It was the worst of times, it was the best of times.... a line borrowed from Dickens' "A Tale Of Two Cities", and then mutilated, and rendered so fitting to my run at FlatRock 50K this past Saturday. This year was to count as my 9th year. A finish--maybe even a good finish was on my radar, and I was almost cocky in attitude--not to say I was gonna own the course, but that it could not own me. A quick bible lesson: Proverbs 16:18 warns that "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."
But before the gory details, let's have some fun. We arrived at the pre-race shindig around 5:30, and were in time for the usual pasta and meatballs. I am not a big pre-race pasta nut, but this is always a treat!!
Just add a salad, store-bought rolls and butter, and yum! I even made a meatball sandwich for dessert!!
RD and great friend Eric Steele does a super job with this event. Somehow he makes going out on the toughest trails in the central states sound fun and enticing. He hoots and hollers, blows a train whistle, bangs on trash cans, and high-fives every finisher. It is one of trail-running's most fun finish lines. We visited with a few old friends, but I did not get many good pix because at the time, I thought I had forgot my new camera, and only had the iPhone for pictures and it was getting to dark for the pix to turn out. I later found my camera just where I put it in the end-pouch of my Sunmart bag. Some pre-race jitter-pix are in the post below this one if you haven't seen 'em.
Race day morning.
Eric and Dave Dinkel work to get everyone checked in. Dave is the heart and soul of this race, having ran the first 10 to earn the honor of being the first to be knighted into the FlatRock Hall of Pain--notice the cloth race bib. I aspire to earn one of those by running 10 consecutive FlatRock 50Ks--and number 9 was today!
Dana was working an aid station about 10 miles into the race, and had to be there EARLY-thank-you-very-much! Whereas I am always dragging in at the last minute, I actually had time to visit friends, and visit the wonderful out-house--they had built brand new toilet facilities, but it was still of the outhouse genre. Smelled rosy.
There was lots of catching up to do--friends you see only once a year.
Earl (on the right) is a friend from Oklahoma. Earl was working the Oak Ridge aid station with Dana. Dennis (on the left) is another of the Knights of FlatRock. Dennis, after earning Knighthood, has continued to run every 50K offered on this rugged course, and is also one of 3 finishers of the 100K (click here for a long race report on it)ran here a few years ago.
More friends--some of the Oklahoma contingent: Jim Perry, Long Vu, and Richard Smith. On a good day, I can hang with Jim and Long, but not Richard.
There's sum TATURs. Janeen and Tammy were representing us well, and Chris was here this day for moral support.
Another runner of note: Paul Schoenlaub was here today to run his 10th FlatRock--which meant he would achieve Knighthood after completing his run!! 100K Paul also puts on a 100 miler that is on my list for possibly next year--the Ozark 100.
Eric does the roll call as the 42 brave 50Kers arrive at the starting line.
The race follows the road for a very short jaunt, and then crosses a ravine into the woods.
And then the climbing began....
(A delusional view from the back-of-the-pack.)
FlatRock has it's share of ups and downs. There are not any super long or super steep hills, but there are enough to wear on you. What makes FlatRock so hard is the relentless rocks. Rocks that are mobile. Rocks that like the taste of blood, that enjoy a good bite of knee flesh every now and then. With this course being an out and back, these carnivorous toothy craggy rocks always have a second chance to make their mark on you, as you will be more weary on the return trip and much easier prey.
An early descent through what I call "the Devil's Butt Crack."
Ah, the call of the bench...come, sit a while...enjoy the view...take a load off... (This is a much louder call on the way back.)
Much of the course is alongside limestone bluffs like this--sometimes at the bottom, sometimes at the top. Trip and fall a little to the right on the way back, and you'll have a 70 foot bungee jump minus the elastic cord.
Notice in the last few pics there were no runners in the frame? I noticed that too, and decided to put my camera away and run. I always start out slow in this one--no sense beating my brains out running up steep inclines when I need every last drop of gas in the tank for the last 4-5 miles of this race. But it was time to settle into a nice rhythm and make up some time. And I did just that for about a mile. I had Jim Perry in sight, and a group of 3 girls ahead of him around a ridge and through a dry water-crossing. I was looking forward to chatting with Jim when my left foot and gimpy ankle failed to negotiate fist-sized rock number 1,845. I nearly folded my ankle over, and hopped on my one good foot to a stop. Damn! I limped for a few steps, thinking I could walk it off, but it really hurt. But there was nothing to do but go on, and I figured it would let up and I would be able to get going again. I did run a little, and did not ask for help at aid station #1 at mile 4. Things got worse, and I had to watch where that foot landed EVERY STEP. Flat dirt was good. Flat rocks, not so good but better than slanted rocks and loose rocks. The going was slow, and it seemed faster to walk a steady pace than to run so slow. So, that was how it was for the next 7 miles. It was the worst of times.
