Man Against Horse 50 mi

Standing at the start of Man Against Horse was, as usual at ultras, low key. The difference this time was that there were several dozen horses staring down their noses at us runners. I know there are other races where horses are present, however in this race you're actually competing with them. One strange thing I noticed after we started was that it was easy to forget about the riders on the horses. It was almost as if they were an afterthought. OK, there were a couple of them that couldn't be missed in those tight riding pants that they wear, although very few had the physique of a runner; you know, that thin tight butt we all sport from all the miles we put in. Several looked like a double-decker from the rear, if you know what I mean. (Hey, it's my recap, I'm just describing what I saw) I almost had to remind myself not to greet the horses as they passed, but the riders. I'd be eyeballing the horse and talking to the whole object of horse and rider. I guess it works both ways because I had several riders tell me to talk so the horse knew I was a person. The first time I heard it I thought of Kirk and his Yetti jokes, but then remembered I had heard this years ago from riders in Germany. Fortunately, if one would pass me I could remind myself that none of them were in my age group. Horses don't get that old. I guess they don't pace themselves either, as most of the day I passed and was passed by many of the same horses and riders. My pace, if anything, was steadily diminishing until the last 6 miles. The course itself was very technical with lots of rocks and deep sand - not a runner's course, for sure. The climb up Mingus Mountain was very tough and just about the time I started up it the wind started gusting and big raindrops began to fall. I was wearing my usual shorts and sleeveless shirt. I haven't worn a jacket other than for early morning runs in almost ten years. I put on a garbage bag and Moeben sleeves and managed to survive it. It took me ages to ascend. I got so tired at one point I could hardly keep my balance. I was reduced to a slow walk. The three inches of mud collecting on my shoes didn't help. Several runners passed me power walking while I was struggling to get one foot in front of the other. When I got to the top there was a guy in a truck who mumbled through a cracked window that he was measuring 47 degrees, figured the gusts were 30 mph, and if you need anything, check the back of the truck inside the shell. Later, at another aid station, and after the rain had stopped, I found 4 women sitting around in chairs chatting. They noticed me standing there puzzled and pointed at a table 30 feet away with a box on it and said, if you need anything, it's there in the box, take whatever you like. It didn't take long to realize who was the afterthought in this race. Many of the aid stations had water only. As I ran through the mid-30 mile range I really felt weary. I'm not sure if it was the unexpected cold, the lack of sleep, or if I was still recovering from AC 3 weeks ago, or all of the above. I also began to get an ache in my left shin just above my ankle. I actually considered DNFing. I arrived at an aid station that I thought was mile 38 and had my towel ready to hand in. I was so tired I couldn't even throw it in. It was mile 40. I like to say, if you get to mile 40 you only have 10 miles to go. Damn it all, I was going to finish this thing. Six miles out I passed several horses. It was encouraging. There was one last one and a half mile mountain descent, a two mile section of wash, and two miles of open field to go. Coming down the mountain I could see a group of three horses closing in on me about a half mile back. It wasn't the two I had just passed. I pushed. Down in the wash the sand was deep. It was like running on the beach. Years of running in Joshua Tree made this section feel like home. I was averaging 7:45 according to my Garmin. I was not gonna let one single horse pass me now. I can't explain what happened going up that mountain but now something had changed. I was a new man. I could have crawled the last section and made the cutoff. I could have run 4 minute miles and it wouldn't have improved my time any. What mattered now was that the run felt good and I was determined to not let one more horse or runner get ahead of me. It was a race within a lost race. At the end of the wash there was one last aid station. I stopped long enough to fill a bottle. I looked back to see if I could see the three horses, but couldn't. I asked the guy at the aid station where the finish was. As close as I was it had to be in view. He pointed between two hills and said, there, that's your goal. I was off again with only two miles to go. This section was solid dirt. It felt good. My Garmin says I was averaging 6:42. I came across a Javelina on the way. I wasn't going to stop for him. I think he figured this out at the last moment because he bolted just as I got to within ten feet of him. Good thing for both of us. I heard a voice and looked back. The three horses were within view again. It kept me pushing. This was a marathon pace. Where the heck was this energy earlier in the race when I could have used it. I crossed the finish 200 yards ahead of the three horses. There were still at least 2 others out on the trail that I knew of and three runners I had passed in the last section. Overall, it wasn't a race to write home about, but it was very gratifying and I learned a bit about myself. I learned that just because you think your run is over, even though you know your race is over, doesn't mean you need to quit. I run because I love to run. Competition is great fun, but the last few races have reminded me of why I really run. I'm guessing I should spend some quality time recovering if I want to get my race back, but my run is healthy, thank you very much. Hi, my name is LT, and I'm a non-recovering runaholic. It's been two days since I beat at least 5 horses in a 50 mile run...