Happy Trails to You… Part one

A Facebook message from Sherry: “Hey, check this out, a 6 hour trail race, you in?”

She said that I was the only one she knew who was crazy enough to sign up for this with her. I honestly don’t know what gave her that idea, but I guess she was right. Before the end of the day I was registered for it. Heck it was a cheap entry fee, only $25, and it wasn’t until August. I had 6 months to train for it…plenty of time.

I travel for work as a corporate trainer. A different airport each day, a different city each night. I never know when I’m going to find a safe road or park to run in, or even if the hotel treadmill is working that day. Trails? Well, would YOU go out on a trail alone in an unfamiliar part of the country? You wouldn’t if you had my (nonexistent) sense of direction. I’m home two days a week to see my children and catch up on my sleep. It’s not always easy to get out and go for a run. I could maybe squeeze in 3, 4 or 5 miles a few times a week to stay in shape, but there’s only one way to train for a six hour trail race: Go trail running. For six hours.

You can see where I’m going here… I didn’t train for this one.

But early that morning in August I did indeed pack up my snack donation (all entrants were asked to bring food for the aid station), pick up Sherry, and drive to the trail head. We’d never run this trail before, and had never raced a trail at all before, but here we were.

The race director led a quick meeting before the start. He explained that the race was a rudimentary 10k loop that you run as many times as you can in the allotted 6 hours. He asked us all to thank each other and the volunteers for the food and support at the aid station. And he led all 40 of us in a blood-curdling animal yell to signify the start of the race. We were off.

I’d told Sherry I’d run with her for the first loop, just to get a feel for the land and settle into a comfortable pace. Thank goodness she knew better than to believe me. My feet just wanted to eat that trail up, and off I went. I heard her yelling from behind me “Six hours, Tracy!!! PACE yourself!”

Pace? Sure! All I wanted to do was cover 26.3 miles or more… just to say I’d run an ultramarathon.

Halfway through the loop was a huge boulder and some race volunteers to direct us. The course required you to CLIMB the boulder, but the reward was worth it: a bird’s eye view of Foxboro Stadium. I’m not a football fan, but it gave me something to brag to my husband about. He’d never seen it from (what felt like) the top of a mountain before. Finishing the loop was just as exhilarating… a ton of volunteers hooting and hollering for me, cheering me on, and all the grapes I could eat. I don’t know who donated those (I brought brownies), but I could’ve stood there all day eating those grapes and reveling in the moment.

Unfortunately it was only my first loop, and I had 3+ more to do if I wanted to actually count this race as an Ultra. I felt fantastic and ready to keep going, just a little slower than the pace I’d planned, but I felt so good I figured I had energy in reserve for when I really needed to dig deep and MOVE.

In fact, I felt pretty darned good for the first four hours. It was awesome to be running in the cool shade among the trees, soft, cushiony pine needles covering the ground. No cars, no buildings, not even any other people… we’d spread out so much that most of us were running alone by then. The only sound was my footfalls. (Oh, and the one whole-body-fall, but if a runner falls in the woods and no one’s around to see it, she doesn’t make a noise. Much.)

What I never really realized is how much SLOWER you move when you run trails, or at least when you run these trails. The course zig-zagged back and forth randomly, up and over rocks (boulders if you ask me) – up and down steep rocky, sometimes muddy, inclines. I felt good for the first four hours because a lot of it was more walking than running. There were some true “trail animals” out there, tearing up the course and rebounding off of the rocks and roots, but most of us had to treat this as a six hour hike interspersed with some jogging. After four of those hours, I hadn’t even completed 18 miles. I was working on loop three, and finally those four hours on my feet started to take their toll. I wasn’t out of gas yet… I definitely had enough to get to the aid station at the end of the loop, but it meant I still had enough sense to know that I did NOT want to risk another loop and run out of fuel out in the middle of nowhere.

They cheered for me just as much as they did for all of us every time we finished a loop. For a low budget race on a lonely trail at the end of a dirt road, they sure knew how to make you feel like a celebrity. But I had to cut them off this time. “Thanks guys, but I’m done this time. I won’t be able to do another loop.”
“WHAT????” screeched a volunteer. “You have almost 90 minutes!!! You could CRAWL it if you had to!” The crowd nodded.
“No, really guys, I’m just too tired, I can’t do it.”
“Oh yes you can,” he insisted as he filled my water bottles and stuffed them back in my belt. “Look you can at LEAST make it to the halfway point, just so they can record a few more miles for you. There’s a guide there that will show you a shortcut back. If you’re really bad off, he’ll drive you back.” I thought about arguing, but he spun me back towards the trail and gave me a little push on my back. “We’ll see you in 90 minutes!” he called happily.

I set out at a walk. He was right, I could get all the way around again if I crawled, but crawling required more energy than I had. I just kinda shuffled… and felt very sorry for myself. About a mile later my Garmin died. Talk about feeling alone. Now I’m in the middle of nowhere with no idea how far I’ve gone or how far I have left to go. Or how much time I have left to suffer before search and rescue crews come looking for me.

On the verge of tears, I picked it back up to a jog and kept at it for a few minutes before I realized “Hey, I’m jogging! And I’m okay!”

It actually felt better to jog than to walk, and mentally I knew it was getting me there faster, so my mood improved. A lot.

It took me a full hour to get to the halfway point, and by that point I was kicking myself for having wasted so much time walking. I wished I’d gotten myself out of the doldrums earlier so I could’ve had a chance at finishing the loop, but at least going 3 ½ meant that I covered more than 20 miles. A huge accomplishment. The aide recorded my miles and time at the halfway point and showed me the shortcut back to the finish. I found Sherry with a bunch of other runners sunning themselves on an outcropping of rock. I joined them, laid back, and reminisced with them on how much fun we had. I told them all about the crew pushing me on past the third loop, and how right they were to do it. I told Sherry that after the fourth hour I was cursing her for asking me to do this, but now at the end I’m glad she asked me.

I went home and signed up for their next race… just a little 50k this fall.