Dana and Earl Blewett were at mile 10-ish, and I thought if I could just make it there, Dana could tape my ankle up and with some vitamin "I", things might turn out alright. Hindsight tells me I should have begged the aid stop 3 miles earlier for some tape, painkillers, and whiskey. Dana had ran out to meet me--somehow she had heard I had jacked my ankle up, and she paced me in about a half mile to Oak Ridge. There, she mummified my ankle and foot, fed, watered, and medicated me, and sent me packing. I did not know if I had a prayer to finish, and while there, called Eric to see what his ruling would be. The cell signal was so bad, I don't think he even knew who I was or what I wanted. But the good news was, I was able to walk pain-free. After climbing out of Oak Ridge, I tried to shuffle and things got better.
Math skills get fuzzy in an ultra. I think a good feature for a Garmin would be adding a pace calculator that was easily accessible to figure out the pace needed to meet a cut-off, or to catch a runner ahead. I knew I was in the hole, and making the cut-off at the turnaround would mean I would have to run four sub 10 minute miles--HAHAHA!!! So, I was thinking--would I be allowed any extra time? Would a finish past cut-off be acceptable to keep my finish streak alive? If I was pulled, would my quest for Knighthood be over? I was making myself sick thinking about it. I was greatly encouraged by Jim Perry, who I saw on his return trip. He was a good 3-4 miles ahead of me, and I told him of my plight. He told me that he heard that if I came in, I was going back out. WOW!! That put a spring in my step!! I ran faster (ok, just a little faster) all the way to the end. Running into the aid stop, they commented how I looked good--aid station workers are such wonderful liars!! There was a discussion as gto how I felt, and if I could possibly finish with my ankle. I felt great at the time, and Dana refilled my bottles (I was carrying 2 now) and my Nathan Pack. I had enough H2O to make it all the way back, or close to it. Dana was now in crew-babe mode, and she met me back at her aid stop at Oak Ridge.
I had actually made good time on the return so far. Finishing in the overall time limit seemed vaguely possible, but I needed to keep moving. I hit the next stop still moving fairly well, although some of the hills were getting steeper. (Hills do that in an out-and back--REALLY! They do!!) Dana leap-frogged to aid station #1, and allowed the guys there to pack up and go to the start/finish. (I should mention, besides being able to leap from one aid station to another in a single bound, she is an awesome short-order cook, a competent shrink, and cracks a pretty mean whip. Durn lucky to have 'er, I say!) By the time I made it there, I was pooped. I had been running well, but the heat of the afternoon was working on my head. Fortunately, a bank of clouds had moved overhead, and while it seemed to cool down a little, the humidity seemed to soar. The next 3 miles are the hardest on the course--partly because of fatigue, but the rocks-they be jagged, the climbs--they be steep. I did my best to shuffle/run, and when I walked, I tried to not walk in place. I had not fell on the trails in several months, but I fell twice during this section, yet there was so little forward momentum, the collision with the ground was of little matter. (No blood, no cigar.)
I was about a quarter mile from the end of the trail from hell, when I saw a couple of the aid-station #1 dudes coming to run me in. How nice. These young whipper-snappers coming out to help an old-timer make it home. (Actually, I was glad to see them and we ran nearly every step of the way to the finish.)
I finished in 11:04. That was way over the time limit, but Eric ruled it a finish. It seems a precedence was set a few years back where a runner vying for the 10 finishes had a finish time past the cutoff. He was not given an official time, but was given an official finish. Suffice to say, I am exceedingly grateful for the ruling, and I vow to run a very respectable time next year when I nail my 10th finish!!
Many thanks to the volunteers who work so hard to make this race what it is. The food before and after the race is spectacular. Warren just never disappoints!
Special thanks to Chad, who always works the turnaround aid stop and went to bat for me, so to speak, believing that I could finish my race.
What's to say now--some 2 days after the event? I am wearing a Velcro brace around my ankle. Walking is pain free. I'll run maybe Thursday. I have a 100 to run next weekend and I think with a properly taped ankle. I'll be able to get it done.
Oh, and I almost left out a very important part of the story!! The Knighting of Paul!!
