Table Rock 50 (errr... 54...ummm 36): A Race Report

Imagine yourself sitting in your driveway, it is 4 am, you slept for 3 hours last night... and you are about to head out to attempt your first 50 mile run... you are completely unprepared, your training has been scant... about 30 miles per week; 90% of which is a weekly long effort. You jumped into this run on a whim, you have A LOT of climbing ahead of you and despite all of this you still somehow believe that you can complete the distance with a simple decision to continue on...

"I'll just keep going," you think, "how hard can this be?"

Table Rock 50 miler
As the moon settled behind a distant black mountain some 50 runners staked their spot in a gravel parking lot on the banks of Lake James for the inaugural running of the Table Rock Ultra 50m... (which is actually 54 miles). With a smattering of confusion and the rubbing of rubber on rocks we were off, a few steps into the unknown. The first few miles were pleasant, on the approach to Linville Gorge we made our way along a paved country road as the sun took hold in its battle against the chilly December wind. We reached AS#1 and hit a (pay)dirt road and with it we began climbing and kept climbing more or less for the next 30 miles.

The Hill
Despite my lack of mileage I always believe in my ability to get up a hill, no matter what, no matter how slow, I can always go up up up!! The climb up the west side of Linville Gorge is tough, and what makes it tougher is the drastic roller coaster effect of this frozen dirt road. The ups were definite walks and the downhills were okay for the energy savings but tough on the feet and legs over time on me. The pounding adds up. I did my best to save myself from early damage by slowly falling down these hills... but saving what isn't there leads nowhere fast... or in this case very slowly... very slowly.

Wiseman's View
We kept on climbing through a few aid stations until reaching Wiseman's View at mile 15.1 and our first drop bag. I happily grabbed another layer to protect me from the wind, loaded up with my spi-belt, PB&J and took a moment to prepare myself mentally for the next long stretch. I inquired as to how far we had come, and that was my first tangible hint of my true condition.

Looking across the Linville Gorge we could see Table Rock, the main feature of the area and our summit for the day... we would be travelling another 20 miles to reach that spot as we continued our trip around the gorge. By mile 19 I was feeling pretty bad... and had been feeling tired since like mile 8... so, my positive attitude was battling against reality... thoughts like:

"Come on, 19 down... only 35 miles to go!"
"Well, let's just get to the next turn..."
"Okay... can I walk again?"
"Sure."

As the course officials visited runners I always said, "I feel GREAT!" Did they believe that? Did I believe that? Did it make us all feel a bit better for a moment? Did it give me a laugh? Did I ask myself questions?

Drama
Somewhere around mile 21 I was caught by an angry soul. As I trudged up the road I could feel the anger in this guys steps, the pavement was cracking. I was in his cross hares and there was no getting away; my only hope was to continue in my own quiet space by slowing down further, no dice. He slowed and walked next to me... and began spouting his grievances with life in general.

Over the next 3 miles I heard about every bad thing that could ever happen to a guy... for brevity sake, here is the quick list:

• He been lost twice today because of the (expletive deleted) course markings... He had come out here just to get away from stress and that was there was! Which was so bad because:
• His married girlfriend had just left her husband after 5 years of their affair for..
• ANOTHER man who was a FRIEND of his. 
• The husband was sleeping with some old lady in the town and she was married to his ex-wife's step father... who was married now to his former boss wife.
• ...and he was just out here today to get away from all of that!!! ARGGGHHHHH!!! I could completely understand why one would want to get away from that... I had a true appreciation.
• I also heard about his entire employment history, his amateur athletic career, his extensive surgery records, the surgeons themselves and their reputations and legal troubles, his academic achievements and most endearing to me, an unfortunate deer which had a run in with him and his motorbike earlier this year resulting in surgery for one, death for another... 

I was feeling a bit like that wounded deer myself at this point. Eventually as we approached the next aid station he said, "well, I guess I'd better get moving... what was your name?"

I thought it generous of him to ask at least one thing about me and wished him good luck with all of that... 

The Valley of the Dogs

I made it a goal to not pass that guy no matter what might happen in his race and just keep moving. I was feeling pretty low physically and had a good deal of pain in localized areas, mainly my left leg and my right leg if we need to narrow it down. 

A quick stint on a busy road (which had me wondering if I had missed a turn) led to another big climb and a classic North Carolina hound dog haven. I was a bit worried about a few things through this 2 mile stretch. 

