White River 50 Race Report

There's a dumb joke I like that goes like this: An old fish swims by two younger fish in the ocean. "Hey boys, how's the water?" says the old fish as he passes by. Once the old fish is gone, the two young fish look at each other, and one says "What the fuck is 'water'?" 

This illustrates my mental state during the running of the White River 50. It's very easy to take one's surroundings and circumstances for granted once they are accepted as 'normal', and we spend most of our lives with part of our 'normal' being physical stasis; prolonged periods of inactivity punctuated with moments of movement towards the next station of rest and inactivity. For this race, I had to reverse this relationship, and make my accepted state of normality one of forward progress and running so that when someone asked me five hours into the race "how's the running?", my reaction would be "what the fuck is 'running'?" Thinking about resting, relaxing, and not-running would just be a discouraging waste. Instead, my focus had to stay solely on moving forward. The passage of time and my progress on the course were irrelevant at any given moment until I finished. The only beneficial thought was to keep moving ahead, regardless of proximity to my final destination.

View from the starting area, looking up at one of the mountains on the course.

The race started at the Buck Creek campground in the middle of Mt. Rainier National Park. When I drove in, I immediately felt a blow to my ego as I had stayed in a hotel the night before, but it looked like I was coming into the Tent City at Woodstock. The 300 other runners milling around didn't necessarily look like superior athletes or born ultra-marathoners. They mostly had the physical dispositions of someone you’d see loping around the park at 7:00 AM on a Saturday – capable and hearty, but not intimidatingly so. More than anything, they just looked poised and ready; which was appropriate because I later found out that about half of the field had run this race before, and thus, were better mentally prepared than I was for what was ahead.

Despite my lack of specific experience, I had studied the course description, and I had trained on similar mountainous terrain. I felt I knew what was ahead. Whats more, the weather was ideal, starting in the high 50s, and climbing up to the high 70s in the afternoon, without a cloud all day.

We began a little after 6:30, and not with a starter’s pistol from an honorary guest or with any kind of fanfare, but instead, with a shout of “GO” from the race director standing at a chalked start line. Fortunately, the field was experienced enough to not let the excitement of the start take over and impact the pace on the beginning 4 mile stretch of flat trails. I won’t go into a detailed section-by-section description of the race here, but will include one below.

Elevation Profile

I started focusing on this race over half a year ago, almost as soon as I had recovered from the Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon. In the frozen depths of the New York winter, I regularly put in 75 mile weeks through the single-digit windchills and blowing snow. In the Spring, I tuned-up my conditioning with a ‘training run’ at the North Face Bear Mountain 50k over a nasty, gnarly mountainous trail that gave me the confidence to build a foundation on. In the summer, I moved to Boulder, CO to expose myself to altitude, mountains, and a more serious caliber of runner. Three seasons of preparation for a single day, and finally, I could do something about it.

That inspired my central mantra for the race. When my mind began to drift away from the task at hand or get intimidated by distance ahead, I told myself “just keep chipping away”. Every day since January, I knew I had 50 miles of racing left before I achieved my goal. Now, with each passing moment I was a little closer to the end – just 49 miles to go, 40, 30, and so on until I could think about it in terms of feet. After spending 7 months with the gauge stuck at 50, it was thrilling to have it finally change. And I thrived on this change.

Corral Pass - Mile 17

I never reached a significant low point, and I credit that entirely to the planning and execution of my nutrition strategy. Starting with the aid station at mile 17, and at everyone thereafter, I tried to choke down about 300 calories, diversified across the glycemic index. This meant watermelon, boiled potato, and Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwiches, plus an electrolyte tablet to ensure I could absorb enough water. I feel this kept my energy levels high and mental state strong. My stomach was what did me in during my last 50 miler, but was a complete non-issue this time.

I also kept from getting too low by telling myself that this would be the last time I’d ever subject myself to this kind of suffering. I had to say to myself that I was done with ultra-marathons after this race, so no matter how unpleasant conditions became, I’d never have to do it again. I've used this trick before in marathons & ultras, and each time I believe it to be true, even though it has never been before.

Sun Top Mountain - Mile 37

[Insert cliche-laden paragraph here about how beautiful the course was - trees, high altitude views, Mt. Rainier, woodland critters, bright happy sunshine, nature, nature, nature, etc....]

I never let myself sit. An inviolable rule I made for myself was no sitting and no stopping; Relentless Forward Progress. Once I exposed my body to rest and relaxation, I’d give it a taste for something that I’d have to continually deny it until the end. Instead, I just eliminated the option of ceasing forward momentum. An extension of this rule was the development in my training and in my strategy of making it an involuntary reaction to run when the terrain was flat or downward sloping, and only slow when the course took me uphill. Again, I kept myself from being lazy when the temptation to slow down would have been counter-productive and unnecessary. If you give a mouse a cookie…

The moment when I really felt that I had ‘won’ the race (morally, not literally) was at the Sun Top Mountain aid station. That marked the end of an 8 mile climb, and the beginning of perhaps the 13 easiest miles of the whole race. From there, I just had a 6 mile downhill run, and 7 miles of shaded, flat trail to traverse. Each step cut down on the gap between me and the fruition of a long-term ambition - 50 miles was becoming more of a reality than an obstacle.

