Day 4,534-5—DNFed the Run Rabbit Run 100—

 

Part I: Before the Race

The night before the race, I looked up the parking garage the race recommended and found nothing but bad reviews, so I frantically started looking for alternatives. I learned the free shuttle drops you close, but since I'd never used it before, I hesitated. I decided to take the bus there in the morning and left to take a shower. The shower was surprisingly nice. It was a heated bathroom, and the water pressure was better than at the hotel I stayed in the night before. I felt refreshed and ready to go to bed as I walked back to my tent. When I got there, I realized I couldn't find my keys. I tried not to panic and started to search the path I took to the shower. I also planned to search the shower. When I got there, I couldn't remember the door code, so I searched the path two more times until I made it back to the shower. Unfortunately, someone was using the shower. I debated leaving, but I was desperate.

“Sorry to bother you in the shower, but did you happen to see some keys? I lost my keys, and I just used that shower.”

“No, I haven't seen any keys.” My heart sank, and I was starting to apologize again when he continued.

“I did find this red jacket.” I completely forgot about my jacket! I frantically searched my pockets and found my keys.

Waiting at the bus stop in the morning seemed absurd. A free bus?! What is this, and will it really come? The ride down went quickly, and I chatted with a guy who was running in the tortoise division. I felt a million times better taking the bus back to the campground. I slowly started getting ready, but then I was suddenly out of time and missed the 11:37 bus, so I had to wait for the 11:52. In the rush, I felt like I left the lights on in my car. I dismissed my intuition and waited at the bus stop.

The driver arrived close to noon, but I still had plenty of time. The bus driver pulled into the station when the drivers changed, and the new driver was something else. He spent 5 minutes setting out the local papers and another 10 minutes adjusting his radio. Imagine a guy with slicked-back brown hair and aviator sunglasses, preparing like one would for surgery. I was so tempted to ask him what was going on. Once he finally started, I figured now it wouldn't be long. Then he pulled over and said a truck had clipped his mirror, and he had to wait for his supervisor.

I looked at the mirror, and I saw no issue. I told the guy I was trying to get to a race. He told me I should have given myself more time, “It is like taking a bus for air travel.”

15 minutes later, the next bus came. It was nerve-wracking to watch the time get closer to the 1 p.m., start, and he kept making other stops. When we pulled into the bus stop for Gondola Square, I had less than 10 minutes until the race started.

Part II: The First Section

        I was just happy to be at the start line on time. It was a little bit before 1 p.m., and most of the runners weren’t behind the starting line yet. I got in the middle to back of the group and debated starting with my poles or keeping them in my vest. When we started, most runners went out fast, even though this section started with over 3,000 feet of elevation in only a 5.4-mile run. I knew this part was hard because I saw the video, but I was up for the challenge. I also knew I'd have to take it slow because going up hills wasn't my strength.

        We climbed up and up and up some more. Just when we reached a section that looked like the top, we kept climbing. I was already near the back of the group, but as we continued up. I let some more runners pass me. I was still ahead of what I thought was a few people, but I wasn’t worried. I knew this wasn’t my strength, but I also knew a lot of this run was flat, so I planned to catch up later in the race.

        At the first aid station, I filled up almost all my hydration stuff because the next section was 12.3 miles away. It took longer at the Mount Werner aid station than I wanted. There wasn’t much food except grapes, and it took a while for the aid workers to figure out how to fill my bottles. They were nice, but they didn’t seem to have much experience.

        I started on the next section, and I felt like I could finally run more, but I started tripping on some rocks and had to slow down. I also knew the elevation was affecting my oxygen level, and I could tell I was starting to get winded early, so I didn’t want to fall or get out of breath, so I kept a steady but slow pace. It was also so hot in his section, and I was going through a lot of water. Heading straight up to over 10,000 feet in elevation was tough for multiple reasons, but being so close to the sun made it much hotter than it would have been otherwise, and I went from worrying about the cold to sweating uncontrollably as I tried to keep drinking water and catch up on time.

