Western States Takeaways

It's been a week since the big day. I've had a little time to reflect on what went right (not much) and what went wrong (a lot) - so I am ready to write some of this down in the hopes that I can do better on the next one.

WHAT DIDN'T GO RIGHT-

Gear

The Hoka Infinite. These are great road shoes but they are worthless on icy trails.

• Poor choice of shoes. I was in my favorite pair of road shoes, the Hoka Infinite. They had no lugs. From what I had heard, this trail is generally not technical and I went with comfort first. Given the ice that we had to deal with early on, this was a disaster. I had a new pair of Stinson 3's with an aggressive tread but was a little wary of wearing new shoes. Bad choice. The Infinites were TERRIBLE in the high country on the ice and in the mud. No traction at all. Definitely should have rocked the Stinsons.

• Handhelds. I went with 2 handhelds instead of a vest for my bottles. My hands could not grab tree branches or bushes to steady myself on the ice. I also could not balance myself very well. Having my hands free would have been a big help up in the mountains. I should have gone with the vest. Hindsight. No way I could have known that.....
• I did not have my 3rd bottle for dousing until Robinson. I am not sure how I would have done this differently, but after Lyon Ridge it got hot, fast. Having the third bottle for dousing with cold water from the stream crossings would have been a huge help. 

Nutrition

• I expected to be able to eat breakfast at Squaw before the race (as they advertised breakfast for the runners starting at 3:30am). I arrived early to take advantage of this. "Breakfast" was a tray of muffins and coffee. That was all they had. Now that's not their fault, but I guess I have a different definition of breakfast. I had planned on having some protein in the morning - bacon, yogurt, etc, maybe with some oatmeal - but none of that was provided. I should have clarified that - it is my fault for assuming. I did have a clif bar and a banana with some coffee when I woke up back at the hotel so I wasn't completely empty but I started with much less in the tank than I had hoped.
• Mixing hydration and nutrition from the start was a bad idea. My plan was to go with Tailwind while out on the course, then eat well at the first aid station. Well, the trip to the first aid station took a lot longer than planned and I was not staying on top of my Tailwind intake. I had no concept of time up there while I was sliding around all over the damn place. My tank started low and I did a poor job of getting calories in. Meanwhile I was burning a TON of energy on that ice. I should have had some gels on hand as a backup plan.
• The aid station food did not correspond to what I had planned on. Especially the early ones. All they had were clif shot gels, these little clif chewy things, and some chips & cookies. Warm soda. Not at all what I expected or planned on. So I ate what I could, but those clif blocks made me want to barf. I wasn't prepared to go it on my own, and I counted on those aid stations for some protein and solid carbs, which they did not provide. I WILL NOT make that mistake again.
• Did I mention that I simply did not get enough calories in?
• I think the diarrhea/vomiting at Last Chance was a result of running so hard for the previous 10-12 miles. I had just burned myself out trying to make up time. And that was a bad place to be heading into the 1st canyon. I didn't know what I was up against. 

Other

• I had a couple bouts of my exercise-induced asthma (bronchioconstriction) that I think was made worse by the heat and altitude in the high country. The dust in the air was problematic as well. It wasn't so bad when I came down out of the mountains but it was a real problem for me between Red Star Ridge and Robinson. 
• I was cocky and arrogant heading into this race. I NEVER FOR ONE SECOND even considered the possibility that I might be up against cutoffs. Seriously, the thought never entered my mind, and I had no mental plan for what I would do if that happened. When I barely made it through Dusty Corners I was in a very bad place mentally. I did not have a "just finish" plan ready to go in such a case. I was thoroughly and completely humbled. 

I do not know if having changed any 1 or 2 of these things would have altered the outcome, but I do feel certain that taken in conjunction they set me back far enough that I could not recover. 

WHAT WENT RIGHT

Training

• I felt fan-damn-tastic heading into this race. I really nailed the training. I worked my ass off. It didn't work out on race day, but that doesn't tell the whole story. Despite WSER being one of my worst races, from a purely training and nutritional standpoint, I feel that I was in as good a place to start a race as I had ever been.
• Aside from race day, I feel like I nailed the nutrition plan. Clean and lean. I felt great and looked great. I did everything leading up to the race Meredith and I talked about, all the way down to electrolytes and hydration on race week.

Crew

• My family and friends who were there to support me were outstanding. Even though my crew could not get to Duncan Canyon, I was fortunate to have a guardian angel there who patched me up and kept me going. When I saw the rest of the gang at Robinson, they were amazing in skirting me through before cutoff. Can't say enough about them all.

Misc

• Even though a lot of things went terribly awry, I still made it 48 miles and only missed the cutoff at Devils Thumb by 10-15 minutes. I was able to make up a lot of time and, thanks to my amazing crew, stay in the game a lot longer than I probably could have otherwise. So, I am proud of that. And of them.
• Packing the bags of ice into my vest was wonderful. I cut several tiny holes in a gallon ziplock bag that they stuffed into my pack, and it would drip cold water on me. This was AWESOME. I should have done this earlier. Unfortunately this didn't come into play until I met my crew at Robinson (mile 30) and picked up my pack from them.  
• Having that 3rd bottle that I picked up at Robinson to douse myself in cold water from the rushing streams was great as well. Great idea from Meredith. Really loved that. 
• If I could have only made it to Michigan Bluff........

