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Holcomb Valley Trail Runs - RunUltra Marathon


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Big Bear Lake, California
United States
Total Time = 5h 10m
Overall Rank = /
Age Group =
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Pre-race routine:

Race Report:
I like the analogy of racing at a mile-and-a-half above sea level being like trying to suck air through a straw, at least for someone like me that lives at about 50 feet above sea level and does all my training here. Hold that thought, it is the theme of my first DNF at the Holcomb Valley 33-mile Trail Run in Big Bear, California in the San Bernardino Mountains east of LA.

Brief history: 6 years racing triathlons, including 5 IM's and numerous half IM's, and several back-to-back weekends/days of racing. 1 trail 1/2 mary, 1 trail full mary with 6.5K feet of climbing and a 50K ultra with about that same amount of climbing. Training for this 33-miler included a run focus for the past 6 weeks since Wildflower which entailed 4 runs over 15 miles with the longest being 22.5 miles. On paper, I was more than ready...except for the little detail that the start point of the race was at 6,700 feet and the highest point was over 8K feet. I even went up and spent the night in a motel the night before hoping that would help acclimate my body somewhat. I've been snowboarding many times in higher elevations with no problems, but no 6-hour runs with no resting. In the back of my mind, I remembered my Xterra effort in 2006 at about the same elevation where I struggled huge just trying to catch my breath on some of the climbs, so I was a bit concerned this problem might crop up at this race. It did.

The start: Weather was flawless. Sunny, high 40's but felt much warmer in the sun and no wind. I was feeling great, but just 100 yards into the run, even at what I thought was an easy pace, on a slight incline, I was gasping. WTF? Slow down more. I should have considered it an omen when I lead my wave of runners for the first 2 miles. Apparently 10-minutes per mile was too fast at this elevation.

The race: I started walking up most of the even medium-steep inclines as that seemed to be what everyone was doing, and I knew it was going to be a long day. I was actually feeling good as we moved through the first two aid stations. I was making myself drink water often because I knew I was going to dehydrate quicker than normal due to the dry air at this elevation. I wanted to stay on top of nutrition. Sometime around mile 8.5, things started to go south. We had quite a long incline and though I was power-walking, I was breathing pretty hard, and by mile 10, I was experiencing the classic nausea that is the signature of AMS (acute mountain sickness). Everything I took in just sat in my gut like a mobile septic tank. Slosh, slosh, slosh. Nothing would absorb, and I knew I was in trouble. If I couldn't take in calories and drinks, I was in for a slow, painful downhill slide into proverbial ultramarathon hell.

There's a point in this race where you hit the aid station at mile 11.5 and you can take the turn for home at 15 miles (there is a 15-mile race in conjunction with the 33-miler). I got there, but was convinced if I just backed down my slow jog to a walk, eventually my stomach issues would disappear and I'd start absorbing the toxic brew that was swishing around in my gutbag. I hit the next aid station at mile 14.5 and seriously doubted that I could continue for another 18.5 miles like this, but I was determined not to give up. I stopped at that aid station and had another drink of Coke and Gatorade. More ingredients for my belly stew that just wouldn't go down. I continued my walk, which was slowly decaying into a shuffle, causing me to trip over rocks and get lightheaded from time to time. I had to poop, but had no TP and didn't think clearly enough to find some leaves (probably would have grabbed poison oak with my luck) and was losing focus on the race and gaining focus on simply making it to the next aid station without puking or passing out.

Lots of thoughts went through my mind. I'd go 20 minutes at a time without seeing anyone. I thought about what I'd do if I encountered a bear. I thought about sticking my finger down my throat to empty my stomach and sort of "start over" on the fueling, but just couldn't bring myself to do it (I know...HTFU, right?) I thought about the very real possibility that I wasn't going to continue in this race. As fate would have it, this was the longest stretch on the course without an aid station, but I couldn't remember when it was coming, so I would ask people as they passed me, but no one seemed to have a definitive answer. I kept thinking I heard people and that aid was near, but the trail would turn away from the sound and keep on going and going. Most racers, seeing my stagger, would ask if I was okay and offer me everything from gels, to drink to ginger root for the nausea, but by that point, had resigned myself to calling it a day when I reached the next aid station.

I walked basically from mile 10 all the way to mile 20.8, probably a solid 2-hour walk at an 18-minute mile pace, hoping the nausea would fade and I could start taking in calories again, but it never did, and once at that aid station, I knew the next 3 miles were a steep climb, and with 12 miles left, I just couldn't see that it was worth it to suffer for another 3 hours and feeling myself on the verge of bonking and dehydrating due to being unable to take in any fuel, the distant possibility of passing out in the middle of nowhere loomed. After all, this was a hobby, right? Plus, I had some great races this spring including an ultra, an IM, 2 halfs and and Oly. I should be satisfied with that, shouldn't I? I had a drink of Coke and one of Gatorade, and told the timer I was calling it a day.

Lucky for me, a great guy named Larry who had dropped out of the race after 15 miles was there to cheer on his wife who was coming through that aid station at the same time as me, so he gave me a ride back to my truck, 12 miles away.

As I expected, now that I had stopped moving, my stomach was feeling better by the minute, and once back to my truck, I was able to at least drink, though my appetite wasn't all there. I managed to down an energy bar, but that was after laying down for 15 minutes in the back of my truck first.

I wasn't surprised to learn ultra legends Jorge Pacheco and Michelle Barton finished 1 and 2 and they were there changed and relaxing at the finish.

I had a 2 1/2 hour ride home, and strangely, I didn't feel all that bad about dropping out. Sure I was feeling better now, but at the time, given my situation, I knew it was the right thing to do for me, and being my first DNF, it's simply fuel for future redemption. I don't really have the opportunity to train at elevation, so maybe next year, I'll train with a snorkel so I can't get as much air;? My hat is off to all those that finished. They have better lungs than me.
Run
  • 5h 10m
  • 21 miles
  • 14m 46s  min/mile
Post race



Last updated: 2010-06-20 12:00 AM
Running
05:10:00 | 21 miles | 14m 46s  min/mile
Age Group: 0/
Overall: 0/
Performance:
Course:
Keeping cool Drinking
Post race
Weight change: %
Overall:
Mental exertion [1-5]
Physical exertion [1-5]
Good race?
Evaluation
Course challenge
Organized?
Events on-time?
Lots of volunteers?
Plenty of drinks?
Post race activities:
Race evaluation [1-5]

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2010-06-20 11:42 PM

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San Clemente, California
Subject: Holcomb Valley Trail Runs
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