2016 Promise Land 50K Race Report

I could go running and racing and dancing and chasing ...

Now I'm not religious ... at all. But the notion of a Promised Land was not lost on me as I found my self traversing the Blue Ridge Mountains of David Horton's Promise Land 50K.

... oh, what's that? You're wondering, what the hell is Rapunzel doing in this race report?! Well, I could opine about how the lyrics to the song When Will My Life Begin in the 2010 Disney instant classic Tangled embody the pure joy I feel when I'm traversing mountain single-track.  But, really, this obnoxious song just so happened to be THE song stuck in my head during Promise Land (for those interested, Winnie the Pooh's The Rain Rain Rain Came Down Down Down drove me crazy for the 7+ hours of Bull Run). Why? How? Well, I've got a 2 year old daughter. That should be explanation enough.  It's better than Let It Go, I suppose.


... Anyways ...


The first third of the race is mostly uphill as you make your way from roughly 1300' to just over 4000'. Then there's a good number of miles of pummeling downhill on steep single track and even a bit of road, flinging you headfirst into The Dark Side of the race. As you make your way to roughly the Marathon mark, you just hope and pray you've saved your legs enough for the brutal 3+ mile and 2000' climb AND the swift final 4 miles that sends you careening to the finish 2200' below. If you've trained right, if you bided your time in the first half of the race, you'll be rewarded with strong legs for the final climb and a swift stride down to the finish line at Promise Land Camp. If not, well, then it just wasn't your day!

Here's the obligatory Keith Knipling elevation profile:

Personally, this race was also an affirmation of my acceptance into the Promised Land of Ultrarunning. My first ultramarathon was almost exactly one year ago -- The North Face DC 50 Miler last April. I went into that race under-trained and still trying to recover from a multi-month bout of PatellaFemoral Pain Syndrome (PFMS) ... who knew you couldn't rush from couch to Marathon to weekly 30 mile runs! I limped my way to the finish in 9:22. A year later, here I was, toeing the line at the Promise Land 50K, already having shaved 2 hours off my 50 Mile effort, having won my first ultra, and having taken the podium in my 2 previous races.

PL50 would be my last of 5 ultras (+ 1 marathon) in 3 months. It would mark my transition from dipping my toes in the ultra waters to being a full-on legit runner, from a year of struggling and learning to a future of opportunities and accomplishments. I was hoping it'd be the final bit of racing confidence I'd need before heading off to Western States. I intended to race this bad boy all out, pedal to the medal.

... But ... 

in the immortal words of David Horton, I was "STUPID!" In my training 2 weeks prior, I ran along with the Boston Marathon live coverage on my treadmill ... ONE WEEK after running a solid 50 Miler. STUPID!  I was cocky and full of myself. I got bored with my casual 7-flat miles and after 20 miles, I said screw it! and kicked up the pace. I ran a sub-18:30 final 5K to finish in a few ticks under 3:00. If that wasn't enough, my treadmill belt got loose at the end, but instead of getting off and tightening it, I started stomping and pushing the belt into place while running sub-6 miles. STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!  For the week and a half between that fiasco and Promise Land, my left femur and quads ached like crazy. I could hardly walk some days. Runs were pain-filled and limp-tacular. I even resorted to drastic measures and went a full 72 hours without running!

... So instead of grabbing life by the horns at Promise Land, I resigned myself to hoping and praying that:

• the pain wouldn't be too bad
• I wouldn't cause enough further damage to jeopardize Western States
• I could still muster a Top 10 (to redeem myself for my painful 11th place finish at Holiday Lake)

I started the race off with a comfortable climbing pace, surrounded by a handful of C-ville / Crozet runners and Clark Zealand (all decked out in his spiffy Patagonia kit ... jealous!).  I was pleasantly surprised that my bum leg only ached instead of sending stabbing pains through the depths of my femur and soul. I made sure to stay well within myself. I didn't climb too hard at the beginning and I was extra cautious on the downhills.

Before I knew it, I was 12 miles into the race, crossing the Blue Ridge Parkway a few seconds back of Ryan Paavola, greeted by the uplifting sound of Horton's voice: "...and ... FIRST LOSER!" I was in 11th place. I just shook my head and shouted that I'd make sure to catch a few guys.  "Be patient, some of those guys are going to die. Just be sure you don't die, too!"  I know, Horton, I know!

I flew through AS3, passing Clark and a runner I felt didn't belong up front. And just like that, I was in 9th!  On the long descent to AS4 I hit some steep, technical single track and found myself running too aggressive ... bounding this way and that, and nearly running right into Ryan Paavola. He kindly offered to let the lunatic by, but I apologized and said I needed to dial it back a bit ... I had a bum leg to be mindful of.

At one point, I got one of my Altra Lone Peak's soaking wet in a stream crossing and just like at Bull Run, the saturation caused my insole to slide around and fold over on itself, forcing my toes into a quasi-hammertoe position. It took an unnecessary amount of wriggling and sliding and pounding to work the insole back into place. I had worn the Lone Peaks instead of the Superiors for the extra bit of padding to protect my leg and I knew I'd run the risk of an insole slip. Going forward, I'll have to glue that sucker down if I run anything other than dry desert ultras with them.

Making my way through AS4, I still found myself behind Ryan, but well within sight of him. I chased him along the painfully hard, paved road for 2 miles before jumping onto the trails of Colon Hollow. I had taken it easy on my legs, making sure to not overexcite myself earlier and give chase to Ryan, and I quickly found that I had a spring in my step when we got back onto the trails. I jumped past Ryan and began to make my way through the rolling single-track and overgrown double-track for the next 6 miles.  I came upon another runner and just like that, I was in 7th.

I was feeling good when I got to AS5 at Colon Hollow and was told that 6th was only "a minute up".  Okay, it's clear my leg isn't going to fall off, so let's pick up the pace!  I thought I had to be making up ground, and then I started to run out of steam. I had mistakenly thought that this section was flat with rolling hills, but in actuality it was rolling hills on an 800' pitch ... I was climbing from 1200' to 2000' in 4 miles AND running rolling hills. It wasn't long before my will-power started to go out the window. This was supposed to be the easy section! I'm supposed to be strong and making up ground here! I kept looking back as I skirted along the densely forested hills ... at least I can't see anyone behind me ... I've got to be increasing my lead over everyone behind me. At one point I reached for my 4th and final gel in my pocket to find it wasn't there. Did I eat it already? Did it fall out? Did I even have 4 gels to start the race? Am I losing my mind?!

When I hit the 200m out-and-back section of trail that led down to AS6, I was hoping to see 6th place. Instead, all I saw was whole bunch of 'nothin. Ugh! And to make matters worse, coming back out of the aid station I passed by FOUR runners -- John Andersen, Clark Zealand, Ryan Paavola, and another runner I didn't know but he looked mighty fresh.

