Arkansas Traveller 100
I thought about asking for advice on how to prepare for my third
100-miler, which would be only 6 weeks after my second 100-miler.
However, I decided not to ask because I didn't really know how well I
was recovering, and that's probably the most important thing to
consider. It's not like I would be asking for a recipe for my first
100. Look at Davy Crockett, running a 100 every 4 weeks. I wonder what
he's doing between races. Probably not much. Anyway, it worked out fine.
Having DNF'd in my first 100 attempt at the Arkansas Traveller 100 in
2007 (Turnaround, 57 miles), I had unfinished business. It was hot that
year, but the main problem was that I still hadn't worked out the
hydration and salt. After that, I got it figured out and then ran the
Rocky Raccoon 100 in February and the Cascade Crest 100 in August. Now
I wanted to finish that business, but after two weeks my quads were
still sore from all the climbing of mountains. [It's not like I could
train adequately for it here in New Orleans.] At the end of the third
week, I finally felt good enough to push a little and did a 9-mile run
with 4 miles of marathon pace. After this I started to build up the
mileage and intensity, but I only had three weeks left. I decided I to
shorten the taper to a single week. During week four I hit the parking
garage once and then ran a 23-miler. During week five I did a couple of
intensity runs and a 31-miler.
Mom and the kids drove up with me in the RV late Thursday. I lucked-out
two years in a row in that the kids were off school on the Friday. Our
spot in the Lake Sylvia Campground was about a half mile from the race
start. Walking over for the start was no problem, but I bummed a ride
back after the race.
The plan was simple. Run at a comfortable pace until Turnaround, and
then ask someone for the time. If sub-24 is possible, then push.
The first few miles are kind of boring on the paved and gravel roads,
but this was just as well because I didn't bring a lamp, and it was
dark. In 07, I brought a hand-held but didn't really need it and then
forgot about it when packing to go home. Shortly after sunrise, we
turned off the road and onto the Ouachita Trail, which is very
beautiful. Up and down and around, mostly smooth, flat, rocky trail and
roots. A little technical, but mostly just pretty - that is until the
rain started. I was immediately alarmed because I hadn't worn a hat to
keep the rain off of my glasses, and because serious rain would soak my
shoes and socks and potentially give me blisters early in the race.
Although my feet got soaked, blisters never became a problem. My
glasses did cloud-up, but I dropped behind the group I was in, and
played follow-the-leader. The rain came down pretty hard for a couple
miles and then began to let up as I came into the Lake Sylvia Aid
Station (16 mi), which has drop bags. Here I picked-up a hat for the
rain and the sun, which did come out later on.
The next stretch was quite flat, almost like bottom-land. The low hills
were broken-up by shallow patches of concrete that stabilize the jeep
road. At the Electronic Tower Aid Station (24 mi), one of the
volunteers said that when I come through there on the way back it'll be
all downhill. It was kind of fun to think about. Shortly after the next
aid station, the course turns onto a gravel road and then a bit of
blacktop that dips behind the damn of Lake Winona and then to the busy
Lake Winona Aid Station (32 mi). Here, I changed into some dry socks,
but my shoes were still wet. My feet were a bit wrinkly. I was crossing
my fingers.
Up to this point, I just felt great. The temperature was good. The rain
had stopped. And the next stretch to Smith Mountain is the prettiest
and most technical part of the course. What makes it technical is the
rocks. You really have to pay attention. In some places there are large
jagged faces of rock with a few loose rocks strewn about. A fall could
leave you in pretty bad shape. Last year, I was following a woman who
went down and got a bloody face. Luckily, it was nothing serious, but
it was enough to inhibit my enjoyment of views. In any case, you have
to strain a little to appreciate them because a thin line of trees
almost always partially obstructs the viewing. If you stop to get a
better look, you realize there's not much to see, other than the next
tree-covered ridge. I was apprehensive about the running back along
this rocky stretch in the dark.
The trip up Smith Mountain seemed not so difficult. I'm pretty sure I
walked. On the other side, at the Powerline Aid Station, I reassessed
my feet. With some fresh socks and my now-dry shoes, my feet felt
great. From here to Turnaround and back, it's all fine-gravel road.
Very easy.
The sun went down, and so did the temperature. I had been overly
confident about the weather forecast from two nights before. The rain
was a complete surprise. Now, I was worried about the cold. I hadn't
brought anything for it, other than a light rain-proof jacket, which I
knew would be too hot and too noisy. I was wearing a sleeveless tech
shirt, summer buff, and hat. Oh well, it'll have to do. The low turned
out to be 55 degrees, and with no wind, I was dressed just right.
Rolling into Turnaround, I noticed the station had a different name up
on the sign. What? I'm not there yet? Can't be. Oh, okay, I should go
back the way I came. Yes, this is the turnaround. Thanks goodness.
I expected the trip back to seem like forever because I would be tired,
but it actually went by pretty quick. The distance is less than half,
so that helps. And it's familiar now. The first bit is the same easy
roads, then up Smith Mountain on a grass-hidden rocky single-track,
which, strangely, was kind of fun. I felt pretty good, and so I just
pushed on up, mostly running. Amazing. On reviewing the elevation
profile, I see that the real climb was already behind me, on the gravel
road.
Again, the rocky, treacherous jeep road was challenging, but having to
concentrate just made the miles go by quickly. The aid stations were
quiet now. No more lovely dancers at Club Flamingo. All the tiki
torches were thrilling, but it was so quiet in the station - very
serious. The next few stretches around Lake Winona and over the hill at
Electronic Tower are a blur. I remember thinking about the remark that
it'll all be downhill from here, but I couldn't remember which station
that was. Anyway, at this stage in the race, nothing ever feels like it
is downhill.
I hadn't bothered to ask anyone for the time or estimate my finish. I
knew I couldn't make any calculations. Coming into the last station, I
just had to know. Maybe all it would take is a little push to make it
under 24 hours. Turns out I had an hour and half to go 4 miles! Wow. I
can do that. Getting to the highway still seemed like it took forever.
Chrissy Ferguson was making a big fuss with her loudspeaker over every
finisher, except the loudspeaker was messing up...crack...Sa.....crack...dry.... When I got through the finish, she gave me a big hug. Very nice. 23:07. Whew!