#runhappy ...for as long as you can.

Finally, a month later here's my Playin’ Possum 50K 2014 recap!

I love the trails at Delaware State Park. I run them a lot. I mean, A LOT! Occasionally, I will venture over to Alum Creek State Park for some trail time but Delaware State Park is my ‘home base’ for trail running: single track, secluded, no meandering Starbucks carrying suburbanites in flip flops taking up precious trail ‘space’. My kind of place. Not too hilly, great lake views, mosquitos, lake smell, wildlife, awesomeness. The Playin’ Possum 50K takes place on these beautiful trails, and is the main reason I started running at DSP.

The 2014 PP50K was my second year running the event. I got a pretty cool finisher award and by the time I had decided that I was going for round three next year.

The day started VERY early for me. Up and at ‘em at 4:45am. On the yoga mat by 5am. Off the mat by 5:30am. Breakfast began about 6:15am. Out the door by 6:40am (10 minutes later than planned).

My belly and intestines were a little upset as I was driving to the park. It wasn’t nerves. It couldn’t have been. My mental state about doing the 50k was relaxed because of the familiarity of the course and excited because I was going to run a 50k again. Perhaps, it was the ‘processed’ food I ate the night before. Perhaps, it was the high amount of carbs I had been consuming the past few days. Whatever, it will work itself out.

I get to the park and there’s a line for the check in..not my favorite place to be given the churning in my bowels. I quickly check in and quickly scurry to the bathroom. Damnit! Another line! I smile and joke while squeezing my glutes and all the innards of my nether region till it’s my turn. I take care of business and get out of there.

I walk over to my Jeep and realize that it’s cold outside. Yeah, I was a little oblivious to that fact up until that moment. Weird, I know. I say, “It’s cold out here. My hands are cold. Shit. I don’t like to run with cold hands.” It’s one of my worst cold weather weaknesses. Cold fingers and hands while running annoys the shit out of me and distracts my running. Thankfully, I had a pair of cheap knit gloves still left over from winter in the Jeep. YES, procrastination paid off! Who knew I’d need gloves in the middle of May. Curses, Ohio weather! Curses.

All set! After a few announcements about the course changes due to flooded out trails and other miscellaneous information we had a really awesome pledge by a really cool kid from the special Olympics. Little did I know at that moment how much that pledge was going to mean to me:

“Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt”

And we’re off. A nice steady pace to start felt great! Not too fast. Not too slow. We all took off as a group and like all races we were a bit more staggered after a mile or so. I felt great. I ran happy for miles and miles! High fiving runners, smiling, saying hi. Typical happy trail runner behavior. Running great!

Run Happy!

I stop at the mile nine aid station feeling pretty good but needing a caffeine jolt. So I grab a chocolate flavored gel with caffeine. Bleck! It was disgusting. I almost spit it out.  I continue on and make a mental note to never ingest a chocolate gel again.

Moving forward there was a nice creek crossing that had a nice size sinkhole in the bottom of it which really wasn’t a creek but was only a creek because the lake was flooded. I watched the gal in front of me fall in waist deep so I moved to the side and went in only knee deep. Score. Despite the cold temps of the morning the cold water felt good. Then it was on to the dreaded beach parking lot area (I hate running the parking lot) and some road to get over to the dam (I hate the dam, too). My hamstrings were beginning to tighten up but I was running pretty well.

I hit the dam and was slowing down a bit. It was getting close to time for a feeding and my stomach was posing a feeling like it was being punched. Probably thanks to the gel. I should have stuck with the gels I stored in my hydration vest. Mental note: don’t ever eat another chocolate gel. Ever.

I decide to take a lunch break and walk out mile 14. I texted John to let him know how I was doing: “Mile 15. Tops of my feet are killing me. Hammies tight but rest of me feels fine. Finally just ate.” At this point I was on target to finish around the 7 ½ hour mark. Feeling good. The tops of my feet hurting baffled me. But whatever, keep moving forward. The bottoms of my feet felt great. Thank you Hoka One One Stinsons!

I pick it up. Check in at the next aid station. Running through the wildlife area there was a guy who said hello, asked if we were running a race of some kind, and shooting blank shells from his shotgun. I say to the gal next to me, “Is that our cue to run faster?” I think I’m supposed to run away in a zig zag fashion or something.

My stomach and intestines are becoming increasingly irritated. I’m drinking tons of water in an effort to calm it. I have to pee. The weather starts raining. The least of my worries. It’s raining sideways directly into my face.I pull my visor down and shrug it off. Rain is temporary, and so is the hail. Never ran through hail before. That just added to the bad-assness of ultrarunning. The stomach pain and nausea are worse and I get to the point that every time I run I feel like I’m going to throw up but was still hoping it would pass.

I check in. Down some mountain dew and move on. I was officially past the halfway point so I was excited. Trying to run as much as I could due to stomach issues I found myself doing more walking than I wanted. That kills my time.

