Oil Creek 100 - "So What Happened?"

I hadn't planned to write about the Oil Creek 100. Heck, what's there to say? I didn't finish. I've been asked what happened by some and I've thought about it and I still don't have much to say, but here goes.

Oil Derricks In The Distance at Benninghoff Farm



This was to be my running high point for 2014. I had fun and finished strong at The Laurel Highlands Ultra, had a mellow July training-wise and got back at it in August. I fought through some Plantar Fasciitis as September waned towards October, but I felt pretty well prepared to take on the 100 miles in Oil Creek State Park. The Saturday before the event (yes one week out) I came down with some sort of stomach virus/flu-like sickness. It knocked me flat. I couldn't get out of bed Sunday or Monday. Wednesday I forced myself to go for an easy run and "weak" is the only word to describe it. Janice told me later that all week she was expecting me to tell her I was pulling the plug. Looking back on it, I probably should have. I was tight as a drum when we arrived at the pre-race dinner/packet pickup. I saw others who I had looked forward to seeing, but couldn't bring myself to talk to them. I was working too hard to fake myself into believing that I felt fine and ready. I feared if I talked to someone they'd figure me out as an imposter. So there ya' have it. Not much to say about it. I got sick as a dog, but still went to Titusville, thinking maybe just maybe I'd be able to will myself to the finish line. Nope! Didn't work! Lesson learned, don't show up a week after being stuck sick in bed and expect to be able to perform.

Darkest before dawn.



I did actually run some. The race got off to a good start for me, I kept an eye on my pace so as not to get sucked into a pace faster than I could sustain. I had planned to try to take about 8ish hours for each 50k lap. 43° at start time dropped to 39° before sun up. I like temperatures in the low 40's but today I couldn't keep warm. I was wearing a long sleeved shirt, but my arms were so cold they felt numb and so did my hands. Thinking of so many other things, I never saw this as a sign that something was wrong. I just figured I was cold. Janice met me at a water station which was spectacular because she gave me a pair of gloves and of all things I had again forgotten to take alergy medicine and my breathing wasn't 100%. The gloves seemed to bring some warmth I needed (and temps climbed to 50°) and for the remainder of the first 31 miles, my hands and arms started to feel normal again. I completed the first lap in about 8 hours so I was fine, I thought.

"Your mountain is waiting, get on your way!"







I put on a couple of dry shirts at Aid Station #4 and started the second lap continuing to convince myself that I could stick to my 8ish hour lap plan. I arrived at Aid Station #2 about 15 minutes slower than I had in the morning, but still nothing to worry about. The sun was setting and the forecasted cold overnight temperatures would soon be on us so I changed clothing completely. Top to bottom - a light winter hat, a lycra long sleeved base layer, a whicking layer over that and a light wind jacket to top it off and I ditched my shorts for tights. With a dry set of gloves and my headlamp, I took off to finish the lap.

Layered & Prepped For The Cold



Probably around 50 miles, the sun had dropped to a level that I needed to turn on my headlamp. It seemed like flipping that switch to "on" was like switching my switch to "off". Everything started going wrong. I had been running pretty confidently and now I was tripping and stumbling over everything. I banged a toe badly on my left foot. I banged my right foot so hard I felt like my hip dislocated. The only thing that took my mind off the hip pain was the hit I took to my head on the tree that caught my fall. The bottom had fallen out of my strength and coordination so I decided to slow down. Now even though I had slowed down, I seemed to have no energy. I had eaten pretty well all day, but I had zilch. Still I didn't think of this as a sign of anything. The offical temperature in the area eventually dropped to 30° over night and now that I was going slower I was feeling it. I was back to not being able to generate enough watts to keep my core temperature up. I just kept telling myself that I had more/warmer clothing for the third lap so I thought I could just gut it out.