Steps away from the finish

I wish I could say I crossed the finish line (after 10 hours, 23 minutes) with fireworks and fanfare; but instead, it was a few dozen people politely clapping for a stranger and a race volunteer handing me a souvenir water bottle and trucker cap. The gratification upon completion came from the completion of my work and the camaraderie with other finishers as I recovered in the finish area. This is my favorite aspect of the Ultra community and what separates Ultra Runners from every other breed of runner. It didn’t feel like we were competitors at the end of a battle to establish a pecking order (though we were); but rather, the last few left standing after a terrible shared ordeal that few can relate to. Rather than being the castaways voting each other off the island in Survivor, we were the cast of Gilligan’s Island after they got rescued.

To the victor goes these spoils. Not quite a finisher's medal, but I guess I'm supposed to manifest my satisfaction 'within', or whatever.

I ate BBQ with the two people I ran most of the last 6 miles with (see below: Candice and James), met Barefoot Ted of Born to Run fame, and shook hands with Uli Steidl, the winner of this year’s race and former course record holder. I didn’t know any of these people 2 hours before, and I’d probably never see them again, but we all were linked through a common ordeal, and felt a connection as such. It was like the 50 miles we had just run was a really good mutual friend between all of us (or perhaps more appropriately, a common enemy), instantly validating the other as worthy and respectable in each other’s eyes. Not many people know pain, fatigue, and psychological stamina as intimately as someone who had just trained for and run a 50 mile trail race; but the finish line of such an event is the rarer-than-rare occasion when there is a critical mass of these people. I was awash in a sea of my own kind, which made the achievement simultaneously euphoric and pedestrian. I was OK with this.

Finishers Board - making it official.

Cast of Characters

I met a lot of people out on the trail. Some were my companions for hours, some I only spent a few miles with. But their differences highlight the kinds of people who undertake these sorts of challenges.

• Bird Nerd – I remember her most for her proclamation of how excited and relieved she was when the course turned upwards. She thrived on the climbing. I wasn’t sure if I should have been impressed or concerned for her. At one point close to the end of the first ascent, she was running behind me and started talking about the ‘beautiful thrush song’ she was hearing. I had no clue what she meant and thought it was a little early for her to be speaking in tongues, but it turns out a Thrush is a kind of bird, and she is an ornithologist at the National Parks Service. She quipped she was a ‘bird nerd’ as she mentioned this, and the name stuck. We’d leap frog a few times over the next 40 miles, with her finishing just a minute or two after me.
• Blue or The Tough Old Man – Late in the second climb, I heard someone behind me say “I’m too old for this”, and I thought I was witty when I replied “I’m too everything for this.” 5 minutes later I looked behind me, and felt embarrassed when I saw it was the Tough Old Man whom I'd said this to. He first passed me early during the second ascent. I was hiking, and he was running. I estimated he was probably in his late 50s and dressed completely in blue. I lost sight of him after he passed me, but caught and passed him about an hour and a half later as the relentless climbing had taken its toll. We hung together for the next few miles of climbing towards the top of the second ascent, then for the first few miles of the subsequent descent. I got to see him finish about half an hour after me – he looked hurt, but I admired him for struggling through and defying his age.
• Beeper – This guy was fast. He passed me going the other way on the out/back portion of the course between miles 11 and 22. He was probably in about 3^rd place overall, and I just remember him because as he was approaching me (and everyone else going my same direction), he’d yell “BEEP BEEP!”, as we were on narrow switchback trails, and we needed to get out of the way. Strange, but effective.
• Potato Chip Girl – I ran behind her for the second half of the first ascent, and she provided me a great service by being my rabbit and helping me keep the pace up. All I remember was her backpack, and that she carried a bag of potato chips in her left hand the whole time.
• The 100 mile couple – Candice and James. The three of us left the last aid station together, and they kept me honest during the home stretch. They’d get a few dozen yards in front of me, and I’d put my head down and try to catch up. I talked with them a lot more after the finish, and learned James had just run the Hard Rock 100 (which explained his jovial disposition in miles 44 to 50), and Candice was training for her own 100 miler a month away. Before I knew this about them, I made myself look weak when I said I couldn’t imagine ever running anything longer than 50 miles. Candice taught me a lot about perspective and ambition, which I hope to expound upon more in a subsequent post.
• Barefoot Ted – The eccentric figure from the book Born To Run, and he lived up to the reputation. I’d seen him at a few aid stations early on, but didn’t realize who he was. He ran the race wearing compression shorts, some kind of leather backpack/satchel, and sandals. Repeat for emphasis – he ran the race in sandals that he made himself the day before. I talked with him a little afterwards, and he explained that his preparation for this race and the Leadville 100, which he’ll run in 3 weeks, consists of maybe a few 2 or 3 mile runs a week, plus maybe a casual 20 miler, maybe. No more than 25 or 30 miles a week, tops. He called it ‘experimenting’ with his own physiological limits, I called it F’ing amazing.

Barefoot Ted and Me. I look a little too excited to be getting a picture with a sweaty shirtless guy, and I regret that.

Equipment

I really would rather never wash the dust of these guys.

• Saucony Peregrine Trail Shoes – these guys were all-stars. I wore them in the Bear Mountain 50k, all my training trail runs, and this race; all without a problem. They’re light, neutral, have great traction, and drain/dry out within only a few miles after stepping in a creek. The best thing I can say about them is that after the race, everything from my hips down screamed except my feet.
• Nathan Handheld Water Bottle – Have you every carried anything that weighed about a pound and a half for 10 hours? It better be comfortable, and it better be easy to hold. This thing did the trick.
• Zeal Maestro Sunglasses – After 10 hours, the outward-flexing springs on the hinges provided a huge relief – no constant pinching on my skull meant no annoying distraction from the already uncomfortable task of running. Super-light too.
• Zensah Calf Sleeve – I've occasionally worn one of these on my left calf since I had a blood clot in my leg 18 months ago. Usually during a hard workout (either fast or up hills), my left calf muscle will bind up and get extremely tight. I wore this as a preventative measure that worked perfectly. I also like to think it gives me a cool signature look that all the crazy ultra-endurance running kids will emulate someday, kind of like Allen Iverson’s elbow sleeve.

