The
Ultimatexc Race
Moab, Utah
November 15, 2008
This little
town was dubbed “Moab” by the Mormon settlers in
the 1800’s.
It’s
a biblical name meaning ‘land just short of the Promised
Land’.
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Moab
|
After spending 2 days driving 1400 miles and 2 nights luxuriating in
the van, I am now heading south on highway 191 into Moab, and the
adrenaline is already building up within me. After a relaxing meal, I
check into the hotel, scout out the location of the start line, find a
pharmacy where I purchase some ‘tecnu’ to treat my
poison ivy, and then head over to the pre-race meeting, which is held outdoors
at 7:00 pm!!!
I’m up early, as is my wont on race-day. It’s 29
degrees according to the weather channel, so I opted to go with my
tights. However, as I sit in my room downing my breakfast and forcing
fluids, I’m faced with the realization that I’m
going to be out there for a long time today and I really
won’t need to be so covered up once morning turns into
afternoon, so I switch into my shorts and head for the van.
There’s an 8:15 am, mandatory, pre-race informational meeting
where they are providing us with the ‘rules’, as
well as with words to live by, such as “there are a few
places on this course where if you make a mistake, you will
die!” Hmmm. Maybe signing that release was not such
a good idea.

Muster
Area |

Muster
Area-Me |
We next walk down the road en masse to the start
point, and launch ourselves into another adventure. The 10-milers, the
20-milers and the 30-milers all start together, which makes for a
somewhat crowded trail, so I try to stay out of everyones way and still
achieve a modicum of forward progress. The first thing that becomes
apparent to me is the ‘sand’. This trail system is mostly
sand, ala the beach. Yes, it’s that deep! In short shift, the
‘good’ runners have left me in their dust
(literally) and now my only concern is to find more solid purchase (ha)
in this fluff-like sand.

Early
Going 1 |

Early
Going 2 |
When not plowing through the sand, one is relegated to negotiating the
boulders: large, steeply slopping boulders that test ones mettle.
Fortunately, trail shoes do have soles with much better traction than
do running shoes; but still, it’s asking a lot to trust your
life, or at the very least, your health to your shoes. After dealing
with a few ‘ups and downs’, I’m now face
to face with the first major climb of this race.

Going Up 1
|

Going Up 2
|

What Hill
|
It’s
probably a mile long and I can barely step up from one
boulder to the next. At times I must resort to pulling myself upward
with the use of my hands. Still, I must confess this is a beautiful
place. The walls, the canyons, the cliffs, the colors and the sounds
are all breathtaking. Hoping to share this moment with a fellow runner
I begin talking to the young lady climbing next to me. But wait, she
can’t hear me. She’s wearing headphones. (Pet peeve
#1) This woman, while participating in an adventure, has chosen to
block out as much as possible by cutting off one of her senses!!!!! My
attitude is, you can always listen to music in the comfort of your
living room while rocking in a chair and wrapped in a shawl. Why on
earth would someone block out an experience such as this? I believe you
should open yourself to all that this type of undertaking has to offer:
the good, as well as the bad! Oh well, enough of my ranting.

