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!