Subject: Umstead Race Report Date: Tue, 17 Apr 2001 10:09:27 -0400 From: Will Brown Organization: N.C. Dept. of Health and Human Services Blake Norwood and his volunteers did a superb job again at Umstead. I'm a little biased since I'm one of them. I hadn't finished a 100 since Umstead '98 for a variety of reasons, so this was a satisfying race for me. Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run April 7-8, 2001 Umstead State Park, Raleigh, NC 171 runners were gathered in the pre-dawn darkness in front of the lake beneath the race headquarters. There was a problem. I wasn't shivering. The temperature wasn't much beneath 70 and there wasn't so much as a rustle of a breeze. As the 6:00 AM start time approached, I reminded myself to take the first electrolyte capsule 2 hours out. After a final unhydration stop in the woods, I settled down to await the beginning of another adventure. Blake Norwood, the Race Director, fired his pistol and we trudged up the hill underneath a modest display of fireworks. Families and friends cheered us as we began our journey. I was placed comfortably in the middle of the pack and my flashlight was useful on the rock and gravel road in the dark. We crested a hill and began to run down a pleasant, pine straw covered trail. Shortly the course turned left onto the Umstead Bridle Path. The path varies on the 10 mile loop from soft dirt, to gravel and rock strewn, to hard packed dirt. It's not single track trail, and it's tougher on the feet and legs than one would expect. I was wearing my Leona Divide trail shoes for the foot protection they offer, and trail gaiters. The first two miles on the bridle path are gently rolling hills, and I walked most of the uphills. At about 3 miles, a fairly long, steeper hill begins. Everyone I saw walked that every loop. The far aid station is at 4 miles on the loop, and then you turn around and retrace the course for about two miles. The enjoyable thing about that is being able to see who's running ahead of you and behind. At 6 miles you turn right onto a long, pleasant downhill before starting a fairly long and steady climb. After a flat section through deep pine woods, you turn left into a hard packed, rock strewn park road. Finally, you begin the longest and steepest climb at 9 miles. Very few people run that one. At the top of the hill you float downhill to the start/finish aid station, a welcome relief after the climb. The first two loops went smoothly, and my loop times were both around 2:15. I don't like to pay too much attention to my watch during 100's, but I wanted to be sure I wasn't going out too fast on a day that promised to be quite warm. 85 had been forecast, and there didn't seem to be a chance of a breeze springing up. I began to really notice the heat on the third loop, and crossed the trail frequently to take advantage of any shade. My electrolyte dosage dropped to one an hour, and I monitored my hands frequently to see if I needed more. Even the slightest hand swelling is a good indicator to me that my electrolyte/fluid balance isn't quite right Twice in the heat of the day I dropped it to every half hour. Two ultra legends were in the race - Hans-Dieter Weisshaar from Germany and Monica Scholz from Canada. They set records last year for running multiple 100's that may stand for quite a while. They both love running these races, and their enthusiasm is infectious. Hans and I passed one time and slapped hands, and he informed me that it was bloody hot, with a huge smile on his face. I experienced a customary bad stretch at about 30 miles. That's the point at which you realize you've gotten yourself into something big, but the distance left is still incomprehensible. I used my standard cure for that by ordering myself out loud not to count loops or miles. I was using CLIP2 as a replacement drink, which was giving me fairly complete nutrition, but I augmented that with "healthy" aid station food like fig newtons, hamburgers and pbj sandwiches. No chocolate chip cookies or M&Ms this time, and it served me well. I also discovered a new trick for hot weather eating. When a piece of sandwich sits in the back of your throat like a plug of chewing tobacco, just moisten it with some fluid and it goes right down. An obvious solution that never occurred to me before. The heat of the day was starting to ease by about 40 miles, and I felt myself growing stronger. There was some comic relief in the afternoon. A cute Yuppie family of 4 was perched on their mountain bikes with helmets all properly strapped, watching runners go by. The daughter asked her mom, "What are they doing?", and she answered, "I think they're running a marathon." The runner in front of me stopped about 50 feet past them, went to the side of the trail, bent over and coughed twice. I knew what he was going to do, but the cute family had no clue. He let loose, and it was a world class one. It spewed onto the ground with an audible SPLAT. The daughter said, "Mom, that's really gross." They pedaled away at top speed as I tried to control my laughter. It serves them right for calling it a marathon. 