my heels for the drive home.

Thanks to GUTS for putting on yet another challenging and exciting race. Thanks to the volunteers who stood around a cold tent outside a shelter to time runners and provide encouragement. Thanks to several friends who ran with me or had kind words of motivation as they passed by. Thanks to my IT band on my left leg, for not hurting during this entire ultramarathon run. I am grateful that my recovery is well under way.

There may be nothing more daunting than sitting inside a heated vehicle in a parking lot just before a winter ultramarathon and knowing that I am about to step out into unforgiving frost-laced temperatures for an entire day, but that uncertain moment is more than worth it later when I am sitting around a warm fire after the finish and sharing stories with friends. The 2011 GUTS Atlanta Fat Ass 50K one such story and it's another one for the books.

See you on the trails.

Jason

Photo courtesy of Sean Oh

Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run 12/5/10 (Race Report)

On December 5, 2010, I completed the Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run with a finish time of 10:01:50.

Photo courtesy of Susan Donnelly

The Pine Mountain Trail at F.D. Roosevelt State Park is a deceptively rugged location for an ultramarathon. From a runner's initial perspective, the trail weaves through an idyllic setting of hardwood trees, meandering streams, and boulder outcroppings, where the sense of uncanny isolation is only occasionally breached by the sound of cars traveling down Georgia Highway 190, a road that seems to be miles away, although it is often hidden from sight just over a hilltop. In the windy chill of early December, however, when the leaves have fallen from the trees to obscure rocks along the trail, the experience of running at Pine Mountain can be a mental and physical assault.  After miles of trail running with intense concentration to avoid a stumble, the fatigued runner can easily succumb to a split second distraction by the sight of distant landscapes and fail to lift the feet high enough off the ground.  One foot catches the point of a hidden rock or slides on a leaf along the sloped trail surface and the runner falls to the ground to find that the thick leaf cover over the trail provides no cushion against the rocks that instantly bloody the hands and forearms.  The fortunate runner will stand up, wipe the leaves and blood off, and keep going.  The unlucky runner will stand up on a turned ankle that was caught in the leaves between two adjacent hidden rocks or wipe blood from a head wound.  In the last days of fall, the Pine Mountain trail can literally pound the exhausted runner into surrender or into serious injury.

In 2009, I completed the Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run as my first ultramarathon.  I experienced dehydration when I ran out of water, I encountered the mental wall in the form of the rocky trail, I stayed one step ahead of aid station cutoff points, and I learned my first lesson about the importance of relentless forward motion when I kept moving and somehow reached the finish line with a dazed sense of amazement.  On the morning of December 5, 2010, I stood at the start area of this race eager to celebrate my one-year anniversary of ultrarunning, but the Pine Mountain trails did not welcome my return and their angular rocky surfaces gave me as much apprehension on this morning that they did a year ago.  The fact that I had completed this brutal race once before was no guarantee that I would finish it on this day.  Fortunately, I did have the lessons learned from a year of trail running mistakes under my belt and I intended to put those lessons to use on this trail.

After benefiting from a good night's sleep at a Marriott hotel in Columbus, courtesy of Tracy, a friend and fellow ultrarunner who had secured a free room from airline miles, I made preparations for the race to prevent the mistakes that had almost wrecked me last year.  Instead of the single handheld water bottle that I had carried in 2009, I would now be running with my 70-ounce Camelbak Rogue hydration pack.  I filled the bottom compartment of the Camelbak with as many Crank e-Gels as I could, so that I would be able to take in 300 to 400 calories each hour from the very beginning of the race.

When I arrived at the Pine Mountain group shelter, I enjoyed meeting with several friends from GUTS (Georgia Ultrarunning and Trailrunning Society) before we all went outside into the cold air to gather at the start line.  The Under Armour compression shorts and Zensah compression sleeves that had helped the blood flow in my legs for past ultramarathons now served the second purpose of keeping my legs warmer in the 35-degree start line temperature.  I was also wearing a running beanie and a pair of disposable gloves to ward off the wind that would sweep across the mountain ridges that day.

