(And What | Learned From It)

I UNTSVILLE, TEXAS, December 9, 2006—Any ultra is an unforgettable event. I have run three 50-mile races, and I remember many poignant moments from each of them. My first race of 50 miles was the North Country 50 in Michigan. I recall my wife and kids cheering me on and hoofing it to aid stations to make sure that I had the support I needed. I remember running through the woods and hearing my girls yelling, “Let’s go, Dad, you can do it!” I could hear them for what seemed to be dozens of minutes, but I couldn’t see them until suddenly they were there.

Irecall my wife challenging me at 29 miles: “Are you going to do this or not?” as I whined that it was beginning to get hard. And I cherish the memory of crossing the finish line in under 10 hours in my first 50-mile event.

In my second 50-mile race, I was running for charity in Huntsville,

» Second loop; 24.5 miles done and still going strong.

©John Welch

Texas. The Sunmart Texas Trail Endurance Run, with its 50-mile and 50-kilometer events on a loop course, brings out spectators and sponsors as well as runners. Thad tried to raise money for victims of Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Rita before setting out for the Sunmart race in December 2005. My church, the Harbor Church of Grand Blanc, Michigan, raised around $500, but I was disappointed with that amount. We’re a small church, but I’d hoped to do much better. Sunmart was my second 50-miler in less than three months, and I had run the Detroit Marathon in October, between the two ultras. A friend from Dallas had driven down and had done crew duties for me in the 2005 Sunmart, and it was just the two of us for that race. I ran fairly well, though 20 minutes slower than my 50 at North Country.

A NEW MARATHON PR, PERHAPS

After I completed the 2005 Sunmart run, I decided to set my sights on a marathon PR and picked the Grandma’s 30th-anniversary event in June 2006. I trained through the winter, including the Martian Marathon in Michigan on April | as a training run. I ran 3:25 with negative splits and felt that I was ready for my PR.

I continued training while struggling with heel pain and tightness in my foot and right calf, but I was sure that I would hit Grandma’s with no problems and continued to prepare.

At Grandma’s, I started well and was on target, but the air was extremely humid and foggy for the first eight miles, then the sun broke out and the mercury began to climb. By the half, I was thinking that I should back off the pace, gather myself, and do as I had at Martian by pushing it from 16 miles. By the time I hit 16, I realized there was no pushing anything. I was still running OK, but it was only a matter of time. By 21, I was asking everyone along the road for Tylenol.

Finally, a spectator told me that I could get some at the next aid station. I took the Tylenol at mile 22, but it took the better part of 2 1/2 miles to kick in. I managed to run every step from around 24.5 miles to the finish, and my time was still a decent 3:38, but I definitely didn’t hit a PR. In addition, I had picked up a nagging injury in the back of my right leg, just below and behind my knee.

I battled foot, heel, and leg tension and discomfort the rest of the summer and fall as I prepared to return to the Sunmart Texas Trail 50-mile race.

My wife, Mary, is a native Texan and enjoys going home to visit her family at every opportunity, especially around the Christmas holidays, so we decided to make it a family affair and scheduled a vacation trip around the race.

Our plan was to fly to Dallas and meet up with my friend Alan, who had crewed for me the year before. We ended up borrowing a van from Alan and his wife, JoAnn, and driving to Houston early. We stayed with Mary’s brother. The night before the race, Alan and I met at the host hotel and stayed the night, then drove the hour to Huntsville for the race.

All went according to plan. What wasn’t according to plan was that my brother-in-law, Terry, brought my wife and two of my daughters to the park for my second run through the start/finish line area. They were out there even though the temperature did not get above 55 degrees all day and was in the high 40s when I saw them.

WORKING WITH WALKING BREAKS

My race strategy called for a walk break every mile or 10 minutes, whichever came first. I had run two training runs that were 32 and 40 miles, which had gone well using this strategy. I had even finished the 40-mile run in about 7 1/2 hours, about an 11-minute pace. Even at 12 minutes per mile, I should be able to finish the 50 in 10 hours using this plan. Of course, a military axiom expresses what happened: “No plan survives first contact with the enemy [or the course, or other runners].””

I set out on the course with every intention of sticking to my plan. I had run too many races that had not gone well because I hadn’t stuck to my race plan. Today would be different!

