“Twice is tragedy, thrice is comedy” – attributed to ShakespeareOne would think that a grown man would learn from his mistakes, and in my case that by the third race in the Lynchburg Ultra Series I would have worked out the kinks and settled on what works and what doesn’t. Alas, one would be wrong. Come along and listen to my tale of the Promise Land 50k, where I ran sick, didn’t fuel enough, ate greasy food, didn’t follow the bathroom rule, got started late, wore different socks, went out too fast, tried to keep up with Joe, ran out of water, used a new salt/honey combo, and basically every other possible mistake short of trying to run the race in shoes I had never run in before (Lord knows what would have happened if I had test-drove some new Montrails, as has been offered by the Montrail rep at the start of all the LUS races. Probably, God would have tired of trying to pound some learning into my thick skull, and just struck me with lightning on the spot).
My problems started with a chest cold that had been nagging me since the beginning of the week. Nothing too nasty, but Thursday night every time I started coughing I would get the hiccups, and I had been coughing up pretty green stuff the past few mornings. Then, due to getting a late start and being stuck in traffic on the way to the race I did not do my normal carbo-loading the day before of 4 bagels on the drive down followed by stuffing my face with pasta at the pre-race dinner – since we would not be getting to the campsite until after dark, Joe and I decided to stop for pizza during the drive. The hostess misheard Joe’s order of a mushroom and green pepper pizza, and we did not notice our take-out was very greasy mushroom and pepperoni until we were back on the highway. Although the pizza tasted good, due to the grease I was only able to eat 3 pieces – this lack of my normal carbohydrate binge compounded by a load of grease would be but one error that would come back to haunt me on race day.
We arrived at the Promise Land campsite around 9:00 PM Friday night and set up our tents near the pop-up camper of Dan Lehmann and Bill Potts – it was nice to visit with Dan and Bill (who was coming off a 3:10 Boston Marathon) as I hadn’t seen them in a while. We went down to the pavilion to check in and try on the very nice Patagonia rain jacket that will be the finisher’s swag for whoever completes the LUS. We talked some with Mark (who had ridden down with Doug Sullivan earlier in the day), and then turned in for the night under very pleasant camping conditions.
I woke up to Horton ringing a bell at 4:30 AM feeling pretty well-rested, and my cold did not seem to be bothering me too much. It was a comfortable mid-50s and the weather prediction was for 71 degrees by early afternoon with rain/thunderstorms, so I went with shorts and a T-shirt. With a half hour to race start Joe and I went over to the pavilion to register. Thinking I had plenty of time to break down camp and eat after registering I did not take up Joe’s offer of making a bagel to eat on the walk over. While registering I felt the first effects of the greasy pizza the night before, and went over to the rest room. The line was not so long, but I soon found out that so many runners using the facility at the same time was too much for the well to re-fill the toilets in a timely fashion, which caused the line to move very slowly. My time cushion having evaporated, I ran back to the tents where Joe had already broken down his tent and was ready to go.
Clang, Clang, Clang! Oh no, Horton was already ringing the bell signaling the start of the race! Seriously, how many times do I have to start a race late due to the bathroom to learn? Isn’t once enough? The pack of runners headed out of the campground, but I wanted to get my tent down before starting so as not to risk it blowing away. Joe helped me break it down and shove it in the car before we took off in a panic towards the start line, starting the race close to 10 minutes later then the 5:30 am start time. Of course, it was also pitch black, and unlike Holiday Lake the pack was long gone - there was no one else around for us to follow and we didn’t know the course. We had started the race dead last. We weren’t even sure which way to turn out of the campground to start the race! Using our powers of deduction, and figuring this was a mountain race, we turned uphill and started running up the gravel road. Before too long we saw a lone streamer in our one headlamp that gave us hope, but after that we did not see any more streamers so we weren’t absolutely sure that we were going the right way. Joe kept his sense of humor, joking that the reason there was no one around us was because we were the front-runners and had dropped everyone else. Due to our anxiety as to whether we were truly on the course we ran more of the uphill then we would normally, until finally we saw the faint glimmer of headlamps far above us on the road, signaling we were reaching the stragglers off the back of the pack. Relief, we were going the correct way!
