Driven to Distraction

“As with our colleges, so with a hundred ‘modern improvements;’ there is an illusion about them; there is not always a positive advance. The devil goes on exacting compound interest to the last for his early share and numerous succeeding investments in them. Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end, an end which it was already but too easy to arrive at...”  ― Henry David Thoreau


Over the course of a few posts that I have sprinkled in over the last year or so, I've off-and-on lamented my own personal struggles with focus, distractions, and how these relate to both my personal and my running life. I've tried to crystallize my thoughts in some sort of a coherent manner but I haven't felt like I have quite "nailed it".

Enter Duncan Callahan. Duncan is a fellow ultrarunner - but, unlike me, he lives in the mountains, is very fast, and is very elite. (We seem to at least share a love of trail and torch, so I guess we have at least that in common.) Anyway, Duncan recently authored a post on his blog that helped me to take a step forward in my own contemplation of my place in this very loud, very stressed-out world that we inhabit today. It has to do with distracted living - how, for most of us, our attention is constantly divided between various media streams, activities, responsibilities, hobbies, and other obligations. Add to that our desire to compete and perform at our best and it's almost a wonder that we get anything accomplished at all. It was certainly something that spoke to me! 

My thoughts on the subject have certainly forced me to become more introspective of late. I am compelled to take a look in the mirror and ask myself if these ideas that seem to keep recurring in my psyche are going to remain strictly conceptual or, at some point, become more concrete? Am I going to appreciate the ideals of simple living from afar or actually embrace them, such as I am able given my vocation? How can taking the time to quiet my mind improve my own running, improve my focus out on the trail and make my time spent training and racing more enjoyable and rewarding? 

Getting back to Duncan's post. While it isn't about simple living or minimalism specifically, what it does touch on is, in my opinion, an important precursor. That being, allowing ourselves the time to reflect upon and consider our priorities. Are we so busy with minds moving in so many directions at one time that we don't take time to just "be"? The answer for me is an unqualified YES. Between regularly checking multiple email addresses for personal and business use, developing and maintaining contacts and relationships through various forms of social media, perusing various blogs and online articles pertinent to both business and pleasure, consuming news and media updates, blogging, following local sports teams...and these activities aren't even essential to my daily life. Throw in going to work every day, spending time with my wife and children, maintaining a household, trying to have some sort of a spiritual life, and yes, train as a competitive athlete - and this list is still far from complete! 

I'm not trying to come across as someone who has it all figured out. In fact, it's the exact opposite. I feel that most days scream along at a breakneck pace with my mind and body simply being tossed about by endless diversions. So with all of that being said, I have chosen to spend the month of May paring down the noise just a bit. I'm removing all social media apps from mobile devices, setting aside the daily news and information streams for a while, and restricting the amount of time and times of the day that I access my email. I am going to read, listen to music, and pick up a few other hobbies that I've enjoyed over the years.

One of said hobbies that I intend to enjoy again....

But most importantly, I am going to learn to sit and be still again. To sit with God. To come and listen. I have much to consider. And much to be thankful for as well. I'll close with Duncan's closing statement:

"Here’s to building focus and calming the mind."

Well said, sir. Well said.


Running Stuff

With Boston now behind me, it's time for a little R&R. I've actually been in a rest phase for a couple weeks now if you include my taper before Boston. Outside of a few easy miles today I haven't run at all since Patriot's Day, choosing to allow my legs to fully recover. Unfortunately my run today was so/so, with my quads and hamstrings not feeling nearly ready to fully engage yet. I did enjoy a perfect morning to get a few miles in, so that was a plus, but it was obvious to me that more rest is required. Things will stay very easy for another week or so before my coach and I start working in some light strength work to begin setting a foundation for our Grindstone 100 training plan. I'm glad for the break - and it couldn't come at a more appropriate time. It will fit very well with my "Month of Focus" in May. I hope to be completely rested mentally, physically, and spiritually when the real grind starts in the summer.

2015 Boston Marathon Race Recap

How many times in our lives do we get an opportunity to live our dreams? To do do something that for years we had only imagined, thinking that perhaps that dream would always be just beyond our reach? That we weren't worthy of it? Or couldn't do it? For as long as I have been running, I've dreamed about the big race in Boston. I've never been a particularly gifted runner, but that never stopped me from picturing myself running down Boylston Street after a grueling day on the world's most famous marathon course. Fists pumping, crowds cheering....I spent many a solitary long run with such images dancing in my head, giving me strength when I was wiped out, inspiration when I didn't feel it from within, and even some days serving as motivation to just get out the door in the first place. 

