Three Days in the Park 72hr - Thurs, Oct 14th-Sun, Oct 17th, 2021 - Part 1

(AKA The Stahr Wahrs Ultra)

What kind of idiot decides to go run for three days?

How bad could it be?

There was absolutely nothing encouraging to me going into this one, either - with the stress and poor sleep I'd experienced for a week beforehand, some chronic injuries (left hip and right ankle) that have been problematic for years, and the recently-torn hamstring, I'd probably have been correct to hesitate starting even a "normal" ultra, like a 6-hour or 50k. It was just too poetic, though: having run my first ultra - the Horror Hill 6-hour - in October of 2010, this was now my 12th October of ultras, and I was attempting something exactly twelve times as long.

..and it looked like the weather would be 12 times as awful.

In an effort to hold myself together, I went through the best part of a roll of kinesiology tape in the dark of early morning - I'd worked out a way to tape up my hip and hamstring that had certainly helped a couple of weeks beforehand at Rugged Raccoon.

The tape was on the inside of the shorts, but I'm not posting a photo of my butt.

And of course the ubiquitous sock-made-out-of-tape on both feet

We'd see how "Extreme" the hold would be through 3 days of sweat and rain

So, with a laundry list of things that could go horribly wrong, a car full to the roof with gear, and a small amount of twitching going on in my left eye, we rolled up north of Elmira - as a beautiful, sunny Thursday morning dawned - to make ourselves at home for awhile. We lucked out with the rain pushing back to the evening; originally they'd said it would start to rain in the early morning, but we got to set up under dry skies. The dew, however, had fallen really heavily overnight and the grass was soaked - after getting the Chowhouse up, all the furniture set up inside it (including giving my upper thigh a really good pinch while unfolding the cot), and stowing gear as best we could, my feet were on the soggy side, too.

Not exactly a 5-star hotel, but it was everything I needed!

I'd heard there were only 3 people signed up for the 72 hour event - there were 48hr, 24hr, and 12hr events that would join in later - and only 2 of us would be starting at the original time of 9am on Thursday. It seems Monica had some pressing HR matters to attend to at the office, so she wouldn't be able to come out until late in the day. The whole thing was termed a "fun run" rather than a race, with manual lap counting by volunteers, so this didn't really pose any problems for anyone: the ultra crowd is remarkably laid back, and we're all pretty used to dealing with and compensating for extraordinary circumstances.

So, it was just Brad from Indiana and I to kick things off.

He's a remarkable runner, and instantly likeable

Clay - the organizer of this whole mad venture - took us through the map of the 1.092mi course, and mentioned that there was one extra little hill as you come back onto to the main trail from the forest loop, in addition to the "one hill - short and steep" that had been included in the event description. 

He left the other couple of hills as a bonus surprise for us

I actually ended up doing a "warm up run" to the portajohns at the far end of the meadow from race headquarters - I had taped my ankles, my hip, and my hamstring, and everything actually felt pretty good movement-wise. Once I returned, we had a couple of moments to sort out last-minute details (including slap on some extra lubrication here and there, to the point that by rights I ought to have slipped right off the face of the earth; I was slippery), and then - at the stroke of 9am - we were off. 

I ran for about a half-second in the wrong direction - sort of hoping to get a kiss from Tank - but was told I was going the wrong way, and figured I might just be by our tent once or twice and could get a smooch later. I generally get one before the start of every race, but this was just a fun run, right?

Map of the course - like a Picasso figure-8 with 2-way traffic on the connecting trail between the two loops
(Green line indicates the start/finish)

Let's go for a little tour, shall we? Setting off from base camp you're heading straight for the scenic portajohns.

A runner's best friend, though I'm not sure we actually used more than the one..

Left turn just before the conveniences, and past the big willow trees

..which got a little handsy when things got wet and windy.

Enjoy a nice, long downhill stretch alongside a cornfield

Take the middle track - the grass is softer than the gravel

Left turn at the bottom of the hill, into the trees and singletrack

This looks more like a trail race!

Count your blessings that there ARE portajohns, so you don't have to use the on-course conveniences to your right..

I mean, any port in a storm, but I'd rather not..

