2008 Carl Touchstone Mississippi 50 Mile Race

Race Location: Laurel, Mississippi
Race Date: March 01, 2008

Run Like a Scalded Dog

"It's 5:20 (am)!" I shouted as I fumbled with my race number trying not to jab myself with those tiny little safety pins. I stood beside my Jeep in our campsite surrounded by darkness. My fellow campers were moving about in the shadows preparing to run the Mississippi 50. It was cold and time seemed to be passing quickly… before long it was 10 minutes to race time and we still had to check in. Luckily our campsite, which was a pristene, open vista beside a pond shaded by tall pines, was in sight of the starting area.
 
So we gathered our drop bags and cooler and I found myself hurrying to the start. Race Director David Bisnette was already standing at the start offering instructions. It was a comfort that someone seemed organized. Parker and I sat down our drop bags, checked in and then turned on our GPS watches. Yes, now to locate myself and be ever aware of my pace, mileage, distance and more… "Battery low, recharge now" it read. My watch had turned itself on by pressing against something in my bag during the trip down and now was out of juice, so much for the familiar feeling of control and knowledge.
 
Luckily Parker's watch was working fine. The next thing I recall was the race director saying something like… OK… Ready… Go! And we were off in the pre-light glimmer of morning, running through the campground and descending into the forest via Long Leaf Trail a glorious system of paths connected by fireroads regularly marked in orange tape.
 
As it started to become light, a hazy blue-ish mist rose from the dew soaked ground and settled below the first bows of the slender pines that rose into the sky. The trail was two runners wide and then one through the trees as we bunched together and talked. Funny how everyone knows better than to start fast and still no one abides. As we chugged through the forest, I asked Parker, "How's our pace?" in a very serious manner. His answer, "9:40… right on target." "Good!" I said. It wasn't until much later that I would see my concern with minute pace fluctuations at mile 2 as totally ludicrous.
 
We came to many creek crossings where the water was low, from what I heard… there were reports of waist deep waters in years past. That would have made for some painful conditions. The course was set up on a 12.5 mile loop. The 50k and 50 mile runners started together and the 50ks broke off after two laps to do a smaller inner loop marked in blue… while the 50 milers did four loops on what was marked as a horse trail.
 
Parker and I clicked off the miles together, talking with other runners… one particularly funny story I overheard was one man's pre-race ritual. It was told as follows…
 
"Well, my wife helped me this morning with my pre-race ritual. She does it before every race. She makes me stand at the front door, looks me over, smacks me on the butt and says, 'Now go… run like a scalded dog'."
 
We traversed to the first aid station at mile 4.1 or so and were greeted with water, Heed (a fantastic sports drink with calories), and snacks. We then continued on into the woods. It was overcast and probably 50 degrees, pretty much perfect for running in my opinion. We had been warned that there was a small section of the course that had been burned by the forest service. They conducted controlled burns to prevent wild fires. It doesn't kill many of the trees and gets rid of the dry pine straw that becomes a tenderbox if left alone.

A runner had voiced a concern the night before during the pre-race spaghetti dinner and packet pick-up at the train station in Laurel. Someone piped up during orientation, "What about the smoke?!" As we had entered the National Forest to set up camp, there had been several spots where we had noticed the sight and smell of smoke from the controlled burn. The RD's reply was just perfect… something to the effect of…

"Ehhh… it's just like smoking a pack of cigarettes." (Followed by a shoulder shrug).

"Really not a controllable factor at this point."

Luckily, or in my assessment by the grace of God, the winds picked up and the forest was clear of any noticeable smoke on race morning.
 
After a good spaghetti supper and with our packets in tow we returned to our campsite. The stars were out, and we busied ourselves prepping for the race. Then we sat by the fire, talked and watched the stars before we retired. The night was a restless one but we were dry.
 
As Parker and I made it to the third water station, we saw our buddy Wes, running strong in the 50k, full of jokes in his green bandana that made him look slightly like Rambo. From this water station there was an out and back out on a dusty dirt road. The race people said they had hunting cameras up to "watch for cheaters" but I never saw any. From here it was about four miles back to the start. On the fire road we saw Dan on his way back from the out and back… swerving, head down and messing with his earphones. Dan then dropped stuff and had to double back. Later in the day he ran an extra three miles by following a group that got off course, with all this, he still finished sixth in the 50k, incredible.
 
We were to duplicate our traverse of the course loop three more times (12.5m each). Parker and I ran the first two loops together and a part of the third until the first stop of the third loop. Parker had been complaining that his nipples were chaffing and he was in dire need of bandaids. Any runner knows this can be a serious problem. As we came to the clearing and pounded the dirt road toward the first aid station (third loop) Park exclaimed, "A blessing from the Heavens!" And low and behold before us on the ground were 7 or so bandaids, wrapped, unused and in perfect condition. I contend, what else could this have been but a blessing? Praise the Lord for His merciful, loving care and thanks to the runner who dropped the bandaids.
 