Seeing those guys was like a punch in the gut. Great, I'm running out of energy and instead of growing a lead over the past 5 miles, there's FOUR runners right on my tail and at least three of them scare me! Keeping Top Ten suddenly felt impossible. And to boot, John looked like he was on a mission -- "I'm coming for you and your broken leg!"

I frantically tried to keep running as I began the steep climb up past Apple Orchard Falls, but all that work felt futile. I was quickly passed by the mystery runner ... he was booking it! I thought that at any moment the other three would roll past me. I felt sapped of energy. The panic and fear of getting steamrolled by a hoard of hungry runners was a competitive feeling I'd not felt since high school. I loved it momentarily, and then hated it the rest of the race.

My legs were limp noodles, not high octane pistons. I thought that calories would help so I tried out the Picky Bar I had in my pocket for just this circumstance. I'd never tried Picky Bars before, but figured they sounded good and was hoping to try them out in a race environment. One bite ... my mouth filled with saliva ... and the taste of iron. I tried to choke that single bite down, but it wasn't happening. So much for that idea! (Post-race I ate the rest and it was delicious ... go figure). Then my stomach started to turn. I frantically pulled out my ziplock bag of TP and started searching the side of the trail for a place to go digging in the dirt. I'm running out of steam, there's 3 guys right on my tail, and now I'm going to lose 5 minutes going to the bathroom. Fan-freakin-tastic!

Luckily, my stomach settled and I never needed to stop.  By some miracle, I finally made it through the gauntlet of way-too-steep steps, past the waterfall, and up to the final AS, but I honestly couldn't say what the scenery was like on the way up. I hear it's beautiful, but I was busy hunched over, staring at the ground, hoping my legs would keep pumping.

This is what the internet says I ran past:

I wouldn't know ... I was too busy contemplating collapsing into a heap and weeping like a little baby.

I passed through the final AS and stumbled my way to the top of the climb. Then, the cramps kicked in. Fantastic! I hadn't experienced cramps in my previous 4 races this spring, so it was clear that something was up with my legs.  My right leg was the worst, likely from slightly overcompensating all race to protect the bum left leg. I stopped for a moment to stretch out. Then I stopped for another moment.  Was I going to survive this race at all?!

"Oh don't do that!" John had caught up with me as I was stretching out my quad cramps and offered up some sage advice.  I started to run with him but it was clear I wouldn't be able to keep up. After a few minutes of chatting, he ran on down the trail. I, on the other hand, limped along at pedestrian pace ... And then I bit it! My leg threw a cramp mid-stride and I was flung headlong onto the trail. After a quick roll and pop-up, my legs surprisingly felt better, probably from a quick shot of adrenaline. I picked up the pace as I careened downhill along the final stretch of single track.  As I popped out onto the road to the finish, I could see John in the distance.  I picked up the pace to the point of pain, but not hard enough that I was going to blow out my legs. I had really wanted to run in the neighborhood of 5:30 miles on the way down, but that wasn't going to be happening today.

I kept my eyes fixated on John as I flew down the mountainside at 6-flat pace, breathing calmly, and ever mindful of my weakened legs. 10 seconds back ... still 10 seconds back ... still 10 seconds back ... I'm gonna catch you! 15 seconds back ... One Mile To Go! ... 20 seconds back ... Cramp! Cramp! Cramp! ... There's someone behind me?! How the hell did that happen? Just dig deep ... Almost there. 

And finally ... there it was ... The Promise(d) Land!

I ended the race firmly in 9th place with a time of 5:15. Except, well, actually, it was 8th place!  The would-be 2nd place runner took a wrong turn after cresting the final climb and ended up retracing an earlier section of the race ... his loss, my gain. While I was 15 minutes off of my original goal, I was only 5 minutes back of my pre-race adjusted goal of 5:10, and more than all of those 5 minutes were lost on the final climb and descent. At the end of the day, it was a solid effort that I could hang my hat upon. I was nowhere near 100% physically, yet I stayed within range of many runners I'm now beginning to consider my equals and no longer those lead guys waaay up ahead.  And I snagged a Top 10 to redeem myself from Holiday Lake ... with some sweet Top 10 swag -- an insanely comfortable Patagonia hoodie (I always need a new hoodie!). It was an incredible race and an amazing experience. I can't wait to come back next year -- healthier, stronger, determined.

... and now it's time to go see a doctor about that leg!

2016 Bull Run Run 50 Miler Race Recap

After a three week reprieve from races, complete with my first ever 80+ mile training week, it was time to take on Bull Run! Since the elevation profile of the course is just a bunch of rolling hills -- or so I had heard -- I didn't create my traditional race plan. To be honest, I wasn't even sure how long the course really was. The race organizers are old school and seemingly allergic to data.  I figured I'd have a goal of finishing in 7:30 with a dream of 7:15. Looking at previous race results, that meant I had a shot at Top 10.

... Oh, and here's proof of how old school this race is ... look at this absurd course map:

(Official BRR Course Map. Compliments of MSPaint, circa 1985.)

Since the BRR is in the DC area, I was happy to get to spend the night before the race at home in my bed instead of in the back of my SUV or in a tent. However, I had to wake up at 3-ish to make the hour-long drive to the race start at Fountainhead Regional Park along the Occoquan River. When I got there I tried sleeping in my car a bit, but ended up just laying there, biding my time before I went to pick up my race bib and get ready.

I went back and forth between wearing Altra Superiors and Lone Peaks, and 15 minutes before the race start I decided to tear off the Superiors and opt for a little bit more cushioning in the Lone Peaks, despite never having raced in them before. And, lucky for us runners, just before the race started the forecasted rain came rolling through, so I threw my Houdini over my thin long-sleeve shirt and headed to the start, not entirely comfortable with my last minute gear decisions.

As the race started, I tucked in towards the front, but I wasn't too sure of my place.  I ran alongside a handful of runners, chatting them up, and just getting a feel for my pace. The section before the first AS around 7 miles had some rocky, rooty sections but it wasn't that bad. Then there was 2 miles out and 2 miles back to the AS, and this section was FAST. An older guy I was running with (that turns out to have been a Grand Slam finisher) advised that we pick up the pace, but I was already dipping into the 7:40s. As the runners reached the turnaround I counted and realized I was comfortably in 7th place. I made sure I maintained sight of a couple runners in front, but I had no desire to try and play catch-up.

When I rolled by the AS that we passed on the outbound trip, around Mile 11, I begrudgingly ran up a packed incline to the AS, just so I could run around a damn chair and head back into the sea of humanity swarming into the AS. I had no need for water or food either time, but was instructed that I needed to run up a couple dozen steps, awkwardly circle a camp chair, and run back down. I felt like yelling in frustration!

I made the way back to the start, at around 16 miles, and couldn't wait to cast aside my second handheld bottle.  I had wanted to run the race with 2 bottles, despite the numerous aid stations, to get a feel for my Western States hydration strategy. But this 50 Miler was running fast and 2 bottles just felt awkward at the pace I was going, so I threw aside the empty water bottle and kept the one still half filled with electrolytes and calories.  As I exited the AS/Bag-drop, I somehow found myself ahead of everyone I'd been running near for the first third of the race. I was probably in 4th or 5th place at that point.

