"Umstead 100 Endurance Run's 50 mile option, got it? that's what I signed up for, planned for and ran.  I was dreaming about running further.and was almost talked into running another loop.  But a roaring warm fire in a cozy dinning hall was talking to me a little bit louder.  10:48 on a crushed-stone rocky couple of  hills and a tad of  single track trail. This is a great run for folks who are trying to bridge the gap from marathon/50K to 50miles and for the 50milers to the 100.  It's a 10 loop course. So after 4 or 5 you could run the course in your sleep.  Which I think some folks did.  When the sun goes down and it's cold and dark.  You will be thankful that you decided to run Umstead for your 1st 100 miler.  Oh I will run a 100 one of these days, but not this time."  --Margie

The problem with running a 50 miler is that you start thinking about doing a 100. A few weeks after finishing JFK in November, I started thinking about doing a 100. Browsing the web, I found the Umstead 100. It has been "advertised" as a good run for 1st timers. You do 10 loops on a 10 mile course, so it is hard to get lost, and the elevation changes are mild compared to the notorious mountain 100's such as Western States, Leadville, Watsach Front, etc. So, back in December I decided to attempt Umstead. I had sent a note to Kathryn Buchan, who I met at JFK, and she also expressed interest in doing Umstead. Margie decided to register for Umstead and do her first 50 miler.

Margie and I drove to Raleigh on Friday, and picked-up Kathryn and Bev at the airport, and then headed to Camp Lapihio at Umstead State Park in Raleigh, NC. Bev is Kathryn's friend from California who does Iron Man Triathalons. We decided to stay it in one of the primitive cabins located next to the race headquarters. The cabins were nice and clean, and didn't smell musty or anything, and were in a beautiful location just up a hill from a lake.

The weather forecast for the race was perfect. The previous year, temperatures were in the high 80's to low 90's. This year, the temperature at the start was in the mid-30's, and it was supposed to warm to the mid-50's. My plan was to run the first lap in about 2 hours, then slow to a pace around 2.5 hours for the next four laps, so that I finished the 50 around 12 hours. The general idea was to "let it roll" on the down hills, and power walk the uphills. However, since the weather conditions were so perfect, I completed the first three laps in just over six hours.

Since there are out-and-back spurs into the two aid stations (one at the start and one at 4.1 miles from the start), you can see people in front and in back of you the entire race. If you are slow, you get to see the front runners lapping you several times. Margie was only a few minutes behind me, but it seemed that each lap, there were different people running with her. I knew she would meet lots of people on the run. I spent some time running with Bev and chatting, but for the most part, I ran by myself.

After three laps, I had a chili dog at the first aid station, and by the time I got the the second aid station, I had five antacid tabs, and then picked-up a hamburger. The aid stations had a wide variety of anything that an ultra runner might desire. I ate a lot of cheddar cheese, cold potato slices with salt, rolled-up slices of cold lunch meat, and drank 23 oz of Gatorade coming out of each aid station, and then refilled my bottle with water twice during each lap. I also packed lots of Cliff bars and ate them frequently. Walk, eat, drink, and be happy.

During the fourth lap, my right foot started feeling warm, so I decided to change into a thinner pair of Coolmax socks for the fifth lap. My feet were staying pretty happy. Most of Umstead is run on a gravel road which tends to tear at the feet after many miles. During the day, you could find sections on the outside that were covered with pine needles and that seemed to be much softer to run on. Also, there were a few short sections of dirt trails near the outsides of the road. I took one salt tablet at the same point near mile 8.5 during each loop. On loop 2 and 4 I took two 200 mg vitamin I.

Before I knew it, the first 50 miles were over. I finished the 50 in about 10:45. Margie was just behind me. Those guys hanging around the finish always feel compelled to cheer for ladies doing a victory dance in hot pink running jackets. Seriously, Margie did look good at the finish, and she ran really smart.

My confidence level after finishing the 50 was high. I was an hour ahead of the plan of a 12 hour, 50 mile start, and was feeling great. I never felt an energy bonk during the first five laps, however, I did work through some leg pains here-and-there. The aid station captain told me to get some warm clothes on since it was going to get cold, so I put on a long sleeve microfiber under my short sleeve Patagonia Holiday Lake 50K++ finishers shirt, but I stayed with my compression shorts. I decided to grab my head lamp, since I figured the next lap would take about 2.5 hours, which would get me back around 7:30 pm.

