As usual, I didn't decide until the last minute if I'd go. But I must have at some point because I was on the road before 6am with a car full of the standard miscellany that pertains to non-real runners/double bassists. On the way down I was in high spirits. I analyzed some sweet tunes as the sun slowly began to illuminate my surroundings, and I was thankful to whatever for feeling peaceful and being physically able to run.
I wondered what percentage of sunrises I've seen during my time here, and what would be the best way to improve the ratio.
Though I had not specifically trained for the event, I had found myself feeling like I wasn't Not in condition for doing at least part of it. When I finally found a course profile online, I noted that the elevation changes, compared to the stuff I run on, where going to feel relatively non-existent. This meant that there was a minute chance that I could do something that really interested me: Run a new distance, in a new place, among other not-overly-competitive people, and be done with it in time to get cleaned up and re-charged by the evening's gig with my band, Cinder Conk.
In spite of my lack of planning, I managed marginally decent sleep and nutrition in the days before and morning of. Props to David again for turning me onto Brendan Brazier's Thrive stuff. And for the chia seeds, which have quickly became a staple. Major yum. More on that sometime.
There was no trace of snow and temps were already in the high thirties (and rising) by 8:30am, when I arrived minutes before a fleet of Trail Monsters. I saw Ian, Jamie, Blaine and of course David, and I couldn't remember Joe's face but I know he was there. (This is Joe who ran the 100 Mile Wilderness, unsupported. Joe with the "I've got a Clif bar" story which was an immediate legend in David's and my world.) There were quite a few other Monsters there too but I sadly couldn't stick the right names/faces together, or maybe I hadn't met them, I'm not sure. (Argh!!%$+^&*!%@~)
I wandered around for a bit and enjoyed the sun's warmth on my face. I considered visiting the restroom but there was a line, and I'd stopped along the way anyway so I wasn't really desperate...I'd just go after the first lap. (This information comes into play later...)
I put a gel into my Amphipod handheld and wondered if I should try to carry more stuff with no available pockets. (Is it wrong to run through the forests clutching a Luna bar, and would that affect my choice to do or not do it?) Or, if I should rely on the Annapurna of food at the aid table. I sort of have a thing about relying on unfamiliar food! I just feel better if I have my own stuff. And thus she had to pay the price for having not planned ahead: she would carry just water and the one gel.
(Weird: I picked out Annapurna because I know it's huge, and then randomly googled it to find a picture, to make sure it was the right shape. Because after all, it's monumentally important that my aid station metaphor is accurate. Thanks to wikipedia, I just learned that "Annapurna is a Sanskrit name which literally means "full of food" ...In Hinduism, Annapurna is "the universal and timeless kitchen-goddess ...Without her there is starvation, a universal fear." Perfect.)The race started with no fanfare. A gaggle of well over 100 people that was standing still was suddenly running, walking, ambling, and shuffling toward a wee pathway into the forest. Most of whom were wearing more clothing than I was (I had on one layer of long sleeves, no hat/gloves etc). I hung back and was part of a sizable traffic jam due to the first bit of trail being a steep-ish bottleneck. The first 5 minutes were decidedly over-populated, but within 10 minutes everyone was steadily trotting along mostly flat, graded carriage roads.
I tried to remember to press "lap" on the GPS at every mile, resulting in a rather haphazard split times but the trend was fairly obvious: this terrain was completely different than anything like what I run on here in Maine. I was going faster than usual. They say you shouldn't do that on long runs! But, effort-wise, I was coasting. A quandary! I decided to just run and not spend too much time effing around with a perfectly reasonable pace (my "fast" = most peoples' "extremely relaxed").
During the first lap, I was pretty distracted by the voices of the people around me. I FINALLY got away from the worst offenders, which took more effort than almost any other part of the whole run! The vibe over all was pretty chill thereafter... but of course it wasn't quite the same as a Trail Monster event.
