Ouachita Trail 50 race report--April 13, 2019

Before I talk about Ouachita, let me give you a brief backstory of my running. I started running in the Summer of 2011. I started out as a road runner, tackled a few 5ks, a few half marathons, and in 2015, the Chicago Marathon. In 2014, I had started dabbling in trail running and by 2016 I was sticking mostly to trails and starting to form an interest in this thing called ‘ultra running’. I had read the book Born to Run (what runner hasn’t??) and the idea of running beyond a marathon distance was both scary and intriguing to me. I had also met my now husband, James, himself an ultra runner, and this further increased my interest in ultras. In 2017, I ran my first official ultra, Dogwood Canyon 50K and in 2018, my 2^nd, Psycho Psummer 50K. Once those were under my belt, I was ready to set my sights on a 50 miler. I decided on the Ouachita 50 for a few reasons. I knew several people who had run it and they spoke highly of the race course, the aid stations and the race directors. It is in Little Rock, Arkansas, so a reasonable drive from St. Louis for a weekend excursion. It was hard enough to be challenging (13 hour time limit, under 5000 feet of elevation gain, because the 50 mile aspect alone is not hard enough to be challenging?!?) but not so hard that it seemed too out of reach for a first attempt. So, on November 1, 2018, the day registration opened, I signed up for the Ouachita 50. That gave me 5 months to train, with a solid base already in place.

Fast forward to race weekend. I had been obsessively monitoring the weather in Little Rock so I knew what to expect for the race. At first, the forecast was warm. It was showing mid 50s for race start, climbing to mid 70s for the high. That was sounding a touch uncomfortable. But the closer to race day it got, the worse the forecast became. It turned to 100% chance of rain all day, with possible severe thunderstorms all afternoon. Terrific. The temps, however, were going to be fairly pleasant. 40s to start, upper 50s for the high. Warm enough that the prospect of being wet all day didn’t also involve freezing my ass off. I mulled over what I would wear and settled on shorts, a short sleeve shirt, my Ultimate Direction Ultra 2.0 rain jacket, calf compression sleeves, gaiters, my Hoka One One Speedgoat 2s (I had worn these in a training run in similar rainy conditions and they drain water really well), Injinji toe socks to hopefully prevent toe blisters from wet feet, and a hat.

James and I drove down to Little Rock Friday and planned to hit the hay early, as the race had a 6am start the next morning. The forecast hadn’t changed, so I anticipated waking up to the sound of rain. Morning came and the rain had not yet begun. A little part of me foolishly believed that somehow the rain had moved around Little Rock, but as we drove to the race start around 5:15, it began. We parked and walked over to the pavilion where bib pickup was. There was to be a race briefing at 5:45 and then we would head out on our journey. The pavilion was not particularly large and it was very crowded, as most of the runners were crammed under it trying to stay dry for as long as possible. I saw my friend Jess, also running the 50 miler, and said hello. I went up and got my bib and asked where we could put our drop bag, which had dry clothes in it for us when we finished. We were told to just stash it under a table. James would also have items available for me when I saw him at mile 16 and 26, such as extra food, a hand roller and extra Smart Water (Smart Water with electrolytes is what I’ve started drinking for races. I’m not a fan of the sugary electrolyte drinks.) As I looked around, feeling insanely antsy and incredibly nervous, I noticed how many people were not wearing rain jackets. Some at least had rain ponchos, or trash bags turned into rain ponchos. But nothing at all for the rain? Had they not obsessively monitored the weather? Did they not care? Were they just that badass? I was glad I had a good rainjacket on, that I knew would serve me well. Many were also not wearing headlamps. It wouldn’t be light til at least 7, possibly later, due to the cloud cover. Why weren’t these people wearing headlamps?

5:45 rolled around and the race director got everyone’s attention. She explained that due to the wet conditions, we would NOT be climbing to the top of Pinnacle Mountain. I knew this already, as we had been told when we picked up my packet the day before. I was disappointed, as part of the lure of this race was getting to summit Pinnacle and take in the view. But the park set the rules. So, she explained that we would instead go partway up then take the emergency exit route back down, then carry on with the rest of the course, which was an out and back, with the 50K runners splitting off at mile 16. Any 50 mile runners could choose to drop down at this juncture. I had a feeling many would do so today, given the anticipated conditions. The race director also explained the course markings, a combination of ribbons and chalk. It sounded pretty straight forward. If you got lost, she said, you were, in fact, a “dumbass”. She also reiterated that this course was largely an out-and-back, so be ready to share the trail with those passing you in the other direction. I am a fan of routes with at least some out-and-back, as it is motivational to see other runners, especially if you’re on your return route.

She finished talking, it was 6:00 and time to start. James and I kissed, he wished me luck, and I set off in the rain, knowing I would see him in 16 miles. It was time to see what I was made of, and how my training would serve me.

