February 9, 2019
This blog post has taken longer than usual, but sometimes real life gets in the way and delays this online stuff. Just happy I'm focused enough to not shove real life aside to accommodate my goofy web ramblings.
It was February and that meant it was time to make the trip to Pokomoke City Maryland for the Algonquin Trail 50K. This would be it's third year of existence and my third year running it. I haven’t repeated too many races, but this one’s fun so I was going back for more.
This blog post has taken longer than usual, but sometimes real life gets in the way and delays this online stuff. Just happy I'm focused enough to not shove real life aside to accommodate my goofy web ramblings.
It was February and that meant it was time to make the trip to Pokomoke City Maryland for the Algonquin Trail 50K. This would be it's third year of existence and my third year running it. I haven’t repeated too many races, but this one’s fun so I was going back for more.
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Hey look Trent, I didn't
fold my number!
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Just a few days before the race an email from the race
director arrived outlining the cut off times for the race. January 29th I snuck out for a lunch run on the mountain and fell hard on ice I didn’t see
under fresh snow. (Yep, I had left my Kahtoola Micro Spikes in the Jeep.)
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The mark you make when you find
the ice under the snow accidentally.
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Considering the pain I was now in, I had no confidence that
I could beat those cut off times. I don’t know why, but I contacted Trent (the
race director) and told him that due to injury I’d be struggling to meet those cut off times. I think it just
made me feel better to tell somebody. Tuesday before the race I attempted to run
a mile just to gauge the pain in my rib cage and see if there was any chance, I could manage
it for 32 miles. It felt ok, it didn’t hurt until I sat back down at my desk to
work. This was not exactly the way you want to feel just days before a race.
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| I didn't know how to spell koozie before this post. |
Packet pick up at Hopper’s Tap House in Salisbury was the
fun party we’ve come to expect. I got my race number and pile of race swag,
dropped off some Pickle Juice for the registration table and did my best to
ignore my busted up ribs.
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| Pickle Power! |
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| Gotta' love a race that gives away Injinji socks! #magentaismynewcolor |
This year’s race sold out so there was an extra
fun crowd of runners milling about, talking running and drinking good beer. Hopper's is a cool place, if you're ever in Salisbury, I highly recommend it. We were starving so we might’ve eaten too much. I won't describe all the different menu items we consumed, but they were all quite tasty. Packet pickup for the Algonquin 50K is a definite "swagapalooza"! All done at Hoppers we took the trip south to Pokomoke City and our lodging for the night.
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| 50k-ish just about says it. |
I had tried all kinds of things to fight the pain. I even went over to the dark side and got some CBD cream, but it offered no relief. I’m not a fan of the debilitating feeling that comes with pain medication. Typically, when I’ve had an injury, I don’t bother to fill the prescription pain meds. I was either really wimping out or this pain was immense. It hurt most when trying to sleep. To sit at my desk I kind of had to perch my butt on the every front edge of my chair. With Opioids being all over the news, I was beginning to understand how someone could become dependent/addicted to pain killers; I just wanted a night's sleep.
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| A wise man once said, "Don't believe the hype!" |
For
race day, out of ideas, I fell back on over-the-counter Aleve and Janice put
Biofreeze on my back. On top of that I decided that a positive attitude was the
only other thing I could apply. Looking back, I know that when I’ve DNF’d in
the past, it’s been that positive attitude that was missing. Allowing pain,
injury or sickness to overwhelm my thinking ended my day early on too many
occasions and I decided that would be the last reason if I unpinned my number this
time.
Up and out of bed, it was now time to decide what to wear.
The day prior I was walking around in shirt sleeves in Salisbury; it was
nearly 60°. As Friday night became Saturday morning that temperature was cut in
half. I went outside briefly in shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt and decided
I’d wear shorts with layering up top. Then I went to the lobby to find coffee and
I ran into another guy from Pennsylvania, Bart Yasso, you may have heard of him
(aptly his bib number for the day was 800). Our conversation went from
talking about the race to talking about the weather. He said, “you waste too
much energy keeping warm” and he’d be going slow so he was wearing
pants and a running vest. I admitted to him that he had changed my mind and
the decision to wear tights vs. shorts was made.