Part III of the RRR: Rain and Lightning

        At first, I felt good about the next section. Some of it was flat, and some of it was downhill, but there were still a lot of rocks and roots that slowed me down, so I ran as much as I could and then walked when I started tripping, because I knew that meant the next trip would be a fall. I talked to a guy for a moment who had gone the wrong way, but then he slowly passed me, and I was alone. I felt like I was in last place, and I tried to put it out of my mind and focus on moving.

        I thought this was another 6-mile section, but it was the 12-mile section, so when I got to a sharp turn, I figured I must be close to the aid station, but I still had at least 6 miles left. This section took me mostly down but through different rock formations. Many sections didn’t look like a path at all, and it was raining; although I didn’t hear thunder, I could see lightning constantly in the background. Sometimes it was close, and sometimes it was far away. The next thing I knew, it seemed like everyone on the course was going the other direction, and that slowed me down significantly. We were on a single-track course, and some of it was slippery, rocky, and dangerous. If I tripped, I would either die or be severely harmed. The other runners mostly didn’t want to give me the right of way, even though I was going downhill and they were going uphill, so I had to run off course, and I spent the whole time trying to stay out of other 'runners' way. Many of them cheered me on, and I did the same. It was mostly positive, but part of me wondered if they were just being nice because I was so far behind them.

        When I finally made it to the aid station, I was only around mile 18, but it felt like forever. I passed one other runner on the way to the aid station, quickly refilled, and started running again. Now it was getting dark, and the rain was off and on. I was so cold because I didn’t bring my rain jacket until my drop back at mile 30, so I was soaked and freezing. I put on the headlamp I was carrying, but I quickly noticed that my light wasn’t very bright. I used my backup light while I changed the three AAA batteries. It was so frustrating because I didn’t have time to waste, and this was something I could have prevented. I meant to put in fresh batteries before I left, but I planned to use this light one more time on my run Wednesday morning and then change them after that. I had forgotten, so now I was doing it in some of the worst conditions, but I didn’t have a choice.

        Suddenly, I saw the wild sheep, and it was scary but cool. I saw their eyes reflect my light, so I looked away and pulled out my phone to record a video. This was one of the best moments of the race. The experience was haunting yet revitalizing. It started raining again, but at least the course wasn’t as tricky without all the other runners going the other way, and I finally made it past the rock formation, so I was hoping it would be smooth all the way to the next aid station.

Part IV: So Cold it Felt like my Fingers were going to Fall Off

        It didn’t take long to reach the Long Lake aid station, and by then I was almost at a marathon distance. I didn’t stay there long, and I didn’t eat much because I was so cold. The wind grew increasingly intense, and the rain came and went constantly. I reminded myself it would eventually stop, but I didn’t know when or how long it would last, and I was so focused on making it to the Summit Lake aid station that I didn’t care that I was hungry, cold, and tired. I wanted my warm gloves and my rain jacket. I kept on just thinking about how nice it would be once I got them. I also wanted to start drinking caffeine. I had been putting it off because I didn’t want to start too early. One thing that annoyed me at the aid stations was that they didn’t have name-brand soda. They had fake ginger ale and fake Coke. I feel like there is a huge difference in taste in those products, and it is wild to me that so many local races that don’t cost nearly as much money can afford name-brand soda, but not the Run Rabbit Run, and often they were out of Ginger Ale but they did make avocado sandwiches.

        The course was so much easier at this point, and I was able to run faster. I knew it was only a matter of time before I started passing more people, and when I made it to the Summit Lake aid station, I finally saw multiple other runners. They had heaters set up, and I went directly to a spot I could sit down and put my hands by the red coil of the heater. My fingers still felt numb, but the feeling of circulation in my hands made me feel joy instantly. I went from feeling like I wasn’t going to make it to even an ultra-distance to finally feeling like I was still in this and that I could do it, and I hadn’t even put on my rain jacket yet.

Part V of the RRR: The Last 20 Miles

        A guy sat not too far from me with his head in his hands. A couple of people were starting to pack up. I may have left right after one person, and I left 2 people there. It seemed clear that at least one of them was going to drop. I knew I was close to cutoff, but I was finally moving faster and catching up on time. I had plenty of air, and I was warm for the first time. It started to rain again occasionally, but for the most part the weather was a lot more manageable with my rain jacket and gloves. What would I want to change into once I made it to Olympian Hall? I didn’t need much hydration at these stops and ended up eating only veggie broth, plus a handful of chips and grapes.

