Based on pre-race comments from other runners, some form of precipitation (either in the air or on the ground) is pretty much a given at Uwharrie. Based on Weather.com, the 2012 edition promised nothing more than clouds until late afternoon or early evening. But, apparently someone forgot to tell Weather.com that Uwharrie was on this day. Temps were probably upper thirties or low forties as the 40-milers gathered at a church about 3-4 miles from the start and hopped shuttle buses that would take them to the start/finish area. A record turnout left the church parking lot overfilled and had race officials sending late-comers directly to the start. Since the start/finish area can't handle many cars at all, this caused some backup, delays, and about a twenty minute late start. You pick up your packet at the start/finish area, rather than the church but that process went rather smoothly. They have a couple of porta-jons and a nice campfire to huddle around to stay warm pre-race.
The race itself starts on the road but after about 100 yards, you turn off onto a trail for a long stretch of uphill that really warms you up. The downside is that it's basically single-track and you're still pretty tightly packed. This is a case where you really need to line up according to your expected pace because if you're farther back than you should be, you'll find yourself frustrated and if you start ahead of where you should be, you'll be holding back some frustrated runners. But, there's really no way to work this out perfectly so just realize that you'll probably be doing some dodging and weaving in the early stages. Eventually, it sorts itself out and, truth be told, most runners realize when you're trying to pass and make room (even if you don't give the requested "on your left.")
There is a reason that the times at this race are generally slower than at Mount Mitchell, besides the fact that it's closer to actually being forty miles than Mount Mitchell (which is widely considered to be 38.) At MM, there isn't a lot of single track. At Uwharrie, it's almost all single-track. At MM, you eliminate most of the uphill stretches in the first half of the course. At Uwharrie, there are always uphill stretches. For anyone who has run Triple Lakes 40 Miler in Greensboro, it's a little like that course with the elevation chart stretched to create steeper uphills and downhills. There were a LOT of creek crossings. Some, you could rock-hop. Others, it just wasn't worth the effort, so you just plowed straight through. There were also a lot of downed trees across the path that you could hop over or "climb" over, depending on your energy level and jumping ability. There were also a number of stretches of mud that were fairly unavoidable. Sometimes, there would be branches you could step on to minimize the mud, but in the end, you were going to have muddy feet--at least until the next creek crossing.
The forty miler is an out-and back along the same route. A twenty-miler starts an hour after the 40, though with our late start, I think the twenty-miler may have started on time and only forty minutes after us. I had a couple of twenty-milers catch me near my half-way point but it didn't cause any problems to let them pass. It gets a little crowded, however, when the forty-milers are coming toward you and you have to make room to let them by. Of course, eventually, you have to do this for every runner either before the turnaround or after. Once you make the turnaround, you'll be heading directly into both forty-milers and twenty-milers. On rocky, sometimes sloping, single-track. The rule of thumb (I think) is that the person behind yields and that seemed to be the case on Saturday.
Weather is not something under the control of race directors (though I bet the Mount Mitchell guys wish it were, given their love for "epic" weather events.) At Uwharrie, what began as mist became off-and-on showers until at least mid-afternoon. They really weren't much of a problem, though the leaves became a little slicker and the mud a little wetter. Plenty of races have had snow on the course which would have made it a much tougher race. I was told to expect a time about forty minutes slower than Mount Mitchell, but knew since I was still feeling the effects of Freedom Park, that was a conservative estimate. I think it might have held true under ordinary circumstances, however, based on the previous year's results I had examined.
The aid stations were spaced closer than most ultras--perhaps given that most runners are going slower on this course. The first one was at mile 5, but then it was every three miles. They tossed in a fluids-only station at mile 38 on the way back. I saw cookies, Hammer Gels, potatoes, potato chips, corn chips, pb&j, water, and Heed sports drink. I'm sure there was other stuff that I just overlooked. The potato chips seemed to be the kettle-style chips and while they tasted ok, they seemed to lack the salt I was wanting.
The finish area offered hot dogs, cookies, and some of the same stuff as the aid stations. Shuttles ran people back to the church on a fairly regular basis and the finishers awards were pottery tumblers.
