Halliburton Forest 50 Miler – '02 By Michael Bouscaren Halliburton Forest is 50,000-acre expanse about 170 miles north and east of Toronto. There were three events; a 100 miler, a 50 miler, and a 50k, all on the same trails and starting simultaneously at 6 a.m. Saturday, September 7th. Race director Helen Malmberg organized things perfectly; the well-stocked aid stations, the pre and post race dinners, great volunteers, and the companionship of runners all made it a special weekend in a special place. This was a regrouping event for me. I'd dropped for the first time ever at 50 miles in the Miwok 100k in May. Looking back, I put it on a combination of burnout and insufficient training. I'd run the Withlacoochee 100k in February, and it took more out of me than I'd realized. Halliburton became a back to basics crusade for me – train properly, execute intelligently. The added dimension of camping there the nights before and after the event appealed to me, as I thought it might elevate my spirit and provide better focus, which it did. Looking out from my tent on Macdonald Lake after the runners' dinner Friday night, I felt moved into the setting, becoming then a feature in the forest, like the trails I would follow the next day. I slept well. Waking at ten before four, I started a fire for warmth and coffee. Holding the hot drink with both hands I looked up in the dark to see the sky filled with stars, millions of them. It was completely quiet and I was part of it. I felt I belonged there in that dawn, and pictured what I would do in the next few minutes, and then through the day: I would run confidently because I was ready. The forest would welcome me because I was now part of it. The course is 25 miles out and back to make 50. 100 milers do a double out and back. Aid stations are approximately every 5 miles. Though it was still just dark at the start, most of us 110 or so runners didn't use flashlights because the first 5 miles were on a gravel road. You pick 'em up and run a little flat-footed, slower to prevent twisting an ankle, but we're warming up here anyway - nobody's put the jets on. I had a camelback with about 40 oz. Accelerade mix, one GU and lots of Succeed! salt tabs and ibuprofen. Aid stations had E-load, a buffered electrolyte mix, and various standard food items like pretzels, nuts, chips, fruit, trail mix, etc. I planned to sip from my camelback between aid station drinks, and to eat something at every stop. After an hour and a half I began taking one S! tab and one ibuprofen at hourly intervals. Since it was forecast to reach 80 degrees by mid-day, I would later advance the S! tabs to every 45 minutes. The GU went down after about 3 hours. At the turnaround, I'd switch to Clip in the camelback and take 4 GU's from my drop bag for hourly intervals on the way back. This was the first long hot run where I avoided mild nausea in the final 15 miles, because of the Clip and heavier usage of S! tabs in the heat. I think E-load also worked well to buffer my stomach. But hey, how about the running, how about the trails ? Overall, the terrain was 50/50 forest road and trail, alternating regularly. Going out, I marked transition points on my watch so that I'd have a better idea of pace coming back. I'd figured 10 hours was doable in cooler temps, but 10-½ hrs was more reasonable, given the present conditions. If you have a pace in mind beforehand, you can regulate your speed accordingly along the way. After 5 miles ( the 1st aid station and one hour ) I left the road for the Krista Trail, that rose up then fell down over about 2 1/2 miles, I figured, because it took half an hour. At a 5 mile/hour pace I was comfortably moving along without too much effort, realizing this was one half hour too fast overall, but that I would slow later in the heat. Who knows the right trade off between not going out too fast and purposely upping the tempo because it's the coolest part of the day? Then a little road and a little trail to the 10 mile aid station at Black Lake: elapsed time was 2 hours, a good, even pace. Now, to make the next aid station in yet another hour – NOT; firstly, the 3rd aid station is the 50k turnaround, which makes it 15.6 miles, not 15. This I realized after the third hour went by and there was just more trail and no aid station in sight. The terrain on the Red and the King and James Trails was at times rocky and required more concentration. After I got hit on the top of the head by some monster bee, whose sting gave me a jolt of adrenalin, I finally made the 50k turnaround aid station in 3 hrs and 12 minutes. OK, now I'm getting behind the ten hour pace, but it's to be expected. Let's see if I can make the 20-mile aid station in less than an hour; after all, it should only be 4.4 miles –NOT. This stretch includes a good 4 miles on the uneven Osprey Trail as well as hot exposed road. I struggled to make the next stop in about one hour and five minutes. Now I put 10 ½ hours into question. Gord England caught up with me and we ran along together for about 35 minutes chatting about the OUSER ultra series and the Halliburton course. A big challenge for these Canadians was getting psyched for the Sri Chinmoy 24 hour event next weekend: I thought, wow, a lot of these folks are pretty hard-core. Time passed quickly and soon the 25- mile turnaround was in sight – this last piece was surely less than 5 miles, as it took only 50 minutes. My turnaround time was 5 hours, 7 minutes. In my drop bag I had a change of socks, Vaseline for the feet, food and drink. One of my goals was to