A marathon is a warmup...

Post WS Funk

2011-08-02T09:15:00.000-07:00

I'm looking at my marathon training plan right now and I'm feeling a little inadequate.

The plan is to pace 4 marathons this fall. Omaha (4:15), Denver (4:10), Kansas City (4:20) and St. Louis (4:00). So, to hit those times my training plan involves "loose some weight, stupid", "run some hills, stupid", and "find a track, stupid".

I've been doing the "run some hills" part, which is a step in the right direction.

Everything else? Blah.

I'm just not motivated to train like I need to right now.

I do this after really long races. I kind of put myself into recovery mode for several months. School also just started again, which is kinda stressful and time-consuming.

So, I need a goal. In the winter this year, to kick-off my WS training I did 10-10's, or ten days of ten mile runs (uh, I did 15 one day and 5 another, but you get the point). That worked pretty well, so I'll try it again. This time I'm just going to shoot for 100 miles in ten days. So, by next Thursday, the 11th, I should have covered 100 miles on foot.

Just like that, the funk is gone.

Western States 2011, Part Three

2011-07-16T15:34:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through the first two parts. I didn’t expect to divide the report up this much nor did I expect to be as wordy as I’ve been. The goal is to get you into the race as much as possible, hence the length. I think you will find this to be the most interesting part of the series as it is, in true trilogy form, the darkest and most trying for our heroes (namely Coleen and me). There’s some of George Carlin’s favorite words in this one, so if you’re allergic to that kind of thing, well, deal with it. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed writing.

You can find part one here and part two here.

Back to the race…

Leaving Foresthill you cover approx ½ mile of road, along which crews park their cars and setup shop while waiting for their runners. Passing each group of people elicits cheers of “good job” and “you’re amazing” – none of which got old at any point. Brian was with me and was clearly excited to be out there. It was fun to watch him – he was like a star-struck kid at a baseball game; taking in the surroundings, the runners, the course and the task. It was great.

We walked the entire paved part of the course. My food needed to settle and my legs were recovering from the sit-down I had just done. It’s amazing how 5 minutes of sitting can give your muscles enough time to clock out for the evening. It takes a bit to break the work strike they enter after such a short rest.

The course from Foresthill to the Rucky Chucky river crossing is net downhill and all quite runnable. The problem with downhill, for me, was that it hurt more than anything. I had popped an ibuprofen at Foresthill which hadn’t kicked in yet, so we took the beginning of the trail pretty easy. My strategy was therefore to kind of move sideways down hills in an attempt to transfer the pain to other parts of my body.

Early on we tried to figure out what my pace should be for the last 38 miles. I made a big mistake here by over-motivating myself, this would eventually put me into a pretty bad funk later in the race. See, I considered the whole 38 miles as a single race. I shouldn’t have done this. I really should have divided it in half: miles 60-80 and miles 80-100. I know I go downhill pretty significantly around mile 80 and I should have planned for this.

What we were so excited about was that it seemed nearly in the bag that I would hit 26:30. I had to move at a sub 4 mi/hr pace for the remainder of the race to do this, a reasonable assumption. If I hit the 26:30 I would win my bet with Graham – he’d have to shave his beard. This got me excited and motivated to move quickly.

We covered the 3.7 miles to Dardanelles in fairly good time. There is one significant uphill in this section and I bitched about it a lot but got through it at a very good pace. I remember the three aid stations between Foresthill and Rucky Chucky quite well and was looking forward to all of them. Brian was great about keeping me eating and drinking. He’d ask every so often if I ate, offer me something good, like gu chomps, and remind me to drink.

After eating a bit at Dardanelles we got going. I felt good and told Brian to err on the side of running more than walking. We ran in some fairly long segments which even included some gradual uphills. Headlamps started appearing in front of us and soon enough we’d pass the person, an amazing feeling that late in the race. I was really getting a good high from the distance we were covering and the pace that we were doing it at.

Peachstone was our next aid station, 5 miles exactly from Dardanelles. There was one or two significant climbs but nothing that even compared to Devil’s Thumb or Michigan Bluff. We kept moving, running the majority of the course.

Someday I’d love to hit this section in the daylight, as I can only imagine that it is breathtaking. The American River is flowing in the valley below you and you’re running along a precariously perched trail along the side of the mountains. I found myself turning my light uphill or downhill constantly to get a feel for where we were on the mountain. I’d always lose my balance a bit in doing this, and constantly imagined myself cartwheeling over the side or something equally dramatic. It was worth it.

We came into Peachstone after passing more folks. I believe this was uneventful as we simply quickly ate and left. I noticed that people were beginning to spend more time in the aid stations now that it was later at night. The number of folks sitting down wrapped in a blanked had increased quite dramatically with each passing station. Most of these folks were just taking a temporary break from the action, and would return to the course in due time.

Moving on I began to recall the next section quite vividily from the previous year with Greg. Leaving Peachstone you encounter a series of significant downhill switchbacks taking you closer to the river. I remember this because last year as we were descending we heard some of the most classic puking I’ve ever heard, it was great! It really brought me back to Greg’s race.

I also remembered the part of the course I absolutely hated from pacing – the absolutely pointless dirt roads between Peachstone and Ford’s Bar. This was a long-ass Jeep road that I saw no point to. You basically got to Ford’s Bar, but before walking in turned right and climbed for ½ a mile on some super-steep road then descended right back to where you started. Pointless, absolutely pointless.

We hit the road and I was still in good shape physically and mentally. I wasn’t tired yet, but I could tell I was getting there. We started working on it, just focusing on keeping moving and taking small steps that would preserve my leg strength (whatever I had left at that point). It definitely went quicker than I remember last year, not sure why. We hit the summit in short order and started the seemingly-longer descent into Ford’s Bar.

This was another top-notch aid station (hell, they all are at Western). It was mile 73, so I had just north of a marathon left to complete. That’s one of those real mental motivators for me in an ultra – when I pass a marathon and when I only have a marathon left. I’ve run enough marathons that I have a good feel for the distance and know I can cover it under almost any circumstances.

I ate as much as I could here, including soup, a staple during an ultra at night. I was excited to get moving as I knew the next aid was Rucky Chucky, the river crossing. This would be a great mental pick-me-up and a nice visit with the crew on the far side of the river.

It’s a solid 5 miles from Ford’s Bar to the river and we covered it easily. No major uphills or downhills to over-dramatize here, just smart running and walking. I figure at this point I was able to run for about 5 minutes, then had to walk for a bit, take in water, then do it all over again. Brian was great about keeping me eating and drinking.

The time flew. We hit the road leading to the near side before I knew it and we quickly found ourselves coming into the aid station. The near side was another medical check. 210, right on – I knew I was hydrating and eating properly.

My goal here was to eat on the near side then take the boat over and fly right through the far side and up to Green Gate. Greg spent a lot of time on the far side last year (including a stint in a reclining lawn chair), which I think is easy for people to do (and I saw it again this year). So, Brian and I ate and got packs re-filled on the near side and headed for the boat.

There must have been 20 volunteers leading us down the rocks to the boat. It was fabulous. It was like crowd-surfing. Everyone was so helpful and nice. Anyone willing to touch me after 20 or so hours of running is either a saint or someone in a hazmat suit.

We got to the shore and waited a couple of minutes for the boat to come back across the river. I was a little disturbed to find there was no rope across the river this year. Last year there was, and we used it to partially save ourselves from floating away when the volunteers on the far side lost their grip on our boat. It was really quite a sight.

If you want to imagine the boat it’s simply a whitewater rafting raft. There’s a poor soul whose only job it is to row you across the river. I remember thinking, man, if I were doing this I’d make some joke about the river Styx while wearing a grim reaper outfit. I’m pretty sure the runners would get a hoot out of that.

It was very serene; just the oars and the water rushing by. Hard to believe we were at a race.

The boat docked uneventfully this year. I expected to see Greg or Erin on the other side as I did last year, but they weren’t there. We hiked quickly up the shore and to the aid station. I think I grabbed a grilled cheese or something and stuck to my promise to keep moving. I turned around to start up the hill when I saw Erin. I think her and Greg had literally just gotten to the aid station as we came up. She had put some stuff down and I told her I’d walk slowly up the hill and for her to catch up.

Brian hung back with Erin and Greg took off with me. I felt like a real jerk that whole hike up. I kept trying to get Greg to let me stop and wait for Erin and Brian. He wouldn’t have it.

It’s 1.7 miles from Rucky Chucky Far to Green Gate. Every inch is uphill. I moved well and still felt like I had more running in me (I was soon to be proven wrong on this point). I also probably turned around 20 times looking for Erin and Brian. Greg had to slap me a little bit to keep me moving, telling me that they’d catch up at some point.

Greg and I chatted about the race. I asked him what the course was like the last 20 miles, implying and secretly hoping that there were no more climbs or descents. I just wanted a nice rose-petal lined trail (I would have also taken pine needle-lined, I wasn’t picky) the rest of the way to Auburn.

In retrospect, this is where I lost it mentally. I didn’t admit it to myself, or realize it, but I was 100% done with the ascents and descents. I was just so sick of them. My attitude went from Positive Polly to Negative Nelly somewhere on that road. Sorry Greg.

We got to Green Gate, which is a fabulous aid station, in good time – maybe 25-30 minutes. I covered the distance from Foresthill to Rucky Chucky in about 5 hours, getting to Green Gate in 5.5 was better than I expected. I still had that 26:30 finish in my mind, along with Graham’s beard (creepy, I know).

Right when we got to the aid station we saw Brian and Erin coming up behind us. They made it! I was so relieved. I don’t know who would have won in the argument that Greg and I would have had about waiting for them. I’m guessing Greg, because I was kind of a pushover at that point, but I’m glad we didn’t have to wait.

We took a couple of minutes to get everything together. I grabbed the body glide and stuck it in the front of my pack.

Question: how do you know someone’s having problems with chafing?

Answer: when they replace their gels in the front of their pack with body glide.

Yeah, it hurt. What was weird was that it didn’t hurt until we stopped at Green Gate. I don’t recall any burning going up the hill, or anywhere else before the river. Suddenly my armpits burned, my back burned where my pack was sitting, my crotch burned, other parts that aren’t appropriate for certain audiences burned. EVERYTHING FUCKING BURNED!

I don’t even remember saying bye to Erin and Brian, I just started walking. I couldn’t wait to apply copious amounts of body glide to every surface of my body.

Greg and I made it about ¼ of a mile before I told him I had to stop and take care of the chafing. I moved off to the side of the trail, waited for some runners to pass, and I proceeded to apply body glide to everything that hurt. It was a new stick and I wasn’t sure I had enough.

Within minutes I felt like a new person. I could move without the sensation of having 220-grit sandpaper in every crevice of my arms and crotch. But how well could I move? Not very, is the answer.

5.4 miles stood between me and Auburn Lake Trails. An aid station I hardly remember now. I was 80 miles in and I was ready to be done…20 to go. I knew I had to take it a mile at a time. Actually, I turned it into a quarter of a mile at a time. I immediately told myself it was just 20 loops around the track to the next aid station. Easy, I can do that.

There was crew access at Auburn Lake Trails but we weren’t planning on meeting Erin and Brian there. I just wanted to get there and get going.

If I had been in any sort of decent shape this would have been a very runnable section. The hills were gentle, rolling and not-so-rocky. I was essentially at 100% walk now, so people were passing me constantly. It really started to take a toll on me. I was getting pissed at them.

Speaking of getting pissed, I also started pissing, a lot. I bet I had to stop 2-4 times during that 5-mile stretch just to relieve myself. They weren’t little pees either, I was starting new creeks.

I have to jump to the section from Auburn Lake Trails to Brown’s Bar now, since I can’t tell you anything about the aid station there. We must have gone through it. Oh! Wait, I remember now. It was a couple of tents setup in kind of a large gravel area. It was really strange. I remember I was in the mood for NOTHING there. I’m sure Greg made me eat and I think I got weighed and we got going as quick as we could.

I was looking forward to Brown’s Bar, even with my shitty mood. First off, it was a real, honest-to-goodness bar in the middle of f-ing nowhere. Apparently they had keg beer on tap last year and Greg was eager to get there and have one. I suspect it was because a few beers would make my bitching and moaning much easier for him to handle. I doubt he’ll ever admit to that.

I recall the 4.7 miles to Brown’s Bar being much like the section to Auburn Lake, gentle, rolling hills. I couldn’t enjoy any of it. I was too busy hating myself.

It was dark, and I tend not to do well during a race from 2-6am. Daylight seems far away and I start to wonder why the hell I do this to myself. I start to wonder what the point really is. It’s dumb, I know, but that’s what I always think.

Greg did a great job of trying to keep me distracted, asking me questions, telling me stories and chatting the whole time. I kept telling him, jokingly, of course, that it was payback for Leadville. It really wasn’t. He was way more fun at Leadville than I was being (and was about to become) at Western.

The sun started to come up before we got to Brown’s Bar. The course was still dark but the mountains above us were starting to show their outlines against the sky. I’d look up every once in a while, enjoy the beauty of it, start to walk off course, curse, and then stick my head back down and focus on walking in a relatively straight line.

Once I did this and when I put my head back down I saw a bunch of dowels lining the trail, all about a foot high. You know those half inch or so wide dowels that you can buy in really long segments? Yeah, there were hundreds of them, lining the trail in front of me. As I’d walk by them they’d bow, kind of like they were doing a reverse wave for me or something. I’d look to the side behind me and they’d straighten back up. It was so fucking weird. Now, I’ve hallucinated before but this one really took the cake. They were so real. It was more real than the tiki torch party I saw at Rocky with James.

I kind of shook it off after awhile of feeling like royalty. Things were normal for a bit until I started getting some colored streaks running across in front of me. Greg was in front of me and they would fly in from the side, kinda circle him, then fly off. They were like heatmaps that keep changing as they move.

Ok, I admit, I was enjoying it.

As it got a little lighter (I’m still walking and I still feel like shit, don’t forget that) the woods started to light up and the green of the woods became apparent. As I’d turn my head I’d see waves moving across whatever I was looking at, kind of like if you had a picture under some water and you dropped a pebble in the water. The wave would radiate out and distort the image a bit. It was awesome.

Now I wanted more. I wondered what else my brain could come up with.

Unfortunately, that was it. As it got brighter my brain clocked back in. This was good and bad. Good in the sense that I had my wits about me again. Bad in the sense that my rational self woke up and said “woah, why are we still doing this?” It just got me more focused on hating myself.

Sometime between my tripping sessions and Brown’s Bar Greg pointed out that the bar was really a transvestite bar. What? Apparently there were transvestites working the aid station last year (which may explain Greg’s slow time!). I didn’t buy it. Who’d put a transvestite bar out in the middle of nowh-- Oh, right.

We came into Brown’s Bar in the morning light. You can hear it from about half a mile away, which is really annoying when all you want to do is finish. It’s a giant tease.

I was really out of it, I went straight for the food and started eating. I also got some potato soup and chicken noodle soup and I sat my ass down in a chair.

Bad idea.

Greg headed for the bar – I do remember him leaving me and thinking “at least he’ll find someone to buy him a drink” without ever thinking about why I thought that. I just kinda zonked out. I probably looked catatonic. I don’t even know how long I sat there. I tried to down the soup but it wasn’t appetizing. I forced myself to. I had to. I moved as little as possible.

Greg found me much as he left me. In a chair, looking like a sorry pile of something-or-other. “Let’s go.” Dammit. I made him help me get up. He pulled me up, I wavered a bit, tried to take a step, and decided I really couldn’t. I couldn’t walk anymore. WTF?

It took me about a minute of standing there to get going again. Get going is relative here, there was no pep in my step. Garfield would have been annoyed with my pace.

I lumbered along and asked Greg what mile the aid station was, because I had no clue anymore. “89.9” he told me. We walked for a little bit, with the aid station still in sight, and I said “so, we’ve done 90 now?” “Yeah”, he said. As he said that I looked to my right and there was a mannequin, dressed in women’s clothing, with a beard and other “manly features”. It was looking at me. This didn’t seem strange to me.

So, when you’re running Western States and you pass the transvestite, you’ve gone 90 miles. Duh.

Leaving Brown’s Bar you know you’re home-free…essentially. You’ve got Highway 49 ahead of you, then No Hands Bridge and then the finish. Easy.

Oh, don’t forget to study the course map and look at the climbs. If you don’t, you might do something stupid like expect the last 10 miles to be flat. Not that I’d ever do something that amateur…never.

Recall that I hate downhills. The next mile was all downhill. FML. Thankfully I don’t really remember it. I walked, Greg kept me moving, etc.

I do remember the uphill. Oh God.

It’s about 3.5 miles to Highway 49 from the mannequin. One of those miles was downhill and a little more than half was kinda flat. Want to guess what the rest were? Yeah, uphill. But wait! Before we get to that I want to mention the diaper. Greg was about 50 or so feet in front of me for a lot of this section, probably to avoid the smell, and as I’m walking along I see an adult-sized diaper sitting in the middle of the trail. I swear that’s what it was. I was so out of it I didn’t holler up to him to ask him to look at it, I just assumed he saw it, stepped over it, and kept going. I was totally dumbfounded. Why was there a diaper here? Is there an elderly person on the trail? Did someone melt away into the trail leaving only their clothes? Do the fast folks wear diapers to minimize the bathroom breaks? The possibilities were endless.

So, back to my misery. Let’s call the remaining section to Highway 49 a 2 mile uphill. Because of my own ignorance I didn’t realize this.

Here comes my meltdown.

We started climbing. It was getting hot and I was still tired (did I mention I was tired yet?). Things burned, etc. Greg was right in front of me and I kept asking him if we were close to the top yet. He said that yeah, we’re almost there. I’d think ok, look up to the next turn and expect the top of the climb to be there. Now, I didn’t expect the aid station yet, I just wanted the climb to end.

So, we climbed a bit and I didn’t see the top. So I asked again. “Greg, almost there?” “Yeup”, he’d respond, “you’re close”. I’d think to myself that we were almost there a few minutes ago.

Kept climbing.

A group of folks caught up to us and started to pass us. As they’re passing I ask Greg again, in the whiniest I-want-it-and-I-want-it-now voice I could muster: “we almost to the top?” “Yeup”, he said.

My first clue should have been the look the other runners gave me.

Still climbing.

It all started to come to a head. People were passing me. I was walking. I’d been walking the last 10 miles and I still had another 10 or so to go. It was hot. I wasn’t going to finish under 26:30. My quads were killing me. My armpits burned from the chafing. My back burned from where my pack was. My crotch was, well, I’ll let you guess. I had blisters, my feet hurt. My joints hurt – they never hurt. They hurt now.

I just wanted to stop climbing.

More rocks, big steps, it was still hot.

“Greg, are we almost to the top?” “Yeah, I can see it” was his response.

Whew, I figured it was just around the next turn. Then that turn came, no top. Ok, maybe the next one.

No top. Still climbing.

“Greg, where the fuck is the top!?” “We’re getting there.”

I started yelling in my head: we’re getting there? WE’RE GETTING THERE? We’ve been GETTING THERE since the beginning of the Obama administration. There’s no way this hill is this long. The course is flat after Green Gate. THIS STUPID CLMB FEELS LIKE MOSQUITO RIDGE! It’s hot. I’m not happy. This is so STUPID! Why am I doing this? Why is my pacer doing this to me?

I was so angry. I started to cry.

If I would have had any energy I would have tackled Greg. But I didn’t. I had nothing left. Those tears were the last thing I had. I couldn’t laugh anymore. Could barely think. I was so angry because it was the only emotion that worked at that point.

God, I was pissed.

Still climbing.

We got to Highway 49 eventually, but I don’t really recall. There was a nice person standing near the aid station that told me good job. I’m surprised I didn’t tell them to “fuck off”. I may have and I just don’t remember.

I knew Erin and Brian would be at Highway 49 and I expected Deb, Debbie and Raven there as well. I looked forward to seeing everyone. I really wanted to see Erin, that whole climb up I looked forward to that. I figured she could fix me, I don’t know how, but I just figured she could.

I ate something. As I was walking up to the table I muttered something like “this fucking sucks” under my breath, but loud enough to be heard. I turned to my right and there was a camera in my face. My despair, recorded for all of history.

I went and saw Erin and Brian. I think I hugged Debbie, I don’t remember. I tried to not stay long. If I did I would have broken down crying. I couldn’t really talk. I found out Coleen was close by, I considered waiting but thought I’d hold her up if I did. Plus, Greg would kill me if I even floated that idea.

Then we left. I think I just started walking out without Greg. I was still really pissed at him. I knew he was there to help me and what he was doing was in my best interests, but that didn’t fully register at the time.

Here’s a guy who’s been up all night, walking, just to help me get to the end of my race. What more could you ask from a friend? I knew this and I was still pissed.

I also knew it would pass. Race emotions are fickle things. They’re transient. I’m not mad at Greg at all. I’m sure you all love him since you probably got a good chuckle out of my meltdown. He did the right thing; he pushed me when I needed to be pushed.

Don’t worry, I still had some bitching left in me.

From Highway 49 to No Hands Bridge is 3.3 miles. It’s a brief uphill followed by a long downhill. I didn’t care anymore. I couldn’t be sad or hurt or mad, I just didn’t have anything in me. I just walked. That was really all I could do.

We crested the top and began the descent. Descending did hurt more than climbing, be sure of that. I just moved. No good stories. No heroic effort or witty conversation to be had. It was just one foot in front of the other. Nothing going on inside me, nothing left.

No Hands Bridge, the lowest point of the course, came up quickly. I thought getting there would perk me up. It did for a bit. We ate a bit at the aid station, but at that point, you just want to go. You’re 3.4 miles from the finish. A 5k. You can smell it.

Problem is, to get there, it’s uphill.

I really want you, as a reader, to take this last uphill as I did. No emotion, no challenge, no nothing.

We walked across the bridge, the rushing river below. I’m sure it was beautiful; I didn’t appreciate it at all. I just moved.

As soon as we were on the other side of the American River it got hot. We were on an exposed dirt trail, no shade, nothing. The trail ran up the East side of the mountain and it was early in the morning with the sun beating right on us. I didn’t have my hat or my sunglasses. Whatever. I didn’t care. I just moved.

It was flat, then it was uphill, then it was downhill, then up, more up, and more up. It was hot.

Robie Point is an informal-ish aid station at mile 98.9. The story is that the neighborhood holds an all-night party there the weekend of the race. They cook, drink, and cheer the runners on as they come through.

But I wasn’t there yet. I was still climbing up.

At some point the former RD, Tim Twedmeyer, came bounding down the trail in front of us. He told us good job and that we were close. Easy for a guy who’s finished the race 25 times under 24 hours and won it 5 times. He could kiss my ass at that point. (Sorry Tim!)

But we were close.

After a few more minutes I did perk up. We hit concrete and I knew we were really close. I perked up even more.

Soon after, some kid comes running down the hill and asks me if I want water?

Ahh, Robie Point.

Of course I did. He handed me a cup and took my bottle. He then sprinted up the hill to get my bottle filled while I walked.

We passed the aid station and saw the party up ahead. There were chairs around and crew aplenty. I spotted Raven and Debbie first, Erin and Brian shortly after that. Some folks took my picture but I don’t think I ever really stopped walking. Folks cheered me on from all sides. It was amazing.

I still had more bitching left in me.

The four of us proceeded on. This was what it took to get one person from point A to point B, 100 miles in between. Erin, Brian and Greg encouraged me, told me what a great job I was doing, etc. I was still grumpy.

Random folks along the way, sitting on their porch, enjoying the day would tell me good job. I couldn’t muster much more than a “thanks” because I knew if I talked I’d start crying again.

Hell, I did cry randomly that whole last mile. I couldn’t believe it was over. It was surreal. I never thought it’d end. I never thought I’d experience the finish. It seemed so far away the whole time and I was so close.

More hills tho. I asked them if this was the last one. “Two more uphills” was the reply. “So one downhill”, I asked. “Nope”, they said. “Don’t fucking lie to me” was my pleasant response.

They weren’t lying.

I turned some corners and saw the high school. Geoff Roes was standing near the entrance, he stepped out and shook my hand and told me good job. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I was too busy trying not to lose it. I hope I told him thanks. He’d dropped at Michigan Bluff. What an amazing sport this is.

I’m choked up just thinking about the finish.

We hit the track and I was still walking. There were tons of people sitting in the grass lining the track. The announcer called out my name; I couldn’t hear what he said over the cheering.

I was still hot, I was amazed I was there. I’m not sure I wanted it to end.

Ok, my eyes are watery now, thanks.

The four of us were still walking together. I never would have made it there without them or with the help I got from Deb, Debbie and Raven. Coleen got me there also, sticking with me the first 55 miles.

Greg made some smart-ass comment about me coming in at 28:40. He’d predicted 28:30 long, long ago. I made some smart-ass comment back and we got a good laugh out of it. I had some wit back. Things were improving.

I ran the last 100 yards. You have to, right?

My parents were in the bleachers to my right. I didn’t look for them; I was trying not to trip. I saw Brad to my left. I still didn’t want to trip.

Then time slowed way down. The last 20 meters still feel like a whole minute. I guess I hallucinated again. The cheering was amplified and it seemed like flashbulbs were going off, just like in a movie. I felt a breeze and it was cool, I had good form and no pain. I felt strong. There were no flashbulbs. That was all in my head. None of it was true, my form was shit, I saw the video. There was no breeze. Eggs were cooking on the track.

I was done.

Someone shook my hand and put a medal around my neck. Lots of good jobs and such.

I was moved over to a scale and then a chair for BP - 150/something. High, but I’d just run for 28 hours and 40 minutes.

Erin or Brian or Greg found me and took my pack. I sat for a bit more before getting up. I needed help, but I could move.

I went to the medical tent to give blood and pee for whatever research they were doing this year. They’d do a BMP and measure CK. I watched the phlebotomist stick me, Erin was there and she said seeing the needle go in almost made her pass out. I got my pee cup and took care of that.

I put the cup on the table and saw a nice collection of cups lined up. The first one looked like it had red wine in it. The second was a little lighter. The third was a little lighter than the previous. Hmm. “Whose is that?” I asked. The lady pointed at some guy lying on a cot. Glad I wasn’t him.

Everyone was gathered on the track near a little wall. I hugged my mom and dad – I was happy to see them. I hugged Greg, Brian, Deb, Raven, Debbie, everyone. I probably hugged random people. I hugged Erin too. I don’t know why she puts up with this crap, the running. It was her finish as much as it was mine.

I wanted my shoes off. That unfortunate job fell to Erin – the one you love the most gets the worst jobs, right? Just watch the video.

Some guys with a camera came over and asked if they could talk to me. Apparently I looked like an interesting story. According to Erin and Brian, I was.

They asked me questions about the race, which I answered. Then they asked me if I’d ever do it again. I don’t remember my answer. I’m told it could be summed up as “Not no, but hell no”. I think I cried some more. Such a baby. They took a lot of pictures of my feet, which weren’t that bad.

Shortly after that I heard Coleen’s name called out. She finished so close to me I’m surprised she didn’t catch me.

I didn’t feel like moving but I did want to see her. I lumbered over to the finish and found her. Didn’t really say anything, just hugged her and cried again. We both cried, thank you very much, so don’t judge me.

After that I was ready for a shower. I was not pleasant. We headed to my parents hotel room so I could shower. I talked the guy into letting us keep the room 30 minutes longer by threatening to hug him, or something like that. Actually, he was aware of the race and thought it was awesome I finished.

The shower was painful, let’s leave it at that.

I got out of the shower and laid on the bed and proceeded to hack up a lung or two and then wine and moan about how much my whole body hurt. Erin watched with some pity, but not much as she gently reminded me I did it to myself. I know, I liked the pain, but it was still pain.

We had to hurry to make it back for the awards ceremony. Mostly because we needed a spot under the tent for my parents. We managed to find one, because Coleen and them saved it for us.

I didn’t really care about the awards ceremony. I translated some stuff for my parents but mostly sat there and wanted to leave. I also started to fall asleep, hardcore. Like my head would fall over and that’d wake me up. It was hot. Ugh.

Brian fell asleep for a bit there, as did Brad and Coleen. I don’t recall Erin falling asleep there.

After what seemed like forever they started giving out the buckles. They went in reverse finishing order. 29 hour folks first, 28 hour folks second. Glad I fell in the 28 hour category – it got us out quicker.

We went to the car. Brian drove. We had to run by a Target then head to our hotel in Sacramento. I don’t remember the drive although I apparently gave directions – correct directions at that!

I vaguely remember checking in and sending Erin, Brian and my parents to lunch. I went upstairs and passed out. Next thing I know they’re both coming into the room and I’m asking them why they hadn’t left for lunch yet. They had, I’d been asleep for a couple of hours. To me it felt like seconds.

We had dinner that night at a burger joint I can’t remember right now (Erin is going to kill me for that – it was super good). I was probably asleep by 9. Because I’m a genius we had a 5:50 flight to catch. That meant waking up at 3:30. Whatever, I had just finished Western, I could do anything.

My recovery has been good. I tried to run the Wednesday after the race, at my weekly run. It was more of an occasional trot. I only covered 2.5 miles, the rest of the group did the 4.5 mile loop. I was fine with that.

I waited until the weekend to try to run again. An easy 5-miler in the neighborhood. The first 2 or so went fine, then after that my legs got real brick-y quickly.

I was wearing my Western States shirt and walking back. Some lady jogged by me and gave me a dirty look for walking. I was like “look at the shirt lady!” Well, I may have replaced “lady” with another word in my head.

I know you’ll ask. Would I do it again?

For the first day or so after the race absolutely no way. Today? Well, you know, it wasn’t that bad.

Western States 2011, Part Two

2011-06-30T15:50:00.000-07:00

The limit to your abilities is where you place it – from a fortune cookie I got a long time ago.

Before we start part two I’d like you to take a second and imagine yourself at the bottom of a valley surrounded by snow-capped mountains with trees lightly sprinkled throughout. The biggest mountain stands in front of you, it’s mostly bald with ski-lifts running like veins up an arm and a cable car is strung to the steepest point, its destination somewhere in the peaks beyond where you can see. You’re surrounded by friends and family. People are laughing and hugging. There are smiles all around, pictures are being taken. You half expect a pretty girl in a grass skirt to come by and hand you a mojito and flash you a wink and a smile. It’s still dark out, a gentle crescent moon hangs in the West, the peaks you view it over distort your perception of it – it’s larger than it should be. The temperature is nice, a bit cold in the mid 40’s with a slight breeze but you’re comfortable in your shorts and a t-shirt.

Relaxing, huh?

Then some guy starts counting down from 60. 59…58…57…56…55…54…53…

Did I mention there’s a clock in front of you? It’s counting down to zero.

That minute goes by way too fast.

…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…the girl in the grass skirt is gone.

If there was a zero you didn’t hear it, you just started moving forward with the rest of the crowd. That beautiful mountain in front of you - you get to run up it, all 2,500 feet of it.

“Run” is relative here. At WS the fast folks run the hills, all of them. Normal people walk them. We get more course for our money, is how I like to think about it.

The first part of the race is a 3.5 mile uphill from the bottom of Squaw Valley to the top of whatever mountain lies at the end of it. I had zero intention of running any of that first climb. I saw no point. I wanted to start slow and steady, save the legs for the later parts of the race. I knew the climb from last year; I did it the day before Greg ran. I was not looking forward to it.

Coleen and I planned to stick together for as long as possible. I was quite intent on keeping it slow on this first climb. She was a little more aggressive and I found myself getting pulled along while pulling her back. It was probably a really nice balance.

It’s hard to under-describe the climb. It’s what you think it is. There’s maybe 100 yards of flat surface the entire 3.5 miles to the top. Most of it is a wide gravel road that must be some kind of ski slope when the weather is right.

I was amazed at how quiet it was. Very few people talked. It was like a meeting of the overly-serious people support group. Everyone there was focused on one task and they felt like chatting would ruin that. Coleen and I jabbered the whole way up – people probably thought we were wasting energy or something lame like that.

I looked at my watch and we were in the 16-17 min range. I was hoping for 20 min/mile. I convinced Coleen to shoot for 18/mile. To do this we weren’t allowed to pass anyone else on the climb. It worked, we slowed down. I wasn’t breathing hard and my legs felt good, but there’s no reason to push. Plenty of time to be tired later.

Course from the start to Foresthill

We hit the first aid station, Escarpment, about 2.5 miles into the climb. They don’t put this puppy at the summit – too hard to get the supplies up there. They put it at the start of the snow. I filled up my handheld with some water (did I mention I was carrying my Ultimate Direction pack?) and we moved on pretty quickly.

The first part of the snow wasn’t bad at all. It had been torn up pretty well before we got to it, so we just found a nice path and followed it. The last 1/3 of a mile is where it gets fun on this climb. There are two serious climbs to the summit. Both are about 100 yards long. The first was fairly manageable with a scramble-like hike. Not much snow, lots of rocks and dirt, it was ok. The second was in-freaking-sane. It was like a scene from a movie: a line of people slowly moving up a solid sheet of snow. It must have been sitting at a 25 degree angle – it looked too steep to be safe.

