The
plan was to start 2014 by building on those successes.
Since
the 50 mile McDowell Mountain Frenzy in the beginning of December, I hadn't run
more than 7 miles at a time, averaging only 20 to 30 miles per week, but I did
have some great training runs; broke the 7:00/mile pace for my lunch time run,
ran a 6:44/mile pace for the 7 mile Belmar Club training run, and broke the
6:00 mile barrier on my sprint intervals.
Despite the extra pounds I put on over the holidays, I was running
faster than ever and was hoping these successes would make up for the lack of
mileage.
The
first race for 2014 was to be the Coldwater Rumble 52 miler in Phoenix. I had
actually contemplated doing the 100 miler, simply drawn by the lure of another
belt buckle, but "settled" for the double marathon. My friend Rick
Valentine was smart enough to drop down to the 50K, but I wanted to start the
year off big. I did - BIG Mistake!
I
made a trip out of it, taking my youngest daughter, Amy, and visited my parents
and sister. The night before the race,
we went out to the New York Pizza Department and I had the ideal runner's
pre-race dinner - pizza, gooey cookies, and lots of ice cream. I'm sure this had nothing to do with the
following day's disaster.
The
100 milers started out as I was still getting my stuff together. Every time I
watch longer distance runners start before me, I feel like a wimp, opting for a
shorter distance. I really wanted to head out with them. Only 48 miles more, and I could get a nifty
belt buckle to double my collection. It was so tempting, but even I'm not stupid
enough (barely) to jump into a 100 miler at the last minute.
Milling
around before the start, this guy came up to me and asked "hey, are you
Adrian?" Apparently he had seen my name, picture and results online - not
sure why I would have stood out. After a
few brief pleasantries, Dan stated "you have a shot at winning this, don't
you?" It turned out to be just the jinx I didn't need, but at the time, it
planted an intriguing, yet dangerously unrealistic seed in my mind. Maybe, if I had a super day (like the successes
of my short training runs) and everyone had a mediocre day... just maybe, it
might be possible. After all, the really good runners were tackling the 100. Maybe…
7:30
came, and we were off - about 40 or 50 of us for the 52 miler. It was quite nice for a while. The temp was only around 60 and there was a
thin layer of clouds blocking the sun.
The climbs weren't as bad as I had anticipated, requiring very little
walking. My goal was 8:30, which
translated to a 9:42/mile pace. As I
approached the second aid station, at the far end of the main loop, and near
the high point of the course, I was feeling great; effortless 9:35 pace and
easy terrain, other than some loose sandy areas. Of course, I was only 11 miles
into a 52 mile race, the sun was now out, and the temperature was rising, but
that dream of victory was still peaking its way out from the back of my mind.
The
return part of the loop was even better and slightly downhill. Part way back, I
heard a "hey, Adrian" from behind.
It was Rick Valentine (who I had met on the URoC Vail race). He was
running the 50K and was cooking! Though he started 30 minutes later, he caught
me by mile 16 - that would equate to an almost 7:30 pace and he was in 1st
place! I ran with him for a 1/4 mile or so, as we chatted about upcoming races
and the stupidity of my 7 mile training plan for a 52 miler. I soon let him go and settled back into my
comfortable pace. When I caught a glimpse of him later, coming back from the
start/finish, he wasn't looking quite as peppy.
Turns out, he dropped out around mile 22. I guess that 7:30/mile pace
just wasn't sustainable.
By
the time I went through the Start/Finish myself, I had dropped my pace to 9:29
and was still feeling great. Maybe Dan
was right. Maybe I did have a chance at winning. Maybe I could pick up the pace
a little and finish closer to 8 hours.
That would ensure me a spot on the podium, maybe even the top spot. It
all seemed so reasonable and achievable at the time, much like the proverbial
mirage in the desert.
The
first half of the second loop was only slightly slower than the first, but it
took more effort than I realized. The sun was beating down and the temperature
climbed to 80. I was trying my best to hydrate and was now hitting the S-caps
to maintain the electrolyte levels.
Looking back, I should have been more pro-active with the hydration
earlier on – lesson learned (hopefully).
Back
at the far aid station (mile 31), they told me I was in 5th place. That was awesome, but my pace had slowed to
9:40, and I was noticeably walking more of the uphills than I had on the first
loop. I kept moving though and passed a
couple more 52 milers, bringing myself up to 3rd place by mile 35! Victory was
within my grasp, with only 17 miles to go.
Unfortunately, my pace was continuously slowing. By mile 37, I was
mostly walking, and by mile 39 I was walking slowly. By the time I stumbled
across the Start/Finish line at mile 40.5, I had been re-passed by a couple of
runners and dropped back down to 5th place. Normally, 5th place with 12 miles
to go would be a great position for me, but I was suffering and knew that it
would take me at least 3 hours to complete the race, rather than 2 under normal
conditions. I was also torn by the
knowledge that I was missing out on time with my daughter and my parents.
The
only other time that I had considered dropping out of a race was at the NorthFork 50 miler last summer, but the only way out was to continue on the course,
so I did, and eventually recovered reasonably well. One of the great things
about a race course with multiple loops is the energy you get from the cheering
crowds as you pass through the start/finish.
The downside is that it gives you an easy option of bailing out, which
is exactly what I did.
Reluctantly,
I decided to throw in the towel and take my first DNF after 160 races.
I
was pretty dehydrated by the end. The salt was caked on so thick, you could
have drunk a margarita out of my belly button (if you didn't mind the
occasional hair). The race officials and volunteers tried to motivate me to
continue, given that I was still in the top 5 and had plenty of time to finish,
but once I had made up my mind, there was no starting up again. In the infamous
words of Kenny Rogers – “you got to know when to fold 'em”.
As
I sat by the start/finish aid, gulping down cups of iced Ginger Ale before I
could stomach some snacks, I watched other runners come through. Some were finishing the shorter
distances. Others were 40 miles into the
hundred. I felt like a bit of a loser wussing out so easily, but as I sat up
from the bench and nearly fell over from light-headedness, dropping out didn't
seem like such a bad decision.
When
I started running, I kept all the medals and race bibs, but after a while I
stopped, as I didn't have enough wall space.
This is the first race that I've kept the bib from in years. I even pinned it up in my office so Every
time I look up, I'll be reminded of this day. Some say success breeds
success. I say that a colossal failure
can bread success (hopefully). This DNF is going to push me to train harder and
longer, and take future races that much more seriously. I will not DNF again!
(at least not for quite a while). I will be back in Arizona in only 3 weeks for
a 100K - that ought to be a good test. Let’s hope an arctic front moves through
that weekend, so I don’t have to suffer again.
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