Orchard Macomb 50 Mile

After going back and forth on the idea of this race I decided to run it. The Orchard Macomb 50 mile runs the entire length of the aptly named trail. The race descends down with a small connector and heads back for a full 50 miles. The trail itself is a blacktop rails to trail. The organizer decided that the field should meet in the parking lot of Richmond High School at 11:30 and walk to where the race was starting at the nearby trail head. The weatherman had called for thunderstorms, and honestly I didn't like the prospect of running through a thunderstorm, but I went to the start anyhow and met up with some of the participants. Most were excited and laughed off the prospect of inclement weather. I decided to make the best of it and just bundle up. The race was advertised as mostly a Fat-Ass type event, meaning that it was self supported. According to the race director, there was supposed to be a roving aid station that would meet the participants at miles 12, 18, and 25. I would only see the aid station once. Due to the last minute idea to run this race I didn't have nearly the essentials for a race like this.
The race brief was held at the Richmond High School parking lot, and soon we walked together to the trail head across the street. We counted down together as a group until midnight. Off we all went into the darkness of the Orchard Macomb trail. The stronger runners took off and were only seen once more on the way back. The rest of the field laughed and joked around as the rain started falling. I had forgotten to bring a headlamp and was forced to use a hand held flashlight instead. This choice of lighting became a problem only as the field surged ahead and I was left alone on the trail. I soon became alone under the now open sky filled with thunder and lightning. I rushed ahead to find cover as the trees would clear to open fields. The quarter of the race moved fairly quickly even while plagued with digestive issues. The first four miles were paved with blacktop but the next ten miles were groomed gravel trails. In the midst of the downpour I had liked the blacktop and cursed the gravel trails. The darkness played tricks on my mind as I moved through the puddles and mild muddy areas. In the shroud of darkness I was unable to find any semblance of markings designating miles, so I was forced to aimlessly run in hopes of finding something designating the end of the trail.
The rain soon died down to a steady fall. Eventually I made it back onto the blacktop and miles later greeted the first runner making their way back. An hour later I found myself beneath arches designating the end of the trail. I was exhausted but I knew I had another mile and a half to run until the turn around. I was greeted some time later by the race director he hadn't been that far ahead, but he seemed much livelier than I did. I mentioned to him how I hadn't seen the roving aid station and I needed aid. He made a phone call and the aid station waited for me at the turn around. I kept moving and soon found the aid station.
I had finally found the aid station, and the crew at the aid station was apologetic. I told them that it was not a big deal and that I had some food in my fanny pack. They were relieved and were ready to take me back to the start. I told them that I had every expectation of running/walking back to the starting line. They were quite surprised, because most of the field had dropped out. I filled my bottles, ate a few salted potatoes, and headed back.
I felt strong for the first few miles, as the light began to seep over the horizon, but the strength began to fade seemingly as soon as it had arrived. At some point the rain had stopped, but for how long? I was exhausted and the lack of aid, the weather, my body, and everything else began to weigh on me. My mile times began to suffer, and the lack of any GPS type device that would give me anything but the full mile played with me mentally. Slowly but surely I counted down the miles 18, 17, 16, 15, etc. I used landmarks as sources of motivation. The blacktop moved back to gravel trail and my footing became less organized. The mile markings that I was relying on were agonizingly slow and painful. I audibly shouted at every one of the poles listing the distance; at times I even yelled words i'm ashamed of.
After miles and miles of painful chafing and muscle soreness I had reached the final few miles of the trail. My pace quickened and I used an app on my iphone to calculate the distance. With this confidence I began to alternate between 100 steps of "running" and 100 steps of walking. This worked and I soon had knocked out one mile, then two and then three. With only a half mile left I could see the finish. I began to run as fast as I could to the end of the trail. Although the fastest I could manage was a trot I made it to the finish, and then ran to the parking lot where my car was parked. I was done, finally. My time was 13 hours and 7 minutes. Although my time was not what I was expecting, it was my time and I owned it.