On to Lap 6. After you climb a hill from the start line, there is a section down a road which is blocked by a gate. As I was approaching this section, I saw a runner off on the left. I haven't done any hash runs, but I'm familiar with some of the lingo that Dawgs use, so instinctively, I said "RU". He said "where is the course?". I said, "you have to go around the gate". As I went around the gate, a tree root grabbed my left foot and I almost fell on my face, so I told him, "watch the tree roots". Little did I know, that this was the beginning of my bad luck spell at Umstead. About five or ten minutes later, the gravel road becomes very "trashy". Large rocks embedded in the surface make it particularly unpleasant to run on. As I was going across this section, my right foot kicked a big embedded rock. Ouch, that hurt. Near the last three miles of lap six, I started to feel pain in the front of both of my lower legs. This was sort of like shin splints, but much lower. I thought "I'm starting to cramp up, which is weird since I never get cramps that low, but this must have been from running all the downhills". It seemed that if I kept my pace up, the pain was much less than if I ran slow, so I decided to keep pushing.

I got back from Lap 6 at about 7:30 pm. The single track heading into the finish is a bit technical, so I was glad I had my head lamp. As I got into the aid station, I saw Margie, and she said "your time is great" and asked "can I get you anything?". My lower legs were hurting, so I told her, "no, I just have to keep running. I think I'm starting to cramp-up". I told her "call Mary (my wife) and tell her I doing good". At this stage, I was still feeling really good. In fact, I was even thinking "I might be able to finish in under 24 hours" (I had 10.5 hours left to do 40 miles).

It was starting to get cold outside, but I didn't put on any additional clothes for Lap 7. This turned out to be a major mistake. I continued to try to run through the "leg cramps" in my lower legs, but they just got worse. I started feeling pain in my upper foot. It was like the pain was migrating from my lower shins to my upper foot. I could no longer run hard on the downhills, but I wanted to maintain a 4 mile per hour pace (2.5 hours per lap), so I decided to "run" some of the uphills. Since the uphill muscles walked all day, running uphill didn't seem too bad. I started thinking that my gaiters were causing the problem, so when I got to Aid Station #2, I sat down in a chair, took the gaiters off, and noticed that my foot was really swollen against my shoe laces on both sides. I thought, "perhaps when I changed socks after Lap 4, I retied my shoes too tight". As I loosened the laces, I could feel a tingling rush as blood flowed into the area. I thought, "yep, that was probably the problem. Perhaps I can run some, and get the circulation going again."

As I left the aid station, my feet did feel better, but later in that lap, there is a long climb from about mile 6.5 to mile 7. When I got to the top of that climb, I started to feel bonked for the first time during the race. I thought, "ok, this is the 100 mile bonk". I continued to eat, drink, and walk, thinking "I'll work through this", but my body was cold, and I didn't seem to have the energy to generate body heat. By the time I got in from Lap 7, I was feeling horrible. Margie was there and I remember telling her "don't tell Jeffrey, but I really bonked". Jeffrey is my son, and before I left, I remember him telling me "don't bonk Dad".

Margie got me a couple cups of soup. I then drank two cans of Boost (meal in a can stuff). Margie then got me a big plate with all sorts of stuff on it. I looked at my left foot, and there was a knot swelling up. At this point, I thought "I'm in trouble", but I was still optimistic since it was only about 11 pm. I thought, "I can at least walk the last 30 miles in 13 hours and finish this thing". I had not lost hope since I was able to walk at what I thought was around 15 minute per mile pace on the flat.

There was a guy there, I don't think he was an official race doctor or anything, but he looked at my foot, and said "I don't recommend that you continue. You obviously have a strain, and you are just going to make it worse". After eating and warming up by the fire, I was feeling 100% better than when I finished Lap 7, so I assured him "I'll be ok.". He said "would you like a pacer? I'd recommend that you go with a pacer". So I decided to go with a pacer (Eric Johnson). I put on a long sleeve running shirt on top of what I already had on, and also put on my finisher's wind jacket from the HAT run. At this point, I had on a Coolmax base layer, a short sleeve running shirt on top of that, a long sleeve on top of that, and a wind jacket. I would fry in any sort of run wearing this much clothes, so I though I'd be warm enough. Also, I put on my green cotton sweat pants over my compression shorts. However, this night was to get very cold (later, I heard it got down as low as 22 F). The body just doesn't work very hard at 1 am when you spent the last 18 hours doing 70 miles.