After a few words from the race director, Sarah, we took off from a road beside Lake Delano to loop around a campsite into the forest.  I started the race with Scott, a friend with whom I had run on these same trails during previous races, but I soon found myself alone as I settled into a comfortable running pace, using a small handheld flashlight to spot obstacles on the trail in the early morning darkness.  The cold and wind felt relentless at first, but my body warmed up quickly from the running.  I soon befriended another runner, Brett, and enjoyed several minutes of conversation as we finished the first three miles of pleasant terrain and crossed over Highway 190 onto trails where the rocky terrain immediately presented itself.  We ran on top of a ledge with beautiful views of the morning landscape to our right, but the demand of the trail terrain on our concentration did not give us much of an opportunity for sightseeing.  Even this early into the race, I noticed that the leaf cover over the trail was much thicker than during last year's race.  I would be cursing these leaves to no avail later on, but I initially responded by casually slowing my running pace along the stretches where the leaf-hidden rocks posed a threat.  Joel, a GUTS friend who had finished the Pinhoti 100 mile trail race a month before, trailed behind me for a short distance and finally passed me just before the first aid station six miles into the race.

When I reached the first aid station, I had plenty of water in my Camelbak, but I stopped anyway to grab a handful of food and to say hello to another GUTS friend, Amanda.  Since the daylight had arrived, I placed my flashlight into my pack and continued along.  I crossed over the highway again and made my way along a series of trail switchbacks that gradually increased in difficulty from pleasant leaf-covered singletrack to short rocky ledge trails that demanded sure footing.  My sweating had increased and, despite the wind chills, I made sure to follow my plan of taking an S-Cap every hour from the ziplock bag that I kept in one pocket of my shorts.  I also removed my gloves to place into the top compartment of my pack.  I briefly spoke with a friend, Lee, as we power-walked a couple of short hills and then began to follow a woman with a pink shirt as I sped up on the downhills that lead from the rocky ledges to a flat marsh trail covered with ferns.  I made the first of many audible sighs of frustration after one muddy water crossing and, when the woman in front of me asked if I were okay, I laughed and told her that I had not wanted to get my feet wet this early on a cold race day.  When I realized that I was power-walking up a hill faster than the woman was running, I passed her, but she soon caught up with me.  The two of us would continue to pass each other for the remainder of this 40 mile race.  I soon caught up with another GUTS friend, Amy, and we encouraged each other as we made our way to the next aid station together.

After crossing back over the highway just before Mile 11, I arrived at the second aid station, refilled my Camelbak with water, and thanked the volunteers for being there.  I grabbed a greedy handful of Oreo cookies, and took off down the trail, knowing that the harshly treacherous rocks of the Dowdell Knob trail section might very well shatter my good spirits as they had during my first Pine Mountain 40 experience.  After crossing another road and enjoying a series of easy flat trails alongside a creek bed, I made a sharp turn across a creek ravine and started the first of several punishing rock-strewn uphill climbs near the Dowdell Knob parking area.

As I made my way to Dowdell Knob, the hills became steeper and the boulders became larger. I had enjoyed a 14 minute-per-mile pace so far, but that pace soon slowed as the trails became less runnable and more challenging with the fallen leaves.  The insidious nature of the Pine Mountain 40 first became evident along this section of hill climbs and ever-present granite outcroppings, so I was soon concentrating on each foot strike to safely negotiate the trail.  I arrived at the Mile 14 aid station and was glad to see two friends, Scott and Len, helping to work the station before beginning their trail sweeper duties.  When Scott asked how I was doing, I told him only half-jokingly that I was already worn out and cynical.

The most difficult section of this race awaited as I left the cheerful company of the Mile 14 aid station and proceeded into a brutally rocky area of the trail system. Being careful not to slide on the dry leaves that made the sloping trail camber even more slippery, I stepped from one rock to another.  My ankles were soon crying out in pain.  Every technical trail race presents a challenge to unprepared ankles, but the ankle discomfort that I experienced on this day was far worse than anything that I have been through in my ultrarunning life.  I began to wonder if my concentration on weight loss during the past few months had taken too much time away from my ankle-strengthening practice runs along local trails.  On the other hand, my residual fatigue from my recent races may have been the culprit.  At any rate, my ankles began to shout at me that they had been through enough during the year of 2010.

