THE Clark-Miyamit 50-mile and 60k Trail Ultra (CM50, for short) last November 23, 2014 was technically not my first trail ultra — I did a similar distance trail ultra years ago that turned out to be longer (as most ultras, whether road or trail, are prone to be) than the published distance - but I’d like to believe the soul-sucking and leg-trashing experience that was the CM50 was the race that educated me on the basics needed to more than just make cut-off or cross the finish line.
I signed up for the 60k event, foolishly believing that I had put in enough training mileage (see Lesson 1) to get me through rivers of lahar, precipitous climbs and steep descents, and dirt roads of various profiles. Sure, I had a training program prepared for me by my coach (who made the top ten of the 50-mile event, and finished way ahead of me) which required me to hit the trails on weekends and select weekdays, but I arrogantly chose to stay in town and just pound the pavement, sometimes using my trail shoes and fully provisioned race vest to simulate race conditions (Lesson 2!).
Rather than provide a boring narrative of what I went through on this Sunday for over 14 hours on my feet through god knows how many meters of elevation loss and gain, I’m providing an even more boring ‘What I Learned’ before, during, and after the CM50. Maybe this will help some of you prepare better, should you decide to go off-road ultra running and racing sooner or later.
Lesson 1: Train For The Terrain. The first thing to remember is that trail running and road running are galaxies apart. That said, there is no substitute for hitting the trails in order to acquaint yourself with the terrain. Ignoramus (that’s me) decided that a few trips around the grassy portion of the UP Academic Oval would serve as proper simulation for what awaited me two weeks later. And just as Forrest Gump’s mother said, stupid is as stupid does. I paid dearly for not once ever going on a trail run. Come race day, I felt good at the start (who doesn’t?), only to falter in the last twenty-five or so kilometers where it mattered the most. I wasn’t humbled by that trail - I was beaten and battered into submission, and at certain points outrun by inchworms that had come out to bake in the noontime sun.
Lesson 2: Know The Course. This is where my cocky attitude toward racing got the better of me. In all the years that I’ve raced triathlon, ultra marathons, and road races, I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve ever done race course reconnaissance. In addition, the only compass I’m prone to use is the moral kind, so I can’t be counted on to lead an expedition through Divisoria or Baclaran. I missed joining the reconnaissance and wasn’t particularly attentive during the race briefing, and decided it was a good idea to surprise myself, as I had done more than a few times in the past. The result? Surprise upon surprise — which can be a lot of fun at the beginning, but can be a hell of an annoyance at the back end. That steep descent that required rappelling down a single track on the side of the hill in the wee hours of the morning seemed like a lot of fun, until I saw it 10 hours later at high noon from the opposite end that required scaling it on cramped quads. So was that sheer vertical after the special needs station that seemed to go on forever. Under cover of the night, it didn’t seem that bad, until I had to run down it in the daylight, with legs that froze at the sight of jagged stones and patches of rock plates.
Lesson 3: Have The Correct Gear - and train with them (several times) before the race. Those Sundays spent carrying the hydration vest weighing an additional eight pounds were worth the trouble after all. With a two-liter bladder and more than the necessary amount of required gear stuffed into my pack, I was confident enough to entertain the idea of losing my way a few times (not that I intended to). It was with my shoes that I had more than a few trouble areas. The fine lahar grains had found their way into the deepest crevices of my inner shoes, and no amount of rinsing, shaking, and violent knocking would purge them of the buggers. Often, I chose to walk through the grinding foot-scrub they provided, but the long term cost for doing that was two good pairs of socks and a pair of insoles. But this was par for the course, judging from the condition of other participants’ footwear.
Lesson 4: Hydrate and Eat Properly. Here’s where I have to say I prepared well enough, maybe to the point of too well. I have the tendency to overprovision when it comes to nutrition and hydration; but given the distance of the aid stations from each other, I felt I was properly equipped to get me through from one station to the next. I never ran out of water or food, and even had some to spare when I met fellow runners needing a swig of energy drink or a packet of gel. The only time I worried about my hydration and nutrition plan was when I took too many magnesium tablets. Four hours into the race, I noticed my fingers swelled and felt tightness in them when I would make a fist. I remember an experience of another ultra runner who had taken too many salt tabs and fluids under cold conditions, and started to bloat as a result. I immediately quit taking the tablets and my puffy paws shrank back to normal after an hour. Other than that temporary bloating episode, I had no problems with food and drink throughout the entire race.
