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!

And just like that, January is in the rear view mirror! We currently sit around 19 weeks out from Western States and from a training standpoint things are moving along well. My training load is still relatively light, with my weekly mileage checking in at around 50 miles per week. Most of my workouts are incorporating some sort of hill training - either multiple repeats on short, steep hills outside or longer "hiking" sessions on the treadmill at 12% incline or more. Add a couple days of strength training, a weekend long run of around 15-20 miles, a day of rest here and there, and voila! You have my off-season training regimen. 

While things have been a little easier on the training side, I've been given to reflect on other important dimensions of my upcoming summer adventure. Namely, what is God trying to teach me through this? Could it be humility? Trust? Dependence upon His grace and providence? The value of suffering? While I don't generally make an outward show of my return to the Church after many years away (that subject is probably an entire post unto itself), I cannot but help but view this opportunity through the prism of my recent "reversion" experiences and appreciate that things are happening at this time in particular. It's pretty cool to see the proverbial stars line up when considering events through such a lens.

Having said that, I am also reflecting on how utterly self-obsessive this undertaking is going to be. Between the costs of the four events themselves, "training" races, travel arrangements, coaching, gear, and shoes, it goes without saying that this is an expensive proposition. Beyond that, the time required to train and recover is extensive and will require a great deal of patience and support from my friends and family. I'm blessed to have a fantastic "support system" but it still gives me pause from time to time as I consider what I am asking of others. So on a spiritual level, what lessons could I learn from this unfortunate reality?

[Insert Profound Spiritual Insight Here]

Well, I haven't come up with an adequate answer to that yet. All I can say is that I am certain that there ARE insights and lessons that will manifest themselves along the way. At some point I would like to chronicle some of the parallels that I have come to recognize between my running life and my fledgling spiritual life. (Don't expect profundity. That's not my thing.) I do believe that through running, God has prepared me to return to life in the Spirit and to accept the burdens and challenges that come with it. (This might be one reason why the bible is so replete with running metaphors. I mean, if the shoe fits....)

So now I roll into February. Saint Sebastian, patron of runners, pray for me!

The Mental Game

"...DETERMINATION ALONE IS NOT GOING TO GET YOU TO THE FINISH.

EVERYONE WHO STEPS TO THE GATE WILL BE DETERMINED AS HELL.

DETERMINATION IS A PRE-REQUISITE.

SUCCESS TAKES A LOT MORE THAN DETERMINATION."

 ----- LAZARUS LAKE

The iconic Lazarus Lake spoke these words when considering the guts and gumption of the few brave souls chosen to attempt his annual Barkley Marathons at Frozen Head State Park in Tennessee, widely regarded as the most difficult test of endurance running going today. So few have finished this event that some consider it nigh impossible. But some do finish Barkley. In considering the task before me, his words struck a chord as I considered the intestinal fortitude that I'll have to find to finish the Slam.

I would be lying if I didn't admit right off the bat that there are not only tiny seeds of doubt coursing through my subconscious when it comes to completing these 4 races, but fully grown fields and forests of the stuff. It's really not so much the distances involved. As Karl Meltzer famously said, "100 miles is not that far." My philosophy is pretty simple - one step at a time, one aid station at a time. Don't look too far ahead, stay in the moment, and keep moving forward. It's easy to say that now but I am all too familiar with the tendency to lose focus and start thinking about the "big picture" in the heat of the moment.

As I look at the races themselves, there is one that far and away causes my stomach to tighten in knots more than the others : Leadville. Much like its famed Hope Pass, that race stands as the towering roadblock in my quest to finish the big four. The complications Leadville presents to the aspiring sea-level-living finisher include the altitude, the relatively short time limit (30 hours), the altitude, Hope Pass itself, and - did I mention the altitude? Unfortunately I do not have the luxury of being able to take a 2-week hiatus from life to gallivant through the mountains acclimating myself to the low oxygen one tends to find at 9,000' elevation, so I am already at a stark disadvantage. I am unsure of the science (and turned off to the cost) of altitude tents. So planning for that race will occupy a disproportionate share of my attention. And just to add to my anxieties, Leadville happens sport the highest drop rate of the 4 races:

From an excellent blog post by Will Cooper: http://www.willrunlonger.com/2016/07/grand-slam-drop-rates.html

Don't think the irony of my being concerned about Leadville here in January is lost on me - even now, I am looking far ahead and not staying in the moment! It's so easy to fall into that trap and I haven't even toed a starting line yet. Right now the focus must be on some solid early-season base mileage, cleaning up my nutrition, working on some race-day fueling strategies in tune-up races, and - this is important - RELAXING. I need to trust that the plan will come together and take it one day at a time.