It's almost funny in a way - the iconic Hopkinton sign above announces that "It All Starts Here". In my case, it started many years ago, many miles away from this tiny hamlet in Massachusetts. My journey had many twists and turns made up of small successes and spectacular failures. Yet here I was - finally looking upon the sign, standing at the doorstep of the world's greatest road race.

The start of the 2013 race. (www.ibtimes.com)

My day began on a school bus. It was actually one of several dozen school buses that were snaking their way out of Boston along the Massachusetts Turnpike. My eyelids were still heavy as we bumped along the highway in the early morning hours. It took around an hour to reach Hopkinton, where we would be deposited near the town's middle school baseball fields - which had been converted for this occasion into the massive Athlete's Village, a vast complex of tents, portable toilets, and food tables. Runners jammed into the village seeking shelter and perhaps some coffee to quiet their nerves and take their mind off the biting cold. I found a cup for myself and settled in. I had arrived around 2 hours prior to my start time so I had plenty of time to relax and prepare for what lay ahead. 

Runners marching down Grove Street to the start line

I was immediately struck by the hometown nature of this international event. Hopkinton is a small town of around 2,500 whose population swells to around 35,000 on Patriot's Day each year. The charm is everywhere - from the simple sign announcing the starting point of this great race to the understated starting line itself (no giant platforms, banners, or fireworks here). Runners are ushered from the Athlete's Village to the starting line down Grove Street, a walk of around 3/4 of a mile. Grove Street is lined with picturesque colonial style homes dating back to the 1800's - again, not what I was expecting at all. I could have been walking down any street in any small town in America. The locals showed their support with hand painted signs on their front lawns. It was a perfect way to begin the day, but again, it was in sharp contrast to what most of the running world would consider the typical big-city marathon.

We saluted America, sang the national anthem, cheered as the countdown began, and at precisely 10:00 am, the elite men and the rest of wave 1 were given the green light to go. 

As I mentioned, I was surprised by the low-key starting line; in fact, I wasn't even sure I had crossed it until I saw the mats pass below me. There was little fanfare outside of the enthusiastic locals who had come out to cheer on the runners as our day began. Dark clouds began to gather as we started our run down Main Street, but for now, the weather was cooperating. I felt great as the cool air kept me comfortable. It was a joy to offer high-fives to the spectators that lined the course as I reminded myself to celebrate that joy. After all, I was running Boston!

Ok, now on to some technical running stuff. The first 5 miles of the race is downhill. And I mean, sharply downhill. It is enough of a challenge for any runner to contain their enthusiasm and stick with their race plan after months of training and tapering, but on a day like this, at this race, and on this course, it's nearly impossible. It is so easy to release the nerves and adrenaline into a mighty charge down the first hills at the start of the race that nearly any race report will start with some version of the following: START SLOW.... CONTAIN YOURSELF....BE PATIENT. Or my personal favorite..... 

Yes, it's a trap! Starting out too hard in the first few miles will inevitably lead to misery later. It has been proven time and time again, from elites to midpackers, that the pounding you take in the early stages of this race cannot be recovered. It's important to be mindful of your pace and stick to the plan. I made it a point to keep my pace steady and easy. I had to rely on my watch to make sure I stayed dialed in. I took advantage of this relaxed pace to enjoy the morning. Things hadn't become challenging yet, but I knew what was coming, so I enjoyed it while I could.

The rains started as I entered Ashland, the second town on our tour of the Massachusetts countryside. It was slow at first, but steadily increased in intensity - and as the rain began to turn from a mist to a gentle downpour, the headwinds began to pick up as well. 

I tried to take everything in stride as best I could. My pace still felt very comfortable - I was hitting my splits exactly as I had planned them out, with each mile ticking by between 6:55-7:05 minutes per mile. I had plenty of energy to interact with the crowd and, despite becoming increasingly soaked, was still in very good spirits.

The course levels out between Ashland and Framingham, with some gentle rollers breaking up the otherwise pancake flat topography. I was able to settle in and watch the miles pass by. 