I did not stay in any of the hotels, electing instead to make the 2 1/2 hour drive on race day (the race starts at 7:00 a.m.) My cell phone GPS did a good job of getting us to the church but oddly lost its signal (or just had a glitch) for the return trip so we had to rely on memory. If I went again, I'd definitely bring a regular GPS, just in case. I'll definitely go back again sometime. It's unfortunate (for me) that it falls in the same month as a number of other NC races (Mount Mitchell, Pilot Mountain, Valentine's Day Massacre marathon) because it means choosing one (or maybe two) and missing the rest. I think it would be difficult for most of us to race each of these events in the same year with our best efforts, but it would certainly be a heck of a challenge!
Uwharrie 40-Mile Trail Race
Linville Gorge from the summit of Table Rock
Monday, February 6, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
2011/12 Freedom Park New Year's Eve Ultra
I signed up for this race in part because a good friend, David Lee, was organizing it and in part out of curiosity as to whether I could keep going for twenty-four hours straight. I had run laps around the nearly one-mile track at Freedom Park before and realized that monotony might be a bigger hurdle to overcome than fatigue, dehydration, etc... There are pros and cons to such a small loop with the biggest pro being that you really don't need to carry anything and it's pretty easy to self-support, though David does have a well stocked "oasis" at the start/finish area.
It was a cool, dry morning as the runners began to arrive. I had come fairly early to lend David a couple extra hands--unloading his trailer, etc... I knew going in that there were some extremely capable runners coming this year: Sabrina Moran, Annette Bednosky, Anne Riddle Lundblad, and on the guys' side, Jonathan Savage. Turned out there was another ultrastud, David Luljak, though I did not know him before the race. The main attraction was to be the three ladies gunning to make the Women's US 24-hour Championship Team. I was just along for the ride and hoping to draft my way to making it through the entire event.
I had a tarp laid out just past the start/finish area with a change of clothes, shoes, and some gels, etc... I was probably one of the least organized people out there as others had tents, sleeping bags, helpers, and a game plan. I really had only one basic plan--don't stop and don't sit down. If there is any way to make a run like this easier, it's to just accept that you're running for an entire day and just keep going. Don't get caught up in the miles, just go until you see the sun rise again and hear the horn.
I had arranged for several friends to join me during different parts of the day--totally allowed--but would be starting alone. Since I'm writing this almost two years since the race, I can't remember the exact times people showed up, but they were fairly scattered throughout the day. I would start the run alone, however.
Going in, I knew that I would push a little too hard early on to take advantage of the cooler temperatures. I don't know if it was a good strategy, but kept to it, despite David suggesting I turn it down a notch each time I came around the loop. Some of this was anxious energy, but I thought I was just hitting a pace I felt comfortable with and felt I could maintain. Then I started noticing the clock and the fact that I was knocking off roughly eight minute miles when the "plan" was around ten minutes. I felt fine, though, and figured I would stick with something comfortable because sometimes running too slow is harder on me than speeding up a little.
For the first couple hours, I ran pretty much the entire lap. That was intended and I would later add short walks on the small hills as the miles accumulated. I reached mile 40 right around six hours, as a friend prepared to join me. I had planned to walk an entire lap about this time and eat something more substantial--pizza in this case. I do not have an iron stomach and was concerned going in about how I'd do with food intake. The pizza sat fine, though. It was now 2:00 p.m., the warmest part of the day, and I was running with Ray. My splits show that I was now hovering around the ten minute mile pace I had originally expected. Mile 40 was the last time I'd know what mile I was on until the finish. I had asked David not to tell me if/when I reached one hundred miles because I didn't want any pressure. I just wanted to keep going. He said before we started that he was predicting 110. I wished he hadn't said that because that set a bar that I would subconsciously try to clear. That number stayed in my mind, but I would not know until 8:00 a.m. the next day whether I'd reach it or not. 40 miles in six hours sounds like I was in prime position as it meant I had 18 hours for the next 70, but so much can happen and I was already slower than when I started.
