I had run a number of half marathons and marathons over the years while adventure racing. I always finished them but never had any brag-worthy times. And then one day in 2007 I got the bright idea to do a longer run. I had been very sick for a few months which had completely taken me out of training. After recovering I felt unsteady, weak, untrained, a little shell shocked.
With all of that going on, it would have made sense for me to sign up for a 10K road run close to home. So (of course) I signed up for a Masters 50K Trail Run down in GA. It was the first time this race had ever been held, everyone running it was over the age of 40, I had nine hours to finish the race and get an official finish, and it sounded like a very low key, low stress kind of event. Sounded good to me.
I knew that I was severely under trained for it. I knew that it was going to hurt. I had been active enough by the time I signed up for it, that I knew that (as long as I didn't meltdown) I could probably cover the distance one way or another (in hopefully the max. 9 hours). Covering the distance wasn't my main goal though - I really needed to not meltdown. I needed to know that I could hold myself together and not lose focus. I needed to remind myself that I was still a physically and psychologically strong woman.
I started focusing less on biking and more on running, but by the time I went down to GA the weekend of the race my longest runs (on treadmills only) had been built up to only 90 minutes. Nowhere near long enough.
The race was straightforward. An out and back. Started with a short (about 1/8 mile) trail run on single track, a creek crossing and grass. Up the embankment and onto fire service roads for the next 6 miles. I was consciously holding back, consciously staying under the red-line and I felt fine. From 6-10 miles I was on double track and still felt great. The race volunteer at the 10 mile Rest Stop did the math while I was eating and filling up my water bladder, and calculated that I was on track for a 7:50 50K. Which scared the crap out of me (it was too fast for the shape I was in), but also excited me a little. I felt great.
By about 13 miles I was climbing a lot of hills and could feel my legs start to tighten. "It's starting". By mile 14 I was on very technical single track - slick leaves, roots and rocks. At that point everything in my lower body (from hips down) started to cramp. I knew that it was going to happen at some point, but just didn't know exactly when. By mile 15 and the turnaround, I was in complete lower body cramp-mode and everything just plain hurt. There was no way to get around it - I knew it was going to happen because I was so under trained. But I was there, and now that it had happened I was gonna find out if I was strong enough to finish what I had started..
Passed 3 or 4 people on the way back. Throughout miles 15-25 I had managed to stay focused and stay with the game plan - run the flats and downhills, speed walk the uphills. By mile 25 it was 3:22pm and cutoff to finish the race officially was 5pm.
Continued on with the same game plan - aware of the passage of time but also trying to keep moving forward, and staying calm and committed to finishing. Finally I got to the point on the fire service road where I had to go back onto the trail for the last 1/4 or so miles to the finish. I looked at my watch and it said 4:56. Only I know that the official race clock was one minute ahead of my watch (so the official time was actually 4:57).
I climbed down the embankment and GOL (groaned out loud). Everything hurt. Everything had been hurting for hours. I started running the grassy section, crossed over the creek, ran on the single track, looked up and through the trees I could see the lights from the time clock up ahead. I started picking up speed, and when I could finally read the numbers on the clock it said 8:59:44. I have no idea where it came from but suddenly there was no more pain and I was in a full on sprint to the finish (apparently I have a heck of a kick under pressure).
As I crossed the finish line everyone was yelling and cheering. I bent over and put my hands on my thighs to try and catch my breath, and as I was still trying to breathe the time clock guy came running down the hill towards me. He was laughing and grinning from ear to ear, like he had just won the lottery, and yelling at me "Do you know what your time was? Do you know what your time was?". In between breaths I said "No - what was it?"
8:59:59.
Doesn't get any closer than that.
With all of that going on, it would have made sense for me to sign up for a 10K road run close to home. So (of course) I signed up for a Masters 50K Trail Run down in GA. It was the first time this race had ever been held, everyone running it was over the age of 40, I had nine hours to finish the race and get an official finish, and it sounded like a very low key, low stress kind of event. Sounded good to me.
I knew that I was severely under trained for it. I knew that it was going to hurt. I had been active enough by the time I signed up for it, that I knew that (as long as I didn't meltdown) I could probably cover the distance one way or another (in hopefully the max. 9 hours). Covering the distance wasn't my main goal though - I really needed to not meltdown. I needed to know that I could hold myself together and not lose focus. I needed to remind myself that I was still a physically and psychologically strong woman.
I started focusing less on biking and more on running, but by the time I went down to GA the weekend of the race my longest runs (on treadmills only) had been built up to only 90 minutes. Nowhere near long enough.
The race was straightforward. An out and back. Started with a short (about 1/8 mile) trail run on single track, a creek crossing and grass. Up the embankment and onto fire service roads for the next 6 miles. I was consciously holding back, consciously staying under the red-line and I felt fine. From 6-10 miles I was on double track and still felt great. The race volunteer at the 10 mile Rest Stop did the math while I was eating and filling up my water bladder, and calculated that I was on track for a 7:50 50K. Which scared the crap out of me (it was too fast for the shape I was in), but also excited me a little. I felt great.
By about 13 miles I was climbing a lot of hills and could feel my legs start to tighten. "It's starting". By mile 14 I was on very technical single track - slick leaves, roots and rocks. At that point everything in my lower body (from hips down) started to cramp. I knew that it was going to happen at some point, but just didn't know exactly when. By mile 15 and the turnaround, I was in complete lower body cramp-mode and everything just plain hurt. There was no way to get around it - I knew it was going to happen because I was so under trained. But I was there, and now that it had happened I was gonna find out if I was strong enough to finish what I had started..
Passed 3 or 4 people on the way back. Throughout miles 15-25 I had managed to stay focused and stay with the game plan - run the flats and downhills, speed walk the uphills. By mile 25 it was 3:22pm and cutoff to finish the race officially was 5pm.
Continued on with the same game plan - aware of the passage of time but also trying to keep moving forward, and staying calm and committed to finishing. Finally I got to the point on the fire service road where I had to go back onto the trail for the last 1/4 or so miles to the finish. I looked at my watch and it said 4:56. Only I know that the official race clock was one minute ahead of my watch (so the official time was actually 4:57).
I climbed down the embankment and GOL (groaned out loud). Everything hurt. Everything had been hurting for hours. I started running the grassy section, crossed over the creek, ran on the single track, looked up and through the trees I could see the lights from the time clock up ahead. I started picking up speed, and when I could finally read the numbers on the clock it said 8:59:44. I have no idea where it came from but suddenly there was no more pain and I was in a full on sprint to the finish (apparently I have a heck of a kick under pressure).
As I crossed the finish line everyone was yelling and cheering. I bent over and put my hands on my thighs to try and catch my breath, and as I was still trying to breathe the time clock guy came running down the hill towards me. He was laughing and grinning from ear to ear, like he had just won the lottery, and yelling at me "Do you know what your time was? Do you know what your time was?". In between breaths I said "No - what was it?"
8:59:59.
Doesn't get any closer than that.