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Back in August when registration for Stone Cat opened up I think it was a
little too soon after the VT100 for me to commit to another ultra.
Everything was feeling fine but I couldn’t make up my mind so I let it
pass. Of course, once I saw how many of my TMR team mates got in I was
wishing that I could be there with them, and thinking maybe this could
be the year that I could break 8 hours in the 50 miler. Coming off a
fast-for-me Vermont 100 I would, in theory, be in good shape for a 50
mile PR as long as I was smart about recovery and training. As (bad)
luck would have it, Christine realized in mid-August that injury would
prevent her from being able to run the Stone Cat marathon this year so
she offered up her number and I was the first to jump on it. The Stone
Cat RDs were nice enough to let me take her place and even let me
upgrade to the 50. It was on.
Meanwhile, I was being anything but smart about recovery and training. Two weeks
after the VT100 I ran the Breaker, and even though I didn’t run
particularly fast it’s still a pretty tough course with some abusive
climbs and descents. The following week I went up to Camden for the 9
mile Ragged Mountain Run Around, another abusively hilly race. After
three weeks of “easy” running (with a few long runs thrown in) it was
time for the Bruiser and I felt good about putting in a hard effort,
however, my body had other plans. Two miles into the race I noticed a
dull ache in my left achilles, which progressively developed into a
sharp pain with every step. Shortly after entering the O-Trail my left
calf, which had been overworked while compensating for the achilles
issue decided it had enough and just stopped working. I stumbled to save
myself from falling and when my right foot slammed into the ground my
right calf seized up and I collapsed. I lay there screaming while both
calves cramped and spasmed and it looked as if there were snakes
writhing under my skin. But I needed to earn that Bad Ass hoodie so I
got up and finished the race. I could barely walk for the next three
days and running was out of the question, until the following Saturday
when Emma and I ran the Big Brad Ultra 50k Pounder course in about 6 ½ hours. I honestly didn’t think I’d make it up the first climb, but everything held together and I didn’t feel
significantly worse after the run. I did feel bad enough that I only ran
once during the following week, until the next weekend when I paced
Dave for 42 miles at the Virgil Crest 100.
Over the next few weeks I pretty much said “Fuck You” to my achilles as I
attempted to train for the Stone Cat 50. While my weekly mileage wasn’t
where I wanted it to be I was still getting out for a lot of technical,
hilly trail runs. Certainly not the best way to recover from an achilles
injury and the pain continued. By mid-October I started to realize that
the 50 miler was not a good idea, even if I could make it to the start
line of the race I would be woefully under-trained for my time goal and
there would be a high likelihood of either completely destroying my
achilles or unearthing some new injury over the course of the race.
Certainly not worth it for another 8+ hour finishing time. But the
marathon...
Maybe I did have one good race left in me this year. The obvious goal would
be to try to beat my time from 2008, the only other time I’d run the
marathon at Stone Cat. But wait, if I’m too injured to run 50 miles what
reason do I have to think I can PR at the marathon? Shouldn’t this be
just about finishing and avoiding more serious injury, and maybe having
fun in the process? Sorry body, I can’t let you do that.
Friday night Emma and I met Jim to watch “The Man with the Iron Fists.” The
perfect way to prepare for the carnage of a trail marathon. It was my
fear, however, that the race course would be the one wielding the sword
and I would be the one laying in a bloody heap when the day was done.
Saturday morning I got up at 3AM, met Joe just before 4AM and then picked up
Mindy a few minutes later and we made our way to Ipswich, MA. We arrived
with plenty of time to register, place our drop bags and hang out with
the team. Then wait for the 50 miler start and learn that the marathon
would be starting 15 minutes after, instead of starting together as in
years past. It was a perfect temperature for running, but a little too
cold for standing around outside in shorts for 45 minutes.
