(FYI, this was the 2017 Pine Creek Challenge in Pennsylvania.)
0: Okay, I guess we’re really doing this then. Six AM – we start running.
1: It sounds really cliche to say ‘you don’t run a hundred miles, you run one mile a hundred times’, or that ‘a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step’, so to hell with that noise.
The first mile of any race, for me, is like jumping into cold water – kinda panicky and I have to remind myself, it’s okay, you’ve got this, just relax and get going. Keep going. Just not too fast.
2: Still paranoid about every step, every breath. There’s a long way to go. There’s no way to win an ultramarathon in the first five, ten, maybe twenty miles, but there are a helluva lotta ways to lose one. We’re obviously not in this to win it, but we do have a goal of a day (i.e., we want to be back at the finish line and finished [since it’s a sorta-loop/sorta-out-and-back course] by six AM tomorrow), and it would be hellaciously embarrassing to twist an ankle on, like, mile three.
3: Did not twist my ankle!
4: Did not gas myself, either. Kept to a nice and steady pace alongside my brother.
5: First aid station, wheeling around and heading back. Not much more to say – I don’t eat or drink that much this early in a race and I started with snacks in my vest so I don’t need to refuel, and it’s not a landmark on this visit – we’re just running to cover distance right now. Later on we’ll be running aid station to aid station, but right now it’s just mile, mile, mile.
6: I eat cookies, I think. Maybe?
7: Becoming properly morning. We joke about how we’ll be able to say “good morning”, “good afternoon”, “good evening”, “good night”, and “good morning” again during the course of one run.
8: Pace stays the same. It’s slow. (“Start slow, then taper off.”) A couple minutes slower than my normal to- and from-workout pace. Feels like we could keep it up forever. Forever, however, will slip into the rearview mirror fifty miles from now…
9: The 100k race started later, so we’ve been passing runners coming towards us on the first outbound leg for a while now. No difference in bib color or attire, which makes it kinda nice that the two distances being run on the trail today are so similar (relatively speaking, I mean…) and their starting times so close, given the difference in cut-off.
Nothing like sharing mile 22 of a marathon course with mile 5 of the half…
10: Hit the bridge again, and joke that it accounts for probably 50% of the total course elevation. (My brother specifically looked for the flattest 100-miler that was logistically feasible. Next year, however, we’ve signed up for the Old Dominion 100. 14,000 feet of gain vs… about 900, here.)
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