By Susan Farago,
Trailhead Running Coach
Cajun Coyote 100 Mile Trail Race – Dec 6-7, 2014
The Cajun Coyote trail race started on Saturday at 6:30am
just as the spectacularly haunting “Full Cold Moon” (official name) was setting
behind the long, skinny arms of craggy oak trees overhead. Being partial to trail
running at night I was looking forward to seeing the moon again later that day.
The moonlight, and my husband Leary as my pacer, would keep me company the
entire following night until we were greeted by the sunrise and the finish
line.
I appreciate any race director who has the candor and
honesty to say, “I don’t know” (and one who laughs at his own jokes). There were
so many things that could get in the way of me finishing this race, but
clothing was NOT going to be one of them. I packed everything from shorts and a
tank top to long, fleece lined pants, a winter jacket, and those “hot hands”
hand warmers that stay warm for 8-10 hours. And I packed socks. Lots of socks. The
weather started out rainy wet in the low 60’s, got up the mid 70’s with full
sunshine in the late afternoon (hello tank top!), and then dropped down to the
upper 40’s with gusty wind in the pre-dawn 22 hours later (thank you hand
warmers and running tights). I also discovered that my body’s ability to
regulate temperature got more out of whack the longer I ran so it was nice to
have options at the end of each 20 mile loop.
After being together for 24 years, my husband Leary still
amazes me with his caring and loving selflessness. Not only was he my pacer for
the last 40 miles of the race (which would be the longest and farthest he’s
ever run), he made sure I was eating, drinking, staying warm, and moving
forward the entire time. He held my hand when we crossed the long, narrow
boardwalk-like bridges across the swamps (hello late night, overtired
vertigo!), repeatedly put the lid back on my iced tea bottle when my fine motor
skills were shot, and was wonderful company even in the long stretches of
silence. When we made it back to the hotel they were still serving breakfast so
he brought me a plate of scrambled “fake” eggs (which were the best eggs I’ve
ever eaten), yogurt, a biscuit, and a cup of decaf coffee that tasted fantastic!
After we got home, he filled a bucket with hot water and Epsom salts to soak my
feet and then he rubbed each foot in an attempt to help me walk more normally. I
jokingly questioned his abilities as a pacer when he started yawning just 2.5
miles into our run together. But he did everything perfectly. As always.
I have read about other runners
experiencing very vivid hallucinations – things like President Lincoln standing
on the trail’s edge handing out candy bars, or tiny pink elephants bounding
through the trees. When I checked in and got my race number, I couldn’t figure
out why there were t-shirts for sale with unicorns on them saying, “I do
ultras” or “I trail run”. Unicorns? Of course I bought one of the shirts
because it was just quirky and random enough. Then the race director explained
to me that for some reason people who run his races claim to see unicorns when
they hallucinate so he thought why not have the unicorn as his unofficial race
mascot. At mile 56 I became part of the unicorn club. Fortunately the three
multi-colored unicorns I saw on the trail’s edge were indeed very real and of
the plastic blow up variety. The only thing that came close to a hallucination for
me was that I thought I heard men’s voices in the last 10 miles of the race.
They were always to my left and alternated between talking, singing, and doing
sports commentary. Oddly enough, Leary heard these voices too.
I am extremely fortunate to have a willing and capable body
(although sometimes not so much a willing or capable mind). I can recall only
three times when my body has failed me in the last 25 years of sports: when the
plantar nerve in my right foot got inflamed, when I ignored the initial twist-crunch
warning and ultimately blew out my left knee (ACL) during sand volleyball, and
when I tried to run during the last loop of this race. I just couldn’t run
any more. My mind was willing but my body was not. I would start to run only to
have my heart rate soar, my quads burn, and my ankles and feet wobble on
already unstable ground. I was plenty hydrated and had enough energy. I just
couldn’t run. I even imagined an axe murderer (or more realistically a
Louisiana alligator) jumping out from the swamps and chasing after me. I don’t
think it would have mattered one bit. My body was down, but it was not out. I
still had enough oomph to power walk with purpose and determination to the
finish line. And in the subsequent days of limping across a room, needing the
assistance of a railing to take the stairs, or allowing a few extra minutes to
go to the bathroom simply because sitting or standing could NOT be rushed, it
made me appreciate my fully functional and ache free body even more.