What I plan to do differently at Vermont:

• EAT MORE!!! 
• I think it will be a good idea to put myself on a food timer at Vermont. After 45 min-1 hour, ding, eat something - a gel (Huma Gels are my fave), a sandwich that I may have to carry with me, something. I can't "forget" to take in calories. While I would love to be able to go by feel, the fact is that I seem to have the most success when I have a reminder. I would also love to eat as clean as possible but the fact is I need calories in my tank. I need to be more aware of what they are going to have at aid stations as well so I am not surprised.
• I've read that nausea can be a symptom of hunger. I have to push that off as long as possible. Because I had nausea early and often at WSER.
• I'm going to wear the vest with the bottles from the get-go. I'd like my hands to be free. I will also have the baggies ready to stuff with ice early on. I hear it's warm and humid up there - the conditions are exactly the same here in Texas right now. I should be able to handle it, but I really like that ice pack idea.
• EAT MORE!!!
• I didn't have any problems with sodium intake, and aside from when I got sick at Last Chance, I actually never felt dehydrated at States. I did use the S-caps. Will probably stay with those since I am setting the Tailwind aside for the early miles.

I have read that VT is "100 miles of hill repeats". And, that it IS NOT easy. The good thing is that the terrain seems very similar to what I run on every day around here in North Texas - rolling hills on roads and gravel trails. The weather is very similar to what I run in as well. If I can play it smart and NOT get myself into any deficits early on, keep the HR down and the pace comfortable, then I should be able to finish. My coach Ryan Knapp will be there to crew for me and bring me in over the last 30 miles. I will admit that my confidence is pretty shaky, so really the goal is just to finish this damn thing and move on. 

I resumed running a little bit yesterday and today, just some easy shake out miles. The quads are a little tender but otherwise I feel OK. I have just started looking at the Vermont aid stations and started to get the lay of the land in Windsor.

I can't help but feel a lingering twinge of disappointment that I let down my coaches, crew, and friends. I look forward to a better day at Vermont and a shot at redemption again someday at States. So with that in mind, I will say, see you in Windsor!

Embracing the Suck

59 DAYS TO WESTERN STATES

For the past few weeks, I have been hashing and rehashing a number of possible scenarios for the 4 races of the Slam. I've been going over nutrition options, hydration options, rest, recovery, pacers, crew - you name it, I've thought of it. I've been trying to figure out how I can make this process as "painless" as possible.

Yesterday, while on a semi-long recovery run while on a business trip in Rochester, the thought came to me out on the trail that I am trying to avoid the inevitable. I am trying to make this experience "pleasant". I am hoping it will be "fun". But the bottom line is that, no matter how much I want this to NOT suck, here is the inescapable, unavoidable fact:

This is going to suck.

Sure there will be moments of ecstasy but I expect them to be interspersed between quite a bit of agony. In the words of the Angry Jogger himself, at some point (and probably at several points) along the way, things are going to go "tits up". The question I have to be able to answer is, what am I going to do then? Am I going to fight the good fight? Keep plugging along? Or allow that voice in the back of my head to talk me into dropping out, hoping that by some miracle I get another crack at this thing?

I have run several ultras now, and at some point in nearly every single one of them, things have gone terribly awry. I have powered through and finished most of them, dropped out of a few, but in every case I have looked back on the race wondering what I could have done differently to avoid the pain and the struggle. I've made a few changes here and there that have helped, but the bottom line is that the struggle is going to happen. It always has and it always will. It's coming, regardless of the level of preparation and training I put into this. So now, realizing this, what do I do?

Embrace the suck.

That's really all there is to it. The chances that I will get through one race, let alone four of them, without a mental and/or physical crash are beyond minuscule. When the darkness comes, I have to be prepared to go through it. There's a lot I could say about the redemptive power of suffering here, but I will save that for another post. Suffice it to say I should be quite redeemed by the end of this thing. Can I find joy in the difficulty? Gratefulness in the midst of darkness? Hope that I can go on when despair and doubt creep into my psyche?

There is no doubt that the physical challenges of these races will be immense, but I am beginning to realize that the real battles will be in my mind and soul. Would that I can at maintain my peace and joy while those battles rage on.

"The purest suffering bears and carries in it's train the purest understanding." 

-St. John of the Cross 

Back to Grasslands - 2017 Grasslands Trail Marathon Race Report & Training Update

My trail racing season officially began this past weekend on the dusty horse trails near Decatur, Texas, at a race that I have become all-too familiar with: The annual Grasslands Trail Runs. I have run the 50 mile race out there a couple of times in the past and had a general level of familiarity about what I was in for when I signed up, but this would be my first crack at the marathon distance. The funny thing about this event is that, given that it takes place in mid-March in north Texas, the weather can be very unpredictable. Whether I have been running or volunteering, every trip up to Grasslands has presented something different - cold, rain, mud, dry sand...this year's version of the race would present a heaping helping of dry, loose sand and some warmer than usual temperatures. With Texas being Texas, you just get used to the variations and learn to roll with it.

My last few weeks of training had been pretty solid so I had some high hopes for this race - I set a "great day" goal of 3:45, a "decent day" goal of 4 hours, and a "whatever" goal of....whatever. I was not really concerned so much about placing because one can never control who shows up (if team Hoka rolls in here and decides to run the marathon, what are ya gonna do??). So I thought I'd just go with how I felt and see what happens.

