Indiana 100 Race Report/Introduction - What's Next ?

What's next? The question that plagues many runners as we continue to search for that next challenge to test our limits. For me this 100 mile trek around Chain 'O Lakes park in Albion, IN began in June with that very question. I'd recently completed my first Ultra Marathon, a 50 mile road Ultra, and had an emptiness with nothing on my calendar. Any accomplishment brings with it a sense of loss, loss of the focus and determination as you seek something just outside what you think you're capable of. Yes you appreciate the accomplishment, but you miss the uncertainty and even anxiety of knowing you're working towards something you're not quite sure you can accomplish. So as I sat eating wings and drinking a few beers I ruminated on what was my ultimate goal - what am I working towards?

It was there, it had always been there, I just hadn't come to terms with it: Western States.

Does this guy look crazy enough to run 100 miles?

Countless viewings of various Billy Yang videos and other 100 mile races had served as inspiration but I was yet to wrap my brain around the concept of being able to do that. To start, I'd barely done any trail running and never any trail racing which as I soon learned was a completely different animal. Since that time I've learned it requires (a) letting go of any ego related to pace (b) coming to terms with walking/hiking portions and (c) a drive to finish what you started over everything. (I'm fine with b & c but still working on a). So there it was, I was going to set out to compete in and complete the most prestigious 100 mile Ultra Marathon - Western States.

For those not familiar, Western States isn't something you can just enter unless you're elite level so it comes down to a lottery of 4000+ people for 400 slots. There's a list of qualifying races that get you in the lottery and each year you miss out the number of tickets you have in the next lottery doubles (1 ticket year 1, 2 tickets year 2, 4 tickets year 3 etc). Searching the list of qualifying races this late in the year there were only two options left Cuyamaca 100k (sold out so wait list) or Indiana 100 miler. While my fitness was good by any normal standards (40-50 miles a week with 15 mile long run) I was in no way ready for a 100 miler and realistically only had 3 months of training to transition to trails and get myself up to that level. Sometimes you have to take leaps of faith into the abyss of uncertainty. Knowing the only way to truly motivate myself was to put myself out in the abyss I signed up for the Indiana 100 and announced it on social media creating instant accountability.

I just entered a 100 mile race. What's next?

Step 1 down, I still had to formulate my plan leading up to race day. How was I going to get myself ready became the new question which for me is one of the fun parts about training. I actually enjoy designing my own training plan, adapting it as I go, learning from other training plans and incorporating it into my own. Starting with my trusty Excel spreadsheet 50 mile plan I found a couple 100 mile plans and compared them to my 50 mile plan as well as my own instincts as to what works for me and knowing my body and what it could handle which has been one of my strengths as a runner. Basically I'd build up to 80-90 miles a week using the 3 hard weeks to 1 easy week ratio while incorporating doubles on Tue/Thur, 90-120min trail runs on Wed, back to back long runs Sat/Sun, Monday off, and Friday easy. I'd run pace to how my body felt and while I'd do a few Tuesday 5ks as harder pace work, I'd remove any concerns about speed. There would also be a few trail races leading up to race day to break up training and serve as long runs but also to ensure that Indiana wasn't my first trail race.

I had my plan. What's next?

Having a map from point A to point B instantly made me feel better but mentally I still hadn't wrapped my brain around actually being able to do it. 100 miles is potentially 24+ hours of effort which is insane when my maximum thus far had been under 8. Pushing those thoughts to the back of my head I did the only thing I knew how to do, I focused on what I had to do today. What I've learned looking back and what I've always preached is focus on the task at hand - the mile I'm in, the day I'm in, the run I'm in, and don't allow the whole of the task at hand to overwhelm you. One step or task at a time towards an eventual goal.

Training was exceptionally smooth in terms of remaining injury free and hitting my target goals. There was a lot of soreness, tired days, and mental gymnastics to get myself out there but I stayed on track. I will say that on my first longish trail run I thought I was going die. It was approximately 9 miles, took almost 2 hours, incorporated my first digger, and I barely was able to finish. It was also exhilarating. The total focus needed was something new and kept me entirely in the moment. That night my legs were throbbing in bed to the point I had trouble sleeping and I wondered how I was ever going to do 100 miles when I'd felt spent after 3.

