2009 Black Warrior 50km
Moulton, AL
February 21, 2009
Official Results
It has been quite some time since this race has been over, but I find myself on an airplane from the middle of nowhere and heading back home with nothing but time on my hands.
Time is an interesting concept. Unless you are the best of the best and competing for the overall win, you are competing against the clock, and are measured by time. Even when in the elite class, you are still racing the clock, but maybe more motivated by position than time. Over the years, races have added ways for those of us not winning races to feel good about ourselves, including age graded times and age group awards, to name a few. They provide some motivation and sense of accomplishment to know that you are the fastest male between the ages of 30 and 34, but it is not the same as competing for the overall win. In my running career I can say that the when I have been lucky enough to win a race, I value that more than winning my age group or even setting a personal record. Because the formula for winning is so elusive, we mostly end up running for a certain time that we have set for ourselves as a standard of performance, given our training and fitness level.
Ever since the Rocket City Marathon in December of 2008, I had been fascinated with the idea of trying to run 50km (50,000 meters or 31.07 miles) in under 4 hours. This was my own standard of performance that I felt would make me a successful ultramaratoner. The pace to accomplish this feat is 7:43.43 minutes per mile. This standard is, of course, subjective and others would argue that to be thought of as a good ultra marathon, you had to run faster or maybe not as fast; none of that mattered to me, because this was my goal. I had loosely thought about making a substantial attempt at the Fat Ass 50k on New Years Eve at the Huntsville Cross Country Park. This effort was quickly thwarted on that day, when after 19 miles, the excess baggage I had in my body from not being recovered from the marathon, started barking at me in terms of pain in my left arch. I was running well for the first two hours, but decided that I would call it a day and start to focus on Mountain Mist. I would never give up in any race just because I wasn’t going to win or run a certain time; that is not my style. The New Years Eve run is composed of a 1 mile out and back, followed by ten 3-mile monotonous loops. Of the many starters there are few finishers. This is not an excuse for not finishing, just a fact of the race. It was also fitting that I needed only 18 miles on this last day of the year to hit the 3,600 mile mark for the year, a goal that I had for the year. Had I needed 35 miles to hit my goal, I most definitely have run 35 miles. That said, with only 18 required, I actually listened to my body when it was saying that it was not ready to run 50k in under 4 hours on this day.
After the first of the year, I switched my attention to trail running and building endurance for Mountain Mist. I had a very disappointing race in 2008 when I thought that breaking 5 hours on this difficult course would be a walk in the park, and yet I struggled to finish in 5:17. Due to the rugged conditions in Mountain Mist, I had parked my thoughts of the sub 4-hour 50km in the back of my mind to focus all attention on January 24.
I learned a lot about myself at Mountain Mist, including my passion for endurance running. I had never really been a fan and done it mostly out of obligation that local elites seem to unknowingly put on you. After all, before moving to Huntsville, I knew one ultra marathoner and the idea of going longer than 26.2 miles seemed downright retarded. (Forgive the expression, it is only a figure of speech, but seems fitting). I was feeling good in this race and went our hard early and hung with the top dogs for as long as I could. Once they pulled away, I still ran strong and I think that I surprised quite a few people when I ran 4:32:15 and finished 6th overall. It actually become my modus operandi during the race, as every time people remarked at where I was in the pack, I got stronger and ran harder. This had not only bettered my previous Mountain Mist PR by 45 minutes (listed separately from most 50km race PR's due to difficulty) I had also shattered my old 50km PR (albeit a soft one) by 10 minutes. I felt great during the entire race and was able to 'sprint' the last 1.75 miles from Rest Shelter at low seven minute pace.
Going into Mountain Mist, my next endurance race was set to be the Boston Marathon. Coming out of Mountain Mist, I suddenly had a desire to run more ultra events and again toy with the sub 4-hour 50km concept. It took me about a week to commit my intent to run the 50km at Black Warrior in the Sipsey Wilderness. This meant that I would have three weeks to recover and get ready to run the muddy horse trails in the Bankhead forest. Three weeks is plenty of time to recover from a hard 50km before running the next 50km, right? It makes sense only to an ultra runner as we have a slightly skewed perception of time.
In the recovery time between races, I made two trips to Sipsey to experience the trails first hand. The initial training run was on the orange loop with Joey Butler and the gang. This section was full of mud and ruts and lots of horse poop. If this was my only training run there and I had not already signed up, I would have forgone the $40 entry fee and stayed home. That said, Laura, Siri and I went out the weekend before and ran the 11 mile yellow loop. This section was very runnable, as it wound around the edge of wooded bluffs into and out of coves making s-curves. Having seen this section, which would be in the later stages of the race, I was glad that I had committed. If we were lucky and the course dried out at all, I might be able to have a run at that sub 4-hour 50km.