I continued on, making good time. Near the soccer fields, around Mile 20, I found myself bunched up with 3 other runners, likely representing 4th through 7th. I had been needing to go to the bathroom for a couple of miles, but was not looking forward to squatting in the rain, so I held out hope there'd be restrooms near the soccer fields. One was conveniently right along the race course, but another runner beat me to it, so I rounded the fields and took a slight detour to some other restrooms. Right as that happened, the thunder began to boom and little kids and their parents went scurrying off the fields.

When I was done using the restroom, the 3 runners I was with were long gone, but coming up on me was John Andersen, whom I'd run with 3 weeks earlier at Terrapin. I slowed down so he could catch up, and we ran along together through the next 2 aid stations. It was great to have some company in the rain and slop.

At the start of the White Loop, I pulled ahead of John as he stopped to grab a jacket. At this point I was feeling good and could see a couple of runners a minute or two ahead of me. I picked up the pace and kept rolling through the undulating trail. I quickly picked off one of the runners and then came up alongside Brad Hinton just as we entered the Do Loop. I had heard stories of how draining the Do Loop was -- a 3 mile roller coaster ride -- and went in a bit apprehensive. But 3 miles later I found myself wondering that was it?! All of my trail running in DC is on successive 100' - 150' climbs and descents so I was more than accustomed to the trials of the Do Loop and found it to be rather underwhelming.

At this point in the race I had passed a good number of runners and found myself in 4th place. But I started a period of mental disorientation that lasted through the end of the race.  I never bothered to check my watch for times or distances between aid stations on my route out to the Do Loop. It was supposed to be a 50Miler, and the Do Loop was supposed to end at around 35Miles, but my watch was showing closer to 32. What was going on?! Did I cheat?! Did I miss a turn and skip a section of trail on accident?! How much farther do I really have to go?

I kept trudging along, thinking I've got at least 15 miles to go. I passed through one aid station and remembered on the outbound section a volunteer said it was "only 2 miles to the next one." I thought I was on that section and that I'd quickly come upon the next aid station.  But I had lost track of where I was on the course and was actually in the middle of a 5 mile section between Wolf Run Shoals and the Bull Run Marina. It felt like someone had up and moved an Aid Station just to screw with me. I was clearly losing steam.

I slowly rolled into Bull Run Marina, and saw John Andersen's wife, Michelle. She told me there was about 5 miles to go and that Ryan Paavola was a minute ahead of me in 3rd place.  For about 2 seconds I thought Just dig deep and you'll be on the podium!  Then the fatigue crept back in and I started to panic ... How far back is everyone else? Am I going to get swallowed up in the final miles?!

Just before the soccer fields I ran through what felt like a mile of mud. At this pace, there was no way I'd ever make it to the finish. I came back upon the soccer fields, long since abandoned by all the soccer kids, and saw Ryan maybe a minute ahead. I tried to pick up the pace but my legs weren't having any of it. For the next few miles I stumbled through some rocky sections along the river bank, not really knowing how much farther I had to go. My watch read 45+ Miles and I had a panic attack ... wasn't the last aid station only 5 miles from the finish? What is going on?! Then I looked back and another runner was maybe 150 yards back. Where the hell did he come from?!

I kept trying to pick up the pace, and then I'd immediately resign myself to getting passed and taking 5th.  It's okay, I thought, this is a hard training run, not a race. I came upon a long, steep climb and Ryan was only strides ahead of me, clearly suffering. I passed him and told him to hang in there. When I crested the climb I recognized the open grassy field from earlier in the race. The finish line is just ahead! I looked behind me one last time to see the other runner coming up on me, hard. I dug deep and found I had another gear.  I cruised into the finish, capturing my second 3rd place finish in the last 3 weeks. My watch read 7:16 ... and 46.8 Miles. Thank goodness I didn't have another 3.2 to go!

Bull Run was a fantastic experience. It served as an affirmation that I was on the right track with my training and that I would be ready for Western States come June. If I have any words of advice for other runners out there, it's this:

• The race is well short of 50 miles! Be thankful.
• If you're not prepared for miles and miles of rolling trails, this race will chew you up and spit you out.
• The first third of the race can run fast, but don't overexert yourself.
• Don't fear the Do Loop!
• There's bathrooms at the Soccer Fields! (Roughly Miles 20 and 42)

(At the awards ceremony. 3rd Place behind winner Brian Rusiecki. How cool is that?!)

Now, on to Promise Land in 3 weeks!

2016 Terrapin Mountain 50K Race Recap

(Badass post-race photo. Photo courtesy of Natasha Lamalle Photography)

It's been over 2 weeks since I ran this race, so I figured I better hurry up and get a race report written up.

I just ran a road marathon the week before, BQing for the first time. I treated it as a hard workout. My legs never felt sore or tired in the days between it and Terrapin, but I knew that I'd be playing with fire if I gave Terrapin 100%. I've still got the Bull Run 50 Miler on 09APR and Promise Land 50K++ 3 weeks after that, not to mention the fact that none of these spring races are my A races.  So I resigned myself to taking Terrapin easy and just enjoying the solid amount of vertical gain and trail time I'd be getting in.

I did a very light bit of planning ahead of time, mapping out the elevation and using data from my previous 2 races this year to predict my Aid Station arrival times and my finishing time, which was planned out at 4:45. That was comforting to know that a hard-but-not-quite-race-pace would likely yield a finishing time that's historically been in the Top 10 each year. So I figured I'd just jump to the front of the pack and follow along with some folks somewhere around 10th place for the first climb of the race.

(Terrapin Mountain 50K Elevation Profile ... a bit of a roller coaster)

Terrapin Mountain 50K starts and finishes at the Sedalia Center somewhere in the depths of Virginia. It's put on by Clark Zealand, who is also the Race Director for the Grindstone 100. It consists of 3 sustained climbs -- one of which isn't too long but it is rather steep -- and a few solid descents. The overall vertical profile is somewhere in the neighborhood of +7000'/-7000'.

(Start/Finish for Terrapin. The namesake mountain is in the background ... I think.)

I drove out to the Sedalia Center the afternoon before the race, partook in some pre-race pizza, and then hit the hay in the back of my SUV. Race morning was a bit chilly, with temperatures somewhere in the 40s, and a forecast that predicted cloudy skies and precipitation and temps that wouldn't rise much at all as the day went on.  So instead of a t-shirt, I opted for a lightweight Gore long sleeve shirt, and I threw my Houdini jacket in the pouch of my handheld just in case. I opted against gloves and a hat, figuring I wasn't going to be out running for very long. I had my trusty Patagonia Strider Pro 5 shorts, packed with 3 Huma gels, and my feet were decked out with some Injinji trail socks and my go-to Altra Superiors.

