Wanderers' Trail Race: An ultra-runner's nightmare

With unseasonably warm temperatures Sunday it would have been the perfect day for a nice long run. This wasn't a perfect day though, I was toeing the line for a 4 mile trail race. For me, races this short are mostly comprised of awkwardness, heavy-breathing and being over before I know what happened. I came to trail-running by way of backpacking and hiking, comfortable with the idea of long days and distances. These short races terrify me. They are the domain of track club members and former collegiate cross-country runners. People with more speed than I'll ever have.

The race began peacefully enough. Getting pinballed around only a little at the start, I jumped out front to keep from running into/over somebody. This would be essential  in not getting boxed in once we left the initial pavement section as well. The first mile, maybe less, went ok. I knew I was going a little too fast, but I told myself that it would work itself out. Snaking through the woods and mud was a blast, I thought I might have a really good race.

Out front early, but not for long...
Photo: David Simpson

Soon, very soon, things started going to pieces. My thoughts shifted from encouragement to confusion. Initially my legs felt smooth and fluid, but now on every flat section when I anticipated speed I had slow instead. I saw Brian not too far behind me. First place runner Travis Wilson was running away and Brian was rapidly closing in behind. Dammit. A part of me wanted to dig and pull myself together, try to finish as strong as I could. The biggest part of me wanted to quit. I wished misfortune upon myself, "maybe I'll sprain an ankle" "You know I could really puke right now, maybe I should just go ahead and do that" "I wonder where Cody is?...surely not far behind... I could just stop and wait for him" I kept going though, albeit slowly.

My bearded brothers,
Cody " I ran ten this morning" Zurhellen and above, Brian "You let me win" Williams
Photos: David Simpson

With maybe a mile to go, I tried to put some space on Brian to see what he had left. He had plenty and I'm pretty sure I did more damage to myself than him. He reeled me back in and we were step for step through the final circuitous sections of trail and popped out onto the paved finish side by side. With maybe a quarter mile left, all I wanted was for this stupid race to be over. I desperately hoped Brian would just want to run it in together. No luck. I would speed up, but he'd speed up more until finally with maybe 50yds left I was forced to watch him run away.

The rest of the day my legs felt wobbly and my throat burned from breathing so hard. I was pleased with my time and placement, but everyone that asked about the race assumed I won, obviously, because anyone that can run 50 miles can run 4 miles as fast as their heart desires. I assure you this is not true. When I answered third I just got confused looks and statements, no congratulations. "You sick?" "Bad day?" "What happened?"..... Man I hate short races.