transition through the aid stations faster than I had in previous runs, so I judged my feet were ok and didn't need a change. Monica Scholtz' Dad manned the aid station with a buddy, and it was grand – big awning over the table and a grill for more substantial food to offer 100 milers at the 75 mile point. I whipped out of there, figuring I still had a shot at 10 and a half hours. Going back, I could work the splits and now had familiarity with the course. But the heat would put more time into the return, as I discovered after the 30 mile aid station – going over the rocky, hilly sections I slowed to a crawl, to protect myself from the trip and fall that takes away so much energy. From this a positive - it would be the first long trail run I'd done without falling or banging up my toes. I'd learned that in the second half when you're tired and anxious to maintain a predetermined pace, you can bungle into a slower outcome if your push causes a loss of concentration and mistakes like falling or failing to monitor physical needs. A long slog to the 50 k turnaround, now, at 7 hours 20 minutes, thinking 10 and one half hours would be a stretch. Brian Magee looked to be struggling as he told me he'd taken a fall on his hip and was hurting. "I figured I'd just make it to the next aid station, then evaluate, but I'm still going," he said. We ran along together sharing stories and I realized time was not so important as enjoying the day and finishing strong. More walking now. At the 40-mile aid station I loaded up with ice and water. Here comes Victor Hickey, 100 miler, through his mile 60, looking good. I marveled he was going 50% faster and twice as long as me! You can wonder about the others but you have to deal with yourself. Now, I knew I would finish, but slower than I'd figured. I saw this not as disappointing, but rather just what the day had in store for me – I was going along as well as I could. Now at 8 hours 40 minutes I thought maybe 11 hours could be doable. The good news - I had no physical problems, so on we go. This was my 8th run of 50 miles or more. In the first few, I would psyche up for an epic struggle, using all kinds of mental tricks to put me through the finish. Now, I had arrived at the far more rational view, that such an undertaking would be nothing more than a calculated and determined effort of focus and fun. I'd read so many times in ultra reports, "just have fun," but not until Haliburton did I actually arrive there. The closest I'd gotten was to think the fun part was when it was over. This time, because of prior experience, the majesty of the surroundings, and the bonding company of so many soul mates running with me, I truly did enjoy those final miles. Back onto the Krista trail and I knew at the end of it there's the road and just 5 miles of easy running left. Going out, a 100 miler told me this trail was tougher coming back, and I was reminded of his words as it went up and up, forcing me to walk. I didn't remember this hill because we were skipping down it earlier in the cool morning. I heard Brian coming up behind me and we resumed our chatting with no hint of competition as we walked, then ran when we could. I usually don't enjoy talking much, but Brian and I were on the same wavelength. The reader asks: "Yes, but what did you feel like; were you tired, did you want to stop?" Well, I had a mild cramping in the middle of my back, but if I put my hands on the back of my hips, it tended to subside. Of course I was tired and wanted to stop, but stopping was not an option. I'd trained too hard and too well to allow that to happen. Halliburton was a must for continuity, to put that Miwok DNF behind me. Plus, I was in the company of great athletes and wanted to show my stuff. There was Patricia Sommers, running the 50 miler. After having a scary bear encounter in the dark at mile 70 in the 100 miler two years ago ( she finished ), she returned in 2001 to set a course record in the 50. There was Rolly Portelance, who I witnessed finishing his 60th 100 mile run the next morning. There was Monica, who ran 23 100 milers last year – we greeted her as we neared the finish and she was going back out for 49+ more miles, to run through the night. Kevin Sayers, whose ultrarunning website is the best resource available for good advice on how to prepare for an ultra. There was the literate and spiritual John Prohira, who brought several 1st timers with him from Rochester. So many others, also, inspired me to think beyond the discomfort and to continue on. Brian and I stayed together through the finish, feeding on each other, running together, walking hills together. With a half mile to go, I wanted to run this last bit, but slowed to walk when Brian did, for the slightest incline. Time no, fun yes. We crossed under the banner at 11:13. Spontaneously, we shook hands and said "Thanks" in the same breath. At the Friday dinner, Helen asked everyone to stand up individually and say who they were and what event they intended to run. This gave us a warm sense of community and familiarity. I think it helped me run better Saturday. It's a loner sport, but one feels grand in the company of others of the same mind. I had another good sleep in my tent just off the trail, one mile from the finish. Waking at 4 Sunday morning, I heard a couple of 100 milers go by in the dark, and shared their joy into the finish. Packed just at dawn, I look out one last time at the glassy lake as the red sun rises in the trees. A single loon pops up out of nowhere, going about its hunt. We share nature's peace.