Glacial Trail 50K Race: 50K (31 miles) in 6:31, pace averaging about 12:30
One or two days before we left for the race, I heard for the first time a new
Gary Allan song: Every Storm (Runs Out Of Rain). It spoke to me, it spoke to this race. Little did I know...We knew from the weather forecast that there was a high probability of rain, but who knew it would rain all but 2, maybe 3, minutes of the entire day? But like the RD said in the pre-race meeting, this is an outdoor sport.
Packet pick-up was 5am, gun time at 7am. In between at 6am was the start of the 50M--in the dark! There wasn't much to the packet, it was wonderfully simple. A number, a fleece, a small Hammer Nut bag with pamphlets That's it. The rest of the day followed suit.
BG, TH, and I had time to hang out in the meeting room, I munched some sport beans and enjoyed the crowd. Very different from triathletes. Less gear, for one thing. More rugged, too. All of the faces, shirts, hats, and cred was different from what I was used to. New races, new faces! Being on a minimalist shoe kick, I noted few if any minimalist shoes here. I think I found out why later--rocks!
After a brief pre-race meeting we gathered in the street for the start. The expected crowd of 120-140 runners was reduced, probably by the weather. It was in the low 50's, a light rain was falling and the sun came up behind a thickly clouded sky. For this too, the rest of the day followed suit. Speaking of suits, I wore 2 long-sleeved tech T's, my Nike capris, my favorite BRR hat, and the brown Cascadias. Oh, and the Camelbak!
The first half mile was on the streets of the tiny town hosting the event. Believe it or not, I tried to avoid puddles. I had seeded myself nearer the back so I didn't get caught up in too fast of a pace. That and I wanted to be able to see the trail ahead of me so I could focus on good foot placement on the rocks and roots. Trail running started on the Wade House Trail which was 1.5 miles long for us and the most memorable part of the trail. We were immediately immersed in a tall pine forest, with a trail lined with trees like a long hallway. It was darker here, the rain became like a fog, and the only noise was the quiet running of our field. OMG--if it wasn't raining and I had my phone I would have stopped for pictures. Who am I kidding, it's a race, I'm not stopping. But it was so pretty, it felt like cathedral...or an aisle in a great hall. Overall, a magical start to the race.
Next up was a wood path made of two 14" planks lined up lengthwise. Slick! I wonder what we were running over? Marsh? Bog?
Through these sections, TH was just ahead of me. But I let her go, I didn't want to be pulled into a faster pace or feel like I should keep going if my ankle started to hurt. I'd decided this on Friday--that I needed to run alone for this to avoid being pulled or pushed. This needed to be my race, mine only. Soon enough she was gone, and I missed her. It was habit to run with her, but this was my race and my 6-7hr meditation.
I broke the race up into sections based on the aid stations. The first AS was at 7 miles. My goal for the first section was to settle in to a "forever" pace that I could all day long. This came easy enough. At the first aid station I grabbed a gel and hurried out with the hopes of leaving behind the group I had been running with. BG was in the group of 3-5 runners, they were a bit of a distraction for me. I enjoyed the conversation, but it kept derailing me from my meditations and pussy-footing I was doing for the ankle.
The next AS was around 13.3 miles. Between now and then my goal was to hammer out a solid nutrition plan that kept my stomach light and my head focused. Eating too much makes me feel heavy, eating too little leaves me stumbling and mind-wandery. I initially thought that 40-45 mins would be enough, but soon enough I realized that 20-25 was better to keep the brain sugars at sufficient levels.
Around mile 8, while still running alone, I lightly rolled the left ankle. Lightly. I kept going. Around mile 10 my stupid right shoe came untied. I was just under 2hrs into the race, and already the cold had my hands stiff. So re-tying the shoe was a struggle. During this time, the group I'd hope to avoid running with came up behind and passed me. Ugh. Started running, not the shoe is too tight. Started running, and again untied! More struggle. When I pulled the laces, water squeezed out. I couldn't tie a bow for nothing. Dammit! I put a knot into them and figured that would be the last time I needed to think about it. It was.
Around mile 11.4, I really rolled the ankle. OUCH! I stopped. My HR went high, I felt the adrenaline rush. I looked around, not so much to look for help but rather to make sure no one was seeing this. Head rush. It's hot. It's cold. It HURTS. All the hurt was focused on that one spot that's been bothering me. Now what? I leaned on a small tree to steady myself. Took a few deep breaths. Waited. Thinking. I looked for what tripped me up--a rock, a root?--nothing visible.
I saw you standing in the middle of the thunder and lightning; I know you're feeling like you just can't win, but you're trying; It's hard to keep on keepin' on, when you're being pushed around; Don't even know which way is up, just keep spinning down, 'round, down…
OK, let's walk a bit. Oh damn it hurt, it was a 4 or so one the pain scale of 1-10, so not an excruciating pain, but probably enough to derail the race. Deep breaths. Wait. Remember how in New Town it faded once I calmed down? Calm down.
