I'm an ultramarathoner! For real!

A lot of it was a blur; hopefully that means this post won't be too long.  My husband and I ran the Old Glory Trail Trot.

After a while, time sort of ceased to be linear, so I'll just recap the highlights.

The good:
I got used to running with femurs of fire much more than expected.  My quads gave up on uphills after about 30 miles, but I was able to run downhill right to the end.

I'm an ultramarathoner!

My core didn't hurt at all, though my stomach got kind of upset after my last water refill tasted funky--I thought it tasted like soap, my husband thought it tasted chalky...not sure if it was the water or voodoo.  It was likely just my sense of taste gone awry.  (EDIT: highly doubt it was the water--probably some sort of chemical reaction due to the mix sitting out for so long in a warm day, and I didn't empty my bottle at the water station, just refilled it).  At this point, I'd been going for ten hours.

I didn't lose my shoes in the mud!

Everybody was so nice!  The other runners were cool, and the race staff were INCREDIBLE!  SOOO helpful.  They helped me refill my water bottles and helped me clean a wound at one point.  The race was hosted by a horse farm and the staff were also super cool.  One guy helped me hose off most of the mud at the end, and offered me use of an indoor shower--I did take up his offer of an indoor bathroom to change.  Much better than a portaloo.

Miles 30-40 were euphoric! Really.  I realized that I'd run further than ever before (well, technically after mile 31 or 32), and I was still feeling surprisingly strong even beyond the final frontier.   I never had that thrill during my first marathon nor the times I've run over that distance--it took me completely by surprise.

And I didn't really get lost.  A bunch of people ended up doing about seven extra miles, and these trails weren't forgiving.  Had that happened to me, I might have lost heart and quit.  But, fortunately, I was so slow on the first lap in the dark that I didn't get swept off course by the front
runners.  I had my moments of bushwhacking in the dark, and I had to backtrack a bit (twice) at one intersection, but not more than a few minutes.  I'm wondering if this is the intersection where others got lost.

Running with tunes ROCKS.  Utterly ROCKS.  OMG, that was my saving grace.  I had a mix of trance, ambient, and Laurie Anderson, and though I didn't make a playlist and didn't mess around with it except during a low point when I wanted to listen to One Thousand Suns umpteen times in a row, the songs that came up were perfect.  It seemed that whenever an ambient song or Laurie came up, I was reading for something more meditative, and then the return of trance was well-timed and pumptastic.  I'm going to use tunes for future ultras, if I run anymore, but I don't want to get into the habit.

And, TMI, I had just one poop before the race--victory!  pre-5 am is not one of my usual times, and even on the best of days, it's usually multi-daily, and races are worse--but I guess my bowels never even woke up!  In general, I'm very proud of my guts.  They held in there great until the soapy/chalky/wtf water.

Oh, yeah, and I saw my very first running hallucination.  I was running toward a ravine and I saw a guy in black running toward me, and then he dipped out of view--and vanished.  There was nowhere he could have gone.  I suppose I saw a tree and my brain tricked me.  I'd read about running hallucinations and was curious about experiencing one.

The bad:
After mile 40, things got pokey.  I had to switch shoes and socks because they were filled with mud and sand, and my 2nd pair of shoes weren't a good choice.

Because I found out that at least a few of the 50 mile runners had done 7 (!!!) extracurricular miles, I felt guilty.  For some of the 2nd lap, I may have actually been in the lead, but I was caught eventually by the people more deserving of spots on the podium.

Sand sand sand sand.  The muddy portions were short and the stream crossings were decent, no loose slimy rocks, but there were miles and miles of stupid loose sand.

Way too warm--a few hours of 23 C, so I sweated off bodyglide despite a few reapplications and my lats are now developed enough--still puny, but there--that they chafe against my arms, which they didn't use to do even when I was, uh, squishier in general.

I'm not sure I'll ever get my feet entirely clean again.

I kept running off the trails while it was still dark, including into thorn bushes more than once.  Some of the trails were weaving single track and kind of hard to follow even with a light.

I also ran into thornbushes a few times after dawn.  I somehow pricked my left index finger and it feels fine now, but was a distraction during the race.

I should check if my tetanus shot is current.


The really ugly.
I bailed spectacularly on a downhill during 2nd loop, when it was light.  I hit the ground with the left side of my head, my left shoulder, and my left knee, and it looked kind of gruesome, especially my knee.  Someone took my photo and then a volunteer helped me clean the wounds as best as possible, and I scrubbed as much dirt out as I could in the shower, but I couldn't get every last bit out.  Hopefully, my jaw isn't going to start to get stiff.

Stupid stupid sand!  And I'm keeping it clean here!

But hey, for a supposedly tough 50 mile trail race, I didn't fare too badly!  11-ish hours--I kept to 12 minute miles until 30 (these felt comparable to 9:00/mile on roads, just jogging, but tiring after a while), and then that wasn't feeling so hot anymore, but my last 5 miles was only just over an hour.    I was told that this is one of the toughest 50 milers out there, and that sand really sucked, but my DNF race was considerably worse because of loose rocks and a lot more water.  And there were hardly any roots to contend with.  I suppose the footing wasn't "technical",  but draining.

My husband did well too, 50 K in 6:30, and he's actually moving around.  As for me, I think I'm going to get fused to this couch.