Section by Section Description

Section 1: Start to Camp Sheppard; 3.9 Miles – 37 Minutes

Flat, easy start. I, like everyone else, was just trying to keep it relaxed and easy. The field was pretty dense this early, like a comment I heard some guy behind me say “ Buffalo, as far as the eye can see.”

Section 2: Camp Sheppard to Ranger Creek;  7.8 Miles – 1 Hour, 37 Minutes

The first climb started immediately after this aid station, about 2900’ before the next aid station. It was mostly on runnable single-tracks and switchbacks, but also usually too steep to run. I didn’t want to burn too much energy here, so I kept a mix of running and hiking.

Section 3: Ranger Creek to Corral Pass; 5.2 Miles – 1 Hour, 5 Minutes

400’ more of climbing before the course evened out and ran along a ridgeline with some awesome views. There were some remnant snow drifts for about a mile and a half in this part, which made the footing much less stable. Also, as the elevation got higher, the view of Mt. Rainier got grander as it got taller and taller, peaking over the adjacent mountains. Eventually, it was almost blinding to look at as it was so massive, and so white with the reflection of sun on the snow.

Section 4: Corral Pass to Ranger Creek; 5.2 Miles – 1 Hour, 1 Minute

This backtracked the last stretch, and was much more fun going down than it was going up.

Section 5: Ranger Creek to Buck Creek; 5.1 Miles – 58 Minutes

Shady, very runnable switchbacks, all downhill.  This was fun to do on tired legs.

Section 6: Buck Creek to Fawn Ridge; 4.5 Miles – 1 Hour, 13 Minutes

After the aid station, the trail meandered for about a mile on soft and flat paths before the second ascent began. It may have been the burden of 30 miles already on my legs, but at times the trail seemed like it went straight up the side of the mountain. This was the beginning of what would turn into a long, steady, upward, and sunny march to the summit of Sun Top Mountain.

Section 7: Fawn Ridge to Sun Top; 5.3 Miles – 1 Hour, 28 Minutes

Same as before, but with a lot more unfulfilled hoping that the end was near. My entire mental stability was built upon the objective of getting to the top of this climb, because I knew everything after the Sun Top aid station would be much more runnable.

Section 8: Sun Top to Skookum Flats; 6.4 Miles – 1 Hour, 1 Minute

Almost entirely downhill on a partially shaded forest service road. I felt like I was flying, but in reality, I suppose I only kept up about a 9:00 pace. I had very little contact with other runners on this stretch, I passed one guy, but barely saw anyone else.

Section 9: Skookum Flats to Finish; 6.6 Miles – 1 Hour, 20 Minutes

The home stretch was a shady, winding trail along [what I think was] the White River. Ordinarily this would have been a blast to run, but there were times when I couldn’t muster more than a fast walk.  Eventually, the course popped out onto a road, then went another 0.4 miles into the start/finish village where I finally got to sit down and take a rest.

Mountain Running Roadtrip: Leadville (Part 1 of 2)

This past “weekend”[i] I took a little road trip to the west. I want to be sure I take advantage of my (now limited) time in Colorado and be sure I hit all the destinations that I consider sacred – and my judgment of sacred is likely quite skewed. The plan was to go to Leadville to pace a friend for the last 15 miles of the Leadville 50 Mile Trail Run, then continue westward to Arches National Park in Utah for some scenic, red dirt trail running. Read on to see how strange I am.

Leadville

The first stop of my excursion was Leadville, CO to pace my friend Tony for the last 15 miles of the Leadville 50 mile trail race. Our plan was to meet at an aid station, then climb about 1400' over the next 4 miles before we had a mostly downhill 10 miles to the finish. Tony’s goal was to finish under 8 hours, which would have easily been a Top 10 finish. His ambitious goal (and track record to justify it[ii]) combined with the respect I have for any linear stretch of earth with the appellation "Leadville" before it, made me apprehensive that I'd be able to get through the last 15 miles without being left behind by my friend – who would already have accumulated 35 miles of damage on his body.

Let me make an aside to convey to you why Leadville is the Pebble Beach [with Beth Page Black layered on top of it], of trail running. Leadville is an old mining town 10,000’ feet up in the mountains of Colorado. It used to be known for two things: mining and brothels. Once the brothels were shut down, the Army moved in and discovered that the mountains in the area were great for training its 10^th mountain division. To put it another way, the U.S. Army surveyed the rugged terrain and said “Great! This looks like a perfect place to make our highly trained, elite soldiers suffer”, then set up camp. Move ahead to the early 1980s, and the local mining industry is all but shut down[iii]. With the town slowly suffocating from economic ruin, a local man sought some new means of resuscitation. Creating one of the hardest footraces in the world was his solution, and thus, the Leadville Trail 100 was born. As described in the book Born To Run, first imagine the Boston Marathon course and take away all the spectators and crowd support. Now dump a whole bunch of rocks and roots on the road. Run it twice, but throw in a mountain pass at the end of the second repetition that will take you up 2,000’ and back down. Now, put on a blindfold (to simulate the total darkness of night in the forest), turn around, and do it all again. Oh, and you do this with a sock in your mouth since the air is so thin at 11,000’ you can’t exactly breath well.

