2015 Des Plaines River Trail Races 50 Mile (and full and half)

i am going to make another attempt to crawl across the line before they shut the course down this year. obviously, since it is a "river trail", it is really flat, so no elevation or twisted ankle challenges. the surface is pretty runnable. and the trees are usually decked out in wonderful fall colors (you'll never realize you're in the middle of the city except when you run past the amusement park). so basically, a really nice environment and very well run race on the logistics side.

if anybody wants to come out and try for a barefoot ultra, this is a decent one to attempt. it would be fun to have some company in the freak department. :) actually, last year, the race director was very cool about it, so they would probably get a kick out of having more barefooters.

it is on kind of the northwest side of chicagoland in illinois.

anyways, here's the URL: http://desplainesrivertrailraces.com/ . the 50 mile race is almost full, but there is plenty of space in the full and half marathons which start 1 and 2 hours later, respectively (and have the same cutoff time, so there's no pressure and you get the same yummy food at the aid stations).
 
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Failure is the only option!

DPRT50 2015

Let us go with the "literary" structure and start with the conclusion: DNF at the far turnaround after 26.4 miles. Since the old saying holds that "victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan", this account will necessarily be more brief than if I had obliterated the course record.

This year (my third attempt), I dragged more people out than previously. My dad was convinced to run his first race ever, though he opted for the half marathon. That meant grandparents to help with children! My brother came back for a repeat attempt, bringing his son with him to "crew". And, my original companion (from two years ago) was able to get the time off, so he came as well.

Despite my best efforts, we only improved on our arrival time by 30 minutes. My parents beat us to the hotel by several hours, but my brother arrived just as I was coming out from the front desk with the key cards. Somehow, one of the ladies at the front desk remembered me from *two* years ago when we stayed at that hotel. In any case, they were great and had snacks and juice boxes and what not ready to welcome us "runners" (and our children). Still, my original plan was to arrive around 4pm and eat a meal then. Thus, my nutrition plan, such as it was, got screwed up to my slight detriment.

The thirty extra minutes came in handy, though, to pick up our packets. My dad had wandered over to the park to check things out and had managed to pick up his packet. So, while I got the children started on food, my dad and brother went back over to see about getting our packets so we wouldn't have do deal with it in the morning. Once the kids were occupied with eating and listening to story books (Mommy is simply amazing), I ran across the street to meet up with them. I was happily surprised at how soft the trail felt, despite no rain for a month or so. My people were talking to the race director who introduced himself to me. He said he didn't remember me. Then I lifted up my feet from behind the pile of water bottles and he was like, "Oh! Yeah, now I remember you!"

That evening, we discussed strategy a little and settled on the "go out pretty slow, maybe speed up a tiny bit, and just try to keep it steady" plan, with "pretty slow" meaning somewhere around 12 or 13 minute miles and the "steady" part hopefully closer to 10 or 11. Then we tried to go to bed.

Sleep happened only haphazardly for me. Unfortunately, my buddy couldn't leave until after work, so he came in around 11:30pm. I ended up staying up to let him into the room.

We decided to leave at the very last minute so we wouldn't have to do so much standing around. This race always seems to end up on the first cold weekend of the year. This year, it was in the mid-70s (F) or even 80s all week (and again immediately after). But, on race day it started at about 30F with frost all over the place. On the walk over, I tried to stay on sidewalks and what not as much as possible, but we still needed to cut across the grass. That chilled my feet so much that when I held them up to the fire they had burning, I didn't feel a thing. Still, the plan worked out and we arrived just in time to start at the back of the third of newly instituted three waves.

The DPRT races start out going the "wrong way" for about a mile and a half to get the distance adjusted so the finish line will be in the right place. The 50 mile runners turn around at a slightly different spot than the full and half marathoners (who start later). Last year, there was major confusion as to where we were supposed to turn around. This year, they made sure to have a race director at that spot as well as trash bags over the signs for the marathoners so we wouldn't get confused. It was highly successful and we all go going the correct direction.

The cold seemed to put a damper on things. Compared to previous years, there wasn't as much talking, smiling, and happy jabbering among the participants. Nor was there so much commotion about bare feet. I got a few comments from returning runners who remembered my attempts in previous editions and some took pictures so they could convince their disbelieving friends that I was a real person. But overall, it was much less noteworthy because everyone was too busy trying to figure out how to stay warm or something.

We stuck to the slow plan despite the challenge of trying to run super slowly. Of course, we were next to last and stayed that way for quite a while. My running buddy was underdressed for the combination of cold and slow, so he would intermittently run ahead and then circle back around just to keep warm. But, after maybe ten miles or so, we started catching up to people. The evil plan was beginning to bear fruit! Well, kind of anyway. We eventually caught up to our peer speed group and ran/talked with the same people for quite a while. By and large, we were running consistently and getting through aid stations quickly. Thus, we would even pass people who were "faster" than us, but who spent more time messing around at the stops.

Somewhere around mile 15 or so, my buddy decided that he had been disciplined long enough and ever so slowly started pulling away. Seeing as he has an overdeveloped capacity for suffering, the key is to keep him contained as long as possible. But, the containment was over.

For my brother and I, things were going ok. But, the trail was beginning to catch up to us. My brother was running in VFFs and his total training mileage over the last year was about 17 miles, 10 of which were in the previous October and November. So, we're looking at about 1 mile per month. I had been putting in some relatively high mileage, but had been focusing on that distance/time aspect to the neglect of conditioning my soles. So it was that the ligaments in my brother's feet began to complain. For me, the cold contributed to making the path feel not quite so soft as it did the evening before. Around mile 20 (mimicking a classic bonk, except our energy levels seemed ok), we started slowing down and around mile 22 or 23 we decided to embrace the walking on the theory that if things are going wrong, you want to slow down sooner to give them a better chance of getting fixed. And even if they don't get fixed, you'll be less miserable, so that's a win, right? My feet were feeling beat up enough that I was reduced to the walk of shame through the grass on the side of the path.

