DNF race report on the Javelina Jundred, November 12-13, 2011
I hate DNFs. Similarly, I hate writing DNF race reports, because they make me relive the unpleasant experience. Hell, the race was mid-November, 2011 and it’s now the end of January, 2012 and I’m just starting to write this. But ultimately I feel the need to be honest and describe the unpleasantries in some detail. Bottom line, when you’re stupid and weak it’s really hard to finish an ultra, as I proved this time.
The Javelina Jundred is one of my favorite running events, and maybe my favorite 100-miler….not that I’ve run a lot of them by any means. But Javelina was my first 100, it’s held in the desert in late fall and it’s a really well run event…..all reasons to like it. I last ran it in 2009, finishing in 23:00. That event is chronicled earlier in this blog, so there is probably no need to cover the logistics in great detail, but here’s a summary. The event is run in McDowell Mountain Regional Park on the full moon weekend nearest to Halloween (or “Jalloween,” in the race vernacular) and consists of six 15.4 mile “washing machine” loops, followed by a final 8+ mile shorter loop. This format makes for a social, friendly event that passes through headquarters every few hours.
It's really not all that confusing--just go opposite directions each loop.
Having finished twice before, there weren’t a lot of surprises or uncertainties going in. I knew where to stay, where I was going, how to pace myself, etc. My most recent 100-miler was Lean Horse (also covered in this blog) about 2 ½ months earlier. It had beaten the hell out of me, but I felt recovered and reasonably ready. As is my preference, I arrived a day earlier (Thursday night) to allow for a full day of relaxation on Friday. The race was late this year—approaching mid-November. This would seem to be desirable from a temperature standpoint. In fact, early forecasts called for a chance of rain, although that seemed to have been reduced as the race approached.
The hazards of a 100-miler are many, but with the “easy” course, those in Javelina are a bit different. Principal include the temptation to go out too fast, along with the easy access to one’s car and the associated temptation of the comforts of the warm hotel room. I (thought I) was prepared for these and other challenges as the race approached.
I had learned to stay in Fountain Hills, AZ a nice self-contained community just a few miles from the Park. Lounged around Friday, and headed for the race briefing and pasta on Friday night. Nothing exceptional—the course was the same as in the past, although the aid stations had been moved around a bit. Polished off some tasty P.F. Chang’s cuisine and headed back to my room for an early night.
Many runners opted to camp. I had a king suite at the Holiday Inn Express.
Topical humor from ultra runners.
As is my custom, I started out by walking the first 10 minutes, to let muscles warm up a bit, then started to mix in running in a half and half fashion. There was little risk of going out too fast with this approach. On the clockwise loop, the first aid station arrives in about two miles, when I had no need for fluids. As the trek wound on, I realized the five mile aid station from last year was now an eight mile aid station…..something to remember for future loops, as I was out of water by the time I got there. Usually, the first 15 miles or so of a 100 are very pleasant….I’m an early morning guy by nature, everything feels fine, life is good, right? Actually, I was already starting to develop a “hot spot” on my right heel. Very unusual, as this is not a typical problem area and I was wearing the same shoes and socks as in past events. I finished the first loop in about 3:10 and decided to head over to the medical area for a look at my heel. No blister yet, but they put a protective bandage on it. I spent about 15 minutes at “Jeadquarters,” way longer than I wanted to. But I’d hoped to head off trouble, and started on loop 2, this time counterclockwise.
Loop 2 was uneventful except…my damn heel kept bothering me. I was pretty sure I was getting a blister, which was quite puzzling. To the medical tent again, for another 15-20 minute stop, this time draining the blister and bandaging it. Plus I was starting to get a hot spot on my right big toe! Jeez, blisters were not usually a problem for me, and here early they were really disrupting my pace.
Loop 3 would be in the hot part of the day, although today it was very pleasant, with temperatures maybe around 70 at the peak. Nonetheless, my stomach decided to go on vacation once again, and had no interest in taking much in the way of nutrition. I’d packed fruit in my drop bag at the start/finish, and was able to eat this….but not much else. Add in yet another blister stop and my pace was lagging.
I like desert running. A lovely day, a nice selection of cacti and desert scenery.
As the day wore on, I began to think this one was giving me the "one finger salute."
Equipment problems began to plague me starting on loop 4. For a guy at my pace, this is usually a transition loop, where darkness begins to fall (and temperatures begin to drop) about halfway through. I hadn’t bothered to do much with my lights—I had two working flashlights and a spare set of batteries with me, along with a working headlamp. How much more could I need? Got out my flashlight as darkness fell, and in a matter of minutes the light started to fade. I stumbled my way to the “new” aid station, just two miles from the start / finish on the counterclockwise loop. Fumbled around and changed the batteries, the ones I just took out of the package….and they were dead! WTF? They were brand new! I kept pace with some better-prepared runners and made it into the aid station to get my second flashlight.
By loop 5, the temperatures had cooled and my stomach was feeling better….I actually ate some food on this loop. The blisters were nagging, but not debilitating. In the later stages of this loop, the rains started. Inexplicably, I was woefully unprepared for rain, even though it had been forecast all week. I had a trash bag with me, which I put on for some protection and worked my way to Jeadquarters, now some 78 miles into the event. At this point, my second flashlight was going dead. I ditched the trash bag and picked up the poncho I’d brought, along with my headlamp (with uncertain batteries).
Heading out on loop 6, (the last “long” loop before the shorter finishing loop) I was pretty frustrated with myself. Bad lighting system for starters. Then the rain gear….the poncho I brought cost about $1.50 at Dick’s Sporting Goods and was like wearing Saran Wrap. The hood kept getting in my eyes, my light was weak and I kept stumbling off the trail in the pouring rain. I was ready to give it up. I got to the first aid station and told them I was going to drop. One of the workers looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “But you’re on your sixth loop.” About that time a blast of rain and wind hit the aid station and I decided I was dropping, 81 miles in. I turned and headed back downhill to the finish and officially dropped.
In hindsight, I was stupid and weak. Stupid for not bringing rain gear (which I have, of course) and not checking my lighting system. And, as it dawned on my later, my blisters were likely the result of putting new, slightly larger inserts (the first time I’d worn them) in my shoes. Stupid is as stupid does, I guess. But even worse, I could have finished. I wasn’t feeling bad….hell, I’d started to eat again. And the rain wasn’t a relentless downpour. Instead, it was just periods of rain. I had plenty of time….for all my woes I was probably on a 25 hour pace. If I’d just gotten out of aid station #1 on the last loop, I probably would have made it. But I lost my nerve and dropped.
Adding injury to insult.
I usually wait a week or so before running after an ultra. I was back in Mesquite / Vegas the following weekend an decided to log a couple of five mile runs. First one (Mesquite) went OK…..a little stiff and sore, but OK. In Vegas, disaster struck. Some minor soreness in my left heel early in the run quickly morphed into something that started really hurting. I stopped and walked back to the hotel. This didn’t feel like a “couple of days off” injury…..it felt like a few months off. Worst case, my ultra career had ended on the heels (no pun intended) of a very discouraging DNF.
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