Fast forward to race day, noting that the week of the race we had some decent storms in the area. This rain undoubtedly would mean that the stream crossings would be deeper and the mud would be muddier, if that is even possible or even a word. It was a fairly small crowd of less than 200 runners, competing in either the 50km, the 25km or the 50km relay. At the starting line, I saw quite a few people from Rock/Creek Racing team, including Jamie Dial, who finished 2nd at Mountain Mist and his wife Wendy, who was the top female at Mountain Mist. Besides the Tennessee crowd and locals Jason Reneau and course record holder Heath White, I didn't see many people who had a legitimate shot at the overall win. That meant, as I alluded to earlier, that the rest of us would be racing against the clock.
The mass start took the combined field climbing uphill for 2 miles up a gravel road. Since we were mixed in with the shorter distance runners, we probably took the pace out a little too fast. On the hill climb, I met a guy from Duluth, who I would later discover was ultra running great Andy Holak. He and his wife had planned a southern family vacation around this trip, so Andy was running the 25k and his wife was competing in the 50km.
My splits early on where insane and I knew that I was running too fast and even though I would slow once we got to the technical trails, I was probably ruining my chance at hitting my goal time. That said, I pushed on foolishly at a ridiculous pace through the first aid station near mile 6 where Laura was waiting to hand me a fresh bottle of water. I had a great hydration plan laid out that also went out the window when I started running too fast up front. I passed up aid and went on, chasing the pack that had long since left me. I went through the first six miles in under 44 minutes, averaging 7:20 pace.
The next six miles between aid stations 1 and 2 are sort of blurry so I won't make up memories that I don't have about them. We separated from the 25km runners shortly after the first aid station and then the fun really started; we had our first water crossing, which was no more than ankle deep, but which is just deep enough to have a lasting impact. Coming off of the water, was a short climb in a very muddy section where I nearly lost a shoe. It is hilarious now but not so funny this. Mile 9 was the toughest as I remember, climbing up 220’ from start to end, which is probably why the mile was nearly a minute slower than the rest of them. I went through the next six miles in just under 48 minutes, averaging 8:00 pace and now 7:40 pace overall. This did not bode well for my overall time goal as I was nearly at my average pace with 19 miles yet to run.
At aid station 2 I did take a fresh bottle from Laura and dropped my outer shirt as the temperature had risen steadily. When coming out of this aid station, I heard yelling from behind me. This turned out to be Jason, who was running his style of ultramarathoning. This includes busting his ass from aid station to aid station, but then stopping to refuel and chat with the volunteers before heading out strong again. Jason was waiting for me and we proceeded to run together for the next few miles. It was only 5 miles to the next aid station and the footing was pretty good but the course began to roll much more and the climbs were taking their toll on me. I lead for the first few miles, asking Jason if he wanted to lead, to which he did not. Somewhere before the aid station I was in the process of eating a Power Bar Gel Blast, which had not gone down so well and somehow I coughed and it came back up my nose. I had a hard time breathing and stopped immediately to get water and regain my composure mostly. Jason thought that I had cramped and when I later told him why I stopped, we both laughed. Within a few seconds, I was running again but now from behind Jason. I ran through these five miles at 7:52 pace, bringing me to 2 hours and 11 minutes for 17 miles coming into aid station 3.
Jason had built a slight lead, but was standing at the aid station when I arrived. For the first time all day, I stopped at an aid station to refill my bottle and we talked with the volunteers. I knew that I was now running toward a personal best time, but that it would not be under 4 hours on this day. This aid station was slightly remote, so Laura would not be here, but back at aid station 2/4. The volunteers at aid station 3 talked about the recent burning of the forest and that there was a tree just ahead that was ‘ready to go’. I didn’t understand what she meant but didn’t ask any questions either. For the last couple of miles heading into aid station 3, the park rangers had conducted a controlled burn. Some trees were still smoldering and there was ash and soot in the air. In the low parts of the course, the smoke was terrible and it made you feel like you were running in a campfire. Together, Jason and I left the aid station and quickly found out what the volunteer meant by ‘ready to go’. There was a large tree on the edge of the trail that had smaller branches stuffed into its base that were acting as kindling and were lit on fire. The flames were shooting out across the trail and the heat was very intense. When she said ‘ready to go’ she meant ‘ready to be engulfed in flames making the trail impassable’. We just ran around it, but I imagine as other runners came through, they had to make the route wider and wider to avoid getting burned.