The race begins with a couple miles of asphalt, leading into Pinnacle Mountain State Park. It was mostly uphill and I settled into a comfortable pace for this, opting not to walk the hills in this very first part, as many people were. There were members of the Sheriff’s department helping to guide us at turns, which was a nice touch. The asphalt seemed to last forever but then we veered left and stepped onto a very rocky, downhill single track trail. Several runners around me that had opted not to wear headlamps were complaining profusely about how treacherous the rocks were in the dark. That’s why you bring a headlamp, dummies. Once we went down this winding hill, we had a long stretch of flat, wider trail, that was already pretty soggy and muddy. I could see what sort of a day this was going to be.  From somewhere off to my right, I heard a lone Barred Owl call out “who cooks for you” and I knew that it was going to  be a good day. If you know me, you know I love owls. Then another owl called out and then they went back and forth in their mating calls. I don’t think anyone else around me even noticed, but I yelled out, “sweet!” and felt excited for the long day ahead.

After the flats came the partial climb up Pinnacle Mountain. There was a long, steep section that was made of large slippery stone steps, many of which were about knee height on me. I was grateful for the strength training I had done the past few months, as it was beneficial on this section. At various sections, a runner or two would pass people, and I noticed that a petite female that kept leapfrogging me was being the most polite trail runner I’d ever encountered. She literally said “passing on the left” to every runner she moved around. The men, on the other had, said nothing, just barging by other runners, and one actually elbowed a girl in front of me to push her to the side so he could pass. It really aggravated me. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to be polite when on the trails. Don’t we all know this by now?

Once we got to our turnaround point, we started back down the emergency exit trail and then connected to the Ouachita Trail and were on our way into the long out-and-back stretch. It was going to be a long, soggy day, but the temperature was hovering in that sweet spot where you feel like you could run forever--which was kinda what I needed to be able to do that day.

From there until the aid station at mile 16, time seemed to pass quickly. I had made a decision that I wasn’t going to look at my watch very often, and just focus on keeping a good, steady pace. The rain kept up a constant downpour but I didn’t mind, at least at this point. Despite the rain, the woods were incredibly peaceful and scenic. The Ouachita Trail is lined with many pine trees, and the trails were covered in pine needles, which make for a cushiony surface underfoot. There had been a good amount of recent rain and the leaves were a beautiful shade of bright green. Dogwoods were blooming, as well as other trees and plants that I wasn’t familiar with. This section of the trail involved a little more asphalt, which I didn’t realize would be there, but ultimately, it wasn’t a bother.

As I got close to the Northshore aid station, signs appeared, and I passed the point where those doing the 50K separated from those doing 50 miles. I wondered how many people would be going left instead of the originally intended right that day. I felt good and didn’t have even a fleeting thought about dropping down. Besides, James would be waiting for me in a short distance. I had texted him when I got the chance, asking him to make sure he had the hand roller ready for me. My calves were feeling incredibly tight and I hoped rolling them would help. While I had my phone out, I quickly looked at the texts I had received that morning from friends wishing me luck and strength. Seeing those encouraging words really did give me a boost, knowing they had faith in me and were cheering for me from St. Louis.

I got to the aid station and James was there, taking pictures of me coming in. He had a spot behind the aid station set up, with a chair and a bag with my things in it. I had extra clothes but it seemed pointless to change into anything dry, as it would soon be wet too. I sat down and it felt amazing. I rolled my calves with the hand roller then had him roll them as well. My left calf was super tight and I could feel it loosen with the rolling. I refilled my one empty water bottle. He told me my friend Jess was in 1^st and I was 6^th female. I was surprised. I didn’t think I was doing that well. As we were talking, 2 more females rolled in, so I knew my 6^th place spot wasn’t very secure. I grabbed a piece of orange from the aid station and told James I would see him at the turnaround. I had 10ish miles to go in between. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for those 2 girls to pass me and put me in 8^th place for females. I was okay with that. I had experienced 2^nd winds at other ultras, so maybe I’d get one today. If not, I would be happy with just getting this done in less than ideal conditions.

From there until the turnaround, I encountered many creek crossings, of varying depths and widths. None were terrible to cross but I knew on the way back, these would be more challenging. I hadn’t yet decided if I was going to have James join me at the turnaround or at the 2^nd time I hit Northshore, which would put me at 36 miles. Part of me felt like it would be more beneficial to have him for more miles and the other part thought I could make it to 36 before I REALLY needed him along. I figured I would decide at the turnaround.

