Learning While in the Lead (At the Arkansas 100 Miler)
So after a cruising easy for the first 20 minutes to warm up I noticed Joe Hildebrand (the most prolific sub 18:00 100 mile runner around)who I was running next to is breathing pretty heavy. I am not at all. Hhmmmmmmmmmmmmm what to do? In the last 6 100 milers I have run I have finished very strong after controlled conservative starts. I have been near the top and have been getting better. Today I decided to go for it.
Well, it started off innocently enough...substituting some shorter faster flatter road runs for the normal multi-hour hilly trail runs the last 6 weeks before this race. I managed to get in the kind of shape I have not seen since college. I was comfortable clipping off 6:00 miles again, but neglected to do the "quad blow out" runs. I noticed this for the first time about 12 days before the AT 100 when I ran a quick 20 miler but had real sore quads the next 2 days. In previous preparations for 100 milers I get to the point where I cannot make my quads sore, they are seemingly indestructible....... but 6:00 miles were HARD, and thus cruising at 8-9min mile pace was something I could not hold comfortably.
In an ultra you need to be able to hold a pace that allows you to never breathe hard, and also allows enough blood to continue to flow to the stomach so that needed digestion can occur. In previous 100's I just ran the fastest pace I could hold while still allowing this... around 11 min. miles. On Oct 6th I was fine at 8:00 pace.
So that is what I did. I left Joe and moved on to the only single track on the AT course. Knowing I have good technical skill I just let it loose and popped out at the 17 mile mark with a sizable lead. I had blown thru the first 3 aid stations for I was carrying 2 bottles filled with my special lemonade/ice tea mix. I had planned to run at a pace where I figured I would not be able to eat much so I simply poured about 2 inches worth of sugar into the bottom of my 20 ounce Montrail bottles. Shook it up and drank it down. Having no crew or pacer lined up I pre-mixed 16 bottles and put them in my drop bags. I planned to run with 2 bottles at all times and spend barely any time in the aid stations at all.
The super sugar lemonade drinks worked well, my stomach was draining... I was not hungry, never got light headed, or felt weak. So I clipped thru 20 miles in 2:39... Wow-- that is pretty fast. "You feel fine, no worries", I try to assure myself, but the quads are not right. I back it down a bit on the rolling dirt roads of Arkansas and slide thru the next ten miles at 9:00 mile pace. The quads are worsening. This is no good, this is way too early to have muscle trouble. What do I do????
Hhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmm… let's see… 50k in around 4:20... still leading, but the field is closing. By 35 miles (5:00 on the nose) I know it is no longer a race for the course record... me vs. the clock...like I wanted. It is merely me vs. the course. If I want to even cover the distance to finish this thing I know I have to back completely off NOW.
So at 5 hours in I lose the lead and think hhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmm…all I need to do is hold 12:00 miles and I can still run 18:00 hours flat. 12:00 miles and you are fine. Run walk, run walk, run walk... easy money. Come on you finished the Vermont 100 on quads that had not run in 6 weeks and hurt like hell 18 miles in. You can do this! 12:00 minute miles.
I come to 40 miles in 6:01...nice! You are doing fine. I sit at the great Flamingo aid station, pull out the orthotics that are killing my feet and change into the shoes that finished the MMT 100, Bull Run 50,LH 70, VT 100, and Catoctin 50k. These are dead but hey I need all the help I can get now. My mind believes these shoes are magic and after a 10 minute "take stock" sit at this aid station I get up and move on.
The AT 100 has some nasty footing and some climbs and I am into that now. The sun is out and burning my face as the 70 degree day with crystal blue sky continues. I am all alone now as 7 guys have run by me and it is quite a big gap to the next group that contains the two leading ladies.
I walk, but not strongly, as my legs continue to tighten up and my stride shortens. I have overdrawn and the bank is about to foreclose.
I shift into survival mode and quit feeling sorry for myself. I begin to run a bit stronger but my stride is the tiny 1-2 foot shuffle and now I kick a lot of rocks as I have no leg lift. Finally I turn a corner and reach the Powerline aid station.
I am shocked to learn I am 6 lbs down here at the mile 48.5 medical weigh in. Being a slight 130lbs this is a lot, in fact too much, and I am forced to sit down and eat and drink before being allowed to continue. I munch on some melons, bananas, and drink 3 cups of water. I feel fine other than the dead legs and stand after far too long and head out. Shortly after passing 50 miles (8hours 30min) Ray "Bones" Bailey comes up behind me with his son and pacer; Justin. Ray won this race 3 times and can see the predicament I am now in. Together the three of us begin a good run/walk pattern and reach the turn around at 58+ miles in good shape. Both Francesca Conte and Michele Bur arrive at this aid station before we leave and shortly after moving on I see David Horton coming in. Having had the pleasure of training a lot with my fellow VA friend I know he is fit, but the look in his eyes shows he is in trouble. He says he "is Dogmeat" when I ask how it is going and I later find out he dropped there with extreme GI trouble. Frank Probst (the fittest 58 year old I know) is not far behind and gives me a mental lift as he goes by.
The out and back format of the course is great and each passing of other runners gives me encouragement and I try to keep it together for all the people that I see. I can no longer keep up with Ray and my run periods in the run/walk cycle are down to pitiful 1-2 minute chunks.
First Francesca and then Michele pass me as I meet my bud Keith Knipling who is 1/3 of the crew of 25-27 year olds that I drove down with. He is doing fine and looks great.
For what seems like forever I move toward the Mexican aid station at the 64 mile mark. With a chicken burrito in hand I am happy to sit and eat here. These aid station volunteers have a TV going with a football game on via a generator, many many beers in them and at the ready, a great barbeque roaring, as well as a huge bonfire about to be lit. One massages my shoulders while 3 others try to pump up my deflated psyche. After a good 10 minutes I stand for the continued struggle and begin to walk toward what I hope to be the finish line.
After about a mile I come up on Karen Shiley (the other 1/3 of our fine young ultrarunners crew) who is heading out to the turn around. She looks great and reports feeling good after fixing a big blister. With a confident look in her eye that I cannot match we part ways. She runs, and I walk. The sun is beginning to fall and my walk is beginning to slow. My right ileopsoas (hip flexor) is now pretty much useless and I have trouble lifting that leg. I am now in big time debate. To drop or not to drop.... that is the question.
I have been here before, and in the 2000MMT I did walk the last 35 miles with a limp and finished in 29:55 for my first 100.
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmm… what to do? I have this big time dislike for the fast folks that go out hard, decide it is not their day, they can't win, and can't stand anything less, and drop. I have discussed this at length and truly believe if not physically injured there is no excuse to drop. So here I am...... What to do?
Finally after some more logical thoughts I decide I can not stand to be injured enough to miss a few weeks. I love running too much. I walk on in to the 67.7 mile aid station and say "I'll drop."
-- Greg Loomis
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