The basics: 56 miles done over 21.5 hours during the inaugural 24-hour race at the Goosebumps Run. Since I had done a total of 45 miles in the 6-hour runs the two previous years, my 56 this year earned me a 100-mile sweatshirt and patch. This race is the baby of a ultra-runner and lupus patient, and is his way of staying connected to the ultra community while helping others who have been affected by lupus.

More details (aka TL;DR):

This race is unique in many ways. The RD was an ultra runner who went from running 100-milers to some days needing a cane or suffering intense tremors and “electrical shocks” and many other symptoms as a result of lupus, which is a systemic autoimmune disease.

He can no longer run, but loves being in the presence of runners, and he wants to create an event that everyone can be a part of. It has gone from a couple dozen runners in the first run 4 years ago to hitting the 200-runner cap he set for this year. This was first year they added a 24-hour option to go with the 6-hour.

The race is on cross-country ski trails through a park located on an island in the backwaters of the Mississippi River so it is flat, but the footing isn’t necessarily easy. Plenty of roots in places, potholes in grass, mushy wet soil and semi-packed sand make it a challenge, especially at night when the trees shaded the light of the full moon for more than half the route.

I was not really trained for a 24-hour, having been totally off running from mid-December to May 1 due to torn meniscus and resulting knee surgery. I had gotten my weekly mileage over 30 mpw the last three weeks, but no single runs more than 14 miles, and not even any real walk training.

I was with a huge group of friends and running partners, which made the day that much more fun. We had 10 runners doing the 24-hour (and invited another guy who was by himself to join our gang), with another half-dozen joining in the next day for the six-hour and one volunteer who was out there the whole day/night/day.

Among our group, at least 8 set new distance PRs, some more than doubling their previous longest distances.

I was targeting 55 miles (so I could get the 100-mile patch), but had also promised my husband I wouldn’t hurt myself significantly, so was committed to being cautious and stopping if needed.

When the race started at 2 p.m., I thought I would try to get to 20 miles mostly running before it got dark. I think my first three loops (2.8 miles each) went well - I don’t recall anything dramatic from those. I tried to estimate the distance to a few points in the loop so I could keep track of where I was as the day wore on. Since a Garmin wouldn’t last 24 hours, I didn’t even both with one, instead just wearing a Timex with a 30-lap capability.

Loop 4 started getting tougher, and by the time I got into loop 5, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to run 20 miles before transitioning to walking. My legs were just getting tired, with some pain in my heel from PF. I did switch shoes around Lap 4 from Brooks Ghost with too many miles on them to my newer, more cushy Asics Cumulus, which helped. Lap 5 meant 14+ miles of mostly running, which matched the most I had done at one time since before my knee surgery (actually since this event last year), so I decided that was enough running.

With loop 6, I started my night of walking. That meant being able to actually look around a little more, rather than just staring at the ground to be on the lookout for foot-snagging roots and holes.

Halfway around Loop 7 the back of my right knee (surgery knee) tightened up and made it so I couldn’t completely straighten my leg. As I got close to the aid station, I ran into the RD who said I should find a local ultra-running phenom who was there: a PT student in clinical rotation who just set a 1.5 hour course record at the Superior Trail 100-mile run earlier this month. I hesitantly agreed, and it took him all of 5 minutes to find and massage out the knot in my hamstring that was causing the problem. Back on course.

For the next couple of loops, that spot would still tighten up partway around, but then relax as I stopped at the aid station to grab food, use the portapotty, get things from my bag or stretch a bit.

I think it was either Loop 8 or 9 when I could tell the sun was getting low enough I’d never walk the loop before it was dark. While my running laps were in the 35-minute range, walking was taking me about 50 minutes per loop. So I grabbed my headlamp and set out. We were treated to a stunning golden sunset over the bluffs on the far side of the river.

