More Ultra Stories

Just wanted to send you folks my personal account of my race... when I started running two guys took off like crazy.  I let them go and was I guess in third place.  I tried taking it easy for the first hour or so.  I had run and won a 12 hour race on September 22nd and did not want to press to hard to early in this race for fear of over doing it and not having a chance to win.  It was still very early and I didn’t know who my real competition was yet.  At around 10 miles in Andrew McDowell came up from behind and we ran together.  We chatted about a lot of things... both our wives were crewing for us and we discover that we are both Pennsylvania people.  He’s from Downingtown and I’m from Brookhaven.  We are only about a half hour away from each other.  We thought that was odd.  Go all the way to upstate New York and race against someone who lives practically in my backyard.  We both race walked Bopple Hill.  That hill was no joke.  Both of us are good hill runners.  We both got our fill on this course.  We ran together for most of the race.  We passed the second place guy after we came down the backside of Bopple Hill.  

Coming across the 20 mile mark in 2:36 or so I felt I should try and get as many miles under my belt before it got to hot.  I tried dropping Andrew at around 30 miles. He would fall back and then catch up at water stations or would just catch up regardless of what I was doing.  Four hours in, it started to get hot.  Andrew and I got the first place guy after we saw him walking after a water station.  Andrew and I worked together for the next ten miles or so.  We were both feeling the strain of the heat and hills.  Our transitions at the water station were getting faster and our wives were tending to our needs.  We would go from station to station and each time see our wives drive by us leap frogging ahead to help us down the road.

 At around mile 40 I started to cramp up in my left leg.  It forced me to walk more than I planned and Andrew took advantage of that.  He got about a ½ mile lead on me and I tried to play catch-up.  Even when I talked to his wife and my wife both agreed  that I was catching him with about 6 miles to go.  I got sick after some PB and J after one food station and the heat was getting worse.  One girl at a station out by a corn field told me that " if it makes you feel better, you are the 2nd person I’ve seen all day".  I chuckled and pressed on.  I was trying to break 7 hours like I’ve done at the JFK50 but the heat and hills of this course was tough on me even though I felt I was in better shape than last year.  I got to the last part of the grass section before heading up to the gym when it started to rain. I wish that rain fell like two hours before.  It might have helped with the heat.  I came across the line in 7:05 and change.  Andrew beat me by 4+ mins.  Andrew, his wife and family and my wife Denise talk over food after the race to compare notes.  It was a good time, great race and a lot of fun.

From #48 Lisa Schaffer - Hanover, PA.  7th overall, 1st woman, 8:21:43

The morning of the event I was getting my number when I heard the person next to me, Bill Fornoff getting his. I thought this might be a bad sign. I had been popping Advil to relieve the hamstring pain when I found his article on kidney failure and ultra-marathoning.  He assured me it's not a problem and that he was still running.  His wife agreed but her expression said something else.  We all toed the line at sunrise after a stern warning of don't dehydrate and don't quit.

Started out with some guys at a 8:17, way to fast, the next mile 8:30 way to fast. Then hooked up with Kev Saunders and settled into a nice comfortable pace. We then hit Bopple. The commentary written on the other side of the road for a bike event that had used the route, 23% grade and use granny gear was entertaining since I could relate having done many triathlons. Then there was a man walking down Bopple with a Hat shirt on. Cool! My first ultra experience and a total mud fest. I told him I'll see him there next year and chased up the rest of Bopple after Kev.
I'm not too sure where I was most the time but there was a great view from a pull off. We headed down a steep descent and then across a grassy trail. I was hoping that there were no ticks in the grass. It was after that I lost my partner Kev to some stomach issue and he told me to go on without him.

Mile 25 I looked at my watch and saw 4:08 half way home. The next water station made me feel strong with their comments but I was really dreading going alone.  I finally reached Vine Valley and was surprised at the direction the route took, an evil little out and back. I hate retracing steps that's why I chose Can Lake. I met Josh #44 and told him it's almost beer time I need a Guinness. And then, there was my husband cheering me on after waxing my "Z". Just something to do while he waits for his wife to run 50 miles.

I was glad to hear that the person at the next water station found me to be lucid even though her station had zero shade for her. Great support from all waiting re-layers, key. Then came the downpour and lightening, not refreshing. The salt on my skin felt slimy and the sun came back out making it quite steamy.  I was getting near the end then, tired and a little confused, had to ask the pumpkin man if he had seen runners going down this road. He said "Yes, all day long." With that confirmed I headed out.

The next scary part was heading down a road and seeing a big cement roadblock and thinking I've missed an arrow. Just then a relay runner came by so I tried to keep him in view.  I knew that hill back to the start was going to be difficult but I was glad to see it anyway.  Beautiful event!

Last Saturday's run was my first ultra, which could be discovered by looking at my silly splits. I felt great on the first 15-20. I had a nice relaxing run with Josh Irvan and Ed McDowell.  A decent pace with enjoyable conversation.  It was interesting to watch experience and hear of their training regimen first hand.  Cardio-wise I felt great, but my legs started to cramp around 20 miles.