We passed some stragglers and caught up to the back of the pack proper at the first aid station (a pretty spot for an aid station, right next to the first creek of the day), having run 2.6 miles of straight uphill gravel road in 46 minutes. To my dismay there was no food here (not that there should have been any, this early in the race) but that meant I had started the race with no food and would not be able to fuel up with anything more substantial then the honey and gel blocks in my pack until the next aid station. Joe and I continued on, and the race course turned onto a single track trail which switched backed up the mountain. At this point we started running the flats and walking the steeper sections, passing people as we went. Although I did not think we were going much faster than the pace we had used at the start of Terrapin, there was a disconcerting ache in my stomach and I was already feeling that I was working too hard keeping up with Joe. I was just not feeling right, and it was also obvious that Joe was feeling much better than me. I told Joe that I would have to dial it back and he could keep going as I didn’t want to hold him back. Joe said he was OK with going slower, and may push it later on in the race.
We continued up the single track to the top of Onion Mountain, and after a short downhill turned onto an old fire road which continued the downhill trend. This downhill was very runnable with great views, and I started opening up my stride to allow myself to just go down the mountain, as opposed to taking it easy to save my knees like I had on Terrapin. I justified pushing it by thinking to myself “the terrain later in the race is probably much rougher and I won’t be able to run it, so I should go a little faster while I can.” In reality I knew putting forth all this effort now would probably come back to bite me later, but psychologically it felt good to be running now. The downhills were really flying, plus I was running WITH people, pretty solidly in the pack – enjoying the social aspect and talking to people as I passed them as opposed to running solo which was how I had run HL, or just Joe and I by ourselves at Terrapin. Running at the back of the pack is mentally challenging, and I was enjoying seeing how it was for the “real” runners. After several miles of downhill the fire road became rolling, and Joe and I yo-yo’d a bit until we reached the third aid-station at 8.5 miles – we had run the last 6 miles in 1:23 – 13:30 mile pace which was way too fast for the way I was feeling.
The course then turned onto more technical jeep-road/single track which started the climb up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. This had actually been part of the Terrapin Mountain course and it was interesting how much more vegetation had grown in the month between races. Joe and I continued to push the pace, but the greasy pizza was coming back to haunt me so after wishing Joe good luck on the rest of his race – I figured that was for the best as I would definitely blow up if I continued to try to keep up with him – I ventured off trail to take care of business. (Joe went on to catch up to Mark at Apple Orchard Falls and they ran together until the last gravel road section on the way back, rocking the course at 7:11 and 7:09, respectively.)
Getting back on the trail I continued up towards the Blue Ridge at a slower pace, but I still felt I was working too hard for the pace I was going, and basically just did not feel “right”. At this point I met Anita Finkle, who noticed my WVMTR shirt. We talked about the course and she suggested I make sure I pick up “ a gel or a couple of cookies” before the climb up Apple Orchard Falls to keep from bonking. I filed that away for future reference.
Crossing the Blue Ridge Parkway, you get on a gravel road which parallels the parkway for about 1 to 1.5 miles. This stretch is a slight downhill that is very runnable. I started this stretch at a reasonable pace, trying to save the knees for later in the race. However, every now and then the right side of the road turned into a gulley, and at one of these sections two women running side by side starting passing me, effectively forcing me into the gully! Whether intentional or not, this pissed me off and I powered through the gully to get ahead of them again. Inadvertently, I discovered that by putting in just slightly more effort this made me go much faster. Since I was still ticked I decided to keep this faster pace through the rest of the section. Passing another girl she called out “Great job, I wish I could take advantage of this downhill.” “I’ll pay for this later” I called back.
The runnable gravel ended at the Sunset Fields parking lot on the Parkway, mile 11.94 on the course –it had taken me 53 minutes to run the 3.5 miles since the last aid station. I grabbed some Mountain Dew and donuts, and continued on the course, the next mile of which consisted of the only truly technical downhill singletrack of the race. Happy about my performance on the section into the last aid station I decided to just go with it and see what happened. I bombed it! For someone who normally has to limp downhill to protect my knees, the sensation was unbelievable - I was one of those billy-goat rockstars that normally flew past me on technical stuff – this time it was me flying past people – I easily passed 15 people on this short section, and it seemed the rockier the better. And the best thing was, this did not seem to bother my knees at all! Could this be the answer to my knee issues? Just bomb down every downhill as fast as possible? Of course not, but I could fool myself into thinking it was, at least for a little while.
