I can say that now, because I recently completed my first ultra-marathon. Defined as anything over the marathon distance of 26.2 miles, most people consider 50K (or 31 miles) to be the official shortest ultra-marathon. When I decided to run the Bound For Hounds six-hour race, directed by my friend Martha Doody, I set my sights on running at least 50K, and preferably 40 miles, to celebrate turning 40 earlier this year.
I liked the idea of this race because, being timed, each runner can run as little or as much as they want in the time. Plus, it took place on a fairly flat path, unlike many ultras which seem to find the least accessible trail up the steepest slope of the tallest mountain in the area. I like trails, but I also like to see how fast I can go, and hiking or walking in a race, even an ultra, would probably frustrate me. So this seemed like a good opportunity to see how far I could go on an easy course.
I ran one “ultra” in training: a 28 miler with the help of my good friends Chad and Trisha Byler, who collectively joined me for 23 of those miles. It went well, although my left IT band tightened up after that and I ended up having to take some time off the next week. It felt good in the two cross country races preceding BfH, though, so I wasn’t too concerned.
Race day was clear and chilly. Ashlie and I drove down to the start, I found the Rynders/Klemmer clan and a few other friends, and I asked for some last-minute advice. At 9am, Martha started the race, and we were off.
I wanted to be very careful not to start too quickly; I wanted to run around 8-minute miles, so I found a guy that Mr. Rynders had pointed out as a very consistent, indefatigable runner, and latched onto him. A woman, Jessie George, immediately took off at what looked like a 6-flat clip, and we watched her quickly leave us in her proverbial and literal dust. She would end up winning by an incredible amount with 48 miles!
Shortly after, I found myself catching up to a man who had been just ahead of me for the first few miles. We chatted, and it turned out he was a prolific ultra runner from Toronto, so I made a mental note not to pass him, since he knew what he was doing.
I spent the next 20 miles jogging back and forth, slowly learning the faces and gaits of all the other runners. I even stopped once or twice to grab some snacks from the aid station, which was a completely novel and pleasant experience. Who ever heard of just stopping to eat some Oreos and chips during a race? It was fantastic!
Around mile 22, my left knee, the same one that was pissy after my 28-miler, reared its ugly head again. I ran another mile or two before it got too bad, but soon found myself having to stop and stretch and walk every few minutes. Quickly, my prior good mood evaporated. Each step was agonizing, and I was barely halfway through the race! All I could think about was how frustrating it would be to have to walk the next ten miles to hit 50K. My heart sank as I watched all the more experienced ultra runners continue their steady, relentless forward progress.
There was a physical therapist at the aid station, so around 28 miles in I gave in and asked her to work on my leg. She spent about ten minutes scraping and working on my IT band, while I watched my competition log more miles. Again, this was a novel, but very unpleasant experience. I know I’m not the fastest runner, or even the most competitive, but I always want to find out what I am capable of, and laying on that table for those ten minutes was every bit as agonizing as the pain in my knee. I knew my chances of hitting 40 miles were gone, and I just hoped that the therapy I was getting would help me hit 50K pain-free.
I started running again filled with optimism. That lasted for about a quarter of a mile, until the searing pain in my knee came back with a vengeance. It was around this time that I found myself feeling more than just a bit grumpy. I cursed myself for signing up for this stupid event, I cursed Martha for hosting it, I cursed the other runners for having IT bands that didn’t try to destroy them, I even cursed the stream that burbled so placidly next to the path. At one point, I passed Lindsay Klemmer, who confidently told me, “This is the fun part, Matt!” I cursed her as well.
On my next trip back to the aid station, I begged some ibuprofen of Rich Kean and grabbed some snacks. Amidst the self-loathing and pain, a small part of me realized that my blood sugar may have become a bit low. After chowing down on a nutty bar and some broth, I resolutely headed back out for another mindless lap of shuffling when I could and walking the rest of the time.
Imagine my surprise when at the turnaround I found that my knee pain had vanished! I don’t know if it was the ibuprofen or the therapy, but suddenly I was able to run again. My pace was slow, around 9-minute miles, but I was buoyed by the ability to actually run! I made sure to eat some more the next time I came to the aid tent, and suddenly, I realized that I felt, against all odds, good!
Of course, by this time there was less than an hour left. Jessie George had already logged a ridiculous number of 7-minute miles, and Olex, the Toronto ultra-runner had lapped me, but I was already over 50K and found myself returning to my previous pace of 8-minute miles. My knee felt great, my glycogen stores were no longer depleted, and I toyed with the idea of trying to run 7-minute pace for five or six miles to hit 40. But 8:00 was about my limit, and I didn’t want to completely destroy myself and not hit that goal. The last few miles were a return to the vibe at the start: feeling good and running easy. When I completed my 16th lap, I was at 37 miles, and my cumulative time was 5:45. I decided to end it there, as I knew there was no way I could run another 2.3 miles in 15 minutes.
It was rather odd and a bit anticlimactic to just stop running and finish the race after so many hours. Even more strange was the fact that I didn’t actually feel too bad. Usually, after a marathon, I have pushed every muscle fiber in my body to the brink of exhaustion and then some, and I can barely stand. Despite running 11 more miles, and dealing with the IT band issue, I didn’t feel too beat up. Everybody hung around until the six hours was up, and then Martha presented the awards. Jessie George, as you know, won while setting a course record and one of the top six-hour results in the entire world! Olex finished second with 39 miles, and I wound up in third with 36.8 official miles, good enough for the overall masters title as well.
Now that I’ve had over a week to reflect on it, I think I can say I’m proud of the performance. My IT band definitely threw a wrench into things, but I adapted as best I could, and kept relentless forward motion. Plus, I exceeded my secondary goal of 50K by quite a bit, and have a better understanding of what to expect in my next ultra. That is, if I ever decide to do another. Ashlie and I do still have 30+ states to run a marathon in, and I can’t be letting ultras get in the way of that!
… Or can I?
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