Janice and I made the
drive to the Milburn Landing area and got ready for the "Race Dictator" to say
“go”. Dosed with two Aleve and covered in Biofreeze I made my way to the back
of the pack so I could just roll out at a slow pace and get a feel for how my day
would unfold. There was now a stiff breeze blowing so the temperature in the low 30’s
felt cold. I decided to start with a wind jacket, and I could hand it off to
Janice after I warmed up. The Conch Shell was blown and as the pack started moving it became evident that this year’s field was indeed the biggest so far.
After just two years of existence The Algonquin Trail 50K had definitely arrived in
its third. It was sold out and showed off a hefty starting field.
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| Here we go.. |
The single track in the first 4 miles was good for me to get
a feeling for how to manage the constant ache. Keeping my upper body as still
as possible seemed to be working. I did find myself swept up by the pace
of those around me and I might’ve been running slightly faster than I wanted
to. I arrived at the first of the aid stations and I felt surprisingly good. I
hadn’t truly warmed up and it seemed that every time we came upon a windy
stretch I was second guessing ditching the jacket. Janice handed me a bottle of
Pickle Juice and a replacement handheld. I was carrying a bottle filled with
Tailwind, a Huma Gel and a packet of ClifBar Bloks. I rolled out of that aid
station still wearing the jacket, figuring I’d get rid of it at the 10-mile
mark when I’d see Janice again.
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| Huma Gel - All Natural Chia Energy Gel |
It was on one of these wide stretches that I realized the
beginning of leap frogging with two women runners had begun. Backpacking on the AT I learned the expression
“in your bubble”. While you’re hiking along you move at your pace, you pass
other hikers and those same hikers pass you. Typically, at the end of the day you all end up at the same camp and it happens all over again the next day. During
an ultra that same phenomena kind of happens, but I’ve never experienced it
like this day. I met fellow runner Rob Tidwell that way at the Stone Mill 50.
Somewhere around mile-15 we ended up together and finished the 50 miles side by
side. He and I even ran an entire 50K from start to finish together. This wasn’t
like that, these gals were in my “bubble”, we weren’t running together; they
were either somewhere up ahead or somewhere close behind. In any event, I used my placement in relation to them to know that I was maintaining a steady pace.
I cruised into the Furnace Town Aid Station still feeling
ok, Janice refueled me, I drank another Pickle Juice and she had me on my way
in no time. It might’ve been here that she mentioned in both a disciplinary and
a warning tone how little I was drinking. I drink a lot before the start of a race, so I
don’t usually start drinking until 6 miles. Here I was at mile 10 and I was handing
Janice my second nearly full bottle, I had only taken a couple of sips. I also
probably wasn’t eating enough either, I had only downed one Huma Gel and this
would be my second aid station where I didn’t even look at their food. Looking
back on it those were mistakes, but at the time I felt fine. I didn’t ignore
Janice’s pointing it out though, so I tried to keep it forefront in my thinking along with the pain management that was dominating my thoughts. Once again, I was on my way still wearing my wind
jacket.
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| Arriving at Furnace Town |
You may notice the common thread of 'running' in those
groups, yep they’re all runners, know running, know what you’re going through and
therefore know what you need. The aid stations were stocked with a wide variety
of stuff to eat and drink. Pickle Juice was available at a couple of them and I
believe Tailwind was at all of them. There’s actually six of them as you visit two
of them twice.
This year I struggled in the sand. In the past years I was
able to find a track of packed sand through this section. This year I couldn’t
find that packed sand, it was mostly loose legit beach sand, and I couldn’t maintain a rhythm.
Thankfully that sand doesn’t last too long. There were other course differences
this year. The first two years the standing water on the trail and the
accompanying mud was shoe sucking. This year wasn’t dry, but by comparison it
wasn’t nearly as muddy as in the past. Another big difference was the colder
temperatures than past years. I’m not one to try to skirt water, there’s no use;
the mud on the edges of puddles is usually the most slippery and in Pokomoke River
State Park if you stray too far off the trail you will be sliced by the man-eating
briers that grow amongst the Pines. (some say if you go way too far, you’ll end
up as the Goat Man’s dinner, but that’s another story}. The cold temperature did affect my approach to the water. I waded through the first few puddles, but soon
realized how cold my feet were getting and they weren’t warming up. After that
I did my best to minimize dunking my feet. I thought about changing shoes and
socks and Janice was prepared in her Indy Pit Crew way, but I changed my mind
and stuck with the pair of Altra Lone Peaks and Injinji socks I started with.
