First off, I would like to point out what a great race this was. Rainshadow Running knows how to host a race. Capitol Peak is definitely not the biggest race they host and it’s typically not one that attracts a lot of attention, but it fit perfectly into my race calendar and I love the Pacific Northwest, making it a perfect race vacation. Capitol Peak would be my second 50 miler, and my main goals were to simply gain experience at this distance and to pace solely on feel. I was going to use my Ambit 3, but I wasn’t going to rely on it as a pacing tool. Previously during my first 50 miler, I had decided to just stick to a goal pace for the first 40 miles and then pick it up for the last 10 if I felt good. This worked pretty well during the race; but I think it left a lot on the table.
The trip was off to a good start as we arrived at Ted Stevens International in Anchorage. With only minutes to spare Nina and I met up with our friends Cody and Dave before boarding. Nina, Cody, and Dave were all going to be traveling to Olympia to race the 50k. Three of us had booked a row of seats with Dave sitting directly in front of us. Looking back on it, Dave would have been better off two rows from the back of the plane with a crying toddler kicking his seat.
Typically, I go to races the day before and it’s a stressful experience. This time we opted to go down two nights before the race; i’ve had good results with this and I recommend this for any race not at altitude. We spent the next day touring the city of Olympia and checked some of the key intersections of the course. This also allowed us to check out what type of footing we would be running on. Most of the course was soft dirt or mud depending on rain or small crushed shale. I decided to go with the Salomon Sense 4 over the Sense Soft Grounds. I tend to opt in favor of lightness and what the majority of the terrain will look like when I am choosing which shoe to race in. It’s not super important to me that I have the fastest draining shoe if there is only one creek crossing in a 6 hour race; if there isn’t a lot of mud on the course, I don’t need a ton of tread. Sometimes the weight savings do not pay off…
The morning of the race was cool and calm. Nervous energy was filling the large field where the start and finish were located. I was looking at a long day- with a 50 miler consisting of over 7500 ft of climbing and 50k with nearly 5000 ft. I had shown up early because I like to wake up 2 hours before races, and I didn’t have much to do to fill that time. As it always seems to happen, I was suddenly in a hurry and whipping clothes on and off trying to decide what would be the most comfortable for this race. As dawn started to break we were off.
The miles were rolling by effortlessly. The initial climb of about 2500 ft was over before I knew it, and what followed were over 20 miles of awesome rolling hills on soft single track. I felt great. I was like a deer in the woods. Silently bounding through the trees. Perfectly aware of every foot strike and every breath. As I neared the mile 13 aid and drop station, it really began to dawn on me that this was perhaps the best I’ve ever felt for a race. The miles were clicking by and I was effortlessly hitting 6:15 pace on the flats. The course was beautiful, the forest full of life, birds were singing their morning songs. Only a mile or two remained before hitting the 50 miler out-and-back turn around. I knew I was cruising, but was curious to see how far back the next couple of people were as I had been running by myself since early in the race.
Snap! That was all I heard as I hit the ground. It happened so fast that I had no time react. My hands (which I’m told I hold way to high making me look like T-rex), were still up by my shoulders. I had slipped on some greasy mud as the trail crossed a small drainage. Immediately I assumed I had broken a finger. Somehow, one must have caught the ground first. There were no roots or rocks to hit, just soft dirt and mud. I had even fallen into a slight uphill. It was madness, I couldn’t believe I had just broken my finger in what was probably the most mild of all falls in the history of running races. I assume it looked something like this kid. I very quickly was up and walking. I looked at my gloved right hand and saw that my ring finger on that hand had an unnatural 45 degree kink at the base of it. It was too soon to tell if I had any numbness or tingling in the finger so I ran with it as-is for a few minutes. A lot of thoughts ran through my head very quickly. I kept imagining the scene from the movie Major Pain when he breaks the guy’s finger to take his mind off getting shot. Running 50 miles will seem out right pleasant compared to having a broken finger.
The cramping and spasms in my hand were soon interfering with this optimistic view point. I began to consider that perhaps I had actually dislocated the knuckle. On a climb I went ahead and tried to reset it. I left the glove on because it was cold, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get it on again. I pulled the finger straight outwards and then aligned it while slowly releasing tension. This mostly corrected the alignment but did not produce the satisfying sensation of a joint returning to its correct position. Instead waves of intense throbbing pain in my hand ensued. Fortunately my natural T-rex hand position while running also meant that my hands don’t actually move very much- a good thing because any jostling at this point was less than pleasant.
