Buckle Quest - Part II - Running the Goat

Brady and I at the start

Nanny Goat has 3 categories: 12 hour/24 hour/100 mile. Runners who run 86 miles in 24 hours can continue to 30 in order to complete 100 miles. The course is a mixed surface 1 mile loop through and around a working horse ranch. Race HQ is a horse barn that includes the aid station and timing equipment that runners must pass through for each lap to count. 

At first, the course seems very easy. There are sections of hard packed dirt road which are shaded by orange trees, grass riddled with gopher holes, and exposed asphalt. The asphalt includes an out and back section, allowing the runners to exchange support and conversations every loop.

I started out feeling great. My goal was to run a comfortable, steady pace for as long as possible. Comfortable for me is about 10:30 - 11 minute miles. My first 10 were right on target. It was a beautiful, cool morning and I felt great. I shared a few miles with the Jester (Ed), and a few other friends. Brady was doing his own thing and lapped me early. 

Miles 11 - 20 were somewhat slower, but not bad. I stopped to grab snacks a few times, but carried them with me and did my best to keep moving. The most nagging issue at this point was a physical urge to pee, but an inability to do so. I tried several times with no success. I worried enough to ask Martha (Mrs. Jester) about it and her and Ed both reassured me that it was normal. I pushed on. 

 

The Jester makes it look easy!

 Miles 21 - 30. I was starting to hurt some. My feet were throbbing. After I met my first goal of finishing 25 in less than 6 hours, I decided to take a quick break and change my shoes. I went from Brooks Cascadias to Brooks PureFlows. My feet were much happier. I added more walking to each mile and mentally worried about what was to come.

Around mile 31 Brady came up and decided to stay with me. We shared how we were doing, high fives with passing runners, and every chance for Brady to call Ryan 'fat boy'. We were thrilled to get hot, fresh, grilled hamburgers. A few miles later Brady tried to give me a veggie burger. One bite convinced me I could never be a vegetarian. Yuck!

Mile 39 Brady hit a wall and decided that he was walking during our designated running section. Something pushed me to run, so I told him that I wanted to catch him (he had been 1 lap ahead of me since about mile 5). I took off. About half a mile later I regretted the decision. I felt bad that I left him in a time he may have needed encouragement. I pushed as hard as I could, except in the grassy/gopher section. I ran through the barn without stopping. I worried about Brady. I was thrilled to see him headed toward the barn when I was coming into the asphalt section. I pushed more, he gave me a smile of encouragement. This went on for 3 miles. Finally, at mile 42, I caught up to him. I was so relieved!

My second goal was to reach 50 miles in less than 12 hours. That would give me 12 more hours to reach the first cut off of 86 miles in 24 hours. Mathematically, I didn't imagine that it would take me longer than that. Funny how ultras can change so quickly...

We decided that we would take a break at mile 50. I took my shoes off to put on clean socks. I discovered huge, nasty blisters on the outside of my foot and between my big and second toes. I thought it was best to pop them. I have to tell you  that it was the most painful blister care I have ever experienced. I cussed, cried, and gritted my teeth. Brady and Martha helped me wrap my sorry toes and I attempted to put my shoes back on. It was horrible. When I stood up it crossed my mind that my race was over. Thankfully after a few hundred feet my blisters relented and I was able to run. I am sure it was slow, but it wasn't killing me, so I was relieved. 

midnight in the Nanny Barn

For dinner I ate half of another hamburger and a cup of rice.  Starting about mile 40 or so, I started eating espresso beans, grapes, and watermelon. I also filled my 22 oz bottle with water at least every hour.

We trudged on. It got dark. It got a little cold. We commiserated, complained, and whined to each other. We kept going, slower with every lap. The hundred or so ounces of fluid I had consumed finally decided to make its way out. Unfortunately for my time, I had to go almost every other lap. I was pretty annoyed with my body for making me waste so much time in the nasty port-o-potties throughout the day.

Brady wanted us to take a nap. He thought we would avoid the zombie walk he experienced at Rocky Road if we took a preemptive nap. I told him to decide when. He told me to decide when. Neither of us were thinking. At mile 66 I was frustrated, tired, and cold. I told him we needed to stop. We went to the tent, tried not to step on Colby, and set our alarm for 45 minutes. Brady was able to fall asleep pretty quickly. I couldn't. My legs were throbbing, my calf muscles were spasming, and my stomach was growling. I should have got up and let him meet me when the time was up, but I didn't. I sat there, crying, complaining on Facebook, and feeling sorry for myself. When the alarm went off, Brady questioned whether I could go on. I wasn't going to stop at 66 miles, so I forced my legs to get up and get moving again. 

The next time I was in the barn I grabbed the midnight snack of champion athletes - Cheetos. They were a good distraction for a short time. We met up with other runners and shared in their misery. A few were throwing up. A few were walking like they had glass in their shoes and looked worse than we felt. A few were running, and running well. I hated them! I was jealous of their strength. I wanted to run, but couldn't make myself do it. 

Ever so slowly, we kept going. I had it in my mind I was done at 75. That was three quarters of the goal. That was enough, right? I convinced myself it was. At mile 75 we sat down in the barn. I was really sure I was done. The Jester finished his PR 100 in less than 20 hours and came through the barn. When he saw us sitting he convinced us to get up and keep going. I hated him for it (not really, but the thought crossed my mind that I was going to stab him with a fork), but we walked out of the barn for another go. At first, we were walking at a pace that was quick enough to keep us on target for the cut off. If we could maintain a 15 minute (or better) mile pace, I had time. We probably made two at that pace and I ran out of gas again.

Ed did his best to encourage us. Martha joined us on the march. Some of what they were saying sounded like white noise. Their voices were drowned out by the burning pain in my feet and ankles. Every time I tried to bend my ankle to walk, it felt like someone was hitting them with a hammer (an image from the movie Misery becomes crystal clear). The bottom of my feet ached in indescribable ways. The chafing on my waist burned. My eyes were heavy. The small bumps in the road became taller than my feet could climb. The concrete driveway that went unnoticed earlier in the day became an out-right elevation gain to be dreaded. I was miserable. I was mad. I was sad. I was incoherent. 

I tried to quit again at mile 78. I told Ed and Martha I was done. Ed tried to convince me that I would feel better if I went up to the cut off. I argued that whether it was 78 or 82, it was the same medal, same feeling of not making the 100 mile. I didn't see the point in continuing on. As we got close to the barn I compromised. I agreed to 2 more loops, 80 miles total. I think Brady was secretly wishing I had quit at 78. Once I decided it was over at 80, I felt better. I could see the end in sight. 

You see, I may have been able to get more miles in before the cut off, if by some miracle I had been allowed to continue on, that would have meant 22 more miles from that point. When you hit that horrible wall at mile 20 of a marathon, you only have a 10k to go. Six point two. I was facing 22 miles. It was not possible to me in that moment. About a quarter mile from our final pass into the barn Colby met us on the trail. He had just woken up. We told him to join us for the last bit to the finish. He thought we meant for our 100. I could see the disappointment on his face when we said it was for 80. Not even that face ignited enough spark to get me to keep going. 

Colby bringing us in

We came into the timing mat, hand in hand and I told the RD, Steve that we were finished. He hung our medals around our neck and took our timing chips. I found a chair, took my shoes off and thanked God it was over. No celebration, not excitement, just relief. 

80 miles - DONE!

The emotions and realizations came later...

Next up: Buckle Quest - Part III - War Wounds and Regrets Reflections