YETI Snakebite 50K Race Report (2016)

(L-R) Liz (photo credit), Allie, Lindsey, Megan
Rick, Cary, David & Ryan
Not Pictured: 2 Cool Guys Named Martin & Spencer

A romance novel best describes my race experience:

'Boy meets race. Boy treats race with indifference. Race finds boy contemptible, boy finds race contemptible--yet they cannot seem to stay away from each other. Boy and race fight the growing attraction. Boy ends up finishing race and hugging race director.'

I now realize the following race description was open to interpretation:

"50KM races designed to help runners achieve a new distance and allow veteran runners to run a speedy time or tune up for upcoming fall events. Both races utilize a variety of relatively easy trails, including weaving single-track and broad open fields, as well as narrow trails along the Chattahoochee River. With moderate hills and trails, the course is designed for fast times and for those looking to try their first trail ultra."

Not.

Should've known better when I saw that the cutoff for a 50K was 11 hours. I think the RD went to the Lazarus Lake School of Race Directing; therefore, believe nothing you hear or read. Just show up ready to run and overcome the mental obstacles.

I'm honored to be associated with the group of finishers, winners, and overcomers in the pic above.

First Major Hill on Loop One

This race was not a "new distance" or a "speedy time" for me, but it was a "tune up for my upcoming fall event," The Georgia Jewel 100 Miler.

My Garmin Data: Yeti Snakebite 50/50

They say it's where you end up in life, not how you get there.

Okay, maybe nobody says this. In fact, I believe the opposite, but it applies to my finish of the YSB50K. I came away from this race feeling great, but that's not how I felt the first 11 miles.

LOOP ONE:

 That Tumbleweed Was Me

Since I did not interpret the race description of "easy trails" and "moderate hills" and "fast times" through the eyes of a mountain goat, I was caught a bit off guard. I quit a thousand times in my mind on the first loop running and walking the 1,300 ft. of elevation gain. 1300 feet that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Creek" crossing @ miles 6, 16, & 26.

So, loop one required an attitude adjustment, or else I just drove 3+ hours one way to DNF after posting a pic of the sunset on Facebook.

Not gonna happen.

Oh, I forgot to tell you about this part in the race description discussing how the race would not have paper cups:

"... If you used a paper cup at each of the five aid stations, and half of the field did the same..."

Did you catch that? "At each of the five aid stations..."

Uh... No.

There was one aid station on the opposite side of a 100 foot wide, waste deep "creek." 

You've heard of being halfway across a stream and questioning your decision? Yeah... that's how I felt about signing up for this race.

What have I done?

The first "half" of the race before the creek crossing is longer and hillier than the "easy half" which is just hilly. Kenny Rogers was in the middle of the creek singing "You got to know when to hold 'em" and saying, "Hold on to the rope!"

Follow The Pink Polkadot Ribbons!

No, not the real one. He didn't even look like KR, but I appreciate all volunteers, especially ones dressed up and standing in the middle of a creek singing to me.

Right after I post my sunset pic on Facebook, a Tarzan vine-root catches my foot.

FYI: If you need someone to snap a pic, select it from the camera roll, and type a message all while running, I'm your man. Just don't ask me to run downhill watching where I'm going.  

I fell, I rolled, I dusted off. Two girls laughed at me and told me not to fall anymore.

No way I'm quitting, now.

Not only do I run. I run out of water.

Must've missed the other "4" aid stations.

I finish loop one, change my shirt, slather my toes with anti-friction cream, grab my Camelbak 50 oz. water pack, more GUs, drink an Ensure and head back out before I have time to quit.

LOOP TWO: 

You Couldn't Pay Me To Quit

During the second loop, I feel as confident as I did discouraged during the first loop. I'm a brand new man.

And Then The Sun Went Down...

Girls laughed at me on the first loop. I get a compliment on how well I'm leading the group by an experienced female runner on the second.

A big boost in contrast to getting temporarily "lost" a few weeks ago on unfamiliar trails in Georgia.

I felt redeemed.

Until I realized there was no more water at the aid station.

Zero.

Would've been a great time to whip out some purifying tabs I've seen in Trail Runner magazine at that point.

I told the man knocking over empty 5-gallon water cans, "Time to get tough." He tells me he saw a copperhead on the last lap in the coming section. I thought that was a great time to let him go first.

Snaky terrain increases your pace.

I make it back to the Visitor's Center/Start-Finish and there's Cary Long telling me how great I'm doing. I didn't realized where he was mentally until reading his race report last night. Hurting, but selfless, a real good guy.

Ultrarunning would not be the same without Cary.

I ran the second loop right.

LOOP THREE:

Hug From The Race Director

Loose Rocks, Steep Hills

Right enough to power through the final lap. Had I not brought my Camelbak, it would have been a different story.

I forgot my chair, so I had to sit on my cooler. It worked fine, especially since our group was sitting in the dark.

We could learn a lesson from the BUTS group on this one. They had the set up while we looked like the Bad News Bears over by the tree line.

I'm not going to lie to you anymore, the last lap was tough.

As expected, it's becomes "mental" meaning you get down on yourself. Fighting off the negative, self-talk demons is more work than enduring the muscle and joint pain of running at this point.

Repeating positive statements to yourself when you feel like getting down is crucial.

YETI Snakebite Massive Medal

The lowest point for me was running alone for about 15-20 minutes. Usually, I take my pepper spray, but I discarded it after the first lap. On the third lap, I hear a dog barking in the distance. I think that it's my headlamp he's barking at and that he will charge at me out of the woods at any moment.

I feel that he's closest at the top of a hill, but then the course turns away from his direction. At the top of the next hill is the opening to the power line section. I see Lindsey and Ryan changing some batteries in their headlamps.

I say, "Howdy. Howdy." I don't know why. 

It was so good to see someone, and especially friendly people I knew from Huntsville!

I'm headed to the creek now for my final crossing. Kenny's gone. I guess he "folded em." You gotta know when to.

There's water! I was prepared for none. Bonus.

The hills are long on the "easy side" but they're smooth. No copperheads.

Good conversations on the trails. Good people cheering you on!

I finish. The race director hugs me.

Boy gets the race.

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