Ouachita Trail 50k

Ouch! I did not train enough for this race. Could it be that a weekly long run of only 12-13 miles, or the fact that my "trail" runs consist of either running the paved River Trail, or less than 3 miles at a time of smooth crushed gravel, did not prepare me for 31 miles and 3700ft of elevation gain over boulders, roots, and small trees? Surprisingly, I have almost all of my skin still intact, despite -- or maybe because of -- my approximately 8 year old trail shoes. I think these are the ones Damie gave me so long ago. I did notice that the mark of modern day trail shoes is their fluorescent colors. Mine are more of the camouflage variety that were in vogue many years ago.

I appreciated all the congratulatory messages about my finish! But this is my fourth (I think?) 50k, not even one of my best ones. First one at this age, on this little mileage, for sure. It seems at 27 years old I was much more capable of getting by unscathed with little training; after that first 50k, I distinctly remember saying how surprised I was that my legs didn't hurt more. Usually I say the soreness is directly related to the speed at which I ran the marathon, in Ironmans, that is. A 5:45 split = no difficulty with stairs. A 3:30 = backward curb descent.

Let me tell you, "sore" doesn't begin to describe the pain running down my quads after the 50k, even at the (seemingly) snail-like pace I finished. I wonder if I notice it more because my 2-year-old doesn't let me stop running races with him up and down the driveway just because I ran a few extra over the weekend, nor does he stop kicking me in the quads in the middle of the night. It is not unusual of me to have dreams about falling that jolt me awake in the middle of the night. Since the race I've had dreams of tripping over rocks and falling that jolt me awake.

Nancy and Cristina came in town Friday night in plenty of time for us to pick up Jenny and wait for a table at a restaurant for an hour. They scared me by saying they were going to leave the house at 4:50am and I decided it would be easier on all of us if I drove separately in the morning. They left nowhere near that early, and I left soon after, getting there just in time to pick up my packet and pee in the woods (or close -- it was dark). The race started off on the road out near Pinnacle Mountain, and the real excitement happened less than a mile in when a headlight-less car came careening around a corner, trying to hit all 200 of us like bowling pins. Nobody was hurt, surprisingly, but our heart rates all maxed. About three miles up the road we finally entered the trail, and it was just light enough to see the trail as the rockiest section began. At mile four, we headed up Pinnacle.

The ascent and descent are approximately one mile total, which we accomplished in about half an hour. On the way up, I got very familiar with Nancy's shoes, since they were right at my eye level, and she was behind a guy in a kilt, lucky thing. As beautiful as it is on top, we didn't pause long to enjoy, and just started hopping right down again. 

Soon after the mountain we started the trail going around the north side of Lake Maumelle. We really didn't get much of a view of it -- or maybe we did. I tend to stare at the rocks or shoes in front of me to avoid falling on my face. But I DID fall a couple of times. The first was coming into a water stop, and I'm surprised a photographer didn't capture it. I'm sure it was graceful, since it was in slow motion.

Miles and miles later, I just could not keep up with Nancy and her light footed flying down the hills. I was getting more and more nervous, so I had to do the opposite of what good ultra runners do; I had to run slowly downhill and faster up. Anyone who has done an ultra can tell you that the strategy, especially early on, is to take the uphills easy. If I did that I was never going to finish. So we stayed in touch, just not right together after about 20? 22 miles?

Despite my careful downhill foot placement, I kept tripping and then finally did it again at mile 25ish. I had a nice quick bust on another rock, this time cutting my hand a little and scratching up my legs and stomach. Soon after, I rolled my left ankle, stepped on the right foot, rolled the left again, and caught myself laughing. Consecutive ankle rolls!

I wasn't sure how I managed to be so clumsy and prone to falling until I saw the pictures on Arkansas Outside. Apparently I run with my eyes closed, in not one picture, but two. That explains so much.

The last three miles again were on the road, and awfully painful, but luckily mostly downhill. I had texted Jeremy with about 3 miles to go telling him my ETA, and just couldn't work up the coordination to get my phone back into my pocket, so this is how I finished.

I am happily relaxing for a few days (or weeks) until my next race, which is quite the opposite of a trail ultra. But I'm glad to have run the beautiful Ouachita Trail with Nancy! Who knew a 37-year-old could run 30 miles a week in training for a 30 mile race and survive? As Hunter answered that rhetorical question the other day: "Hunter knew."