Day by day, run by run, I checked off weeks and accomplishments. My body adapted and strengthen to the point a 15 mile trail run with 2400ft of elevation felt easy. A 50k trail race in early August was my first test and despite 4 diggers and a battle with the humidity there was a sense of ease to it. I'd forced myself to turn off the competitive side that wanted to go all out in favor of the larger goal (plus I had a 20 mile run scheduled the next day) and when I finished I was tired but I also knew I could have kept going. A trail marathon with 4800ft of elevation in September was a final tune up and again a great confidence boost. Somewhere along the way I flipped from wanting to finish 100 mile race to knowing I would.

I was ready. What's next?

Race day came and I felt ready. Usually my anxiety gets the better of me and I have trouble sleeping leading up to a race but somehow I managed to keep my mental state in check and get good restful sleep even on Friday night. Wanting the full experience, I'd decided to drive to Indiana and camp out near the start/finish as opposed to flying and getting a hotel room. Over the three months while training I'd also been upgrading my gear and with my lack of experience I wanted every possible piece of gear I thought I might need nearby. I stocked and organized my drop bag with changes of clothes, a bag of gels and fuel for each loop, and any other necessities (charger, extra ear phones, bug spray, and of course vaseline).

Gear fail #1 was the camping stove that I couldn't get to light. Sticking to a routine, especially on race day, is critical and one of my concerns was getting coffee about two hours before the start so that I was physically and mentally exactly on point like any other day. Camping on site meant no close options so I bought coffee the evening before and planned to heat it on a stove along with making oatmeal. Fail. Somehow drinking cold 12 hour old coffee in 30 degree weather felt appropriate before running 100 miles though.

My plan was to run 10 minute miles for as long as I could, it was a bit ambitious but I couldn't help targeting my age group record of 17:49 (10:49 a mile) as an A+ goal. In terms of relative effort I'd been doing 8:45-9min road miles for the majority of my long runs and as I quickly learned, the trails at the Indiana 100 were incredibly well maintained and easy to navigate which made for faster times. While there were rolling hills and some challenging uphills there wasn't anything that I would have considered a steep extended climb. Also, even if I started at 10 minute miles it wasn't something that I saw blowing me up and I should be able to still hit my original goal of 20 hours or B goal of sub 24. Last was my C goal to just finish and get my Western States lottery ticket so I could start the multiplier. It was very unlikely I'd make it into the race in this years lottery but I would be starting the multiplier sooner and ensure 2 tickets in next years lottery.

Who's the idiot without a working headlame? Me.

Gear fail #2 came less than a mile in. I had my headlamp as well as a backup headlamp in my drop bag, but I hadn't changed the batteries which I almost immediately learned were close to dying. The brightness wasn't nearly close to enough for me to navigate in the pitch black and created a couple very unnerving moments as I felt myself run off the trail and had to find my way back. Luckily it was the start so there was a ton of smarter, more prepared runners with bright headlamps I could leech off. Stupidly I felt a need to maintain a pace so I would stick with some for a bit and then leap back into the darkness targeting the next runner's headlamp I saw up ahead and using them as a guide. It was a calculated risk knowing the trail was smooth and tripping wasn't going to be an issue but I couldn't help wondering if the other runners were thinking "who's this idiot without a headlamp?". Me, I'm that idiot.

What I had failed to remember until about 4 or 5 miles in is that I had my iPhone with me which has one of those handy dandy inventions called a flashlight. This was a pretty serious eureka moment and got me through sunrise which allowed me to relax and just check off miles smoothly. While I wasn't having one of those elusive perfectly in sync races I was feeling good and on track. That was until mile 13 when I faced my first bonk.

I'm bonking 13 miles into a 100 mile race. What's next?

Fueling wise I had a pretty standard time tested plan with 1 salt pill every hour and 1 spring energy gel (cranberry, long haul or speed nut depending on how I feel) every 40 minutes. I'd also be consistently downing water and tailwind from my 2 bottle vest. This had worked in training and I'd gotten it to the point I'd felt very balanced so to feel a bonk come on 13 miles in was a bit unnerving. Doing my best not to panic, I reminded myself what I'd read and heard so many times about 100 mile races that the low points are going to come and you just have to remind yourself they're temporary while you work through them. Self evaluating didn't really point to anything so I just stuck to my plan and kept moving and just like everybody promised I pulled out of it after a few miles and transitioned right into a high. This was exactly where I wanted to be and I was going to finish this thing and get that ticket I'd been thinking about almost non stop since June.

