Run April 27, 2019"Because that's how far I can run." John Cash and I were about 80 laps into a workout on the track at Borgia High School in Washington, Missouri when the subject turned to the 6- and 12-hour races hosted by Daily Run Club (of which we are both members) at nearby Lions Lake in two weeks. As we had another 50 laps to go, we were moving at an easy conversational pace. John asked why I was running the 6-hour instead of the 12. My response was not technically true. I don't ever recall running longer than that without a walk break, but I've run several 6-hours straight through and in each case I could have run a little further before collapsing in a heap. But, six hours is the point at which running straight through becomes sub-optimal. For a race that takes longer than that, it will be better to throw in some short walks.
I want to combine the event with a PR attempt for 50 miles. There is one small problem with the plan: I can't run 50 miles in 6 hours. My fastest 50 is 7:10, set at Prairie Spirit in 2013. I could enter the 12-hour and just quit at 50, but I know I won't be happy watching the bulk of the field pass me after I've stopped (and, if I'm really going for a PR, continuing much beyond 50 will be out of the question). By serendipity, another option presents itself. This year, the 6-hour field can choose to either start at 5AM with the 12-hour folks or take the traditional start at 11AM, finishing with the 12-hour in the afternoon. By taking the morning start, I can run the 6 and then keep going to fifty. This allows me to run the event competitively and still have a decent shot at my goal.
 |
| The footbridge; steeper than it looks, but certainly no mountain pass |
This is a fairly small event, with around 30 runners in each field. Roughly half of the 6-hour runners are taking the early start, so there are fewer than 50 on the line. We spread out quickly and by the end of the first lap I'm running with just Colby Garman from Illinois. We settle into a pace that seems just a bit fast to me, but I can't confirm that since the timing crew is having some difficulty with the lap clock. By the third lap, the clock is operating and confirms that we're doing laps in under five and a half minutes. I was targeting 5:35-5:40 (roughly 8:00/mile) so this isn't way off. I hang on for the company for another couple laps and then decide I'd better back off just a touch.
 |
| Still dry at dawn |
About this time, Colby laps me. That doesn't really bother me. If he can hold that pace the whole way, then he'll win. If not, I'll see if I can chase him down in the second half. Either way, matching his pace now will only guarantee a truly miserable second half. We exchange a few words and then I go back to running my own race.
Another thing John and I talked a lot about during our 5-hour track workout was how much to eat. I've felt for a while that much of my problems in ultras is that I don't eat enough. However, an objective review of intake during races that have gone bad doesn't back this up. I decide that for this one I will try consciously eating less. I'm targeting around 100 calories an hour. Obviously, I'm burning much more than that, but I'm pretty confident in my body's ability to manage reserves. I eat a banana during the first hour. It goes down fine but, since I'm not taking walk breaks, it's a little awkward. I decide to just go with one gel per hour the rest of the way.
The first bit of rain has arrived. It's just cold enough that I consider putting on an outer layer. I give myself a few laps to adjust and find that I'm fine continuing in just my singlet. I had worried that my Vaporflys, which don't have much grip even in dry conditions, might be a liability on the footbridge. Fortunately, the bridge surface is fairly sticky and I'm able to run across it without slipping. After about half an hour, the rain stops. It will continue on and off again for the remainder of the 6.
The runners are generally ambivalent about the rain, but the geese seem to like it. As is customary at this race, a few of them decide to make their displeasure with the runners known. Most of the runners ignore their antics. It's not that goose bites don't hurt (they do!) it's just that, for all their hissing and flapping, these birds very rarely resort to that.
I gain my second lap right at the end of the third hour. The laps don't line up with marathon distance, but as I cross the line for the 38th time (26.6 miles), I amuse myself with the thought that I've just beat my Boston Qualifying time of 3:35. Thirty-five minutes later, I go through 50K only a couple minutes off my PR (though I've never run a 50K on flat roads, so that's a somewhat bogus comparison).
As is typically the case in long races, I've lost about 10 seconds a mile off my pace from the first two hours (that is, the pace I set after I dropped back from Colby) even though I haven't made a concious adjustment. This is the natural result of my stride shortening just a bit as muscles get tighter. I've learned it's best not to fight this and just expect slightly positive splits. It does mean that I don't get my third lap until well into hour 5. It's late enough in the race to start caring about the finish and I'm faced with a decision.