There were little indentions in the hill where people had kicked the snow in a bit – that was the path you wanted to follow. If you didn’t you ran the risk of sliding down the slope, back to where you came from, or worse. A couple of people took the wrong tack up – they paid for it by getting stuck and struggling to stay attached to the hill. Various hands and such went out to help them.

Ice axes would have been totally appropriate.

We summited the mountain after that climb. I didn’t pay attention to the time. Maybe an hour and thirty or so – it didn’t matter. Coleen called to me to look back before we headed down the other side: “this is the famous picture” she said. And so it was. The view was amazing. The sun was just up over the mountains to the East that surround Lake Tahoe. The lake was glistening with the light and the snow extended to the horizon.

I could have spent all day up there, but that would probably have pissed my crew off, so I kept going. We started our descent into the longest unsupported part of the course – 12 miles with no aid. This is why I took my Ultimate Direction pack. It can hold 96oz of water, important to a water buffalo such as me. (Note: I once drank 96 oz on a 4 mile loop at SM Park when it was hotter than Hades.) The nice thing about the next stretch was that it was all downhill. Should be quick, right? Hahahahah…nope.

The first quarter mile or so was dirt, it was runnable and run we did. Then we hit the snow again. This snow was a little different. First off, it had twinges of red to it. Odd, right? Yeah, I thought so. Upon further inspection I realized the red splots we were passing were blood. Most likely from people and probably not because someone tried to tango with a furry mammal. See, folks were slipping and falling all over the place. The snow wasn’t “fluffly” or “powdery” as some of the ski-bumbs like it. It was frozen-solid snow. Falling hurt. Falling drew blood.

There was also lots of yellow snow, as you can imagine. I stopped to pee and Coleen did shortly afterwards. I waited for her off to the side of the trail/path that was least dangerous. While I waited some guy, who apparently needed an audience, ran up by me, didn’t even bother to find a tree, and dropped trou well within acoustic range. He clearly had Mexican the night before by the sound of it. He wasn’t shy. I am glad to report that he did pack his used toilet paper in a little plastic bag and shove it into his pack for later disposal or analysis. I’m also glad to report that his rear blended in nicely with the snow, he apparently doesn’t tan in the nude.

Coleen got done and thankfully didn’t notice the exhibitionist pooper. We got moving again but running here was a dangerous idea. You’d get moving a bit, put a foot down, find that foot to the side of you, then try to gather yourself in such a way that when you landed the 20 people behind you didn’t go “oooohhh, ouch” in unison. So, we walked most of it. We were in the 18-20 min/mile range, and so was everyone else around us.

Coleen and I in the snow.
Photo by Gary Wang

It got frustrating after a while, I’d put a foot down only to post-hole and find myself buried in a foot of snow with a cold foot. Boo. But, it was fun also. I’ve never heard so much laughing before during a race. As we got the hang of moving through the frozen tundra we’d slip and slide and catch ourselves before falling which inevitably led to a hoot and a holler followed by a bout of giggling from you and those around you.

After a while of feeling like a kid again we came to our first water crossing. It was a creek that looked like a river that felt like a rapid with a rope tied to a couple of precariously perched trees. You had one choice really: get wet. We went in, I was immediately in freezing cold water up to my knees. Coleen’s a little shorter so she must have had it up to her thighs. Man, it was cold. I’m thinking it was about 50 feet across.

The water crossing.
Photo by Gary Wang

Getting out of it was like getting slapped in the face, it was a total wake-up. That mountain breeze hit my recently-baptized legs and just bit in. The only option was to run to get warm.

After a few minutes we warmed up and I figured I’d survive with at least 90% of my toes. Just then, another water crossing. Sheesh. But, this one had a volunteer standing on the other side. I was confused. Volunteers mean aid stations. Aid stations means we’ve covered 12 miles. 12 miles means we’ve covered 15 total. My head was spinning. I bolted across the creek in blind excitement nearly knocking some lady over who was trying to tip-toe across the wet and slippery rocks while the volunteer yelled at her to just jump in and watch out for the crazy dude.

Before I knew it I had my pack off and handed to someone to fill while I quickly deteriorated into eating trough-style at the food table. Coleen was slightly more picky as she’s vegan and tries to avoid processed foods. Which, during a race, is amazing. This was the Talbot aid station. Approx 15 miles in.
We got going pretty quickly and found ourselves on a fire road with occasional snow piled to the side. This meant it was time for some running. We settled into a trot with my pace being a little slower than Coleen’s. I kept having to either speed up to catch her or just let her run a few feet in front of me. I was in a gear I felt comfortable with.

I am sorry to report that I don’t have many good stories from this section. It was everyone’s first chance to really run so that’s kind of what everyone did. I did pee again, which was very unusual for me. Typically I’m a one-and-done kind of guy (with peeing…get your mind out of the gutter) during an ultra.

This section was all road, mostly dirt but some paved at the end. Maybe a mile or so of paved into the Poppy aid station. I got my pack refilled here, got my bottle filled with some GU2O, ate some food and left. We walked a bit out to let the food settle but Coleen was itchin to get movin. At least, that’s how I remember it.

Let me take a second to point out that everything I say here probably isn’t 100% true. Anyone who tells you they remember everything they did exactly after nearly 30 hours of running needs to be taken to the medical tent immediately. This all is how I best remember it…probably erring to the side of embellishing to make myself (and Coleen, of course) look even more awesome than we already are. You, as a reader, accept that, of course. So, when I throw in a detail like “Coleen was itchin to get movin”, that’s how I honestly remember it.

Anyways, back to the trail. The section from Poppy to Duncan Canyon, miles 20 to 23.5 was beautiful. It was along the French Meadows Reservoir, had minimal climbing and was peppered with gorgeous giant trees. The trail was littered with pine cones larger than my, ahem, forearm. The whole trail was a soft bed of pine needles that gave nicely with each step. It was like running on a cloud. I could have slept on them. Ahh, it was amazing.

Coleen pushed me here. She was moving better than I was at this point and I had to reel her in to a walk from time to time. I felt bad, if she was moving well I should have let her go, but we did decide to run most of the race together, and I figured saving a little energy here would payoff later. So, slow her down I did.
We crossed various creeks and managed to stay dry. I spent most of my time staring at the lake or the scenery and still managed to not kick or trip over anything. We spent a little time talking about bears and wondering if we’d see one. I was in front of Coleen and we were coming around a rock while talking about this. It hadn’t been two seconds since we said a word when “HOLY SHIT!!!!!” - I saw a large object move out from behind the rock we were walking around. I must have jumped a foot back into Coleen (I really wish she woulda caught me cartoon-style). Some guy decided to take a piss behind this rock then walk out just as we were talking about surprising a bear. Sheesh. I’m really surprised I didn’t poo myself from that.

We had a good laugh with the bear-turned innocent runner about it and as my HR came down from 180 we came into a recently burned-out section of forest. There were very few trees standing, none which provided shade. This sucked because it was getting hot. I had my hat that came with the neck cover and I was glad for it. We also started a relentless climb up to the Duncan Canyon aid station. It’s amazing how quickly we went from running on clouds to cursing every step in the hot dirt with the sun beating down on us while walking uphill.

We stumbled into Duncan Canyon worse-for-wear. I’d say that this is where I started to show signs of fatigue. That last little climb in really started to chip away at me. This would have sucked if the aid station wasn’t so freaking awesome. It was a little oasis. As soon as I walked in a volunteer grabbed my pack and asked me what I needed. See, you get your own personal attendant at each aid station at WS, it’s fantastic. They filled my pack and bottle while I grazed at the table. I made a point to eat well here as I knew it was almost 8 miles to the next aid station, Mosquito Ridge.

As we were leaving there were some volunteers directing us across a road. One of the guys was dressed up like Mr. T and he kept telling us to take it easy on the climb to Mosquito Ridge. He quickly followed this with a “I pitty the fool who doesn’t listen!” It was hilarious! The other thing that sticks out is a sign they put up on the way out, a quote from Back to the Future: “Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.” I kind of figured this meant we’d be on trail all the way to Mosquito Ridge…notsomuch. Oh well.

If I recall this part right, and I may not since I tried to block it all from my memory, we left the aid station and started a gradual downhill on dirt trails, which appeared recently cut, onto a dirt road for a bit which dumped us out to a paved road. From there we started a climb on the same paved road up to another dirt road. We basically went down one side of a mountain then started back up the other. This may have been a couple of miles. Then we took a very gradual downhill dirt road which we ran most of. Coleen was the leader on this. She really kept me moving at this point.

After a while we started a climb. Well, climb just makes it sound too innocent. It was really more of a torture. I did not realize how long it was going to be, and I don’t think anyone else did. It just kept going and going and going. I think it’s safe to say we had a 3 mile constant climb into Mosquito Ridge. It wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies either. It was shitty rocky footing on something that resembled a dirt road built during the Great Depression by a guy who was half into a bottle of Wild Turkey when he was picking the route. It sucked, it was hot, it was no fun.

Coleen and I did manage a pretty good climbing pace. We were passing folks, which was encouraging. What wasn’t encouraging was the fact the climb never f-ing stopped. I was getting so sick of it. I’m from Kansas, a hill greater than ¼ mile is a little ridiculous to me.

Near the top we passed our first wasted runner. He didn’t look so great. As we went by he stood in the middle of the trail and I asked him if he was ok. He muttered a “no” but kind of ignored me with a bit of a blank stare but with body language that told me to get away, so I did.

One of the fantastic volunteers at Mosquito Ridge.
Photo by Gary Wang

We got to the end, finally, and encountered our first medical check. I took my pack off and got on the scale, 203. I was down about 7 pounds. Not bad considering the heat and the fact I had run, er, moved 31 miles. The doctor there gave me the once over and told me I was fine. I knew I was, just a little tired, but happy to be at the top.

I had a drop bag here and the scampry little volunteer who took my pack also grabbed my drop bag without asking. She put it in my hand while I made a mess at the dinner table shoving various things into my mouth. Coleen got her bag and got her pack refilled and waited for me at the exit. I saw her so I just kinda walked out, tossing my drop bag into the return pile without really thinking. We left the aid station when she asked me if I had gotten anything out of it. “Out of what” I asked. “Out of your drop bag” she said. “Oh shit”, I totally forgot about it. I didn’t even pay attention; I just kind of carried it through then tossed it. Crap. I didn’t need the shoes but I did want some of the gels I had in there. I also had a charger for my Garmin in there that I really wanted. Oops. So much for all of that.

The next section was a totally new loop for us due to the snow course changes. Instead of heading to Robinson Flat we had to do this 4-mile loop from Mosquito Ridge to Miller’s Defeat. Tell you what, it sucked. It was the worst part of the course. It was basically a lame dirt road that was half up, then half down. It was no fun. Oh, one thing to note, it was the only part of the course where you could see people coming back in, for about 20 yards. Basically you passed the Miller’s Defeat aid station outbound then came back to it.

This is basically what the course looked like
from Duncan Canyon to Dusty Corners.
Photo by Gary Wang

I actually fell really far behind Coleen through here. I stopped to pee once and she kept walking. I didn’t feel like running to catch her, so I didn’t. When I did finally catch her I was slowing her down a bit. I wasn’t worried about my pace, I was just moving slower than her. Then, once we got to the downhill part, she ran most of it and moved ahead of me again. I ran, but at a much slower pace.

Beyond that, there’s nothing to say about this section, it was booooring and hot.

We got to Miller’s Defeat and I had no plans on spending any time there. One, for the name, and two, because Dusty Corners was a short 2 or so miles away. Call it lame superstition, I guess. I think I had a strawberry - one strawberry.

Last year, crewing for Greg, Dusty Corners was the first place I got to see him. So, I was excited to get to this part of the course. It was mostly downhill and we ran it at an ok pace. Coleen stayed with me more here, which I was happy for. It was very hot and very dusty. Not a lot of fun at that point.

I should note that at this point, leaving Miller’s Defeat, we were back on the usual course.

I also am having a hard time remembering the course before Dusty Corners and the area right before the climb up to Devil’s Thumb. I know we descended essentially the whole way to the climb and went through Last Chance, but I can’t tell you what happened between Dusty Corners and Last Chance and then between Last Chance and the start of the climb.

I do know we slowed down a bit. Coleen’s stomach started to turn a bit on her and I was fatigued. We moved well but not as quickly as we could have given the flat to descending course.

Last Chance was a medical check and I do know I clocked another 203 there. So, that’s where I’ll pick it up again, right after Last Chance at mile 43.3.

The aid station means what it says. It’s your last chance before you climb up to Devil’s Thumb. If you want to imagine the course between Last Chance and the Devil’s Thumb aid station just picture a V. That’s all it is: straight down, then straight up. The downhill is so vicious that it’s really not runnable for most people. The uphill is just as punishing. We made the downhill slowly and crossed a bridge to get us started on the uphill.

It was rough. We moved slowly. Coleen’s stomach was really getting her. She almost puked a few times going up and we spent some time standing to catch our breath and let her stomach settle. She kept trying to get me to go on but there was zero chance that was going to happen. First, she’s a friend and I wasn’t going to leave her there and second I was tired also, going ahead may have given me 5 minutes on her, nothing in the course of the entire race. I was more than happy to take it at her pace. It kept me in good shape for later on.

There were some sections where I told her just not to look up. The trail was extremely steep, uncomfortable to even stand on and demoralizing to look at. We moved up it, slowly and deliberately. We did get passed by a few folks and we passed a few. I was ok with our progress.

As we got towards the top the Devil’s Thumb rock came into view. It is what it sounds like, a rock on the side of a hill. It’s cool but I wasn’t overly impressed with it. About this time a couple of the safety patrol folks caught up with us, asked us if we were ok, gave Coleen some ginger to eat and told us we were real close.

Turns out, they weren’t lying. A switchback or two later we were greeted with a massive aid station, which I was more than happy to see. It was another medical check; I was up to 207, go figure. Coleen took some time to eat here, which was good, I also ate a lot. Downed a bunch of fruit, chicken noodle soup, grilled cheese and a popsicle. The popsicle was fantastic.

We moved out cautiously after ingesting so much food. We had a good walk going and we knew running was not in order. We chatted a lot at this point, knowing Devil’s Thumb climb was behind us I felt confident in our ability to finish the race. We were a couple of hours ahead of the cutoff and were moving well. We were jabbering so much we missed one of the yellow flags marking a turnoff to the course. As we continued down a road another runner yelled at us to come back up and get on course. Thankfully he saw us, otherwise we both would have just kept on going, oblivious to where we were.

It is a long downhill to El Dorado Creek (mile 52.9). I think this is where the course really gets you, on the downhills. We ran slowly through a lot of this but had to walk a lot when it got too steep to run. Through here we met up with two or three other folks, a local and some out-of-towners who stuck with us all the way down to the creek. It was nice to have folks to run with. We chatted which helped pass the time.
Compared to all the other aid stations El Dorado Creek is the least well stocked and smallest. I can’t imagine it’s easy to get supplies to, so I don’t blame anyone and I’m not complaining. I’m just pointing out that it’s pretty simple. I think they got a lot of the supplies down on a dirt-bike or ATV, which tells you where we were.

We moved quickly through here onto our next major climb: the trek up to Michigan Bluff. I looked forward to this: we got to see crew at Michigan Bluff. I was excited to see Erin, Greg and Raven. Coleen told her crew to stay at Foresthill. She didn’t think they’d go to Michigan Bluff. I figured there was no way Deb and Debbie were going to listen to her. I knew they’d be there waiting for her and have time to get back to Foresthill.

We met more folks on this climb. It was another slow and steady slog up unreasonably steep trails. We also did some more stopping and relaxing during the climb.

Now, I’m in a bind here. I don’t know what else to tell you about this climb that you didn’t hear about Devil’s Thumb but I don’t want to discount the toll it took on us. So, let’s make a deal: I’ll take us to the top and you agree that it was an insanely difficult climb, the likes of which would surely send mere mortals to their graves and that Coleen and I dominated it with cool and calculated efficiency. Deal? Good.

Michigan Bluff is really a small city on top of the mountain. It was really nice to run into, it’s a easy downhill to the aid station and the crowd of cheering crew. It was great. It brought me up so much. Seeing new faces was great and seeing my crew was even better. The first person I noticed was Greg, because he was hard to miss. He was jumping around and flailing his arms like a little girl at a Beiber concert. Coleen saw this and was like “uhh, well there’s Greg”. (This is how I remember it, and I’m stickin to my story here.) Raven was next to him and I saw Erin as soon as I entered the chute into the aid station.

This was a medical check and I weighed in at 207 again. Nice and steady. I felt good, grabbed some food and gave my bottle to a volunteer who proceeded to lose it. She claimed to not know where it was and then walked off like she didn’t care, which kind of pissed me off. We quickly found it on the table, which means she filled it then put it down. Whatever.

I sat for a bit here, the first time sitting all day. Coleen plopped down next to me and our crews swarmed us like doctors in the trauma room. I drank an Ensure, ate some food, and just kinda relaxed for a minute. Greg noted that he was watching the time and wasn’t going to let me rest much. This is what good crew does. They let you rest but keep you mindful of what you’re really out there for.

Coleen told me to leave without her. She told me it in a way that you can’t really argue with. So, I took off without her. Leaving Michigan Bluff is basically a continuation of your climb. It’s about another mile or so of mixed uphill/downhill, mostly uphill, followed by a long descent into a canyon. I walked the first half mile or so, letting food digest and such. I had the pleasure of coming across a guy who was puking. He stopped as soon as I passed and he flashed me a smile and said “wow, I feel better now”. Only in an ultra is this considered normal and totally acceptable.

After a bit more walking I started jogging slowly, even covering the uphills while jogging. I felt good and wanted to keep moving. The gradual uphill quickly turned into a torrential downhill. I kept running it ignoring the pain in my feet, knees and hips. In retrospect, this was probably a mistake. This is where I trashed my quads. It may have been more advisable to walk this section but I was without a flashlight and night was approaching. I wanted to get to Bath Road quickly.

As with any descent you’ve gotta climb your way out at some point. I hit a creek, scrambled across, and started the climb into Bath Road. This was another no-fun climb (seeing a pattern here?). After a bit it leveled out into a nice flat and runnable trail, which I took advantage of. At this point I started passing pacers running back to their runners. See, starting at 8pm you can have a pacer from Michigan Bluff. So, folks take off at 7:30 or whatever from Bath Road to meet their runner halfway. A nice little boost.

I hit the last few climbs into Bath Road optimistic. My quads were hurting but I was in one piece, for the most part.

Bath Road is great for several reasons. It’s a nice little aid station and it’s somewhere that you can meet your crew early and walk/run with them the entire way to Foresthill. It’s a strenuous uphill and the company makes it better.

So, I came out of the woods expecting to see Brian or Greg standing there, which I didn’t. Hmm, odd. I started the trek up and not ten seconds later saw them coming down the hill. So, they turned around and started the 1.9 mile walk up with me.

Foresthill aid station.
Photo by Debbie Lanz-Webster

It went quickly. The conversation helped pass the time. I told them marginally true stories about the race so far and asked them how various people were doing so far.

We got to the top of the climb and turned left onto Foresthill road. This is a nice flat to downhill section that leads you right into the aid station. So, I told them what I needed at the car and Greg took off that direction while Brian went into the aid station with me. I got weighed again, 209, and ate a bunch of food. Brian handled the water and everything, which was great.

We left quickly to a lot of cheering and “good jobs”, which is always nice to hear from strangers.

From there my mom met us and jogged/shuffled with us to the car where the entire crew was waiting. It was such a good feeling to see everyone. I sat down while everyone tended to me. I got my shirt changed and decided to change my socks, an unpleasant task which Erin and Greg quickly attended to. My mom tried to help a little, which was more hands than were needed, but hey, that’s what mothers try to do.

Apparently the stench from my feet was enough to warrant some kind of EPA report so I felt it was best to get moving before finding myself buried in environmental hazard paperwork. I said my goodbyes and thank-yous to everybody and Brian and I took off for the last 38 miles. I was excited, I had some running in me and we were going to cover part of the trail that I got to do last year with Greg.

As the food settled I was getting excited for the final 38 miles.

My parents waiting at Foresthill.
Photo by Debbie Lanz-Webster

Raven, Greg and Deb at Foresthill.
Photo by Debbie Lanz-Webster

Western States 2011, Part One

2011-06-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

The climb up to Highway 49, mile 93.5, was the worst. I've heard people talk about hitting rock bottom. Usually it's in the context of alcohol, drugs or some other over-indulgence of life. Rock bottom, for me, was due to running. I used up all my laughter in the snow. My wit left slowly, spread neatly along the course. My energy was laid out in a line up to Green Gate and my quads were in a canyon somewhere between Michigan Bluff and Bath Road. Nervousness was left at the start. Logic was done at Devil's Thumb, right after my popsicle and right before an almost wrong turn. Even my despair was gone, I used up that somewhere around Brown's Bar, when I sat down for a few minutes and almost couldn't walk again. The only thing I had left was anger. I was angry at the course, at the dirt, the rocks, the trees, myself, my pacer, my pack, everything around me triggered that one thing I had left. That must be what rock bottom is. Where every inconsequential thing triggers the one thread you've got left.

I guess I should tell you how I got to that point, and where I went from there.

Fine, I'll save you the anticipation - I finished. This is the story of how it happened.

Erin and I flew to San Jose the Saturday before the race and drove down the PCH to LA to visit some friends there, which included a nice wog in Runyon Canyon, a real gem in LA. Then we picked up my parents from the Burbank airport (way better than LAX) and headed North to Yosemite for a day (what a beautiful park - I'd love to get back there for some hiking and camping). After that it was onto Sacremento on Thursday to pick up Brian (one of my pacers) then over to South Lake Tahoe to meet Greg (another pacer) and Raven (Coleen's pacer) and get ready for the race.

Whew, did you follow all of that? If not, simple version: we made it to Tahoe on Thursday.

I dragged Erin and Brian to the medical research briefing on Thursday night. It was a review of some of the work that’s been done at the race the past few years. I found it very interesting and was happy to participate this year by donating a little blood and urine at the end of the race. This year they were looking at how your knowledge of hyponatremia (based on a questionare) relates to how you end up at the end of the race. I’m happy to say I ended up with a sodium of 138, well out of the hyopnatremia area. They also measured phospho-creataine kinase, an indication of muscle damage. My level was 9,000 IU/L, much lower than I expected. I take it as an indication I’m either a wimp or I was well trained for the race. I know you’re going with wimp.

The remainder of Thursday night involved dinner at a yummy Mexicain joint in Tahoe City and then a 20-minute jog along the lake with some serious star-gazing time out on a dock. It was fantastic.

Friday morning came way too quickly (that was my last night of “good” sleep). We headed over to Squaw Valley around 9am to meet Coleen Shaw-Vokes and her crew for breakfast and check-in. Deb Johnson and Debbie Webster drove out (!) from KC with her to crew and pace. We also ran into Brad Bishop and his crew/pacer James Barker who also drove out (double !). Flying was long enough for me. Lastly, Stacy Sheridan was there, her and Phil had flown out the night before, I believe. Phil was nowhere in sight (I actually didn’t see him until after the race – when he looked like he hadn’t even ran a mile!).
We all grabbed breakfast at a yummy smoothie place in the village then dragged the entourage over to check-in. Well, we all took pictures also…lots and lots and lots of pictures.

The check-in line wasn’t terrible, maybe a 20 minute wait or so. We signed all kinds of “I might die” and “bears think humans are tasty” disclaimers and waivers. Had our photos taken, had a video taken then were fed along a schwag line like I’ve never seen. I came out of there with a fancy-ass pack, a shoulder bag, arm warmers, leg warmers, a neck warmer, a shirt, a fleece, enough prunes to hold a retirement home over for a week and other random goodies that I don’t even recall anymore. We were then given our golden yellow wristband and told to stand on a scale. I joined the Clydesdale division, coming in at 208. They also checked our BP and pulse, both of which were jacked for everyone I imagine. All of this was noted on our wristband, and never looked at again the entire race.

After all that it was time to wait for the race briefing which is an exercise in trying to find a spot in a small open space with little shade and questionable acoustics. I shipped my parents off on the cable car that would take them to the top of the mountain while Brian, Greg and Raven went for an exploratory hike up the escarpment. This is kind of a tradition (a 2 year tradition) where the crew and pacers run or walk (ok, maybe crawl) the first climb up to and past the Escarpment aid station. The idea is that they get to suffer and offer the runner a report on the snow. I’m happy to report they came back successful in both. Greg’s snow report went something like “uhh, that’s a lot of snow”. Actually, it was much more academic than that, but really all I took away was “you should bring ski’s, poles and crimp-on’s”.

Erin and I relaxed a bit. We headed over to Coleen’s room to pack a drop bag and check out some course maps. With the course changes this year I wasn’t sure where I wanted a drop-bag. After some non-logical thinking I decided on a pair of shoes and some random food at Mosquito Ridge, mile 31. Typically, I wouldn’t pack one, but this year we didn’t get to see our crew until mile 55 – Michigan Bluff. Now, the question is, did I use anything out of the drop-bag? You’ll just have to read on.

The pre-race briefing was pretty inconsequential. A bunch of people spoke including two guys clearly out of place in suits from the district’s congressman’s office. (Note to people like that: ditch the suit when you’re talking to a bunch of people about to run a hundred. Go for shorts and flip-flops, you’ll be taken more seriously.) A lot of work went into getting the trail ready and re-directing the trail due to the amount of snow and all those people deserved the recognition they got, and more.

After that we all grabbed some pizza then headed back to Tahoe City. Erin and Brian dropped me off at the hotel and headed back for another hike of the Escarpment. Erin hadn’t done it yet this year (she did do it last year, so she knew what she was in for) and Brian is nuts enough to do it twice in one day. I tried to take a nap which almost worked until Graham Fox (the official unofficial blogger of Sporting KC) sent me some encouraging text messages. I think this was planned. See, Graham offered up his beard in a wager with me. If I ran the race in under 26:30 he was going to shave it – it’s quite a beard. I believe him and Brian or Erin were in cahoots to disrupt my nap in favor of me losing the bet. They’re all evil like that. (If you didn’t catch that sarcasm you should probably just quit reading here.)

So, after some unsuccessful Z’s and after Brian and Erin got back from the hike we all (Erin, Brian, Greg, Raven, the ‘rents and me) headed over to Rosie’s for dinner. I had the cheese pizza (boring, I know, but it looked good) followed by an artery-clogging combination of an oversized Oreo cookie and ice cream for dessert. It was actually a very relaxing dinner – just what I needed.

We were back at the hotel around 10. I laid out my stuff for the next morning (3:30 was going to come waaay too soon) and we all turned in for the night. Well, I tried to turn in. Erin and Brian seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly. Me, not-so-much. I got up at least three times to pee and tossed and turned until well after midnight. I didn’t feel nervous. I don’t know what it was that kept me up…I just couldn’t sleep. The last thing I remember doing was counting rocks as I ran past them on the trail…

…then it was 3:30 and it was time to get going.

I shoved some processed crap that the hotel considered part of a “continential breakfast” into me as quickly as I could. I also downed an Ensure and an orange. I got dressed, saw a man about a horse, and lubed up all within about 15 minutes. Erin and Brian were up and moving too – although I observed them with much contempt, as I knew they’d be back asleep within a few hours as I was dragging my happy ass up a slight incline.

We left Tahoe City at 4am, the race started at 5. I still needed to get checked in, get my number and chip and meet up with Coleen before we started. The drive to Squaw is about 15 minutes from Tahoe City, not bad at all. We got there and headed to Coleen’s room to say hi to everyone – but also to wait nervously together. When we knocked on the door a strange man answered, I thought we had the wrong room until I saw Deb or Debbie walk behind him. “Hmm”, I thought, "did someone stop by the local bar last night?" I was very confused. Deb quickly clarified that it was her daughter’s boyfriend and he happened to be riding his bike across the country and needed a place to crash for the night. Now, what’s crazier here: a bunch of folks about to run a hundred, or a med student riding his bike across the country? It’s really 50/50. I guess us crazies tend to find each other. For the record, if I had been Deb or Debbie I would have come up with a way better story than “daughter’s boyfriend”. It was 4:30 in the morning, we would have believed almost anything.

Coleen and I heading to the start.

Coleen and I ran (literally) over to the start to get our numbers and everything else. I was ready, but nervous. Coleen seemed the same. This was big. Running at Western States is a little like letting the people with a handicap of 20 compete at the Masters – you know you’re not gonna win, but you get to play on the best course in the nation with the best there is, except it’s ok to poop on the course at Western, as long as you’re a few feet off to the side. It’s a total trip.

Erin and the sheep.

I can’t recall what was going through my head at this point. You enter an ultra with a particular level of uncertainty. 50 or 100 miles is a long way, and a lot can go wrong. It’s ok if it does and if something isn’t working for you it’s ok to pull the plug. Better to have tried and quit with everything functioning properly than to have tried and end up with a MRI the next week is what I always say. I didn’t have that uncertainty at Western. I was gonna finish. I didn’t think that but I knew it. Like, there was no internal dialogue saying “look, this is going to be hard and you’ll do it, it might hurt, but you’ll do it”. There were these two points in my head, the start and the finish, I saw them but didn’t see how they connected, only knew that they would somehow.

Our crew and pacers joined us near the start for last minute hugs and pictures. Did I mention pictures? I was nearly blind from the flashes. With a few minutes to go I dragged Coleen to somewhere in the middle of the start area and waited.

Brian, myself and Greg

Part two coming soon...

2011 Hawk 50

2011-05-15T19:26:00.000-07:00

As part of my Western States training I ran the 2nd annual Hawk 50 at Clinton Lake State Park yesterday. The weather was perfect (as long as you weren't in the wind) and the course was in great shape, I had to look for mud.

As expected the Trail Hawks put on a top-notch event. The volunteers were fantastic, the course was well marked and the aid stations were well stocked. It was one of those races that you just kind of show up to, knowing that everything you need (besides the will to finish) will be there for you. Well, almost. Big thanks to Julie "PAL Hawk" for saving my butt with those S-Caps on the 2nd loop - I should have brought some but I wasn't thinking at 5am.

The course was 2 23-mile loops with an additional 4-ish mile loop at the end to cap off the 50. We started at the Corps of Engineers trailhead and headed out on the white trail then back on the blue trail with a short (and painful) diversion to the red shoreline trail. The white trail is the more technical of the two with significantly more climbing and rocks and roots to deal with. There were also 2 hill summits per loop that I thought I'd hate but really came to love. The first was Bunker Hill, which really has a bunker on top of it (which is really strange). The second was Sanders Mound. The only bad part about the 2 hills was that it was a windy day, so coming out of the woods, which essentially blocked all the wind, you were slammed with a 15 or-so mph wind. Nice if it's 90 out, not so nice when it's 55 and you're wearing a wet shirt.

There were 12 50-mile runners and 12 marathoners. The 50's started at 7am. About 8 of us ran the first 5-7 miles of the course together with Adam Monaghan setting a nice 11-ish pace for us (clearly the marathon pacing thing is working out for him). He's a way stronger runner than I am so I figured he'd take off in a bit and leave us all in the dust.

Adam and I about to head towards Bunker Hill.
Photo by Chris Wristen.

Once we made it out to Bunker Hill (and I plotted my nuclear/zombie attack evacuation route) Adam, Brian, Eric and I were the only ones left of the group. Eric was a first time 50-miler, so naturally he was easy to pick on, providing the rest of us with entertainment. After a few more miles of twisting and turning on the trail Adam and I had put some distance on Brian and Eric. I figured this wasn't a big deal and they'd catch up or I'd slow down. It's a 50, so a lot can happen. (Oh, this was also Brian's first official 50, but he's done 100k at Free State and he did 60/100 at Rocky, so we didn't pick on him.)

Adam and I ran the rest of the loop together. It was a nice relaxing run. A little faster than I thought I'd be going, but good nonetheless.

At the turnaround I took off by myself. Adam decided to call it a marathon at that point. Eric came in right behind me, so I figured he'd catch me at some point during that second loop. I also saw Brian when I was coming back from Sanders Mound, I figured there was a decent chance he'd get me also. I wasn't too worried about the pace, I was just kind of enjoying the day.

Right before I got to Lands End, about 6 miles into the loop, I started thinking about what place I was in. I knew there were 2 runners ahead of me, which meant I was in third place. Hmm, that had never happened to me before. It was a weird and not altogether wonderful feeling. It felt nice and stressful at the same time. So, naturally, it made me run a little faster. I knew there was still about 20 miles to go, so a lot could happen, but I wanted to really try for that 3rd place finish.

