The Weekend Race Report – The Fat Ass 50k

Every Monday on Charlotte Health and Fitness Magazine's new daily article we'll review at least one event from the previous weekend. Typically, the focus will be on the event itself, but occasionally the event description will emerge from more personal accounts and subject matter drawn from the participants themselves...like this one.

The Weekend Race Report – The Fat Ass 50k (South Carolina)

By Tim Long

The Fat Ass 50k (FA50k) is a national “franchise” event. From my understanding, rules are loose, but generally accepted as: to be held between Thanksgiving and just after New years, no entry fee, no awards, no support or aid stations, no shirt, no wimps, (aka, no whining). There are FA50ks all over the world.

So, in my hunt for some good mileage to prepare for the upcoming season, I decide to do the FA50k in Lancaster, SC. There is an entry form that states, “I WILL PUT WATER JUGS AND CUPS OUT ON THE COURSE AND MAYBE SOME GATORADE IF A FEW CONTRIBUTIONS ARE SENT. REMEMBER THAT IS A FAT ASS RACE AND NOT ONE OF THOSE RACES WHERE YOU ARE CATERED TO. DEPENDING UPON CONTRIBUTIONS, THERE MAY BE THE USUAL POST RACE PARTY AFTER THE RACE/RUN/WALK.” With that I slide two $5 bills in with my entry form, hoping for a beer after the race, and mail it off to Race Director, Claude Sinclair, on Monday, assuming it’ll get there before Saturday.

The next morning I wake up with a sore throat and slight fever – wonderful. I need the mileage, and decide a cold won’t stand in the way. I do, however, come up with a thought that maybe I could convince someone else, to suffer through the race with me, maybe someone who’s never run that distance before. It’s a large task; you just don’t email your buddy who runs 20-30 miles per week and say, “hey, I was thinking it’d be cool if you did your whole week worth of running in one morning.” I’ll have to be tactful about it, so I text my friend, Marcus, “doing longish run on Sat. intrsted?” In three to four text exchanges I ease into the fact that it’s a 32 mile run. His text response, “DAAAYUM” [sic].

Marcus is a great athlete, runs, mountain bikes, swims, loves Xterra-type races. He’s very competitive and a smart racer. Unfortunately for me, he also has common sense. The seed is planted, so I back off and let it take root, besides, I have my own achy muscle, sore throat, feverish headache to deal with before Saturday. Sure enough, Marcus has been thinking about it now for three days. I text him on Friday with, “so?”. His response, is, “Dude….i’d be an idiot to run a 50k never having run more than 14 at one pop…I should do the gradually increasing mileage beforehand.” He’s barking up the wrong tree with that line of thought. I say to myself, “Marcus is a smart guy, can’t trick him into this outright, “so I play on his ego, “Can you imagine saying that you completed a 50k without ever running a marathon? That’d be awesome!” To that, I get the response back, “hmmmmm”. And at 8:33pm on the evening before the race I receive the text from Marcus, “I’ll be there.”

Race morning

In true Tim-Time fashion, I get there seven minutes before the start of the race. Marcus has been there for over 30 minutes. This FA50k starts and finishes at Claude Sinclair’s house, a modest home on a large chunk of rural Lancaster, SC land. He’s an avid Civil War fan and has all sorts of artifacts hanging up and lying around his home. He and his wife are sitting in the living room when I get there. I sign the waiver and chit-chat with Claude for a minute. He’s been timing and/or organizing various race events since the 70s and knows everyone in the business and sport. The house is very warm and cozy, which made it difficult to go back outside in the damp cold. I grabbed my waist bottle and hand held bottle, a Fig Newton bar and headed over to the start where everyone was gathered. After the normal, “don’t get hit by a car” and “If you get lost, you’re a moron” speech, we were off.

The FA50k (also the Big Butt 50k in July) is a professionally measured course with accurate mile markers. It is rolling with just a few decent hills on mostly blacktop and a couple dirt roads. Claude has jugs of water and orange Gatorade with paper cups set up at roughly every four miles (with only one large gap of maybe 8-10 miles in the middle of the race with no aid). The weather is around 45 degrees, grey, with off and on very light drizzle.

The plan is to run at a very easy 8:45-9 minute pace. I can see the familiar look on Marcus’ face of, “this isn’t so bad at all.” Of course it’s not for the first ten miles. I tell him to enjoy it, and to not be surprised at the pain he will experience later in the race. I’m watching his stride and notice it gets a little choppy starting at mile 12. We’re averaging about an 8:30 pace at this point. There are three guys in front of us, one way out in front from the start and then the other two within eyesight. The guy way out in front eventually dropped out of the race ("dnf" did not finish). I’ve begun the mental/moral fight between staying with my friend I pulled into this thing, or going after second place (the first place guy has built up too much of a lead at this point, making it unfeasible to catch him [I didn't realize he had dropped out]). I decide to stick with Marcus for a while and keep his mind off the growing pain. By mile 20 my tendon of the tibialis anterior muscle (front of leg where leg and foot meet) on both legs is hurting. But, by adjusting my stride, it’s tolerable, in a bone-twisting, pencil-in-the-eye, kind of way.

Marcus is in pain but doesn’t whine at all. I tell him it’ll get better and worse off and on, just keep running as best he can. Just before mile 26 I tell him I’m going to run to the marathon distance with him and then try to catch the guy in second place who we can see about a half mile up the road. He looks like he’s hurting and could be easy prey for me and, with five miles to go, maybe Marcus too. At 26.2 miles I congratulate Marcus on his first marathon (he looks less than thrilled) and I feel confident he’ll finish. I pick up the pace to maybe just under 8 minute miles and catch and pass third place with 3.1 miles to the finish. After I’m done and talk with Claude for a bit, I try to go “run” back to Marcus, but because of pain I stop and stretch about a half mile from the finish and decide to just wait for him there. It doesn’t take long before I see him come around the corner and start cheering him on. He runs the last half mile at a strong pace and is greeted by his wife, who drove down to see him finish. I think I’m more proud of him finishing (in 4^th place overall), than with my own finish.

Post FA50k

Claude and his wife have beer, a crock pot full of baked beans and corn bread for us in their warm kitchen. Claude is the type of guy who under promises and over delivers. I enjoyed this “free” event and his hospitality more than I did the $100 entry fee, heavily sponsored, 50 Miler I ran in last summer. The FA50k in December and the Big Butt 50k in July, when Claude and his wife open their home to friends and strangers alike, and spend their time catering to participants with no measurable pay back, are two events I recommend highly. The events not only offer a great course, timed run, and some food, but also create a space in the world that defines and nurtures the essence of ultra running and ultra runners: kindness, encouragement, supportive, rock solid athletes, and humility.

Back in Claude’s house I’ve changed clothes and am sitting at the table with Marcus and his wife. I can’t tell if Marcus is angry with me (for getting him into this mess), in pain, exhausted, or all three. I can’t stop telling him how great he did. 31.1 miles after only running 14 miles once in his life, yeah, that’s awesome. People think, “Heck, that’s just five more miles than a marathon.” To that I say, go try it and then we’ll talk. The other participants are finishing and making their way into the living room and kitchen. We’re all chatting warmly about past and upcoming events, personal goals and just enjoying each other’s company. After getting home, I text Marcus, to which he replies, “My legs are inoperable…especially my knees.” I feel a little guilty, but know he’ll feel much better the next day, and in a few days he’ll have “Ultra-Amnesia”, where he’ll forget the incredible pain felt from a race and begin thinking about doing another long race.

[Check back tomorrow for Marcus Barton's account of the event]

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Tim Long