(1) The dogs welfare (2) My welfare (3) My legs and their welfare. There was a lot of paved downhill and I was in the cycle of running the flats and down hills, walk the climbs. I was being passed a lot through here and while it was uneventful for me I heard later that runners were actually bitten by a dog(s) in this area. Blame the owner from what I saw out there... 

Gingercake

The views after popping out of rhodo-roads were amazing, the entire course was beautiful NC high country and kept me going, despite the pain which was increasing by the mile. My systems were all go, stomach good, heart good, breathing good, but legs... trashed. I had just passed the marathon mark in 5:45. About halfway to the finish line and facing a LONG downhill as we were glimpsing Table Rock through the bare trees. 

I was now reduced to taking some walk breaks on the downhill sections too, I could run the flats... not much of that at this point. Somewhere in here I began smelling strawberry chapstick. I didn't have any with me and looked toward the trees to see if there was a trail nearby. There wasn't, but this scent kept coming back to me... odd, usually I smell phantom pizza on long runs. 

The General Idea

As I plodded, my peace was interrupted by a dust cloud of furry when a Toyota Corolla attempted to set the fastest known time for this portion of the road. Apparently they were successful because 1/2 a mile later I ran upon them on the side of the road, with a forest ranger presenting them some sort of document to acknowledge their achievement. The ranger asked what I knew about their driving and of course, they received my endorsement. That felt nice to be able to provide a little support. 

Table Rock- to the summit

I knew this section involved a climb, but really... 

I had covered some 32 miles and we had one mile up to the parking area... at least that is what they said, one mile... or maybe they said 5, I would have believed that. This section was paved and many runners were headed back down for their final 19 mile stretch of mostly downhill running. 

I was now in pain from the pounding of walking uphill... so that is not good. I began to seriously consider the aspect of physical training and how important it is to physical achievement. I had one mile of rocky single track to reach the summit. I grabbed my second drop bag, donned warm, dry clothes, a cup of Ramen Noodles and began the SLOOOOW trek upward. 

One step at a time was it... I was looking for hand rails, for the smallest step, an inch of height made all of the difference... runners were coming down the trail looking happy as can be! I was still happy, very happy in fact, but also knowing that this was it for me. The writing had been on the wall for 20 miles and I felt that I was facing the area where injury was in the cards should I continue on for another 19 miles of downhill. 

Reaching the summit I had my photo snapped and sat down. Now, I could see the entire course of what I had  traveled this day (including the majority of that early morning drive). The volunteers asked me how I was doing and while my answer all day had been GREAT!!!! I decided to be honest this time and answer with, "How would a guy get a ride back to the finish?" Thankfully they were about to be relieved by another volunteer and begin the sweep, and I was to be the first known casualty in the meat wagon. I trekked back down to the parking area with 35.7 miles completed and visited with the AS workers for about an hour, happy to be sitting and dry and headed to my car.

The Finish

Arriving at the finish line in a car left me feeling like an outsider, a viewer of a distant event. With the task of walking 200 yards to my car, my choice to stop was confirmed as the right one. This was the toughest part of the day... must have taken me 10 minutes to get to my warm, dry, comfortable car. 

As the sun set I point the headlight north-ish and made my way home in the dark. I had completed my longest run to date over challenging terrain. Now, it was time to sleep, and eat. In a couple of days, try running, that is training, a little bit. There just might be something to it.

