Alex Nichols- North Face 50 Endurance Challenge

In 2009 I had the unfortunate experience of running the north face endurance 50 off of roughly 20 mile weeks. I had been dealing with achilles issues for months leading up to the race, but having signed up for the event 4 months in advance, I decided it would be better to just go for it. Not much happened, except for some extremely sore quads and a disappointing DNF after 44 miles.

This year was supposed to be my big redemption. I put in the work, running up to 40 miles for my long runs, and kept sharp by running and winning shorter trail races. My taper even left me feeling fast and confident instead of sluggish and nervous (which has been a problem in the past). Everything was perfect...

I had a few time goals going into the race, but mainly I wanted to win. It may have been ambitious for such a competitive race, but based on the splits I was hitting during my long runs I knew I would at least have a shot at making the podium. My plan was to stay in contention and react to the moves of the other contenders until we got to Stinson Beach, roughly 28 miles in. That was when I was going to start running hard, and when I felt like the race would really begin.

The first 12 miles were dark. We had a couple of easy climbs and gentle descents in the first hour an a half. During that time I was content to sit in the back of the lead group and watch. I quickly found Rickey Gates among the bobbing headlamps. I heard he had been training on the course for a while before race day so I figured he would at least know where to go. I latched onto him then did my best to run with as little effort as possible. The first separation of the lead group happened on the 1800 foot climb up to McKennan Gulch. Like before, I was sitting in the back of the pack when I noticed a few guys drifting away from me. I easily closed the gap up to them and tucked in behind Geoff Roes and Dakota Jones. We were running fairly quick, but still well within my comfort zone, so I sat back and kept up my gel and salt schedule.

As we climbed up to the turnaround point I realized that our group was actually the chase pack. While I was sitting back in the dark a couple of French dudes took off early in the race. Geoff was actually setting the pace to catch them and I was being pulled along for the ride. At the McKennan Gulch aid station I was able to fill my bottle quickly enough that I moved ahead of Geoff, Dakota, and the rest of the chase group. Once again I settled in and got ready for Stinson Beach, where I assumed the real racing would start. I continued to run my own pace and soon caught up to the lead Frechman who had begun to walk on an easy uphill. Just like that I was leading. My initial thought was that I would be caught right away, and I was OK with that. I hadn't planned on leading this early in the race, so again I got comfortable and waited. For a while I could hear footsteps behind me, but eventually they disappeared. Apparently I was gaping the chase group.

During the 1800 foot plummet down to Stinson Beach I was alone for the first time all race. It was a weird feeling. All of the pressure of racing went away and it suddenly became just another long run. I enjoyed it while it lasted, but I guess I got a little too comfortable and found a way to sprain both ankles in one movement on an untechical portion of trail. I went from being sure of a $10000 win to laying on the ground unable to walk in less then a second. I thought my left ankle was broken and my right ankle didn't seem to work either. As I was starring at my suddenly lifeless limbs I heard Dakota and Mike Wolfe coming down the trail. They were nice enough to stop and help me to me feet, at which point I promptly fell over again. I told them to keep going as my own personal nightmare set in. Not only would I drop out of this race again, but I might actually be seriously hurt.

With those wonderful thoughts running through my head I did eventually got to my feet, riding the adrenaline of the fall. I started to run with much grunting and cursing. I was clinging to the hope that I could run through it to catch up and take back the lead. I hobbled through the Stinson Beach aid station and told my crew that I had a broken ankle. I wasn't sure what the plan was but I thought I might be able to catch Dakota on the next uphill. Surprisingly enough I started to reel him back in without the use of my left foot, but that's when the real pain started. I couldn't run any downhill without screaming and the uphills weren't much better. I thought out my options and decided to end my race. If my ankle was broken I didn't want to risk any further damage just to make it to the finish line.

In the end it doesn't appear to be broken, but I still think it was the right decision to drop out. I know some people that would "log roll" to the finish if they had to, but for me the thought of running in the near future was a greater decision maker then a finisher’s medal. Looking back I wouldn't have done anything differently, except maybe watch my footing a little better. It was my race to lose, which I did. I just hope I can put together the same preparation next year. If I do, I have no doubt of my ability to win. The only issue now is that I have to wait a full year for redemption.