3 Days of Syllamo 2009
By Andy Pele
A six-hour road trip to run for 3 days. Eat, sleep, hang out with friends, run trails, repeat. Simplified life. I’d never been to Arkansas. It was a pretty drive: a lot greener than Columbia in March, rolling hills, lots of animals, lightning playing in the gray sky. I was in for a pleasant surprise – the trails we ran were the most scenic I’ve been on in years. Limestone cliffs, pockmarked with caverns, waterfalls draped over some of their gaping mouths. Pine trees and cedars. Clear cold trout streams with sand colored gravel bars. I wish I could have camped and heard the thunder echo off the cliff walls on Friday night, felt the rain and wind pelt and buffet the tent walls. But my bones are wearier now and a soft bed sounded too tempting when confronted with the prospect of running 93 miles in 3 days.
This winter was hard on me. My exhilaration after Ironman Hawaii and the eagerness to go 9:30 in an IM was quickly buried under winter snows and blues. Joe Company dedicated six years to his IM goals. I don’t know how he did it because one year seemed to take so much out of me. I expect I’ll be back at it again. But for now, I wanted something different. It’s time to try some more ultras, an adventure race or two, get back to mountain biking maybe.
I never thought I’d live past 27 for some reason – plagued with youthful hopelessness. But when I decided that I would try to ripen up to old age and began to “exercise” it was never about speed. It was always about “endurance”, ie. staying strong and healthy enough to do the things I love to do outdoors through my middle age and beyond. When I’m retired and actually have the time and money to do such things I still want to be able to mountain bike the continental divide trail, bike from the west coast to the east, climb mountains in New Zealand, and bodysurf all over the globe. I don’t want to whither away in my lazy boy watching reality television and game shows when I can be exploring the world with all of my bodily senses.
But Three Days of Syllamo had me scared. My whole approach to the race had been to try not to get injured and to treat it like a training weekend and a confidence booster for the 100 miler I hope to run in the Wasatch Front Range (Utah) on Labor Day weekend. So on Friday I gave the race all the respect it deserved, determined to take it easy on the 50K, eat plenty, stay hydrated, run my own race even if it meant running alone, and minimize damage so I could run 50 miles on Saturday. I succeeded that day, stopping to chat and graze at aid stations, counting to myself because I ran solo most of the day, and feeling strong enough to finish hard after 5 hours. The trail included 3 creek crossings, guaranteed to get water in your shoes, and I just felt lucky not to slip in the strong current on the slick rocks below. Unbelievably, I don’t think I even got a blister that day. What a way to break in the new Brooks Cascadia 3’s. I knew Andy Emerson was up ahead of me running in a small group and I thought they might slow down later but I was wrong. He had a good time running with the woman who would easily win every day.
When the race ended the sun was shining, the air warm, and the creek beckoned. I grabbed handfuls of food and walked down there with Nicole to ice my legs. It felt great to sit in the creek and attempt to crawl back out to the warm rocks after 10-20 minutes, then repeat. It felt great being creek side at a beautiful spot with my wife right there. Before soaking my legs I reached into my pockets to empty them of the food I had scrounged from the aid tables. Out popped a half-eaten Pillsbury biscuit, M&Ms plastered to it. The other pocket yielded a tasty peanut butter & jelly sandwich morsel. Gentleman that I am, I offered some to Nicole who paled at the prospect.
She’d already witnessed some strange aid station antics. For example, volunteers didn’t have anything with which to mix up the Heed so they used a trekking pole. She also saw the race leaders’ crew serve them turkey and avocado “sliders” – after a curious dog had licked them all. Apparently being green was important to some aid station volunteers: why throw out that ½ drunk cup of broth, or the cup for that matter when both could be reused. Really though, what you don’t know won’t hurt you when you’re running 100 miles.
Ever sample the fare at an ultra aid station? No gels at this one, though Jeff Wells tells me that’s unusual. But they did have goldfish crackers, pretzels, cookies, broth, M&Ms, PB&J sandwiches, biscuits, saltines and peanut butter, gummy bears, soda, bananas and oranges. The only other ultra I did also had boiled potatoes and salt to dip them in. Sounds appetizing, huh??
Dinner after the 50K was disappointing. Jeff really likes his meat and I don’t like plain marinara sauce so the veggie pasta was a flop. But the buttery garlic bread right off the BBQ was great, as was sitting with a table full of really nice people, Josh and Ashley Nordell among them. They turned out to be the overall winners Sunday and I was really happy for them because they seemed like such a nice couple. Ashley was the woman that Andy Emerson ran the 50K with. I joined them for the 50-miler on Saturday, but Andy dropped back near the halfway point leaving just me to suffer through her punishing perseverance.
