Horror Trail 6-Hour Ultra - Saturday, October 27th, 2018

Recipe for a shitshow:

Take a generous cup of ongoing injury, add the merest sprinkling of sleep in the few days prior, and whisk together with a 6-day run streak (when the most you've done is 3 consecutive days since February). Add one rest day before the event, a tablespoon of headcold, then chill to near-freezing and saturate with a combination of rain, snow, sleet and hail. Bake for 6 hours, garnish with hypothermia, and serve with limitless amounts of slippery, squelchy mud.

Yeah, it was like that.

I'm not sure I'd ever been so tempted to turn around and go back to bed.

The rain had begun before I even rolled out of bed prior to 6am, ensuring that the 5k and 10k runners would get an opportunity to pound the trails into pudding before they left the 25k, 50k and 6-hour runners to wallow in the muck. The joke was on them, though - one of the climbs in the woods was a mess from the very first lap!

I'd have to use the Force to get myself through it.

I didn't go out in any particular hurry after arriving, getting into costume (because why would I take myself seriously in these conditions...or, in fact, ever?), swinging my limbs around a bit and using the washroom. I was just in time after one last pee break to mosey into the very back of the starting pack before the countdown and the horn to send us all ambling down the driveway toward the pond.

Let me tell you how happy I was to have the cold rain hitting my bare legs in the vicious wind.

About the shorts I wore under my skirt: I had chosen them partly because they were nice and compressive (to try to hold my taped-up hamstrings together. My taped up ankle - plus the other ankle I totally forgot to tape - were on their own), and partly because they have a pocket in the back that I hoped to use to hold my gel flask for the first couple of hours. Problem: not only was it a super special sensation popping my recently-refrigerated flask into said pocket and discovering that the mesh lining of it placed said flask ever-so-lovingly right at the top of my butt crack, but with the 2 shirts I was wearing tucked into my skirt (so I wouldn't cover up my Sith Utility Belt) it was nearly impossible to access. Bugger.

So, I stuffed the flask up the leg of the shorts instead. It stayed there through my warmup, through the couple of jumps and bounces I did to make sure it wouldn't fall out while running, through my walk to the start line...and approximately 6 running steps after the horn sounded, before falling onto the muddy driveway. Awesome.

So, I bent down and picked it up (thankfully not blocking too many people with my fat arse, as I'd started right at the back), and carried it as far as the pavilion where I dropped it off at the UltraCooler™. On my way down, I spotted a patch of something in the grass near the pavilion. Kids, it was freakin' SNOW.

Not very much, I'll admit...but it didn't NEED to be much.
(Yes, I got Tanker to take a photo for me)

Welp, with the temperature not predicted to rise enough to bring the windchill over the freezing mark (4c with -1c windchill due to 30-50kph winds) and the precipitation expected to keep up all day, I was pretty happy I had a wind jacket and 3 changes of gloves in the UltraCooler™ - I might not freeze to death. I thought about my decision to stick with shorts under the skirt, and the fact I have a perfectly good pair of knickers at home that have very accommodating thigh pockets and would have kept my legs from exposure to the wind-driven rain, sleet and even snow.

I had regrets.

I didn't think my little cape was going to be much help.

All I really wanted out of this race - the middle child between Sticks n'Stones 50k-ish and the Beav 50k in my Five Weeks of Idiocy fall campaign - was to make it through enough mileage to actually call it an ultra. So, I'd need at least 42.3km, since a marathon is 42.2km, and an "ultra" is defined as anything past marathon distance. Realistically, I wanted to try for 42.5km, or 17 laps of the 2.5km course. A nice, odd number for a not-particularly-nice, odd person.

The lack of pocketry and having to leave my gel flask behind (else I'd have to carry it by hand, like some kind of peasant) made it a challenge to keep the nutrition flowing. I didn't even get a swig off it until after my second lap, around 40mins in - not too far behind the usual 30min interval, but for whatever reason (despite a slightly larger-than-usual bowl of oatmeal 3hrs earlier) I felt quite hungry right from the start of the race. It never felt like I was actually able to catch up on calories in the cold, wet wind, and looking back I only consumed about 1,000cal during the whole 6 hours for an average of 168cal/hr.

I don't recall pretending I was a DJ putting on a scratchfest while walking up the hill out of the woods, but here we are.

The first few laps went by ok, though I was quite slow from the very beginning - by the split times (below) it seems I actually hit a bit of a stride in my 3rd and 4th, and I recall that a patch of fairly light rain through those loops had the worst of the mud starting to dry out a bit by my 5th go 'round. I had to hit the portajohn on that one, though, so couldn't really take advantage for a hot lap...and then the rain got worse again, because why wouldn't it? Even bacon wasn't helping; the one slice I had was delicious, but I remained chilly and hungry in spite of most of the rest of my flask of EFS Liquid Shot, a caramel chocolate chip chewy bar, and an Endurance Tap gel as well.

