This is a Throwback Thursday post. I didn’t start writing race reports until 2010, and I didn’t start this blog until 2014. This week, I decided to write up my recollections of a race I ran almost 19 years ago. It was one of the best race performances of my life. It was also one of the most surprising.
On March 10, 2007, I ran
the Carl Touchstone Memorial Mississippi Trail 50. This race was held on horse trails in DeSoto
National Forest. The closest city with
hotels was Laurel, MS.
Deb and I flew to
Gulfport and drove from there to Laurel.
Deb had a sinus infection, and her congestion made her ears painful on
the flights. We had to stop at a
pharmacy to get her a stronger decongestant.
Packet pickup was in
Laurel, where there was also a pre-race dinner and briefing. The race was named in memory of Carl
Touchstone, who was a well-known local runner and race organizer. At the dinner, I met a runner who had known
Carl.
What I remember most from
the pre-race briefing was the race director telling us that it was turkey
hunting season, and there might be hunters in the forest during the race. We were cautioned not to wear anything red,
as the red wattle of a male turkey is something hunters look for.
It would have been nice
to get that information before we left home.
I brought a fuel belt that had two small red pouches on the front. At this point, it was too late to get something
else. I went to bed that night hoping I
wouldn’t get shot during the race.
The start started in a
campground in the state forest. We had
to get up early to make the drive from Laurel.
I woke up with the beginnings of a cold.
My symptoms were mild. I didn’t
know how it would affect my race. I also
didn’t know how exerting myself for 50 miles would affect my body’s ability to
fight off the cold. I just had to show
up and do my best.
I had low expectations
for this race, and it wasn’t just because of the cold. I had never run an ultra on trails
before. Training through the winter, I
had done all my winter training on a treadmill.
I ran a road marathon a month earlier, but I had not done any training
on trails. I was in pretty good shape
that year, but I was out of my element.
I wanted to get to the
campground well before the race started.
I thought we were going to get there about 30 minutes early. As we were looking for a place to park the
car, Deb said, “I think they’re lining up to start.”
I assumed she must be
mistaken. The race didn’t start for
another 30 minutes, or so I thought. It
turns out I was mistaken about the start time.
When I saw for myself that the race was about to start, I told Deb to
just stop the car and let me out.
Fortunately, I was
already wearing my fuel belt, and I had filled my bottles before leaving the
hotel. I hopped out of the car and ran
over to the starting line. By now, the
race had already started.
We were supposed to check
in before the race, so they would have a full accounting of who was on the
course. I ran up to the RD, who was at
the starting line, and I asked him where I needed to check in. He said, “You’re checked in. Go!”
By now, everyone else had been running for almost two minutes.
The course was a
12.5-mile trail loop. For the 50-mile
race, we had to run four laps. There was
also a 50K race that started with two laps of the same loop and then switched
to a shorter loop with different trail markings.
When I signed up for this
race, I wasn’t confident that I was ready for a 50-mile race. I was working on a long-term goal of running
a marathon or ultra in every state. I
chose this race for Mississippi, because it fit well into my schedule, and we
were able to get a good airfare for our flight to Gulfport. Back then, we wouldn’t fly anywhere if the
airfare was more than about $250.
I could always start the
50-mile race, but switch to the 50K race if it wasn’t going well. I might not have signed up for this race if I
didn’t have the option of dropping down to a shorter distance.
The course started out
running though the campground. I wasn’t
familiar with the course, and the other runners were already too far ahead for
me to see them. As I ran through the
campground, I was asking campers, “Which way did the runners go?” The campers pointed, and I ran than in that
direction until I was onto the trail.
Within another minute or
two, I could see some of the runners. I
was catching up to the back of the pack.
We were on a trail that
was wide enough for horses, but there wasn’t much room to pass other
runners. I wasn’t expecting to be
competitive, but I also didn’t want to be stuck behind everyone, so I worked
hard to get around people and move forward through the pack. It’s only because of my effort to pass people
that I started at a fast pace. Otherwise,
I would’ve paced myself more conservatively, knowing that I had never run 50
miles on trails before.
After at least a mile of
working frantically to pass people, I suddenly broke into the clear. There were still runners ahead of me, but
they were so far ahead that I couldn’t see them.
The first time I reached
an aid station, I asked one of the volunteers how many runners had already gone
by. He said, “five.” I topped off my bottles, ate a donut, and
continued running.
The course didn’t have
any major climbs, but it was still semi-technical. There were stream crossings, roots, and
occasional patches of mud. Thankfully,
it had been a dry winter, so I could hop across most of the streams without
getting my feet wet.
I still couldn’t see any
of the runners ahead of me. I was
expecting to be able to follow other runners.
Instead, I was on my own to look for the trail markings.
At one point, it occurred
to me that I couldn’t see any of the ribbons marking the route. I didn’t know if I had missed a turn. I briefly stopped to look back. I didn’t see anyone coming up behind me. I wondered if I should stop and wait. Not wanting to lose too much time, I
continued running. Soon, I saw a ribbon,
and I knew I was still on course.
The course was mostly a
loop, but there was one short out-and-back-section. When I got there, I saw the lead runner
coming back. As I continued, I saw the
other four runners who were ahead of me.
By the time I reached the turnaround and started coming back, I could no
longer see any of them. They were too
far ahead of me.