Linville Gorge- a rugged wall awaits

Arriving at Linville Gorge two days ago I was prepared to get in a rugged 2 1/2 hours of training. I laced up, felt the sun for the first time in a week and headed down and down and down into the gorge. The first descent was ongoing by the time I reach sight of the river I had dropped about 800 feet and would wind through another 300 feet in the next half mile before reaching some flatter trail sections parallel to the river's flow. The footing was tricky, and the trail constantly raced up vertically to reach rock outcroppings where camp sites had been made by many in the past.
After a few miles I could already feel some jelly on the quads. This being official long run number 4 I was a tad surprised by this feeling, after all I did have 2 hours to go before reaching the car, assuming all went as planned. The downhill was taking its toll, grinding my muscles to pulp. I continued on, lightly pouncing and bounding with the terrain.
At 50 minutes out I stopped for a drink and an energy gel. Below me, about 150 feet was the river and a crossing bridge which could take to me to Table Rock and the Mountains to Sea Trail. That would have to wait. After another few minutes the trail dropped again and finally reached the river's edge. I'd been crossing over many tributaries with beautiful waterfalls and mossy pools but this was the first time I had actually reached the river proper. Things were much gentler here. The trail widened as it made haste over the terrain. Many campsites were strewn about.
The trail darted back away from the water and up another short climb. This was interesting as the Mountain Laurel had grown into steps for about 20 feet up the embankment. I pushed on twisting through small trees and fallen giants. Sometimes leaping up and over, other time contorting to pass beneath. I finally reached a small stream below and long waterfall. I cooled in the pool for a few minutes. This was all I would see today. It was time to head back. Though it is so tempting to run on at this point... 75 minutes out, I really had to remind myself that today I had no choice but to take longer on the return. This initial portion of the trail was predominately downhill. I had lost about 2000 feet of elevation. While this feels easy on the physiology of the runner there is another consideration.
The runner will support up to 9 times his body weight while running one step downhill. I had been doing this for 75 minutes and 2000 feet. Now that would all need to be regained. I was happy to feel rather fresh but knew as well that I had lost a certain amount of efficiency in my legs to this point. My heart and lungs would be willing to do the work but would my quads cooperate? I was about to see. 'This is why I came here today', I thought... and started running.
I reached the bridge again. Another gel and some water, a minute at the bridge to soak in the scene... It meant adding some climbing back to the trail but at the time it was worth it. We cannot avoid the grittiness of work. We need to be immersed in the experiences of life, not simply come close, approximate them. I climbed back. '25 minutes down, 50 to go', I told myself. So far, so good I felt a little worn down but could tell the work I've been doing is paying off. Here I was at the bottom of a gorge 1:40 into this run and feeling a little tired. If I recall earlier runs I just marvel at the human body. I feel the ghosts of those dreadful 6 milers at the start of this cycle. The burning of the chest and stinging of the legs. The dead weights all over my body. The flab urging me back to the couch... 'now look around, look at the beauty of it all.' Thankful for the delusions of endorphins I methodically plodded onward, upward.
At this point I was feeling a little warm and decided to use my shirt as a head covering. When reaching the next stream I paused, dunked the shirt in the cold run off and fashioned myself a snug cold compress. I'd repeat this every mile or so, keeping the shirt cool. When I reached the final watering hole I was happy at the progress but also weary of the climb ahead. It was going to go UP and UP and UP and each step would bring me that much closer to the sun. At this point in the late afternoon the sun was getting tired at least.
My steps felt swift. 2 hours in, alright! I had to temper this excitement. My brain a little slushy, how much farther is it... really? I did not know. I think it took 11 minutes from here. Maybe it took 25? In any case it would take longer on the return to I just bit off a small stride at a time. Two feet here, six inches there; whatever the terrain would allow me given an agreed upon energy expenditure. How much was left in the bank?
I knew I had ten minutes of work left in me... I had done that much last run. I figured I can always go an additional 15-20 beyond my previous long run as well. I hoped that would get me to the car, to water and to food. Not to mention some dry clothes and a chair. I had quickly become TIRED!!! I reached my turn now... Babel Tower- this way. I knew what was left now. It was 11 minutes down to here. I had 20 minutes to go, probably. I paused to look at the gorge below. Above the foliage I could see a long way to all directions, except for the one I was headed in. There I saw a hill. The top was some 600 feet away. Go.
'One minute', I thought, 'run this minute.' Quickly I changed strategy. 'To that tree,' and ten feet later I would find another. My lungs were searing, my legs were beyond pain, in fact I did not really feel them except to know which rock my toe about to swing into. Twice on larger steps up I crashed into a heap. Each blow landing squarely on my shin in exactly the same spot. I laughed the first one off. The second was in slow motion, my brain thinking 'anything but this' and then 'flump' as the bare meat of the shin scraped against the leading edge of the rocky step. I did not laugh this time though I tried desperately. I was only relieved to run on ever so slowly. I was getting a fast food version of some of those stories from Hardrock and Western States. For the record I was not thinking anything grand, except 'get to the car'.
At 2:40 I was cooked. I could no longer think about running and I gave in. I walk it back to the car, saw the cell flashing and saw my wife had called to see if I was alive. I rung her to confirm my state and then sat down. The goal today was 2:30 of rugged running. I was given all I could handle and more. I broke. In some aspects this was a failure but in most it was full success. The terrain I encountered was much more demanding than anything the Chattooga will offer. The time I spent on my feet was more than planned and I learned to carry more water (To think I was not going to carry ANY). The only question we have to answer at the end of all of this is, 'Was it worth it?' If we say yes, then we know we lived with passion and that is not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
(Then I went home and ate a half of a meatloaf)