FTPR: Friends, Trails, Perpeteum & Robs

FTPR 50k

4-11-15

Rob.

Not a name that exactly strikes fear into the hearts of anyone. In fact, I can’t think of many notable Robs. There’s Robert Louis Stevenson, famed author of Treasure Island; Robert A. Heinlein, obscure author of fantastical tales; and Survivor Rob Mari-dorko, who instills in me only a tangible urge to punch him in the face.

When I signed up for Rob Powell’s Forget the PR 50k for the first time back in 2011, I wasn’t afraid of any Robs. Why should I be? After all, it’s my name too!

Back then I was a relative newb to the ultra community. I had heard stories of how tough the FTPR course is, but had virtually nothing to compare it too. I was logging lots of miles on the trails at A.W. Marion State Park, which are challenging in their own right, but boy was I not expecting the level of difficulty that I was in for!

Ironically, I ran my fastest and all-around “best” FTPR that first year, coming in at 6:17 and some change. Most importantly, I felt like a million bucks all day and had an absolute blast.

Going into the 50k for my fourth time this year (had to miss 2014 due to an injury ), I felt great about my training. FTPR would be my longest training run for the upcoming 024, as well as a race in itself. I was hoping to push myself to a FTPR PR  :)

My Paleo diet isn’t “new” anymore, but now I am working on dialing in my nutrition for races. Many paleo ultrarunners utilize sugary food sources during ultras, the theory being that you use it up as fast as you can consume it, so there should be no worry of a bunch of crud laying around in your guts, gunking up your works. Since going Paleo I have completed a few 50ks and a 24 hour race. I have seen improvement in my times, kept my stomach in check and accomplished other goals. What I’m trying to do now is to zero in on nutrition for ultras that is “convenient”.  Up to now I’d been relying on real foods.  Unfortunately many of these are bulky and require cooking or refrigerating.  For FTPR I decided to experiment with some convenient “sugary” nutrition- Ensure and Perpeteum.

Long story short- bluck. Waaaaaaayyyyy too much shit in my system. The Perpeteum immediately gave me gas- and not the funny, flarpping kind- so I was popping Gas-X to counteract that. The first Ensure went down well and really boosted my energy level. The second one kicked me in the balls so hard I  never recovered fully. But let’s start at the beginning, shall we…

My awesome wife, and one-woman-crew, Angie, drove the two hours to Mohican, graciously letting me sleep the whole way. We arrived in plenty of time for me to haul all my mountain of stuff to the Start/Finish area, hit the mile long shitter line, get checked in, gear up, stretch out and even steal a kiss on my way out :) Our kiddos opted to sit this one out, deciding to stay home with their visiting cousins. However, my daughter gave me one of our traditional good-luck bows to clip on my vest :)

The pre-race meeting was brief and to-the-point. Follow the flags to the covered bridge ( a particular color but I can’t remember now whether it was orange or yellow :/).Flags always on your right. Rob’s wife Johna sang the most beautiful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner I’ve ever heard. A minute later we were on the trail. After a short trip around the lower campgrounds we hung a right, crossed a bridge, and headed up the first of many, many climbs.

The 2015 FTPR course was modified a bit because of all the rain the weeks prior. Rather than one big loop for us 50k’ers, we would be doing two. The first was 17-ish miles and the second 13-ish. The river crossing- my FAVORITE part of this event- was axed. I was bummed, but upon seeing the raging waters, I knew Rob made the right decision.

I was immediately patting myself on the back for the decision to use my trekking poles. An X-Mas gift from my wife last year, I have been using them on and off ever since. I scooted up the hill at a power-hike, feeling good about my uphill pace. A stroll across the ridge and we were soon cascading over the other side, dipping into a little valley before popping back up another shorter hill. Here’s where I made my first “follow-the-herd” mistake of the day, tagging right along with two runners who missed the turn up the hill. I quickly noticed my mistake (thank goodness) and laughed as the dude in front of me spoke my thoughts, “We’re all a bunch of sheep!”

Popping up in the upper campgrounds I let the memories of last summer wash over me. Angie, our kids and I volunteered at Mo 100 for the overnight shift at Covered Bridge. We had a great time helping out all our trail running peeps. The overnight hours at ultras are always my favorite, whether I’m running or volunteering. Those hours are always filled with mystery, magic and adventure! If I’m running, these are the hours I usually feel the worst- and have the best memories!

…aaaaannnnnd back to the present.

