Run Your First 50k - Are You Crazy?!

Run Your First 50k Without Bothering With a Marathon...
By Marcus Barton

As my buddy, Tim Long, starts to pull away at mile 27, I look over my shoulder and see no one in sight. I begin to wonder how and if I am going to finish this race. It seems that as long as I keep going, I’ll be in at least 4^th place. That is, of course, if I can keep going. How did I get here? Why did I sign up for this? The mind games begin.

So let’s exam just how I did get here.

Just two weeks ago, I ran my longest race ever: a 14 mile trail race. It was a tough race and I came in 23^rd overall out of about 200 people, finishing the race at 1 hour and 45 minutes (1:45). The course was beautiful, the people were great and I was content with it being the maximum distance to which I would personally compete for quite some time.

Four days later, I became horribly sick and it seemed to last forever. But by Monday afternoon, after being sick for 4 solid days, I finally felt good enough to resume normal activities and began planning my Tuesday return to work. Even though I was still very stopped up at work on Tuesday, I felt 1000% better than I did over the weekend.

It was 4 days before the ultra marathon when Tim began his cunning and well calculated plan of enticing me with text messages. They arrived in the form of a barrage of compliments, suggestions, motivation, inspirations, and rationale as to why I should run the 50K race with him. After about a half dozen messages flying back and forth, he gave up the pursuit. However, Tim is a sly species. The seed had been planted. His work was done until it was time to harvest.

It’s the day before the race and Tim was back with round 2 of the “Ultramarathon” text messaging campaign. I had been thinking about it all week and he was wearing me down. But I wasn’t going to admit to it, especially since I was also thinking about alternate activities for the weekend. . I hadn’t done much more than think about how it seemed impossible to run that far. I hadn’t properly prepared or trained for it. However, he assured me that I could do it. He said it would be hard, but not impossible. I responded with how stupid I thought it would be to attempt such a thing without any upfront training. I didn’t give him an answer.

Later that night, I talked it over with my wife, Alba, and we went over all the pros and cons. After all the debate, she suggested that I give it a try, but that if I didn’t finish, the attempt would still be an accomplishment. My decision was made and I sent Tim a text message to give him the good news. It was 8:30 pm the night before the race.

Race day. Its 4:30 am, three hours prior to race start, and the alarm goes off. Time to eat. I hydrated well the night before and I was just as eager to get to the bathroom as the dog was to go outside. . I ate breakfast and began my ritual of getting all of my stuff together. However, something was different. I wasn’t feeling as confident and excited as I normally did before a race. I felt dreadfully unprepared, even though I had everything I needed.

Since I had time to spare, I hopped on the laptop and started working out some calculations and ran into a slight problem; the pace calculator I was using only calculated up to a marathon distance (26.2 miles), not an Ultra. According to the calculator, I should be able to do a marathon by running an average pace of 7:30. I knew there’d be no way I would be able to sustain that without any training. With a little more searching, I dug up the times from previous races on the same course and finally settled on 8:30 as a goal pace. That would put me at the finish line well under 4.5 hours. After finishing up on the laptop, I gave Alba a kiss and she warned me to be careful and not to overdo it.

The weather was cloudy and cold, around 45 degrees. Standing there at the start line in my long sleeve shirt, tights and beanie, I guzzled down some of the water to wash down two electrolyte capsules. I was carrying two water bottles, one with water and the other with an energy drink. In my back pocket, I have 4 energy gels. After a quick announcement from the race director, we’re off and running. Tim and I settle into a comfortable 8:30 pace.

The first few miles were cheerful with lots of banter. At the first water stop, he realized that in his rush, the only food source he had was a granola bar and I realized that in my rush, I forgot my watch. I agreed to share my energy gels and he agreed to keep track of our time.

Everything continued as planned, complete with a 3 minute power-walk break after the first hour of running. At mile 13, the first aches and pains began for the both of us. Tim complained about pain on the top of one his feet and the outside of my left knee began to ache. It wasn’t long before they seemed to just go away. We knew they would be back, but at the time, as long as it was bearable, we didn’t care. As we approached mile 15, we both passed the guy in second place. There was one guy who took off from the start at a very fast pace, but later dropped out of the race, so now there was just one guy in the lead and then the guy we just passed. I’m feeling great emotionally as we seem to be doing outstanding even though my knee was hurting off and on.

Just before the 16 mile point, we came upon another water stop and grabbed a cupful of energy drink. As we walked away, stretching, Tim commented on how great it feels to stop for a few seconds to which I agreed. We rushed out of the water stop to prevent the guy we had recently passed from passing us back. This was short lived as I begin to feel a hotspot on my left heel. Rather than run through it and deal with the impending blister, I stopped to retie my shoes a bit tighter. While retying my shoes, the guy passes us. No problem, I thought, I knew we could overtake him again with no problem. And we did.