The chill that had set in probably lead to a start that was a little too
quick but I needed to do something to warm up. My achilles immediately
protested at the the sub-8-minute pace of the first mile, but luckily it
eased off once I was warmed up. I had positioned myself right behind
Julia even though I knew this was a pretty risky move. Julia’s goal was a
few minutes faster than my previous time (I had been coaching her to
break the course record time of 3:42), and even though I know her
training was much more consistent (and pain-free) than mine I couldn’t
resist letting her pull me along. Despite everything I should have
learned over the years I never can seem to start out at a relaxed pace
when I think there’s even an outside chance that I might be able to pull
off a decent race. I have just accepted that this is the way I run.
Knowing that Julia probably was starting out at a fairly conservative
pace I didn’t expect to stay with her for too long, but I was also very
curious to see how she was going to do.
By 3 miles into the race the sun was up enough that I could turn off my
headlamp, and since we had not yet caught up to the 50 milers we
continued to move along at a decent pace. When we reached the swamp
which last year was flooded with nearly-knee-deep water I looked around
and marveled at how dry it was this year, practically a dirt road...
THUMP! I caught my toe on absolutely nothing, continued my leg turnover
and forward momentum in a nearly horizontal position until my right knee
slammed into the ground. With all four limbs flailing I managed to get
back on my feet without significantly slowing my pace. I glanced down
at my knee, no exposed bone or gaping skin flaps so I just kept on
going. But it did hurt.
Julia had started to pull away and Nathan passed me so I refocused on keeping
the two of them in sight and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my
knee. Al Cat’s aid station was a welcome distraction with many familiar
faces, and even though I didn’t take any aid it was a great early boost
and I soon caught back up to Nathan and then Julia. David was out on the
course as a spectator, finding all the shortcuts to stay ahead of Julia
and we both benefited from his yips and hiyas.
For the rest of the first lap I was feeling good, the pain in my knee
subsided and my achilles wasn’t a significant issue. The pace felt like I
was working hard, definitely harder than I would have gone had I not
been trying to tag along with Julia, but I became optimistic that I
might be able to keep this up for a while. At around 11 miles we came to
a fork in the trail where the obvious path went left, but the course
marking went right. I was just about to call Julia back from making a
wrong turn when I realized that she had gone the right way. I surely
would have got it wrong. A few minutes later we saw a couple runners we
recognized as having passed earlier coming at us from a trail on our
left. I recognized the trail we were on from previous years so I knew we
had it right, I told these two guys they had gone wrong and they
immediately turned back. A few minutes later we came up on another small
group of runners and we recognized several of them as people we had
passed before, knowing they had inadvertently made the same short-cut,
but at this point it seemed like too much work to try and explain to
them what they had done wrong so we passed them again and cruised in to
finish the first lap.
Mindy, Val, Ryan and Alison were there keeping the TMR camp running and they
provided a much appreciated boost, but both Julia and I were focused on
moving through as quickly as possible. We picked up fresh handheld
bottles and headed back out without actually stopping. 1:49 for the
first 13.7 miles. I was psyched for Julia knowing that she was on track
for her goal, I just hoped I could hang on.
About a mile into the second lap we caught up to Joe who was walking up the
first of the significant hills on the course. We passed Joe but I
started to think that his 50 mile pace was much more appealing than the
one I was trying to run. I was definitely starting to feel the effects
of the distance and the pace as we made our way up and down a series of
hills. By the time the course flattened back out my everything had
started to ache. Achilles, knee, quads, core, arms (WFT?). I came to the
realization that I couldn’t keep up with Julia any longer and by 17
miles she was gone. Along with a mental low that came from running alone
I started to get worried that I was on the cusp of turning these aches
and pains into a full-on injury if I wasn’t careful. I consciously
decided to ease off the pace for a while in hopes that I could pick it
back up again for the last few miles and have a strong finish.
The one and only aid station I stopped at was at 21 miles, my water was
getting low, but the reality was that I needed an excuse to stop for a
moment and get my shit together. I didn’t stop for long but it was long
enough for me to have a bit of a reset and assess where I was at.
