Holiday Lake 50k++: Part 2

As soon as the race starts, people start hootin’ and hollerin’. I add in my own, “Whoooooo!” The cluster gradually starts running and moving past the starting line. Adam and I started together, and he was not planning to start slow. It was a good strategy, because it gets pretty increasingly difficult to pass people on trails. The first 3/4 of a mile was uphill on a wide road. I simply followed in Adam’s footsteps, passing people every which way. As soon as we ascend the steps to the trails, I lose Adam. I try to pass people to get up to him, but I eventually realize there’s no way for me to reach him.

I alternate between settling in and doing short, slow sprints to pass people on the edge of the trail. The 4 miles to the first aid station flies by as I follow people for a minute or two, and then proceed to pass them. At the aid station, I hand Nat my base layer long sleeve and his headlamp he let me borrow. I am now wearing a mesch-ish long sleeve, Adam’s mountain biking gloves, and my flashy blue Asics short shorts while carrying a handheld hydrator grip with a plastic water bottle inside.

Things even out, and there are usually clusters of 2-4 people running in a line. I start following this guy in a singlet who looks pretty young. I pass him a mile later, but he stays with me. We find ourselves running together with nobody around. I introduced myself, and he did the same. We started talking, and I found out he was 19, a freshman, and from Virginia Tech. We ran together at least 6 miles before I needed to pee and he kept going.

The course had seemingly equal amounts of double track/dirt road and single track trails. I had been cruising the whole first lap, feeling good. The first half is counterclockwise, while the second is clockwise, so you end up running where you had just run a minute ago. This means you have to pass people who have yet to get to the turnaround. About a mile to go to the halfway point, I see Adam running towards me. I tell him he’s in the top ten, and he says he was 8th, which was incredible! I came to the turn around point, refilled my bottle with water, and set off for the second half. At this point, I was constantly passing people going the other way to my left.

I started getting worried due to the increasing pain in my legs. It was a foreboding realization that I still had 16.5 miles to go, obliged to run with this soreness. Every mile came with more pain and soreness to my quads, feet, calves, and hamstrings. Soon, it became almost unbearable. The searing pain of my legs told my brain I needed to stop. They yelled at me, begging to walk. But you can’t. You can’t let them control you. You have to keep going. You have to keep moving your legs forward.

At around mile 22, I jump into the woods, and do a wall sit against a tree, hidden from the trail by a tree with dark leaves. I pooped, wiped with large, wet oak leaves, released my yellow urine, and started back on the trails. It was hard to get going after not running for so long, but I had to.

The next miles were inseparable besides the change in scenery. Every mile included the same, the throbbing of my head, the pain in my entire legs, the desire to walk (which I quenched on uphills and sometimes to drink water), and the persistence of the insane part of my mind to continue running. I had a couple miles of partial relief in which it was mostly gradual downhill single track among fallen amber-colored leaves. I picked up my pace noticeably, allowing my body to push itself more. I continued to tell myself, “Not too far to the aid station.” However, the trail seemed to always extend itself farther and farther. When I reached the last aid station before the finish, I refilled my bottle with water, ate some snacks, and told Nat, “This is insane.” Then I ran off, eager to finish the last 4 miles.

This last 4 seemed to be as long as the previous 29. I looked forward to every uphill since it was an excuse to walk. However, it was always temporary and false relief, for I knew I always had to start running at some point. At this point, I could care less about my time or place. I only longed to finish. To stop the pain in my legs. To succeed. After what seemed like hours on the last part, I reached the road. The last 3/4 of the race was on paved roads, with a fairly steep downhill to the finish. I began to sprint. The past pain of my legs didn’t matter. My desire to walk had vanished. Now I wanted to run fast. I wanted to run my ass off to the finish, knowing I was so close. Finally, I can see the finish. I can see people cheering the racers on. They galvanize us to run even faster. They in turn cheer louder from seeing people run so fast after running 33 miles beforehand.

I pass the line at 4:36, receive a hand shake from the race director, and am asked size shirt I want. A man hands me a long sleeve, blue, synthetic Patagonia shirt that is proof I have finished my race. There is other proof, of course. Like the fact I can hardly walk. I grab some Reese’s cups, Zebra cakes, and water to refuel after the arduous experience. I find Adam delusional, tearing from one eye, having difficulty forming words, and wearing a top ten finishers jacket.

Adam ran it in 4:09, placing 9th. I ran 4:36, placing 33rd. Emma ran 5:21, placing 102nd. Annie, another from JMU, ran it in 5:14, placing 92nd. We all had such an incredible time and did so well.

Overall, the experience was phenomenal. It was the toughest thing I ever had to do, but that made it all the more invigorating and empowering. It has also renewed my previously possessed passion for running. Now I plan on doing more races and harder training.

Next race: Ukrop’s Monument Avenue 10k - March 31