Once again, that small victory would be short lived as I realized that I tied my laces too tight. So we stopped so that I could loosen them, meanwhile getting passed… again. After another short stint of running, they’re still too tight, so we stopped yet again, allowing the 2nd place guy to increase his distance between us. It wasn’t long before we caught back up to him and Tim suggested that we simply hold back until the last couple of miles before we attempt another pass. The constant mental ups and downs were taking a toll on both of us.

Mile 23. The aches increased and the knee pain had returned. My legs just weren’t working as well as they normally did, but at least they were still working. I suggested another 3 minute power walk even though it means Mr. 2nd place would gain an even stronger lead on us. I was just as tired of holding Tim back as I am sure he was of being held back. If he wouldn’t have stayed with me, he probably could have won the race. I told him to go on ahead, but he insisted on sticking with me. He could see that I was hurting more and we began to hatch out a plan. We agreed that he would stick with me until after the normal marathon distance of 26.2 miles and at mile 27, he’d pick up his pace and I’d continue to keep trucking along the best that I could. Tim knows I need stats to keep me preoccupied, so he handed me his watch.

For the next couple of miles, my condition began to worsen. My legs seem to be cramping from what I believed was not only exhaustion, but a lack of electrolytes. I realized that the capsules I had been lugging all day were in the pouch attached to my water bottle. The problem? I had passed it off to our trusty water stop lady to be refilled and returned at the next encounter. We realized that we hadn’t seen her in a while and I began to wonder if she’d gotten committed to helping a hurt runner. With each pounding cramp, I began to get more and more nervous. Deep down, I knew the electrolyte capsules wouldn’t be an immediate fix if at all. However, at that point, I would have taken anything that would have mentally distracted me from the pain, even if it didn’t do anything physically. Someone could have handed me a placebo, told me they were electrolyte tablets and I would have believed they helped. No sooner did these thoughts start running through my head that we saw the water stop lady driving towards us. She had stopped for the guy in 3^rd place who appeared to be having trouble getting up a hill. He was walking about ¾ of a mile ahead of us. She handed my water bottle thru the window and asked how we’re doing. We walked briefly as I quickly downed the two capsules and guzzled some water; then we we’re off running again.

As we passed the 26.2 mile mark, Tim congratulated me that I had just ran my first marathon in under 4 hours. Only 5 more miles to go. Less than two 5Ks. No problem. We stopped at the next water stop which was manned by a gentleman who helped us with a glass of energy drink. He informed Tim that the guy in 2nd place, although already almost a mile ahead of us, was really hurting and that he seemed to have fallen apart in the past couple of miles. “Kind of sounds like me,” I reply. Knowing that he could overcome the third place guy, Tim now had the motivation he needed. I, on the other hand, knew that there was no way I could have increased my pace.

So back to where this article begins. At mile 27, Tim asked me the time and began to pull away, mentally crunching the numbers as to how he would commence his assault. In no time he was out of sight among the hills and curves. I looked over my shoulder and realized I’m securely in 5^th place. Just had to keep moving. Sounds simple, but it was anything except simple. As I began to play the mental battle with myself, I constantly reminded myself of my wife, Alba. She has multiple sclerosis. If she can brave the daily mental and physical pains, then I could tough the remainder of the race out. She’s a constant reminder that no matter how bad my races get, that I have to continue. My pain will subside shortly after the race. Hers won’t.

I continued on with some of the worst runner’s form I think is possible. My head was down and my eyes squinted from the pain. I felt as if I was running like the hunchback from Notre Dame. As I approached mile 28, the pit stop girl passed me from behind and pulled over. “Need anything?” she asked. As I shook my head no, she continued, “Water? Gatorade? Pretzels?” My ears perked, eyes lit up and my slouch went away. The pretzels were a welcomed addition to the run, as I had prematurely ran out of energy gels since I shared one with Tim. “Ohhhh, pretzels... I’ll definitely take some of those,” I answer. She gave me a handful and I kept on running, which at this point had become a little more than a shuffle. The only difference between my shuffle and power walking was the fact that both my feet were off the ground at some point during my stride.

Between the cold air and the level of my breathing, it was impossible to breathe through my nose. This made eating the pretzels particularly difficult. I popped in almost the entire handful at once. That was a big mistake. Not only did the pretzels remove what little bit of moisture I had in my mouth, but I accidently inhaled a small piece of pretzel. When this happened, I immediately began to cough, producing small clouds of pretzel dust in front of me. Looking like a steam locomotive, I quickly chugged a mouthful of water and washed the pretzel paste down. After the pretzel incident, I came upon a small hill and decided to walk a bit. The small bit turned into almost half of a mile. Between gagging on the pretzels and my entire lower body hurting, it was a welcomed break.