In planning the day with my wife and my mother, who were both in town for the event, there was some discussion that my mom would somehow find her way to Natick to catch me running at around the 10 mile mark. The crowds through this small town were easily 3 rows deep on both sides of the street, making it difficult to get any sense of where she might be. Before long, I approached St. Patrick's Catholic Church. I was certain that if my mom made it out there at all, THAT was where she would be! But alas, it was not to be. Between the crowds and the now steady rain I couldn't make out anyone I recognized. (She chose wisely to stay downtown. More on that later....)

Wellesley College greatness. (www.wbur.org)

On I went to Wellesley, home of the famous "Wall Of Sound" created by hundreds of screaming college co-eds who come out in droves to support the runners. They've been at it for decades and it shows. I could hear them easily from half a mile away (or maybe more) cheering with such vigor that I have never before experienced in a race! I thoroughly enjoyed the high fives, fist bumps, motivational signs and general awesomeness of that stretch of the race. (I bypassed the offers for a kiss though - after all, I was on a schedule here...) It came and went quickly, but it was certainly memorable. As I passed the halfway point I was very pleased to be right on my target time of 1 hour, 32 minutes. Despite the rain, the cold, and the wind, I was right where I wanted to be. 

The toughest part of the race was through the town of Newton, where gentle rollers become legitimate hills and the pounding your legs have taken on the net-downhill course up to this point become very apparent. At around miles 14-15 my quads started to suddenly cramp as I could feel the fatigue set in. The wind was now howling out of the east, the rain was driving, and the smallest inclines in the road seemed to loom larger than life. For the next 5 miles or so I would track up and down, over hills and around corners, as my focus stayed on maintaining an even pace. I didn't have too much trouble with the hills and, as I approached the famed "Heartbreak Hill" between miles 20-21, I was intent on charging up as hard as I could, regardless of the later cost. There were many who were walking this stretch of the race, but drawing strength from the crowds lining the street, I was able to make short work of the notorious hill. It was now all downhill to Boston. 5 miles to go.

As runners enter Brookline, the countryside has made way for the urban landscape of the marathon's namesake city. In my mind, I was ready to pick up the pace and charge to the finish line. I did the math and believed I could still post a time around 3:04. I would have to hit some mean splits to make that happen, but there was a chance! The problem was that the spring had long since left my step. I just couldn't convince my sore, stiff legs to turn over any faster. Maintaining my pace was even becoming a chore. I was now passing dozens of runners who were reduced to a walk. I stayed positive and fought as hard as I could against a body that pleaded with me to stop. 

Then I saw a sight that gave me just the jolt of energy I needed - the famous Citgo sign. If you haven't seen the sign, it's one of the Boston skyline's most famous landmarks. It's HUGE, it's beautifully lit, and on a dreary, cold, wet day, it acted (for me, anyway) like a lighthouse, drawing me toward the city center. I had completely forgotten about the sign until I approached the city, and then all of a sudden, there it was! 

Running down Beacon St toward Kenmore Square, the Citgo sign draws you home. (www.thedesertstomach.com)

The sign is visible all the way down Beacon Street. (www.competitor.com)

As I passed Kenmore Square and then Fenway Park, the cheers from the crowd became deafening. With less than a mile to go, I was absolutely ecstatic. I ran from one side of the road to the other high-fiving dozens of enthusiastic spectators. Then finally, it was time to make the best left turn in all of running. I was fighting back tears (or was it just the rain?) as I ran down Boylston to the finish line. Cold, wet, exhausted, and yet exhilarated - I was a mix of emotions as I slowed to enjoy the moment. Times didn't matter to me anymore as I tried my best to freeze this moment in my mind. I've been blessed to experience many things in my life as a runner, but nothing - NOTHING - like that. It was fantastic.  

I know it's me because I was the only one out there in plaid!

I crossed the finish line in 3 hours, 8 minutes. My mother was there to greet me just after I finished and we shared a very emotional moment as we celebrated together. Now all I wanted to do was find some dry clothes and get warm! I was stopped by a local news crew to give a short interview about my experience - I was sure to mention my Fort Worth running tribe and my friends from the IRC - and then, with chattering teeth and throbbing quads, I moved on down Boylston to meet my wife, find a blanket, pick up my medal, and get some food. 

I don't know how I could possibly encapsulate this experience in a few short paragraphs. Entire books have been written about the history of this race, the nuances of the course, and the myriad of ways one can prepare for the Boston Marathon. For me, the entire day was a dream. Weather aside, it was pure magic. Whether I return remains to be seen, but there's something to be said for experiencing this event for the first time. It's something I will never, ever forget.

