Landsford
Canal 50 Kilometer Ultramarathon
Hills, Trails, and Sunshine in South
Carolina
by Jakson Badenhoop, Performance MultiSports
During Labor Day weekend, 1998, I traveled to Catawba,
South Carolina, for an event I had never tried before. We drove up on Friday, yet by
Saturday morning I was already wondering about the cleverness of my decision to race 50
kilometers that day.
Catawba is just south of Charlotte, NC, in the Piedmont
region and going there and back was a long drive, even without the running race. It turned
out to be about 400 miles each way from my home. I raced there on 5 September, in the
Landsford Canal 50 Kilometer Ultramarathon. Just a week earlier, a respected running
friend here had asked me to ride up there with him to participate in the race. It was on
the "spur of the moment" for me and I really should have prepared for it better.
Had I considered it longer, I might have actually come up with a good excuse for missing
the event altogether. If I had known earlier that I was going to run 50K that weekend, I
surely would have tapered better... or even consciously.
The race location was at Landsford State Park and the
course followed a dirt and clay tow path from a canal built in 1823 and abandoned by 1840.
The park was smallish, with few facilities, but a footpath bordering the historic canal
ruins. With all the rains from the recent hurricanes passing through the Carolinas, the
nearby river — normally clear enough to see through to the river bottom -- was
roaring along, dark with muddy silt and debris. The road to the Park Visitor’s Center
was a steep downward ride, paved with asphalt, winding from the heights of the road above.
We checked with the Park Ranger for some information about the race, now in its third or
fourth year. He told us about the root-lined and overgrown tow-path that would make up
part of the race course and he mentioned that he thought the course would follow the same
loop about 10-12 times. At least we could get to know where to place our steps on the
trail after a few times around...
For a Florida flatlander and beach runner, the course
was very hilly, beginning with a 2.5 mile out and back leg, then seven laps of a generally
rectangular loop. The first mile and a quarter was uphill on pavement back up to the park
entrance (which was repeated 8 times in the race) and about half the course was on trails,
partially shaded, with lots of roots and rocks, dirt, leaves, and clay. In spite of all
the recent rain, there was not too much standing water, except a 30 foot long section on
the trail that you had to pass seven times. Much of the downhill portion was on asphalt
for about half a mile or so... a challenge for the quads and knees. Since the recent
hurricane has dropped plenty of rain in that region, the area was very humid, especially
through the woods and along the old canal. Parts of the course had long stretches of
running without shade, making the transitions to the woods seem dark.
It was hard to get effective depth perception running on
the roots, then back into bright sunshine, back into shade, more sun.... over and over.
While watching for the location to place nearly every footstep, I had plenty of time to
think -- so I did. Lots of interesting things go through one's mind during an experience
like this. I tend to think about how difficult this event must seem to my competitors, how
the heat must be harder on them and the hills steeper. I consider how I might be spending
my time elsewhere and whether I would have the same feelings of relief and satisfaction at
the end of the day. I think about how much I want to finish — and that I do not want
to go home and tell my little girl that I would have quit... so I don’t quit.
I found that I was in about 12th position
after the first out-and-back leg of the course and I could not count all the folks behind
me, some of whom looked good and some who looked as though they were already
uncomfortable. That meant that I could be doing well or that I could be going too fast at
the beginning. This race is long at 50 kilometers (31 miles, plus a little), so I know
that I must pace myself for the full distance if I am to complete the entire race well.
After the next lap, I had passed some more of the field and I still feel smooth and
pleased with my pace. My first five repeats of the loop had times that were consistent and
satisfactory. I had begun to lap other runners, some of them twice, so I was not sure of
my position in the race. After my sixth lap, with only one to go, I could calculate that I
was on track for a new personal best for the 50K distance — if I could keep up the
pace. It is often during the final part of a race that one’s mind starts to come up
with great reasons to stop: to take a "short" break, to quit the race, or just
to walk for a while. I was able to ignore all those pleas to slow down or quit, and
continued to pass other runners on the way up the hill and through the forested trails.
When I came out of the towpath for the last time, I was very happy to see the timer’s
clock and realize that I was about to finish. I am pretty satisfied with the results, as I
had:
I was a little sore in the thighs the next day, but that
would go away and I had even hoped to run another 10 miles Sunday morning with the group
at the Beach, if the lactic acid in my legs had not been too solid. I got up at about
5:00am Sunday morning to go running with the group -- but changed my plan and took along
the mountain bike so that I could ride with the runners. Spinning my legs on the bike was
a much better idea for exercise for that morning. I was still too sore in the legs to run
very well or very long. I think that cross-training is good for us as runners, so biking
was an acceptable alternative for me that day. Following my ride on the bike, I spent the
day with my daughter, Lauren. Feeling a bit tired, I was happy to take a nap when Lauren
took her nap Sunday...
Two days later, l was racing again on Labor Day, though
this time it was on a sailboat in a race in Jacksonville. I kept active with lots of
climbing around on a deck and trimming lines on the sails, figuring out the current and
avoiding the lightning during the grand finale of a thunderstorm near the finish. For this
race, we finished third and felt fortunate to have kept out of the way of the lightning
hits, which struck several boats on the water, injuring some of the crews and
"frying" the electronics on the boats.
By Tuesday, I was running again, though more carefully
and gently than usual. I was able to get in a 4.5 mile run to the beach, noticing the
feeling of the muscle tears in my quads, and the tenderness of my toes. Running downhill
and stubbing my toes on the roots for so many miles had taken a toll, but there are more
good races to enter and other exotic places to visit for running. All the pain will pass
and the body will heal.
Care to join me for some running adventures? Let me know
here.