Everything still hurt, and my calves felt like they were on the verge of
cramping, so I kept the pace easy for the next two miles. I lost a few
places along this stretch and was even passed by a few 50 milers whom I
had passed earlier. With each one I wanted to hang on, but I knew it was
too soon to make a move. By 23 miles I actually started to feel like
myself again and I picked the pace up. Nothing heroic, but it started to
feel like I was racing again instead of just trying to finish. With 1
mile to go I began to reel in a runner who had passed me a few miles
prior. By the time we hit the field that leads to the finish line he
knew I was on his tail and we both ran hard to the line. With the Trail
Monster crew cheering I was closing the gap but ran out of course and he
finished about 5 seconds ahead of me. But I really wasn’t concerned
about the place, just grateful that I was able to get back into the race
for a strong finish. 3:44 and a 2-minute PR on the course. 17th out of
216 starters/210 finishers.
Julia was there right after I crossed the line, having come in 5 minutes
before me, breaking the old course record by 3 minutes! Unfortunately
there were two other women who also broke the course record ahead of her
this year, but she had a great race as I knew she would. I put some
warm layers on and spent the rest of the day with the Trail Monster crew
cheering on the rest of our runners. Danielle was next in, then Nathan,
Kevin, George, Rick and Ann in the marathon and Jeremy and Joe in the
50. It was a great day for the team.
Before I get into the details of my own running I have to rant about the organization of the Peak 50 and my perception of the other related events going on this weekend. While I thoroughly enjoyed the entire weekend I spent in Pittsfield, VT it was because I love a challenging race and the company of my Trail Monster team mates, the race management left a lot to be desired. If you don't want to hear me bitching you can skip the blue text.
Jeremy was the first to pull the trigger on signing up for the event when he chose the 100 miler back in November last year, Valerie and Mindy chose the 50, as I later found out because the timing and location were right, not because they actually knew anything about what they were getting themselves (or the rest of us) into. Talk of the event began to circulate around TMR, and although there was very little information available about the race on the event website I went ahead and signed up in December, just after Dave. We were then followed by Chuck and Zak, all going for the 50 miler.
Over the past few years I had heard a few things about the Peak races, mostly that they were out to create the most challenging events around, from a snowshoe marathon to a 500 mile trail race, all in the beautiful Green Mountains of Vermont. What initially put me off was that the course sounded contrived in a way that linked up a series of the most rugged natural obstacles within a
certain area without much consideration for how they were connected.
Elements were created and thrown in for the sake of making the race more
difficult, not because they were there naturally. As for the 50 miler I had heard a number of people talking about it at Pineland over the past few years because it was held a week or two later and some people ran both. It appeared that the 50 miler, which had previously been held in early June, was moved to coincide with the 100, 150, 200 and 500 mile races being held in May. It seemed that when this move happened any detailed information specifically pertaining to the 50 mile race and it's history was lost forever. No previous race results, no course description, just a sentence added to the page of the website dedicated to the longer distance races.
The entire race website is an absolute joke. While it has a pretty slick, professional look about it there is very little useful information contained on it. No course description, no mention of aid stations, no information about crew access or drop bags... A map was added to the website about one month before the race. No mention of which course the map was intended to represent, although I was able to determine that it was for the 50 miler. Unfortunately the map represented a course that was run in a previous year, not the course that we would be running, and it didn't include useful things like where the race starts, which direction the course is run or where aid stations might be located. Just a squiggly red line on a blurry topo map. I understand that some races are held on private property where there are limitations on public access and for that reason course maps are not provided, although a description of the course usually is. In these cases the race organizers usually make it clear what the reason is for not providing a map and participants understand and respect that. I also understand that a certain amount of mystique about the challenges of an event can be appealing. No one expects a course map and aid stations every 3 miles at the Barkley, but participants know what they're getting into, and the entry fee is appropriately scaled to the level of organization. As a participant it's hard to plan for an event if you don't know anything about the terrain and what, if any, support is being provided.
