Umstead 100 2021 – A Return to Normalcy

Rookie Mistake

Like most ultra-runners, I start to eye the weather about three or four days before race day. I try and not get too wrapped up in it because it’s out of my control, but you have to have a plan, so you have to stay informed. The weather looked pretty good, and then each day, seemed to get just a little worse. What started out as a mid 60’s kind of forecast suddenly looked like a high of 78. No rain turned into a chance of rain, and finally, there will definitely be some rain. Still, all in all, very manageable.

When race day finally arrived, the morning weather was actually really nice. As I caught up with old friends and felt “normal” for the first time in over a year, I realized that it was nice and cool, and dry! I knew that we were supposed to see some heat around 11am and that rain was moving in about 3:30pm, so I decided to run strong early and then slow down during the hot weather. If I played my cards right, I could pick it back up in the evening when it cooled back off. Knowing that I wasn’t in top shape, my only goal was to finish and get one more lottery ticket for Western States.

With all of this going through my head and paying attention to the covid-19 protocol that required a metered and corralled start, I was feeling pretty good as I got ready to start my day. “110, you’re off.” And with that, I started my first 12.5-mile loop of what I hoped would be eight for the day. I felt great. Cool air, rhythmic steps, people joking around as we started, all was well in the world.

You know that saying, “It’s better to be lucky than good.” Well, that was me on that first loop. I picked the best time to make a rookie mistake. About a mile or so into that loop, it hit me, that I didn’t have either handheld hydration bottle in my hands. Like a newbie, I took off without any hydration! Luckily, the water stop and aid stations are spaced in a way that almost every three to four miles, you hit one. With this being the first loop and still being cool out, this was a mistake that wasn’t going to haunt me. Still, I realized I needed to remove my head from my arse! You don’t get away with many mistakes during a 100-mile race.

Booooring! Until it Wasn’t

For the first 49 miles, the weather cooperated, and I was just cruising along. Yeah, the temperature got a little warm at 77 degrees and there was definitely some high humidity, but overall, conditions were good. The only issue I had at the time was some chafing on my… how do I put this delicately? Ass cheeks. Still, all very manageable.

Then things got really interesting. As I was approaching the end of my fourth loop it was like a switch was turned on. Suddenly it just started to bucket down rain, and it was cold! I went from hot to shivering in a split second. “Ok. Just buckle down and get back to the aid station, it’s just a mile away.” Then, doink! Doink! Doink! “What the heck? Is that… hail!” Spoiler alert, it was. Every step, I was getting pelted by hail. It kind of didn’t hurt, but it kind of did. And then the lightening started. Big honking streaks of it making ground contact.

When I arrived at the aid station, they pulled me off the course and had me sit in the cabin for a weather delay. I can honestly say that in all of my miles of races, this was the first time I ever saw a weather delay. Every runner was soaked from head to toe, and we just sat there, eating and drinking, and hoping that we wouldn’t stiffen up too much. The volunteers were absolutely amazing. They made sure that we had everything we needed while we sat there. They gave us everything, the only thing they couldn’t give us was time. We’d have to make that up ourselves.

Sitting there, cold and wet, realizing that the course was now going to be very wet and muddy, and seeing that several more cells of weather were moving through, I took trying to finish in under 24 hours off the table. It wasn’t a goal coming in, but I was feeling so good and had 50 miles done in just over 11 hours, but the real goal was to finish. So, I reset mentally and waited to hear if and when we could get back out there.

Water Water Everywhere

It’s hard to explain this sport to someone who has never done it. During the weather delay, I grabbed hand fulls of Vaseline and spread it all over my nether regions. I drank and ate to try and stay hydrated and fueled to avoid cramping. I had just been pummeled by hail and I was soaking wet. But I was itching to get back out on the course. You have to be a glutton for punishment, or you will fail. You need to understand your why, but you can’t ask yourself “Why?” No matter what, you just can’t quit. And that’s why I love it so much.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was only about 20 minutes, they let us loose. It was decision time. My feet were soaked, but not blistered. I could completely change out my shoes and socks, but if I hit a puddle or it started to rain again, I will have wasted a set of dry wheels. I decided to keep my feet wet and hope for the best. It turned out to be a good decision.

The Middle

It’s hard to remember exactly, but for the next 25 miles, there were intermittent periods of heavy rain and lightning, then periods of time where it was overcast, drizzly, and kind of misty. It was hot with weather gear on, but it was cold without it. For lack of a better word, it just kind of sucked. I was moving ok, when I moved, but walking slowly, when I didn’t. It wasn’t about if I could run, I could, it was more about trying to see in the rain. I had decided to wear glasses this race instead of contacts (bad decision), and they were in a constant state of fogged up and rained on.

Regardless, I managed to crank out the next two loops, albeit slowly, and knew going in to the last 25 miles, I was setup to get the job done. My feet were now blistered, from being wet for hours and hours, but I had had worse. Nothing a little Tylenol wouldn’t take the edge off. I lubed up, popped some Tylenol, and headed out for the final two loops. With sub 24 hours off the table, I just told myself to enjoy the night and finish. And that’s exactly what I did.

