ULTRA MATH

How I Ran 100 Miles in a Day.

Awake most of the night, I arrive at the starting line of my 100-mile race at 6 am with a familiar mix of excitement and apprehension. The morning sun casts enough pale pink light through the trees to forgo our headlamps, but not adequate to read faces, to receive a wink of reassurance. Like being under dark, murky water, we are an anxious school of 300 fish ready to be released into open water.  My fingers check the front pockets of my hydration vest, a last minute trailrunner’s genuflection. There’s no national anthem sung or starting bell before the race, just a countdown from five and suddenly our tightly packed group scatters onto the dark, woodland trail.

(Photo) Galoot and Tempo, the afternoon before the race.

The definition of "Ultra Math"- the calculation of a runner's finish time in an ultra-marathon trail race based on a collection of ever-changing variables.

While the Umstead100 course is 8 laps of 12.5 miles, experienced ultrarunners suggest setting your goal on the next aid station, which, in this case, is every 3 miles. The first aid station is basically a water station with cookies. Aid Station #2 is a full, all-you-can-eat buffet and because a bridge was taken out by flooding, it also represents the 6 mile turnaround. From Aid Station #2, you head back, passing by the cookie station and then on to the Head Quarters Aid Station, another full-spread buffet. The HQ is also a turnaround until it becomes the finish line. My Base Camp Crew, which I share with fellow runner, Galoot, is staffed by a special group of my friends and ultra runners called the Trailheads. They set up our team canopy with dozens of other crew tents along the path that feeds into Head Quarters. “ET” Elizabeth Towe, is the team Head Honcho and knows my projected pace, food, clothing, sunscreen, eye drops, etc. ET’s husband, “Gyro” Brian Beatty, is a Physical Therapist and is ready to put me back together if the wheels fall off, and Bongo aka my husband is there to put his arms around me and tell me that all was well. And then there are my essential pacers, for my final four laps.

Each of the 8 laps has a unique character, both figurative and literal, so I’ve given them names.

Lap 1.12.5 miles.  Badass! Oldest 100-mile female on the course.

Lap 2. 25 miles. Niggles. I’m into my second lap and I have some pain in my left shoulder from carrying my loaded hydration vest. Buck up, Tempo, that’s me!

Lap 3. 37.5 miles. Ultra Math. Completed a marathon, passing through a 50K and ready to blow through my longest run to date. Woot woot!

Lap 4. 50 miles. Chased by Dragons. I broke through 40 miles and couldn’t stop crying. Still alone and fighting my demons to stay focused. Anticipating nightfall and not even halfway. At least the tears washed out the pervasive pine pollen.

Lap 5. 62.5 miles. The Rescuer, “Wisp” Rachel Bell Kelley. At Base Camp, I add layers for warmth, bandaids on my chafed collarbones, gloves and a headlamp. Wisp, my extraordinary running coach and veteran of many 100 milers, brings much needed comfort, confidence, camaraderie and care. 

Base Camp at mile 50. Gyro and Wisp to the rescue.

Between Laps 5 and 6. Bonus Pit Stop. Fifteen minutes prone on the lovely cot at Base Camp, my dream comes true. ET ministering to my sore feet, Gyro working his magic on my shoulders, and Bongo bringing me Lawst’s (Jenny’s) nourishing, bone-broth elixir. Change of socks, long pants and poles, now getcha butt outta here!

Stillness in Motion, ET captured this photo at my bonus pit stop.

Lap 6. 75 miles. The Mutt and Jeff Team, Grub and Tiny (Cliff and Greg.) These guys have their work cut out for them. After my luxurious 20 minute stop, I am slow to get restarted. Their jovial repartee alone is priceless and keeps me fueled and laughing for many of my dark hours. They're in hysterics when I tell them I will need to pull my long pants down, to flash my bib number at the time keepers. 

Lap 7. 87.5. miles. The Head Fixer, Nymph (Samantha.) Another experienced 100-miler and family therapist. Talks me off the proverbial ledge and brings me back to Base Camp with the glorious rising sun.