So, I made it a point to get through the aid stations as quickly as I could. I ran a little more of each hill than I normally would. I also looked back a few times, expecting to see someone coming up on me.

By the time I hit mile 40 I was still running with good form and with no pain. I couldn't run the steep hills, I could manage the small ones. The worst part was probably navigating the red shoreline trail - it's extremely technical. It basically involves jumping from rock to rock along the lake with a little bit of dirt trail between sections of rocks. It's runnable, but barely. I maintained this style of running the rest of the race.

My last trip up Sanders was when I knew I had the 3rd place finish in the bag. It's approx 1 mile out and back, so you can see anyone running up on you. I didn't see Eric, or anyone else for that matter, when I was coming back. So I knew I had at least a mile on the next closest person. Unless I handstand-walked the last 4 mile loop there was little chance of someone catching me.

I ran in at just over 9:45 to hoots and hollers from the assembled spectators. Gary gave me a nice finishers mug with "3rd place male" forever plastered across it. Nice feeling, for sure.

This was my fourth official 50-mile finish and my best by far. My time was 4 minutes better than the 9:49 I clocked at the Croom 50-miler many moons ago (that was my first ultra). The observant reader will note that the times aren't that far apart but the courses were completely different. Croom had no real climbs to speak of - the Hawk 50 gave you about 7,500 feet per 23 mile loop. Also, the rocks and roots on the trails at Clinton Lake are, like most of my dates, nothing short of awkward.

Now, compare the 9:45 at the Hawk to my 10:03 I did at the Blue Springs 50/50 (to qualify for Western) and you'll see how far my training has come over the past 6 months. The Blue Springs race is as easy as it gets. There are no hills on that course - and I STRUGGLED to get through that race. Unfortunately, and perhaps unsurprisingly the Blue Springs 50 is no longer a Western qualifier.

I also want to mention that I ran the whole race with a single handheld. I also did this at Brew to Brew this year and it worked really well for me. I don't know if I can pull it off at Western, but we'll see.

Lastly, the total elevation gain at the hawk was 16,700 over 50 miles. Western is 18,000 gain over 100 miles. Doing the math on that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Back On The Wagon

2011-01-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

Hello dear readers. All one and a half of you that remain. My mother even stopped checking for updates.

Can't say I blame her.

Keeping up with a blog is difficult, to say the least. Especially when you're trying to balance school, social and family life. I'll try to do better, pinky swear.

Part of my promise involves keeping me honest in my training for Western States. Yes, I got in. Applause, applause. I ran the Blue Springs 50/50 waaay back in October to qualify for the lottery, then, facing insurmountable odds (~20 percent chance since I had 2 tickets in the pot) got chosen, nearly first, to have the privilege to fork over $370 to get myself from Squaw Valley, CA to Auburn, CA on my own two feet.

And people think this is a weird sport? Nah.

Last night, at Coleen's Frozen Fat Ass Gary Henry pulled me aside and, after telling me he was dammed glad to see me, gave me a serious look and asked: "so, how's your training for Western going?"

"Training?" I stammered, secretly hoping some pressing Trail Hawk business would pull him away from me. "I...I...I really haven't figured that out yet."

Gary's look required no words. "This is a serious race. This isn't one you screw around with." Loosely quoted, of course.

So it isn't.

I'll figure something out soon. For now it looks like whatever training I do will be buffered by Rocky Raccoon next month and Kettle Moraine in June. I loved Kettle a couple of years ago (well, except for the tornado(s) and the mosquitoes).

The past few weeks have been light on the running. I've had a problem with my Achilles in my right leg so I've only ran a few miles since around Christmas. I did manage 18 last night at the Fat Ass. The leg felt good, got a little sore at the end so I felt it was best to let it rest. With snow coming down right now it might see some action tomorrow, otherwise I'll rest it until Wednesday.

McNaughton 200

2010-06-01T21:18:00.000-07:00

If you’re in the mood to attempt a 200-mile race, I suggest three things: a good crew, lots of socks and some body glide. You can figure everything else out along the way.

I, for reasons I can’t fully explain, attempted the McNaughton 200-miler in Pittsfield, Vermont. This race is put on by Andy Weinberg, the guy who used to put on the McNaughton Park trail races in Illinois then packed up the family and moved to scenic Vermont. I made it 120 miles before calling it quits. I’m proud of every one of those 120 miles.

The course was billed, initially, as a hilly mountain course with approx 1,000 feet of elevation gain per 10-mile loop. When I first signed up I figured 1,000 feet per loop isn’t all that bad over 10 miles. A couple of days before the race Andy got a course profile up and changed the elevation gain to ~2,700 per loop. The profile looked nasty:

Trust me, it gets steeper (up and down) each loop.

I began my trip by meeting my pacer, Greg Burger, in Boston on Wednesday. We grabbed a rental car and picked up some last-minute items from REI and Target - mostly food for the run. We weren’t sure what kind of support we’d have on Thursday and Friday nights. So, we took extra stuff with us just to be safe - some of which I ended up returning once we got back to Boston after the race...you know, things like folding chairs and bottles of Pedialyte.

We got up somewhat early on Thursday morning, ate, and headed north to Vermont. The drive was relatively quick and took us through some scenic New Hampshire and Vermont countryside. I loved seeing some of the historic cities I’d only ever read about go by on the highway: Salem, Concord, etc. It was my first time in Vermont or New Hampshire and I was loving it.

We arrived in Pittsfield around noon and headed straight for the General Store. Pittsfield isn’t as much a town as it is more a bunch of buildings that line the state highway. It was nice tho, it was really what I pictured Vermont to be like. Lots of old houses and barns overlooking farms and valleys. The General Store was a real treat. They had everything you needed there - pizza, sub sandwiches, all kinds of groceries and local produce. They also had a breakfast challenge: eat 6 eggs, 6 pieces of bacon, 6 pancakes and 2 orders of hash browns in 30 minutes and you get it for free. I seriously considered taking them up on it later in the week but never got a chance.

Right when we pulled into the General Store another car pulled up with two people who just looked like runners. They started to get out and I asked them if they were there for the race. They looked at me oddly and said yeah. It ended up being Phil Rosenstein and Iliana Dimitrova, both of whom we all got to know very well over the next few days and both of whom were simply fantastic people. The four of us ended up eating lunch at the store together which was great because we got to hear Phil regal us with stories about almost every 100 in the country - he’s done most all of them.

We left the General Store and went looking for packet pickup, which didn’t officially start until 4 but we figured we’d find some others there waiting. We were right. There were a few runners mulling around along with some of the folks associated with the race. Andy wasn’t there yet, but the wife of another of the organizers was there. She helped me get the box of supplies I had shipped myself (I didn’t want to pay to carry the stuff on the airplane) which included my tent, sleeping bag, and most of my clothes. I know, it was a risk if my stuff got lost, but it was way easier than lugging it up there myself.

Initially we thought we’d be able to camp at the start/finish. Unfortunately, some cranky neighbor was not a fan of our little race and got the authorities involved to find out if Andy had a permit to allow people to camp on the land. Turns out, he didn’t, so we were going to have to find a new place to camp. The only other option was at the mile 5 aid station (well, it was more like mile 4.3...I’ll get to the mileage later) which was almost on top of the mountain we were running up and down.

So, up we went to almost the top of the mountain to scout out campsites and to try to get some rest. Phil had a giant tarp - I’m talking like half of a tennis court - that he let me and some other folks put our tents up on. This would help keep them dry...something that we needed later in the race. Space was a bit limited up at the top, so we all kind of cramped into the flat spots where we could.

After getting my tent setup I wanted some rest. Greg relaxed in the car while I laid down in the tent and tried to get some sleep. I didn’t have much luck - I read a bit and closed my eyes, but never got to sleep. I was back up within an hour, ready to head down to the race start.

Before the race started I had some time to explore the barn that would serve as the start/finish area. It was huge and gorgeous. There was lots of space on its three floors, along with restrooms and showers available for runners. The only downside was that it wasn’t heated which would have been fantabulious come Friday and Saturday night. I also got a chance to chat with some of the other runners, some of the other crew, as well as some of the staff that lived and worked at the farm. These were younger guys doing work on the farm for room and board. They ended up being an essential part of the race - helping with the aid stations and providing entertainment by burning random things during the run.

The 6pm start came quickly. I started the race in tights and a long sleeve technical shirt. It was around 60 at race start but the temps were forecast to drop into the mid-40’s within the next few hours. Greg wanted to get a lap in during daylight but he knew he couldn’t start running with me until mile 50. So, he asked Andy if he could start 30 minutes behind everyone so he could get a look at the course in the daylight. Andy told him not to worry about it and to just start with us. That tells you the kind of guy Andy is, very laid back.

The start wasn’t much. Andy told us we were tough for even giving the 200-mile race a shot, a description I’m always sheepish about accepting. Everyone there cheered for us and lots of hugging and hand shaking was had by all.

And, At that, we were off, with 72 hours to finish 200 miles. Lots of uncharted territory ahead of most of us runners.

The course starts off gently with a 1/2 mile trek out to a river. There’s 3 short and STEEP declines on this 1/2 mile stretch. Declines I knew I’d hate on the way back in each loop. This was, by far, the flattest part of the course. The grass in this section was nice and soft and a dream to run on.

We headed over the river on a “bridge” I was sheepish to walk across, and I’d certainly never ever drive a car across. We made a quick right turn and started climbing. Oh, the climbing.

Now, when I looked at the course profile I knew there’d be some climbing involved, but I imagined nothing like what we had in front of us. If you assume there’s 2,700 feet of elevation gain per loop, and it’s all to be had in 4.5 miles of each loop, you’re looking at a 11% uphill grade for the first half of the course. It felt steeper. I’ve ran up Pike’s Peak a couple of times and I think the first half of this course was steeper than that trek (albeit with more atmosphere).

The first half mile or so in the woods was pure uphill. It was somewhat manageable until we hit the stairs, which was funny, because there were no stairs there, but the grade was the same a a standard set of stairs. This was one of those hills that you almost had to grab onto roots to pull yourself up. Going up it I couldn’t help but wonder what it’d look like in the rain (I’d find out later). It was about 100 yards long and I bet the grade was at least 30%. It wore you down both physically and mentally.

After that we got a slow half mile or so descent back to the level of the river. Clearly, this became annoying since we had just climbed up from the river. Yes, I did get bitter at the course during the race. There were some muddy spots along this stretch, but nothing too terrible. Looking at the course profile I see we hit the bottom of this downhill at mile 2.

Our descent ended and we began the long, slow slog to the top of the mountain. This was the beginning of what would be an essentially 4 mile nonstop climb. We began with some switchbacks that went on for-freaking-ever. Some of these were runnable, others, not so much. Surprisingly, I can’t tell you how many switchbacks there were, I never bothered to count. I think I was so disoriented on each loop that I failed to pay attention to some of the details like that.

After a mile or so of those switchbacks we hit the escalator. The best way to describe the escalator is to imagine a 10’ wide dirt road, in the woods, covered in grass and gravel, from which you can see the end from the beginning - a half a mile away. It was intense. Every lap all I did was put my head down and walk it. I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other, no looking up or down. I managed to get through it everytime without getting too discouraged.

After the escalator, more switchbacks. Yay! They just kept going. By this point we were near the 4 mile point. Now, if you look at the course profile, you’ll see a quick ascent from about 1,500’ to 1,800’ at mile 4. I don’t think this ascent was that sharp, it was much more gradual. If it did it would have been the steepest part of the course, and I’m sure I would have remembered it.

Shortly after this we plodded out of the woods and hit the road going up to the “halfway” aid station. Andy claimed it was at mile 5 but there was no way this was right. It had to be mile 4.3 or so. (Later in the race one of the pacers marked the 5 mile point of the course and it was about 3/4 of a mile past the aid station.) On my first loop I took the time to take off my innov8 socks which were rubbing the back of my heel funny. I changed into a basic pair of athletic socks and kept moving.

After the aid station we were in for more climbing. Another mile and a half to the top of the mountain. It was mostly switchbacks at first. Slow moving. Switchbacks. Ugh.

Near the top we hit this section of forest called the labyrinth. The name was fitting. The sun was still up on the first loop but we had to use our flashlights to see where we were going since the trees blocked most of the light. It was a nightmare in there. The course weaved back and forth and you had to quickly look for the markings while looking back down for tree roots and rocks grabbing at your ankles or throwing themselves onto your toes. It sucked. I rarely hate any part of a course, but I hated the labyrinth. I dreaded it worse than the stairs or the escalator every loop. To be fair, others loved it. I dunno, it just didn’t appeal to me.

After stumbling out of the labyrinth we climbed another short hill to the top of the mountain. The view from the top was nice. You could see into the valley we had climbed out of but not much else. Really, by that point, all I wanted to do was get off the mountain. Also near the top were a couple of small ponds, one of which I became intimately familiar with on the next lap, I’ll get to that.

So, if you’re following along you’ve noticed that the climb up was pretty steep. Any clues as to what the downhill would be like? Yeah, really steep. Painfully steep actually. So steep some parts were almost non-runnable.

The first downhill is an intense run down a gravel-like road. It hurt on the first go-around so I knew it’d suck the more miles I put on my feet. It went on forever. The course profile makes it look like a mile-long downhill. I don’t think it was that long, but it was close.

The next 2 miles was essentially a series of rocky switchbacks with some climbing but mostly descending. It got tiring after a while in this section. Again, some of the downhills were steep enough to make them not runnable late in a race when you’ve got lots and lots of miles on your joints.

I think if you knew the course well in this section you could have cut a lot of it. There were some obvious paths that cut down the mountain steeper than we were going so it would have made sense that they would have intersected the course at some point. Most of the markings were good enough through here that you’d have to intentionally cut it, but there were a couple of spots where you could get confused late at night (or during the day if you were super tired) and accidentally cut it.

The mountain extracted one more pound of endurance before letting you back out at the river towards the end of the downhill. We had two very steep uphills, almost as steep as the stairs, before letting us out onto another steep downhill. This one dropping about 400’ in 1/3 of a mile or so. It was a real bruiser.

Finally we stumbled to the riverbed and crossed the bridge for the 1/2 mile relatively-flat trek (except for those three short nasty uphills) back to the start/finish. Whew. Only gotta do that 19 more times! Easy!

That first loop took me 2 hours and 19 minutes (I think) and it would be my quickest loop of the entire race. I ate a bit and headed back out for another loop. No point in mulling around. I planned to run through the night and sleep at some point on Friday night/Saturday morning.

My second loop was uneventful, as far as I can recall, except for when I had to go to the bathroom at the top of the mountain. Remember those three little ponds I mentioned earlier? Yeah, well, I needed to pee about the time I ran by those things. So, for some reason, I figured it’d be fun to pee in one of the ponds. I mean, there’s literally miles of forest around me and I have to go out of my way to pee in a big pool of standing water? This was a very male thing to want to do I guess.

Well, I got near the edge of the pond and started peeing. Next thing I know I’m slipping in and trying to catch myself (with a handheld water bottle) while my other hand was busy holding something else. This didn’t work out to well for my balance. I ended up taking a step forward into the water, thinking it wouldn’t be too deep. Nope. It was super deep. That first step put me in to my knee. Falling that far down made me pull the other leg in to compensate. So, there I am, standing knee-deep in a giant puddle, at night, still peeing, wondering how-the-fuck I got there. I had wet feet the rest of the loop.

Greg met me at the end of the second loop, got me setup for the run that night, and sent me on my way. I ended up running the first half of the third loop with Phil Rosenstein, the guy we had lunch with earlier that day. Phil was having some problems breathing and was back at my pace (which is to say: slow). His light wasn’t working very well and neither was my headlamp. Luckily, my handheld was holding up so we made it through the first half of the loop on just that. Phil is a great guy and I really enjoyed talking to him. He has some amazing ultrarunning accomplishments, including running across the US - the hard way.

I don’t remember much about the fourth or fifth loops. I zoned myself out by listening to physiology lectures and keeping myself moving. I didn’t come across a lot of other runners during the night. I think we all kind of kept the same pace at night, slow and consistent.

I think I finished the 50 around 8 on Friday morning. Greg met me at the start/finish and forced me to eat a pretty good breakfast of, well, I don’t remember, but it was tasty. From this point forward Greg would run every mile of the race with me.

By this point my feet were in decent shape. I was on my second pair of shoes and socks (the first replaced after the peeing incident). What wasn’t in decent shape was the tenderly precious area in between my legs behind my, well, that thing that’s technically called the perineum - I’ll let you look it up. It was hurting. In fact, it was bleeding. Ouch. I attempted to remedy this, for the last time EVER, by applying additional Vaseline to the area. Yeah, bad idea. Very bad idea. Vaseline is useless in this situation. What I should have done, was put body glide on before the race. I bet this cost me a couple of hours in the race just because of the extra walking I did because running was so painful.

I changed my compression shorts and got all the Vaseline out I could. That helped. Luckily, shortly after that, my feet started hurting which helped mask the pain I was feeling ‘down there’ with every step. Ultrarunning is all about balance folks.

At some point on Friday I ate most of a pizza. I also ate a lot of other stuff, ran some more loops, annoyed Greg with my walking, and lots of other things. Most of which I don’t remember. Perhaps my brain is blocking the pain from my feet and my crotch from me now. I dunno. All I know is I managed to get to 90 miles around 7pm on Friday night.

There was a storm-a-brewing by this point in the night. We knew we were going to get rain at some point in the weekend, it was bound to happen. I think Greg and I debated whether to take a break at 90 but eventually decided it would be best to keep going to the mentally important 100-mile mark. So, we did.

I also think mile 90 is where I met Deanna Stoppler and her mom. Deanna lived in the KC area at some point and ran some of the Trail Nerds races while she was here. According to Greg she was pretty fast, which she proved the next day by taking 4th overall in the 30 miler. In talking to her and Greg I knew I wasn’t looking too great. They both commented on my dazed (glassy) look. I needed some sleep.

Erin, my girlfriend, and her friend April were heading up from NYC on Friday night. They had originally planned to take a train to Rutland, VT then Greg would go get them and bring them to Pittsfield. Unfortunately the Amtrak train they were planning on taking was sold out on Friday night, so, they had to resort to renting a car and driving themselves up from the city. I think Erin really enjoyed driving in NYC traffic...no, not really. She wasn’t in by the time we got in at mile 90, another reason we decided to go on out for another loop.

I started that 10th loop out pretty strong. I think I had some coffee and coke at the aid station before going and that got me moving pretty well. I know Greg kept commenting on the strong pace we were keeping. We got to the aid station in about an hour and a half. A good clip considering I was on mile 95. At this point I completely fell apart. Mentally I just checked out. I had been up for 40+ hours. I was d-u-n.

Greg did what any good pacer would do and made me sit down by a fire (it was cold) and started shoving food into my mouth. I wasn’t up to arguing so I just kept eating and sitting - hell, who could complain about that? Greg also had some of the guys at the aid station make me a hot dog. I thought it’d be gross but it turned out to be fantastic. The only bad thing Greg fed me was some Monster energy drink. Ewww! It was disgusting at that point in the race. It almost made me puke.

We took off and I did ok until the top of the mountain. I think it was around there that I started seeing things in the trees and on the trail. I kept it to myself at first. It was usually people I’d see. Trees and bushes turned into spectators lining the trail in my head.

Not too long after that it started getting weird. The rocks on the downhill section became toys. I saw toy trains, toy dolls, just the most random stuff ever. And stuff besides people started popping up on the side of the trail. I saw a mailbox, some piggy banks, more people. Trees and stumps started to move. They became very fluid. I was totally tripping.

If I was ever to appreciate modern art, this was the time. I started reflecting to myself on what designs I was seeing that I might find in a museum. I came to the conclusion that while hallucinating, any modern art must be fascinating.

I also think I kept telling Greg how happy I was he was there and how sorry I was I was walking. I probably sounded like a way-too-friendly drunk constantly apologizing and repeating myself. I was a hoot.

Eventually, we got to the finish. Me in mostly one piece. My brain in several pieces. We walked up the hill to find Erin and April waiting for us. I think I came in around 1 am. My 100 mile time was about 31:30. Longest 100 I’ve ever run. I was bushed.

Being the fantastic pacer he was Greg had told everyone about my hallucinations prior to me walking into the start/finish. I was immediately greeted with “hey, seen any mailboxes lately” or “dude, did you find my piggybank”. Jerks. They all loved it. Me, who had been up for 40-some-odd-hours, was not as amused.

By this point it was definitely time for a nap. We had made arrangements to crash on cots across the road at a bed and breakfast. I hadn’t been there yet but we just assumed we could walk in and pick a cot and sleep. Well, we got there and found every cot was taken. This was a problem. I really needed to sleep.

Luckily April had made friends with the person watching the bed and breakfast that night. He said we were welcome to come to the main floor and crash on the couch up there. That was the most amazing thing I think I’ve ever heard. I swear, I felt like the luckiest guy on Earth because I got to sleep on a couch that night (and I knew Erin would be there too, of course).

So, we all stumbled upstairs. Erin and April helped clean me off a bit with some baby wipes and I laid down to sleep.

I bet I was asleep in 10 seconds. If I dreamed, I don’t recall what I dreamed. My brain was probably too tired to even do that.

Apparently Erin woke me up around 5 the next morning, telling me I had to get going again. I don’t recall this. Somehow I managed to get her to let me sleep a bit longer - until about 7 or 8. At which point I woke up to find it pouring outside. From our vantage point we could see the start/finish and the 100-milers and the 30-milers were fixin‘ to start. I looked at all of them, in the rain, shivering, and just lost all motivation to run.

That was the point where I gave up on the 200-mile distance. Not going back out around 5 or 6 that morning was a death blow to my chances to finish 200 under the cutoff. At the pace I was going I essentially had to keep walking the rest of the time to get a 200-mile finish. Wasn’t gonna happen.

So, we kind of slacked around the bed and breakfast for a little then headed to the start/finish to grab some breakfast. I’m not sure what it was, but it was tasty. It was tasty enough to convince Greg and I to head out for another loop in the rain. It ended up not being as bad as I thought. Kind of like Wyco but with less viscous mud.

We got to the aid station on top of the mountain and as we were walking up one of the volunteers called out “hey, it’s the hot dog dude!”. He totally made that loop for me.

My feet were wet the entire loop and they really started to bother me on the downhill sections. We got back in (in about 3 hours and 30 minutes [I think]) and I asked Phil to take a look at them to tell me what was going on. He was very direct:

Phil (deadpan): Well, I’ve seen this before.
Me (eagerly): What is it?
Phil (deadpan): Well, it looks like trenchfoot.
Me: Trenchfoot? Who gets trenchfoot?
Phil (deadpan): See it a lot in races.
Me: So, what do you need to pop to fix it?
Phil (deadpan): You don’t.
Me (dejected): Hrm.

Essentially the bottom of my feet were falling off. No blister to pop. Just a layer of skin to remove at some point. It hurts.

I put new socks and dry shoes on. We ate a bit more and got ready for the girls to go on the next loop with us. I made Erin and April bring along a poncho because I knew it’d start raining again and I didn’t want them soaked with us walking and it getting cold. I didn’t think they’d be able to keep themselves warm at the pace we were moving if they were soaking wet. (They can thank me later!)

I headed out for my 12th and final loop around 3 or 4pm. The pace was not record-setting. We walked a lot. April was training for a half marathon and really wanted to get some running in, so her and Greg ran some of the sections before the climbs began. The course was muddy and there wasn’t much point in avoiding it, especially when it started to rain about an hour into our loop.

The rain was constant as we went up the mountain and seemed to be getting worse the closer we got to the top. Great. Just what I wanted. Run 11 and 1/2 loops then get nailed by lighting. We hightailed it across the top of the mountain when we got there, crouched a bit - like it would help.

We all managed to make it back to the start/finish in one piece. It was pretty late, if I recall, around 8 or so. I think that loop took us about 3:30, so we must have started it around 5, not 3 or 4. Waiting for us were 2 large pizzas. Yummmmm. I ate 3/4 of one almost immediately. It was fantastic.

Now, in retrospect, I should have gone out for another loop at this point. I actually had a lot of energy. But, something told me to call it a night, which I did. I got a shower, ate some more, and crawled onto my cot (there were free cots now since the 100-milers had started). I was asleep within minutes.

The plan was to do another 30 on Sunday for a total of 150.

Yeah, that didn’t happen.

I woke up Sunday morning and my feet were swollen. I felt like I was walking on little beanbags. It was kinda fun actually.

I was clean and sore and didn’t really have the desire to go out for another loop. It was snowing at that point and cold and there was good breakfast to be had at the start/finish. So, we all just kinda hung out there, talking to other folks and watching some of the runners trickle in and out. By that point there were only two 200-milers still out. Ryan and Mike - both of whom would finish.

Shortly after that we packed up and headed South to Boston. April caught a ride with Iliana back to NYC - which just goes to show you what a nice person Iliana is (she was super helpful all throughout the race).

That was that.

I believe only 7 people finished the 100. 2 finished the 200. Not many even finished the 30-miler. It was a tough course and tough conditions.

I don’t really have that “I shoulda kept going” feeling about this race. I’m proud of the 120 miles I put in. I do kind of regret not doing another loop on Sat night, but I’ll get over that.

Greg made some jokes about running it next year. I actually hope he does. It’s fun in a very very masochist-ultrarunner kind of way.

I really owe Greg, Erin and April for helping me out during the run. They made it happen. All the volunteers at the race were great also as were the other runners and the crew.

A bit nervous, a bit excited

2010-05-04T13:38:00.000-07:00

The weather in Pittsfield is shaping up to be perfect for the race this week. Well, perfect for my taste. Highs in the mid 50's, low's in the upper 30's. A bit cloudy and a chance of rain. That's kinda how I like it.

I really just want to get there and get settled. (I'd also like to know if my box-o-crap I mailed myself has arrived or not!) I'm meeting Greg in Boston tomorrow afternoon. We're heading up to Pittsfield on Thursday morning. The race starts at 6pm Thursday night. Erin is flying to NYC on Wed then heading to Pittsfield, with a friend from NYC, on Fri night.

Starting at 6pm on Thursday is going to be nice, since I won't hit that 70-mile-I-hate-myself-and-running-and-never-want-to-run-again wall at 3am, I'll hit it at 3pm, when the sun is still up.

Here's my plan:

I'm hoping to have 100 behind me by 10pm on Friday. That's a 28-hour 100. Leaving me 44 hours to cover the next 100.

I want to keep moving until midnight or so on Friday. So, ideally I want to pass out with 120 miles behind me. Worst case I finish 110 before sleeping.

After 6-8 hours of sleep I'll go for another 50-60, hopefully finishing by midnight on Saturday. That leaves me 30-40 to finish by Sunday at 6pm.

So, another 6-8 hours of sleep, get the rest done, and head to beantown.

Simple, right? Right.

I'll probably post updates to facebook and e-mail the Trail Nerds and Trail Hawks. I doubt I'll update the blog until I'm back.

McNaughton 200 Coming Up

2010-04-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

So, McNaughton is right around the corner.

I'm not sure if I should be pissed about this or not: when I signed up the race description called for 1,000 feet of elevation gain per 10-mile loop. I continually asked for a course profile but nobody ever had one. So, I go to the race website today and I see this:

The race website now says: "Each loop has 2400 vertical".

Whatever, I'm in it to have fun and it's going to be fun. I just would have liked to know that when I signed up.

Brooks

2010-01-16T19:08:00.001-08:00

My favorite shoes in the whole world are the Brooks Defyance. I'm currently rotating through my 15th, 16th and 17th pair of these comfy little critters. I've ran all kinds of terrain with absolutely no foot pain in them. It was almost like a shoe designed specifically for me.

So, I came across these two videos made by Brooks while reading Donald's blog: Running and Rambling. He does a lot of product reviews and he's excellent at it. Well worth adding to your RSS feed.

Both videos are worth the few minutes.

Dreams:

Life:

My new BFF

2010-01-11T15:21:00.000-08:00

...Is a treadmill. The weather in KC since Xmas has not been conducive to lots of outside training. I've done a few Saturday or Sunday runs, and the Wednesday night beginners run...but nothing regular.

Instead, I've been giving all my running love to a treadmill. It's a love-hate relationship. I think once the snow melts I'll take it out back and deal with it Office Space style.

I did run my fastest 10K ever last night - 49:17. This included copious amounts of incline and no decline. 3 min flat, 3 min at incline, rinse, repeat. Increase speed by .2 mph every 6 minutes. I was running a sub-7 during my last segment (ave pace: 7:57). For me, that is fast. My legs were really sore last night.

I've had to be creative with the workouts. I can't seem to stomach more than an hour on the treadmill, so I've been breaking it up into 5-mile segments. Twice a day so far. Three times a day shortly. I figure a back-to-back 15 mile day on a treadmill is great mental training.

One goal I haven't achieved before Rocky is getting my weight down. I'm down to 200. Which is down, but not anywhere near the 190 I was shooting for. Clydesdale division, anyone?

Holy Geez

2009-12-21T11:41:00.000-08:00

Wow, I can't believe it's been a month since my last post. What in the world have I been doing? Well, in short: school and being sick.

I skipped Dude, Where's the Trail because I had an immunology test the next day. I didn't feel real ready for it on the Saturday before the race and I didn't want to be stressed during the run thinking "I should be studying..." so, I figured it'd be best to just not do the race. Sigh.

After that, I spent most of my time getting ready for finals, dealing with the cold weather, and getting sick enough to take 7 days off of running. :( I added a bit of bike/elliptical work during that time, but nothing as vigorous as usual.

I feel like I still have a good base - as evidenced by my quick 8 mile run around SMP on Saturday after helping a buddy move all morning. So, I'll tweak my training a bit and keep working towards that sub-24 goal at Rocky.

Oh, and I'll post more.

Dealing With Pain - Something from the Ultra List

2009-11-19T06:37:00.000-08:00

Subscribing to the ultra list is asking for a barrage of e-mails, some only marginally related to ultra running, some not related at all. It is a guarantee of a good Friday joke, an occasional rant about Dean Karnazes and lots of discussion about salt tablets - over and over and over.

Like with anything in life, there's occasionally a truffle hidden in all of that crap. Okay, more than occasionally. I actually really like the list. I just had to train myself to ignore the drivel. I know some of the folks on the list from races and would love to meet many more of them - mostly to tell them their jokes are bad.

A little while ago someone posted a question about dealing with pain in an ultra. The basic premise was: how do you manage the pain you eventually encounter during the late miles of a run. There was much discussion. One of the posts came from "Laz" (aka: Gary Cantrell) of The Barkley (more here). I asked and he allowed me to post it.

i dont know that it becomes easier, so much as you simply adapt.
as you extend your boundaries, distances get easier.
50 miles makes 50 k easier.
100 k makes 50 miles easier.
100 miles makes 100 k easier.
and the first time you are excited to have "only" 100 miles left,
nothing is the same any more.

i look back on my earlier ultras,
and some of the reasons i felt i had to slow down... or drop out,
and i am amazed that i gave in so easily
when i later discovered how much more i could survive.

you learn to take the pain
wall it off in a corner of your mind
and just keep moving.
it doesnt matter if you are having a good day, or a bad day.
the only difference in the two is your time.
you dont think about quitting
you dont think about finishing.
you just keep moving.
because that is what you do.
that is who you are.

it is a useful skill,
knowing how to simply endure.
it is the ultimate reward for running ultras.

i think some people come by it naturally.
but everyone can acquire the skill.
if i can, anyone can.
no one is less inherently tough than me.

This is resonating with me because of my upcoming 200-miler. I will run 100 miles and then think "wow, that was nice, only 100 left". Seriously? I'm really having a hard time fitting that into my brain.

A Speedy Start to the Cold Season

2009-11-16T14:06:00.000-08:00

Winter gave the KC area a little peak at what's under the trenchcoat today with a subtle mix of cold temps, rain, sleet and some snow. Nothing sticking, but close enough for me to be excited.

I have an immunology test today, and, as is standard, I went for a run as a study break. It's a fantastic way to let the brain relax and get the endorphins going. I brought home a disaster of a performance on a virology test a few weeks ago - 90% of which I blame on not running before the exam.

I took another break today to read Gary Henry's excellent (as is standard) Ozark Trail 100 race report. Go read it but promise yourself in advance that you won't go sign up for the nearest 100 after you're done. It's that good.

My goal today was a quick 5-miler on paved trails. I have somewhat tired legs from an aggressive 5-miler I ran yesterday. I know I'll pay for this someday at the pearly gates but yesterday's run was a treadmill run. I know, I know. I did it at a 8:45 pace yesterday. I wanted to stay close to that today while including some hills. I've been encouraged by Jeremiah, in order to encourage some weight loss, to incorporate some speed work as a means to drop a few pounds. So, that's what I set out for.

There was a very light drizzle as I started and the temp, according to my car, was a nipply 37 degrees. This translated into perfect running weather for me. My pace dropped quickly from a subtle 9 min/mile to a blistering 7 min/mile which I was able to hold for almost a mile and a half - a knightly accomplishment for me.