One of the things I love about trail running is that at any
given time during a race, I really have no idea where I am relative to other
runners. But I found myself in a unique position during this race. At the start
of the third loop at mile 40, all runners reversed direction on the course. I
suspect the race director thought our bodies and brains could use some novelty
considering this was a 5 loop run. As I was heading out “against trail traffic”
on my third loop, runners coming in to finish the second loop started saying to
me, “Well done! First female runner!” Truthfully I enjoyed the attention but
found it hard to manage my competitive side. I had no idea how much I was in
the lead or if I could even hold it. I held the lead through loops 3 and 4
without really trying. It wasn’t the idea of beating the woman behind me – heck
I didn’t even know where she was! It was the idea of finishing first. At the
start of loop 5, the last loop at mile 80, I asked my husband, “Am I still
first?” At this point I could barely run and the deepest form of fatigue I had
ever felt was setting in. He smiled at me and firmly said, “That’s not why
you’re here.” And just like that, my competitive self relinquished control over
my brain. Shortly thereafter a woman and man passed us on the trail. She looked
amazing and still moved like a gazelle. I smiled and thought, “Well done for
her!” At 8:35am Sunday morning, I was slowly making my way up the short, paved path
to the finish line. With tears forming in my eyes, Leary and I ran the last 50
feet and crossed the finish line together. The race director gave me a hug,
handed me the coveted belt buckle and an award plaque for 2nd
overall female. Finishing was the goal. Placing was the bonus.
Cajun Coyote 100 Mile Trail Race – Dec 6-7, 2014
Chicot State Park in
Ville Platte, Louisiana
There is an opportunity to learn something in everything we
do. Here are a few things I learned in the 26 hours it took me to run my first
100 mile trail race.
1. The Moon Makes a
Wonderful Companion – Twice
The Cajun Coyote trail race started on Saturday at 6:30am
just as the spectacularly haunting “Full Cold Moon” (official name) was setting
behind the long, skinny arms of craggy oak trees overhead. Being partial to trail
running at night I was looking forward to seeing the moon again later that day.
The moonlight, and my husband Leary as my pacer, would keep me company the
entire following night until we were greeted by the sunrise and the finish
line.
2. Clothes Make (or
Break) the Race
On the race website it says:
LOUISIANA WEATHER:
The answer is:
“I don’t know”. This time of year in Louisiana can be muggy, hot, and
humid, or in the wet 30’s. The weather may even change in a few hours (most
definitely from hot to cold) this time of year. My suggestion is to bring BOTH
hot and cool weather running clothes. It’s obviously better to shed or not use,
then to wonder why the “F” you left your other gear in your closet. Also keep
checking the weather because we know meteorologists are always right!
Bahahahahaha!
I appreciate any race director who has the candor and
honesty to say, “I don’t know” (and one who laughs at his own jokes). There were
so many things that could get in the way of me finishing this race, but
clothing was NOT going to be one of them. I packed everything from shorts and a
tank top to long, fleece lined pants, a winter jacket, and those “hot hands”
hand warmers that stay warm for 8-10 hours. And I packed socks. Lots of socks. The
weather started out rainy wet in the low 60’s, got up the mid 70’s with full
sunshine in the late afternoon (hello tank top!), and then dropped down to the
upper 40’s with gusty wind in the pre-dawn 22 hours later (thank you hand
warmers and running tights). I also discovered that my body’s ability to
regulate temperature got more out of whack the longer I ran so it was nice to
have options at the end of each 20 mile loop.
3. Say NO to Gels and
YES to Olives!
