Get Comfortable With Being Uncomfortable

When I got comfortable with an uncomfortable heat index of 109.7°F at Wildcat Ridge Romp.

“Get comfortable with being uncomfortable.” It’s a phrase or mantra you hear or read sprinkled throughout the ultrarunning world. It’s a concept that I’ve embraced and I feel like it has served me well in my ultrarunning experiences. In fact, sometimes I feel that I am more comfortable with being uncomfortable than I am with indulging in extravagant comforts. But what does it really mean and how does one become comfortable with experiencing discomfort? Is it a trick you play on yourself? Do you just learn to lie to yourself really well and believably? Or is it just straight up denial?

When I got comfortable with being uncomfortable at Eastern States 2017.

To me, it is more than just a matter of denying the facts. In the phrase itself we’re acknowledging a feeling of discomfort (“Get comfortable with being uncomfortable”). We’re accepting the discomfort as fact and simply altering our reaction to that feeling. Rather than having a knee jerk, panicky reaction to the discomfort with the question of “How do I stop this discomfort?” we’ve trained our minds to recognize and accept the discomfort and react in a much more metered and controlled manner.

For me it’s usually a process of analyzing the situation and going through a checklist of questions:


1. How bad is this and is it going to worsen?

This is the “don’t fix what’s not broken” stage. If it’s not that bad, just don’t worry about it. Eventually it will probably resolve itself or you’ll just grow accustomed to the minor discomfort. View this as an opportunity to set your baseline threshold for discomfort. If you run long enough, there is going to be some level of discomfort at some point. When that discomfort begins to appear, greet it with open arms. Be grateful it is no longer hiding in the shadows. Use this baseline discomfort as a measurement tool to determine if it’s increasing or just persisting.


2. Is there anything I can do to resolve it right now?

Fix it if you can. The example of debris in your shoe is the classic example of this. Stop and get the crap out of your shoe before it creates a larger problem like a blister. If you can’t fix it now, can you fix it at the next aid station? Is it chafing that some vaseline will resolve? Aid station volunteers are some of the most helpful groups of people I have ever met. I believe they genuinely want to see all runners succeed and they will do whatever they can to assist with that. Just ask for help.


3. How serious is this and am I going to further injure myself if I continue?

This is the million dollar question. Sometimes distinguishing between superficial and serious injuries can be difficult, especially when your mind and body are both exhausted. Phantom injuries can quickly not only justify accepting a DNF, but convince you that it is the smart thing to do. Do your best to assess the pain/injury as objectively as possible. Try to get a third party opinion from someone who wants to see you keep going (like an aid station or medical volunteer) and not from someone who it will hurt to see you suffer (like a spouse, assuming your spouse is not a masochist).

It’s the reaction to the discomfort that is really important and to me that is what the phrase is all about: YOUR reaction. Of course I am not suggesting that you hobble the last 20 miles or so of an ultra on a broken leg or continue on after suffering a bad fall and showing signs of a concussion. Injury is a valid and respectable reason to DNF. I am not a big fan of another common phrase (“Death Before DNF”) that makes its way around the ultrarunning world. I mean, I like the idea of refusing to quit, but I don’t take it that far. I’m pretty sure people say it because they think it sounds kinda badass, but when you evaluate it a bit more honestly I would hope you realize rather quickly that you are more valuable to someone alive than dead at an ultramarathon. I know that’s the case for me.

So I encourage you to get comfortable with being uncomfortable, but only to a certain degree. You don’t want to cause further injury or do irreparable harm to yourself just to finish a race. Sometimes it feels like a fine line to walk, but I guess that’s part of the fun of ultras. There’s so much uncertainty and so many “what if”s. And that’s part of the reason why I am so drawn to them. They’re challenging and complex in so many regards for achieving the simple purpose of getting from point A to point B as quickly as possible.

When I got comfortable with being uncomfortable at Eastern States 2019.

