|At the start line - just before sunrise|
June 21. Summer solstice. Sunrise in central Ohio is at 5:58AM. Two minutes later race director Ryan O’Dell sent the runners of the Mohican 50 on their way. Fog was hanging over the steep slopes of the Clear Fork Gorge, the air was still and moist, and light drizzle emanated from the low hanging clouds.
|First hill after the start - ascending in morning mist|
I didn’t quite know what to expect. Exactly 23 months ago, on July 21, 2012, I had run my first-ever foot race in the same place. It was called Dirty Mo and was about 19 kilometers long. Yesterday I was back to cover a distance more than four times that. A distance 70% longer than the longest I had ever moved on foot in one continuous effort. I had no idea if I would be able to do it, which was also precisely what attracted me to attempt it in the first place: failure was not just possible, it was probable.
|Running through a creek bed|
I had looked up the finishing times of the slower runners of last year’s event. The last person who successfully completed the race did so after 19 hours and 10 minutes. Many others had dropped out. That meant I had to be prepared to be on the trail until well past midnight. So I placed a headlight into a drop bag at an aid station that was 60km into the race, hoping to reach it before it got dark. Sunset was going to be at 9:03PM. To be safe, I also put a small flashlight in my backpack; just in case that I might need it sooner.
The course was challenging, either ascending or descending up and down the Clear Fork Gorge. It was also beautiful: along the ridges, pine forests alternated with stands of red and black oaks, as well as maple. Down in the gorge there were areas of sycamore, willow, and buckeye trees. The ground was often covered by a variety of fern. Most of the trail was single track. Some sections led by waterfalls, through and along creek beds. Coming out of the Lyon Falls area, runners even had to climb up a steep root ladder.
The race consisted of two loops. I had determined to take the first loop slowly to conserve the energy that I knew I would need at the end if I stood any chance of finishing at all. I rigorously stuck to that plan and I reached the end of the first loop after 8 hours. Knowing that the second loop was going to be a lot more difficult now that my legs were tired, blisters were forming, and I had already travelled for almost 50km – my longest previous effort – I hoped that I would only slow down slightly and, if all went well, I might stand a chance of finishing within 18 hours, i.e. before midnight.
The variety of the trail continued to be a welcome diversion from the physical effort involved over the course of such a long, long day. The 50km mark came and went and I kept going strong. In fact, I noticed that I started to pass several other runners who had slowed down, and no one had come from behind to do the same to me. And so it came that at 5:30PM, I reached the aid station where I had placed my headlamp, much sooner than I had dared to think was possible. I diligently put the light in my pack and pushed on.
The following climb up to the rim is the steepest and longest of the entire race and took a lot out of me. I had been moving for 12 ½ hours and covered 65km. But when I reached the flatter section at the top and the ground was covered in soft pine needles, I continued to pick up pace again and run. I reached the last aid station at 7:30PM. For the first time in the race I felt unable to eat anything. I tried a turkey sandwich and a few other things but everything tasted awful. “You can do 10k without fuel,” I told myself and kept going. Much of that last section is downhill. However, the lack of food caused a sharp drop in my energy level and turned it into the hardest part of the race.
As the finish line drew nearer and neared I picked up the pace again and passed several 100-mile racers who were also finishing their second loop. I saw the envy in their eyes when they noticed that I was almost done and they were just reaching their halfway point. They were now 16 hours into the race (the 100 milers had started at 5AM.) I wished them well but worried for them whether they were going to be able to complete their race before the 32-hour cut-off on Sunday. One of them had completed the 100-mile race 18 times before and was going for his 19th completion. I assumed he knew what he was doing.
Shortly thereafter I took my last turn and made a final dash towards the finish line. I reached it at 9:05PM, 15 hours and 5 minutes after the start, and two minutes after the sun had officially set. I completed my first 50-miler, and I never took out my headlight. J