But still smiley, because I still freakin' love this race.

Small moments of hilarity become valuable in tough races: I discovered after eating the chewy bar that I could use the pod of my Sith Utility Belt (which are just soft, open-backed molded foam) to store empty wrappers, since the elastic on which they were mounted across the front of the skirt was taught enough across my chubby belly to hold them firm against me. It gave me an inordinate amount of joy that I'd actually found a function for such a seemingly useless item.

Oddly enough, none of the buttons seemed to do anything.

Things steadily deteriorated as I approached the 3-hour mark, and I was getting incredibly cold; I was still moving as well as could be expected, but the increased rain combined with the wind that seemed to gust every time I emerged from the forest and into its teeth were just chilling me to the bone. Despite getting a couple of S!caps (1h20m, 2h40m) and a banana chunk into me, my hamstrings were starting to pull a freeze and seize; things were getting awfully creaky in the kinetic chain that I was relying on to keep me moving. My hands were going numb, which I knew was really just a symptom of my core getting cold - I was actually starting to think about calling it quits, but then remembered I had a jacket waiting for me in the UltraCooler™ so I had Tanker get it ready for me to put on.

Which kind of made it look like I was swathed in Force lightning!

The jacket was a lifesaver - as blood circulation returned to my hands, I finally felt like I might be able to duke it out with the wind, rain and mud through the second half of the race. I'd got in 9 laps already, so had a bit of a time buffer to make it to 17 in the worsening trail conditions, and the last 3 hours always goes faster, right?

Time-wise. Pace-wise? Not so much.

It certainly didn't feel like it. I kept catching roots and rocks buried in the mud and leaves with my left foot, aggravating an old injury that I'd failed to tape. I popped another S!cap around 3h40m after my 11th lap, but then sort of forgot to take any more for the rest of the race. The hot beef broth (that was actually gluten free so I could have some - hallelujah!) just after 4hrs was amazing, as was the chocolate oat cookie I had along with it - but I was slowing down and starting to worry significantly about making my goal of 17 laps. Of course, part of that was because I thought I was moving much slower than I really was; I was convinced my laps were taking around 25mins, though the table below will show I never even touched 24mins - I only ever came close on the final loop.

My garmin is apparently convinced I went for a bit of a meander on my 9th lap.
Full workout data is here

The broth was all gone by the time I came back through at 4h25m, and my right hand (that holds my water bottle) was so cold and numb that I was barely able to squeeze the bottle to drink. I had to get Tanker to pull out my best hope of warming it back up: a wind mitten. Just the right one, though, as my left hand was ok and I need to have some dexterity to open gel packets and suchlike; I'd already dropped the cap to my first Endurance Tap gel, and had to VERY UNCOMFORTABLY bend down to pick it up out of the mud. Even a Sith Lord can be a good trail steward, ok?

The only thing more difficult than reaching the ground at that point was trying to get that damn mitten on. The snug, stretchy, unstructured cuff clung to my wet skin as I tugged and struggled, but eventually I managed to get it in place and ran away again. I'm grateful I made the change, as the dry mitt allowed my frozen paw to turn back into something resembling a functional hand again, and it stayed that way for the rest of the race.

Totally out-of-timeline photo: that's Cole in the lead, who ripped up the 25k in 1h55m, followed by the legendary Ron Gehl and Superman Steven Parke, with some idiot Star Wars fangirl bringing up the rear.

The rain managed to get even worse past 4.5hrs, and so did the trail. It became impossible to use the usual path up the major climb without slipping, so I tried first the right side, then the left; I'd stick with the latter for the rest of the race, as there are some roots and branches among the fallen leaves that allow for better traction than the meager clumps of grass to the right. The second part of the climb past the hairpin turn was ok, but the small incline above that - which was the spot that had been quite messy from the very first lap - had become so slippery and squelchy that I could only make my way up it safely by employing the same sort of schluffing stride that you use to climb a hill with classic-style cross-country skis. I nearly fell off some of the side-sloped single track around halfway through the course, and my adductors were groaning under the strain of trying to keep my feet underneath me.

Really, the only good thing I can say is that the wind would give you a bit of a boost as you ran up the driveway, but since it would then slap you in the face as you came out of the upper woods - or even as you approached the u-turn near the top of the driveway in the main woods section (which I hear some people didn't make on their first lap, instead heading straight down the driveway toward the Rehkopf building. Unfortunate, that.), I'll call it a draw. While I thought I'd seen mud and bad weather at Horror Trail in the past, I can honestly say that due to the relentless wind and precipitation these were the worst conditions I've seen in 9 straight years of running the event.