Lap 8. 100 miles. A Banana, a Ringer, and my Love. Nymph, Wisp and Bongo. The last lap. This is where Ultra Math kicks back in. We’ve lost some of our critical time buffer. I sense conversations behind my back with Bongo, Wisp, Nymph, Grub, Gyro and ET. They are devising Plan B. Like a fledgling, baby bird, I am once again kicked out of the nest, handed a pair of lighter-weight hiking poles, and I start my final lap with Bongo and Nymph who dons her famous banana outfit. This experience is beginning to take on a slightly surreal feeling. The confab has settled on Banana Nymph and Bongo escorting me for the first 2 miles during which time numerous runners say how much they love her costume, and her dry, twinkle-in-the-eye response is, “it’s not a costume.” This provides much needed trail humor. At the 2-mile point Nymph hands me back to Wisp, the ringer, and my steadfast Bongo. Over the next 10 miles, Wisp monitors my food, hydration and critical pace. At times I feel like a toddler such as when Wisp asks “would you like a green, red or purple jelly bean.” My response of “no thank you” elicits from her, “I’m not asking, ‘do you want’ but ‘which one do you want?’ And after you eat, we are going to run down that hill because I want you to give this race all you’ve got.” On our final approach to HQ, my mighty Base Camp and canopy have simply vanished. In my mind, my team has packed up and left me.

Leaving Base Camp for my final lap with Bongo and the Banana. Gyro and Grub behind cheering me on. ET, ever present with her support and her camera.

I frequently relate very difficult challenges with childbirth. A year earlier, I began my journey of training for a 100-miler while fundraising, painting and blogging about the experience. With all the training, my body and creativity grew stronger because I had purpose. Following a year-long gestation, raceday became the labor I had prepared for. As I climbed that final hill which led to the finish, I heard someone shout, “Here she comes!” I dug in and crested the hill to cross the finish line. Two dozen smiling friends and family who believed in me, believed I could finish, showed up to say, “You did it!” I reached out my arms to my 16-month old granddaughter who reached back to me and we crossed the finish line together. The race director, Chris Squires, approached me and with dignified solemnity, shook my hand, looked me in the eyes and said, “Congratulations, you have just completed 100 miles.” He then handed me my newest baby, a shiny, brass buckle with an embossed Umstead 100 logo. My labor had lasted twenty-nine hours and 11 minutes, leaving 49 minutes to spare. 

My shiny, brass baby. The Belt Buckle is the standard award for a 100-miler.

I have learned that a 100-mile race is a team sport. Without my crew, I would have surely bonked. It’s counterintuitive to eat while running, but eat you must! It also would have been impossible for me to get to the starting line without the love and support of so many people. As I told my Trailhead friends, many of whose trail names have been sprinkled throughout this story, it’s all your fault, and I love you for it. Galoot, Harold Hill, gets a special shout out here. When I heard he was running the Umstead, I knew there would be an abundance of heart in this race. This was Galoot’s first 100 after overcoming recent years of daunting medical challenges. We spent many training miles together, and even on a 4 am run, he inspired me with his pure joy, optimism, and determination. When I saw Galoot and his wife Lawst in the crowd at the finish, we laughed and hugged through the tears. So much goes into these endurance races and in the end, it’s pretty simple - you just feel so grateful. 

XX Anne / Tempo

Receiving love and my buckle at the finish with Godi (GCE),

Bongo, Genevieve, and Courtney.

PS. I want to thank you all, friends and new friends, for following and supporting this journey. Reach out if you want more deets. Let’s talk. By the way, 2 of the last 3 overall Umstead100 winners have been female. Hmmmmm… I wonder what’s next for me?

PPS. Your contributions to Go Conscious Earth reached a whooping $8,000! Hundreds of thousands of thanks for checking out our website, leaning in to learn more, and making a donation. Many drops make the ocean a splendid sea! We can't stop trying until we turn the tide on climate change. My campaign is open until the end of the month. GCE100 .Thank you thank you thank you.

Our finish line celebration; Back row - Godi, Val, Laura, Barbara, Gyro, Galoot. Front row -Grub, Lawst, ET, me, Bongo, Chris, Wisp, Courtney, Genevieve. Kneeling - James and Court.