   

"Lost Village"

I love this video. Of the many Salomon videos I enjoy, most are from their trail running series. This one is from their "freeski" series, and while I am not a skier personally, it still really got to me. Many of my daydreams are spent considering what a simple life in the mountains could mean. I love Annick Roman's remark, "Mostly we protest by living here. By living simply, enjoying the clean mountain air, and sharing it with our friends."

What a beautiful way to live! But I don't allow myself to spend my days looking wistfully out windows wondering "What if?". The fact is that simple joys can be brought to bear in any walk of life. I almost look at it as a personal mission to incorporate some of these values to my place in this world. Sure it would be wonderful to live in a picturesque village in the French Alps. But I think that there are lifestyle lessons here that can be lived every day, even for a suburban husband and father in Texas (which, I might add, isn't such a bad place to be either).

I believe that there is another chapter in my life waiting to be written. Life can be difficult and complex, to be sure, but only to the extent that we allow it to be. Therefore I hope to make the next chapter in my life one of contentment rather than avarice, generosity rather than greed, and conservation rather than consumption. I'd love to visit this village someday. It might require me to learn to ski (OK!) but I'd love to share some quiet and some clean mountain air. 

But for now I'll enjoy the warm Texas sunshine.

T-minus....

As the days of Boston race week slowly creep by, my thoughts have turned to my race plan and preparation. For some reason I'm having a minor crisis of confidence as to my level of preparation for this race - as if having run 3 ultras and nearly setting a road half marathon PR in the last 3 months didn't quite "get it done". (I should note that I am saying this more to reassure myself than as any kind of humble brag.) I am sure this is a case of typical prerace jitters, and I am also quite sure that there are around, oh, 30,000 other runners around the world right now having the same thoughts as Patriots Day approaches.

Interestingly though, I am rethinking the "take it easy and enjoy the day" game plan that I had championed only a few short days ago; a plan which had been my mantra for the past few weeks leading up to this point. Here is my thinking - if I go easy and cross the finish line knowing I've left 3, 5, 10 minutes out on the course, while I will certainly be thrilled with my achievement, will I always wonder about what could have been? After all, shouldn't we save our best efforts for the biggest stages? And what bigger stage is there than Boston? 

In looking back over my last week or 2 of training, I've been on-point. I've hit my target paces, exceeded them in most cases comfortably, and have actually been training in much warmer and more humid conditions than I will face on Monday. It looks like conditions will be favorable for a good race - shouldn't that count for something?

So here I am, 4 days out, considering wadding up and pitching my entire race strategy. Perhaps a PR effort could be out there for me. Or even the very elusive sub-3 marathon. When will I get another chance like this? Who knows when I will even run another road marathon, for that matter? I still have a few days to sleep on it, not to mention some quality time with my coach when I make it to Boston to discuss the matter. I am certainly fortunate to have the chance to consider such possibilities. And I'm finally going to have my Boston medal.

Whatever happens, I'll still be very grateful for that.

Food Stuff

One of the most hotly debated and oft-discussed topics among runners is that of diet. I'm not talking about diet-ING, which makes me think of the fad diets that promise quick results without any real effort. (In my experience, there are no quick fixes.) What I mean is how we as wanna-be athletes get our daily stores of the calories we need to fuel workouts and maximize recovery. There's an old adage that "a hot furnace burns any fuel", and I know a number of folks who adhere to this philosophy. It seems to make sense. Calories in, calories out, right? 

I don't subscribe to this idea any more because it wasn't until I ditched it that I started to see real progress - in weight loss, muscle tone and race performance. For much of my life I had been a carb-heavy eater. Pasta, bread, and grains always represented a sizeable percentage of my daily calories. And to make matters worse, much of that was processed, white flour pasta and bread. Not good. When my activity began to drop off between 2007-2011 (when I effectively stopped running altogether), I quickly gained weight despite my attempts to reduce my calories. 

The tide turned when, with the help of my coach back in 2013, I learned about the value of "quality" calories and what it meant to eat clean. Gone were the dairy, grains, and sugary drinks, and in were fruits and vegetables, healthy fats and oils, and water. Between the mileage I was logging to prepare for my various races and events, coupled with a greatly modified diet, the pounds melted away. It was a gradual process but over 3 years I lost over 40 pounds. The change was evident in my race performances as well, with PR's falling in every distance I would enter. Running became easier, faster, and a lot more fun.