I was almost back to the
campground when I finally got close enough to another runner to see him just
ahead of me. I passed him as I ran
through the campground for the second time.
As I ran through the same
section of trail where I was passing people before, I recognized most of the
turns. After another mile or two, I
caught up to another runner, and we had a brief conversation.
Her name was Anne. She was from Wisconsin, and she knew some of
the other runners. She said the next
runner I would catch was Larry, and he was from Chicago. As I went ahead on my own, Anne told me when
I saw Larry, I should tell him Anne says hello.
Gradually catching up to
the runners ahead of me kept me exited.
I never expected to run this race competitively, but I was now in fourth
place, and I got more excited each time I caught up to another runner. Soon, I caught up to Larry. I gave him Anne’s greeting, and then I moved
ahead of him.
Ultramarathons are at
least as much psychological as they are physical. Obviously, longer distances require more
training, but it’s easy to underestimate the importance of things like
confidence and excitement. Each time I
passed another runner, I got more excited, and I gained in confidence. I didn’t stop to ask myself if I could run
this fast for 50 miles. I just got
caught up in the excitement.
I eventually passed one
more runner. Then I reached the
out-and-back section again. I looked for
the last remaining runner who was ahead of me.
I never saw him. He finished this
section before I got there. For the rest
of the race, I wouldn’t see another runner ahead of me. I was running on my own for the rest of the
race.
When I finished that lap,
it was decision time. Should I continue
on the 50-mile course or switch to the 50K course? I didn’t have to think too hard. I felt good, and I was excited about being in
second place, so I started a third lap of the same loop. It would have still been possible to stop
after three laps and get listed as a 50K finisher, but that wasn’t very
palatable. Three laps would be 37.5
miles, which is much farther than 50K. I
committed to running 50 miles.
For someone with no
training on trails, I did remarkably well at maintaining a good pace, while
avoiding roots and navigating stream crossings.
At one point, I did trip on something, but I was able to keep from
falling. I had a rather awkward landing
on my other foot, however. It was so
jarring, that I immediately felt pain in my lower back. My right leg briefly felt numb. I managed to keep running, and within a
minute or two I felt normal again. That
was a huge relief.
We were sharing these
trails with a few people on horseback.
At one point, I passed a few riders.
When they saw me coming, they stopped, so their horses wouldn’t get
spooked. I could see places where the
horses had stirred up mud on some of the softer parts of the trail.
My biggest recollection
from my third lap was getting a sung stuck in my head. It was The Chicken Dance, which is a song you
typically only hear at wedding receptions.
I had that tune in my head for about an hour.
I was trying to catch up
to the lead runner, but he was getting farther ahead of me. Each time I finished a lap, I saw a board showing what time the leader had gone
through. By the time I started my last
lap, I knew I had no hope of catching him.
Instead, I focused on staying ahead of everyone else and running the
best pace I could. I may have slowed a
little in the last lap, but not too much.
I finished the race in
second place, roughly 20 minutes after the winner finished. My official time was 7:24:02, but that was
the time from when the gun went off. By
my watch, I ran the course in 7:22:29.
Either way, it was a 50-mile PR that I’ve never broken. Even on roads, I never came close to matching
that time. I still don’t know how I did
that. I’m normally slower on trails than
on roads, and I’m even slower when I’m carrying the extra weight of water
bottles.
Later in the day, there
was a post-race race dinner back in Laurel.
When I told another runner about The Chicken Dance, he got a good laugh.
My award for second place
was a plexiglass trophy in the shape of Mississippi. It’s one of my favorite awards.
The winner of that race
was a park ranger who worked in the Desoto National Forest, so he was able to
train on the same trails that we were racing on. He outclassed everyone there. I did well to finish second.
After the race, I no
longer had any cold symptoms. My
exertion may have helped me fight off the cold.
That’s the sort of thing that can go either way. In other news, I didn’t get shot by any
hunters.
The next day, Deb and I
drove to Gulfport. Before flying home,
we drove the coastal highway between Gulfport and Biloxi. It was two years after the area was hit by
Hurricane Katrina, and I wanted to see what the area looked like now. I used to visit Biloxi on business trips, so
I was familiar with the area.
I was astonished to see
the damage along the coast. Of the
buildings I recognized, only a few were still standing. One was a shopping mall. It had damage, but it was still intact. Another building I recognized was a shall
shop next to the beach that sold beach ware and souvenirs. I don’t know how that building survived. Larger, sturdier buildings were reduced to
rubble.
Location was
critical. The buildings along the coast
were all destroyed, even though many of them were modern brick buildings. Just a few blocks farther inland, wooden
houses were still standing. Apparently,
the larger buildings along the coast felt the full brunt of the storm. They sheltered the smaller, more fragile
buildings behind them.
I was pleased to see that
the local governments had invested in restoring their white sand beach. Having been to Biloxi before, I knew how important
tourism was to the local economy.
The following year, I was
contacted by the race organizers.
Because I placed second in 2007, they offered me a complimentary entry
in 2008. I had to decline. At the time, we could only afford a few trips
per year. I was prioritizing races that
gave me new states. Other than local
races, I wasn’t repeating any states.
That’s probably just as well.
There’s no way I could every recreate the magic of my second-place
finish in 2007.
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