Slipping, sliding and slogging through American River 50

So, let's start at the beginning:

Friday: It's still raining when I wake up, trying to catch up on some much needed sleep after 15 hours of driving through 1 province and three states, apparently California has experienced 3 continuous weeks of rain, and it briefly lightens up when I go to pick up my race package six hours later. When asked if I had trained enough, I replied, "If I can endure a 15 hour drive from Vancouver to Sacramento, I think I can handle 13 hours on a trail." (Famous last words, I know.) At the pre-race dinner, had a trail briefing from RD Greg Soderlund who warned that AR50 was going to be similar to that of Way to Cool 50k. For the 4 of us in the room that didn't do Cool, what did that mean? Well the Cool 50k had a lot of mud which hampered many a runner. Greg advised us that the first half of the course was on a bike path and for the most part was unobstructed from physical debris. But much like the Vancouver seawall in Stanley Park, the path was not shielded from the wind, but I wasn't worried as I had devoted a majority of my training to running similar routes with extreme weather conditions. From Beals Point (mile 27) the course switched to a gravel/fire road for 2 miles then became single-track trail or more accurately one gigantic mudslide. You basically had two choices, you could go into the mud and get dirty or bushwack through poison oak trying to find a drier path. The dinner wrapped up with guest speaker Dean Karnazes and his David Letterman spot. To be quite honest, having previously had the pleasure of listening to Jesper Olsen talk about his World run of 26,000 Km, listening to somebody talk about running 300 miles nonstop just isn't the same thing. Although it was somewhat funny to note that after running AR50, Dean had to go to Barnes/Noble in Roseville for his book signing. (I'm not sure if he actually ran from the finish line to Roseville, but what a great entrance!)  Finally there was a raffle for draw prizes and unfortunately my streak of winning ended here, maybe I only win at BC events, hmmmmm.
Got back to the hotel and readied my drop bags, laid out my clothes, set dual alarms and took some cough medicine as a cold bug I thought I had gotten rid of was coming back at the worst possible time-eight hours before race day.
 
Saturday: 4:00Am, first alarm goes off. 4:30am 2nd alarm goes off. I'm finally out of bed and take my pre-race meal PB and raisin bread, drink a bottle of GU20 and click on the TV to relax before heading out. 5:30am: Okay, was just a little too relaxed as I drifted off again and was now rushing to make the start line. Went right when I should've went left and got lost. It's now 5:54am and somehow made it to the start with only a minimal amount of cussing. Dropped my bags off and made one last trip to the porta potty, all that desperation and anxiety sure has its advantages. 5:58am, had a volunteer take my picture at Guy West Bridge, a scale model of the Golden Gate Bridge. 5:59am, lined up in the back of the pack as per my race plan, thought of everything I had gone through to get to this point, took a deep breath and...

Race!

Starting out slow was the key, in previous races I've let my emotions or good vibes from the crowd or other competitors get the better of me and instead of running my race I ended up running someone else's. Or I tried a new hydration pack on race day or used something which I had not done previously. So here were my race goals: To finish (It's my first 50 miler), to finish within the 13 hour cut-off (I'd like to offically finish), to finish under 12 hours, and best case scenario to finish under 11 hours which coincidentally would qualify me for Western States 100 under the new guidelines.

In training for AR50, I perused many sites for tips on pacing a 50 miler, should I run 5 minutes and walk a minute, 10 and 1's, and I finally settled on running 1 mile and walking to 12 minutes. So it worked like this: It would take me 10:30 to run a mile (easy), I would spend the next 90 seconds walking to hit twelve minutes. The theory being is the walking break would lead into the next mile, thus I'd run faster miles but have longer recovery breaks. This way, I could guarantee I'd run at least 5 miles per hour at least on the road portion of the 50 miler which was about 27 miles. The other thing that would guarantee that I would be going slow was my hydration system, just like in training on race day I was wearing a 3L camelback filled with rasberry GU20 and CarboPro mix. Also, I had a waistpack with one bottle filled with Carbboom gel.