An important thing to mention as well is that my running is also pain-free. I'm going on 3 years now without a significant injury (which I would consider anything that's kept me down for more than a few days). I was forced to stop running back in 2007 due to a string of chronic injuries that had me hobbling around the house and wincing in pain whenever I would climb a staircase. I'm convinced that there's something to my diet that plays a part in this as well, whether it's the inflammation brought on by those processed carbs and sugars or simply carrying less extra weight around (not to mention changes in my shoes, stride and running form).        

These days I keep it simple. I am not quite as hard-core as some others I know, but there are some rules I follow pretty closely. I rarely eat cheese and dairy, and when I do it is only as an additive (half and half in my coffee, or cheese crumbles in a salad) or as a treat. I am not anti-grains, but I have greatly reduced the amount of grain that I do eat and have all but eliminated those that come from processed white flour. I make sure that rice, pasta and bread are brown (in the case of rice) or whole wheat. I've dabbled with the idea of becoming a full blown vegetarian, but instead have chosen a more gradual reduction of animal products in my diet, opting instead what I call a "fish & fowl" approach. (I think that's pretty self-explanatory.) I eat a salad every day - and by salad, I mean a mixture of 8-10 different fruits and vegetables with a base of spinach and kale (no iceberg lettuce) with a light dressing. I'm pretty partial to asian food at the moment: sushi, tofu, stir fry, pho, and vegetable spring rolls are regulars. Eggs and oatmeal are the norm for breakfast. And coffee. I have learned to LOVE coffee. 

That's about it! I try to not obsess over whether I'm being a faithful follower of this-or-that diet. I just make the best decision I can in whatever situation I am in. I allow myself to slack off every once in a while and just try my best to keep it "clean". That being said, I could still stand to knock more sugar out of my diet and maybe work a little harder to incorporate more vegetables and plant-based protein into my daily regimen. I could still very easily see myself going full veg someday (a-la, the No Meat Athlete). That seems like a great fit for me, but I'm just not quite there yet. For now, I'm happy, I feel great, and I think I've found a good balance that works for me.  

One that doesn't involve eating tons of Twinkies or bananas!

Of Roads and Trails - My Upcoming Adventures!

My journey to Boston started around 15 years ago when, as a freshly minted marathoner after the Country Music Marathon in Nashville, the thought of running the oldest, most prestigious road marathon in the world first crossed my mind. I didn't really appreciate what getting to Boston might entail. I just thought it sounded cool, and I wanted to do it.

Here I am now, on Boston's doorstep, having put in years of patient preparation to get to this point. For some runners blessed with talent, achieving a Boston qualifying time is not a difficult proposition. For others, it's a dream that for whatever reason will remain unfulfilled. Then there are those who are right on the line, runners who can get there but have to work very hard to accomplish the dream (while balancing many other obligations), for the dream is just within reach.

I'm fortunate to have completed 12 marathons. Some were good days; most, in fact, were tough ones. But only one - my qualifying race in Minneapolis in 2013 - achieved a BQ standard. None - ZERO - of my other previous races had even come close. To get to that point, it took several months of solid coaching, stress, and hard work, not to mention several sleepless nights, all the while relearning everything I knew about diet, training, and racing. And finally, on a chilly day along the Mississippi River in Minnesota in October 2013, I finally arrived with a 3:10, beating my age group standard by 5 minutes.

Since that day my running priorities have changed considerably. I made the transition from roads to trails, and while I will still enjoy a road race from time to time, I have fully embraced the ethos of the trail. I've documented that change in my race reports, where I have recounted races that have taken me from gritty single track in the Texas hill country to the gnarly trails of Huntsville to the mountains of California. 

The Citgo sign. (www.boston.com)

And yet Boston has always been out there, seemingly an eternity away. Now the race is 2 weeks away. I haven't really "trained" for a marathon in the classical sense, which is fine. I'm sure I have the base to run well. But that isn't really the point any more. For me, this race has become less about PR's, speed, and seeking a qualifying time for a future race. For a number of reasons, I just don't see myself going back to Boston. At least not anytime soon. And so that brings me to this race. How does one develop a race plan for a one-time, bucket list event like the Boston Marathon?

Well for me, the answer doesn't lie in trying to get out there and try to hammer this run as hard as possible. It's going to be about really soaking in the experience, taking in as much of the atmosphere as I can and living in that moment. I'll find a comfortable pace and just roll with it. I'm looking forward to taking a LOT of pictures to be shared here, drinking some fine local brews, spending time with my wife about town, and soaking it all in. From what I hear, runners even get a chance to visit the field at Fenway Park! 