I have been a student of sports nutrition since 2000. I have
read books, experimented with a wide variety of sports fuels and gels, tracked
caloric consumption and hydration on spreadsheets, and earned an advanced
nutrition certification from the National Federation of Professional Trainers. Tired
of not knowing “if” but “when” my stomach would ultimately turn sour during a
long event, I took a completely different nutrition approach for trail running
this year. After trying a few new things at some key events earlier in the
season, this is what my diet consisted of for 26 hours of running: chicken
broth, chocolate milk, sweet tea, an almond butter sandwich, red licorice, Good
and Plentys (black licorice), beef jerky, granola bars, apple sauce, rice
crackers, peppermint candies, and good old fashioned body fat stores. I also tried
single serving pouches of lovely, salty, green olives -- what a fantastic
treat! My taste buds loved the variety, my stomach was solid, and my energy
levels were even. What I didn’t miss at all were gels.
4. Armadillos Can Hop
An armadillo scampering through the woods sounds like a bull
dozer ripping through the underbrush. They make A LOT of noise for such little
critters. What I didn’t know is they can also hop high and fast! While running,
I would round a corner and come up on an armadillo which would proceed to bound
off the trail and into the underbrush at an alarming rate for something that
has such short, stumpy legs. Apparently ‘dillos run in Texas and hop in
Louisiana – must be Cajun ‘dillos.
5. Good Pacers are
Amazing!
After being together for 24 years, my husband Leary still
amazes me with his caring and loving selflessness. Not only was he my pacer for
the last 40 miles of the race (which would be the longest and farthest he’s
ever run), he made sure I was eating, drinking, staying warm, and moving
forward the entire time. He held my hand when we crossed the long, narrow
boardwalk-like bridges across the swamps (hello late night, overtired
vertigo!), repeatedly put the lid back on my iced tea bottle when my fine motor
skills were shot, and was wonderful company even in the long stretches of
silence. When we made it back to the hotel they were still serving breakfast so
he brought me a plate of scrambled “fake” eggs (which were the best eggs I’ve
ever eaten), yogurt, a biscuit, and a cup of decaf coffee that tasted fantastic!
After we got home, he filled a bucket with hot water and Epsom salts to soak my
feet and then he rubbed each foot in an attempt to help me walk more normally. I
jokingly questioned his abilities as a pacer when he started yawning just 2.5
miles into our run together. But he did everything perfectly. As always.
6. There is No
Substitute for Cursing
Research has shown that people actually feel better and more
“resilient” when yelling profanity after something happens*. Let’s just say
that I dedicated all my ankle twists and toe jams to the “F” word throughout
the run. And I apologize to anyone who may have been within earshot me when I’d
let one of those babies fly! The trails around Chicot Lake are mostly dirt
packed single track filled (and I mean FILLED) with long, gnarly roots and
small stumps that stick out of the Earth like perpetual hands grabbing at your
feet. Cover the trail with a 2-4 inch layer of large leaves and there is plenty
of ankle twisting, toe kicking, “F-bombing” fun for everyone! I am so thankful
for my crazy loose joints because otherwise I am pretty sure I would have torn
something in my left foot during the 8-10 times (not exaggerating) I rolled that
ankle. As for the bruise on my right foot middle toe – when it wakes me up at
night, I take solace in giving it the “F” word.
*http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2625581/Swearing-emotional-creative-language-say-researchers-claim-GOOD-you.html
7. Unicorns are the
Trail Runner’s Hallucination of Choice
I have read about other runners
experiencing very vivid hallucinations – things like President Lincoln standing
on the trail’s edge handing out candy bars, or tiny pink elephants bounding
through the trees. When I checked in and got my race number, I couldn’t figure
out why there were t-shirts for sale with unicorns on them saying, “I do
ultras” or “I trail run”. Unicorns? Of course I bought one of the shirts
because it was just quirky and random enough. Then the race director explained
to me that for some reason people who run his races claim to see unicorns when
they hallucinate so he thought why not have the unicorn as his unofficial race
mascot. At mile 56 I became part of the unicorn club. Fortunately the three
multi-colored unicorns I saw on the trail’s edge were indeed very real and of
the plastic blow up variety. The only thing that came close to a hallucination for
me was that I thought I heard men’s voices in the last 10 miles of the race.
