Way Too Cool 50k 5:22:20
"This is what you came for." @ScottJurek (7 time winner of the Western States 100 Mile race)
I thought about this quote a lot during this race.
Overall, I was pleased at how the race went. Last year I ran the Tahoe Rim 50k in 6:42 at 12 pounds lighter bodyweight. The courses aren't totally comparable, but the elevation gain is similar. I'll take a 1:20 improvement in my 50k time any day.
I figured the most entertaining way to give you a feel for how the day went was to give you a running dialogue of what went through my head while I spent half a day wandering around American Canyon.
3:45 am - Alarm goes off. Leave the house at 4:15 am and pick up my Mom, who drove down with me. I really appreciated her coming with me, it made the trip a lot more fun. I get up early all of the time, so the early wake up wasn't a big deal.
Get to Cool at about 6:30 - Crap, do you see how many of these cars have Western States 100 Mile Finisher license plate frames? I don't belong here.
Check in - Sweet race shirt. Patagonia. Good job Cool race people.
Start at 8:00 am - Man, there are a lot of people running this race. It's like a regular road race, not an ultra. I'm not wearing a watch, which I enjoyed. I may never wear my watch again. P.S. I also took two advil 30 minutes before the start.
First couple of miles - go slow, go slow, go slow. Don't push, don't breathe hard, you've got 30 miles to go.
3-4 miles in - Shit, the inner tendon on my right ankle feels terrible - very tight and painful. Why? Is it because I haven't run trails in a couple of months? Is it my shoes? (doubt it, I have done a lot of long runs in the New Balance MT110's) I resign myself to the fact that it might be a very long day. I also pop another couple of advil at this point. I only allowed myself to bring 8 to the race, I end up using all of them.
5 miles - Isn't that
Gretchen behind me? She ran this race under 5 hours last year, I'm definitely going too fast.
6 miles - I say hi to Gretchen, who has no flipping idea who I am. I openly admit I'm a blog stalker who knows her from her blog. That's what you get when you publish these things, random dudes say hi to you at races. At least chatting with her takes my mind off my ankle for awhile.
8 miles in 1:10:00 race time - I pass my Mom as we circle back to the start area. I almost stop and tell her that I might be out here all day if my ankle doesn't go numb, but I decide against it.
"This is what you came for"...
9 miles - I'm finally happy. After the aid station the runners really spread out and I'm by myself on the trail. I said I wanted to run this race because there was so many people in it and that seemed fun since the other ultras I have run were pretty lonely. But spending the first 8 miles jockeying for position on single track and trying to act like a legitimate ultrarunner ending up bothering me. It's funny, none of these people know me or will ever see me again, but I feel like a tool if I am bogging them down on the single track.
10-15 miles - Incredible running along the American River. My ankle is numb now and doesn't hurt, the weather is sweet, the views are great, running is effortless, life is good. I have yet to walk any hills - I have been powering up them with very little effort - passing a ton of walkers. My weightlifting work on the legs is really working. I resolve to try and keep the streak of running all hills going as long as possible. Everything is clicking - "I love ultras."
15 miles - aid station. The guy with me on the trail says, "hey, we're halfway there". I tell him that the aid station we just passed says that we are 16.8 miles in and the next aid station is 5 miles away. Lesson - always trust the dude with the GPS. He was right, and the next aid station was nearly 7 miles away. I'm trying to keep my salt tab intake below what I did for the Tahoe Rim 50k (when I took like 30 salt tabs). Stay tuned on this one.
18-20 miles - where the hell is the aid station? Oh, and that don't walk any hills thing? Screw that. The last half of this course has some crazy hills. Much tougher than the first half. (
the course elevation profile is here).
20 miles, about 3:20 race time - Finally, the aid station. Drink a ton of water, still doing good on GU, start taking a bunch of salt tabs. Hey, maybe I can break 5 hours. I only need to average 10 minute miles which hasn't been too hard so far. About this point the guy behind me is talking about the fact that this is his 99th ultra marathon. What the hell am I doing here?
21-24 miles - borderline train wreck. Pretty rough hills and my overall effort level the first 20 miles just thrashes me. It starts with my quads threatening to seriously cramp. I take 4 salt tabs (this is on top of the 3 salt tabs I took about 10 minutes ago) and drink most of my water. The good news is my quads calm down pretty quickly. The bad news is my emergency measures leave me mostly out of water for the next few miles, which is less fun. I'm walking nearly all the hills now, and getting passed by a ton of people. I'm not having fun anymore, but at least
"this is what you came for".
24 miles - where the hell is the aid station? I start daydreaming about oreo cookies. I don't give a crap what time I finish in, or really anything having to do with running at this point.