Every storm runs, runs out of rain; Just like every dark night turns into day; Every heartache will fade away; Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain
A runner came up to me, asked if I was OK. I'm OK, I just need to shake it off. It felt good to say that. He offered to let the next AS know I was coming. The next AS was only 2 miles away--I can walk to that if nothing else. Another runner came by, again it felt good to hear myself say I was OK. He left, and again I was alone with racing thoughts.What do I do? I tried walking again. It felt better. Kept walking...kept thinking. It felt like long minutes falling by but in reality it was probably only a few. (The Garmin says 3-4 minutes of stoppage). Potential outcomes were playing in my head. If I walked to the next AS and quit...if I quit how would I explain it to others...what would I say...would I regret it...would I spend the next 6 months hating my choice...would I injure myself if I kept going...if I kept walking I'd eventually see TH on her way back...I can't lie to her, what would I say? More importantly, what would I say to myself in a few hours, a few days, on the drive home, when I'm signing up for the next race...I will not quit. I will keep going. I WILL NOT GIVE UP. HTFU and get moving.
This got me going. Walking at first then a slow jog. My mind was more of a mess than anything else.
Soon enough I was running again, the pain reduced to maybe a 2 or 2.5. Totally manageable. Off to the next aid station! Somewhere in this next 2 miles I came up behind BG and came with him into the AS. A volunteer alerted by the other runner asked if I was OK, I said I was, and that was it. I had some fear that I'd be grilled a little harder about it. Back to the race. I knew I needed salt but I didn't want to eat a non-Whole30 white potato. BG pointed out a pile of salt on a plate near the potatoes, it was a wet pile. How to get it in my mouth? A banana! I took a half banana, peeled it, and smushed it into the salt pile. Believe it or not, this worked. Lots of water from my now-refilled Camelbak, and off!
The next section was mile 13.3 to mile 17.7 or something like that. In my head, it was "only 4 miles" and would go by fast since we turned around here, so it was only 2 miles then 2 miles again. That and I'd get to see TH in this section! The section started off with a stair climb before hitting a wide track that varied between single and double track. Nothing remarkable, it's what I'd been seeing all along.
Now that I had 2 things to look forward to (TH and the turn-around), I had good focus in this section. I was still worried about the ankle--I still had at least 15.5 miles to go--so I structured a set of priorities that started with keeping upright and healthy, supported by eating, drinking, and staying at a good pace so that those primary goals were attainable. Periodically I'd ask myself if my actions were supporting those goals. Soon enough TH went by, fast and with a group so I didn't get to say much. Now I get to look forward to the turn-around, and soon enough that came and went. The Garmin had it at 14.97 miles. For once I was happy with the Garmin being "off" distance :)
15.5 miles to go, and the nice thing about trails is that they look different in the other direction. A few mins I saw BG on his was to the turn, nice high-5 and I was off. I was feeling pretty good now and found my pace stronger than before. At the top of the steps above the AS I was joking with another runner about how we had "only a half marathon to go", he said "I've done that before", and I laughed "yeah you just did!". More salted banana, a stop at my drop bag for another powerbar, a potty break, and back on track for that last half mary distance.
So hold your head up and tell yourself that there's something more; Walk out that door; Go find a new rose, don't be afraid of the thorns; Cause we all have thorns; Just put your feet up to the edge, put your face in the wind; And when you fall back down, keep on rememberin'
My pace was definitely better in the return trip. Miles 18-24 just flew by! I'm often asked what I think about while running, since I'm not listening to music and often running alone. What goes through my head in 6.5 hours? A mental soundtrack of music, thoughts, and random jumbles. The Gary Allan song was stuck solidly in my head, especially the chorus: "Every storm runs, runs out of rain; Like every dark night turns into day". Problem was I didn't know the song well enough to get the lyrics right! It kept coming out "like every darkness runs out of day" or "like every dark light turns into night" or something wrong. And I couldn't remember the 3rd line, so only those 2 were going over and over and over. And over, and over, and over...
I tried to find other songs, and got stuck for awhile on "Hard to Love", "She's My Kind Of Rain", finally somewhere around mile 20 another Gary Allan song from my 2010 soundtrack: Sometimes I Think I Get Off On The Pain. I sang this one out loud to myself (I was alone on the trail at this point). I especially sang the line "I ain't really happy; Til the sky starts driving rain" and it all fit so well together. How amazing that just days before this race I found GA's Every Storm song which was released sometime around Redman weekend!
Every storm runs, runs out of rain; Just like every dark night turns into day; Every heartache will fade away; Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain
I'm not going to detail the return trip, except to cover a few other points about the race.
Rocks. Rocks everywhere. Nice, black, rounded rocks buried under a bed of leaves. I think these are glacier deposited rocks, and since this was a glacial moraine there were plenty of them. The rain was a blessing in the end, it flattened out the leaves and made the rocks easier to see.
Rain. Rain all day long. I like running in the rain, especially when I have a hat on. It keeps my face dry and that for me is enough to feel shielded. But I was completely, 110% wet. It didn't bother me, except I was sure my hands would be permanently pruned by the end.
