Mother Road 100 Mile, November 11, 2006

Life is a Highway

by Gillian Robinson

There's a perk to race sponsorship. Since the race directors usually know Don and I are runners, they will often offer us a complementary entry. Sometimes it doesn't feel like such a perk though, especially when there's no time to train. It would be bad to turn down such a kind gesture. Such was the case for the Mother Road 100, a one-time event on historic Route 66. The section of road runs from west to east, in between the major cities of Oklahoma City and Tulsa, though we wouldn't go through any major cities, just small towns. When we signed up for the race, we figured we had plenty of time to do some good training. But as the days and weeks went by, running wasn't part of our daily activity. Nor was weightlifting, or anything else that bears any resemblance to training. Even the weekend runs were difficult to fit in, since we have a tendency to put our butts on the couch and our laptops in our laps and just keep going until someone realizes it's 2:00 am and we better go to sleep. We did manage a few road runs, and a 50K (PCTR's Seacliff Beach) several weeks out. We averaged maybe 2 hours of running per week (and that was done all at once). But, (and here's the fateful line) as many people were likely thinking, how hard could it be? It's a road run, so uneven terrain was nothing to worry about. The hills were on a mini-scale compared to other ultras we've run. It's a point-to-point run, meaning you just point yourself in the right direction and keep going until you get there.

Our flight from San Francisco to Oklahoma City was uneventful, smooth in fact. Our first impression of Oklahoma was super friendly people helping us at the car rental and at the hotel when we checked in. Later we drove off and found some local BBQ in the town of Edmond, while scoping out the other amenities. It was Thursday night, and we had time to get to bed at a reasonable hour, and would have all day Friday to prepare for our race.

By noon on Friday I was starving. We searched for some kind of restaurant where we could sit down for service, possibly Italian food, but we were coming up with cafeteria style meat places and pseudo fast food. So we went to check out a place that had caught our attention: Freddie's Frozen Custard. Boy, were we impressed! This was the best burger place ever. And then we tried the custard--even better! The steak burgers were flattened on the grill, so the edges were thin and crispy. The buns were buttered and toasted. The onion rings were perfect and the French fries were skinny and crispy, made even better with chili and cheese on top. "Custard" is Freddie's ice cream, made with more egg yokes and less air, so it's creamy and tasty. I had the turtle sundae with hot caramel, hot fudge and toasted pecans. It was the best ice cream dessert I've ever had. We later found out there is a Freddie's in Phoenix, so we already know what we're eating when we go to Across the Years in December.

We drove out on route 66 beyond the starting line to get a feel for it. There were rolling hills, but the important thing we noted was the lack of shoulder. 200 runners on a road like this? It was a bit of a concern, but nothing to change now. The race meeting was fun, meeting up with some people who we only knew by name, including the infamous Laz, who immediately told me he had to change his name when he just couldn't go anymore. His running had slowed down that much. As the race director of the Barkeley, he should take credit for some early inspiration to do runs that aren't quite normal. Barkeley was the marathon that eats its young and will leave you calling for your mommy. The drop list always gave reasons like curled up in a hole and refused to come out, or completed one loop and never left his car again. Anyway, we got our swag bags, which included tote bags, cotton race t-shirt, a beer with a beer cozy, an assortment of small items, and a large brick-sized chunk of the Mother Road itself. Very nicely done. Oh, and of course a foot care kit from ZombieRunner. It turned out that came in handy for at least a few runners. The race had a medical director, who was really nice and seemed quite busy during (and after) the race with minor issues--mainly blisters he said. Who would have thought a nice flat road would cause blisters? But it does. I sort of expected it, but didn't pre-tape my feet, because I didn't believe it could be bad.

We milled around the Round Barn at the start. I felt relaxed. Everything was in place and taken care of, my bottle pack was all set, I had on three shirts to keep warm. We were off. The course did a short out and back at first, just to make the distance work out correctly. So this gave Don and me a chance to see the other runners and how far ahead people were getting. The total distance of the out/back was 8.3 miles. Right after the start, we found Verna, or rather she found us, who we had done a coaching analysis call with specifically for this run. She looked young for her age and seemed excited about the run. She was walking the first 15 minutes, as we had advised. She and I chatted for a while, and then I figured I better start trotting to keep up with Don. Yes, we were running this one together.