Back to my weekend. Unfortunately, Sunday was just 'one of those days' for my friend Tony - the kind that shows up unannounced, unexpected, and at the worst possible time - like Cousin Eddie in the Griswold's driveway. About an hour before our expected meeting time, I started getting texts from Tony saying that his legs were ‘shot’ after 24 miles, and he was feeling nauseous. I tried to do my best ad-hoc pep talk via text message[iv], but to no avail. He dropped after 30 miles, and I drove up the backroads of Colorado mountain country to pick him up. Needless to say, he was more than disappointed, as this was only his second career DNF[v].

The lesson from my Tony’s experience? No matter how much of an endurance junkie you are, don't run 65 miles the week before you attempt a 50-Miler. Respect the taper, and respect the distance. 

Given this abrupt change in plans for the afternoon, I needed to get some miles someway, somehow. This run was supposed to double as an key workout in my taper to my own 50-miler two weeks away[vi]. I still needed to get some miles in for the day, and found myself at the race's start/finish line, so off I went into the out/back course. I wasn’t going to do a full 15 – I just didn’t have the mental agility to wrap my head around a 2+ hour run by myself at that altitude, and on that terrain. Instead, I did 3 miles outbound on the race course, and felt like I was at a good turnaround point. As I was heading out, I passed the leader in the race and the second-place runner on their way to the finish. This was a small thrill of its own, but as I was about to turnaround to go home myself, I saw the third position runner heading my way.

My thought process at this point was probably something like a good herding dog – I came to Leadville to help somebody get to the finish, and damn it, I was going to do it even if it was for a complete stranger. So as the third-place runner approached, I asked if he minded if I ran with him. I don’t blame him for being surprised, as this was an odd and perhaps creepy request. However, once he realized I was serious, he seemed very receptive to the idea. It turns out his name was Joe (you can read his running blog here), and he had won the 50 mile mountain bike race on the same trail the day before. He says he was struggling at the time we crossed paths, but I have to say the man was running very strong.

So off we went down the home stretch. When the trail was wide, I tried to stay a few meters ahead of Joe to be his rabbit; his target to chase. However, when the trail got narrower, I didn’t want to block him in any way or obstruct his vision of the terrain ahead, so I got behind and tried to apply a little ‘pushing’ pressure. As we neared the last turn of the course, I told Joe I was dropping back to make sure I wasn’t anywhere in the background as he approached the finish[vii]. Then, in maybe the coolest sequences of spontaneous synchronicity I’ve ever been a part of, Joe said ‘Thanks’, waved his water bottle at me, then flipped it 12’ straight up so that it would come back down to Earth, ready to be caught, just as I ran underneath it, which I did. With his hands free, Joe was ready for his perfect finishing photograph. I have to commend him on his power and determination over the three miles we ran together, he really showed me how to zip up your Man-Suit and finish like a pro.

With 6+ trail miles at 10,000’, I felt like I got a sufficient enough workout for the day, and said goodbye to Leadville. I can’t say for certain if I’ll ever go back as a racer and not just spectator/pacer, but I have to say the idea doesn’t strike me like the certain death that it once seemed to be.

To be continued: My run in Arches National Park.

---

[i] I don’t have a job, so in reality, every day is like Saturday for me. However, the purposes of this post, my ‘weekend’ was Sunday/Monday.

[ii] This guy is a marathon running machine; spending most of his weekends leading 3:10 or 3:20 pace groups in marathons across the country. He seems to only have a vague understanding of the words 'limitation' or 'sanity'.

[iii] By then, the town had become mainly reliant on the mining of Molybdenum, a mineral used in the making of stainless steel. The early fruits of these mountains were prescient of the hardening and refining of runners that would someday tackle their trails.

[iv] “U R GOING TO DO GR8”, “WTF can't quit!”, "GIT'R DUN". I didn't actually say this, but I can imagine that there are people who would actually send messages like this to somebody who had just run 24 miles and felt like crap. I am highly suspect of their effectiveness.

[v] It's fair to note that he has probably started at least 75 races of marathon distance or longer (rough estimate), and the first DNF (and only other) DNF was a 200 mile relay race he tried to run by himself.

[vi] White River 50 on July 30.

[vii] I’ll concede that all runners at this distance (yours truly included) are at least narcissistic enough that if there’s not at least one finish line picture that looks like it could be on the cover of Sports Illustrated, the entire race is slightly tainted for the rest of eternity. Such is the permanent void created by the absence of good photographic evidence.

Training Week Recap - June 5, 2011

Week Summary:
72 miles
11 hours
4750' Elevation Gain


Monday - 9 miles, hard effort


Today was a race day - I participated in the 33rd Bolder Boulder 10k, one of the biggest races in the country. How big is this race?

• There were 54,000 runners
• Everyone started in waves, beginning with A, AA, AB, B, BA and on, all the way to down to about PD, PE, & PF
• Wave start times began at 7 AM, and lasted until sometime after 9 AM
• Age groups where single years, as in I was in the 27 - 27 age group

The race itself wasn't a spectacular effort for me. The course was tough - the elevation was around 5300', and featured several tough hills and a lot of twists and turns. On top of that, I didn't exactly taper, having done a 17 miler 2 days before, and an extra 5 the day before. That said, it was an awesome way to celebrate Memorial Day, and the city of Boulder really came out in full force to celebrate the race.

