Pineland Farms 50 Mile Race Report

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Spoiler - I finished.

I ran my first (and, quite probably last) 50 mile race on May 27, 2012, at the Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival.   If you haven’t been to the Pineland ….   GO!   2013, BABY!   This event a must-run.  Race directors Erik Bouchet  and Ian Parlin work some magic to put on an enormous event, with 1600 runners this year, that somehow still manages to keep the friendly, laid back, small-event vibe.  Pineland Farms itself is an interesting place.  It was formerly the Maine Schoolfor the Feeble Minded, which appears to have, in olden times, enslaved developmentally disabled men on the farm.  Currently, it’s a slave-free working farm with warmblood horses, organic hippie meat, and a hippie dairy.   During the winter, it is a cross-country ski resort, and during the summer, you can get married there.  

 

Because it’s on cross country ski trails, the course is wide and can accommodate a lot of runners.   The course itself is non-technical, and consists of a 25K loop.  The loop further twists around the ski area, at one point returning to the same aid station 3 times within a couple of miles.  It winds through lovely forests dotted with wildlowers and then cuts through paths mowed in the hay fields.  The course is relatively easy, very well supported, and overall ideal for my first attempt at 50 miles. 

And then there’s the party!  The start/finish area is in The Grove, where everyone and their brother sets up camp, including Smuttynose Brewing.  My kids love this event.  Typically, the girls stand out amongst their peers because they have so much more energy than the “standard model”, but not at Pineland.  At Pineland, they get to run around like maniacs with all the other wired ultrakiddies.   It’s fun for us, too.  Since we only rarely see any family, aren’t really connected to the local community, this is one of those rare occasions when we can drink a beer with some grown ups and let the village raise our kids for a few minutes. 

 On Saturday, there are 4 shorter races – a 10K, a 5K Canicross, a 5K, and a barefoot 5K. 

Super Fast Canicross team!

 The 5K Canicross has to be the most amusing race I’ve ever seen.    Now, understand I’m afraid of dogs.  But even I was rolling on the grass laughing as the dogs came in.  A whole lot of dogs ran below a 20 minute 5K, by the way – very impressive!

Gabe, my husband, and Audrey, my 9 year old daughter, ran the 5K.   They had a great time, but Gabe won’t let me post any pictures because he wore just his Ranger Panties and no shirt.  This is the first time he ventured out for a run shirtless, despite my insistence that ranger panties simply do not go with a shirt.  Here's a pic before my husband took the shirt off.

They also had some races for the kids – here’s mine doing a wheelbarrow race.

This is not a wheelbarrow race – this is just a couple of kids playing in the grove.

Then we enjoyed some beers in the grove with Brad and his family. 

Back at the campground, Saturday evening, I managed to squeeze in a quick 2 miles on the trails at Bradbury Mountain State Park with a guy named Marcus, who agreed to give me a ride to the start in the morning so I wouldn’t have to wake the kids up.  I was dreading the wakeup, honestly, since the race started at 6AM.

Race Day! 

The wakeup turned out to be a lot easier than I had thought it would be, because the group at the site next to mine were also running the 50m.  Seeing others doing the same thing makes it seem so much less nutty.   I made myself a Starbucks Via and ate a “Glorious Morning” muffin.  I think “Glorious Morning” means lots of fiber.  

Marcus and I made it to the race in plenty of time.  I put my down my drop bag, applied body glide, lip balm and sunblock, and then got in line for the porta johns.  While enjoying my Glorious Morning in the portajohn, I noticed that my shorts were on backwards.   Ah, the hazards of dressing in the dark in the campground.  I lined up with Jason Robillard and Theresa Withee, but knew I would be letting those speedy people go pretty quickly. 

Of course, even though I only ran about 1K with Theresa and Jason, during the first loop, I went out running too fast.  Mainly, I ran most of the first 10 miles fast because I was having a fascinating conversation with a guy named Craig.  Eventually, around the 10 mile mark, I wised up and told Craig I wasn’t going to stay with him and let him go on ahead.  I knew I needed to go slower, but how much?  During the back half of the loop, I convinced myself that everyone I ran with must be much faster than me, so I let them all go on ahead.   This was a mistake. I really might have been able to keep up with Craig.  And I probably could have kept up with most of those other people.  I shouldn’t have sold myself so short. 

