TUDC Race Report - Cameron Wheeler - 2010
Cameron Wheeler, December 2010
Hi. This is Cameron Wheeler, Kathleen's son.
I'm not on this LIST, but Mom said I had to write a race report (this is my third Ultra). Sorry it is long, juts delete if you are not interested in reading it.
As this is my first race report I must ask you to bear with me. I don't often read these and don't really know how its supposed to work. However I will do my best to provide an entertaining informative and maybe even inspiring report of my experience at the Tallahassee Ultra Distance Classic.
Once again I'm not really sure if this is how it works but I believe that the pre-race must be mentioned. This year the build up to the race was much different than last year. As a result of an elongated Cross Country season (I actually made it to regionals this year) and more focus on the Turkey Trot 10K, I ended up with only two weeks to really prepare for the race. The first week was an 80 mile week with every run under 7 min pace and most under 6:40 pace in order to be as comfortable as possible at that pace. In addition my only real long run preparation was a 23 miler. This was one of the worst runs I have ever done, starting out strong with 10 miles left I started to fall apart. By the time I finally got home I literally collapsed on the floor of my room. Needless to say… I did not end up with a sub 7 min pace for this run. However, I would like to think that the suffering endured on that run prepared me for the 50K.
In the week before the race, I also attempted a 12 mile rhythm run (starting at 7min pace and working down to 6 min pace) two days after the 23 miler. However, I barely completed more than half of the workout before I had a frightening pain in my right knee that stopped it short. The next few days I averaged about 4 miles and did them at a jogging pace. Between my knee problems and numerous coaches telling me that racing the 50k would hinder my mile ability: I was a runner with an alibi.
I must also mention something that occurred between my mother and I leading up to the race (mostly on the way to Tallahassee). There seemed to be an eerie, unspoken understanding between us that something special was possible at the race regardless of my knee worries and other excuses. There are two people in the world who know what I'm capable of: Me and my mother.
Now I must apologize for the following paragraph ahead of time. I understand that I will probably sound like just any other 17 year old boy. However, all teenage stereotypes aside, I feel that I must mention my girlfriend's role in this ordeal. As is the custom between friends before a race, she told me good luck about 18 times the day before the race. However none of these really had much of an affect on me until the last text message that she sent me later that day, before the race. As one of the nations top junior triathletes, she more than understands the nature of competitive/elite athletics. I don't really think she'll ever understand, not only how happy her words made me, but also how inspiring they were for me on that day. To paraphrase, she told me that she had indeed seen my demons, and told me to call upon them in the race the next day (this may seem like a silly anecdote if you haven't read Once a Runner). However, as Once a Runner is my favorite book (my mother and I were actually listening to it in the car on the drive to Tally) this was exactly the inspiration that I needed. When I didn't reply with a normal `thanks' to the text it was simply because I didn't feel I could adequately explain my appreciation.
After my ritual overeating the night before the race, I woke up feeling eerily strong. At the start line, the temperature was 28 degrees F according to John Wilson's nifty temperature gage. Before the race my mom and dad had done some research about who was going to be at the race and found that there would be a man that had run a 2:40 marathon about a month before the race so naturally I spent the entirety of the morning preparations trying to figure out who this guy was. I never did see anyone who I thought might be the guy until about 2 minutes before the start when we were all on the line. A man in very good shape was the only other person actually standing on the line with me (everyone else mulling around behind us). When he leaned over and asks me what I was planning on running I humbly told him that I was hoping for about 3:40 and asked him how fast he was planning on running. When he told me that he was planning on running 39-40 minute 10k's it didn't quite register how much faster that was than what I was planning on running and when I realized this I said "wait, that's a lot fast-" "-yeah it's like 3:20" he cut me off in a slightly condescending but still fairly pleasant tone. So I figured I would just stick with this one as long as I could and hope that he would die later on in the race like I did last year. However, when the starter said `go' he took off like a bat out of heck like he was running a 10k and I don't know if I could have stayed with him even if I tried.