I spoke on and off to Jonathan, Anne, and Annette. I didn't at the time know any of them well enough to go into lengthy conversations, so I spared them of any awkward rambling I might do when searching for topics of common interest. The vast majority of the run was spent basically alone--no headphones, just me trying to zone out and take it one loop at a time, one hour at a time. Anne's husband, Mark, was there and since I knew him fairly well, I would follow her progress through him. It's really hard to know where your competitors are in a race like this because you don't necessarily see them pass you if you're hitting the restroom or changing your shoes. I knew that the three ladies were all ahead of me and that Jonathan Savage almost certainly was. Sabrina Moran was well out in front by the twelve hour mark (8:00 p.m.) when she was around mile 80 (meaning she kept my 40-mile pace for 80 miles. For comparison, at twelve hours, Anne was around mile 78, Annette was on mile 74 (she had something go wrong and was about to pull out,) Jonathan was on mile 69 and did drop out after his next lap. I was on mile 73 (remember I didn't know this at the time) and thought with Jonathan Savage gone, I might be the first place male. Fortunately, I didn't realize that David Luljak was also on mile 73 at the midpoint...So, at halftime, I was in fourth place, but about to be in third when Annette pulled out about forty minutes later.
But, now it was dark, and the real race began. I had already run farther than ever before and longer in terms of time (both prior records were 62.5 miles at Relay for Life at a "leisurely" eleven hour pace) and it was approaching an hour when I'd usually be asleep. The temperatures were dropping, and the warm bodies on the track was noticeably fewer, despite the 12-hour and 6-hour events starting at 8:00 p.m. Somewhere in the night, I walked a stretch with David Luljak (still didn't know him) and told him this was my first race of this type. He said I was doing well and maybe "this is your thing." I laughed and told him my wife would kill me if this became "my thing" and started jogging again. David Lee later told me how good a runner David Luljak was and that I wasn't ahead of him until somewhere in the mid-70s. But, when I saw him later that night in his tent (and then even later in David's heated-to-85-degrees timing tent, I knew he had dropped out.
At midnight, my friend Paul came out, as planned, for four hours. Of course, by this point, I wasn't moving as quickly, with laps now in the 11-12 minute range (including some walking and some pauses at the aid station.) I was at mile 95 when he joined me, so we were both unaware when just a few miles later, I'd cross the 100 mile point. I brought him up to speed on who had dropped and who was leading. Sabrina was now on mile 103, but about to pull out--though I never learned why. Anne was on mile 99. So, after midnight, Anne was winning the race and I was about four miles behind. I had no aspirations of catching Anne and knew I was slowing down more than her--based on the fact that she would pass me but I would not pass her...I knew from Mark that she was hoping to get to 140 miles, so I continued to get updates every now and then and encourage her on as she occasionally came by me. Paul was trying to keep up a discussion about a book he read on Abraham Lincoln. I remembered very little of it, but if nothing else, the company was helpful. As I said before, there were very few people left on the track and when you spread them out over a one mile stretch, you can go for a bit without seeing anyone since no one is moving really fast.
When Paul left at 4:00 a.m., I would be on mile 113, past David Lee's prediction, but fading fast. Anne, by comparison, was on mile 121 and still seemed strong. She had doubled her lead on me in that four hour stretch. For the next two hours, I ran alone at a pace that fluctuated between high-12s and low 16-minute miles (again, with walking and stopping at the aid station factored in.) Then, at 6:00 a.m., an unexpected blessing came in the form of Mary Dunn. She had just come to check in on the race (she's an early riser) but I coaxed her into pacing me around the track for the last two hours, warning her that I was now down to just walking as fast as I could. Mary, not too long ago, was an incredible runner, with faster PRs than me at every distance up to the marathon. She's still a strong runner, but a knee injury slowed her down. But aside from running, she's a great and loyal person and friend. So, we continued around the loop, sometimes taking twenty minutes for a mile, because I was stopping to warm back up in the timing tent each lap. Remember my tarp with all my clothes, etc...? Well, I learned the hard way that dew/moisture collects on things left uncovered on the ground. So, everything I had was wet. I was chilled and had on way more clothing than I normally would. But, I was making myself keep going. I remembered my DNF on top of Mount Mitchell year's ago when I had gotten too wet and tried to stop for a bit. I knew that stopping too long would be the end, so I would force myself back out into the cold for another lap. One at a time.
