Raced the Fools Gold 50 yesterday, and went in with the same plan as last year: don't stop until Aid 3, then see what's still in the tank. All went fine until somewhere around mile 35. Last year I slowed up on the double track right after Aid 2 and stuffed my face before the climb started. This year I figured I'd wait until I had to start hiking before stuffing my face, but by then it was too late. Though I had both food and water with me, I came back to Aid 3 in a calorie deficit, and probably not very well hydrated, and never really recovered. Managed to struggle home, helped by the knowledge that there was at least one guy in my class chasing (turns out he wasn't, but I appreciated the boost anyhow), but every little climb after Aid 3 felt like an impossible struggle.
Fortunately its mostly down hill from there. Got caught by a couple of gearies on the last two miles of pavement (dammit) and just felt like crying when I hit that bumpy grassy "trail" there at the end, especially that last little grunt. That was very nearly more than I could handle.
Crossed the line at a near standstill but managed to stay upright, ignored my lovely wife until I could see straight, and eventually jumped in the pool then got a beer and started to pull myself back together. Eddie and Namrita put on a class race, one that my only regret about is that I never really get to enjoy all that great singletrack at the end because I'm just too wasted by then. Good times though, good times.
Photo courtesy of Regularjoe Photography
The empty podium. What's wrong with these guys? How can we raise our arms in victory when the top step is empty? :(
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