Double Chubb 50K Race Report

RUN: 31 miles, 6 hours, 27 minutes. Hoo boy. This could take a while to type. And there are two stories, intertwined and inseparable. The DC race will always be linked in my mind to yesterday. I've been training since December, about the same time the dog got sick. The last few weeks were the hardest, the taper and her the last of her sickness coincided. Then yesterday. Then today.

Race morning. I woke up at 4:45am. Same as always, but no Scully at my feet. I resolve right then to not cry or dwell until after the race. Get through the race, then mourn. Banana, egg whites, baby bel cheese, coffee. On my way out the door, I'm certain I'm forgetting something, but know in the back of my mind that all those long runs in training had a reason--this was habit. Pack and clothing list: tri singlet for the pockets, tech T, long sleeve tech, light gloves, capris, BRR hat, 4 powerbars, 5 gels, fuel belt with water and Infinit, gum, endurolytes, bandaids.

Drove out, got my packet, and had about a half hour before the start. I learned at packet pickup that there was a drop bag site at the halfway point turn-around, so I did some repacking of my bag. I was still debating which shoes to wear. All morning I'd been doubting the 6hr comfort of my trail shoes. They were stiff after being cleansed of mud from Quivering Quads. And I had to tape my feet, as previous runs proved their tendency to blister the sides of my feet. This was my last chance to change to my Brooks trainers. Good lug tread vs worn treads of 400+ mile trainers. Water resistance vs ventilating mesh. Stone guard vs light soft foam. The choice seemed obvious. Yet I decided to pack the Brooks in the drop bag, just in case. Noshed a Powerbar, and tried to get my heart into the day. My head was in it, just not my heart. It didn't help that it was cold (low 40's) with a very light misty rain. Just get through the race...

My club mate DoCo met up with me, and we walked to the drop site together. There were trees with beautiful white flowers, another runner said they were dogwoods. How fitting. Quick bio-break (the stalls lacked doors, welcome to the trails!), double-check of gear, and 5 mins to the gun. While walking over with DoCo and another runner, I noticed for the first time that my socks were low enough on my ankle for the back of my shoes to rub my skin. !!should I change?? Alternate socks were right behind me in my drop bag...no...I'll be OK, I can change them later. This was decided as the gun went off and 120 runners went by ahead of us. We'd missed the start!

I'll divide the race into 4 parts. It's an out-n-back course done twice. Major features to note: big hill, railroad tracks, aid station, run along the river, steep creek crossing, cross the tracks again, fire road, big uphill, new section (didn't preview it in training run), aid station/turn-around. About 7.7 miles/part.

Lap 1: 7.05 miles, 1hr 29 mins, 12:40m/m, 1860ft climbing. It should be said here that the Garmin was less than accurate over the hills and trails, but it's a good rough estimate. The course starts uphill on a park road before quickly changing to trail. All uphill. This part of the trail was mostly rocky single-track. While it was hard to warm up going uphill, I took my time. Really, there's 30.5 miles to go, what's the rush?!

In the end I was happy to have missed the start with the race field. Instead of picking my way up a narrow rocky trail with a crowd, instead I had it all to myself. There was often a runner ahead of or behind me, but for the most part I was on my own. It was here I realized that the the hills were lined with dogwoods. Their white flowers highlighted the branches of each dogwood tree. They reminded me of my doggie's soft white fur. Instead of being sad, I was happy to have them there. In a silly way it was like having her along the trails with me. I recalled how Rich would bring her to the Go St Louis races, and I would see them at random places along the route. Scully was at every turn and most every thought. Get through the race, then mourn.

The first 3.6 miles where up and over the worst of the hills. I focused on keeping an easy, could-do-this-all-day pace. I forced myself to walk steep hills, promising myself that if I really felt that good 25 miles from now, then I could go faster. But not now! Ran for awhile with a friend-of-a-friend. Skipped the first aid station and headed to the river. Then a few miles with another woman who also did IM races. This section of the trail was muddy. Not shoe-sucking muddy, and not soaking muddy either. But enough that footing was slick and I often had to slow to pick my way around the mess. It made for good walk-breaks. Again, what was the rush?

Soon enough, the faster runners were turned around and coming back towards me. The 1st place runners were flying by. And everyone I passed had an encouraging greeting. This was fun! I had expected a large grouping of runners to come by at some point, but everyone was spread out. It felt like a big training run, with bibs and aid stations. Fun!

But at the same time, my mind would wander. To last moments. To hugs and kisses. Focus. To her staggering around the house. Her limp on the table. Stay focused.

