Lake Martin 50: A buffet of food and friends

Last week, I finally got to take back the race that COVID stole from me just two weeks from race day in 2020. 

In March 2020, I was in the best shape of my life. I had trained diligently under the guidance of my friend and coach Olivia Affuso. I had done my cross training, lifted weights and done all my downhill repeats to get my quads ready for those climbs and descents on the trails around Lake Martin. 

We were all forced into our homes in the second week of March. The race was canceled. At that point, I had already begun my taper. I was frustrated and disappointed. I felt like all my hard work of the past three months had gone to waste. 

While the race was offering a virtual version, that wasn’t what I wanted. I decided to defer my registration to 2021. I wasn’t sure what would happen between March 2020 and March 2021. I was worried my chance to run another 50 miler was gone. The world was so uncertain, and it was hard to think that a world where ultrarunning thrived would exist in March 2021. 

2020 was a wild year for me. I moved to a new state, started a new role at work, helped my husband through the terrible process of getting laid off, applying for unemployment and finding new work. We’ve come out on top of it all, but the journey was tough. 

When the time came to start training for Lake Martin 50, I was nervous. I knew I wasn’t as fit as I was last year. I had done a whole lot of stressing, working and stress eating during the pandemic. 

My life was completely different in nearly every way compared to my life in December 2019 when I started training for Lake Martin 2020. 

Instead of stressing over my lack of fitness, I decided to view the race as a celebration of friendships that I dearly miss. I’ve made some great trail friends here in Nashville, but I’ll always love the wonderful folks of the Birmingham Ultra Trail Society. Some of the greatest folks on earth proudly wear BUTS gear. 

My new race strategy was: buffet of friends and food. My only goal was to run to one aid station, see a friend and eat some food and repeat until I completed 50 miles. If I did that over and over for about 14 hours, I would meet my 50 mile goal. 

That’s the short version of the story. 

About two weeks before the race, as I was taking inventory of my gear and deciding what I needed to stock up on for the race, I noticed my tube of my favorite anti-chafe product, Skin Sake, was empty. 

I also discovered Skin Sake no longer exists. Like, even their website, www.skinsake.com, no longer exists. (You can buy the domain if you want). 

I was crushed. Skin Sake got me through the hot-as-the-Devil’s-butthole Rebecca Mountain 50 Miler completely chafe-free. (this still makes no sense to me. What sort of magic do they put in that stuff?)

In a panic, I got a few product suggestions and ordered them all. 

The only problem was, I would not have a chance to properly test the new products before race day. I would have to test them during the race. That’s never a good idea, but it was the only choice I had. 

So, on race day, I applied the most highly recommended product. By mile 13, my thighs were talking to me. 

“Hey, uh, there’s some friction down here. You should probably consider something else,” my thighs quipped. (My thighs don’t actually talk, but I’ve heard if you run far enough, you may *think* things that don’t talk are talking. Please humor me here).  

I continued on to the next addition, where all I had was a popular product called “Body Glide,” which I’ve already tried and do not like. Plenty of people like it for half marathons and marathons, but it just doesn’t stand up to the abuse of a 50-miler. I had another product in my drop bag, which was at the Heaven Hill aid station. I wouldn’t be back at heaven hill for another 15 miles. Yikes. 

Not too shabby at mile 25. Photo taken by Lori Lyons.

By the time I got back to my drop bag at mile 33, I was really uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that I had started changing my gait in hopes of keeping my thighs out of each other’s way. (A futile task). 

This change in gait had made my right IT band angry. I had angry thighs and now an angry IT band. I was a mess. 

My last resort was Desitin diaper cream. I slathered it on, and went out for 5 more miles. As I ran down the hill from Heaven Hill, I called my mom, who was crewing me, and asked her to have my tights ready for me when I got to the next aid station. The Desitin was much better than the other products, but I knew I couldn’t continue like this for the next 17 miles. I didn’t care how warm it was, I was going to wear those tights. 

I got my tights at mile 39, and I was set. The tights provided immediate relief. By this point, I had run 26 miles (a full marathon, if you’re counting), with angry, red chafing. The chafe triggered the change of gait, which triggered the IT band pain and cramps. 

Trekking poles helped with the IT band situation, but I still found myself bent over in pain as my IT band gripped, keeping me from going up and down the rolling hills as fast as I would have preferred. The change in gait also caused a lovely blister on my right foot. 