There were a couple of last-minute reroutes to the course that necessitated an early morning briefing from Chris Barnwell, the Grasslands race director. Once all the formalities were handled and a prerace picture had been snapped, the countdown quickly drew down and, at 7am sharp, the race began.

WHITE LOOP - 12.80 MILES

I started out of the gate very comfortably with the lead pack. In the predawn hours the temperatures were a little warm but generally pleasant. As we all settled in I enjoyed some chatter with the guys out on the trail. I chose not to run with a headlight, opting instead to make my way by means of the ambient light from the moon and the headlamps of the other runners. (It would just become an unnecessary nuisance once the sun came up within the hour anyway.) I bounced around in the top-5 for the first few miles, not feeling too particularly concerned about who was where and was more concerned about just staying comfortable. Aside from a few minor wrong turns and short course corrections, I stayed in that lead pack for the entire loop. It was fun to be out running fast and I considered for a moment how blessed I am to be able to do this crazy thing that I love so much. As the sun came up over the horizon and the day began to awaken, I tried to take it all in and offer what gratitude I could muster to Him who gave us this day to enjoy.

For the most part, the footing on the trail was pretty solid early on. There were a few soft spots where the sand was loose and grainy, but it wasn't anything that was too difficult to navigate. I found the running to be very pleasant and enjoyed the company of the other guys. Eventually, we spread out a little bit and I began to run on my own. I plugged in for some music and zoned out for a while, keeping up the pace and finishing the White Loop comfortably in around 1:39.

Feeling good at the turn!

BLUE LOOP - 13.50 MILES

I was in and out of the start/finish area quickly, as I only stopped to refill by bottle with Tailwind before I was off for the second loop. By my count, I was in around 4th or 5th place at the turn and still felt pretty good. I hoped that if my luck held up I could make up a little ground on the leaders. It was not long after I left the start/finish area that I ran into some traffic on the trail, as the half marathon - which began an hour and a half after the marathon - had just started. As I tried to patiently navigate and weave through the new contingent of runners who had entered the fray I lost sight of the guys ahead of me, and had to be content with trying to maintain my pace among several lines of single-file runners on the narrower sections of the trail.

In addition to the slew of new runners out on Blue Loop, I was beginning to notice that the temperatures had begun to rise considerably as the sun broke above the treetops. Despite my intentions to keep a positive attitude and push through it, I noticed my heart rate began to climb while my mile splits began to slip. Around 18 miles in, I made the decision to ease back on my pace, lest I risk burning out short of the finish line! The next 3-4 miles were slower going (comparatively) but I was able to maintain at least a comfortable jog for the most part.

Coming in to the last aid station. Not feeling so great - I even forgot to smile for the camera!
(Thanks to Mark O for this one as well.)

As I entered the last aid station at mile 23, I was really trying to keep it together - my bottle was empty and my spirits were a little down. I was moving decently but not as well as I had hoped when I began the loop. Fortunately I had a secret weapon waiting for me at the last aid station - my daughter, who had come out to help for the day, was there! Oh happy day!! I was so glad to see her and hear her call out to me. I wish I had felt a little better, but she's seen me in low points in races before so she knew what to expect. They quickly patched me up at the aid station, and after a hug and a kiss from my daughter, I was off again.

And, I'm off! (Thanks to Shama for the pic!)

Best Aid Station EVERRRRR! (Thanks to Mark O for the pic!)

The last few miles were a mix of pushing hard, easing back, hiking a little, pushing, easing up, repeat, repeat...The temperature was approaching 80 at this point and I was just about ready to call it a day. There's a stretch of the course that runs alongside a dam before climbing a hill back up to the main road that marks the entrance to the park, signaling to the runners that the end is near. I felt a little more spring in my step knowing the finish line was not that far off, and once I climbed the last hill I pushed the pace until at last I reached the parking area. I had forgotten about the short re-route around the finish line that added another 3/4-mile to the course but I was able to dispatch with that rather quickly and finish in a solid 3:28.

I'd say overall the day went well for me - the course was in great shape, the camaraderie out there was fantastic, and the race organizers did an amazing job of juggling a last-minute rush of entrants coupled with some searing March temperatures. Chris Barnwell and NTTR have a great track record for solid events and this one was no different - right down to the catered barbeque post-run meal for the runners! The one thing I think I can count on, though, is that if and when I do come back to run this race in the future, the scene will probably look very different!

POST SCRIPT - 13 WEEKS TO WESTERN STATES

It's been a few days since Grasslands and I am pleased to report that I feel very good - no soreness or fatigue to speak of. I took Sunday & Monday off just to be sure everything was good to go. I was back at it with an hour hike on the treadmill at 15% incline and a couple miles of easy running early this morning. I'll have a couple recovery runs over the next few days that will add some easy miles to this week before I get to some more steady climbing and distance work again over the weekend. With a little over 3 months to go before this thing kicks off, I have to say that I am encouraged by where I am right now - but I realize there is much work still to be done.

And so, the work continues. See you in Squaw - or maybe, since I'm a Texan, I should say...

See y'all in Squaw!!

Beginning To See The Starting Line...