We cruised past the campgrounds, down the long gravel drive, past the mountain bike trail (thank you Rob!) and right on down to the sidewalk along Route 3. Turning right, we headed into the woods. It felt good to enjoy this section of Mo in the daylight. At Mo 100 it’s always pitch black or I am either too beat up or overcome with emotion to truly appreciate this little bit of heaven.

We meandered down the trail, making our way along the State Park campgrounds. I absolutely love this stretch of the trail. Kinda technical, but mostly it just always feels like possibility to me. By this time most of the pack is spread out so I can cruise at my own pace and just enjoy getting lost in my thoughts of what the day’s adventure has in store for me.

After a very short trip on the road through the State Park campgrounds, we turned left and headed up Big Ass Hill. Yes! I turned on my son’s wanna-be-a-Go-Pro camera to capture the torture. The video actually turned out pretty good on the hike up. Once I hit the top and started running…let’s just say I’m no Travis Lloyd, folks. The video looks like I just tossed the camera in a blender. Fuck.

I can honestly say that after a few years under my belt of hiking up Sugarloaf “Mountain” down on the Not Yo Momma’s course, Big Ass Hill didn’t quite kick the shit out of me as badly as previous years. In fact, with the aid of my trusty trekking poles, the first trip only half killed me :) I also talked to a nice fella about his experience at Old Dominion. I had been considering running it this year, but after reading several race reports with terrible references to the amount of hard-packed surface, this fellas confirmation of that helped me decide to remove it from my schedule.

We made our way to the Fire Tower, where I was greeted by my pals Adrienne Anderson and Robbie Gannon. Amazing how seeing friends can give you a boost. Robbie topped off my water and I was off again.

Heading back into the woods I encountered my proudest moment of the day. A large group in front of me was hammering down a hill just as I entered the woods. They were heading left down that hill….meanwhile, I was staring to the right at the pretty flags going downhill that direction. Second-guessing myself, I hesitated, waiting for the next runner to confirm I was actually correct. By the time we decided we were, in fact, going the right way, the others were long gone.

I enjoyed this long, runable downhill section immensely, giving myself a large pat on the back for not following the herd. First. Time. Eva.

Nearly the entire stretch from Fire Tower to Covered Bridge is runable, with lots of nice downhills. At the CB I briefly lamented the fact that we wouldn’t be wading across the river, even as the alarmingly high and murky water rushed by several feet beneath me.

I had been chomping on a chewable Perpeteum once an hour so far. I started experiencing those delightful gas cramps, as I said, almost immediately after the first one. I was hoping that the gas was a by-product of the banana I had with breakfast that morning. I had already taken a Gas-X but it hadn’t done the trick.

I saw lots of wonderful folks volunteering at the CB, including Julia Zaleski and Kali Price. Kali pulled a Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Lara Bar out of my Nathan Firecatcher pack for me, and brought a smile to my face when she said, “Ooh, you got one of the good ones.” True dat.

The section just after the CB just plain sucked for me.


We hung a left after crossing the bridge, and ran along the river for a short, flat stretch up to the dam. These rare flat sections at Mo are pure torture for me; this one exacerbated by the fact that I was feeling perty crumby.
 

Between the dam and the root climb I started having all kinds of bizarre issues. My fake Go-Pro hadn’t stopped recording at the top of Big Ass Hill, though I had taken extra care to make sure I stopped it to save space for the root climb. My trekking poles were becoming a huge pain whenever I wasn’t actually using them, and whenever I needed both hands free to take electrolytes, open wrappers, etc. My calves had been tight for weeks, no matter how much rolling I did. In fact, I woke up the morning before the race screaming with pain from the worst charlie horse I’ve ever had. My stomach was still a wreck. Sucksville.

The temps and humidity had been steadily rising all day. Not sure where they topped out, but I’m gonna go with FUCKING HOT. Typically I love the heat and humidity, but I’ve learned that it really can fuck my stomach up if I don’t heed the signs early. On a day like today, when I was experimenting with nutrition and gear, and with my stomach already rebelling, I had to take extra care to not “over do it.” So I scaled back my pace and stayed on top of my water and electrolytes.

The root climb is my second favorite part of the FTPR course. Disappointed that I couldn’t record it as I’d planned, I didn’t get to enjoy it fully. At the top I went into autopilot until some kind soul yelled, “Hey, you’re going the wrong way!” Sure enough, I was following the MO 100 course instead of the damn flags. So much for that earlier pat on the back.

