A Season of Mud, Mud, Mud!

A Season of Mud, Mud, Mud!
2009 Mellow Johnny's Classic at Juan Pelota Ranch

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Hell's Hills - The Hardest Run of My Life

Almost one year ago to the day I did the Hell’s Hill Trail Run in Smithville with my friend Patricia. It was the first event of any kind that I had done since my thumb surgery a few weeks earlier. As a result of the ‘non-training’ I did for that event, we basically just muddled our way through the run and came in at a time of 3:48 and change. It was still a great run and I always have fun when I’m racing with Patricia.

Unfortunately for me, Patricia was unable to do the run with me this year which left me doing the run on my own. If there were any good news to be had in that, it was that my race time would actually be a more accurate portrayal of ‘my time’ and not the result of running with a team like we do in adventure racing.

This was the same event and same venue as last year. A 25k Trail Run. 25k is 15.5 miles and in my mind I felt like I could finish the race in a time around 3:15 or so. Anything around that time would be extremely gratifying on a personal level for me.

So Friday before the race I’m visiting with my friend Jordan who I had already asked earlier to do the race with me as a sub for Patricia. At age 23, Jordan has 0% body fat and is as fast a jack rabbit. I’m literally old enough to be his father. In fact, I think I AM the same age as his father. Anyway, he had already declined my invitation but I knew that if I could convince him to do the race with me that I had a real shot at the 3:15 minute goal. Long story short…his schedule had changed up at the last minute and he was now available to do the race with me. The only problem was that he hadn’t run more than 3-4 miles at a time in the past few months and he was going to be winging the entire race. This was going to be interesting for both of us.

As the clock approached the 7:00 a.m. start time on race day, I noticed that I was much more nervous than in previous races. It had been a rough couple of weeks for me and maybe it was just the buildup of my nerves over that period of time. I figured that was either going to work for me or against me. The start was upon us so in my mind I just thought….”I guess we’ll soon see how this thing goes.”

At the start we took off on the run and immediately the pace was much faster than I expected. Jordan was moving pretty quickly and I was just trying to keep up with him. The first mile or so is basically all uphill with several quick ups and down and LOTS of rocks. They do call the place Rocky Hill Ranch for a reason. On this first mile, I swear we were clocking an 8 minute mile pace. My heart rate shot up through the roof and I was certain that I was going to go too hard too soon and blow my legs out before we really even got started. When my Garmin beeped, I looked down to see that we ran the first mile in exactly 10 minutes. It honestly felt like we were moving WAY faster than that.

After the first mile, the course leveled out for a bit and we fell in line with a small group that was running at about the same pace that we were. Out of sheer luck, we started running with a guy named Scott who I was supposed to have met up with day before. Running in our small group, miles 4 thru 9 all clicked by at pretty much the same pace. Regardless of the terrain we were coming in between 11 and 12 minute miles consistently. Scott had his Garmin set up a little differently than mine and he was showing us to be on track for a 2:45 to 3:15 finish or so depending on when he looked at it.

Normally, during a typical/comfortable run for me, my heart average heart rate stays in the 155 range. I could tell that I was a good bit above that the entire run but didn’t really want to check to see where I was exactly. All I knew was that I was giving it all I could without bonking during the race. As we approached mile 10, we came out of the trees and into a flat open area. Once we hit the Jeep road, Scott stopped to walk. Having done the race last year, I knew that this was a spot to pick up some time AND that the aid station was just up the road in the trees. Unfortunately Scott was starting to cramp up and although it was difficult for him to run, he sucked it up and we all ran a pretty quick pace to the aid station.

Jordan, Scott and I on the Jeep Road around Mile 10

At all of the aid stations I had taken a cup or two of ice water and poured it on my head to cool me off because it was just humid and sticky outside. I did the same here. We then grabbed some fruit, some water and some soda and stuffed it down as quickly as we could. As we turned to leave, Scott told us to go on without him as he was cramping up pretty badly and needed to stop. We didn’t want to leave him but the amount of pain that he was in was obvious and we knew that he needed to run his own race…not ours.

Once Jordan and I took off, I knew it was going to be painful from here on out. During these last few miles; Jordan did exactly as I had asked him to do before the race which was to make sure that I did more running and less walking. I checked my watch and knew that we had roughly 5 miles left. At just over 2 hours in to the run, a quick check of the math told me that if we could clock in 12 minute miles that we had a real shot a finishing in 3 hours. That would be on the faster side of what I believed that I could do for this race. A rush of adrenaline shot through me and for a moment my legs felt great again. Too bad it didn’t last longer.