Scott Snell
November 29, 2021

2017 NJ Ultra Festival 50K

 

Missed Opportunities

 

Everyone has the obligation to ponder well his own specific traits of character. He must also regulate them adequately and not wonder whether someone else's traits might suit him better. The more definitely his own a man's character is, the better it fits him. ---  Cicero   (106 BC - 43 BC)

 

The bridge crossing the dam just after leaving the aid station.
Photo Credit:  Kleinschmidt Group

Have you ever had a race or a training run after which it left you in a bit of a funk? I’m not talking about what seems to be the somewhat common “post race blues” I see people posting about and hear people on podcasts talking about that occurs after the excitement of the finish has faded. I’m referring to a race experience that felt like something was missing from the start to the finish and although it for some reason feels incomplete, as many times as you replay the experience back through your head searching for that missing piece you just can’t seem to identify what it was that was missing. The deeper and more thoroughly you search you realize that there was nothing lacking with the course, the aid stations, or the organization of the race. You realize that the lacking piece was an internal factor, your interpretation of the experience and your outlook and attitude leading up to, during, and after the experience. I am not proud of it, but I am willing to admit that this was the conclusion that I came to after the process of searching and analyzing that I went through following the 2017 NJ Ultra Festival 50K.
 

The view of the falls overflowing from the dam.

Photo Credit:  Princetonblairstown.org

The 2017 Ultra Festival is a multi distance event put on by NJ Trail Series. The distances offered include half marathon, marathon, 50K, 50 mile, 100K, and 100 mile. Something for everyone, right? The 2017 race took place on April 1st at the Princeton Blairstown Center in Hardwick, NJ. The course consists of two loops which both start and end at the race headquarters which also acts as the solo aid station. The two loops were referred to as the forest loop and the lake loop. Respectively, the distances of the two loops according to my Garmin were 3.1 and 2.25 miles making each lap about 5.35 miles long. The 50K distance consisted of 5 full laps and an additional lake loop which my Garmin recorded as a total distance of 28.99 miles with 4200 feet of elevation gain, the majority of which was on the forest loop as the lake loop is relatively flat.  

I signed up the Ultra Festival 50K because the timing and terrain seemed to be perfect for a final long training run before the Hyner 50K, the first of the three “A” races (PA Triple Crown Series) I had planned for 2017. It was three weeks out from the Hyner giving me plenty of time to recover and taper. Little did I know at the time, but the weather and trail conditions of the Ultra Festival 50K would be the best possible training conditions to prepare for the Hyner. Looking back, this mindset of going into a race as a training run may have been part of or nearly all of the reason why I felt that something was lacking when the run was over. Every other ultra I’ve run has always been a test to see what I can do. There have been plenty of times where I have fallen short of my goals in a race, but even in those situations when I realize my top goal is no longer feasible I have continued to push myself to reach the goal at the next tier down. With this race, it felt like I gave up when my “A” goal of a sub five hour finish began to slip out of reach.
 



The first water crossing of the forest loop.
Photo Credit:  @khaosnrg (Instagram)

Race day followed a day of severe thunderstorms that dropped a tremendous amount of rain in a short amount of time. To say the trails were wet is one of the greatest understatements that could be made. Although there are four water crossings along the route of the course, many sections of the trail had become miniature creeks with flowing water due to the previous day’s storm. It was basically the best situation for someone like myself to overcome their fear of running with wet feet. Facing this fear and dealing with it was better than any training run I could have planned to prepare for the conditions of the Hyner 50K. Unfortunately I wouldn’t appreciate it until three weeks later when I was running some similarly wet trails at Hyner View State Park with soggy Lone Peaks on my feet. Just before the start of the 50K the race director, Rick McNulty, let us all know about the trail conditions. In short the message was to plan on having wet feet. With that encouragement and advice, we were off for our first time around the forest loop.

 



The second water crossing of the forest loop.
Photo Credit:  @rick.stahl512 (Instagram)

Both loops leave the aid station by crossing a bridge over a dam before coming to a “Y” where the lake loop cuts left and the forest loop cuts right. Shortly after the split, the forest loop makes about a half mile ascent along what appeared to be a maintenance road before hitting a true hiking trail. By this point my shoes had already sank ankle deep in mud and although my shoes had not been completely submersed in water, they were already saturated throughout. The course then has about