The win is pretty much out of the question. Colby is now nearly four laps up on me so it would take a complete collapse on his part for me to get two and a half miles back. As I can see almost the whole course from any spot on the path, I can observe his progress and note that he's showing no signs of fading. There's nobody particularly close behind me, though it's anybody's guess what the afternoon runners will turn in. The safe route would be to adjust to 6-minute laps, finish the 6-hour with 63 laps which should put me in pretty good shape for completing 72 (50.4 miles) in under seven hours. The risk is, I'm not at all sure I can run that far.
As stated at the outset, once the race goes beyond 6-hours, I do better if I take walk breaks. But, for walk breaks to do any good, you have to take them consistently throughout the race, not just at the end when you're tired. So, there's a very real chance that I go completely to pieces in the seventh hour. I decide I'll try to get the 64th lap done as part of the 6-hour. That will give me enough cushion that I can walk quite a bit in hour 7 if things really start going badly.
Unfortunately, my body has other ideas. The 8-minute/mile pace of the first three hours really is gone for good. I'm only able to gain another two minutes by the start of hour 6. I could try pushing harder, but that only increases the risk of a meltdown at the end. I've got as much cushion as I'm going to get. I adjust pace to just under 6-minute laps (8:30 miles) and brace myself for what may be a pretty ugly final 10 miles.
I finish lap 63 (44.1 miles) at 5:58. Colby sneaks in lap 68 just in time to record a whopping 47.6 miles. It takes a bit of the sting out of the loss to know that the winner crushed the course record - I never deluded myself into thinking I had a shot at that. The volunteers at the finish are eager to hang a medal around my neck. I tell them to hold that thought for another hour. John Cash is working the finish clock and agrees to count laps since the chip on my number won't register laps beyond 6-hours.
It's time for the mental games to begin. The longer I can hold 6-minute laps (or something close to it), the better chance of surviving a late-race crash. I still feel OK and focus on getting in three more laps right at 6 minutes each. That will give me enough cushion to take a walk break. I actually run them closer to 6:10, but I'm still basically running a pace. I decide to go for three more without a break.
 |
| Surely, that toe left the ground before the heel hit. |
Physically, on the other hand, I am coming completely unglued. I've never run this far continuously in my life and I can't say for sure that I'm actually airborne between each step. Frank Evans produces a photo providing dubious evidence of a tiny hop in my stride. The "official" time is 6:56 for 50.4 miles, though John insists on pro-rating the last lap to yield a 6:53 for 50. I don't particularly care either way. The goal was to break 7 and I did that. The day is a success.
Completely depleted, I fall quickly into hypothermia after finishing. Fortunately, their are showers available. That, and some dry clothes are enough to restore some equilibrium to my body temperature. The rain and clouds of the morning give way to sunny skies and wind in the afternoon. It was definitely an competitive advantage to be in the morning group but, now that I'm a spectator, I'm happy about the change.
 |
| Nice afternoon for a stroll; a bit tough for the runners. |
 |
| Just in case you forgot we were in rural Missouri |
Given the demands of family, work, and school, I honestly don't remember the last time I had five hours to kill. I pat myself on the back for not ruining the moment by bringing my laptop. Instead I simply enjoy being in a nice park surrounded by some of my closest running friends. I walk a lap each hour to stay loose and receive a fair number of good-natured barbs from the 12-hour runners who insist that I'm "sauntering" while they're still getting some real work done.
At five, the 12 and second 6 are done. The best 6-hour total from the second group is 40.6 by Nathan Rau (which is pretty stout given the heat and wind) so I hold on to second place overall. A quick awards ceremony is followed by a picnic, including a dessert of "goose poop" cupcakes.Aside from the obvious success of the sub-7 50, I learned a fair bit today. I learned that I probably am overeating in ultras. Clearly, 100 calories per hour won't get the job done in a 100, but I'm now pretty sure that the 300 or so that I have been taking in is too much. I'll try 150-200 at Hennepin this fall and see how that goes.
I learned that more is better when it comes to post-race walking. I always do some, but this is the most I've ever done. There's no question my recovery was much faster than usual. I don't know that I can devote five hours after each long race to walking, but maybe 90 minutes would be better than my usual 15-30.
Most of all, I've learned how far I can actually run. It turns out to be nearly an hour longer than the six I had assumed. And I never, ever, want to run that far without walk breaks again.
 |
| Angry goose medal |
No comments:
Post a Comment