On August 28, I did the FANS 12-Hour Race. You can register as either a runner or a walker. I registered as a walker.
FANS has 6-hour, 12-hour, and
24-hour races. Over the years, I’ve done
FANS 13 times. I’ve done the 24-hour run,
the 24-hour walk, the 12-hour run, and the 6-hour run. This was my first time doing the 12-hour
walk.
When I did the FANS 24-hour run
in 2019, it was my 49th lifetime ultramarathon.
I hadn’t done another ultramarathon since then, so I was long overdue to
finally do my 50th ultra. Since this was
my 50th ultra, it seemed appropriate to set a goal of 50 miles.
FANS has become popular among race-walkers
who have a goal of walking 100 miles in 24 hours. In any given year, there are anywhere from
three to five experienced walkers pursuing this goal. I did this in 2018, but I didn’t feel I had done
enough training to do that this year. To
walk 50 miles in 12 hours, I needed to go at the same pace, but I only had to sustain
that pace for half as long. In particular,
I didn’t have to keep going during the difficult nighttime hours.
The race was held at Fort
Snelling State Park, which is right across the highway from the Minneapolis/St.
Paul International Airport. Our course
was a 2.28 mile loop around Snelling Lake, starting and finishing near the
beach.
About half of the loop is
paved. The rest is a dirt trail. From the start/finish area, we followed an
asphalt path that leads from the beach area to a fishing dock.
Next, we followed a trail
around the west side of the lake. It’s
mostly packed dirt, but parts of it were covered with rocks to minimize erosion. It’s not a bad surface for running, but I’ve found
it to be somewhat uncomfortable for race-walking, since my feet barely clear
the ground.
The west side of the lake is so
close to the airport that we went right by the towers that hold some of the
runway lights. Planes flew right over us
all day.
On the southeast side of the
lake, we followed a park road. The road
is narrow, so they marked off a corridor with cones.
The organizers made some small
changes to the course this year. There
used to be a steep drop where we left a paved road to turn onto a paved
path. It wasn’t very long, but it was
awkward, especially for walking. The revised
course kept us on the road through the park a little longer, eliminating the need
to go down that hill.
Staying on the road a little bit
longer gave us good views of the Minnesota River to our right.
We finished each lap by crossing
a parking lot and going up this hill to get back to the beach area.
Another change was the “short
lap” that we can switch to in the last hour of the race. It used to be a short out-and-back along the
same path used for the “long laps.” With
two-way traffic, it got to be rather congested.
The new short lap was a loop around a parking lot that was marked with
traffic cones.
Last Sunday, I went to Snelling
Lake and walked a few laps to get a feel for the revised course. The trail was in good condition. Since then, we’ve had rain almost every day,
including a few thunderstorms.
This race is normally held in
early June, but it was rescheduled for late August because of COVID-19. June tends to be a rainy month. On any given day, there’s about a 50% chance
of a thunderstorm. August, by contrast
is usually dry.
This year, we didn’t have
typical weather. June was unusually
dry. Until a week ago, we were also
having dry weather in August. Since then,
we’ve been having the kind of weather I normally expect in June. I guess the more things change, the more they
stay the same.
On Friday, I went to the
pre-race dinner, which was at Snelling Lake, near where the race starts and finishes. Before leaving, I made a point of inspecting the
trail. It was in good condition a week
ago, but I didn’t know if it would be muddy after all the recent rain. The trail was wet, but it didn’t seem to be
muddy. My biggest concern was puddles in
low spots along the paved trail. Unlike
the dirt trail, these didn’t seem to drain well.
There was an area where we
could set up tents. I shared a campsite
with my brother-in-law, John, who was doing the 24-hour walk. I had hoped we wouldn’t need a tent this
year, but the forecast included a strong chance of a thunderstorm in the evening. The race started at 8:00 AM, but John and I
both arrived a couple hours before the race, so we could set up a tent to keep
our gear dry.
When we were setting up, it was
only about 70 degrees, but the humidity was high. Just carrying the tent and my other gear from
the car had me sweating from head to toe.
