Dawn - Sometimes An Ultrarunner

Dawn - Sometimes An Ultrarunner

March 26, 2022

Buffalo Run 100 Mile, 24-25 March 2022

I think I felt I needed a bit of retribution for how badly the first 100 went, almost exactly 11 years ago now.    Perhaps after that long I had forgotten how hard it was and needed to remind myself!   Or I could just blame Jim for putting the idea back in my mind!

I had to go look up my 100 mile stats from 2011.  I looked at my blog posts from around that time, and also realized that I had run 4 marathons and an adventure race in the month leading up to the 100.  Jeez no wonder it tired me out!

https://hikerdawn.blogspot.com/2011/05/housman-hundred-101-mi-28-29-may-2011.html

Here's my pre-100 blog in 2011:

https://hikerdawn.blogspot.com/2011/05/ready-or-not-housman-100-here-i-come.html

And the post-100 blog in 2011:

https://hikerdawn.blogspot.com/2011/06/100-miler-aftermath.html

My criteria for choosing another 100 mile distance was short:  flatish with good weather.   Preferably near home.   The Buffalo Run on Antelope Island fit the bill, even if two weeks beforehand, we had run the 25k race out there in snow and freezing conditions.  

My backup race would probably have been the Salt Flats 100, but since the weather was looking glorious, it wasn't necessary.   I actually couldn't have asked for better weather for a race.   Lows in the 40s, highs in the 60s, light winds, sunshine, dry trails, no snow.    The day before would have been a little chilly, the day after would have been too hot and windy.  Today was juuuuust right.  

Jim dropped me off shortly before the start with a couple of drop bags and a last lick from the dog.   I was sending a bag with some extras to the furthest point on the course, but otherwise kept everything I needed at the start/finish area.   The course was broken up into 2 sections, each done twice, so I would see my drop bag 4 times at the start finish and twice down at the Ranch.   

The first section was a hilly 20 miles, and we had done this exact section just two weeks beforehand.  I knew how long it would take me and I could plan my pace accordingly.  The second section was 30 miles, a big out and back along the Great Salt Lake that was more or less flat.   Then just as darkness was falling, if everything went to plan, I would do the hilly loop again in the dark.   If I could keep it together, I was hoping for a sub-24 hour finish.  That's kind of the holy grail for the 100 distance and usually the cutoff for whether you receive the coveted belt buckle or not.  

The perfect weather at the 10 am start let me run in just shorts and a T-shirt.  I may have been the only one not carrying a pack, with a single water bottle in my hand.    The start was uphill, gently, for almost 3 miles.  I debate with myself every time I do these races, to run or to walk?  But I couldn't afford to give up 1/2 hour walking at the start.  I needed to bank some time for later when I would be hurting.  I ran.  I felt good.  So I kept running.   It wasn't the fastest I've run the loop but not the slowest either.  My goal was less than 4 hours and I popped back into transition at 3:40.  

Here I picked up my pack with a fresh drink mix bottle, a little bit of food, some supplements, and my phone.  In retrospect I wish I would have grabbed my poles as well, but it all worked out in the end.  I wasted a few minutes digging through my box and then walking up the next hill drinking a diet Coke, so I gave back some of my spare pennies of time, and I crossed exactly 20 miles at 3:55.   But as promised, the trail along the lake was really flat, so I could run almost all of it.   I had actually planned on a run/walk strategy, but the very flatness of the trail made it hard.  My body, as it got tired, settled into a 12 minute mile running pace, which is fine except thats only 5 miles an hour.  If I wanted to get any time to rest and walk, I needed to run faster.  That's where the poles could have helped me out a bit.  

My friend Karen arrived on the island with pizza in the late afternoon, and met up with me at the Ranch down on the southern end.   It was a fairly warm afternoon, and I was getting thirsty again.  There were 20 aid stations on the course, and I was filling up my 1/2 liter water bottles at each one, plus at times slamming a Coke or Sprite.  Every 3rd bottle of liquid or so, I would add my drink mix back in my bottle.  It's an amazing concoction which keeps my stomach happy and my body fueled.  I figure I filled up about 20-25 half liters of liquid during the race, about 2-3 gallons of water.   For the record, I had to stop and pee just 4 times during the race!  