The technical downhill ended on a fire road that rolled for a little bit and then continued the downhill trend. Stoked from my experience on the single-track I continued to power the downhills – this did not work as well as the singletrack as there were not as many solid rocks or roots to use as natural breaks for my speed, instead I had to sit back more which put some pressure on my knee, but I kept powering down. Towards the bottom the course met up with a stream and I crossed a bridge or two before coming into the Cornelius creek aid station at mile 16.09. I had run the last 4 miles at a 10 min/mile pace! I was now also halfway done with the race in 3:50.
Coming out of the aid station after filling up my pack’s bladder with water, I immediately felt the ghost of the greasy pizza and had to make a very unpleasant 10 minute pit stop. Getting back on the course I did not feel well at all, the pit stop aftermath seemed to amplify the twangy-ness in my hamstrings and calves from running
the downhill and I just did not feel solid. The next 1.5 miles were on flat paved country road with a nice stream running next to it. I very slowly shuffle-ran this part, wanting to walk, but every time I stopped to walk it seemed to take more energy than running, and it seemed ridiculous to walk such an easy section. After 1.5miles I turned onto the White Tail Trail, pretty, rolling singletrack with small creek crossings that trended mostly uphill. At this point I knew the race was starting to turn for me, as even walking the uphills had me panting. I reached the Colon Hollow aid station at mile 19.3 having gone the last easy 3.2 miles in 53 minutes – I was slowing down.
After the Colon Hollow aid station you turn onto a fireroad for 4.5 miles which mostly trends uphill hugging the hillside, with the occasional short section of gravel country road thrown in. This is the least pretty part of the course, with no views, no creek next to the trail, and the fire road covered either in invasives or poison ivy. At this point pretty much everything I had done wrong in the race caught up to me. In addition to being tired/weak from all the running, I was HUNGRY! Never a good sign in an ultra. I had plenty of food with me, but I had mixed salt with my honey before the race thinking this might work better then salt pills in keeping a steady flow of electrolytes dripping into my system rather than large doses every time I took a salt pill. However, the salt seemed to turn my stomach so I had to force myself to take the honey. About 20 minutes after the aid station my knee started acting up, so I could no longer shuffle-run the flats. This was probably a good thing, because it appears as of this writing that I went slow enough to avoid most of the poison ivy. Not that it mattered because a general malaise had started to take hold of me and I didn’t feel like running anyway. At this point the sun came out from the clouds it had been behind all day, and the added heat caused the bugs to come out. There also was no wind on this section to drive the bugs away. To add injury to the insult of being slow I figured out that if I shuffle-ran I moved fast enough to out run the bugs. However my knee would not allow me to run more than a few yards, and every time I slowed the bugs would return. So I would slog along in my swarm of bugs while all the happy runners passed me, bug free. I prayed that the rain that was forecast would start to get rid of the bugs, but it never did. With the heat I also ran out of water about 50 minutes after the aid station - I must have really been sucking it down, as I had just filled up at mile 16! Around that time I could hear faint noises teasing me from the aid station in the valley down below, but every time the trail went around a curve in the hillside and appeared to be turning down into the valley it would instead turn back into the hill and climb! Each time my mental state would slide a little further and I would resign myself to more time with my annoying new-found insect friends. After a steep downhill stretch I finally limped back in to the Cornelius Creek aid station, now at mile 23.9, having taken 1:30 to go the last 4.5 miles.
At the aid station I immediately cheered up – everyone had been talking in hushed, fearful tones of the Apple Orchard Falls trail, for which the signs said 2.8 Horton
miles but actually is closer to 4 miles, straight up. I was actually looking forward to it though, the steepness would give me an excuse to walk other then the fact that I suck. Remembering Anita’s advice I got a new packet of Clif Bloks out of my pack and a gel – this with my remaining honey should be plenty to get me to the top. I refilled my pack, doused my head in the stream and started my plan of a slow but steady hike up the falls. With a nice breeze I bid a non-tearful farewell to my insect friends – “see you later in the summer, suckas!”