That’s not how you want to feel before you even start racing.
After setting up our campsite,
John and I each checked in for the race, which included weighing in. During the race, we would need to weigh in
every four hours.
The primary method of lap
counting was chip timing using a chip we wore on an ankle strap. Manual lap counting by volunteers was the
back-up method. If I lost track of how many
laps I walked, the quickest way to find out was to ask the lap counters.
With the emergence of the
COVID-19 delta variant, health officials are now advising people to wear masks,
even for outdoor gatherings. This was
reflected in the COVID-19 protocols for the race. The volunteers all wore masks. Runners and walkers were expected to wear
face coverings while interacting with people at the aid stations, but we could
take them off when we were going around the course. While we were setting up, I wore a surgical
mask. I took off my mask after the race
started, but I wore a buff around my neck, so I could easily cover my face each
time I had stop in the start/finish area and interact with one of the volunteers.
It’s often hard to set goals for
longer races, because you just don’t know what pace you can sustain for that
many miles. I usually set multiple
goals. For this race, I had three goals.
My first goal was to walk 50
miles. To do that, I needed to walk at
an average pace of 14:24 per mile.
Nearly all of my training has been at a faster pace than that. In the last month and a half, I’ve walked
seven marathons at paces ranging from 12:03 to 13:04. I knew I could do that pace comfortably for
the first six hours. I didn’t know how
much I might need to slow down to sustain my pace for 12 hours, but I was
pretty confident I could easily get to 50 miles.
My next goal was to be the
first-place walker. I don’t think anyone
has ever walked 50 miles without taking first.
Typically, the best walkers are doing the 24-hour race.
My stretch goal was to set a new
course record. The course record for the
12-hour walk was 55.7 miles. To walk
that far, I would need an average pace of 12:56 per mile. This seemed plausible, but ambitious. I didn’t know if it was a realistic goal, but
I decided to start the race at that pace and re-evaluate after a few hours.
The 6-hour, 12-hour, and 24-hour
races all started together. Before doing
our first full lap around the lake, we did a 1.78 mile out-and-back. The purpose of the out-and-back was to make
the 100-mile mark align with the end of a lap. 100 miles is a common goal for people doing
the 24-hour race.
I wore a GPS watch, because it
was the easiest way to know how fast I was walking. I’ve used this watch for several marathons,
but I’ve never used it for anything as long as 12 hours. The advertised battery life is 11 hours. For that reason, I also wore a regular stopwatch
as a back-up for when the battery died on my GPS watch.
Early in the race, I wanted to
keep my pace between 12:30 and 13:00 per mile.
Ideally, my pace should be closer to 13 minutes, but I knew I would
occasionally lose a minute or two for a bathroom stop or for one of the mandatory
weigh-ins. Having a few miles as fast as
12:30 would help compensate for these stops.
If I had a mile that was faster than 12:30, I’d throttle back my effort
in the next mile. If I had one that was slower
than 13 minutes, I’d speed up a little in the next mile.
That was the plan, but it didn’t
work out that way. I walked my first
mile in 11:55. I knew that was too fast,
so I told myself to ease up a little. My
second mile was even faster. It was
11:42.
After that, I began to settle
down. My third mile was still fast, but
it wasn’t nearly as fast as the first two.
It wasn’t until my fourth mile that my pace was within my target range.
For the next several miles, I
averaged about 12:30. Most of those
miles were within my target range, but a few were too fast. None were too slow.
There were two aid stations
along the course. Aid station 1 was in
the start/finish area. Aid station 2 was
at the opposite end of the lake, in a spot that was easily accessible by road. Both aid stations had water and Gatorade. They also had various snack foods.
In marathons, I don’t typically
eat much solid food. I can get enough
calories from sports drinks. In a
12-hour race, it’s more important to replace the calories you’re burning, so
you don’t bonk. In addition to drinking
a small cup of Gatorade at each aid station, I sometimes ate cookies or other
snacks that digest easily. I rarely stopped
for more than a few seconds. When I ate
solid food, I ate it while walking. That
slowed me down a little, so I tried to eat quickly.