The wooden bridge near the end of the forest loop.
Photo Credit:  @khaosnrg (Instagram)

a half mile descent before reaching the first water crossing. This crossing had a downed tree with high and low limbs across it which you could walk across and use for balance to avoid getting wet feet relatively easily. However, given the trail conditions it did little good to keep your feet dry at the water crossings. Following this came one of the muckiest sections of the trail and the biggest climb of the course. Water was actually flowing down the trail in sections as I climbed the next half mile up with a little over 200 feet of gain. Then it was about a half mile descent back down to the water for the second water crossing. This crossing had what appeared to be a slick, narrow limb that you could balance on to cross, but I opted to walk through the knee deep water rather than risk slipping and taking a bad landing in the water. By this point my feet weren’t getting any more wet. This was followed by another sloppy, half mile climb before a quick descent to a wooden bridge crossing the water. The trail then followed along side the water for a short run before the final water crossing of the loop. After this there was a short but steep climb during which we were treated to a view of the falls where the overflow from the dam is released to feed the stream we had just crossed several times during the forest loop before making it back to the aid station.

The final water crossing for both loops.

Photo Credit:  @khaosnrg (Instagram)

It was at this first aid station stop that I met another runner who asked me if I was racing this. It was still early in the race (about 3 miles) and I was still well within reach of my 5 hour time goal so my response was simply a “yeah, kinda…”. He headed out from the aid station as I was filling my bottle. Shortly after I started out for my first time around the lake loop. The lake loop was flat compared to the forest loop. It likely would have nearly all been pretty fast and runnable if conditions were decent, but on this day it had basically become a mudfest. Conditions had become sloppy and slick causing my pace to slow. The loop follows the east side of the lake from the dam crossing. At about a half mile from the dam the lake ends and the trail crosses the stream that feeds the lake. This crossing had a few options for getting across. There was a rope bridge or a fallen log that could be used to cross. The rope bridge seemed to always have a line at it and the water level was high enough to flow over the log so that option wouldn’t do much good to keep your feet dry. Dry feet, however, had become a lost cause altogether. I simply used the log for balance as I waded through the waist deep stream. And wow, that water was chilly, but it felt good to wash all the mud and grit off my legs. The trail then followed the west side of the lake back towards the aid station. Just when you near the aid station, the course cuts away and heads back into the woods for about a 1 mile loop where the trail merges with the end of the forest loop trail just after the bridge crossing and before the final water crossing. I spent the majority of the lake loop with the runner I had just met at the aid station and one other runner. After grabbing some food and refilling my bottle I headed back out for lap 2 alone.


  

Another view of the rope bridge.
Photo Credit:  @rick.stahl512 (Instagram)

The rope bridge crossing option.
Photo Credit:  @khaosnrg (Instagram)

Lap 1 had taken me just under 1 hour to finish. I knew I would have to move faster to meet my goal as I had a lake loop to do after 5 full laps. I could blame it on the conditions of the day or the fact that I hadn’t trained on hills much leading up to the race, but my target time slipped farther out of reach as I ticked the miles off. At the end of lap 2 my total time was just over 2 hours. At the end of lap 3 my total time was just a little further over 3 hours. It was during lap 3 that I was so desperate to shave a little time off that I urinated in my shorts. It wasn’t as bad as it initially sounds. During the deepest water crossing of the lake loop, which was about waist deep for me, I let it flow while wading across. The flowing water washed away the urine as it was released keeping me relatively clean and not smelling like urine while saving the time it would have taken me to hop off the trail to go. Even with this completely ingenious tactic, rather than gaining on my time goal, it was getting farther out of reach with every lap. Now just a little past the halfway point, I was beginning to accept the fact that today was not going to go as I had hoped. At the end of the forest loop during lap 4 around the 19 mile mark I was about 3 hours and 51 minutes into the race, well behind my target pace with almost no chance of catching up to my target time. It was at this point that I met up again with the other runner who had asked me about racing the event. I hadn’t seen him since the end of lap 1 and this time he asked if I wanted to run the rest of the race together. Having just realized that my goal time was completely out of reach I was feeling a bit defeated and not competitive at all. I said yes thinking it would be nice to have some company for the last few loops and take my mind off of what I was currently viewing as a failed race. I had the singular time goal for this race and if I didn’t reach that my only secondary goal was to get a good training run with some hills. With this mindset and my goal time a lost cause, I did not have any motivation to push myself harder to compete for a higher placing at the finish. Even considering the fact that as we left the aid station for the second half of our fourth lap we now shared the lead.