In the pre-dawn haze, I lined up near the front of the starting pack and waited for 7:00am to arrive. When it did, I was off! I settled nicely into an easy pace near the front. As it turned out, I ran into John Andersen, owner of Crozet Running, right after the start. His race times last year were roughly where I wanted to be this year, so I figured I'd run alongside him for awhile. We ran together for the first mile or so, until the course jumps off the paved road and onto a steeper trail up to Camping Gap. At this point, John and a few others worked their way ahead of me, but never by more than a few dozen meters. I was working somewhat hard, but well within myself ... no sense in ruining my easy-paced race plan in the first few miles.

After passing through the first AS at Camping Gap, I started my way down the long descent alongside John. We took it fairly easy, keeping up a steady conversation despite steady 6:40 miles ticking by. If I were by myself, I likely would've kicked up the pace another 20-30 seconds per mile, but this pace better suited my objective of treating Terrapin as a hard training run. And, I was enjoying the company.

A couple other runners caught up to us and we all ran and chatted together until we got into the 2nd AS at the bottom of the first Camping Gap descent. The others joked that they were in for a rough go of it if they were some how keeping pace with John Andersen 10 miles into the race, but he made it known that his objectives were similar to mine -- no hard racing today, boys! The question of our placing came up and John thought only 2 other runners were ahead of us, which I adamantly refused to believe.  But as we strolled into AS2 we saw Clark (RD) and jokingly asked what place we were in, to which he responded by slapping the first of us into the Aid Station on the back and shouting "THIRD!"  Well, that certainly makes things interesting!

The next 9-10 miles were pretty much all climbing and I stayed alongside John the whole time. We were occasionally joined by one of two other runners, but it was pretty clear that by the time the dust settled the two of us would be finishing in 3rd and 4th place today. We joked about it occasionally, but kept treating the race as a solid training run, never pushing ourselves outside of the comfort zone.

Coming up to Camping Gap for the 2nd time, we started into the Lollypop, a looped out-and-back of the White Oak Ridge Trail, consisting of a 6 mile trek 1000' up and then back down a mountain. A couple sections topped out at around a 10% grade, and the way back down had a couple sections that were closer to -12%. John, myself, and another runner -- Chris Miller -- worked our way up to the top together. I punched my bib at the top first and headed back down. I took it very easy, waiting for Chris and John to rejoin me. After a mile or so, the loop ended and joined back up with the original trail (the stick of the lollypop). I looked back and John was a few seconds back but Chris was nowhere to be seen.  I kept the pace easy, and John and I linked back up before we came back into the Camping Gap AS for the third time.

The last climb of the day, to the top of Terrapin Mountain, was all that was left. The rest was pretty much all downhill. I'd heard the climb up to the peak, bouncing across the "Terrapin Rocks", and the descent were a bit hairy, so I selfishly continued to run alongside my new running buddy, seeing as how he'd ran this race before. The climb to the top of Terrapin Mountain was a bit steep, but I never felt winded. It had been raining and sleeting for a while, but by this point it was getting cold enough at the upper elevations of the course that snow was beginning to stick on the ground.

We punched our bibs at the top and began the 2.5 mile and 2000' descent -- yeah an average of 800' per mile! We squeezed our way through Fat Man's Misery -- an 18" wide crack in a rock you have to shimmy down -- and continued to hop our way down the mountainside. By this time, I was thankful I'd taken the first 20 miles of the race so easy ... my legs felt fresh as daisies.

After rolling into the final AS, there was a bit more than 5 miles to the finish. A good portion of it skirted the mountainside, jutting in and out of slight ravines. John said there would be 10, and we proceeded to count them down ... but I think there ended up being 11. I ran very much within myself at this point, comfortably hitting about 8:30 pace. It felt weird taking it that easy, weird but enjoyable. As the end came near, John and I debated racing the last bit or jokingly holding hands over the finish line -- something the winners of the TJ100K did a couple weeks prior.  We settled on the latter option ... just a couple of happy-go-lucky running bros skipping and holding hands!

As the finish approached, we picked up our pace to about 6:30/mile over the final 2 miles or so, and cruised into the finishing chute. I had to switch my handheld from my right to my left hand to prepare for the awesome hand-holding ... and to be honest, the bit of off-balance I felt from that slight shift in weight was probably the most uncomfortable part of the entire race ... a pretty good sign I accomplished my primary objective of treating Terrapin as a training run.

When we made the turn into the finishing chute, Clark could be heard over the loudspeaker shouting "There can only be ONE third place!" Sorry to disappoint, Clark! As we crossed the finish in just over 4:45, John and I held hands and jumped in the air to maximize the cheesiness.  Sadly, the race photographer missed us, but I happily recreated the scene in Microsoft Paint...

(Best Friends Forever! Yay! I'm the shorter one on the right.)

All in all, it was a really good day. I took on some pretty awesome trails, got a good workout in, developed a better understanding of just what I'm capable of now that I've stuck to a consistent training schedule, and I got to casually chit-chat for hours on end.  Now, it's onto the Bull Run Run 50Miler on 09APR!

Here's a breakdown of my Aid Station splits:

	GPS Distance	Race Distance	Split	Split Pace	Duration
Camping Gap (AS1)	4.0	4.0	43:10	10:48	43:10
Goff Rd (AS3)	5.2 (9.2)	5.4 (9.4)	35:25	6:48	1:18:35
Hunting Creek (AS4)	3.9 (13.1)	3.9 (13.3)	38:43	9:55	1:57:18
Camping Gap (AS5)	2.8 (15.9)	3.1 (16.4)	29:26	10:30	2:26:44
Camping Gap (AS6)	5.8 (21.7)	5.7 (22.1)	51:56	8:57	3:18:40
Terrapin Mtn Lane (AS7)	3.5 (25.2)	3.5 (25.6)	40:32	11:35	3:59:12
Finish	5.4 (30.6)	5.5 (31.1)	46:21	8:35	4:45:33

... Oh, and I got some sweet podium schwag!

(My Terrapin Mountain 50K "Top Finisher" schwag ... cuz I'm awesome like that.)

Strava Link (all the cool kids do it):

Holiday Lake 50K++ 2016 Race Report

(Cool kids don't look at the camera! Compliments of Neils Photography)

First Loser
Almost-but-not-quite
First Atta-boy


That's a pretty good summary of my first Holiday Lake finish.

You see, with about 6 miles left in the race I overtook a runner for 11th place. I had no idea how far ahead 10th place was.  I could hear Horton's pre-race words bouncing around in my head: DON'T BE 11th! Why? Because Top Ten get a fancy-schmancy Patagonia backpack.

As I crossed the Mile-To-Go marker I prayed, Don't let me see Tenth! With a little more than a half mile left, I popped off the single track and onto the road that would take me to the finish ... and I'll be damned if I didn't see the top of someone's head bouncing a few hundred feet in the distance before they descended down the other side of a crest in the road.