Since I wasn't getting any response to my emails to the RD I posted some of my questions about aid stations and crew access on the event's Facebook page where there was some regular activity (mostly posts containing an individual letter as part of some spelling game). Chuck asked if I had a crew, perhaps suggesting that one doesn't need a crew for 50 miles, and my response was something like this:
"I'll have a crew if there is crew access, if not I'll rely on drop bags, if drop bags are not allowed I will use aid stations, if there are no aid stations I will carry everything myself. It's two weeks before the race and I'd just like to know which scenario to plan for."
That's not too much to ask for is it?
This is what it felt like trying to communicate with the Dude RD (in case you couldn't tell, I'm the pissed off guy with the legs that don't work properly any more):
The most useful information I was able to find about the event came from Sherpa John's race reports from previous years (2007, 2008, 2009, 2010). I guess I was lucky to have known that he had done this race before, because his reports were not among the one listing under the "Race Reports" section of the race website. Thanks Sherpa. It was from these that I was able to figure out that there would in fact be aid stations on the course and crew access, or at least there was when the race was held in June. From these detailed reports I was able to put together my own version of a course map:
Color coded to differentiate types of terrain
From what I saw the vast majority of runners in the longer races were
exclusively utilizing their own crew for support between laps on a 10 mile loop which made
me wonder how anyone could justify the entry fee. I've only done two 100 mile races, and they
both cost around $200. At each one I came away with a belt buckle, a
long sleeve technical shirt, and I probably consumed $50 worth of food
and drinks which was brought out to numerous remote forest locations.
The level of organization and coordination that clearly went into making
sure that volunteers were where they were supposed to be when they were
supposed to be there and that they were capable of looking after the
participants needs makes these entry fees seem like a bargain. There was
only one aid station at Peak (which we passed three times) that had
attentive volunteers, the others were either unmanned or self-service
because the volunteers didn't really give a shit. And on the subject of
entry fees what's up with the increase in price as the race date
approaches? As a race director I know that it's easier to plan an event
when you know how many people are coming, so I do what I can to
encourage people to sign up early. In my events I will have a $5 or $10
increase in the entry fee a few weeks before race day, but the Peak
races increase by over 50% more than a month before the race which I
don't understand at all.
Despite my reservations, aggravations and low expectations, I had heard from a few people that the actual execution of the event on race day was pretty decent - not great, but decent - so I went into it with an open mind, a plan for partial self sufficiency and Emma as a dedicated crew. I brought my own 5-gallon bucket of water and all the food and other supplies I'd need to get me through a mountainous 50 mile run.
(end rant)
Emma and I arrived in Pittsfield, VT late Friday afternoon to discover a beautiful little town that had been ground zero for the devastation of Hurricane Irene last fall and was still in a state of rebuilding. While most, but not all, of the towns buildings appeared to be intact it was clear that many of the roads and bridges had been wiped out. In an unfortunate turn of events the hotel we booked, following Mindy's lead, was NOT destroyed in the hurricane. But on the plus side Mindy, Pete, Val and Rick soon arrived and we all got caught up in the excitement of what was to come. After a little poking around the area we discovered that the Original General Store was pretty much our only option for eating. Luckily they had good food, and conveniently this is where we picked up our race numbers, as well as our generic Peak Races shirts applicable to any event these folks put on. Totally lame. We returned to Ramshackle Resort to make the final race preparations and attempted to get to bed early, although none of us were enthusiastic about lying awake between "clean enough" sheets.
Before I knew it my alarm was going off, I jumped out of bed and went outside to brew some coffee on the tailgate of my car. The sun wasn't up yet and I was immediately struck by how cold it was. All week long I had been focused on the ever rising predicted high temperature for the day and hadn't taken much notice of how cold it was going to get overnight. Luckily I had packed a light pair of gloves and my Moeben sleeves, as well as an extra t-shirt I could layer over my singlet. For breakfast I ate a cold bagel and sipped a bottle of Ensure as we made the 5 minute drive from the hotel to the race start at Amee Farm.
