Night Train 50K - June 25, 2022

Pre-race hydration

Hydration Is Important

Emaad and I arrive in Farmville for the Night Train 50K and its 5:30 p.m. start about 1:30 in the afternoon. The day is warm, with temperatures in the upper 80s (it will be 88 at race time) and the race starts in about four hours. We know what we need to do before then.

Runners know that hydration is important. Dehydration can lead to cramping and nausea, mental confusion and contribute to heat exhaustion and heat stroke.  We have been drinking water and iced tea on the three and a half hour drive, but now it is time for some more fluids.  Our first stop in Farmville is at Three Roads Brewery right on the High Bridge Trail and next to the old Farmville Train Station, which will be the location of a race aid station. I get a High Bridge Helles Lager for its low (5.2 ABV) alcohol content, and get a four-pack to go.

Hydrated and refreshed we go to Charlies Waterfront Cafe for lunch, which for me is a chicken Caesar salad and an iced tea (more hydration). We finish about 3:30, go check-in to our hotel, take a brief rest and drive the 15 minutes it takes to get to the start at Camp Paradise, an earthen Civil War fortification erected by the Confederates to defend the high bridge over the Appomattox River.  It was paradise as the locals treated the soldiers well (and better than being besieged by the Union in Richmond and Petersburg). Paradise ended abruptly when Union troops, in pursuit of Lee's army fleeing west, arrived on April 6, 1865. 

Emaad and I at the start

Westbound

At 5:30 p.m. the sun is still high and the 114 runners in the 50K head out (104 half marathoners and 35 5K runners will start later). In only a couple on minutes we are on 2400 foot long High Bridge across the Appomattox River 125 feet below. There is plenty of chances to chat with our fellow runners as we travel the five miles toward Farmville, including a couple pushing a toddler in a stroller.

A runner tells me of how she had to be carried off one race by a couple of runners when she was suffering from hypothermia.  She was hospitalized for several days but was more concerned that a runner who helped save her was a DNF for missing a cutoff as a result of rescuing her. Such is the mindset of the ultrarunner.

Farmville

The High Bridge trail takes us past Three Roads Brewery where a woman sitting having a beer cheers us on. "Wish I could have a beer," I say.  "Want a sip?" she replies. "Sure," I respond, veering off the trail toward her.  "I'm vaccinated," I note, taking a sip from her glass. "That's OK," she replies. Emaad thinks that I'm crazy and that she probably poured the rest of the beer out.  I doubt that, but I regret that I forgot that I had a collapsible cup in my pocket, as the race is cupless.

Early on

We stop at the first aid station at the old Farmville Train station next door to the brewery (mile 5.7; ET 1:09:57) for some quick refreshments.  The part of the course is that same that I ran at last December's Freight Train 50K (report here) so it is familiar.  The main difference is that the trees are leaved out and provide some shade from the still-high sun.

Tuggle

We reach the Tuggle aid station (mile 11; ET 2:19:23). I'm pleased with our progress as I have a goal to finish in 7:30, about 7 minutes faster than I did Freight Train. According to my pace card, I'm about 15 minutes ahead of the pace I need to accomplish that, but I try to caution myself not to go out too fast.  In long races banking time does not work, conserving fuel does. Still it is hard to throttle back when you feel good.

Emaad is starting to lag behind, but I tells me that he is fine physically, but is mentally in a dark place.  He tells me to go on.  Since I have a goal, I do.

Sunset beyond Tuggle

Prospect

I recognize the field with hay bales where Caroline had me take her picture in December. Now the sun is beginning to set over that field and the (new? same?) hay bales. A bit further along I pass where the turn around was for December's 50K.

The light is starting to fade, but not so much that a light is needed. I get to the Prospect aid station (mile 15; ET 3:12), go to my drop bag, dispose of my hat, change into a dry shirt and extract a 60-lumen cane light that I found in a cupboard at home and stick it on my finger but do not turn it on.  I go the additional mile to the turn-around at mile 16. It is getting dark but the last bit to the turaround had an open field beside it and there is enough light to get to the marking the spot without using the light.  A check of my GPS watch and the pace card shows I'm still 15 minutes to the good.

Old RR mileposts on the trail

About .4 mile back toward Prospect I greet Emaad on his way to the turnaround.