After a few laps, they stopped
setting out cups of Gatorade at aid station 1.
The Gatorade was attracting bees.
I could grab a cup and fill it manually, but that took time. Instead, I drank a cup of water and ate some cookies
or an energy bar. At aid station 2, they
were still setting out cups filled with Gatorade, so I always drank Gatorade
there.
After about 10 miles, I started
to notice a blister on my right heel. I
used to get painful blisters on my heels whenever I race-walked. I eventually learned I was overstriding. I developed these blisters, because I was
making contact with the back of my heel.
This year, I’ve made a
conscious effort to improve my stride.
Instead of reaching for a longer stride, I try to speed up by increasing
my cadence. I still have room for
improvement, but I haven’t been getting heel blisters … until now.
That blister told me I was
overstriding. I tried to be careful not
to plant my feet too far in front of me, but the blister gradually got
worse. I just had to do my best to tune
out the pain.
At this point in the race, my
sights were set on walking 56 miles. To
do that, I needed to walk 14 miles every three hours. When I finished my 14th mile, I checked my
watch. I not only got there in three
hours, but I was more than six minutes ahead of schedule. I anticipated making a few bathroom stops,
and I would also need to stop for weigh-ins.
Having six minutes in the bank meant I could afford the downtime from
those stops.
I told myself before the race
that I would start on pace for 56 miles, but evaluate how it felt after three
hours. At this point, the pace felt manageable. I had the sense that I was working a little
harder than I should, but I also realized I was going faster than I needed to. My average pace was 20 to 30 seconds faster
than what I needed to get to 56 miles.
If I slowed down by 20 to 30 seconds, the pace should be
sustainable. Unfortunately, I didn’t do
that. I kept going at the same pace as
before.
By now it was getting
hotter. It was a sunny morning, and the
sun was getting higher in the sky. Most
of the course is shady, but there were places where I could feel the heat of
the sun.
After seven full laps, it was
about 20 minutes before noon. We were
due for our first weigh-in at noon. I
didn’t want to wait until everyone was weighing in, because I might have to
wait in line. They only have one scale. As I went by the medical tent, I asked if it
was too early to weigh in. The medical
volunteer didn’t have her log sheets out yet, so she told me to wait until my
next lap.
When I finished my 19th mile,
it was still about four minutes before noon.
If I could do 19 miles every four hours, I’d finish 57 miles. I once again asked myself if the pace felt
manageable. I felt about the same as I
did an hour earlier. I once again reasoned
that I was probably working too hard, but if I slowed down by 20-30 seconds per
mile, I’d still be on pace, and the pace would probably be sustainable. Once again, I found it difficult to slow down.
I think I could’ve done a
better job of managing my pace if the entire course was paved. I found myself working a little harder to
make sure I wouldn’t slow down too much on the trail side of the course. More often than not, I overcompensated. I also felt like I slowed way down while
drinking at aid station 2. Then I would
speed up to compensate, as I turned onto the road.
Usually when people go too
fast, it’s motivated by greed. In my
case, it’s usually motivated by fear.
When I speed up, it’s because I’m afraid of slowing down.
As I neared the end of that
lap, I saw about five people standing near the medical tent. I was worried that I’d have to wait in a long
line to get weighed. As it turns out,
three of the people I saw were volunteers who just happened to be standing near
the medical tent. There were currently
only two runners in line to weigh in. By
the time I got there, there was only one runner ahead of me. It only took me 30 seconds to weigh in.
My weight was one pound lower
than it was before the race. That was
reasonable. The next four hours,
however, were going to be hotter, as the temperature climbed into the 80s. If I didn’t increase my fluid intake, I’d
probably lose a few more pounds.
I started drinking two cups of
Gatorade at aid station 2. At aid
station 1, I continued to drink a cup of water and eat a snack. I was trying to balance my need to take in
more fluids with my need to take in enough calories.
After my first weigh-in, I
pushed the pace in the next mile. I
walked that mile in 12:57. That was my
slowest mile so far, but only because I lost 30 seconds at the medical
tent. If not for that 30 second delay, I
would’ve walked that mile in 12:27. Once
again, I went too fast out of fear of slowing down.
