Waking up last Saturday after riding 110 miles was no different, except the very first thing I did was test out my legs. Are they going to work today? Can I even walk? A bit of a daunting question to be asking yourself on a day you're hoping to run over 50 miles....
Thankfully I could walk. I covered myself with compression tights and socks anyway. I'd learned in training that the worst part of running on tired and sore legs is the jiggling. With that in mind. I was determined to stop any and all jiggling. Today there would be NO JIGGLING. Well, at least until I got hot. Then I'd have to ditch the tights and accept a little jiggle.
At the race, I lined up with the other four girls who'd ridden 100 miles or more the day before. We were all hoping to run over 50 miles (we had to finish 8 laps to qualify for the Hall of Fame, which was about 52 miles) today. My goal, after watching her fluid stride on the LeMans start to the bike the day before, was to stay behind Fleet Feet. I know a good runner when I see one. I also know I don't need to race one in mile one of an ultra. So, Fleet Feet and I ran together from the start. I thought this was all fun and games. We were making friends and maybe we'd run together all day......
That was, until mile four when she said, "Well, you have a nice day!" and scampered off like we were running a 10k.
At the end of lap one, I made a quick pit stop and was quickly joined by Big Wheels, who'd pushed me for many laps on the bike the day before. I was happy to have someone to chat with again. I knew there would be plenty of solo time later. By the middle of lap two, I'd moved slightly ahead and that solo time had come.
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| Photo by Wes Peck |
I have absolutely no idea why I decided to smack talk to the video camera less than three hours into a 12 hour race. The second it left my mouth I realized how ridiculous this was. The second it left my mouth I also realized this:
If I came through 8 laps with time to run one more lap and I still hadn't caught Fleet Feet, I would have to back that smack up by running one more lap.
What had I done?
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| Photo by Wes Peck |
The next five laps are pretty much a blur. I had to ditch the tights after lap three. I crossed paths with Fleet Feet on lap seven and discovered she was 10 minutes ahead. I pushed a bit to see if I could close the gap. When I realized that wouldn't happen, I just hoped I would finish lap eight in 10:15. I was hoping Fleet would stop after lap eight. If she did and I left myself 1:45 for the last lap, I knew I could savor it a bit, not have to rush and still take the win.
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| Photo by Wes Peck |
Me: I'm doing one more lap.
Him: You're kidding.
Me: It's a twelve hour race right?
Him: Yes.
Me: Then I have time.
(Or least this is how I remember that conversation. However, since I'd just run 52 miles, I was probably delirious. In which case, I'm not sure if any of the rest of what I say here will be completely correct either, because I was probably delirious from then on.)
Lap nine was run in the dark. To be honest, I really just focused on keeping my shit together. I wanted that lap. I knew it might put me ahead. So I just kept moving. I tried to savor each bit, reminding myself that this was the last time I'd run that section. With a mile to go, the course exited the woods onto a prairie. When I looked up I saw what my sister and I always called a "fingernail moon" and I remembered something I'd told myself for motivation earlier- that today I had the chance to run for 12 hours. Tomorrow it would be back to life, to work, to everyday worries, but today, today I would get to run for 12 hours. I'd hoped to use as much of it as possible, to squeak every last little bit out of myself. With just a mile to go and the moon to help light the way, I knew I'd done that.
I crossed the line in 11:51, with just nine minutes to spare. The photographer sat next to the line. I turned to him said what had been lingering in the back of my mind that entire lap.
"Please tell me she did not run another lap."
When he assured me that no, Fleet had not run one more lap, I walked into to warm lodge, confident I'd won. The race director was there, to shake my hand again, to congratulate me on my
second place.
Keep in mind here I'd just run over 58 miles. I'd run the last 6.5 thinking I might win if I could just reach the line. For one glorious minute I'd thought I had won.
Needless to say, there was a brief moment of disappointment when I realized that, on the start line I'd completely ignored the fact that this was more than just a race among the girls who'd ridden the day before. I'd failed to take notice of the other women who'd shown up to see how far they could run in 12 hours. One of those women not only ran faster than me, she also ran farther.
Of course, that disappointment was short lived. I'd still moved up into second by running that extra lap and even if I hadn't, the extra hour and thirty-some minutes to savor the day were worth it.
As I attempted to move through the motions of post-race and discovered I could barely change my own clothes (I was literally naked in the bathroom, contemplating how I was going to get my pants on, when they started awards), I realized I'd literally left nearly every ounce of myself out on the course. On any race day, could I really ask for more?
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| Photo by Wes Peck |
Video by Caleb Kobilansky
Great race report Lisa! you're queen of the undead!
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