February 12, 2011
I've never repeated a running race of marathon distance or greater. There are just too many good races out there to be filling up the schedule with repeats. However, there aren't nearly as many competing events in the winter and Run Toto Run (as it is officially named, though most still refer to it as Psycho Wyco) was a pretty good time last year.
Wait a minute, maybe we should fact check that last statement. On evening after the event, I wrote that it was possibly the most brutal race I'd ever done. My race report the following day contained the statement, "while running through mud is certainly part of the sport, I don't care to do it for 3 hours straight." Well, I'm old enough now that I can remember things however I want. I say it was a good time and I signed up to do it again.
Part of the draw is the chance of joining the select group of "Mud Studs"; those who have run the 50K distance in under 5 hours. That sounds absurdly easy (my PR for a trail 50K is 4:09), but this course requires some pretty big adjustments to one's normal pace. In the previous six editions of the race, only 10 people have managed to do it. I missed by a hefty 15 minutes last year, but there was general agreement that the conditions were as bad as ever; the mud being extremely deep on the final lap. That, coupled with some pretty decent fitness carrying over from last year's marathon training has me thinking it's worth shooting for.
Like most of the Midwest, Kansas City has had more than the usual amount of snow this year. That will be great if it stays frozen, but with a thaw predicted on race weekend, the chance for another mudfest looms. I hedge my bets by bringing both my trail shoes and my orienteering shoes. On the way, I stop at Knob Noster park for a short run to check out conditions. It's fun and good orienteering practice, but it doesn't really tell me anything about what to expect Saturday. There simply haven't been any people out on the trails at this relatively remote park, so I'm running through 8-12 inches of snow. The trail for the race will be packed and probably pretty icy.
After spending the night with local orienteer and trail runner Peter Gogol, I head out early to Wyandott County Lake Park, getting there just before 7AM. As I'm already checked in, I don't need to be there an hour before the start, but my early arrival scores me a parking spot in the main lot by the start/finish which is far preferable than parking in the remote lot like last year. A short jog in my trail shoes is enough to convince me that the orienteering shoes will be the better choice. The open tread will pick up less snow and consequently won't ice up as badly if everything turns to slush. I am a little concerned about how well they will grip on the ice as the metal studs are significantly smaller than the machine screws I've driven into the soles of the trail shoes. As it's a three-lap race, I can always change shoes if conditions warrant.
The race starts with half a kilometer of running across open fields. This helps spread the field a bit before hitting the trail. While the trail is quite wide (it's a bridle trail), only a narrow path is packed in, so it's definitely an advantage to be up front. As with last year, I'm the seventh person to the trailhead, which gives me clean running. I settle into a comfortable pace, taking care not to put out too much effort on the many short, but steep climbs.
The climb continues for another half mile before the plunge down "Speed Demon Ridge" to the dreaded "Nicely Done" turn (Chris Nicely fell and busted his leg there a few years back). The ridge is icy, so I run off the main line to get more grip. At the turn, I take it very easy as all the rocks are covered in ice. That's immediately followed by the toughest ascent on the course, dubbed "Misery Ridge". From there, it's back to the smaller, but still plenty steep, ups and downs. I don't bother taking anything at the 8-mile aid station and finish the 10.3-mile loop in 94 minutes.
I'm feeling pretty good about the race so far. My pace feels about right and the clock agrees. I down some more water and grab a Gu and a handful of M&M's before heading out on lap 2. The first half kilometer is now all churned up from the 500 runners on lap 1, but once on the trail, the decision to go with the Orocs starts looking very good. The trail is completely packed in and the surface is starting to melt. I have good grip and, despite the brief stop and slow passage through the field, I get to the first aid station in under 25 minutes. The triangle is in great shape with better grip than lap 1. The field along the base of the dam is now packed in. All this has me at the second aid station just a minute slower than on lap 1. But things are about to change...
Up until now, I've pretty much had the trail to myself. I've passed a couple runners and had a few pass me, but for all but about 30 seconds of the last two and a half hours, I've been able to step exactly where I want. I now hit the back end of the 10-mile field, which started an hour after the combined 50K/20mi start. Because only the preferred line is packed in, the runners are moving single file, often bunching up in groups of 5-10. Some are considerate and stand aside, but as these groups tend to be chatting amongst themselves, they often can't hear me approach. And, as the tail end of the shortest race is comprised primarily of newbies, many are simply oblivious to standard etiquette of yielding to a faster runner. Getting by them means running for 10-20 meters through the deep stuff. I do this without losing too much time, but I can tell I'm hurting myself in the process. Each effort is small, but the cumulative effect is not. I finish the lap in 97 minutes (3:11 total), which still puts me in with a great chance at five hours, but the spring in the legs is gone.
The final trip across the big field to start lap 3 is quite easy as the second lap runners did manage to pack in the trail. Back in the woods, the trail is melting quickly, but most of it is still OK. Unfortunately, the part that's not OK is the descents. Enough people have been slipping down them that they are now scraped clean of snow, revealing just the ice underneath. The Orocs have metal studs in the heel, but it's not enough to provide positive grip. This is made all the worse by the fact that fatigue has reduced my motor control considerably. Perhaps if I hadn't spent so much time in hospitals this past year, I'd just take my chances, but I really don't want this race to end in an ambulance. At least with the 10-milers gone, I can choose my own line again. I pick my way through the really bad sections, trying to keep a good pace going everywhere else.
I'm passed by two runners, but I'm really not that concerned about the places (they both look like they're under 40, anyway). I reach the top of the big climb past the aid station with 4.5 miles and 48 minutes remaining. It's going to be tight, but it still seems doable. I tell myself that if I can just get over Misery Ridge without blowing up or hurting myself in a fall, I can hammer it in from there. That's easier said than done, as the descent to Nicely Done is really slick now. Grip is still fine on Misery Ridge (it's a north-facing slope, so it's not melting much). At the top I steel myself for the push to the finish. I'm OK with not being good enough, but I'm not OK with missing because I didn't try.
Three miles to go comes at 4:28. The next mile to the last aid station is relatively tame. I use it to recover just a bit from the big climbs. I grab a final cup of water at the aid station and the volunteers ask if I need anything. I look at my watch and say, "Two miles in 21 minutes." That earns me a cheer as I head off back into the woods.
4:44 sees the sign for 1.5 miles to go. The ice layer is melting and some of the famed Wyandott mud is showing now. This actually improves the grip on the descents considerably. With just under a mile to go comes one of the steepest climbs on the course. I know I have to run it with everything I have left. Halfway up my hands are tingling from the effort. With 50 meters to go my vision is wavy and tunneled. I hit the top and try to relax on the descent.
Half a mile to go and it's just past 4:55. Surely I can run half a mile in four and a half minutes. I gather up my stride for the big finish and WHAT IS THAT?!? Another climb! How did I forget that? I was sure the one I just went over was the last one. Obviously I ran this one on laps 1 & 2, but for some reason it didn't make much of an impression. It does this time. My legs are completely shot from the last effort. The tunnel vision immediately returns. I try to pump my arms to keep my legs moving but there's simply no life left. I get to the top and check my watch: 4:58:25. There's still 400m to go. I'm not going to make it.
One can drive oneself mad thinking of all the ways a few seconds could be saved when one misses a goal by so little. I resolve not to go there. I wasn't fast enough and that's the end of it. Try again? I don't know. Conditions were really pretty good this year; if I couldn't break 5 this time, it's probably not going to happen. Then again, there aren't that many competing events and it was a good time...
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