Holiday Lake 50k++    Feb. 10, 2007

I remember when I decided to run this race – at the Mountain Masochist 50 Miler awards ceremony, when my husband J.R. and friend Michelle Houston got their Lynchburg Ultra Series jackets, one of us (not me) decided it would be fun if the spouses ran Holiday Lake as first-timers in ‘07.  Caving in to peer pressure and the fact that it was months away, I agreed.  I had run a few road marathons, and ran the second loop of HL last year with JR.  I decided to train for it and do my best to finish, but not be disappointed in myself if I didn’t make the cut-offs.  The hardest training weekend was two consecutive days of 20 miles followed by 14 miles, something I’d never done training for road races.  One of my rituals is to picture myself crossing the finish line at the end of a training run and I visualized Horton congratulating me.  As race day grew nearer, I felt mostly prepared, and it was clear that we wouldn’t get the precipitation that made last year’s race so incredibly muddy, but it was also much colder.  I typically don’t run when it’s below 25 degrees, so I had to buy warmer running pants for the race.  I was really dreading the stream crossings, but I remembered that there was a bridge in the overgrowth for one of them.  I had also recently been diagnosed with a mild case of exercise-induced asthma, which is made worse by cold, dry air, so I wore a scarf to help pre-heat the air to my lungs.  Lining up behind 250 racers, I wasn’t sure what I was capable of on that cold, dark morning, but I was determined to make the first two time cutoffs and finish the race.  Even if I didn’t make the 7 ½ hour limit, if I crossed the finish line it would be a personal victory, as I had never run that far before. 

The first two aid stations seemed to come pretty quickly, and I didn’t spend much time at either one.  Michelle, crewing for husband Pat as well as a small group of friends, was waiting at the second station, and like all the wonderful volunteers, asked what I needed.  I had some of that awful Conquest, grabbed some chocolate, had my water bottle refilled, and was off.  I don’t remember much about the next couple aid stations, except that I ate more chocolate and was happy to see Michelle and her son Cutter at the 4^th aid station.  I had avoided all the stream crossings and was feeling pretty optimistic.  According to the runner’s packet, there is only 3 ½ miles to the turnaround, but I can tell you that this must be Horton’s biggest stretch of the truth on the whole course.  I broke down and used my inhaler because I was breathing so hard.  This is where I was at my crabbiest, wondering where in the heck the turnaround was, and why did it have to be so hilly?  I moved over for hundreds of people to pass me on their second loop, and got a quick kiss from J.R. which helped improve my mood.  As I repeatedly looked down at my watch and the time approached the 3 ½ hour limit, I wasn’t sure I would be able to make it.  Someone passing said as long as I don’t walk I’ll make it in time, but I was walking all the ups.  I finally came to the parking area and as I rounded the bend, saw that I had just barely made the cut-off at 3 hours, 23 minutes.  I now had roughly two hours to run back to aid station 3, 6 ½ hilly miles away.  Somewhere in the next couple miles, my watch stopped working.  I left it with Michelle, hoping it would be revived in the warmth of her truck and I could pick it up when I next saw her at aid station 2.  I was also feeling queasy, and Michelle forced me to eat something salty, which immediately made me feel better but I also forgot that I needed to change shoes, because the lacings were causing pain to the tendons in my feet and I could feel it affecting my leg.  I also forgot to tell her I didn’t really expect to see her at aid station 2, because she might miss Pat’s finish.  I made the next cut-off at aid station 3 with 20 minutes to spare, and would like to thank the wonderful volunteer who assured me I would finish, because I didn’t have the same confidence in myself at that point.  In fact, I had resigned myself to an 8-hour finish.  I know that I slow down considerably in the last 6 miles of a road marathon, and at that point I had another 8+ miles to go.  Without any knowledge of the time or the real distance, I just plodded along, alternately running and walking.  At the last aid station, I asked the time, and was in for a huge surprise, as I was told that I had an hour to finish 3 miles – I just might to make it after all!  I felt like someone had told me I won the lottery.  After a bit of fruit and a refill of the water bottle, ran off with a very light heart and renewed spring in my step, and though I didn’t really believe it was only 3 miles, I started seeing myself cross the finish in under 7 ½ hours, greeted by David.  I ran the last section leap-frogging a man whose name I didn’t even think to ask, but I thank him for the company and advice to take small steps and keep my back straight to avoid a spill.  I kept expecting to see the sign that said, “One mile to go – really!” but it hadn’t been posted this year.  Eventually I was greeted by J.R. who had finished in 6:18, waiting near the end of the trail section.  My first words were, “What’s the time?” but he wasn’t wearing his watch and he could only assure me that I was nearly finished and that I was going to make it.  When we got to the road and approached the finish, I finally saw the clock – I still had 15 minutes to go!  I don’t know where I got the energy but I broke into a run, crossing the finish line in 7:14.  I did it!

It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I was sure that this race would satisfy my need to push myself beyond road marathoning, but this morning, after a good night’s sleep, I’m wondering if I have it in me to run Promise Land…

-Peggy Ankney