The muckiness of the trails was impressive.
Photo Credit:  @rick.stahl512 (Instagram)

We had some conversation during the lake loop and I explained how earlier I had been aiming for a time goal that was now an impossibility. We finished the loop at a comfortable pace without either of us pushing the other. It was during the forest loop of our next and final lap that another runner caught up with us. She past me and was on the heels of the guy I had been running with during the first big climb of the loop. I watched as they both climbed hard and eventually out of sight while my legs and my mind refused to push. It was like the shoe sucking mud I had been running through all day had sucked the will out of me as well. It was towards the end of the forest loop that I caught back up to the guy I had been running with. We basically picked up our plan to finish the run out together once first place was out of both of our sights. So together we ran the last 2 lake loops and finished at the same time about 16 minutes behind the first place finisher.  

     

   Left: Finisher medal; Center:  Race registration swag; Right:  Sweet placement prize

At the finish I was content with getting through a tough day in rough conditions and getting a good training run done leading up to the Hyner, but after leaving the race and some time passed I began

Drying my feet by the
 fire after the finish

feeling disappointed about it and just a bit empty. After examining the how and why I was feeling this way I came to a few conclusions. The first being that maybe I’m a bit more competitive than I thought I was. I tell myself and others that I don’t run ultras competitively, but for personal enjoyment. But when I think back to how I felt as first and second place raced up that hill and out of sight while I felt powerless to chase them and I didn’t particularly enjoy it. I ran decently in pretty tough conditions. I thought that I should have been proud of that, but for some reason I wasn’t feeling that way about the run. I ran about a third of the race with the company of another runner. This should have been a positive as well I thought. However, looking back at the day and my finishing time, I kept on asking if I really pushed myself to my limit and the answer I kept getting was no. Maybe part of the reason why I had this feeling after this race and no other race I’ve done is because of a conversation I had with my brother in law a few hours after the finish. He was basically asking how it went and I explained how I finished with one other runner for second place. He immediately asked “How’d you tie?”. I tried to explain that we ran the last 10 miles together then just decided to finish together. Just as a side note and some background info that may clear things up a bit, my brother in law was a competitive trampolinist who competed in the 2012 London Olympics. So even though I may be more competitive than I had thought I was, he may have an even stronger hunger for competition. It was after this conversation that I started questioning my race effort and whether I ran my race or someone else’s race. The more I relived and examined the experience the less happy I was with it. The last ten miles I ran with another runner had benefits for sure, but also negatives. Honestly, it left me with more “what if” questions than I liked. What if I had run the last ten miles alone? What would the outcome have been? Would I have been faster? Would I have been slower? I guess I’ll never know. I’d say the lesson I’m taking away from this race is how important it is to me, for better or for worse, to run my own race. Whether I meet my goals or fail spectacularly, at least I did it on my terms and have no excuse for the results other than the effort I put forth. Most importantly though, I want to enjoy the experience and the memories of it. If I am looking back on any given race and questioning my effort I feel it is somewhat tarnished as a subpar effort, even if I went into it with the mindset of it being a training run. Maybe this is a fault within me that I need to reconcile in some way. For the time being at least, I am recognizing it.

 

 

Scott Snell

May 16, 2017

2016 Wildcat Ridge Romp

Author’s Note:  This race report was written in January about five months following the event. I’ve done my best to recall the events as accurately as possible. I have made sure to note anywhere there was any uncertainty in my recollection of said events.

The Wildcat Ridge Romp is a multi distance (10 mile, 20 mile, 50k, 50 mile, 100 k) event organized and managed by the NJ Trail Series group. It takes place at the Wildcat Ridge Wildlife Management Area in northern New Jersey typically in mid August when it is nice and warm; I’ll elaborate on the heat for the event this year a little later. All distances for the event are run by repeating a 10 mile loop as many times as necessary to finish a runner’s chosen distance. The course is primarily single track trail with a few short sections of ATV trail, paved road, and fire road mixed in. The trail is pretty technical in my opinion with some semi treacherous rocky sections and enough elevation change to keep it interesting even if it was completely smooth runnable trail. My Garmin data showed a little under 1000’ of elevation gain per loop with 4702’ at the end of the 50 miler. The one creek crossing at around the six mile mark of the loop offered a solid bridge so wet feet due to creek crossings were not an issue. Unfortunately, due to other reasons wet feet would not be avoided altogether.