I was already pushing my pace pretty hard, but I kicked it into overdrive ... well, as close to overdrive as a 30-year-old who hasn't done track work in over a decade can get.  I quickly closed the gap on Tenth, who was trodding along multiple minutes per mile slower than me at this point. Tenth looked over his shoulder. He was totally caught off guard. I could tell he was a college kid, and the fact that he was out here running a sub 4:10 50K meant he was probably in good shape and, at the very least, still had some residual speed from his high school days. Great, just what I needed!

Tenth changed gears.
Tenth had something left in the tank after all.
Tenth wouldn't let me catch him.
Tenth slowly pulled away.

... 1 stride
... 2 strides
... 3 strides

I was giving it everything I could.  The final downhill was propelling me to what felt like a sub 5:00 mile effort. I wanted so badly to close the gap ... but it wasn't to be.  Tenth finished a few strides ahead of me. I crossed the finish running as fast as my legs could possibly go.

As I threw my hands on my knees, gulping down air, Horton wrapped his arm around my shoulders: I'm sorry to tell you, but ...

I cut him off, I know, I know!

A few moments later I explained that I caught 4 guys on the back half of the race (the next runner to finish was a full 10 minutes behind me), and that had to count for something, right? It had to make up for being Eleventh! Horton's response, a tap on the back and an Atta-boy.  A volunteer chimed in: Well, that's the first Atta-boy handed out today! I guess that counts for something.

So ... how did I get to the finish of 2016's Holiday Lake 50K, a few strides behind that speedy punk college kid, Tenth, with his magical extra gear? Here's a quick race recap...

Prerace

The race takes place at the Holiday Lake 4-H camp near Appomattox, VA.  Because it was a nearly 4 hour drive from DC and the race started at 6:30am, I drove down the night before and stayed in the bunkhouse down there. The prerace dinner was nice and welcoming. It's nice to have the opportunity to listen to the legendary Dave Horton ramble on.

I made small chit-chat, and the big question on a number of runners' minds was:

Shorts or Tights?!

The next morning was projected to be near the single-digits. In the previous few days I had made a point to do some light runs in shorts at the coldest parts of the morning, and I thought I could reasonably tolerate temps down to 15 - 20 degrees. Multiple hours in sub-15 temps at the start of the race might throw off my body's temperature regulation and I'd just feel off the rest of the race.  So, aligning with the consensus from other runners, I planned on wearing my super comfy windproof trail tights (GORE's Windstopper products are amazing), even though they have a tendency to ever-so-slightly limit my stride when I got close to marathon pace.

The next morning I bundled up and got some prerace breakfast before heading to the starting line.  Standing around in the dark with the windchill dipping into the single digits, I was glad I opted for tights.  That, along with my windproof GORE jacket, would ensure I'd be nice and cozy all race long.

My gear was as follows: windproof tights, lightweight base t-shirt, midweight longsleeve, windproof jacket, beanie and gloves, my trusty Altra Superiors, and a 20oz handheld with roughly 500 calories of electrolyte mixture and 2 gels in the pocket.

Just before 6:30am, we all congregated at the start, nearly all of us wearing headlamps for the meager 30 or so minutes we'd need them before sunrise -- starting a 50K race 30 minutes before daylight ... just another one of those seemingly illogical Horton quirks!

We sang the national anthem and then took off into the night, dozens of headlamps bobbing up and down.

First Half

The race starts at the 4-H camp, and then makes a large clockwise loop around Holiday Lake and the surrounding forest, swinging back into the camp after roughly 16 miles.  The runners then turn around and retrace their steps counterclockwise to complete the 50K++ race.

I quickly tucked into a group just behind the lead pack -- 10 to 15 ambitious runners who separated themselves awfully quick.  After a half-mile, we turned onto the single track section ... and immediately ... CRASH! Some of the roots on the trail had been spray painted green. In the dark they looked a lot like garden hoses. I got distracted double-taking one of these hoses and must have caught my toe on another one. I slammed to the ground, my hand and water bottle breaking my fall. I rolled quickly, popped back up and jumped right back into stride. No harm, no foul ... just a bit of a bruised ego -- I think that was my first official fall on a trail run.

After the first mile, in roughly 7:40, I decided to slightly open my stride.  A guy tucked in behind me, awfully close.  Soon after, I told him to holler if he wanted to swing by, and his hesitant response got me curious.  I looked over my shoulder and realized he was leaching off my headlamp because he didn't have one of his own.  That kind of unnerved me a bit.  I wanted to pick up the pace and try to shake him, just to teach him a lesson!  But my second mile was 7-flat, well below my intended race pace of 7:30-8:00, so I backed off and waited for daylight.

The miles quickly passed by.  I flew through the first AS at Mile 4.  Then, just after Mile 6 came the first creek crossing.  It was only a few inches deep and could probably be long-jumped from bank to bank.  But that was unnecessary as there was a small rock in the middle to serve as a stepping stone.  At roughly Mile 7 was the bigger creek crossing -- shin to knee deep and a good 4 strides wide for me.  When I went through it the icy cold water sprayed all over my legs and up my torso.  At that moment I was glad I opted for tights.

(Smiling and waving only occurs at the beginning of an ultra. Compliments of Neils Photography)

For about a half mile after the creek crossing, my soaking wet feet felt like bricks.  It seemed that I was running with considerable strain just to get my legs moving, those soggy shoes just felt so heavy ... and cold!  The feeling soon wore off and my watch let me know that the slow feeling was all in my head.

Not long after the creek crossings is another AS around Mile 8. They didn't have water in cups so I downed a mysterious red liquid that seemed to be carbonated cranberry juice ... I'll take what I can get.  Then, at about Mile 9 begins a long and runnable stretch of dirt forest road and powerline cuts.  You can really open your stride up here, especially along the powerline stretch, which is from roughly 9 to 10.2 miles.

At around Mile 13 you cut back onto single track and stay on this as you make your way back to the lake, finally getting back to the Start/Finish are at approximately Mile 16.  If you're not ready for it, this single track stretch can be a bit of a shock to your system after multiple miles of flat forest road.

When I got closer to the turn around I began waiting for First Place to come at me head-on.  When I was about a mile out from the turnaround, First and Second flew by in quick succession ... then another runner, and another.  I pulled into the turnaround with a little more than 2:02 on the clock and I had counted 11 runners that came by me.  However, the turnaround path is like a needle's eye, so there's a couple hundred yards where no one can run at you head-on ... I figured a couple folks were just ahead of me but I didn't know how many.

At the turnaround I threw my headlamp off to the side and then topped off my water bottle.  It looked to still be more than half full, meaning that between it and my quick AS stops I'd downed less than 18oz of liquid and no more than 300 calories ... I was starting to fall behind on nutrition ... like always!

Back Half

After the turnaround, a good 3-5 minutes passed before I started running head-on into fellow runners, which meant there was a sizable gap behind me ... I really was in the front pack.  Most of the runners were very gracious, popping off the sometimes rocky single track to let me by -- trail runners have the best manners!