Eric and I left for Lap 8 around 11:30 pm. I told Margie, "you'd better get some sleep", since at this stage, I knew that if we were going to make it back by Sunday night, she was going to have to do all the driving. Eric was great company. We chatted about marathons, running, and such, and the time just went by quickly until about mile 5. At this point, I was starting to really have to push to walk at 3 mile per hour pace. My body was cold, but I couldn't move quickly since my legs were like bricks and my ankles hurt. I was also starting to get bad blisters on my right foot. I won't go into all the details of this lap, but it took about 3.5 hours to do the 10 miles. We got done with Lap 8 around 3 am. I was wasted, but had not given up on the thought of finishing. Eric didn't join me for Lap 9. I think this was the first time he had been a volunteer pacer, and probably thought that he would at least be running 12 minute miles. I love all the people who volunteer at races. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I got in front of the fire place in the race head quarters, then started drinking coffee, which tasted and felt great. I drank two 12 oz cups, then filled my 23 oz water bottle and drank half of that, then refilled it with coffee before I had the courage to try Lap 9. Earlier in the evening, I met a guy named Peter from Houston, who has done twelve 100 milers. He told me that if you get sleepy, then drink Mountain Dew, lots of it, and do it early. The message I took was that caffeine will get you through the night. I also took two 200 mg Vivarin. Although I never felt like I was sleepy, I thought taking caffeine was a good idea. I also knew it was really cold outside, so I put on my nylon running jacket, my running hat, ear warmers, and headed out around 3:30 am on Lap 9.

On Lap 9, I decided to walk without my head lamp. I walked for about an hour without seeing anyone. It was dark outside but I could still see the road, and could actually see farther ahead than with my head lamp. I could only see about 30 feet ahead with the head lamp. Dark, cold, quiet, walking slowly at dead mans pace. I would walk for about 10 minutes then would have to urinate (no joke). My body was dumping all the coffee and Mountain Dew that I had tried to pump in. By the time I got to the water stop, I refilled with water and thought "I'd better keep drinking" since I was dumping what seemed like a quart of urine every 15 minutes. I got to Aid Station #2 at about 5:00 am. At this point, I realized that I was moving too slowly to finish, so I'd better try to "pump those arms and walk faster".

The sky was starting to get lighter, and I thought "you are supposed to feel better when the sun comes up". I did feel better, and started moving faster, but still kept urinating frequently. About the time I was going to make the turn off the Aid Station #2 spur and go to a down hill section between mile 5 and 6, I saw Kathryn. She said "Is that you Carl?". I'd had seen Kathryn on every Lap for the first 6 Laps, so I thought she was farther ahead of me. At this stage, she was on about mile 92, while I had just passed 85. Her eyes where like "deer in headlights". She said "my feet hurt so freaking bad!". No doubt, she was in pain. I had just finished a half hour of trying to "push it", but I was not feeling good at all. I told her, I'm on Lap 9 but if I can make it back by 7:30 am., then I'm going to "go for it". She said some words of encouragement, and we split. This was a special moment for me since I knew Kathryn was going to finish her first 100 miler.

I was talking to myself at this point with all sorts of negative thoughts. "you are not ready to do these things ... you are too heavy ... running 100s sucks". However, I had not given up. I thought if you can still get back to the Start by 7:30 am, you have a shot at doing the last Lap. I took out a Cliff bar, and started eating and drinking as I walked up the hill between 6.5 and 7. As I got near the top of the hill, my heart was just pounding out of my chest. That hill seemed harder than any of the climbs that I had done in the Buzzards marathon. Baby steps as I moved upward. I told myself "you just can't make the climbs on the last lap to keep the pace up, and walking downhills is just incredibly painful. You are finished after this lap". At this point, there was a bit of an emotional breakdown as I realized that I was not going to finish Umstead.

