Tunnel Hill 50 Mile Run

About a month ago, after not racing for quite a long time, a friend told me about a race in Illinois called Tunnel Hill. I had been training consistently, keeping a semi-consistent regimen, but did not have anything to work towards. I knew that I wanted to jump into ultrarunning soon, so I was doing some decent long runs, but was still in my road-runner mindset of running fast or bust. Plus, as a college student, I pretty much run whenever I can. If that means driving home before work to run at 4:30 in the morning just to get in an hour or so, then that's what I knew had to be done. When you really want something in life, I've learned you've just got to get out and go for it. After reading The Ultra Mindset by Travis Macy, I adopted the mentality of taking advantage of those early morning long runs and strategic dieting and scheduling as good mental training.

Anyways, I was told that Tunnel Hill was a great race for anyone's first ultra; it's generally flat with lots of aid stations and encouraging volunteers and competitors. So I decided that this would be ultra numero uno for me. I signed up and immediately adjusted my training to a "slow down, run far" plan. I can't honestly say that I stuck with this though. Even being a year removed from competitive high school racing, I can't seem to shake the mentality - mentally, I have a hard time slowing down. My biggest fear is that someone out there is running faster than me, and I just can't accept that for some reason. So, my weekly runs averaged between 8 and 12 miles at a semi-brisk 6:30-7:00/mile pace. Sometimes, to reassure myself that I was still fast, I would bust out something like 5:30. Why not, right? My long runs on the weekends climbed to about 23 miles (2.5 hours). The long runs were run at about 7:15 pace, depending on the terrain and how I felt. My weekly mileage got up to around 60, and I was feeling better than ever...until taper week.

I actually took two weeks to taper - the first was fine, but with only 5 days till the race, I noticed that I had an unwavering, debilitating pain on the top of my big toe joint where bunions usually form. The solution I gathered from a PT I know: "I wouldn't run if I were you." Yeah, I don't think so. After much consideration and talking with more experienced runners, I decided to cut a hole in my Hokas and roll with the punches. I had to switch to an older pair just 3 days before the race. I was kind of panicking at this point as I could barely walk.

Now on to race day. At 5:30, we rolled up to the park where the race would take place. I had downed a heaping bowl of oatmeal, some CarboPro, and what I thought to be a significant amount of water. I was feeling great, the toe felt alright, and my legs were adequately rested. It was probably the adrenaline that took all the pain away, and all I had to do at this point was wait...for 2 hours...until the start. 

When the race got under way, I took off in 3rd place. The two leaders went out at about 6:30, as expected, so I let them go. I went out with a 7:00 and would maintain this for the next 16 miles or so, averaging a relatively fast 7:20ish for the first 20 miles. At this point, I started to feel a little lactic acid doing its thing, so I made the astonishing commitment to slow down. My family was crewing for me (this was their first ultra too, so I let some mistakes slide), and they basically kept me on a rotation of gels, waffles, water, and CarboPro. By the marathon, I had gotten ridiculously sick of gels and CarboPro, so I said no more. 

At the marathon, I stopped to care for some blisters that were starting to come up, downed a bag of Lays in two bites, took a salt tablet,  and popped in some Ibuoprofen. I also realized that I had almost broken my marathon PR...oops. I was told that I was about 20 minutes off the leader and that the next person was 10 minutes behind. I was still in 3rd and had basically crossed off the possibility of advancing my position. I, for the first time ever, made the decision to...run my own race. 

The next part of the race was pretty long to say the least. My stomach bonked from all the sugar I had taken in in the first half of the race and I was definitely dehydrated (as made clearly evident by a natural bodily function). I kept rolling on, having slowed down since the marathon. Not much worthy of mention took place for the next 13 miles, really. I didn't see a single competitor, and I was legitimately talking to myself to find some motivation.

When I reached mile 40, I stopped for a much needed pit stop, and emerged to see a group of people hurrying me on because I had been passed. With 10 miles to go, I was in 4th, and I really couldn't even see the guy ahead. I assumed he had saved up for the end as any experienced runner would. So I just continued to run my race. 9 miles to go...8...7...5. When I got to the last 5k, which happened to be an aid station, I heard my mom (who obviously also still has the cross country mindset), yelling for me to keep going because I could catch number 3 because he had stopped to get some Dr. Pepper. Upon hearing this, I saw him take off. I chucked my handheld to my brother and bluntly admitted, "This is gonna hurt" as I took off for what I guess could be considered the final sprint of an ultra. 

With 2.5 miles to go, I had made my way up to the heels of 3rd place. I had done a 7:30 mile (which at this point felt like a 5:00) and was somehow finding a second wind. I knew we were getting close to the finish, so I made the move to reclaim 3rd. I had opened up about a 50 meter gap when a major stomach pain all but crippled me to the ground. "Are you kidding me?! Now?" [Insert Chariots of Fire song] I reverted to the classic "I just hit the wall" power walk that is quite pride-busting for a need for speed guy like myself. My race strategy for the last 2 miles was: run, walk, look back, repeat. Yes, I know, not very efficient, but I really didn't want to lose after making that move. 

When I finally saw the finish, I put on a smile and finished as strong as I could. I finished 3rd with a clock time of 7 hours and 5 minutes, just missing my goal of 7 hours. I heard my name announced, and assured myself that I am officially an ultrarunner. Man, that felt good.

I received the classic ultra finisher prize (the belt buckle and railroad spike) and immediately went on the prowl for some food, ideally some salt. I also had my first soda since middle school (5 years ago). Being from Kentucky, it only seemed fitting to enjoy an Ale 8. Man, it kind of hurt going down, but it felt so refreshing...mentally and physically. I got some soup and whatever else I could find, and had some great conversations with the winner and other runners around the finish area. Corree Woltering was the winner in an outstanding time of 5:30, shattering his own CR and setting the FKT for 50 miles this year. Major props to him. Also, I'd like to extend my congratulations to the 100 mile finishers, many of which reign from my ol' Kentucky home. Lastly, a big thanks to Steve Durbin for putting on such a great event. 

All that said, I am excited and preparing now for my next race: Otter Creek trail marathon on December 17. I'd like to go for the W, but I think I'm learning that this isn't a sport about winning, but a sport about being epic. Ultrarunning is pretty epic, and I like that. Also, I am doing the Boxing Day 6 hour run in Elizabethtown, KY the day after Christmas. Super excited about that as well!

Thanks for reading, and I will write again soon!