The finish line in the Colorado University football stadium

Not feeling so hot around the 8k mark

Approaching the finish. Still feeling like pooh.

Tuesday - 5.4 miles, 1540' Elevation Gain

Having done a fair amount of hard-pounding running on concrete the day before, I decided this would be a good day to head up to the trails in the mountains. I got a good climbing workout on the Mesa Trail around Bear Peak.

Wednesday - 21.2 miles


I needed to start getting some good slow distance work in, so I went long today even though I had done a 17 miler just 4 days prior. I headed out to the Boulder Reservoir, and looped my way around there for 3 hours, of which I did about 6 miles with my sister and one of her friends. Good, long day.



Thursday - 3.75 miles + Cross-Training


Having gone long yesterday on already fatigued legs, I didn't feel up to much today; but I still tried to get a good morning of work in anyways. I slept in, then did 30 minutes easy on a paved path along one of the creeks in town, then hopped in the pool for 30 minutes of water running, which wiped me out much more than the running did.

If you haven't done water running, it's a kick in the ass. The activity is exactly what it sounds like - an upright running motion in water (without touching the floor of the pool). Not only are you constantly pumping your feet and arms just to stay afloat, but you are getting a tremendous amount of resistance from the water. It's also low-impact, which makes it ideal for rehab or cross-training. Give it a try next time you want a fast, hard workout.


Friday - 10.33 miles, 1230' Elevation Gain


I headed up early for a run on Bear Peak. This was another good climbing session on a technical trail, but I also was fortunate enough to have my phone on me, which allowed me to grab a few pictures. I got 6 miles in on the trail during this morning run. Later, I went back out for 4 easy miles on one of the paved paths in town to grab some extra miles.

Bear Peak from the parking lot

I saw this guy on the trail, not 10 feet away from me after I turned a corner

I believe this is Green Mountain, which is adjacent to Bear Peak

Looking back down on an uphill portion of the Mesa Trail

Just a cool tree along the path

One of the few exposed portions of trail above a canyon

Another section of trail along the side of Green Mountain

A look down the side of Green Mountain

Saturday - 11.5 miles w/ interval work

Had a workout with the Running Republic of Boulder. I ran from my apartment to the meeting place for the group (about a 2.4 mile warm-up), then did the interval workout: 6 mins, 4x2 mins, 6 mins, all at about 10k to Half-Marathon pace. This took a lot of effort, and was with a really fast group, which forced me to push it hard. Afterwards, I ran back home to tack on a few extra miles, making for a solid morning of work. The pancake feast afterwards with my brother-in-law and nephew was extra motivation.

Sunday - 11.3 miles, 1100' Elevation Gain

This was probably the toughest workout I've had yet in Boulder. I met up with a group of about a dozen other runners in town, and we all piled into 3 cars to venture into the mountains. After 20 minutes of winding through canyons and narrow roads, we parked in what seemed like a remote intersection of 2 dirt roads, deep in a canyon created by about 4 different mountain ridges. From there, we took off on a dirt road (perhaps ironically) called Wall St., that ran parallel to creek that cut through a deep and heavily wooded canyon. The road started at a 5% uphill grade, and barely deviated from that pitch the entire run - which was 5.5 miles. 5.5 miles, all uphill, and we started at about 6600' of elevation.

I was totally unprepared for this. First, I didn't know how long the run would be. Second, I had no comprehension of how much climbing was involved. Third, I didn't carry any water with me for the first two reasons. The group I was with were solid altitude runners and climbers, so they motored their way uphill. I tried to stick with them, but after 2 miles, fell into a walk/run routine to try and make it to the summit. After 5.5 miles of running 1100' uphill, I reached the turnaround. That was when the fun finally began, because for every suffocating foot of climbing I did, I had a foot of downhill that I could bomb. The instant I turned around, I went from being restrained by how well my lungs could supply air to my muscles to being held back by only how quickly I could turn over my feet on a rockin' downhill. If I did about a 9:30 to 10:00 pace going up, I was going sub-7:15 on the down. For as much agony as I had in the first half, I had equal amounts of excitement on the way down.

THIS was the exact kind of workout and trail I need to do more to get ready for my ultra. I can't wait to make it back into these canyons for some tough climbing at elevation.

Lastly, perhaps the highlight of the morning, despite the awesome run and beautiful canyon, came on the drive back in to town. The road we were on ran parallel to the Boulder creek path, and running towards the canyons (opposite our direction), I spotted Tony Krupicka - perhaps my favorite ultra runner right now! He was likely on one of his epic 30 mile training runs (the guy logs about 140 to 170 miles a week here in Boulder). Anyways, with his signature long hair, beard, and shirtless attire, I'm 100% confident it was him. I felt like a 'tween girl who saw Robert Pattinson drinking a Bloody Mary. 

Undie Run 1 Mile

Friday night I ran in only my second 1-mile distance race, a length I'm not trained for or accustomed to. Fortunately, I felt no nerves or self-consciousness because literally, everyone else was in their underwear.

The race, the Tulsa Area Trail & Ultra Runners Undie Run, is in its inaugural running, but has some big local sponsors behind it (mostly just popular bars). Thematically, everyone was supposed to come and run in nothing but their underwear. Conceptually this would be great it if the quantity of clothing was negatively correlated with physical fitness. However, this relationship didn't always (or rarely) held true. Anyways, still a fun atmosphere. The hope is it will become a big annual event in the city, and after experiencing it myself, I share that aspiration.

