Post by colonel on Apr 28, 2008 11:27:01 GMT -5
Interviewer: What's your prediction for the fight?
Clubber Lang: My prediction?
Interviewer: Yes, your prediction.
[Clubber looks into camera]
Clubber Lang: Pain!
OK, so this exchange was from Rocky III and this weekend was only Sweetwater II, but it accurately describes what I was predicting for the race. And the race lived up to my prediction, but not in the way I envisioned.
Three weeks ago I developed a severe pain in my right leg about three inches above my ankle. At first I thought it was just a bad case of shin splints, but then I became worried it was a stress fracture. A visit to the doctor, and an x-ray, ruled out a fracture. The doc's diagnosis was an infection in the muscle which apparently made its way in through scratches obtained while trail running. I still think he was wrong ... my only infection is that the need to run trails has infected my soul! Anyway, he gave me a two week supply of antibiotics, which I took as instructed. I also decided to take some time off of running and rest the leg. That amount of time also ended up being two weeks. I tried coming back after a week but it hurt too much to run. Strangely, towards the end of the two weeks, the pain went away almost overnight. It hurt one day and felt great the next, although it remained swollen. I don't know if it was the antibiotics or if it was the rest, but I was able to start running again the weekend before the 50K.
So, with one week of pain-free running under my belt I decided I could go ahead and attempt the race. My concern was that the leg would start hurting again since it was still swollen. I expected to finish the race at a slow, hobbling, pain-filled pace. That expectation did come true but not due to my swollen leg. The chin felt great all day. It was my hamstrings and my stomach that hurt!
This year the race director decided to start the half marathoners and the 50K'ers at the same time. This led to some congestion in the beginning, but for me, the problem it caused was an irresistible need to run too fast. I even had a discussion about this with Sally and some of the other 50K'ers as we were heading down the paved road in the first mile (that pavement may have also contributed to the fast pace). We all looked at each other and said, "This is too fast. We need to slow down." The smart ones did. I'm not smart.
Heck, I had been resting for two weeks. I felt great! Of course, that feeling was short lived. It didn't take long for my hamstrings to start burning a little. Then my knees felt a little funny. Then I started getting a pain in my hip. I guess 48 is too old to take two weeks off and expect everything to work right.
This year the climb to the Top of The World seemed extra difficult. There is no shade. And it was hot. And sunny. And humid. At the bottom of the first hill lay the rusted chassis of a pickup truck. As you looked up the hill you could see the remains of the truck bed, cab and hood. Remember the old horror movies where they had peoples' heads stuck on poles as a warning not to enter the castle, etc? That's what I thought of when I saw this totally shattered truck. It was as if the mountain was giving us a warning to stay away. I wish I had listened.
Actually, my first climb to the TOTW went well. At least I made it up there in one piece (a runner ahead of me lost control on one of the downhills, twisted his ankle real bad and had to withdraw). I was feeling pretty good, still battling those aforementioned aches and pains, but I didn't feel that tired. At this point I think I was in about fifth place and feeling pretty strong. It didn't take long, however, for that to change. The sun started wearing on me and that initial fast pace came back to roost. By the time I crossed the bridge that led to the long uphill on the other side of the creek, my legs were starting to feel like lead weights. This section is a loop that goes up a long hill and then comes back down to the bridge. Then you turned right and ran up another long hill that looped around the first hill to a point where you had to climb a poison ivy and rock covered mountain that sapped the last of my remaining strength. This is where I really started getting worried. When I reached the top I was feeling a pretty strong urge to urinate, but when I did, hardly anything came out, the stream was a very dark color and it hurt like heck. This had me worried about dehydration, but I didn't understand how that could happen as I felt I was drinking plenty of fluids. Not enough I guess.
Anyway, I decided I needed to slow down some. Or should I say that my brain finally bought into the program the rest of my body had been using for the last couple of miles! And by the way, congratulations, you're at the halfway point, only 15 more miles, and another trip to the TOTW to go! Thankfully, the creek crossing at this point helped a little. But only a little ....
I don't know if these links will work but...
