An incredible weekend. A crazy, painful, exciting race through the mountains that really tested my limits.
Friday night was the packet pickup and pre-race dinner in Lynchburg. I picked up my race bag, bib number 295. I chatted with the rest of the gang from Raleigh and other friends I knew from the Lynchburg Series. Dinner was all about the carbo-load. Afterwards was a great and entertaining pre-race meeting.
Race morning started with a 3:45 wake-up. I dropped Todd off at Mtizi's and made my way over the Liberty Conference Center to pick up my bus ride to the start. On the way to the race start, I tried to zone in and listened to my iPod. Once at the KOA campground, a pit stop later, I was geared up to go. Always on time, Dr. Zealand started the race promptly at 6:30. HERE. WE. GO.
I went off like a gun. I had some ambitious race goals and wanted to really push my limits. Normally I try to start off easy and pick through people as the day wears on. This time I was anxious to get clear of the field early on. The hardest part was knowing my place in the field. I always knew there were plenty ahead of me, but never knowing EXACTLY how many. I tried to pick up on little tidbits of information from the runners around me; noticing one talk about his top 5 at one race; another talking about the shoes he "got" from Scott (a race company).
Most of the line up occurs before the first aid station. They had moved that first one to about 7.5 miles out; knowing so I took a gel early before reaching that aid station. There was fair bit of slight but long climbing. The kind that's not too steep to walk up, but running up the whole way is incredible taxing. In the past I may have walked, but feeling bold I ran essentially all of it. And of course after the long climb there was a crazy descent. In a similarly bold fashion, I bombed down the hill, knowing that I was thoroughly trashing my quads.
By aid station 4, at mile 17.5, I knew I would paying for my pace later. I had come through in about 2.5 hours, on 7:30 pace. My nutrition seemed OK. I was drinking at least of cup of Gu Juice at each aid station and taking several items of table food. I was fairly comfortable gear-wise. I finally learned to be intentionally cold, wearing just a T-shirt, gloves, and arm warmers. In the shady spots I was only slighty cool, in the sun only slightly warm. Later in the day I would shed both.
Aid stations were relatively close in this first half. I think I got over eager to get ahead of my nutrition and ended up eating too much. I had a very similar experience to Umstead and going into Long Mtn Wayside (26.2 miles in), I was getting uneasy with table food. I was slowing switching from cookies and junk towards bananas and grapes. But I knew that would be ending soon too. My legs were suffering. I wish I could be more descriptive than "UP" but I just can't. It was always just SO slight, but SO long. You could never see the top. You start walking and wishing you didn't have to. And by the time you get to a run-able sections, you're still tired and no longer want to run. The climb right up to half-way was brutal, and right out of half-way was going to be rough.
A lot more the climbing happens in the second half. And there's a lot more technical sections, which just exacerbates the need to hike. Fortunately this year there wasn't any snow. Now, for most of the technical sections, I really didn't think the lack of snow made a difference. Snow-cover, or leaf-covered, you couldn't get traction or get your stride right. The only part was the out-n-back to the summit in the loop, which I felt wasn't as torturous as last year. After leaving Long Mountain, I had essentially given up on solid calories. Now every aid station consisted of pounding back Mountain Dew and a little bit of ginger ale. As my stomach started to empty, and I occasionally popped some salt pills, my energy steadily improved (as it can during a 50 mile race).
Now, when you are doing the Loop, and you hear about this out-n-back summit, you may think "Ah, the summit, it's all down hill from there." Well, it's not, and for me that's what makes the next section so awful. Now you're within 12 miles of the finish, but you are nowhere near done climbing. Here are the most technical sections and the steepest climbs. Maybe not the worst climb, but being so close to the end, when you see the trail start weaving upward, you can't help but feel helpless and frustrated. As you run the mileage in your head you think "9 miles? I can push through and RUN 9 miles." Guess what? You can't.
The Salt Log Gap aid station and Forest Valley station are only 1.2 miles apart, but have the last fire road-type inclines that take it out of you. You come into Forest Valley, the penultimate aid station, ready for some good news. Nope. "You're next aid station is 4.1 miles away. Fuel up because it's going to be HARD." I slam back more Mtn Dew and head out. Probably about a mile in, I take my last salt pill, and washing it down, realize I'm also taking my last bit of water. So now I have a dry 3 miles to go. This is by far the most soul-sucking segment. At one point the trail is so steep and narrow; even with my good placement and time, I'm thinking "I don't know if I can do this." You put everything you have out there for a few more hundred yards and then it eases up and you just submit to the trail and keep going.
With about a mile until Porters Ridge, the last station, it eases up some. Coming into the Porters Ridge, I'm getting excited. I go in, get my soda. I'm told the remaining damage: 3.75 miles to go. It's all downhill. The last bit of soda has me pumping, and I am surging with energy. I'm so close to the goal, my focus narrows. My quads are on fire but I keep on driving forward. With two miles to go, the descent becomes a plummet, and I just wince and cry to myself. But I know I'm so close, at this point I'll take everything that hard surface can give me. I make the final turns and power through to the finish.
The final damage: 8:35:23 for 21st place, and 43 minute course PR.
I almost say I once again "conquered" Masochist, but that doesn't sound right. Nor would I say the Masochist conquered me. But like every ultra, I gave the race everything I had and the reward it gave back was indescribable. The feeling of being emptied of all your energy is incredible. It's hard to say where things will go from here. I am returning to the Umstead 100 in the spring, and how I get there is to be determined.
And to be continued...
EDIT: I have to give a shout out to the rest of the Raleigh gang: Daren, Todd, Mitzi, and Elaine. EVERYONE finished MMTR and they ALL finished the Lynchburg Ultra Series. It was close, but they finished together which was a fantastic way complete the race and series. Congratulations you guys.
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