I thought I knew what "hard" meant. But HURT redefined that term for me. Like I said to my crew during the race, it was exactly what I signed up for. The course was brutal, the views were spectacular, and the people were beyond wonderful. It was so cool to be on the course and experiencing the race that I'd watched online, read about, and tried to enter multiple occasions. This time around, it was more than I was capable of doing. But for whatever reason, I'm not leaving Hawaii crushed; I'm actually even more excited to try this race again -- and again -- until I can finish it. (And maybe more times even after that.) Bonus: Both Joe and Edward are excited to enter the lotto and run the race also, and we've made a pact that no matter which of us gets in, we'll all come back to Hawaii to crew and pace them.
I can't really do this race justice in a race report, but I'll try to jot down some highlights. If nothing else, hopefully re-reading this again next year will help me learn from this experience and have a more successful race next year.
|Pre-Race meeting near the start/finish (Nature Center)|
The race directors also mentioned the especial need for hydration vigilance. They recommended runners drink 32-64 oz of water between each aid station. They said the vog (volcanic fog) present in the air would result in increased dehydration.
Before the race, the race directors had us hold hands with our fellow runners and stand in silence, listening to the water flowing in the stream under the bridge. It was very peaceful. Then the guy next to me asked a runner with a huge ultra-beard whether he had a separate bib number for his facial hair.
It was so fun seeing the course the first time. The roots were beyond crazy. I never found them annoying during the race, though -- even the section where the trail was entirely made up of roots, along the side of a cliff. I thought it was pretty fun.
|Photo credit: Ultrasignup|
Just beyond those gates was my favorite part of the course. During the daylight (so during loops 1 and 2), the views to my left were breathtaking. I've never run in such a scenic place before. We ran through so many different landscapes: bamboo stands, jungle, ridges with ocean views, huge tropical pine trees... The tropical bird sounds were fun, too.
I did loop 1 in about 6:10, I think, which wasn't a good sign in terms of making the 36-hour cutoff. (There are 5 loops.) Each loop has three big climbs of about 1,600 feet apiece, which equals an elevation gain of about 24,500 feet total. On each climb, I lost my will to live a little bit, and then as soon as it leveled out for a bit, I quickly regained my appreciation for the beauty around me and truly enjoyed being in the race.
I slowed a bit in loop 2, but I felt pretty steady. I felt like I was eating enough. The aid stations were the best stocked I've ever seen, and the most convenient and hygienic. All the food was labeled with fancy placards, and most items were packaged in single-serving ziploc bags, so you didn't have to worry about insects or unwashed hands touching your food before you could.
Each time I saw Nikki Kimball on the course, I was amazed by her positive attitude. I've seen the documentary about her, and I've read so much about her, I felt a little starstruck. She was never in first place, but she was always cheerful and chatting with those around her, and she said "Good job!" to me each time we crossed paths.
It was so wonderful seeing Joe and Edward (and then Jessica too) at each aid station. That was definitely motivating to me whenever I was feeling tired. By the time I saw them at the end of loop 2, the sun had set. At Nu'uanu aid station before the last leg of loop 2, Joe reminded me that he'd be able to pace me on loop 3. (Pacers can start at mile 60 or at 5pm Saturday, whichever comes first.) Joe would take the first 2 legs of loop 3, and Edward would take the 3rd leg of loop 3 and all of loop 4 (assuming I'd make it that far).
It was great starting loop 3 with Joe. There's a 1,200 foot climb right from the start, and we were in the dark, but I was still moving okay. At some point during that first leg, though, I started really slowing down. I thought I was taking in enough nutrition and hydration, but I think I really started slacking in both, and got behind. I started feeling exhausted and light-headed. The only thing that cheered me up and energized me a bit was hugging Joe, so I did that a lot. Joe estimates I hugged him about "a dozen or so times" in the 15 miles he paced me. A couple times when I felt really dizzy for a second, it would be along the side of a cliff, which was really scary. I sat down for a couple seconds each time this happened.