Two runners that were out for an early morning training run jog came floating up the hill and passed me. One of them said, "Great job. Only three miles to go". I was at the 7 mile marker. I told him "I'm finished. I'm only going to be able to do 90". He said, "That's ok. That is still a great accomplishment", then he took off to catch up with his friend. After the 7 mile marker, the course still climbs, although much more gently until you get to the turn and start heading back downhill. I continued up this section, very slowly, but my heart just kept pounding. I felt that my heart was knocking over 150 bmp and my head started to pulse. I was starting to feel some panic. I couldn't get control of my body. As I made the turn, I saw a tree stump on the side of the trail, and told myself, "you are going to have a heart attack if you don't get under control". I laid on my back in the pine needles, and put my feet on the stump, and just started to count breaths. I had read that counting "1, 2, 3, 4" will calm the body. I laid on my back for five minutes and still couldn't get my heart rate to calm down. I told myself "You are an idiot. Going to die of a heart attack hear in the woods in North Carolina looking up at some pine trees and never be able to even see #4 (my wife is due in October)". I seriously then tried to calm down. Eventually, I was able to gain control of my body.

A runner came by, and I told him, "when you get in, tell them that I need a ride back". Runners, and pairs of runners came by about every 5 to 10 minutes while I was laying on my back. Some of them expressed concern. One pair looked at me and sort of chuckled (I must have looked pathetic or had something on my face). One guy stopped, and expressed serious concern. He asked me if I was warm enough, had enough to drink, had something to eat, etc. For the most part, I was starting to feel ok, but I was there for about 40 minutes, and started to get cold. I thought, there is about 3 miles to the finish, so at 12 minute pace (about as fast as anyone would be going at this stage), they should be getting here soon, so just don't go into some sort of thermal shock. I stood up and started to move on my feet from left to right. I then decided, "you'd better try to make it down to the main road" which was about 1/2 mile away. At least this should keep you warmer than just sitting here. Fortunately, I didn't have to endure the downhill painful walking too long before the SUV showed up and they said "Are you the one who needs a ride?" I got in, and they took my blood pressure and pulse.

When I got back to race headquarters, and took my shoes off, I realized that my right toe had taken it pretty bad, and that both ankles were swollen, with the left side much worse than the right. The Red Cross first aid people were very friendly. They took my blood pressure and pulse and assured me that my body was returning to normal quickly. They wrapped my foot, and told me I should go to the emergency room and get an x-ray to make sure I didn't fracture anything on the right toe (which looked pretty ugly). I thought "Six hours in an emergency room. We need to get home, so I'll take care of this tomorrow".

We waited about an hour, and Kathryn finished at around 8:30 am (around 26:30 time for a first 100). Bev told me that she always looks good at the finish. Sure enough, Kathryn looked good at the finish. We decided to just toss everything in the van since it was so cold outside, and get a hotel room so that we could get warm and get cleaned-up. I was in so much pain as my legs were cramping up on the way to the hotel room. Bev recommended that I take a hot bath, and this really helped my leg pain. Bev had dropped around mid-night at Aid Station #2 when her body was shaking uncontrollably. Margie got Kathryn and Bev to the airport. I can't imagine flying back West right after doing a 100 sitting in "that chair" for hours. I laid in the hotel room for awhile and tried to rest and get my wits back. We left Raleigh sometime after 2 pm on Sunday. I laid in the back of the van where I fought leg cramps while Margie fought I-95 traffic to get us home by 11:15 pm Sunday night. She is so tough.

So what do I think I learned?

Although there was a really bad point, when I was down on myself for a DNF ("I'm not ready to do 100's, etc.), I realize that I hurt my ankles with the tree root and the rock. This slowed me down, and was definitely a factor in my inability to finish.. I only actually understood when and how I got hurt during "post race analysis". During the race, I was not sure what was happening. Hurting my ankles was bad luck. One has to have good luck to finish a 100 miler. Too many things can go wrong. Finishing a 100 isn't the only reason for doing a 100.

I was not prepared for the cold. Hypothermia at night is a serious problem that can cause a serious bonk. It must be respected like most runners respect heat.

Beware of too much caffeine. Some amount may be helpful, but when it's cold, frequent urination doesn't help the body stay warm. Reject hot urine, drink cold water .... humm.

I've read a lot about 100s, particularly on Kevin Sayers' web site, but nothing can compare to what one learns through doing one of these adventures. I'll have to wait awhile to experience the feeling of finishing a 100 miler, but that is definitely something that I want to do.

p.s. I got the toe and ankles looked at by a Doc. Got some antibiotics to prevent infection, will probably lose the toe nail, but I'll be running again soon.