Whoever named Bopple Hill misspelled mountain.  Truly a difficult climb.  I'll likely do the run again next year to challenge that with better prepared legs.

I didn't carry water or food with me, which really hit me hard in the heat between the top of Bopple stop and the stop right before the trail run.  I watched other runners' support vehicles recharge them with nourishment - which most of them offered me some too, but I didn't want to mooch.  The lack of hydration enhanced my cramping - and slowed my next miles.

The run from 25-35 was the toughest mentally.  The heat and leg cramps were at their worst.  The thing that kept me going in the first 20 was my stride, but my hamstrings disallowed much of a stride.

I hit the 35 mark next to Lisa Schaffer and was recharged.  I'd dropped in position quite a bit, but felt stronger as we had a quick discussion about beer.

The heat turned to a downpour around mile 43 for me.  The thought of a refreshing rain was nice, but this was borderline painful.

I pushed as hard as I could the last three miles. My hamstrings restricted stride, but I felt like my grandparent the last ten miles - going uphill both/all ways.  The finish felt great. I was so happy to sit down.

I'm a true rookie and will use this as a learning experience.  I'm a cross country/track coach so most of my training was running with my team, pacing the fast boys on 6-10 mile runs.  Next time I'll get in those distance runs to temper my legs and be ready to run the entire course with a full stride.  As much pain I'm still in today, I'm excited that the pain is making my legs stronger for that next ultra run.  You've got a new addict. Thanks for the opportunity.

Everything came together kind of perfectly. Despite all my anxiety going into this run--worry about lack of training, the predicted record high temps, a "road" verses trail ultra and how much that might beat me up--despite all of that, it all worked out. Rather perfectly. I finished in 11:16:52--what I wished for, but never really believed I could do.

The Beginning.  I walk out of the hotel hoping at least the morning will be cool. No dice. Temps are already in the 60's and it is muggy. But those are the cards. Now it's just a matter of playing them right. The start and finish is at Finger Lakes Community College, a short drive from the hotel. Just a few people there as I park and pick up my race packet. I am fueling up as more people come into the parking lot. I feel very nervous but don't really strike up a conversation with anyone. Lots of people are talking excitedly about the day ahead and all I feel is fear. With about 20 minutes before the start, I grab a blanket out of my car and go to a grassy area to stretch. On my back, I look up at some stars and a crescent moon. As much as I try not to think about the weather and all my other worries, I can't seem to get them out of my head. I finish stretching and go to my car. Do I have an ID? If anything happens? I grab a business card and put it in my shorts.

I'm being such a girl. I'm almost weepy on the start line worrying about everything. Finally, we're off! The run is down the western side of Canandaigua Lake, then up the east side. I tried to think of a way to break down the run so I could trick myself into not thinking it was 50 miles or ALL the way around the lake. I ended up trying to think of it as five ten mile runs.

One to Ten.  Where did everyone go? Despite all the warnings to take it easy, within a half mile of starting, there are only two other runners in view, both ahead of me. We run across the northern edge of the lake, first through the streets of the village, then a little grassy path, then turn south to head down the western side of the lake. I slowly close in in the two guys up ahead. One is early starting the 50K, the other is running the 50 miler too. I keep thinking about what my best friend said. Go slow, and when you think you're going too slow, slow down. It's hard being patient with everyone out ahead. Am I being too conservative with the pace? I come up next to the guy doing the 50 miler and ask "where did everyone go?" He laughs and says maybe we will see them later on. His name is Joe.

The first ten is very nice. Pretty flat with a couple of gentle rollers. Beautiful lake houses. There is one house with a bunch of bronze statues of children at play in the yard. I find myself wondering what it must look like when there is snow. Joe is good company. He's run this race three times so I ask if it is true that the second half is easier than the first as the race site says, but he thinks the second half is harder. The sun is coming up and it is getting warmer but there is a nice breeze off the lake and some pretty good shade. We are running about 13 mm--a little slower than I planned, but this might pay off down the road, so I stay with it. I make sure to have something to drink and eat at the aid stations which are about four to five miles apart. I am carrying a water bottle with a mix of water and gatorade and I sip on that too. We finish the first ten in about 2:18. Four ten mile runs left.

Ten to Twenty.  More gentle rollers along the lake. There is a notorious hill at 15--Bopple Hill--described as a "Monster Up, Medium Down"--600 foot climb over 0.8 miles. At the aid station at the bottom of Bopple, Joe says, "see you after Bopple." I start walking up. There are messages in chalk all the way up--"let the pain begin", RIP, etc. It's a climb, but I just keep walking. The 50K people turn right at the top and the 50 milers turn left. Out in the sun now and really warm but nice gentle rollers again. I thought Joe would catch me at some point but he is nowhere in sight when I turn to look down the road. Lots of signs for grape pie! A few small vineyards. It's tempting to pick it up a bit because it just seems to take forever to get to the aid stations and mile marks. There are mile marks now every five miles so it is hard to get a sense of whether I'm staying on pace. My splits are all screwed up because they marked every mile for the first five or so and from there only every five miles so I just try to remember the milestones. I think I reach 20 in a little over around 4:45.

