Fifty-mile races are interesting creatures. 50 miles is long enough to seem impossible if you really think about it. You get to the half marathon point and you still have 37 miles to go. I was thinking too much this past weekend at the Bull Run Run 50 Mile. I had gone out too fast, had a knot in my quad, it was warm and humid, and I could feel blisters forming on my toes. All this before the first aid station at 6.5 miles. It was going to be a tough day.

Early in the race, I found myself running in a pack, lined single file, snaking our way through trails lined with bluebells. The bluebells make this section of trail special. The ground under the trees is totally covered with a carpet of purple and blue flowers. It is easy to lose your pace here by sight-seeing, but I was with three guys named Jeff. Actually, I was with seven other runners, but three of us were named Jeff, which made for a lot of "Looking good Jeff!" comments from the other runners. The Jeff 's, and the others in our group of seven, all knew we were going too fast, but the synergy of the group pulled us down the trail. Around 10 miles I let them go out of self-preservation. I finally had to start running my own race.

I am not good at slowing down. That is, I am not good at slowing down on purpose. Once I get tired I can slow down with the best of them! I tried to back off the pace, letting my pace line go. Backing down is tough because you have to leave the groove you have settled into and try to establish a new groove. People began to pass me at a fairly constant interval. Normally, you would try to hold onto those coming past so they could drag you along. Today, I needed to fight to conserve my limited energy reserves and meter out enough to keep me on pace, but not enough to wear me out. It is a fine line.

The weather was not my friend at Bull Run. Warm and humid, too humid for my taste was in store for the day. The chance of rain never happened, but the humidity and dead still air made for uncomfortable conditions. I am not a heat runner. I sweat like a pig so the fluid/electrolytes replacement is more critical in warmer weather. I did not do a good job at Bull Run taking care of these needs, as my stomach was a bother the whole day. I had a massive air bubble in my gut that was once relieved by an award-winning burp and another time by puking out a fresh GU.

We all knew we
were going too fast,
but the synergy of the
group pulled us down
the trail.

I hooked onto other runners, using their pace to gauge when I was letting go and when I was pushing. I needed to push, but not too hard. My pace was irregular, but I was covering ground at an acceptable pace. When I felt good, I ran fairly hard. I friend jumped in and ran with me for several sections and that gave me the focus to hammer some miles. I would be going hard, when my body would rebel. "Slow down you fool!" My stomach and feet were getting bad. Each step was painful as the blisters expanded. My toes were spreading with the swelling and the forefoot was getting squishy. I stomped a few times, trying to pop the blisters, but had no luck.

At the next aid station, I pulled the sock off and was greeted by the sight of a shriveled up foot that looked like it had been in the shower for the past couple hours, except for the visible blisters. I sweat too much and these shoes must not drain all that well. Bulbous blisters surged from the inside of my big toe, and looked ugly. I did not look at the bottoms of my feet, as I knew it would be a bad thing. I pulled off a pin and popped the big toe blister; put on dry socks and the same saturated shoes and moved on. The initial pain after popping the blister was worse, but I told myself it would help later. You tell yourself these things.

At the aid station I refueled, eating some Pringles, M&Ms, Gatorade, and a GU. None of it tasted good, and my stomach remained unsettled. Just then I smelled something great: McDonald's French Fries! I had to have some! Scanning the crowd, I spotted the spectator who had the fried and sprinted towards them. I must have had that "Give me your fries or your life!" look, because she offered up fries before I even asked! Wonderful!

Part of what makes Bull Run special is the Virginia Happy Trails Running Club, which puts on the race. VHTRC runs hard and are masters at the social side of ultra-running. Unique twists to VHTRC events are expected, such as the Village People aid station and serving tequila at one of the aid stations. I tried mine mixed with coke and it tasted just as nasty as it does normally.

After the final turnaround the stomachache was getting rough. The grilled cheese sandwich did not go down and hung well above my stomach. The rest of the sandwich got tossed into the woods to become squirrel food. I came upon the idea on how to get rid of the belly issue. I ate a GU, taking but a sip of water to get down the evil stuff. I thought a big burp would do me good. Well, the burp expanded to include several pounds of fluids, GU, pretzels, and maybe a fry or two. What a relief! Suddenly I felt better, and lighter. I had 13+ miles to go and suddenly felt great.

Give me your fries,
or your life!

I took off in search of all those who had left me behind. I started catching people and going past. My pace had increased and my 5+ hour bad patch was over. Now I just had to deal with squishy and painful feet and profound tiredness. I longed to sit down and relax, but there were 13 miles to go. Leaving the last aid station a friend caught up and pulled me out of the station. I had sat down and relaxed, which was what I needed but could not do. I had to get my butt out of there and down the trail. There were only 5.5 miles to go and I wanted to push. There was a very outside chance I could still get my time goal of 10:45. I started my long finishing push.

A group formed at the aid station, all with the common goal of sub-11. I stated my goal of 10:45 and everyone looked at their watch and wondered if it was possible. We all took off. When you are trashed and having to push through the pain and tiredness is interesting. You get no sympathy from anyone else around, as they all feel just as bad. Everyone has their own pain threshold to deal with. Our pack pushed and a group went out into the front. I could not stay with them but tried to keep them close. I needed to be dragged towards my goal. Passing a slowing member of the pack, I took off in search of the front of the pack.

I caught those still within sight and dropped to their pace. I had crossed the line and pushed too hard. I struggled to maintain contact. The gap reopened and quickly became 10, and then 20 yards. I knew that if I didn't hang on then I would slowly drift into the end. The gap widened but I did a good job of keeping the distance within sight. A check of the watch showed a slim possibility of getting my goal. I pushed harder, but came to the rocky section of the course, which sapped my energy and time. The end was near, but not close enough.

The final hill is hard when you are fresh, much less at 49.5 miles. I kept good time walking up the hill but it was not good enough. As I hit the top of the steepest part of the hill the watch said 10:45:12. I had missed my goal time.

I pushed it in, anxious to sit down. It was now a race to get done. I crossed the finish at 10:51:30, just 6:30 after my goal. With all the issues I dealt with in the race I was pleased. I got my food, drink and sat down to watch the others finish. I saw and thanked the woman who gave me the fries.

Another 50 mile in the books. It had been a hard day, but a day that left me pleased with my ability to push the pace over the final 13-14 miles. I have to find a way to keep the bad patches of my races from lasting so long. Bull Run was my slowest 50 mile, but also my hardest. I'll take it. Next up: the Capon Valley 50k, a nice little romp through the hills of West Virginia.