I'm not sure whether "enjoy the ride" would be considered a race plan. But I don't care. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I plan to thoroughly enjoy from start to finish. Splits be damned! 

The countdown has begun! 

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Speaking of countdowns, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I've booked another 100-miler this year! My original plan was to have a go at Run Rabbit Run 100 in Steamboat Springs, Colorado in September. But life plans and other obligations in the fall made the time frame for that race troublesome; the thing never really came together, and alas, before I could settle on a decent itinerary, the race sold out. I still hoped to attempt a qualifying race for the impossibly overbooked Hard Rock 100 this year (and here I thought Boston was difficult to get into...) so my gaze turned elsewhere.

Enter the miracle of social media. My pal Josh had entered a race in Virginia that would take place in October that has a number of things going for it - a more attractive time frame, low altitude (that does not mean "easier", it just eliminates one of many potential difficult variables for the race), it is a Hard Rock qualifier, and I would have the bonus of having a good friend out there with me. It seemed perfect! So with very little forethought (but with the blessing of my better half), I signed up.

The race is the Grindstone 100 in the mountains of western Virginia. It looks spectacular - and impossibly difficult for a flatlander from the Texas plains. Yet I am holding out hope that with training, coaching, and a good bit of luck, I can pull this thing off. 

Gulp....

Between now and then, after my little party in Boston, I'll be taking some extended time off to rest and recover. I look forward to the break for both physical and mental reasons. I'll still be doing some light running and cross training to stay tuned up but it'll be a true vacation for a couple months before the Grindstone grind starts in earnest later in the summer. I can't wait - we have a SWEET summer planned, and I'm going to really enjoy it. 

Cheers, y'all!

2015 Prairie Spirit 100: Running Through The Kansas Countryside

Left to right: Kathy, Kerri, Justin, Jeff, Josh, Lesley, David, Shane, Derek.

Make no mistake: the Prairie Spirit 100 mile Endurance Run in Ottawa, Kansas is flat. And by flat, I mean it makes Fort Worth look like the Blue Ridge Mountains. There are some gently rolling hills, to be sure - but none of them managed to make the cut along the rail-to-trail course that runs between the towns of Ottawa and Iola. The course navigates through several small towns along the way - towns whose residents, I am certain, shared a mixture of dismay and admiration toward the hearty folks who would undertake such an endeavor. Yet in typical Kansas fashion their support was undeniable, and the race, a low-key affair if ever there was one, certainly benefits from their down-home hospitality.

And another thing about Kansans is that they seem to really appreciate the beauty of the straight line. Whether one is looking at the borders of this state - a nearly perfect rectangle - the layouts of its streets and highways, or even the course chosen for this endurance run, straight lines are the order of the day. Prairie Spirit is a direct out-and-back course that allows the runner to literally see for miles in front of and behind them. It is the American heartland in all its glory, where the wind cuts you like a knife and where the sky seems to go on forever. 

The lovely skies of Kansas. (distancebetweencities.net)

I ventured to Kansas to offer whatever support I could muster for several friends who were participating in the 100-mile run. My primary focus would be on my friend Justin McCune who was gunning for his first 100-mile buckle, but I would be no less enthusiastic about my support for my local running buddy Josh Witte and a friend of mine from Missouri, Shane Naugher. I won't deliver a blow-by-blow recount here - the runners did a much better job in their recaps than I could hope to provide - but there were a few "takeaways" that were of note for me.

To begin with, regarding the course: Yes, it is flat. And it could be fast; however, such a profile would encourage the inclination to push too hard, too soon. It would be very easy to do. There is really no challenge in the terrain whatsoever. The course is crushed gravel, wide enough to drive a train through (which, in fact, they once did) and has zero technicality to it at all. The difficulty comes in maintaining an easy pace early on and in staying mentally focused. There are a couple long stretches without a manned aid station (there are water stops without crew or volunteer support) that can make the miles between supported aid stations seem endless. There is nothing on the trail that provides much visual interest unless one is excited by the prospect of cows, tall grass, or varieties of midwestern shrubbery. Other than that, it's a long, straight repetitious jaunt. 