The first loop also served as recon for future loops. I created a map in my head of check off points, which ones would be more challenging, where could I open it up a bit, and what visual cues could I use as rewards of progress. The nagging ankle tweak I'd had wasn't bothering me, my shoes and socks felt good, and my stomach was handling everything. As I approached the end of the loop and passed through the finish line a tall man held out his hand to slap me five which I enthusiastically took him up on. It felt good like a punctuation on the loop.

Originally I hadn't planned to stop much after the first loop as I stocked up my Naked running belt (amazing piece of gear for those who aren't familiar) with enough gels for two loops but I decided I needed to change from a long sleeve shirt to t shirt and wanted to get the cursed headlamp and it's negative energy as far away from me as I could. There was also a small relief as I was able to urinate which while TMI had been a concern. I've never had to use a restroom during a race, even my 50 miler, which is fine for shorter raced but a warning sign of serious issues during longer races. This was a last checkoff of concerns I had going in so I quickly changed and set out on loop two about 3:25 in and just under my goal of 3:30.

I've completed one out of five loops. What's next?

The looks of amazement on people's faces or in their voices in the weeks leading up when they learned what I'd been doing always amused me. 100 miles? The secret though for me is that it was never 100 miles. It was never 24 hours. It was always just 5 loops. It might go back to my track days running the mile and breaking it down to 4 laps but there was no concept of distance or time attached to what I was attempting, it was simply 5 loops. Every loop I was just focus on what I needed to do to complete that loop and when I got to the next loop I'd focus on that one. So now I was on loop 2, I'd check my watch for pace to avoid blowing up and I'd see how far I'd gone or how long I'd been running but my brain never processed it in a way that would translate time and distance in a logical way.

The first half of the loop was smooth until I started to feel my hamstrings and quads tighten up. This feeling was familiar as it usually came towards the end of a hard effort as moved from a jog or run to the shuffle. Knowing I was creeping up on about what my long runs had been I had anticipated this could happen if I had a less than optimal day. You can prep all you want and feel good leading up but there's always an element of chance on race day in terms of how you're going to feel. No rhyme or reason to it. This potentially meant a lot of painful miles ahead which caused me to spiral a bit as I felt my worst fears coming to light. This was too large a task, my body just wasn't ready, sure I was good marathoner and I had done a 50 miler but those were road races...

Sharing some miles with Alex who unknowingly helped me through a low point

Doing my best not to panic or overthink, I reminded myself this was just a temporary low point and I would work through it. At the same time another runner and I had traded back and forth for a bit and this was where we started running together. I later learned his name was Alex and he actually ended up winning the 100k and while he might not be aware, he is hugely responsible for helping me pull out of this extreme low point. Sharing the miles talking off and on got me out of my head and we pulled into the rally aide station together where I refueled on broth (something that's always worked for me), some grilled cheese and what had become my craving for the day - coffee. I hadn't had a salt craving yet so I purposefully avoided it and just stuck to my 1 hour salt tabs.

Race Director and high-five master Mike Pfefferkorn

Like clockwork the calories and sense of accomplished kicked into gear and I crushed the next 5.7 mile section that I'd identified as the toughest part of the course both mentally and physically. Another loop another high five slap with the man I later learned was the race director. He really stands out there and slaps five with every runner as they come through for 30 hours? Yes he does.

I was still right on my ten minute mile running pace (slower overall pace taking into account aide stations) finishing the loop at 6:47 and taking a planned 10 minutes at the start/finish for restocking and recovering. I took off any cool weather gear and forced myself to down extra food to ensure I kept my calorie intake up. I made the decision before the race not to touch my shoes or socks unless I experienced discomfort so my Hoka Evo shoes and Xoskin toe socks remained in place. More coffee and soup as well as took at stab at something new - pickle juice. One thing I learned for sure from this race is that I don't need a lot of time at aide stations, get in and get out. I was always ready to keep moving forward plus I feel you can't allow yourself to get too comfortable at any point. Once you get comfortable you then have to expend mental energy getting yourself ready to get back out there again. Checking my watch I was at 6:55, five minutes ahead of schedule right on schedule. (bonus points if you can name that quote).