So I jogged off the starting line, a little disheartened, but still full of adrenaline. After about a half mile I heard a small group approaching and when one of them asked if that guy way ahead was in the 50k I absentmindedly said "chyeah" in my most disbelieving tone. When the group finally caught up I very quickly recognized that the person who had asked the question was the head female coach of FSU, Karen Harvey. So I jogged along with her and two other men who I presumed were from the university as well only making the most minimal acquaintance with them. They were running about 7 min pace, however they weren't in the race but rather using the course for a 22 mile long run, so I decided to run with them for as long as I could or as long as they continued running. Unfortunately they took a bathroom break after about 4 miles so I was left alone again.
I feel as though I must explain the way that I got my second wind because it's rather interesting I think. In the beginning of the race I very quickly regretted only wearing a singlet, thin gloves, and an ear-warmer. After the first couple of miles all of my digits felt frozen and even my forearms were painfully cold (which was a sensation that I had never experienced. In fact my biggest regret was actually not wearing another layer of pants as my manhood painfully burned in the cold temperatures and lack of warm clothing. I went through the first 18 miles of the race in pain, not from the running (though I wasn't exactly having an easy time at that either) but from how painfully cold my body was. However, after three laps of the 10k loop I decided to get some food at about 18.5 miles. In a hurry I honestly had no idea what to grab when I got in front of the food and ended up with a nilla wafer and a chocolate chip cookie, both were incredibly difficult to eat and dried my mouth out as is normal in a race like this. In addition, as I started out on this second-to-last lap, I also noticed that my digits and manhood were thawing out a little. Finally, as I began to feel less frozen and also had metabolized the cookies into energy I gained my second wind. In fact I felt so good after about 2 miles of this race that I noticed I was going a bit too fast (about 6:30's). I knew had to relax and keep calm for the last lap because it was in those last 6 miles that everything had fallen apart last year. By the end of the 4th lap I was feeling oddly strong and saw on the clock that I was WELL under my planned pace for the age group record. With a bite of balance bar and swig of a red bull, I was off on the last 10k.
I failed to mention in the previous paragraph what had been the general theme of the hooting and hollering that I received when I finished the fourth lap. Multiple people at the finish line were telling me that the guy in front of me was slowing down and that I could catch him, giving me vague amounts of time that he was now ahead of me from 4 to 9 minutes. Someone even told me that he was walking. But you get the idea… I could catch him.
With this new information, as well as the caffeine and calorie boost that I received from the red bull and balance bar I began the 5th lap on a mission. In addition, my girlfriend's inspirational message came back to me and I adapted a mantra in my head: befriend your demons and unleash them on your enemies. Granted, the message my girlfriend had sent me hadn't been quite that violent but that was the general idea that I had adapted to.
After 1.5 miles of the last lap, I ran past my mother and Gordon Cherr. They both told me how slow he was and that he was only about 4 minutes ahead of me. This gave me another shot of adrenaline and I kicked the pace down another 10-20 seconds per mile. As I approached the first turnaround of what I call the "fat T" that made up the 10k loop I saw the man that was ahead of me coming the other direction. I must admit he did look like he was struggling. I probably should not admit this to the world but I was thinking about more than just befriending my demons. After I passed the man I decided there was no way that he had a bigger army of demons than me and I used language in my mind that I would never dream of using out loud to describe what exactly it was my demons would do to his.
As I passed the first turnaround, the people working the aid station here once again told me how much he was hurting and told me how much faster I was moving than him. Once again, another shot of adrenaline ran through me. Since the start of the last lap I slowly realized that I actually COULD win and when I saw him no more than a half-mile ahead of me I knew I had it. Regardless I pushed as hard as I could, cursing at this man the whole way for reasons that I knew even then were silly. He ended up being on the opposite side of the road that I chose based on the tangents so I didn't quite have to directly pass him, but rather move by relatively unnoticed. From his attitude at the start line and how bad he was looking now I expected him to look up and give me an awful glare, however what he did still suprises me to think about. He actually said something along the lines of `good job' `keep it up'. I was absolutely amazed. I fancy myself a very classy runner in terms of respecting my opponents but I would never think of congratulating someone as they passed me during a race. Maybe it was the fact that he had already known that I would take it and had accepted the thought or maybe it was something else. Regardless I was more than impressed.