Time to get philosophical about what I'm doing here. Why do I run these things? What am I trying to prove? I seem to enjoy showing up and doing ok without putting in the proper training. I suppose that mentally it gives me an out because I have an excuse if I suck. But that is lame. What really is the point? Am I trying to just get out and run on the trails? I don't have to run 31 miles here to do that. Do I want to be able to tell people "I'm an ultrarunner", even though I don't even admit to being a runner at all? That is stupid too. Am I just trying to challenge and abuse myself? Well, if that's the goal, its working great. Repeat this chain of thought on a loop for an hour or so, and you get a feel for how miles 20-26 went. At this time, I also resolve to wear my nice new Way Too Cool 50k shirt everywhere I go from now on, because I earned the damn shirt, and because I am never coming back to this little corner of hell again.
Also, since I had time to kill on the trail, I mentally modified my 2012 race schedule. Here was the previous plan:
Way Too Cool 50k
Reno Marathon (not registered yet)
Silver State 50k (not registered yet)
Tahoe Rim Trail 50k (already registered for this one)
Lake Tahoe Marathon (not registered yet)
North Face Endurance 50k (not registered yet)
Fortunately, around mile 25 I was able to enhance this plan. New plan:
Way Too Cool 50k
Reno Marathon (not registered yet)
Silver State 50k (not registered yet)
Tahoe Rim Trail 50k (already registered for this one)
Lake Tahoe Marathon (not registered yet)
North Face Endurance 50k (not registered yet)
Mile 26.5 4:20 race time - This aid station is at the very top of the most brutal hill I have ever climbed in the mountains. The nice guy at the aid station tells me I just ran a 4:20 marathon. I could give a crap. My menu at this aid station - two cups of chicken noodle soup, M&M's, 5 salt tabs (+5 more for my pocket), Sprite, one bottle of water, 5 oreo cookies (+take 5 more with me).
Mile 27 - My calves are getting a bit twitchy. More water and salt tabs. I am still getting passed by a ton of people, who are running fairly effortlessly, especially the two really happy ladies who are chatting like they are out for a light jog. You know that idiot who goes out too hard at the start of a race and who you pass later in the race, which makes you feel all smart about your wise pacing approach? I am that tool. I made about 50 people feel good about themselves the last 5 miles of the race. That's me, always looking out for others.
Mile 28 - I try to take my mind off the race by checking out the scenery. Of course, I immediately stub my toe on a rock, fall to the ground, and both of my calves seize up so bad they basically disappear into the back of my knee. It hurts. I scream. I lay on the ground for a minute, take more salt tabs, drain my water bottle, and wonder what is going to happen next. Fortunately, I'm able to get up and get moving fairly quickly. My calves would suck the rest of the race. Lucky for me no one was passing me at this point, so I didn't have to share my embarrassment with others. If an improperly trained runner falls in the forest and screams and no one sees it happen, did it really happen? Just wondering.
Mile 28-30 Things are actually holding together fairly well, albeit at a brutally slow pace. The good news is my stomach has been solid the whole race, so I've got that going for me. I even pass a couple of people. Of course they are both throwing up, which diminishes my pride in passing them. We hit the aid station at around 30 miles and they tell us we have just a little over a mile to go. 4 laps on the track? I can do that.
Mile 30-31 - Too bad that last mile is basically straight up a hill. Oh well, at least there is no shame in walking this one in.
Finish - I make an effort to run before I get to the race photographer a 1/4 mile before the finish because I refuse to have him take a picture of me walking. I then run the rest of the way to the finish, because I refuse to let all of the people at the finish see me walking. Finish time is 5:22:20.
Race aftermath - I hang out with my Mom for a bit. I go to the table to check out the race's signature frog cupcakes. I nearly puke at the sight of them (no offense Cool race folks). I then check out the pizzas they are offering runners. I nearly puke at the sight of them (again, no offense Cool race folks). Time to go.
In all seriousness, overall it was a good race experience. I have raced 3 ultras and done another 3 or 4 trail runs of ultra distance in the last couple of years. While each one is unique, they all have highs and lows like what I experienced today. And at the end of the day, I suppose that is the point. I can tell you within about 30 seconds what my 5k time will be on any given day. But there are so many variables in an ultra that there are a lot more unknowns, and many of those unknowns (like fueling and your mental outlook) have nothing to do with your fitness level. I would like to believe that I can be fairly competitive in these races with 20-25 miles per week of training at a bodyweight of 180 pounds because I am strong mentally. If that's not the case, don't burst my bubble, I'm just going to go with that story.
The race could not be better organized, and I can see why it is one of the most popular ultras on the west coast. If you are dumb enough to want to run ultras, I highly recommend you try to get into this race.