Lesson 5: Bring Reserves. Better to have it and not need than need it and not have it. The neurotic packer in me made sure I brought enough gear to last me more than a day as far as food, spare batteries, clothing, and medicine was concerned. I would have survived if I had gotten myself lost, but when I started cramping and tiring at the later stages, I wished I had brought along my ultra-light hiking poles, which I had decided to leave behind at the last minute. I longingly coveted the hiking poles of the runners who would bound fearlessly through the down hills; I watched helplessly as each one passed me, while I took baby steps down the craggy terrain and uneven plates of stone, in a futile attempt to cushion each excruciating impact on my half-dead thighs.
Lesson 6: Rest. I’ve learned from my more recent races the intrinsic consequence of getting rest days before and after a particularly hard race. As I’m getting on in years, I can’t afford to just wing everything, most especially sleep. Running for over 14 hours on trails requires alertness of both mind and body. Even at the early stages of the race, while trudging through darkness with only a headlamp to light my way, there were numerous occasions that almost resulted in ankle twists. I’m glad I was alert enough to pick up my feet and legs with each of those missteps.
Lesson 7: Be Nice. A little kindness goes a long way. Courtesy to the trail, its inhabitants and its users is paramount. It’s the right thing to do and the only way to go. The phrase ‘Leave No Trace’ applies to anyone anywhere, and each of us must do our part to leave things the way we found them. We must show gratitude to the people who grant us entry into their living environment, and express appreciation for the volunteers who work tirelessly to support us at all sections of the course. A smile and a greeting more than often suffice, to lift spirits and share the joy.
Lesson 8: Strengthen Your Weakness. Knowing that I am never going to be in the running for the title of Mr. Ultra Six Pack, I am still aware of the need to reinforce my core, as having a strong mid-section is essential to performing most sports and everyday activities with little pain or inconvenience. The stretching and strengthening that a mix of yoga and isometric strength exercises provide, helped me through the more trying and tiring parts of the course. I can’t discount the mental aspect involved in ultra running, which compels you to be whatever it takes to get you through to the finish. From cheerleader and morale booster to entertainer and devil’s advocate — it’s crucial that you know yourself well enough to tap into what drives you through those lowest points, and pushes you to finish the job.
Lesson 9: Listen To Your Body. Knowing when to keep going and when to quit are two provinces that share razor-thin border in the mind of an endurance athlete. The trick is knowing what to do to be able to keep choosing the former at every turn, even if it means losing the lead, missing your target, or coming in dead last. When things go awry, I almost always choose to stop, take stock of the situation, and hopefully, while resting, conditions improve, and I can push on. It’s happened in some of my previous races, and it happened again at the CM50. I was near-exhaustion at one point in the race, and felt I couldn’t go on, so I stopped. Crouching in the shade away from the noontime sun, I took all the time I needed to regain both the body and spirit needed to keep going. It took me an eternity to get to the finish, but I’m glad I was stubborn enough to push forward, and stubborn enough to stop.
Lesson 10: The Foam Roller is my best friend. A day after the race, I could hardly get up without the soreness in my shredded quads tugging me back into my chair or bed. I knew that the only other way to hasten recovery, aside from rest (I shun pain killers), was to get intimate with my torture tube, the foam roller. I discovered the benefits of using a foam roller years ago, when I had started taking my running more seriously. Foam rollers, deceptively soft and tender to the touch, unleash their wretchedness from the smallest movement of muscle over roller surface. It deserves a place among the more potent torture techniques used to make prisoners talk. I can imagine an Al Qaeda member screaming ‘No, please, I’ll tell you what you want. Anything but the foam roller!’ As much as it is a necessary evil, the foam roller is my best buddy during times like this. It’s the best friend who literally beats sense into you and is tough love personified (or is it ‘objectified?’). Because after all the screaming, cursing, and tears, you feel so much better and just love it to pieces.
In hindsight, the CM50 is now another race worth telling my future grandchildren about. The race director said that two things essential to getting through a tough trail race like the CM50 are training and grit. I narrowly got by with the latter, knowing that the former was far from wanting. Seriously, I came that close to quitting.
But I loved it.
Get more of the latest sports news & updates on SPIN.ph