The SD100 was not good to me. I DNF'd at 44 miles after 12.5 hours on my feet. Worse, I was cooked after 36 miles. My "stubborn" got me those last 8 miles, but I paid for them with a three and a half hour slog up the steepest section of the course.
I'm dissapointed. Last year when I DNF'd at the Burning River 100 at 70 mile, I still felt like I had accomplished something. A DNF at 44 just feels like a let-down. I should have been in shape to run way more than that. I thought I did a good job with my training. I've finished 50-milers on the same or less. I've finished 100Ks.
I was taking in plenty of calories. I was running at a responsible pace. Maybe I could have taken in a few more S-Caps, but I was drinking the sports drinks, trying to replace my electolytes.
My only guess, at the moment, is the high altitude and thinner air did me in. But even that makes me feel foolish: I knew what the elevation charts looked like when I signed up. I should have realized.
I don't know. It's 8 a.m. Sunday morning. I've been off the course as long as I was on it. People are still out there running. There are 6 more hours before the final cutoff. I should still be out there. I should have run 80 or 85 miles by now. I should be out there knowing that the finish line is waiting a little ways in front of me. I should be feeling it's gravitational pull and knowing that I was going to finish my first Hundo, get my first buckle, wear my yellow "Finisher" t-shirt. I'm not. I'm sitting in my hotel room preparing to go downstairs and peruse the continental breakfast.
It was a beautiful course. I met some awesome people. I have good things to say about my experience. Those are coming, along with some pictures and video and whatnot. Right now, though, I've still got this bitter, unpleasant taste...