For more than an hour, I had
been anticipating the need for a bathroom stop.
I waited until after my first weigh in.
I didn’t want to lose time in two consecutive miles, so I waited one
more lap before finally stopping. My
bathroom stop took almost a minute. This
time I didn’t try to make up the lost time.
I walked that mile in 13:48. I
was a bit distressed when I realized that even without the bathroom stop, that
mile would’ve been one of my slowest. I
didn’t feel like I slowed down.
In my next mile, I got back on
pace. Actually, I was well under my
target pace. I walked that one in 12:23. Are you noticing a trend? I kept speeding up, mostly because I was
afraid of slowing down.
Eventually, aid station 2 also
started having problems with bees. They stopped
setting out cups of Gatorade, so I changed my routine. I grabbed a cup of water, quickly drank it,
and filled it with Gatorade from the dispenser.
I worried that I wasn’t taking in as many calories, so sometimes I also
ate about a dozen jelly beans.
By now, I noticed a blister on
left heel. That wasn’t surprising. Whatever problems I had with my stride, it
was bound to effect both of my feet eventually.
On one of my laps, I noticed they
had small cups of pickle juice at aid station 1. I was sweating profusely, but I wasn’t doing
anything to replace the electrolytes.
For the next several laps, I drank a small cup of pickle juice and followed
it with a cup of water.
All around the course, there
were signs for common mileage goals, such as marathon, 50K, 50 miles, and 100
miles. The signs indicated how many laps
you needed to complete. In my 11th lap
(at 10.7 laps to be precise), I reached the marathon mark. I got there in 5:27:55. I’ve walked seven marathons in the last two
months. Only two of them were faster
than that.
That should’ve been a warning
sign that I was going too fast. Up until
now, the pace wasn’t difficult, but I knew it would get much more difficult in
the second half. I was almost half done,
and I felt like I could fight for it, if necessary, in the second half.
My 27th mile took 13:23. Excluding the mile with the bathroom stop,
this was the first time I took more than 13 minutes for any mile. I should’ve seen the handwriting on the wall,
but I fought hard to pick up my pace. I
was able to do it. I walked the next
mile in 12:34. It took much more effort,
however. I should’ve realized this
effort wasn’t going to be sustainable, especially now that it was getting so
much hotter. If there’s a point in the
race where I should’ve abandoned my goal of setting a course record, this was
it. At this point, I could’ve backed off
and paced myself to get to 50 miles. I
didn’t.
At the end of six hours, I had
completed 28.7 miles. To equal the course
record, I needed to walk 27 miles in the second half. I wanted to recompute what pace I needed the
rest of the way. At first, I was too
mentally fatigued. Then I realized that
it was an easy calculation. I needed to
average 13:20 per mile over the next six hours.
I started getting cloudy. It was still hot and humid, but it was a relief
to no longer feel the sun. It also
started getting windier. The wind helped
me cope with the heat, but it made life difficult for the volunteers. Cups started blowing off the tables at the
aid stations. Then trash bins started
blowing over. One particularly strong
gust of wind toppled one of the canopies.
During my 13th lap, I passed
the sign for 50K. I thought it was odd
that I didn’t remember getting my split for 31 miles. 50K is about 31.1 miles. I looked at my watch, and it was still at
30.99 miles.
It’s not unusual for a GPS
watch to be off, but it’s more common for them to overmeasure. I’ve seen a GPS watch undermeasure before,
but it’s usually in a wooded area on a trail with lots of turns. If the watch isn’t in constant communication
with the satellites, it can “miss” a turn and assume your route was straighter than
it was. Earlier in the race, I had a split
that seemed surprisingly slow. This was
my first clue that I didn’t really slow down in that mile. It just seemed like I slowed down, because my
watch didn’t measure the distance accurately.
On one of my laps, some people
supporting another participant offered me a freezer pop. I appreciated the offer, but I had just
finished a cup of water and some cookies, so I declined.
