Freight Train 50K - December 11, 2021

Caroline at the trail sign in Farmville

Friends You Can Rely On

Following my November run at the Pass Mountain 50K, I decide that I should finish the year with a December ultra.  I search around for something reasonably close to home and find the Freight Train 50K on December 11.  Emaad declines to join me but I sign up anyway.  Prolific ultramarathoner and friend Caroline lives in Virginia and might be interested so I send her an email.  Within minutes she responds that she is now signed up.  Further email exchanges confirms that I will drive down the day before but that she will drive down on Saturday morning.

Weather or Not

Caroline and I at the start

December weather can be fickle. Fortunately, weather at race time Saturday is mild, with temperatures in the 50s with some wind. But good weather may not be the day's entire forecast - there is a front on the way with rain and dropping temperatures called for in the afternoon.  The issue will be when the front arrives and when we finish.

Let's Run

Start time is a very convenient 8:30 a.m. The 100K runners started at 7:30 to get ahead start on their day. Cut-off times are very generous - 17. 5 hours for the 100K runners, 16.6 hours for the 50K, particularly given the course.  The race is held entirely on the High Bridge Trail State Park. The trail is a 31-mile long rails-to-trails on a former Norfolk Southern right-of-way with a few very gentle grades, a well-maintained 10-foot wide packed dirt surface and the main attraction, High Bridge, which is more than 2,400 feet long and 125 feet above the Appomattox River.  The right of way was originally the South Side Railroad, which played an important role in the Civil War, as you will soon see.

Caroline and I trade texts and meet up at my car, parked across the street from the start-finish.  This is one of the great benefits of the usually-small ultra races, where small fields are the rule rather than the  exception. There will be 33 100K finishers and 137 50K finishers today.   She eats a donut that I brought for us and we cross to the start finish area.

The start-finish at the Farmville Farmers' Market

The race is a double out-and-back on the trail from Farmville, first running 8.2 miles to an aid station at Rice before returning to Farmville, then heading west for about 7.5 miles to a turnaround about a mile and three-quarters past the aid station at Tuggle and retracing our path back to Farmville.  The 100K runners go further on each leg, basically covering the 31 miles of the trail twice for their 100K.

Caroline heads across High Bridge

I search for a place in the Farmville Farmers' Market shed to leave my drop bag and put it down amongst some of the other bags. It has more than enough items, including long and short sleeve shirts, socks, trail shoes (in case I found the surface too hard for my road shoes), the rest of the donuts, gels, and random odds and ends.

Crossing High Bridge

The Way to Rice

After the National Anthem, we are off promptly at 8:30. Caroline seemingly knows every other runner and greets them all warmly.  We mostly run together and are always in sight of each other. We chat with other runners, and in a couple of miles come to High Bridge.  The bridge was the scene of hard fighting on April 6, 1865, as Union troops tried unsuccessfully to burn the bridge so that Robert E. Lee's retreating army could not get across it. They were repulsed and the following day, the Confederates tried to burn the bridge so that the Union army could not follow.  Union troops saved the bridge and the wagon bridge below High Bridge from destruction and the Union army was able to continue its pursuit.

Railroad Mile Marker

I run awhile with Caroline's friend Yancy and we discuss the action and other parts of the Appomattox Campaign.  After crossing the bridge we pass Camp Paradise, a Confederate earthworks formation built to protect the bridge and the scene of hard fighting on April 6.

We get to Rice, refuel at the aid station and head back toward Farmville.  The wind is picking up and crossing High Bridge I have to hang on to my hat.

Who Moved My Bag?

Back at Farmville (mile 16.4) I eat a slice of pizza and head for my drop bag.  I can't find it. I as a volunteer and tell him where I left it.  He points to a paper sign on the wall that tells me I left it in the pile of drop bags that was being transported, mostly for 100K runners, to the Tuggle aid station, 5.7 miles further down the road.  I'm chagrined, but at least the bag is ahead.  Still, I'm unable to replenish my gels or change my shirt as I planned.

Caroline plays among the hay rolls

On to Tuggle and Beyond

Caroline and I go on, talking about serious and light subjects. A couple hundred yards from the start-finish we pass the Farmville train station, where on April 7, 1865, Lee's army received supplies before Union troops arrived and the Confederates moved north. General Grant arrived later in the day and sent a letter to Lee asking him to surrender his army.

True dat - especially at mile 8

We run - and walk - along the trail.  It is a pleasant run, and unlike so many of the usual trail runs I'm used to, it is pretty easy. There are no steep climbs, no rocks or roots, no stream crossings.  One can run and look around, without worrying that a moment's inattention will bring one crashing to the ground.  And since it is December, the leaves are off the trees on either side and one can see the farmland and woods beyond the trail.

