If I would have had anything sharp in my Columbia Falls hotel room last Saturday night - like a chainsaw, a Leatherman, or a butter knife - I would have been tempted to use the implement to cut off both of my legs. Thankfully, the sharpest tool close to my bed was a plastic spoon that I’d used earlier that same morning to eat key lime yogurt - part of the breakfast I consumed before my first 50-mile running race.
The spoon wasn’t sharp enough; I was left with no choice but to roll around in bed for eight excruciating hours, suffering from the most intense, piercing leg and butt cramps imaginable. I wanted to die.
Last Saturday was the perfect fall day for a run along the entire length of Hungry Horse Reservoir just south of Glacier National Park. At 8 am on October 13, 2007, eighty-some runners converged at the Le Grizz Ultramarathon starting line located almost 50 miles south of Hungry Horse Dam on the dirt and gravel frontage road. I was one of those runners - a wannabe, really. The Le Grizz was my first 50-miler. And as always, I was worried.
The first 15 miles of the race rolled by like a sweet dream. Cool temperatures, blue skies, puffy clouds, shimmering lake water, golden larches and aspen and cottonwoods bringing the already breathtaking landscape even more alive with delicious color.
At the Le Grizz, runners are allowed to have a support crew follow along in a vehicle. A friend of mine drove my car ahead three miles, parked, and waited for me, offering encouragement, gummy worms, energy bars and drinks, and water as I passed.
Before the start of the race, I imagined all of the chaos with cars and crews would be an annoying hindrance. But I quickly looked forward to seeing a familiar and friendly face every three miles. In my mind, I broke the 50 miles up into simple three mile increments. Just keep running until you get to the car, I said to myself. Soon, I found the miles adding up. And I was still plugging right along.
Between Mile 17 and 18, the devil decided to posses my left leg. In mid-stride, I was overwhelmed with a nasty, wrenching leg cramp that stopped me in my tracks. I kneaded and pounded the muscle with my closed fists, stomped my foot on the ground, cursed up a storm - none of it helped. So I tried to run it out. After a miserable few miles, the cramp subsided into a dull aching knot, but never totally disappeared. If I turned my leg in a funny way, the devil cramp threatened to come back with a vengeance. I tried to tread lightly. I still had a long, long way to go.
Even with my cramping episode, I found myself clipping along at a nice and surprising pace. My friend kept track of my times. “So far, you’re like clockwork,” he repeated to me 20, 30, 40 miles into the race. I ran ten minute miles, trotting along, listening to music, talking to other runners, enjoying the scenery - all the while hoping and praying the devil napping in my left leg wouldn’t stir again.
I was able to keep the monster at bay until somewhere around Hungry Horse Dam - Mile 47. Walking was my downfall; I took a break from running for a few minutes and then both of my legs seized up. Still, I walked and ran towards the finish line feeling pretty good, knowing that no matter what I’d finish now.
The organizers of the LeGrizz have a twisted sense of humor; the last little stretch before the sprint to the finish involves a bushwhack straight up a steep and densely wooded embankment. A small group of spectators stood at the top of the climb, cheering as I literally crawled over the edge of the slope onto the pavement that led to the finish line.
I finished my first 50-miler in 9 hours and 34 minutes. I had a fun run - I was happy with the results.
But later that evening, the devil returned. I spent the night in agony, rolling around in bed, constantly switching positions hoping that something, anything, would make the spasms stop. This is crazy - never again, I told myself over and over again. And then, hours later, I finally fell asleep.
I woke up at 7 am feeling, literally, okay. Yeah, my legs were a little stiff but I still felt good enough to take my dogs out for a nice hike later that afternoon. And as we walked, I’d already forgotten my NEVER AGAIN pledge. “Once I get this cramping issue figured out,” I said to myself. “Then I can cruise...”
I’m a daydreamer.
“I was hoping you’d get this running thing out of your system,” a concerned friend said to me.
Running 5 miles or 50 miles - I enjoy it all. If devil cramps can’t take running out of my system, I don't think anything can.
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