As the sun rose, I was actually pulling off quicker loops, though it was no warmer. I was able to stop going to the tent each time around and got my pace back down to a brisk-walk pace of just over 15-minute miles for the last three miles. When the horn sounded, Mary and I were on the far side of the track, about halfway around and we stopped to wait for David to come mark our location to record the exact distance. I was cold and tired, but glad it was done and that I hadn't stopped. I had a sense of accomplishment, but it was dulled some by the fatigue and chill. When David had my distance figured, we headed back to the tent. As I warmed up inside, I didn't realize it, but Mary had gathered all my stuff from my tarp and put it beside my vehicle (I wisely brought my mom's van, knowing I could lie in the back if necessary.)
David worked his magic on the computer and announced the winners, going through the 6 and 12 hour races first. Then we reached the 24-hour results. My distance? 125.76 miles. Significantly above what I had hoped for and better than the 112 number that danced in my head off and on throughout the run. I knew Anne was well beyond me, but was still impressed when he announced her distance of 140.26. She was 14.5 miles ahead of me and almost doubled her lead again from hours 20 - 24. Her later laps were 10-11 minutes while mine were bumping the high teens many times, so it was easy to see how she grew that four-mile lead from hour sixteen so quickly. It was also one of the top five female distances in US history.
I was very happy with my results and the large pottery award. Only three of us ran the entire 24 hours, though I think one or two others took a rest and hopped back on the track at the end. For me, the hardest part isn't the run itself, but recovering from the missed night of sleep. That can really take its toll, and I thing it was a good six to eight months before I felt like myself again. I won't rule out doing it again, but have to wonder if another try would show any improvement, when I correct the mistakes I made this time.
It was a cool, dry morning as the runners began to arrive. I had come fairly early to lend David a couple extra hands--unloading his trailer, etc... I knew going in that there were some extremely capable runners coming this year: Sabrina Moran, Annette Bednosky, Anne Riddle Lundblad, and on the guys' side, Jonathan Savage. Turned out there was another ultrastud, David Luljak, though I did not know him before the race. The main attraction was to be the three ladies gunning to make the Women's US 24-hour Championship Team. I was just along for the ride and hoping to draft my way to making it through the entire event.
I had a tarp laid out just past the start/finish area with a change of clothes, shoes, and some gels, etc... I was probably one of the least organized people out there as others had tents, sleeping bags, helpers, and a game plan. I really had only one basic plan--don't stop and don't sit down. If there is any way to make a run like this easier, it's to just accept that you're running for an entire day and just keep going. Don't get caught up in the miles, just go until you see the sun rise again and hear the horn.
I had arranged for several friends to join me during different parts of the day--totally allowed--but would be starting alone. Since I'm writing this almost two years since the race, I can't remember the exact times people showed up, but they were fairly scattered throughout the day. I would start the run alone, however.
Going in, I knew that I would push a little too hard early on to take advantage of the cooler temperatures. I don't know if it was a good strategy, but kept to it, despite David suggesting I turn it down a notch each time I came around the loop. Some of this was anxious energy, but I thought I was just hitting a pace I felt comfortable with and felt I could maintain. Then I started noticing the clock and the fact that I was knocking off roughly eight minute miles when the "plan" was around ten minutes. I felt fine, though, and figured I would stick with something comfortable because sometimes running too slow is harder on me than speeding up a little.
For the first couple hours, I ran pretty much the entire lap. That was intended and I would later add short walks on the small hills as the miles accumulated. I reached mile 40 right around six hours, as a friend prepared to join me. I had planned to walk an entire lap about this time and eat something more substantial--pizza in this case. I do not have an iron stomach and was concerned going in about how I'd do with food intake. The pizza sat fine, though. It was now 2:00 p.m., the warmest part of the day, and I was running with Ray. My splits show that I was now hovering around the ten minute mile pace I had originally expected. Mile 40 was the last time I'd know what mile I was on until the finish. I had asked David not to tell me if/when I reached one hundred miles because I didn't want any pressure. I just wanted to keep going. He said before we started that he was predicting 110. I wished he hadn't said that because that set a bar that I would subconsciously try to clear. That number stayed in my mind, but I would not know until 8:00 a.m. the next day whether I'd reach it or not. 40 miles in six hours sounds like I was in prime position as it meant I had 18 hours for the next 70, but so much can happen and I was already slower than when I started.
