5 Lessons I Learned Before the 5th Grade That I Should Have Applied to my First 50
On Sunday December 6th, 2020 I did something arbitrary, idiotic, and epic. I ran 50 kilometers through the North Georgia wilderness as a part of Sean “Run Bum” Blanton’s Cloudland Canyon 50K. If you are still scratching your head on if that is worthwhile or not, let me walk you through it. The math isn’t too hard. Think 5K (okay 3.1 miles) multiplied by 10; (pull the calculator out) 31 miles. Voila. Now that you know how long a 50K is all you need to do is check out a copy of “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall at your local library and watch “The Barkley Marathons” on Netflix. Just three simple steps to becoming an ultra-marathoner. Still interested or intrigued by the grueling task of loafing 31 miles through the woods? If that is the case, I scratched down a few things that I have known for a very long time but didn’t apply to my first race. As December 6th, 2020 was an unforgettable day for me, I hope today I can encourage you to embark on a challenge you will never forget.
Never Put a Reese’s in an Easter Egg
After the initial celebration of finishing the race with my stellar crew (huge thanks to Tim and Logan), I heard one of them say, “Dude, is that peanut butter in your hair?” Yes, that in fact was peanut butter in my hair and why stop there? It was dug deep under my fingernails, nestled within the creases of my palms, and jammed in every crack and crevice of my cheap headlamp.
There are few things as important as nutrition out on the trail. I took my nourishment seriously. I had experimented and found success with many different foods but had this genius idea to try to make peanut butter protein balls for race day without testing them out on a training run. After molding those delectable chia seed, honey, and peanut butter packed balls with the precision of a potter the day before the race, I stuck them right in the freezer. Overnight they solidified and looked utterly glorious. Of course I taste tested one, delicious. As we have seen over the last couple of months with vaccine distribution, the problem wasn’t the product at this point, but the supply chain. I failed to consider the fact that these rock-solid protein balls would be sitting with me in the car an hour before the race then hugging my sweaty back for miles on end once the race started. About 4 miles in, I was already starting to feel the craving for those decadent bite-sized goodies. After opening up my gray and orange running pack, I dove right for the protein balls. Much to my surprise I had not fastened my reusable Ziploc bag well enough and those spheres of salvation were an amorphous being; dripping into every nook and cranny of my few possessions. The peanut butter amoeba took no prisoners, infiltrating the gates of my phone case, sending volleys upon volleys at my neck gaiter, and taking its remaining food friends hostage. After me and the rest of the edible gang ran a mutiny on the protein balls, I looked down. Peanut butter in my hands, all over my gear, and the largest smile was sitting on my face. Do not store up your treasures in things that will melt on you.
Life is a Marathon, not a Sprint
On the day of the race I was 23 years old, so I did what any 23 year old man would do in my situation. Start really fast. The cool thing about starting out fast is that you are able to run with the lead pack for a few miles. The not so cool thing about starting out fast is a lot of people that you laughed at during the beginning of the race will pass you. To put this into context, I passed the half-marathon mark running my half marathon pace. That is all fine and good besides the fact that I would traditionally be stopping at that point if I was running my half-marathon for speed. There were still 18 grueling miles through flora and fauna to go. It was a long and slow death. Every hare needs a tortoise.
I had an idea of how long the 50K would take me. Leading up to the race I started crunching the numbers. Okay, so the longest run I completed in training was 27.5 miles. That took me just about 4 hours. To account for the additional 4 miles I would need to complete on race day, I factored in an additional hour. When I say that I had a clue about how long it would take I wasn’t lying in the slightest, I was just hilariously wrong. Once I limped under the finish line, it had been a total of 6 hours, 33 minutes, and 22 seconds. 23,602 seconds of putting one foot in front of the other. I was ready to fall on my face as soon as I walked through that door. Another lesson learned. I should have been more worried about working on my hill training instead of chasing Strava clout with my Silver Comet Trail Runs – the flattest run in all of Atlanta. I swear that path is downhill both ways. Yes, I had finished the good race, but it would have been incredibly more enjoyable at a measured pace.
