Frying the Big Fish: The Lakefront 50/50 Ultramarathon

Apparently Jayhawks are taking over the world.

After beating Texas A&M in their stadium for the first time in like...ever...we're now 8-0 in football for the first time since 1908. But that's probably not why you're here right now, reading my blog…

I promise I haven't been holding out on you guys. I started blogging about the 50k madness yesterday afternoon, and somehow Blogger decided to save only the first three sentences of my original post. Awesome…thanks, blogger. Anyways…getting back to why you’re here…you wanna know how things threw down on Saturday, don’t you?

The truth is, I'm not entirely certain the human body is supposed to actually run 31+ miles. Because well…31 miles is a really…really…really…reaaaaaaaally far way to run.

I can't lie. It hurt. A lot. It wasn’t pretty either.

But…I did it. Even when I wanted to stop.

But let's not get ahead of myself.

I guess the race really started to become real during packet pick up. It was a very humble pick up--perfect for the low key event. Essentially one gal, setting up shop at a counter at our local running store. I was able to meet this guy, who probably freaked out at the completely random hug I gave him. [Note to RBFers I'll likely meet in the future: 'm a hugger. Deal with it. If you don't want a hug, act like you have no clue who I am. That simple. Otherwise, my arms will probably be wrapped around you before you can process the situation.] But to the world's newest 50 Mile Joggling World Record Holder…it was a pleasure to meet you and great job on the course! :)

After a big ole pasta dinner I was able to turn in relatively early and with minimal nerves.

The next morning? No.Yaking.At.All. We're 2 for 2 on marathon+ distance races this year. I think that's pretty impressive considering I can never hold my breakfast down.

Okay…so…

Morning of the race I was relatively calm, slightly impatient that Mike was taking forever to get ready, and then relieved when we finally got to the start line. I immediately spot Ryan and Jen who guide me to the restrooms for one final bathroom break before the race started. I saw my mentee, Katie, who was seeking revenge on the Chicago Marathon along with a few other TNTers. And then Garou found me and shared some ever-valuable moleskin with me (Thank you so much, Rich!!). By this point, I had invested in Second Skin and had those on my feet, but carried the moleskin with me just in case.

The event itself was very low key. No big crazy hullabaloo. No mass amounts of buzzing energy from an excited mob of runners. “Gear check” is essentially a few tarps on the ground and the honor system. The start/finish is spray painted on the ground. And there are exactly 2 clocks, both of which are at the starting line. The first of which was almost at 2 hours, signifying the running time for the 50 miler people. The other, for us…the 50k-ers and the marathoners.
We take a few photos and line up.

Amazingly, I’m still not nervous. I don’t remember if it was a bullhorn or a gun or a guy saying ‘ready-set-go’ but I do not recall hearing anything at the start. We just started running.

I should note that I really didn’t have an official game plan for the race. I had a few strategies lingering in my mind I figure I’d simply let my body pick the right strategy as we went.

The First Loop

The 50k course was a 5.16 mile run north, and the same route back south…times three. Ultimately, my Garmin read something to the effect of 31.45 miles, so I’m not sure what happened there, but whatever. An extra quarter mile when you're already running 31.1 isn't going to kill ya.

While I was running north, I kept thinking to myself, wow…this didn’t look that far on paper. But nevertheless, all was right in the world.

Within a few miles I spotted Shea and Perry (the joggler) on their return back to home base from their first loop. Both were looking great. The energy on the course was fantastic. Smiles and cheers were constantly being exchanged among runners of all three distances. The volunteers at the aid stations were wonderful as well…they kept a sense of humor and were really accommodating to everyone.

Once I hit the first turn around point I notice I’m pacing around a 12:15 average which was a little faster than planned. I make myself walk some more, knowing that I’ll need to conserve energy for later.

And then somewhere between miles 6 and 7 Mother Nature had another plan for me. Out of nowhere I was having the “OH MY GOD IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AND I’M GOING TO DIE” type of cramps. I seriously wanted to just pull over to the side of the path, curl into a fetal position and basically scoop out my insides with a spoon. Holy hell. It.hurt.so.bad.

I call Mike and inform him of this untimely situation and basically warn him to have Motrin and other unmentionables on hand when I pull back into home base.

The pain passes within a mile or so and I’m able to run it back to home base. As I approach I see Mike, Ryan’s wife Jen, Mouse and Dice all valiantly cheering for me. Around the first loop I go and straight into the port-o-potty to take care of business. Some Motrin offers relief and Mouse decides she’s going to come with me (Dice would’ve, but let’s face it, guys kinda get wigged out when the ladies are…well…b!tching about their aches and pains). So a girls run it is.

The Second Loop

Within a mile I noticed that my Second Skin patch on the ball of my foot is shifting and in turn pulling my skin along with it. Not a good feeling, folks. We stop at the first aid station…I peel my shoe and sock off, remove the band-aid and decide to leave it be and keep running. It felt weird for a while and basically stung like hell. But overall, I was feeling good. We walk a lot (probably too much) and talk and Mouse does a great job keeping my mind off the pain.

Before the second aid station Mouse spies Leah and Jason, and truthfully, I probably would’ve missed ‘em if she hadn’t pointed out that they were there. We stop for a moment, and keep on truckin’ along. The wind is picking up, which totally sucks, but Sarah makes the point that when I turn around to go back south it’ll feel like I’m practically flying.