I maneuvered creek crossing after creek crossing, some with very swiftly moving water and large slippery rocks to balance on. There was no picking your way thru these carefully. Long gone was any attempt to keep my feet dry, so I just plowed thru, with my feet submerged. I started seeing the lead runners already having hit the turnaround, which meant I saw every person ahead of me. I tried to make sure to say ‘nice job’ or something similar to each of them. I also knew I’d see Jess , and I was looking forward to seeing her in first place.  I came across her as I was heading up a hill and as she came near, I gave her a big smile. She smiled too and I gave her a hug, told her she was killing it, and continued on. Soon, I reached the highway 113 aid station and I knew I was close to the turnaround. There was a stretch where we were on highway 10, crossing over the lake and there was no shoulder to speak of. I was worried about drivers paying attention and tried to get over this part as quickly as I could.  Crossing this part got me to the turnaround. The wind was picking up and I was starting to feel a little cold. James had the car right there, so I got in and refilled my bottles. He said he was ready to go to pace me. I deliberated for a moment, then decided if he was ready, there was no sense in waiting until the next point. With the weather worsening and the predicted storms about to start, the company would be a needed boost. We made sure the aid station knew I was heading out, and we began the trek back. I knew my watch would die before I crossed the finish line, so I stopped my activity there and James started tracking us on the way back. I was still feeling pretty good. It had taken me 6 ½ hours to get to this point. I needed to do the same on the way back to make it in the 13 hour cutoff. I wasn’t sure if I could do that. I pretty much knew my legs were going to start feeling tired soon and I just didn’t know what the trails would look like as the rain continued. But I would give it my best shot. Plus, I had a secret weapon. I had abstained from drinking caffeine all week. I hadn’t had any that morning or during the first part of the race. On the back half, I would use gels every 1-1 ½ hours and I hoped that steady stream of caffeine would get me through.

I took my first gel around mile 28 and I could feel it in my system almost immediately. I decided to take advantage and just run faster (bear in mind, this was still only around a 13 minute pace) until it didn’t feel good. I hiked only when it felt necessary and slowly, we started passing people. I really had no idea how many people had passed me between miles 16 and 26, or how many people hit the turnaround and went right back out. But I knew it felt good to be passing people on the return trip. We kept a fairly steady pace for miles. I was shocked by how good I felt. Things weren’t stiffening. Joints weren’t aching. It was surreal hitting that ‘where no man has gone before’ point for me, which was after the 50k mark. This was uncharted territory. I had never gone this distance. It was exhilarating! The trails by this point, were just a big mess of watery muck. There were barely any sections that didn’t have flowing water on them. The creek crossings were raging and James was exclaiming each time we hit a bigger one. Having him there was really helpful for these, as I held onto him for support each time.The wind continued to blow and the rain got heavier. Thunder and lightning joined us for a long stretch. The atmosphere that gave this part of the race was eery. We hit the Northshore aid station again and I grabbed some more fruit. 16 miles to go and I didn’t feel like I was spent.

We continued to pass people we came across and I was feeling more and more excited. My watch was dead and James wasn’t looking at his, so we were really only monitoring our progress by aid stations. We hit the next one and they told us it was only 7 miles to the finish. 7 miles??? I still had plenty of time! I was going to make the cutoff and then some!

Shortly after leaving this aid station, we caught up to a long line of runners, shuffling along. These people were hurting. You could see it in the way they ran, if they ran at all. We stayed in their midst until the next aid station, where we were told it was only 4 miles to go, 2 more miles of trail and the last 2 miles of pavement. I told James the last 2 miles would be downhill, as I remembered all the uphill when we started. I had no idea how that pavement would feel, but if it was downhill, surely I could kick it up a notch and finish strong. We left that aid station and I was excited! Several of those others were still there, so I’d just passed a few more people. We passed a couple more in the next mile, but then the top of my right ankle started hurting like mad. It had felt like something was in my sock earlier, but I had ignored it and it hadn’t bothered me. Now it felt like something was digging in. I had tall socks on with compression sleeves over them, so I knew nothing could actually be in my sock. However, my feet had been submerged in murky water a lot, so who knew? I tugged my sock up but that intensified the pain a million fold. I tried to keep running but the pain was so intense, I just couldn’t. I started to walk, slowly and even that was pain. A couple of the people I had just passed proceeded to pass me again. I got a bit discouraged. Seriously? With less than 4 miles to go? I decided I was going to try to run, regardless of the pain, but do it slowly. So, I did. And then, miraculously, the pain went into the background. We got to what ended up being the last creek crossing. We helped another girl across with us. We hit the final climb back up to Pinnacle Mountain State Park, and then there was the pavement. It was time to run it in. We started running faster, and it felt good. That stretch of pavement felt like it went on forever. I could see a girl out ahead of me, but she was far. I didn’t think I could catch her. I had no idea which gender place I was in anymore. I managed to pass 2 more guys on the road and as we caught a glimpse of the finish line ahead of us, James ran ahead so he could get my finish on video. I kicked it into high gear (I have a high gear at the end of 50 miles??) and just before the finish, I passed one more guy. It felt so AMAZING!!

I finished in 12 hours, 31 minutes, 26 seconds! I had 28 minutes to spare! I couldn’t believe it! My vision got a little blurry. James hugged me with tears in his eyes and told me I had done it! They had to chase me to give me my finisher medal. I had just conquered my first 50 miler, in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone, in thunderstorms, and I had run the back part faster than the front. And I didn’t feel like a quivering mass of aching muscles and joints. Things hurt, but not at all like I had thought that they would. I would remember this always. Unfortunately, my watch wouldn't,  as it had somehow lost the first half of the race. Thank you, Garmin, I'll be in touch.