I went through the start / finish, which was about the 19 mile mark, as the 25K was assembling.  It was a huge rush to go past the crowded area.  There were so many spectators, and all of the spectators and runners cheered loudly as I passed through.  I had about 15 minutes of quiet on the trail before the fast men came through.     It was terrifying, and I don’t think I ever recovered.  I tried to stay to the side, but all the guys coming from behind were so big.  I felt a THWACK on my shoulder, lost my balance a bit, and then saw a huge guy go tumbling into the trail in front of me.  The faster you go, the harder you fall!   Jerk – he never apologized or checked to see if I was okay.

 Then some of the ~ 9 minute milers made heartfelt inquires as to my well being, when they noticed I was walking the hills at what, for them, was just after the 2K mark.  Our bibs were different colors, and I pointed at my orange one, and told them I was doing great!  And really, I was, physically, although it was rather warm.  I was also concerned that I’d end up running this loop with some fresh 25K runner who was going too fast.   I should not have worried about this.   I hardly saw any 50 milers during this entire second loop, except for Brian Rusieki, the male winner, who lapped me near the Yurt, and subsequently about 4 other guys and Amy Lane, who also lapped me.  It was a bit warm, but I generally felt very good.  I was properly hydrated, well nourished, and nothing hurt. 

Here are my kids running with me as I passed the grove during the second loop, at about mile 30.

About Mile 30.

World's Cutest Pacers!

I hit my drop bag at Mile 35, for what was supposed to be a quick re-application of Body Glide, lip balm, and sunscreen.  But I noticed that my voice mail alert was beeping.  I was a bit concerned because I was worried that something might have happened to my children (of course).  Then I saw that the voice mail message was from my mother.  Another round of panic hit me, as my grandparents were both ill. If one of my grandparents had died, my husband would need to get in touch with my parents about funeral arrangements before my parents hopped a flight.  So I checked my voicemail.  For better or for worse, my mother was just calling to say hello.  She had apparently forgotten that I was running my first 50 mile that day.  I guess the mothers that remember their daughters’ marathons only exist in HondaCRV commercials after all.

I felt very good at this point, still, and was excited to go out on another loop.  I was also looking forward to the company, as I had run a good portion of the second loop alone.  There were a number of people hitting their drop bags wearing orange bibs.  I figured I’d see them out on the trail soon.  I was wrong.  They were all dropping. And I was ridiculously far into the back of the pack, due to my overly conservative race strategy.  Nobody was out there. I passed a couple of people during the first mile of the 3^rd loop, and I think those guys ended up DNF’ing. 

That’s when I started to get really, really bored.   The trail was lovely and full of wildflowers, including little bluets, which are my favorite, and lady slippers, which might be my third favorite, but I’d seen it twice already.  I was bored like I had never been in my life. And I was so alone, all by myself.  I knew I had hours left to run, and I just so badly wanted to be doing something else or at least seeing another human being.  I focused on running aid-station to aid station, but I overstayed there mainly because I was so lonely.  I managed to run with the Coutos for about two miles, but mostly we leapfrogged one another.  They are nice but they are a couple, ya know?  I couldn’t third-wheel on them for too long.    All the fun was gone on Lap 3.  I had been transported into this black and white world where all the fun was erased and replaced with anti-fun. 

I saw two cutie patootie baby woodchucks out there, just sitting on the trail chewing on leaves.  Awww!  Fortunately, I was with the Coutos at the time, and the Mrs. warned me not to pet them, because she was sure they would bite.  The warning was appreciated.  That brought up my spirits for about five whole minutes.   Too bad there were hours left of not-fun.

I thought the hardest part of the course would be passing the beer tent at mile 45.  But when I got to mile 45, the situation was far worse.  The beer tent had been disassembled.  Instead, Ian Parlin ran over from a picnic table to pace along side me and check up with me on how I was doing. I was doing great, really, I was….  I felt wonderful.  Did I look so bad that the RD was concerned about me?   But a few seconds later I saw the kids again, and Brad, who had finished his first ultra.  They cheered me on, and the kids paced me to the Final Mile aid station.  I sent Audrey back to Gabe with my drop bag. 

