It is all Yours
I’ve never considered myself as a person vulnerable to stress. In the past, I was acutely aware that although I might be involved in a situation, it was more than likely temporary. I was passing through, never took much of a vested interest in much of anything. As if on a constant holiday, always a step or two away from turning a different direction and leaving everything and everyone without care or worry. In fact, I often said, “I never miss people.” And it was true; I was more likely to care about the moment I was in than about the people who were in it. I viewed my own existence through a narrow prism of the ongoing moment. Never planning, never saving, never caring. This, however, has faded over the years, as the resilience of youth has given way to the inroads of time. I now like being comfortable, being in control, knowing what to expect - all things I would have laughed at in my youth. The “me then” would not like the “me now” and the “me now” just might have kicked the “me then’s” mushy behind, but I digress.
The stress and joy associated with becoming a sponsored athlete are two things I never thought I would have to face in life. My decision to run a marathon when most knew me as a smoker and party loving animal raised more than a few eyebrows. My decision to continue to run marathons has been met with eye rolling. My choice to jump into a 50 mile race was met with downright consternation and the fact that I have since taken to racing ultras has most sure that I have lost what small amount of good sense I had left.
My recent ambition, or should I say target, has been the Land Between the Lakes 50 miler. A 11.3 mile loop course to be repeated four times with some road miles at the beginning and end to round out an even fifty. I have gained some confidence in growing fitness coming off of my 4:04 finish in the Recover from the Holidays 50k in Huntsville Al. I call it “the jump”- a time after much training when one sees palpable results. The 4:04 was good enough for second place and drew some attention from some reputable local companies; Swiftwick, Endurance Sports, and through Endurance, Fitness Wave. Although in truth, I most likely would still be running for “Team Stevens” if it weren’t for my training partner, Ashly Dewberry, better known as Mash. Mash is a 6” 2.5” 150 lb athlete that has been racing Ironman’s for some time. We met through a running club, Highland Rim Ultra Runners, this group of guys gets together for weekend (very) long runs, similar to most running groups. Mash and I plan to run the Tahoe Rim 100 miler in July.
The training for LBL was already planned to be intense, but in a fit of enthusiasm, I grabbed my schedule, printed so nicely in Excel and started adding miles. Instead of 5 on a Tuesdays I’d go 8m, instead of 18m on a Saturday I’d do 22 with a 4 mile 7 minute tempo sesh stuck in the middle. I added additional core and weight sessions. My plan was to, walk the tight rope, as it is called. A place where you push your systems to the limit and face the real possibility of an overtraining injury. Overall I upped my schedule by some 15% to 20% from an already tough plan.
Here we go…
I stood back from the starting line staring at the guy in charge. The pink horizon behind him diminished his features as he faded to a hat, coat and bullhorn. I listened as best I could, but my heart was pumping. I felt like a fighter jet on a runway awaiting takeoff. All this was preliminary fluff; my focus was on the main event, which was moments away.
We walked forward after the bullhorn, said something about, “freedom and living in a great country.” He stopped short of offering a prayer citing respect for everyone’s beliefs. Whatever… I prayed hard, that’s still ok, I think.
The start was beside a sailboat marina. Boats bobbed and danced in the water with masts swaying in the breeze. It was a perfect 45 degrees and the budding sun revealed blue and clear skies.
We were off with a gun start. The race was a mix of 24k/marathon/60k/50m runners so I knew there would be some rabbits in the group who would blister out too fast for my race. What I didn’t expect was Shellhammer, one particular runner I had eyed out as real competition. I wanted to go with them. I was shooting 7:40s and watching him grow ever smaller as he pulled away with a group of what I could only imagine was 24k’ers. Truth be told, he and Gingrich (Badwater Champ) were both up in that rabbit fast group. It would be the last I would see of them for a good long time. With a fast pace, a small group drove into the turn and into the woods. The packed dirt single track wove beside the water. The path offered good footing and rolled up and down only slightly through the first five miles of the trail. The first loop had a theme for me, “Like It Never Happened.” I told myself over and over again. That was what the loop had to feel like. Like it never happened, I milked my bottle of Infinit (a new sports mix loaded with good stuff) and refilled at the 6.5 mile aid station with whatever I could get quickly. The foam in the bottle confused the aid station volunteers and I had to keep watch that they filled the bottle to the brim.
Then on to the three sisters. Thusly named as the only true hilly part of the Canal Loop, three noticeable climbs that required attention. One came in two parts, the second had a switchback and the third led to a microwave tower. Once you made it to the tower, it was a rolling fast and furious two or so miles to the finish of the loop.
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| loop 1 |
Lap 2 started at a little over 13 miles. I grabbed my second bottle of Infinit out of my drop box to which I had taped a honey waffle stinger and two gels. My plan was to use the flat and non-technical first mile or two to eat, gel, gather myself together for the coming sections. Maintaining my goal pace: 8s to 8:30s felt easy even while I fiddled with my pockets and worked to open the packets. Lap two was to be, “Nice and Easy.” I utilized some Qi Gong breathing techniques and continued to focus on my form working to remain as efficient as possible.