It wasn't until I was off the single track that I spotted folks in front of me.  I made quick work of passing some one and then pulled into the AS near Miles 12 and 20. I downed some more mysterious red liquid and then slowed to a quick walk on a short hill. I used the opportunity to throw down some gel ... or, at least, that was the plan.  I ripped the top off my gel and squeezed into my mouth, but nothing came out. I looked down and there was goop all over my gloves. Apparently my fall at the beginning of the race caused the gel to explode in my handheld pocket. I picked back up to a run, trying to lick off what gel I could salvage before tucking the messy pouch back in my handheld pocket. I contemplated pulling out my other gel, but I wasn't in the mood to risk messing with another sticky blob.

I then spotted two guys running side-by-side a few hundred yards in the distance. I reeled them in, passing at the powerline cut with 10 miles to go. I was feeling good, ticking off sub-8 miles with ease.  Thoughts of negative-splitting danced in my head!

I had planned to hold pace up to the creek crossings and then decide if I should push harder for the last 6 miles or wait for another couple miles before digging deep. So I kept cruising along.  At the big creek crossing I noticed a bit of a dam on the downstream (runner's left) and took a quick second to assess the risk. I went for it and managed to tip-toe-run along it and get to the other bank without a drop of water on me.  That was much nicer than the first time around!

With about 6 miles to go I started to feel a tad bit over-dressed, but I tried to put it out of my mind. I opted to delay my pace increase until the final AS. I quickly overtook another runner, the fourth since the turnaround, and he let me know I was in 11th place.  And so I spent the next 45 minutes filled with adrenaline, wondering if I'd be able to catch Tenth.  Just before the final AS, with 4 miles to go, I crossed paths with AJW, who apparently had nothing better to do than run the course backwards. He informed me that the next runner was a few minutes up. I temporarily picked up the pace, then thought better of it.  There's no way I was going to make up that much time in only 4 miles!

Later, I again tried to push the pace but Miles 30 and 31 felt very sluggish and they rang in at 8:20 each, despite the fact that I felt like I was pushing 7:30 pace. I'm willing to bet right about this time my body was making a transition to fat burn mode, having exhausted my carbohydrate stores. I was desperately trying to crack the Top Ten, but my body just wanted to back down.  I stopped looking at the mileage on my watch and focused on heart rate.  If I really was transitioning to fat burn mode, I didn't want to spike my heart rate and send my body into a panic.

The Mile-To-Go marker caught me by surprise and I immediately kicked it into high gear.  My central governor sensed an end and let me haul ass. I really need to figure out a better way to move up that last jolt of energy in a race because picking up the pace for only the last mile makes me feel like I left time out there on the trails.

The rest of the story is up top, so I won't re-hash the close but no cigar ending.

While I didn't crack the Top Ten, I did come out and achieve a time I was proud of.  I wanted to run 4:00 to 4:15 at Holiday Lake, despite not knowing exactly what the course would be like, and I achieved that coming in just under 4:08. Moreover, according to Strava I had only 40 seconds of non-moving time (quick AS stops), which made the race feel more like a marathon road race.  It was the first ultra in which I didn't have to stop to go to the bathroom or stretch out a cramp. In fact, I didn't even have a single muscle spasm the whole race. All told, it was a pretty solid effort considering I'd ran 50 miles the previous weekend.

One major place for improvement, however, is (still) my race nutrition -- I guzzled down about 100 calories less than I should have, but worst of all I only downed about 50oz of liquid, waay below the 75-90oz I probably should have taken in.  Oh well, no race can be perfect!

Onward to the DC Rock 'n' Roll Marathon March 12th, and the Terrapin Mountain 50K March 19th!

ICY-8 2016 Race Report

My First Ultra Victory

Less than 10 months since my first-ever ultramarathon and I've bagged my first victory.  The ICY-8, an 8 hour trail race at Lake Anna State Park in Virginia, was a fantastic experience for me.  I tried out a number of new things and gained a lot of confidence from the outing. It wasn't a perfect race, but I walked away without any real what ifs hanging over my head for the first time ever.  Below is a brief report of the race.

(Unique Winner's Prize)

Race Format

The ICY-8 takes place in early February on the mostly runnable trails at Lake Anna State Park in Virginia, most of which are double-track.  It's put on by Athletic Equation and the RD is Alex Papadopoulos -- the same folks who host the OSS/CIA 50, an awesome 50 Mile night race in June just outside of Quantico, VA (that I took 3rd in for 2015).

The fun quirk with the ICY-8 is that each runner has the option of running two loops, one an extension of the other ... and you can run them in whichever direction you choose.  The Long Loop is 8.0 miles and the Short Loop is 4.7 miles.  This format makes for fun gamesmanship in that you don't really know who's winning until the race is over.  And it makes the race exciting from a tactical point of view -- when it's coming down to the end of the day are you going to get stranded at the Start/Finish with 40 minutes to spare because you didn't run an optimal combination of loops? (You get no credit for partial loops ... you have to be at the Start/Finish before 8 hours expires or your last loop doesn't count)

Race Planning

After signing up for the Virginia Beast Series, I put myself in an odd predicament in that I would be running Dave Horton's Holiday Lake 50K the weekend after ICY-8.  So I knew I wasn't going to be able to leave everything out on the table for ICY-8 ... I'd need to be cautious towards the end of the race and not overdo it so I'd be relatively fresh for the next weekend.

I put together a loop selection strategy to give me a number of Decision Points -- based on my time after X loops, continue with a Long Loop or run a Short Loop, etc.  I'd run 2 8.0mile Long Loops and 3 4.7mile Short Loops for a total of 30.1miles, then iteratively choose the Long Loop or Short Loop to try and finish as close to 8 hours as possible without a high risk of overshooting.  I had 3 50+ options -- 54.1miles, 52.2miles, and 50.8miles.  Each of those options had a sub-50mile fallback option with one fewer 4.7mile Short Loop -- 49.4miles, 47.5miles, and 46.1miles.  I coded up an app for my Suunto Ambit 3 watch to help with the decision-making -- it estimated the amount of remaining miles I could cover before 8 hours expired.

My goal was to break 50 Miles -- Each of my fallback options were, in effect, admissions of failure ... the inability to maintain a pace that I thought was manageable and well within my abilities.  Honestly, it was a bit odd making 50+ a race goal, considering less than 10 months before ICY-8 I had run my first 50 miler in roughly 9:20.  It's amazing how much progress you can make in the sport of ultrarunning with a year of modest training under your belt.

Running 54.1miles was going to be a tall order. In the 8 years the ICY-8 has been put on, that distance has only been achieved twice, both times by Olivier LeBlond, a member of the 24hour USATF team.  52.2miles was what I was really aiming for, and 50.8miles was the lowest distance I thought that I could run and still walk away from the race satisfied.

The Race

I ended up running 50.8 miles, consisting of 4 Long Loops and 4 Short Loops.  For kicks I ran each loop backwards exactly once just to see what it felt like -- I preferred the standard clockwise direction to the backwards counter-clockwise direction for both the Long and Short Loops.