It was hard to tell while wearing the glove, but it had become apparent that I had actually broken my hand. I checked inside the glove for blood or other indications of an open fracture and was relieved to have found none. I also still had good sensation and circulation to my finger. So with the fear of infection and/or lack of blood flow in my hand gone, I just kept running. A mile or two later I hit the mile 21 aid station. Fortunately the volunteers filled my bottles for me because I could no longer take the caps off. I asked if one of them could tape my middle, ring and pinky finger together. In about ¾ of a second the volunteer had conjured some medical tape out of thin air and was wrapping my fingers together. This helped immensely with the waves of throbbing pain and jostling.
I was off again! Back to the aid station 8 miles away, where our drop bags were, and the 50 mile course met back up with the 50k course. I was excited to get back to that aid station because I was fairly sure that at the pace I was going, Cody and I might be passing through at the same time since the 50k started 2 hours later. As I approached I was told “Your buddy just passed through about 5 minutes ago.” The chase was on! A long steady downhill was next, and occurred without incident. A short quarter mile side trail at the bottom led to the next aid station. On it I saw Cody! We exchanged some trash talk as we passed by each other. Another surprise was in store as I made it to the next aid station. Our friend Kinsey’s parents were at the aid station. This worked out great because I needed my bottles filled again and I still hadn’t figured out a way to get the caps off.
And I was off once more. This part of the course was a bit tricky as there were a lot of wrong turns you could make. Fortunately, the course was very well marked, but just in case I had uploaded the GPX file onto my Suunto and was neurotically checking to make sure I was still on course. In 4 out of 5 of my last races I got off course- and not just a little off course, so I was incredibly concerned about this.
Then my heart stopped. a runner was coming down the trail towards me. I panicked.
“Where did you come from!” I yelled in desperation
“Am I going the right way?” He replied.
“I don’t think so” I replied as in my head I screamed ‘I sure as hell hope so’..
I paused and watched this guy as he trotted on by. Never responding to my accusation that he was the one going the wrong way. My mind was racing while my legs should have been. I had a very bad track record when it came to decision making in these situations. There was just no way he could have been going the right way. So I continued on cycling through the different course views on my watch trying to think if there was any way I could be wrong. I was desperate, hoping that around each bend would be a course arrow. There was plenty of flagging letting me know I was on course but I needed an arrow to fully convince me! Finally, what felt like miles later there was an arrow, which in a huge surge of relief was pointed in the direction I was headed. I still don’t know how that guy had made it so far in the course going the wrong direction. He must have passed 50 arrows over 10 miles all pointing the other direction.
As I made my way up the final climb my legs finally began to feel heavy. Nothing too concerning, but the floating deer in the woods feeling was slowly being replaced with more of a heavy lumbering bear that was running, but out of necessity and without much grace. There were only about 12 miles left though so this was fine by me. This final 2000 ft climb weaved its way through old growth forest, open logged areas and up downhill mountain bike switchbacks. I caught a glimpse of Cody a few switchbacks ahead. I yelled to him. Unless he was hurting pretty bad though, it had become apparent I wasn’t going to catch him. We were nearing the top of the mountain, and he could definitely outrun me on the last 8 miles of downhill especially since I couldn’t risk a fall. At the top of the mountain, we passed through the last aid station, where I saw a volunteer holding out an open can of Red Bull for me! This can’t be happening, what are the chances that an aid station hands out my favorite late race kicker.
“Your buddy said you would want this.” The woman said as I grabbed it.
The last 8 miles of this race were pretty steep and technical and what I really needed were wheels not wings, but I pushed the pace knowing it would be close to beat the 6:34 record. Granted, the course had changed a lot since the previous year and a lot of climbing had been added, so the record wasn’t entirely meaningful.
Finally, through the trees I saw the finish and glancing at my watch I saw 6:31, and some change. So, I casually strolled on in. 6:32:12- well ahead of the record. Except that I had it wrong in my head. The record was 6:31:49 and I’m a jackass.
Regardless, I was very happy with the results. I had set out to try and run a 50 miler by feel and hopefully get a time that was similar to the record held by Seth Swanson. I learned a lot and had a great time doing it. Now I was excited for the afterparty! At all of, or at least a lot of races Rainshadow Running hosts, they have great after parties, fueled by a trailer mounted wood-fired pizza oven, bluegrass music, and kegs. This is seriously the perfect post ultra combination. Unfortunately a trip to the hospital was in needed. Turns out I had broken my 4th metacarpal. Bummer. Before too long I had a nice temporary splint and returned to the race for some more beer and pizza. I had missed Nina and Dave finish but they were understanding.
Thanks to Seven Hills Running Shop for their support and Glenn Tachiyama for his top notch photos.
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- Easy recovery run in Tacoma.
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- Camping in the San Jaun Islands.
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