Continue past the tire sticking out of the trail, through the crispy fallen leaves

These made quite a racket until they all got soggy and trampled

Come to the T-intersection and turn right onto the 2-way traffic trail

You can just see the arrow sign poking out of the undergrowth

Bonus hill #1: up through the deep drifts of leaves into the forest proper

Gary - one of the amazing volunteers whose camp setup and course markings were an invaluable asset to us - said he didn't realise it was a hill until his 3rd lap

Flatter, flowy trail takes you south 

Through some developing fall colours

The trees drop away to the left to reveal a farm field beyond a swath of thorny bushes

You can catch a glimpse at far left of how intensely green the field was

Up another bit of a rise, then down Stump Alley - not yet pictured - to a left turn into the forest loop.

Narrower singletrack downhill to start

Begin to climb another bonus hill into a pine forest.

You're now about halfway through the course

Curve past the shelter built in the woods

Of course I ended up calling this section Upper Kelly Camp

Flow through the tall, straight pines over soft ground

Nice and flat and soft on the feet

Turn right at the end, then go ever so slightly downhill past the 3 posts

Lovely and runnable

Watch for the next right turn to come up quickly, taking you downhill for the first bit, back toward the 2-way traffic main trail

A bit narrow, but lovely

Wind through the pines and mushrooms while the land undulates a bit

It's really beautiful in there

Mind the mossy little stump in the middle of the trail

It's a toe catcher

Then up the short but quite steep hill to the main, 2-way traffic trail

This stayed surprisingly solid even in the worst of the rain

Step over the fallen trees - first the diagonal one, then the double horizontal ones - and turn right again to head north

Before the passage of feet took great chunks out of the sandy earth around them

Enjoy the downhill as you come back to the beginning of the woods loop

Mind the root sticking out of the dirt on the right, and the rock on the left

Back up stump alley - not that you can really see them yet, as this was very early on Thursday.

Lurking, ready to grab your foot when you least expect it..

Straight on past the green field again, with a sharp downhill as you come out of the woods

There wasn't a lot of room for 2-way traffic through here, but we made it work.

Pass the T-intersection and leave the 2-way traffic behind as you begin the climb up the main hill.

From the base

Looser and rutted to the left - grassy to the right.
The "good" line evolved as the days went on

You're thinking "hey, I'm almost to the top"

Unfortunately, you'd be wrong - the uphill continues (though much less aggressively) for another 50 metres or so

Up the grassy singletrack

It eventually flattens out when the singletrack meets the dirt doubletrack in the meadow

Carry on past the young pine trees

It eventually slopes very gently downhill again toward base camp

Seiling Road is just beyond the trees behind the tents

Enjoy the soft ground underfoot as you roll on through, turning left just after our tent (to the right of the trail) to pass the aid station tent (white tarp roof) and do it all again!

One down - some ridiculous number to go.

Because I am an IPOS and was far more interested in still being alive and moving for the whole event, I took things really easy - I'd run the long downhill by the cornfield, some of the flatter and gentle downhill bits in the woods, and the downslope into and through base camp. Starting off, I ran a whole 1 minute and 11 seconds before dropping to a walk, then picked it back up again along the cornfield.

Proof I ran a little bit, anyway

I think it was maybe my 3rd lap, though, that I invited Tank out to join me and walked the whole thing with him. 

No reason to rush

I also took the opportunity to take a bunch of photos along the way, including all the course pics above. There were some other points of interest, too.

Like adorable mushrooms
We should hang out more - he seems like a fungi!

There may also have been some minor shenanigans

Partly because I didn't know how long I'd be capable of crouching like this..

Tank unfortunately tripped over a couple of the stumps, once hard enough that his sunglasses came flying off his head - it sounded really painful, too. The truly unfortunate part was that on my next lap, Gary came out with a couple of cans of paint, and sprayed almost every one of the toe-catcher roots and stumps hi-viz orange.

Also clearing some of the drifted leaves while he was at it

Stump alley got a whole lot easier to navigate!

There were a couple of small hazards that didn't get a hi-viz coating, so I improvised some warnings.