As I was passing him I happened to look down at my GPS watch which showed me my real-time pace. I was a bit scared because when I looked down I saw 5:50. Granted the real-time pace on those things doesn't have a good reputation but I think it's safe to say I was moving…
After I got past him, more for my own mental state than anything else, I continued to view him as an enemy even though he had showed me such kindness as I passed him. With this state of mind I told myself essentially to `beat him into the ground' and `make him lose all hope'. While these things may sound mean spirited and pretty harsh, you must ufnderstand that after passing, I physically lost all of my inspiration for pushing hard and I had to do something to keep me going seeing how I did still have about 2.5 miles left.
These last couple miles should have probably been more grueling but with the combination of my mean-spirited self-talk and the pure bliss of knowing that I had won, I felt almost invincible. That is why instead of slowing down at the finish to savor the last few strides of victory, I sprinted my heart out all the way through the tape, trying (and failing) to smile as I threw my hands into the air in victory. My last 10k ended up being 39:02.
Immediately after the race I reverted back to that all-to-familiar hands-on-knees position that all runners take after a race. Only, unlike at a cross country race where people are ignorantly telling you to stand up straight, everyone simple let me do my thing.
My mother was actually just finishing up one of her laps as I was finishing my race though I was much faster obviously and ended up getting to the finish about 1 minute before her. Someone once told me that there is something about mothers that make their children cry. This, fortunately or unfortunately, was the case for me. As I passed her, about 330 yrds away from the finish, I had to hold back the tears when she let out one of her famous "WHAAHOOOHOOO"s. However, I was not so strong after I crossed the finish. When I crossed the line I broke into tears as everyone came up to pat me on the back or tell me congratulations. However, through all of these congratulations, there was only one person that I wanted to see, and she knew it. When my mom came and took me by the shoulder under the little shelter that is near the finish line, I began to bawl even harder, for what reason, I still have no idea. It took me about 5 minutes to gather myself again and settle down. With an almost irritating understanding, my mother didn't even need to say anything, she knows me just as well, if not better than I know myself and knew exactly what I was going through and what I needed.
After everything was calmed down again, my mother went out and continued her race (she still had two laps to go in the 50k) and I went through the regular post race rituals: getting a massage, shaking hands of people who are in awe of my presence (jk I'm not really that conceited) and the general hullaballoo of winning a race, which Is much sweeter where everyone knows you, and seemed to be rooting for you.
The rest of the day was spent hanging out with my mom including a dip in the icy springs and dinner at a classic southern restaurant. Even though my mom is my best friend in the world, I must admit, I spent a lot of the day wishing that my girlfriend could be there with me in such a beautiful place.
I did end up talking to the man who I had chased down during the race and found out that his name was Tom Dever and that he was a master anyway so he wasn't upset about not winning the race overall even though he was clearly a bit disappointed in having fallen apart at the end of the race. I must admit I was pleasantly surprised by how nice and down to earth he ended up being based on my original impression of him at the start line.
In conclusion I must give a shout-out to the many inspirational people at this race since I am too inept at writing to figure out how to include them in the paragraphs above. My coach Joe Burgasser lowered his American age group record and continued to amaze and inspire me and everyone around with his longevity and running ability. I must mention Jeff Bryan for having helped me through my first 50k, a few years ago, and being there at this one again to congratulate me on my performance. In addition, I must give a hand to Amy Costa and Susan Lance who I still consider to be my major heroes in the ultra running community. Gordy Hawkins never ceases to impress me with his determination and his inspiration "atta boy" every time I pass. Finally, though it seems a bit unnecessary I must conclude by thanking my best friend and greatest inspiration, Kathleen Wheeler.