One problem with road runs is the bathroom situation. On the trails it's very easy to just step off behind a tree, beside a bush, a clump of grass, whatever, but it works for the utilitarian and the highly modest alike. On roads, there is non-running traffic, which I think may be a bit disturbed to see the ultrarunner style pit stop. Sometimes there were good trees, but if you weren't careful, behind the tree was a house's front yard. So, I went the way of modesty and waited until we were back at the Round Barn to use the portapottie there.

After the out-and-back section, I felt more like I was on my way. The local police were being very supportive of the race, it seemed, because I saw them often. The day started to warm up. Eventually, I even got down to a single, short-sleeved layer. Route 66 is a fairly busy thoroughfare. We didn't stay on the main road the whole time, for two reasons. First, there were sections remaining of the old route 66, so were it worked, the course went on them instead. These sections were concrete slabs that were not in the best condition, but a nice change from the traffic. The second reason was to go into towns where the aid stations were. Directly on route 66 wasn't always the ideal place for them to set up, so we took little detours. This was great for scenery changes, and it was neat to see the old main streets of all the towns along the way. Each aid station had a completely different personality, but all of them had people who were so nice--they were locals volunteering from the towns. They didn't have to come out and do this. Some aid stations had been pre-advertised as unmanned or with little support, but they all turned out to be great.

So we rolled along, catching up to people even in the early miles. I had this song in my head, "Life is a highway, I want to ride it all night long." All night long was right. And into the next day. Our guideline was 50 miles in 12 hours, which is just slightly faster than 4 miles an hour. Running/walking pace would be a little faster than that to allow for aid station stops with enough time to get food and take care of things. If so many people were in this race as their first 100, or with a goal of finishing in just under 30 hours (the race cutoff), then why had they started so much faster than we had? Don and I often talk about the best approach to 100 miler pacing, particularly when the course doesn't have much variation in terrain and it comes down to math more than anything. It's a great way to kill time.

The first aid station with a drop bag was mile 30. We had a tuna sandwich each in our little cooler, plus more gels to pick up. The volunteers there were very lively, making sure to offer us cold damp towels to wipe our faces, and they were cooking burgers. Yay! Don and I split one, and then took our sandwiches to go. Fueling up now would make a difference later. Everything felt good so far. Sometimes my hip bothers me, but we were going at such an easy pace that everything seemed fine. Don was carrying his bigger camera and taking pictures along the way. The pack hangs around his neck in front, but bounced some and slowed him down. So we figured out a way to hang it in the back which helped.

As the night went on, it didn't get as cold as we expected. There were warm and cold patches, but overall we felt warm enough. It only got really cold much later, and even then it wasn't long before the sun came up. But we still had the 70 mile aid station coming up, which had more clothes. This one was right outside a church. They had chairs and blankets set up, and mentioned the warm building with restrooms. Well, nighttime pit stops along the highway were easier than daytime, but I was getting to a point where getting down there to go was too painful, and the standing technique wasn't guaranteed to work (takes practice). So any bathroom was a welcome sight. Anyway, this aid station had tableside service. One of the volunteers had a tray of goodies that he kept offering around. Chicken noodle soup, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and other goodies. When I sat to look in the drop bag, a guy in a camoflage suit brought a blanket to cover my knees, gave me a quick shoulder rub and offered us coffee and hot chocolate. We were treated like royalty. Another bonus: I went off to the bathroom and it was a real one with a door and sink and flushing toilet. When I came back, camoflage guy offered us anything else, so Don asked for Coke, there wasn't much around, but he knew where to find one. "I'll get it from the church and we'll pray about it later." They were all pretty perky for so late in the night. We reluctantly headed off again.

We were gradually passing runners. They were spaced apart, but while we were still trotting and walking, they were mostly walking. Nobody seemed like they were doing badly though, they'd just slowed down to walking. We probably spent more time than some in aid stations, but we felt the trade-off was worth it. I didn't want to skip food when I could get some, and warming up a little bit helped. You just had to be careful not to get too comfortable. These are the types of places that some people never leave.

The night wore on, and I continued to think about that finish line, which was a ways off, but always getting closer. I was happy that I did not feel sleepy. My energy was good, so the food must have helped. It was tougher to keep that going at night, but eating a lot during the day could sustain me for a while. The next aid station was another one listed as unmanned. The friendliest woman was there and she had set up whatever she could get her hands on to take care of us. There was no warm food, but she had cookies and pretzels, HEED and water, and warm cars with heaters running. We didn't opt for the car--that sounded like it would be too hard to get out of. I considered it and though it might hurt more than it would help. We were quite cold by this point though, going into the darkest hours before the dawn. We spotted the frost on the ground. The camo guy had said they'd seen 29 degrees.