Food. By the way, I need to make a note of eating in the cold or cooler weather. I tried to eat a gel around mile 22 but my fingers refused to work. I was eating powerbars (instead of Lara bars, they tend to sit heavy) and those too are hard to eat in the cold. They start to get hard and difficult to bite and chew. But I was ticking along on a 20-30 mins schedule of good food that agreed with me.
Water. Ugh, could you imagine the irony of getting dehydrated in this race?! Well I didn't. The Camelbak was a rock star. Every time I slowed to walk and every time wondered how TH was doing I'd sip water. I didn't have to pee more than once in the race, but I don't think I got dehydrated.
Colors. Usually when it's cloudy out people describe the day as drab and colorless. But today something about the constant gray sky set up a contrast with the perfectly timed fall colors. Bright, dazzling yellows, oranges, purples, set against a gray sky and gray mist of rain. It was like living in a black and white world with sparks of color. My eye was resistant to leave the trail (rocks!) but when I did look up it was rewarding.
Somewhere around mile 22 I came up behind TH! I was thinking that my faster pace in this section would put me closer to her, but still thought that if I did see her it would be because she slowed or was injured. She looked a little ragged, not surprisingly given the distance so far, but she was trucking along solidly. I was behind her for a bit, then kept going. I really wanted to run with her, but all along I was telling myself to run my own race and not hers, although that was originally intended to keep me from speeding up to catch her earlier in the race. I thought she might be able to keep up with me, but no. I was on my own.
26.2 miles came and went at about 5:35, although with the Garmin off on distance that's just an approximation. I came into the last AS with 7 miles remaining in the race with a runner who was half joking-half joking with the AS volunteers about making this a 40K race. HTFU dude. Ugh, I had to get moving.
The last 7 miles were not as good as the previous 7. When the anticipation of finishing starts, suddenly distances and times get distorted. I'd mess up my race math, keep looking for familiar turns or landmarks, or get ahead of myself. So this section dragged a bit. I passed someone at one of the road crossings who said "3 miles to go!" and I mentally marked it--the last 5K!! But this was starting to hurt. My legs were feeling the fatigue, my hips were tight, my hands cold, the soles of my feet pained. My ankle had plenty of competition.
It's gonna run out of pain; It's gonna run out of sting; It's gonna leave you alone; It's gonna set you free; Set you free
And the distance still distorted. And my mind wasn't as focused here. I kept mentally mapping this last 5k-- I knew 0.5mi would be on streets, and 1.5mi would be on the WH trail, so that left 1 mile left on the IAT! Even though the trails were indistinguishable, I was looking forward to a change. I'd been following yellow, yellow, yellow trail markers all morning. Even just a blue marker would be a change.
Soon enough, blue! And now I was able to recognize landmarks. The planked section of trail. Then the cathedral of pine trees. I wanted so badly to stop in this section, to pause and soak it in. I'd been running alone for the past 7-9 miles (with only TH's race buddy Jody passing me at the AS) and my mind was in such a hurry to finish. But now my 6.5hr mediation was nearly over. 30 miles of beautiful trail, fall colors, mud puddles, rocks, hills, sweat, rain...most of it alone in my own head. And here I was, nearly finished with what would be my 7th marathon-distance race. Nearly finished! The cathedral of tall trees, the mist of the day, the quiet air of solitude...it was a wonderful moment, regal, inspiring, powerful. From the GA song came the lyrics, "it's gonna set you free", and I knew that after everything that happened this year, I was free. Free of doubt, of wondering if I could hit these seemingly crazy goals, free to challenge myself even more, free to take on whatever came my way in life with confidence. It's so hard to put into words!
Every storm runs, runs out of rain; Just like every dark night turns into day; Every heartache will fade away; Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain
It's gonna set you free, It's gonna run out of pain, It's gonna set you free
Only half a mile to go, and on the streets of the little village. Surprisingly, after miles of rocks and roots I found that I'd rather run on the grass along the street! The road surface was a harsh adjustment and the Cascadias don't feel good on pavement. But I can do this. I followed the orange cones (they seemed to go on forever) around a corner to the finish...where's the finish? It was a small white tent at the building! LOL, all that running only to not know where the finish was. And once I finished I didn't want to stop! I felt the need to keep moving, but no doubt I was done. My bird was cooked :)
After a few minutes of rest, I found my dry clothes bag and went to change clothes. My hands were so cold I couldn't pull my clothes off! And my hips were so tired that I almost couldn't get my feet up to the sink to wash off the mud. And I wasn't alone, many womens in the bathroom were in a similar state. It took about 30 mins for me to clean up and change! But once dry I warmed up. I munched my bag of apple chips. And I waited for TH to come in, and right as I looked out the window I saw her round the last corner :) She did it!
BG came in soon after, he did it too! :)
This race had a lot of meaning for me, and it's hard to convey that here in words. From CDA to Redman, from injury to recovery back to injury, from over-trained to doubt about enough training, I'd run the gamut of up and downs. Every storm I encountered this year did run out of rain, and in the end it set me free. It's still amazes me that the Every Storm song was so perfectly timed with this race. I have a song for every big race, sometimes picked months in advance and sometimes a song that loop plays in my head during the race (sometimes the last thing I heard on the radio driving to the race).