I check in at mile 24 with tears in my eyes. Partly due to being pissed about my pace and because every time I run I feel like I was being punched in the stomach. John’s at the aid station and asks if I needed to quit. I snapped, “No. I’ve gone this far I can’t quit now.” I down a couple pepto tablets and a handful of pretzels and move on. My stomach feels a tad better and I stop and ask some dude who looked like an Urban Myers look-alike who was cheering people on to grab my 5-hour energy shot out of my back pack. Awesome! I figure the jolt will get me to the finish line. It’s only seven miles. Totally do-able!

I feel good for a few miles. Pissed and cursing every time I slip in the mud. “Fucking mud.” “God damn mud.” “Fucker.” “Stupid fucking mud.” “I didn’t sign up for fucking 50k tough mudder.” “I hate spring races.” “I’m not doing this race again.” Not only was I annoyed with the ankle deep pig slop mud but I was pissed that we were even running on this part of the trail because we possibly have ruined a trail. I was seriously considering not running this race ever again. The mud was nearly impossible to run through but the best a runner can do is just keep moving forward. And cuss at the mud. Or is that just me? The circumstances up the ante on the determination to get past the slop and finish.  

The top of the trail is an out and back so it gives you a chance to see how many runners are still behind you and to throw some motivating words at them. I wasn’t last! For some selfish reason that made me feel a little better. The other gals didn’t look like they were doing very well and I could only imagine I looked just as miserable. To add insult to injury, my GPS died. That was a bit of a downer because it informed me that I’m taking too damn long for what is not an incredibly difficult race. Sigh.

Once I got past all the mud it was a feel good moment but the stomach issues were nagging at me. I sit at the aid station feeling green and contemplating pulling out. I just wish I could throw up and get out of my stomach whatever the hell is making it miserable. Fuck it, just keep going. Don’t be a fucking wuss. Just go as long as you can. I mention that I’m ready to get this over with but since there’s only about two miles left things are looking up. The aid station worker informed me there are actually three miles left. WHAT!? I wasn’t mentally prepared for that. Because of the flooded trails and altering of the course the total miles are around 32.6. Well, it is what it is. Keep moving.

The weather was getting warmer and the rain/hail had stopped. I had been drinking so much water to help soothe my stomach and not sweating it out that I had to pee. I stopped, looked around, and popped a squat right quick in the woods. There’s a first time for everything. I quickly get up and get moving. Out of nowhere comes a family walking their dog just as I step back on the trail. Close call! The dad asks, “Is there some kind of a walk-a-thon going on today?” OMG. We’re that pathetic at this point. I laugh and say, “It is now! This is the tail end of a 50k. Definitely a lot more walking than running at this point.” He chuckled and wished me good luck. That was a highlight of the day. I loved it and totally needed that.

A few minutes later I get a text from John (they must've started tearing down the finish line):

“How are you doing?” 

I text back: “I should’ve DNF at mile 24. Feeling real sick and weak.” 

“Want me to come get you”,

“I’m on briar patch near mink run”.

At this point I knew I was going to walk it out. It was already 4:00. Any attempt at finishing at a decent time died a few miles ago. I would walk. Stop and keel over in stomach pain. Get dizzy every time I stood back up. And keep moving forward. Total annoyance. But I continue on to meet John on the trail with visions of him pushing me along to the finish line.

About mile 31 it finally hit me! I showed the trail the contents of my stomach! Yay! I felt so much better. Why the hell couldn’t I have thrown up back at mile 18? Anyway, moving forward. Still walking. At this point I had mentally given up but wanted to attempt to run again. I nibble on the bread of the turkey sandwich I had packed. Tiny bites. More water. A little running. I get to the trail head and there’s John and Kyle (my son) waiting for me...in the Jeep. I thought they were going to pace me to the end. He offered to give me a ride back but I said at this point I have to go to the finish because you can’t pull out in the middle of a trail. Only at an aid station.  

I grab some Ritz Crackers from a bag I had in the Jeep. Throw the sandwich away. Tell Kyle to get out and walk it out with me. We walk and talk and nibble on crackers. This was such a refresher and almost brings tears to my eyes because it meant so much to have him there with me on the last mile. Plus I needed good human interaction. Interacting with myself and my own pity party was getting old. I try to run, but at this point my hips had already tightened up so much from all the walking that I couldn’t. So I walk with Kyle and I’m ok with it.

We get to the finish line. The weather had cleared up just in time for my finish. Chad and Mark hand me my finisher award, hug me, and we chat. I honestly wasn’t sure I was going to receive a finisher award because I missed the time cut-off but I was super happy when they handed me my second year finisher award. Come to find out there were at least 3-4 people behind me. I thought there was only one. I cheered on the gal that came in behind me. The others were about 30 minutes out. I peeled off my shoes and socks. Took a selfie. Headed home.

Aren’t trail feet pretty?

All smiles and done 50k finisher selfie!

I rode in the back seat on the way home but the nausea in my stomach wouldn’t let me take a nap. I get home, throw up some more, shower, and eat some comfort food. My body definitely took a beating on the inside this year. Worst feeling ever but a lesson learned. My feet, ankles, knees, and hips felt a 1000 times better than they did last year. I definitely will only be running in my Hokas from now on. Not to mention, I came out of this 50k with NO blisters and all 10 toe nails intact! That is worth celebrating for sure!

Peace, love and trails!

~Cat~