The attire ranged from 'crowd pleasing' to 'grimace inducing'. Some girls wore thongs which showed a little more jiggling than would be desired, while some guys had speedos, but had anything but a swimmers physique. Others were more creative and funny; the best was a 50 year old man in Care Bears footy pajamas.

The event started at 7 P.M. in a cloudy, muggy, but rainless twilight. The temperature sat comfortably at about 72 - warm enough to provoke a nice sheen of sweat, but not too hot to cause overheating in the few minutes of maximal exertion required to race one mile. First, there was the 'fun run', or more descriptively, the 'slow, drunk, underwear parade'. This drew at all types, mostly because they handed out Jello-shots at the 1/4 and 3/4 mile marks.

I decided last minute to 'run' this 'race' just as part of my warm-up. I'd be running during that time anyway to get ready for the 'competitive' race later, so I figured why not do it with the masses. I took the first 1/3 of a mile easy, but as I had planned on doing in my normal warm-ups, I then picked up my pace a little to get my legs prepared for the full mile spring I'd have about 25 minutes later. It didn't take long before I realized I had jetted past the entire field and had come upon the 'leaders'. It was at this point that I realized there really is no pride in winning a fun run, and I didn't want to look like the narcissistic jerk going all out. You know that scene in Billy Madison where Billy dominates in dodge ball? That's what I wanted to avoid. So, I dialed it back and hung with one or two other guys at the front, and finished the race for a good warm-up.

The competitive race was at 7:30. The field shrank considerably since the fun run to only about 60 people. However, since a big chunk of even these folks were already drunk, there was an abnormally high proportion of DNFs for a 1 mile race. Some of these drunks also thought it'd be fun to start at the front of the pack (which is very poor etiquette if you don't already know), but got sufficiently elbowed and pushed early on that I think they learned their lesson. Anyways, after only about 400m, the field thinned at appropriately.

(8 hours later)

OK, so I took a break from writing this post, and now I don't even really care about the details of the race anymore. So I'll just wrap it up and said I finished in about 5:40, which was good for 4th. fun night.

-John

Race Report - North Face Endurance Challenge - Bear Mountain 50 km

The Setup

The race was at Bear Mountain State Park, which is about 50 miles up the Hudson River from NYC. The park was massive, replete with heavily-wooded, mountainous ridges and a handful of small lakes and ponds. The weather was perfect too, sunny and in the low 50s at the 7 AM start. North Face also did a really good job of organizing and operating the event (this was just one of a series of 6 endurance challenges they do across the country each year). Even though there were maybe only ~700 people running all the races on Saturday (Marathon, 50k & 50m), they had a big, elaborate start/finish village with heat lamps, tents, food, and seating areas. Really just a well-run operation.

The course overall spent almost three-fourths of its length going up or down, and probably two-thirds on loose, sharp boulders in dry riverbeds. Perfect quad-bursting and ankle twisting-conditions. To set the scene, I'll just throw together a bunch of adjectives, ad-verbs, and descriptive clauses that I feel are appropriate and effective:

Rocky, climbing, mean, ankle-twisting, thorny, unsympathetic, deceiving, sharp, repetitive but not monotonous, falling, loose, narrow, dark, sunny, sloppy and muddy, crowded and sparse, isolating, and temperamental.

The First 10 Miles

Once the race started, about 250 of us set off. I tried to stay close to the back of the pack early to avoid the trap of getting caught up in the fast pace at the front. The first half mile was relatively benign, just some flat, smooth, double-wide trail, and I fell into the pace of the group at around 10 min/mile. After that, the fun started with the first prolonged up, then steep, hazardous down; each segment lasting about maybe a quarter to a half mile with one or two hundred feet in elevation change. That pattern pretty much repeated over and over for the first 10 miles, which took me about 1:50 to finish. Mentally, I was just trying to get through it with as little damage and fatigue as possible.

I also learned a lot very quickly in this early segment. Given my substantial inexperience in trail running, trail racing, and unfamiliarity with the course, my strategy coming in was very primitive and ill-informed. I basically had the expectation of power-hiking the uphills, and making up my ground on the downs and flats; and if I did that, then I should finish in about five hours. However, it was also a big risk that my strategy would get discarded on the trail like a used Gu-packet, as these strategies often are in the midst of competition. However, I stuck to it, which was easy to do since everyone else in the race seemed to be employing the same plan of attack. This lead me to my second key lesson about trail racing: play the course 'to par'. Like in golf I just wanted to cover each segment with the same efficiency as the average person. This made me feel a lot better about taking 10 minutes to get through a half mile in some nasty parts - I just reminded myself that I wasn't actually losing any ground to the field.

The Second 10 miles

The next 10 miles were a mix of some more ups and downs, but with a very nice, soft, and un-rocky flat-stretch of about 2 miles around mile 15. While this felt good on my feet and in my climbing/descending muscle groups, it actually broke my concentration. I have never done too much trail running, but I really benefited from the necessary concentration the trail commands to ensure you don't trip on a root or step sideways on a rock. Staying focused on the the 5 to 10 feet ahead of me made for a great distraction to not realize how tired I was getting or how much longer I'd have to work to finish. Hitting that flat, easy stretch freed up enough of my mental faculties and let my mind start drifting and realizing I was still only half-way down after about three hours.