It was different, at least in one way. It was the first time I came to understand why women have more than one child. A passage in the Bible says that women forget the struggle of giving birth once they experience the joy of having the child in their lives. Although I don’t believe that much of anything compares to a woman giving birth, there is a bit of similarity for the long-distance runner. We will return to a course or a distance again and again for the joy and excitement of challenging ourselves and finishing. However, we will also return once enough time has passed to allow us to minimize the struggle and convince ourselves that our last bad day was a fluke.

In my case, having waited a year between ultra events meant that in spite of having drilled myself on my race plan during my long runs, it was easy to forget the consequences of going out too hard, of not sticking to my plan.

I was running pretty well when I came through the start area on the first loop, and I was still holding my own by the time I got there on the second loop. I hit the 25-mile point in 4 hours, 11 minutes, but I already knew that I was in trouble. That spot behind my right knee that I had struggled with since Grandma’s was aching and causing me to change my gait. I took some aspirin, made the decision to leave my tights and long-sleeve shirt on, hugged my girls, shook Terry’s hand, kissed my wife, and drank the Ensure that Alan handed me. Then I hit the trail once more, hoping but not certain that I could continue running apace.

As I ran toward the first mile of the third loop, I heard my children cheering me on. The first couple of miles are within sight of the park entrance road and even cross it before heading out into the woods. Terry drove along slowly, and

a Bee epee.

A The comings and goings just keep coming and going on this four-loop course.

the girls cheered me on at several spots along those two miles. I was encouraged and motivated, and then I was once again on my own.

The Texas Trail races have fantastic volunteers and great resources at the aid stations, including my favorite drink: Dr. Pepper. I pounded a cup or two of DP and ate salted potatoes, chips, nuts, and peanut butter sandwiches at various points along the way, hoping to keep up my energy. It seemed to be to no avail. I was struggling more and more as the miles passed, spending more and more time walking to recover. I was lapped by the front-runners in this third loop.

Ihad been lapped by the winners the year before, but I hadn’t really been aware of them. This year I was. I was further disheartened as I struggled with the pain in my leg, the colder-than-expected temperatures, and my all-too-frequent walk breaks. At about mile 36.5, I decided that I was done. My leg hurt, my body was unhappy, and my mind was having trouble wrapping itself around the idea of 13 more miles. I was done, toast, finito.

CONSIDERING THE SUPPORT | ENJOYED

As I ran that mile up to the turnaround, I began to think about the people who had come out to cheer me on and those who were following my progress by cell phone as Terry and my wife called to give them updates. I thought about Alan making the drive again from Dallas (a four- to five-hour drive one way) and my wife being there after having missed the race the year before. That had been a

Mary Williams

first because Mary was at all my big races; she was my biggest supporter, and she was here. J have to finish, | thought to myself. I muttered it under my breath: “T have to finish.”

About that time, I came in to the start/finish turnaround. I ran past my family and saw that Terry and one of my girls had come back—making the nearly 45-minute drive from where they had been watching one of Terry’s granddaughters play basketball—to see me finish. I turned around, hitting the lap button on my watch. It had taken me three hours to complete the third lap.

I jogged back to our spot, and Alan was there to give me whatever I needed. I drank my Ensure and took some more aspirin, although it hadn’t been four hours since the last dose. I told Mary that I probably had pushed them through my system pretty quickly as I had made my way over the last 12.5 miles.

Kristi, my 15-year-old, cheered me on but didn’t want to hug me this time. Terry made another call to his wife, Martha, to give her a progress report. Mary was a bit concerned about why it had taken me so long to do the third leg, and she was trying to give me a pep talk to build my faith and confidence to run faster on the fourth leg. She was doing the right thing, but I was not wrapping my mind around any of it. All I could think about was not failing to finish.

I finally headed out once more as the sun was lowering in the sky. The race starts just before sunrise in December, and a 10-hour day will take you to dusk. In

Mary Williams

A The author surrounded by supporters during the “turn” after loop one. On the left, Alan (kneeling) and Terry. On the right, daughters Kristi (under blanket) and Britney.

2005, I had run 10:10, and dusk was descending as I finished my race. Anything over 10 hours, and the light wanes quickly.

As I made my way around the course one more time, I found that walking was becoming more frequent and running less so. My leg was hurting and time was passing. I tried to pick it up at several points along the way, to no avail. My body was in rebellion. Each aid station was an achievement—an inspiration, really, because I knew them well and was aware of how much closer each one brought me to the end. And yet, as I left each station, I was discouraged because time was passing far too quickly.