I was happy to catch up to Jo Lena, an ultrarunner with whom I had run at Mount Cheaha 50K and Hot To Trot 8 Hour Run.  We were both struggling and, although I tried my best to joke and keep up the good cheer, I soon found myself whining about how much my ankles were hurting.  Since the only thing ahead of me was more trail, though, I had to rub some dirt on the ankle pain and keep moving along.  I kept running along a scenic flat area before descending a series of potentially tragically dangerous stretches of trail switchback to the bottom of the hill.

My longtime ultramarathon strategy of walking the uphill inclines and running the downhills and flats was soon altered for this particular race.  On these Pine Mountain trails, where several inches of leaves concealed rock outcroppings and occasional tree roots, I decided that I needed to run on any area where I could actually see the trail surface, regardless of whether I was climbing a steep hill or making a sharp descent.  Fortunately, my recent treadmill incline workouts and Sunday morning runs up the steep Kennesaw Mountain Road had paid off, so I was often able to jog up the hills with relative ease.  Of course, at Mile 17 of the Pine Mountain 40, I considered the mere ability to remain upright to be a state of “relative ease”.

Photo courtesy of Andy Bruner

I arrived at the Rocky Point aid station, a section that I would cross twice along the route, and was encouraged by two good friends, Kirsten and Paul, as I loaded up on Gatorade, topped off my Camelbak with water, and grabbed some animal crackers.  I was now on temporary reprieve from the dangerous rocky trails and I could run at a steady pace along the a pleasantly flat non-technical trail section for a couple of miles before hitting a snail pace on the multiple creek crossings later on.

I ran as much as possible along the flat terrain to make the best time that I could along this lollipop loop trail that marked the farthest point away from the race start. With every blessing comes a curse, though, and I remembered how my nonstop running along this section had given way to shin pain at last year's race. As if my thoughts of injury had summoned it, a dull ache began in my right knee.  Since the overuse injury pain my right knee had been one factor that led to my DNF on the same trails at The North Face Endurance Challenge 50 Mile in October, I knew that this ache was not to be taken lightly.  Still, I was keeping track of the time on my Garmin wristwatch and knew that the minutes were whittling away toward the 6-hour cutoff time at the next aid station.  I needed to run along these flat trails while the running was good.

The wide open spaces of the flat non-technical trail soon ended and I descended into a darker fern-covered area on the way to the first of several creek crossings. The opportunity for nonstop carefree running was gone and my good spirits had departed with it.  The stepping stones over the water of the creek ravine made pain erupt in my ankles each time I stepped at an uneven angle.  The ankle pain, along with my rediscovered aches in the right knee, contributed to my downcast mood while I struggled to keep ahead of other runners as I heard their voices close behind on the trail.  I tried to cheer myself up by replaying Leslie Nielsen movie scenes in my head and singing lyrics to favorite songs, but the mental barricades that I had built to keep the rioting of physical pain at bay were being slowly battered down.  I soon began cursing under my breath with each uneven step along the boulders, because my ankles were dying slowly with each angled impact.

I descended into a ravine by a waterfall and was greeted once again by Amy, who was back on the trail after making a wrong turn.  She seemed relieved to see me, because she knew that she was on the right path again, and I was relieved in turn to see a familiar face.  I tried to be on my best behavior around Amy and refrain from cursing with each uneven rock step on my ankles, but I visibly winced a few times when the pain was at its worst.   Still, I resorted to to a few lame joking comments as we power-walked and occasionally ran along the ravine beds.  Whenever Amy and I would climb out of the creek ravine, I would reassure her that I thought that we were finally out of the creek crossings, but the trail kept descending back down into the creek a seemingly infinite number of times.   Finally, the unsure footing of the creek crossings disappeared as we ran a gradual uphill to the Mile 23 aid station.