Also at about this time, I caught up with another runner (the field had become pretty stretched out at this point, such that I usually had about fifty to a hundred yardss in either direction to the next runner), a guy named Kris who I ended up spending most of the next 15 miles with. This was a huge help for the both of us, as we each had somebody to be directly accountable to, and also to compete with. I was thinking 'no way am I going to drop behind and let him get ahead of me', and I'm sure he was thinking the same. Turns out we actually had a lot in common, and he provided me with a ton of experience, as this was the fourth time he'd run this race.

I've also got to mention how fantastic the aid stations were. All were well stocked, and staffed with very helpful people. Every time I came in to one, somebody took my water bottle from me, asked me what I was drinking, and filled it. I had my bottle back in my hand in no more than 15 seconds, full of fresh, cold water. I usually grabbed a small banana, some pretzels, and half a PBJ sandwich; shoved it all in my mouth; and was back out on the trail in no more than 2 minutes. The people who volunteer at these stations are doing God's work.

The Last 10.6 Miles

After I had 20 miles behind me (and four hours on the trail), it became much easier to start thinking about the end and pushing myself through - my mindset shifted from conserving energy to expending whatever I had left. The sun was also getting higher in sky, which started lifting the temperature a little and increasing the strain. Miles 20 to 25 were relatively benign (relative being a very important adjective in this context, as they still required a ton of climbing and steep descending).
The last 6 miles had a bit of a strange set-up, as there was an aid station around mile 25, then another one just about 2.5 miles later. The reason for this was the section of trail between these two points was referred to simply as "Hell". This consisted mainly of climbing and descending on two ridges, each several hundred feet high, each equally steep. Imagine climbing halfway up and down the rockiest parts of your favorite mountain, minus all the flat, runnable segments, and without all the 'safety precautions' installed by the parks department; then doing it again; and all after running 25 miles of an otherwise very difficult trail. At times, the description of 'death march' seemed like an appropriate appellation for that stretch of trail. The last descent was so treacherous due to its grade, abundance of jagged rocks, and complete absence of solid footing that they had two medics waiting at the bottom. This was also when my partner for the last dozen or so miles, Kris, separated himself from me. His experience clearly paid dividends on the descents, as he was able to pick his footing on the loose, sharp rocks much faster and more efficiently than I cared to attempt, given I don't have a reckless abandon for breaking my neck or dying alone in the forest. His performance during this section could best be described as a 'controlled fall', while mine was a 'reluctant tip-toe'.

Anyways, I got through that and to the next aid station, which was the beginning of the end. All that was left was a three mile 'victory lap', which seemed like a chip shot at that point. I felt so strong at this late stage, that I began worrying that maybe I hadn't gone out as hard as I could have. Regardless, I had a strong finish (except for the one root that I finally tripped on and completely crashed after about a dozen close calls earlier in the race), and crossed the finish line actually feeling a little fresh - six hours and twenty-eight minutes after I started.   

All-in-all, it was a fantastic morning. The weather was perfect, the trail really kept me in a focused state, and I was fortunate that my body was just ready and energetic on that day.

R&R AZ Marathon - The Rest of the Story

Here is some more color to last Sunday's Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon that I chose to omit from my final race recap:

• My toes look like I stuck them in a cuisinart. I wore Saucony Kinvaras in the race, which I love as racing shoes. I've worn them in two marathons and one half, and feel they shaved a few minutes off my time in every instance. However, they don't protect my feet very well from the requisite trauma off such a hard effort. By my count, I had about 4 or 5 blood blisters and one completely black toenail. 
• The thing I'm most proud of is I didn't puke or have any stomach issues. This has been a problem for me before, but not this race. I believe my GI success was the product of a conservative diet the last few days before the race; especially my avoidance of my beloved Diet Dr. Pepper (I usually drink about a half gallon of this stuff a day). 
• I once tried to ask out Sally Meyerhoff, the women's champion, with a lame comment about moonlit runs without a mate. We met at a race expo for an all women's Half in New York. She was a featured racer and speaker; I was the creepy single guy at the expo for an all women's race. I actually had a legit, normal reason to be there, but the circumstances probably didn't help my chances. 
• I have no idea how I didn't bonk during the race. I only took one gel at miles 9 and 16. I guess the only thing propelling me the last several miles were my hopes and dreams. And maybe double rainbows.
• The only song I could hear in my head was 'Like A G6'. How does this motivate me to keep running? I have no idea. The song is about gangster subculture and getting drunk on bottles of Crystal:

"Poppin bottles in the ice, like a blizzard

When we drink we do it right gettin slizzard

Sippin sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6

Now I’m feelin so fly like a G6"

• My sister got a picture with  men's champion Josh Cox after the race, which made me insanely jealous. He's my favorite pro marathoner.

• My biggest concern during the race was my necessity to 'lighten the load'. It took a lot of intestinal fortitude to run by every port-a-john after mile 16. 

Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon Race Recap

It’s the day after the 2011 Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon, and I can still barely walk. My hips ache, my hamstrings are tight, and my feet feel like the bi-products of ground beef. I had significant trouble sleeping last night due to discomfort in my legs, and my digestive system is just now settling down and getting back to normal. However, if that is both the cost and ‘reward’ from three-plus hours of work and agony yesterday morning, I’ll be happy to take it.

I’ve done the half-marathon race in this event twice, but never the full. It’s a tremendously well-run event, with a huge crowd and a nice, flat course. When I was making my winter racing plans, I really felt like I was capable of making a go at a Boston Qualifying time. The 3:10 standard for my age group is well below my PR of 3:18, but I’d had a good summer of running; was starting to pick my speed up; and more important than anything else, I really had the desire and motivation to make it through the requisite training. The Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon was the perfect setting, given its timing, weather (almost always sunny with mild temps), and fast course.