I spoke on and off to Jonathan, Anne, and Annette. I didn't at the time know any of them well enough to go into lengthy conversations, so I spared them of any awkward rambling I might do when searching for topics of common interest. The vast majority of the run was spent basically alone--no headphones, just me trying to zone out and take it one loop at a time, one hour at a time. Anne's husband, Mark, was there and since I knew him fairly well, I would follow her progress through him. It's really hard to know where your competitors are in a race like this because you don't necessarily see them pass you if you're hitting the restroom or changing your shoes. I knew that the three ladies were all ahead of me and that Jonathan Savage almost certainly was. Sabrina Moran was well out in front by the twelve hour mark (8:00 p.m.) when she was around mile 80 (meaning she kept my 40-mile pace for 80 miles. For comparison, at twelve hours, Anne was around mile 78, Annette was on mile 74 (she had something go wrong and was about to pull out,) Jonathan was on mile 69 and did drop out after his next lap. I was on mile 73 (remember I didn't know this at the time) and thought with Jonathan Savage gone, I might be the first place male. Fortunately, I didn't realize that David Luljak was also on mile 73 at the midpoint...So, at halftime, I was in fourth place, but about to be in third when Annette pulled out about forty minutes later.
But, now it was dark, and the real race began. I had already run farther than ever before and longer in terms of time (both prior records were 62.5 miles at Relay for Life at a "leisurely" eleven hour pace) and it was approaching an hour when I'd usually be asleep. The temperatures were dropping, and the warm bodies on the track was noticeably fewer, despite the 12-hour and 6-hour events starting at 8:00 p.m. Somewhere in the night, I walked a stretch with David Luljak (still didn't know him) and told him this was my first race of this type. He said I was doing well and maybe "this is your thing." I laughed and told him my wife would kill me if this became "my thing" and started jogging again. David Lee later told me how good a runner David Luljak was and that I wasn't ahead of him until somewhere in the mid-70s. But, when I saw him later that night in his tent (and then even later in David's heated-to-85-degrees timing tent, I knew he had dropped out.
At midnight, my friend Paul came out, as planned, for four hours. Of course, by this point, I wasn't moving as quickly, with laps now in the 11-12 minute range (including some walking and some pauses at the aid station.) I was at mile 95 when he joined me, so we were both unaware when just a few miles later, I'd cross the 100 mile point. I brought him up to speed on who had dropped and who was leading. Sabrina was now on mile 103, but about to pull out--though I never learned why. Anne was on mile 99. So, after midnight, Anne was winning the race and I was about four miles behind. I had no aspirations of catching Anne and knew I was slowing down more than her--based on the fact that she would pass me but I would not pass her...I knew from Mark that she was hoping to get to 140 miles, so I continued to get updates every now and then and encourage her on as she occasionally came by me. Paul was trying to keep up a discussion about a book he read on Abraham Lincoln. I remembered very little of it, but if nothing else, the company was helpful. As I said before, there were very few people left on the track and when you spread them out over a one mile stretch, you can go for a bit without seeing anyone since no one is moving really fast.
When Paul left at 4:00 a.m., I would be on mile 113, past David Lee's prediction, but fading fast. Anne, by comparison, was on mile 121 and still seemed strong. She had doubled her lead on me in that four hour stretch. For the next two hours, I ran alone at a pace that fluctuated between high-12s and low 16-minute miles (again, with walking and stopping at the aid station factored in.) Then, at 6:00 a.m., an unexpected blessing came in the form of Mary Dunn. She had just come to check in on the race (she's an early riser) but I coaxed her into pacing me around the track for the last two hours, warning her that I was now down to just walking as fast as I could. Mary, not too long ago, was an incredible runner, with faster PRs than me at every distance up to the marathon. She's still a strong runner, but a knee injury slowed her down. But aside from running, she's a great and loyal person and friend. So, we continued around the loop, sometimes taking twenty minutes for a mile, because I was stopping to warm back up in the timing tent each lap. Remember my tarp with all my clothes, etc...? Well, I learned the hard way that dew/moisture collects on things left uncovered on the ground. So, everything I had was wet. I was chilled and had on way more clothing than I normally would. But, I was making myself keep going. I remembered my DNF on top of Mount Mitchell year's ago when I had gotten too wet and tried to stop for a bit. I knew that stopping too long would be the end, so I would force myself back out into the cold for another lap. One at a time.