Return to Prospect

Back at Prospect aid station (mile 17, ET 3:44) I sit down, go thru my drop bag and select a knuckle light to carry for when the cane light gives out. I decide not to bring a second knuckle light, my head lamp or spare batteries. 

By now (9:15 p.m) it's dark. The sun set about 8:38 p.m., the half hour of light that is civil twilight is over and the sliver of a moon provides no light.  The trail is unlit and there are few buildings or dwellings by it.  And it does not take more than a mile or two for me to realize that the cane light is providing barely enough illumination to distinguish the darker center of the trail from the slightly lighter, more trod portions on either side of the center.  But I resist using the brighter knuckle lights as I want to save them so I have light later on.

And I'm starting to get tired. At 9:30, barely a mile after leaving Prospect I text Emaad, "Ditching send and a half hour [goal]. Cramping pre-cramping. You'll catch me."  My calves are tightening up from all the repetitive motion of running on a smooth, flat surface.

Tuggle Revisited

I arrive at the Tuggle aid station (mile 21, ET 4:49) feeling exhausted.  I'm 6 minutes ahead of my target pace for a 7 1/2 hour finish, but I've given that up. I sit down and text Emaad again (10:18 p.m.), "I'm at Tuggle. How are you doing."  If he is near, I think I might wait for him. No response so I try calling. No answer.

Emaad on High Bridge

I get up and get going again.  I switch to the knuckle light, putting it on the low setting to preserve it, but I'm still concerned it may not last to the end.

Emaad texts that he is at Tuggle at 10:32.

Ahead of me I see a pair of lights. There is a pair of runners ahead.  If I can catch them I can shut off my light and rely on theirs.

It takes a bit but I finally catch them, partly because they had stopped to look at a black snake partly on the trail. They are amenable to me relying on their light.

Having better light is useful, as there are occasional small frogs on the trail and seeing them is better than stepping on them.

Stories start to be exchanged. Michael, who is setting the pace for Christie and me by deciding when we should run and when we should walk (we are mostly walking; running when he fears he might cramp up) reveals that he did the Moab 240 in 2019. He tells about the hallucinations he had there: the Indians silently watching from mesas ("like a John Wayne movie"), the people cleaning the trail where he was running ("who are you thanking?" a fellow runner asked him) and the "rock people," who silently guided him back onto the trail when he was off-course and headed toward the edge of a cliff.

Sign in Farmville marking the trail

Farmville Again

We reach the Farmville aid station (mile 26.5; ET 6:07), thank the volunteers, refill our water bottles, eat a couple of slices of oranges and head out.  I text Emaad at 11:42 p.m. that I'm passing thru Farmville.  Eight minutes later he responds that he is 10 minutes behind me.

I say out load, partly in surprise, that I'm still five minutes ahead of the 7 and a half hour pace. "You won't make it," Michael advises. "I know," I reply, as reality returns.

I turn on my light. We press on, and I gradually pull ahead, as I can walk faster than they can. We spy a rabbit as we leave Farmville, the only wildlife (other than the frogs) I see the entire race.

I actually catch up to a runner or two, and get passed by several. Sometimes I turn off my light just for the fun of running in the dark, or seeing my shadow ahead of me cast by runner's lights behind me.

Crossing High Bridge, I turn off the light so that I can enjoy the the lights of the thousands of fireflies below in the woods beneath the bridge.

Even with the finish in sight I'm walking. My calves are horribly tight. A runner goes by and I don't care.

Fifteen yards from the finish another run draws abreast.  Somewhere in the primitive part of my brain the urge to compete bubbles up. "Let's race to the finish," I say, and we do our best imitation of sprinting - to dispassionate observers probably little more than a waddle. But I cross the line first, accepting my finisher's coaster and plunk down in the nearest chair past the line. My time is 7:37:02.

Emaad finishes two and a half minutes later. Michael and Christie are five minutes further back. The woman with the stroller finishes in about the same time, the child sound asleep.

Results

I finish in 7:37:02, seven seconds faster than I did Freight Train.  I'm 85 of 116 overall, 58/74 males and 1 of 3 in my age group. One male and one female older than I finish.

Swag: shirt, coaster, sticker and bib