The beginning of the third loop sucked. My body had tightened up at the aide station and the food had me feeling heavy. Combine that with knowing it was the start of another 20 mile loop which just feels like it's going to be forever caused me to temporarily crater. Working through the three miles leading up to the first aide station I slowly got myself back into the moment and focused on the soda I was going to have at the second aide station. I almost never drink soda but have found it incredibly satisfying after long runs and during ultra races.

With this loop I officially passed my longest run ever at the 51 mile mark and still felt pretty good. My quads and hamstrings were back to normal, stride was smooth and mentally I was as locked in as ever. Another loop down, another high five. 10:29.

I'm still on your A+ goal time. What's next?

Technically I was still on pace for breaking 17:49 but realistically I'd had wanted to come in at 10:20 give myself ten minutes at the aide station to be back out on the course at 10:30. This wasn't going to happen and this also wasn't the time to push myself. I'd hit darkness and cold on this loop and as important as pace and training is, having the correct gear and being intelligent are just as important. Taking the time to get a warmer long sleeve shirt and leggings on, grab a working headlamp, and get more calories in so that I was properly prepared for the loop I also mentally let go of the pace I'd set myself on and shifted focus to my original A goal of breaking 20 hours.

Loop 4 started mentally the same as loop 3 as I had to come to terms with being at the beginning of another 3-4 hour trek around the lake. However, it was still just loop 4 to me. I was aware of time and distance but still not processing them which was encouraging as I hadn't hit a point yet where I felt like I'd been out there forever or wondered when it would end. I was anticipating it being the hardest loop. Not any of the first loops where you feel good, not the last loop where you just have to get through. Just a loop. So I set out to punch in and do work.

Reminding myself I was a metronome I just checked off the miles, walking and hiking more than on previous loops but ok with it as I knew I still had a ways to go and was now more focused on the task than any specific goal. Competitively I'd avoided any idea of where I was in terms of place because I didn't want that side of me to control any part of this race but at the same time I was keenly aware that I hadn't been permanently passed once I'd settled in a few miles into the race. I knew I had put in the elevation work and I was strong, I was going to push at a hard but comfortable pace and set myself up to see what I was made of on the last loop. My consistent clockwork intake of salt tabs and spring energy had kept me where I wanted to be, my stomach had zero discomfort, my legs were sore and I was weary but I was still strong and mentally fully engaged which was the most encouraging part of the whole experience. It was here that I knew for sure I was a 100 mile ultra marathoner.

Gear fail #3 - this is where my water bottle sprung a tiny leak. Luckily I could carry it and cover the hole with my hand for the remainder of the loop and I had a handheld I was able to swap out in my drop bag.

Checking myself at the rally aide station at mile 72 my time of roughly 13:20 set me up perfectly and I set out for again what I knew was the longest and most challenging 5.7 mile section. It was during this section that my body failed me.

I'm injured. What's next?

After some races my left knee will get sore. It might creep in during a race but it had always gone away (even during earlier miles of this race that happened). During this section the pain in my left knee came back and didn't leave, becoming more pronounced during downhills. Doing more walking and hiking I was still able to run sections and push but the soreness was becoming more pronounced and I was starting to get passed by runners. As one particular runner went by me running a pretty challenging uphill I found myself in awe and vowed to do more elevation work. I few miles later I came across that same runner on the side of the trail dealing with what seemed some pretty intense stomach issues and I vowed to be cognizant of my own limitations.

Eventually it became clear the knee pain wasn't going to go away and I knew I was going to have to make a decision. I was about 15 hours into the race making 20 hours a very real possibility. The knee was painful but also didn't feel injured. I could keep pushing and go after an artificial goal that would then put me at real risk of injury or I could swallow my ego, walk the entire last loop, get my lottery ticket, and go home with a sub 24 shiny belt buckle. Finishing wasn't a question it was just how I was going to finish.

4th loop, 4th high five. 15:23.

5th loop motivation

Gearing up for a long slow loop in the dark I did the math. Going at roughly 18 minute miles it would take about 6 hours to do the 20 miles if I just kept moving. I took solace in the fact that walking/hiking would be significantly less painful than running but at the same time I felt disappointed that I wouldn't get to see my race through the way I'd wanted to. I'd wanted to push as hard as I could on that last loop and see what I was made of. Could I run 95 miles into the race and see it through to the conclusion while taking my gas tank to E? These are questions that I'd unfortunately not get answers to on this day.