I was no longer going to try to stay with Jason, but instead went into somewhat of a maintenance mode, trying to just maintain a decent pace until I could pick it up on the gravel road again toward the end. It would be a long five miles until the next aid station, where Laura and Sirius Beagle would be waiting for me. The smoke in the air was really bothering my breathing and I coughed more and more as I ran along. It was around mile 20 that I was passed by another runner. He looked strong and had been chasing me for quite a few miles and despite trying to hold him off, he passed by and quickly vanished from sight. My how I gain strength from passing other runners and my how demoralizing it can be to get passed. With frequent walk breaks mixed in with short jaunts of running, I logged a slow 44 minutes for 5 miles into aid station 4 with 22 miles complete in a few minutes under 3 hours. I was still focused on my overall time; it just was going to be slower than I had hoped.
I got a small lift from seeing Laura again. The small crowd of people at the aid station looked to be having a grand old time, watching the runners come and go. I always get motivated seeing people and it gives me strength, but at the same time I love the solitude that the wilderness provides in an ultra marathon. It makes you dig deep and overcome mental demons to push forward when there is no one around. Our sport is not one comprised of crowds cheering but of the defining silence of your inner soul.
From aid station 4 to the gravel road would be another six miles, to which I would have to maintain a decent pace if I expected to set a personal record for this distance. I was having trouble doing any math on what I needed to run to hit a certain time, so I tried not to think about it at all. We were back on the more difficult part of the course that I had run on my first trip to the course a few weeks prior. With a mile or so to go before the last aid station, we had a road crossing where Laura was set to meet me. I was sort of confused as to which way to go once I crossed the road, which was odd since I had been here only a week before, but you are never thinking quite right after running for this long, so having Laura point out the way was great.
The course was still demanding and my effort to pace ratio showed this to be fact. I felt like I was working so hard, but barely averaged under 10 minute miles in the hour that it took me to reach the gravel road. My overall pace had dropped by 25 seconds in just an hour, though I didn’t realize this at the time. I was focused on making it to the gravel road so that I could see what I had left for a strong finish. That had become my mantra; ‘just make it to the gravel road and then we will see what you have left.’ I was repeating this over and over in my mind and maybe even out load a few times. When I finally did reach the road, I looked at my watch and used some quick math to realize that I could still break 4 hours and 20 minutes. I chose to not stop for any last minute aid, thinking that it would just slow me down and I still had half a hand bottle of fluids remaining. If I were going to make a solid push to the end, I wouldn’t need more than that. I remember seeing Mike First Place and he shouted some very encouraging words that helped propel me out onto the road and on my way to the home stretch.
Somehow I felt strong again and started to pick up the pace. The gravel road was all mine and it was time for redemption against the slow middle miles. It was about three miles back to the finish and I was going to try to run faster and faster, given that the road would gradually slope back downhill to the end. I was using the strength that I had gained from a fast finish at Mountain Mist, where I pushed my pace into the seven’s for the last 2 miles, now at the end of another ultra marathon. My mind knew that my body was capable of running fast at the end of a long race and my leg turnover began to increase until I was running in the low 7’s again. The weather was still cool, but I was steaming and pulled off my shirt and wrapped it around my bottle. I wasn’t about to let something so small as that slow me down when I was on a roll. In the last mile we reclaimed all of the downhill we lost at the beginning of the race and I was really cruising. As I looked at my watch, I had gotten back lost time from earlier and now realized that with one last final push, I might be able to finish with a time of 4:15. It is incredible how just 30 minutes prior I was slogging along and hoping to just finish and now I was sprinting to the end with a time goal within my grasp.
The gravel turned to blacktop and the finish was just ahead on my left. I powered through the end where the clock noted my time as 4:15:32. I was so astonished by how I had finished that I didn’t realize that I was done. For some reason I assumed that I would have to run all the way back into the park toward the lake, but instead the finish was just off the main road. Laura and Siri were there, waiting for me and I took a few steps toward my pup and she barked with excitement. I didn’t bark, but I was equally excited to see her and be done as well.
It took me the time to change my clothes, get a hamburger from the grill and sit down on a pick nick table to realize that I had just run a 50k in 4 hours and 15 minutes. Sometimes is takes hours or days for this to sink in, but today it was almost right away. Holding the hand made wooded finisher award for 4th place overall under my paper plate of food seemed like just the thing to do! We stayed long enough to see some others finish and talk with some friends after it was over. We were a long way from home and I was in need of a nap, as was the rest of the family after the 4am wake up call earlier that morning.
In reflecting back, this race was always about time, but not about the time on the clock. It was about the time I spent out in the woods, running alone, dealing with the mental emotions and physical challenges that were thrown my way. It was less about the hours, minutes and seconds that it took me to actually run the distance and more about the time it took for me to realize that I was doing exactly what I love. The feeling of crossing the finish line after such an endeavor is amazing and it is impossible to reproduce in any other aspect of life. It wouldn’t do any justice to it for me to attempt an explanation, so I will not even try. I will just say that I had the time of my life.