The illustrious King dawned his royal crown, and Paul, surnamed Sir Slam (for his amazing achievement of completing the Grand Slam and the Rocky Mounrain Slam) was knighted into the FlatRock Hall of Pain.
Long live the Knights of FlatRock!! Long live the King!!! It was the best of times!
But before the gory details, let's have some fun. We arrived at the pre-race shindig around 5:30, and were in time for the usual pasta and meatballs. I am not a big pre-race pasta nut, but this is always a treat!!
Just add a salad, store-bought rolls and butter, and yum! I even made a meatball sandwich for dessert!!
RD and great friend Eric Steele does a super job with this event. Somehow he makes going out on the toughest trails in the central states sound fun and enticing. He hoots and hollers, blows a train whistle, bangs on trash cans, and high-fives every finisher. It is one of trail-running's most fun finish lines. We visited with a few old friends, but I did not get many good pix because at the time, I thought I had forgot my new camera, and only had the iPhone for pictures and it was getting to dark for the pix to turn out. I later found my camera just where I put it in the end-pouch of my Sunmart bag. Some pre-race jitter-pix are in the post below this one if you haven't seen 'em.Race day morning.
Eric and Dave Dinkel work to get everyone checked in. Dave is the heart and soul of this race, having ran the first 10 to earn the honor of being the first to be knighted into the FlatRock Hall of Pain--notice the cloth race bib. I aspire to earn one of those by running 10 consecutive FlatRock 50Ks--and number 9 was today!Dana was working an aid station about 10 miles into the race, and had to be there EARLY-thank-you-very-much! Whereas I am always dragging in at the last minute, I actually had time to visit friends, and visit the wonderful out-house--they had built brand new toilet facilities, but it was still of the outhouse genre. Smelled rosy.
There was lots of catching up to do--friends you see only once a year.
Earl (on the right) is a friend from Oklahoma. Earl was working the Oak Ridge aid station with Dana. Dennis (on the left) is another of the Knights of FlatRock. Dennis, after earning Knighthood, has continued to run every 50K offered on this rugged course, and is also one of 3 finishers of the 100K (click here for a long race report on it)ran here a few years ago.
More friends--some of the Oklahoma contingent: Jim Perry, Long Vu, and Richard Smith. On a good day, I can hang with Jim and Long, but not Richard.
There's sum TATURs. Janeen and Tammy were representing us well, and Chris was here this day for moral support.
Another runner of note: Paul Schoenlaub was here today to run his 10th FlatRock--which meant he would achieve Knighthood after completing his run!! 100K Paul also puts on a 100 miler that is on my list for possibly next year--the Ozark 100.
Eric does the roll call as the 42 brave 50Kers arrive at the starting line.The race follows the road for a very short jaunt, and then crosses a ravine into the woods.
And then the climbing began....
(A delusional view from the back-of-the-pack.)FlatRock has it's share of ups and downs. There are not any super long or super steep hills, but there are enough to wear on you. What makes FlatRock so hard is the relentless rocks. Rocks that are mobile. Rocks that like the taste of blood, that enjoy a good bite of knee flesh every now and then. With this course being an out and back, these carnivorous toothy craggy rocks always have a second chance to make their mark on you, as you will be more weary on the return trip and much easier prey.
An early descent through what I call "the Devil's Butt Crack."
Ah, the call of the bench...come, sit a while...enjoy the view...take a load off... (This is a much louder call on the way back.)
Much of the course is alongside limestone bluffs like this--sometimes at the bottom, sometimes at the top. Trip and fall a little to the right on the way back, and you'll have a 70 foot bungee jump minus the elastic cord.Notice in the last few pics there were no runners in the frame? I noticed that too, and decided to put my camera away and run. I always start out slow in this one--no sense beating my brains out running up steep inclines when I need every last drop of gas in the tank for the last 4-5 miles of this race. But it was time to settle into a nice rhythm and make up some time. And I did just that for about a mile. I had Jim Perry in sight, and a group of 3 girls ahead of him around a ridge and through a dry water-crossing. I was looking forward to chatting with Jim when my left foot and gimpy ankle failed to negotiate fist-sized rock number 1,845. I nearly folded my ankle over, and hopped on my one good foot to a stop. Damn! I limped for a few steps, thinking I could walk it off, but it really hurt. But there was nothing to do but go on, and I figured it would let up and I would be able to get going again. I did run a little, and did not ask for help at aid station #1 at mile 4. Things got worse, and I had to watch where that foot landed EVERY STEP. Flat dirt was good. Flat rocks, not so good but better than slanted rocks and loose rocks. The going was slow, and it seemed faster to walk a steady pace than to run so slow. So, that was how it was for the next 7 miles. It was the worst of times.
