From: Will Brown Subject: Re: Umstead 100 Report (XP) Date: Thu, 9 Apr 1998 17:19:00 -0400 Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run April 4-5, 1998 Runner: Will Brown Hometown: Raleigh, NC Executive Summary: Finished in 24:08:14, a 3 hour 23 minute PR at 100 miles. It was a magical race, one to be treasured. Here's how it unfolded. After an eye-opening DNF at Angeles Crest last September in my second 100, I made significant changes in my training program to build leg strength and endurance for mountainous 100 milers, in particular. As I stood at the starting line just after dawn on Saturday, April 4th, I wondered if it was going to work. The Umstead course, located in a state park outside Raleigh, North Carolina, had been changed at the last minute from a 12.5 mile figure 8 to a 10 mile loop with an out and back at the far end of the loop. The hard dirt and rough gravel surface hadn't changed. It would do its best to destroy the feet of the unwary. 130 runners, about half doing the optional 50 miler, left the line promptly at 6:00 AM. I tucked into the middle of the pack, glad to be moving in the early morning chill. The threat of rain during the race never materialized, and it remained cool and overcast. I spent the first 10 miles trying to loosen up and find a rhythm. Time for the first loop was 2 hours flat. Whoa, baby, that's too fast. I am not a 20 hour hundred miler. I was probably being pulled along by the 50 milers. I relaxed on loop 2 and settled into consistent 2:15 to 2:30 times. The science of ultrarunning took over, and I constantly monitored my condition. Was I drinking enough? Was the two hour electrolyte dosage right? I worked at finding the optimal power walking pace on the uphills, concentrating on the tips I had taken from racewalkers. The long, mean hill leading up to the start/finish aid station was a good place to test myself every loop. The day wore on, and the camaraderie of ultrarunning helped pass the time. I saw folks that I knew and had raced with previously. We wished each other well and traded ribald remarks about our attire and physiques. But, my mind remained focused on myself and the race. I had resolved to *race* this one, not just survive it. Racing, for me, meant working the uphills, running a bit faster downhill, and maintaining a sense of urgency. No socializing in the aid stations. I entered each one knowing just what I wanted to do, got it done, and got the hell out. I reached 50 miles in 11:15. I dashed into the rustic mess hall at the start/finish for a shoe and sock change. There was a photographer in there who developed an unnatural interest in my feet and got down on her knees to take graphic closeup shots as I was checking my taping and applying lubricant. She said *Don't pay any attention to me.* Easy for her to say. I grabbed what I needed from my night bag and was walking out of the aid station, munching a PBJ, at 11:30, race time. The light began to fade, and the 50 milers had disappeared to their warm cars and cold beers. Eric Clifton, a gifted runner, seemed to have a lock on the men's race. One nice thing about the course design is that you see people running ahead of you, and behind, and you get to be lapped by the leaders. Eric was running in a pair of his trademark multi-hued, fluorescent tights, that he makes himself. I was lapped by the woman's leader, Marge Hickman, a delightful lady whom I had met when I was working race registration on Friday. She was wearing a belt buckle that was literally the size of a small dinner plate. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked her if I could be so rude as to ask to look at it. It was a Leadville Trail 1000 mile finisher buckle (10 finishes - the only woman so far). What a great sport. Where else could you ask to look at a strange woman's mid-section and get a pleased smile in return? Marge charged by me exhorting me to run the uphill with her. No thanks, Marge. I'm not a 20 hour 100 miler (her winning time). Loops 6 and 7 went by smoothly. I didn't note my split times, but I didn't feel like I was slowing. Coming into the aid station at 70 miles, I experienced a small bad patch. The last climb didn't seem to go as well as it had before. I grabbed a handful of PBJ pieces, made a fresh bottle of CLIP, and left the aid station, wondering if the deterioration was beginning. I finished my PBJ's and broke into a run on the downhill through the woods back to the bridle path. I don't know if it was the PBJ or just the passing of a bad patch, but I felt a surge of strength. As I broke out onto the flat part of the bridle path, I WANTED TO RUN! I ran the next uphill all the way, just because I felt so good. That continued for the whole loop. I began passing people that had been running several miles ahead of me. Loop 7 passed in a heartbeat, and I told Barry Craig, the start/finish aid station captain, that I WAS STEAMING! Loop 8 went the same way, and I continued passing people. I don't think I was passed from behind by anyone from 60 miles on. I reached 90 miles at 21:40, race time. Barry wished me luck on a sub-24, and I RAN uphill out of the aid station. I couldn't believe it - the strength was still there. Yeah, my legs were sore, but I had none of the debilitating, knee-walking quad problems that I had experienced in the past. As I broke out onto the bridle path for the last time, I resolved not to obsess about the time. This was going to be a joyful, victory lap. And it was. The aid station folks at mile 4 gave me a rousing sendoff, and I started the last 10K. I turned right onto the loop after finishing the out-and-back. As I ran that part, I was completely alone in the forest. There was enough ambient light to run without my headlamp, so I turned it off. The only sound was my feet hitting the trail, and it occurred to me that there was no place in the world I wanted to be, other than right where I was. I didn't want it to end. The sky was beginning to lighten as I turned left onto the rough park road that would lead me to the last hill. I ran most of the uphills and powered the downhills. The mean hill came, and I ran half of it. I checked my watch and saw that I was going to miss a sub-24, but not by much. As I neared the top, I decided that I damn well wasn't going to miss 24:15. The last stretch into the finish was downhill, and I poured it on. I charged around the corner to the finish and announced at the top of my voice, NUMBER 16 FINISHING! I got a deafening ovation from the sleepy timekeeper and Marsha Craig, Barry's wife, who was huddled in a blanket after finishing the 50 miler. Time 24:08, and 32nd place out of 130 starters. 56 runners would eventually finish the 100 within the time cutoff of 30 hours. Postscript. Sore feet, sore everything for that matter. No blisters, no injuries. Bring on Western States in June. The training adjustments worked, in spades.