I started out at a rather comfortable 8:00-8:30 pace for the first few hours.  Then I settled into some 9:00 miles. And finally I hit a rough patch of 10:00 miles before throwing in the towel and taking a celebratory final loop.

Here's a table of my loop stats:

Loop	Start Dist	End Dist	Time	Loop Duration	Loop Running Pace
Long	0.0	8.0	1:07	1:07	8:22
Short	8.0	4.7	1:47	0:40	8:31
Short Bkwds	12.7	17.4	2:29	0:42	8:56
Short	17.4	22.1	3:11	0:42	8:56
Gear Change			3:13	0:02
Long	22.1	30.1	4:24	1:11	8:52
Bathroom			4:30	0:06
Long	30.1	38.1	5:43	1:13	9:08
Short	38.1	42.8	6:31	0:48	10:00
Long Bkwds	42.8	50.8	7:54	1:23	10:15

And here's a graph of my pace:

(ICY-8 Pace and HR)

An important note!  The advertised distances of 8.0 and 4.7 miles for the two loops may be a little off.  Strava has them listed as 8.1 and 5.0 miles.  As for me, I got roughly 8.1 on average for the Long Loop, but something closer to 4.9 miles on average for the Short Loop. Because of the different combinations of loops you can run at ICY-8, folks who pile up on the Short Loop may be cutting themselves short.  For instance, I ran 4 of each loop and got credit for 50.8 miles but my watch registered 52.0.  The person who came in second place got credit for 50.3 miles by running 1 Long Loop and 9 Short Loops, but if you use my average loop distances he may have actually covered 52.2 miles.  That's more than I ran, but he got credit for less. In the end, though, this is just another aspect of the ICY-8 that makes it so quirky.

Race Start

(Sunrise view just before race start)

I woke up around 5:30am, made some oatmeal in one of the cabins I reserved for my family for the weekend, and then headed off to the starting line.  It was around 24 degrees, but was expected to rise to nearly 50 later on in the day.  Since I wasn't going to be racing hard or elevating my heart rate too much, I opted to start the race with windproof tights, a midweight longsleeve shirt, and gloves and a beanie. I was going to practice my Western States hydration strategy with 2 handhelds -- 1 an electrolyte mixture and the other water -- and figured I could conveniently strip down to shorts and a t-shirt when I planned to finish off my 40oz of liquid at Mile 22.1.

We went through the standard pre-race brief, the handful of first-time ultrarunners were given leis to wear for their first loop, and then we were off at 7:30am sharp!

Loop 1 -- Long -- 0 to 8.0 Miles

I quickly settled into second place behind an eager runner, and was happy to let him pull ahead.  Each loop begins with a modest incline on a paved walking trail, complete with "Steep Grade" signs! I felt that the guy in the lead was pushing too hard up this initial climb and figured nerves were just getting the better of him.  By the time we got to the split for the Long Loop or Short Loop, the guy out front was so far ahead I didn't even know which route he had taken. I settled into a comfortable pace at around 8:20-8:30, making sure my heart rate hovered below 165bpm (about 12-15bpm below marathon pace).

A guy named Jon Love came up on me around 20 minutes into the loop and we ran together all the way back to the Start/Finish.  He was running in the Groundhog division, where you could only run 1 of the loops, and only in 1 specified direction. I thought his pace was a tad quick, but was happy to run along with some company for awhile.  We meandered through the double-track, and pushed through the one big climb of the course -- only available on the Long Loop, and then merged back in with the Short Loop, which has some sections of single-track.  At one point we popped off a sub-8 mile, which had me a bit worried.  But my HR was in check and I felt good so I kept on at 8:00-8:20 pace.

The end of the first loop was a lot of fun, and something I was excited to experience more as the day progressed -- the "Steep Grade" we ran up at the beginning really allowed me to open up my stride on the way back down and into the Start/Finish.  It was a nice end to each loop.

I called out "85, Long" to the RD, tapped the Start/Finish gate, and headed back out for a series of Short Loops.

Loops 2 - 4 -- Short Loop -- 8.0 - 22.1 Miles

I switched things up and went for the Short Loop next.  I had already seen 98% of the loop already because the Long Loop is just an extension of the Short Loop.  Nothing of interest really happened for the next couple of hours.  I was able to maintain a steady 8:15 - 8:45 pace (accounting for the slightly longer than advertised distance) while keeping my heart rate close to my target of 165bpm.  When I pulled in after the first Short Loop at 12.7 miles I was greeted with a "you again!" from Alex. And I periodically got shouts from fellow runners to the effect of "Way to go, Speedy!"  Honestly, I was called "Speedy" about 10 times during the race ... I guess people thought I was booking it.

The only real thing of note over these miles was that I developed some tightness in my left calf and achilles around Mile 12. I was very aware of it and made sure to not push my pace for fear of cramping and blowing out my legs.  That tightness prevailed for nearly 20 miles before it finally disappeared.

I decided to string together 3 straight Short Loops because my liquid intake was indicating I'd drain my 2 20oz bottles around 21-23 miles into the run.  By that time it was already getting warm and I was more than ready to strip down to shorts and a t-shirt.  On my way in after the 3rd Short Loop for 22.1 miles, I took my time on the steep downhill at the end of the loop and prepared myself for a quick transition -- I ripped off my gloves and beanie, took off my long sleeve shirt (running for a few seconds downhill with a shirt over my head garnered a few looks of surprise), and prepped my bottles.  When I came into the Start/Finish it was the first time I had stopped moving, which felt a bit weird.  At any rate, I made quick time of stripping off my tights, picking up a new electrolyte mixture, and filling my other bottle back up with water.  I also grabbed a quick swig of ginger ale and a small PBJ sandwich. All told, I was in and out in less than 2 minutes.  Not bad.

At this point in the race, a little over 3 hours in, I had consumed around 45oz of liquid and roughly 600 calories. I was right on pace nutrition-wise.

Loop 5 -- Long Loop -- 22.1 - 30.1 Miles

This was my last loop before I needed to start making tactical decisions to maximize my distance and minimize my risk of getting stranded out on the course when 8 hours rolled around.  I eased into a good pace of 9:00 miles and felt very comfortable.  I even had the legs to tackle the big climb on the Long Loop without hiking.

...I probably should have walked, however.  My HR spiked and then held steady at 175, well above what I wanted.  At this point I was about 4 hours into the race and I think my body was starting to transition to full-on fat burning mode.  Looking back, the big climb + the fat burning transition is likely what kept my HR elevated for the next couple of miles.  But while I was out on the trail I was totally baffled ... my pace felt easy, my breathing was fine, my muscles were okay ... there was no reason my HR should have been cresting 170, much less 180!

About halfway through the loop, right around the point that my HR was acting up, I hit my first 9:00+ mile, ignoring the previous Aid Station stop.  Hmm, that's a bit unexpected! Then I hit another mile over 9:00. What the hell is going on?!  By the end of the loop it was clear that 8:00-8:30 miles were behind me...