When I ran Rebecca Mountain 50, I had a little breakdown around mile 42. Can you guess at which mile I had a breakdown at Lake Martin? Yep. Mile 42. 

But this breakdown wasn’t the utter-despair-curse-the-sunset-this-sucks type of breakdown. It was one of gratitude. Let me explain. 

I got sad because I missed my husband. I wished he could be there, but he was working. I missed my dog, Boo, and my cat, Rhapsody. I even thought a few tree stumps were my cat. 

After I got over missing my family, I had this crazy “aha!” moment of “this is my life.” 

I started talking out loud “this is you, Anna. You are out here running 50 miles because you want to. You have a husband who supports this BS. You live in Nashville, a city you’ve always wanted to be part of. You are doing work you enjoy and through which you find deep meaning. You used to be the fat kid and now you run through the woods -- for fun -- because you can.” 

I started crying. (who is surprised?)

I started saying (loudly) “this is me! This is my life! This is who I am!” It was a euphoric moment of realizing that I am allowed to like who I am and what I do. It was a spiritual experience unlike any other. 

I got quiet when I heard another runner, Kevin, approaching me. He and I I had been yo-yoing back and forth since Mile 20ish. 

You get a beautiful view of Lake Martin here around mile 23.

We ran together for a bit, then we were both spooked by footsteps from behind. It was one of the 100 mile runners lapping us. That runner was on his way to mile 75, and here we were limping along happy to be at mile 42ish. 

The last 6 miles at Lake Martin is terrible. This windy, climby loop comes with steep climbs and descents. If you’re fortunate enough to need a headlamp for the last 6 miles of the race like I did, you also get to enjoy the confusion of seeing others headlamps and wondering if you’re going in the right direction. 

At this point, it sounds like my race went terribly. Maybe I’m mischaracterizing the whole event. 

The reality is that it was truly a buffet of food and friends. I got to see Bob Sims dressed as Joe Exotic. I met his lovely daughter, Aubrey. I saw Lori Lyons and Samm Bartee at the Cabin aid station. They kept me well-fed with vegan quesadillas, salted potatoes and vegetable soup. I saw my Paloma Blanca friends, two of whom I nearly killed with my trekking poles as I tried to give Megan Wayman a hug. 

It’s these friendships that make ultras fun. There’s something about being there for someone and knowing what sort of terrible pain they’re in. There’s also something about being the person in terrible pain and knowing your friends have been there too. Both of you know you’ll be fine, and that the best course of action is to get your ass back out on the trail and finish the damn race.  

While sitting in a chair eating chips at mile 39, I complained to Jack Rawls about the constant climbs and descents. 

“This is not an easy 50,” I said. 

“Well, no shit. Who told you this was easy?” he popped back. 

What ultrarunning is actually like: Here I am at mile 33. I'm hungry and in pain from chafing.
I'm choking down chips and soda and trying to figure out what to do about the chafing.

He was right. I’m not sure why I assumed this would be easy. The course description of “gentle rolling hills” should be taken with a grain of salt, especially when it’s a Southeastern Trail Series race. 

Running 50 miles on any terrain is freaking hard. It takes guts, courage and a really hard head. This ain’t a cake walk. These medals and finish line smiles aren’t guaranteed, and they shouldn’t be taken for granted. 

Hugs from Lori Lyons at the finish line. She kept me
fed with potatoes, quesadillas and vegetable soup.

I lost track of all the pictures and all the people who said “you look great!” I’m certain they were all lying, because I felt like I was failing miserably. Despite the pain, I was just so happy to see all my people that I couldn’t help but smile. 

This is what is so great about the BUTS community and about the trail community as a whole. It is such a treasure to go to a race and know that most everyone there will know your name. The aid station volunteers will know you and can tell when you feel like absolute crap. They’ll have a pep talk, a snack and some jams to keep you going. It’s a beautiful thing when you can trust people to take care of you AND make sure your ass crosses that finish line.

I’ve yet to find camaraderie like this in the “normal world.” There’s nothing like the ultra trail crowd. They’re just special. 

Thank you all for being there. For the hugs, the vegan quesadillas, the potatoes, the soup, the Tiger King attire, and the reality checks. I am forever grateful. 

Stay tuned for more on my quest to find the ultimate anti-chafe product and chafe-free shorts.