The Big 50 - 50k at Pine Mountain
Coming off that sad little finish at the Georgia Jewel, I didn’t exactly have high hopes for my next adventure. However, in an effort to make myself feel more successful, I decided to give myself just three simple goals for The Big 50 50k at Pine Mountain: finish, finish at least a minute faster than the last time I ran the course, and try not to kick anything so hard that I have to wonder if I made my big toe a half inch shorter like I’d done the year before.
I took a personal day at work so I could drive the 6 or so hours up to Columbus, Georgia. I had a late start and didn’t roll out until 10:00 a.m., but with most of the day to get there I wasn’t too worried. The drive was uneventful and there was little traffic. Seemed like this trip was already getting off to a better start than the last! I arrived in Columbus near about 5:00 p.m., checked into my hotel and promptly set out to get an earlier and more robust dinner. I was determined to make fewer mistakes this race in the hopes that my performance would fare better.
I inhaled some steak tips and mashed potatoes while sitting at the bar of the nearby Texas Roadhouse. After the final bites, it instantly felt like a mistake. I ate way too fast. I had been really hungry, and that coupled with fear of a late-night repeat Bob Evans Mac and Cheese, I was shoveling the food into my face like I hadn’t eaten for days. Fortunately, since I drove this time, I was able to bring most of my fuel and fluid with me. After dinner I stopped by a Publix for just a handful of things and was back to the hotel in no time. I was more than ready for some jammie time.
After prepping gear, I crawled into bed at 7:30. I am not even kidding. Not only was I stuffed silly from dinner, and a bit tired from the drive, I was going to make sure I got enough rest before race day. We were NOT messing this one up.
The next morning, the usual race day routines went along smoothly. I had about a half-hour drive this time, so I prepped my breakfast to go. I again applied RunGoo to all my favorite places but made sure to be a bit more heavy-handed this time. The temperatures were going to be cooler than at the Jewel, but certainly not cold. Sweat was still on the agenda for the day.
My drive to the race start was uneventful, and packet pick-up a breeze. I was definitely feeling positive about the day. I got my bib, lucky number 30 written in dark green Sharpie on my hand. I couldn’t think of any reason that number 30 was lucky, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to “believe” it was lucky. I finished up my breakfast, hit the restrooms, and made my way to the field on the other side of the road for the race start.
After a short briefing from the race director, our little pack of 36 or so runners were on our way with a “Go” and a click of her watch. Upon leaving the open field and heading into the woods, the trail immediately started a mild climb. It didn’t take long to get that heart rate up. The course, while not having any majorly long or excessively steep climbs, does in fact climb. There are numerous ups and downs and plenty of rock to go around.
For the first 17 miles, I trailed another Florida runner in a pack of 4 runners. We had the two of us, a younger man completing his first ultra, and another man who runs that trail system fairly frequently. We chatted a bit along the way, the newbie asking questions and the rest of us sharing course recommendations and experiences from other races we’ve done. Time passed easily. This time I had worn a different pair of shoes that were stiffer and tighter across the midfoot. My footing was much better this time and I felt more confident on the rocky terrain. The woman in front of me was setting a pace that was good for me. I made it a point to keep up with her as long as possible. She seemed to have a bit more climbing power than I did, but I caught her on nearly every downhill. At times, I had to slow up to wait for her to tip-toe through a section. I didn’t think it would matter if I passed her so I didn’t bother. I assumed she’d just catch up to me anyway, and the trails were generally quite narrow to begin with. I stayed behind her and matched her pace the best I could. Somewhere around 12 or so miles, the two guys we were with had drifted back and out of sight.
When we arrived at the aid station at mile 17, I saw an opportunity. At the pace we were going, I felt confident that if I didn’t break any toes by kicking rocks, that I would definitely be able to beat my previous time on the course. At the aid station, all I really needed to do was ditch an empty water bottle in the trash, pick up a new one, and be on my way. The gal that had been ahead of me stopped to greet some family and was removing her pack bladder to refill it. I considered sticking around to have a snack but thought that if I took off right away, I might be able to stay ahead of her. We had just finished a bit of a climb, so we were due for some descent. I could put distance between us here. Maybe I could gain a finish position. Game on.
As predicted, we started down the ridge. I’d been feeling pretty good so far anyway, so I did my best to pick up the pace a bit and create space. I listened for steps behind me for a few miles, but there were none. A few of the top runners were on their way back on a short section of the course that overlaps the outbound runners, but other than that I was alone.