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| Photo Borrowed From Facebook - Taken by Joe Andrews |
All day I had been hyper vigilant to avoid anything that could cause a trip and fall. Pokomoke River State Park is full of Loblolly Pines, Holly and Dogwoods and the trail is crisscrossed by their roots. Considering the soil is often sand or a sand mixture a lot of the roots become perfect trip wires as the soil erodes away. Minimizing the movement of my upper body while running seemed to be doing the trick and the pain in my rib cage was bearable. I was scared to death of what could happen if I had a fall.
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| Still smiling before the Green Briar Spur |
After the 3rd aid station there's an out and back section of the course called the Greenbrier Spur. On the way back you revisit that same aid station at just shy of 20 miles. Coming into the aid station there were some guys along the trail who I had seen at the other aid stations and one of them spoke to me. I looked to respond and caught a toe on a protruding root, sending me head first into the sand. Yes, I hit head first and I was pretty dazed and it took me a few seconds to get back to my feet. Before I could, Janice came over and of course told me to get up and keep going. I guess I'm just happy she didn't expect me to do some push ups or something while I was still on the ground...nothing but tough love from my girl. The crazy thing was, the fall didn't hurt my ribs. I got up and we walked to where she had my resupply stuff, I drank a Pickle Juice and got another handheld. Just then an aid station volunteer came over and asked how i was and that he was an ER Doctor. I knew right away I needed to tell him I was fine and get out of there before he started recognizing symptoms. So of course about 3 miles down the trail I tripped again and this time I didn't fall, I caught myself. The act of catching myself hurt far more that the headfirst dive as all the muscles in your back is what keeps you upright when you feel yourself falling. Thankfully there was no one around to witness this mishap or hear my audible groaning. I'm sure Janice would've definitely had me doing push ups that time.
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| Pain from the stumble, looking for whiskey |
Pulling into the next aid station, I remembered that this one was the ultimate party station and they had whiskey. I never drink whiskey, much less during an ultra, but I had read others proclaiming its pain killing affects so I sought it out. Janice dosed me with Pickle Juice and swapped handhelds and then she heard me ask for whiskey. The guy gave me an actual shot and I downed it. The aid station volunteers cheered and I got an "um, ok?" from Janice. She's seen me drink whiskey once (Cody's 21st Birthday) and here I was downing Jack Daniels with about 8 miles to go in a 50K. The warm feeling as it went down did not disappoint and even if it was merely a placebo affect, my back pain was back to manageable.
Arrival at the last aid station meant only 4 miles to go. Oddly Janice looked at me and said, "you got this". I'd find out what that actually meant later. The last mile or so of those four is on the Milburn Landing Hiking Trail which is a diversion from the route used at the start. That diversion was added to the course last year and I was remembering the nasty mud in that section and really considered sticking with the Algonquin Trail and not turning for that muddy mess. I arrived at that intersection and couldn't do it. It wouldn't really be cheating, it wouldn't be cutting the course and I'd end up in the same spot, but I made the turn onto the Milburn Landing Trail anyway. I guess I was rewarded for my honest decision, because like the rest of the course, the mud was nowhere near as bad as last year and soon the finish area was in sight.
Of the two gals I had leap-frogged with all day (Dani & Erin), one was right in front of me and the other wasn't far behind. Trent Swanson The Race Dictator was there handing out finishing mugs and the challenging day of pain management was finally done. I got to see Gabe, another Algonquin 50K friend and looked at him and said, "I did it". He said Janice had told him about my ice skating adventure so he understood my surprise at surviving. He was happy I had made it too. Crossing the finish line at the Algonquin 50K means the party was starting. With a warm fire place, hot soup and local craft beer; the adjacent pavilion is the perfect post race shindig. This year I made it to the showers while there was still hot water, I missed getting to see the finish of the final runners, but I made it for the group photo. We bid farewell to Trent, hoping to see him at a Shorebirds game this summer and we headed to Rehoboth Beach for the night. This race has truly become a mini winter get away for us.
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| 2019, 2018 & 2017 - my collection is growing |
I'm not sure when it was, but Janice admitted to me later that considering the pain I was in; she didn't think I'd start the race, much less finish. She had mentally prepared herself for a pointless trip to the Delmarva...I'm glad it didn't end up that way. That positive attitude was my secret weapon and I plan to stick with that plan going forward. Next up is the Seneca Creek Greenway 50K near Gaithersburg Maryland.
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Couldn't happen without these fine folks!
Photo borrowed from Facebook - Posted by Trent Swanson
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