I churned out the entire 5 miles at an average just over 8 min/mile. Way better than I wanted. That definitely put me in a good mood for my exam tonight.

I'm down to about 200 lbs, meaning the past few weeks of running has paid off with a steady weight decline. I tend to plateau after losing 5-10 lbs then drop again. We'll see how that goes over these next few weeks. Remember, my Rocky goal is a pudgy 190. 10 to go with 11 weeks left.

Craptastic Run

2009-11-07T11:06:00.000-08:00

We're all allowed a bad run from time to time, right?

This morning was the beginning of the winter wyco season. At least, that's what I call it, for no particular reason. We had 8 folks (plus a dog) show up for the scenic 10-mile stroll around the lake.

The run started out normal enough for me. After about a mile I noticed that my breathing wasn't normal, it was very labored and loud. I also noticed I was only running with 6 people (including me) not 8. Hmm. So, I backtracked looking for the other two folks. After ensuring they knew where they were headed I darted off towards the larger group. I immediately felt like I was running with two rocks for legs instead of my normal allotment. I was dragging ass.

One of the guys waited for me at a road crossing. We made it to the Triangle and I just didn't feel like I had the energy for a trip through there. I also figured the lead group would be coming out pretty soon anyways and I didn't particularly want to lose them.

I'll save you the boring details and just say that after that I was running dead-last. The group had to wait up for me a lot. It was sad.

My excuse is that I'm more exhausted than I realized after weed-wacking part of the powerline trail at Shawnee Mission Park yesterday. My arm is actually still sore. My other excuse is that I ate eggos before this run. That was probably pretty trail-tarded of me.

Last week's total mileage was 36. The goal this week is 40. I thought I had more of a long-run base than I really do. The 12 I did on Wednesday night really left a mark on me.

My New Favorite Hill Workout

2009-11-05T08:47:00.000-08:00

Last night I set out to measure what I hoped would become my regular winter hill training course. McNaughton has 1000 feet of ascent over each 10 mile loop. I don't think that's terrible, but after 50, 100 or 150 miles I'm sure it's going to suck, bigtime.

So, I've been looking for a rolling hill course with some steep sections and some flat sections spread out over a respectable distance. I was thinking maybe a half mile.

I also want to do the hills somewhere that I have a nice warm-up available. Something not too strenuous to start off with. But something that taxes me a bit before I start on the hills.

I think I found the perfect course.

Starting from the marina at Shawnee Mission Park head to the mountain bike trails next to the tennis courts. Run the orange trail heading West. When you get to the 4-way trail intersection take the purple trail that heads "left" as you come off the orange trail. Take this to the furthest West trail entrance, head off the mountain bike trails, onto the paved streamway trail. Head down the hill to the streamway trail loop. Before you get to the loop take a right on the fireroad/horsetrail. Run this gravel road until you get to the camping area just before the gate on the fireroad. That's 2 miles exactly. It's relatively flat and it's a comfortable way to warmup. You have to run on pavement for about 200 yards. Whatever, I'll take it.

Now you're at the start of your hill workout. It's simple. Run the power lines heading East. The workout starts with a quick uphill followed by a short flat section. Then you hit a massive hill which I still find un-runnable. After this it's a gradual uphill into a nice rolling section. Once you hit Ogg Road keep going straight. At this point you're running along Tomahawk golf course. There's a line of trees between you and the fairway - but I'd still hope that nobody's slice is acting up too bad when running this section.

Keep going until you hit the "road" coming out of the golf course. You'll know when you hit it as the trail just kinda stops. It's exactly 1.5 miles. That's a nice round number - another reason why I like this course so much.

My Garmin tells me it's almost 500' of ascent for the out section. You end up higher than you started so the trip back involves less ascent. About 250' as best I can tell (I didn't measure it exactly). So, run this twice and you get have a nice 6 mile workout with somewhere around 1,500' of ascent. That's not bad. 3 round trips gives me 9 miles with over 2,000' of ascent - a good training run.

The grass is a bit clumpy along the trail. I'm not sure what to do about this. This might sound crazy but maybe I could take a weed-wacker to it one afternoon. Just to cut a more runnable path through some of the sections.

It's all about time on your feet, dummy

2009-11-01T12:34:00.000-08:00

I ran the Pilgrim Pacer fun run yesterday. The real race is in two weeks but they did the fun run to drum up support for the race and, well, to just have some fun. There's a 5k, 10k and half marathon option.

I went for the half, and then some. The whole race is on paved biking trails near Shawnee Mission Park. On the way back, around mile 12, I was getting a little bored and my feet started to hurt, so I left the "official" course and headed back behind the mountain bike trails to get an extra muddy hill in. I had a good reason for this - I wanted to get some difficult trail work in after having lots of miles on my legs. The trails were pretty muddy - the big hill along the power lines was essentially unrunable because of the mud. My little jaunt added about 3/4 of a mile. Worth it for some mud.

The good news was that I kept a sub-10:00 pace for the entire run - that's including the walking I did along the power lines.

The sad news is that 13-ish miles is the furthest I've run, non-stop, since...well...

- 10/10: Heartland, 20 miles, walked with John.
- 9/11: Patriot's Run, didn't run 13-straight, I walked a lot.
- 8/23: Leadville with Greg - walked the majority of the time.
- 8/16: Pike's Peak Marathon, walked most of the way up, didn't run all the time on the way down.
- This is getting depressing
- 8/1: The Gary Henry training run...covered 16 miles but walked a bit. This one might count, but we'll keep going.
- 7/27: 14 miles on the sandrat trails. I'd say this counts.

Fer christsakes - it's been almost 3 months since I've knocked off more than a half marathon?!?! I'm teary-eyed right now.

Then I came home and raked leaves for two hours. During this I realized what a great addition to my running workout it was. I was on my feet for 4 hours - that's quality ultra crosstraining right there. So, I might have had 17 on the calendar for yesterday, and I might have only gotten 13.5 of it, but I spent a lot more time on my feet, which makes up for the missed miles.

Run-Commute

2009-10-30T06:44:00.000-07:00

Finally! I ran to the lab this morning. What an absolutely excellent way to start the day.

Unfortunately, the route requires about 2 miles of roads before I hit the trolley trail at 71st and Brookside. This sucked for two reasons. First, there were tons of leaves covering the sidewalk and the street, this made it hard to see the little bumps in the road or sidewalk that'll trip you up if you're not careful. Second, the dammed cars. God, I don't know how people go and pound pavement next to streets all the time. The cars are so annoying. I'll take the deer, skunks, rocks, mud, horses, snakes and spiders over the exhaust-ridden, noisy, inconsiderate roads any day.

I didn't run the whole way. The urge to see a man about a horse (aka: poo) hit me about a mile from the lab. It wasn't subtle either. I managed a shuffle to contain the problem. Then I hit the stairs at UMKC...yeah, not comfy.

barefoot

2009-10-26T14:01:00.000-07:00

So, I finally bit.

Yesterday was a stairmaster day (mostly so I could study and exercise, or, really, feel like I was studying).

I did some weights and realized what a wimp I've become.

At the end, I decided to knock a few miles off on the treadmill. So, after 20 or so minutes of running my foot started to hurt. Pretty standard on the treadmill for me. There had just been a discussion on the ultra list about barefoot running on the treadmill. I thought this sounded kooky, but as my foot ached I started to wonder: "what would it feel like"?

So, I slipped the shoes and socks off, got on the treadmill and started walking. Hmm, my foot started to feel good almost right away. Odd. I cautiously turned the speed up, just to a slow jog. It felt...well, it felt really wrong but not physically, just mentally. Like I was violating some running rule. But, my foot felt great, so I kept going. I ended up only doing about 1/2 a mile but it was fantastic.

My feet did hurt last night; it was weird to be sore in my feet.

I'm not sold, but I'm optimistic about adding some barefoot cross-training to strengthen my feet/ankles.

Time to Start Thinking About Rocky!

2009-10-19T13:09:00.000-07:00

15 weeks. Yay.

Ok, I'm working on my training plan today. I have a simple goal: sub 24-hour finish.

One big (pun intended) thing I need to work on for this race is getting my weight back down. I'm at 205 (after my haircut this morning) and that's not going to be fun come race-day. I'd really like to run the race at 190. That's a pound a week - quite doable.

So, expect a bunch of weight reports, weekly mileage logs and other stuff related to getting ready for this race over the next few months.

2009 Men's Health Urbanathalon

2009-10-19T12:02:00.000-07:00

I ran the Men's Health 2009 Urbanathalon last weekend up in Chicago. Definitely a different kind of race for me. It's a 12-ish mile course with obstacles: monkey bars, marine hurdles, stadium stairs, taxi cabs, a 8' wall and a tire obstacle.

My girlfriend Erin, my buddy Jeremiah, his girlfriend Erin and I flew up there on Friday morning. Instead of taking it easy the day before the race we spent most of Friday walking around the city. We did turn in early that night...well, they did, I couldn't sleep, so I spent three hours in the lobby reading books and trying to get tired. Figures.

We got up around 6 on Saturday for the race. Jeremiah and I headed down there early, we decided to walk/run there instead of cabbing it. Seemed like a good way to warm up. It was about a mile and a half away and during the hike down there it started a strange rain/drizzle/snow/hail combination. I actually liked it, as I'm a fan of running in weather like that.

Anyways, we got to the start, stretched, wasted time, etc. The way the race was started was moronic. They simply divided us up by age and sex. So, males under 25 started first, followed by 25-29 males, etc. I felt pretty bad for people who started in, say, the 30-35 age group and had trained for the race and felt like the had a chance to place. They'd be forced to weave in and out of hundreds of people who had started before them. They gave us about 5 mins between heats, which didn't help the serious competitors at all.

We started off towards the North, headed to Navy Pier. At the pier we encountered our first obstacle, the tires. Simple, run through the tires, jump over the big ones, run through more tires, etc. Not a tough obstacle, you just had to make sure you weren't stuck behind someone really slow.

After the pier we headed back down South, towards Solider Field. At Solider Field, heading South, we hit the second obstacle, the monkey bars. Again, a simple obstacle, as long as you had good momentum and weren't stuck behind someone who decided to just hang there or drop off and not get out of the way.

We continued South. We were on mile 7 or 8 when I started really wanting some sports drink. They had water stations that were just that, water only stations. No Gatorade, Powerade, nothing. Just water. That really sucked.

The turn-around was the marine hurdles. Man, I didn't expect these. First off, they were on a sand volleyball court. Running up to it was the first time I'd wished I'd had gaiters on. I cleared the first two ok. The third one was tougher. I swear I had to jump higher to get it (I think because of the slope of the beach). I tried 3 times to get over it, and I couldn't. Shiiittt. Screw it, I went under it. I felt like a loser for that. Better yet, Jeremiah saw me fail to get over that last hurdle. Excellent.

Heading back North we had three obstacles left, the stairs, the taxi cab and the wall. I wasn't moving nearly as fast as Jeremiah wanted me to. I wasn't tired or worn out, I was just moving at my own pace, which I like to think is a consequence of running ultras. I like to think that, it's probably not true.

We got to Soldier Field in short order and started up the stairs. We headed up to the top level and were ushered into one of the sections. This part was the definition of a clusterfuck. They had two sections of stairs for us to run and were randomly dividing us between the sections. We were told to run past the first and do the second. Ok. We got to the second and found a giant mass of people trying to crowd into the same small section entrance. On top of that, the runners from the first section were coming out right next to us. It was a total disaster. We must have wasted 5 minutes just standing there trying to get onto the stairs.

The stairs were mostly a walk, not a run. There were so many people going up and down you didn't get much of a chance to walk until you ran into someone's rear. I didn't mind this much as I didn't have the energy to run the stairs.

We left Soldier Field and headed to the finish. I wasn't moving nearly fast enough for Jeremiah and he spent most of the last part trying to speed my ass up. It wasn't happening. We got back to the start, hopped the cab and waited in line to scale the wall. Jeremiah helped me over. I don't know if I needed it or not, but it was nice to have the help.

We finished in 1:56 and something. Not bad. The winner ran a 1:08, I think. Which is completely insane.

Once it was over I felt like I could easily do the course three more times. I don't know if that's a mental and/or physical shortcoming I have now. I didn't feel like I could run faster during the race, but I could do the race several more times.

It Actually Can Always Get Worse...aka: 2009 Pikes Peak Marathon

2009-08-27T16:30:00.000-07:00

Ultrarunners have a saying: It never always gets worse. I'd like to argue that this phrase only applies while at or below 10,000 feet. After that - it can always get worse. Pike's Peak is a prime example.

I'd ran up Pike's Peak once before, last June, when I came out to Colorado to visit my buddy Chris. I made it to the top and decided, because I didn't want to be a lighting rod, to hitch a ride back down. A lovely old couple from Florida gave me a lift and I managed to avoid puking until I had gotten out of their car. My goal for this run was therefore to not puke at all. I like to keep it simple, ya know.

Erin, her Dad and I arrived in Maintou Springs around 6 on Sunday morning. The race starts at 7 which, if you ask me, is about two hours too late. I think this thing should get going at 5 - or there should at least be an option for an early start. Mainly to allow for slower runners to make it up and start back down the mountain before the nasty and unpredictable afternoon weather rolls in.

I digress. We got there early and managed to find a parking spot - quite an accomplishment considering how small Maintou Springs is and considering how half the roads were blocked off for the race.

It was coooold. In the upper 40's cold. We had just left KC two nights before and it was in the 90's with a good dose of humidity. I shoulda brought a parka with me.

We mulled around and talked. Me trying to mask my nervousness. I felt trained, well, as trained as someone who lives at 1,000 feet can be for a race that starts above 6,500 and ends at 14,000. That's what worried me. That thin air. I was worried about being able to eat and drink above treeline - something I had trouble with when I did my solo run last year. I'd manage, I kept telling myself.

Eventually I ran out of Mexican-In-The-Cold jokes to use on Erin's Dad and we headed over to the start. I felt like I was headed out for a 50-miler. I had my jacket tied around my waist, my Nathan Pack loaded with food, salt and other goodies and gloves and a headband stuffed somewhere for when I got really cold.

At the start the RD spent some time talking about the first woman who had ran Pike's Peak - 50 years ago. The race claims to be the first to recognize a female finisher. I don't know how true that is but it was the theme of this years race and it was nice to see her at the start. After the national anthem we were off.

Now, I was apparently in the first wave - first of two waves that is. My San Francisco Marathon time of 3:38 put me in the "fast group". I wanted to point out that I wasn't fast, especially at low-flying-plane altitude. This was another thing that worried me. This turned out to not be a problem as they made no effort to separate the first wave folks from the second wave.

My strategy for the race was to take it really easy and save my energy for my time above 12k feet. Keeping that in focus would be really difficult for me as I tend to get caught up in a pack and forget my plans. So, at the start, which is relatively flat, I forced myself to stay at a 10:00 pace. I ignored all the folks passing me (many already sucking wind after only 20 seconds of running) and stuck to my pace. This was a big accomplishment for me and I think it paid of later when I forced myself to walk some flat sections.

Anyways, we ran through Manitou for a bit then turned towards the mountain. I ran part of the first hill we came to then decided I better start walking. This walk lasted me about 12 miles. I was really surprised but us back-of-the-packers essentially walked the entire way up the mountain.

After maybe another half mile of pavement we hit gravel road, still uphill, then we hit trail, again, uphill. Turns out the first hill of the race is really the only hill of the race...all the way to the top.

I fell into a group walking at about 15-18 minute miles. It was a healthy pace and I was able to talk so I knew I wasn't working too hard. All I had to do was keep this up, I'd be fine.

I started chatting people up, as I tend to do, and found a guy running Leadville the next weekend. Wow. Quite a way to acclimate to the altitude - go run a 14-er then go run Leadville. I also met a guy who was doing the "double" - the ascent on Sat and the marathon on Sun. That's pretty nuts also.

Turns out, a lot of the folks who run Pike's Peak are ultra-runners. I met very few "regular-old-marathoners". After the fact, this makes a lot of sense.

Back to the race - well, not a lot to say. The aid stations were great. Well stocked with people willing to help fill packs and other stuff. I maintained my walking pace and just focused on moving ahead. I felt fine up past Barr Camp (10,000 feet) and kept a strong pace even up to the treeline, which is right around A-Frame. I think this was about 12,000 feet...maybe a little lower.

Then my eating and drinking problems started. I don't know what it is about altitude that makes it difficult for me to eat and drink, but I get a really sick feeling anytime I do. Now, I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I'm getting less oxygen at 12k feet than I am at 1k feet, but it's just odd.

It's about 3 miles to the top from A-Frame. I was managing a 30 min/mile pace at this point so I had an hour and a half to fight through to make the summit. I just started putting one foot in front of the other and kept telling myself I'd get there.

I got passed a lot during the trek above the trees. I didn't have to stop and catch my breath like I did during my solo run, but I wasn't fast by any means. It did get a bit discouraging to think I was probably in the bottom 25% of the racers at that point. Ah, who cares - I had to keep telling myself.

The trail to the top was littered with some folks who were not in good shape at all. There were a couple of pukers and some folks sitting there staring blankly off into space. I offered them salt, water or food. No takers. Ok.

At this point, I started to think about how a flatlander could better to train for this race. I came up with 3 strategies:

First - a stairmaster is your friend. Do 2-3 hour sessions. For creativity points mix in some running with the climbing. Maybe a 5 mile run followed by a couple hours of stairmastering (is that a word?) followed by more running. I only did a mile or so of running before hitting the stairmaster. The longest I was on was 2 hours. I should have done a bit more.

Second - find a straw, insert it in your mouth, then run with it. Keep the pace you can keep only breathing through your nose and that straw. Try not to trip and impale yourself with the straw.

Third - find a happy hour or grab a sixer of your favorite lager, get a buzz, then try either the first or second strategy. Being at that altitude really made me feel drunk. I couldn't walk completely straight and I was pretty confused at some points.

So, the altitude change is why I say it can actually always get worse. As you climb there's no way to avoid the loss of oxygen. Now, I know, eventually you start running downhill and it's a whole new ballgame. Fine. But for those first 13 miles - it can always get worse.

Eventually I turned a corner and saw the top of the mountain. Then I looked lower and saw the turnaround for the race. What! Man, I felt gyped. The race turnaround is about 50 feet lower than the top of the mountain. I found this odd in my mildly confused state. Whatever. I got to the halfway point, headed towards the aid station, and started looking for Erin.

See, Erin and the kids were going to meet me on top of the mountain. The plan was for her to drive up, bring me a new shirt, get some pictures, then head back down. I also wanted my sunglasses. Except...Erin wasn't there. Hrm.

I pulled out my trusty iPhone and called her. Through a terrible connection I made out "stay there, we're ...static, static, silence, static... top". Then it cut out. What?!?!? I just ran my happy little ass up this dammed mountain and you're not here! I was furious - for about a second. Then I looked around. See, this whole time I hadn't taken a second to really appreciate where I was. Wow, what a view.

Now, this might sound mildly lame but I think there's a huge difference between experiencing a view from the top of Pike's Peak when you drove or took the cog up versus when you mustered the will to climb up the boulder pile yourself. This is what I realized as I was stuffing my face with grapes. I had just spent the last five hours putting myself through hell to climb to the top of a 14k foot mountain. That felt pretty good.

So, instead of saying screw it and heading back down the mountain I decided to just sit and enjoy the view. I didn't care about my time. I had plenty of time to make the cutoff. I was up there - I was going to enjoy it. This is what I refer to now as my navel time. I spent almost an hour sitting there, just enjoying the view. The search and rescue people came over to me and asked me if I was ok - probably wondering why I hadn't started back down on my own. I said "well, I'm here, I might as well enjoy the view". They looked at me, looked out over the landscape, then looked back and me and said "yeah, good point".

Eventually Erin and the kids appeared at the top. I saw them and scurried to the top, got some pictures and hugs and strange looks from them. Apparently they had a harrowing experience driving up and weren't totally happy to be up there. Plus, I was probably way more chipper than they expected me to be at that point. We talked for a bit, then I decided it was time to head down.

Now, I'd like to point out that I actually made it to the top of Pike's Peak, to 14,115 feet. As far as I can tell everyone else made it to 14,075 feet. A minor yet important distinction.

Once I started downhill, after an hour of sitting, I was surprised at how good I felt. I had no problem running or breathing. What a difference from the trek up. I pushed myself a bit and started passing folks. I like to think I'm a pretty good downhill runner and it showed here.

The journey back to the treeline was pretty uneventful - except for the C-130 I saw fly through the valley below, swinging side-to-side as it avoided the mountains. Pretty cool to see.

Once I got into treeline I kept up my slow jog, passed more folks, worked on eating since I had more of an appetite and focused on finishing. I also noticed I had what felt like rocks in my shoes. Under both of my heels. I kicked my shoes around a bit but couldn't get the rocks to move. Odd. I kept running.

Eventually I decided to stop and take the rocks out of my shoe. I sat down, took the shoes off, and couldn't find any rocks. Huh? Weird. As I was putting my shoes back on a deer came out on the trail about 20 yards behind me. He looked at me, didn't seem to care I was there and walked on. I'm not sure why but that was really neat to me.

I crossed the finish line at 9:35:36. That put me cleanly in last place for my age group and I was 525/540 male finishers. Pretty much last. But - I had fun which is really all I cared about. I knowingly burned an hour at the top and I'm totally ok with that.

Ready to Run

2009-08-15T09:32:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm in Denver, got my packet yesterday...parking was a nightmare in Manitou Springs. Today is a chill day, might go check out a national park - as it's free this weekend.

The weather for tomorrow isn't looking promising. Severe Thunderstorms are likely in the afternoon in Colorado Springs. Couple that with likely rain tonight and the trail might be a bit muddy. The mud I don't mind, it's the lighting that worries me.

Taper Time

2009-08-11T09:32:00.000-07:00

After an undisclosed amount of stairmastering, running, a teeeeeeny bit of rowing and lots of moving it's time to chillax. Pike's Peak is this Sunday. Then Leadville. I'll be running Wednesday night with Greg, Ben and Sophia to discuss our plans of world domination. By world domination I of course mean helping Greg finish Leadville in the time he wants. I imagine the condition he finishes it in doesn't really matter.

I've been leading the Trail Nerds Monday night beginners run for three weeks now. I'm kinda digging it. I've had respectable turnout the past few weeks - with last night being the best by far. Although I really need to stop eating a massive dinner at 5:00 with my parents then running at 6. I almost puked last night.

In other randomness - the Trail Nerds held our night 10K last Friday. Erin, the kids and I manned the turnaround aid station along with Jon and Shelly (I think). We had a great time watching the runners come in, totally covered in mud, only to head down for the soul-sucking .999999 mile loop that is the triangle. Most made it out okay only to be reminded that they had to run back through all that mud they had struggled through the first 2.5 miles. The best had to be the people who lost shoes in the mud.

Off to Colorado on Friday and up to 14,103' on Sunday!

Who does number two work for?

2009-08-01T09:23:00.000-07:00

I did the Gary Henry training run this morning. He's doing 47 or so miles on 3 out-and-backs. I joined him for one of them at 6 this morning. 16 miles round-trip.

It was a fantastic run. The rain let off about half an hour before our run which made the levee nice and soft. The roads leading to Linwood were soft also - maybe a little too soft, I had about a pound of mud and rocks stuck to my shoes.

I was doing great until about mile 10 when the urge to leave some trail fertilizer struck me. I managed to keep going until about mile 14 when it was so bad I had to stop and walk. I headed into a corn field and briefly contemplated using a leaf from a stalk...but then I chickened out and just suffered back to the trailhead. I've never had to poo on a run before. Maybe I should start packing TP.

A Terrible Idea

2009-07-30T15:31:00.000-07:00

I just had a terrible, absolutely terrible, idea...

Stolen from: http://www.uberrunner.com/pages/ffa50k/festivus-fat-ass-50k.php

What's a Fat Ass?

So, what's a Fat Ass? Well, other than a common physical trait among most of the participants it's a term used in the ultra-running world that means that the run isn't an official event.

This is an official Fat Ass event, which means that it's not an official event. There are:

* No entry fees
* No T-shirts
* No awards
* No sponsors (including CRRC - this is simply a non-event being organized by a club member)
* No aid stations (bring your own fluids & nutrition)
* No road or trail closures (so obey all normal trail etiquette and traffic laws)
* No time cutoffs
* No cheering crowds...don't show up if you're expecting tons of spectators (other than funny looks from passersby)
* No bitchin' or whinin'
* No wimps
* Plus, this one will likely be cold, windy, and maybe even icy if conditions are normal for that time of year

Wow, that sounds terrible. What is there?

* A date, time, and place
* A course or route
* Bragging rights
* Good people
* Great fun
* Possible social events following the run at a local food/drink establishment

Since it's not an official event it also means that that anyone that wants to participate is welcome. If you want to participate in this Fat Ass but don't want to run 50K (let's say you want to run 5, 10, or 20 miles) that's OK since it's not an official event. Just don't claim that you did do the 50K or you'll get a Fat Ass Whoopin'.

One of those runs

2009-07-21T18:24:00.000-07:00

I've had some good runs in my day...yesterday was one of the best.

In my book you can't beat one of three conditions for running: snowing, a beach or a nice rainstorm. Rainstorm sans thunder, lightning, hail and tornados, of course. Yesterday I got the rainstorm.

I met Ben and Sophia at Shawnee Mission Park at 6. I had planned on the beginners run, which starts at 7, but since they were running at 6 I figured I'd just do both. We hit the MTB trails as a nice steady rain was falling. Not too hard, not too soft, just right.

It was fabulous. The trails were sturdy yet just slick enough so you had to fight for your balance. The three of us did one lap, stopping midway to admire the new trail being put in by the Earth Riders (I think) back on the North side of the trails. The addition of the second trail is going to make a 10-mile run back there possible.

We got back to the trailhead just after 7. There was one additional car in the parking lot so I headed back into the woods to see if I could find whoever it was that had shown up. I enjoyed every step of that run. No iPod, just me and the woods. It doesn't get much better than that. I had boundless energy.

It was just the kind of post-MCAT run I needed.

A different kind of ultra

2009-07-09T11:57:00.000-07:00

I'm currently in the middle of a different kind of ultra...yet one that can be easily related to a 100-miler. Or, maybe, 10 100-milers, on consecutive days.

I take the MCAT in 8 days. 8 am, on the 17th. I've been getting ready for this, more or less, since June of 2007 when I sat down in that summer chemistry class and began this long journey. It's been quite an adventure.

I've spent the last month and a half (since Jemez Mt) studying at least 2-3 hours per day for this test. Over the past month I've been putting in more hours - somewhere in the 4-6 hour range. The last two weeks, it's been even worse, in the 10-12 hour range.

The last few weeks have been quite analogous to a long race. I'll start a day out strong, trying not to think about all the work ahead of me. I'll start to get tired, take some breaks and try to re-focus. Then I'll get really tired and start setting small goals for myself; get through this next section, run halfway up this hill, etc. Past a certain point it all becomes a mental game you have to play with yourself. Eventually I finish each day and I find it hard to remember what it felt like throughout the day, I just know how it feels to be done.

The analogy extends to other people (racers) also. You come across people who seem to be so prepared for the test. They don't even seem to have to try and they exude an air of confidence that you wish you had and wonder if you could have developed given the right training and preparation. There's others who you're wondering why they're even toeing the start line, thinking there's no way they're ready, why are they even here?

I guess it'll end just like an ultra too. Some of those folks who looked so good at the start won't even make it halfway. Others who you wouldn't have put a dollar on finishing will end the race with their head held high, looking strong and ahead of most in the field. You'll still wonder how they did it after the race.

You'll finish also. You'll run your own race, doing what you need to do to get you to the end in one piece and in a respectable time. There wouldn't have been a doubt in your mind that you would finish, you know your preparation and hard work were a good foundation to run your race off of and all you have to do is show up race morning somewhat coherent and with a couple pairs of shoes. It'll be a fun race.

Snakes and Dogs

2009-05-26T08:25:00.000-07:00

Oh summertime. How I despise the with your poison ivy, ticks, bugs, spiders, humidity and snakes. You force me to pavement on some days, as I feel sure to encounter a 15' rattle snake in a field of poison ivy surrounded by ticks while stuck in a giant web at 100% humidity.

I stepped on my second snake yesterday. First time was a king snake. Very large and very harmless. Yesterday was a copperhead. Luckily this one was very small and very harmless. It was about a foot long and the thickness of a pencil. It did not seem happy to have been stepped on. It had some stones; it didn't run from me, it stood up to me, hissed, held its ground. I relented and backed off, surely only feeding its ego.

I also got chased by a dog yesterday. A lab that was only a couple of months old. It was fierce. I ran past the family on the trail, they were walking with the dog, without a leash. It decided I was more fun than the family. I had my headphones on, so I didn't hear them yelling at me to stop. The dog didn't care they were yelling. I had that weird feeling I was being followed after about 30 seconds. I turned around and saw the dog, happy as a clam, running after me. The family nowhere in sight. Oops. I grabbed the dog and returned it to the rightful owners.

Oh summertime.

2009 Jemez Mt 50 Miler

2009-05-18T11:57:00.000-07:00

If anyone in the vicinity of Los Alamos happens to see my ego laying around could you package it up and send it to me? I'd really like it back. Postage guaranteed. Thanks.

I got my ass handed to me by this race. Difficult isn't the appropriate way to describe this race, defining is a better term. This race will tell you if you really know what you're doing as an ultra-runner. Do you know how to train for a race? Do you know where you're at with your running? Have you been slacking on your training? Do you give a race everything you've got? What do you need to work on? Jemez Mt will answer all of this for you.

I'll save you the gory details and simply say I made it 17/50 miles, and I'm DAMMED proud of myself for making it that far. So, what happened?

My girlfriend Erin and I flew out to Albuquerque on Thursday night. A friend of hers from Santa Fe who we were staying with picked us up from the airport and drove us up to Santa Fe. We got in very late so we essentially just turned in for the night once we got there.

The next day we got some shopping done and walked around for a while. I was a bit worried about the altitude, Santa Fe is at 7,000', but didn't seem to notice it. Later that afternoon we headed up to Los Alamos for packet pick-up. We got to the high school around 6 and found it full of runners. The pasta dinner was free for everyone so Erin, Cheryl and I indulged while listening to the RD talk about the course conditions, etc. I was feeling pretty good at that point, pretty confident I could pull of a finish.

I think my first mistake was not staying in Los Alamos the night before the race. It's a 45 or so minute drive from Santa Fe to Los Alamos. That's 45 extra minutes of sleep I could have banked the next morning. So, instead of getting up at 3 am, I could have slept till 3:45 or 4 am. That would have been nice.

So, we headed back to Santa Fe. I took it easy the rest of the night. Eating a bit more and turning in around 9:30 or 10:00.

At 3 am my alarm went off. Argh, it was early. I stumbled around a bit, ate some food, and got Erin and Cheryl up. We were out the door by about 3:45. I drove up to Los Alamos and Erin even managed to stay awake the entire time, which was really nice. Probably to make sure I stayed awake also.

We got to the start at about 4:45. The start was at 5:00. This was cutting it way too close for me. I still had to stretch, visit the port-o-potty and simply relax before the run. I managed to get one of those three things accomplished before the run - the visit to one of the two port-o-potties they had at the start. (If anyone who puts the race on reads this: you guys did a great job of organizing everything, but PLEASE have a few extra port-o-potties out there next year...2 doesn't cut it).

I got done with about a minute to spare. The folks who were behind me in line probably started the race in a sitting position. I barely had time for a quick picture with Erin before we were off.

The beginning of the race is deceptively flat. We ran along a road for a bit, then veered off onto some gravel roads and finally onto some single-track trail that took us to the start of our first climb. It was really dark out so I didn't get much of a chance to enjoy the scenery. We hit the first aid station about 5 miles in. I was feeling good at that point. The altitude didn't seem to bother me. My legs did feel a bit heavy and sore - like they were building up lactic acid, but I wasn't sure. I got some water and headed out in short order.

Then the fun began.

Aid station 1 sits around 7,000'. Aid station 2 sits at about 8,750'. They're 1.8 miles apart. You do the rest of the math. This, for some reason, did not compute with me before the race. This was clearly a walking section.

I had a good stride starting the climb. Quickly I noticed I had begun to develop a sharp pain in the lower left side of my back. Odd. I took two ibuprofen and hoped for the best. A few weeks before, at the Freestate 100K I had run into a similar problem with the lower right side of my back. I hadn't had lower back problems for years. Hmm.

I kept going. Up and up. Slowly yet surely my legs started to burn, bad. I wasn't short of breath yet, but I could feel the burn, so to speak, with each step. People passed me. More people passed me. Etc.