Here am I contemplating the crossing and hooking my bottle over my wrist so that I can use both hands: www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285894762_ePM9g
In the beginning the water is not too deep: www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285894053_LHZV9
Then I slip and .... aaaahhhhh!!! That feels good!!! : www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285896041_HB4nw
Current gets stronger and water gets deeper ... better use two hands: www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285894595_PuPpQ
Finally! I'm out! : www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285893945_KeSjo
At this point last year the course went to a wooden walkway and you had the help of stairs to get up the side of the creek bank. This year I guess they decided the course wasn't tough enough, so they made you climb up a short steep hill that required the use of a rope to help pull yourself up. Add to that the fact that the path along the creek was very rocky, rooty, and just plain ol' technical, and it didn't take long for me to officially be declared "toast". Several folks passed me over the next couple of miles, one of whom was Sally, who seemed to take pleasure in reminding me that I started too fast.
Then came the second trip up TOTW. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. This time, in addition to the truck carcass, I see the rusted remains of an old Jeep in the creek at the bottom of one of the hills. It looked like it had been there awhile. The round headlights were missing and it was completely rusted. It looked like a skull grinning at me. This mountain was definitely trying to tell me something. I started to have doubts as to whether I could even make the climb. I had to stop several times, catch my breath, and beg my legs to keep moving. I also stopped a couple of times and started dry heaving. The retching serving no other purpose than to send waves of pain through my stomach. Nothing would come out even though I was drinking more and had eaten several Moon Pies by this point. All I could do was to keep moving, slowly, and pray that either the pain would go away or death would come soon.
When I finally made it to the TOTW the volunteers at the aid station were fantastic. I hung out with them for a few minutes and they let me have a gallon jug of cold water to pour over my head. As I was leaving one of them said, "Don't worry you're almost done." My warm feelings for these kind people suddenly did a 180. If I had the energy I would have gone back and explained to that pretty young volunteer that I still had at least five miles to go and that is a heck of a long way when you are at death's door!
As soon as I was out of sight of the aid station I stopped again to go to the bathroom. Again, hardly anything came out and it was very dark. Not good. I lumbered down off of the mountain and started my shuffle along the creek, which thankfully, was a fairly shaded part of the course. I stumbled into the aid station at the 27 mile mark and took some time to eat some orange slices and pretzels. Again, a volunteer tells me that I am "almost there". I croak out, "No I'm not" and shuffle off.
Even though I am only four miles from the finish I actually started worrying about whether I would finish. My legs were starting to cramp, I felt nauseous, and just wanted it to be over. When I made it to the last aid station I still had a little water in my bottle from the station at Mile 27, so I decided to keep moving. One of the girls told me I only had a mile to go. She must be related to David Horton because that was one heckuva long mile! At this point I knew that I had two people not too far behind me. I was also starting to wonder if I might be in about 11th or 12th place. So I asked the folks at the aid station to cheer really loud when the people behind me got there so I would know how much of a lead I had. I knew I was going to have to walk some more, even though it was the last mile, and I wanted to know how much time I had to play with. I never heard them cheer. And it's a good thing too, because I was struggling. Several times the trail veered away from the creek, but that meant a climb of four to six feet up the bank. That doesn't sound like much, but at the time I had to stop and look at the bank, give myself a pep talk, and then grab a sapling to pull myself up. It took me 19 minutes to go the last "mile". I finally made it out onto the main road that I knew was only a quarter of a mile from the finish. Did I muster a last valiant kick to the end? Heck no. I kept walking. I would look over my shoulder to see if anybody was coming, but since they weren't, I figured "what's the hurry? I'll get there eventually." Of course Sally and a few other folks at the finish line taunted me into running the last 30 yards, but left to my own, I would have walked that too. I crossed the line at 5:40:26, 10th overall, and throughly whooped.
BTW - I was 10th in the "official results, but they screwed up Jon Obst and this messed up the results in my mind. Jon was in second at the time and a volunteer sent him the wrong way at one of the forks (how you send the first guy the right way and the second guy the wrong way, I'll never know!) When they realized their error they sent him back a different way to "make up the distance". No telling how far he ended up going. They ended up listing him in 16th place but I figure he would have been at least second, heck he might have won the thing!, so I figure I really came in 11th.
I'm fairly disappointed in my total collapse in the race (both mentally and physically) but I still had fun! And I learned a couple of valuable lessons. Lesson One: When Sally says "slow down", you should listen and do what she says. Lesson Two, repeat lesson one.