After two legs with Joe, Edward took over pacing. Edward had some good jokes, which were helpful. My favorite: "What's brown and smells like red paint?" Answer: brown paint. Unfortunately, by the time I picked up Edward, my energy levels and well-being had sunk even lower. He had to negotiate with me to get me to eat any food. He'd hand me something and tell me to eat it, and I'd walk with it in my hand for 5-10 minutes until he forced me to take a few bites. At some point, I started moaning. Then I started talking to myself, saying "Okay, okay, okay, okay," and "Go, go, go, go," over and over. Poor Edward commented that he should make a soundtrack of the race, and that he'd never let me live this down. I asked Edward whether I had to start worrying about cutoff times, and he told me to just keep going and not worry about it; Joe would do the math for us.
Even if I wasn't physically feeling well, I always thought I'd be able to keep a positive attitude; to keep smiling, and find joy despite the suffering. I'm probably most disappointed in myself about the huge pity party I threw during loop 3. I kept saying "Good job" to fellow runners, and I think I was still polite to my pacers and crew, but I was miserable and whiny. I definitely didn't achieve my goal of smiling throughout the race. I hope I can learn from this and practice finding joy in the future, regardless of circumstances.
When I finally made it back to the start/finish (Nature Center), I handed Joe my pack and asked him to refill my bottles while I went to the bathroom. As I said this, I could tell from the look on his face that there might not be a point. I asked him, "Wait -- is there a point?" He said, "Just go to the bathroom. We'll talk about it later."
As I sat there peeing, I already knew what he'd say. And I was remarkably okay with it. I guess the suffering out there had taken a toll. And I really couldn't imagine how I'd be able to get through 40 more miles of the HURT course. That's not to say that I wasn't terribly disappointed in myself, though. I really had thought I'd be able to finish. My goals for the race had always been to finish, and finish smiling. When I came out of the bathroom and Joe told me that loop 3 had taken me 9 and a half hours, and that I'd have to do the next two loops in 6 and a half hours each (even quicker than I'd done loop 2, when I was feeling good), I knew it was over. He said as much, but said that I could still finish the Fun Run distance. So I got ready to go out. Edward made me take a 12 minute rest, lying down on a cot, before I continued. He thought it would reset my mind. I didn't sleep at all, I was just gone mentally and exhausted physically. But I laid down like he insisted, and then I got up, changed my shoes, and took off for a final leg with Edward.
On that leg, I was in a much better place. I had eaten a bunch at the Nature Center, and rested a bit, and was wearing fresh shoes. And I no longer had the despair of wondering how on earth I'd be able to get through so many more loops, so many more climbs, so many more miles. The "finish" -- the end of my race, and my suffering -- was now within reach. 7.5 miles, 1 huge climb, lots of tricky roots and rocks, and then it would all be over. It was kind of sad each time we crossed paths with other runners, whose 100-mile finish was still possible, and I kind of felt like a fraud when they would tell me "Good job." But when we got to Manoa Falls for the last time, I stopped to take a last look, and admire the beauty of it. And Joe was there to meet us, and we all three ran from the falls down to the Paradise Park aid station, where I told the captain I was dropping. As befits their pirate theme, they had me walk the plank since I dropped there.
So I didn't achieve my goals of finishing smiling, but at least I finished "my race" -- the 100k -- smiling. And hopefully I've learned things that will help me be a better runner and human being in the future.
There's a really nice banquet held at the Mid-Pacific Country Club the Monday night after the race. It really feels like HURT is one big family -- ohana -- and it was nice feeling like all three of us are part of that family now. Attending the banquet increased my desire to come back and try again in the future. At the banquet, they had printed lists of 100 mile finishers and 100k finishers. Of 126 starters, 42% finished the 100 mile race. 33% didn't even make it to the 100k distance. As the race motto states, "We wouldn't want it to be easy." And this wasn't even a muddy year!