This is a Really Nice Thing, Now Treat it That Way
My whole life I have been notorious for losing things. House keys, watches, and sunglasses. If I have owned it, I have lost it. Around mile 6 of the race, I had found my stride. In that moment, I could have run forever. This was until I peeked down into the abyss of cloudland canyon. Thankfully, after a millennium of erosion this perfect metal staircase tapered down the canyon walls to the bottom. Taking each step two at a time I was gaining ground on the runner in front of me. As a veteran of the trail, he seemed to be taking a much more controlled approach to the stair section than my reckless course. Not 10 steps after he pulled over to let me pass him, I took a quick pivot step with three stairs to go. My pivot step turned into a travel when my feet completely came out from under me. The fall was gnarly. It’s still a blur. Foot slips. Knee to the stair corner. Ear striking platform. Back, matted on solid ground. Too embarrassed to ask for help and most notably cry, I jumped right up and brushed myself off. Thankfully it was cold enough for my bloody knee to clot nice and quickly. It throbbed. My heart may as well have been in my knee the rest of the race because it would not stop pounding, but I could not stop moving forward. I wouldn’t. I didn’t train for four months to let a little dust up get in the way. Writing this 5 months after the race, I can say my dutiful knee is fully healed. It took 4 months and three weeks of rest, an X-ray, and an MRI. It will be worth it every single time.
After taking a couple trial steps with my newly minted knee, I noticed my left headphone wasn’t working. Great, I had broken it during the fall. Reaching for my ear bud to try the good ole turn off and turn on technique, I was surprised when my finger hit frozen earwax instead of hard plastic. Looking around, my left earbud was nowhere to be seen and I was too prideful to get on my hands and knees and seek it out. This section was the stem of a “lollipop” so I would pass it again in a few miles; I decided to look for it then. Approaching the scene of the fall for the second time I looked under the staircase and there it was. After inspecting my precious Jaybird earbud to make sure it wasn’t a snail in disguise, I popped it right back in. Bon Iver, as audible as ever. My luck was hard to believe.
Once the race was over I did exactly what you would expect. I opened my pack and fished around for my phone so I could call my mother and let her know I completed the race in one piece. Of course, the only thing I caught in that pack was more peanut butter. I was beside myself, totally flustered. Where in the world had my phone gone? Was this whole thing just a dream that I was about to wake up to? Was I hallucinating? Was the simulation glitching? The phone could be anywhere on the 31 mile course, so I had to start looking the best way this millennial knew how to. I grabbed my friend’s phone and logged into the “Find my Iphone” App. After a few minutes of no signal, I realized I had swapped out my iPhone for the human hand warmer that is also marketed under the “Google Pixel 4” trade name. I was impressed when it only took me 5 tries to guess my Google password. And there it was. Right where the trail crossed a road at an aid station. Again, my luck was hard to believe. After racking my brain on why my phone was at mile 22 and not in my pack I remembered that at that point in the race I had paused my music, set my phone on the ground and put my headphones in my backpack for good. Maggie Rogers, it’s not you, it’s me. For some reason the headphones felt suffocating at that point in the race. I ditched the music and got lost in my thoughts. This is why I can’t have nice things. It’s better to be lucky than responsible.
Don’t Let Research Get in the Way of Common Sense
Well, this one may be a stretch. I likely did not learn it before the fifth grade, but hey this is an amateur blog post. Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?