50 miles was a pleasant milepost for me. My feet were fine, so I left them alone. I grabbed flashlights from my night bag and a fresh supply of electrolytes, Aleve and Vivarin caffeine pills, crammed into a small tupperware container with a cotton ball. My main flashlight was a small Hubbel light that clips onto the front of my waist pack. The adjustable head casts a nice pool of light directly in front of me for good footing in the dark, and it can be angled upward for some trail finding. I had a small handheld light for more serious navigation and investigation of strange noises in the woods at night. That fits nicely in a front pouch of my pack when not in use. It grew dark on the 50 to 60 loop, and a full moon rose. There were many times when I ran without either one of my flashlights, and I didn't need to change batteries all night. The temperature dropped some, but it was still on the ugly side. A breeze would have been welcome, but it wasn't going to happen. I moved electrolytes back to once every two hours and shined my flash on my hands regularly to check that dose. The 60 to 70 loop produced another bad patch that lasted about 5 miles. I think that was a mental one, and I gave another speech to myself about it being too soon to count loops seriously, or, God Forbid, think about finishing. That worked, and I motored on. I caught up with a new friend, JoAnn Fafrowicz, on that loop. Last year we had corresponded by e-mail about the JFK 50, which she was planning for November. She ran a good race there, and I introduced myself at Umstead Friday when I was handling registration. She said she was just planning on the 50 mile option at Umstead. Well, here she was, nicely into the 100. I congratulated her and said she looked like she had been doing 100's all her life. She was a little concerned about how much walking she was doing, and I reassured her that it was quite OK at that point in the race. We were on track for a decent time, and I encouraged her to build on the investment she already had in this race. I happened to move ahead of her at some point, and another Kodak moment like Mr. Ralph from the afternoon came upon me. I noticed a runner sitting in the dark on a log off the trail with his head bent over, so I stopped and asked him if he was OK. He said, "Yes, I just have to take a ......" He didn't have to complete the sentence as the sound of a projectile bowel movement did it for him. I laughed and started to run again. The 70 to 80 loop went reasonably well. The cooler temps were helping, and the Vivarin was keeping me nicely alert. I still wasn't actively thinking about finishing yet, but a tickle of a thought would pop into my head now and then. Deterioration began to set in on the 9th loop. My quads were good and sore, and I was having trouble running anywhere but downhill. There were some tickles on my feet, but they didn't seem serious. Finally, I began the final loop. The sun came up, but I would have time to finish before any serious heat began. My hand and eye coordination was beginning to suffer. At the far aid station with only 6 miles to go, I couldn't find one more bottle of CLIP2 in my drop bag, so I decided to open an emergency can of Ensure Plus to down for the last leg. I made two stabs at opening the thing, and then dropped it. As I bent down to pick it up, I realized I couldn't, and started laughing at myself. A friendly aid station volunteer picked it up and opened it for me. As I headed downhill at about mile 5 on the loop, I spotted JoAnn and a pacer coming at me. We met on a bridge crossing a creek and did some hugging and high fiving. She headed towards the aid station and I headed towards the finish. Not the start/finish this time, THE FINISH. My legs were shot and running anywhere was painful, so I decided to walk in the last 3 miles. Walking and climbing were no problem, and my speed was about the same as normal. However, when I got to the top of the last long, mean hill, I said to myself, "One does not walk into the finish of a 100 miler. Get off your lazy butt." And it worked. I ran downhill through a treeline and uphill on the sandy path the last 50 yards, kicking just a bit at the end with an energy I didn't know I had. My time was 26:45, well off my PR at Umstead (24:08), but the conditions weren't the best. They took a toll on many fine runners and I was fortunate enough to finish 22nd of 171 starters and 42 100 Mile finishers. I was pleased with everything about the race. My nutrition plan worked well, and I was able to avoid most of the effects of the weather with careful hydration and electrolyte intake. It was a good confidence builder for Massanutten, but I won't allow myself to think about the next race quite yet. Will Brown Raleigh, NC