Last November I found myself once again at Waid Park in Rocky Mount, VA, facing a 0.950423 mile loop with one “hill” and a 24-hour time limit. I was taking my second crack at the Crooked Road 24 Hour Ultra. I was hoping to use the lessons I learned from the 2012 race to push through to a new distance PR.
This time around the world’s best trail running and triathlon Sherpa, my wife, Barbara, and I arrived the evening before the race and set up a tent beside the course. One runner called it the cabana. We called it the Stumble Dome. We arrived early race morning and set up our gear in and around the dome including chairs, a camp cot, camp stove, spare clothing and first aid supplies. Thus over packed and over prepared we headed to the start line.
The runners clustered around fires or heaters that frosty, 20 degree morning as we waited for the race to start. At 8:00 am it got real, and the runners – myself included – started shuffling around the loop. We each had our own goals and strategies to achieve them. Once again my training for this event had not gone as planned. I managed to get in enough training to complete the Medoc 10 Miler the month before and then switched to a run/walk plan and added as much mileage as I dared each week followed by a brief taper. It was the best I could manage.
So my CR24 race strategy was once more a walk/run. I walked about ¾ of each loop and ran ¼ just to stay loose and keep my pace above three mph or so. If the weather had been warm enough for short sleeves I would have written on my forearms with a Sharpie the words: slow down. Getting in a hurry at an ultra is a mistake even for seasoned runners. It was the one mistake I couldn’t afford to make.
My nutrition strategy was equally simple. Every three or four laps eat something and never eat a lot of anything. It had served me well last time, and I was confident it would work this time. Also I was just too lazy to do the math and calculate calories.
To achieve my goal of a distance PR I would have to get past the 50K/31mile mark. Long story short 34 laps equaled a new PR and victory. Every lap and mile past that would be gravy. At the 2012 CR24 blisters cut short my race. This time I covered the balls of my feet with Leukotape, a very thin, extremely sticky athletic tape.
Round and round the loop we go. Each time we pass by the start line/aid station a race official tallies each runner’s lap and calls out a total. The runner acknowledges the total or seeks to correct it in the rare case of a miscount. I have to give a huge shout out to these race volunteers that sat out in the cold and counted laps for the runners. It’s a tough, boring job and the race would be impossible without their dedication.
When I talk to people about this race, I’m often asked if running a mile loop over and over again is boring. The answer, surprisingly, is no, not really. You are constantly being passed by and occasionally passing some amazing runners. Hey, even ultra runners pause to tie their shoes eventually. The positive energy is impossible to describe. Every runner, race volunteer and spectator is pulling for you.
The cold frosty morning passes quickly. There is a new heated bathroom halfway along the loop and for the first five or six laps I can’t seem to stay out of it. I guess I drank too much pre-race. Runners lose layers and the day warms. Lunch arrives in the form of McDonald’s hamburgers. I overhear one runner call to another “Did you get a burger? Sorry I forgot. You’re paleo.” I’m on pace and make a brief stop at mile 10 to change shoes, socks and check the Leukotape. Houston we are go for lap 11.
The day wears on. I’m holding pace. The course’s one hill gets a little higher each lap. At 20 miles, almost seven hours in, the Leukotape is wearing thin so my Sherpa helps me put on another layer. I give up on my walk/run strategy and begin hiking in earnest. Every couple of laps I run a bit just to stay loose. My pace is creeping over the 20 minutes per lap but I’m still in it. Tired but nowhere near ready to call it a day.
I walk past two young women who have almost completed their first marathon. They are disappointed that they had to walk most of it. I point out that almost everyone they know has never gone this far. They say that my thought helps put things into perspective. I meddle. It’s a character flaw.
At 29 laps or about 10 hours into the race my third-hand Garmin 310XT shuts down. When I review the data later I see that I held my 3 mph pace at least that far and burned through about 4,000 calories by the Garmin’s estimation.
The sun is setting. The cold is coming. Dinner arrives in the form of pizza. I’m careful to limit myself to one slice. The moment I’ve waited for all day has arrived. The race volunteer says lap 33. One more lap, and I have a new distance PR. I make it around the course for lap 34. Now it’s just a question of how much longer I can hold on.
It’s dark now, and people aren’t talking much anymore. The pack has thinned. My focus turns inward. No matter how many layers I add I still feel the cold. I pull the last arrow out of my quiver. I attach the earbuds to my phone and start my workout playlist. It helps. I see headlamps bobbing in the distance. I’m proud and amazed that I’m still here.
At lap 40 (38 miles) I stop at the aid station and tell them that I’m done. Briefly I thank them for the opportunity for a very average athlete like me to go long, longer than I ever dreamed I could.
