My first DNF

Not that I actually expected to finish this race, but I'd hoped to make it past the 2nd hard cut off, and I never for one moment dreamt that I wouldn't make the first, although the worst part of the course in term of elevation gain was at the beginning: up the mountain.

I couldn't have had a better DNF, though.

We drove down on Friday, and I felt carsick so didn't eat much. That was a mistake: I should have stuck to plan A: train. It's longer but easier on me. Anyway, we got to the hotel room around 3 or 4 pm. I walked down to the course start to be sure, drank a protein shake and ate a few things, set out my things for the morning, including drop bags, and then lounged and started to doze.

at the very least, I slept a lot!

Woke up at 4, pulled on my clothes, grabbed my drop bags, and walked over to the start. It was dark and raining but I didn't use my headlamp yet. I picked up my bib and then had another protein shake and banana for breakfast. My stomach was still feeling kind of weird, but since I'd taken my IBS medication (usually I don't these days), things were pretty steady. First time ever for a race day!

I dropped off my stuff, three bags. One for the 4/34 mile points (same station), one for the 27 mile point, and one for the finish. I lined up near the back.

Then it was on. By that point, I was pretty soaked, but it wasn't too cold. I had my headlamp on.

I quickly realized that it was easier to hold it in my hand. Everyone started off at a run, so I followed--there was a bit of a downhill at first. Then uphill. I ran/walked this. And then there was another downhill, but this time on loose rocks.

Not gravel, rocks. Grapefruit/kleenex-box size rocks. I had to walk. Everyone else shot ahead (relatively). These rocks would be my bane. I wasn't expecting them. I was expecting the hills and the trail, and the stream crossings/water (though admittedly I was surprised at the few points where the trail was a stream--the area had gotten a lot of rain recently so parts were awash), and I was expecting mud, gravel, etc, but not loose large rocks. I had visited the site, and run/staggered up and down other trails in the area, but none had these rocks. Admittedly, I was a wuss and didn't make it to the Gats for training, figuring that going up hills/stairs behind Parliament Hill and the Arboreteum, and umpteen months of running in/on snow and ice would serve me well. Gravel/dirt/mud/roots/grass and the odd boulder, no problem. Even rock stairs or bare rock, fine. I'm used to that. But not these larger loose rocks.

There was no getting around those rocks. I'd get a bit of a break, and then more rocks. I find it easiest to skip down steep/rooty slopes, changing my leading leg, and I was doing that, but I wasn't making up enough time on the downhills. I got a crash course in Rockology 101, semi-successfully. After about an hour, my old foot issue started to complain, but soon subsided, eclipsed by the bashing about from the rocks, stubbing my toes, rolling my ankles, etc. The frequent stream crossings were great cold baths for this, and after a while, I stopped noticing my feet. My calves started to complain more vociferously going uphill. My quads were fine--I have been doing a lot of squats at home and at work lifting things--but my calves weren't up to the challenge. And then, after a while, my stomach began to feel more and more sore.

I got through the first two aid stations under the cutoff times, according to people around me...I wasn't wearing a watch, but others around were. I ended up mostly running with an older guy, with a newlywed couple leapfrogging. We were all kind of leapfrogging, although the couple stayed together. My effort wasn't as easy at I'd thought it would be--I felt pushed, not in a bad way, but at times I felt like I wanted to catch my breath on the tops of inclines, or look around, but I had to keep going, keep the rocks and dirt and water moving underneath me. There was so much to see, but it was a blur. Not in actuality--I was going pretty slowly--but it was overload. There was too much to see. Nature nature nature. I lost track of the stream crossings before the first aid station. There were so many. I lost track of the inclines. I lost track of how many times I drank. I don't even really remember when the sun came out. The rain made it very gradual, and I started shutting my lamp on and off, depending on the tree cover, and then it remained off and I forgot I was carrying it for a while.

At the first aid station, I was expecting my drop bag, including canned coffee, but it wasn't there yet. I ate some apples and took some Gatorade and salted banana. There were all sorts of things to eat.

I gave my headlamp away at the 2nd...was bored of carrying it. Not tired, just bored of having my hand around it, if that makes sense.

The next leg was long. The couple left me. I caught up after a while with the older guy, which helped because some of the trail markers were far apart and it wasn't clear where the trail was. THere was often a steep hillside with scattered rocks all over it, or a stretch of bald rock, particularly on what seemed to be the summit of a hill (hard to say, as there was fog all around), and we had to look this way and that for the marker. A few times, we'd found it considerably above or below us and we had to puzzle out how to get to it. The markers were great at first--they coupled them with glowsticks so we could see them in the dark--and then they sort of dwindled.