I had seen this little blighter - right at the turn into the woods loop - try to take out both Brad and Tank

These maple leaves showed the location of a root at the final right-hand turn of the woods loop, as you begin to head toward the steep hill up to the main trail

The first few hours weren't particularly eventful, though hilariously I managed to blow the final turn in the woods loop on my THIRD LAP while trying to send my awesome friend Scher a message with information for getting there, as she'd be coming out to help crew in the evenings in hopes of getting Tank some time to nap. 

From an instagram conversation after it was all over

Fortunately I was already sufficiently familiar with the course to realise I hadn't been that way before, and didn't see any flags, so I was able to backtrack to the missed turn fairly quickly - I think I added a total of about 50-60 metres to that lap.

Not gonna tell you that's the only dumb thing I did, because we both know better.

Honestly those first few hours - with just Brad and I on the course, and Clay and Tank at base camp - were incredibly idyllic. It was just me and a water bottle bopping around in the woods, occasionally seeing a friendly face. The temperature was perfect; it was overcast, but just enough so you wouldn't get sunburned; I had all the time in the world, so there was no rush, nothing to stress about. No pack, no poles, not even any pockets - no bullshit, just pure trail running (well, ok - with a lot of walking), spiced with the sizzle that marks the beginning of any great adventure.

Happy as a clam

The day gradually got fairly hot as the clock ticked toward afternoon, and I sweated a lot, but I kept up with fluids and calories - I was going through a 500ml hand bottle about every 55mins (call it every 3 laps), and munching my way through a couple of hundred calories per hour. The menu for the opening hours was pretty simple: my homemade sea salt maple crisp rice squares, Endurance Tap gels, a Larabar, a stroopwafel or two, a bunch of fuzzy peaches, and an oatmeal raisin cookie here and there. The only real reason to run long - of course - being that you get to eat cookies while you're at it.

How the heck do I remember what I ate and how much I was drinking? For once, I wasn't leaving this up to memory: I kept a notebook in our tent, with space to record:

• Laps completed (though no times - any estimate of splits will be a guess)
• Water intake (based on what time I took a bottle)
• Pee breaks (because if you're drinking but not peeing, something is wrong)
• Electrolyte intake (I finally remembered about 2hrs in to start taking S!caps)
• Naps taken (because those would definitely be a thing)
• Other random notes about anything I thought was important

Tank writing down all the stuff I was shoving in my gob

I figured this way, no matter how stupid I got as the days wore on, I'd be able to tell that I hadn't remembered to eat anything for a couple of hours, or hadn't been drinking enough water, or anything else that I might need reminding about from my crew.

So I could just blithely meander around in circles

So you might also be wondering, given my penchant for running in skirts - what's with the shorts? Well, let me tell you that I'm pretty dang pleased that they worked out, because I'd only owned them for 2 days and worn them around my house for 10mins before slipping them on in the pre-dawn hours before the race (wait - "fun run"). My rationale for such a blatant violation of the "nothing new on race day" rule-of-thumb was this: they're compression shorts, with a nice long inseam. I expected to do a lot of walking - as a matter of fact, I was astonished I was still running past the 4-hour mark. When I walked from Brantford to Cambridge on the rail trail the day after I tore my hamstring, I developed a nasty little spot in my left quads that hurt a lot with each step with that leg, but felt ok if I put even the slightest pressure on it while walking. The shorts would hopefully keep the jiggling and bouncing in check enough to prevent the sore spot from developing, or (if not) at least keep some pressure on it so it wouldn't be painful. 

I'd also panic-bought a pair of compression tights because a) I wasn't sure the shorts would arrive in time, and b) I figured something a bit warmer - but still compressive - might come in handy as the weather got colder throughout the event.

Brad took a rather simpler approach to clothing, but I am nothing if not a dork

I mentioned earlier that my feet got wet while I was putting up the tent and generally prepping for the start. What I didn't mention is that my shoes loosened up a bit when they got wet, and I completely failed to stop and lace them down snugger, just sort of expecting my feet would swell. Unfortunately, the very steep hills meant there was a lot of force making my feet slide around inside my shoes as I climbed and descended, and trying to grip my shoe with my toes led to the start of a hotspot just where my left big and second toes meet the ball of my foot. If you've ever read any of my prior race reports, you'll know that I have eschewed the ultra dictum to take care of foot issues immediately, but since those other events typically ended on the same day they started (or by the next afternoon at most), this was rather a different ball of string. 

