The final chapter in my spring quadfecta: a 50K ultramarathon. At the shortest common length, 50K is the baby of the ultramarathon scene. It’s still more than enough kilometres for this runner. I think twice about driving that distance. I feel accomplished when I log 50K on my mountain bike. Last year I got this kooky notion to run 50k thinking it would benefit my marathon running. This year I persuaded six other members of my run club to take on the ultrarunning challenge. Husband has a sticker that says “there’s no such thing as ultrajogging“.
So an ultramarathon starter distance and, in this case, on a great starter course. Great assuming no blazing sun. The meterologists were, for once, accurate and the day started out mosquito infested, overcast, and muggy. Not a sunbeam to be found. Soon enough the Torrential Downpours drove the biting bugs into hiding and relieved the humidity. I’m not complaining about the monsoon, I’ll always take buckets of water dumping on my head over sunny and hot. During a race, that is. A drencher doesn’t seem to slow me down, in fact stomping though puddles brings the carefree-kid joy back into my running. I was surprised, however, that a mammoth tourist destination such as Niagara Falls has no means of channeling water from pedestrian pathways. We ran through puddles higher than our shoes (there was no avoiding them, so after about 10 minutes one discovered the wisest course of action was to blast straight through). Seems the city planners were strangely averse to drainage systems. I thought I was dressed for the 20mm of expected water fall, but in their soaked state my already itty bitty shorts – which stupidly were not water tested - had this habit of creeping up such that I was showing much more leg than anticipated and were it not for the stickly “shape” of my gams I surely would have suffered terribly from inner thigh abrasions. A friend solved his nipple chafing problem by pulling up his heart rate monitor and fashioning it as a manly bra. He was clever; I saw a lot of bloody nipple stains and more than a few people begging for Vaseline at the aid stations. A wet weather runner, I fared well and have just one wee blister to show for my water-logged efforts.
One thing I especially like about ultramarathons (I speak as though I am oh so experienced – but I’ve read this is true of most) is the aid stations. People hang out a little and eat and chat. It’s awesome. No rushing through, not even wanting to slow for a split second to properly grab the cup, gatorade flinging in all directions. I’m looking at you, marathon. It’s calm and civilized. In this particular race the volunteers were enthusiastic, the food varied and plentiful (although I avoided all but the watermelon and oranges), and the spacing about perfect (every 5k).
This course is particularly lovely. The entire route follows the Niagara River Recreation Trail. As you run from Niagara-on-the Lake to Niagara Falls and back again you are in continuous view of the water. The trail winds past vineyards, historic towns, mansions of the rich and possibly famous, monuments, raging rapids, and gushing falls. Unfortunately today the falls were obscured by an eerie fog. As was the head of Sir Isaac Brock. Some people loathe out and back routes. I am partial to them. The run always seems faster on the return portion and I notice cool stuff that I missed the first time around. I also like passing by the other runners as some are running out and some back. It’s fun to marvel at the speedy winners as they zip by. I enjoy how friendly everyone is, even the lead runners – as we passed each other by the air echoed with ‘way to go’, ‘lookin’ good’, and ‘well dones’. The atmosphere is incredibly supportive. Congratulations abound from fellow runners, as you pass someone you are likely to hear a heartfelt bravo. The race organizers and volunteers seemed entirely focused on making sure people have a positive race experience. As I crossed the finish line a race official came up to me to ask if I had fun (to which he dryly added, I mean did you have fun at least for the first 45K, acknowledging that it is hard to have fun during the total slog that can be the final miles) and he seemed sincerely interested in my response.
I did have a fun run, for the first 46K. The last 4k, I won’t sugarcoat, were tough. Not unfun, not gruelling, but tough. My legs suddenly weighed 125 pounds each and my brain had to will them to move. I didn’t mess up on pacing and flame-out (in fact ran a 15 min negative split), but I did not take in enough fuel and I think I was totally depleted. Two gels, half a bag of sport beans, four orange slices, one watermelon slice, and minimal water … definitely inadequate. I didn’t pee once between 7:30 am and 3pm, enough said. Rookie mistake, letting poor nutrition ambush me in the backstretch.
Still I can be stubborn and my bag is filled with mental tricks, so I pulled out my favourite dissociative technique and soldiered on. Husband, who couldn’t run due to his exploded appendix, served as my race support and helpfully updated me as I the neared end that there was only 700m to go. Little did he know, I was compulsively counting alligators (one alligator, two alligators, three alligators …) with the rule that I was not allowed to look at the distance remaining until I reached 250 alligators, at which point I hoped to be within half a kilometre of the finish. To his helpfulness I responded with a ‘please stop talking’, except maybe I forgot the please. And maybe it was more of a grumble than a response. Sorry Husband. At the finish line, once I consumed (almost without chewing) two slices of pizza, two doughnuts, an apple, six orange slices, a peppermint patty chocolate, a bag of mixed chips, and a cookie I was considerably politer. Entry also came with two beer tickets, but the thought of beer kind of made me want to throw-up so I passed. Another thing I love about this race? The post-race feast.
And, because I love race swag, the race hoodie (yes, a hoodie!) is worth a special mention. This year the sweatshirt is dark green with the logo on the chest pocket and Niagara Ultra 09 scrolled down the sleeve. Awesome. I was disappointed that they gave out real medals instead of the engraved keychains, because I adored the engraved keychains. The 21.1K runners received the coveted keychain, but the 42.2k and 50K runners shared a medal. They are fine medals, nothing special, but they are certainly not as cool as that keychain. Bring back the keychain! I was also disappointed that only the first place finishers were awarded a prize, just because I seldom place in a prize-worthy position. But that’s not a complaint of the race, just me looking to feed my ego with a trophy.
Title Reference: Supertramp – It’s Raining Again. From the album Famous Last Words. 1982.