10 Mile Course Map

Following finishing my first 50 miler (North Face Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain, NY) recovery went well and faster than expected so I returned to my normal non-training routine of running. It was mid May and I was feeling confident and motivated, but had no other races lined up for the remainder of the year. The North Face 50 miler was intended to be the running pinnacle of the year for me in 2016, but returning to running afterwards left me looking for a new challenge. Since my first attempt at a 50 miler went better than expected, I thought attempting another and improving my time at the same distance would be an achievable goal to work towards. I especially thought it was a doable goal because I wasn’t aiming for a massive improvement. My finishing time at the North Face 50 miler was 9:04:29. I was hoping to improve my 50 miler time to under 9 hours. My thinking was that if I could find a similar 50 miler, shaving five minutes off of my time wouldn’t be that much more incredibly difficult. If I hadn’t had to stop to clear my colon at the NF 50 miler, I would have already been under 9 hours. In my mind, I was literally one poo away from my goal.

I decided on the 50 mile option of the Wildcat Ridge Romp with about two and a half months of time to train. It seemed to be the perfect attempt for me to improve my 50 miler time since it was described as having similar terrain and almost identical elevation gain. The NF 50 course had just under 7000’ of elevation gain according to my Garmin data while the Wildcat Ridge Romp course elevation profile showed 7223’ of elevation gain for the 50 mile course. I followed the same training plan I had for the NF 50 miler which was based off of the Ultraladies 50 mile training plan (http://www.trailrunevents.com/ul/schedule-50m.asp). The training seemed to go just as well in preparation for the Wildcat Ridge Romp as it had for the NF 50 miler. Everything seemed to be going as planned for me to achieve my goal:  similar course difficulty, almost identical training, and a great outlook going into the race. I was extremely confident up until about a week before the race when I started checking the weather reports.

50 Mile Elevation Profile

Hourly weather data

The 2016 Wildcat Ridge Romp took place on August 13th which happened to be a particularly warm day. As I had mentioned earlier, the heat would become a factor especially going into the later part of the day. At 6 AM at the start of the race the temperature was 73.4°F. It would eventually climb to a high of 95°F with a heat index of 109.7°F according to Weather Underground’s historical weather data. Even knowing the heat would play a role in the race, I still felt good about my goal at the start of the day.

I planned to run this race at a steady pace. For me that meant averaging 1 h:48 min. per 10 mile

An example of how some of the ATV trails looked

loop. A friend (I’ll refer to him as RP going forward) of mine had registered for this race as well so we took off at the front of the pack from the start and ran the first loop together. Throughout the entirety of the day, weather was a factor and from the starting line to the actual start of the trail was no exception. It was hot and humid, even at the 6 AM start. While the heat and mugginess this early made things uncomfortable, the absolute worst effect of the weather this early in the day was the amount of dew everything was covered in. The race starts in a small parking lot and then follows less than a quarter mile stretch of grassy area along a road before turning onto a gravel road that takes you to the trail. It was during this short grassy stretch at the start that the dew had the biggest impact, soaking the shoes and socks of all the runners. Once on the trail, the dew continued to keep our shoes and socks wet. Because much of the course follows ATV trails, they are not maintained to the same pristine conditions you may expect for most hiking trails. Sections of the trail stretched through non-forested open areas. Through these sections much of the vegetation on the trail edges was 2-5 feet tall, heavy with dew, and leaning hard onto the path. Running these sections kept me pretty much soaked from the waist down.

The first four miles of the loop to the first aid station were a mix of these sections of wooded trail and

View from the pond edge

open stretches. There were no significant climbs up to this point, just a lot of short climbs and quick descents. At around the three mile mark (not positive about this location) there is what looked to be a great overlook site, but upon our first passing it was too dark to see much. RP and I refilled our water bottles and moved through the first aid station quickly. The first mile after felt about the same as the first four miles with a short stretch where we ran along a pond edge for a nice change of scenery. It was right around the five mile mark where we hit what seemed to me as the most significant and technical climb of the course. Not that it was the longest climb of the course, but probably the steepest and most rocky.



