Date: Tue, 04 Nov 1997 10:12:12 -0800 From: Hartmut Franck Subject: corrected version of story SNER report, 10/25/97 It's a long story for a 52 miler, but who would not admit that the first ultra does feel long? Well, I live! I can still walk, but very slowly, it is not much worse than after my first marathon (the Lake Tahoe Marathon) 2 weeks ago. I very much enjoyed the first 20 miles of this Ultra. It began in complete darkness, kids had built Halloween stations along the first miles which made running an adventure. They had illuminated skeletons hanging in the trees, which contrasted with the hazy blue first light appearing in the east. Since I had not known how far it was from the gym to the start line, I didn't arrive there til after the race had already started. Not that I did really care, because my common sense told me that these lost seconds wouldn't matter at all in 52 miles ... how right I proved to be! When I heard that the runners were already off, all common sense fled and I had nothing more foolish in mind than to find a good pacer in the front of the field. So it turns out that I slowly slipped through the whole field getting more and more excited and crazy on the way, just enjoying passing and passing again like a sled dog just released from his cage. On this sandy single track with not much light, I sprinted by a fast group, an act which was so foolish that Ken Gregorich who ran with this group made a remark about him sprinting at the finish only. I got my common sense back a little bit, and decided to stay behind Ken. We talked a little bit. I didn't dare tell him, that I had done Mt. Whitney just a week before my first marathon. But I think the fact that I went into this race just 2 weeks after my first marathon made him think that I am crazy anyway. So, when he asked me if I wanted to go ahead, I told him: "No, thank you, you do a great pace. I should really not pace on this first run." Well, my experience in endurance was really close to nothing. I thought, if he knows that he can do this speed for 52.3 miles I can certainly, too. But in the first place, it was just very, very much fun running this rolling single track, efficiently using the terrain to glide through the hills like through the loops of a rollycoaster. I felt as happy as when snowboarding or skiing and enjoyed the rising sun, the fresh air, the wild smell and the great scenery of Folsom Lake. Unfortunately I had no water bottle, and the distance of 9.3 miles between two aid stations in the first warm hours of the day meant no water for 1.5 hours at this crucial point of my first endurance run. I had missed that point on the trail map completely ... well carrying water is a major point that I learned. When the next aid station just didn't show up, I knew, the competitive goal, and maybe all the run, is lost, so I fell behind and saved water and energy ... which would have been wiser to start at mile 0.0! At the next aid station (mile 20.8) they were serving ice cold water only, so I gulped down 3 cups and started walking, warming up the ice block in my stomach. I enjoyed the initial walking very much, I was feeling like I was on a relaxed hike and enjoyed the scenery even more. I was still in high spirits and didn't mind when everyone passed me. Bowel cramps and diarrhea then forced me to continue the walking, so I had to say good bye to all ambitions and just wait and see if I can make it back or drop out. When I reached the turning point at No Hands Bridge, I told the crew (it might have been Greg Soderlund, but I am not sure) that this was my first ultra. I didn't tell them that I was thinking of not finishing it, but their response to the fact of my "first" probably gave me the boost to really do it, if need be, by walking back all way. I wasn't taking the run competitive any more. I tried to enjoy, and did enjoy walking and filling up with water. I hung around aid stations drinking for free, until the crew said: "Wow, you are still here! Have some potatoes (really good stuff)" At Overlook aid station, I borrowed a water bottle from a nice crew member and at mile 35, rehydration slowly kicked in. A runner who passed me was asking: "You are not in the race, I take it." This really got me amused. My humor had returned. Another runner was very helpful and offered me his peanut butter sandwich, if it only would make me feel better ... I was overwhelmed. Then, a veteran runner, who later turned out to be Stan Jensen, convinced me that I can still run. So I ran slowly for 7 miles, picking up speed, but the stop at the next aid station and almost certain hyponatremia set me walking again for 5 miles, until Stan passed me again. I said: "I just waited for you." He meant: "How polite!" Well, I wanted to be realistic to him. So I said: "I believed [at least] in you." This time he didn't pull away, which would have been easy for him at this moment. So for the first time in my life I had the chance to experience what pacing means. And I have to say I had the honor and joy to experience being paced by Stan. I thought I am totally done, but kept up with him. Later I read his story of him pacing Sarah Lowell at the '97 WS and of Brick Robbins pacing Teresa at the same race '96. I realized what a great personality you need to be a good pacer. Finally on the last mile he told me how small the rest was and suddenly strength came back to me ... I don't know where it came from, to be honest. When I kept running uphill for the first time since 30 miles, he fell back. I looked round and told him: "I don't want to beat you now, [after all that you have done for me]!" He said: "Take off, it's okay." Somehow the boost of Stan being so nice to me, and I smelling the finish line released amazing energy. I suddenly could run as if I had just started, all stiffness was gone, all pain (in my quads and my feet, mainly), and I really sprinted without any effort over the grass field of Cavitt Junior High School to the finish line. I felt like flying and the happiest man on earth. This is really crazy. Does adrenaline do all this? I think I improved at lot since the last marathon because I wouldn't have been able to walk the whole distance back at Lake Tahoe. I was just not really prepared, I saw it even more as a kind of practice for the next marathon in December and took the risk to drop out of the race due to a too fast pace a little bit on purpose. Also, I was overconfident, maybe crazy, and not fully recovered from the last marathon. But I never risked my health. I just laid back and enjoyed walking and drinking after I got dehydrated.