Just as it was getting seriously dark, one of the guys in my group, who was gunning for 100 miles, came up behind me. He was low on fuel, had eaten pizza that didn’t set well, and for him, the settling darkness was both literal and figurative. We walked and talked through the loop, with me feeling bad that he was moving so slow, but also glad I had a light so we could see and he wouldn’t fall from forging on in the dark. Back at the aid station his wife met him to get more fuel in him and get him started on caffeine. Chicken soup and multiple cups of coffee turned him into the Energizer Bunny the rest of the night, flying around the course. Fun to see! He ended up hitting his 100 miles in under 21 hours (I’m not positive about the time - just know he stopped before I did).

As I was out on Loop 10, the back of my knee wasn’t hurting, but my left hip and heel were getting really sore, I thought I could feel blisters on my toes, and then something new started to hurt on my right knee, and my own spirits dropped out from under me. I was comparing this race to my 24-hour run in 2012 where I blew all my goals out of the water. This was NOT going the way Equalizer had, at all. So I was about ready to pull the plug, halfway to my goal.

I knew there was still a ton of time left, and maybe I would get back out in the morning, but I resigned myself to taking at least a 2-hour break. It was 10:30 p.m. and I was tired. I found hot chocolate, some other things to eat, a fresh pair of socks and a package of baby wipes and went to work cleaning up my feet, which were covered in grit and grime that was likely to cause blisters. I even leaned back in a chair in our little tent city and closed my eyes for a little while.

When a couple of friends who were still running came into camp for a break, then decided to just walk their next loop, I decided to give one more loop a try. Surprisingly, my break had kicked in a second wind, and I headed back out with them at 11:30 and felt good to go.

They picked up to run again after that lap, but another friend who was walking the whole night happened to be in camp, and she and I would walk the next several laps together, including one where we turned off our headlamps for a section that was on an open gravel road, just to soak up the beauty of the light from the full moon. During one of our breaks, she felt as though she needed to take extra time to stretch and roll, but I was afraid if I waited longer I would start to cramp up, so I headed out on my own.

Walking alone through the dark woods was more peaceful than frightening, especially the loop in which the light slowly started to come up, with mist hanging in a couple of spots, and then pink sunrise reflecting off the water of one lagoon. I stopped to think about how the things I experienced — the sunset, the moon, the sunrise — were part of what make this kind of event so worthwhile.

With daylight I could again see what was in front of my feet, and though my body was tired, my mind felt alert. I did some math in my head, and realized I could comfortably get to 18 laps, of my 20-lap goal, by about 8:30 a.m. My husband would be bringing our 9-year-old son out around 9:30 so that he could run a loop when the 6-hour race started at 10 a.m. and then hang out with me for the day. I debated squeezing in one more loop, but decided I would rather wait and rest, then do my final two laps at 10.

So I ate some of the catered breakfast — maple bacon, egg bake and fantastic potatoes — had a little more coffee, chatted with friends as they came through, then got my son set up for his run when he arrived. I thought I might run at least a half-mile or so with him when his race started, but he was much too fast for that.

I did run about a quarter-mile, then settled back to walk again for a while. About a mile into that loop, I realized two things. 1) Running hadn’t been that bad, and I could probably do a little more of it. 2) It was getting hot very quickly, and I wanted to be done. So I ran the last two miles of that loop and decided to get this over with.

I had promised myself that because I was so undertrained, and I didn’t want recovery to take weeks, I would go only until I reached my goal, and no more. That meant one more lap, and I was going to run it.

I did. The last two miles got really rough, but I still wanted to run it in. I thought about a good friend I had visited earlier in the week and her current battle with cancer, and how she would give anything just to walk 100 yards easily. About Richard who organizes this event for runners, though he no longer is able to run the way he once did. And decided that I was going to run these final miles BECAUSE I CAN. And I have no idea when the day will come that I can’t. It could be tomorrow, for all I know.