Into the tent around 4hrs in, I sat down and took my shoe off, and slathered up that hotspot with a bunch of Trail Toes. Of course the tape on the sole of my foot had come loose already: between the wet from the dew and the sweat I'd generated, it hadn't stood a chance, but I left it be so I wouldn't disturb the still-adhered portions. I also noticed that the lube I'd put between my toes had accumulated a bit of dust and sand from the trail, and hoped it wouldn't form a grinding paste that would destroy my skin. I also hoped the additional lubrication would resolve the hot spot, as I sure had a long way to go yet.

I'd brought a lot of pairs of shoes, socks, gaiters, and even calf panties, but only one set of feet to get me through.

I pressed on, but was already getting discouragingly tired, and the hotspot was still a bit on the vocal side. Nonetheless, running!

Heading out for another lap

I'd really notice the hotspot as I ascended the big stinkin' hill, with my toes trying their best to dig into the earth to gain purchase. I'm not going to lie - I was actually terrified of what this hill would be like after the rain began, as it felt like it would be impossible to climb if it were slicked with mud. 

Let me tell you that it wasn't particularly easy even when dry

That hill also caused another issue to crop up that would end up being a defining factor for the whole event. I noticed that my right hamstrings felt like they were trying to cramp, around 5 hours in - just above my knee, beyond the generous length of the compression shorts (of course, right?). I didn't know what was causing it, so blundered on, eating and drinking, and popping another S!cap or two to see if electrolytes would help.

Remember how I said the field was just absurdly green?
It was also a bit buggy along that stretch in the afternoon warmth, as evidenced by the blur of a bug against the sky there.

No dice - I managed to keep the muscles from cramping, but they remained sore. As the day wore on, the tops of my calf muscles got in on the game as well, so everything around the back of my right knee was pulsing with pain.

Oh, as well as that hotspot behind my left toes getting worse

The pain was worst when I was climbing steep hills, and I finally figured out a way to spare myself: I could ascend pain-free if I made sure I kept my knee bent while climbing, with all my weight on my toes and my calf engaged. I think the problem originated from the fact I have terrible dorsiflexion in my right ankle - because it won't bend up toward my shin very much, I think my knee was hyperextending in an effort to straighten my leg, straining the bottoms of my hamstrings and putting a lot of pressure on the tendons at the top of my calf muscles.

It took me several hours to work this out, but what did I have but time?

So, a solution...but one that put a lot of pressure on that hotspot that had definitely become a blister behind my left toes. The other problem was that running downhill - the only running I could manage by the 5.5-hour mark - which made the blister squish painfully AND aggravated my hamstring and calf, so just like that I was down to a walk. Running was over. To be perfectly honest, I'd actually run a lot more than I'd expected, though I believe the total distance I covered while running was probably only about 5 or 6 kilometers out of about 30 I'd banked by that point.

Now it was truly just a walk in the park

Still, there was plenty to be happy about - laps were happening, and the trail felt strangely perfect to me. Enough variety and obstacles to keep it from ever getting boring, and long enough that each loop took a decent bite out of the time. Sure, I was slow as hell, but speed was never the object: simple endurance was, and that would reward a gentle, measured approach from the start. Never having even completed 24hrs or a 100 miler before, my keynote going into this was "No hurry"; time being the one thing I had in abundance. Around 7 hours in, the sun even came out to cheer me further.

It was the first time it had emerged from the clouds since the start

I saw an unbelievable range of lighting conditions on this downhill

The light brought out the fall colours in the forest beautifully

I also got some not-so-bueno news: my phone (which I didn't carry the whole time, but more than I'd expected to) buzzed in my hand as I reveled in the sunshine. What it told me indicated I'd better enjoy it while it lasted..

..and perhaps start building an ark.