Race
Course 1 |

Race
Course 2 |

Race
Course 3 |
Thankfully,
after all that climbing, I am met with quite a bit of gentle downs,
albeit in the ever-present sand. The next thing I notice is how hard
I’m panting while slowly jogging downhill. This is what altitude
will do to you. The climbing and the running in sand has fatigued my
legs: consequently, I’ve been kicking the heck out of the oh
so many rocks strewn along this course. It’s a good thing for
me that trail shoes have heavy-duty toe guards on them, else, I would
surely be limping by now.
At long last I pull into the first aid station at 5.5 miles in
1-½ hours. (16:20m/m). Man, I know that’s slow but
I swear to you that I’ve been pushing it the entire time; no
holding anything in reserves for later in the race. After thanking all
the volunteers for their time and their efforts, I head back out for
more fun. I feel I am doing okay while jogging most of these trails
(yeah, even in the sand) when things turn dangerous.
The trail here is basically the edge of the cliff and if you spit, it
will fall, and fall, and fall to the canyon floor below. Because I have
been having trouble lifting my feet high enough to clear even the
lowest of hurdles, I am adopting an attitude (slow down) that will
ensure that I stay alive! Make a mistake anywhere along the edge of
this cliff and 6 of your best friends will be carrying you by the
handles, if they ever find the body.
Even
as I make my way down the cliff walls, things remain quite
dangerous. There are places where I must sit on my butt and use my
hands for balance. Because I cannot reach the pointed rock below, I
must drop down onto it with my left foot and
immediately bounce over to another boulder on my right foot.
Here’s another example of the advantages of trail shoes. The
bottom of trail shoes have a much sturdier base plate than do normal
running shoes, so runners endure less trauma to the soles of their feet
(plantar fasciitis) than they would otherwise. Finally I am off the
cliffs but the trail has adopted a new persona. The sand has given way
to rocks and one is forced to run along the tops of these round and/or
pointed, baseball to grapefruit sized foot massagers. Zounds! Hey,
there’s the second aid station at the 8.8 mile mark but my
time is a ghastly 2:34:00. Dang, this means that for the 3.3 miles of
coming down the cliffs I averaged 19:24m/m. Anyhow,
my 8.8 mile average is 17:30m/m. I hope I will make up some time on
this next stretch which is ¾-miles of jeep-road (go figure).
I’ve managed the road nicely and have now arrived at a
‘water only’ station. Here, we 30-milers must run
up a side canyon and locate a ‘punch’. We must
punch our bibs to prove we traveled as far up the canyon as the course
demands. In good spirits, I take off up the canyon (more sand!), but in
no time at all things head south on me. The first 9 miles of the course
were very well marked, but the deeper I go into
this canyon, the markings get fewer and farther between and I often
find myself off course. Fortunately for me, the runners coming back out
of the canyon alert me to the ‘error of my ways’.
(One gentleman) “Hey, you should be on this side on the
stream: I did the same thing as you on my way in.” (Two
ladies and a gentleman) “You’re on the wrong side
of the canyon. We made the same mistake.” Eventually, there
are no more runners making their way out of the canyon. Translation:
I’m the last of the 30-mile runners and this means I will pay
dearly for any more navigational errors. It seems as though
it’s been a long, long time since I last saw a marker, but
I’m following ‘runner/trail’ shoe prints
in the sand. Still hoping there are others nearby, I keep calling out
but no reply comes back to me. I stop. This can’t be right.
I’m turning back! I’ve retraced my steps for quite
some time when I espy the ‘punch’. Originally, as I
made my way into this canyon, the punch was located down in a gully,
behind a huge boulder, completely hidden from view. Why? Why? Why?
I’ve wasted so much time in this darn canyon that I am now in
serious trouble of missing the cutoffs! I’m so angry that
I’m cursing out loud, wasting valuable energy. I’m
now struggling to find markers on the way out of this darn place: or is
it more that I have lost my focus? After 1-½ hours, the
water station reveals itself to me and I remind myself to not
vent at the volunteers who are patiently awaiting the arrival this
last, lonely runner. Oh heck, there’s the race director and I
know what’s coming. “Sorry Jerry, I’m
going to have to pull you from the race” laments Dan.
As you might imagine, there are a lot of emotions that I’m
experiencing at this moment, and none of them are good. But, I can
honestly say I can’t think of a better way spend 4 hours. To
say this place is stunning is like saying Mt. Everest is a hill. I