They were always to my left and alternated between talking, singing, and doing
sports commentary. Oddly enough, Leary heard these voices too.
8. Sitting or Stopping are NOT Options
I could never figure out why people would run into an aid
station, sit down for 10-15 minutes, and then get back up and run to the next
aid station…only to stop, sit down, get up, and run again. Unless someone is
going to pass out, barf, or needs to change equipment, why stop? Or maybe I
just know myself too well. Sitting or stopping would be my kiss of death.
During the entire 100 mile run, I sat down three times: once to change shoes,
once to change shorts, and once to change socks. Otherwise I was standing while
swapping out gear or replenishing food or water, and I would eat while I was
walking or running. I saw other runners come into an aid station, pull up a
chair, have some food, or just chat with the volunteers. At the start/finish
area (which we passed through on each of the 5 loops), runners would have their
feet up next to a heater, or be lying under blankets chatting with other
runners. I have to admit stopping by one of the aid station bonfires and
enjoying some freshly made cheesy quesadillas, soup, hot chocolate, or pancakes
sounded mighty tempting. But the poet Robert Frost was in my brain, “…the woods
are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before
I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.”
9. I Command My Body
to OBEY! Please?
I am extremely fortunate to have a willing and capable body
(although sometimes not so much a willing or capable mind). I can recall only
three times when my body has failed me in the last 25 years of sports: when the
plantar nerve in my right foot got inflamed, when I ignored the initial twist-crunch
warning and ultimately blew out my left knee (ACL) during sand volleyball, and
when I tried to run during the last loop of this race. I just couldn’t run
any more. My mind was willing but my body was not. I would start to run only to
have my heart rate soar, my quads burn, and my ankles and feet wobble on
already unstable ground. I was plenty hydrated and had enough energy. I just
couldn’t run. I even imagined an axe murderer (or more realistically a
Louisiana alligator) jumping out from the swamps and chasing after me. I don’t
think it would have mattered one bit. My body was down, but it was not out. I
still had enough oomph to power walk with purpose and determination to the
finish line. And in the subsequent days of limping across a room, needing the
assistance of a railing to take the stairs, or allowing a few extra minutes to
go to the bathroom simply because sitting or standing could NOT be rushed, it
made me appreciate my fully functional and ache free body even more.
10. If You’re Not
First, You’re Second (or Third, or Fourth, or…)
One of the things I love about trail running is that at any
given time during a race, I really have no idea where I am relative to other
runners. But I found myself in a unique position during this race. At the start
of the third loop at mile 40, all runners reversed direction on the course. I
suspect the race director thought our bodies and brains could use some novelty
considering this was a 5 loop run. As I was heading out “against trail traffic”
on my third loop, runners coming in to finish the second loop started saying to
me, “Well done! First female runner!” Truthfully I enjoyed the attention but
found it hard to manage my competitive side. I had no idea how much I was in
the lead or if I could even hold it. I held the lead through loops 3 and 4
without really trying. It wasn’t the idea of beating the woman behind me – heck
I didn’t even know where she was! It was the idea of finishing first. At the
start of loop 5, the last loop at mile 80, I asked my husband, “Am I still
first?” At this point I could barely run and the deepest form of fatigue I had
ever felt was setting in. He smiled at me and firmly said, “That’s not why
you’re here.” And just like that, my competitive self relinquished control over
my brain. Shortly thereafter a woman and man passed us on the trail. She looked
amazing and still moved like a gazelle. I smiled and thought, “Well done for
her!” At 8:35am Sunday morning, I was slowly making my way up the short, paved path
to the finish line. With tears forming in my eyes, Leary and I ran the last 50
feet and crossed the finish line together. The race director gave me a hug,
handed me the coveted belt buckle and an award plaque for 2nd
overall female. Finishing was the goal. Placing was the bonus.
(Photos courtesy Leary Walker and Forge Racing.)