But I put all of that out of my mind as much as possible, as I was expecting company! My coworker Divya was going away for the weekend, but wanted to join me for a lap or two, so she was coming out straight from work on Thursday afternoon. After messaging with her a bit I expected her around 5:30pm, and I didn't want to leave her waiting at the start/finish too long, so I actually ran a little bit around the 8.5hr mark so I wouldn't be quite so long away from base camp. My blister and the back of my knee didn't like it, but THEY'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME, and after the 2nd lap with bits of running I hooked up with Div and we set out to walk the loop. As we passed the aid station and lap counting tents, I saw a white SUV pull in with my friend Scheherazade at the wheel. I let her get checked in (all runners, pacers, crew, and visitors had to sign a waiver and provide proof of vaccination) while Divya and I went out and chatted, and when we came back through Scher joined us to get a look at the trail.

Tank, Scher, Div, and my goofy self
I'm so grateful to have such wonderful people to support me!

We also saw Monica pull in as we walked along toward the portajohns: the final 72hr runner was now on site, and I couldn't help but think it would add an extra layer to the challenge for her starting so late in the day. The light was starting to wane as Divya headed home after her 2nd lap - just as I hit the 50k mark, which at ~9h30m was by far my slowest ever - so I grabbed a headlamp and my waist light but didn't turn them on yet. My vision is pretty good in low light, and I wanted to wait as long as I could before flipping over to lighting.

The closest we got to a sunset Thursday evening

I talked about putting on something a bit warmer as dusk approached, but it was only on the long, windy downhill that I really felt any chill in the air, and the big hill would make me work hard enough to generate some serious body heat on every lap even though I was just walking. One really cool thing I finally got to see was the directional arrows on the course light up as darkness fell! No, not on a timer or light sensor: Gary came out to hook up each of the battery packs individually, all routed into plastic zipper baggies in an effort to protect them against the incoming weather. 

This one - at the foot of the big hill - definitely meant "straight up"

He had to go turn them all off again in the morning, too - he'd tested the battery run time and found they were good for about 36hrs, which meant that they ought to give just enough light for all 3 nights. The sun set around 6:40pm and didn't rise again until 7:35am, meaning there was technically more than 12hrs of "darkness" each day, but twilight to twilight was almost exactly twelve hours each day.

These values are for Kitchener rather than north of Elmira, but close enough

It was neat to spot a couple of bunnies on the long downhill by the cornfield around dusk: the only wildlife I'd seen all day were a couple of garter snakes in the woods, one of which was just a little baby. Things that were less cool: I'd started to develop a hotspot on my right foot in the same place as the left (where my toes meet the ball of my foot), the one on my left foot was getting more painful by the hour, and the stabilizer muscles around my groin were getting sore from 10+ hours of uneven ground. Scher had brought out a whole load of roast chicken for Tank and I (that girl is an AMAZING chef!), and the temptation was strong to just plant my butt and scarf back a bunch of it, but with rain predicted to start by 8pm or so I figured I'd press on until things started to get wet. I did, however, let Tank and Scher know I'd seen a skunk in the meadow by one of the small pine trees on the path to base camp - close enough to our tent that I wanted it supervised at all times, so no furry creatures went rummaging through my baked goods!

Let's go for a night lap, shall we?

Passing the willow trees, heading down the long hill

Turning into the trees below the meadow - I saw a skunk off to the left down here, too 

Right turn onto the two-way traffic main trail

Two-way traffic indeed! Brad coming the other way.
While I used a headlamp and waist light, he just carried a flashlight

It turned out Gary had sprayed all the roots and stumps twice: once with hi-viz orange, and again with a clear retroreflective paint that shone brightly when light hit it in the darkness

As I approached the left turn into the forest loop I could see a white glow in the woods that was a bit eerie: it didn't look like another runner (I mean, with Monica now on course and moving strong, there were still only 2 others and I had a solid idea what they looked like), but rather some kind of installation. What in the world could be out there?

It turns out that Gary - with the help of Brad, who carried the sign out because he had a GPS to measure the distance and left it in the correct spot for Gary to set up - had added a little nighttime treat at the halfway mark of the course.

The 1/2 done in the same electrowire as the outlines of the arrows, and little LED puck lights to form a sort of runway...or in my case, walkway.

