Duncan Ridge Trail 30k Race Report

All right!

This morning I ran my second consecutive longest-race-ever, this the Duncan Ridge Trail 30k (there was also a 50k, but I'm not there yet.  maybe on an easier course).  Speaking of easy courses, this was not one.

I signed up for this race a while ago, and since then I've been able to get in some good long trail trail training runs, though I've also had plenty of off days.  Considering the long, steep hills of this course, I think my best training was a twenty mile hike from Amicalola Falls to the top of Springer Mtn and back that I did with Brian a month ago.  Same basic course profile, same distance.  I also did a training run on the race course two weeks ago, which was really good for me mentally.  Doing a race distance I'd never done before, it was nice to at least know the course.  Another thing that was good for mental comfort was that Xiao, a high school friend, would be doing the 30k too.  Knowing someone else in the race really helped me relax at the start.  Not that relaxing is often a big problem for me.  Moving on.

The race started at 7:30; I arrived at Vogel State Park at 6:45, which gave me plenty of time for packet pickup, bathrooming, and making sure everything was in order.  It was pretty cool to see all these people who I regarded as a little crazy (crazy awesome!).  After all, I expected even the 30k to take longer than a typical marathon.  Ultramarathons are defined by distance, but one could argue that a 4 hour race is longer than a 3.5 hour race.  Just sayin'.

After some prerace instructions, we were off!  The forecast was for below-freezing weather at the start, but clouds had rolled in last night and kept it from getting too cold.  The downside was that the clouds never cleared up, so I think it stayed around 40F for most of my race.  I wore shorts, short sleeves, a running hat and thin gloves, and I felt great for the whole race..temperature-wise, at least.

The first thing I noticed after the start was that I actually hadn't tested my entire race kit.  I was wearing a cycling jersey with food and some gear stuffed in the back pockets. It had seemed like a great idea, but now I found out that there was way more bounce than I'd anticipated.  This was in fact really annoying on the short road section, because the frequency of my stride corresponded to big bounces.  Once we hit the trail, it became much less of a problem, but still annoying when I was running.

I ran with Xiao and some of his buddies for a little while, but I wanted to make sure I took it easy at the start, and they dropped me on the first uphill.  For a while, it seemed like things would never thin out -- there was traffic well past the 3.5mi aid station, and I was still trying to figure out the etiquette for passing people.  I think I did okay, and I got to run one great downhill with a guy who clearly knew how to run downhills.  Fun!

Coming into aid station 1.  Photo Jessica Allison Pless

Then came the big uphill, a seemingly neverending climb from the valley floor to the top of Coosa Bald.  A few miles up, people finally began to really thin out.  I was alone, but there was a group that stayed a hundred yards or so ahead of me the whole climb, and there were always people not too far behind me.  This of course made me want to go faster, but I found that singing "Run your own race" (to the tune of "Go your own way") calmed me down.  After all, I'd rather catch people on a downhill than an uphill -- hopefully there's a reason I named this blog "Falling down hills," people.

To my chagrin, most of the group I was chasing continued onto the 50k course after the second aid station, but one person took the turn onto the 30k loop, so I still had quarry.  Eventually I caught her, but then we talked for a while, which took the teeth out of my competitiveness.  She recommended the Mt. Cheaha 50k and the VT 50 as great trail races I should try.  (And hey, Mt. Cheaha registration is open.  But if I do it should I not do Harbison or ATL Fatass?)

We returned to near the Coosa summit, which was still in a cloud and at this point seeming to threaten rain and/or sleet.  I felt fortunate to be headed down; I met three or four guys who were still on their way up.  That's got to be a long day, whatever race they were doing.

Incredibly, I didn't see another runner during the entire downhill.  That's 3 or 4 miles of running pretty fast, totally alone, hoping that I'm about to catch someone and fantasizing that I'm in first place already.  That all changed as I rolled down the hill (figuratively speaking) into the final aid station.  Another runner was just heading out!  I grabbed some food and water.  "If you run fast you can catch him," a volunteer encouraged me.

"That's the plan," I replied through a mouthful of potato chips.  Notably, the phrase "easier said than done" was applicable.  Not only did I have a big ol' uphill to tackle, I now wanted to catch this guy.  The strain, combined with my accumulated fatigue, meant that my stomach finally started to give me problems.  Everything hurt, but I'm a racer, and I couldn't stand to slow down.  And, little by little, I was reeling him in. (But ow!  This part of the race, I was not having fun anymore.)

I heard footsteps behind me. What?! How was someone catching up with me here?  I really hadn't expected someone behind me to run faster down the big hill, but I guess it must've happened.  Anyway, this new guy seemed pretty fresh, easily passing both me and the guy I was after.  Lucky for me, this made the guy I'd originally been chasing give up a little, and I was finally able to pass him.  No rest for the weary, though -- we'd caught up with another guy.  I couldn't get to him on the uphill, but I did get him on the final downhill mile to the finish.  Or so I thought.

