Wrong kind o' yakkin'

The short version of Umstead 100 2008: Swing and a miss.

My stomach was a complete mess from about 20 miles until I finally called it a day at the end of Lap 5, 62.5 miles in 15 hours and a little. That's my first DNF in a long while. It's still just as humbling as ever, if not moreso.

I've beaten myself up a fair amount trying to come up with some answers for what the heck went wrong. The reality is that I have no clue. I should be comfy in that state, given that it's where I've spent my entire ultra career.

Amazing how I can do a fairly tough 50-miler on cookies and water with energy to spare, then be in peak fitness and running a lot slower at Umstead, yet have some dramatic nausea before the marathon mark. Weird.

When I got home Sunday, it was straight here to the computer and away I went on a literature review of all things drink replacement. Sheer desperation almost led me to order one of them. Then I noticed a torn black notebook on the floor near the computer. An old hand-written running log I kept for years in a three-ring binder. Digging in, I found that magical year in 1998 when during a 10-week span I spanked Umstead in sub-22, then the challenging Bull Run Run 50-miler in 9:50 and my then-nemesis Old Dominion in 22:51. On the back page of the OD entry I wrote: Eight drop bags filled with one vanilla Nutrament, one sandwich baggie of Fritos and took one S Cap every two hours.

Hmmmm ... let's see ... that's a WHOLE lot less than I was trying to push in Saturday. Hmmm ...

Perhaps too much grub and not enough salt has been the problem more often than not since that magical 1998 stretch?

Stay tuned for more. OD 100 turns 30 this year. Seems as good a time as any to get reacquainted.