The last five miles were awful.  Again, nothing hurt, but I was in a downward spiral of boredom.  The more bored I got, the slower I ran.  And the slower I ran, the more boring the course became.  I have to give a shout out to the fantastic young dudes at the Oak Hill aid station, who were amazing cheerleaders. I was convinced that when I went through the finish line, I was going to collapse – not because I was exhausted (I wasn’t, not really), and not out of pain (nothing hurt), but out of some sort of mental breakdown.  I realized then during those last 5 miles that I am just not cut out for races that last longer than 8 hours. 

I was determined to run the whole last mile, which actually, turned out to be not very difficult at all, and I even started enjoying myself again.  One of the exciting things about this course is that if you walk about 100 yards away from the finish line, you can see the whole last mile of the course winding through fields.  I could see my family waiting for me, and I waved to them.  My girls ran into the finish line again with me, much like they did last year for the 50K, and helped me collect my pint glass, hat, and super awesome red cowbell. 

Going through the finish!

I didn’t collapse at the end.  In fact, as soon as I saw actual human beings, I was fine.  The crowd had thinned and only a few dozen people were left at the finish.  I got a hug and congratulations from my local pal Brenda Morris.  All the folks who were staying at campsite next to me were still hanging out, presumably to watch the last people finish.  They are an incredibly classy bunch. I think I will stay till the last person is in from now on.  But they didn’t have long to wait after me.  Even though there was nearly an hour until the cut-off, the guy who came in DFL finished only a few minutes after I did, and there was nobody else on course.   Alas, I didn’t even get the honor of DFL.

So, I don’t think I’ll do another one of these.  I could probably train up and get faster.  And, actually, I’m not that slow.  I can pound out a 24 minute 5K.  But I doubt I’ll ever be able to train the lazy out of me, and over the course of 50 miles, the lazy is going to win.   I’m wondering if it is essentially “out of my system” now.  Fine, I ran 50 miles, and I ran it badly.  Or did I?  I’m completely uninjured, and I physically felt great the whole time.  Would things have been better if I’d simply not run so damn slow?  I may never know because I told my husband to take away my credit cards if I ever start thinking of running a 50 miler again. (Update, May 2013 - I ran another, and I had a great time.  But you knew that was going to happen, didn't you?)

The aftermath:

The Bradbury Mountain State Park showers are awesome because they have a handicap bench,  which came in handy when I wanted to wash the grime off my legs.  I need to get a new watch, because this is what the band and clasp did to me.

Chomp - under the left rib.  Doesn't hurt, though.

 I want a Soleus 1.0, but I’m on the fence about that, because I quit running.   Only I backslid pretty quickly on that one. The 50 miler was on Sunday, and Tuesday I was in DC.  It was 96 degrees, but I went out for a 3miler anyway, on the little wooded trail behind the conference center.  Two days off my 50 miler, and was dusting the other attendees.  I had a great time, so I went back out twice on that path the next day.  I don’t think quitting running is going to work. 

TARC Spring Thaw 6 Hour Report

Better late then never with a Race Report!

On, March 18, 2012, I ran my first timed race, the TARC Spring Thaw 6 hour.    This was the inaugural year for the TARC Spring Thaw 6 hour, and my first timed event ever.

Race director Emily Trespas, of the Trail Animals Running Club put on a fantastic event on trails owned by the Andover Villiage Improvement Society .  Here she describes her efforts to clear out the trail before our race!  Emily is awesome. 

The course was a 3.5 lollipop loop with a 0.5 mile “stick” and a 2.5 mile loop. The stem started in the parking area of Andover High, but quickly darted off road into the woods.  Then, there was about a half mile “stick” on the lollipop, and we took a left at a bench to begin the loop.  The trail  was all single track, and all very runnable, but certainly not easy.  While nothing was overly technical, one did have to pay attention to the footing.  It was rocky, but not too rocky.  It was rooty and stumpy, but not too rooty and stumpy.  There was mud, and some of it was thick, but just enough to make it fun rather than miserable.  We only had to jump over one log.  There were two wood bridges, which were dry, and a few muddy patches with logs covering them. Between mile 1 and mile 2, the course ran next to a large beaver pond, but somehow, magically, did not require us to actually go through the beaver pond.  How did Emily manage that?  There were a couple of hills, but they were all short, and only one of them, at around the 2 mile mark, was a definite walker.  Just after mile 2 on the loop, volunteers were manning a campfire and were roasting marshmallows (yum!). About a half mile later, there were some goats.  And then, you reached the bench at the stem of the lollipop. At the end, if we felt that we didn’t have time to complete a full loop, we could either run to the 0.5 mile mark and back for 1 mile, or to the 1 mile mark and back for 2 miles.  We just had to inform the crew of our plans before we left. 