With less than a quarter mile left, I was cruising when Wham! My toe caught a root and I slammed into the ground.  Pain stabbed through my legs as my muscles shivered involuntarily with massive cramps.  I gritted my teeth, tried to stabilize my legs, but I was too far gone.  AAAAAAAAAAH! I yelled once, and again, and again, knowing full well that I was within earshot of hikers and park visitors.  Eventually, gingerly, with great concentration, I straightened my legs and lay until the pain subsided (the guy I'd just passed jumped back in front, but at this point I didn't care).  Incredibly, I was soon able to stand and continue running.  Now, I just wanted to finish, and as the burden of racing lifted, I relaxed and cruised to the end, a huge smile on my face.

And then there was Nutella and chips and drinks and even pizza.  Pizza!

I liked this race.  A lot.  It makes me want to get all my friends into trail racing, it makes me want to fill up my calendar with more trail races, it makes me want to come back next year and do it again.

Ya, so what race(s) should I sign up for now?  I've got Tough Mudder on Feb 11, but I think I could handle something within two weeks of that if necessary.

Edited to add:

Results:

• 4:00:11 (aah! so close! ...not that "Sub 4-hr 30k" means anything)
• 10/66 OA
• 9/50 M.  Earned me a spot in the "Top Performances" tab, since this was the inaugural running of the DRT 30k.  Woot.

Course stats:

According to the smart people at Garmin, that's 5,425 ft of climbing in 19.5 miles

Frogtown Trail Challenge Race Report

Since it had been a month since my last run (foot injury), I was a little concerned that I would not be able to finish the 10-mile Frogtown Trail Challenge last Saturday.  Mostly though, I was super excited about competing in my first trail race.  As race time grew closer, my smile spread further and further across my face.  The weather was beautiful, the volunteers were plentiful and well-organized, and I knew I was going to have a great time whether or not my foot could make it through all ten miles.

They started the 4-mile race at 8, and five minutes later the 10-mile racers started, 50 at a time.  It was so quiet as we sped off through the field, I couldn't help but let out a whoop as we turned the first corner.   Soon our little pack was in the forest, on wide, soft singletrack.  I was trail racing!  When the trail turned downhill, I let myself have some fun, moving to the left edge of the trail and picking off handfuls of runners at a time.  Maybe they'd catch me later, but I was going to let loose on the downhills.

And so things went for a good while.  There were steep ups and downs, but the downs were wide and straight, and I pounded them like in a cross-country race.  Then we hit the water section. The stream wasn't big, but it was enough that you couldn't see your footing.  Sometimes it was two inches deep; in a few places it was nearly two feet deep.  Mostly, the bed was sand, but in others it was large rocks.  Fallen trees lay angled across the banks, though I eventually found that I could duck under them pretty easily by reaching for the ground with one hand like in agility drills.  Mostly, there was the water, and I found that I could not run in water. Slog, yes. Run, no.  So I slogged.  And my shoes filled -- I mean filled -- with sand.  By the time I emerged from the water mile (yes mile), I guess I had picked up a pound of sand in each shoe.  At the shoe-changing station (where I decided that it would have been nice to have a change of shoes), I ripped out my insoles and scooped handfuls of sand from underneath before declaring "good enough."

After retying my still-quite-sandy shoes, I took off after the people who had passed me while I was stopped.  As I rounded the next corner, I found not another runner but a stream crossing.  The nerve of these people!  Who did they think they were, putting a water crossing immediately after the shoe-changing station!  And a sandy water crossing at that!  But then we were back in the woods, and all was right with the world.  There were logs to be hurdled, more hills (yay!), and though I was slowing down, I was still passing more often than passed.  My favorite part of the second half of the race was a place where we ran up one side of a wide creek, crossed over it on a log, and ran back down the other side of the creek.  Here and at a few other places, I shouted encouragement to the runners behind me.  (Apparently the ones in front of me were so far ahead that I didn't see them.)

My calves started cramping up around mile nine, so I slowed down even more in order to keep it together.  In the end I made to the finish line and even had a bit of kick left to finish in 1:40 (chip time).  Since my slower half-marathon was a 1:35, that's my longest-time race ever.  Considering my nagging foot issues, lack of recent runs, and the difficulty of the course, I'm really pleased that I was able to average under 10 minute miles.  More importantly, I had a blast, and I'm feeling very motivated to get ready for my next race on tap, the Duncan Ridge Trail 30K.  A big thanks to all the race organizers and volunteers who helped make this race so much fun.

Here we are

I've started racing (again?), and I want to log how things go, hopefully writing entertaining race reports every once in a while and maybe documenting my more interesting long runs. I'll still do my main logging of workouts at dailymile.