Bruce Leasure is the
race-walking judge. He continually walks
the course in the opposite direction, so he can observe the form of all the
walkers. He’s mainly concerned with
walkers who are attempting to earn a centurion badge, but he pays attention to
anyone who’s walking. Late in the race,
Bruce commented that I was leaning to my right.
I’ve seen other runners or walkers do that, but I don’t think I’ve ever
had this problem before. I didn’t know
why I had this problem, but it was a cause for concern.
As I continued to get fatigued,
I absent-mindedly walked right past aid station 1 without stopping to
drink. Then I remembered the people with
the freezer pops. I asked if I could
have one. They cut one open for me, and
that went a long way toward making up for not drinking anything at the aid
station.
I finished my 17th lap just
after 3:30. We were due for our next
weigh-in at 4:00. I asked if I could weigh
in early, but I was told to wait until my next lap. I had two reasons for wanting to weigh in
early. First, it was the best way to
avoid a line. Also, I wanted to know if
I was getting dehydrated, and the weigh-ins were my only source of hard data.
During my next lap, I heard
thunder. Knowing that a severe
thunderstorm was in the forecast, I pondered whether rain would be good news or
bad news. It would help cool me down,
but it would also cause problems. I didn’t
feel any drops, and I only heard the thunder once.
I finished my 38th mile before
4:00. That meant I was still on pace to
finish 57 miles. I would be happy to get
to 56, but I was getting skeptical about maintaining my pace for that many more
miles. It would’ve been tempting to tell
myself I just needed 12 miles to get to 50.
It also would’ve been smart, but that would’ve meant giving up on a
course record. I wasn’t ready to do
that, even though I was starting to struggle.
After that lap, I weighed in. My weight was the same as it was four hours
earlier. That was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know if I was taking in enough
calories, but I appeared to be taking in enough fluid.
Weighing in took about 30
seconds, but I didn’t try to make up the lost time. That mile was slow, but I was still on pace
for the course record. It’s possible I
would need another bathroom stop, but it’s also possible I wouldn’t have any
more downtime.
I heard thunder again. A short time later, I felt a few drops. Nothing more came of it.
For 39 miles, I not only stayed
on pace for the course record, but I was often going faster than
necessary. In my 40th mile, I felt like
I was slowing down. I wondered if I
would have to finally abandon that goal and lower my sights to just getting to
50. My split for that mile was
13:28. At this point, that was probably
still fast enough. After doing several
miles that were too fast, I probably only needed to average 13:30 the rest of
the way.
I expected that mile to be
slower. I felt like I was slowing
down. Seeing that I was still on pace, I
did my best to keep it up. I didn’t
really believe I could sustain that pace, but I tried. Within a few minutes, I felt like I was
slowing down dramatically. I wasn’t sure
how much I slowed down. My pace might
have been as slow as 15 or 16.
For the first time in the race,
I knew I wouldn’t get the course record.
I only needed 10 more miles to get to 50, and I still had three and a
half hours. Even at a casual three miles
per hour pace, I would have plenty of time.
I still tried to do the best pace I could manage, but my goal was now 50
miles.
At this point, I was almost
done with a lap. I turned into the
parking lot. In the distance, I could
see the start/finish line and the lap counting tent. Then I came apart at the seams. It was suddenly difficult to keep walking at
any pace. By the time I made it up the
hill, I was staggering. I knew I couldn’t
do 10 more miles. Just getting to the
end of this lap got increasingly difficult.
When I finally got there, I
told my lap counter I was done. He told
me I finished with 40.61 miles.
Interestingly enough, my watch recorded only 40.54. Another volunteer, asked me to turn in my
timing chip. If he didn’t say something,
I probably would not have remembered.
After the race, I downloaded
the data from my watch, and Garmin Connect drew this map of my route. In one of my laps, it shows my route cutting
right across the lake. I assure you, I
never left the course and went for a swim.
Most likely, my watch wasn’t getting a signal for several minutes, and
it assumed my route was a straight line.
This probably happened before 50K.
My best guess is that it was my 23rd mile. My time for that mile was surprisingly slow, and it was
around that corner of the lake.