Apple Orchard Falls is a truly gorgeous trail, and it’s a bum rap that most people only stress its steepness. It is steep, but you walk next to a beautiful mountain stream in deep woods for 3 miles, each waterfall bigger than the last with rocks perfectly placed to sit and enjoy the view. So much so that my plan of slow, steady progress became a slow, steady walk to the next nice rock for sitting and picture taking. By the time I got up to the really big, cool stuff I had already run out of camera battery . The 170 steps that I counted were also nice, as they meant I did not even have to wait for a nice rock, I could just sit down on a step to rest whenever I wanted! And that overlook, well, of course I had to sit there for 5 minutes – can’t just walk past a view like that, no siree!
After about 1 hr 15 min I got up to the sign which said 0.9 miles to the top. At this point the trail turns away from the creek and you turn onto the singletrack I had bombed down earlier in the day, which seemed forever and a different body ago. By now I was really flagging, and going slower with each step. I had also finished the Bloks and most of the honey, and now took my last gel – after this I would have no more food in my pack and would live off of aid station food. I could hear the cheering from the aid station above, but it seemed to take forever to get there. After taking 20 more minutes to go up a section that had maybe taken me less than 5 minutes to come down earlier in the morning, I made it up to the Sunset Fields aid station at mile 26.7. While taking those 20 minutes to climb the last 0.9 miles I had decided that I should sit at this aid station for 10 minutes to regroup before continuing on as I was so drained. However, this aid station was at the top of the ridge and a very strong, chilly breeze was whistling through it. Also, the clouds made it look like the rain that had held off all day was about to be unleashed. I decided I had better keep going.
Coming down off the ridge I felt strange and totally drained. My body seemed not to feel the cold breeze coming across the ridge and I worried that something was wrong as I was not getting chilled as I normally would. Although I was not “bonked” I was extremely apathetic towards the race at this point – even though I knew I had plenty of time to finish, I started to not care whether I finished or not. I started thinking that I had no desire to run another race again – not that I hated running, or this particular race, but that I had no feelings towards running at all. I missed Mical and Erik terribly at this point, and wanted to call her and tell her I was on my way home and I wouldn’t be taking time away from us to go do these crazy things anymore. Part of my brain realized this feeling wasn’t rational and I should enjoy the nice walk alone through the very quiet and pretty woods. But I continued to be extremely depressed, wanting to cry for totally different reasons then the frustration I felt at my knee at Holiday Lake. After a while the trail met up with the singletrack we had taken up Onion Mountain at the beginning of the race that morning, and I slowly shuffled my way down the mountain towards the first/last aid station.
While going down the mountain something finally clicked and the ache that had been in my stomach for most of the race subsided a little and I felt some determination. For some reason my favorite quote from Highlander popped into my head, a quote I liked long before I had ever heard of ultras: “I can bloody well walk out of here!” I could bloody well walk out the rest of the course and finish Promise Land on my feet, instead of whimpering my way in. F-bombs dropped down on the race like the blitzkrieg.
Well, I bloody well walked out the rest of the course, repeating my mantra whenever depression threatened to set in, taking 41 min to go the 2.4 miles downhill from Sunset Fields aid station to the last aid station, and 50 min to go the 2.6 downhill miles from the last aid station to the finish line (4 minutes longer then it had taken Joe and I to climb up to that aid station that morning!) I finished the race in 9:23. There was a large crowd of enthusiastic spectators at the finished, which surprised me and really helped with my mood as at most other races not many people stick around (or are able to stick around) for the late finishers. Joe and Mark were there, looking quite fresh from their race, and an enthusiastic Horton shook my hand. Joe, Mark and I went and soaked in the creek, having to dare each other to get in as it was very cold. We then cheered for the few stragglers that came in after me. Afterwards I went back to the car to get things together to leave to find that Joe had cleaned the trash out of the car and aired out my tent. Thanks, Joe!
In many ways, Promise Land was one of my worst races ever due to the many, many mistakes that I made out on the course. It is also one of the hardest races I have ever run, maybe second only to Highlands Sky, which is 6 miles longer with more elevation change. PL is proof that even 50Ks are long enough that problems start to build upon themselves and you need to respect the distance. The fact that the terrain is difficult, yet still seemed so runnable at the time, and that I seemed unable to correct mistakes even though I knew I was making them really killed me. This is something I will have to work on in preparation for Masochist, in combination with some serious training. Hopefully putting in some hard work between now and then and having Mical and Erik at that race will be the secret weapon!