Leading up to the race, I became moderately obsessed with race-day nutrition. From carb powder, to whole fruits, and of course everyone’s favorite – energy gels, I had tried them all. After consulting with some trusted friends, I decided to take on research of my own. Where better to start training your stomach for a 50K than the all-knowing Google Scholar. After a few minutes of internet surfing, I came across the article: Nutritional Implications for Ultra-Endurance Walking and Running Events. I printed the paper out, and it became my bible (with the exception of a few superfluous paragraphs). The verses went something like this: 70% of my diet should be strictly carbohydrates, 20% fat, and 10% protein. Approach 1,000 grams of carbs each day on race week. Drink to thirst. You literally cannot eat enough carbs, carbs are your energy, your lifeline. Here is a snippet of my shopping list on race week – rice, bread, pretzels, quinoa, granola, chia seeds, sunflowers seeds, peanuts, peanut butter, honey, apples, banana chips, more rice, more peanut butter. Nothing could stop me from being at peak performance, especially the fuel I was putting into the tank. There was a minor detail I neglected to take into consideration. The paragraph heading from the article that I deemed unnecessary reads “Gastrointestinal Intolerances”. Apparently this wasn’t a throw in point to shield the author from liability if something were to happen. This was serious. My stomach completely rejected the cups of rice, loafs of bread, and quarts of carb powder I had been feeding it the week leading up to the race. When I should have been enjoying the sweeping views of Cloudland Canyon State Park I was focused on the burning sensation within my stomach. My intestines were torn in ribbons. While my other racers were slurping down pickle juice at the halfway mark, I was bee-lining it to the porta-potty. I had never felt more beaten. The fusion of disinfectant and human feces saturated the air, my head was nestled on my peanut-butter crusted hands, and I was wondering if I was in need of a carbohydrate induced stomach pump. After a few minutes wallowing in my feelings, I couldn’t stand the smell any longer. I had to move on. My pit-stop feigned off my torn stomach for a few miles, but it would continue to plague me throughout the race. Ultra-marathons are part athletic competition and part eating contest. Much respect to the GOAT Joey Chestnut. He is the most dominant athlete to ever live. Please prove me wrong.
The Buddy System
One aspect of the race that I know I missed out on was running with a friend. There were two main reasons I can think of that caused me to run solo. The whole point of this run was to prove something to myself. Call it pride, ambition, vain conceit. Likely all of the above. There was something romantic about completing it on my own. Secondly, the harvest of people in their early twenties that desire and follow through with a journey like this are few and far between. I guess my friends have a lot more sanity than me. Regardless, we are much stronger together than alone. A cord of three strands is not easily broken…
My pride only took me so far on the run. About 24 miles in I hit the infamous “wall”. There was just no way I could leg out the rest of this race. If need be, I was willing to crawl to the finish line. After a mile of contemplating all of my life choices up to this fateful stage of self-inflicted pain, I could run no longer. Totally defeated, I started to saunter the racecourse. At one point, a literal horse passed me, or I passed it. It is all a blur anyway. I was about ready to throw in the towel at mile 27 when I heard a whisper come through the bushes. Four legs quickly catching up to me that I could see under the tree line. Great, 2 more people that will find me in this less than desirable state, ask me if I was okay then, without remorse, leave me in the dust. I saw everyone out there as a competitor. To my surprise, it was two cheerful chaps jogging and talking along. As soon as they passed me, I surmised the energy to catch their draft and see how long they could drag me along. Not long after I started bump drafting my two road warriors, one of them dropped off into a power walk and I caught up to our leader. Wherever he goes, I would go. I would follow him off a cliff, into the dark. Mark from Nashville, I will forever be in debt to you. I latched my gait to his and we were off. It could not have been faster than pulling 12 minute miles, but we were zooming through those trees. For the final 5 kilometers we joked about the insanity of the whole bit and how we had gotten there. I was grateful to have a buddy, even if it was just a few miles tacked on at the end. I heard it best from the late Chris McCandless – “Happiness only real when shared”. I will go on to add that pain is just a little bit more tolerable, together. Maybe you have considered signing up for a race like this or you are looking for motivation to work out a little more each week. Regardless of where you stand, set a goal and be deliberate about it. Go on a trip, write a letter to a friend, meditate. You might just surprise yourself along the way.
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