Seeing cheeseburgers as I left the tent I grabbed one to go with a slice of cold pizza and chomped away as I power hiked through the first miserable section. Reminding myself just to get to hilltop at 87.5 and then I'd be turning the corner to home I powered through step by step, mile by mile. Around 85 a runner passed by me power walking like a machine. I commented on how he had power walking down to which he responded it was all he could do at this point. This triggered something in me as I worked to keep up with him, finding I could get down to a sub 16 minute mile power walking. He got away from me but I found him again at hilltop in a chair, it looked like succumbing to whatever ailment had afflicted him.

Appreciating my relative health I was in and out of hilltop quickly. My knee was uncomfortable but the pain level was still the same as it had been at the start/finish so I kept moving at that hard power walk reminding myself rally was next which was the high point of the loop as it was 12 miles in. That's more than halfway and while the next section is the worst I also knew it was the worst so if I could just push through this section to rally there would just be that hard section between me and the final few miles.

This really really sucks. What's next?

Rally came and went but soon after my knee got significantly worse. I was no longer walking with a slight hitch, it was a full limp and any downhill posed major discomfort. My pace slowed to 19 and 20 minute miles and it began to feel like it was going to take forever. I was checking my watch more, had been getting passed by runners for 15 miles now and still felt forever away from finishing. Thankfully I was still mentally focused on the finish and pushing. Playing a mental game that it took about 5 songs for every mile I kept checking off songs and miles trying not to think about how much my knee hurt.

This was where insecurity crept in, maybe I just wasn't built for this. I began to evaluate my training and what I could have done differently and settled on one thing. I didn't taper like I should have. I put in a harder effort ten days out doing a 10k at half marathon pace in order to keep my body and mind in sync. It should have been easier than it was and I felt off going in but being stubborn I did it anyway. I'm pretty sure that had I just done an easier run I would have felt fresher on race day and maybe avoided this stupid hobbling finish. In general looking back I would have done more hiking spent more time on the trails over doing road miles. You can say time on your feet is what matters all you want but sometimes you have to actually learn that lesson for it to stick.

School house aide station at mile 97 was indeed a sweet sight and pausing only to down a handful of bacon I was back out on the trail thinking about one thing - getting that 5th high five. They were my slowest miles of the day. They were my most painful miles of the day. They were the miles I felt the time and exhaustion, staggering like I was drunk at points on the trail a bit. To keep going I would think about the next day and watching football while eating wings and drinking beer while trying not to think about how I was going to shower and get into my tent with a gimpy knee. Seeing the finish line the first time across the lake about 7/10 of a mile away was an incredible relief. There was no emotional moment, no overwhelming sense of accomplishment. I just simply wanted my Western States ticket and to be able to stop pushing and go to bed. Not wanting to get passed by any more runners I kept checking behind me for headlamps and saw one creeping up. I tried to run but there was absolutely no way and just hobbled forward as one final runner blew by me at the finish. Bastard... but I'd have done the same thing.

5th loop. 5th high five.

21:44:01.

I'm finished. What's next?

I found the tent and collapsed in a chair, a few moments later somebody's pacer tried to encourage me to keep moving to which I responded "Oh no, I'm done." I honestly don't know how the people going out on their 5th loop at 4am did it. Gathering myself I motivated for one final push to get myself to bed. I have no idea how I willed myself through a shower and changing as I could barely put any weight on my knee but I made it. There was really no euphoria as in my heart I felt like I'd only raced 80 of the 100 miles and I'd really wanted that last loop. Looking back now that's changed and while I still want to race through the finish, seeing the number of people that dropped and reading the stories I've gained a deeper appreciation for being able to finish.

The next morning it was a pleasant surprise to wake up without pain in my knee. It was extremely stiff and I was limping but no pain which was a good sign. The expected post race blues have came and went but I've learned to treat that like any other bonk and just recognize it for what it is and understand it's temporary. Also not wanting to make the same mistake as my first ultra I have a few races on the calendar to keep me motivated and looking forward.

I might be a bit disappointed (which only adds fuel to do better) but I am also thankful. I am thankful to even attempt and do this at age 44. I am thankful for friends and family who encourage me and inspire me. I am thankful for these opportunities to push myself past my own limitations and find out what I'm made of. I am thankful for the race staff and volunteers who were there to help, support, and high five me. I am thankful for the other runners words of encouragement and support. I am thankful to have my Western States ticket and to look at that November 9th submission date and know I'm qualified to do so.

I've run 100 miles. What's next?