The hills named the three sisters greeted me as before. I decided to create a cartoon visualization of them. I imagined them as three plump debutantes with heavy makeup that I was paying a visit to in their parlor. With each one I would sit and converse and then each would pop like an over inflated, pastel balloon as I crested the hill. I made a conversation out of the climbs.
Finishing loop two, I was glad to get into loop three, which would be my “Work Loop”. I added a bit to this. “Our family is built on work,” I thought. Time to work. I grabbed my next bottle of Infinit at the drop station, and ripped off the fig newtons and gels I had taped to the bottle. I was glad to allow myself to feel the strain of the miles as we were now into the mid 20s. A long way from 50 but making good progress, feeling strong and on pace. I wanted each loop to be between 1:30 and 1:35 and I was right on target to meet my goal of a sub seven hour.
My father had given me a Jeremy Riddle album to put on my ipod. The message of faith and Christ’s love buried itself deep in my soul. I ran alone, only passing people who were now walking or shuffling along. I thought about my father and his father and his father and all the love and sacrifice and hard work that had been poured into our family.
I had been saying, “This is my day, this is my time.” But in this moment I gave it over. It was and is all His. There is nothing with out Him for me. So it is all yours, Lord Jesus.
I worked the hills and flew down the backside of the tower feeling strong and making plans for loop four. Julia had planned to be there for the start of my last loop. I saw her taking pictures and then I ran right by her. I was annoyed because I thought she didn’t have my bottle, a nutritional strain-related symptom I suffer late in some races. I get annoyed by just about anything if my levels are off. Turns out that she had it at my box a few steps beyond her and off I went.
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| where's my bottle? |
I gnawed on a fig newton, popped Aleve and Tums and Endurolites. My plan for the fourth loop was to replenish for the first three miles and prep for a final push. Once I passed the first aid station, I added the loop’s theme, “Drop the Hammer”. I focused on my form and leg turnover. It is so easy heading into the last 10 miles to let one’s pace drift off to a sluggish trot. The autonomic function of the brain wants to click in and zombie running- thoughtless travel can take hold. I fought to maintain focus, wooping it up as I passed a girl wearing a furry mouse hat. It was the only costume I had seen all day- kind of refreshing actually. Races have become so gimmicky- everybody juggles, wears hotdog costumes and gets matching shirts. What about the pure race? Isn’t that enough?
I bore down into the three sisters and then used the downhills to make up my slowed climbing pace. Then I saw a tall bald headed runner who was super fit up ahead. He was an ultra, on a switch back. He looked back over his shoulder and saw me. He let out a loud groan followed by several curses. I maintained my focus and pace and as I neared, I made a decisive pass, mumbling, “Good job.” He slowed to a walk and as he moved to the right, he caught his foot in the loose scree lurching forward cursing again. I was by him, he looked cooked, but a guy like that can come to life at any second. I didn’t even look at his bib to see if he was in the same race. I just silently increased my pace and flew down the backside of the sister hills.
I exited the woods and was told I was 3rd. After a 1.2 mile out and back I was heading home and had no one on my tail. I gobbled more Endurolites as my legs threatened to seize up. The second pill lodged itself sideways in my throat on its descent causing me to gag, convulse and launch the pill into the air; at least I got one down. Seeing Julia lifted my spirits as I dropped my pace below 8. I was going to be close to my goal of a sub 7 hr 50 miler but as I began my way over a long bridge and was met with a strong headwind, I had fairly cashed it in. Two women up ahead looked over their shoulders. One fell back as I passed and the other jumped up with me, “Hey you’re a 50 she said. Are you winning?” she asked. I said, “No, I’m third and super happy to be here.” She said, “Oh man, how you doing.” I paused, “I’m struggling.” “Want me to pace you in?” “Yes,” I said without giving it much thought. She jumped in front of me and accelerated. I forced myself to follow, now, just looking at her heels. “How ya doin?” she asked. I said, “I’m hanging on.” That was the truth. We were running low 7’s uphill. She said, “When we crest this hill, you go all out. You turn right and it’s a quarter mile downhill to the finish.
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| 2 miles to go |
My name’s Gracie.” she told me. I said, “This is sweet. I might break 7 hrs.” She said “Oh yeah, you will.”
As we came near the top of the hill, I could hold back no longer. I pulled out beside her and she shouted GO, GO, GO!!! With a pure burst of adrenaline I crested the hill striding out long pumping my arms hard. I shouted and yelled now I was at full sprint. I could hear her yelling and urging me on. The finish was in sight. I threw my belt off. I needed to be light. I could feel everything rising in my body. My head was swimming and I could feel myself shouting a guttural sound. I looked up at the clock as it came into focus it read 6:58 I poured into the bottom of the hill, wide-eyed and into the chute. I was done, 6:58:47 and a 3rd place over all.
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| finish |
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| l to r: Jadyn (3rd), Zach (1st) CR, Troy (2nd) |
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post race with Julia (24k finisher + crew!)
in our matching shirts,
where's the buffet? |
We were met by Matt who had already secured 3 dozen biscuits, tons of homemade preserves (peach, blackberry and strawberry) and big black coffees in styrofoam cups. We sat on the shaded deck of Trace Bikes next to Loveless and relished our reward. Biscuit Run #1 complete and 61 miles for the week.