We reach the aid station at Tuggle (mile 22.1) and I open my bag to do what I had wanted to do at Farmville.  There is a road parallel to the road and I realize that this must have been the road that Sheridan's cavalry, under George Armstrong Custer's command took to get to Appomattox Station ahead of Lee on April 7-8, closely followed by Edward Ord's infantry, cutting off Lee's route of retreat and leading to Lee's surrender on April 9.

On we go from Tuggle until we come to a folding chair in the middle of the trail. It has a sign attached to it instructing 50K runners to turn around and 100K runners to go on.

The turnaround

We turn around and return to the Tuggle aid station (now mile 25.4) and continue back toward Farmville.

Now the wind is picking up again and low ragged clouds are racing ahead of us from the west. We catch up to a runner who is mostly walking. It's his first 50K and our chatter and companionship lifts his spirits and he begins to run with us.  

With about a mile or so to go I glance at my watch and figure that I may have a chance to finish in 7:30.  "The horse smells the barn," I tell Caroline and our new trail friend and I take off.  While I don't say it, I'm also increasingly concerned that the dark clouds behind us are moving faster than we are. Not exactly a sprint, but I'm determined that I will run and not take walk breaks.  But after a mile and with the train station in sight, I realize that I'm not going to make 7:30. And perhaps the reason is that, recalling the race instructions, is that the course is described as "a bit more than 50K".  

I finish in 7:37:09, good for 98 of 137 finishers, 59 of 74 males and 1 of 3 in my 70-79 age group.  And I'm not close to being the oldest. Besides the two other older runners in my AG there is a 81-year old finisher. Caroline is close behind me in 7:37:45.

The truth

Postscript

After a post-race slice of pizza, and some fellowship with more runners whom Caroline knows, we walk to my car where I give her a couple of holiday-decorated cupcakes for the ride home.  I eat one myself before driving to Tuggle to reclaim my drop bag.

I'm not out of Farmville when the rain starts.  By the time I reach Tuggle, it is pouring and the wind is blowing it at an angle.  A pair of runners pass through the parking lot.  I finally get out of the car but an  umbrella offers limited protection. I get my bag which is sitting out in the open. The good news is that it has a rubberized bottom to protect the contents from wet ground. More good news is that I put the contents in a trash bag to protect against this very situation.  Unfortunately, I did not fold the top of the trash bag over the last time I accessed it and the contents are wet from rain through the zippered top. On the positive side, the extra shoes were in a separate plastic bag and they are dry.

I drive to The Fishin' Pig south of Farmville for pulled pork, fried catfish, homemade slaw and collards. Too much to finish, so the pork and slaw go home with me.

Swag: hooded shirt, ornament, sticker
and bib

Pass Mountain 50K - November 13, 2021

Nightmares

The night before the Pass Mountain 50K, I cannot sleep.  I'm worried about the weather for the race, specifically, the forecast for higher than normal temperatures.  I have a history of not coping well with hot conditions.  In June, I dropped out of Ran It with Janet 50K partly due to the 90 degree heat.  In February, 2020, I dropped from Elephant Mountain 50K, at least in part due to the heat. 

Cathy and Emaad choose another way at
Boyce Thompson Arboretum

Earlier on Friday Emaad and I meet our friend Cathy at the Boyce Thompson Arboretum in Superior. She is a member and an enthusiastic gardener, and she treats us to an hour long guided tour of the main trail at the arboretum. The shaded portions are pleasant, but I feel the heat when we are in unshaded parts of the walk. 

Even though I have a plan to deal with the heat, I spend a troubled night, never quite being able to sleep for any length of time.  No need for the alarm; I'm awake and up well before I have to be.

First Loop

The course consists of two loops around Pass Mountain.  From the race website, it looks relatively flat, with most of the 2500 feet of ascent in the two climbs from the second aid station (mile 6.8 of each loop) and the passage at Bulldog Saddle at the top of the trail.  And that climb is followed by a nice four mile descent back to the start finish area. Since we did over 3000 feet of climb at Boulder Field 50K, this doesn't sound at all bad.  And it is in the desert, so no roots to contend with or trip over. Maybe just a few rocks.

The race starts at 7 o'clock sharp. The 58 entrants in the 50K head out onto the smooth dirt of the trail.  Emaad and I are toward the rear and as usual we chat with the runners around us.  We don't push the pace, but don't go too slowly either, figuring that the more miles we can log while the sun is still low (sunrise was 6:56 a.m.) and the temperatures down, the better off we will be later in the day.