I was about 6 miles into the race and I was already hurting bad. That was such a demoralizing realization. It's ok I'd tell myself - I'll fly down the downhills. I subscribe to the Greg Burger school of downhill trail running: "if you can safely stop within 50 yards you're going too slow". I'd make the time up.

I hit aid station number 2. Finally. My legs felt like I'd just finished my third lap (60 miles) at Rocky Raccoon. Wow, the view was amazing and holy crap it was chilly! My back was still hurting so I popped another couple ibuprofen. All I could think was "time for a downhill!". This was going to be fun.

Then I saw the downhill. Hmm, it wasn't very runnable. It was really steep. Shit.

I made my way down, running when I could, using trees to stop me when I needed. All I could think the entire way down was "this would be near impossible if it were raining". I couldn't imagine that course in the rain. You'd need trekking poles, repelling rope, a helicopter, pick-axes, and ten buddies just to make it up and down some of those trails.

After finishing the downhill the course meanders through a breathtaking canyon. The trails were lightly worn and we followed a stream much of the way. It was a gradual uphill and it was all I could do to keep myself from sprawling out on the grass and writing my own version of "Leaves of Grass" or "Walden Pond" it just seemed that relaxing. The environment there almost demanded that you take some time to appreciate its beauty.

I forgot about my back and my legs and my sorry disposition. I didn't care about the time or med school or the MCAT. I was in my own little world and it was fantastic. Then I hit aid station 3 and with it another uphill.

You visit aid station 3 twice. Once when you're coming in from aid station 2 and again when you're coming in from aid station 4. Now, I need to take a second and thank the volunteers. This is literally the middle of nowhere - and it's a pain in the ass to get to. These folks hiked in the day before, setup camp, and started purifying drinking water by hand for the runners. Yes, they did this all by hand. Amazing. I still can't believe the volunteers in this place. I was bitching and moaning about the race and all I was carrying was my Nathan pack. I didn't have to hike all the equipment in that these folks did. They were fantastic.

So, this part of the race takes you to the highest point on the course at 10,480'. I felt every inch of it. Best I could tell we started around 8,500'. It's a 2 mile trek to the top, so that makes for about a 20% grade. That's steep.

I was ok for the first few minutes. Then the back pain kicked in and the legs started burning again. I took some more ibuprofen and mustered on. After about 5 minutes all I could think about was saying f-it and turning around and heading back down the mountain. But, I didn't. I kept going. Very slowly. I had to stop every 50 yards or so and catch my breath and let my legs recover. This was not going well. After what seemed like forever I hit the top.

There were some amazing views from Caballo Top, I didn't stick around too long to enjoy them. The wind was blowing hard and I was itching to get back down the mountain. It was cold up there and the wind didn't help.

I did a pretty good job running down the mountain. I had to walk some of it but most of it seemed runnable. It was tearing up my quads tho. The constant downhill was tough.

About 200 yards from aid station 3 I saw one of the volunteers coming up the trail towards me. He was shouting "shoo, shoo" and clapping his hands and looking up to his left. "WTF" I wondered. Then I looked to my right and saw this giant black ball of fur running away from the both of us. "Holy Crap! Is that a bear!?" Yeah, a big black bear was high-tailing it up the mountain. It seemed ginormous. I only got to see it for a few seconds, it was quick and it didn't seem to want to be seen.

I got back to aid station 3, grabbed some food, got more water, and headed off for the next leg. I'd covered 14.2 miles and felt worse than I did after the 100 miles at Rocky. I could barely run and my back still hurt. I took another two ibuprofen and realized I'd taken 8 and hadn't peed yet. Great, I was gonna need rehab if I kept this up.

I walked most of the way to aid station 5. There was a lot of uphill here and at some point I just decided I was done. It had been almost 5 hours and I hadn't even covered 17 miles. On the way down from aid station 4 to 3 I didn't notice any 50 milers coming up the mountain. I figured I was one of the last. This was pretty pathetic in my view.

Erin was waiting for me at aid station 5. This was pretty fantastic considering she had to hike 3 miles just to get to the aid station, uphill. She brought me a bunch of stuff and said generally supportive things to me even though I was grumpy and not chipper. I thought about it for about a second and told her I was done. My legs had nothing left. I just wasn't feeling it.

In retrospect, I dunno, it's pretty depressing to think that I quit after 17 miles. It told me a lot about myself and my running.

First, I don't train properly. Full disclosure time. Know how many miles I banked in the months leading up to Rocky? Maybe 150. I did two weekends of back-to-back 10 milers and one weekend of a 20 miler one day and a 10 miler the next. Sprinkle in a few short runs around the city (all less than 5 miles) and you have my Rocky Raccoon training. I finished that race in 24:39. I essentially didn't train at all for Mother Road. I only ran 50 of 100 there. I also didn't really train for Brew to Brew, save for a few random weekday runs. I really need to get my crap together and find a consistent running schedule.

Second, I gotta shed some of this extra weight. I eat like I run a 50 every weekend. It's adding up. I'm back to 200 (from ~185 in Feb). That's just unnecessary weight I'm lugging up those 2,000' climbs.

Third, I think the stress of my life is affecting my running. The MCAT, my research and school are weighing on me tremendously. I can feel it in that I don't find a clear head as often when I run. I'm not sure what to do about it. Get through the next two months, I guess.

Training for this race in Kansas is something that would be difficult. One of the hardest parts, I think, was the relentless uphill and downhill sections. We don't have that here - where you get 2 miles of solid uphill or downhill. I'm used to a couple hundred feet up, some down, rinse, repeat. It gives your muscles a break. There were no breaks here.

The altitude is tough also. I say that, then I think back to when I ran Pike's Peak back in June. I was fine up to about 12,000'. I was also in much better shape than I am now. I think training hard where I'm at will make the altitude issue somewhat moot.

This race was a good wake-up call for me. It tells me I'm going to get whipped at the Pike's Peak Marathon if I don't get my crap together. It also tells me I'm going to let Greg down at Leadville if I'm not careful. At least I know where I'm at now.

I do know I'm going back to Los Alamos in 2010 and I'm going to run the whole 50 miles.

You know, I still am working on my Rocky report...

2009-03-24T07:23:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not but I'm still working on my Rocky Raccoon report. By this point half of it will be stuff I make up along with the other half of stuff I made up while running. Sigh.

Geez, what have I been doing since early Feb? Well...just running for fun. There were a couple GREAT snow runs at SMP in mid-February. The kind of runs where there's nobody around and I just kind of trek through the trails aimlessly and end up in the middle of the woods with no trail in sight. The weather has been getting better so I'm not the only person running through the Plaza anymore.

Oh, Psycho Wyco was the weekend after Rocky...duh. I did 10 miles there. I didn't really push it, just ran it for fun. I signed up for 20 but my body told me 10 was plenty coming off the 100 the weekend before. The conditions were tough - starting to get muddy early with some very slick spots in the shade. I felt real bad for the folks doing 2 or 3 laps out there.

Had my spring break, didn't run across Kansas, obviously. Still sounds like a fun idea, just a pain in the ass to plan.

Brew to Brew is in two weeks. I'm looking forward to it. Not going to try to run it hard, just run it for fun. I'm really hoping the weather holds up...that could be a brutal race in poor conditions. After that it's the Free State 100k, then finals, then Jemez 50 miler...all of which is over 9k feet. Then I'll need to find a June or July run to get me ready for the Pike's Peak marathon in August. I was suprised when Matt Carpenter e-mailed me about Pike's Peak. He was verifying runner qualifications. I suppressed the urge to say something lame like "I read the story about you in the Times and I was totally impressed". Oh yeah, and then there's the MCAT...July 17th.

Did I say sigh yet?

Finished!

2009-02-09T10:26:00.000-08:00

I'm home from Hunstville, with a shiny new belt buckle! 24 hours and 39 minutes to run 100 miles. Wow, it's hard to describe what it feels like to have run a hundred. Well, there's a lot of pain in the description, but you know what I mean.

Voluminous race report forthcoming, probably in a few days, I have a lot of studying to do the next few days.

The Rocky Butterflies

2009-02-03T16:43:00.000-08:00

Sitting here, staring at my biochem, all I can think of is getting through the race this weekend. Really, I just want to start it, I'm not worried about it, just really excited to get going.

I haven't ran since Sunday. I think I'll try to do a few miles tomorrow and then maybe again on Thursday, but nothing insane.

Erin, Kathleen and I are leaving Thurs after work. Going to stop in Oklahoma City and stay with one of Erin's family friends then head down to Huntsville on Friday, hopefully arriving fairly early in the afternoon. Yes, for Kathleen's last weekend in the States we're dragging her to a hundred miler ten hours away. I think that qualifies as being a good host, no?

I'll talk to y'all on Monday.

A Weekend of Wyco Fun

2009-02-01T11:53:00.000-08:00

I'm getting good at losing people at wyco. A few Thursdays ago I lost one person, on a night run, and today, not satisfied with losing just one person, I lost TWO! I rule. I'm going to try for three next time I run out there.

I found them, eventually. They would have made it out of the park alive, I'm sure. Or would they? Never know. Silly cougar might have gotten them.

Total wyco mileage this weekend was 30 miles. Did two loops on Sat morning and one loop this morning after helping out with the 5k. About 80 or so people ran it. The general consensus of folks finishing it was "damn, that was the hardest course I've ever ran". Yeah, no shit, those hills are brutal.

I'm not too worried about Rocky this weekend. I just want to get it started. I feel ready. Third attempt at a 100 miler, hopefully this time I'll finish it. That's all I want to do, finish it (oh, and in under 24 hours).

An update!

2009-01-28T13:54:00.000-08:00

I know, I suck. Let me count the ways.

Hmm, four months since my last update? Wow.

What have I done since then? Not a lot:

KC Marathon
Mother Road 100 (DNF'd at 50)
Nathinel's Run (DNF'd pretty early because it was like zero Kelvin out there)

That's all a setup for Rocky Raccoon in a few weeks, of course. 100 miles, here I come, again.

I'm taking the unprepared approach to this race. My long runs lately have only been 10-15 milers on the weekends.

Pod Trod

2008-09-24T06:38:00.001-07:00

The first annual first-ever Pod Trod was held last Sunday at gorgeous Clinton Lake park in Lawrence, Kansas. Man, was it fun. The idea was that you download a narrated course description the night before the race onto your mp3 player - and don't listen to it! You then show up the next morning, and when the race starts, you start listening and running. Or listening and standing. Or listening and running back to wherever you just were. Whatever.

I convinced my friend Theresa to run this one with me. Actually, I had several friends say they would, then they bailed. Whatever. We got down to the lake about half an hour before the start, milled around for a bit, and got ready for the race.

I had downloaded Clinton Confusion. Theresa didn't have a working mp3 player so our solution was to use the speakerphone on my iPhone so we could both listen to the description. It actually ended up working pretty well. You could choose from one of three courses; Clinton Confusion, Lumbering Luddite or Mud Babes Revenge. All three transversed basically the same area around the blue, red and white trails at the park, they just all went in different directions at different times.

Gary Henry gave the pre-race briefing to the 50-or-so assembled runners which mainly consisted of "have a lot of fun out there". I had a feeling we would. With that Gary sent us on our way, or "ready, set, play".

The first part was easy, run to this big brown house. Check. Everyone kept running past it and we hadn't listened to the next track so we just followed them while listening to Greg "LeCompton" Burger tell us to head down to Lands End. Lands End is this 5 or 6 trail intersection only a Brit could really appreciate. We came down this hill to the sight of 30 or so runners just standing there, heads cocked, looking up in the air, intensely concentrating on something. If someone would have seen it and not known about the race they seriously would have thought that the aliens had just turned on their brainwashing devices and we were all standing there waiting to get picked up. It was hilarious.

You have to pick up tokens during the race to prove that you passed the several checkpoints. Greg sent us down the blue trail for a while to some stairs, which we were to climb, then get back on the white trail and end up at Lands End again. Check. No ticket yet. Odd.

We then took off the other way on the blue trail, randomly passing people running in all directions on the trails, very reminiscent of the museum scene at the end of The Thomas Crown Affair when there's "guys with bowler hats all over the place". It was hilarious.

We found the #2 'token' which got us real worried about where #1 was. We decided to keep moving on. We were directed to the red trail along the shoreline, headed West, for about half a mile. This was a tough section as it was very rocky and rooty and narrow and there were people passing us going the other way. After a while and some turns we found the #3 'token'. Easy. Dammit, where was #1?

We were directed back to Land's End and told to head to the finish. We started that way but stopped before there deciding we needed to find the first token. We re-traced our steps and found a bucket at the first set of stairs that said "CCC #1". Yeah, that wasn't there when we headed out.

The way back to the finish was along the white trail. We could hear the folks at the start/finish so we decided to cut through the woods and out onto the field instead of trucking all the way back to Land's End to hit the finish. The Nerds at the finish were like "where the hell did you guys come from?" when we came out of the trees. "Shortcut." I said.

Perfect Weather, Pefrect Run

2008-09-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

The two days of (constant) rain we just had must have washed whatever was left of summer away, greeting me this morning with fall's relaxing scent. You know, fall just has that smell to it. I don't know what it is, but it's great.

I have a metric butt-ton of samples to run today in the lab but I decided they could wait for me to get a quick run in this morning. Few things make or break my day more than a good run. I wanted today to be good, so, go for a run it was.

It was about 60 degrees when I set off, not wanting to accomplish any great distance, maybe just to Loose Park and back. Simple except for the hill up Wornall. Oh well, I'd take it easy, no need to push it and hurt the foot. Maybe I'd run over to Coleman Heights, my Grandma's house route, through Valentine. I decided to run wherever, it didn't matter.

I took the Loose Park route. Headed through the Plaza and up Wornall. I didn't push it, I just enjoyed it. Few people were around, the streets were empty, I felt like I had the city to myself, and the most amazing thing happened, I didn't think about anything at all. It was great. I just ran. I just enjoyed the run. My foot didn't hurt. The weather was perfect. The wind was strong but manageable. It was exactly the run I needed.

My foot felt fine but I wasn't going to test it. I headed back home after one lap at the park. Going back through the Plaza I noticed all the Pitch newspaper things (I don't know what they're called). It was odd seeing a picture of me running while I was actually running. Going down Ward Parkway I imagined seeing the one in front of Kona empty, hoping that over the weekend copies had been taken up by all the girls inside who were taken aback by that striking silhouette of the man on the cover. Creating wonderful stories about him and waiting for him to walk in so they could shower him with drinks and attention. But alas, it was full. Yes folks, these are the kinds of things I think about when I run. Totally random crap.

So, it's a perfect day. Hopefully an indication of the fall to come. I wanted to keep running. I wanted to find a good book (*cough* non-science *cough*) and curl up on a porch with a cup of coffee and a sweatshirt and enjoy the chill. Not today though. Today it's a day-date with the mass spec. At least it's giving me perfect chromatograms, so far. It's a good day.

Patriot's Run

2008-09-12T17:28:00.001-07:00

The Patriot's Run was yesterday (Thursday, Sept 11th) at Two Trails Park in Olathe, Kansas. There's several options to the run. You can run a certified marathon or you can just show up and run for however long you want. My plan was to show up at noon, for the race start, and run until 9:11 at night, the end of the race.

I set myself up for disaster on this one. School has been taking up a ton of my time, keeping up with classes (or not keeping up), getting ready for my bi-weekly classes, and trying to get my research in line has put me under a ton of stress lately. If I have a fault (yes, I'm sure I have many) it's that I take on too much stuff at one time and won't admit, until it's generally too late, that I've taken on too much. Maybe this run was trying to tell me that.

I got to the park around 11:30, got my packet and got my stuff in order. The race is run on a .75 mile loop, all asphalt. It's fairly flat, well, flat until you've ran the same loop 20 times, then it's hilly as hell. I didn't know how I'd react to the asphalt (hint: I didn't like it). I looked around and didn't like it.

I was also very nervous headed into this race. I'm not sure exactly why. I think part of it was that I'd be running around people the entire time. With most ultras I've been around people for only very short amounts of time, usually headed off into the woods, countryside, or darkness by myself. Here I'd be with people the entire time. It didn't sit well with me for some reason.

It was also raining, not hard, but consistently all day. Running in the rain is generally one of my favorite things to do (behind snow and the beach). But I wasn't feeling it today. Maybe for a two hour run it'd be cool, but eight hours of it...hmm, it wasn't sitting well.

Back to the race. There were about forty people in total running. I think it was divided equally between marathon runners and run-however-long runners. We all kind of huddled under a shelter, milling around. I stretched, tried to not think about what it would feel like to run for nine hours. Talked to some folks, etc.

Around noon we were herded to the start, facing south, meaning we'd be running counterclockwise. We were on our way. I started easy. Focusing on keeping my pace at a steady 10 min/mile.

I did fine for the first hour. I held my pace. It was hard to zone out though. There were so many people around and we were passing the start so often I couldn't get into just running. I was busy thinking about other things, which made the running harder. I was already questioning if I could mentally handle the entire run. Oh well, I kept pushing it.

My parents showed up not long after, the first race they've been to. My mom immediately tagged me as looking like crap. I told her thanks for pointing out the obvious since I'd been running for an hour in the rain in a circle. She said it was more than that, I just looked beat.

She was right. I was tired. My legs burned way more than they should have on the very easy uphills the course offered up. I started walking about 1/10th of each lap - the part that was the steepest grade. This wasn't going well.

I stopped to take an ibuprofen and some salt tablets. Maybe that would help. I ate. Maybe that would help. Nope. Nothing. No energy, legs burned, mind wasn't in it. God, was I not going to finish? Was I going to have to quit?

I set off on another lap. I ran but immediately found I had nothing to keep me going. WTF? I walked for a while. See if that would help. Nope. Nothing.

I stopped wondering if I'd quit and started looking for reasons to quit. Was my foot hurting? Well, yeah, a little, but not horribly. I'd ran on it in worse shape. Maybe if I kept running it would start hurting more. I wanted it to hurt. What was wrong with me? Why would I want that?

The foot would just be a good excuse to stop. Everyone told me to stop if it started hurting. If it did hurt then I could justify stopping. That was my excuse, everyone would accept it and tell me I was smart for stopping. Then I wouldn't have to tell them that I just couldn't get my head in it. I couldn't get my legs into it, they didn't even show up. They were still at home, in bed.

I kept doing the laps, walking a lot, putting off the inevitable until the next lap. Finally I decided that was it. I was done. 3 hours and 30-ish minutes, 18 and some odd miles. That was my limit. I turned in my number and headed home. Tail between my legs.

I'm not too sore today. My foot does really hurt a little, but not a lot. I avoided talking about the race with folks at school who knew I was running. "How was the race?" "Aww, it was ok, not great, just ok." New topic.

I didn't really DNF, as it's an open-ended run, at least not on paper. Yet, in my mind I quit and it really sucks. I've approached my running to this point with the attitude that there's nothing my mind can't deal with. That's pretty arrogant, I know, but it's how I've seen it. Maybe now I know my mind has limits. I don't want it to. I want to think my mind can deal with anything. Limits show weakness. At least to me. I can rationalize anything, I can say 10 miles into a 50-miler that I'm 1/5th of the way done, not that I've got 40 miles left. Not yesterday.

One thing I'm sure of, it wasn't my muscles or bones or body that failed me yesterday, it was my mind.

Trail Nerds in The Ptich

2008-09-10T15:09:00.000-07:00

The Trail Nerds got a great write-up in our local weekly paper, The Pitch. You can find it here.

As part of it they included a kind-of-obscured picture of a runner at the Mud and Muck 5k two weeks ago...number 71. Hey, I was number 71. Go figure. I'm on the cover of The Pitch for being a Trail Nerd. Life couldn't be better.

Patriot's Run tomorrow. Let's hope my foot decides to play nice.

Friggin Foot

2008-09-08T20:46:00.000-07:00

Yeup, it still hurts. I haven't been running on it much and the dumb thing won't heal. I think it's doctor time.

Did the Mud & Muck 5k on Aug 31st. It was a nice 5k with a 25 yard or so mud pit about a quarter of a mile from the finish. Just like Dirty Duo but cheaper, better organized, and a whole lot more fun. I didn't hydrate properly the night before the race (read: I drank waaay too much and went to bed way too late) so I chalked this one up to nice and easy 5k. It was fun.

The North Shore Trail Run was last Saturday, the 6th of September. Another great Trail Nerds event. I hadn't run the Clinton Lake trails before so I was really looking forward to it. Jeremiah and Tayler joined me for this one. Tayler brought Bentley (a 115 lb Swiss Mountain Dog) with her. Fun for everyone.

My foot was feeling a little funny before the run but I decided to do it anyways. I didn't push it very hard, just kind of enjoyed the scenery and the other runners.

I'm seriously considering not doing the entire 9 hours and 11 minutes of the Patriot's Run if my foot acts up too much. We'll see.

In case you care about my other life (the trying to get into a MD/PhD program life so I can have no life) I got asked to give a talk in October at the Gibbs Conference on Biothermodynamics over the research I did this summer (and am still doing, actually). I'm totally stoked about that. Well, stoked and scared. "I'm an undergrad, please be gentile".

School is killing me this semester. Between research, my classes, and teaching two nights a week my running and sleeping are really suffering.

Time Off

2008-08-26T09:17:00.001-07:00

I ran today for the first time in 8 days. It felt like it had been forever.

I have two reasons. First off, I had to give my foot a rest. I have no clue what I did to it but the top of my left foot has been killing me when I run. It started during Mt. Hood, continued through San Francisco and kept getting worse. Finally it started hurting when I wasn't even on it. Bitching about it wasn't making it feel any better so I finally stopped running on it. This has been my longest break from running since my IT band injury back in April.

My second reason is that school started up again. I'm taking Biochem, Instrumental Analysis and P-Chem at Rockhurst. I'm also taking Genetics at KU from a guy who both wrote my book and who is on a first name basis with either Crick or Watson (well, Crick is dead, but you get the point). On top of that I'm leading a two-night a week review class (called Supplemental Instruction) for Organic Chemistry which means I get to go to all the Organic lectures (again). Oh, and about P-Chem...this class scares me. It's all calc based and the only calc I remember is how to do the derivative of x^2. I'm so screwed.

How am I going to keep up a good running schedule?

Anyways, enough complaining. My foot felt ok today. It hurt a bit, but nothing like last week. It was a short run, 3 miles. I'll give it another few days and see where I'm at. Perhaps an x-ray is in my future.

I signed up for another 100-miler...a road race along route 66 in Oklahoma. The Mother Road 100. Should be a nice experiment as to what running on a state highway will be like in preperation for the run across Kansas.

Komen Race For The Cure

2008-08-11T06:27:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, August 10th I ran in the Komen Race for the Cure 5k in downtown KC. The irritating sore throat I had on Friday had evolved into a full-on head cold by Sunday morning. This dictated my race strategy for me - just run easy.

I got there with my friend Erin around 6:45. I was looking for a bunch of people before the start but managed to find nobody. There were 25,000 people there...makes it tough to find anyone. Around 7:20 I headed up to the start and nervously placed myself in the 7 min pace group. I didn't think I'd try to run that fast, we'd see.

Right before the race started Jon found me, then about two seconds later we found Jeremiah. Jon wanted to run sub 20 minutes which is actually pretty difficult on this course. There's a long steady uphill in the middle and a pretty sudden uphill towards the end. Jeremiah was going to pace Jon to a sub 20 minute finish. I, stupidly, decided to keep up as long as I could.

We got going in short order and Jon took off way too fast for me. I wasn't wearing my Garmin, again, so I didn't know how fast we were running. Jeremiah said somewhere around 6 min miles...way too fast for me. So, I let them go and fell into a massive crowd of people.

I kept a good pace, faster than I should have, for the first mile of the race.

Right around the one mile mark I was coming up on a lady and a guy running near each other. The course was pretty packed and I was planning on running in-between them. There was plenty of room for someone to fit between. As I came up to them the guy moved over to the right fairly suddenly, completely cutting me off. Now, I probably should have slowed but, I didn't. I tried to cut behind the lady, thinking I had the room. I didn't. She kicked my shin, loosing her balance and almost knocking me over. I stayed up, she didn't. She went down, hard, face first. It was terrible. I was thinking "no way this just happened".

I stopped to try to help her. She didn't move for a few seconds which kind of scared me. I immediately noticed her shoulder was bloody, road rash. She got her head off the ground and me and some other folks helped her up. She had a pretty good gash above her left eyebrow. I didn't see any other obvious cuts on her face but she was wearing her sunglasses so I don't know if they were covering something up.

There was an ambulance not very far behind us and I offered to walk her over there but she said I didn't need to go with her. She walked off, and I ran again, completely devastated at what had happened. That pretty much ruined the race for me. I felt horrible. I know it happens a lot and it probably happened more than once yesterday but that doesn't change how bad I feel.

I just ran after that, I didn't care, I wanted to finish. There was several bands along the course, few spectators save for the start and finish. Nice morning, pretty cool. I finished in 22:01. Sigh.

Psycho Wyco Night 10K

2008-08-10T19:15:00.000-07:00

On August 8th the Trail Nerds put on the much coveted, much looked forward to, much hyped Psycho Wyco Night 10k at Wyandotte County Park. About 70 folks showed up for the 8pm start. It was a nice August night by KC standards - about 85 and the humidity didn't feel too bad.

I was a bit sore still from the SFO marathon last weekend and was coming down with some sort of a cold so I didn't feel like pushing it very hard on this one. I had the "this is going to be a fun run" attitude going into the race.

If you're not familiar with the Wyco course just think of a really rocky, rooty, muddy and extremely hilly trail, then make it hillier. I had helped mark the course on Thurs night and thought the mud was pretty bad - ended up covered in it, actually.

The race started off with the usual speech from Bad Ben about the course and the wildlife and flora you may encounter on the trail. It was pretty funny. Around 8:15 we were sent on our way, across a open grass field, up a hill and into the woods.

Somehow the course wasn't as muddy Friday night as it was the Thursday night before - no clue how. I fell into a nice rhythm, towards the front of the pack, and decided to keep myself there, not pushing too hard, not taking it too easy. I was actually running sans Garmin for the first time in a race in I don't know how long. Don't know what made me not wear it, just didn't feel like it for some reason.

The course was as difficult as it promises, with the hills extracting their toll with each step both uphill and downhill. The .95 miles of the Wyandotte Triangle were as tough as ever with downed trees and sharp turns. Yet, they were fun, as they always seem to be on a trail run.

I finished in 58:25, in 16th place. That is, oddly, a 10k PR for me. Take into account that the last time I ran a 10k was about 4 years ago in Georgia. I don't remember the time exactly but I was over 60 minutes.

San Francisco Marathon

2008-08-03T20:42:00.000-07:00

I must say, the best thing that happened to me during the San Francisco marathon was that I didn't chafe. Not one bit. Oh, and I PR'd, by a lot, but I'll take the no chafing over PR'ing any day.

My buddy Erik chose San Francisco as his first marathon. I think it was between San Francisco and the Grandma's marathon in Duluth, Minn. I'm glad he chose San Francisco, I love this place, even though it did nothing to help my 'run a marathon in each state' goal, oh well. Erik's girlfriend Lilli came out as well as did our friend Josh and his girlfriend Lisa. Can anyone say fifth wheel? I can! Actually, it wasn't like that at all.

Because I heart Delta way too much I did my typical fly-to-the-East-coast-to-fly-to-the-West-coast thing and took a KC - Cinn flight to take a Cinn - SFO flight. It took me all day but I didn't have any super-annoying kids sitting in front of me testing my patience (see my Mt. Hood race report) so, I got a lot of work and reading done. That was good. I got in real late on Friday night, took BART to the hotel and crashed in short order.

On Saturday we went for an early morning jog, just to make sure the legs were working. I was a little nervous at first since Josh is kind of quick. By kind of quick I mean six minute miles are like a nice jog in the park to him. I didn't want to wear myself out keeping up with him. Being the super nice guy he is he ran a subtle 8:30 pace with Erik, Lilli and me. We were staying at Embarcadero and Market so we just ran down along the Bay to Pier 39 and back. It was a nice morning and a nice jog. I chafed a bit (again, I refer you to my Mt Hood report, the theme of which was: my crotch is on fire) but not too bad, I could manage.

We showered and ate, met Lisa, and headed down to packet pickup. As far as marathon expos go this one was pretty lame. It was in a tent on a pier and had the feel of a flea market to it. I spent most of the time collecting as much free food as I could and did pretty well if I do say so myself. I also got brain freeze a few times off of the free smoothies they were giving out. Thank you Smoothie King!

We went to get our packets which had our heat assignments in them. I got mine and was surprised to find I was in heat 3. This heat is reserved for the 3:30 - 3:45 marathoners. I did not fall into that category. My PR was 3:54 from LA in March. Josh was in the first heat, Erik was in the fifth.

I wasn't sure what to do. Part of me wanted to change my heat, part of me said "this is a good challenge, go for it". For some reason I felt like I could run a 3:45. I figured after running up Mt. Hood the week before a 26 mile, relatively flat race wouldn't be that tough. I was trying to calculate my pace...3:45 is 8:45 miles. That's fast for me over 26 miles. Most of my training runs, which are 5-8 miles are at an 8:30 pace.

After not much deliberating with myself I decided that I could run a 3:45. I tried to forget how much my legs hurt the last 5 miles of LA and how bad my second half was there, and told myself I had it in me to run a 3:45. Oh, if I only knew.

We didn't do much the rest of the day except eat, a lot. The hotel had a nice (albeit very expensive) pasta buffet that night which we all over-indulged in. Gluttony is fun.

I think Josh's alarm went off around 3:30 the morning of the race. His start was 5:30, mine was 5:35 and Erik's was 5:45 (I think). I was awake but had that "I don't want to get out of bed" feeling. I moved around a bit and found that I had ate so much the night before that I didn't feel like eating any breakfast. That's very odd for me. I forced some stolen-the-day-before breakfast bars down as well as a fair amount of water and Pedialyte as chasers.

Copious amounts of Vaseline were applied in the necessary spots while I was getting ready. I also managed to position my underwear in such a way that kept everything snug and hopefully chafe-free. Amazingly it worked - I didn't even feel the pain once during the entire race. What a relief that was.

We made it down to the start around 4:30, stretched, ran a bit, etc. After what seemed like not a very long time I moved into my corral and waited for the race to start. The way-too-cherry-for-5:15-in-the-morning announcer was telling us all sorts of stuff about the race. He introduced the race "host" Dean Karnazes to say a few words before the start. I used to really respect Dean but now I think he's kind of a tool. My issue with him is that he acts like he's the only person who runs ultras. Yeah, he's fast, but he's not the fastest, and he's tough, but not the toughest. He seems to forget what the sport is really about; the camaraderie, the peacefulness, and the personal challenges that you have to overcome during an ultra. Branding yourself the ultramarathon man is just lame and disrespectful to all the other ultra runners out there. I digress.

Before I knew it the 5:30 group was off, then heat 2 was off a minute later. We started at 5:35 and were herded up to the start in short order. I was pretty close to the front so it was odd to stand there, at the start, ready to take off when the horn sounded. I'm used to having a quarter mile jog to the start. Whatever. At 5:35 the announcer sent us off, down the Embarcadero in the darkness with a few fans scattered along the street, and lots of drunks driving by cheering us on. So pleasant.

The first four to five miles of the race are basically flat. There's some gradual uphills but nothing insane. After a few miles of running I started thinking I really need to pee. No biggie, I'll just pull over along the course and relieve myself. Thing was, nobody was peeing. WTF? Usually within the first few miles of a marathon everyone hops off the course at one point or another to take a leak. Hmm, what to do? I had to pee eventually. Well, we started to run through a small park and I decided I couldn't take it anymore. So I found a nice tree and went for it. I think I started a trend, as soon as I went other people came over and did the same. Oh, so satisfying to be a leader.

We hit the Golden Gate bridge around mile 6. Thing is, as you're running up to it, you realize it's really far up in the air and you're really low on the ground. I thought about this and tried to ignore the inevitable conclusion that we'd have to run up a extremely steep hill to get to it. I was holding a really fast pace at this point and didn't want to slow down much.

Then we got there, right after the second aid station. Man, it was a steep hill. I'm talking like 40 degrees steep. You could hear people wincing as we approached it. The only thing I could tell myself was to hold my pace up the hill, don't speed up, don't slow down, run through the hill. And I did. I kept my pace pretty much spot on for this climb. I was so surprised. Now, I was super winded at the top, but I wasn't hurting too bad. Actually, it was more like a hill, with a short plateau, with another hill that took us up onto 101. Whatever, I managed.

We merged onto the Golden Gate, running on the East side of the roadway. They had closed off three lanes of the bridge for the runners, one lane running North, one running South, and the third as a sort of buffer from the traffic.