It's beginning to dawn on me as the days and weeks pass by with seemingly increasing rapidity that one day very soon I am going to wake up in the dark, predawn hours of the morning in a hotel room in northern California, don my trusty running gear, stumble to the starting line of a crazy mountain race surrounded by a sea of illuminated foreheads, hear a muted countdown, and then at the sound of the gun, begin this epic quest that has dominated my psyche for the past 3 years. In the times when I would daydream about the Grand Slam when I was out on a training runs I had always assumed that I would somehow feel "different" when the time came to run it - that through extensive training, mental preparation, and experience, I would have a deep and varied bag of tricks that would enable me to tough it out and reach beyond the boundaries of my physical capabilities with gusto and panache.

Mr. Incredible!

Well, with under 16 weeks of training time to go until Western States (actually 14 weeks, if you consider a 2-week taper), I am becoming more conscious of the fact that from a preparation standpoint I am NOT going to be a significantly different person from the one I am today. Sure, I'll have a few more weeks worth of training runs under my belt, but really, what am I going to be able to do in these next several weeks that will make much of a difference in my ability to finish? Probably not much. I do have a decent level of experience from which to draw and with a little luck I will have had a solid training cycle behind me when I get to Squaw Valley. Hopefully the weather will cooperate and any problems that might arise from the list of "things I can't control" will stay relatively short. But either way I will have to adapt and overcome.

Because regardless of how much training I put in, or how many dietary changes I make, or how much time I spend in the gym, there are going to be a number of tough moments when I won't want to continue. (Probably several in each race!) There will be wardrobe malfunctions, problems at aid stations, periods of low energy, dehydration, heat, cold, and who even knows what else. The real question will be not so much am I properly trained, but am I completely resolved to continue? Because if I can't answer in the strong "affirmative" to that second question, all other questions are rendered moot.

I'll head to Squaw Valley in June with 20-something years of training and racing behind me. It's that depth of experience that will either get me through this, or it won't. I am keeping in mind that what I do between now and then will be the icing on the cake. The final passes of sharpening the blade on the whetstone, if you will. If I don't have "it" by now, I'm not going to get "it" by the time this thing kicks off in June. That's both a comforting thought and a somewhat disconcerting one!

Ultimately, I am who I am - and that's OK. For now though, the final stages of my preparation begins.

17 Weeks To Go

From an update I posted to Facebook last week......

Training Update: 17 Weeks to Western States.

This was supposed to be a "race week" for me, capped off with the Cowtown 50k on Sunday. The plan was to run it as a training race to dial in some nutrition stuff and kick some of the winter rust off. But unfortunately life happens, and due to a scheduling conflict I won't be able to run it. Bummer.

I'm trying not to think too much beyond Western States, but the other races need a little attention as well. Fortunately Ryan has me covered on race logistics for Vermont 100 (HUGE thanks!!), but I haven't really started looking into planning for Leadville or Wasatch yet. I am still a little thin on crew and pacing for Leadville. Meaning, I don't have any. I have a "maybe" pacer for L'ville, but that's it for now. We'll see how that comes together. My brothers Chris, Reece, and Josh will be at Wasatch, so I am resting easy about that one for the moment.

All in all training is going very well. My focus with my coach, Ryan Knapp, is on running economy and strength - hill repeats, long runs with "surges", fartleks, and the like. Average weekly mileage is right around 50 mpw, and I feel very comfortable with that. The ramp up will begin in earnest here in another month or so. That's when the fun really starts.

Meredith, my nutrition coach, has provided some early dietary objectives centered around improving my fat adaptability and my nutrition between workouts for recovery. It's good stuff and has me back to focusing on the fundamentals.

The next race for me will be the Grasslands Trail Marathon in March, followed by Pandora's 52 miler in April. My States buddy Dan should be back in a few weeks and Josh is healing nicely, so it'll be good to start fleshing out our plans for Squaw in the coming weeks....

Pax et bonum!

Off and running......

The beautiful, rugged hills of Bandera

Last weekend was the annual running of the Bandera 100k in the lovely Texas Hill Country near San Antonio. While I was not technically a participant, I had a great time keeping my FOMO in check by volunteering, crewing, and pacing out on the rough-and-tumble course that seems to breed more rocks every time I get out onto those trails. It enabled me to revisit the ghosts of my disappointment at the 2016 Cactus Rose 100 (where I was forced to drop after 50 miles) and hopefully exorcise those demons along the way.

In looking ahead at the spring calendar, I am considering a few different events that could serve as tune-ups for the summer's big events. The most likely candidates for training "races" would be local events like the Cowtown 50k and the Grasslands Trail Marathon - and while neither of these would remotely resemble the terrain I'll face in the summer (Cowtown is entirely on roads for all intents and purposes), they would give me a chance to work on a new nutrition plan and get some decent training miles in. I had planned on looking into Jemez 50 in New Mexico as a training run in May, but it sounds like that race may be a little high on the difficulty scale given its proximity to Western States. We'll see.

Training has begun in earnest, with time trials, hill repeats, and strength work taking center stage. My mileage is still relatively low - in the 40 mile/week range - but that will certainly increase in the coming weeks and months. While it feels good to get back to work on the roads and in the gym with a definite end-goal in mind, what is most exciting to me right now is my partnership with Meredith Terranova of Eating & Healthy Living LLC. We are developing a new nutrition plan focused more on metabolic efficiency (reducing my need for carbohydrate calories during training and racing) and looking at a number of the variables around race day nutrition that could be affecting my performance. It has been an illuminating beginning, as I feel we are getting to the root of many of the problems I have had in long races over the past couple years.