I arrived at Aid Station #3 and cut off times were being discussed and all of a sudden it hit me. I had slowed down so much that I had placed myself outside the cutoff times. Doing the math based on my current snail's pace, I could start the last lap and make it to Aid Station #2 in time (maybe), but I'd get pulled at Aid Station #3. My plan for 8 hour laps was fine as long as I didn't fall out of that time frame badly and here I had. Getting to the Start/Finish/Aid Station #4 in one piece was now all that mattered to me. All energy was gone and I was cold to a point that the possibility of hypothermia was real. I dropped at Aid Station #4. Standing talking to the kind race volunteer, I noticed how the Middle School lawn had frozen and I just couldn't wait to get warm. Janice piled me into the Jeep and we drove for nearly an hour before we found a hotel. I finally regained a normal body temperature after a hot shower.

The bottom line here is that I guess I need to admit that I never completely recovered from being sick. It never dawned on me that, "hey maybe you can't keep warm because you're not healthy". I couldn't figure out that a complete loss of energy around mile 50 might've had something to do with still being sick.

I had planned for this year to be my last serious year of trying to be an ultra runner and a 100 miler seemed like a nice way to go out. I've got plenty of other fond ultra memories and accomplishments  that I can comfortably finish this chapter. I am running the Stone Mill 50 next month though. I had fun there last year and it gives us a chance to see Niece Heather and her Husband Jim who live nearby.

Man I had a great time, but our family could probably function better without an ultra runner in the home. Our kayaks hang too much and float too little. I really need to reconnect with backpacking and knock off some more states along the Appalachian Trail. Those are just a couple fun things that ultra running has gotten in the way of. Heck, maybe next year I'll do that end to end paddle of the Susquehanna River I've always wanted to do. I've only completed PA and NJ, so maybe I should finish NY and add CT to the list of Appalachian Trail States I've trekked. I'd also like to fast pack the Horse Shoe Trail end to end some weekend. Wow, this list is growing. Ha ha! 2015's gonna be a blast!

Some cool photos Janice captured in and around Titusville, Oil City & Oil Creek State Park:

 

A Saturday auction.

Welcome to Titusville.

A wheel inside a building with trees inside the wheel.

 

 

 

 

Running With My Best Friends

Those who know me well know that running is about solitude and meeting challenges on my own terms and by myself. It's about being able to look back over a boulder pile I just scrambled over or down a vista of a steep power-line cut or simply looking at my watch after a lunch hour 10k. Those are moments that are valuable to me and I don't typically share them with anyone. It's not that I'm selfish, it's about me being self conscious of my running. Running with someone else means they'll see how awkward a runner I am, they'll see that I don't even look like a runner and the worse thing ever, they'll hear my labored breathing(my worst fear). With others, I constantly feel like I'm running too slowly or I'm in the way or I'm running too fast or that the others will think it's a race. At races I avoid running in packs and if runners are carrying on a conversation, I'll avoid them by slowing or speeding up. At The Stone Mill 50 last November I simply stopped and let a couple of shirtless chatter-boxes pass me by. I ate a gel and gave them time to gain some ground on me before I proceeded. I love to run and that's the sole reason I do it, but I'm not very good at it and I need to concentrate on what I'm doing. You'll excuse me if I avoid your conversation about your wife and kids, the seltzer water machine you just got at Target, the car you're restoring, the fabulous Tri-bike you just bought or all your wonderful PR's. I've blabbered on about why I prefer to run alone, so why would I be writing about running with my best friends?

A year and a half ago Janice told me about a puppy she saw for adoption on Facebook. It was an adorable Black Lab and she wanted to go meet her at the rescue agency's event held at a nearby Pet Smart. We hadn't had a dog for seven years and I thought we would never be a dog household again.  I was quite surprised by the idea, but I loved it. Long story short, we went to the pet store and met Jezebel or Jessie as they were calling her and she of course was a sweetheart. Then we also met Mike, a scrawny little Border Collie mix who seemed to want nothing, but to be all over me. When he wasn't playing with me, he was wrestling with Jezebel. The two dogs played like they were puppies from the same litter.

The New Puppies - Mojo Is No Longer Scrawny & Little



She was six months and he was five months. A couple weeks later the nice lady from The Compassionate Hearts Animal Rescue was delivering our two new family members. We went to look at one and adopted two. They're now known as Mojo and Mollie and they love to run. Suddenly I have someone I enjoy running with.