When race day came, everything was just about as expected. The temperature at the start was in the low-to-mid 40’s, with just enough cloud cover to keep us out of direct sunlight. I was in corral 1, where I met Tony Stafford, the 3:10 pacer and a friend of my sister’s; and my friend Matt, who had the same BQ goal as me. The elites (including Josh Cox getting ready for his new AR in the 50k) were just in front of us, and the rest of the 5,000 runners were behind us.

Once the race started we ran at smooth 7:15 pace. The first 3 or 4 miles flew by; I could barely believe how quickly they passed and how easy they felt. That part of the course was through a quiet, commercial part of town. More importantly, it was very flat. I felt fortunate that I could make it through this first fraction with minimal damage, and started preparing myself mentally for the long haul.

Mile 6 brought the first feelings of ‘work’ in my legs. The pace didn’t feel hard or challenging, just no longer easy. I concentrated on not letting foreboding thoughts about the next 20 miles poison my attitude. At about this time, the route started working its way west through Phoenix, giving me the visual goal of Camelback Mountain; or something on the horizon to pull myself towards for the next few miles.

The 3:10 pace group hit the halfway mark in 1:32, or about 3 minutes ahead of an even split time. It felt good to have a few minutes ‘in the bank’, but I could really start to feel the accumulated work take its toll. I’d say the level of effort at that time went from ‘not easy’ to ‘not hard, but...’.

My friend Matt had the mental strategy of breaking down the course into three mile chunks, with the goal of knocking out each piece in 21:30. Starting at mile 12, this really became a big help to not focus on the 14 total miles remaining, but rather, just the next 3. My purpose became to get to mile 15 on time, then 18, then 21. There’s no point in even being mindful of a portion of the race 10 miles away because there’s no telling how you’ll feel when you get there. Three miles ahead is a different story, as you can sense any potential trouble you might encounter in the next twenty minutes, and mentally focus or regroup as necessary. This midsection of the race became a repetition of 'survive 3 miles and reassess'. 

Mile 19 got into a really nice part of the course as we wound or way thought Old Town Scottsdale, with positive crowds and intimate neighborhoods and shopping districts. This area was also home for me not too long ago, which gave me the added benefit of familiarity. I felt good and strong going through this segment of the course, but once it was over and we hit mile 21, the effort rocketed up from ‘not hard’ to ‘stabbed in my feet and thighs’. I was still with the 3:10 pace group, but straggling at the back of the pack. The pace group was down to about 10 now from 25 at the start, and I started to believe myself that my departure would reduce the group to a headcount of 9. Every slight uphill swale felt like a good time to stop and give up on my BQ goal. I just wanted the whole ordeal to be over. However, I also knew that'd be wasting the two-plus hours of work I'd already put in (not to mention the months of training). My mantra became ‘Hang On’, and do whatever it would take to stay on pace.

I was reminded of a powerful memory I had from viewing this year’s NYC Marathon when Shalane Flanagan held on until the end and finished second. Moments after she crossed the finish line, she was on her hands and knees in full and utter exhaustion. The agony she must have endured the last few miles while holding on to the end is what separates those who achieve their goals, and those who fail. I convinced myself to do as Shalane did, and endure everything until I finished 26.2 miles - to just hang on.

Shalane Flanagan after finishing the 2010 NYC Marathon in 2nd place

At mile 22, the game changed. We hit a water stop, and my conviction to hang on coupled with a cup of cold water poured on my head gave me the last charge I needed. The temperature was up into the 50s by now, so that little bit of coolant was a big boost. I felt fresher, stronger, and within reach of the end. I went from a straggler on the back of the 3:10 pace group (which was probably down to 5 runners) to running at the front of it. I was just trying to tackle one mile at a time, and gradually work my way up to 26. Matt was still with me, and our pacer, Tony, was still keeping us encouraged and running strong. I could also feel the blisters on both of my feet start to make their presence felt, but it was nothing too severe to be a problem.

Left-to-Right: Matt, Me, and Tony around mile 23

I started the countdown in my mind of whatever milestone I could come up with: 30 minutes to go, 4 miles, 3 miles, 20 minutes, 2 miles, 2 km. At each point, I did the calculation of what kind of pace I’d have to run the rest of the way to hit 3:10. Once those calculations started to get up to 8:00 and 9:00 paces, I started thinking that I had my 3:10 in the bag, that I could easily coast in the rest of the way and get a qualifying time. That was my first sensation that I’d done it; that I would be a 3:10 marathoner and Boston Qualifier. It got much easier to hang on and grind through the rest of the race when it was measured in mere fractions of a mile. Tony (the 3:10 pacer) let me go, saying I had it, and now I just needed to enjoy the victory lap.

I clicked off the last milestones: 0.9 miles to go, 0.8, 0.5, and so on until I made the last turn and saw the finish line a few hundred yards ahead. I checked my watch, checked ahead of me and behind me to see if anyone was nearby (they weren’t), then truly enjoyed the last 20 yards as I clapped for the crowd and ‘airplaned’ my way across the finish line. All that was left to do was check my final time – 3:06:23. New PR. Qualified for Boston.

Check out the splits & details from my Garmin Forerunner

Tony, Matt, and Me after finishing under 3:10. I couldn't have done it without both of these guys.