As the sun rose, I was actually pulling off quicker loops, though it was no warmer. I was able to stop going to the tent each time around and got my pace back down to a brisk-walk pace of just over 15-minute miles for the last three miles. When the horn sounded, Mary and I were on the far side of the track, about halfway around and we stopped to wait for David to come mark our location to record the exact distance. I was cold and tired, but glad it was done and that I hadn't stopped. I had a sense of accomplishment, but it was dulled some by the fatigue and chill. When David had my distance figured, we headed back to the tent. As I warmed up inside, I didn't realize it, but Mary had gathered all my stuff from my tarp and put it beside my vehicle (I wisely brought my mom's van, knowing I could lie in the back if necessary.)
David worked his magic on the computer and announced the winners, going through the 6 and 12 hour races first. Then we reached the 24-hour results. My distance? 125.76 miles. Significantly above what I had hoped for and better than the 112 number that danced in my head off and on throughout the run. I knew Anne was well beyond me, but was still impressed when he announced her distance of 140.26. She was 14.5 miles ahead of me and almost doubled her lead again from hours 20 - 24. Her later laps were 10-11 minutes while mine were bumping the high teens many times, so it was easy to see how she grew that four-mile lead from hour sixteen so quickly. It was also one of the top five female distances in US history.
I was very happy with my results and the large pottery award. Only three of us ran the entire 24 hours, though I think one or two others took a rest and hopped back on the track at the end. For me, the hardest part isn't the run itself, but recovering from the missed night of sleep. That can really take its toll, and I thing it was a good six to eight months before I felt like myself again. I won't rule out doing it again, but have to wonder if another try would show any improvement, when I correct the mistakes I made this time.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
2011 Stone Mill 50-Miler
 |
| A small creek crossing early on. |
I do not wear a GPS or a watch for races and I admit that I hit some later aid stations and was slightly dismayed to learn I wasn't as far along the course as I had expected. Of course, then I later learned that the course was 54.5 miles so that made me feel a bit better. The aid station people were all friendly and helpful and, as best I recall, the stations themselves were well-stocked with what you might need in this sort of event.
The "trail" parts of the course ranged from muddy grass areas to rooty forest areas. Footing was not as technical as in some races, but you did need to be careful. I took a bad spill coming down a hill (not picking my feet up) and had some near spills in the muddy grass area (feet going sideways.) There are a few creek crossings and one "major" one near the final turnaround that includes a rope to support yourself with. This last crossing was ironically refreshing because my feet were a bit hot and sore and the cold water was a temporary relief.
The last thirty or so yards of the course is a nasty hill climb up to the high school parking lot. It makes for a great spectator spot, but it's up to you whether to run or just hike this last stretch.
There were two drop bag locations at roughly the 1/3 and 2/3 points.
Given the low price, there are no finisher's awards promised, though the RD did later send out an e-mail offering to mail people one if they wished. I don't know if that will happen again. We did get a logoed flashlight that was appropriate with the first few miles in the dark on trails (though I carried a mini single-AAA battery flashlight that worked well enough. Plus, I stuck closely behind someone with a headlight for the predawn stretch, saving me from having to carry anything more substantial. The post-race food included pizza but I wasn't terribly hungry and didn't see any that were just cheese.
In summary, it was kind of a low-frills event, but justifiably so, given the low price of entry. For 2012, they have stated that the course will be adjusted to be closer to 50 miles. I don't think anyone particularly cared that it was long, though. It just lowered the cost per mile.
Stone Mill 50 Miler
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