By God’s good graces, I was able to finish the Holiday Lake 50 K++ in 6:53 ++.  I made the turn around cutoff time by 15 minutes, and increased that to 50 minutes at the 22-mile mark.  After that point, I was able to enjoy the rest of the race and cruise to the end.  I had only a few moments when my hamstrings started to cramp, but other than that, it was just the normal stuff that happens when you try to run 34 miles in sub freezing weather.  Everyone had the gray hair look due to the frost that quickly formed on everyone’s hair, and exterior.  Some had some nice icicles also.  It was really kind of freaky running up alongside young men and women who had all this gray hair, and then realizing, it was just ice.  I never tired, of admiring the ice effect upon everyone. 

Just a few of the many memorable moments:

Pink Tights:

The top runners and a few of the others ran in running shorts. The rest of us had some variation of tights, windbreakers, or some leggings.  Without leggings at 15 degrees is that it gives your legs a nice hot pink color.  At one of the six creek crossings (not four as advertised) (maybe we should have paid extra for the additional rush), a photographer was positioned to get the runners expressions as we splashed though the creeks. (Sick humor reigns at these things) (Remember it is still below freezing).  As I approached the creek, a young woman who was ahead of me was about to go through the creek.  She had chosen to run in shorts.  The photographer said, “oh, it’s the woman in the hot pink tights”.   She just laughed and splashed on through.  I pulled alongside of her in the second half of the race and commented on the comment and she had the brightest smile, and most pleasant of faces and attitudes and could care less about the comments on her “tights”.   She was comfortable with herself and her choices and was unfazed by others.

Demonstration of character:

One of the spectators was one of the twenty guys who spent the night in the bunkhouse I chose to sleep in.  (Twenty men in one room produce some interesting smells and sounds.) As I came in to set up, I met a young man about eight years old, full of life, energy, and helpfulness and motioned to a bunk on the bottom that was open.  The young man was only about eight years old.  It was only after the run was over, and I was getting dressed, did I realize I was in the presence of a truly great young man.  I had noticed his large smile, and optimism, but had not noticed he only had one leg.  One of the other men told me after he had left the room of his condition. Here he was, being with his dad (who was a very good runner), surrounded by running, and was very helpful, optimistic and encouraging to everyone, and didn’t draw any attention his leg, or lack thereof.  He chose a top bunk, and was up and down it, as if it was his ultra marathon and did it without drawing any attention to him. 

Trinities:

There was only one sit down toilet for two men’s bunkhouses.  I was patiently waiting my turn before the race, and someone came and sat down beside me, also waiting his turn.  He was a friendly guy and I noticed he wore the same kind of shoes I wore.  I also noticed he had a very low number.  I commented that he must be very fast to have that number and he asked. “How does the race director seed these races, I have never run one of these before”.  I told him it was probably because he was so slim and svelte looking.  He then said, “I have run six adventure races, and one of them was on ESPN.  They covered our team because we had never done one before”.  I looked at another man who had come in and taken his spot on the waiting bench and I noticed he too had the same shoes.  I looked at him, and we both said in unison, “Oh, probably because you have run six adventure races, is maybe, just maybe you got a low seed”.  Here we were, three men sitting on the bench waiting our turn to do our business all wearing the same shoes.  Three men, three pair of shoes, and there was one more trinity I would meet.  It was late in the race, and I kept passing and getting passed by three young men, in their late teens.  I would guess, that we did this routine about ten times.  Finally, I started referring to them as the trinity.  They laughed nervously, and moved on ahead. They kept looking behind and stayed far enough ahead so I couldn’t pass them anymore.  I don’t think they were comfortable being referred to as the trinity.     

Father and son team: 

A dad of multiple children (six I think) was running with his fourteen year old.  He had been introduced at the pre race event and was either bald by choice or by God’s good humor.  They passed me about two miles before the turn around on a section of the trail where there were multiples of exposed roots and rocks.  As I rounded a bend in the trail, I saw the dad had tripped and fallen.  He got up, brushed himself off and they just kept on running.  At the turn around they took longer than I to do what they did, and much later they passed me again.  (As fast as they were running I wondered why it had taken so long at the turn around.) When they passed me the second time they both had the hot pink leg thing going on as they had changed their leggings. I tried to keep up with them through the forest trail, but couldn’t.  At the post race dinner the race director gives out the best blood award, and up comes the dad of the father-son team.  As he took off his hat to show his bald head with this huge blood-red crease across the top of his skull, I got weak and dizzy.  He said he was so focused on the ground he didn’t see a tree and nearly knocked himself out.  The size of the gash in his head would have been enough to quit for most of us. 

The lake was frozen over:

At the end of the lake where the 4-H facilities were located was the start and finish area.  In the afternoon at the conclusion of the race a group of young people were skipping chunks of ice along the top of the frozen lake.  Something about seeing chunks of ice sliding on top of the frozen lake reminded me how really, really cold it still was, and yet we did it.

Seeing the front runners:

In most races, the back of the packers (like me) never gets to see the front-runners.  This one, looped back upon itself.  Seeing the lead and second runner, running in near sprint form, up the wooded trail was a sight I will not soon forget.  Eyes blazing with fire, hats and beards covered with frost, and legs pumping in perfect form were a sight to behold.  “Oh, so that is what it looks like to run fast”, is what went through my head.  And they did it for 34 miles making six creek crossings, up and down innumerable hills, through wooded trails laced with roots and rocks, up and down flights of rickety wood stairs, across nearly rotten boards covering other creeks, carrying all they needed so they wouldn’t stop at aid stations, and then smiling and enjoying life afterwards with the rest of us.  

The Turn Around:

After checking in, you have to go around the lady in the chair.  It wasn’t enough to just get to the aid station you had to “go around the chair”. The “chair” was just a normal chair, but the lady in the chair, had one of the nicest faces you could ever imagine.  It was so pleasant going “around the chair”, I had to go around one more time.  After seventeen miles, I thought, “that was fun”. I then changed my hat and gloves for a dry pair and headed back out, almost forgetting my new hand held water bottle that replaced my backpack system to save some minutes at the aid stations. (Plus on a training run, I realized the tubes on the backpack system would freeze up) Then it was back for another seventeen miles.

The Kiss:

At the 22-mile aid station a mother had come to greet her daughter and was so pleased to see that her daughter was doing okay embraced her and kissed her.  She had the proud look only a mom can have, and with tears in her eyes sent her on her way.  (I can’t imagine the worry our families must have when they see us running off into the unknown)  I was so moved, I blurted out, “can I have a kiss too?”  Everyone at the aid station laughed.  I was just kidding, but she granted my wish and surprised me with a kiss on the cheek.  It was like she knew she was representing my family and vicariously offered her support.

The Finish Line:

I had only run one other race that Dr. Horton had organized and though I was an official finisher, I did not make it under the time limit on the Mountain Masochist.  At that finish line, I got a “maybe you will train harder next time”, a courteous handshake, but nothing with ‘finisher’ on it.  Finishing under the time limit gives you a different greeting by the race director.  It is a much more positive greeting, and even a hug, and your name called out, and a nice shirt with ‘finisher’ on it.