The Trail Monster contingent congealed in the frosty field as Dave, Zak, Chuck and Jeremy arrived to join Mindy, Val and I along with all our support crews. We wandered across the road to the race headquarters to hear the pre-race meeting delivered by The Dude... "there's boulders the size of this barn, and it's like Jurassic Park, and there's stuff flying around..." I had been warned that Sherpa John tends to exaggerate the difficulty of an event in his race reports, and I suspected that the Dude was doing the same. Either way, I knew this race was going to have a ton of elevation change due to the mountainous terrain all around us so I planned to go out quite conservatively in hopes of avoiding the kind of massive slow-down I experienced in my last 50 miler. The 50 and 30 milers crossed the road from where the 100 milers were going to be doing 10 mile laps, we were about to set out on a 40 mile cloverleaf of sorts. There were hugs all around and when the Dude shouted GO we started the walk up the first hill into the woods.
I had to fight the urge to start running, but there was certainly no need to waste energy going up this first hill. I also wasn't ready for our group of Trail Monsters to split up just yet, even if we only stayed together for a few more seconds. Zak and I settled in next to each other and when the hill started to level out we started a slow jog. We soon saw Serena Wilcox ahead and increased the pace slightly to catch up with her. Zak had run a good part of the 30 miler with her here last year, and she had blown past me at around mile 46 of the Stone Cat 50 last year. I didn't want to get caught up running someone else race but once we caught up with her we settled back into a comfortable groove and the early miles ticked by as we chatted. We were also having a lot of back and forth with Chuck, he'd fly by us on the steep downhills and we'd catch back up and pass him on the ups. There were a few hills steep enough to warrant walking but overall the terrain seemed pretty easy-going in the first few miles.
The first aid station was supposed to come at 7 miles, just before the first really steep climb of the race. I wasn't wearing my Garmin, but it seemed to be taking a while to get there. Turns out that the aid station was actually closer to 9 miles in and by the time we got there my handheld bottle was getting low so I stopped to refill. No volunteers, just two gatorade buckets on a picnic table. I had decided to go minimal through the first few aid stations and not pick up my hydration pack until mile 18. Given the cool start to the day this strategy seemed to work just fine. Zak kept moving but slowed enough for me to be able to easily catch up.
By now we were starting to see the front runners coming back towards us on the short out-and-back stretch that climbed half way up Wilcox Mountain and then came back down again. A few runners warned us about the "fun" that was coming up and soon enough we began a steep climb up a jeep road. This was the first challenge of the course so far but it didn't last as long as I had expected it to, before I knew it the pink ribbons marking the course lead us off trail to a short stretch of bushwhacking that looped us back downhill onto the same trail we had just run up. Zak and I pulled away from Serena and Chuck on this stretch and we probably picked off a couple other runners in the process. All the long winter training runs and Lunch Break Hill repeats set us up well for dealing with this kind of terrain. On the way back down we passed Dave on his way up and exchanged encouraging words and high fives. In about 1 mile we were back at the unmanned aid station where I topped up my bottle once again. It was starting to warm up now and we had about 4 miles until the next aid station. Shortly after this one we saw Mindy and Val coming down the road towards us and we broke out into the Sanford and Son theme song, a cleansing song borrowed from Randy to push out any unwanted tunes that got stuck in our heads as we ran and it became our anthem:
This stretch actually went by pretty quick since it was mostly on dirt
road and downhill, and we soon arrived at the first real aid station and crew
checkpoint on Upper Michigan Road. Advertised as 12 miles it was
actually much closer to 13, but no big deal. Emma helped me swap handheld bottles, got me an Ensure to drink and got me on my way pretty quick. Zak was without his own crew but got some help from Alison who was in between crew stops for Jeremy, and we were soon back on the road. This aid station, which we would pass a total of three times during the race was the only one that was well staffed with enthusiastic, if somewhat under-prepared, volunteers. Zak had to wait for a PB&J sandwich to be made and I had to wait for someone to find a bag of potato chips in the back of her car, but all-in-all it was a fairly efficient aid station stop.