Between working with Ryan Knapp at M2GE and Meredith at E&HL, I feel very confident that I'm working with a great team who will give me the tools I need to get to the finish line at Wasatch. I feel like we're off to a good start!

2016 Mohican Trail 100 Race Report

"I've got to catch him," I thought to myself. "Maximum effort!" I had finally reached mile 99 of the Mohican Trail 100 and had spent the better part of the past 25 miles trying to pick off runners in an attempt to keep myself moving forward. I've found over the years that playing such mental games can keep a tired mind and body engaged and in the moment, and can mean the difference between a strong finish and a slow "death march". After an up-and-down day and night on the trail I was ready to be finished - but not after I tried to catch up to one more guy. The runner (whom I came to find out was named Paul) maintained a steady gait as we ran along the street toward the finish line. I was running all-out and felt there might still be a chance to finish alongside him. Despite some earlier struggles I was clipping off this last stretch along the road at around 7:30 pace. Not bad for an average Joe from Texas. I had run very well through the night and into the morning, filling my mind with "if-only" and "what-if'" scenarios that maybe this race could have turned out a little differently for me. But it was what it was, and now it was time to wrap it up. Crossing the final footbridge and running through the field adjacent to the finish line, I maintained hope I might catch Paul until I saw him make the final turn and raise his hands at the finish. I was very impressed with his steadiness over the last stretch of the race. 17 seconds later, I was crossing that same finish line. I was thrilled to collect my buckle from my crew and call it a day. I congratulated Paul on his effort, hugged and high-fived my crew, and went to look for a place to sit down. 

------------------------------------------------------------

I came to the 2016 Mohican 100 for one reason - to finish, and by doing so collect a qualifying race for the 2017 Western States Endurance Run lottery. My training had been steady over the past few months, as mentioned in my previous post, though it was hardly what I would consider appropriate for a race like this. In fact, I hadn't even been on a proper trail since Wild Hare 50 down in Warda, Texas, seven months before. Much of my work had been on flat trails and roads in preparation for my spring road races. There was no race specific training, very little hill work, no "dial-in-my-nutrition" long runs, or any of the other by-the-book race preparation tactics. It just so happened that I could work out the logistics of being in Ohio at the time of the race. I would drive down from Cleveland and spend the weekend on the trails in Loudonville and take a shot at this 100 miler. What could possibly go wrong?

While I was not able to spend much time preparing for the race in a traditional sense, I did do some research leading up to the event to familiarize myself with what I was getting myself into. I read a few race reports and gave the race map a quick looking over. From what I could tell, the course itself consisted of 4 loops through the beautiful and lush Mohican Memorial State Forest in Loudonville, Ohio. The first 2 loops were approximately 27 miles each with the finishing 2 loops clocking in at around 23 miles each. The reason for the difference in distances is a short detour in loops 1 and 2 that would take runners through a densely wooded gorge that I heard referred to as the "enchanted forest". (More on this in a moment.) This section would be cut out of loops 3 and 4, but otherwise the same aid stations and trail segments would be utilized throughout the entirety of the race. The elevation changes did not seem to be too severe - roughly 14,000' of climbing and descending over 100 miles - so the primary challenges as I saw them would be staying patient, managing what would be a warm, sunny day on Saturday, and despite being a little under trained, figuring out a way to get to the finish line.

The race began at the entrance to Mohican State Park, a campground which on this particular weekend was packed with hikers, campers, mountain bikers, and outdoor enthusiasts. Since the 100 mile race began at 5am runners were encouraged to be mindful of the campers in the park and keep as quiet as reasonably possible. Thus, the nervous chatter that typically marks the start of a 100 miler was kept to a minimum. The countdown and race start were equally subdued. I barely heard the director whisper "go", and the typical whoops and hollers as runners charge off were non existent. We quietly shuffled off into the morning darkness. The first mile or so of the race was on the road through the state park - a move intended to help "thin the herd" before runners are funneled onto the single track trail network in the forest. (A substantial bottleneck would no doubt ensue otherwise.) The only sounds were the shuffling of shoes along the road and the sloshing of water in bottles and hydration packs. The relative silence only seemed to heighten the tension as we were all left to our own thoughts. Before long we had reached the trail. We crossed a small wooden footbridge, made a quick turn to the right, and we were off.

The first stretch of the race consisted of several short rollers before a long climb that would take runners up a couple hundred feet of mountain bike trails and deeper into the forest. The sun had not yet crept above the horizon, so the beginning of the race was in darkness, punctuated only by a string of headlamps extending in front of me and behind me in the night. I was joined on the trail by my 2 good friends from Texas, Reece and Josh, who were both looking for solid races on what we expected to be a good weather day with exceptional trail conditions. Josh's wife Leslie made the trip to be our "crew extraordinaire", tending to the three of us as best she could throughout the day. (She did a phenomenal job.) The trail did not disappoint - the relatively dry conditions over the past week in the area had left the trail firm, clean, and in very runnable shape. We ran the first 8 or so miles together, but I decided to slow my pace a bit and let them continue on ahead. I stopped for a brief time at the second aid station, Fire Tower (mile 9), to collect my thoughts and make sure I was in good shape with my nutrition. 

The woods were lovely, dark, and deep....

The trail was always very well marked and the course was easy to follow.

