Training Log Archive: hughmac4

Event: Worlds End Ultramarathon - 50k, 100k Trail Race
 

2016 Worlds End Ultramarathon 100k Race Report

As the second race in the inaugural 2016 Pennsylvania Triple Crown of Mountain Running series for 2016, Worlds End 100k was one of my three 'A' races for the season. I wanted to do well, and keep my points low (lower is better in the series), but the distance was new to me so when I signed up it was 'getting it done' that was the mantra.

Coming off of a solid Hyner 50k in April, I was feeling pretty optimistic, and planned on a sub-15 hour race. I had mastered the climb, patience, rocks, and nutrition needs of a similarly profiled 50k race, and only (ha ha) needed to extend and adjust that for the 100k. Training was going well, I had some new fun gear to add to my arsenal (see my gear breakdown and review, if you're into that kind of thing), and most importantly my 'head' was right.

Two weeks prior to the race I developed a strain in my left calf. I have had these before: once in late February of this year (10 days) and once in December (4 days) last year, all in the left calf. It's still a mystery, but seems to involve 'overdoing it' in some way. Research continues.

I was hoping for a quick recovery, but it didn't happen. I was on the fence about competing all the way up to race day, which didn't help my nerves, and forced me to radically change my race goal: from 'sub-15 hours' to 'use the race to test my 12+ hour system, see how things go, give it a good try, and drop when needed'. Still good goals, but harder to get excited about.

The race is a pretty brutal 100k+ (63.8 miles), with over 12,000 feet of climb, in the rocky, rooty, but incredibly beautiful forested terrain of Worlds End State Park. The day was forecast to be rainy, and it was, but not to the extent predicted: mostly a light drizzle after noon, punctuated by a few showers in the late afternoon. The forest canopy kept things generally pretty dry until evening.

Race day 'dawned' at 3:20am, and 300 racers (150 for the 100k, 150 for the 50k) and another 50+ crew and staff converged on the park for a hearty, delicious pancake breakfast, drop bag check in, and safety briefing. The small size of the race was neat: I kept seeing people I knew, sharing our pre-race jitters and excitement. Happily there was no rain yet! I was feeling great except for the tiniest remaining calf ouch, which loomed large in my mind. "Just a test run, don't sweat it," I thought, over and over. I wisely placed myself dead last at race time, and at the gun at 5am began a slow walk / jog / walk warmup in the hope that a very, very slow start would allow me to at leat get in a few hours of trail time.

The miles and hours started ticking by with regularity. Interestingly the ups -- which I assumed would be my weakness with the calf -- felt fine, but the downs -- which I was pushing too hard -- began to get to me. My right knee and IT band began to ache at about mile 20. I realized that I had been somewhat dramatically compensating for the left calf pain by abusing my right side. Pretty soon my left calf felt fine: I couldn't feel it below the pain in my right leg!

I decided to keep moving for a few more miles, hopefully make the 35 mile aid station, and see if things would continue to get worse. Happily they didn't ... I was in a good bit of continuous pain, but it was predictable, manageable and not increasing. So I concentrated on keeping my uphill pace strong, jogging when I could (light uphills were the best), and working on my efficiency and nutrition as much as possible. I learned (trial by fire!) how to use my hiking poles really well over the course of the race ... it was hard at first (adjusting and fiddling and 'stuff in my hands, ugh'), but toward the end they were a necessary and remarkable pair of strong, agile, extra legs. Thanks to my dad for reminding me that I even HAD poles ... without them I would have dropped for sure.

Going in to aid station 7 at mile 35.4 I was a toss up on dropping. "I'll change my socks and shirt and see how I feel after that," I thought. I took a nice long time doing that (sitting on the ground! Bliss!), filling water bottles, snacking, chit-chatting, and in the course of convincing another runner to continue, convinced myself, as well.

After that it was pretty much a matter of 'dealing with it'. My pace stayed about the same for the rest of the race. Since I started in last place I had the pleasure of occasionally seeing a runner way in the distance, knowing that they must be slowing, knowing that I would be overtaking them over the course of the next mile or two, and then doing just that. Even in the state I was in I remained my usual competitive self, so the mental 'lift' I got from each of these tiny milestones (each pass represented another point off of my series total) was a critical fuel in my mental game.

Aid station 10, at 50 miles, was the final 'hump'. After over 20 miles of 'no change' physically, I knew I could finish the race. I was actually a bit disappointed, and searched long and hard for a valid reason to drop, but knew that if I dropped there I would have known deep down that it was a 'give up', not a 'can't continue' kind of drop. So after a cup of chicken noodle SOUP (oh. my. god.), a pierogie, a 1/4 grilled cheese, some salt-n-vinegar chips, and 2 minutes sitting in a CHAIR, I was almost ready to go into the night, which was fast approaching.

At this point the rain was a bit more steady, and I agonized a bit about whether I should put on my jacket or long sleeved shirt (both in my AS 10 drop bag). I didn't, and the decision was fine, but the worry didn't help. After 30 seconds of sitting there thinking "do I? Don't I?" I stopped thinking, got up and scampered off (hah hah hah!) down the trail.

Night decended. FOG decended. My headlamp worked great, but it was tough at times to see the trail markers through the fog. I had several worried runners ask me if I thought we might have gotten off the track. While inwardly worrying the same, I generally said something like "no way! You're rocking this! Follow me!", and continued playing every trick in my Stay Positive book to keep myself on track mentally:

"Only a few hours to go!"
"This headlamp ROCKS!"
"My feet feel GREAT!" (they really did! Compared to the rest of my body)
"Really nice job getting across that stream!"
"Wow, I'm still peeing! Good on you, kidneys!"

The 6 miles from the last aid station to the finish was 5.25 miles of easy (although muddy) jeep trail, road, and a few rocky sections, but FLAT (wow!!!) and 'fast' (I passed 7 people there), followed by the final 0.5 mile, 600 foot, treacherous descent to the finish. I only fell once during the whole race, and it was almost right off of a cliff into the blackness below on that final descent, with about 0.3 miles to go. I remember thinking "no WAY!" ... ending the race that way would have been superbly disappointing. Happily I bounced back up (hah!) and continued my quad-stabbing stumble to the end, and received my finisher's buckle and the cheers of other runners and race volunteers manning the finish. Whew. Done.

The biggest downside to the pain (besides the obvious 'it hurts') was that I didn't really ENJOY the race. The beauty of the place. The chit-chat and banter of a really neat, fun, different group of people. Many of the reasons I love trail running! But one of the reasons I run in these things is for the sense of extraordinary accomplishment that they inspire. And I sure got that in spades on this one.

Gear List and Review to follow. Final results say 57th place. Hooray. :)

C • Congratulations 5

A few miles around town with no ill effects. Hooray! Slow and steady.