I finished my day with 56 miles, about 18 of that running, in roughly 21.5 hours, including the time hanging around the aid station and our camp. I spent the last few hours cheering on friends and other runners who were still out there, eating, drinking, cleaning a layer of grime off my feet, and just enjoying the atmosphere.

I got to watch people who had never run more than a 50k before more than double that distance (and even hit 100 miles in 24 hours or less), some who were only walking turn in 50 miles, and other examples of tenacity and running karma.

Random notes:

Food - Lots of it! I ate PB&J, chicken noodle soup, M&Ms, grapes, gummy bears, hot chocolate, ginger ale, coffee, potato chips, tortilla chips, granola bars, mashed potatoes, and, of course, the breakfast mentioned above.

Wildlife - Lots of frogs, a skunk, a deer, and owls heard in the distance. Plus plenty of rustling grass that indicated something was there, but I couldn’t look long enough to see what.

Clothing changes - Since temps were in the 70s when the race started, I was soaked with sweat by the time the sun was going down, so I did do a fast change of shirt/sports bra after I had dropped down to walking, rather than getting chilled in wet clothes. I added a long-sleeved shirt at some time in the night, then ditched it again when the sun came up. The pro at this, however, was our “adopted” runner who went through about 7 shirts over the course of 24 hours.

Phrase of the night: (From a friend) “I guess I need to take the ice out of my ass before I go walk again.”

24-Hour Post-Race condition report: Very sore and tight calves, some tightness in hamstrings, but no joint pain. One blister on the ball of my foot that seems to be reabsorbing quickly and one on a toe that’s no problem at all. Considering the mileage and my lack of training, I could have been much, much worse.

MTA: While I deal OK with the physical discomfort of the day after, and I am all smiles during the event, my mood the day after is not fit for social settings. Meaning, no people. Definitely not bouncy kids with too much energy (like my own). I have apologized multiple times to DS for the fact that I am such a bitch today and can't put up with any of his BS (though not in those words).

Nice report, and it was smart of you to stop once you had hit your goal since you felt your training wasn't as solid as it might have been!

If anyone wants a glimpse at what this race looks like, check here. A friend of mine is a photographer and volunteers her time to take these photos and provides them to everyone at no cost.

Since I had done a total of 45 miles in the 6-hour runs the two previous years, my 56 this year earned me a 100-mile sweatshirt and patch.

Pics?

Congrats on a really gutsy performance considering the year you've had. Being that this was an inaugural event, can we assume you'll be back next year?

I didn't really train, so I just ran 56...

That's pretty hardcore.

I didn't really train, so I just ran 56...

That's pretty hardcore.

The thing is, I was thinking about like this:

I have 24 hours, and all I need to do is walk one 2.8 mile loop per hour for 20 hours. That's totally doable, right?

Wow. Truly impressive accomplishment, especially knowing you are still not comletely back from surgery. Running or walking, I can't imagine just being upright & moving for that long. And just thinking about going (mostly) continuously through the night like that makes me tired. I have often heard that seeing the sun come up after a long night provides an extra boost of energy and a second wind. Did you feel that?

I did - first it was just a feeling of peace, because the sunrise back in the woods, looking over one of the lagoons with a pink sky above the bluffs in the distance was incredible. Then I could feel myself moving a little more freely - less hunched over, if that makes sense. And while I had thought seeing the 6-hour runners start with their springy pep and fresh legs would make me surly and jealous, that did give me a boost, too. Especially seeing DS running - the timing worked out just right that he and I passed each other as he was finishing a "lollipop" loop and I was starting it. There's nothing like a high-five from your own kid to make you smile and press on.

Outstanding!  Great job on some killer mileage!! 

 

I got to watch people who had never run more than a 50k before more than double that distance (and even hit 100 miles in 24 hours or less), some who were only walking turn in 50 miles, and other examples of tenacity and running karma.

 

I'm contemplating this for next year, jumping from 50k (four of them), straight to a 100 miler.