I then found myself alone as I had made it out of the aid station first. I walked a bit and then got back to it, this time with the Ipod. At the second stop I grabbed a small cup of cola. I suddenly felt great, running to tunes, feeling fine and on mile…30 something. This burst of energy faded as I moved into the mid 30's, and things became hazy as I loped into the start/finish area. My only comment was… "Got any salt?" I was totally covered in this mixture of sweat, salt and sand. The sand being from a nasty fall I took at the beginning of lap three. It happened so fast. One minute I'm telling Parker about some idea I have. That in ancient days, warriors would run until they outran their opponents and then would surge into the enemy's exhausted flank. Maybe we were descendants of such folk from Scotland or maybe Ireland. The next moment, I'm flipping forward after catching my foot on a root or rock. I landed and rolled as best I could but was tense and a bit shaken, and for the first time in the day, I had a shadow of a worry that I might actually not finish. That one step like that could end my day and my hopes of coming home with a brass buckle.
 
"Got any salt?" I smeared sportslick on my chest and ankles as I staggered toward the start/finish aid station for the third time. The good folks began to look around, I went to my cooler, pulled out a 20oz Coke and some pretzel sticks and filled up my water bottle with Heed and forgot all about the salt. I then pressed on into the fourth lap now with the sun out and the temperature rising to nearly 70 degrees. The Coke was an opulent treat, its sugar and caffeine seemed to enter my blood stream by the sip. I was now 12.5 miles away from my dream and a shiny new belt buckle.
 
The course grew longer I am sure. My thoughts became transient, and I gave up on all non-essential mental functions. At this point, my thoughts were often segmented and confused. I focused on my music and continuing on. I chose to walk all hills and now found it necessary to walk on some of the flat areas. The sun was brutal and there didn't seem to be anyone else running, I fought the notion to quit or sleep… really I just wanted to sleep.
 
I made it to the first aid station. The folks at the station seemed serious; they asked me what seemed a volley of questions… "How you doin?  How do you feel?"
 
I mustered a goofy grin and mumbled something about this having to be farewell because I wasn't planning to make another lap to thank them. This comment drew suspicious glances from them and led to a few seconds of uncomfortable silence until I sputtered… "Well, I'll be off then." As I left with a full bottle of Heed and a head full of what just happened? Their concern and attention was merciful and shows just how much they care for the runners in this race, they were checking me out for exhaustion, dehydration or worse. I was a likely candidate for all of these.
 
I ground to the second stop, Simon (Parker's brother-in-law) and his daughter were there to encourage. I was past the point of any meaningful eye contact. "Got any salt?" I left the aid station with a mouthful of potato chips, a mini Twix (that I was unable to open myself), another cola  and more Heed in my Amphipod bottle pak. The ruffled chips crunched loudly inside my head, felt sharp in my mouth and only went down with a swallow of cola.
 
By this point, all the sport beverages, gels, cubes, and junk food had left me nauseous. I had to force myself to drink. I drank 20oz every 45 minutes and only pee'd two times all day. That's a lot of sweat! I made it to the third and final aid station knowing I had the out and back on the fire road to contend with. It was heat, dust and no shade. On my way out and back I did see several runners and this was good. We all looked about the same; bent over, pale, slack jawed, prostrated and dirty.
 
I found myself becoming irritated as someone said, "Your lookin good." That was a bold faced lie. There was no way I looked good. My right arm was seizing up, I wanted to throw up and I was a mess.
 
As I made it back past the aid station into the final 3.5 miles I picked myself up and looked for the white mile markers on the trees. I had seen mile marker 9 on the out and back and was peering around every corner for 10, which would mean I was but 2.5 miles from the finish. The minutes dragged on, and I was discouraged and disoriented. "Where is that marker? Have I missed a turn?" Then around the bend I saw a white triangle with a fuzzy number on it. As I approached, it became clear… It was mile marker 11, which meant I had missed the marker for 10 all together and with a burst of joy I picked up my pace almost falling head first into a root gnarl but catching myself, propelling onward… to what Wes called the "Alleluia Jesus" part… this was where the blue trail for the 50k and the 50 mile came back together about a mile or so before the finish line. It was marked with beautiful blue spray paint with arrows that pointed, almost saying, "this way stupid" and boy was I by this point!
 
I broke through the clearing and out onto the road. I was there. I could see the dusty tops of sliver gooseneck campers that dotted the picnic sites on the finish line road and with all the pomp and ceremony of a child doing a cannon ball into a pool in front of his parents, I finished in 9 hrs and 11minutes and there was Simon and his daughter to greet me. Parker finished next, close behind.
 
As I return to normal life, I feel I am noticing humanity more. When the body's function is pushed to the limit and you are totally dependant on others kindness and effort, really for your survival, and definitely for your success, I think or at least I hope, I am more aware of others and more sensitive to the lives we all live, each with a cavalcade of emotions, issues, triumphs and failures. That we really all are in this together and that recognizing each other in all our God-given human-ness might make a difference.     

Jadyn Stevens