Ouachita Trail 50 Race Story and Some Lessons

As the late-morning sun filtered through the trees at mile 29, I realized that the race had really just started for me. It was at that point, as I guzzled water to help force a gel down my throat, that I realized that I’d rather eat bark off a tree than choke down another Montana Huckleberry flavored Hammer gel (no offense Hammer, but you know how it is). Three miles later, after grabbing some pretzels and Coke from an aid station, my knee, which had been giving me trouble for a few months, stiffened up and felt like somebody was hammering a chisel into it – with gusto. I limped along for a few minutes before I got some range of motion back and was able to painfully stagger forward. Four miles later, as the afternoon shadows set in and made the blue blazes on the trees tough to spot at a glance, I managed to hop off the trail and suddenly find myself in the midst of a forest that looked exactly the same in every direction.

Ok, to be fair, there was plenty that got me to that point at mile 29. Though the elevation profile of the race isn’t particularly intimidating, it makes sure to abuse you right from the start. After a few miles of easy pavement running, the trail snakes you up to Pinnacle Mountain. This isn’t really a mountain as far as mountains go, but what it lacks in height it makes up for in vertical wrath. There’re no switchbacks here. There’s no easing your way into the climb. Instead, the Ouachita Trail spits you out into a field of large boulders which runners are forced to climb, scramble, and otherwise stumble up in order to summit Pinnacle. And if the climb doesn’t manage to get your quads pumping, the descent on a similarly technical field of boulders was bound to get the job done.

At the top of Pinnacle. Courtesy of Arkansas Outside.

With something like 1,000 feet of the climbing in the rearview, one might be tempted to think that the next 43 miles would be cruising. Not so fast. Literally. Roots, rocks, and the undulating trail make for some very technical running that provides ample opportunity to stub, bang, trip, slip, tweak and otherwise abuse your feet, ankles, and anything else that’s unlucky enough to smash into the ground when your footing gives way. A magnet for spills, I did manage to fall twice, but luckily both were painless.

Not to give the impression that this race was anything less than a fantastic experience. Rain the prior day had ushered in cooler temperatures – high 60s and low 70s, absolutely perfect running weather from the perspective of this desert rat. As I’m no longer used to living somewhere where flora with any sense is willing to live, being surrounded by the lush green of the forest was food for the soul. And a largely well-organized race with some great aid-station volunteers and a race crew of my own (Jackie and Shelley!) that was on it, made for a really great day of running.

Not that any of that does anything in the moment to cushion the blow of suddenly realizing that you’re not on the trail and there is no one else anywhere nearby.

A final charge for the finish line

I’m not going to lie, I was minutes away from throwing a tantrum when I lost the trail. I’m no expert outdoorsman nor do I know a lick about the Arkansas wilderness – save a bit of research I did on the Ouachita Trail to prepare for the race. But with aching legs and the whispers of panic in the back of my head, I did my best to retrace my steps and, with equal parts luck and determination, managed to get back on track after losing 10 minutes or so.

Relief washed over me as I kicked back into gear and my lungs started pumping the pine-tinted air again. I hit an aid station a few miles later and fueled up with some oranges, pretzels, and more Coke – a lot of Coke. Mile 42. Four more miles to the East Pinnacle parking lot where I’d see my crew again. Skrillex’s “Kyoto” came on. I turned up the volume on my Shuffle. When it finished, I played it again. I played it five times in a row. East Pinnacle parking lot. More oranges, more Coke, a Biofreeze bath from my crew. Mile 46. The final miles of the race shifted to mostly pavement. After humping technical trails all day I felt like I was flying. 7:30 pace. 6:45 pace. It was a great race but I was ready to be done.

Crew chief Jackie

I crossed the finish line at nine hours and 11 minutes in ninth place. I was greeted by race director Chrissy Ferguson who congratulated me and hung the porcelain race medal around my neck. At that point I was more than ready to dig into the burger and dog barbeque.

It was a darn fun race and a great way to break my way into the 50-mile category. But in the aftermath, it’s time to autopsy to figure out what went right and wrong. Because, hey, if we’re going to improve at anything, we have to know where we can improve, right? So here goes.