Remember the 3 posts on the far end of the forest loop? They had retroreflective on them, too

You can see where our feet were starting to dig out the sandy earth below the first fallen tree on the climb back out to the main trail

Uphill through stump alley at night

I have sometimes found that hills are easier in the dark because you can't see them.
This was definitely NOT the case with the big stinkin' hill

The one thing I can say for that hill is that climbing it meant I was nearly back to the comforts and conveniences of base camp, which Gary and Tank had got lit up beautifully with strings of Christmas lights.

Not to mention the comforting, warming glow of the Coleman lantern in our own tent

My neck and shoulders were getting quite sore by this point: I'd keep raising my arms and doing some stretches while I walked after the first few hours, but my whole body was definitely getting in on the complaining game. I was tired and beat up, but overall still in pretty good spirits for the first night.

And of course still taking dorky selfies.
I'm absolutely gutted I didn't get one with Scher!

A light rain began to fall around 8:30pm, just as I was coming in from a lap, but I decided to push for one more - hoping, of course, that it wouldn't open up and drench me. The evening had stayed quite mild so far; you can see above that I was still in just my sleeveless shirt and shorts!

Such a party atmosphere at base camp!

By the time I'd finished that lap (I believe my 35th - just shy of 62km), though, the rain had definitely settled in, and I really needed to work on my feet, so I entered the warm embrace of our tent to get some stuff done.

It might be a little chaotic, but it was home

If you're thinking it looks like there's an awful lot going on in there, you're absolutely right. I tried to plan out the layout in advance, but we'd never had all the stuff inside it before race (fun run) day.

I got it pretty close

By the way: the "clothing bin" above is a 104L plastic tote, and the "food bin" is another 72L tote of non-perishables. I forgot to include the cooler in this sketch, but it gives an impression of why our car was so full you couldn't see out the rearview mirror - I brought everything I could think of that I could possibly want.

What I wanted right now, though, was some Leukotape to try to fix up my poor feet. I sat down on the cot with the cooler as a footrest, and got to work.

Kitchen, bedroom, and meatball surgical ward all in one

One shoe off at a time, examining the state of my much-maligned feet, and the kinesiology tape that had given way.

The bit with the T was started off stuck just below my big toe..

I cut patches of Leukotape and stuck them on the balls of my feet, then slathered them with Trail Toes to keep the patches from sticking to my sock. Once again, I tried to scrape off any sand or dirt that had found its way into my socks and stuck in the lube between my toes, and reapplied some more Trail Toes to keep everything nice and slippery. I changed socks, too, because I had accidentally packed all my favourite trail socks into the clothing bin before the race, then had to grab a less-than-optimal pair in which to start. After I finished putting shoes back on, I'm gonna say I used a sanitizing wipe to clean my hands (which may or may not be true), and dug into some chicken!

I can't begin to describe how amazing this was.
I wish I had some right now..

So here's the thing: I'd had ideas about trying to stay out on the trail for at least 16 or 20 hours before I went for a nap, and it had only been 12 by this point. However, as I sat eating chicken and listening to the rain gain momentum outside, I was gripped by a desire to just put my feet up and rest for awhile, and said as much. Both Scher and Tank encouraged me to do so: there was no point in getting myself worn out and soaked this early in the race. I laughed a bit about how - had I signed up for something more sane and reasonable, like a 12-hour - I'd already be done by now. With having shown up that morning feeling exhausted from a short night of sleep beforehand on top of a lot of late nights and stress in the prior week, I just didn't have the heart to drag myself out of that tent yet. The rain was supposed to last until about midnight, and I was finding it quite distracting in the dark - my headlamp would make drops shine to the left and right of its beam, catching my eye and diverting my attention from trying to avoid obstacles. I caved: having spent from 9:05-10pm fixing my feet and stuffing my face, I bade Scheherazade farewell (she was heading home but would be back the next evening: total fail on getting Tank to nap while she was there as relief crew), changed into a dry shirt and sports bra, got my Garmin on charge (it didn't need it yet, but I wanted to be proactive about charging it while I wasn't moving), swung my legs up onto the stack of pillows on the cot - still in my shoes, as I'd just put them back on after taping my feet - and tried to nap. 