As this was chip-timed I settled near the back of the pack and was almost the last person to cross the start line. (The last person to cross actually arrived 10 minutes late) I have to be honest, IT WAS REALLY HARD to stick with my 1 mile and 12's especially in the early going. The weather was slightly overcast, maybe a few blue patches here and there, perhaps I shouldn't have worn that windbreaker, gloves and hat after all. I was coughing and hacking up something awful, I just wanted to GO. I wasn't making up any time or ground on anybody, but I perservered, stuck with it, racing smart was the key.

5 mile mark: 57:27, my heart rate is 148 avg. I pass a few people, they pass me right back. There's banter and joking, conversations about everything and nothing. With my enforced walk breaks (I stop when I hit 1 mile on my Speed/distance monitor), it's hard for someone to follow my pace as they still have 4 minutes to go before their next walk break. I soak in the scenery, it's still overcast, but clouds are rolling in.

10 miles: 1:54:21, heart rate is still 148 avg. Every now and then I sip from my camelback as it slowly gets lighter. I don't use the aid stations at all as lessons learned from CFA has forced me to become self sufficent. My pace is still the same, still walking when my watch beeps on the mile counter.

15 miles: 2:50:51, HR 152 avg. I'm working harder now to maintain the same pace. You might've noticed that if my plan is to run 5 miles per hour, then technically I should be at the 3 hour mark for 15 miles, but I'm now 9 minutes ahead of schedule. Have I abandonded my plan? Not quite, as I said before my walk breaks lead into my next mile, it's just that by the time I hit the 5th mile, I'll have accumulated enough walking time for an additional 0.20 miles. I reset the clock every hour so I still get my 1 and 12's but I don't get a ridiculous walk break of 10 minutes.

19 miles (Nimbus Dam Overlook): 3:39:41, HR 159 avg. It's raining now and has been for the past hour, that windbreaker and hat doesn't seem to be a bad idea after all. I've passed over eighty runners at this point, they probably shouldn't have gone out as fast as they did. I'm still feeling good, had a brief adductor scare on my left leg that tightened but some e-tabs took care of it pretty quick. I've asked the volunteer to fill up my camelback with Gu20. (rasberry, which was the only flavour they had, good thing I trained with it) Manage to choke half a powerbar down. I encountered a little bit of mud as we briefly ran on half a mile of single track and I'm seeing the mindset of some of the runners-they're a little apprehensive, the trail has slightly deteriorated due to all the accumulated rain and they're not sure of what's to come. The next 5 miles was easier as we hit some single track and got our first introduction to the mud puddles. I'm sorry, I meant mud swamps.

25 miles: 4:50:28, HR 161 avg. I'm not gaining any additional miles, but I'm still 9 minutes ahead of my estimated time. So everything's going good,  I'm finally over my cough, so I can now concentrate on running this race.

26.2 miles: Joked with a fellow runner at the marathon point that we have to finish, to turn back now would mean running MORE than 50 miles.

27 miles: Beals point drop bag. 5:26:34. I lost 10 minutes here, but it was time well spent. I dumped my camelback in exchange for a single handheld, but kept the waistpack. Changed socks and shoes (montrails) with an ankle brace...just in case. Slathered on some tecnu on any exposed body part, relubed with bodyglide, switched to blue CFA shirt and consumed two ensures and two V8s (calories and salt).

28-31 miles: Nice flat gravel path with some rolling hills, but I think sitting down for 10 minutes might come back to haunt me as I can feel my legs start to tighten up. The 28th mile is no problem, it's actually my fastest mile of the day. But miles 29-31 are a struggle as both quads seize up. I don't panic, but take 2 e-tabs, some tums (calcium) and advil. After 3 minutes the soreness remained, but my quads loosened up and I was able to run, sort of.  

31.5 miles (Granite Bay aid station): 6:17:02 I've just PR'd a 50K and I still have 18.5 miles left to go.  They're serving chicken soup and I spend a few precious minutes downing 3 cups of the salty liquid, (coulda used a little garlic) and 2 cups of ice cold pepsi. I don't take solid food (which was a mistake) but the body craved liquids.
I asked the volunteer how far was the next aid station, Buzzard's Cove/3 miles, thanked her and hustled up then down into the mudfest that would be my constant companion for the next 16 miles.

