Thoughts From The Long Run: November 2015

Preparing for an ultra can be a funny thing. Much like nutrition, it's different for everyone. My tendency is to over plan: review race reports, study elevation charts and course maps, meticulously pack and repack my gear...I generally obsess over races for weeks in advance and tend to psyche myself out trying to cover each and every eventuality that could present itself on race day. After all, it's best to be prepared, right? (Somewhere there is a former Boy Scout nodding in agreement...) I'm not sure whether my propensity toward over planning has helped me perform better on race day, but if nothing else it has given me the peace of mind that I've got all my bases covered heading into an event. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Enter the 2015 Wild Hare 50 - a race that wasn't on my radar until a few days before the event and one I really knew nothing about. Not only could I not have found the tiny town of Warda, Texas on a map with 100 guesses (hint: find Waco, drop down about 100 miles S/SE), but I was still recovering after a grueling Cactus Rose 100 finish a few weeks before. I had planned to rest for the balance of November then in December start working up to on a return trip to the Bandera 100k early next year. But after having realized that I still had a qualifying race I could add to my 2015 Texas Trail Racing series portfolio, I decided "what the hell" - and thus, with no prior planning, preparation, or thought to what I might be getting myself into, I was off to try and find Warda and the Wild Hare 50.

Photo Credit: Henry Hobbs

The Course

Wild Hare is comprised of several races of various distances (10k, 25k, 50k, and 50 mile) that are run over mountain biking trails through Bluff Creek Ranch, a functioning horse ranch in sleepy Warda. The course itself is pretty straightforward: an ~8 mile loop with an aid station right at 4 miles (there is also a support station the start/finish area). There are a couple of course-correcting segments added early in the races to make sure each distance ends up where it needs to be but otherwise it's the same 8 mile loop for everyone.

I found each 4-mile segment to have it's own unique characteristics. The first was a run through a forest entirely along single track mountain bike trails. It would repeatedly corkscrew between the trees, cutting back and forth many times over small hills with a few rocks and roots strewn along the path. It was not particularly technical. There was some light mud and a few puddles we had to navigate (including one that seemed more like a small pond) but otherwise pretty easy footing.

The nasty puddle I ran through 7 times. Yuck. (Photo credit: Libby Hallas-Jones)

After passing through the midpoint aid station, the course would run for a mile or so across some fields and pastures, leading to a rolling stretch of trail in another stand of trees. A steep but short downhill descent would mark the beginning of this roller-coaster type segment with a number of short ups and downs that would culminate in a stand of tall pine trees, short footbridges and finally return us to the start/finish area. The final 3/4-mile or so of each loop involved running right through the middle of the campground, which was filled with friends, family, and crew for the runners, through a small quaint barn/stable, across the timing mat and into an aid station area.

Just a couple thoughts about the course and the setup: This is not a technical course and there is very little elevation to worry about. Mud could be a problem if the weather is poor, but fortunately that wasn't an issue this year. Otherwise the layout of the course could lend itself to fast times. The camping setup at Bluff Creek Ranch was as good as I have seen for any race I have attended. Like I said, the race runs right through the campgrounds, which are spacious and situated near a small pond surrounded by beautiful pine trees. If I return to run this race again there is no doubt I would camp. The 2 aid stations at the start/finish line and the midpoint are actually only separated by a short walk of a couple hundred yards, so it would be a very easy race at which to crew/spectate. (The course map can be found here.) This event is very friendly to campers, families, and friends who want to be there to take it in and offer support to the runners. We had great weather this year and it looked to me like the spectators and crew-folk had a good time cheering everyone on.

Race Summary

Given that I was able to rely on some habits earned over the course of several previous races of this distance and longer, preparation was not a huge issue on race day. I car-camped overnight and actually parked my car very near the barn. Since I ran right by it on each loop I could utilize it for needed wardrobe adjustments and as a place to stash/switch out my gear. It was extremely convenient and allowed for a little extra latitude in handling any issues that would come up. I basically rolled in with a handheld, my Huma gels, a few extra supplies, and left some extra clothes in my car (the race day weather forecast was uncertain, even though it ended up being a perfect day). It was a much more minimal approach than I have taken in past races. Honestly, I found it refreshing to just "roll out and go".

