Way Too Cool 50k Race Report, My Second First Ultra!

 

Less than a mile to the finish, having been stuck inside my own head for the past hour or so, covered in sweat and salt, wearing water logged shoes, willing my legs to just keep moving, I heard a woman's voice behind me..

"I'M TIRED!"

I laughed. Hard.  

"Me too!" I called back to her. 

"Sorry," she answered, "I hope that didn't sound negative."

In my opinion, when you get to the last mile of an ultra, you can say whatever you damn well please.


Let's start with Auburn, The Endurance Capitol of the World. (I'm not making that up) It's about 15 minutes from the race start at the Cool Fire Station, and driving in, there was a buzz that only hundreds of out of town runners in every hotel and bar and restaurant can create. The man at the front desk of the hotel checking us in made small talk...about Western States. He talked about the ice machines...in case I wanted an ice bath after the race. Downtown was crawling with people hanging around Auburn Running Company where check in was being held, and at dinner that night, in a packed restaurant, GeNene remarked, "Whoa, look at all the Columbia and North Face in here..."

It felt like being part of something big.

Race morning felt exactly the same way.

During some last minute stretching before the start, I looked up to see a bearded man running by warming up..."Well hell, that's Gordy Ainsleigh!"  I smiled. Cool.

Distances between aid stations
written on my handheld

The first 8 mile loop flew by with lots of meandering single track, pretty trees, tall grass, and a couple of crossings over Knickerbocker Creek. An hour and twenty minutes in and I was back at the start for the first aid station thinking to myself, enjoy this...nothing hurts yet! While I was out there I had a salt cap and a 2 gels. The plan was 1-2 gels between aid stations, salt cap every hourish, and real food every aid station. The plan worked until I forgot about the plan.

The Olmstead Loop took us out to Western States Trail.

And then we dropped down onto Highway 49 to hit the Lower Quarry Aid Station.

At the aid station I refilled my bottle, had half a banana, a little bit of coke and grabbed 2 gels to replace my empties as I ran off along the river with just over 4 miles to the next aid station.

Somewhere around mile 13 or 14 I saw the famous hat with the frogs and caught up with Allen who caught me feeling perky.

It was about 5 and a half miles to Maine Bar where I paused just long enough to grab a couple of potatoes dredged in salt and replenish my supplies. 16.7 miles in is when I began thinking about Goat Hill. I really had no idea what would happen when, after running 25 miles I'd be up against the hill that everyone talked about in this race and then still have five miles to go. "Oh, it's not bad because it's not that long...it's just REALLY STEEP." Sounds fantastic, can't wait.

Miles 17-21 is when things started getting a little kooky. Feeling like I was beginning to wind down, Layla (RFFT (Running Friend From Twitter))and crew caught up with me, so some chit chat was a nice distraction. Then, something magical happened. I found myself in the middle of some sort of unofficial mid race support group. There were maybe six or seven of us? And we had a leader. She ran at the front of the line and all of a sudden I was just being pulled along by an invisible rope. She would yell something out and we would all whoop and holler. Whoever all of you were, thanks.

We splashed through a creek that turned my legs to stone. There was an uphill on the other side, and the party train went on without me. I might have had a tiny moment of panic at this point because, well, if this is the shape I'm in now...Goat Hill is not going to be pretty. I put my head down and focused on just taking steps and not thinking about anything else having to do with miles or goats. It worked. I rolled on into ALT Aid at mile 21 where I grabbed sprite, gels, and a PB&J square. Because I totally always eat PB&J squares 21 miles into a run...

My aid station strategy began to deteriorate after about 20 miles. You live, you learn. I usually stick to bananas and potatoes and salt, maybe a couple pretzels, but when I got a little loopy I felt like I needed something more and that it was really smart of me to feel that way...like YES, this PB&J is what my body needs for fuel to get me through the next 10 miles, I am so smart right now. I spent the next mile out of the aid station trying not to ralph. Noted for next time.

I needed to zone out and cruise, so that meant time to break out the tunes. It did the trick.

Mile 22 went by...23....24...and then there was a sharp turn and the girl in front of me completely stopped. I smiled at her and said, "Well, here we go...!" Welcome to Goat Hill.

All I could hear was a voice that got louder and louder as I climbed. "You're awesome! All you runners down there that I can't see yet, you're awesome! I'm holding a sign that says you're awesome!"
He was very enthusiastic, and when I finally got to the top, he was, indeed, holding a sign that said "you're awesome". Thanks, super enthusiastic yelling guy.

At Goat Hill Aid I ate an orange slice. It was the best thing I had ever tasted in my entire life, so I grabbed another one before taking off to gut out the next three miles. There was one last nice big climb out of the last aid station, and then just like that I was running the last mile of Way Too Cool.

Photo courtesy of Ken Michal

Finished!

"Nice work!" A spectator had called out earlier in the day. 

"Thanks," a man behind me answered, "But it's not work...this is what we do for fun."