Crew lieutenant Shelley

What went right…

• Salt. This has been a significant issue for me on any effort above four hours and actually hung me up for about a half hour at Phantom Ranch when I was doing the Grand Canyon R2R2R. At the time, I didn’t know that salt was the issue, but at this point I’ve figured out that if my stomach feels like it wants to crawl out of my mouth, it’s likely a salt issue. Now I stay ahead of it, taking at least one tab per hour. During this race, I started out taking one/hour and upped that to one/45 minutes later in the race. Miracle of miracles, no nausea issues.          
• Food. Yes, I did get sick of the Montana Huckleberry Hammer gels that were at the aid stations, but to be fair, part of that was because I was tossing them back aggressively right from the start. I combined those with gels, chews, and the Ginsting waffles that I brought and then switched over to handfuls of pretzels, orange slices, Coke, Gatorade, and Heed from the aid stations later in the race when I couldn’t stomach the energy foods anymore. I was shooting for 200 calories/hour and I’m not sure that I quite got there, but I wasn’t too far off. Upshot: No bonk.          
• Crew. When I ran my first ultra (the awesome Bootlegger 50k), I had no idea what to really tell Jackie to do as my crew. During the race, I mostly zipped by her (I also bonked hard in that race). This time, I had bags ready to go and I let Jackie and Shelley know what was in there and what I might need. I also prepared for the aid-station stops well in advance so I knew exactly what I needed by the time I reached them. Better still, when I could, I let them know what I’d need at the next aid station so that they could have it out and ready.          
• Music. I rarely train with music, so it was on a bit of a whim that I decided to buy a Shuffle and race with music. Great decision. Still probably won’t train with music – as my high school wrestling coach said, you don’t want to distract yourself from the pain of training because you need to know how to overcome it – but for keeping motivated and moving during a race, it was great. And, man, those new Shuffles couldn’t be better for clipping on a hat and having the whole setup out of your way. It also helped that I took a while to set up a great playlist – songs that were indispensable: Skrillex, “Kyoto”; Nappy Roots, “Good Day”; The Roots, “The Fire”; and RobotDojo, “Robot’s Lament.” I don’t want to take anything away from my enjoyment of Eric Johnson’s “Cliffs of Dover,” but I got lost while that song was on. May have to take that off for future races. Just saying.

What went not so right…

•  It is trail running after all. I’m lucky enough to live in an area where there is some very technical trail running. That means that I should be well prepared for all but the most technical trails anywhere I run. This doesn’t work out that well, however, if I only hit those trails once per week. Spending more time honing my actual trail-running skills by, ummm, running on trails, will no doubt help on future races.          
• Shoes. I’m loathe to badmouth my Inov8 Roclite 295s. They were my first true trail shoe and they’ve been with me for some momentous moments in my nascent trail-running career. Golden Hills trail marathon, Grand Canyon R2R2R, Bootlegger 50k, 47-mile trek through Zion, and now the Ouachita Trail 50 – it was all the Roclites. Not to mention countless miles of training. However, the toe box on the Roclites is really big and for a naturally clumsy chap like myself, that makes stumbles and falls a near guarantee. For whatever reason, I also end up with a blood blister on my left big toe almost without fail on anything over 20 miles. And while they have great traction from the big lugs on the sole, they are awful for running on pavement. So, with much love, retirement for the Roclites is right around the corner and I’ll be looking elsewhere for my next trail shoe. 
• Navigation. I’m not really sure whether there was a way to prevent myself from going off trail and getting lost. Because of how technical the trail was, it was crucial for me to keep my eyes on the trail to keep from doing a face-plant. I saved at least two other runners from getting lost when I yelled them down as I watched them trot off in the wrong direction and my crew overheard at least a few other runners complaining about how tough it was to keep on the trail at some points. On the other hand, I could be much better prepared for how to handle going off trail. As it was, I immediately started trotting around trying to find the trail again. Bad idea. In seconds I had no idea where I was when I first realized that I was off course. If I had at least marked that spot somehow I could have systematically traced my way back to the trail. As it was, I got really lucky. It probably wouldn’t hurt for me to brush up on some wilderness navigation skills.          
• Crew. My crew was awesome and I did a better job preparing them for what I needed. What I didn’t do was think about what they might need. I don’t know how other runners do it, but next time I’ll plan to have some food/snacks packed for the crew. I’m quite sure this isn’t the only race that provides relatively little opportunity for crew to shoot off and get food and a hungry crew is not a focused crew. Or a happy one. Or one that is very likely to agree to follow you around for 50 miles again in the future.

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