We pick out a pace bunny for me to take out. And we do…with ease. The girl in the golden cap had no idea what was coming for her… :)

After the turn around, Mouse hops a ride back to home base with Leah and Jason and I put my iPod back on for some running tunes. And I quit being so whimpy and actually run. Back at the start I’ve covered close to 21 miles. I’m ahead of schedule. By a lot. My overall average pace is now somewhere around 13:25. At this point I’m poised for a sub 7:15, but figure I’ll likely end up in the 7:30 range…which was by and far okay with me.

I smile and wave to Leah and Jason. I see Josh (aka Full Metal Lunchbox) taking some photos and in the process learn that Shea cut back to the 50k distance, and Mike agrees to meet me out at the third aid station. Sweeeeeeeet. I could use the company.

Overall, I’m still feeling good.

The Third and Final Loop

Sadly this feeling doesn’t last very long. By 22.5 I’m fading. And fast. And the fact that I know I have another 9 miles ahead of me just simply breaks me down mentally. The wind is making me a very unhappy camper and the ball of my right foot is burning and stinging in pain. I know that there’s a blister there the size of Montana.

So…I do what I always do when I need to complain to someone who is obligated to listen to me whine. I call my mother.

Momma Berry says something to the effect of “Oh, how’s your walk going?” Uhm…excuse me? I might be walking…but this is the furthest thing in the world from a WALK. Oooh, I was flaming mad. But she totally didn’t even realize what she was saying and still managed to offer up some encouragement.

As Perry and his entourage pass by me one last time, I learn that he’s ahead of pace to break the 50 mile joggling world record. Which makes me really excited. Nicely done!

And so, I am left inspired and make another attempt to run.

It lasts all of a half mile. I’m hurting. I’m getting cold. My arms have a pins and needles sensation that really freaks me out. My lower back is screaming. And I’m really wishing I had decided to just do the marathon rather than this 50k nonsense. In a marathon I'd be done in less than 3 miles.

Finally, Mike is in sight. I gobble down some dried apricots, trail mix, coke and other yummy refueling goodness and move forward (aid stations at Ultras totally rock). I’m so thankful that Mike is there, but I know he’s kind of dreading the next few miles with me.

I complain.

A lot.

I walk.

More than a lot.

And just before the final turn around, the temperature dropped. A lot. I’m not talking about a small drop. It was probably at least 10 degrees. Add the blowing wind and life as I know it is pretty much unbearable. For the first time, I am absolutely hating this race.

On my way back south for the third and final time, I realize that my pace bunny dropped. My new goal? Not to let this one chick that was about 60 yards behind me catch up. Mike knew the plan, and made sure that we stayed ahead of her.

At points I’d only be able to go about 50 yards before having to stop and stretch.

Mike tried to make me mad so I’d run. He tried to be perky and encouraging to make me run. He sang to make me run. He tried annoying me to make me run. He tried to do everything and anything to make me run. But my body was rebelling and wanted nothing to do with this race. When running didn’t work…it was power walking. Which didn't exactly work either for a bit there. And as a result, there may or may not have been a 20 minute mile or two. There may or may not have been tears shed. And expletives grunted.

It was ugly. And brutal. And while I would never admit it while in the heat of the moment, it was totally awesome.

Mike was irritated that I just couldn’t empty out any more of my body on the course. And he really pulled me through those last miles kicking and screaming. Literally.

As we approached the part where I looped around to the finish line, I saw this girl in an orange jacked in the distance hooting and hollering. It took me a few moments before I realized it was Dawn—the most fabulous pick-me-up for that last tenth of a mile that seemed light years away from the finish. It was wonderful having that familiar face right then (she rode her bike to the south side and had waited by herself for about two and a half hours for me as well--what a great friend).

The ending was rather anticlimactic, but entirely appropriate for the race vibe. A few volunteers, spectators and other participants cheered me on. And I crossed the spray painted line signifying the end of the beast. The race director draped a medal around me neck and I just smiled. I vaguely remember saying something about how awesome the race was despite the wind...the third loop crumbling...pizza...and a bed... I'm not sure I was making much sense at that point.

Exhaustion set in. My legs got tight. And pride and accomplishment settled into my soul.

I wasn’t dead last.

But I was close to it among the small field of 50k runners.

And I’m okay with that.

...because I ran 31+ miles. And that’s something that I never once thought I’d be capable of doing.

My body never ceases to amaze me.

So what’s the carnage? Some tight and sore muscles, but my feet are completely and totally destroyed.

I come away from this race holding my head a little bit higher, a little more confidence in my legs, one less toenail and with blisters on my blisters. I’ve got some mighty fine and sexy blistery blisters.

Will I ever do another 50k?

You bet your ass I will. I’m pretty annoyed at how I completely crumbled on that last loop and so I think I’ll eventually want to do another one to prove to myself I’ve got what it takes to hold it steady for the entire distance. I was on pace for a 7:15 race and pulled into the finish at 7:49 (if that’s not completely losing it then I don’t know what is). I need to redeem myself on that front…

…but not for a while. Because I am perfectly content with having a slow time at a distance that many people won’t ever even attempt.

I have fried the big fish. And now…it’s time for a break from long distance running. I’ve got a few smaller races in my near future and plan on doing some maintenance running here and there with swimming, yoga and cycling.

But come January, we begin again…and this little Jayhawk will be back with a vengence.

Photos soon to come...stay tuned, campers...