|Different choices from the start...hydration systems, use of poles....|
In this race, forecast rain is NOT a good thing, though. The climbs in the coulees are STEEP. So steep that in 2008 when it rained, they had to call it off, mid event. The organisers' rain plan for this year was to move everyone to the "Pavan loop" (16k) to do repeat laps. That wasn't the Miler I wanted to run. And I sure as heck didn't want to get shifted to the "rain course" mid event.
We started under a clear sky, with showers expected after 2 pm.
|One lap. Like an ECG with a flat line getting kicked going again.|
I revised my plan to 23 hours. The female CR (26h08) was held by Shelley Gellatly, a hardcore Yukon Arctic Ultra runner - she set it in 2007, the year I ran the 50k.
|Out from the hills as I approach an aid station.|
Lap 1 heated up and we initiated the heat management strategies - including lots of cold water soaks and ice at the aid stations. I was running on Hammer Perpetuem caffe latte in a pancake batter mix, with pears as a fructose source to augment caloric needs. I swapped UltrAspire packs at each aid station, which held enough water for that leg. Caffeine pills were at hand, but I also used the option of Hammer Espresso gels, which had the perfect 50mg hits I needed to top up stores periodically.
Somewhere around the 40k mark, I came through an off leash dog park. The day before, recce'ing the aid stations (Rolf was going to be driving solo on the right (wrong) side of the road with "crazy" things like 4 way stops!), we'd seen a dog chase down a truck, biting at the tyres at 25kph. Scary as heck. It wasn't the same dog, but I was chased by one as I passed through and had another do the "dazed-dog-in-the-middle-of-the-trail" routine. I had to veer around him at the last minute. I like dogs a lot, but I was starting to dislike this park's dogs.
As I closed in on the completion of lap 1, I noted that I was going to bank an hour on my projected lap 1 time. I was going to come in under the female CR time for the 50k (5hr49). That sounded decidedly unwise. I pulled it back a few notches and told myself to get some recovery from the increasing heat of the day by bringing my heart rate down. I came through lap 1, ~54k, about 5hr54. It was just before 2 pm. [For those who looked at online splits, several are completely wonky and I have no idea why.]The sun had disappeared behind the clouds and a short shower ensued. Then the sun came back with a vengeance. A scan of the horizon indicated there would be no more clouds for the afternoon. More heat management. The shower had soaked my feet and they couldn't dry due to narrow trails with long grasses throwing more water on them with each step. The bottoms of my feet started to macerate - I took an important 8 minute stop to apply Compeeds and change socks. The descents had become temporarily slick in the wet. I was chased by different dogs in the park.
|Closer up view of our terrain - photo by Lynne Chisholm|
Perhaps around the 75k mark, I came upon a woman from behind, moving with some pain evident. I was confused, as it wasn't the 100k female I knew was in front. Then she told me that there were 3 or 4 more women ahead. Okay, so where was the bus that everyone else got in?? How did I end up behind 5 women? Rolf solved the riddle later for me. The 100k runners skipped a 7k loop on their second lap, in order to keep their race to ~100k, rather than doing a double 54k. So several 100k runners, men and women, were now in front of me. I finished lap 2 (108k) just after dark, 1 hour ahead of my projected time.
Although my beautiful trail mates, my Leki poles, were packed, the course did not lend itself to their use. The trails in the hill sections were so narrow and filled with long grasses that they would have snagged heaps and slowed me down.
Lap 3 allowed a pacer. Thus, Rolf could run out further from the aid stations to meet me in each section. He was amazed by the steep coulees, with their sharp drops off one side and the long grasses and cactuses. There was a "whump" behind me as he fell off the trail. I couldn't look back, as I was too dizzy and feared I'd go over with him. Rule #71 of having a pacer is that the help only goes in one direction ;)
|Superhero goggles on another night-originally meant for my watery eyes|
But it wasn't all suffering :) I heard coyotes yipping, saw fish jumping in the river, and saw a roo. Okay, my brain told me it couldn't be a roo, but for the life of me those glowing eyes in the dark looked like a roo. A small, fat critter waddled off my path later - raccoon or skunk, perhaps. I came through the dog park one last time in the dark and cheered aloud that there were no nocturnal dog owners.
I developed a blister on the end of a toe that had nail damage from earlier in the season. I loaded 2Toms anti-blister powder into my socks in the hope it would prevent what I thought was going to be a problem toenail. Sure enough, descents became torturous. I had to will myself to start down each time I stood at the top of a hill. Amazing how blindingly painful a little blister can be. I kept expecting the sudden warmth of it popping in my shoe, but it never did. My banked hour was donated to a lousy toe blister. But worst of all was the realisation after the race...why didn't I stop and pop it?!? A 5 minute stop might have saved 30 minutes of slow descents. Ahhh, the clarity of a rested mind! I put this one in the "learnings" basket... don't expect a blister to pop of its own accord.
|6 Years On - Trading "Fat" for "Old" ;-)|
Back in the hotel room, we collapsed - one on each of the two queen beds. I didn't have the energy to undress and shower yet and didn't want to get the communal bed stinky. We laid there in silence for a few minutes and then Rolf said it:
"First you were fat, now you're old."
And we both burst out laughing.
With the benefit of the finish line in the hotel parking lot, I was able to go out numerous times Saturday to cheer runners in. As the cut off approached (7 pm), I stiffly hobbled out onto the course to cheer those who toughed out another day (or a long 50k day) in the coulees. I felt a strange sort of angst, not knowing how many were out there and whether they could stay ahead of the sweep. I breathed a sigh of relief and cheered aloud for each one climbing that last hill home.