The next section was a roughly 6 mile lollipop. There was more dirt road running, progressively getting more rugged until we eventually turned off onto double-track trail and then onto pretty gnarly single-track. Part of it reminded me of the 100 mile wilderness, where even though the elevation wasn't extreme the terrain was technical enough that running was almost out of the question in parts. This was a fun loop when we could run, and once we started to make our way back down hill and headed back on the loop we moved along at a pretty good pace. Shortly before hitting the aid station again we crossed paths with Dave, then Mindy & Val and once again broke into a few bars of Sanford and Son.
We returned to the Upper Michigan Road aid station where I had planned to take a slightly longer break in preparation for the Blood Root Loop, 19 miles (or 22 depending who you ask) of the toughest terrain on the course with only two aid stations. I changed my wet and muddy socks here, picked up my hydration pack and had a few sips of Coke before heading back out. The Blood Root Loop started with a short descent almost too steep to run and then made a gradual climb over the next few miles through wet and sloppy snowmobile trails. It was still well before noon but the temperature had been quickly rising and we were starting to feel it. There was another runner with Zak and I but none of us were feeling like talking much. The fun was over and it was time to get down to business.
The 23 mile aid station (24.5 to be exact) seemed a long time coming, and when we got there it was just two gatorade buckets on the ground. I still had plenty of water in my hydration bladder but I made sure to refill it completely, the next stretch ahead featured the biggest climb of the race, over Blood Root Mt at more than 3,000' as well as the "Jurassic Park" section of trail on the other side of the mountain. Not to mention that it was 8 miles to the next "fully stocked" aid station if you believed the RD, which I didn't.
The real climbing started shortly after the aid station and this was where I noticed that Zak really wasn't feeling too well. We took a few minutes to stop off in one of the streams we crossed to wash our faces in the cold water. It felt great but wasn't enough to bring Zak back to life, when we started moving again I gradually pulled away. The trail got progressively steeper the higher it climbed and apparently the idea of switchbacks never occurred to anyone making these trails. I was feeling pretty good and hiked at a decent pace knowing that when I hit the top I'd be half way through the race and that the second half would feature more elevation loss than gain. When I did reach the top and the race course crossed the Long Trail I paused for a moment and wished I had someone to share this with. I had no idea how far back Zak was, 2 minutes, 20 minutes? I was regretting leaving him behind but knew that he was more than capable of getting through this on his own.
Going down the other side of the mountain was just as steep as the way up, almost too steep for me to be able to run well. I had to put on the brakes to keep myself under control which took a lot of energy and I could feel my back muscles and quads getting overworked. I stopped about half way down to enjoy the view, take a bio-break and give myself a rest from the pounding. At the bottom of the hill I was delighted to find a few gallon jugs of water on the ground. We had been told that they might be here, or not if the folks marking the course decided to drink all the water. Luckily I was able to top up my bladder and it was here that the guy who had been running with Zak and I earlier caught up to me.
The next few miles really seemed to drag on. There was a very gradual climb but the ground was completely saturated and nearly every footstep sunk into the mud. In drier conditions this would be a great section for running but today in was a sloppy slog. It wasn't even worth trying to avoid the wettest spots, once my feet were soaked and muddy I actually sought out the deepest water to rinse away some of the mud that accumulated on my shoes and legs. This section is also where I started to notice the bugs for the first time during the race and they got bad pretty quick. They must have decided to sleep in late since it was a cold morning, but now that it was hot out and I was stomping through their breeding ground they made sure to let me know I was on their turf (swamp).