Twenty to Thirty.  There is a steep downhill with a hairpin turn to an aid station at around mile 22. Still feeling really good energy wise. I ask how everyone is doing and they say there have been some drops. They have ice so I stuff my water bottle with ice and a mix of water and gatorade. Have something salty to eat and head off down a little grassy trail section. I reach 26.2 in exactly six hours. Slower than I'd like but it seems to be paying off as far as how I feel. I pass a guy around this point who is trying to qualify for Western States lottery. We chat for a bit and then I pull ahead. I go back and forth feeling frustrated there aren't markers every mile, to thinking it is probably a good thing. Pretty, quiet roads and running now a bit south of the southern end of the lake.Every now and then a solo runner support crew or relay crew drives past and offers encouragement. Finally a turn north and up the east side of the lake.

Thirty to Forty.  Clouds have moved in and a little after the 30 mile mark there is some thunder and then a down pour. Feels good until the sun comes back out and then it just seems sooooo muggy with no air moving. Oh well. Some pretty good climbs--one 450 feet, another 380. One of the aid stations has popsicles. Yum! I pass a guy who is walking at around mile 35. He says he's walking it in from there and looks at me and says I look like I still have some energy. And I do! Pretty soon there will only be one more ten mile run. I am grateful my body is holding up so well. I wonder if there is some kind of endurance gene in the family tree. I try to think about some specific things--the trip and marathon in Ireland earlier this year--but my mind keeps wandering and I really don't know what I thought about for all that time out there. It is a very pretty course and I do wonder what it would be like to run it in more fallish weather.

Forty to Fifty.  This section is described as rolling to flat, but it seems like one gradual climb after another and I think about what Joe said earlier in the race about the second half being tougher than the first. Every mile is marked from 40 to 50. Ten miles doesn't seem like that much but then I realize it means another two-plus hours out there. I climb to an aid station at mile 42 and say "I'm done with the hills!" They say it's rolling from there, but I gaze down the road and see a downhill and then another climb. I am getting frustrated and try to stop the negative thoughts going through my head. I pull off a couple of 11 mm here--so it must not be as uphill as my frustration is telling me. Open fields on either side of the road. Nice farm country. I start to appreciate my surroundings. Someone from the race comes up and describes the final little tricky turn to get back on the campus and to the finish. I wonder if I'll retain any of these details. Clouds are moving in again and a little front passes through throwing in a good headwind and a light shower just when my shorts were finally dry from the earlier storm. At mile 48 I pass a young man who looks so sad. Poor guy. Nothing I can say to make him feel better--I can tell he's deep inside somewhere-- so I just say "almost there." There sun has started shinning through the clouds in that magical way it can with the beams cutting through-- all heavenly.

It seems like forever, but finally I see the barrier the guy described and then a grassy downhill path onto one of the campus roads. Yes! Almost there.

Of course, there is one final hill to the finish and I am determined to run up. As I head up, people still in the parking lot and at the finish line give some hoots and hollers, beep their horns. I raise my fist in the air and cross the line. A guy at the finish line says "I wish I had a camera, turn around." I turn around and there is a huge rainbow stretching through the sky. Life is amazing like that sometimes.

Final thoughts.  Finish time 11:16:52. I ran a negative split which I am really surprised by since I can hardly ever do it in a marathon. I passed five people between 25 and 50 so I wasn't DFL. I feel like I did everything right given the conditions. I think it helped to run the first 15 with Joe who was running a slower pace than I planned. That might have been key to me feeling as good as I did as long as I did. He must have DNF because I don't see him in the results. It really helped to have new shoes. It was only in the last ten miles that my feet felt like they were taking a pounding. Patience pays off. I am really happy with this effort and that none of my fears were realized. My friend has the best advice. "Go slow and when you think you're going too slow, slow down."

Thanks to all the organizers/volunteers for another excellent Canandaigua 50s.  I had an enjoyable time out there again and count your race as one of my favorites.  What struck me particularly this year were the friendly/familiar people out on the course.  I'll highlight a number of folks I saw:  Chet in the aid station at the start of the Bopple Hill stretch, Charlie at the top of Bopple Hill encouraging the runners not to take a nap in the graveyard, Rich tracking me down the hill on Hicks Rd. to be sure I had water, the couple at the aid station at Onanda Park on the 50K return leg who ran out to meet me and then chatted me into the rest stop and, of course, everyone, including yourself, at the well organized finish.  Since I went out with the 50 milers, I had the chance to talk to a number of them until I split off at Bopple top.  Everyone was enjoyng the course and the support, so I think I am not alone in my positive impression.   I'm sorry I couldn't start with the 50K runners or stay around after to enjoy the post-race festivities which are always excellent.  And, as it turns out, I didn't go to Boston, since my daughter called as I was leaving FLCC to tell me her plans had changed and we wouldn't have time to see her up there. GRRR!

I want to reiterate my thanks to you for organizing this wonderful event and to all the people I saw (and didn't see) during my run on Saturday.  I hope to revisit the 50 miler next year.