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.