The Whiterock Ultra in Iowa is the “Cheers” of the ultrarunning world. If you’re under 35, you may need to Google that to know what I mean.
The 50-miler begins at 12:01 a.m., which was a little rough as I’m usually in bed by 10 p.m. and my day had started at 3:55 a.m. to get to the airport that morning. However, knowing that at some point the heat was going to be a factor, this played into my decision to run the 50-miler over the 50k, which starts at 7 a.m.
The race started right on time and the course is configured so that you run three different loops: two red loops, two white loops and one blue loop. The red loop isn’t technical, which was great because both of those are done in the dark. What I didn’t expect was just how hot and humid it could be here at night. After each loop, runners hit the start / finish so the longest point from full aid is 11 miles. The red loop is the shortest loop, at approximately 8 miles. While on the red loop(s) I met Mandi and Dakota. Dakota was doing his first ultra. Midway through the second red loop I met another runner who I ran about 13 miles with. I had to warn him that I couldn’t tell a short story, and he claimed that it was okay because it kept our minds off the hills.
So let’s talk about the hills. What the heck Iowa? I don’t know if this area is unusually hilly or what, but as far as elevation goes, this race delivers. A veteran Whiterock runner who’s run the race every year said the white loop has “punchy” hills. I’d never heard of “punchy” hills, so I wasn’t sure what she meant but after running the course, I’d say “punchy” is the perfect description. While they aren’t particularly steep or long, there are more roots and rocks on that loop. Being tired on loop two while the sun starts to rise all seems to contribute to the difficulty.
Someone lied and said the blue loop was pretty flat. I really hoped maybe I could pick up the pace to finish the last 11 miles. Nope. The loop was 90% exposed during the heat of the day. I looked at temperature after I finished, and 89 degrees feels like 97 degrees. That explains my experience of near heat exhaustion.
The author gets her photo with an Amish quilt that displays the Whiterock logo. Photo courtesy author
Here’s a tip for future Whiterock runners: have a full bladder, or at the very least, 50 ounces of during this loop. My watch died at mile 40 and I was on the loop with no idea how far it was to the next aid station, but I was dangerously low on fluids. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I was starting to get really concerned because I thought I was experiencing some early signs of heat exhaustion. At one point, we had to run by a river but it’s down in a ravine with a lot of high grass and plants, so it wouldn’t be easy to get to. I was trying to figure a way to get into the water to cool down my body because I was so close to being in a very bad place. The aid station was probably 2 miles away and there was no shade. All of a sudden, I heard a motorized vehicle coming up from behind and it’s one of the race volunteers on a four-wheeler. He had an ice chest with water, Coke, popsicles and said, “I’m a traveling aid station. Do you want anything?” I had an ice-cold Coke, a bottle of water and a grape popsicle which saved me. Just another example of how far these RDs go to deliver such an excellent experience.
On this last loop runners traverse through the tiny town of Coon Rapids and if you need a drink or something else, you can pop into the local grocery store and put it on their account. These little touches make all the difference. A mile or so after you leave town, you’re back on the trail and there’s one last aid station before the finish. They had everything a runner could need to get their body temperature down and their spirits up. I left there feeling like a million bucks (minus tax) and was able to run the downhills and finish the race.
I loved this race, suffering and all.
Full results here.