Early morning on the trail...

The segment of the race from the Fire Tower aid station to the Covered Bridge aid station on loops 1 and 2 is a pretty good hike, clocking in at around 6.2 miles. The rolling hills would eventually lead to a long wooden staircase that would bring us down to the base of a sheer rock wall and a trickling waterfall several stories high. From there we would wind through the "enchanted forest" - a deep valley overgrown with ferns and other fauna that culminated at a steep "wall of roots" that we must climb to leave the valley and rejoin the mountain biking trail.

The stairs down to the falls.

The falls. There's water there, trust me.

I found the "enchanted forest" to be simply breathtaking. I did not expect such a spectacular geographical feature in this race and was taken aback by the sheer scale of the cliff walls and the size of the fallen trees that were strewn about (and in many case, over) the trail. Given that the trail was so overgrown down here it would have been a difficult section to really "run" so I slowed to a hike and enjoyed the scenery. 

There is a trail through here....

And here.....

A botanist's dream.

The wall o' roots!

The "root wall" itself was not particularly difficult to navigate. In short order I had emerged back onto the mountain biking trail and was heading toward the next aid station. Not far from the root wall - maybe 1/2 mile - the trail opened to a large crew area overlooking the river. It was refreshing to see the enthusiastic "crew-ers" as they congratulated every runner who emerged from the forest. We would follow another long stairway down into a valley and onto a footpath that paralleled a tranquil stream for about a mile or so until we reached the Covered Bridge aid station, named for - well, you know. 

Heading down the stairs into the valley...

Hey, a covered bridge! They should name an aid station after this thing!

So up to this point, things were moving along according to plan. (Except that I really didn't have a plan, but no matter.) I felt good, my stomach was in check, and I was moving well. I kept my pace dialed back and stayed at what I considered to be a relaxed, "all-day" pace. I hiked the hills, ran the flats and downhills, and kept my heart rate low. Upon my arrival at Covered Bridge, I was somewhat dismayed to learn that due to a communication glitch, our drop bags had not been delivered yet. My backup nutrition of tailwind and stinger waffles would be delayed for another 30 minutes! (Gasp!) So I had to improvise. The next stretch of the race would be more challenging, with a very long, steady climb awaiting us coming out of this aid station and a number of subsequent climbs afterwards. We had roughly 5 1/2 miles to our next oasis in the woods, so I made the best of it. I refilled my water bottles and grabbed some aid station food (PBJ sandwiches) and hit the trail. 

The road from Covered Bridge to Hickory Ridge is tough out of the gate, as almost immediately we turned and headed uphill. The next mile or so was a series of long climbs followed by short flats followed by more climbs. The trail eventually flattened out into some very runnable stretches here, but not before we were treated to a steady diet of long climbs and short descents. We would climb up and around ridge lines, over roots and rocks (a very prominent feature of the course - "Rocky Raccoon on steroids" as Reece called it), roll over hills and down a long straight lane bordered by majestic trees that stood like like watchful sentinels over the forest floor. 

Hickory Ridge was a smaller but no less enthusiastic aid station that represented the final stop on the way back to the state park. The final stretch of the race was very runnable; in fact, despite the fact that it was nearly 7 miles from Hickory Ridge to the state park, I found myself able to make great time by running it in nearly the entire way. There were a couple of short, steep hills approaching the campground followed by a short stretch through the camp and then around 2 miles of road running. I felt at home on the roads and was able to quickly dispatch this segment. I cruised into the state park aid station and before long headed out for loop 2.

I knew coming into the race that loop 2 would be the most difficult, as the midday sun and humidity would wreak havoc on my digestion. This, unfortunately, did turn out to be the case. I made it back to covered bridge at around mile 42 before things started to get rough. I had a tough time taking in calories, but I was still persistently trying. It was far too early to abandon my nutrition and I was going to go with my Tailwind as long as I could stomach it. I would fill buffs and handkerchiefs with ice at each aid station, walk as much as I could, and just keep pressing on. The second loop, as predicted, was much slower than my first. On the bright side - and this is important - most of this course is in shade. There is very little of the course that is exposed, so even though the heat could be stifling, at least the sun was hidden above the canopy of trees.

Upon finishing my second loop, my stomach completely gave out, leaving me hiding behind a tree purging the scant nutrition that I had managed to get down over the last several miles of loop 2. This did help me feel modestly better, but taking in food was still going to be a problem. I hoped I could walk it off, so I had a few small items at the aid station and headed back out. The 4.5 miles from the state park to the Gorge Overlook aid station was tortuously slow. I arrived at Gorge Overlook ready to call it a day. I couldn't eat, I was becoming dehydrated, and I was in very bad spirits.

With Josh. A couple of not-so-happy campers.

My day was saved with the help of some anti-nausea medicine I picked up at the aid station, which allowed me to start eating again. When my appetite returned, I ate plentifully at the aid station buffet and soon felt my strength return as well. I would take it easy for another segment, but it was not long before I was able to pick up the pace and resume running hard. As the sun went down and the first chills of the cooler night air began to cover the trail, I thought I might just pull this off yet!

