An ultramarathon is ultra hard

I awoke at 5 am on Saturday to the pitter-patter of rain on the windows. I was about to run my first 50k trail run and this was horrible! Rain meant there would be mud and mud is deadly on the trail. I desperately wanted to crawl back into bed, but I had come to San Antonio to run. And, people knew that I was supposed to run. It was go time!

I got dressed and went down to breakfast. I had to fortify myself for 5-6 hours of running. This was very stressful: what I ate (or did not eat) would make or break my run. If I ate too little, I would bonk. If I ate too much, I would have a gastrointestinal disasterin the Texas hill country. Like anyone with a PhD, I did thorough, non-scientific survey of runners and running blogs. I concluded that a peanut butter chocolate chip Lara bar and banana would be good – carbohydrates, protein, and a little fat. I hoped that it would get me through the first 10-mile loop of the course (which I estimated to take an hour and a half). I heard there would be a buffet of candy, fruit, and peanut butter sandwiches at the main aid station. I was very excited about that buffet.

We arrived at the start 30 minutes before early – just enough time to pin my bib to my shirt and double tie my shoe laces. Shelly whispered soothing and encouraging phrases to me (then he went back to the car for an hour long power nap before his little 10 mile race started). I tucked my precious fluorescent orange drop bag, which contained all sorts of magical food and beverage treats in front of a large tree. I joined Lori in the small mob at the start and hopped up and down like a caged bunny rabbit. The race director sounded a horn and we were off!

Lori and I committed to a *slow* first lap and settled behind a middle-aged man who looked he had done this sort of thing many times. Then we ditched him. We coasted for a mile along the top of ridge and reminisced about how this was *just* like high school cross country. Then we descended a short hill into the mud. At first, the mud wasn’t so bad – slightly squishy and slippery. It was fun and we giggled. But, it got thicker. It clumped to our shoes. My nightmare began. As the mud thickened and stuck to our shoes, each step became harder. We arrived to the second aid station and stopped for Gatorade and to de-mud our shoes. I asked for a paper towel to wipe my hands and the man haughtily told me that it was useless – I should just “get used to it.”

Lori and I continued into the mud. She kept giggling deliriously. My mud-caked shoes weighed at least five pounds – each. It felt like running on slippery stilts. Unfortunately, Lori slipped in the mud and twisted the ankle that she had injured a couple weeks earlier. I was on my own now. The trail dried up a bit as I approached the third aid station. After all that mud, I deserved some gummi bears! I chugged a couple Dixie cups of water and took off. The last couple miles of the loop were much drier and I ran at a comfortable pace back to the home aid-station start/finish area.

I didn’t linger at the aid station – just grabbed my favorite chocolate-raspberry Gu, refilled my water bottle and took off. The first half of the second loop was a lovely trot through the forest. It was everything that I dreamed trail running would be – silent except for the twittering of birds and the thump of my footfalls. I ran past the aid station without stopping, since I had just had a Gu and was carrying my own Gatorade. The second time through, the mud had been pounded dry by the other runners. Nonetheless, my quads were a bit too tired for being only 15 miles into the race! At the next aid-station, I had some banana and three more delicious gummi bears. Over the next several miles, I started to feel slightly queasy and light-headed. Perhaps the gummi bears weren’t such a good idea. I just had Gatorade and part of a gu at the next aid-station. But, I started to lose it. It felt like I was aqua-jogging while drunk. I stumbled into the main into the main aid-station a mess.

Shelly was waiting for me. When I saw him, I started to sob and told him I didn’t feel well. I knew I needed to eat something, but didn’t know what to have. The buffet was overwhelming. I demanded that Shelly tell me what to eat. The medic saw me in the middle of mental breakdown and asked if I was ok. He wanted to take my blood pressure, pulse and temperature. At first, I refused. I was hell-bent on finishing and told him (between sobs) that I just needed to eat. He let me have the piece of banana I had in my hand before slipping the blood pressure cuff on, despite my blubbering protests. My blood pressure was low, but my pulse was strong. I explained that I had freakishly low blood pressure and that it wasn’t cause for concern. Shelly handed me a piece of peanut butter and jelly sandwich and asked what I was going to do. I told him that I was going to finish this B*tch! I had some water and promised that I would eat at every aid station on the last loop.

I felt MUCH better over the next couple miles and actually started to have fun. I caught up to a man with head phones on and playing air guitar while running. While I was feeling better, I don’t think I could have played air guitar while running at mile 23. At the next aid station, I had a lime Gu hoping that it would taste like a margarita. WRONG – it was wretched but I forced it down. The medic was stalking me on the bike. As I ate the Gu, I plastered a big goofy grin on my face and proclaimed that it was delicious! Seven more miles to go.

I was running VERY slowly, but I was running forward. I tried to focus on happy thoughts, like the bottle of Champagne I had waiting for me in the car. That got me through a couple miles. I caught up to another woman and ran with her for a couple miles. When I arrived at the next aid-station, the medic was waiting for me. He said I looked a bit better and reminded me to eat. Fine – I had some m&ms. As I continued running, I could feel my blood sugar and energy levels plummet. Each calorie consumed was immediately used. It was a roller-coaster of sugar highs and lows for the next five miles. At the last-aid station, the only thing I could stomach was a banana. I only had 2.5 miles left, but if I didn’t eat, I would probably pass out in the middle of the trail.

I mustered the strength to “drop the Bomb” in the last two miles at 11 minute pace. The faster I ran, the faster I finished and the sooner I could lie down and have a Mimosa. I was focused, and light-headed. I followed a hair pin turn around a tree and tripped on a root. It was the first fall of the entire race! It took me a minute to realize that I was lying in a pile of mud and leaves. I surveyed my body for blood and used a branch to pull myself off the ground. Those last couple miles were a blur. All of a sudden, I emerged from the woods and saw the finish. I crossed the finish line and they asked if I wanted water and Gateorade. I told them I wanted a Mimosa!

I hobbled over to a bench and plopped down. Shelly politely asked if I wanted a sip of his beer. I grabbed the cup and chugged! He was astonished when I handed him the empty cup. I normally don’t like beer, but on that afternoon it tasted so damn good.