I'd heard rumor of the hill at mile 3, and sure enough, it appeared as a lengthy rise of single track. It was just like home! I decided to be a good little runner and adjust my pace downward more than I wanted to, since I would be seeing this hill one or two more times. Just in case. I'd chatted a bit in the past mile with a nearby man behind me who was a bit older, a bit injured, and who was here for the whole 50k. "You're charging right up this thing like it's not even here!" he said. It is still nice to have a little affirmation even when it is from someone who is older, injured, and behind you, and when you are moving slower than normal on purpose!
The first 6 mile lap went by relatively quickly, in just over an hour. There was some chatting, since (surprisingly) many other people were going at roughly Unstrung pace too. There were lots of easy miles through forests and fields, lots of flatness, one long paved area (!?) and no trouble from the shin, awesomely. I had sipped at my water several times but realized I had only drank a couple of inches. I resolved to drink MORE! I kind of had to pee more now but eh, not worth stopping, I really wanted to just keep going. Stupid decision. I didn't even stop at the aid station.
I ended up running the whole second lap with an affable fellow named Pete, a calm and thoughtful EMT from somewhere near Topsfield. Like me, he also hadn't decided how much he was running today but was just glad to be out doing it. We talked about music a bit, and when he said, "In Europe, they still see music as an art form, but here, it's seen as part of the entertainment industry," I knew that this lap was going to fly by. Between music stuff and amusing stories about bizarre EMT situations, fly, it did.
I nipped into a gel when we reached The One Hill. I probably got about a third of it. I didn't really feel like I needed it yet, hoping to stave off the feeling of needing it. Since I didn't use much of it, I didn't feel much effect (which was fine) but I wonder if it actually even did any good. On the hill I managed to get stuck behind a couple walkers and actually had a hard time getting around them but finally they stepped aside (my bad, I should have mentioned wanting to pass instead of expecting mind reading! Doh...)
I took another mouthful of gel about half an hour later and tried to keep drinking more. At the flat, paved area at the end of lap two, I was feeling great except for one small problem: I started to feel Hungry. Damnit. I should have been more strategic about fueling. I did not really feel like I needed more gel at this point though; I think I needed some actual food.
After an illustrious whiz, finally, I headed to the Annapurna-sized aid station to try to graze before continuing on. The amount of food was overwhelming, unorganized, and disconcertingly unfamiliar and I just wanted to go run more asap. I ended up grabbing three small pretzels which probably wasn't really enough, and drinking my h20 down to a little under halfway. (Probably should have needed to refill by now...Amphipods aren't that big.) Hello, hindsight.
Pete decided he was likely all set after the second lap - he'd only ever done a little over 9 miles before so doing 12 today was great for him. We said our farewells and I went on, feeling totally in good shape for lap three. Having had a surprise surrogate running buddy for lap two was cool since I'd been unsuccessful in dragging Luette along today. (Note: It was NOT the same, and I am totally dragging her to the next event.) That said, I was also glad to be beginning lap three in solitude -- for the first time in the whole run, there were minutes where I was totally alone. My previous longest run, two weeks ago, was 13.3 miles, so now at 12 miles, my feet were just starting to feel a bit used. Overall my legs felt great, back was fine, mind was totally ready to keep going for a third lap.
I was a little nervous about not having picked up more edibles or water, but did a little trail math and figured I would make it. I still had around 1/2 a gel and 1/2 a thing of water. The pretzels had helped and I thought/hoped I was safely out of bonk zone.
Then something weird happened at mile 13. Started to feel really uncomfortable, like I had to pee again. (TMI for you? Sorry, that's just part of trail running! And, it could be a lot worse...) I was like, WTF and sipped a little more water, thinking, hmmm, better encourage the process of flushing the system. BUT I didn't have a ton of h20 left, and needed to save enough to use with the gel later, if needed. This created a bit of a potentially tricky situation. First I was just like fuck it, you are so almost done, just put it out of your mind and and enjoy this beautiful run. You'll be fine!
About 90 seconds later, I was like, hm, this does Not feel good at all. I decided to scamper off behind a tree and attempt to pee and then immediately feel great and then all would be well. The first 1/3 of my plan worked great: I found a great tree and apologized to it for the potential pollution. The rest of the plan was totally anti-climactic.