Clubber Lang: My prediction?
Interviewer: Yes, your prediction.
[Clubber looks into camera]
Clubber Lang: Pain!
OK, so this exchange was from Rocky III and this weekend was only Sweetwater II, but it accurately describes what I was predicting for the race. And the race lived up to my prediction, but not in the way I envisioned.
Three weeks ago I developed a severe pain in my right leg about three inches above my ankle. At first I thought it was just a bad case of shin splints, but then I became worried it was a stress fracture. A visit to the doctor, and an x-ray, ruled out a fracture. The doc's diagnosis was an infection in the muscle which apparently made its way in through scratches obtained while trail running. I still think he was wrong ... my only infection is that the need to run trails has infected my soul! Anyway, he gave me a two week supply of antibiotics, which I took as instructed. I also decided to take some time off of running and rest the leg. That amount of time also ended up being two weeks. I tried coming back after a week but it hurt too much to run. Strangely, towards the end of the two weeks, the pain went away almost overnight. It hurt one day and felt great the next, although it remained swollen. I don't know if it was the antibiotics or if it was the rest, but I was able to start running again the weekend before the 50K.
So, with one week of pain-free running under my belt I decided I could go ahead and attempt the race. My concern was that the leg would start hurting again since it was still swollen. I expected to finish the race at a slow, hobbling, pain-filled pace. That expectation did come true but not due to my swollen leg. The chin felt great all day. It was my hamstrings and my stomach that hurt!
This year the race director decided to start the half marathoners and the 50K'ers at the same time. This led to some congestion in the beginning, but for me, the problem it caused was an irresistible need to run too fast. I even had a discussion about this with Sally and some of the other 50K'ers as we were heading down the paved road in the first mile (that pavement may have also contributed to the fast pace). We all looked at each other and said, "This is too fast. We need to slow down." The smart ones did. I'm not smart.
Heck, I had been resting for two weeks. I felt great! Of course, that feeling was short lived. It didn't take long for my hamstrings to start burning a little. Then my knees felt a little funny. Then I started getting a pain in my hip. I guess 48 is too old to take two weeks off and expect everything to work right.
This year the climb to the Top of The World seemed extra difficult. There is no shade. And it was hot. And sunny. And humid. At the bottom of the first hill lay the rusted chassis of a pickup truck. As you looked up the hill you could see the remains of the truck bed, cab and hood. Remember the old horror movies where they had peoples' heads stuck on poles as a warning not to enter the castle, etc? That's what I thought of when I saw this totally shattered truck. It was as if the mountain was giving us a warning to stay away. I wish I had listened.
Actually, my first climb to the TOTW went well. At least I made it up there in one piece (a runner ahead of me lost control on one of the downhills, twisted his ankle real bad and had to withdraw). I was feeling pretty good, still battling those aforementioned aches and pains, but I didn't feel that tired. At this point I think I was in about fifth place and feeling pretty strong. It didn't take long, however, for that to change. The sun started wearing on me and that initial fast pace came back to roost. By the time I crossed the bridge that led to the long uphill on the other side of the creek, my legs were starting to feel like lead weights. This section is a loop that goes up a long hill and then comes back down to the bridge. Then you turned right and ran up another long hill that looped around the first hill to a point where you had to climb a poison ivy and rock covered mountain that sapped the last of my remaining strength. This is where I really started getting worried. When I reached the top I was feeling a pretty strong urge to urinate, but when I did, hardly anything came out, the stream was a very dark color and it hurt like heck. This had me worried about dehydration, but I didn't understand how that could happen as I felt I was drinking plenty of fluids. Not enough I guess.
Anyway, I decided I needed to slow down some. Or should I say that my brain finally bought into the program the rest of my body had been using for the last couple of miles! And by the way, congratulations, you're at the halfway point, only 15 more miles, and another trip to the TOTW to go! Thankfully, the creek crossing at this point helped a little. But only a little ....
I don't know if these links will work but...