Shortly after getting onto the bridge I saw the first Southbound runner approaching. He was, I assumed, leading the marathon. He was moving, fast. He passed me and I saw two more people coming. Hmm, one of them looked familiar. It was Josh! He was flying. I still can't believe how fast he was going. I managed a "Hey Josh!" as he flew by and he acknowledge me. I felt cool, looking around me and thinking "yeah, I know the guy in third place". (Actually, Josh was in second place at that point. The guy in front of him was actually running the half, not the full.)

I spent most of the bridge crossing simply enjoying the view. It was very foggy but you could still make stuff out, and the fog adds a nice touch to everything. We ran around the turnaround, the 7.5 mile marker, and headed back South on the bridge. I figured I'd see Erik at that point and I finally spotted him about halfway across. I told him Josh was in third and apparently this did a lot for his spirits. Well, it at least kept him from asking me how my crotch felt in front of 50 totally random people.

At this point I had done 7.5 miles in 1:04:05. That means I was holding an 8:32 pace. I felt good and I wanted to keep pushing it but I had a really bad feeling I'd pay for it later in the race. Screw it I figured, I'd keep at it and see what happened. I had only told one person my goal of finishing in 3:45, everyone else thought I just wanted to PR. I'd make it.

We meandered South to Golden Gate park after the bridge. It was hilly through here. Not those nasty San Francisco hills that you're probably thinking, but hills nonetheless. Hills that when you see them you start to hurt and worry about if you'll make it to the top.

In retrospect I realize that I really kicked butt on the hills, but I didn't think about it during the race. I passed tons of people on the hills, I never got passed on an uphill.

As we approached the half marathon mark I spotted Lilli with Erik's Dad and stepmom. I managed to say hi and say Erik was a few miles behind me. They told me I looked great (probably due to my awseome tan line from my bike shorts) and Lilli took some pictures.

I hit the half marathon point at 1:49:30. A PR for me. This also means my pace had dropped to an 8:21. A significant drop from the 8:32 I had held for the first 7.5 miles. Hmm, I thought to myself that I felt good, my legs felt strong, I wasn't breathing hard at all...was 3:40 within reach? Nah. Shoot for that 3:45, don't kill yourself. 3:40 would be nice though.

Golden Gate park was hilly, we ran downhill for a while after the halfway point and I knew that meant we'd have to fight a long uphill shortly. I was rewarded with a 2 mile uphill shortly after that thought. Yay. I pushed through it, passing folks, holding my pace, not slowing for the hills.

I took my first Tylenol in the park. I had left my Ibuprofen in KC on accident so Lisa spotted me three Tylenol for the run. I was hurting a bit and figured it would help. I also downed a couple of salt tablets. I'd end up taking 7 salt tablets and 3 Tylenol before the race was over.

Around mile 18 we hit the last major uphill. There were lots of fans there (well, lots for this race) telling us this and it was nice to hear. We were out of the park, which I was glad for because the roads we were running on winded throughout the park, I prefer the nice long straight roads of the city to those of the park, although the scenery was quite nice.

My pace was holding. Each passing mile made me feel like sub-3:45 was within reach. I wasn't ready to admit I was going to pull a 3:40 off, but my confidence in that was growing as well. I looked forward to the downhills on this part of the course, as I knew the end was mostly flat to downhill. Well, I looked forward to them until I actually saw them. These were brutal downhills. It would have been nice to run them, but they were just too steep. I had to slow myself down on them as they hurt too much to run hard down. It kind of ticked me off. I'd find later that most people agreed with me, they were just too steep.

Miles 20-24 weren't too scenic. You run East of 101 and South of Market which is a large industrial area. Fan support here was little to none which made this part of the race an exercise in mental motivation. I kept myself going by reminding myself that a week ago I wasn't even halfway through Mt. Hood. Reminding myself of the pain of that run and the despair I felt climbing up that pile of rubble. A few more miles of a marathon were nothing.

By the time I hit mile 24 I knew I'd beat 3:45, easily. Doing the math I also realized I could pull a sub 3:40 off if I kept a good pace. I think I needed to run 9:30's for the last 2 miles to hit 3:40 on the dot. I pushed it. I wanted sub-3:40. I knew I could. It was only 2 miles of running. 2 miles is nothing. 2 miles is a nice warmup. 2 miles of pain? Pfft, totally manageable.

This is the first time my ultra running has really affected me in a race. I'd ran 62 miles once. What was 2 miles? Nothing, really. It really provided me with the mental toughness to finish the marathon strong. I totally ignored how my legs felt. I just ran as fast as I could.

We ran past AT&T park (or whatever they've named it lately) and I noticed the plaques on the sidewalk celebrating various Giants accomplishments. I saw Bond's 500th, 600th, and 700th home runs. I ran cautiously by these, wondering if I'd get stuck by a used needle. Then I spotted the 755 plaque (or is it 756?). It was just too tempting to resist. I worked up a big lugie and let it rip right onto the plaque. Nailed it.

I was getting closer to the Bay Bridge, so I knew I was close to the finish. I don't really recall seeing the 25 mile mark so I can't say how I felt with a mile to go. I just kept running as fast as I could.

Shortly after that I hopped back onto the Embarcadero, the finish within sight. I pushed it. Sub 3:40 was almost certain. As I passed the 26 mile mark I knew I'd beat 3:40, heck, I'd beat 3:39, wow. I couldn't believe it. I crossed the finish, 3:38:32. Wow. WTF happened? How did I do that? I was still standing. This is kind of lame to admit but the first thing I thought when I finished was that I didn't run that race as fast or as hard as I could have. I scolded myself for being so arrogant. I should have been happy, I just PR'd by at least 16 minutes. Still, I couldn't help it. I could have run faster. That's ok, I will.

I got my medal which had a odd windmill on it that we couldn't figure out what it was. I also got as much food and drink as I could carry and headed off to where Josh and Lisa were standing. Josh had finished in 2:42, 8th place overall. I ate, I was hungry.

Erik crossed not too long after. He ran a 3:51. I hated him. It took me four marathons to run faster than that and he did it on his first. Actually, I was proud of him too.

We all sat around, I was a bit afraid to sit down as I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get back up. I made some phone calls, sent some text messages, and basked in my PR.

We meandered back to the hotel, put some non-sweaty clothes on and found a Mexican restaurant to gorge ourselves on. I took a nice long nap that afternoon. The rest of the day was filled with a lot of laying around and eating - perfect.

Mt. Hood PCT 50-Miler

2008-07-27T18:13:00.000-07:00

Oreos are my new favorite ultra food. I'll get to that in a bit.

At the suggestion of Trail Nerd extraordinaire Bad Ben Holmes myself and four other Nerds headed out to Portland, Oregon for the The Mt. Hood PCT (Pacific Coast Trail) 50-Miler on July 25th, 2008. This was Ben's third year running the race, the rest of us were noobies to this one.

My trip started, and remained, an exercise in sleep deprivation. I flew out of KC on Friday, originally planning on leaving at 11am, catching a connection in Atlanta and making it into Portland around 7pm. Because I'm a super-duper frequent flyer on Delta I get to change my flights for free on the day of travel. So, my plan was to catch an earlier flight out of KC on Friday in order to catch an earlier connection to Portland in Atlanta. I didn't feel like getting to Mt. Hood in the dark but when I originally got the ticket the flights I had were the best option (award ticket...).

So, the bright thing for me to do would have been to get a good nights sleep on Thursday night, making sure I was fresh for my long day of traveling on Friday (it's a 6 hour flight from ATL-PDX). Did I do that? Pfft. No. See, Step Brothers came out on Friday and my friend Erin is a die-hard Will Ferrell fan. This means she wanted to see it at 12:01 am on Friday. I tagged along. Of course, the movie which didn't end until 2am. So, I got home sometime around 2:45. Hmm. If I was going to make the 7:10 I had to be up and lively by 4:30ish. I still had laundry to do and, true to form, hadn't packed yet. No sleep, here I come.

I somehow managed to get my laundry done and my packing done fairly quickly - with enough time for a 1 hour power nap. Midway through the nap a nice little thunderstorm hit. Generally no big deal, right? Right... Apparently I have a leak in my room. I woke up about halfway through my "nap" to the sound of water hitting the carpet. Gaarrgh! I didn't make the 7:10. I got back on my original flight.

Flights are generally inconsequential. My Atlanta to Portland one was not. I was hoping to catch some sleep on this one since it was so long and the seats were much more conducive to sleeping than my first flight. Shortly after boarding I realized that would probably be a pipe dream. This family got on with their four young kids, probably ranging from 3-8 years old. Something about them told me they didn't do a good job controlling the kids, I'm not sure what it was, I just had a feeling. One of the boys sat in the seat in front of me.

Almost immediately the kid took an interest in seeing how annoying he could be to me and everyone nearby. He was quite successful. His favorite thing to do to me was to recline his seat back and look at me to see my reaction. His dad was sitting next to him and kept telling him not to do it but he kept at it. Sigh.

The only good thing about the flight was the dinner they served us. The stewardess asked me whether I wanted the chicken or the fettucini. Uhh, that's a tough one, carb loading - sweet! It was actually a really good meal. Delta generally does a good job with that I must say.

I made it to Portland, so did that kid, although it was close a few times. I got my rental car and started the 97 mile drive to Mt. Hood.

By the time I got there it was pretty dark. I managed to find my campsite with no directions. I also found the race start, which was only about seventeen and a half feet from my campsite. Quite convenient. I parked the car, got the headlamp on, and got my tent pitched. (I wonder if I'll ever get to a point where saying that doesn't make me laugh...I sure hope not.) I crawled in and proceeded to try to get a few hours of sleep. It was about ten o'clock when I first laid down. I couldn't sleep. WTF? Sigh.

I got up and walked around a bit, meandering out to the road to explore a bit. The stars immediately caught my eye. It was amazing. There were so many. I hadn't seen stars like that since my trip to Yellowstone six years ago. I was totally absorbed in the view. I could faintly see the dusty arm of the Milky Way, the obvious constellations, and many more things I had no clue what they were but wished I knew. I could have sat out on that road all night.

I finally got tired and headed back to the tent. It had gotten quite chilly and I was glad I had some extra layers of clothing to keep me warm. I found a comfy position and finally fell asleep.

I had set my alarm for 5:15. I woke up at 4:30. Hmm. Tried to go back to sleep, no dice. So, I figured I'd head over to the race start to see what was going on. I got all my stuff packed in the car and moved my car out of the campsite. I strolled up to the race start, got my packet, and watched the folks who had opted for the 5:30 start begin to stumble to the start line. This race lets you choose if you want the 5:30 or 6:30 start, the idea being that if you need more time to complete the race you've got extra daylight to do it with if you choose the 5:30.

The 5:30 starters

Fellow Trail Nerds Gary and Bobbi had opted for the 5:30 start. Gary's wife was there also. We chatted for a bit, took some pictures, etc. Not long after the race director sent the 5:30 folks off and I was left to change into my running gear and to see how many bagels I could stomach over the next hour. I made a horrible mistake at this point. When putting my stuff on I forgot to apply copious amounts of vaseline to my groin. I would pay for this, horribly, for pretty much the entire race.

Around 6 I saw Ben and his son Matt pull up. Within about five seconds of getting out of the car Ben hooked me up with a brand new Trail Nerds sleeveless shirt to run in. It was wonderful. Unfortunately, I wanted to run in my Run Across Kansas shirt, since I had to start promoting that run. Plus, I don't do so well with a sleeveless shirt and a camelback. Chafing generally occurs.

Greg Burger was also there and he lined up for the 6:30 start with us. We got some last minute instructions from Olga, the RD, which included some pointers for not getting lost on the trail because there's some parts where it's not marked so well. I was wondering "well, why don't you mark it better?". I'll complain about that later.

The run starts out on pavement, probably just short of a half mile of it, before turning onto the PCT. The trail is mostly single-track so running next to a buddy is pretty difficult. I fell in behind a lady who was keeping a nice pace and I could hear Ben chatting it up a few folks behind me with Greg nearby. With all the folks on the trail there was a lot of dust being kicked up and I could taste it, which kind of sucked, but wasn't anything a few swigs of water couldn't take care of.

About two minutes after getting onto the trail I noticed that I was already chafing in my groin. That's never happened to me so early on a run. Thinking that this could present a problem I started hating myself for not putting vaseline on before the start. It wasn't bad, so I just put up with it.

Crater Lake is the first aid station, about 6 miles from the start. The scenery leading up to it was just amazing. We spent some time running along Timothy Lake, which was this immense body of water surrounded by tall pines. The trail was nearly perfect, somewhat technical, but not too much, and offered a nice soft dirt layer for us to run on.

The Crater Lake aid station was interesting. To get there we had to run along these wooden planks which covered a marsh of sorts. It was a little tough when you'd encounter a runner headed in the opposite direction as one of you had to kind of step off the planks for the other to pass. I found them quite enjoyable for the bounce factor. If you hit them just right you got a nice little bounce off of the planks. That's totally something my dad would have yelled at me for when I was younger.

Many things about a Camelback suck, especially how much of a pain in the arse it is to refill it. It takes too long to open it up, open the bladder, and get it filled. Plus you have to take the dumb thing off, which is kind of a pain. I really need to either start running with just water bottles or see if a Nathan pack is easier to use. This is my excuse for how much time I spent at most of the aid stations - Ben was generally in and out before I could even get my Camelback off. It was kind of depressing.

I caught back up with Ben and Noah, a teacher from California who we had saved from a confusing section of trail shortly before Crater Lake aid station. The three of us ran together for most of the next leg, to the next aid station which was only about 3.2 miles from Crater Lake. I don't think this one had a name. It was just a canopy on a dirt road staffed by some friendly volunteers. Nothing looked appetizing at this aid station but I knew I had to eat, so I ate as many potatoes as I could and got going again.

Bad Ben's good side

I can't remember anything particularly exciting about the section of trail between aid station #2 and the Thong aid station (yes, it was called the Thong aid station). There was a pretty slow and steady uphill climb but nothing that wasn't too runnable.

We got to the Thong aid station, greeted along the trail by thongs hanging from trees and signs. There were thongs everywhere! I loved it. The folks there were really nice and all seemed to be having a good time. I ate what I could, got more water, and got going.

After leaving the Thong aid station you're greeted by some long switchbacks which will take you up to a pass then down to the fourth aid station. These were pretty brutal for me and I'm not sure why. I hadn't been running real hard, but my legs were feeling very sore. It was kind of confusing and a bit demoralizing. Add to that the chafing I was dealing with. Man, it was painful. There's really no good way to describe it, it just burned, horribly, with every step. I had some vaseline with me and I applied it, but it didn't help. It just burned.

I kept up with Ben as best I could, Greg took off ahead of us. I was struggling to get to the top of the pass. My calves had cramped up pretty bad and I was starting to feel sick. It wasn't a pukey sick feeling, it was that I'm-getting-a-cold sick feeling. My throat hurt a bit and my nose was running. Great. I was totally blaming that kid from the flight for it too. Little bastard.

We got to the fourth aid station, me somehow keeping up with Ben. I took a little extra time here, getting more food in me and just relaxing a bit. I knew that I had a pretty nasty climb ahead of me...I had no idea how nasty it would be though. Ben took off ahead of me and I ended up in a group which included Greg and some other folks - including a nice guy from Minnesota who gave me a great piece of advice for the race: "It's a 2/3 1/3 race, you put 2/3 of the effort into getting to Timberline (the 25 mile turnaround) and 1/3 of your effort into getting back to the start". I had no idea how true that would be.

Just to re-iterate my situation at this point. I'm at mile 20-ish, my groin is on fire, I feel sick, my legs are just generally sore, my calves are cramped, and I've got a 5 mile, 2,500 foot climb ahead of me. I was also a disaster mentally.

I lost the group I was running with because I couldn't keep running with them. I had to walk the uphills, and the entire dammed leg was uphill. My calves were killing me. I had taken some extra s-caps at the last aid station to try to deal with the cramping but it wasn't helping. I couldn't figure out why. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that I just had to keep going. There were some stretches of the trail here that were covered by snow, which was kind of cool. The scenery was great, of course. If only I wasn't not even halfway through a run I would have been having a wonderful friggin time.

Somehow I made it up and out of the tree line, not yet to Timberline lodge, but it wasn't too far off. This is a pretty "famous" part of the course for the runners. The ground turns into this very soft, very fine, sand-like dirt that is absolutely impossible to run on. It's one of those surfaces where you end up taking half a step backwards for every step you take forward. Going uphill it was completely un-runnable. It also made me hate life even more than I did earlier. My groin was still burning, I was still sick, except now I felt like I was going to puke. The most efficient way to walk up the trail at this point was to walk with your toes pointed as far out as possible in order to get the most surface area of your shoes pushing on the sand.

After a few, well, many minutes of completely hating life and wanting to quit and thinking I'd never make it up the mountain I, for a reason I'll never know, thought of Winston Churchill's famous "if you're going through hell, keep going" quote. Pretty lame, I know. But it worked for me. This was seriously hell to me and the only thing I could do was keep going through it.

After a while I saw Gary on his way back down the mountain. I hated him for having already gotten to the turnaround. I think he took my picture...I don't want to see it! I'm sure I looked like a total a-hole.

Finally I got to Timberline Lodge. I was in bad shape. I saw Ben with his son, nephew and brother. He gave me five and told me good job. Later I'd find out that he thought I looked like total hell, a good observation at that point. Knowing Matt was up there made me think about dropping and catching a ride back down with him. I wanted to save whatever skin I had left in my groin and I thought I was sick so I didn't think another 25 miles of running was such a great idea. Hmm, should I drop?

Well, I found my way over to the aid station, got my camelback filled, found my drop bag, and on a whim grabbed a handful of oatmeal raisin cookies. I found a nice secluded area to die in and sat down to change my shoes and take stock of my situation. I started to eat one of the cookies and immediately became completely enamored with these things. They were amazing. I couldn't stop eating them. I think if you would have talked to me at this point the only thing I could have managed was a "Mmmmm, cookie!". Seriously, you would have thought I was a mental patient. The only thing I focused on, thought about, or did for the next five minutes involved those cookies.

I got my shoes changed once I got my focus back and took my long-sleeve undershirt off. I also took an ibuprofen and two s-caps. And then I was off, back down the mountain. I had spent about fifteen minutes at the aid station, trying to get myself back together. My groin was still killing me, I wasn't as sore anymore, but I still felt kind of sick. All told it took me about an hour and forty-five minutes from aid station #4 to the point where I was headed back down the mountain. That's slow. Luckily forces were conspiring to get me back down much quicker than I had gotten up.

I started back down the mountain still hurting a bit. But I was feeling better. I wasn't getting my hopes up. About a quarter of a mile from the aid station is the highest point of the race. There was a guy standing there telling us that. I don't know if he was just a spectator or a volunteer or what but him telling me that did a huge number on my mental status. It felt so good to know it was all downhill from there. Shortly after that a photographer asked me about my shirt as I ran by, asking if I had run across Kansas yet. I said I hadn't, but was planning on it. He thought it was awesome and he really liked the shirt (something I heard many times in the race). All of a sudden my legs didn't hurt anymore. I didn't feel sick anymore either. Hmm. What's going on?

The sand was even fun to run in. I was taking pretty big strides, really enjoying the softness. I started picking my pace up. Wow, I felt pretty good. Then my ipod decided to join in and played Journey for me, Don't Stop Believin'. I picked it up some more. There's an exceptionally steep section of the sand which I really struggled getting up. I hit that section on the downhill and basically jumped off of it, taking a few steps to kind of control my out-of-control self. As I was coming down a lady going the other way said "wow, you make that look fun". Hell yeah it was fun. Ok, I'll try running a bit faster...it didn't hurt. Well, except my groin.

I kept going, I kept passing people, lots of people. Two guys got out of my way and said "wow, you're moving dude". Hmm, thanks guys. I looked at my Garmin...I was doing 7:20's. Whaaa? No way. I kept running and the watch was pretty consistent, 7:30, 7:15, etc. I wasn't even breathing hard. My ipod kept helping, randomly choosing some great songs with good beats to keep me going - Stronger, Top Gun Anthem, No Way They Can Stop Me Now. It was great.

I got back into the tree line, actually missing the sand since it was so fun to run down. Then the endorphins hit for the first time. Wow, they felt amazing. They started in the back of my head, as usual, engulfed my head, then moved down my back, radiating out to my limbs. Ahh. And they stayed for a while, I couldn't believe it. So, I kept my pace up, kept passing people, keeping my somewhat out of control downhill self going. I only walked twice between Timberline and aid station #4, and not for very long.

On my way into aid station #4 I kept my pace up and was greeted with a "you're flying man" from one of the volunteers. I felt great, and wanted to keep my pace going. I did another round of ibuprofen and s-caps along with more food than usual just in case. I also grabbed some Oreos, kind of on a whim since I didn't think they'd sit very well. I headed out and proceeded to eat everything I had in my hands, including those Oreos. Wow, they were tasty. They were super tasty. I started craving more Oreos.

I knew I had the Thong aid station to look forward to, and I was sure they had Oreos there. I wanted more. I walked much of the uphill after aid station #4 but ran when I could, passing even more folks. Along a flat section near the top I came across Greg, he didn't seem very talkative at that point. I asked him where Ben was and he grunted out something along the lines of "about 200 yards ahead". Hmm, thanks dude. I caught up to Ben. I think he was surprised to see me considering what I looked like at Timberline.

We ran together for a bit but I still had a bunch of pent-up energy and got going ahead of him. Most of the rest of the trip to the Thong aid station was downhill or generally flat so I enjoyed that. I got there and made a beeline for the Oreos. Yumm. Hmm, maybe eating just cookies wasn't a wonderful idea. I ate some potatoes, watermelon, potato chips, gummy bears, M&M's, and more Oreos.

I got going, knowing I had a relatively long climb ahead of me to the next aid station. I tried to run what I could, but had difficulty, so I did a lot of walking on the uphills. The view from here was amazing. Mt. Hood is off in the distance and there's a flat expanse below you, it's quite breathtaking. I was the only person around so I stopped for a bit to just enjoy it. It made me feel very alone, just me and nature with this imposing mountain which controlled everything around it, including, earlier, me. No other sport gives you that.

I made it to aid station #2 still in good shape, except for my groin. It was killing me, worse than I could ever have imagined it would get. If the government ever gets tired of water boarding people they should really look into inducing chafing in men. I'd have told you anything at that point to get it to stop.

The 3.2 miles between aid station #2 and Crater Lake felt longer than it should have, even though I made it pretty quickly. I was really ready for the race to be over at this point. My muscles felt great, I had energy, it was just my dammed chafing that was holding me back. Every step was an exercise in mental pain management.

I made it to Crater Lake, chatted with the volunteers, who referred to me as "Kansas", probably because of my shirt. Actually, most people were calling me that now that I think of it. I'm guessing they called most of us trail nerds "Kansas". It was a nickname I wore with pride. I ate a bit more, grabbed some...wait for it...Oreos, and got going again on the last leg of the run. Ahh, it felt so good to know that the next time I stopped would be the last.

I took some time to really enjoy the scenery on this last leg. It really was a beautiful section of trail. There was a creek (river?) which fed into Timothy Lake that we ran along, and then there was the lake itself, so vast. I kept a good pace, passing some more people along the way. Grimacing every step because of my groin. I did walk most of the uphills, but I ran some also, knowing I had the energy to complete the run. I passed a guy who was doubled over on the side of the trail. He was ok, just cramping really badly. He said he didn't need anything and I moved on. He didn't look so hot at that point. I also passed two women running with their dog. I know at least one of them was in the race, I assume the other was a pacer. The dog was awesome, running all around them, excited to be out in the woods playing. Once I passed them, after a minute or so, I felt something hit me in the back of the foot. WTF? It was that dog, it had ran up behind me and sniffed my feet. After the race I found them and told them how much I loved their dog - the lady apologized for it running up on me but I didn't mind at all. Apparently they're trying to break it of the habit of doing that to people. I think it's funny.

I kept running, knowing the finish had to be close. I ran up one last long uphill feeling like it was the last, since I remembered that the trail started with a long uphill I knew a long downhill would be the last section of trail during the race. I was right. I came up over the hill and was presented with a long downhill section. Off to my right I could see the road that led to the finish. Finally.

I turned onto the road and relished the fact I was almost done. I picked up my pace as best I could but was limited from the groin pain. The chafing was insane. I was scared to see what it had done to me.

I got to the small trail which led to the finish, motored up the hill to cowbells and cheering from the crowd, and made it across the finish. 10 hours and 12 minutes. Dang. I got a big hug from one of the RD's (Olga, I think) and a nifty running hat for finishing. Gary was there, having finished a few minutes before me (he likes to point out that he beat me even with his one hour head start).

Walking was painful, mainly due to the condition of my groin. I didn't want to move, and when I walked it was more like swinging my legs from one point to another, not really walking. I grabbed some water, a pop, and sat down near the finish, waiting for Ben and Greg to finish. I chatted with some folks at the finish (who ended up putting the idea of visiting Powell's books into my head in Portland - bad idea). About twenty minutes later Ben and Greg came up the hill, together, and finished in spectacular Trail Nerd fashion.

I found my way over to the grill for a spectacular veggie burger. It was quite tasty after such a long run. Ben's entourage showed up a few minutes later and we all moved over to a picnic table to move as little as possible and reminisce on the race. Gary and his wife fished beers out for those who wanted them, I wasn't in the mood for some reason. I stuck to water, dreading trying to walk again.

Ben and Greg finishing

A gaggle of Trail Nerds

After half an hour or so of chatting I figured it was time to get going. We took some pictures and I headed over to my car, slowly, very slowly. About the time I got my shoes off I realized I had forgotten to get my drop bag, dammit. I went ahead and got changed and proceeded to try to clean myself off with some baby wipes I had snagged from Ben. The first area I headed for was the place of the worst chafing. Yeah, that was a horrible idea. I've been in pain before. Never like this. It put me on the ground. It hurts to think about it. God. No way I was showering that night, no way. Water would just kill me.

After a few minutes I regained some of my composure and went drop-bag hunting. This was quite an effort since it involved walking. I found one of the RD's and asked where the drop bags where. She told me they weren't back yet, and probably wouldn't be for another couple of hours...what? Seriously? Now, I'm a pretty laid back dude, there's not a lot you can do to really get to me. This really pissed me off. Not to be mean but that was pretty ridiculous. I had left the turnaround almost 5 hours ago. I even put my drop bag in a special "bring it back" section. How in the world could they not have been brought back - and how would it be a few more hours until it showed up? I was pissed. She said they would be left at the start overnight so I could get it anytime. Super, that's real convenient for someone staying in friggin Portland.

Yeah, I could have stayed and waited, but seriously, after ten hours of running, that isn't really an option. Plus, I had to cover 97 miles to get to my hotel. I had to decide if I cared that much about what was in my bag. A pair of socks, one of my long-sleeve undershirts, and a pair of shoes. I've got about 200 miles on each of my current shoes (I have three pairs of the exact same shoe and I rotate them). During the race I was thinking about how they felt pretty bad and how I needed to replace them. Well, I decided the shoes weren't worth it. The only thing I really cared about was the shirt, but I didn't care enough to wait a couple of hours for it. I said screw it, and left. But, it still does piss me off. Sorry folks, but getting drop bags back in under five hours seems pretty simple to me.

The drive back to Portland was pretty uneventful. The sun was getting lower and I was driving right into it, which is one reason why I wanted to get going, I remembered on the drive there that when the sun was low it was directly in my rearview mirror, which wouldn't be comfortable to drive into.

I made it to my hotel, which surprisingly wasn't difficult to find, and stumbled in, past a bunch of folks sitting outside waiting for something. I was covered in dirt, was wearing flip-flops so I had super-white feet and was walking very oddly. I can only imagine what they thought of me. I probably scared them.

The nice lady who checked me in asked me what I was doing in Portland, probably to assess if I was insane or not based upon my appearance. I told her I had just ran a race near Mt. Hood. She asked if I meant on horses. Umm, no, on foot. She did think I was insane. I got the standard "I can't even run a mile" out of her. We chatted for a bit, she seemed interested in ultras. Maybe I got her to go try to run that mile again, I don't know, I hope so.

After getting to my room I sprawled out on the floor, not wanting to take a shower, or do much of anything really. I ate my subway that I had picked up on the way and watched some Sportscenter. Avoiding the inevitable shower.

Finally I willed myself into it. It had to be done. I did stand there for a few minutes, watching the water, delaying the inevitable. Finally, I stepped in. It hurt, bad. Not as bad as the baby wipe did, but it hurt. But, amazingly, after a few minutes the pain got a little less worse. I could stand it. Whew.

The rest of the night involved me sitting on my arse moving as little as possible. I passed out fairly early, probably due to the fact that I'd slept about seven hours in the past two days. I paid my sleep debt, I guarantee you that.

All-in-all I really enjoyed the race. The drop bag thing still pisses me off but I'll get over it. There were some confusing parts of the trail which could have been easily marked but weren't. I know it caused some confusion for some folks and it's only somewhat irritating because the RD's were mentioning it before the start. The volunteers at the aid stations were great - very friendly, especially the Thong aid station, I loved that one.

It was also fun to check out Portland. It’s my first time here and I really like the city. It’s a bit Emo for me so I kind of stick out, ok, I really stick out, but it’s still a fun town. The public transportation is great, I wish we had something close to similar in KC. Wishful thinking.

Off To Portland

2008-07-24T11:17:00.001-07:00

I'm off to Portland for the Mt Hood PCT 50-miler. Everything just kind of came together the past few days and I feel like I can kinda relax. Today is the last day of summer class, the first batch of technical shirts for the run across Kansas are done, and I finished and submitted my abstract for a talk at The Gibbs Conference. Whew.

Add to that I've never been to Portland...heck, I've never even been to the Pacific Northwest. Plus, there's a fair number of Trail Nerds headed out for this event. Should be a good time. Except for that 6am flight thing...twice...dammit. (That will be after I go see Step Brothers at 12:01 tomorrow morning with some way-too-obsessed Will Ferrell fans).

Lunar Trek

2008-07-20T10:23:00.001-07:00

If you ever get the chance, do an overnight run.

I really never imagined I'd say this, but I really enjoy running at night. I'm taking like late, late night. Like 3am night. Most of my friends think I'm nuts for running ultras to start with. Add in an overnight ultra and I can tell they really start to wonder if it's intervention time.

I was a bit hesitant at first about this race, waiting until the last minute to sign up. I'm glad I did. The first annual Lunar Trek took place on July 18th in Scandia, Kansas. Where's Scandia you might ask? Here, of course. This race has a 10k, 10mi, 20mi, 30mi and 40mi option to it. I chose the 40 mile option. Word on the street is that next year there will be a 60 mile option.

My race-day preparation was poor at best. I've been doing weights twice a week lately. On the Wednesday before the race I did a pretty typical weight workout...typical except for the extra lunges with weights I added into a superset. I figured two days would be plenty of recovery time. I was wrong on that one.

The other thing was what I did Friday during the day. See, instead of sitting on my butt doing nothing physically taxing I spent the day shadowing a doctor. Now, this isn't just any doctor, this is a fellow Trail Nerd as well as someone who honestly walks faster than anyone I've ever met before. I think I spent most of the time slow-jogging just to keep up. Shadowing doesn't facilitate a lot of sitting either, so I didn't get a lot of tush-in-chair time during the day.

Basically, my recovery time was the three and a half hour drive to Scandia on Friday night. Excellent.

I got to Scandia around 9:30pm. Found the high school and got checked in for the race. Race director John Neal did a good job of describing the course to me. He basically walked me through the entire route, hills, bridges and all. The funny part was when he was talking about some mud on the road about 5 miles into the race. "We put hay down to make it easier to run over." Mud? Ha. Pfft, I was looking forward to it.

Some fellow Trail Nerds were already there, fully decked out in their race gear. I was like, "uhh, you guys know the race doesn't start for another hour and a half, right?" They didn't seem to care. I milled around in my flip-flops for a while before starting to put my stuff together for the race.

Sometime before the race started we were treated to a wonderful rendition by Gary Henry of a poem about the moon that, for the life of me, I can't remember what it was called. Either way, it was great.

Around 11pm we all started to move to the start line. As all the Trail Nerds got together for a picture I realized that we made up about a quarter of the race participants. That's pretty good turnout! Apparently we travel in packs and intimidate others.

Shortly after 11pm we were off. I had my headlamp on but there were enough folks around with headlamps on that I didn't really need to use it. Add into that the full moon and mostly cloudless night and you had pretty spectacular night running conditions.

After about half a mile I caught up with Sophia. She was going to do the 30-mile run, meaning she would turn around at the third aid station. Her pace was a bit faster than I wanted but she hooked me with the promise of walking for 30 seconds after each mile. So, there you go. I ran with Sophia for the first 15 miles of the race. We basically kept close to a 10 minute pace the entire time.

The course was great. It was basically all dirt roads surrounded by farms. At first I didn't think there would be much to look at since it would be so remote and so dark but I was pretty surprised by the amount of scenery.