When the trail finally started to dry out and I could run with a little more consistency I started anticipating the next aid station. I know that there was a lot of difficult terrain on this stretch so I was moving pretty slowly but it was definitely taking a long time to reach the aid station that was supposed to be at 31 miles. The guy that had been following me for the last 7 miles finally caught up and we both agreed that this was taking a while. It was now officially hot, even moreso now that we had reached an open dirt road and there was nothing I wanted more than a cold drink. Eventually we saw cars up ahead and knew that we had reached the aid station. The first person I saw was Jordan, Dave's crew, and I wondered what he was doing here. I would later find out that a few hours in to the race the Dude RD learned that the aid station volunteers hadn't showed up, so he found Jordan, gave him some cash, a shopping list and driving directions and asked him to go set up the aid station. Fucking ridiculous.
There were a few volunteers there at the aid station but it was clear that they were pretty clueless about what was going on. I heard one of the other runners ask "What mileage is this?" to which the volunteer responded "I think it's 31, but some woman came by and told us it was 33." I was inclined to believe that it was 33 and I later found that to be correct. I had read in previous race reports that the 50 mile course was actually 53 or 54 miles, so I wondered where that 3-4 miles was built into the course and I guess I found out where a few of those miles were added in.
I refilled my bladder, took two cookies and walked on down the road. I could have run but this race was starting to piss me off so I needed to take a few minutes to get myself together. I was definitely starting to feel all the miles, the hills, the life-sucking mud and the sun beating down. The obvious lack of organization that went into this race was starting to get to me more than it should and the result was that I was getting myself into a pretty low spot mentally. When I started to run again I soon got passed by a man and woman running together, then another guy. This didn't help my mindset. It should have fired me up and inspired me to fight back, but I didn't have it in me. Then we started to climb again. And it just kept getting steeper. And hotter. And the bugs were going nuts on me. My quads were starting to spasm and cramp. They'd quiver for a few seconds and then seize up. I stopped and sat down on the trail, feeling completely exhausted. I really didn't want to move any more, but I still had somewhere between 15 and 20 miles left to go. Who knew how much exactly? Probably no one, including the Dude RD.
It was at least helpful to know that my other TMR team mates were out here running too, it was the thought of them that made me realize I wasn't truly alone. Once my heart rate dropped back down I got up and continued to climb, and it didn't take long for the trail to level out and then start what would be a long runnable downhill stretch back to the Upper Michigan Road aid station. The downhill running, while somewhat painful at this point, was at least able to help rebuild my confidence in my ability to get through this race. Once I got to the aid station I'd see Emma and she would make everything right again. After that I'd have a 3 mile stretch of dirt road before the final 10 mile loop that I'd be running with her. I realized that facing the uncertain challenges of the race by myself was my weakness. I had done well in the early miles when I was with Zak, but ever since leaving him I had felt like I was in a slow downward spiral mentally and physically. Suffering with others often doesn't feel like suffering at all, but alone it can be too hard to pull yourself out
Eventually the trail bottomed out along a river and soon I was seeing evidence of the aid station ahead: a balloon tired to a tree, a cardboard cut-out of a flamingo, then parrots. Then as the trail took a sharp turn and started a steep climb I knew for sure I was in the final stretch back to the aid station. As soon as I crested the hill I saw Rick and Pete there cheering me on, I broke back into a run for the last 50 yards coming into the aid station and I already started feeling better. The Blood Root Loop was done.
A later look at the GPS data from several other runners showed that this aid station was much closer to 41 miles that the 37 advertised. No wonder it took so frigging long to get there.
I sat down and changed my socks and shoes while Emma prepped my pack for the final stretch. The aid station volunteers were still full of energy and were great about offering up whatever help they could. I really didn't need any more than what Emma was doing for me though. While I was having muscle rub applied to my screaming quads Zak came rolling into the aid station looking pretty good. I got up and went to see how he was doing, I believe his exact words were: "I haven't puked that much since college. Eyes bulging!" Now I really regretted leaving him behind. Had I known he was only a few minutes back it surely would have been worth waiting for him so we could have suffered through Blood Root together.
