Race Recap: Tie Dye 50k

A year ago, I took a four hour road trip to run the Tie Dye 50k in the little town of Yellow Springs, Ohio, through John Bryan State Park.  I knew a few people who would also be running it, and for the bargain price of just $45, what did I have to lose?  The trails were beautiful, and it was a great day, despite torrential rains, thunder and lightning, and getting lost not once, but twice, in the same spot on both loops.  The race is advertised as 32 miles, but with my apparent inability to follow course markings, I ended the race with nearly 35 miles.  Despite the soggy, slippery trails and the extra mileage, I managed to finish 6th female overall, with a time of 7 hours and 13 minutes.  It was the perfect springtime race.

This year, when I began planning my year of running, I decided to go back to the Tie Dye 50k.  The Pinckney Trail Weekend combined with this race proved to be great training for the Mohican 50 which I ran last year and plan to run again this year.  So, I forked over my $45 entry fee, booked a cheap hotel as close as I could get (which was still 45 minutes away) and I was set.

Race weekend finally arrived and I made the solo trip four hours south.  Unlike last year, I only knew one other person running the 50k this year-my cousin's cousin, Todd, who lives near Cincinnati.  After a quiet Friday night and a nice dinner, I laid out all of my gear, set my alarms, and drifted off to sleep.

4:25am came and I popped out of bed.  I dressed, lubed my body, braided my hair, and made some quick hotel room coffee for my drive to the race start.  The moon was big and bright as I made the drive into Yellow Springs, and the sun was just rising as I reached John Bryan State Park.  I headed to packet pickup and received my bib, pins, and tech shirt, and then watched as a small group took off on their race, opting for the one hour early start.  Temperatures were predicted to be near 87 degrees, and the early morning was already thick with humidity.  The campground was full this morning, and people were in various stages of their morning routines.

I headed back to my car to make final preparations, applying a liberal amount of bug spray because with the humidity had come the mosquitoes.  Then, it was time to head to the start line, where I met up with Todd. 

There was a short meeting discussing a last minute course change because part of a trail that had been just a little wet two days prior had become a rushing river due to the previous day's rainfall.  I hoped everything was well-marked because you know how good I am at getting lost!  And then, without any fanfare, the race director said, "Get out of here!", and we were off. 

I remember last year, that it took nearly ten miles for the pack to thin out.  When I got lost, there were actually about 40 of us that got lost!  We had been in a tightly packed line and ALL of us had missed the turn.  This year, within two miles, the crowd had thinned considerably.  There were about six of us running together, including Todd and me.  We chatted as we ran, discussing our last races and what we had planned for the future.  I made friends with the guy behind me as well, Kenny was his name, and he told me he was contemplating his first 100 miler this year.  As always, there was a lot to talk about, and the first few miles flew by.  There were some pretty big mud pits as we went, and everyone had wet shoes and muddy legs right from the start.  But hey, every once in a while there was a random board thrown out there and we could try to stay a little less than soaked.

After mile 6, I started paying attention to flags.  I didn't want to get caught up in conversation and miss the turn as I had last year (TWICE).  Within another mile, we had found the turn and were on the right path.  No extra mileage for me this year!  We continued on and headed out on a little out-and-back portion of the route, and it was nice to see the runners ahead of us, and those behind us and share words of encouragement.  I noticed around this time that I was completely drenched in sweat already.  It was much hotter than I had been used to running in, and the humidity was so high everything looked hazy and steamy. 

Then came mile 9.  We were warned that this would be a good place to slow our pace and be careful.  The trail was a downward climb over loose rocks, which were slippery from rain and mud.  I definitely didn't want to fall at this point, so I took my time.  I guess I was being overly cautious because by the time I made it to the bottom of the trail, I was alone.  I didn't really mind, though, because it was beautiful.  This part of the trail ran right next to the raging river and was filled with huge, moss-covered rocks.

Nearing mile 10, there is a very steep and rocky climb back up out of the valley.  There wasn't much running in mile 9, but the scenery made up for it.

After all the ups and downs of the last mile or so, I came to the first aid station at mile 10.  There had been a couple of water stops earlier in the course, but this was the first one with food.  Runners actually pass through here four times throughout the race, so it was well-stocked.  I munched on watermelon and took my orange slice picture-just a half-to my dismay.

I grabbed some Gatorade to go, and headed out on a little 3-4 mile loop. 

This part of the course is a little bit different.  After heading down a nice wide path, runners follow a skinny trail through an open field, before ducking back into the woods onto a single track trail.  Then, it spits you out again into an open field before sending you deep into the forest.  Those open fields were getting hot, and it wasn't even 10am yet!

After the open fields, the trail was tight as it went through the forest.  There were tons of little water crossings, most with bridges or rocks to balance on.  This part of the course seemed wetter, and more untouched, and it smelled magnificent.  All of the trees and flowers were in full bloom and the air was thick with the sweet scent. 

I knew that I was nearing the waterfall-I remembered it from last year because as I had turned to look at it, I totally crashed and fell.  I made a mental note to stop first this year before looking!  The river was much higher than last year, but it was still pretty cool to be on the bridge over the waterfall!

After a few more rocky sections, it was time to follow the trail and head back onto the wide track that leads back to the aid station. 

The trail was wide and flat and I was feeling good. Despite how good I was feeling, I found myself walking.  I just had no desire to be running.  And then I thought, "I am really bored!"  I actually texted Jason and told him I was bored.  THAT'S how bored I was.  His response?  "What? You're in the woods!  You love being in the woods!"  And I do.  But I didn't right at that moment.  I just wasn't feeling it.  I decided that in a mile, when I got back to the aid station, I would drop.  I walked the last mile out of there, and said goodbye to the big, old tree that I had remembered from the prior year.

As I walked up to the aid station, I wasn't sad or upset.  I told them my number and that I was dropping and asked if there was a shortcut back to the starting line.  They didn't ask me why I was dropping, and I didn't offer an explanation.  One of the volunteers was heading back for more supplies, and he offered to give me a ride.  I got back to my car, changed all of my clothes and washed my legs and headed for home.

I could tell you that once I got on the road, I regretted my decision.  Or that when I got home I wondered what I had done. Or that once I slept on it I wished I could take it back.  But none of those things are true.  I am not sad or angry or embarrassed by my decision.  I had just decided that after 14 miles, I was done.  And I don't think there is anything wrong with making a decision like that.  I run trails for the challenge and the adventure and for the fun of it.  On that day, at that time, I just wasn't feeling it.  There is a time to push yourself, a time to slog through the worst parts of a run to get to the victory, but there is also a time to know when to say when.  Sure, I could've stayed out there another five hours and completed the race, but my heart wasn't in it, and I'm leaving it at that.

I made the four hour drive home, filled my belly with some yummy mexican food, and snuggled with the cat and watched the chickens out in the yard before sunset. 

And today?  Today was Sunday.  It was filled with family, and celebration, and pouring rain, and a nice seven mile run, and my heart was in it.