For the first half of the race, my support would come solely in the form of aid station support. This was great for me because I LOVE working aid stations. Meeting the other crews, helping the runners, and offering some positive energy to someone who is having a tough time are what make being around these events so special to me. I would bounce between aid stations with my teams (team IRC and team Witte, as I fondly remember them) enjoying what was becoming a beautiful day and taking in the race with my friends. It was a great experience, and for those who have not volunteered or crewed at an ultra, I will say again: DO IT.

With David Murphy. Photo credit: Kerri Willis-Kerr

Foreground: David, Derek, and Jeff. Photo credit: Kerri Willis-Kerr

My aid station buddies Kathy and Kerri of team IRC.

The second half of the race was a bit more choppy but certainly no less satisfying. The original plan was for me to run with Justin for 25 miles before turning him over to the very capable Jeff Jones (my man from Leadville) who would bring him in to the finish; however, some difficulties over on Team Witte necessitated a quick wardrobe change and some pacing duties for my buddy Josh for a few miles. Jeff was gracious and we made a change in plans so I could jump in with Josh. Jeff would now run with Justin for 25 miles and I would run with him to the finish. It was a plan that would work well for everyone and I was grateful for their flexibility. I geared up, and when Josh rolled in to the aid station at mile 50 in Iola, Lesley (who was crewing Josh all day and would pace him later through the night) patched him up and refilled his supplies. After a short rest we set out. Josh and I spent a few hours out there covering around 12 miles together. I will not soon forget the time I spent with Josh, and helping him get through a tough spell further strengthened my belief that those of us silly enough to attempt these crazy events really do speak a special language out on the trail.

Storming the trail with Josh.

After getting Josh settled down and back in a good rhythm, my attention turned back to Justin. I would be hooking up with him shortly after parting ways with Josh, so I needed to be prepared for a long night in rapidly falling temperatures. I had time to catch a quick nap, eat a decent meal, and get caffeinated (very important!). Preparation is key at times like this, and I felt pretty confident that I had my bases covered - Justin was the priority and if I needed to carry him to the finish line, emotionally or otherwise, I would see it done. 

The aid station where I would meet up Josh and Justin was very appropriately a converted train depot in Garnett, Kansas. Appropriate, because Justin and Jeff blew into Garnett like a freight train. "We're good, we're going!" Jeff exclaimed as he and Justin grabbed a quick bite to eat, checked in, and got moving. The speed at which they moved, given that Justin was 75 miles into a 100 mile footrace, was amazing. I was certainly caught off guard - there was no way I couldn't have been, as it is rare that any pacing tandem this far into a race exhibited so much energy - but they did, and they were off again. 

Now, I am not one who would consider myself a big believer in "fate". I am certainly not big on coincidences, and if there is a higher power watching over things, I am pretty sure he has more pressing matters to handle than this little event in the Kansas hinterlands. But I will say that, in retrospect, this race unfolded exactly as it should have. Over the rest of the evening, I was doing exactly what I needed to do - resting legs tired by consecutive weeks of tough racing, meeting and supporting Josh, Shane, and Justin at the aid stations through the night and into the following morning, helping the other aid station crews and runners as much as I could, and being there at the finish line to offer my most heartfelt congratulations to them as they finished. Did I want to run? Sure, what runner doesn't want to be out there in the game? But it wasn't my time or place. Jeff was outstanding, and exactly what Justin needed. I think I was able to do more at the aid stations for my teams than I could have out on the trail. And in the end, they all buckled. Major props to all those guys who gave it all they had. It was certainly a sight to behold.

As each one of our guys finished (along with a few new friends I made out on the trail that day) I was able to see the sheer joy and exhaustion that comes from doing what many believe cannot be done. It inspires me to my core and reinforces my belief that there are those who won't be held bound by the status quo and who will strive to do the impossible. Congrats to both of my teams and to everyone who ran this race. I'm thrilled to have had the chance to hang out with so many fine folks and I can't wait for the next one....

Justin doing what many believe can't be done. Photo credit: Kerri Willis-Kerr.

Notes: My congrats also go out to Shane and Gary, who both finished with impressive times as well. Shane was moving so quickly down the trail that I often missed him at the aid stations. He was being paced by Derek Glos, a super tough and speedy runner who took 1st overall in the Mark Twain 100 last year, and the great David Murphy, who needs no introduction. They were a great team. Shane ended up finishing 7th overall. Gary was also from our Team IRC group and somehow I kept missing him at the aid stations. Yet he persevered and buckled, much to the admiration of the team and all involved in his day.