As for my goals, I wasn’t too optimistic going in.  A couple of days before the race, I made the mistake of sorting the other entrants by their ranking on ultrasignup and in the process, I discovered that I was one of the lowest ranked women.  Boo!  I was hoping that this wouldn’t be my first DFL.  My distance goal was to complete a marathon, but given my level of ability, while it wasn’t a stretch, it also wasn’t a sure thing.  I ran a marathon in 5:24 at Stone Cat, but that was an easy course in excellent weather.  It took me 6:10 to complete Nipmuck, which is a more difficult course

Beyond distance, I had some training goals in mind, though.  They were as follows:

1.     Stay out for all six hours, which I was definitely fit enough to accomplish.

2.     No caffeine binge.  Don’t get me wrong, I love caffeine, and I drink the hell out of it.  But there’s no excuse for the way I’ve been consuming caffeine at races.  If I don’t get this problem under control, I’m probably going to have to move up to crack.
3.     Stay AWAY from the gummy bears.  I have a real weakness for those little bastards, even when not running.  

We were greeted at the start by Race Director Emily Trespas and a Yeti.  No kidding, a Yeti!

The weather was in the 50s and nice to start out with.  In the pre-race briefing, we were informed that timing would be done using a wall-mount clock at the start/finish area, and a pen and paper to count the laps.  There were 75 runners, and at 9AM sharp, we were off!

          I remembered my sorry-ass ranking, and how outclassed I was at this event, and stuck near the back as we headed out in the conga line.  The trail was a bit crowded during loop 1, but everyone was in good spirits and chatting as we ran through the forest.  It got a little hairy on the stick of the lollipop, as the faster runners were starting their 2^nd loop and the slower folks were plodding through the end of their first. 

Loop 1 time:  40:30.  Total miles, 3.5

To start Loop 2, I took off my arm sleeves, grabbed my handheld, and headed into the forest again.  This time the crowd was a bit more spread out.  I picked up a marshmallow at the campfire.  As I was approaching the aid station, the Yeti jumped out from behind a tree and almost caught me! 

Total time:  1:21.  Loop time:  40:30.  Total miles 7.0

I refilled my handheld, grabbed a couple of Oreos, and headed out for Loop 3. This was probably my low point.  My stomach wasn’t feeling so great, and the people I was running with kept talking about poop and farts.  As fascinating as bowel movements are (and I’m not being sarcastic in the least), it didn’t help my stomach.  So after checking in, I went and hit the portapotties over by the baseball field at the high school.  They weren’t all that close to the race site, but oh well.
Total time:  2:04 total, Loop time: 43:00.  Total miles 10.5.

I refilled the handheld again, grabbed some potato chips and a few cookies, and headed out.  Some absolute saint brought ginger snaps to the aid station.. I felt much better during Loop 4, but started to feel a bit sleepy.  Sleepy?  At 11 AM?  I decided that I would dip into the magic caffeine and have ONE cup of coke for my next loop.
Total  time:  2:54 total. Loop time:  50:00.  (The porta john trip was tacked onto this loop).  Total miles 14.0

To start Loop 5, I grabbed that ONE Dixie cup of coke.  Ten minutes later, I was flying.  I was passing people left and right, and I felt amazing.  Caffiene is a beautiful thing.  And this is how I overdo it with the caffeine every time.  I drink it, and it rocks my world, so I drink more!  And then I drink MORE!  And MORE!  But I wasn’t going to let that happen this time.
Total time: 3:39 total. Loop time:  45:00 for the loop.  Total miles:  17.5

At the start of Loop 6, it was beginning to get hot.  I grabbed a handful of ice from the aid station and shoved it in my cap.   I had a half cup of coke, grabbed a pretzel and more ginger snaps, and dashed back out.  I was feeling really strong and confident, and was enjoying the idea that I didn’t have to pace myself anymore. 