As I repeatedly looked down at my watch and saw the cutoff time creep closer, despair kicked through my mental wall and settled into my psyche.  I had experience of multiple ultra races under my belt.  I had lost 60 pounds this year.  I had timed my nutrition well and the loopy dehydration that had slowed me along this stretch last year was not a factor.  I still was not any faster, though.  Why not?  I was well-hydrated, I was well-fed, and I was walking less on this course than I had walked last year, but I was so tired. My ankles were killing me and my knee was aching again, but, more than anything, I was just exhausted.

I thought about the Rocky Raccoon 100 Mile trail race that I had scheduled for February 2011 and I made a decision that, if my aching knee did not allow me to finish this Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run, then I would withdraw my entry to that 100 mile race in order to start from the very beginning and slowly build my long distance running base up from scratch.  If I were unable to complete a 40 mile trail race, then I had no business even attempting a 100 mile race in a couple of months.  I had no plans to drop myself from Pine Mountain 40 Mile, of course, but I was certain that I would be pulled for failing to make the cutoff times.

I reached the TV Tower aid station at Mile 23 to see the friendly faces of Jaydene and Tom.   Tom is the guardian angel of GUTS races and so many ultrarunners have made their way to the finish line thanks to his presence.  When Tom and Jaydene asked how I was doing, I told them that my knee was bothering me and that I was close to the cutoff time.  Tom poured me some Gatorade and told me that I was okay to keep going.  When Tom tells you that you can keep going, you keep going.  The runners whose voices I had heard behind me all along the creek crossing stretches appeared at the aid station right on my heels and I smiled to myself when I realized that two ultrarunning inspirations, Susan and Rob, were a part of the group.  All this time, I had been struggling to stay ahead of a group of runners without knowing that two of them were friends who always encourage me by the very sight of them steadily plowing along the trail.  One of the runners asked how close they were to cutoffs and, when Tom told them that we all had 15 minutes to cutoff, Rob smiled and said, “15 minutes is a lot of time! Right, Jason?”.  I sheepishly nodded my head and joined Rob, Susan, and their friends, Liza and Tracy, for a short stretch of invitingly flat trails to our second stop at the Rocky Point aid station.

The cushioned section of trails alongside a marsh leading away from the TV Tower aid station temporarily assuaged the discomfort in my ankles and I kept up with Rob and Susan for a mile or two to enjoy talking with them.  I am sure that I was quite the downer, though, as I told them that I was worried about my knee and that, if I did not make the cutoffs for this race, I would bow out of my entry to the Rock Raccoon 100.  Rob assured me that I was definitely going to finish this Pine Mountain race and that I would be surprised at how much easier the trails were at Rocky Raccoon.  Once again, I was helped by angels on the trail and, even after Susan and Rob began to outpace me, I found myself smiling with the realization that I only had just over 15 miles left in this race and that I would be able to keep going without being pulled at an aid station.  I decided with absolute conviction that I could not let my final race of 2010 result in a DNF.

I refilled my Camelbak with water at the Rocky Point aid station as Kirsten, Paul, and some other volunteers encouraged me.  I am always reluctant to take any ibuprofen during long trail races, but I inquired at this aid station and gratefully accepted two ibuprofen tablets from a volunteer.  Had this been a longer ultra race, I would never have considered such a strategy for fear of the effect on kidneys and I still took care to accept only two tablets, but I knew that I only had a few hours of trail running ahead of me.  I was happy to hear that I was now 20 minutes ahead of cutoff and that I had managed to make up good time as I had run with Susan and Rob from the last station.

A old ultrarunning saying, “It's always darkest before it gets pitch black.”, surfaced in my head as I soon passed a rocky stretch that taxed my ankles again and found myself on a tricky leaf-covered trail along the side of a hill.  I passed a friendly couple and gave them some brief encouragement, but I immediately slipped on some dry leaves aside the hill and fell on my side on top of some pointed rocks.  The couple asked me if I were okay as I stood up, inspected a patch of blood on my hand, and brushed the leaves off. I smiled, told them that I was alright, and kept running.

I ran for another fifty feet before falling a second time.  I cursed under my breath and threw a handful of leaves down the hill in anger before laughing wearily at the couple behind me.  I told them, “I'll be alright as long as I stop falling."  I stood up and kept running.

