My eyes teared up as I crossed the start line of Florida’s Long Haul 100. I was unexpectedly emotional after years of wanting to attempt the distance but having been sidelined by injuries. With the exception of a broken pinky toe in an unfortunate trampoline park accident shortly before the race, my body had held up, I put in the miles and was excited and curious about how the day would go.
The morning was cool, although the locals would probably disagree based on the warnings we’d seen on TV. For a northern runner, the 40-degree starting temperature was perfect, especially knowing that it would soon be 70 degrees, which my December Minnesota training had not prepared me for.
The sun came up and I enjoyed the early race banter as we made our way around the first of six 16.7-mile laps for the 100-mile runners. The race also offered a unique option of 100 furlongs (12.5 miles). The course wound through the flat, mostly grassy terrain of Colt Creek State Park including “longleaf pine flatwoods, thick cypress domes and open vistas” with the possibility of seeing varied wildlife. It offered aid stations every 3-5 miles with incredibly helpful volunteers. In addition, the course passed through a couple parking and camping areas lined with canopies and tents where crews cheered you on. Strangers offered me pancakes and kindly took my empty, sticky energy gel packets.
The best of the Florida running community was really on display with the three women who befriended my husband when they found that our setup was a backpack and a child’s camp chair. Seriously, the chair was meant for a four-year-old and fit in my husband’s duffle bag on the plane. Did I mention this was my first 100? My husband insisted we didn’t need a canopy or tent. At the end of my third lap, I knew things were going off the rails. I felt dehydrated despite my best efforts to drink enough. My husband ushered me into the tent of these trail angels and Martha promptly wrapped me like a burrito and spent 40 minutes helping me warm up, hydrate and get electrolytes. She likely saved my race. On subsequent visits to the tent, I watched them keeping a pacer warm and performing footcare on someone with macerated feet. I briefly wondered if he was running through the alligator-infested water along the trail, you know, just for an extra challenge.
Day turned into night, and it had cooled off and was peaceful except for the aid stations that were lit up and pumping music to keep the runners motivated. I kept a sharp eye out in the dark since my pre-race research told me that alligators are most active from dusk to dawn. Eventually, the second sunrise came around for those of us who like to be on the course long enough to really get our money’s worth. Since we wouldn’t want the day to be too perfect, Mother Nature whipped up a little storm mid-day on Sunday that blew the finish line arch over and caused a minor evacuation. It helped me to increase my pace from 18-minute miles to a blistering 16-minute-mile pace in my desire to get off the course.
At long last, the end was there, and once again I teared up as I crossed the line and received my buckle from Amy, one of the amazing race directors. It was the perfect course for a first 100-miler.
In the aftermath, I continue to be excited that I accomplished this distance and absorbed more lessons learned on the trail. And I look forward to more long runs now that my husband is sold on the idea of having a four-sided yurt with full size camp chairs.
Full results here.