Close to mile 5 we came across the mud that John had talked about earlier. Being the generally over-arrogant runner that I am I ignored the nicely laid out hay path and just ran through the middle of the mud, not really caring about what I was stepping in. It wasn't too bad. I ended up ankle-deep a few times but nothing horrible. I don't really think the hay helped too much, it kind of ended up getting stuck to your shoes which was almost worse than just getting muddy.

Apparently running at night is deceiving to my sense of elevation change. I kept swearing that we were constantly running uphill. Not steep uphills, but gradual uphills. Sophia didn't agree with me but I didn't listen. I figured out she was right on the way back when I kept waiting for those constant downhills and they never came.

Mile 15 is when I lost my pacer and had to continue on alone. This was also one of the coolest aid stations I've ever been in. Some guy opened up his barn and put the aid station inside. There were several tractors and I jokingly asked if I could drive one. I don't think he knew I was kidding, nor was he amused. There was also some pretty 'interesting' music being played here, no genre was off-limits at this aid station.

The next five miles weren't too bad for me. I was still running pretty strong. Aid station number 4 (number 3 was mile 15, 2 was mile 10, and 1 was mile 5) is only about 3 miles from the high school where we started. That makes getting there a bit depressing as you know you're so close to the finish but you still have to turn around and run the entire course again. I changed shoes here and in doing so I took my headlamp off and put it on top of a cooler. In my rush to eat whatever I could and get going I forgot my headlamp...oops. I realized it about a quarter of a mile down the road but didn't really want to turn around to get it. It was bright enough with the moon and I hadn't had many problems seeing.

The route back is just a backtrack of everything I had just ran. The only part I wasn't looking forward to was hill 88, a very steep hill at the 10k mark going out, so about 6 miles from the finish.

After a few more miles I started really enjoying the dark. I was sans light and running partner but I was really relaxed. I turned the iPod off and just kind of took it all in. It was very quiet (except for the random rustling of the bushes which I'm sure was some ghastly animal silently stalking me as a possible meal) so the only noises I heard were my feet hitting the ground. I guess it was the lack of sensory input that I found most relaxing. There wasn't much to take in so what I could was all the more satisfying.

The roads did seem to go on forever. With not many turns the run becomes pretty tough, as you're just wanting to get to that next turn. Finally, amazingly, I made it to hill 88. I'd been running for a while and figured I should walk up the hill. Well, I kept running and saying "I'll walk after that rock", etc. Finally, I was halfway up the hill and figured I'd just run the entire thing, which I did. Thing is, right after hill 88, there's a downhill followed by another steep hill which seems almost as bad as hill 88. I ran that one too. Go figure.

I made it to the last aid station, ate what I could, chatted with the volunteers, and headed off on the last 5 miles of the run. I made it back through that mud with little difficulty and noticed that the sun was starting to come up. The skies were just starting to lighten up and the clouds that hung low in the East were beginning to glow. It was beautiful. The full moon was still up to the West, the terrain was still shadowy and colorless, and the sky was slowly turning blue. Find me another sport that gets you that.

I ran the last leg except for two short walks up hills during the last mile or so. I was sore, but I was determined to keep running.

Once I came over the last hill I saw two crazy people sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of the road. I was thinking "what the hell are they doing?" Then I notice they're sporting Trail Nerd t-shirts and realize it's Debbie and James. I can't say it seemed completely sane to be sitting in the middle of the road but I was sure glad to see them.

The finish was pretty anti-climatic. It consisted of John, the RD and Sophia. Sophia ran the last 20 feet with me, careful not to spill her recovery drink in the process.

I felt pretty good at the end, no real pain. I wasn't even tired, which is what I thought I'd be dealing with the most during the race. I never once got sleepy or felt exhausted. That's not what I expected.

After a quick shower we all hung out and waited for Gary to finish. I found myself sitting in the middle of the road exactly where James and Debbie had been when I came over the hill. Apparently it wasn't so dumb of an idea after all. It was also, as James pointed out, oddly, the most comfortable road I've ever sat on. Really tough to explain, it just was.

We all grabbed breakfast at the Kaffee House (I think that's what it was called). I had an excellent ham and cheese omelet, hash browns, toast, coffee, and leftover biscuits and gravy that Sophia had taken from another table's leftovers. Yummy.

I was a bit worried about the drive home. I hadn't slept and wasn't sleepy, yet. I knew it'd hit me eventually, but I wasn't sure when. About an hour into my drive I started getting REALLY sleepy. I was trying to eat espresso beans to stay awake but it wasn't helping at all. So, I pulled over at a picnic area, crawled in the back of the car, and slept for about an hour.

After waking up and a stop by Sonic for ice cream (I have no idea why I was craving ice cream at ten in the morning, but I was) I eventually made it home. I unpacked the car, took a shower, and tried to study. Yeah, that didn't last long. I ended up passing out on the couch and waking up at 5pm. Oops. Luckily it didn't screw up my sleep schedule too bad.

Run Across Kansas

2008-07-17T05:42:00.000-07:00

For quite a few years I've wanted to do some kind of
charity fundraiser. Never have because other things in my life got in
the way; work, school, whatever other excuse I could come up with at
the time. It was quickly becoming one of those things I'd always want
to do but never actually get around to doing. With med school on the
horizon (hopefully!) I could see no way I'd get around to doing
something in the next, oh, 10 years. So, I decided it was time to
figure something out. Running seemed natural for me, although a pub
crawl would also be pretty natural. I knew I needed something most
people would think comes with a high degree of mental instability
(trail nerds excluded, of course) but that I knew I could handle. For
some reason I got the idea of running across the state. Figuring that
was dumb I dismissed it for a while, then I started seriously thinking
about what it would take. After a while it didn't seem so
unrealistic.

So, there you go, I'm going to run across Kansas as a fundraiser for
the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. 7 days (okay, maybe 8, haven't
decided that yet), approx 55 miles per day, mostly along US-36. March
7th - 13th, 2009...heck of a way to spend my spring break. Yes, I
know 7 back-to-back 50-milers is pretty crazy.

Why'd I choose the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network? Well, I'm pretty
fortunate in that none of my family or close friends have been
affected by any specific condition that I could run for. I looked at
various other charities, talked to a few, finally decided on them.
I'm not really sure what pushed me that way, maybe meeting some folks
at the hospital who were fighting it.

My friends and family think it's a really cool idea. One of my
friends, Jeremiah (my best friend since first grade and the guy who
got me into running) thought it was so cool he has decided to run with
me, in support of another charity. Now there's two of us. I've had
several people tell me they'd run a few miles, or even an entire day
with us, which I think is exciting.

I just registered the website yesterday and threw up some text as a
placeholder until we get the site designed.

http://www.runacrosskansas.com

That's all for now.

2008 Shawnee Mission Park Triathlon

2008-07-13T13:41:00.000-07:00

Against my better judgment I signed up for the Shawnee Mission Park Triathlon about a month ago. Why against my better judgment? Well, because I'm about as graceful in the water as I am smooth with the ladies - that's to say; not so good.

The long course, the one I chose, was a .6 mile swim (1000 meters), 18 mile bike ride and 4.5 mile run. The bike and the run, no problemo. The swim, big problemo.

I've been trying to train for the swim at the pool but haven't had much success. I think I need a swimming lesson or something. I just don't keep good form in the water which leads to me getting tired which ruins my form more, etc. A bad cycle. The only thing I really had going for me was that I can sidestroke for a long time, an ability I picked up several years ago when I used to go to the gym with a co-worker who also happened to be a former SEAL. See, we'd do laps in the pool, mostly sidestroke, I'd go down and back, he'd go down, hop out, do 10 push-ups, get back in, swim to the other side, do 10 more push-ups...all before I made it down and back once. Discouraging.

I got up around 4:30, ate, took my time getting ready, etc. I made it to the park about an hour before my 7:10 start. I was pretty impressed with the organization. Everything ran smoothly at the race - I got my chip easily, got body marked quickly, had a lot of time to hang out and look at the water and think about how far I had to swim. Dammit.

I found Jon shortly before I had to get to the beach for my start. He did the short course and didn't end up starting till 8:10, pretty late. We chatted for a bit, he was nice enough to reply to my fears about the swim with a reassuring "yeah, that's a really long swim". Thanks dude.

To start the race you had to swim from the boat dock over to the beach, perhaps a 200 yard swim. Well, this was it, let's see how I felt. I walked down to the beach, put the goggles and swim cap on, and headed out into the water. It was a very nice 80 degrees, even at 7 in the morning. This might not be that bad.

I started out with a slow freestyle, keeping my head above water the entire time. I made it about 100 yards before I got pretty tired and switched to the sidestroke. Not a good sign. That's 1/10 the distance I was going to swim for the race. I rolled over to my back a few times just to relax on the way over there. That's the one way I'm actually fairly buoyant, as long as I keep kicking, that is.

I got to the beach without drowning and found all the other folks with similarly colored swim caps as me. They were all talking and laughing and having a generally fantastic time. They were old pros at this. I was scared.

My strategy was simple. Start slow, stay slow, swim near the buoys so I could grab onto them if I needed. I decided once I was in the water that the sidestroke was the only way I was going to finish this. Screw trying to freestyle it.

After being herded like cattle out of the water and into a swim corral we were ready to go. Right before we started the lady asked "who's a first timer?" I slowly raised my hand with a few other people. The guy behind me in the water moved in front of me before I got my hand back down. Comforting.

Shortly after, we were off. The pack moved out pretty quickly relative to me and a few other stragglers. I stayed right, did some freestyle swimming, but mostly stuck to the sidestroke. I made it from the beach back to the boatdock...barely. I was dying already and needed something to grab onto to rest. Apparently nobody figured that someone would need a rest so early and didn't put anything out to help folks. I embarrassingly swam near the dock, where people were standing, and grabbed on, taking a few seconds break. Oh well.

My goals for the swim quickly became to make it from buoy to buoy. I stuck to the sidestroke and took a rest almost every buoy for the first three or four. Then I oddly got really comfortable in the water and was able to start skipping every other buoy. I don't know what clicked, but something did. I just felt better.

Now, that doesn't mean I was swimming like I knew what I was doing. See, there's divers in the water with nice orange floaty things looking to help out folks like me. Apparently I looked or sounded like I needed help...I got asked 5 times if I wanted a rest from one of the divers. While it was really nice of them it was also a bit embarrassing.

Anyways, I kept going, sticking to my every-other buoy strategy. Perhaps halfway through the course I started to get passed from people in the heat behind me. They looked fast. Shortly after that, I started to get passed by people from the heat behind them. Super.

I kept at it. After a while I noticed there was a couple of people in my heat back with me in the water. What?!?! What are these people doing here? I thought I was the only horrible swimmer. Wow. I might actually beat some people in my heat out of the water.

And I did. I think I beat four green caps out of the water. I did not expect that at all.

I ran up the hill, dried myself off, put my bike jersey and shoes on, and was off. I was hoping to make up time on the bike considering how long the swim took.

I didn't do very bad on the bike. I got passed by a few folks but not many. I was doing most of the passing. Especially on the uphills. Apparently I can climb. No idea why or how.

My other advantage was the downhills. I don't know if people were scared of them or what but nobody was going as fast as I was down those things. I love them. I like the speed, it feels good. I also like the momentum you can carry for part of the next hill.

I ended up averaging 19.3mph on the bike course. That matches my record from the airport one day. That's personally impressive when you consider how much hillier the park is compared to the airport.

On the last lap I had some wonderful momentum going up this really bad hill. I was about to pass a guy on a mountain bike, on his left, when all of a sudden he took a hard left right into my way. The only way I could keep from hitting him was to swerve over into the running course, almost hitting a female runner. I almost fell off the bike and I did completely stop. On an uphill, a bad uphill, in a lower gear than I could easily start up again in. It kinda pissed me off, but it's not like there's a lot I could have done. I guess it would have been worse if I would have wrecked.

I finished the bike and got into my running shoes. Ah, it felt good to be on the last leg of the race. I got going and felt like I was forgetting something but I wasn't sure what. Hmm. About .25 miles into the run I looked at the person in front of me, noticed their number, and realized I had forgotten to put mine on. Dammit. I briefly considered going back then realized that was stupid. I had my number written on me in four places, and I had a timing chip on. No way anyone would care.

I guess I didn't stretch well because almost immediately the muscles on top of my shins got real tight. It made the running uncomfortable. At the second water stop I walked for a few feet just so I could do little circles in the air with my feet. I had to get those muscles loosened up. Actually, running uphill helped them, so I looked forward to that.

I didn't get passed on the run, not even by the short-course folks. Again, I did a lot of passing. Especially on the hills, that felt good.

Surprisingly I feel like I'd want to do another tri. I need to do something about my swimming, it's horrible. But, I had a lot of fun. We'll see.

Lenexa Freedom Run

2008-07-05T12:50:00.000-07:00

Well, it took 11 years, but I finally broke my 5k PR!

New: 21:08
Old: 21:30

Probably could have done better had I not gone out drinking the night before. Oops. Whatever, it was a fun run, lots of people, terrible shirt. Nothing seems to change.

Trail Nerds Are Rockstars!

2008-07-02T12:37:00.001-07:00

Well, close.

Ben and Kyle were on a local radio program today, The Walt Bodine Show, talking about trailrunning and ultra-marathons. Pretty much the coolest thing I've ever heard on the radio.

http://archive.kcur.org/kcurViewDirect.asp?PlayListID=5871

My First Century Ride

2008-06-25T09:07:00.001-07:00

102 miles.

I'm REALLY late in posting this one. For no real reason I decided to go for a "long" bike ride last Tuesday in Denver. I wasn't real sure where to go but I knew I wanted to stay on bike trails as much as possible. So, I went to Barnes & Noble, grabbed a cycling Denver book and did some research.

The longest option seemed to be the C-470 bike path. It follows most of C-470 around the city. Problem is, it seemed really open and not real scenic. There was also the Platte River trail and the Cherry Creek trail. Hmm, those looked better, but both involved taking the C-470 trail to get to.

So, what did I do? All three, of course.

I started out in Highlands Ranch and headed to the C-470 trail. This involved all road riding, not fun for me. Especially not fun when during part of the trip I got my front tire caught in a crack in the road that was just wide enough for the tire to fit in. Yeah, almost wiped out in traffic. That would have been bad.

I took the C-470 trail East to get to the Cherry Creek Reservoir, at which point I'd take the Cherry Creek Trail into downtown Denver. The ride along 470 going East is pretty dammed boring. It's all highway so it's noisy and smelly and just not fun. Also, the trail crosses several busy streets, so you can't ride continuously, you have to stop and wait at crosswalks. And these were not pedestrian or bike-friendly intersections.

Anyways, I made it in one piece to Cherry Creek Reservoir and stopped and ate lunch. By this point I was only like 25 miles into the ride and didn't really have my heart set on any particular distance. I just wanted to make it downtown.

I was really surprised at how desert-like the area East of Denver was. It was extremely dry and there were very few trees. Not really an area I'd want to live in. Also, the mountains seemed so far away, it was almost sad. I'm definitely not a fan of the East side of Denver.

After eating I headed towards downtown on the Cherry Creek trail. I was headed to Confluence Park, where Cherry Creek dumps into the Platte River. It was an excellent ride. The path was nice and generally shaded and not a lot of people were out so I could move pretty quickly on the bike.

I hung out at Confluence Park for a bit, just relaxing. There were people out doing random stuff, people playing in the river, etc. It was really nice.

Leaving Confluence Park I headed South back towards Highlands Ranch. The entire path follows the Platte River. You get pretty decent views of downtown during the first part of the ride. The entire ride is nice. Once I got into Littleton I came across this coffee shop that was only on the trail - not on the street. It was just for folks who were out running or biking to stop and get a drink and relax. It was awseome. I really wish we had stuff like that here in KC.

Once I got back to the C-470 trail I figured I'd head back towards Highlands Ranch but I looked at my odomoter and saw that I'd done about 60 miles. I started thinking that it would be cool to say I did 100 miles in a day. It's always bad when I get ideas like that in my head. So...I took a right instead of a left on the C-470 trail and headed West.

God, the trail sucked at this point. It was cracked and someone did a piss-poor job of sealing the cracks. The tar would get on your tires and would just suck. Argh, it still pisses me off.

Finally, near Golden, I turned right onto a trail that follows 285 East back towards the Platte River Trail. This trail was interesting also. It was pretty well maintained, except for random parts that would go through parking lots. Very odd.

I headed back South on the Platte River trail, again, and made it to Highlands Ranch in generally one piece. The weather was getting bad towards the end of the ride and I was getting worried about being caught out in a rainstorm and not having a lot of energy left. Luckily I made it back to Chris's before it started raining.

102 miles.

Pikes Peak

2008-06-25T09:05:00.001-07:00

I'm back from Colorado. I didn't have much time to write while I was out there...spent too much of my free time playing Wii. I also didn't have my usb cable to get files off of my camera, so there wasn't much reason to post while I was there. Anyways, here goes...

I got out there Sunday night at around 10pm. The drive wasn't bad at all, went by really quick. I had decided before I got there that I was going to try to hike Pikes Peak on Monday. Mostly because the forecast called for rain in Denver Monday but not in Colorado Springs. So, I got to bed around midnight on Sunday night and got up again at 4am on Monday morning to drive down. I knew I'd need lots of rest since the hike was going to be tough...good thing I got it, all three hours of sleep.

So, my plan was actually to run as much of the trail that I could. Pretty stupid. I did Barr Trail, which starts around 6,500 feet and ends, of course, around 14,100 feet at the summit.

Barr Trail is easy to get to, just drive through beautiful Colorado Springs on I-25 at 45 miles per hour (WTF!?) then head over to Manitou Springs where the speed limit is like 20mph everywhere. These people don't like driving fast.

The trailhead is just past the Cog Railway parking lot. There's a specific parking lot for the trail as the folks at the Cog will tow your car if you park there, at least, that's what all the nice signs say. Anyways, there was plenty of parking for me at 5:30 in the morning at the trailhead. Now, this was later than I wanted. I had actually wanted to head up right at sunrise, but I didn't expect the drive down 25 to go so slow, or the drive through Colorado Springs or Manitou to take so freaking long. Whatever. Around 6:00 I got all my stuff put together and headed up the trail.

Now, the really cool thing about the trailhead is the signs that remind you that mountain lions have been sighted recently and/or how bears are in the woods and how you should deal with them. There were some kids (I say kids, they were probably 22, God I'm old...) who were joking about the signs. They said: "You know what the trick is when you're hiking with your friends and see a bear? Bring a friend who is slower than you are". Now that's just spectacular advice for someone hiking alone. They noticed me, by myself, and gave me this pitty look of "you're totally screwed dude". Dumb kids.

The trail is very easy to follow. It's very non-technical and marked quite well. The only hard part is the grade. It's a 13% (~7600 feet of gain over ~11 miles) grade...uphill...the entire way. There's very little flat or downhill sections. Being the bold, intelligent, determined ultra-runner that I am I figured I'd start out running it and would see how far I could get. Yeah, how do you think that worked out for me?

The route from the trailhead to Barr Camp was pretty uneventful. My run was more like a really, really slow shuffle. I walked some of the sections that involved navigating some rocks or psudo-stairs. I think it took me about an hour and a half to get to Barr Camp. The cool thing was when I would get passed by people running up the same trail I was. That felt awseome! I'm pretty sure that trail, up to Barr Camp, is a pretty popular running/hiking destination for the locals. Especially those who train all year for the Pikes Peak Marathon (something I'd actually like to do at some point). I was sucking wind like it was my first time running and these folks were just movin along chatting and laughing like it was a normal run for them. Pretty amazing.

Anyways, I hung out at Barr Camp for a bit. It's a pretty neat place. It's more-or-less a store where they sell some supplies, food and drinks. They were making some amazing pancakes when I got there and offered me as many as I wanted, at no charge! I bought a gatorade and hung out on the deck with a pile of pancakes and just relaxed for a bit...waiting for a bear to come ask me for some of my pancakes. Never happened.

After about 30 minutes of enjoying the scenery and the food I started back up the mountain. I was above 10,000 feet and was having a pretty tough time running, so my run turned into a walk.

There's really wasn't much to talk about. The scenery was beautiful, the trail was easy to follow, I didn't see a lot of people. I really couldn't ask for much more.

Once I hit 12,000 feet I was hurting pretty badly. I imagine the low oxygen concentration was really taking a toll on me, as I couldn't walk but a few yards without getting short of breath. I was walking, not running, mind you. I was taking breaks about every ten minutes at this point. Just stopping and sitting on a rock.

I was also taking a lot of pictures. This is a sore subject for me as not all of them came out. I have no clue why. I got some pictures, not nearly as many as I took tho.

So, up to 13,000 feet I went, struggling along, stopping a lot. Around this point you hit this section called the "17 Golden Stairs". Bullshit they're golden. It's more like the 39 gates of hell. Whoever named the stupid things was oxygen deprived and couldn't count. Each stair is really a switchback. A steep switchback. In a boulder field. Not easy hiking.

I stopped a lot through here. First off, I had to since I was getting so exhausted so quickly. Secondly, the view was absolutely stunning. You could see forever. It was honestly unreal. Plus there was literally no noise up there. Occasionally the wind would pick up, but that was about it. It was amazing.

After what seemed like forever I finally saw the peak, and all the people carelessly frolicking about on top of the mountain after riding the cog up. I hated all of them. I heard a few "hey, look, there's someone hiking up", I heard one "why would you do that?". Lazy assholes.

I made it to the top. People looked at me funny. I probably didn't look too super but I wasn't up there looking for a date so I didn't care. I had a pretty bad headache, I imagine I was in pretty bad shape at that point. So, I sat down on a rock and ate and drank some water and thought about my hike down. Then it started snowing. Yeup, June 23rd and it's snowing. Super. It's ok, it's not bad, I'll hike down in the snow. Then it starts thundering and lightning. Nope, no way I'm hiking down in that crap.

So, I walk over to the cog ticket office and ask how much for a ticket back down the mountain.

Me: "Hi, can I get a one-way ticket?"
Her: "Sure, $20."
Me: "Cool, when does the train (that's literally right next to me) leave?"
Her: "Oh, that one is full, you'll have to take the one in two hours."
Me: "F#@k that."
Her: "(mouth agape)"
Me: "Thanks. I'll find another way down. Have a super day."
Her: "(mouth still agape)"

No way I was waiting two hours to get off that pile of dirt. Lesson learned here folks, if you're going to do this hike, buy a one-way ticket down at the bottom of the mountain.

So, I was kinda stuck. Then I met another pair of hikers and we engaged in a five minute bitch session about the weather and the annoying cog railway. They had done the hike a few times before and suggested that we hitchhike back down. Now, white-bread me from Kansas is not big into hitchhiking. That's about as sure a way to get man-raped as is federal prison. They assured me it was safe as usually the only people who take people down the mountain are other hikers. Well, I didn't feel good, I was tired, and I really felt like I needed to get down from that altitude. So, I figured I'd try anything.

So, we sat by the road at the top of the mountain and waited for folks to drive by. I let them go first, and I caught the next person who drove by. It was a very nice and very old couple from Florida. They asked me what I was doing (hmm, I had on a jacket, shorts, a small hiking pack and smelled like ass...I wonder). I told them I hiked up and didn't feel safe hiking back down and was looking for a ride. They said sure. So, I went on my first hitchhiking adventure.

They really were very nice. We talked the whole way down the mountain...well, I talked when I didn't feel like I was going to puke. The further down we got the sicker I got. I wasn't about to blow chunks in their car, so I was having a fun time holding it in. Once we got further down I noticed that we were on the West side of the mountain, not the East side. I didn't really realize it but the road down is in a different place than the cog. Dammit. I asked them about this and they confirmed that the way up the mountain wasn't in Manitou Springs. Hmm. They quickly offered to drive me over. Damn, that was nice of them.

It was even more nice of them considering how bad I smelled. The guy driving kept rolling the window down every once in a while. I'm sure to get my rank smell out of the car.

So, we made it over to Manitou Springs and up to the cog railway parking lot. It was about another 100 yards to my car from where they dropped me off but I really felt like I'd puke if I didn't get out right then. I thanked them a ton, wished them luck on the rest of their trip, etc and got my butt out of that car as quick as possible.

I managed to make it to my car, after stopping several times, without puking. I got my stuff off, sat on my hood, and just tried to relax. Yeah, my stomach had a different idea. About a minute later it all came up. Bread mixed with red powerade. Interesting combination. I puked and puked and puked. I was puking up nothing eventually. That's when I really started getting worried. I haven't thrown up in a while, but when I did it was usually just once, just to get something out of my stomach. This was violent dry-heaving.

I stopped puking eventually, sat down on the ground, and closed my eyes. After about ten minutes of not moving I figured I should get some water in me and see if I could keep it in. I did, it stayed down. All told I sat there for about an hour, barely moving, trying to recover.

Now, I'm not sure if I came off the mountain too fast or what. But something about that hike made me really sick. It really scared me too. I had this horrible picture of me dying because my dumbass got the bends or something while trying to be tough.

The next nightmare was the drive back to Denver. I had to motivate myself to get into the car and start driving. This ended up being harder than motivating myself to finish that 100km race a few weeks ago. I just didn't want to move. But, I tempted myself with a warm shower and a nap. It worked. I got going, managed the drive somehow, and found myself back at Chris's house.

Surprisingly, by the time I got to the house I was feeling pretty dammed good. So good that I called a friend of mine in Boulder to see if she still wanted to meet for dinner that night. During my dying hour back at the trailhead I had convinced myself I was going to sleep until Thursday at least.

So, I took a shower, didn't take a nap, ate some food, and drove an hour and a half up to Boulder. Go figure. I was fine all night. No leg pain, nothing. Heck, I even had two beers and didn't even feel the alcohol. I was really surprised.

I survived my first fourteener. Wonder what the next one will be.

Dirty Duo

2008-06-25T08:58:00.001-07:00

Ran the Dirty Duo at Shawnee Mission Park last Saturday. I ran with a buddy of mine's dad. My buddy Jeremiah and his brother Josh ran it as a team - they won. Go figure.

It's a pretty fun race, you alternate between running and riding in one mile legs. There's an obstacle after each leg that you have to complete. Some were lame, some were really fun. The worst was the potato sack hop. I had to do that one before a running leg, man, that sucked.

The last mile of the race wasn't even close to a mile, it might have been 1/4 a mile. That kind of pissed me off. Whatever. We ended up taking fifth place overall, not too shabby. We won our age group handily, by 19 minutes. Woot!

Oh, and there's the mud pit. That was actually pretty fun. 25 feet of pure mud and you had to crawl through all of it. I felt like a kid again, it was great.

I do have to complain about the lack of decent food at the race (only had one thing of water and one of Gatorade for post-race re-hydration for about 300 people). Also, the food was terrible. They had bananas and oranges, which is fine, but then they bought these cheap cookies. Gross. Lastly, yeah, I'll stop bitching in a sec, they advertised a post-race party with beer. There was no beer there. Boo.

Colorado

2008-06-22T08:53:00.000-07:00

So, I'm headed to Colorado today. Got some interesting runs and rides planned. I'll post 'em as I finish them.

A week of 100's

2008-06-16T13:14:00.000-07:00

I have an odd goal this week. Since I signed up for a triathlon (on a whim) I figure I need to get used to running, biking and swimming...together. So, I set a goal for this week.

Run 100 miles
Bike 100 miles
Swim 1000 yards

Truth be told, I gave myself Sun - Sun, which is really 8 days. I have a race on Saturday so I don't want to do anything on Friday.

Now, "swim 1000 yards" - that's nothing you say? Not if you swim as well as I do, which means I usually need floaties in the pool. I seriously suck at swimming. I put 500 yards away yesterday, but I did it by swimming down the pool once, sitting for 30 sec, then swimming back, repeat. I suck at swimming.

Water Loss

2008-06-15T07:45:00.001-07:00

Here's a question from Runners World this month: During a race, should I drink at every water station?

The answer is; it depends on your weight. They suggest testing how much you need by going on a 60 minute run. Weigh yourself before and after. The amount of weight lost equals how much fluid you typically need per hour.

So, I figured I'd give the test a shot. I got up this morning, ate a bit, hopped on the scale and logged 191 pounds. Cool. Then, I ran for exactly 60 minutes. Now, it's getting warm in Kansas City, but it's not too bad in the morning. It was 71 when I left the house and almost 80 when I got back home.

I took off my soggy clothes, hopped on the scale...185. Geez. 6 pounds in an hour? I should write a book.

If you assume 1 lb = 16 fl oz (it's actually 1 oz = 0.96 fl oz, but whatever) you'll discover that I managed to sweat off 96 oz of water. That's 3/4 of a gallon. That's a lot of water.

No way I can do that much water per hour at a race.

2008 Kettle Moraine 100 Endurance Run

2008-06-09T20:42:00.001-07:00

The natural progression of any new ultra runner seems to be further and further distance. After completing a 50 and 43 miler my ego decided it was time to give 100 kilometers a try (that’s 62.13 miles to you blokes who have difficulty using a calculator). I chose Kettle Moraine as my battlefield, mostly because the dates worked out well for me and it was within a reasonable driving distance from home. It also sounded like quite a nice run with a lot of history (2008 marked the 13th year for the race).

The race is run mostly on the Ice Age National Scenic Trail (http://www.nps.gov/iatr/), the first four or five miles from the start and finish are run on the Nordic Trails, which are cross-country skiing trails. The Nordic Trails are very well maintained and very easy to run on (especially at night, when you’re two miles from the finish and don’t have a headlamp and can’t see the ground, not that I would have any experience with that or anything). The Ice Age Trail is all single-track rocky, root-covered generally-fun-to-run-on-trail-as-long-as-it’s-flat-and-you-can-feel-your-toes. The flat part only applied about 2% of the time.

From the race bulletin:

You will find the trail to be about 80% wooded terrain; with the rest meandering through gentle prairie or marsh areas. Part of the course will be a roller coaster of hills, with small rocks and roots scattered about. Other sections will be gently rolling with relatively smooth running surfaces. The pine sections give you that soft bed of pine needles that so many of us like to run on. Though the hills are not long and/or especially steep, they can take a tremendous toll on you if you attempt to run them. They are many and scattered throughout the course. "Silent Killers" is what one local runner calls them.

Sounds so pleasant, eh? Oh, if only. I’ll get to that later.

I left Kansas City on Friday the 5th of June fairly early in the morning. I went on an easy run before leaving as I think I tapered my training a bit too much the week before the race and was feeling generally sore and lethargic. I wanted to give my legs a gentile reminder of what they were supposed to do the next day.

The drive up to La Grange, Wisconsin was pretty uneventful. Well, uneventful save for the fact I averaged 34.1 miles to the gallon in my 8 year old Acura! Rock on! I’m still totally stoked about that. It was tough to force myself to eat during the entire drive and to drink enough water to keep myself hydrated as I was being so sedentary. In the future, when I drive to a race, I’ll probably try to head up an extra day before just so I don’t have to deal with that.

I got to packet pick-up in La Grange (a town which seems to consist of just a general store and a few houses) around 4pm, got everything for the race, and headed to my hotel in Whitewater. I checked into the world’s biggest dump motel and got stuck on the second floor by someone at the front desk who didn’t really care how much of a challenge stairs were going to be for me the next day. Sigh.

Whitewater was a beautiful college town (except for my hotel, and the Wal-Mart). I headed to the downtown area, found the most hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant I could, and got two orders spaghetti. This place was so hole-in-the-wall that they didn’t even have tables, it was only carry-out or delivery and dear God was it amazing. This was seriously the best spaghetti I’ve ever eaten. I’m half tempted just to drive back there right now for dinner it was that good. I ate half of it on the curb outside the restaurant like a bum and took the rest back to my hotel. (I’d like to note that the restaurant was across the street from a bar, from which the bartender was brining pitchers of something over for the staff to drink, presumably in return for some of their crack-like-food. Perhaps whatever was in those pitchers was making it into the food, I don’t know and don’t care.)

I watched a few episodes of Scrubs, got my stuff laid out for the race and fell asleep as early as I could.

I had my alarm set for 4:15 am. I woke up at 4:13 on my own. Figure that one out. The drive to the start didn’t take long so I got there at 5am, earlier than I probably should have. Whatever. I chilled out by my car and did several second-degree black belt sudoku puzzles (yeah, I’m that good) while pounding water and powerade.

At 5:50 the race director gave us some last-minute instructions which mostly consisted of “here’s where you’ll get lost, try not to” pointers and “please don’t litter”. I alway figure the “please don’t litter” one is pretty obvious but I still saw some trash on the trail, dammit. I also made two pretty monumental bad decisions at this point. I decided to run with two water bottles instead of my camelback and I decided to run with a hat on. I’ll explain this more later but the hat was probably the dumber of the two dumb ideas.