Total time:  4:22.  Loop time:  43 minutes.  Total miles:  21

I still felt great heading out for loop 7, but things were starting to fall off the rails a bit mentally. There were snakes on the trail!  And every time I’d approach, I’d hear them slithering away through the leaves.  I love snakes, but the noise would scare me and I’d run really fast for a few yards.  Near the goats, I passed a dude hurling.  Then the hurling dude passed me 5 minutes later , and left me in the dust  (ouch).  I was also trying to figure out whether or not I’d have enough time to risk an eighth loop.    Trail math was NOT working out at all.  I decided that I needed to make it in by 5:12 to be able to confidently complete an eighth loop, but did that even make sense?  I didn’t know.  As I came back in from loop 7, lots of runners were sitting down, deciding they were done for the day.  And, just as I was running towards the check point, I saw my daughters dashing towards me.


 But the clock said 5:08, which meant I had enough time for loop 8.  I yelled, “I’m going around again! Whoohoo!”

Total  time:  5:08.  Loop time: 46 minutes.  Total miles: 24.5

Loop 8.  Now, could I finish the loop?  I wasn’t sure.  I had 52 minutes to do it, which meant that I could walk a bit more than previous loops, but I still needed to keep moving.  I should make it back, but only if nothing went wrong.  I felt okay, but I couldn’t manage to swallow the two ginger snaps I took out with me.  The whole loop, I was trying to figure out if I had enough time to finish.   I was starting to doubt it, and I felt like there was no way I’d complete the loop.  But just as I hit that low point of self doubt, I heard a crowd, and saw a handful of people sitting on the bench at the base of the stick.  Yay!  I was going to make it! 

Final time, 5:56:58, Loop:  46 minutes.  Total miles:  28. 

I was definitely not DFL, YAY!  It was good enough for 4^th out of 21 ladies! 

Bimbler’s Bluff 50K Race Report 2011

Wow!  This is late!  Thank Snowtober and my 1 week of no power!

    If you read the race report below, three weeks before Bimbler’s Bluff 50K, I had a very difficult time at the Nipmuck Trail Marathon.  I saw The Wall around Mile 3, and I was beginning to rethink this experiment in distance running.  I was afraid that if I went into winter with memories of my awful time at Nipmuck, I’d never run longer than a 5K again, ever.  So I signed up for the Bimbler’s Bluff 50K.
    This was probably not the best idea.  Although it seemed I had recovered from Nipmuck pretty well, a week before Bimblers I hurt my foot.  I have no idea what I did to it, but I could barely walk, and most certainly couldn’t run.  Oops!  To add to my misery, 5 days before, I caught a bad cold.  The day before the race, I was still sick and hurt, and I was giving some serious thought to taking a DNS.  It was a two hour drive down there, and a 4:30 wakeup.  That seemed an awful lot of inconvenience if I was just going to stagger three miles into the forest and bag it. 

Before picture - actually worse than the after picture!

    But I got up anyway, and hit the road at 5AM for the trip down to Connecticut.  I arrived at around 7, picked up my packet, and got settled in for the race.  Around 7:30, I ran into Jason Robillard from Barefoot Running University, and his wife Shelly, who would be running the 50K while Jason snapped pictures.  While Shelly was in line for the portapotties, I told Jason I didn’t think I stood a chance at finishing, because of my foot and my cold.  He shot me a dirty look and shook his head.