Most every race has a song playing in my head. I don't listen to music while running, but it's playing anyway. Usually it's the last song I heard on the radio, or a song that wandered through my mind in response to a thought I have on the run. Today, it was I Get A Little Bit Stronger. I'd heard it last week while thinking of the dog. The overall arc of the song is completely off-topic, but the lines would flit though my head, randomly.

Woke up late today, and I still feel the sting of the pain.
But I brushed my teeth anyway, got dressed through the mess and put a smile on my face. I got a little bit stronger.

Crossed the creek, picked my way through the lightly flooded but mostly flat fire road, walked up the steep hill, crossed into the unfamiliar section, still feeling good. It was around this time I took my first gel. I was hydrating well, but not eating much. Hitting the first turn-around at 7.75 miles was great. I stopped to talk to the volunteers, they filled my fuel belt bottles. I didn't grab much food, only an orange section. I wanted to get running again and not linger too long.

Lap 2: 7.67 miles, 1hr 41mins, 13:16m/m 1700 ft climbed. One lap down, 3 more to go. I was enjoying the company of the 25K runners. I knew they'd be gone by the next lap so I chatted with those around me. On this lap I met a guy who had just turned 47 and wanted to finish 100 ultras before he turned 50. This race was #72. Wow! Down the steep fire road hill, splash through the fire road flat, cross the tracks, and back into the mud. All was going well, still a good pace and positive attitude. There were few dogwood trees at this end of the trail so my mind wandered less.

Then the creek crossing. The banks of the creek were as high as my head, if not more. One side was OK and easy to climb. The other not so much. It was a mud scrabble. I had to grab roots and ground to climb it. The first time by I was OK. This time I tried what looked like an alternate slope--and FELL! Haha, thanks to the mud it was a soft roll landing. The runner behind me said it the fall and recovery was The Essense of Grace. I had mud all down my right side and later found mud in the caps of my water bottles. The fall shook me a bit and turned my left knee a little. I stood up and felt dizzy. Instead of stopping, I kept going. 30 seconds later, still dizzy, I realized I needed to eat. So I dug out a Powerbar and ate half.

Run along the river, listening to birds chirping, through the mud-sand-mud trail (this made for some heavy shoes!). At some point in here I thought I was off the right trail! I stopped to look for other runners. No one. No sound. Nothing. !!Now What!! I think, go back a few yards, listen. The trail was long enough that I couldn't remember all of it. I waited, listened. Nothing. So I took a chance and kept going. Thankfully, I soon saw the turn back to the mid-way aid station. Whew! Here I stopped to chat awhile with the volunteers and refill the bottles. The Infinit was a fail, it foamed and frothed with running. Dumped it. The mileage at this point was around 12 miles. The main hills were next. Over the tracks up up the bluff. Back through the dogwoods. Once again my mind wandered. I hummed along to the song, and stayed positive.

Riding in the car to work, and I'm trying to ignore the hurt.
So I turned on the radio, Stupid song made me think of you,
I listened to it for minute, but then I changed it.
I'm getting a little bit stronger, just a little bit stronger.

Through this section I had to focus on picking up my feet more, I kept hitting rocks and missing my step. Eat more. Down with the other half of the Powerbar while walking the uphill sections. The turn-around and halfway point was just ahead! But before I could turn around, I had to climb the Chingpin? Chinkpin? something like that loop. Let's call it the Chingie. Oh DAMN, so steep you can't run it. But it led me to the turnaround and to the drop site. A bio-break proved my hydration was doing good. I didn't need anything from the bag so I didn't stop. Back out for more. First lap in 3hrs 9 mins.

Lap 3: 7.37 miles, 1hr 34mins, 12:46 m/m 2054ft climbed. I decided that I had so much fun the first time around I wanted to do it again. And that instead of saying "good job" to other runners, I would say "great job". So I still had a positive mood while I ran through the dogwood trees. Crisp white flowers, bright spots in the shaded green woods. Along with flashes of memories. Dragging hind legs. Sleepy eyes closing for the last time. Limp body. For the first time, tears threatened to spill, but I managed to hold them off. Focus now, cry later. Besides, tears obscuring the trail? Bad Idea. Instead I though of Scully with Rich at previous races, Scully watching the runners go by, Scully wanting to run with them. Panting with that Joker-smile she had. This was much better.

Passed by DoCo here and stopped to chat with him. Seeing him on the trail was a highlight, I wished he could do the full race like he had planned to but I thought him all the stronger for recognizing his limits. I don't' know if I could have changed from 50K to 25K like he did. I would have just flogged myself through the 50K even if my training wasn't what it should have been. He said he'd be waiting at the finish, and this kept me moving.