I ran strong through the night, checking off aid station after aid station. (Note: the disco aid station, Fire Tower, was crazy at night, with its pounding house music and laser light show.) I focused on eating real food - the Tailwind and Stinger Waffles were long since gone from my nutrition plan, as they seemed to trigger the nausea - and supplementing occasionally with a Huma gel if needed. But I was making great time and didn't need much supplementation between aid stations. I did hit a few low spots along the way, and unfortunately the nausea did return later in the race, but it was not nearly the problem I had to deal with earlier. I was able to manage it with some papaya enzymes I had in my drop bag.

With the morning came a renewed sense of energy and purpose. Remarkably, there was a refreshingly cool breeze that permeated the trees that accompanied the sunrise that lifted my spirits tremendously. My pacing had become somewhat erratic again, as I would charge ahead only to be shortly feel overtaken by fatigue. I would slow and recover, then push ahead, and the cycle would repeat. I focused on the "little" picture, getting from aid station to aid station, and making continued forward progress.

With the exception of several miles that I ran with a guy from Philadelphia (also named Chris) I spent most of the race running solo. My friend Reece had built a lead on me that I couldn't overcome, even when I was running well. (He bested me by exactly one hour.) Josh had to bow out after dealing with a crippling case of plantar fascitis for nearly 60 miles. So I spent the last 20 miles trying to pick off runners just to keep up the pace. I was eager to call it a day. As I left Hickory Ridge for the last time, I thanked all the volunteers, grabbed one last handful of food for the road, and headed out. I only had 6.2 miles to go.

I could finally sense the finish line approaching. I ran up and over every hill, throwing all caution to the wind. Finally, as I emerged onto the road for the last couple miles to the finish, I saw a guy in a red shirt up ahead of me. 

I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can catch him?"

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta....

Team Texas! Me, Reece, Leslie, & Josh

Finish:  27:44:37

Quick Hits:

• Staying at one of the adjacent campgrounds to Mohican State Park would be highly recommended. The race start & finish are easy to find, but race day parking is limited and stretches a pretty good distance from those locations.
• If the weather cooperates, there are some very runnable stretches of trail where you can make up time lost on the climbs. The climbs are frequent but not too severe. The toughest I recall were on the first segment about a mile and a half in, the stretch between Covered Bridge and Hickory Ridge (especially right after leaving CB) and the short steep climbs just before you arrive back in the campground area.
• There are a lot of rocks and roots on this course. It's not technical by any means, but don't shuffle along.
• The aid stations were fantastic. They were well stocked, and while the food was the standard stuff, the volunteers were wonderful. 
• We had a glitch in getting the drop bags to Covered Bridge in time for loop 1 runners this year that seemed to upset some people. I am sure this was not the norm for this race, as everything else from top to bottom seemed very professional and well organized. 
• 250 registered runners (largest field ever for this race). Only 121 finished. I was fortunate to be one of them. It was a tough day.

Rolling the Dice

For the past month or so I have allowed myself a bit of a break from social media, which has come to include some time away from blogging as well. There honestly hasn't been much to report outside of taking some recovery time after the race in Boston and working on some standard "rebuild" training regimens that are all just a part of the grind of staying in shape. I have been considering a few topics for future posts - like how we seem to "insulate" ourselves from the natural world and how we try to keep nature in comfortable boxes, my growing disdain for technology and being constantly wired-in (I am becoming the "old man" who shakes his fist at those kids today and their newfangled contraptions), and why I think this guy is all wrong. Among other things.

For now though, I think it is worth mentioning that my racing calendar has changed a bit. I have decided to forego the Captain Karl's night time trail series and step up and have a go at the Mohican Trail 100 in Ohio next weekend. My training, while unspectacular in terms of overall mileage, has been steady in the weeks since Boston. My only goal is to finish the race and  achieve my Western States qualifier for 2017 rather than to wait until the Javelina 100 in Arizona in late October. That could free up my time to go back to a race I have come to love to hate, that fall rite of passage known as the Cactus Rose 100, down in Bandera. 

Of course, I have to finish this monster first. My plan is to dial it way back, work on in-race nutrition and hydration, and try to achieve more of a balanced race than what I have done in my 100's in the past. But outside of that, just keep moving forward. I will take plenty of pics and provide a race recap that future runners can use as a reference - a recap that will hopefully include a shiny buckle at the finish. Dream big! 1 week until race day.

Reflections on the Tarahumara & Boston Training Notes

Tarahumara runners. (Source: http://born2run.pl/raramuri-eng/)

"The Tarahumara treat running as a fine art, something to be learned slowly and perfected over a lifetime...the goal isn't necessarily to become fast, it's to become good. Artists don't obsess over speed; they obsess over mastering skills. For runners, that skill is form. The more you learn about moving your body lightly and efficiently, the closer you'll be to running like the Tarahumara."
-Christopher McDougall (Emphasis mine)




I love this quote about the Raramuri, the running people of Mexico known to us by way of Christopher McDougall's seminal book "Born To Run". It's so easy to get captivated by numbers in our sport - how many miles one can run per week, how fast one can complete this or that race, what PR's we may hold, FKT's on exotic courses, and the like. Then throw on top of that the requisite .gps data, heart rate zones, and VO2 max, and it's easy to become paralyzed by all that data. It's fun to track our progress as we train to become "fast", but isn't that is such a relative term? What is fast for one person is not for another. What is fast over one particular distance may not be in another. I find it extremely refreshing and encouraging to think that there is something far more fundamental in the sport of running than finishing time and metrics.