Memes are fun.

Getting back to Lazarus Lake's quote - so if it's not just resolve that separates the finishers from the wannabes, what, then, will it take to get this done? Surely many who fell short of their goal were determined. They were prepared. Trained. They had planned. And yet....things just didn't come together.

So, what am I going to do?

Be determined. Prepare. Train. Plan. And, most importantly....RELAX. If, by God's providence, I should make it to - and then, through - this experience, it'll be something I will look back on for the rest of my life. I'd do well to make sure I savor the adventure every step of the way.

"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34

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!

FOMO is not my friend!

Prior to receiving the news that Western States was in my future (and, by extension, Vermont, Leadville and Wasatch) I had pretty much banked on a winter/spring racing schedule that would include Bandera 100k, Rocky Raccoon 100, and possibly some other late spring road race. I had maintained a training schedule through November that would have me ready to race in January and hopefully allow for a 100 mile PR attempt at Rocky in February.

From a training standpoint, December got off to a good start, beginning with a modest recovery week that included some extra strength work in the gym and some sessions on the spin bike to promote some active recovery. My plans for the next few months hadn't changed yet so I felt that I was in a great position to start ramping my mileage back up in preparation for the races that lay ahead.

That was all pre-Squaw. Now that I am living in a post-lottery drawing world, things have been decidedly different. The last few weeks of December have been mediocre at best. I have had a few decent runs, but nothing over 10 miles. Not all of this has been by design - a busy travel schedule and a case of the winter crud has forced me to make some accommodations in my training. When I have hit such a slump in the past, a quick and easy solution has been to put a race on the calendar. I'd simply pick a race a month or two out and get back on the training wagon. Done!

The problem is that the old rules don't apply now. I have to embrace this slow time as a sort of "off-season" (a task that is supremely difficult for me to do) and realize that there is a bigger picture here. I can't fall into the trap of thinking "well, so-and-so runs a ton of races, so I should too!" Taking time off is difficult for any athlete committed to their sport but this period of rest and recovery is a necessary part of the process.

So while I'm in R&R mode, I will catch up on my sleep, spend some time on a few other non-running hobbies, and even volunteer my time at a few of those cool winter/spring trail races. I'll spend a little more time working on core strength, fine-tuning my diet, and getting ready for the time when training intensifies and the miles ramp up again. It'll be here before I know it. In the meantime, I'll try to fight the FOMO (fear of missing out) and stay as far away from Ultrasignup as I can.....

Changing Directions

Mission Accomplished! (Image: teambonding.com)

"Perhaps I am stronger than I think."

-Thomas Merton

I've been fortunate to have experienced a number of pretty amazing things in my "side-life" as a runner. From 5k's to marathons and beyond, major big city races with thousands of spectators to small town races with just a few loved ones at the finish line, from road races to trail runs, from the thrill of victory to the agony of defeat - I've just about covered the entire spectrum. It's been a wild ride, and I've been blessed beyond measure to have been able to be a part of it. To be honest, I didn't really see how it could get any wilder. What new frontiers could the future hold?

Then on December 3rd, 2016, things got crazy. So crazy in fact that I felt it was worth breaking my sabbatical from the blogosphere, if nothing else, to chronicle the craziness for the sake of posterity:

Because on December 3rd, I was accepted into the Western States 100 Endurance Run.

And on December 10th, I signed up for the 2017 Grand Slam of Ultrarunning.

To say that this is a challenge for which I am wholly unprepared would be an understatement of elephantine proportions. The struggles I have had to overcome in past ultramarathons will pale in comparison to the extremes of heat/cold, altitude, remoteness, and fatigue that are sure to be the norm as I make my way over the 400 miles of the Slam.

And yet, here we are! The real work will begin soon as the holidays wrap up and the new calendar year begins. There will be a period of strength training and moderate mileage that will build into longer miles and climbing (LOTS of climbing). There will be planning for nutrition and hydration. I will need to be prepared to handle the pounding downhills at Western States, the altitude at Leadville, the relentless mountains at Wasatch, and the....well, the covered bridges at Vermont? (I have to admit I don't know much about Vermont yet.)

Right now I am keeping pace with some light running and some easy strength and core work. I'll keep track of some of my thoughts and my training notes here as the year progresses.  The key focus right now is to rest. Keep it easy. Begin laying a good foundation for the hard work to come.

Let the games begin!

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.