We run on the nearby trails on Blue Mountain, usually looping into the network of trails at Boyd Big Tree Preserve. They've been to the WHP/WITF Tower Site, they've climbed and descended the power line, through mud, across rocks and blow downs and the snow and ice of winter. I keep them on leashes to keep them safe and it keeps us together. Mollie is a brute, she gets her harness and leash on and she wants to bolt. For the first mile it's all about keeping my feet as Mollie drags Mojo and I across the rough terrain. Falling is part of trail running, you catch a toe on something and you become one with the ground. Falling with the dogs is funny, no sooner do I  realize I've tumbled into a heap and the two of them are licking my face. It's like having two loving four legged medics checking on me and hoping I'll get up.  Mojo is quite methodical about running, pacing himself and even looking at me funny if I'm running up hill faster than he is. He's a wise dog. After Mollie settles down, she tucks in next to Mojo and then it's like running behind a team of horses. The two actually run shoulder to shoulder. Once when running down a steep hill, a hiker stepped aside to let us pass. As we skidded on our way down the hill, she yelled "do they always run side by side like that?"

Shoulder To Shoulder - Mojo On My Right & Mollie On My Left



Most times when I go for a run, I have a workout in mind. When I take the dogs, it's not about a workout, it's about having a blast in the forest with my dogs. I read an article about running with your dog that said to stay in charge and keep it known that this is your run and not their time to play, sniff and explore. That's not my approach at all, we're out there for fun together. Sure we mostly run, but we may walk and if Mojo wants to stop and sniff, and as long as it's ok with Mollie it's ok with me. Our runs are never steady. Like I said we start off with the Mollie-Sprint/Drag. Then there's Mojo, sometimes he'll decide he's just done and he'll sit down on the trail usually requiring I leap over him, often causing him to come out of his harness. After replacing his harness and a pep talk we get back to running. I've gotten good at leaping these two. They'll literally skid to a stop to pee and with only a six foot leash, that's not enough space for me to stop so up and over I go. The longest we've run together is nine miles. We typically start at the top of Blue Mountain Parkway, so that means we usually return to the ridge via a rocky climb I call the rocky steps. On that route when we reach the intersection with the main trail we pass between a set of cairns and turn left. The dogs recognize this point and know the Jeep is only a mile away and the pace hastens immediately. That's kind of neat and really not a problem unless we start at The Boyd Big Tree parking lot at the bottom of the mountain. Then when we pass through those same rock cairns we need to turn right to return to the Jeep. Mojo sees those rock piles and thinks the Jeep is only a mile away so he protests and insists we go left. After some strong convincing to continue we eventually get on our way. It's pretty cool just how well they know the routes. If we get to a trail intersection where we may have a choice, they'll both look over their shoulders for guidance. If we're approaching an intersection where we always go the same way, they don't even bother, it's heads down and they charge on down the trail. Seeing other people is kind of funny. The most common result is cowering hikers and Mollie and Mojo ignore them and just power on by. Wildlife however is another story. Last summer we descended into Unger's Gap and I saw Momma Bear and her two cubs. Luckily they saw us and scurried before the dogs saw them. I haven't been so lucky with Turkeys, Squirrels and last week a Possum (in daylight). If Mollie sees an animal she thinks she can catch and play with it's off to the races and of course Mojo and I are attached. One night we entered a trail off the power line cut and my headlamp picked up numerous sets of Deer eyes on both sides of the trail and the dogs saw them too. Their pace slowed briefly and I wondered what would happen. It seemed when they were happy these Deer were just like the ones in our backyard, we were back to running again without incident.

Mollie & Mojo After Our First Ever Trail Run (Ignoring The Water Bowl)



When we get back to the Jeep, oddly they never want to drink, they're done and just want to go home. Mojo leaps into the back seat and Mollie insists I pick her up and put her in. The Jeep interior is hardly fit for humans unless you're the driver, currently it's covered in muddy paw prints and slobber(theirs). I wouldn't have it any other way. I love to run, but I care so little about being a "runner"; heck I can't even spell PR and guess what, neither can Mojo or Mollie.