I staggered back to my tent. I stopped briefly at the aid station to eat
some food. It wasn’t far to my tent, but
I didn’t know if I could make it without taking a rest break. I looked for place to sit down, but I didn’t
see one.
When I got to my tent, I sat
down for a few minutes. I was careful
not to sit for too long, because I knew I would get stiff.
When I could, I walked back to
my car and drove home. It rained lightly
while I was driving home, but it wasn’t the thunderstorm I expected. That came later in the evening.
It wasn’t until after I got
home that I realized I had broken one of my rules. No matter how bad you feel, you never quit
when you’re winning a race. I was so
focused on mileage goals, that I forgot that one of my goals was to win the
12-hour walk. When I stopped, I had a
huge lead. Walkers still on the course
were still adding to their totals. It
seemed unlikely that 40.61 miles would be enough to win the race. I wouldn’t find out until the next morning.
I ate a light dinner, took a
bath, and stretched. My legs were stiff
and sore. I went to bed early, in hope
of getting a few hours of sleep and then going back to the park to support John.
I was sleepy, but I couldn’t
get to sleep. About once an hour, I had
to get up to pee. I made four trips to
the bathroom. Where was all this liquid
coming from? I was still awake at
midnight. Then I started hearing
thunder. I eventually fell asleep and
slept for about two hours.
When I woke up, I weighed
myself. I was down four pounds compared
to my weight the previous morning. During
the race, I appeared to be maintaining my weight, but that was an illusion. I probably had food and fluids in my stomach
that weren’t getting absorbed. My
tissues were getting dehydrated. After
the race, I peed out most of those fluids.
I took a quick bath, ate a
light breakfast, and got ready to go back to the lake. My race was done, but the 24-hour race was
still going on. I got there around
3:30. John looked OK, but he was no
longer on pace to reach his mileage goal.
I learned that the race had to be suspended twice during the night because
of thunderstorms. When that happens,
nobody is allowed to start another lap.
Everyone takes shelter until it’s safe to resume running. The clock keeps running, and the race still
finishes at the same time. The 12-hour
race wasn’t affected by either delay, but people doing the 24-hour race lost about
four hours.
I did what I could to support
John for the next few hours. Then, at
6:30, I started my volunteer shift as a lap counter for the short laps.
After the race, we packed up as
quickly as we could, and then we attended the post-race breakfast and awards
presentation. Because I stopped walking
when I did, another walker eventually passed me to win the walking division of
the 12-hour race. I took second place.
John wasn’t expecting to be
competitive in the 24-hour walk, but he kept moving long after several other
walkers quit. As a result, John won the
walking division in the 24-hour race.
I’m still trying to figure out
what went wrong with my race. Some
things are obvious. Some things aren’t. Let’s start with the obvious. I pursued a goal that was too ambitious, even
when it should’ve been obvious that the pace was no longer sustainable. I kept up that pace until it broke me, and as
a result, I was no longer able to continue.
That caused me to fail to reach two other goals that should’ve been
attainable.
Now for the stuff that isn’t as
obvious. I’m puzzled as to why I collapsed
so quickly and so completely. I’ve had plenty
of races where I started too fast and crashed.
In every case, I deteriorated gradually.
This is the first time I’ve gone straight from “still on pace” to “unable
to move at any pace.”
Heat and/or dehydration was
probably a contributing factor, but I didn’t experience any of the usual
symptoms. I didn’t have any shortness of
breath or disorientation. I didn’t have
any muscle cramps. Certainly, the heat
must’ve made me tire faster, but it didn’t seem like I had any symptoms
consistent with such a sudden collapse.
Even when I’ve had symptoms of heat stress, I was still able to move at
a slower pace.
I also don’t know why I started
leaning to my right. Bruce wasn’t the
only person to notice that. A few other
people commented after the race. Apparently,
it started after about six hours and gradually got worse. I was never aware of it before Bruce said
something. Even then, I couldn’t tell. I need to do some research to find out what
causes this symptom.
Excellent report. Thank you.
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