A few seconds later, I slipped on the dry leaves again and fell for the third time.  I pounded a fist on the ground and made a loud yell of frustration as I stood up and brushed the leaves away.  Pine Mountain Trail had scored three points while I was still at zero.

I stood up and nodded at the couple behind me.  Both of them smiled back at me with that same gracefully accepting, yet wary smile that people have when they encounter homeless drunks staggering along alleys with liquor bottles in hand.  Knowing that they were both watching me from behind and hoping that I would not fall again, I sped up my running pace on an uphill when I saw that the path was clear of leaves.

The leaves and rocks of the Pine Mountain trail had given me three reality checks in short succession, but I was uninjured and able to keep moving.  I ran when I could see a trail without leaf cover and then slowed to a leisurely jog or walk when the trail morphed into rocky terrain obscured by the leaves.  Despite the embarrassing falls, my mood was brightening as I realized that I had a chance of not only finishing this race, but securing a faster time than I did the year before.  The weather was heating up and, when the next hour hit on the hour, I took two S-Caps instead of one to ward off cramps.

As I negotiated the uneasy footing and cleared leaves out of my path on the climbs up to Dowdell Knob, I decided that I never wanted to look at a leaf ever again.  I hated leaves.  As soon as I returned home, I intended to delete the scenic fall leaf-change hiking photos from my Facebook wall forever.  The thought of a leafless world put a smile to my face.

I realized that my knee was feeling better.  This relief was too soon after the ibuprofen at the previous aid station, so I wondered if the improved knee was a result of warming up along the run in the afternoon temperatures or if it was a result of my change in attitude.  My ankles were still crying out in pain with the more treacherous angled steps, but I just told myself to push through this pain.  My good humor was returning, I was getting a second wind, and I wanted to ride the wave.

I saw a runner ahead of me stumble and take a scary fall on the rocks, but he smiled and told me that he was okay when I expressed concern.  I told him not to feel bad, because I had recently fallen three times just a short while ago.

I arrived at the Dowdell Knob aid station with a smile and joked with the volunteers as I filled my Camelbak, despite a brief irritating moment when I failed to properly secure the external fill Camelbak lid and spilled water all over myself in the cold wind.  I grabbed a handful of Fig Newtons and quickly left to make the most of my expanded time window away from the cutoffs.  The large boulders along this section of trail reduced me to a fast walk, but I stayed positive with a steady pace and was soon rewarded when I descended into the creek ravine to start running with vigor on a flat section of trail that I had enjoyed several hours before.

I crossed a road and followed the white ribbon trail markers up a hill, remembering to follow the trail correctly to prevent turning in a circle and having a meltdown like I did last year at this same spot.  With my improved disposition, my progress along this trail stretch was nearly effortless.  I was surprised and uplifted to see Joel at the next aid station, because I had assumed that he was far ahead on the trail.  He taunted me with some friendly competition and told me to catch him as he left the aid station for the trees.  I drank a cup of Gatorade and took a bag of watermelon GU Chomps with me as I returned to the trail.  Catching up to Joel seemed like the right thing to do and I soon ran up behind him on the trail, seriously impressed that he was making good time despite suffering from tendonitis after his Pinhoti 100 finish a month earlier.  We wished each other well and I hurried along to the next aid station, enjoying the easier trail on this marked route that took us to the final aid stop.

I arrived at the final aid station and was greeted by cheerful volunteers.  As I had before along every stop, I thanked the volunteers for being out there and helping us.  At this early December ultra race where the wind whistled loudly and made cold stabs at the skin on top of the ridges where most of these aid stations were situated, the volunteers were the real stars of this show for standing around without a chance to elevate their body temperatures by running.  I remembered my stretch of volunteer work at the Pinhoti 100 the month before and realized once again that these people were showing some real gracious fortitude for my sake and for the sake of the other runners.