When we got to the turnaround, my brother decided that he should probably drop. After about 15 seconds of thought, I agreed that I felt similarly: that is, I felt ok, but also that I could feel really terrible really easily. We were about five and a half hours in which meant that we had about six to make the remaining 24 miles. Conceivable, but not terribly likely and certainly not without suffering.

And I am a refuse-to-suffer runner.

So, we officially dropped and waited in the cold for our families to come bail us out.

And what of the other runners in our party? Well, we had to wait a little extra for our rescue because everyone had converged on the start/finish area in hopes of seeing grandpa finish his half marathon. Which they failed to do. He had done extensive research on the times from previous years in addition to assessing his own performance during "training" and put together projections on when he thought he would get to the turn around and then the finish. Apparently, he got to the turn around half an hour ahead of his intended time and then cut another half hour off on the second half putting him at the finish something like an hour faster than he anticipated. Basically, he destroyed it. Also, the key to winning your age group is waiting until everyone else's knees/hips/bodies are unwilling/unable to compete. He claims it was fun but that he doesn't need to do it again. I think they are mailing out age group winner awards, so I suspect and hope that that might have some effect on his thinking.

My running buddy also blew his race out of the water. No, he didn't win. But, being an out-and-back route (and being in nearly last place) we saw everyone on their way back. And everyone looked really beat down. Including the race leaders. Perhaps, especially some of the leaders. Everyone, that is, except my buddy. He passed us going the other way at what was probably his mile #30. He literally looked like he hadn't even begun running: smile on his face, lumbering gait, everything. After starting in literally last place and being super-slowly-disciplined for the first 15 miles, he powered through the last half of the race for a sub-9-hour finish.

We spent the next couple hours getting him revived while the cousins and grandparents and everyone talked and played and had a good old time.

Sometimes (like last year) you learn what works. Other times (like this year) you learn what doesn't. So, here is my litany of excuses for failure:

* lack of sole conditioning: I mistakenly focused on extending my single-run distance out so that a 30-mile run was not a big deal. However, I also jealously husbanded my soles to make sure I could do that. Thus, I ended up with strong legs and weak soles. Last year, my soles were happy after about 3 days, I think. This year, it took 7. After my first attempt, everything from just below the knee down was tired/sore along with the beat up soles. Last year, those adjusting muscles were fine, but my feet were swollen up a little bit and a couple of toe joints were not completely happy (along with the beat up soles). This year, only the soles were unhappy. So, I think the soles were/are the weak link. Of course, the stupid thing is that I knew this and even noted to myself and others that I needed to run on a bunch of chip-n-seal, but utterly failed to put it into practice.

* cold: blame it on the weather. I think that across the board, all the times were 30 seconds to a minutes slower than last year. I tried to prepare by running at dawn, but 48F doesn't really prepare you properly for 31F and frost until mile #18. I tried to dress for it: t-shirt, two long sleeve t-shirts, a hooded sweatshirt, and a final t-shirt on top; my super-eccentric running skirt on bottom with not one, not two, but three giant beach towels wrapped around for insulation. My feet dispelled the chill fairly quickly but never got warm-warm. And the rest of me never got warm enough to sweat. At all. Ever. On top of that, we committed (rightfully) to going slow, so we never generated much heat from exertion.

* cold, the common: I was also slightly sick. I had been making sure to get plenty of rest and what not and was almost over it, but I'm sure being 10% ill didn't help anything. Naturally, the illness was revived and I am almost done with it, but not quite, here a little over a week later.

* nerves: I think I don't do well with the nervous thing. The nerves were pretty much under control, but I have to wonder if they have something to do with the lack of sweating. The only runs where I have quit sweating have been, well, when I've been in a race. Again, I had a friend who identified that problem after the first time it happened and suggested running a bunch of nonsense races just to get used to handling the nerves. And again, maybe I should actually implement some of the good ideas that have been placed in my brain instead of outright ignoring them.

* nutrition: or lack thereof. I continued with my custom of not eating any breakfast and little/nothing along the way. My supper plan the previous day was to eat at 4pm, but that got screwed up by our late arrival. Hence, I ate a meal at about 6pm that was smaller than intended because the nerves were already kicking in. I drank a couple small cups of water at the first couple aid stations. But, the cold temperatures meant (I think) that I used even less water than usual, so I quit drinking any more. Even when we dropped after 26.4 miles, the food/water/energy thing did not seem significant: the mechanical and thermal failures were the dominant issues. Can I really pull off 50 miles with no food? I don't know yet. I've done 31 mile training runs with no food, no breakfast, and no problems. But it remains to be seen how far that strategy can actually go. Surely, it has to poop out somewhere.

So there you have it. No matter what happens, we have a tendency to look back at the events and interpret them as inevitable. Especially, when we are successful, it feels good to see all the good plans come to fruition. So, I must maintain the symmetry: looking back, despite a lot of good and fun training, clearly, for this race,

failure was the only option!

:)
 
Nice report! Great attitude.

I've not yet been willing to subject myself to any run longer than 34 miles as I don't believe that running should involve suffering either.
 
I love that..."must maintain the symmetry." Ha! Despite your not finishing this race, this was an awesome report. Thanks for sharing...and there's always next year, right? I've moved it to the home page.