Ain't no mountain high enough

For one day, my best was good enough, but just barely.

Months of training, interrupted only by a brief bout with a leg injury, were rewarded by successfully completing the 1st Annual Mount Cheaha 50K on Feb. 25. This was the race that I began training for in my first column, and now I can proudly boast of participating and finishing an athletic contest designed for those healthy in body but questionable of mind.

And why would anyone doubt my sanity? Let’s do some simple math. A marathon covers 26.2 miles, and any race over that distance is considered an ultra marathon. So when I first pondered whether I was up for the task of running a 50K, I had to engage in basic mathematic deduction. To translate metric distance into an English measurement, 50 kilometers equals roughly 31 miles. That’s like someone starting their jog from downtown Anniston and finishing with a dip in the murky waters of Logan Martin Lake at Riverside!

The race began at Porter’s Gap off Highway 77 and ended at an elevation of 2,400 feet atop – you guessed it – Cheaha Mountain. Of the roughly 80 runners signed up, 69 would lay claim to finisher shirts. Those who didn’t finish can find solace in the fact that running a pathway strewn with rocks and roots delivers a beating to the body not unlike a head-on collision, except you can see this accident coming many miles away.

In the days leading up to the Mount Cheaha 50K, race organizer Todd Henderson succinctly replied to a self-doubting e-mail I sent him about the possibility I may have to pull out of the race at one of the aid stations. Never one to give a fellow runner an easy out, his words leapt off my monitor and rung like the bells of Notre Dame inside my head each time I wanted to give up and sit on the little bit of a derriere God allowed me: “You can finish!”

The day started off unassuming enough, with the exception of steady rain and the company of a rather eclectic group of fitness enthusiasts bunched together riding in a yellow school bus to the race’s starting point. This group’s visual wallpaper was painted with North Face and Patagonia rainwear, along with a shoe selection ranging from the ubiquitous Nike Air Pegasus to the latest technological triumphs from Vasque, Montrail and Salomon. No doubt about it, outfitting for an ultra marathon can be quite the fashion show.

Once we were dropped off, we endured a rain soaked and chilly introduction to the pitfalls of competing in an outdoor contest in late February. The steady stream of rain descending upon us was an omen of what lay ahead of us for the rest of this fateful day. Precipitation had taken a firm hold of man’s best laid plans and was intent on slowing progress to a snail’s pace.

Two tidbits of bus talk I held close to my heart came from a wise, experienced ultra runner from Tallahassee, Fla. She told me to be sure to walk the hills and make up time on the flat and downhill portions of the course. Another nugget of wisdom was to load up on snacks and drink plenty of fluids at all aid stations. Trust me, I learned quickly that walking all the ascents made all the difference in my finishing the race.

My running partner, Linda Hearn, proved to be quite a good sport, entering the race only in the belief that we were running, at most, 21 miles. But when we figured we could comfortably make all the aid station cutoffs by the third one, there was no quit to be found in either one of us.

The terrain we traversed included logging roads, pine-straw-padded and rock-laden trails, and several creek crossings. One of the creeks was considered so treacherous that Todd and Co. ran a rope across it a day earlier for the runners to hold onto while crossing. Oh, how cold those mountain streams are when they engulfed my midsection!

The last few miles proved to be the toughest test. Immediately past the last aid station (around mile 27) was a one-mile vertical ascent that starts on the backside of Cheaha Lake. With knees, feet and lungs screaming, we slowly worked our way to the top of the mountain. The last few miles were colored with a foggy mist that made an unreal day border on the surreal. When we finally finished eight hours later, the fog had completely enveloped this ancient mountain as had the fatigue on my ill-prepared body.

And what does one do for an encore after reaching such an illustrious athletic milestone? Why, compete in another ultra marathon, I say. I’m signed and paid up for the Oak Mountain 50K later this month. Talk to you, later.