The Barefoot Running Book - Jason Robillard [63]
In that the last leg, I met up with Jesse Scott who is another barefoot runner, though he just started. He was running the 50K and was looking great. We talked for a minute, and then he was off. I would see him at the finish later—his first ultra was a success. Since the race, Jesse and I have shared many ideas on barefoot and minimalist shoe running. I believe he has a bright future in the world of ultramarathons.
I was getting excited. When I passed the start/finish, I’d get Shelly as my first pacer. Having her as a pacer was a major boost. I was feeling pretty good anyway, but that really added to the fun.
That lap would be a major challenge for Shelly. The farthest she had ever run was 15.5 miles, and that was two kids ago. Because our youngest son was five months old, her training was somewhat limited. To add to the challenge, she has only run trails a handful of times.
On loop two, I realized Shelly was behind the awesome organization of the crew at each aid station. Before taking her away to pace, I asked her to make a list of duties for the rest of the crew. I did not have tremendous confidence in the remainder of the crew’s ability to stay organized.
The aid station stops throughout this loop went pretty smooth. It was the first point where my feet started looking as if they were being tortured. Though they felt fine, my feet were becoming a bit macerated from sweat with the skin turning white and looking as if it was going to fall off.
During this lap, I briefly ran with another guy running the 50-miler. We talked about my feet after he asked about the Vibrams. I told him about the macerated skin and he reminded me about putting lube on your feet to essentially waterproof them. At the next aid station, I liberally coated my feet in SportSlick before I put on the Injinjis and Vibrams. That turned out to be a winning combination. Throughout the rest of the race, I developed only three dime-sized blisters and the macerated skin was limited to the damage already done.
As we neared the end of the lap, I was a bit sad. I would miss the opportunity to talk to Shelly except for the brief 30-second, “How are you feeling?” conversations at the aid stations. Still, she was looking a bit rough toward the end of the lap. The long miles and rough trails had taken their toll.
As we neared the finish line, I gave Shelly my water bottle to swap while I grabbed some food at the finish line tent. The food selection was improving as the shorter races had ended. I grabbed four pieces of pizza, a hunk of turkey sandwich, and a cup of beef broth as I walked to the waiting crew at the trail head. That pizza may be the best I’ve ever eaten—at least it sure seemed like it at the time.
The Halfway Point
Lap four was Mark’s lap. We had run together a few times in training, so I was familiar with his pace. I knew I could count on him to keep me moving if I ran into trouble. In my previous 100, this is where I crashed and burned. This time I was feeling pretty good as the lap began. It was during this lap where the haziness set it. Even though I felt pretty good, the memories are a jumbled mess. The aid stations became indistinguishable and each hill felt like the rest.
The trails were now nearly empty. All the shorter races were done and most of the 50-milers had finished. Darkness would be setting in soon. I started having problems with hand chafing early in the lap, so I begin using one of my most embarrassing pieces of equipment, a pair of women’s stretch-knit gloves. Luckily I had packed my black pair and not the hot pink ones. That kept the ridicule in check.
I was still pretty warm, so I only wore one on my water bottle hand. Someone on the crew commented it was a tribute to Michael Jackson, who had recently died. Now, if only I could