A well traveled secret

From the ashes of a California fire, the Arkansas Traveler 100 provided the final venue for the 2009 Grand Slam. The organizers hoped that hopeful Slammers would broaden the awareness of their race, but after Leadville many of the original 27 or so entrants were struck off the list and only 6 remained. Many of the others didn’t make the journey to Arkansas, it seemed there was a perception that the Traveler wasn’t going to be a particularly interesting course ‘flat’ and ‘easy’ were words that often appeared in conversation. It turned out to be anything but that!

The race web site described the route as predominantly dirt roads or 4 wheel drive tracks and that certainly conjured images of a Vermont 100 type course. The reality was much more rugged than that and if anyone offered to drive me a long the course (even in an ATV), I think I’d prefer to walk for safety’s sake! It may not have particularly high elevations but there were certainly plenty of ‘undulations’ to tax the legs and sap energy. But any discomfort from the challenge was more than made up by the enthusiastic warm hospitality of everyone involved in the event. You went between 6 to 3 miles between aid stations and each one was run by runners who were out to enjoy their day and ensure the competitors did the same. The first thing that struck me was that on checking in and announcing my number I immediately became a name because someone instantly called that out from their check sheet. The air would quickly fill with banter about ‘cute accent’, ‘nice legs’, ‘love the shorts’ or ‘if you don’t see what you want ask us’. Several times I headed out back on to the course chuckling even though I paused barely a minute or two to gather food and a drink.

If I’m honest, I had been a bit disheartened with the previous three races, being sick in Leadville hadn’t helped, I perhaps pushed too recklessly at VT and at Wasatch I was apprehensive about not finishing two in a row. At the Traveler, I decided to take a more relaxed approach but during the race to also apply a bit more focus. The main difference was that my eating and drink regime hadn’t been working and I was tired of battling nausea hour after hour. So from the first aid station I eat like a horse no matter whether it had been just a short distance since the previous one. I ate enough PB&J sandwiches to sink a battleship! I drank soda to compliment the Gatorade I carried but when getting refreshment the aid stations were organized enough to provide trash bins down the trail that allowed you to grab what you wanted a keep moving.

One of the first aid stations revealed a steaming platter of bacon and pancake slices which amazed me as we really weren’t far into the day. Dipped in syrup those pancakes though were delicious and on the second time through the station I made sure to grab another handful! The early hours of the race though were drenched with cold heavy rain while thunder and lightening crashed above us. The cool temperatures weren’t I had expected and if it had continued I was going to need to reconsider the layering I had on. As the sun rose though so did the temperature and for the rest of the day and night I was comfortable in a short sleeved shirt. The rain though did provide one of those never again trail running experiences however. The damp and friction from my shorts had removed the body glide protection I had applied at the start and after a while the discomfort was annoying enough that I had to do something. The next station where I’d see Guthrie was some way off but a thought crossed my mind – I had a chapstick in my drink holder pocket, maybe that would provide temporary relief. I pulled out the stick, slapped a lump on my finger and applied the said gu. A sensation that I can only assimilate to having your groin set on fire ensued. I reached back into my pocket and held the chap stick at arms length to read the fine print on the label – the words ‘menthol’ and ‘medicated’ suggested that this hadn’t been a good idea! By the next aid station the fire was now smoldering nicely and despite several liberal applications of Vaseline during the day, the embers never completely died out.

The regular intake of PB&J worked like putting oil on a rusty engine, I ran relaxed and full of energy. A brief spell off trail earlier on momentarily damped the enjoyment but not for too long, I hadn’t felt this good during a race for a long time and I intended to enjoy it. Six miles from the turnaround Guthrie asked if she could run with me. We chugged along chatting about the race and the realization that I was in 4th place. As the runners ahead passed us heading back it was evident that the gap between 2 and 4th wasn’t that big but with a significant distance still to go I tried not to think about it. Keeping a steady pace with Guth wasn’t easy and by the time she left me I was starting to feel queasy from the extra effort we’d expended. One more station on and a volunteer told me I was now second after the second placed guy had dropped and the third one was struggling.

For the next 40 odd miles I tried not to think about placement but to just keep doing what I was doing. The encouragement from the aid stations continued to flow, day turned to night and my feet start to complain about the constant pounding. Slowly, blisters made running over uneven ground very uncomfortable and my paced slowed. With just 6 miles to go the runner who earlier had fallen behind me trotted by with his pacer. I briefly tried to hang onto his shirt tails but the darkness swallowed they both up and they were gone.

The final aid station was 1.9 miles from the finish almost entirely downhill on a packed dirt road. The final section was paved and floods lights in the distance looked like the finish. I still running despite the sore feet, but the road turned away from the lights, then back toward, then away once again! Finally, parked cars a long the road meant we really were at the end. I crossed the line with music blasting and my name announced over a PA. But in the early hours of the morning there was just Guthrie, the Race Director and one other person to witness it.

It would be easy to say my Traveler 100 experience was a positive one, after all it isn’t often you can claim to have finished in one of the top three places. I certainly couldn’t claim to have finished in a particularly fast time and one a different course with different opposition my placement would have undoubtedly more average. Luckily for me everything (except for the chapstick incident) went well on the day but the lasting memory of the race will be the effort by everyone concerned to make the occasion what it was. The Traveler 100 doesn’t deserve being rated as ‘easy’ or that Arkansas is an exciting place to visit. If you are considering a 100, even if it is your first, you should consider this one; only don’t tell everyone about the secret, if they all run it that southern hospitality might just not be the same!