        At one aid station I walked with a guy who had family in St. Louis. He was talking about some organization that he said was there. I told him I must be in last place, but he said there were 7 or 8 people behind me. He told me the next section was mostly an old road, which most likely would have been the road I would have had to drive on if I were to pick up my drop bag early.

        As I ran, I caught up to and passed a few more people, but I kept thinking I could catch more racers at some point, and I couldn’t wait. I checked my watch each mile to see if I could increase my pace. The mile 50 would be a good indication of where I was at as far as the cutoff time. I figured as long as I was at 14 hours when I hit 50, I would be good. If I remember right, I was slightly over 14 when I hit 50 miles, and when I hit the Olympian Hall aid station, I was right around 14 hours and 28 minutes, which was more than halfway but not that much more.

        I was running as fast as I could all the way there, and when I got there, I was overwhelmed by how many people were walking around. It took me a long time to find where the aid station was and start getting ready to go back out. I asked the guy helping me where I was supposed to check in, and he said there was a tent right outside that I must have missed. When I got out there, roughly 10-15 minutes had passed. She told me I didn’t make the cutoff, and I asked by how much, and she didn’t want to tell me. I realized it was over an hour, but it would have been a little under an hour if I had gone here first when I finished.

        I found a hallway to sit down in and looked at the race packet to see it there. The cutoff time was 2:30 a.m. I recorded a short video of myself sitting in the hall, then started thinking about how I was going to get home. I wasn’t that far from my campground, so I figured I might be able to get a ride, but I didn’t want to have to ask someone. I tried to get a ride on my phone, but it kept telling me I needed to move to a pickup location. I wasn’t sure whether my ride was there, so I walked outside to find the spot.

Part VI of the RRR: the Next Day and Reflection

        Someone saw me standing around and asked if I needed a ride. I was still trying to figure out if the apps on my phone were telling me someone was coming or if they were still searching. It was most likely after 4 in the morning, and so many other runners were still in the middle of their run. I just wanted to get back out there and finish this run, but I had to go back to my tent and try to sleep.

        I was hoping to sleep most of the day because my drop bag wouldn’t be available until the afternoon at the earliest, but I woke up only a few hours later because of the rain. It was hitting my tent with force. When I made it to my tent last night, I noticed that I had left the inside light on in my car, so it is possible that if I hadn’t finished early, I would have struggled to drive home, but I had left that light on for a while before, and it never made a difference, so I wasn’t convinced that it mattered.

        I was pretty hungry, so I got up and took down my tent as soon as it stopped raining, then went into town to find something to eat. After that, I spent the next 10-11 hours spending money and sitting around, waiting for my drop bag to arrive at Olympus Hall. I checked there several times until I saw our bags around 7 p.m. that night. I got lucky: they found my bag while unloading the truck, and then I left. It took me roughly 20 hours of travel time to get home, and I have been trying to catch up on sleep since.

I don’t know if I am going to make a video or not. I should try to edit something together and see how long it would take, but my heart isn’t in it. I almost want to forget this run ever happened, but I want to learn from it too. You don’t grow unless you try new things, and you aren’t trying new things unless you fail sometimes.  

—Reflecting on the Weekend—

I have started and stopped so many different versions of my write-up for this race, and I plan to finish those write-ups and post them soon, starting with my one for yesterday, and then I will get back to my write-up about the entire race. I have to go to work today, and I am running out of time to write. My headlamp battery died while I was running this morning, so I had to use my phone's flashlight. When I got back, I went to blow my nose and saw that my nose was bleeding.  

        I left Colorado at 7 p.m. on Saturday as soon as I got my drop bag. I drove without stopping until 3 the next morning, when I was starting to fall asleep, so I pulled over at a rest stop, slept for a few hours, and then continued. I drove the rest of the way home, stopping only to get gas. I got home a little after 4 p.m., which meant I had been traveling for 20 hours, counting the time change.