Dana and Earl Blewett were at mile 10-ish, and I thought if I could just make it there, Dana could tape my ankle up and with some vitamin "I", things might turn out alright. Hindsight tells me I should have begged the aid stop 3 miles earlier for some tape, painkillers, and whiskey. Dana had ran out to meet me--somehow she had heard I had jacked my ankle up, and she paced me in about a half mile to Oak Ridge. There, she mummified my ankle and foot, fed, watered, and medicated me, and sent me packing. I did not know if I had a prayer to finish, and while there, called Eric to see what his ruling would be. The cell signal was so bad, I don't think he even knew who I was or what I wanted. But the good news was, I was able to walk pain-free. After climbing out of Oak Ridge, I tried to shuffle and things got better.
Math skills get fuzzy in an ultra. I think a good feature for a Garmin would be adding a pace calculator that was easily accessible to figure out the pace needed to meet a cut-off, or to catch a runner ahead. I knew I was in the hole, and making the cut-off at the turnaround would mean I would have to run four sub 10 minute miles--HAHAHA!!! So, I was thinking--would I be allowed any extra time? Would a finish past cut-off be acceptable to keep my finish streak alive? If I was pulled, would my quest for Knighthood be over? I was making myself sick thinking about it. I was greatly encouraged by Jim Perry, who I saw on his return trip. He was a good 3-4 miles ahead of me, and I told him of my plight. He told me that he heard that if I came in, I was going back out. WOW!! That put a spring in my step!! I ran faster (ok, just a little faster) all the way to the end. Running into the aid stop, they commented how I looked good--aid station workers are such wonderful liars!! There was a discussion as gto how I felt, and if I could possibly finish with my ankle. I felt great at the time, and Dana refilled my bottles (I was carrying 2 now) and my Nathan Pack. I had enough H2O to make it all the way back, or close to it. Dana was now in crew-babe mode, and she met me back at her aid stop at Oak Ridge.
I had actually made good time on the return so far. Finishing in the overall time limit seemed vaguely possible, but I needed to keep moving. I hit the next stop still moving fairly well, although some of the hills were getting steeper. (Hills do that in an out-and back--REALLY! They do!!) Dana leap-frogged to aid station #1, and allowed the guys there to pack up and go to the start/finish. (I should mention, besides being able to leap from one aid station to another in a single bound, she is an awesome short-order cook, a competent shrink, and cracks a pretty mean whip. Durn lucky to have 'er, I say!) By the time I made it there, I was pooped. I had been running well, but the heat of the afternoon was working on my head. Fortunately, a bank of clouds had moved overhead, and while it seemed to cool down a little, the humidity seemed to soar. The next 3 miles are the hardest on the course--partly because of fatigue, but the rocks-they be jagged, the climbs--they be steep. I did my best to shuffle/run, and when I walked, I tried to not walk in place. I had not fell on the trails in several months, but I fell twice during this section, yet there was so little forward momentum, the collision with the ground was of little matter. (No blood, no cigar.)
I was about a quarter mile from the end of the trail from hell, when I saw a couple of the aid-station #1 dudes coming to run me in. How nice. These young whipper-snappers coming out to help an old-timer make it home. (Actually, I was glad to see them and we ran nearly every step of the way to the finish.)
I finished in 11:04. That was way over the time limit, but Eric ruled it a finish. It seems a precedence was set a few years back where a runner vying for the 10 finishes had a finish time past the cutoff. He was not given an official time, but was given an official finish. Suffice to say, I am exceedingly grateful for the ruling, and I vow to run a very respectable time next year when I nail my 10th finish!!
Many thanks to the volunteers who work so hard to make this race what it is. The food before and after the race is spectacular. Warren just never disappoints!
Special thanks to Chad, who always works the turnaround aid stop and went to bat for me, so to speak, believing that I could finish my race.What's to say now--some 2 days after the event? I am wearing a Velcro brace around my ankle. Walking is pain free. I'll run maybe Thursday. I have a 100 to run next weekend and I think with a properly taped ankle. I'll be able to get it done.
Oh, and I almost left out a very important part of the story!! The Knighting of Paul!!
The illustrious King dawned his royal crown, and Paul, surnamed Sir Slam (for his amazing achievement of completing the Grand Slam and the Rocky Mounrain Slam) was knighted into the FlatRock Hall of Pain.
Long live the Knights of FlatRock!! Long live the King!!! It was the best of times!
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