I had 5.9 miles left to run and I felt better than I ever had this late into an ultramarathon.  My weight loss, my recent uphill exercises, and my unwavering commitment to consume 300 to 400 calories every hour from the beginning of this trail run had come together and I knew that I had learned well from the mistakes that I had made at last year's Pine Mountain race, even if my finish time might not quite show it.  I knew that I would not be beating last year's time by much, if at all, but I felt that I was running a better race this time around.

I made my way along a series of switchbacks by running the downhills and even tackling some of the uphills with a run to take advantage when leaves were not on the trail.  I made a sharp turn after a road crossing and quickly climbed uphill to the ridge trail with view of a crisp cold December afternoon landscape spread out below me.  I saw Amy for the third time along the trail and congratulated her on being so close to the finish for her first 40 mile ultra.  After quickly power-walking through one perilous boulder stretch along the ridge, I broke out into a run when the trail veered to the right away from the rocks.  I had four miles to go and I was exhausted, but the finish line was getting closer with each step.

I did something that I had never done during an ultramarathon before when I ran past the final aid station, a water stop at Buzzard's Roost by the final road crossing, without stopping for water or food.  I had enough water in my Camelbak to keep going and I was going to run while I had the energy to run.

I ran across the road and was overjoyed to see Susan, Rob, and their two friends just ahead of me. I caught up to them and thanked them warmly for encouraging me during my earlier low point, because I would have certainly failed to finish if I had not encountered them at the right place and the right time.  I talked with Susan for several minutes as we ran together down the final hill before the trail flattened by a creek on the way back to the finish line shelter.  She cheered me along before waiting for her friends.

I had never run the final four miles of an ultramarathon without stopping for a walk break before and I wanted to test myself.  Exhaustion was creeping in and the wheels on my bus were about to fall off, but still I ran.  I passed by another GUTS friend, Kim, as we rounded a creek turn less than a mile and half from the finish.  I remembered the mantra of a running friend who always told himself, “The faster I run, the faster I'm done! The faster I run, the faster I'm done!”

The trail crossed over small creek bridges and dipped into a few ravines. I knew that I was on my last mile, but that last mile seemed never to end.  My legs were ready to fall off and I knew that several days of painful soreness awaited me, but I did not stop my continuous run. I picked up my speed as I sensed the finish area just ahead.  The faster I run, the faster I'm done! The faster I run, the faster I'm done!

I ran even faster when I saw cars through the trees and I rounded out one sadistically cruel final turn that veered deeper into the woods again before running over a small wooden bridge to emerge into the open space of the finish area.  I crossed the finish line of the 2010 Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run in 10:01:50, six minutes faster than my previous time at this race.

Weariness hit me like a metal wrecking ball the second that I stopped.   The volunteers guided me to a chair as I explained that I had just run the last four miles without walking.  I probably lacked the dazed amusement that I had at last year's finish and I was more coherent this time around, but it still felt great to sit down.  I soon stood up again to cheer Rob, Susan, Liza, Tracy, Kim, and a few others to the finish and we all walked into the group shelter building.

I made short work out of some beef stew as I congratulated fellow runners and shared stories.  My final race of 2010 was the first race of the year where I had managed to improve on a previous distance record and I felt for sure that this was my best race to date.  One does not really finish an ultramarathon alone, though, and I was grateful for friends that pulled me out of a mental abyss when I most needed it.  I hope that I can do the same thing for somebody else during a future run.  I am now very much looking forward to my first 100-mile attempt in February of 2011.

One of my favorite running quotes states, “It doesn't have to be fun to be fun.”  The low moments of an ultramarathon are not fun in themselves, but the enjoyment comes with finding the ability to climb out of those rough spots and persevere.  When you finish 40 miles of a treacherously rocky trail in just over ten hours, you can then drive back home on an interstate highway, note the mile markers, and smile to yourself after you've driven 40 miles now that you know that you have the ability to run that distance.  That kind of experience is the most pure fun that there is, because it is the fun that comes with a sense of accomplishment and a small bit of insanity. 

Thanks to the race director, Sarah, and to the GUTS crowd for sponsoring another excellent race.  The 2010 Pine Mountain 40 Mile Trail Run was the best way for me to close the door on a year of races that I will never forget. 

See you on the trails.

Jason