Eventually, the younger runner that was with us earlier in the day caught up to me. I hadn’t seen him for miles. I think he may have been holding back before, taking a conservative approach since the distance was unknown to him. But now, he came cruising along. A few miles later, I had to stop abruptly on the trail. I hadn’t kicked a rock. I wasn’t feeling sick. I wasn’t in pain. “I” no longer had the right of way on this trail.
The rattlesnake was coiled perfectly right at the edge of the trail near the upslope. I stopped short of him by 10-12 feet. The width of the trail was only about 2 and a half feet, so there was no room to pass safely. I snapped a quick picture then threw both hands out to my sides as I turned behind me to the other runner. “STOP,” I said firmly. I looked forward again to see if the snake had moved. It hadn’t. I turned back to the runner, “Rattlesnake. We’ll have to go down and around.” The young man was about 20 feet behind me as I started down the slope to make my way around the rattlesnake. The other guy decided to approach the scaly warden within about 8 feet, at which time the snake used its rattle to give him a stern warning. At the time, I couldn’t remember how far a rattlesnake could strike. Was it half its body length? Twice its body length? This one was easily 5-6 feet, so I called up to the runner and suggested he not get any closer. Although I researched it later, the answers were varied on how far they can strike: anywhere from 1/3, to ½, to 2/3 their body length. Well, that narrows it down.
After our reptile encounter, the other runner and I stayed together a few miles. I encouraged him several times to go on ahead since he was looking strong, but he kind of kept hanging around. Maybe he just hadn’t given himself permission to go for it. Eventually, at an unmanned drop where a pack of water had been left, he decided to step ahead. He remained close ahead of me for about a half mile and then he was gone. Still no sign of the girl I dropped at mile 17. I kept working to make my descents as quick as I could, hoping to maintain any shred of the lead I’d built.
The miles ticked by. As you near the last 5 miles or so of the course, there are several long and rocky descents. At this point I was still feeling fairly good, but the constant pounding on the knees and quads was worrisome. I knew there was climbing left to do and hoped I’d still have enough energy to get through them without losing too much time. In the second half of the race, I’d managed to pick off 5 other runners, one of them being a guy that had passed me not long after the snake sighting. I felt satisfied with my progress on the course. While I wasn’t setting any land speed records, and still had not achieved anywhere close to mountain-goat status, I had definitely improved my abilities on this rocky ground. It was a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless.
With a little over a mile left to the finish, there was still no sign of the first girl, but the guy who passed me and who I passed back was now on the move. I caught him in the corner of my eye during a section with a few small switchbacks. He was closing in. Yeah, see, that was just not going to happen. I was not going to let this guy pass me again.
With this new goal in mind, I picked up my pace quite a bit. Miles 28, 29, and 30 had been at 18:16, 17:40, and 17:04 paces. I would tear up that last mile with a fiery 13:46 pace. He ate my rocky dust. At least that’s what I imagined in my mind, that my pace was “actually” fast. I exited the woods and onto a field for the last quarter mile to the finish. I didn’t look back. I crossed the finish line a mere 20 seconds or so before he did. When he came through, he said, “You took off!” and I said, “Yep, I wasn’t letting you catch me. Thanks for the motivation!”
I ended up finishing a little over 40 minutes faster than I had the previous year. While my overall pace is still not where it is in my hopes and dreams, I considered this race a success. It is a beautiful and challenging course. Garmin tallied about 5,100 in elevation gain over 31 miles. The rock-fest of a course is not exactly a walk in the park either, so I know it’s an accomplishment just to get it done. I could also feel a definitive difference in capability compared to my first go at this race. And while we truly are only competing against ourselves, I did end up finishing about 8 minutes and 4 places ahead of the gal I followed during the first 17 miles. That certainly feels, you know, awesome. I finished 18 of 33 overall (there were 3 DNFs), 4 of 7 females, and 1 of 2 in age group. We are back to the middle people!!
In other great news, I didn’t jam any toes or have any major run-ins with stones or roots, and I experienced only minor chafing. Bonus! I left this finish line proud of my efforts. It was a great contrast to how I felt at the end of the Georgia Jewel. A little redemption feels good.
There will be a few smaller, local races in the next month or so, and then, because I can’t seem to stay away from doing trails that kick my butt, I’ll be back to the mountains of Georgia to race again. Lookout Mountain Trail Race in December will be my next 50-miler and the start of a new challenge I’ve set for myself. Stay tuned, it’s about to get real.
