I attempted a 100 mile ultramarathon.
At mile 82, my legs gave out. I collapsed to the ground and waited in darkness for search and rescue.
I failed.
But I loved it.
The race took place three days after I finished the Pacific Crest Trail, and that trek briefly made me into one of the best long distance walkers on the planet. My hope was that my walking skills would translate over well and compensate for the complete lack of actual training.
So there I was, an hour east of Seattle, before the gray light of dawn, with a dream and a thermal fleece. The first fifty miles breezed by. Unlike shorter races, you never feel like you’re dying—there’s no gasping for air, calves burning, unable to think past the exhaustion. I had my hype running mix in; I called a friend; I was high off endorphins and the happy buzz of accomplishing the absurd. It could’ve also been the caffeinated goo. Each goo pouch had 25mg of caffeine, and I had a lot of goo.
It was one of the easiest ultramarathons. The route followed a flat gravel bike path on a crisp autum day. Every two hours I passed an aid station, where I feasted on candy and oreos and fruit, chatted up the volunteers and racers, and restocked my bag o' goo.
Grabbing goo
My goals turned out to be a little too ambitious. I wanted a sub-24 hour finish and paced accordingly, hitting 50 miles in 10.5 hours. But I had no sense of my actual limits. By mile 60 the distance caught up with me and night had fallen. At 70 I could no longer run. Tylenol and sheer force of will carried me to mile 82, where all locomotion finally ceased.
Even at the very end, my entire body felt great, except for a singular tendon or muscle in my legs (I think my hip flexors) that were critical to raising them. Those decided to die on me. I may have been a world class expert at walking; but walking and running have slightly different kinematic patterns; and I needed to do a lot of running motions if I were to finish in 24 hours.
I was wheelchair bound for a couple days. At least I got a consolation prize—a 100km buckle! Races at multiple ultra distances were being run that day and I technically did complete an ultra, if not the one I was going for.
My prize
Even though I didn't make it, I'm happy that I didn't play it safe with a more generous pacing. Sometimes is better to aim for the stars and burn up in the stratosphere than land on the moon.