The Cape Cod Frozen Fat Ass 25K & 50K on Sandy Neck beach is an informal “fat ass” event that started 12 years ago, evidently when a small group of crazy people wanted to run an ultra on Cape Cod… in January. The no-cost event grew in size (this year there were around 70? runners for all distances, including 5 miles), but retains a very cozy feel while still offering donation-funded amenities like portapotties, bibs, and hot soup. I’ve heard about this race for years but never had the inclination to run it until this year. With the TARCtic 30 hour ultra in three weeks, doing 32 frozen miles on Cape Cod in January would be a big confidence booster and a great test of my gear.
Pre-Race: I woke up at 4am, readied my gear while drinking coffee and eating Nutella on toast, and started driving at 5am. It was freezing (18 degrees, feels like 4); actually getting in the car and starting the drive was probably my biggest achievement of the day. When I got to Sandy Neck beach 90 minutes later, I parked in the small parking lot and rushed through the bitter cold to the race HQ inside the gate house, where 20 people were crammed into a small warm room the size of my kitchen, getting bibs and dropping off food and drink for the race buffet. I got my bib, dropped some money into the donation cup, and then headed back to my car to make my final preparations.
This is the last thing I’ll say about my gear, promise: I packed a lot of gear — extra clothes and layers for every part of my body, shoes, fuel,– and only used a fraction of it. But I felt comforted to have it there. These conditions were not a joke.
On my way back to my car, I took a photo of the sunrise lighting up the dark, unforgiving sky; it gave me a feeling of contentment and hope that the day would be alright:
Race start: A few minutes after 7am, the race started on the beach. I froze my fingers removing my mitts to snap a pic of the small crowd of runners:
To quote from the race’s website, “The course consists of two 15.5 mile figure eight loops. The first loop is around 5 miles and the second loop is around 10.” (This wording confused the heck out of me when I first read it, but I’m not an especially spatial thinker.) The first 5-mile loop started with about 2 miles of nonstop 15 mph bitter cold headwind on the 20 degree beach. It was daunting for sure, but I was prepared and stayed warm. My biggest concern was the energy required to run against this wind. It also wasn’t very conducive to passing the time by chatting with fellow runners, but the ones I did chat with said they were only doing 5 miles or 25K.
The pack spread out on the first 10-mile loop, which started with many calm and warm miles in the dunes. I started the loop running with two guys, but I found the soft sand to be very difficult and tiring to run on, so I slowed my pace and tried to make up for it on the firmer sections of the trail.
The last 3-4 miles of the 10 mile loop (miles 12-15) were back on the beach with the insane headwind. I put my coat back on and plodded along the beach. I passed the two guys I had been talking with before. Many people were running in the soft sand further from the water because there were less pebbles, but I ran closer to the water on firmer sand, which meant I had to dodge a lot of pebbles.
I was discovering the art and tactics of running on a beach.
Race Half Way: Back at the gate house after finishing the 25K, the temptation NOT to go out again was tremendous, but overall I felt pretty good so I really couldn’t convince myself to quit. I ate an unseemly number of cookies, stuffed my bag with a healthy handful of wrapped peanut butter cups, poured the sand out of my shoes (gaiters would have been appropriate), and then headed out again into the headwind.
By then there was no one around to chat with, so I put on music and enjoyed the scenery. I love running on beaches. I don’t get the opportunity to do it very often, but I found it extremely relaxing and beautiful, despite the wind and cold.
I passed a few guys at the start of my second loop, but then I didn’t see another runner for the last ten miles. So, I turned up my music. I played a game where I’d try to look at my watch every .5 miles (I’m quite accurate!) I ate 4 full-sized peanut butter cups. I cursed the soft sand and tried different strategies for running on it.
Finishing: This race has an unique finish line, because it is essentially inside the small room at the gate house. At 31.76 miles (according to my watch) and 6 hours, 15 minutes of running, I threw open the door and about ten people inside clapped and cheered. A nice guy got me some homemade turkey soup while I sat down and ate munchkins. I got a sweet finisher’s award.
After the race: I currently don’t have a shower at my house because the bathroom is being remodeled. So, I drove 90 minutes directly to my gym for a shower. Because of the drive, my muscles tightened up horribly and I could only limp. I’m sure I looked a complete mess, with crazy hair and a red face, limping slowly to the locker room for my shower past all of the clean people on elliptical machines watching Netflix on their mobile devices. I don’t think for a second that ultrarunning makes me special, but it certainly makes me different.