don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the pallet of
colors that God used to create this place. And, I firmly believe I can
‘sense’ the hardness of the sheer, stony walls He
used to build these canyons. For one day, I got to play
here.
Just another
adventure!
The Thunder
Road Run
www.RunCharlotte.com
Charlotte, N.C.
December 13, 2008
If you know me, then you know how I feel about running in overcrowded
cities on asphalt and concrete; but; there are only 10 states remaining
on my ‘list’ and the pickin’s are mighty
slim in the winter months, so I’m off to Charlotte, North
Carolina.
700,000
Charotteans reside here, thus making it the 19th
largest city
in the U.S.
and the largest city in the state of North Carolina.
I have been running for 30 years, and for 30 of those years I have been
guilty of overdressing in the harsh weather. In general, I overcome
this failing when running in longer races, but when
I awoke to 27 deg temps, I knew I’d be
running in tights todays.
The morning begins with a short ride over to the train station. This is
untested waters for me but in spite of the darkness of the hour, I find
my way without incident. While boarding the train, I sneak a quick
glance over my shoulder down into the parking lot where I espy one
lonely vehicle, that being mine. In a short 20 minutes, I am delivered
to the Charlotte Convention Center, which is serving as the staging
area for all of today’s events. (Marathon , Marathon-Relay,
½-mara and 5K)
The gun fires, setting me off on a 2 minute walk to the start line as
these narrow streets are bulging at the
seams.
(There were just under 5,000 finishers in the 4 races held today.)
It
will take some time for this crowd to thin out. By my watch (chip time)
I’m maintaining an 11M/M pace for the first 5 miles and this
is a little better than I had expected.
Looking back
at the 5-mile mark.
It seems to me that at all of these types of events one always finds
‘good fellowship’ and a ‘considerate
attitude’ amongst the competitors. At least I’ve
found that to be true here, at the back of the pack and today is no
exception. It’s nice to converse with others, and listen in
on all the discussions that fill the long, demanding hours of a
marathon.
One can’t help but notice the long lines that have formed at
all the porta-johns; so, I have been bidding my time for quite some
time now, we shall see how this decision plays out. Ten has come and
gone and I’m still maintaining my pace. So far, I have not
taken off my gloves, nor my hat: and I harbor no regrets for wearing my
running tights. (Who knew tights could run???)
Somewhere after 11, the ½-marathoners peel off in another
direction, thus thinning the herd considerably. At 12, I’m
face to face with the most difficult climb up to this point in the race
and it negatively impacts my already-ambulatory pace. Hey look, someone
has placed a porta-john just where my need is the greatest, and
it’s vacant. See you later.
Course
Elevation
I’ve passed 13 (or was it 13.1) in 2:22:22 but I’m
laboring way too much for this early in the run. Can’t help
but believe this is a horrible harbinger of things to come. Now, I have
managed to dip below 11M/M at 15 and I’m telling you I
don’t normally feel this poorly until 20 – yeeech!
The sun is out, but if you are covered in shade, or if there is even
the slightest of breezes, it is cold. This area has been under
‘flash flood’ warnings, so the air always feels dank.
I must comment on the outstanding support at this race. Kudos
especially to the many, many police officers who are stationed at every
intersection, and at every turn on this course. Often times they thank
me for visiting their town. The race director has certainly earned a
‘job well done’. Wow, my old body feels bruised and
battered and here at 18, I find myself running on CONCRETE. Not good.
I have lied, cheated and employed every trick in my arsenal to get this
ragged body of mine to the 20-mile mark, and it’s now time to
pay the piper. Normally, at this point in a marathon, I call to mind my
#1 Mantra, “Anyone can run 20 miles, it’s these
last 6 miles that transforms a runner into a
marathoner”. However, today there will be no such
bravado. Already, I must discard my ‘run/walk
schedule’ and will take what the course gives me. Each of the
next 6 mile markers is cause for celebration (if only I could) and
still I play the mind games that are ever so commonplace in the closing
stages of a marathon. At 23, I recite my #2 Mantra, “Anyone
can run a 5K”; so encouraged, I plod onward.
24, 25, 26, and there it is, the finish banner (4:55:08). I collect my
finisher’s medal, turn in my chip and head for the convention
center to pick up my drop bag. Nothing more remains but for me to walk
over to the train station. Gee, I hope my van is still in the parking
lot!
Just another
adventure!