Looking down at Tim’s watch, I could see that I had already busted my goal of 4.5 hours, so it was time to set a new goal. As long as I kept running, I knew I should be able to make it in less than 5 hours. Running was harder than ever. With each step, I would give out a small grunt as I winced in pain. I muffled them at mile 30 when once again, the pit stop lady showed up. She hopped out of her car and asked if I need anything. At first, I shook my head no. Passing her car, I said, “Yeah, I could use something.” As she looked up to see what I needed, I continued, “… a ride.” She grinned and shook her head no. Oh well, it was worth a try.

Previously, I had made the mental commitment that I would run the last mile no matter how badly it hurt. However, just after passing the pit stop lady at the 30 mile mark, I came upon a small hill, where once again, I chose to walk a bit more. But it needed to be a short break. What if Alba was at the end and saw me walking. I had to be brave like her and run. About that time, I saw Tim. He was about a half mile ahead of me and waving his arms. He had already finished and had walked back to greet me. As I started running again, the pain was horrible. I began my step-grunt-step-grunt pattern again. Once I got to him, he began to run with me telling me that the end was only about 4 mailboxes ahead. “Run up the driveway. At the end of the parking area, you’ll see the finish line,” he stated. As I looked down at Tim’s watch, I realized I needed to pick up the pace to be sure and finish under 5 hours. “Got it,” I replied, acknowledging his logistics. I pulled away from him, pouring on everything I had to pick up my pace. When I looked up from Tim’s watch, I saw Alba standing there cheering me home. I was SO happy to see her and sorely needed the additional motivation she was providing. After I finish at 4:55, she and I walked for a bit. Well, she walked and I limped.

After the race, we sat around for a spell and partook of the post race food. Tim and I chatted for a while about the highlights of the race. He seemed to be more excited than me that I finished the race. Of course, the only emotion I could show was pain. My legs were cramping and both my knees felt like they could lock up at any second.

The ride home was grueling. I had driven there in my truck which is a 5 speed, manual transmission. Pressing the clutch to shift gears was no fun when your legs feel like mine did. But we made it home in one piece.

After taking a heavenly shower, I did some quick stretching and resigned to the couch where I began icing my knees. I began to reflect on the day’s events and lessons learned. Rather than lose the thoughts I started to write them down. They included:

1. Never run a race without properly training for it. This includes a gradually increasing weekly mileage leading up to race day with one long day on the weekend. The long day should also gradually increase in distance. Finally, the training should begin to taper a week or two before race day

2. Do not do any heavy strength training the week of race day that includes lower body. I had performed a lower body workout on Tuesday.

3. Do not perform any heavy lower body cardio the week of race day. My mistake was going mountain bike riding (a hard ride) on Thursday.

4. Hydrate well the week of the race.

5. Gradually increase your carbohydrates the week of the race. This will make sure your glycogen stores are at their peak on race day (your primary source of fuel).

6. Some folks don’t have any problems eating solid foods while racing. Personally, I’d be seeing that food twice if I ate it during the race. Therefore, I eat my last major meal 3 hours prior to race start to ensure it’s had plenty of time to digest.

7. Have extra sources of food on hand during the race. If I had a few extra energy gels, I could have loaned some out without sacrificing my own.

8. Drink both water and an energy/electrolyte drink throughout the duration of your race. Not one or the other…both. Too much of one or the other will wreak negative effects on your body. On excessively hot days, drink more electrolytes. I personally use electrolyte capsules to supplement my liquid sources. That way I can just concentrate on drinking 50/50 (water/electrolyte,energy drink).

9. Eat a recovery meal immediately following the race. It should consist of (as closely as possible) 4 parts carbohydrates to 1 part protein. Another recovery meal should be consumed again within two hours of the end of the race. There are numerous recovery drinks out there with this 4:1 ratio that work great.

10. Continue to hydrate after the race. Your body needs water to assist in repair. I continue hydrating well into the day after the race.

As I am writing the list in my head, I had been laying on the couch with my legs propped up and outstretched. After a while, I decided to lift one of my legs, bending it at the knee. All of the muscles and tendons that had been laying there stretched began to crumple as they became relaxed. Everything immediately cramps up completely causing me to yelp out in pain. Alba comes over and asks how she can help. We both start rubbing out the cramp which seems to go the entire length of my leg. After about 5 minutes, it begins to subside.

So you may be asking yourself, “If he’s in so much pain, will he ever do one of these again?” As I lay here icing both knees, writing this article, I too ask myself that question. However, after about 30 seconds, that question gets overshadowed by another: Which is harder: a road 50K or a trail 50K? I guess I’ll have to run one on the trail to find out.