View from overlook

Miles six and seven were a bit more technical than the first five with much more exposed rock sections and a long (about a mile) descent with a couple pretty steep sections that were a little gnarly. The long descent was followed by a long climb of about a mile and a half. This section of trail felt different to me as well as it carved its way through continuous forest passing large boulders and keeping me alert as a few more technical sections required a little rock hopping. At about the six mile mark the course reaches the lowest elevation and crosses a bridge over a small creek. After the creek crossing the course hops onto a stone road that begins climbing alongside the creek. About three quarters of a mile later the road leads you to what appears to be a very aged stone structure. At this point the course leads you to a short climb behind the stone building and out of the woods to a steep climb up a grassy embankment to a paved road. We then followed the road (Split Rock Rd.) across a large dam which held the water supply that was feeding the creek adjacent to the road we had just climbed. Just on the other side of the dam at mile seven was an unmanned water station thankfully. Seeing all that water and having a nearly empty bottle was mentally draining in some way. We filled our bottles quickly, dumped a little water on our heads (we were only about 1:20 from the start, but the heat was already affecting us), and continued our run.

The next couple miles were similar to the early miles of the loop with a mix of wooded and open sections, although I’d say this later section was composed of more open than wooded. At least it felt that way with the sun out as it seemed shade was hard to come by and the sun was already feeling warm during the second half of our first loop. At the 8.5 mile mark the course passed by the mile four aid station again and then followed another rock road for about a mile on a gradual descent until spilling out into a neighborhood on paved roads. After about a quarter mile run on the neighborhood blacktop roads, the course hopped back on the trail for a very short stretch before dumping us back to the initial gravel road that led back to the start/finish area.

We checked into the start/finish area at about 1 hour and 50 minutes, just a couple minutes slow to meet my target time. At this point that time split was a confidence booster because I felt like I hadn’t started pushing myself too hard or nearing that exhaustion line anywhere during the first loop. RP and I filled our bottles with some Gatorade and took in some calories before heading back out. Since the start/finish area was the only fully stocked aid station, I was relying on GoGos applesauce squeeze pouches as my only source of calories between 10 mile loops. Each pouch was 3.2 oz and 60 calories. I ate three during the first loop and took three more before heading back out for loop number two. If all things went perfectly, this may have been a fine nutritional plan:  180 supplemental applesauce calories during each 10 mile, sub 2 hour loop and primary refueling at the completion of each loop at the main aid station. Unfortunately, not everything went perfectly. As the day went on and the heat started to wear on me I began slowing down. This meant longer stretches of energy exertion with fewer calories consumed. Although I wouldn’t say that nutrition was the largest contributing factor to my ailing performance throughout the day, I would say it could have been adding to an already troubled situation.

I headed back out with RP for our second lap with the plan to try to push this lap a little harder than the first. I figured if I was going to meet my goal I didn’t want to have to make up time on my final lap during the hottest part of the day. I realized after a few miles that RP wasn’t with me anymore. We had chatted during the first lap about running together and splitting up. We even joked about whether we would hold hands at the finish as we shared first place. We knew what each other’s goals were so I wasn’t completely surprised to find myself alone. During the remainder of this lap the heat continued wear on me. Although the dew was long gone, I was still drenched from a steady flow of sweat. I almost stopped at the creek crossing during this lap to dunk my head and cool off, but I knew the water aid station was just ahead and somewhat reluctantly passed on the opportunity. I finished up my second lap and checked into the start/finish area at about 3:50, even further behind my target time after trying to push myself harder during that second lap to make up the couple minutes that I needed. It was at this point that I started doubting the feasibility of making my goal of a sub 9 hour finish.



Map of the dam crossing

It was at some point during my third lap that I started coming to terms with not achieving my main intention of the race. The heat was getting more and more oppressive with every lap. My water bottle was either empty or nearly empty every time I reached an aid station. It had been about five hours since the start of the race and I don’t think I had urinated once. I tried to pick up my pace during this lap, but my body just wouldn’t respond how I wanted it to. I continued to fall further off of my target pace. Most people recommend having tiered goals going into a race. I didn’t do that because I was so sure I’d be able to hit my A goal of a sub 9 hour finish. It was looking more and more like that wasn’t going to happen. I decided I would make up a secondary goal on the fly to stay motivated. I was in the lead since RP had fallen back during the second lap, so what better goal to stay motivated to the finish but to hang on to the lead? So finishing in first became my tier B goal. During this lap I stopped at the creek crossing and dunked my head and soaked my shirt in the cool water. I was so happy I did because at the next water station there was only enough water left to fill my bottle (20 oz.) about halfway.