There were supposed to be great views, but the fog had remained (I didn't notice when it had stopped raining) and it was just white around us. There was a benefit to this: I couldn't see how far it was to fall. I have no idea if we were on anything with a steep drop-off--I could see trees sticking out lower down--but I could convince myself that I could run across this wet and slippery rock without consequences. This leg also involved a few places that required hands, at least for me. My companion told me to go ahead on these. I am not a rock climber, but ok at scrambling, and he thought that I was better than him. Not really sure, but my shoes seemed to have better grip than his.

At one point, the couple shot past us--they had gone the wrong way.

At another point, we came across two racers, one of them sitting holding his head in his hands, the other looking resigned. He waved us on. Shortly after, we were passed by rangers in an ATV, coming to get them, I presume. We saw the stricken runner later on, after the paramedics had wrapped him in foil.

At another point, we came across a pack of hikers. We heard one of them crying out in pain a few minutes after we'd passed them. I felt bad, but my companion told me that there were more of them than us and they had more first aid equipment, presumably. We couldn't do anything. We had to keep going.

At another point, several times, I thought that this thing was awfully Last of the Mohicans. Pity I couldn't recall the soundtrack at the time.

My memory is a bit mucked up....I didn't get to feel really trippy, but after a while, I became numb and somehow propelled forward by greater forces.

But too slowly.

I got to the 3rd station, the first hard cut off, after about six hours. The cutoff time was 5:20-30, something like that. Missed it.

I wasn't disappointed, though. I was tired. Not in pain, surprisingly, but tired in an indescribable way. I felt like I hadn't really woken up yet, or that I had never gone to sleep. And I had loads of muscle fatigue in some ways, but in others, I was fresh. I hadn't really run much, seemed like, but had done 100000 sit ups.

I rode back in a van with others and it took FOREVER to get back to the start!

And then I started feeling bad about the failure. I took my bib off and inquired about my drop bags and then got some food and ended up at a table with others who had ridden back in the van with me.

I have to say, these guys (and couple of girls) were really encouraging. I joked about reconsidering the ultra thing, and they said, no, no, no, this was no normal ultra course, there's one in Vermont, one in Maine, one here, one there, all of them much better, and I would find it much easier. I really picked the wrong one for my first.

No, I really picked the right one. I've never had my ass handed to me so thoroughly. (I love that expression). I've never had a DNF before. I've had a few tough races, but that was just the wall, or heat, or loose bowels/cramps or whatever. This was on a new level. It affirmed my insignificance, which is terrifyingly inspirational. What, a few piddly rocks and streams got me down? Just a mere fraction of what the world can throw at me. I'll have to be tougher next time. I never before realized how weak I really am.

It's good to fail. It'll mean so much more when I succeed. I enjoy running but my motivation has been lagging lately, especially with the health issues this spring. Plus, I think I've been taking things too much for granted. Even my first marathon was sort of an afterthought, and I was undertrained, sick, hit the wall at mile 11 or so, but I finished it with a feeling of 'so, what?'. And, yeah, I've missed qualifying for Boston a few times now, but it seems more of a case of having a good race day than training better next time--I've trained well but have been undermined by IBS, so I'm not inspired to train harder or even as hard next time. But, with this race, I saw so much more possibility for improvement. And it's such a concrete challenge that I can endure the burn of hard workouts for it. It won't boil down to 'perhaps Boston pace, if you don't crap your pants.' That's too abstract. That means nothing to me now. Instead, it will mean 'You will get over that ridgeline without stopping for breath.' I will get back up to 200 crunches or 2 min planks or whatever and feel the burn and remember the hills and rocks that cracked my core on that course. The more I burn, the straighter and quicker I'll be up and over that stuff next time.

I definitely want another go at this course. I will have to alter training. I think my long-long runs served me well, but I have to do much more resistance exercises and more on scary footing. Not just hills and stairs. Hills and stairs with piles of shoes thrown on them, as I told someone.

Meanwhile, I spent three days relaxing and walking and jogging on the beach in New Jersey. How you doin'? And since I didn't get beat up badly running-wise (but I felt like I was ripping out my own sinew doing calf raises yesterday), I signed up for the Ottawa full. I'm as slow as dirt, but will have the upper hand on the rest of the field if there's a flood or big hailstones, at least.

I expect I'll be adding more to this report as I remember things...I definitely hit at least one of my objectives, running in a zone. LOL