But drink mix is not pizza.  There's something about eating real food which also makes the body happy.  After I left the Ranch, I ran the whole 17 miles back to the start/finish area.  Partly because I felt really good, and perhaps because I was slightly behind schedule.   Also because I hadn't grabbed a headlamp (distracted by pizza) and it would be dark if I didn't hurry it up.  As it was, Jim and Karen found me with a light about 3 steps before I couldn't see my feet anymore, but by then I could see the finish tent.  

So I was slightly in the slower estimate of my pace as I arrived at the halfway point.  It took 10:25, and now it was time to prepare for a slower, cooler night section.  I pulled on tights and a sweater and a windbreaker, added hat and gloves, poles, ate more pizza, and changed shoes while Karen shocked my legs with a massage gun.   Then we set off together for a 20 mile adventure in the dark.   I immediately regretted putting the extra clothing on, and while juggling pizza, poles, and lights, I took most of my layers back off again quickly.   I really regretted the tights but they were such a pain to take off that I wore them the rest of the race.  But my biggest mistake was eating almost a whole peppermint patty on that uphill.  It tasted good, but it didn't set well in my stomach, and I was careful to not eat anything else for a while.  A fizzy can of Coke at the next aid station helped.  

Since there were only 53 people doing the 100 mile distance, you can imagine that everyone was pretty spread out by then.  Although I had led the women's race for about 4 glorious minutes (!) I had settled into 7th for most of the first half.  Then I passed a girl puking along the trail in the late afternoon.  I felt bad but she said she was doing fine and didn't need anything.   So Karen and I didn't see many people near us, but the leading men were coming back from the 20 mile loop already, and we also saw the leading woman a short time later.  I'm sure she beat me by 5 hours or more!   We also met people just coming up the loop as we were finishing it 4 hours later...a testament to how spread out everyone gets along the trail.  

I was happy not to see the hilly loop again in daylight, instead we could just hope that we were already at the top of the interminable switchbacks.  I was feeling pretty good, still, which boded well, but it was hard to run at night.  Our headlamps were fine for hiking, but I had a powerful handheld light for running...but I needed to use my poles to get a little extra ooommph.   As is the way of things at night, we didn't want to stop and mess with fresh batteries for the headlamp so we didn't run as much as we could have done.  So we finished about 2 am, which was right on schedule but not as good as I had hoped.  Karen went to grab a few winks of sleep, and I grabbed a fresh flashlight and set off again for the flat section.  For variety, I even put some headphones on and listened to a podcast for a while.  But all I could manage was this shuffling run, sort of a race walk where my feet weren't leaving the ground at the same time.  

I really only needed 4 mph to finish on time.  That seems really easy but it's faster than I could walk and not much different that my shuffling run.  Plus it was finally getting a little chilly.   I was keeping up with the pace but barely.  All I could hope was that daylight would give me a little energy and relief.   And I'm very happy to report that it did.  There's something about being able to see the trail properly, all the little rocks and bumps that come out of nowhere at night to stub toes and inspire memories of faceplants.  

At 6 am I was leaving the Ranch with 17 miles left and less than 4 hours to do it.  But I could run again, at least a little better than I had been.  At 7:30, Karen and Jim showed up for a morale call, and Jim ran the rest of the way with me.   I left everything from my pack that I could live without, hat and gloves and lights and phone and food, and immediately felt better.   It was a glorious morning and together we recalculated our pace as we went along.  I tried for a 10 minute cushion, but walking at all really ate into it.  So I ran as much as I could, in short sections.  I knew the finish would be fast, and we enjoyed the trail around the headlands.  Even the colorful piles of puke along the trail didn't deter me, but I could tell someone else was having a purple and red sort of bad day.  

With 15 minutes left on my clock we could see the finish tent.  I managed a 6 mph pace for a short way and came in feeling strong at 23:53!  Bonus:  Now I never need to do 100 miles in a day again!   To put that in perspective, I usually average 800-900 miles of running a year.  So this was 12% of them in just 1 day.  

For a lark, I threw a glucose monitor on my arm before and during the race.   I'll make a more in depth post on my experiment with this soon, but here's some interesting data.   I did a short fast a week before the race, hence the low readings on the left, then ate low-carb for a while, the steady middle graph, then recorded my 100 mile run.   Lots of carbs and a high effort level gave me the highest readings I've ever had.  

No comments:

Post a Comment