For the first time in my life, I crossed the finish line of a race in first place. I couldn't believe it. I was shocked. I was elated. But somehow I knew, deep down, it was too good to be true. Let me go back to the start line and recap the High Cliff State Park ultra.
Leaving the starting line and following the pack towards the woods, I was excited. I've run a number of trail runs in the past (and loved all of them), but nothing close to the 25k distance. And because it was relatively new to me, I went into the race with no expectations or goals. I simply wanted to challenge myself to see what I could do with this new course type and distance. The first few miles of the race were very technical. Single track trails with a lot of vertical change. The hill profiles posted on the website prior to the race were impressive and made me a little nervous, but again, I came here looking for a challenge. And they didn't disappoint. Some of the inclines were so steep that "running" up them was essentially a walk. A few of the hills, going both up and down, I found myself having to grab any tree, branch or rock I could to stop myself from falling forward going down the hill or to pull on to get myself up. Needless to say at times it felt more like an adventure hike than a running race. The hills, along with the slippery rocks and tree roots, kept me honest and prevented me from moving too fast.
The first mistake I made (and the first adjustment I will make the next time I run a race like this) was not getting to the front of the pack quick enough. Running with my wife and good friend of mine, along with the fact that I didn't have an agenda or time goal, I started the race in the middle of the pack. But once I got into the woods and onto the single track trails, things came to a bottleneck quickly. It was hard to pass slower runners, and once we got to some of the hills, many of the runners in front of me wanted to stop and walk up. Which is totally fine, but I felt like I did too much walking and standing around in the first part of the race, making it hard to get into a good rhythm.
The first real adventure of this trail run came about a mile into the run. Again, the first half of the run was in the woods on narrow trails. The trail was marked with small yellow ribbons hanging from tree branches. Follow the yellow ribbons, you're on the right track. Seems pretty simple and straight forward. But in a long line of runners, if the person at the front misses a ribbon and goes the wrong direction, the entire train follows them. And that is what happened. I'm following the person in front of me, and then all of sudden the train of people stops, and I hear from the front of the pack that the trail ends in a swamp. Now what? I look in front of me, and I see about a dozen people. I look behind me, and I see about 30 more. After standing around for 10 minutes chatting about what to do next and where to go, the word finally reaches the last person in line that they need to back up and find their way back to the yellow ribbons and the official race course. Because of the back tracking and the large number of people lined up, it took me another 10 minutes to get back to any form of consistent running. I'm glad I had no time goals for the race, those would have been tossed out the window at mile 1.
The next 5 miles or so were exactly what I pictured in my mind for the trail run. Winding trails through the woods, along the water, up and down some rolling hills. The trail was shaded, and the little breeze off the water made for some pleasant running conditions. By this point, I had slowly made my way out of the pack and was running solo. Which given how the first part of the race went, I was worried about missing the next yellow ribbon and finding myself lost again. I was relieved every time I came across another runner. Without mile markers and having lost a bunch of time, I really had no idea where I was on the course or what mile I was at. Coming into the main aid station for the first time (we would pass it again later), I knew I was around mile 6. I've never run an "ultra" race before, but I was blown away by the spread of food. I'm sure I didn't get a good look at everything ( I did see oranges, bananas, cookies, pretzels, chips and candy) I was in too much of a hurry and sped through as fast as I could. I had time to quickly fill up my water bottle with Tailwind, grab a slice of watermelon and a quarter PB and J sandwich, and head back out on the trail.
This is where the race started to get crazy for me. In hindsight, I should have stopped and asked for directions. Or at least better directions. As I was leaving the aid station and eating my food, I quickly asked a race official which direction I was supposed to go. She pointed to her right, so off I went. I saw a group of 3 or 4 other runners headed in that direction, so I didn't think anything of it. As I slowly caught up to the group of runners, they saw me coming and seemed surprised to see me. As I passed them I said the usual "looking good guys". They told me the same, and asked if I was running the 25K or the 50K. When I told them I was running the 25K, they said "dude, you're killing it! You're in first place!" I kind of laughed it off, wished them luck on the rest of their day and kept running. Over the course of the next mile or so, I started to think about what they said. A part of me really wanted to believe they were right and that I was actually leading the pack. I thought back to the beginning of the race when many of the runners got lost. I thought it was quite possible that the top runners at the front of the pack also got lost, may even more lost and turned around than I did, and they were still making their way back behind me. I started to entertain the idea of winning the race, and that gave me a boost of confidence. The shot of adrenaline was immediate; my stride got longer and pace sped up. My chest was out, and I was feeling like a million bucks. But in the back of my mind I knew that there must be a mistake.
As I was approaching the finish line (which I was obviously surprised to see), I glanced down at my watch to see that I had shattered the course record. The race director Mark and all of the other workers and volunteers also took a look at their watches as I crossed the finish line. It was obvious now: at some point I took a wrong turn. After explaining the situation to Mark, who was very understanding and helpful, we eventually figured out where I went wrong. When I came to the first aid station, and was walking through eating my watermelon and sandwich, the official pointed left when I should have gone right. I ran the final 2.8 mile loop at the end of the course, and had missed the previous 6 mile loop. Mark told me I could continue the race by running across the parking lot to the aid station, explain the situation to the volunteers, and then run the final 6 miles. Unfortunately for me, it was already getting hot out. And the 6 miles that I needed to run before my 15.5 mile race was complete was through the prairie. It was relatively flat, but wide open with little to no shade. Having already run 10 miles of hills, combined with the heat and sun of the prairie, the final 6 miles of the course became pretty uncomfortable.
After completing the 6 mile loop, I cut across the parking lot and crossed the finish line for the second time. I sat down with a glass of really good root beer and a couple of cookies to stretch and reflect on my experience. The first part of the race was fun. Running through the woods, up and down steep inclines. The second part of the race through the prairie was difficult, and the challenge I was looking for. It was a battle of attrition that took me back to my triathlon days, where staying "within yourself" was a must. And just like any other longer endurance event, go out too fast, push the pace at the wrong time or fail to manage the emotional highs and lows, and you fall apart. This is the challenge that I enjoy so much: seeing how far a person can push themselves. I'll be back at High Cliff sometime soon, and I'm looking forward to it.