Coffee

A Ranting Race Report [and some fun alliteration]

/ Sloan / 2 Comments

All times and dialogue are an approximation. This is neither fact nor fiction, just my memory of the first 24 hour 100 mile race I competed in on July 23 in New Castle, VA.

 

 3:45am:

I don’t think I fell asleep.

My ass is on the ground in the hammock the I attempted slumber in.

It’s still dark.

Racers mill around. Check lights on their bikes. Eat bananas. Gu. Honey waffles. 5 hour energy. Caffeinated water.

I want coffee.

I have no coffee.

 

4:28am:

Why the hell did I sign up for this?

 

4:30am:

Gun shot, 103 racers on mountain bikes tumble after each other in the dark. I’m keeping an eye on my race partner, Mike, and we too are off. Ready to climb the mountain.

 

6:57am:

We crest what we think is the top of the mountain. Take photos. Smile.

I don’t even remember 3:30 this morning. I actually feel good!

 

7:22am:

It wasn’t the top. We’re climbing again.

Mike, where the hell is CP [check point] 1?

 

7:30am:

Found it.

CP 1. Fuck yes! Only 19 more to go!

 

11:42am:

Off the bikes.

Thank god.

 

1:03pm:

Mother fucking fucking bees fuck fuck fuck. This is the only time I’m crying today Mike. Fucking bees mother fuck fuck.

Bee attack while bush wacking through the woods.

 

2:38pm:

Walking. On a road. In the middle of fucking nowhere. 103 degrees.

Is it bad I haven’t peed all day? I think I’ve drank 8 gallons of water and haven’t peed once. I must be dehydrated. I think I’m drunk. I…I …

 

3:45pm:

A nice lady give us water. And Diet Coke.

I could marry you right now.

Mike beats me to the proposal.

 

4:32pm:

We miss the paddle portion due to a huge storm and are bussed to the next CP.

I’m pissed.

 

5:00pm

Opting out of optional check point seems like the logical answer.

Let’s go.

Holy fuck that bike seat does not feel good. Hoooooo man.

Note to self: if I do this again BODY GLIDE.

Note taken.

 

5:01-10:40pm

Sunset happens. I don’t really remember this section to be honest. My mind probably blocked it out on purpose.  We rest. Mike and our new friends lay down, I stand.

I don’t want lactic acid to pool in my legs. You guys will regret lying for so long.

They do. Back on the bikes. More hills. More elevation gained and lost.

I’m not even tired any more. My ass just hurts. I’m sick of Sport Beans. Clif Bars. Beef jerky. Honey stuff. I want a burger. No, pizza. Ice cream, yes, ice cream. And pretzels.

 

10:53pm:

It feels like we’re in a green house. The temperature and humidity are in the 90s and it’s hard to breath.

I just want to sleep. No. I just want to not be walking on the fucking road anymore.

 

11:56pm:

We lost our new friends.

I’m over it. They’ll find their way.

 

12:21am:

Holy shit Mike, we’re done.

We’d been racing for what feels like years. Ronny, the race director welcomes us, shakes my hands, I think I’m high.

Holy shit. I just did this. I need a shower. I still haven’t peed.

 

1:00am

I sleep I my car.

 

6:22am

Real food.

Hell yes. I’m doing another. I know what not to do now.

 

Next post: the OTHER 100 miles, 24-hour race I competed in. Yes. I did it again. And it was glorious.

What’s your threshold?

/ Sloan / 3 Comments

I’ve been meaning to write a post all week, however, work must take priority over this silly little blog and I’ve lacked the time and the energy to write something worth reading. Though I did think about it all week, about what I was going to write about. First, I thought I’d write about the 74 degree semi-long-run I had at a reservoir on my way out of Delaware. It was a run that was so unseasonably hot and more or less a miserable hour and half of my life. Then I was going to write about my longest run ever to date (17 miles, 50 degrees 40 mile per hour winds that nearly blew me and my running group into the Inner Harbor last Saturday.)

However, I’m going to write about my run today. It was a long run that ended up being about 16.5 miles, this 16.5 miles happened at 7:30 am this morning after a 4pm 12 mile run yesterday afternoon/evening. Tired legs gearing up to run a long long way.  This run started out with my group, The Pacemakers, and was a bowtie loopty loop that allowed me to not carry water because I ended up at my car every 4-6 miles and I was able to hydrate, genius because I’ve yet to buy a hydration pack and ended my 17 miles last week very salty and very sick.

The first ten miles were great, we were all chatty, talking about the beautiful morning we finally had, the sun was shining, I was able to wear shorts, (it was 34 when we started but warmed up to about 41…perfect!) The first two lets of our journey felt great. When the third leg began I, among other runners, was feeling pretty good. (I was surprised, I thought my legs would be dragging more, I thought my feet would be hurting–)

 

Fast-forward two miles. My legs began to drag, my feet throbbed, I went silent.

http://vimeo.com/19529550

 

I could hear Bob’s footsteps behind me. This sound kept my feet moving, kept me from looking behind, kept me from walking, all the other kids with the pumped up kicks better run better run… someone told last night to sing Foster The People to keep me going. ALL THE OTHER KIDS WITH THE PUMPED UP KICKS BETTER RUN BETTER RUN… I was shouting in my head, I had to keep going, I couldn’t stop

 

—the silent miles had begun.

 

The Silent Miles: I think all runners hit a point. Not the wall but A Point in a training run where all falls silent. We get so absorbed in our head, our thoughts, our own personal demons and motivations that we go silent. My personal threshold has gotten longer, I used to only be able to go 10 or so miles before I fell silent. I stop talking, I stare straight ahead and concentrate, hard. At this point in my training I’m not really sure what my threshold is, I hit it a bit earlier this week because of the combination of last night’s 12 miles and the run this morning. Fatigued began I even began.

But today’s silence was okay. I’m okay with silence; I still had Bob’s feet and breathing behind me, the road in front of me, and the knowledge that I had a big cup of coffee at the end of the run. I finished 15 miles and ran another loop, on my own, to get in another mile and a half. This is where my personal motivation began to lack, this is where I fell apart and walked a bit. But this is the point that I remembered to listen to my body and remind myself that in the past 15 hours I had put in nearly 28 miles.


My body is broken down, (but not broken) and will rest and recover tonight and tomorrow. The Silent Miles are what make us stronger, they’re what make us realize what we are truly capable of.