Emaad runs into the sun on the levee (mile 3)

The course rolls just a bit for the first couple of miles, then turns onto a levee built to protect a neighborhood on the edge of the park for flash floods. We get through the eponymously named Levee aid station (mile 3.8) in 44 minutes, get back on the levee and continue for a bit more before the trail leaves it for more generally flat track to the next aid station at mile 6.8.

From here it is 8.6 miles back to the start-finish.  I make sure that my hydration pack is filled to its 1.5 liter capacity. Fellow runner David, who is using trekking poles and has run the race previously, gives us a brief on what to expect ahead.

The course heads up gently, between the Cat Hills, then along a bit of gently rolling, but rocky, trail running to the east.  We chat with a couple of women runners about the difference of running in the East and the West.  A hiker wearing a sidearm passes us going the opposite direction. (Protection against snakes? Loaded with snake shot? Protection from other wildlife?) We are in a different culture here.

Looking toward Pass Mountain from the south (mile 4)

The trail turns northward and upward, but the rocks do not end.  The trail is rockier that I had anticipated and it makes running difficult. Up we go. Since this is the desert one can see the runners - actually mostly walkers - on the trial ahead and above.

Finally we come to a switchback that is just solid rock and steeply upward.  This is the point that David told us would mark the final ascent to Bulldog Saddle. Just before we reach the top we come upon a pair of mountain bikers preparing to descend that stretch.  It seems to be an ill-advised and particularly risky idea but we go on leaving them to their effort. We see them later in the day unscathed.

Cresting the saddle, we now have four miles and 700 feet of descent to the end of the first loop.  It should be a place to make up time.  Emaad takes off.  But I proceed slowly.  As I've gotten older, downhills have become troubling - I am becoming increasingly afraid of falling and am losing confidence in my ability to bound down them.  The trail is still rocky, and there is nothing be a steep slope on one side. A misstep, slip or stumble in the wrong direction and it will be a slide down a rocky, cactus slope for who knows how far. Adding to the concern, portions of the trail are eroded, further narrowing the path.

Headed toward Bulldog Saddle

I go on, unconfident of the trail, but confident that I'll make the four and a half hour cutoff at the end of the first loop.

Second Loop

Emaad is waiting for my at our drop bags.  The day is now hot, and the portapotty that I use is sweltering.  I change shirts, fill the hydration pack and grab my handheld water bottle.  My plan is to use the water in the hydration pack for drinking and the water in the handheld for cooling, pouring it on the cooling towel I have around my neck.

We cross the mat to start the second loop in 4:11.  This gives us officially 4:49 to run the second loop to finish under the official nine hour cutoff. But we not particularly concerned about that, knowing that the 50 milers on a somewhat differ course will still be out there later than us.

We have barely gone a few hundred yards than we come across a runner sitting by the side of the trail. He says he is OK but has decided to call it a day.  A bit further along we come across another runner walking back toward the start-finish.  He, too, tells us that he is calling it a day.

By now we are pretty much alone. I want to run, but Emaad urges that we go easy, as the time is approaching noon, the sun is high, there is no shade, the day has become hot and we still have a long way to go.  It's good advice.  We mostly walk, or walk and run.

We spy a runner ahead, mostly walking and talking on her phone.  When she is done with her call we fall in with her and the three of us proceed together sharing stories.  It turns out that she had run the 2019 DC North Face Endurance Challenge 50K, the same race at which Emaad and I had run a bit with ultralegend Dean Karnazes.

She is a recent graduate of George Washington University, and is interested in international humanitarian efforts.  I tell her that I know someone who works at the Agency for International Development and that if she wants I can put her in touch with him.  In an only-in-DC moment I tell her that I happen to have one of my business cards in the rear outside pocket of my hydration pack (how many other trail runners carry their business cards with them?) and that she is free to take a picture of it so that she can contact me later.  I had the business card with me because I had written the race emergency number on it in case I needed it on the trail. But still . . .  a business card?

She is talking about dropping at the Levee aid station, but we and the aid station workers talk her into going on. At one point Emaad and I get a bit ahead of her and exchange concern about her.  We wait and she catches up with us and assures us that she is fine, but is going to drop out at the Meridian aid station (mile 22.2). She has to get to CVS in time to get a COVID test as she is flying to Germany on Monday.

As we approach the aid station, a volunteer meets us.  He, too, tries to talk her out of dropping, but her mind is made up.  She calls one of her friends (one dropped, one finished) to come pick her up.  