My stomach bothered me for a lot of the ten and a half hours of running. I felt nauseous and prayed for burps because they calmed the rising sickness for a while. I’ve felt the same thing in the ironman run and have yet to figure it out. My legs felt good though, thanks to the emergency recovery techniques I used: ice, heat, “the stick,” massage, ibuprofen, compression socks, elevation, you name it. It seemed like my lungs just got tired at the end. The general wisdom in running ultras is to walk the uphills and run the downhills and the flats, conserving energy by staying out of the anaerobic zone. This might flip your whole attitude about hills upside down, because after 45 miles I started hating those flat and downhill sections since they meant I needed to be running again. And all those trees that had fallen across the trail were a mixed blessing. They meant a break from running too as you went around, crawled under, or climbed over them; but by late in the 50 mile race, every awkward leg movement threatened to cause a muscle cramp.
By the time Sunday morning rolled around I didn’t know how my body would feel, and suspected I’d be walking a lot. Jeff & I had BBQ rib eye steaks the night before and had our beers to celebrate making it this far. But when he tried to walk in the morning “it doesn’t look too good does it,” he said. I tried to reassure him by telling him that everyone walks that way after 50 miles. When the final 20K started I discovered I could run, even fast. The trees blocking the trail became hurdles to leap over or small walls to scramble. I felt like a kid running through the woods again, enjoying all the obstacles! My eyes darted from rock to rock on the technical downhills and I felt like a mountain biker picking a “good line” and carving tight corners. After all that slow plodding, it felt liberating to run fast. After taking it easy on the opening day 50K, I thought I might “make my mark” on the 50 miler. I did end up finishing 5th that day but only because two of the leaders got off course for 45 minutes. I checked my overall standing Saturday night after enjoying lots of Italian sausage, beans, and rice (yes, the same night we had steak and beer) and found that I was only a couple minutes behind Greg Eason who was in 6th place. Sunday I started chasing down people and I caught him early. My competitive spirit was awakened but I fought the urge to “race,” counting and trying to stay “in the moment.” He ran with me and we caught Matt Clay who was in 2nd overall and just ran behind him watching how efficient and effortless he made it look. But by 10K, he was looking tired and I was feeling good so I tried to break away from Greg and get “out of sight, out of mind” amidst all the twists and hills of the course. I ran a few hard intervals until I had Josh Nordell in my sights and settled in, never quite catching him. Greg was undeterred though. He ran hard to catch me, not wanting to lose his overall placement. When he pulled up behind me I congratulated him and he told me how much I hurt him. “That was my one attempt to break away from you,” I said, and we ran together to the finish line, chatting amiably.
That’s one thing I noticed about this event. For the most part, people seemed to bond for the finish. You don’t outsprint the guy or girl who helped you get through 30 or 50 miles of tough terrain simply by being there, asking if you’re OK, if you need anything, talking to you and making the miles pass quickly. Some of you already know how this feels. I didn’t and thought it felt great.
I heard some of you are considering doing an ultra. Part of the allure for me is seeing how “tough” I can be, how much discomfort I can endure. Another part is gaining the confidence that you really can do anything you set your mind to. The flipside of that coin is the humility to be gained by pushing yourself to your limit and then actually failing. There are lessons to be learned there too. When you go long it forces you to be more “ in the moment.” If you think too much about the immensity of the task before you, how far away the journey ends, it can overwhelm you. Like the AA motto “one day at a time,” ultra runners preach “one step at a time.”
If you wonder how to train for something like this Jeff and I built up our long run to 3 hours on the trail. We ran hills and we ran slowly. We took breaks to eat and always carried liquid nutrition. After building our long run, we started doing long runs on consecutive days, our goal being a 3-hour run followed by a 5-hour run 3 weeks before Arkansas. As I train for the Wasatch Front 100, I’ll build up to 6-hour runs on consecutive days and practice running tired and at night. I’ll try to get up to 4000 feet of climbing an hour on the stairmaster and I’ll work on my walking speed on hills. I always fell behind up the hills. I also need to solve my nausea problem. I tried NUUN in a desperate attempt to feel better during the 50 miler and had some success with it. Sunday, my stomach didn’t bother me at all but I only allowed myself to drink 10 oz. of Gatorade over 2 hours and ended up very dehydrated. Need to find a better way.
After my 50 miler in 2003, I couldn’t run for several weeks because my IT band flared up. This time I could run 2 days later. I did do some damage though. A suspected stress fracture of my metatarsal turns out to be just a sore tendon on the top of the foot. I actually injured myself more seriously the 2nd week after the race as I prematurely plunged into hard hill rides and good speed work at Traknite, followed by a 13 mile run with 3-4 miles of tempo thrown in. Both my Achilles tendons are sore, one inflamed. Guess it’s time to rest a little. Happy trails!