I had left the turnaround at mile 25 at about 4:28 after a 16-minute break. Thad left it at 37.5 miles at around 7 hours, 40 minutes. My main goal at that point was just to finish, but I also had the goal in my mind of coming in under 11 hours. The third loop had taken about three hours, and I had walked quite a bit, so three hours for the fourth loop should be doable. As I passed through each aid station on that loop and checked my time and pace, I was beginning to wonder, especially since many of the aid stations had run out of Dr. Pepper!

Finally, I passed through the last station and headed toward the finish. Dusk had come on, and we were fast heading toward dark. I had no flashlight, and I was really hoping that I would be able to follow the glow sticks and not fall over anything on my way to the finish line. Onward I pressed, knowing that with only about three miles to go, I should be able to reach the end without stopping—but could I finish in under 11 hours?

A The author’s brother-in-law, Terry, taking advantage of the great grub at the aid station!

In my final loop, I was left behind by several people I had been jockeying with throughout the day, and I passed no one as I made my way. I was alone in the woods, although I was quickly drawing closer to the parking areas and the crowds that were still in attendance more than 10 1/2 hours into the race. Each step was difficult as I ran, until I had to walk to recover some strength. I then began to run again, thinking still that I would be able to carry the pace now. Not so, my body would scream after just a few dozen yards. I continued to run as long as possible but eventually had to walk again.

ALAS! THE ULTIMATE MILE

Finally, I came in to what I knew to be the final mile. A certain junction in the trail put the runners onto the only out-and-back portion of the course. When you hit it, you knew you were within a mile of the finish. I managed to keep running through this entire mile, though calling it “running” was probably generous. As I pounded down a cut for power lines that marked the final quarter mile, I was watching every person I saw standing next to the trail. I’m not sure why, but it was good that I did because Terry had been standing at the edge of the woods looking for me. He missed me until I called to him. The plan they had made was for him to call ahead and let Alan and Mary know that I was coming so they could get pictures, but I was past Terry before he knew it so they had very little time to set up.

They still managed to get some pictures, including one showing that I did finish in under 11 hours; I’m walking away from the finish at 10 hours, 58 minutes, 56 seconds. (My chip time was 10:58:40.) I was glad to be done.

After turning in my chip and putting on a jacket, I headed for the wonderful kitchen in the woods. The organizers put on a breakfast before the race, which Alan and I had taken advantage of, and they fed the runners and spectators all day long. The kitchen was still out there at 11-plus hours for me to feed my empty body.

Thad paid for a massage that I had planned to get back at the hotel in Houston, assuming I would be done well before the time I had scheduled. That plan had gone awry, but the therapist on site offered to give me the massage there. I climbed onto the table and suffered through mind-numbing pain as he tried to relieve some of the tension that I had built up over 50 miles.

Terry laughed at me as I grunted, groaned, and shouted out my pain number ona scale of 1 to 10. There were a lot of 11s!

Alan had left during my massage, but I had already thanked him about a hundred times and said I would see him in a few days at his house. When I was done getting my massage, we went to Terry’s van and headed for his house, which was about 90 minutes away.

My daughter had to help me out of the van and to the bathroom of a convenience store after we had been traveling for an hour. I had asked how long it was

A The postrace massage. What a relief.

to Terry’s house, and he had said, “Another 30 minutes,” so I knew I had better stop. It was the longest stop of my life. I could barely walk, but I managed to get there and back, and we headed on to the house. I spent a good part of the next night and day lying in bed and icing my legs while family members came and went around me. [| also resolved not to run again for the rest of our stay in Texas, which was an easy enough vow to keep.

And What | Learned From It

No runner runs alone. Somewhere in our lives are people who support, encourage, challenge, and motivate us. Even a person who lives alone in a city and who takes no one to an event is supported and cared for by the volunteers and race organizers.

Those of us with family and friends who make our running part of their lives must be sure to continually express our gratitude and love. It is no small sacrifice for them to stand on the sidelines while we dash away, often seeing us only when we return—be that 15 minutes or several hours later. Meanwhile, we are stirred to do our best for those who wait so faithfully and cheer so loudly.

For me, this is just one “Thank you” of many. i