So, about 200 of us lined up at the start, and at 6am we were off. The beginning of the race was pretty packed with people, as would be expected, and the ground was pretty wet, something I didn’t expect. I kept a good 9min/mile pace at the beginning, running most of the time and walking some of the hills. They weren’t too bad through this section (at least they weren’t too bad on the way out, coming back at the end they felt horrible). The scenery was nice, my legs felt good, it felt like it was going to be a good race.

We hit the first aid station around mile 5. I wasn’t tired and wasn’t low on fluids so I decided to keep running as the second aid station was only 2.3 miles from the first one. I think this was a bad idea. I was so caught up in just running I forgot to think eight hours ahead. I should have stopped and ate something, even if I didn’t feel like I needed to. This would have paid dividends in the meadow (saying the meadow makes me cringe, I’ll explain why in a bit).

It was during that segment between the first and second aid station that I started to notice the heat and humidity, and it was only 7am! I was sweating more than normal and breathing a little harder than normal. I refilled my bottles at the second aid station, grabbed a little food (note, I said a little) and headed on. Now, I was keeping one bottle full of water and the other full of whatever sports drink they had. My options were lemon-lime Heed and lemon-lime Heed. Not much of a choice. I hadn’t drank all my Powerade from the beginning of the race so I ended up with a bottle of half Heed half Powerade. Gross. Really gross.

It was about 5 miles to the next station, which was unmanned, therefore only water and Heed were available. My pace and strength to this point were still really good but I could really feel the heat and was regretting the hat decision. Now, you should really ask “why the heck didn’t you just toss the hat at an aid station?”. I know, I should have, but I didn’t. The hills really started to kick in during this stretch as well. While running in the woods was great since it provided shade from the sun the constant up and down was pretty taxing. I was looking forward to the meadow which was relatively flat compared to what we were running in.

Emma Carlin was the third manned (fourth total) aid station. This was the first time I really ate during the race. I downed two bananas, what probably added up to an entire orange, several chunks of potato, and some other random food. I was 15 miles into the race and was feeling pretty undernourished. This stop re-energized me and got me going with good spirits. I walked for five or so minutes after leaving this aid station, just to ensure I didn’t puke up everything I had just ate. Ah, the joys of ultra running.

Now, we’re getting to a part of the race that became pretty hazy for me. See, I wasn’t doing too well in the heat and humidity and even though I was hydrating well I felt pretty out of it mentally. The next two aid stations after Emma Carlin were unmanned. The first is just over 3 miles from Emma Carlin and I think I got there with no problems. Part of this run involved running through a pretty big open range, we all called it The Meadow.

The Meadow deserves some discussion. By later that afternoon even the support crews following the runners were uttering the words “The Meadow” with a trepidation usually reserved for conversations revolving around the uncle nobody talks about. The Meadow was the demoralizer of this race. It was an 8 mile span of the race with two unmanned aid stations, which was to be repeated on the way back to the finish. It wasn’t too hilly but it was wide-the-hell-open providing little to no shade from the mid-morning sun. Even the strong wind blowing in from the West didn’t help tame the furnace that The Meadow felt like.

At both of the unmanned aid stations in The Meadow I filled up the water, wished for food, and got moving again. I hit mile 20 during the jaunt through The Meadow and I started doing some mental math as to how far I had come. Now, I don’t want to brag, but I’m typically pretty good at mental math. So, while running, I did the math on how far I had come. 20 miles into a 60 mile race, I was 1/4 of the way done. I kept doing the math in my head and kept coming up with the same answer, a quarter of the way done. I did this for another couple of miles until I finally realized that 20/60 is 1/3, not 1/4. Dang. Adding that to the fact that I was seeing random stuff out of my peripheral vision I knew I was in bad shape. I kept seeing what looked like people off to either side of me, it’d usually end up being a bush moving in the wind or something dumb like that. So, I seriously considered dropping out of the race. I didn’t think I’d make it another 40 miles. I didn’t think it’d be safe to try to make it another 40 miles. I had to set a goal, and I decided that I’d make it to the halfway point at least, 31 miles. If I was going to drop that was as good of a place to do it as any.

I got to the next manned aid station alive and somewhat sane. I took extra time here, eating a lot and drinking a lot. I got some ice and stuck it under my hat. I felt better almost immediately after getting some food in me, but not totally. The drop idea was still in my head. I was only 23.9 miles in. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

It was only 3 miles to the next aid station and those were a sweet 3 miles. It was in the woods. I didn’t give a frick that it was hilly, I was just glad to be out of that dammed meadow. I crossed an important threshold during this leg, I passed the 26.2 mile mark, I had ran a marathon. That always helps me mentally.

So, I got to the aid station before the turnaround quite demoralized, exhausted, hot, doubting myself and ready to quit. I ate a lot here, re-filled my water bottles and headed down the trail. Before I left I had grabbed a handful of saltines and three potato chunks. I had my two water bottles in my left hand, the crackers in-between my fingers of my right hand and three chunks of potato in the palm of my right hand. I was walking along and went to put one of the potato chunks in my mouth. Well, the little suckers were cold and slippery and I squeezed too hard or something and all three ended up in the air in front of me. Now, for the life of me I have no idea how I did this but I caught all three. All three were not together either, this required some quick movement to get all three, one-handed, in the same hand. I stood there for a second completely dumbfounded at what I had just done. Then I got that endorphin rush in my brain and knew that I’d finish the race, no matter what. I didn’t care if I had to walk the last half of it, I didn’t care if I had to crawl, I was going to finish it, all because of those dumb potatoes.

The 5 miles to the turn around was a nice wide trail that a lot of families were out hiking on. They’d seen tons of runners and I imagine they gave all of them the same look they gave me: “you’re insane”. It was great. I knew I’d finish. The hills here weren’t that bad, I had energy, and I was about to change shoes. Life was good.

I got to the turnaround and there were tons of people there. Grabbed some food, found my drop bag, changed my shoes, and got out of there as quick as I could. I was ready for the trip back. I did the usual walk-until-you-don’t-feel-like-you’ll-puke after leaving the aid station. I swear I was counting down the steps to the finish already.

I can’t think of anything interesting that happened between the turnaround and the aid stations before The Meadow. I ate at both aid stations, drank a lot of water, did whatever I could to keep myself going. I was running slower at this point, walking all the hills, shuffling the downhills, loving the flat surfaces. Oh, I couldn’t feel my middle, ring, or pinky finger in my right hand anymore. Well, I could, but it was that my-arm-is-asleep feeling. I figured it was from holding the water bottle for eight hours but it wasn’t happening in my left hand so I’m not sure what was up with that. Whatever, they were still attached and moving, good enough.

Once I hit the highway 67 aid station (the last manned aid station before that 8 mile gauntlet that was The Meadow) I was already dreading what laid ahead. At the pace I was going it was going to take me almost 2 hours to get my rear across that meadow and I was not looking forward to one minute of it. I took my time at the aid station, which was probably dumb but whatever. I ate a ton and started talking to a guy I had run into a few times throughout the day. We both left at the same time with the same “I hate The Meadow” attitude. We ended up running (well, walking) about half of the distance together. Had good conversation, etc. Again, I keep saying it, that’s why I love ultras - the people you meet are great.

Here’s where the action starts kids. About halfway through The Meadow it starts sprinkling on us. I’m thinking “rock on! Rain!” Right? Wrong. See, I expected a nice little sprinkle to cool me off and keep me going. Forces beyond my control were conspiring otherwise against my chipper outlook. Off in the distance I could see that the sky wasn’t a color you like to see when you’re four miles from anything resembling shelter and only have your already throughly worn out legs to get you anywhere. A bad storm was coming, I could just tell.

About three miles from the next manned aid station it stopped sprinkling and started raining. Not too bad, I could deal. Right? Suuuure. A few minutes later it really opened up. Now, I’ve seen rain. This was more like what it looks like when someone pours a bucket of water in your face. This was the definition of torrential downpour. I swear I couldn’t see thirty feet in front of my face. It was that bad. I couldn’t believe it. So, here’s little old me, in the middle of this open meadow, in the middle of a torrential downpour and I’m thinking “I can deal with the rain, at least there’s no lighting”. Guess what happened then? Yeah, lighting. I bet you ten bucks I ran a seven minute mile to get off that meadow. I didn’t want to be the tallest thing out there. Screw the pain I felt, I was getting to the next aid station.

I got to the next aid station without getting spited, Emma Carlin. There were two canopies setup with the food and drinks underneath them. Unfortunately there were also about as many runners as you could fit underneath the tents also. Yay for me, late to the party. I walk up to the aid station and grab whatever food I can. You know how when a tent is out in the rain some parts of it tend to collect water around the edges? You know how the bigger the tent the more water it collects? You know how there’s always that one helpful person walking around pushing the bottom up so the water gushes off in one glorious earth-soaking moment? Yeah, I’ve seen that. Well, I’m stuffing my face with cheese-its when, and I swear this happened, I get completely drenched because someone decided a good time to get the water off of the tent was when the guy who was trying to eat was standing half in and half out of the tent right under where all the water was going. I had soggy cheese-its.

I had a decision to make. I’d been standing at the aid station for about five minutes, eating, wondering if I should build an ark, and wondering if this weather was justification for calling it quits. I didn’t have a shirt on and I was getting soaked so I was getting really cold. I think I was about five seconds away from saying f-it and finding a nice car to enjoy the ride back to the start with when I saw this guy and girl take off into the woods headed in the direction my potato-catching butt was headed. I followed them. I figured it was the best chance I had of not dying if I did one of the things I was sure to do because of the rain which generally involved either slipping and sliding into a bottomless ravine or getting hypothermia. Neither sounded fun.

So, that’s how I met Clara and Dorn. Well, it was more like I totally intruded on their run for my own personal benefit (and safety, mind you). Whatever, they were nice people. I’m sure they didn’t mind.

The run at this point was more like running through a creek. No joke. The trail was the best drainage system in the forest, and the forest was taking advantage of it. Every step I took I prepared myself for the inevitable kicking of a hidden root or rock which would finally destroy either of my two already badly damaged big toenails. I was also shivering like a beach bum in Alaska. I knew if I kept running I’d warm up enough to where the cold rain wouldn’t bother me. Eventually I got to the point where I could carry on a decent conversation with my new bestest running buddies. I even began to really like the rain, after I knew it wouldn’t kill me, of course.

Now, the bad thing about the rain was that it was washing all the mosquito repellant I had so diligently applied off. While it was raining this wasn’t too bad. After the rain, this was bad. These mosquitos were similar in size and shape to flies. That’s no joke. Those suckers were big and mean and were out in force. I did a pretty good job of killing the ones that landed within swiping distance of my hands but the ones that got on my back pretty much got a free meal.

It was 3.2 miles to the next aid station, which was unmanned, and it rained most of the time. We got there without major incident, filled up the water bottles and headed on to the oh-so-important second to last aid station. Now, I feel a bit bad about this but I got ahead of Clara and Dorn right after we left that unmanned station so I just kind of kept going. I was low on energy and motivation and I wanted to get as far ahead of them as I could because I knew they’d catch me eventually. So, for about three of the five miles to the next aid station I ran alone.

They finally caught up to me once we got to the Bald Bluff Scenic Overlook. I stopped here to eat a GU and take a picture. It was actually nice once the rain stopped and the clouds broke up a bit. While I was stopped a really nice lady ran past me and asked me if I needed anything. See, that’s another of those ultra things, someone stopping to see if you need help. You can’t beat this sport.

The three of us ran down to Bluff aid station together, me amazed that I had made it this far. I ate what I could, including a hummus sandwich, and had my water bottles filled up. Now, late in a run it’s the little things that count, so, when asked what I wanted in my water bottles I said “water and Heed”. The guy said “well, do you want any Gatorade?” Did I want Gatorade? Hell yes! I’d take anything besides Heed at this point. It was like my own little slice of heaven.

I applied copious amounts of mosquito repellent and the three of us headed off to the last aid station. Only 7 miles to the finish.

We were about 13 hours into the run at this point. One thing that I didn’t plan on was taking that long to run the race. See, the sun goes down around 8:30 and it gets really dark around 9:15. I figured I’d be done with the race in 14 hours, tops. That’s 8:00. So, I didn’t bring a headlamp or flashlight with me. Bad idea. By the time we left Bluff it was getting a bit dark and I was wondering if we’d make it to the finish before it got dark. Dorn actually did plan ahead and had a flashlight. That made me feel better...until we got to about two miles left. I’ll get to that in a bit.

The next aid station, and the last for us, was the Tamarack aid station. This is the one I blew past so confidently in the morning. It was 4.1 miles to the finish from here but I wasn’t taking any chances with not eating enough. I stuffed my face and loved it. The three of us took off for the finish.

The last part of the race involved a lot of walking. My feet were just completely destroyed. I had strength in my legs but couldn’t do much because of my feet. Clara was feeling the same way. As it got darker we started to pass the final mile markers. It felt good to see them but it didn’t feel like they were coming fast enough. Halfway through that last part we played the alphabet game which, as I learned, was when you say “I went to the store to buy an aardvark”, then the next person says “I went to the store to buy an aardvark and a bingo game”. You have to keep repeating everything everyone said. Now, I figured there was zero chance of us getting any further than the letter D since we were all in pretty bad shape. Somehow though, we managed to finish it, A to Z. Amazing.

We got to the 2 mile marker and Dorn took off for the finish. I was kind of surprised. First off, he had the only flashlight between the three of us and it was totally dark and cloudy, so no moonlight to help us out, and secondly, he had come to pace Clara so I was kind of surprised he didn’t finish with her. I half figure he was tired of waiting for us to walk to wherever he had ran to.

So, Clara and I finished the last two miles in the dark. We really couldn’t see the ground so it was kind of like running through those creeks from the rain, you never knew what you’d kick. Luckily I only found one stick, and it didn’t do too much damage. We did try to play the alphabet game again, this time we’d do two items for each level, it increased the difficulty exponentially.

I think we were on the T’s when we saw the finish. I couldn’t believe it was going to be over. We managed to run to the finish line, which, of course, we couldn’t find since it was so dark and we didn’t have lights. Whatever. We were done.

Officially I finished in 15:33:13. That’s 15:03 per mile. That seems so slow to me now. But, thinking back to everything I went through in that race I’m just glad I finished.

First order of business was getting the shoes and socks off my feet and seeing how many toes I was going to lose. Surprisingly my feet did not appear to be in as bad of shape as they felt. My left big toenail was about 3 cm higher than it should have been due to swelling underneath it, but, besides that, everything seemed in order. I had a tiny blister on the bottom of my left foot also. My first blister! I don’t know why I don’t blister, I just don’t.

Next order of business was to eat as much as humanly possible. I found my way over to the building where all the food was. I surveyed the opportunities spread out in front of me and all I could decide on was a small cup of chili. Humph. To make it even better the only thing they had to eat it with was a fork. Double humph. I ate what I could with the fork and drank the rest.

Clara was there also, having not removed her camelback nor her shoes. I think she had to drive to Milwaukee or somewhere equally incredibly distant that night. I was not envious.

The race director gave me my coveted copper kettle for finishing. I thanked him, told him I thought it was a great race, which it was, and headed for the car. I was ready for a shower and bed.

Being that my room was on the second floor made the trip back to the hotel somewhat miserable. I made sure to walk by the front desk looking very frumpy on the way into the hotel hoping someone would feel sorry for me and offer me a, well, they didn’t have anything to offer me, so never mind. I should have left my shorts I had just worn on the counter as a thank you to the staff for accommodating my simple request.

I basically went straight from shower to bed. Two empty Powerade bottles joined me so I wouldn’t have to endure that treacherous 20 foot walk to the bathroom during the night. They got a lot of use.

I took my time leaving the next morning. Stopped by the general store in La Grange for breakfast and coffee, enjoyed the beautiful Wisconsin scenery, etc. The drive back to KC sucked. It rained most of the time (theme of the trip?). I got back and spent the rest of the evening on the couch, watching Scrubs and occasionally studying.

I also had to deal with the mosquito bites. My back looks like a topographical map. It's insane. I think I'm personally responsible for the nutrition of at least 100 mosquitoes. There's mosquito bites on my mosquito bites!

One last thing, my left toenail. I was sure it was a goner. It hurt like a SOB all day Sunday and today (Monday). A friend of mine suggested I stick a needle through the toenail to drain the puss out and get the swelling down. Uh, no, sounds painful, right? Well, it hurt, so I was willing to try. I got a 14 gauge needle and worked up the courage to take care of the problem like a man. So, I stuck the needle under the toenail, not through it, and puss immediately started pouring out. Wow. It felt better instantly. I think the toenail will survive.

A few days on the bike fixes anything

2008-04-21T22:03:00.000-07:00

I took the cross-training to heart and got in about 30 miles this weekend on the bike. I also did some swimming...which didn't go too well. I'm not a great swimmer. I can freestyle for about 50 yards (I think the pool is in yards) and then I need a break. I'm sure with the right amount of conditioning I can get better, but it's humbling considering that I think I'm in pretty darn good cardiovascular shape.

Big news for the day; I went on a 4.5 mile run and experienced very little leg pain! I'm stoked. I was hurting a bit on slanted surfaces which seemed to irritate my IT band a bit. Some of that was, I'm sure, mental.

On Injury

2008-04-17T21:22:00.000-07:00

It's been almost two weeks (11 days, actually) since Brew to Brew and I'm still on the injured reserve. I finally know what an IT-band injury feels like. I don't like it at all.

I ran a mile tonight on the treadmill at the gym, it went ok, not great, just ok. My leg needs some more time. I can't risk hurting it since I've got a trip up to La Grange, WI planned for the first weekend in June for Kettle Moraine - going to give the 100K a whack.

This means I have to force myself to cross-train. This is a first for me. I've never actually been injured in a sport bad enough to have to take some time off from it. Heck, I once got kicked in the face with a hockey skate, scored 32 stitches from a plastic surgeon that night, and was back on the ice (with a facemask) the next night.

My options, as far as I see it, are two: swim or bike. I'm not the world's best swimmer. I can sidestroke all day, but I don't know if that counts. My road bike has yet to see pavement in 2008. I think I'm going to take it down to the airport tomorrow, weather permitting, and see how a few laps feel.

If I could get my lazy butt out of bed in the mornings I think it would be a super idea to hit the pool in the mornings.

2008 Brew to Brew Race Report

2008-04-17T21:16:00.000-07:00

Written 2008-04-09

I really have to step back and ask myself If I’ve gotten too much into running when I go to bed early, and sober the night my college basketball team, the Kansas Jayhawks, beat the one school I’ve been waiting four years for them to play, the North Carolina Tar Heels, in order to get up early the next morning and run 43-ish miles. Well, that’s exactly what I did. Brew to Brew was held on Sunday, April 6th, the day after we beat North Carolina to advance to the championship game and a day before we beat Memphis to win the whole thing.

Brew to Brew is billed as a 43 mile solo and relay race. About 3,000 people run at least some part of the race in teams of, usually, 4 or 5 - not everybody runs it completely sober either. About 40 - 50 people run the race solo. This year 52 folks finished race solo, I’m one of them. Although, the thing is, you never really run one of these things solo, you really run it with everybody there, and then some.

The course is broken up into 10 legs of varying length; generally about 4.5 miles each. This year was slightly different as we ran the “short course” version of the run due to construction on a bridge in downtown Kansas City. This actually means the entire race, this year, was ran in Kansas. Typically the race would start at the Boulevard Brewery in Kansas City, Missouri and finish at the Freestate Brewery in Lawrence, Kansas.

My day started around 4:30 am with my typical pre-race bagel with peanut butter, a banana, an orange, and several pints of water. I made it down to the brewery around 5:30 and found the place quite lively for that hour. People were taking photos, running a bit to warm up, stretching, etc. I even found the tasting room at the brewery open, although the only thing being drank at that hour was coffee. I grabbed a cup of coffee and proceeded to find a good place to stretch and get warmed up before the race.

At 6 am we boarded school busses for the ride to the start of the race. Generally we would start the race from the Boulevard Brewery but because of construction on Cesar Chavez bridge we had to be bussed to a parking lot just across the Kansas River from the American Royal. We got off the busses and barely had time to think before they started us off. This irritated me a bit. It would have been nice to have a couple of minutes to get a little stretching in before running, especially after sitting on that bus for fifteen minutes. Oh well. Officially, we started running at 6:15.

The beginning of the race was great. We ran along the top of the levy for about 5 miles. The run started on the north side of the river. The surface was all small gravel or dirt which was an excellent way for my feet to start the day. I cruised along at a way-faster-than-I-needed-to-be-running pace simply because of the ease of the run. Aid station number one came up pretty quickly, perhaps 2 miles, and I blew by it without really thinking. We moved over to the south side of the river once we hit Kansas Avenue, running up a fun loop-d-loop to get onto the bridge. Shortly thereafter we were back onto Kansas Avenue running to the north side of the river and to the second aid station.

This was the end of the fun of running with no traffic. The majority of the race from this point would be run on roads, except for the last leg, another jaunt along the levy in Lawrence. I passed aid station 2 without stopping, I had my camelback with all the food and water I needed for the time being. I didn’t feel like stopping, and actually hadn’t since I started running which was totally against my pre-race plan of run 20 minutes, walk 2 minutes. Glad I stuck to that, sigh.

The race has a neat stipulation since it crosses two train tracks; if you get stopped by a train you get to deduct the time you had to wait for the train from your final time. This is an excellent situation to be in if you run up to a railroad track just as a train is approaching since you basically just scored a free break. Well, that’s unless you’re me. See, the first such rail crossing is just after aid station number 2, on Kansas Avenue. So, I’m motorin’ along and I see a train approaching the crossing not far ahead. I’m thinking “that’s awesome, I get to wait for that train”. So, I kick it up a bit since I want to get there with enough time to pull some food out of my pack and do a little stretching. Well, either I completely suck at judging distance or that train was moving way faster than I thought as I got to the crossing just as the last car was passing. Dammit. So much for that break.

Just after the crossing we turn west-ish onto Kaw Drive for the longest stretch of the run, roughly 12 miles. The race to this point has been fairly flat, save climbing up and down the levy a few times to get around and onto bridges. The hills aren’t menacing yet, but they’re noticeable by this point. I didn’t walk them, although I probably should have. I did finally take my walking and eating break, two hours too late - I ate a Powerbar and some GU, did a little stretching and started running again. We reached the third aid station, or leg, just after passing under Interstate 435 and continued west onto Bonner Springs.

A really nice guy ran up along me just before going under 435. We chatted for a few minutes about running and the area, etc. I was pretty happy to have him there as he was running faster than I was and it gave me a good reason to pick up the pace a bit. That’s what I like about these long distance races, people talk to you and get to know you.

This was my second ultra-marathon, yet I already know one sure thing about ultra running - no matter what you do to prepare, something will go wrong during the race. My something introduced itself shortly before Bonner Springs in the form of a pain shooting up the left side of my leg from the top of my shin into the depths of the back of my leg. This was something new to me. It didn’t feel like a knee thing and it wasn’t completely a shin thing. The only thing that made me feel better was running on a flat surface instead of running on the slightly sloped shoulder of the road. I surmised (after-the-fact I believe correctly) that it had something to do with running for a really long time on a sloped surface. It wasn’t bad, I’d live.

Oddly I don’t remember exactly where aid station 4 was. I mean, I can look at a map and see it, but I don’t recall it. I do remember stopping and having a conversation with a very nice lady who told me I was nuts for running the whole thing solo. I’m pretty used to the conversation by this point:

her: I don’t think I could run that far.
me: Have you ever run a marathon?
her: Yes.
me: Well, then you can run an ultra. It’s not a physical challenge past 26.2, it’s a mental challenge.
her: You’re nuts.
me: Probably.

I grabbed some M&M’s and left.

After station 4 Kaw drive either turns into Loring or turns off and we end up on Loring, I don’t know which. I want to try to forget this part of the race. It felt like it was all uphill and the road had no paved shoulder. I had to alternate between running on the road and the dirt “shoulder” when cars would pass. That pain in my leg came back at this point, it wasn’t going away this time. I decided to deal with it like any true ultra-runner, with medication. Now, here’s my “kids, don’t try this at home” disclaimer: don’t ever try something during a race that you haven’t tried during training, mmmmkay? So, I pull an ibuprofen out of my pack along with a salt tablet and a GU packet. I down all of them. Now, I’ve never actually taken ibuprofen while running. I figure mile 20 of a 43 mile race is a good time to see how I’ll react to it.

Magically, after what felt like only a couple of minutes, that pain in my leg started to go away and I was back to my 9:30ish per mile pace. Rock on. I ran up to aid station 5 with a renewed spirit, grabbed some food and drink, and ran out as quick as I could since I was feeling so good. Then I started walking. See, after you leave aid station 5 you’re presented with this really, really, really big hill. The not-so-cool thing about this hill is it’s one of those that when you get to what you think is the top of the hill you come to find that it’s just a little stop on the way to the real top of the hill, which ends up being another stop on the way to the top of an even higher hill, rinse, repeat. I ran when it was flat, I walked and complained when it was not flat. Nobody listened.

Once you get to the top of that annoying hill it’s a pretty quick run to station 6. I hung out here for a bit too long. I re-filled my camelback (a 100oz one, if that’s any indication as to how much I was drinking), ate more food, and called my soon-to-be pacer, Jeremiah to let him know I was still alive and still wanted to actually complete the entire race. The plan was for him to meet me somewhere around 222nd street, about 9 or 10 miles from the finish. I was slipping a bit at this point and having a pacer was something I was really looking forward to.

The neat thing about the leg from station 6 to 7 is that you get to do the “optional” boat crossing at Stranger Creek. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to do the boat crossing. The not-so-neat thing about station 6 is that the first few miles of the run are boooring. You hit a stretch of Golden Rd where you can see a mile or so ahead of you, which means you get to think the entire time about how slow you’re actually moving relative to the amount of distance you have to cover. This is what goes through your head after running for as long as I’d been running.

I made to the creek crossing, my sanity not far behind, grabbed a life jacket and sat my butt down in the little raft. It was a welcome break from standing. The water was moving at a good clip and I jokingly asked if this was a float trip and where the beer was. The guy whose job it was to guide the raft along the rope across the creek wasn’t impressed by my humor. My fellow runners were. At the other side we climbed up a fairly steep embankment, aided by a rope, and were back to running. I pulled another Powerbar out and took a walking break.

Station 7 isn’t far from the creek crossing. The stop is in Linwood, Kansas and it seemed like everyone there was having a pretty good time. I saw several teams enjoying a beer and laughing. Oh, how good beer looked to me. Instead, I had a nice cup of Gatorade. I live an exciting life.

The race from stations 7 to 8 is basically one big rolling hill. This meant a lot of walking in my immediate future. About halfway between stations 7 and 8 two runners caught up to me and asked me if I was running the race solo. I said I was, they congratulated me, etc. Then they said they’d been chasing me the entire race. What? So, these two teams were running the race together, and someone had happened to notice me at each of the aid stations when they were switching runners. I guess they were sick of seeing me and wanted to get ahead of me in the race. I’m not sure if there’s a more flattering comment you can lay on someone running in an ultra-marathon.

Anyways, these folks ended up being really cool, they ran with me, even offering to run the rest of the race with me. See, these are the kind of folks you run into during ultra’s. The folks who are willing to stop and offer you some help when you look like you’re struggling. Or the folks who take the time to chat and find out something about you. I can’t think of another sport like this. It’s great and it’s what makes ultra running unique.

We passed 222nd street, at which point I called my pacer, Jeremiah to figure out where he was. He was a little behind and said he’d catch up to us at some point along the race. Not long after he came up behind us. We got to aid station 8 a few minutes later.

We didn’t waste much time at station 8 as I wanted to get this race over with. The two folks who had joined me for most of the 7-8 leg took off, leaving Jeremiah to deal with my somewhat grumpy, generally complaining, tired self. Those rolling hills I talked about between stations 7 and 8 continued. Jeremiah did a good job of keeping me going strong on the downhills and taking a few extra steps on those uphills before starting to walk. This ended up being a tough leg for me. I was really hurting. That sharp pain in my leg was gone, thanks to the ibuprofen, but my body in general was at that “what the hell are you doing to me” phase. It’s said that the human body is designed for long runs across the savannah in pursuit of food. My body had decided that if I hadn’t caught it by this point I might as well let it go. This is where ultras get hard. Not because they hurt physically, but because they hurt mentally.

I was really looking forward to aid station 9. It was the Trail Nerds aid station and being a Trail Nerd I was sure to see some familiar and friendly faces there. The hills leading up to the station were killer. Even the walking was painful at this point. We kept going.

Eventually, as we got close to the aid station, we started hearing what sounded like gunshots. I was thinking “what the heck is that?”. Then I remembered Psycho Wyco, a race put on by the Trail Nerds, and the phrase “whiners will be shot”. I was thinking “wow, they’re shooting the winers”. It took me longer than I should have to laugh at this since in my mental state I half believed it was true. It ended up being some local kid and his dog throwing fireworks off of a bridge. What a letdown.

Station 9 sits just on the other side of the second set of railroad tracks you cross during the race. Remember the whole “free rest” thing? I sure did at that point. So, we’re running along and I hear that oh-so-satisfying sound of a train whistle. Score! Free break, here I come. We’re not far from the tracks so I’m sure I’ll get the break, right? Right? No. See, this train comes and it’s cruising. I’m running up to the tracks and the cars are going by in a whirl of colors. I make it to the tracks just as the gates go back up. Twice in one race. Dammit.

The Trail Nerds had a nice aid station setup with a good selection of food and other things to take care of what ails you. I wasn’t offered but I’m sure beer was available if desired. We got out of there pretty quick as it was the last leg and I wanted to get going. I wanted to break 8 hours.

The last leg of the race is along another levy. The surface is simply amazing. It’s all pea-gravel. Just beautiful to run along. The view is another story. See, it’s very flat, and it’s very open, so you can see basically the entire last leg. All 4.5 miles of it. It’s this massive horseshoe and I hated looking ahead of me because it was a constant reminder of the distance ahead of me. Jeremiah did a good job of keeping me going, only letting me walk twice during that last leg.

I got passed a lot on that last leg. I was running 11:30’s, maybe. I was hurting, every step was like someone hitting my legs with a bat. I started cramping really bad in my calves. I could feel the cramps working their way up and down the muscles in my legs. At one point my left calf tightened itself up into a nice little knot and I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to let go. But I kept running. You have to by that point.

The finish was great. There was a couple hundred folks lined up on either side of the levy and you ran between them for the last hundred or so yards. Everyone cheered. It felt great.

The end of an ultra is weird to me. It’s just over. I grabbed a bag of chips, as much water as I could carry, and other various food items. I sat down on the nearest patch of grass I could find and just took it all in. I didn’t go through the range of emotions during the race like I did for my first ultra. The emotions hit me at the end of this one for some reason. I was ecstatic I finished, I beat my 8 hour goal, finishing in 7 hours and 36 minutes. I cried a few tears of, well, I don’t know what kind of tears they were.

I sat there, eating my chips, drinking water, trying not to move as I wasn’t sure what worked anymore and what didn’t. I end up talking to this cute girl, I’m not sure how, since I was pretty out of it, about the race and other random things. We talk for a while, me stuffing chips in my mouth the entire time, talking with my mouth full, being a real gentleman. Once she walked away I did something where I rubbed my face, which felt like 220 grit sandpaper. What the heck? I was covered in salt. Completely covered. I must have looked like I stuck my face in a bowl of salt. Smooth move Danny.

Jeremiah came back with the car and found me sitting in the grass. I wanted to get over to the Freestate brewery to get some more food in me and to relax a bit. He helped me up and I immediately found that my left leg was not working. Odd. It was not going to bend. If I tried to bend it I got hit with a ton of pain. I was just running twenty minutes ago and now I can’t move the leg at all. That’s pretty crazy. That’s the end result of the pain I started feeling way back before Bonner Springs. So, I walked to the car, right leg moving fine, left leg being swung around with each step. I got offered at least 5 beers between the levy and the car as “prescriptions” for my leg.

We ate at Freestate but didn’t hang out long, we both wanted to get going. I needed a shower and a horizontal surface to spend the rest of the day on. Jeremiah had stuff to do. He dropped me off at the Boulevard Brewery and I managed to make it home without hitting any parked cars or people. My room presented a bit of a problem to me. There’s three steps in my room, leading down into it. With a non-functioning left leg going in and out of my room was a challenge. I went to bed early, as I had class in the morning. In order to save myself a few trips to the bathroom that night, hence, trips up and down the three steps in my room, a couple of empty Gatorade bottles accompanied me to bed.

My leg didn’t really work the next day. It wasn’t until about two days later that I could finally walk normal and stairs didn’t involve stepping up and down each one with my right leg. I’m going to give it a few more days but I feel like it will heal pretty soon.

All-in-all I had a great time. The people during the race were great, I had a great pacer, and I finished the race under my goal time. I’m sure I’ll be back next year, running the “long course”.