I’m not certain, but I believe it was during this lap that a group of a few runners that must have finished a shorter distance race were parked at the point on the course where you exit the trail and head into the neighborhood. They must have been waiting for runners to cheer on because when they saw me approach the cranked up the stereo playing “I Would Walk 500 Miles” by the Proclaimers and hopped out of the car cheering. The song choice made me chuckle and cheered me up a bit for the last of the lap.

I rolled into the start/finish area a little past the six hour mark, so much for those sub two hour laps. I was feeling overheated and dehydrated. I also had the feeling that I was fighting a losing battle with my A goal steadily getting farther out of reach. Although feeling a bit trashed mentally and physically, I went through the aid station quickly to try to finish what was beginning to feel like a suffer fest as

Trail following the creek to the dam crossing

quickly as possible. It was during this fourth lap that I started wondering how RP was doing and regretting pushing harder during that second lap. I thought that maybe if I had just kept pace with him at least I would have had some company in this misery. And misery it was. I had never felt so dehydrated or overheated. I realized at a couple points during this lap that my head had stopped sweating as my hair was dry. I felt like I had to urinate, but only a dark brownish yellow dribble came out. When I reached the creek crossing during this lap, I took some extra time to soak and cool down. I found a low rock at the creek edge and hung from it with my waist up submerged in the cool flowing water. After a couple minutes I grudgingly pulled myself out of the water and trudged up the rock road climb. It was a blessing I pushed myself to move when I did at that point because as I was arriving at the aid station on the other side of the dam a volunteer was about to leave the unmanned aid station without any water. I was beyond happy that I got there before she had left and when she offered me ice I profusely expressed my love for her. I got a full, iced water bottle, a hat full of ice, and a far improved mood and was on my way to wrap up lap four. It was towards the end of this lap that one house in the neighborhood section of the course had put out a sign proclaiming “Way To Go Wildcat Runners! Heat Index:  109.7°F”. Thankfully, they also put out a garden sprinkler for runners to cool off in.

I returned to the start/finish area at about the 8.5 hour mark. At this point I was almost relieved that my goal time was a lost cause. I also had plenty of distractions away from those negative thoughts. RP was back at the start/finish area. By this time he had called it quits after three laps. His girlfriend and father were there as were my wife, our two boys, and her mom. I felt like I had a full crew there to patch me up and get me back out for my final lap. I put on clean dry socks and swapped out my soggy Sauconys for Altra Superiors. While doing this, RP’s dad handed me a Sierra Nevada IPA. A cold IPA never tasted so good. While getting the IPA and some calories down, I found out that of the 30 or so runners that started the 50 miler only myself and one other runner were still on the course. I guess this made my B goal more attainable as I only had to stay in front of one other runner. With that confidence booster, dry feet, and a little alcohol in my system I headed out in good spirits for my final lap.

As happy as I was heading out for the final lap, it wasn’t long before the sun and heat reminded me how tough that fourth lap had been. Soon after leaving the start/finish area, my main motivation was the creek. All I cared about was getting to the creek and laying down in the water. The miles were slow, but once I got to the creek it was bliss. I laid face down in the water until I started wondering what a passerby might think if they saw me. I was sure they would assume I was a corpse. With that thought I pulled myself out and moved on. Within minutes, the relief of the water was replaced with the dense heat and humidity of the day. I passed through the unmanned empty water station trying not to think about how there was once a water station there. I rolled through the neighborhood one more time and got a final soak in the garden hose before making it to the finish to be greeted by my friends and family.

I finished with an official time of 10:55:02 which was good enough for first place this year. As happy as I was with the results and my effort, I would be lying if I didn’t admit it was somewhat bittersweet for several reasons (I think my face at the finish kinda shows these emotions). First and most importantly, my finishing time was nowhere near my target A goal time of nine hours. Second was the fact that it felt like I got first place (my made on the fly B goal) by default. The majority of the 50 mile runners had stopped at three laps and taken a 50 k finish time. Now whether you believe that race directors should allow runners to drop down to shorter distance finishes or if you believe that runners who don’t finish the distance they registered for should be recorded as DNFs is a separate although somewhat related issue. No matter how it was handled at this race, I still would have felt like I got first place somewhat by default. I most likely was not the fastest distance runner that started the 50 miler that day. However, only myself and one other runner were stubborn enough to finish the full distance given the torturous conditions.

Scott Snell
January 3, 2017