        I rehashed the story at home, brushed my teeth, and ate food. The more I thought about the race, the more unfair the circumstances felt. The runners who started 4 hours earlier also had 2 more hours to finish. Why couldn’t I drop down to the other division, and why were there different divisions in the first place? Normally, when races have different start times, they’re just deemed not competitive. They weren’t called “tortoises” or purposely excluded from parts of the race, but this run wasn’t like that. They deliberately discouraged runners from doing the Hare start and weren't interested in helping runners finish.

        None of the aid workers even knew the cut-off time until I missed it at Olympian Hall. The aid station I ran from told me I had just passed several people when I mentioned I was worried about time. No one told me to worry about the cutoff; instead, they encouraged me to take more time at the aid stations.

        When I finished the race and waited for my drop bag, the worker who told me I was cut didn’t want to tell me the cutoff time, and she wasn't interested in giving me practical information about what to expect about getting home and finding my drop bag.

        I was never exhausted, hurt, or sick. I never stopped running for an extended period, nor did I stop pushing myself in each section; for those reasons, I am happy with my performance, and I know that had I been allowed to continue, I likely would have finished under the 30-hour cutoff. However, this race wasn’t supportive like the other races I have done. They seemed more interested in being exclusive, which, in my mind, is the opposite of what ultra running is about. Part of me wants to go back to finish the race because I know that I can. At the same time, I didn’t like the vibe from the race. I expected a vibrant, kind, supportive community as I have found at so many other races. I met a lot of kind, supportive individuals, but the community felt more like the marathon community, where runners go until they are hurt or sick, rather than running smart.

— It Feels Like Saturday—

        I didn’t go to bed on Saturday because I spent the day nervously waiting for my drop bag to be returned to Olympian Hall. The workers seemed skeptical that it would happen today in the first place. I made it back to my tent sometime around 4 a.m.

        I made it to Olympian Hall at 3:28 a.m., which means it took me 14 hours and 28 minutes to run 51.2 miles. The cut-off had to be 15 hours because the race cut-off time was 30 hours. I made it to 50 miles a little past 14 hours, so I knew I was currently running close to a 28-hour pace. I would have likely finished the race in 28 hours. Not many people can run a 100-mile in even splits, but I had before, and the way this one was going, the first 20 miles worked against my weakness, while what I saw later in the race worked to my strengths. I was already passing people, and I passed a huge group of runners going the opposite way on the way to Olympian Hall; they were struggling, so I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was passing groups of them. I had just run a 12-minute mile and was finally finding my groove. I rushed to get everything ready at Olympian Hall before I was told I missed the cutoff time. I took about 15 minutes to change my socks and gloves and get something to drink, but I was moving as fast as I could, and when I told the lady my number, she just said I missed the cutoff. I asked her by how much, and she told me the cutoff was 2:30 a.m. I asked her what time it was because I was trying to process it. She didn’t say anything at first. I asked again if I was close, and someone said it was 3:40 a.m. I was stunned, and I didn’t know what to do. I walked back into the aid station, found my drop bag, went into the hallway, found a chair, and sat down.

        It took me a moment to think through the situation practically. I first looked up the manual to confirm the cutoff was 2:30 a.m., but the next cutoff was 61 miles at 7:30 a.m., and I could run 10 miles in 4 hours. If they let me leave now, I could make the next cutoff time!!

—Listing all the Things that Went Well—

        As negative as I was about the experience yesterday, I want to change gears today and list all the positives about the experience:

1. I never gave up. Sure, I officially DNFed, but I didn’t voluntarily choose to stop, and there is a huge difference.

2. I didn’t hurt myself.

3. I didn’t get sick.

4. I was able to return to work on Monday. I had a full day yesterday, and I took my daughter to gymnastics last night.

5. They found my drop bag right away when they returned on Saturday night.

6. Someone randomly volunteered to give me a ride back to my campground, right when I needed someone to, and I didn’t want to ask for help.

7. At least I got an ultra-distance in before I had to stop.

8. It was a unique challenge. I knew what I was getting into and planned accordingly, but it was still my first time doing a race like this, which is hard to do.

9. I am that much more prepared for Rim to River in West Virginia next month!

10. I got to see wild sheep! And I didn’t meet any bears!