The day presented an opportunity to run with old friends, make new friends, and enjoy what turned out to be a perfect day for running. While there were a few sprinkles in the morning and some stretches of the trail were muddy (see the "puddle of death" above), the sun did eventually come out, the footing was generally fine, and the cool north breezes made the day very pleasant. Many of the smaller puddles dried up and footing was not a problem. I was able to run comfortably for much of the day - sometimes with companions, sometimes alone - and the miles just ticked by. On a loop course it's easy to get into a zone, and this one was no different; yet, there were still enough changes in the scenery to keep it interesting.

Photo credit: Libby Halas-Jones.

I stuck with my nutrition plan of 200 cal/hour and on this day that plan worked perfectly. I had no real issues with energy. The Huma gels that I tried for the first time at Cactus were fantastic. If something went awry I had several packets of Tailwind with me, but they weren't needed for this race.

The one thing I could not really shake was the fatigue in my legs that crept in as the day drew on. I was actually pleasantly surprised that I was able to make it for 30+ miles before I really felt it, but the combined efforts of a long training cycle, several races over the past year, and a tough 100-miler only a few weeks prior caught up to me. I was able to maintain a steady pace at the end but any extra "boost" in my legs had all but vanished.

That being said, I was happy to bring it in in under 10 hours. After an up-and-down year I was very pleased to finish on a bit of a high note. I accomplished my hastily devised goals for this race (finish in under 10 hours and don't get injured) and still snag a top-10 overall. It was a great day, made better by the fantastic people who ran, organized, cheered, and volunteered. I'd love to go back to Warda someday, maybe even with a little more preparation and planning....

(finishing pic coming soon!)

Cactus Rose 100

The past month has seen many comings and goings for me, most notably the passing of summer and the advent of autumn (awesome!) and another major running adventure in the hill country of central Texas. I chose not to write my typically detailed post-race recap for Cactus Rose 100 this year because the race followed much the same pattern as my other endurance races - a good start, a few wobbles, a major crash, a rebound, then a charge to the finish. I'm starting to sound like a broken record. Recounting what seems like a string of difficulties on the way to a buckle (in this case, extremely poor weather for much of the race left over from a passing hurricane, difficult course conditions, running well for a while, suffering electrolyte depletion resulting in painful cramps and back spasms, giving up at mile 75, checking back in an hour later, grinding out a finish in 30 hours) is becoming redundant; suffice it to say, it was a tough day. But then again, I'm still looking for a 100-mile race report that gives the impression that ANY race of that distance was easy, regardless of the course or conditions.

I recently read a blog post from a fellow 100-mile finisher that summed up the mental side of these races very well:

The crux of a 100 are the mental games we play in the wee hours as our mind wrestles with the decision to quit or not, and this is what makes 50 miles categorically different than 100. Just about anyone who can complete a 50 in 12 hours can also complete a 100 in 30. It's not really a factor of extra training. 50s are little more than a feat of physical endurance, but what gets you from 50 to 100 is between your ears.

Here's a concrete example that we hear all the time, given as an excuse to quit: "It stopped being fun." That person played the 100 mile mental game, and lost. The point of a 100 is to continue even when it sucks. Don't like it? You should have entered a 50.

And that's the special appeal that 100 milers have. That's what makes 100s unique. Most beginning ultrarunners think 100s are merely a next step from the marathon or 50. But I've completed the 100-mile distance eleven times now - and let me tell you - 100s still intimidate the hell out of me. They're an exercise in getting over everything you're dealing with - mentally - and continuing towards the goal no matter what. It takes a massive amount of mental energy, so much in fact that I can't do more than a few per year. I simply don't have the mental capacity. Right now I'm sore and tight and achy and can't walk very well, and those are expected outward manifestations of having run an ultra. But what may not be obvious is that I'm just as exhausted mentally as I am physically.

-Steven Tursi (http://stevetursi.blogspot.com/)

I couldn't agree more.