As I mentioned before, I had used the race strategy of 1 and 12's for the bike trail portion, but for the trail part, I would walk the uphills and run as much of the flats and downs as possible. This was aided in part by all the mud and bogs and swamps.

Now I'm trying to put this section in perspective and the only thing I could think of that even came close to matching trail conditions was the Cypress race in the BC Five Peaks Series last year. In AR50 we had black mud, yellow mud, red mud, brown mud with very narrow single track between rocks and trees. At one point I think that the volunteers just poured about 10,000 cups of Jello butterscotch pudding on the trail just for fun. Actually the mud was helpful in that it covered practically any other trail obstacles on the course, no exposed roots, rocks, loose scree hampered my performance during this part. I embraced the conditions, in fact on my very first puddle I jumped in feet first to get over the fear of getting dirty. I just probably should've have warned the four runners on the left of my intentions, whoops. That's how I handled the trail, run in the center of the puddle, swamp, mud and just go for it, I knew that 10, 20 steps later there'd be a stream of cool running water that I could wash the mud off my shoes. Too often I'd see other runners ahead of me stuck on the edge of the puddle, like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming big rig, trying to find another way of avoiding the puddle/swamp/mudpit, but that would be risking contact with poison oak, so there they were trying to figure which was the lesser of two evils. Meanwhile that big rig barreling towards them...well, that was me. I experienced a sense of inner peace normally found after a double session of Bikram yoga or three pale ales and I was able to move in a relentless forward motion. Most of the other runners graciously moved to the other side letting me pass, some just took one look at the mud splattered demon behind them and fainted. Just kidding, mostly. It was a lot of uphill climbing followed by rapid descents and quick, flat, slippery sections. It was difficult to get into any kind of rhythym, for every 2 minutes of running, there would be a 6-8 minute stretch of slogging through mud, or wading through puddles or trying to avoid faceplants. Speaking of which...
Wipeouts, I did see a few on the course but I didn't bring up the free beer, because we were close to wine country and I wouldn't mind having a free glass of merlot...unfortunately she failed to see the humor, not to mention the tree branch, in the situation.

39.9 miles (Rattlesnake Bar Aid Station): 8:20:00 This is the last aid station with drop bags and a second enforced cut off: 3:45pm. Having got there at 2:20pm was a major boost to my confidence, I knew right there I was going to finish, I had 4 hours and 40 minutes to run 10 miles. Changed into my black CFA shirt and ate some food (chips), pepsi and some V8, then took off. This is where I screwed up, because I had forgotten my stash of extra salt and advil pills in my drop bag and only remembered it two miles later. Oops. This only gives me 4 salt pills for 8 miles, from here on in I was relying solely on the aid stations and lots and lots of pepsi.

43.2 miles (Manhattan Bar): 9:15:26, this is the 4th bar I've come across and I've yet to find any beer. Well, there was beer for the volunteers, but there was just pepsi and some of the coldest watermelon slices I've ever had. The sun is out in full force now, and it's starting to harden the mud, so I'm actively seeking puddles and streams to the amusement and consternation of the other competitors. As the realization of running about 44 miles comes into play, it becomes less of a physical challenge and more of a mental one as runners are looking for anything to distract them from the enormity of the task.
And that's where the Club Fat Ass shirt comes into play...here are some of the more colorful comments I heard as I passed people during the day:
"Hey Fat ass, wait up!" "You see the back of his shirt, are you gonna let him beat you? Yes, yes I am." "You don't look like the type who'd have a fat ass." (In training for the 50 miler, I've lost 15 pounds so I'm now 170 lbs) "Oh look, it's the guy from Canada, he's used to running in this!" To which I replied, "But I've been training in snow and ice for 3 months, this is totally out of my element!"

At 46 miles (9:57:26) I just emerged after cannonballing through a huge ice cold stream when I got a rush of a different sort..WHOA NELLY!
(In the course description, there came a warning that we may encounter horses and rattlesnakes on the trail, we should yield to both) Thankfully there were no snakes but there were three horses complete with riders, it was hard to say which was the more surprised party, but after enduring 20 miles of pavement and 25 miles of mud, this was by far one of the more surreal parts of the race.

