While in Loveland, CO a friend of mine (Ryan) provoked me to sign up for Three Days of Syllamo. Syllamo is a three day stage race (50km, 50 miles, and 20km) that is held in the Syllamo Ranger District of the Ozark Mts in Arkansas. The race took place mid-March. I hadn't raced since early December and had taken the essential rest my body deserved.
I signed up for the 50 mile and 20km races (day 2 and day 3). BAM!!! I had something to train for other than the usual "I'm training for life" running schedule.
I had one month until the race. My goal was to strengthen my core and prevent the back pains or back tweaks I sometimes have towards the end of races or long runs. I also worked very hard on strengthening the muscles that support my knees. (Effort in both areas paid off 100% at the end of the race.) I was also fortunate to be able to run a few times with friends (Ed and Wendy) who live on the front range.
Brad finished his job in Colorado and we headed back to Arkansas a week or so before the race. We went on a run near Petit Jean Mountain with my buddy Deb. It had to be the most humid day in Arkansas so far this year and I felt like I had weights tied to my legs.
Eventually race weekend came up and I was mega chipper about it! I wish I had more photos some friends took throughout the race but I don't. Only finish line video footage of me talking 1,000mph...
Day 3 (~14 miles) Brad, me, and Ryan
After the race I was asked to write up a report and send it to the local ultra running group's newsletter (Arkansas Ultra Running Association [AURA]) about the race.
I've pasted it below:
Three Days of Syllamo – Stage Race
Three Days of Syllamo had always been planned as Two Days of
Syllamo for me. Excited to be back in
the Ozarks, I headed up to Blanchard Springs to watch my friends start the 50K
race on day 1 of 3. By the end of the
day I witnessed more frustration, anger, and disappointment from runners who
struggled with unexpected heat, dehydration, sickness, and being lost
(off-course). These mini-horror stories
did not amplify my positive psyche. “Whoa,”
I thought to myself, “this is going to be rough tomorrow.” The next morning I rolled out of the tent,
crammed food in my mouth, dropped off the drop bags, noted words at the
pre-race meeting, and still had enough time to think about the race jitters. I love the feeling of being nervous before a
race. It is exactly the same feeling I
have learned to embrace when presenting my work to an audience of dubious
scientists. As soon as the sun came up,
an hour into the race, I sprained my ankle and felt that horrific pain and
adrenaline rush. I kept moving. With this being my first 50 mile race my only
goals were to finish before 12 hours and run conservatively the first half and
give it everything the second half. At
the second aid station I introduced myself to the Peytons and ate a delicious
piece of St. Patty’s Day cake that was green!
I also noticed that a woman blasted through the aid station while I was
flapping my mouth!
“Uh oh” I thought. I
was feeling competitive and needed to get going. I caught up and passed the woman who blasted
through the aid station. Little did I
know she would run directly behind me for the next 9 miles. We hustled through this section, hollow after
hollow, and then she blasted through the Cripple Turkey aid station while I
knew I had to eat. She was gone. The next section went from road to trail,
back to road and then an obvious, hard turn to the right onto the Ozark
Highlands Trail. There was a barrier
(log + lots of blue flagging) in the road directing runners onto the
trail. For some strange reason I jumped
that barrier and flew downhill on the road and eventually realized the guy
behind me was no longer there. I ran
back uphill and hit my low point. I
thought over and over “Duuude!! That was so stupid!” Finally, I started seeing the people who were
on their return trip (out and back course) and I became stoked. At this point, I realized I was 4th
woman and I knew I was going to see my pacer in a few miles. A very strong-willed guy named Corbin passed
me before mile 30 and we talked about how we felt at the moment. He said the most amazing and neurotic thing,
“My feet hurt pretty bad, and it’s motivating me to run faster.” and he ran
faster. I picked up Brad (boyfriend) and
we ran like crazy to Barkshed trying to ‘close-the-gap’ on the woman in front
of me. In this long section (~ 9mi), we
were able to pass many people struggling with the heat. Each time I reached the bend in a hollow I
wanted to stop in the shade for just a tiny bit of relief from the sun and
heat. As I approached Barkshed I could
hear Deb, my friend and next pacer, and I started running faster. Deb was ready to run! As I left the aid station, I noticed the 3rd
place woman in front of me and she insisted I pass. Brad and I had closed the gap.
At this point, I was so tired of the heat that even the
shade from a tree trunk was sweet relief for a moment. At the last aid station, I had still not seen
the woman behind me and so I chatted a moment with an old grad school friend
working the aid station and crammed food in my mouth. Between this aid station and the finish, I
noticed a mess of turkey feathers. I commented
to Deb about the feathers and suddenly there was a third voice that said “Oh
yeah, I noticed those this morning.” I
turned my head and realized I had been caught.
Two steps later, without saying a word to Deb, I was running as fast as
I could and we did just that until the very end. I finished in 10 hours and 33 minutes! I feel very fortunate to have people in my
life who were able and willing to have fun and pace me out there on Day 2. I only had one complaint in my head the whole
day-no real potato chips at the aid stations - only Pringles.
The real challenge was putting on my running garb the next
morning in the misting rain to run ~14 miles on Day 3! Day 3 was pretty rough for me. I had an insatiable hunger the whole
time. The tough runners who completed
three days of syllamo are so burly and such an inspiration!
DAY 1: Photo by Katie Childs (Race Photographer)
DAY 1: Photo by Katie Childs (Race Photographer)
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