On top of all the suck going on in my brain, I was about to begin my most hated part of the course. The section from the CB back towards the Start/Finish area begins with a couple of miles of flat as a board trails. This section starts beating me down mentally long before I ever get there. It’s one of those trails that I hate to walk because it is so flat, and I usually wind up pushing myself too hard on it.  It feels miles longer than it actually is. Making my way through here was only half as hellish as I feared, so I called it a win.

Back at the S/F area I tried my first Ensure of the day. It went down smooooooth. Adding a Perpeteum and a liberal swig of Coca Cola, I began ticking the other items off my mental list. Ang filled my water bottles and sunblocked me. After a fair amount of internal debate I opted to ditch my trekking poles. If I only had a pouch to stash them in ninja style while not climbing! I downed another Gas-X (my stomach feeling better at this point), changed my shoes and socks, dropped the “Go-Pro”, took a Naproxen, swigged some Pedialyte, devoured another Lara Bar, and headed back out.

Big Ass Hill was rougher on me this time. I cursed that fucking fallen tree about half way up. It tempted me so badly I almost stopped for a seat. I certainly missed my poles!

The second loop was going pretty well until just before I reached the CB. There is a section I like that runs up to the bridge through a deep gully. There are many foot bridges along this trail, criss-crossing the creek here and there. Right near the end of this section, I came upon a family out for a hike. A young couple with a tiny baby strapped to the front of the dad in one of those harness contraptions. They moved over slightly (and politely) to let me pass. I was moving at a decent clip again at this point and the they were positioned in this little nook at a tight turn around a tree. I noticed that other runners had obviously blazed a bit of a new path on the outside of the tree. I made a split-second adjustment and took one tiny hop to go up the small bank. Instant pain shot through my right calf. I screamed out, “Shit!”, terrifying the poor couple. They were both asking if I was OK as I writhed on the ground, frantically massaging and flexing my calf. Fuck. Assuring them I was fine, and apologizing for cursing and freaking them out, I slowly got to my feet and tested the calf with some weight on it. Ironically, both my calves felt much better now. WTF?  

This time we didn’t need to do the loop at the CB, just the “flat & back” section. My stomach still in check (though not perfect) and my energy levels great, I opted to take on the second Ensure. In retrospect I’m not sure if it was this….or the delicious bacon Kim Love-Ottobre gave me…. that thoroughly destroyed my gut for the next three miles or so. I’m guessing a bit of both :) (BTW- I in no way blame Kim for this. She was like an angel standing there with delicious bacon! Thanks, Kim!)

So here I was again, no more than ½ mile in to the most psychologically brutal section of the course, and my stomach went from OK, to terrible, to holy shit status in a hurry. It was really too soon for another Gas-X. After some awful run/walk tries, I finally resigned myself to a mosey. Turning on the Serial podcast, I covered about two miles before I felt well enough to try running again. Shortly thereafter I hit the 6:17:19 mark, which is my previous best FTPR finish. After wallowing in a fresh baked batch of self-pity over that nonsense, I realized that I was feeling a lot better. My stomach was in the neighborhood of OK and Serial had really helped to save me. By the time I made it back to the State Park Campgrounds I was running steadily (if not briskly) and back in control of my emotions.

I climbed and descended, feeling stronger with every step. Turning back into Mohican Adventures I got a nice surprise from the older gentleman who had been directing runners at the bottom of the long, gravel drive all day. I was beginning my climb again, when he hollered something at me. I had still been jamming my podcast, so I removed my headphones to the glorious sound of him telling me that if I was finishing I didn’t need to climb again! In fact, I only had to turn right and head straight back to the finish! Holy shit!! Opening up my last bottle of nitrous and speeding around the bend like a pack of turtles, I finished my fourth FTPR in my 3^rd slowest time ever- 6:34:14. But I got er’ done!

After the race I took advantage of the showers. Angie and I hung out and talked to lots of our trail friends before heading back home. Of course we hit Wendy’s for my traditional post-race meal of the worst foods for me ever, where I took down a cow dipped him in frosty. Yum.

In the end I suppose I took on too much “testing” at one event, but this experience helped me beyond a doubt at 024 a few weeks later.

I can never say enough great things about RD Rob Powell, FTPR, the volunteers, the aid stations and the course. This is my favorite 50k, hands done. Rob is an awesome dude who puts his heart and soul into this event. The volunteers are the best around. Thanks so much to everyone involved!