47 miles (10:14:58) there is one final aid station that is 1 km away (Last Gasp), the only minor problem was that the last 3 miles of the course were uphill. Talked to a guy with a GPS and he said we were about 3/4 of a mile away as we power walked up the hill, at this point neither of us was running much. Turns out his GPS was off by a 1/4 of a mile as we hit Last Gasp much quicker than anticpated. Had a handful of potato chips and started up the paved road, caught a few more former runners who were now walkers, I tried to lead a charge up the hill but no one wanted to come with me given the fact that the hill was still two miles long.

Around 48.5 miles I slowly crept up behind another runner and his pacer. Actually this was the only pacer I saw at all during this event. I was intrigued by the intricate body work that was done on the back of this girl's legs, a column of stars that started from her calves running up past her hamstrings and damn it, if that didnt make me want to start running again! She turned back to see who was literally breathing down her, ahem, neck and I instantly knew who she was, Catra Corbett, the girl who was featured in Trailrunning Magazine a couple of years ago. Unfortunately I blurted out, "Tacklebox" (due to all the facial piercings) but she kindly corrected me and introduced herself as Catra. She was super friendly and asked about how I was doing, said it was my first 50 miler and things are going as well as can be expected and suddenly, there it was, the 1 mile to go marker.

49 miles (10:27:44) I stopped at this point, handed my disposable camera (oh did I forget to mention that I've been taking pictures during the race?) to Catra and got a nice shot of me posing with one mile to go. I now have over 30 minutes to run 1 mile, I have fufilled 3 of 4 of my goals and now have a shot at qualifying for Western States, if I could just do one little thing...like cross the finish line.

My coach once told me that during a marathon, from mile 1 to 25, you think about a person in your life and on the last mile, it's all about you. Well, I can say that I don't know 49 people so some of you got thought about twice. I started to jog slowly, emptying all my waterbottles, dropping any excess weight, I could feel my quads and hamstrings start cramping but I don't care anymore, there's no one left to catch. Catra and her runner have long since finished. I'm not crying yet, I'm laughing as I'm encouraged by the race marshal to make a sprint for the finish. As I make my way closer, I can hear the announcer going, "All right, number 279 Lee Baldwin (oh, no, not again) or Baldwin Lee or whoever he is, he's from Burnaby!" Sigh.

Crossing the finish line at 10:43:47 felt great, then I got my finisher's jacket with red and silver embroidery of American River 50-mile Endurance Run 2006, that felt even better. Took off my chip and was greeted by Catra who congratulated me on my finish. She asked me what was I going to do next and I said, "I have to find a ride back to my car which is back at the start line 50 miles away." The race did offer to have a bus drive runners back to their cars but it left at a certain time and I didn't want to put any additional pressure on myself to not only make the cutoff but to get there before the bus left. As it turned out I was way ahead of schedule. She offered to give me a ride back as she was going to drop off her runner anyways on one condition: I had to get cleaned up first. No problem there. I retrieved my drop bags as well as my finish bag with clean clothes and more Tecnu. Afterwards, I lounged around with the other ultras cheering on the finishers including Gloria Takagishi who's completed every AR50 since its inception, so this would make it her 27th finish! The overall winner of the AR50 was Uli Steidl with a time of 5:58:19. I saw the other Canadian finishers (how much of a coincidence was it that not only were we all from BC, but we were from the Tri-City Area? Jayne Toyner from Port Moody and William Leitch from Coquitlam) and once again the announcer didn't know that BC was a province or that there was a BC.

After Catra dropped me off at my car, I made the little trip to my hotel and staggered up the stairs before collapsing in a heap on the bed. I huddled in the fetal position for a while laughing, crying, and reflecting on the day's events, thoroughly exhausted. I didn't even have the energy to crack open a beer. I was still riding the adrenaline wave though and went for an 8 mile trail run on Sunday in nearby Petaluma. But that's another story...