Forward motion was slower, but was still forward. Moving off the road for the vehicles was tougher too, but luckily we had more stretches with a wider shoulder. I had grown to dislike the old sections on uneven pavement, because they hurt my feet more, but much of the main road section was slightly crowned, so my left pinky and side of that foot hurt, and right big toe hurt. I wondered if others had the same troubles from the uneven surface.

I kept imagining that the sky was getting lighter. Maybe it was just my eyes getting cloudy. Eventually, it was really getting lighter, a red sunrise. Then we saw that it was frosty. We saw a winter wonderland clearing with bare trees and a pond that was so white it looked like snow. But even when the sky was only partly lit, the temperature climbed. Maybe it was warmer pockets of air, or maybe the imminent sunrise was warming things up. Either way, I was glad. Soon, I'd be able to take off some layers. I knew the next aid station was Sepulpa, but was it at the close edge of town or way in town? It turned out to be in town, so we continued up and down streets, noticing early morning traffic. The hours were starting to wear on me. The bad ultra math was going strong: if we were going 3 miles an hour and we really had 12 miles to go, then 4 more hours? It's funny how that sounded like a long time, even though we'd been out there over 20 hours already.

The aid station was outside of the police station, with friendly volunteers. No warm food, but they did have the warm police station bathroom for me to visit. It was very warm! But as I went in, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Kind of scary looking. If anyone believes that 100 milers don't age you, I was convinced in that moment that they were wrong.

We were on our way out of the town, so when Don saw another gas station convenience store, we headed in. Yes, we had to have another pizza pie. And a Red Bull. We even sat on the bench for a bit. I guess even though things hurt a lot and I was really tired, I realized I was happy. It was a beautiful new day and we had less than 10 miles until we finished this run.

The second great moment was realizing that we could walk into Carl's Jr. and get a burger super fast. It must have been strange for the people working there, dealing with these ultrarunners groaning and creaking around, but they were all friendly and brought food to the tables for us. We just had to order at the counter. We saw Barefoot Ted again. His feet hurt. But everyone's feet hurt anyway. He still had a lot of energy. I didn't say too much though. Don worked on getting our ride back to the start, where our rental car was. We missed out on the second mini-van shuttle, so instead we got to ride in a Kimray truck from one of our main race organizers. Two other runners joined us, talking a little bit as we headed off, but then everyone was silent except for maybe a little snoring. I thanked our driver for putting up with the great conversationalists.

We checked back into the Best Western. I was looking forward to a nap, but it turned out to be not so comfortable to sleep. I'd forgotten about post-race pain. I asked for a wake up call at 5:00 pm, which was funny, because the next one I would ask for would be 5:00 am. These races sure mess with your internal clock. We wanted to be sure to be up in time for some dinner. And you could guess where we were heading - Freddy's Frozen Custard, of course. We'd been looking forward to it ever since our first visit. I had a double steak burger this time, but I had to have another turtle sundae for dessert, even though there were so many flavor combinations to choose from. They even gave us a free concrete (ice cream with mix-ins) that was made by mistake. We loved this place.

Sleeping was easier the second time, even though we knew morning would arrive way too soon. I laughed to myself at my previous thoughts of arriving home Monday morning and getting work done. I had forgotten how bone tired a 100 miler can make me. When we got up in the morning we were still moving very slowly, but it would be enough to get us to the airport. Don was demanding that we get one of those cart guys to drive us around. But we had to keep moving along and they were nowhere to be found. The Oklahoma City airport seemed to be in a mess at the security lines. We had panicky flashbacks of our trip on August 10th when the last terrorist incident had caused a clamp-down on carry-on baggage, causing everyone to throw away all their toothpaste and lipstick and spend hours in airports. But one of the airport workers assured Don we would be through quickly and have no trouble making our flight. He was right! We still had to transfer in Denver, which was a slow trundle across the terminal, but at least we didn't have to carry tons of bags. It was funny to think that the two of us who could hardly walk could actually have run 100 miles.

We made it home with no problems and gradually got back to work. It took a few days to feel normal again, but each day was an improvement. And it was less than 24 hours later when I started thinking about how great the Mother Road 100 was, and which 100 miler would I sign up for next.