Here am I contemplating the crossing and hooking my bottle over my wrist so that I can use both hands: www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285894762_ePM9g
In the beginning the water is not too deep: www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285894053_LHZV9
Then I slip and .... aaaahhhhh!!! That feels good!!! : www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285896041_HB4nw
Current gets stronger and water gets deeper ... better use two hands: www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285894595_PuPpQ
Finally! I'm out! : www.angelprince.smugmug.com/gallery/4797181_VK978#285893945_KeSjo
At this point last year the course went to a wooden walkway and you had the help of stairs to get up the side of the creek bank. This year I guess they decided the course wasn't tough enough, so they made you climb up a short steep hill that required the use of a rope to help pull yourself up. Add to that the fact that the path along the creek was very rocky, rooty, and just plain ol' technical, and it didn't take long for me to officially be declared "toast". Several folks passed me over the next couple of miles, one of whom was Sally, who seemed to take pleasure in reminding me that I started too fast.
Then came the second trip up TOTW. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. This time, in addition to the truck carcass, I see the rusted remains of an old Jeep in the creek at the bottom of one of the hills. It looked like it had been there awhile. The round headlights were missing and it was completely rusted. It looked like a skull grinning at me. This mountain was definitely trying to tell me something. I started to have doubts as to whether I could even make the climb. I had to stop several times, catch my breath, and beg my legs to keep moving. I also stopped a couple of times and started dry heaving. The retching serving no other purpose than to send waves of pain through my stomach. Nothing would come out even though I was drinking more and had eaten several Moon Pies by this point. All I could do was to keep moving, slowly, and pray that either the pain would go away or death would come soon.
When I finally made it to the TOTW the volunteers at the aid station were fantastic. I hung out with them for a few minutes and they let me have a gallon jug of cold water to pour over my head. As I was leaving one of them said, "Don't worry you're almost done." My warm feelings for these kind people suddenly did a 180. If I had the energy I would have gone back and explained to that pretty young volunteer that I still had at least five miles to go and that is a heck of a long way when you are at death's door!
As soon as I was out of sight of the aid station I stopped again to go to the bathroom. Again, hardly anything came out and it was very dark. Not good. I lumbered down off of the mountain and started my shuffle along the creek, which thankfully, was a fairly shaded part of the course. I stumbled into the aid station at the 27 mile mark and took some time to eat some orange slices and pretzels. Again, a volunteer tells me that I am "almost there". I croak out, "No I'm not" and shuffle off.
Even though I am only four miles from the finish I actually started worrying about whether I would finish. My legs were starting to cramp, I felt nauseous, and just wanted it to be over. When I made it to the last aid station I still had a little water in my bottle from the station at Mile 27, so I decided to keep moving. One of the girls told me I only had a mile to go. She must be related to David Horton because that was one heckuva long mile! At this point I knew that I had two people not too far behind me. I was also starting to wonder if I might be in about 11th or 12th place. So I asked the folks at the aid station to cheer really loud when the people behind me got there so I would know how much of a lead I had. I knew I was going to have to walk some more, even though it was the last mile, and I wanted to know how much time I had to play with. I never heard them cheer. And it's a good thing too, because I was struggling. Several times the trail veered away from the creek, but that meant a climb of four to six feet up the bank. That doesn't sound like much, but at the time I had to stop and look at the bank, give myself a pep talk, and then grab a sapling to pull myself up. It took me 19 minutes to go the last "mile". I finally made it out onto the main road that I knew was only a quarter of a mile from the finish. Did I muster a last valiant kick to the end? Heck no. I kept walking. I would look over my shoulder to see if anybody was coming, but since they weren't, I figured "what's the hurry? I'll get there eventually." Of course Sally and a few other folks at the finish line taunted me into running the last 30 yards, but left to my own, I would have walked that too. I crossed the line at 5:40:26, 10th overall, and throughly whooped.
BTW - I was 10th in the "official results, but they screwed up Jon Obst and this messed up the results in my mind. Jon was in second at the time and a volunteer sent him the wrong way at one of the forks (how you send the first guy the right way and the second guy the wrong way, I'll never know!) When they realized their error they sent him back a different way to "make up the distance". No telling how far he ended up going. They ended up listing him in 16th place but I figure he would have been at least second, heck he might have won the thing!, so I figure I really came in 11th.
I'm fairly disappointed in my total collapse in the race (both mentally and physically) but I still had fun! And I learned a couple of valuable lessons. Lesson One: When Sally says "slow down", you should listen and do what she says. Lesson Two, repeat lesson one.