Emaad has gone on ahead, and calls back to me to pick up his handheld, as he left it behind.  I do, and after a couple of hundred yards I curse myself, because in getting his I left my behind.  I turn back to get it. A volunteer sees me coming back and realizes what I had done, and brings it out to meet me, saving me precious steps.

Now we are alone and the day is hot.  We have been over this ground before, but somehow it seems longer, probably because we are going slower. (On the first loop we did the 6.8 mile distance from the start to the Meridian aid station in 1:27. It took 2:00 on the second loop.)

I'm keeping my cooling towel wet with water from the handheld. But the upward climb seems endless.  With no runners (or even hikers for that matter) on the trail ahead, it is hard to know where the saddle is.  All I see is mountainside, with no obvious way over.

But eventually we reach the "just rocks" part, and partially on all fours, I crest Bulldog Saddle.

Looking to the north from the Pass Mountain trail (mile 29)

As on the first loop, Emaad takes off downhill and I trudge downward. At least now this side of the mountain is partially in the shade. A good thing too, as I'm starting to ration both my drinking water in the hydration pack and the cooling water in the handheld.

About a mile down the trail I come upon Curtis, a runner who, it turns out, had been thru the Meridian aid station 18 minutes ahead of us.  He is not looking well.  I offer him a salt tablet, and I take my last one.  Then I go on, but keep looking back to see how he is doing.  He is moving forward, so I figure he will be OK. 

I've run out of water in my handheld, so I use water from my pack to wet my cooling cloth.  But than causes me to even further cut back on what I drink.  I try a trick from Emaad - take a sip and swish it in your mouth for awhile before swallowing.  Anything to make the water last.

With about a mile left, first one leg, and then the other starts to cramp. I use a nearby bench to press back and stretch.  Somewhat successfully, I resume moving.  But then I start to get lightheaded and stop on a rock to put my head down. The cramping resumes. I start to wonder if it is time to get out the business card to dial the emergency number.  But both the dizziness and cramping subside.  On I go. But I'm out of water.

I ask a runner headed in the opposite direction if he has a gel, forgetting the I have two on me.  He doesn't.  A bit later I cross paths with a mountain biker.  He asks if I'm OK, and when I hesitate, he asks if I want some water. He pours some, including some ice, from his hydration pack into my bottle. The cold water is refreshing, both inside and out.

Live Results Screenshot

And in a bit I pass the parking lot by the Wind Cave trailhead ("the false finish" as one runner described it on the first loop) and travel the half mile or so to the finish.  I cross the line and plunk down in a chair.  One of the finish line workers gives me my finisher's award and gets me something to drink and a snack.  Emaad, who finished 20 minutes ahead of me, comes over.  He tells me that he vomited after finishing, and one of the medical staff checked on him. 

Curtis comes in 20 minutes behind me.

Finisher or Not?

The live tracking shows that I finished in 9:29:47, 37th overall, and 24th male. I was the oldest finisher by five years.  Emaad finished in 9:09:33. Curtis was the only finisher behind me.

The temperature tops out at 88 degrees, ten degrees above the normal high for November 13 in Mesa. It takes a toll on the runners. Only 38 of the original 58 starters will be recorded as finishers, an attrition rate of 35 percent.  This is far above the attrition rate for the previous three Pass Mountain 50Ks, where the rates were 15, 13, and 14 percent, respectively.

When the results are posted to Ultrasignup, we three are all listed as DNFs. We went from finishers to non-finishers. 

At the Finish

Although we didn't make the announced nine hour cutoff, this DNF does not set will with me.  I email the race director, pointing out that at "the 2020 Elephant Mountain 50K [a race put on by the same company], 16 finishers who did not meet the 8-hour cutoff were recorded as finishers, including four who were over nine hours.  Just like Pass Mountain this year, that race had its inaugural 50 miler" so there were still runners out on the course when we finished. I ask that he include me, Emaad, Curtis and a fourth runner who was also over the nine hour cutoff.  Emaad also sends an email.

We get no response for eight days, so I write again. The race director responds to Emaad and I agreeing to do so, although not without a bit of a backhand:  "because you seem so passionate about receiving a finish for a race that you finished over the official cutoff, we will allow your result to be posted."  But he doesn't do so for Curtis who remains a DNF. On the other hand, while not telling us, he moves a 50-mile finisher from a reported "did not finish under the cutoff" to an official finisher.  

We didn't make the cutoff. If, at finish I was told that I was a DNF I would have accepted that. But the company ignored the cutoff for another one of its races, so consistency is expected. Once you tell me I'm a finisher and give me a finisher's medal, you do not get to unfinish me. (And at my age, I need all the finishes I can get.)

Swag: Shirt, Bib and
FINISHER'S MEDAL