When I pulled into the Start/Finish at 30.1 Miles I had plenty of liquids and I really wanted to just turn around and head right back out onto the trails ... but nature was calling and there was a restroom 150 yards from the Aid Station.  Despite taking a slew of Immodium in the 12 hours before the race, it was not at all unexpected for me to have the urge to go scratching in the woods right about this time in the race.  The lure of a porcelain seat was too much to pass up on, so I did my business on a proper toilet instead of squatting behind a log in the woods.  The jog to/from the restroom probably cost me 2 minutes, but I figured if I put myself in a position to finish my final loop in 8:02, well then that was my own damn fault for not pacing properly.

Loop 6 -- Long Loop -- 30.1 to 38.1 Miles

This loop was rather uneventful.  I raced off from the restroom, but once I hit that early Steep Grade I took a minute to fast hike and down a gel (Strawberry Huma chia gel, yummy). Then I got back to it, making a comfortable 9:00-9:15 pace for the entire loop. My heart rate remarkably settled in on 155bpm, well below the elevated rate it was at for the previous loop.

When it came time to tackle the big climb, I took the conservative approach and used it as an opportunity to hike. I still had another 16-20 miles left to run and I didn't want to start inducing muscle spasms or anything.

Overall, my pace was pretty consistent with the previous Long Loop, but I was slowing down.  It looks like the race had broken down into a constant effort of just below 8:30 pacing for the first 22.1 miles, and then something closer to 9:00 pacing for miles 22.1 to 38.1.

I came into the Start/Finish feeling a little tired. I knew that 54.1 miles was most likely out of the question, but 52.2 miles was still a possibility.  That would require 3 more Short Loops.  Knowing my next loop was going to be a Short Loop, I ditched my handheld with the water, thinking it'd be excessive to keep carrying 2 bottles.  I filled my other handheld with some more electrolyte mixture, downed a bit of ginger ale, and snagged another small PBJ sandwich, then headed off.

At this point I was just shy of 6 hours into the race, I had consumed around 80oz of liquid and just shy of 1200 calories. My nutrition intake was still solid but my H2O intake needed to improve a bit.

Loop 7 -- Short Loop -- 38.1 - 42.8 Miles

This loop would be my make it or break it loop.  If I held a solid 9:00 pace I could likely push it for 3 remaining Short Loops and finish with 52.2 miles ... but that's not how it turned out ...

From the get-go, I was a mess.  Right after the Steep Grade climb, my quads started to spasm slightly.  I pulled off to the side of the trail to stretch them out.  Instead of squatting down and stretching them gently, I acted like an idiot and swung my right heel up to my butt for a standing quad stretch.  My right hamstring immediately protested! I started to lose my balance from the hamstring spasming, so my left knee buckled hard and my left quad started to spasm, too.  Crap!  This could be a rough end to the race!  I calmed myself and spend the next minute carefully stretching my legs before heading back off down the trail.

It didn't get any easier for me. I was struggling to maintain 9:00 miles.  I felt like I was exhausting myself to get close to 9-flat.  My heart rate was fine but it just felt like I wasn't running on all cylinders anymore.  Towards the end of the loop I was pushing 10:00 miles and the app on my watch showed my expected mileage dropping 0.1 miles every few minutes.  I was running out of steam!

I stumbled into the Start/Finish with less than 90 minutes left on the clock. That last Short Loop took me a full 7 minutes longer than the first time I ran it.  With the Short Loop running closer to 5.0 miles than 4.7, I'd need to finish hard running a long string of sub-9:00 miles to get 52.2.  I quickly topped off my water bottle just in case, and headed back out on the trail.

Loop 8 -- Long Loop -- 42.8 - 50.8 Miles

I decided I'd push the pace and start running the Short Loop backwards.  Because of how the Long Loop is an extension of the Short Loop, running backwards would give me roughly 3 miles to decide if I should push it for 52.2 miles or cut my losses with 50.8.  If I had ran the standard clockwise direction, I'd only have around 1.5 miles to make up my mind.

Despite walking up the Steep Grade at the beginning, my quads again started spasming along the exact same section of trail as before. So, again, I took a minute to stretch out ... still clinging to the hope that this would solve my problems and give me what I needed to dig deep and grab 52.2 miles.

By the time I got to the turn off for the Long Loop extension it was clear that 52.2 wasn't going to happen.  I might have been able to manage it, but it would've required blowing out my legs and compromising Holiday Lake the next weekend.  The string of 3 straight 10:00+ miles really made my mind up for me.  I would be finishing with 50.8 miles for the day.

... So I dialed back the pace and enjoyed myself.  My stride felt light and loose, my breathing was easy, it was wonderful.  Moreover, because I was running the Long Loop backwards, I had the trails to myself for the last few miles -- at this point in the game no one in their right mind would head off on the Long Loop in the clockwise direction, and I had a feeling no one was going to be sneaking up on me from behind.

With around 30 minutes left in the race my stomach started feeling weird.  Great! Just what I needed.  I tried running through it but quickly realized I'd either need to slow to a crawl or bite the bullet and go scratching in the woods.  I did my business in short order and was back on the trail.  However, I wasn't exactly sure how much longer I had to run. I panicked and picked up the pace. My central governor, sensing the end was near, flooded my system with a jolt of energy and let me dial up the effort.

I steamed into the Finish with about 6 minutes to spare.  I had officially run 50 miles in less than 8 hours for the first time!  No matter what place I was in, I'd be walking away from the race with a sense of accomplishment.

All told, I had consumed around 1500 calories, right on target.  My hydration was a bit low at maybe 120oz, if that.  I should've taken in closer to 150 ... that's something I need to keep working on.

Awards!

Minutes after I finished, I saw my wife approaching the parking lot, pushing our daughter in the stroller.  They'd missed me finish by a couple of minutes, but it was all good because the kiddo apparently had a stellar nap!  We played at the nearby playground for a little while, as the RD tabulated the results.

When the awards were being announced, I hung out off to the side, playing with my kid.  They started working their way up the finishers list, and at 3rd place they called out 48.9 miles.  If I had my thinking cap on just then, I would've realized I'd won, cuz I'd spoken to another guy at the finish and he said he'd run 50.3 miles.  Instead, I waited for my name to be called ... And when someone else was called up for 2nd place, my wife and I exchanged equally befuddled looks.

I'm not quite sure I can convey what I was feeling just then -- excitement, confusion, relief.  I'd come out to ICY-8 just looking to get a hard training run in, hoping I could verify that I had the legs for a sub-8 50 mile effort.  I walked away with First Place Overall and I didn't even push the pace.  My mind immediately started racing to the next handful of races I have lined up this spring. Here's to hoping I can keep building momentum towards a stellar Western States appearance in June!

Afterward ...

After spending the night in our cabin (which I highly recommend for anyone interested in visiting Lake Anna), complete with a cozy fire, me and the family headed back to DC on Sunday.  But not before swinging by Sonic for a celebratory meal ...

(Mmmmm, Sonic!)