Moving Down the Jeep Road Into the Trees

As we turned the corner I took note of the hills in front of us. They weren’t big or particularly steep but were instead long inclines that burned every ounce of energy out of your legs. Mile 11 rolled by and my Garmin beeped….13:55 for that mile. Crap…we’re not going to make it. Jordan kept telling me to take baby steps and to ease back into the running pace we had been on earlier. My legs were screaming at me to walk or take it easy for a minute. It was everything I could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Mile 12 rolled by and my Garmin beeped….11:24 for that mile. Better. That helped but we were still off the pace with BIG HILLS yet to come. Mile 13 came and went at 12:20 and my legs were starting to ache in ways that I have only felt before MAJOR cramps. At mile 14 we started to encounter the Hell’s Hills portion of race with several good climbs thrown right in front of us. Mile 14 tied for the slowest mile of the day at 13:55. At this point there just seemed to be no way that we were going to make the 3 hour mark that just an hour earlier seemed attainable.

Enter motivator Jordan Orsak who had been pacing me all day. Jordan asked me what our time was and I told him 2:48 and change and he said that we were going to hit that 3 hour mark…period. We crested one last hill and off in the distance we could see the cars and the finish line. My left calf was cramping sofa king bad that I could barely put weight on it. Still, if we could really clock the distance in less than 12 minutes, we might just hit the 3 hour mark. We took off and it was just then that I realized….that hill was the last hill….it’s all a downhill run to the finish line! Maybe, just maybe we could hit it in time to make 3 hours. Jordan kept the motivational comments coming and was basically a freaking cheerleader for the last mile plus. I looked at my watch at 2:58 and knew that we had what looked to be a little more than a quarter of a mile to go. My heart rate was through the roof, my left leg was cramping to the point where I was basically running on a stump and I felt like I was going to die. The time on my Garmin rolled to the 3 hour mark with a little ways left to go. I started to think to myself that I’m actually going hit this magical 3 hour mark. Jordan sprinted ahead of me and crossed the finish line at 3:00:37, he turned around and yelled at me to sprint so I could make it in under 3:01. 50 yards left…tick tick tick and then….BEEEEP…as I crossed the timing strip at 3:00:59. Holy freaking cow I thought I was going to drop right there on the spot.

Crossing the Finish Line and High Five

I was exhausted. Completely spent. You know how when you see those distance runners cross the finish line at some event and then they just collapse…that’s exactly how I felt. Jordan gave me a quick high five and then I just put my hands on my knees and tried not to pass out. I stood there for probably 2 minutes before I raised my head. When I looked up I saw an empty chair and decided right then and there that I didn’t care who that chair belonged to…I was going to sit in it. And so I did. For 20 plus minutes I just sat there in a daze. When I finally did get up it was excruciatingly painful to walk. My legs hurt like they never have before.

Without a doubt the effort I put into this trail run one was of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. It was if I crammed all of a 24 hour adventure race into a 3 hour trail run. When I was finally home and able to pull up the stats from my Garmin, I was shocked at the numbers. My peak heart rate was 193 bpm. My average heart rate for the entire race was 170 bpm. That’s 3 hours and 15 plus miles with your heart pounding at 170 bpm. In looking deeper in to the numbers, our average overall pace was 11.57 per mile. Without that first 10 minute mile there’s no way we would have finished in 3 hours. The fastest pace we ran came right at the end of the race as we sprinted to the finish. It was a 7.50 mile pace. Overall I was 63rd place out of 126 runners in the 25k as compared to 91st place last year. Exactly the middle. My time this year was almost a full 48 minutes better than the previous year. I’ll take that.

While I would like to say it was all me and my determination that got me through this run in that 3 hour timeline, I owe a big debt of gratitude to my regular running partner Patricia for helping me with my running over the last year. Without her, I wouldn’t be running nearly as well as I am. She is truly one of the best people I’ve ever met and I am thankful for who she is and blessed to have her as a part of my life. Last but not least, I need to thank my good friend Jordan Orsak for stepping up to the plate and acting as my pacer for the run. In what could easily be a father/son type relationship, I have found a true friend in Jordan. I asked him to make sure that I run the race…not walk and to tell me to suck it up and go even when I didn’t want to. Jordan acted as the pacer, cheerleader and motivator and that was exactly what I needed for this race. Here’s to great friends, a great run and the new adventures to come!

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