Again I decided to just ignore the issue and just run. I knew I could totally do it.
But my old friend showed up. Her name's Reality.
The long, sordid history of our relationship is basically an albatross that flies steadily toward the future.
And she was like, Yo, you could have done it, sure, IF you hadn't make some stupid decisions earlier. But now you are reaping the repercussions of having not respected the basic requirements of your body. Nice work. You're fucked.
I thanked her for the grim yet obvious advice. Faced with something I could not run through, the decision was made by my situation.
Humbled, I turned around and managed to run slowly back to my car. I crossed paths with Ian, whose signature cheerful greeting and relaxed expression are always a welcome sight. He looked crazy strong! I wondered if I would see some other monsters behind him in the next few minutes, but didn't. It was almost noon and a lot of people had already a called it a day so the trails were still abuzz but much quieter now.
I hit 15 miles as I reached good old Dog Dick Red. 2:57. Funny how fast one can go without hilly madness! I decided to refuel (cashew and maca nuts, luna protein bar, and I believe also some dried peas) and tried to drink my troubles away, to see if I could alter whatever was happening that had finished me off. I spent some time taking inventory of myself. Mind, are you with me? Yep. No anxiety, at all? Nope. You sure? Yep. Body, you cool? Right foot a little sore, otherwise okay. I looked in the mirror; my face was encrusted in salt. Windblown but not unwell.
At this point, there was no denying it: I'd wanted to run 18 miles today, and now I'd stopped at 15. After about 10 minutes I got up and immediately felt very uncomfortable and Not runnable. Tried one last time after about 5 more minutes. Not happening. Grrrrr.
I drove north, ate food, drank more, peed for real in Portsmouth (why do I feel like some sort of beat poet?) and listened to Ira Glass' guest speaker talk about the working conditions in Apple's iPad factories. Which, thankfully, was captivating enough to distract me from feeling sort of loser-ish.
By the time I reached Portland, I was positive that there was no way I was done running for the day. I had begun to feel a little stiff and the headache was threatening to descend, but nothing major. I drove straight to the Eastern Trail, the totally flat path that David had shown me a few months ago.
I re-fastened the GPS and started to run. The headache protested loudly which was a hell of a drag at first, but, amazingly, after half a mile, it was at bay enough. I was able to continue. Legs felt a little used, mind felt a little used, everything else, weird stuff included, was a-okay. I was definitely runnable at this point. Sweet. I cajoled my body to hang on for three more easy miles, making a total of...
...eighteen miles. Check!
I have run for 3.5 hours before, but I only made it 13.3 miles when I did. That's the difference between Bradbury and Bradley Palmer for ya.
The best part was that the headache of ultimate doom never really happened and did not come back after it tried to join me on the ET. This is UNHEARD of after a long run, and a triumph of the best flavor. Because why even run if you are going to feel like shit afterwards, eh?
Luette let me sneak into her house and use her shower even though she wasn't there, which is another reason she rocks, and I got to my gig that night in New Gloucester in plenty of time. I danced around like a bass loon all night, which I'd not imagined I'd be able to do, and the audience was awesome. Matt absolutely shredded, which was also awesome.
My feet were too beat to shit to fit into my dress shoes so I played barefoot; sadly for the people of New Gloucester, I was only able to get half the mud off my feet before the show. And I apologize if anyone was permanently scarred from having to see my gnarled toenails.
Overall, an unforgettable and perhaps even unimaginable day. I am pretty sure better hydration/fueling would have had me able to finish 18 in one shot but who knows. If that was not the problem, then I have no idea what it was, but I doubt it was running related. Anyway, 15 is still solid for me, and 18 in two runs is good too. No headache is good. Good gig is good. I am looking forward to whatever happens next. Friends + trails are the best.
Peace!
~ 15 miles
~ 2 hours and 57 minutes
Mostly flat graded carriage roads
Long sleeved shirt/pants
and then...
~ 3 miles
~ 33:38 minutes
Flattest place ever, the Eastern Trail
Same gear plus a windbloc fleece vest
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