I even popped in some earplugs I'd providently thought to bring!

Tank went out to the car to grab a snooze in the passenger seat while I got my head down - I needed him to keep himself in good condition throughout the coming days so he'd be capable of caring for me. So, I was hopeful that he'd sleep longer than I would, and set an alarm for midnight.

I had some friends to watch over me

It turns out I didn't need the alarm - I'd shut my eyes at 10:14pm, and they banged open again at 11:47pm, after not more than a few minutes of actual sleep but a decent rest. I needed to pee badly, and figured the portajohns were on the course in the right direction, so I might as well get going. I got a couple of laps in while a fog rose in the forest and the moon hung huge and orange above the cornfield, and Tank fortunately slept on - it was at least 2:30am by the time he got up, after I'd gone through another 4 bottles of water, had my first butter tart (about an hour after I got up; I had enough on hand to eat one every 12 hours, but had been happily noshing on chicken at that point), another Endurance Tap gel, and another oatmeal raisin cookie (recording all this stuff for myself while Tank snoozed). I'd also got in about 8 laps (~14km) before he awoke, despite the rain having slicked up the big hill a bit such that my feet would slip a little if I wasn't careful. The hotspot on my right foot was behaving perfectly, though: I'd caught it in time. The one on my left foot, however, was a constant pain while climbing - I was foolish not to properly deal with it when it started, as my right foot wouldn't bother me again for the rest of the event after I applied the Leukotape. Lesson hopefully learned?

The wind blew cool over the cornfield, but the forest trapped pockets of heat and still air that meant I was still perfectly comfortable in my 3/4 sleeve shirt and shorts; it was the first experience I had with what were essentially microclimates within the mile-long course. Tank was awake by 3am when I stopped for a few minutes to eat a chocolate cupcake (the same kind I'd happily scarfed back every 40 laps of my block, 7 months earlier), which honestly ended up being kind of gross - just too much sugar for me at that point. I got another couple of laps in, ate a Skratch crispy rice cake at 4am, and asked Tank to brew me up some coffee. Around 5:15am - after an astonishing 17 bottles of water through the day, and approximately 3,340cal of food since 9am - I came back into the tent with 48 laps completed (just shy of 85km), and sat down to drink a cup of Tanker's percolated magic.

I felt at least as tired as I look here.

Now go ahead and judge me if you will, but I was pretty knackered by this point, not really having slept at all during my first "nap". I was also finding it difficult to keep my posture from disintegrating as my head drooped forward: partly to point my headlamp at the trail for more light (in addition to that cast by my waist light), partly due to the weight of said headlamp on the brim of my hat, and partly just due to general fatigue. If I'm not mistaken (both Tank and I are a little hazy on this point), I believe it also started to rain again a bit. So, while I'd have loved to have gotten in 2 more laps for an even 50, I decided to say screw it and try another nap right then, dropping off at 5:45am with an alarm set for 7:15am, when the light would have returned.

If you wonder why I was doing 90min increments, the average human sleep cycle - from light sleep, down through R.E.M. sleep, into deep sleep, then back up through R.E.M. and light sleep to a near-waking state - is about that length, and unless you keep a nap very short (20mins or less is the rule of thumb) then you risk "sleep inertia" if you try to get up partway through a cycle. If you've ever had that feeling of being even more drowsy after an hour's nap, it's sleep inertia trying to drag you back down to finish what you started. 

While I managed to get my shoes off this time, I failed to put my earplugs in - when I got myself comfortable with my legs up, they were all the way on the other side of the tent - and whether as a result of that or some other factor, I didn't sleep a single wink. I rested until 7:06am when I could no longer take the chill that had crept into me as I lay there with my feet up, and could no longer stave off the pee I so desperately needed. I got my shoes on, then struggled my way into a pair of pants over the shoes as the pre-dawn felt much colder than the night had. Out of the tent under threatening skies, I hadn't yet passed the 24hr mark, but I was into my second day nonetheless..

Looks like rain...and pain...to come.

That's it for Part 1 - to be continued next week!

Continue to Part 2