The hills, as always, felt a little bigger each lap.

Despite all the sucketry, I actually managed to put in a couple of (what I'm going to consider) hot laps for my 14th and 15th loops to make up some time - fueled by another banana chunk and a second Endurance Tap gel, I bought myself a precious few minutes toward completing my 42.5k goal. Why? Who knows? I'm nowhere near contention for any OUTRace awards, and the other competitors on course ensured I had zero chance at a podium - there were some seriously fast, badass ladies out there ripping through the mud! But, I somehow always seem to find some excuse to thrash myself in a race, even when I claim I'm going to take it easy. This also meant that I barely got to say hello to Clay, who had stopped in to cheer for a bit and even brought out his stormtrooper helmet! I'd have loved to get a photo with him, but alas - my idiocy knows no bounds.

I also never took a "tourist" lap, so have no photos of the course from this year.
If you really want to see what the trail looks like muddy, try the report from 2017 (from which I lifted the photo above as a decent proxy) - 2012 and 2013 were mudfests as well.

With 54mins to make my final 2 laps, I was feeling pretty confident I'd make it. I grabbed a salted caramel Gu gel and started in on it around 5h10m, hoping the caffeine would perk me up enough to make it through the final hour. To my dismay, the damn thing gave me heartburn - that makes twice in the last 2 races that I've had some Gu-induced distress, and this time it didn't have the excuse of being expired. I don't know what's going on there, as I've been using it for years...but I'm hoping it'll just STAHP.

I backed off a bit on my 16th lap in hopes of leaving myself 30mins for the final 2.5km to make my completely idiotic goal, but didn't want to slow it down too much and potentially not complete the final loop. I warned Tanker that I might not bother coming down to the pavilion once I hit 42.5k - for once I might actually just stop at the mat, leaving some time on the clock. I honestly can't recall a time when I was so eager for this race to be over; much as I had tried re-framing it as just a silly time goofing around in the mud with friends, I really hadn't been having much fun for the last couple of hours. My feet and left ankle had been pounded into pudding, my hips and hamstrings were not on speaking terms with me, and even my right shoulder (bottle arm) had been cranky past the halfway mark. I just wanted it all to end so I could go try to get warm.

Pace decay wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared it would be based on my meager training this year.
Maybe I've finally managed to race myself into shape?

I will say, though, that I'm grateful for a few things: I had shaken a generous dose of BlisterShield into each of my socks that morning, and despite being able to feel the mud squelching through my socks and shoes (not to mention getting them thoroughly soaked in the puddles that formed on the driveway) I didn't have any blisters or hotspots all day. My mitten managed to let my frozen right hand return to life, and I DIDN'T FALL! So, it could have been much worse.

That's not to say I didn't slow to "leisurely cruise" pace for lap #17, as I really didn't want there to be any time left once I got to the mat. Despite farting along, there were still 8mins when I reached it. Having realised that all of my food was down at the pavilion, I decided I'd go down to the 200m marker (just before the final descent to the pond), then turn around and head back to the aid station.

Then I decided I'd go around the pond to make 600m, but not go into the woods.

Having trucked right on into the woods, I decided I'd go to the 800m mark just before the big stinkin' hill, but there was NO WAY I was climbing it for an 18th time. I wouldn't have enough time to make the 1km marker anyway, so climbing the slippery, treacherous hill wouldn't even count.

So, when I reached the top of the hill with all of 15 seconds left to go and saw the cut-through path to the trail out of the woods by the aid station, I finally said ENOUGH and bloody well stopped.

I don't make good decisions.

But I do see them through.

Official distance: 43.3km 

2/3 W0-39 - 7/8 W - 23/32 O/A

(Full official results here)

Don't let the numbers fool you into thinking I really beat anyone - all the smart people, including the only other girl in my age group (and only female "behind" me) stopped hours before the end of the race, so I only actually out-distanced 3 people...two of whom are pensioners. I'm just too dumb to stop, while fully admitting that the thought did present its case quite strongly in my mind a few times throughout the day - particularly knowing I had nothing riding on this race, and really nothing to gain by continuing.

Except more mud - as if I needed to carry any additional weight!

The results aren't really important, though; if I only raced for podiums and prizes, I'd be sorely disappointed. What matters is that I got through it all without doing any real damage to myself through my bloody-mindedness, and was able to run again (short, slow and carefully) by Tuesday...though it took an entire water heater tankful in our jet tub once we got home, plus most of another tank for a hot shower afterward before I finally stopped shivering!

A generous helping of epsom salts certainly did no harm, either.

So now I've just got one last race left in this calamitous season, and it's just over a week away. Who knows? Maybe I'll actually have the sense to dress for the weather this time!