Snowed In

I’m back from my weekend with Josh up in Chicago, where I ran the Chicago Lakefront 50k. I don’t have time to write up a full account, so here are some notes with detailed description sprinkled in:

didn’t have enough warm clothes
randomly had fleece headband… this was a stroke of luck
had no gloves
start of the race was probably below 40 with the wind chill.

- gloves were handed out by people advertising something (I don’t know what it is. I could go downstairs and read the gloves, I suppose).
- got there 20 minutes before the start
- hadn’t pooped
- hadn’t stretched

got into line
moment of silence
little chant
(someone mutters “come on!”… come on yourself, buddy!)
siren goes off (relief… I hate it when the shoot the gun. Makes me anxious, sets the wrong tone. Why not just yell “GO!”?)

Started running really really slowly. Tried to slow down.
The start goes right by the lake. Looked like the ocean on a windy day.
Water the color of latte.
Ran behind some older folks who seemed to know what they were doing.
Kept feeling like passing, but forced myself to stay behind. No sense in wasting myself this early.

Walked the handful of tiny uphills. Wished there were more to walk.
Was almost dead last two miles in. Stopped to do some Yoga. One of the race marshalls asked how I was doing. “Fine! Just stretching!”

Gorp at the first aid station (peanuts, raisins, M&Ms)… NOT my favorite race food, but I had a handful anyway. To much fiber. This turned out to be a good thing (still hadn’t pooped at this point yet).
Kept running, keeping it slow. Didn’t talk to anyone the whole first lap (10 miles), but I did start smiling at all the other runners who were coming back the other way (it was an out-and-back course). Smiling is good for you. And in survival situations (ultrarunning is sort of an artificial survival sport) one of the best ways to survive is to help other people out. Cheer them on. Transform yourself from a victim into a rescuer, and you are much more likely to sustain yourself.

Spent a good five minutes in the port-a-potty after the first lap. Felt MUCH better afterward. Changed out of pants and into shorts, ate as many potato chips as I could, grabbed a stack of of Oreos and a banana, and started out again.

Just after starting the second lap, met two women who appeared to be in their 30s, Adrianne and Cheryl. One is running the Boston Marathon this weekend. She ran a 3:40 marathon to qualify! They were walking at intervals, which seemed like a good idea. They would stop, I’d run a head a bit, and then they’d catch up, pass me, and then stop to walk again. We flip flopped like that for a while. I complained about having to pee, and they told me of their secret peeing spot, which was behind a dumpster across the street. I was much obliged.

Around the 17 mile mark I started feeling fatigued.
Started talking to random folks I was passing.
Got some good advice from old timers. Basically: keep it slow and steady. There’s lots of race left.
Kept it slow and steady. Slowed down even.

Talked to a french sounding guy who I had been stalking (running behind). We ran together (slowly) for the several miles leading up to the final lap. He had read the book I read (Running Through the Wall) plus pretty much every other ultrarunning book out there. He had taken a more traditional training approach, including running four marathons this year. I hadn’t run any, just a few 20+ mile training runs.

Back at the starting line, I just quickly ate a bunch of food, refilled my gatorate bottle for the umpteenth time, and headed back out, walking, with my hands full of oreos and banana. The french fellow caught up and passed me, waving. The marathon ladies were probably a half mile ahead at this point, if not more. My legs were feeling fatigued, though I had tons of energy built up from all the carb-loading the night before and the eating and drinking during the race. I felt supremely well hydrated and ready to run fast. I had run just over 20 miles in almost exactly four hours, and had just over 10 miles left. I could finish in six hours if I can just stick to this pace.

I decided: screw it. I sped up until I was at my normal training pace. Strangely, the muscle fatigue disappeared. Somehow, I had been using different muscles for the first 2/3 of the race because I was running it so unnaturally slowly, which meant that I had reserves in my “old standby” muscles that I work out regularly.

So I significantly picked up the pace, and started passing people left and right. I had gone from about a 12:00 minute pace to something around 10:30. I passed the frenchman, and around mile 24 I caught the marathon ladies. I told them I was worried I was being stupid and I’d bonk. They said if I was feeling fast I should go with it. So I kept going.

I made it to the far point of the final lap feeling pretty good. I had made significant gains without much mental struggle. I just had 5 miles left to go. I have 5 miles of mental struggle in me, so I felt like I was in the clear.

That final stretch to the finish went by pretty quickly. I closed my eyes most of the way, listening to the pattern formed by the huffing of my breath and the sounds of my footfalls, trying to clear my head of all thoughts besides relaxing and refining the pattern.

Doing this I was able to maintain the pace I had started in the final lap, and I continued to pass people who had been ahead of me the whole race. Whenever my mind would wander, and try to think about how much distance there was left, I would quiet it by saying three things to myself:

1) Relax your legs
2) Keep yourself upright and balanced on top of your hips
3) Keep a spark going somewhere inside of you

… and try to just focus on that breathing/footstep pattern. In Chicago, the wind blowing in your face is normally pretty depressing because it feels as if you are running up a steep hill ALL THE TIME. But one of the great things about running with your eyes closed is that you can’t tell how much you’ve slowed down. So the wind just feels like a nice cool breeze on your face. This lets you slow down appropriately, like you would if you were running up hill, instead of struggling against the wind.

The final lap was almost a joy. I know only two days later I am already blocking out the memory of the muscle soreness in my left calf and the weird nerve thing in the back of my left knee, but I did struggle a bit with those, although increasing my speed all but got rid of those problems.

When I finally made it to the part of the race that runs right out next to the surf, I was running well and feeling very confident. But it wasn’t until I rounded the final corner and saw that I was nearly 15 minutes under my six hour goal that the emotions really started flowing. And this feeling hit me like a ton of bricks. All of the sudden, I swelled up with pride, joy, and relief. It was probably the most rawly emotional experience of my life. I started to feel like I was going to cry. My face couldn’t not smile. I crossed the line at 5:47, well under my goal of beating the 7-hour cutoff, well under my secondary goal of clearing six hours. I was 40th among men and 60th overall, out of a field of about a hundred, I’d guess.

And by the way, Josh missed it! He had run out during my final lap (there was no sense in waiting around for two hours) and misjudged how long the final lap would take me. I would be sad about that, except that it happened because I ran really well in that final lap, and that makes me happy. My splits for each 10.4 mile loop were 1:40, 2:20, and 1:47, which is a little confusing. But it means I paced myself well, and I’m really proud of my performance.

After the race:
- rice and beans
- really cold
- since it was 70 when we left Bloomington, I was not prepared for a 40 degree finish.
- Stopped in the city to buy some warmer clothes
- Was probably delirious and bought several things that I didn’t really need. Including an Adidas IU-branded track jacket. WTF, mate?
- Got back to Ben’s apartment, showered, tried to nap
- Had a great time at dinner with Karen’s friends. I always feel spunky after I do a long run like this and get some caffeine in me.
- Didn’t have any immediate plans for my next run, however…
- Maybe if I can find a 50 miler some time in the late summer or early fall…