Jason and Shelly Robillard

    At the pre-race meeting, the race director informed us that the trail was very well marked – which was a huge relief, because the 8 page course description was beyond intimidating.  The course was a lollipop shape, with an approximately 6 mile stem that we’d run twice and a 20 mile loop on the bluff.  Shelly and I made our way to the back of the pack for the start.   We sang the national anthem, and then we were off.  We made a loop around an elementary school, and then headed across the road into the forest.   
    After the conga line spread out, I fell in running with a group of really nice women.  In addition to Shelly, there was Sara, who lived down the street from the start, and had gotten the bold idea to train for the race and sign up for it after her son had reported having witnessed a 50K at the Elementary School.  We also had Hillary, whom I had met at Nipmuck.  Hillary’s parents run 100 mile races, and this was her first ultra.  At some point, we picked up a kindergarten teacher named Jen.  We were occasionally leapfrogging with a man named Suresh who was doing a run-walk strategy. 
    I can’t describe how beautiful the trails were.  I think this was peak foliage, and the weather was great – upper 40s or lower 50s at the start, and partly cloudy.  We ran for a while on some woods roads,  which throughout the race were covered in large puddles that necessitated some bushwacking to get around.  They were big After some woods roads, we entered into some rather technical trails.   They were full of sharp pointy rocks.  We hit a crowded section at a creek, and everyone was trying to cross over logs.  I tried to go through the water, but this was a mistake as it turned out to be up to my thighs.  I slipped and ended up getting wet and bruised.  Oh well!
    Around mile 9, the group I was with slowed down to a walk to cover some of the rockiest section.  I asked to go in front, because I felt like running like a wild animal over those things.  The ladies wished me luck.    Over the sharp boulders I bounded, like a superhero out of a cartoon.  Whee!  Then I heard noise in the distance, which I presumed to be the aid station at mile 10.  I lost my focus, caught my toe on a rock, and sailed through the air.  You know the spill is going to be bad when you’re numb before you even hit the ground. 

Some of the damage

    I was pumped full of adrenaline from the fall, so I was back up and running before I had a chance to assess the damage.   All the lower parts seemed to work.  Unfortunately, a sharp rock had sliced the tip off of my left thumb.  It wasn’t a huge injury, and the flap was still hanging on, but it was bleeding gloriously.  By the time I rolled into the aid station, my left hand looked like it had been involved in some sort of a violent crime.  Due to the wicking action on the handheld material, some of the blood was even getting dry. 
    I was still all hopped up on adrenaline when I rolled into the aid station, and freaked out by the blood on my hand, so I sincerely apologize if I was unpleasant to any volunteers.  It took a lot of effort to get some first aid.  The aid station was really busy, and the volunteers were hopping.   I didn’t want to approach the food and drink with blood dripping from my hand.  I yelled from 10 feet away, “HEY HAS ANYBODY GOT A BANDAID!”    I watched all the women I left behind hit the aid station and start back out on the trail while I waited for help.  It took a few yells, and a few rebuffs of offers of food, before a woman went into the truck to get the first aid kit.  She wasn’t very comfortable with it, though.  She was trying to get me to clean up my hand, which was caked with blood and still gushing, with a ½” square alcohol wipe.  This wasn’t even remotely effective, and wasn’t going to stop the bleeding, because there was already some dried blood that needed to be removed before the flap could be pushed back down.  I was able to convince her to give me a paper towel, which I got another volunteer to dump some water on.  In the mean time, another volunteer tried to take my handheld and refill it; I tried to stop him because it looked like Dexter’s handheld, and I pointed out the blood, but he filled it anyway.  Thanks!  Once I got my thumb cleaned off, which ended up being a two-paper towel job, she was able to put the flap back down, secure it with band aids, and stop the bleeding.  
    Luckily, I still had adrenaline in me when I started back on the trail.  I saw everyone climbing up a cliff face, but the trail markings pointed off to a path on the left.  I asked for guidance from a volunteer, and he said that the path on the left was for “chickens”.   This was the toughest climb, and is rumored to require hands.  I made it up hands-free, though, because the left was out of commission and I had a PB&J in the right.  After a few minutes, I managed to catch up with Shelly, but burned past her.  I figured I was still going on adrenaline and she’d eventually catch me.  After another few minutes, I caught up with Sara and Jen.  This section of trail was absolutely gorgeous, and mostly single track on top of the bluff.  There were great views of the foliage.  Sara had done some of the trail before, and told me that once we hit the 16 mile aid station, there wouldn’t be much more climbing and the trail would get a lot less rocky.
    I grabbed a few salted potatoes and two cups of coke at the 16 mile aid station, and made a few sock adjustments (they were sliding down), and Sara lit out in front of me.  Did I mention my foot?  It had been bothering me a little at the start, but by 16 miles, it had stopped hurting completely.  Apparently, all it needed was a good long run , I guess.  I headed out at about the same time as Suresh, and ended up running most of this section (and the next) near him.  This section passed through some fire roads with more enormous, deep, muddy puddles.  We had to do a lot of climbing through the underbrush to get around them.  Other than Suresh, I didn’t see many people during this section.   I could see Hillary ahead of me, but didn’t catch her till the next aid station. 
    The 22 mile aid station had a cutoff of 7 hours, and I managed to make it there in 5, at the same time as Suresh and Hillary.  I felt great, and I was so hungry.  The volunteers were great about reminding us to fill up our water and EAT, because there was no aid for 8 (suspiciously long) miles.  Everything looked good at this aid station, and I crammed an absurd amount of food in my mouth.  I ate some potatoes, rice crispie treats, Swedish fish, and even broke down and ate a chocolate brownie (I am boycotting most chocolate due to the child slavery in the Ivory Coast).  I thought this would make a good snack:

Trail snacks

Mmmmm!  I was guessing that I’d regret my pig-out in about a half hour. I sorely regretted the two additional glasses of coke I drank here, though.  I couldn’t get to sleep at night because I had so much caffeine in my system.
    I spent the next hour leapfogging Suresh.  Drat those guys and their long legs!  When he would start walking, I was only barely faster than him at a run.  The trails through this section included a lot of fire roads, and were generally not difficult at all.  Suresh and I passed a handful of people during the first hour.  An hour out of the aid station, Suresh told me, “Only about an hour to go!”  “Really?”  I said.  I didn’t much care about time.  I was having a lot of fun, and wasn’t thinking very much about the end of the race.  As we approached hour seven, Suresh pulled ahead of me.  I don’t know if he was going faster or if I was going slower, but it took him a long time to get a lead on me.  I suspect he was going faster, because I passed a couple of guys after Suresh pulled ahead. 
    Somewhere around that time, I saw a guy in a red shirt gaining on me quickly.  It was a man named Tim, whom I ran with for about a half hour at Nipmuck three weeks before.  We ran together for a while again, until we hit the 30 mile aid station.  Tim was in a rush because he was going to miss his ferry home.  He thought he’d be done in under 7 hours, but it looked like our time was going to be closer to 8 hours. Bimbler’s Bluff is suspiciously long for a 50K!  Tim’s really tall, and every time he walked, I still had to run to keep up with him.  Okay guys, I’m jealous. 
    Tim didn’t stop at the 30 mile aid station, but I did.  Gummy worms, and another half cup of coke.  Yum!   It was over 7 hours since the start, and I asked a volunteer if I was the last one out there.  She laughed and said that no, there were still plenty of people behind me.  I guess I should have known that, because after all, I’d been passing an occasional person during that section.  The sign on the trail said 2.5 miles to go.
    The first mile of this section went pretty well, but then I began to have some stomach issues.  I was a bit upset about this, as I had made it so far.  I really wanted to run it in through the finish, but I was struggling.  I was gaining on a nervous random dude with a nervous dog, and the guy kept looking over his shoulder waiting for me to pass.  But every time he went over a rise, I ducked into the little ultrarunner’s room.  I wonder if he had any idea about why, since I was running, it took me so long to pass him?  After passing the dog guy, I was sure I was going to vomit, so I slowed to a walk.  Five minutes later, Jen passed me and saw I was struggling.  She asked if I was okay, and I said I had stomach problems.  She said, “Well, at least it waited until now.  You know you’ll finish!”  Jen was right, and I instantly stopped feeling sorry for myself.  About thirty seconds later, my stomach recovered and I was able to start running again. 
    It wasn’t much farther until I heard the finish line.  I came up over a rise, saw the finish line at the bottom, and then heard Jason’s voice.  He yelled out, “Hey Heather!  Think you’ll finish?”  I had completely forgotten that I had told Jason that I was almost definitely NOT going to finish.  I cracked up, and asked him if he thought he might be able to bring his truck around for me.  I was still laughing when he snapped this picture:


Here’s me after the finish:


Shelly finished about 15 minutes after I did – it’s amazing how close she was, but I hadn’t seen her after mile 9. 


Total time:  7:59:49.  Initially, I was disappointed with my time    , since it seemed like I was pretty close to last place.  But then I counted up – I came in 112th out of 127 finishers.  172 people registered.  I don’t know how many started, but I think it was over 150, which makes 112th place not really all that bad.  My husband claims he can’t believe that there were 172 people willing to register.   
    In the end, I’m really glad I did this race.   It was a beautiful course, and I enjoyed nearly every moment of it.