Back at the mid-way aid station. Chatted a few minutes. Back along the river. Only 10 more miles!!! I can do that!! Now the trail was very quiet, very few other runners to pass. I was eating and drinking on a better schedule (and could tell when I wasn't eating enough, my mood would start to slip!). I was comfortable, with some foot discomfort but noting unexpected. This was going great! My mind really was clearer on this section of trail, whether it was the terrain or the lack of dogwoods or the constant mud-avoiding, can't say. Crossed the creek, over tracks, down the fire road, walked up the big hill. I swear it was steeper the second time around. Around this point I could feel a light buzzing in my chest. I'd experienced this in previous marathons. Not sure what it is, muscle fatigue? Either way, it was a sign that here at 22 miles the race was starting to take a toll. But the fact that I wanted to keep jogging, instead of stopping to walk, was a great sign.

Lap 4. 7.8 miles, 1hr 40 mins, 13:50 2200 ft climbed. In reviewing the data, I surprised to find that the outbound laps were faster even though in my mind it seemed the reverse. I broke the last lap into sections: just run to the next landmark, then the next, then the next. At one point I realized I had passed 26 miles and that every step I took was the farthest I'd ever run before. Every step was a small victory.

I hit some low points in this lap, but nothing that made me want to stop. I was still bopping along and willing to keep jogging. But I was stumbling more, lightly rolling my ankles on nothing, and feeling a tightness in my knees. The uneven trail was starting to wear on my legs. I knew that tomorrow would hurt. Heck, later today would hurt. But now was now and I had only miles to go. I passed the mid-way aid station for the last time. Back up the hill, and back into the dogwoods.

My troubles with stumbling kept me from looking up at the trees, but by now the idea must have been implanted in my mind. The song was more prominent in my mind, the frustrations over stumbling increasing, the need to walk unavoidable. My mind wandered from topic to topic less but would stick on a topic longer. The physical pain became more raw and took some of my focus. Staring at the ground more, I saw dogwood flowers on trail. At one point I picked on up to hold it. Then threw it down. Focus.

Doesn't happen over night, but you turn around and a months gone by,
And you realize you haven't cried.
I'm not giving you a hour or a second or another minute longer.
I'm busy getting stronger.

I started losing track of my landmarks in this last section. I remembered up to the picnic table but lost it after that. Having the garmin off on the mileage kept me from knowing whether the next hill or the next next hill was the last. I got to the point where I just wanted to be done. But I stayed positive and still didn't feel the need to walk. This was the most surprising part of the day for me, in other long races I'd reach a low point so low that I didn't want to keep moving. That didn't happen today. I just wanted to get this done. Get home. Cry.

Finally the last half mile! And one more run up the Chingie trail. Even walking up it was tough. The hill went on forever! Then back down to the finish line. Finish line! Most of the way down the hill, volunteers spotted me and started the cowbells. The sweet music of cowbells! Down the hill, around the turn, and through the finish in just under 6.5 hours. FINISHED!

DoCo met me at the finish line. I was handed my belt buckle. I didn't eat anything at the end, and just wanted to go home. I was cold, tired, and dirty. So the finish was sort of anticlimatic. I was done. And that was it. I just wanted to go home. DoCo gave me a ride to the truck (THANK YOU!!!) and once there I started to crack a bit. I'd promised myself I'd keep it together until the race was done and now it was done. Now I could cry. And I did, just a little.

Before the race, I'd thought I'd get some Ted Drewe's on the way home. With peanut butter and bananas. But I'd bought some TD's to share with the dog yesterday along with some extra for today so I didn't need to stop. I thought about stopping for something else to eat, usually I have something to eat right after a race. I needed to eat, but didn't feel like stopping anywhere. Just get home. And on they way, my song played not once, but twice. Twice.

I know my heart will never be the same,
but I'm telling myself I'll be okay,
Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger.
I get a little bit stronger.

Once home, the tears started. No one to greet me at the door. No one to share a smile with. No one to keep me company. I don't want to dwell on this, or make this race all about what happened, but what happened shaped this race. But that was it. I did the race, and that was it. No fan fare, no real celebration. It had such a flat feeling. Hopefully I can celebrate this race at some point.

Perhaps in a way this helped me through the race. It had a reason to keep going, something to think about for 6.5 hrs. To avoid the pain of missing her, I instead kept focused on the trail. All those training miles the past few weeks were chances to think about her over the years. Wanting to get home with her again kept me moving for the past few months. And so I've decided that every year I will take a run on the trails when the dogwoods are blooming as a way of again running with her. Not by my side, but in my heart.