Making Friends

A mile or two in to loop seven, I was starting to move pretty good again. The rain had subsided, and I was in “Just get this over.” mode. It’s that time in a race where you pretty much just want to be done, and you start moving better because you just want to hop in the shower and get to bed. As I was in a little jog, I approached another runner who was walking. He was moving pretty good, but ultra-runners really look out for each other, so I checked in with him. “How are you doing?” “I’m good. I’ve got some pain, but I’m good, and I’m going to finish.” “This your first one?” “Yeah.”

That was it for me. I knew that I had the time limit beat and finishing a little faster wouldn’t be as cool as making sure that someone got there first buckle. Just like someone had helped me get my first buckle, I decided that we would finish this thing together.

For the rest of loop seven the weather held up pretty good. Gary and I walk-ran, but mostly walked. He told me several times that if I was feeling good, I could leave him, and that he would finish. I thanked him for the offer but told him that my race would be better if I helped him rather than finishing a little faster. We talked a lot and over the course of that ten miles, we became friends. Tied together by a common goal, pain, and a mutual respect for what the other man was willing to go through to accomplish it. As we finished loop seven, the rain started again, and I could tell that Gary was in a tremendous amount of pain. It was his feet, and at least one of his ankles. I could tell it was agony.

Let’s Get You a Buckle

While we were in the aid station getting ready to go out for the final loop, Gary’s wife tended to him. This was her first-time crewing for a 100-miler, and she did a great job. However, as Gary explained to her the amount of pain he was in, I could see on her face that she understood that he would have to suffer alone. That’s the toughest part of these things. You can only do so much for your runner, but they ultimately have to suffer alone.

I knew that time wasn’t going to be an issue, but I also knew that the worse thing to do when you are exhausted and hurting, is to get comfortable. That’s when your mind starts to go to work. “What are you trying to prove? 87.5 miles is good enough. If you stop, the pain will stop.” I stood up and walked over to Gary. “Hey man, you ready? Let’s go get you a buckle.” Despite all of the pain he was in, he stood up and said, “Let’s go!”

Best Answer Ever

As we started the last loop, the sky opened up one last time. I don’t know how long it was, but it was as hard or harder than any other point in the race. Our weather gear held up with the exception of rain running down the back of our necks. It was too warm for hoods, so we just dealt with it. I have to admit, I seriously contemplated the need to find a better hobby. Eventually, it stopped, and the weather finally gave us a break. For the rest of the race, we enjoyed a relatively dry and cool environment.

One of the tricks that you use on a runner that is deep in the pain cave, is to keep them talking. We talked about our wives, our kids, our jobs, and of course racing. Despite all of this, Gary was slipping deeper and deeper inside himself. I could tell this man wasn’t going to quit, but I knew his suffering. I’d been there myself. Out of desperation, I asked him why he decided to do this. His answer blew me away. It was the best answer ever. He said, “I want to attempt to do really difficult things, and then do them. I want to know that I can do really hard things. I want my kids to know that too.” Like I said, best answer ever.

The Rock Star at Aid Station Two

With about eight miles to go, another runner passed us and grunted, “I just want this to be over.” As he jogged past us, Gary said “Let’s try running a bit.” So, we started to add some small jogs in to our walking. He was there. He was at that place where pain be damned, let’s just finish. That definitely helped the next couple of miles go quickly and as we approached Aid Station two, we could taste it.

As I said earlier, the volunteers were absolutely amazing for this race, and I am so grateful for each and every one of them. Not to play favorites, but with about five miles to go, I spotted a box of Dunkin’ Donuts at aid station two. I asked if they were for the runners, and I am sure that they lied and said “Sure!” That chocolate donut was the best donut that I ever had in my entire life. It gave such a boost. Gary had one as well, and I could tell that he was enjoying just as much as I was. We finished our donuts and headed out to finish this thing.

It Ends With an Omelet

The last few miles of this course there are some real hills. Not like little rolling ones, but BIG ones. For the most part, our running was done. We had daylight and we knew that every step we were that much closer to finishing this last loop. We just kept marching and moving. Heads down and determined, step by step. When we finally saw the final turn, down to the finish, Gary actually ran about 200 feet he was so excited. When I caught up to him, he said “I’m probably going to regret that!” He was in a lot of pain, and I give him a ton of credit for the heart that he showed in finishing.

We hiked up the last bit of the hill towards the finish and crossed the finish line at 27 hours and 36 minutes. The race director, Rhonda, congratulated us, handed us our buckles and asked us if we wanted an omelet. “Hell yes!” I said. Gary’s wife hugged him after we had some pictures taken and then we just sat there and soaked it in.

That was number four for me, and I really believe that sub 24 hours is a possibility. I have to get in better shape to do it, but to be fair to myself, I was working six days a week leading up to this one. I’ve got my eye on Indiana Trail 100 in October and will start training block one for it in a couple of weeks. My plan is to get after it at that race, as it is my second one there and I will know the course.

To finish Umstead, I was 50^th overall out of 166 runners. And only 76 people out of 166 finished for a 54.2% DNF rate. I also earned my second lottery ticket for Western States. My story’s not over…

If I can help you on your journey in any way, please reach out to me!

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