Running can be pure joy. Of course it takes some time and work to reach that point, as ours is not a culture of simplicity in movement like that of the Tarahumara. Sometimes it's difficult and frustrating. But I think there is much we can learn from our neighbors to the south. We can run not to just get faster, but to become better. Better in our form. Better in our mental approach to the sport. Maybe even better in our approaches to life. I for one can attest to the positive impact that the sport has had on my life - no doubt, many others can do the same. And for this reason, I'll keep at it for as long as I am able.

Training Notes

So today was my last "long" run in advance of Boston - an 18 miler with 9 miles at my projected marathon pace. I'm targeting 6:40/mi as my race pace, and despite some challenging Texas spring winds today, I was able to hold pace for the most part at or below my target. I'm encouraged by my progress this spring - my races have been on point, I picked up my half marathon PR, my workouts have been on point, I'm not dealing with any injuries (knock on wood), and I generally feel very strong heading into the big race. If I can stay healthy for a couple more weeks, sidestep any airborne viruses, and hope for some decent weather, then I may have a pretty good shot at breaking that 3 hour mark.

Sounds easy enough. I had a plan (well, my coach did!), and I worked my plan. Now it's just about time to execute the plan....2 weeks to go!

A Contrast in Styles

The past few weeks of training have been a bit of a shock to my system - but in a good way (I think). As opposed to the higher mileage/slower pace training runs to which I had become accustomed over the last year or so of running ultras, much of my training lately has been in my higher heart rate zones as I push ahead with my attempt to PR or even go sub-3 hours in Boston in April.

There are a number ways to train for a marathon. In my experience, I've noticed that most plans can generally be grouped into one of two schools of thought. The first places more emphasis on long, slow mileage (high base miles) with a dash of speed work at the end of the training cycle. The second is a lower mileage but higher effort approach that focuses more on tempo runs, progression runs and fartlek-style speed work throughout the course of the training cycle. Last year in Boston I was coming off of a number of weeks of much higher volume training at slower paces which actually served me very well in that race, powering me to a new personal record in the marathon. I would routinely hit 80+ miles in training and had completed a 100k, 100 miler, and a 50 miler in the months leading up to Boston. This gave me a huge mental advantage as well - by the time I toed the line in Hopkinton , I viewed that race as little more than a long speed work session. 

Fast forward to this year. I have intentionally stepped my training mileage down considerably (not to mention having cut out the spring ultras that I have run over the last couple of years) in an effort to focus on some recovery and avoid becoming burned out on the trails. This hasn't tempered any of my Boston ambitions; in fact, I am setting the bar higher for this year's race. To compensate for the lower mileage, my training has been squarely in the second camp this year, with much more high-intensity work (zones 3 and 4) being done on the roads and even on the treadmill instead of the trails.

cowtownmarathon.org

My first key training race in preparation for Boston will fall in about a week's time at the Cowtown Half Marathon where I will get my first real opportunity to gauge how things are going. If everything goes according to plan, I should finish in the 1 hour 26 minute range, which (depending on how I feel after that effort) would tell me that I am right on target with my dreams of a 3-hour Boston. I'll have another key half marathon in March where I would hope to improve on my Cowtown time by a minute or two. 

That's the plan, anyway. Now we'll see how it all comes together.

Things are looking up!

I've got to admit it's getting better,

A little better all the time....

-The Beatles

I'm pleased to report that things are healing up nicely after the tough race of a couple weeks ago. The scratches and scrapes have almost disappeared, the aches and pains suffered at the hands of the rocks at Reveille Peak Ranch are healing up, and I've been able to resume challenging workouts again. This week saw most of my efforts focused on the treadmill as I have been working on climbing - incline workouts at 12% and higher, mainly hiking, but with a little running thrown in. I've been able to top 3,000' of climbing with each workout which has helped me from a mental standpoint in that I feel a little more prepared for the long climbs I'll face in Virginia. 

While my logistical preparations for the race are still in the early stages - I still have not decided on a nutrition plan, I am still collecting information about the aid stations, and as of now I do not have a pacer - I am at least starting to feel like I will at least approach the starting line rested and healthy. I'll pick up the mileage a bit this week and next, aiming for the 60 mile range before easing off on race week. There's not much I can do now except maintain my current level of fitness. There's no reason to risk getting injured or over trained while trying to cram in too many miles in advance of race day.

I made a comment to close my race recap at Reveille Peak Ranch that may have given the impression that I may not be completely confident in my abilities to rise to the occasion and meet this upcoming challenge. While I thought about editing it, I let it stand; the fact is, I don't exactly know how I am going to get there and back again. But I am working on it. Physically, I can do it. Mentally, I can do it. What it will come down to is a matter of working through the plan and showing up ready to let my body do what it knows how to do. To relax, remain in the moment, and grind it out. 

I've been reading over a few race reports and trail recon posts that go into some detail about the technicality of the course and the challenges of the frequent climbs and descents. I'll begin my preparations accordingly. I borrowed a couple of trail pics to add below. I look forward to taking some of my own pictures to tell the story of this amazing event. 

I'm excited about getting this process started! Or as Sherlock Holmes would say, "The game is afoot!!"

Wild Oak Trail. (valhallase.com)

Reddish Knob. (iseetrails.wordpress.com)

A breathtaking view of the Virginia mountains. (http://changultraadventures.blogspot.com/2014/10/grindstone-100-race-report-2014.html)