Sometimes it’s difficult to know what you can do until you try. That was the case this last Saturday, August 4, as I set out on my first ultra-marathon, the Helena Ultra-Runners League (HURL) Elkhorn Mountain Endurance Runs.
Even though I’d been training hard for the race since the beginning of June, there were several concerns that had me questioning my readiness for a 50 K race through Helena National Forest’s steep and rocky Elkhorn Mountains.
Many runners come into ultra-marathoning after starting small with 5 and 10 K races, building up to half-marathons, and then eventually, marathons. Once they’ve become accustomed to running those distances, they look for new challenges; the next, most natural progression, is often running an “ultra.” An ultra-marathon is a running event longer than the traditional 26.2- mile marathon distance. Many ultras run on single-track, back-country trails adding even more challenging elements to the mix such as mountains, water-crossings, wildlife, rough footing, and limited aid stations along the route.
I tend to gravitate towards distance events, always curious to see how far I can really go. Because of my keen interest in endurance, I often find myself skipping much of the “smaller stuff” and then standing at the starting line of events such as the Elkhorn 50 K or the Iditarod Sled Dog Race thinking to myself, “How on earth did I end up here?” So far, in my very short running career, the only race I’d ever run/walked was the Indianapolis 500 Mini-Marathon (13.1 miles) this last May; because of a stress fracture in my foot, the race turned into a stroll with a friend, but got me hooked on wanting to compete in more races, longer races. So I came back to Montana and began training for the Elkhorn 50 K.
From June to August, I racked up the running miles. I started small with 3 and 4 mile runs in the hills behind my home. Over the weeks, I added more distance to my runs, hours on the smoke-hazed, blistering hot trail, until I was up to 22 miles of continuous mountain running just a week before the race. And then I ran out of training time. The thought that I’d have to go into the Elkhorn 50 K “as is” left me uncertain. I knew I trained hard, but was it hard enough? Could I even finish before the 12 hour race cutoff time? Even though my friends encouraged me and insisted I’d be fine, for some reason it was difficult for me to really know the answer to those questions. I wouldn’t feel confident in my abilities until I ran 50 K on my own two feet.
The ultra-gods were smiling on us runners last Saturday. After endless days of sweltering heat and uncomfortably warm nights, there was finally a cool morning. At the starting line, 33 runners danced and jogged in place to keep warm; some even wore jackets and bundled themselves in blankets. But when the race began, the extra clothes and wraps were tossed to friends and family and the pack took off down the trail in the usual summer running attire.
I started out slow, not wanting to push too hard at the beginning of the race and burn myself out. Luckily, I fell into position behind Martin Miller, a seasoned ultra-marathoner from Helena. Martin moved at about my exact same pace and stride. He was very kind and set me at ease on the race trail right off the bat. I tagged along behind him for the first 10 miles or so like a puppy dog. It felt good to be following someone who’d run numerous 50 and 100 mile ultras in the past; he obviously knew what was up.
There were six aid stations along the route. All summer long, I’ve been hauling my own water and food in training - these race stations were a wonderful luxury. It’s amazing what people will volunteer to do. The volunteers for the race carried all of the tents and supplies into the remote checkpoints on their own backs or packed them in with horses. The friendly faces, cheering, and encouragement out in the middle of the backcountry made the run seem easy compared to some of my tedious training days. And the amazing spread of food and beverages - fresh watermelon, strawberries, nuts, energy bars and gels, candy, soda, sports drinks, ice water - inspired even my dull appetite. I don’t know how the volunteers knew that gummy worms are one of my favorite foods; I grabbed a handful of the colorful, rubbery candy as I left each station and ate them as I ran.
I felt great - fresh and chipper - at the 2nd Teepee Creek Aid Station at mile 19. And when I looked down at my watch and started to really calculate my times, I realized I’d worried for nothing. Not only was I going to make the finish before the 12-hour cutoff, if I picked up the pace I could make it under 8 hours.
The final stretch was hot and often in the direct sun, but nothing like my training days in 100-plus degree temperatures. Because I prepared for the heat well, this 90 degree day felt like a taste of fall. As I dashed down one of the last mountains, I realized pondered my watch once again. If I moved even faster, I might be able to get into the finish under 7.5 hours. I let myself go, sailing down the steep incline.
The trail was an abrupt-drop, littered with gravel and boulders and cow patties. My legs seemed to be moving 10 times faster than the rest of me - not a good time to make a mis-step. And then I had a run-in with a half-baked cow pie. The cow dung turned to goo under my sneaker sending me shooting off the trail and down a dusty embankment on my side. I quickly felt myself over and found I was fine and headed on into the finish.
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