I was ready to go so I said goodbye to Zak, then headed off down the road with my handheld bottle. I'd see Emma again in 3 miles where she would be waiting for me with my full hydration pack, ready to run me through the last 10 miles. My pace was pretty good along the road and I picked off a runner who had come in and out of the aid station while I was there changing my shoes. I was feeling good and ready to go hard to the finish. When I rolled into Amee Farm at 40 miles (43.5 really) Emma was there waiting with Alison who was expecting Jeremy to come in from his 4th lap any time now. I had heard that the last 10 miles was entirely single-track and some of the best terrain on the whole course. Despite having a fair amount of elevation change I was expecting it to be more runnable than the previous 40 miles. However, when I realized that I had covered my 40+ miles faster than Jeremy had done his I began to worry. Even though he was doing 100 miles Jeremy is significantly faster than me, so on this "easier" terrain he should have been further along by now. It wasn't because he wasn't running well, he was. The reason is because that 10 mile loop was different from previous years, much harder, but it took me a little while to really appreciate this.
Things started out innocently enough, Emma and I cruised along a little downhill stretch, then over a temporary 60' bridge set up across the Tweed River and uphill along some mellow switchbacks. It was great to have her company and to get caught up on some of the other events of the day from her perspective. But then the switchbacks ended and the trail went straight up, and just kept going. Even though it was getting late in the afternoon it was still hot and I was feeling waves of something like heat exhaustion coming over me. The muscle spasms in my quads had stopped but I was keenly aware of an elevated core temperature, I had stopped sweating and my breathing while hiking was labored to the point I felt like I was suffocating. On several occasions during this climb I had to stop to catch my breath or even sit down until my heart rate dropped and I could breath normally again. So much for going hard in the last 10 miles.
The 10 mile loop
When we reached the top we stopped briefly at a small cabin that was a self-service aid station, reported to be 3.5 miles into the loop (more like 2.5), but I had plenty of water left in my pack so we moved on gingerly. There were a few little ups and downs, some of them quite steep so it was hard to get into a rhythm. Anything steep enough to require walking seemed to push me over the edge into a wave of exhaustion that forced me to a standstill on more than one occasion. There was nothing I wanted more than to run in to the finish, but we were still up at a high elevation and I just couldn't get myself moving at a consistent pace. Emma kept me going, when I no longer cared about doing this for myself I just kept moving because I didn't want to let her down.
After making our way through a labyrinth of single-track we started a series of long gradual switchbacks that descended the mountain and I finally found a slow running groove that I felt like I could sustain, as long as there weren't any more climbs. I knew we must be getting close, but my sense of distance wasn't working correctly, not to mention that at this point I had no idea what kind of craziness the course might throw at me. Eventually I could hear the road, then see the Tweed River through the trees and I knew we must be getting close. But the switchbacks went on forever. At one point I heard a way-too-cheery voice from behind and looked back to see Nick Tooker coming up on us, and pretty quick. I moved over to let him pass but tried my best to keep with him as long as I could. No luck, he was moving too well and I could feel myself overheating with the additional effort I was putting in. Not knowing how much more trail there was I was reluctant to keep up this push so I slowed back down and let him go. We were running out of room for switchbacks between the mountain and the river and I wondered how we were going to get back upstream to the crossing when all of a sudden the trail made a sharp turn and the course marking lead us into the river bed, through a field of boulders and then back to the riverbank for a long stretch of bushwhacking. There were places where there was evidence of the route previous runners had taken, but nothing that could be considered a trail. It became very frustrating knowing that we must be close to the finish but unable, in my current state at least, to run because of the stupid terrain.
Then, off in the distance I could see the makeshift bridge across the river and a huge sense of relief came over me. For the first time in this race I knew what was coming up. I'd been out here for more than 12 hours of never knowing what I was going to find around the next corner or over the next hill, until now. As soon as we crossed that bridge I'd be able to run it in for the last half mile, and then I could stop. Emma cheered me on and I moved as fast as I could, which probably wasn't fast at all, but it felt so good.
As soon as I crossed the line I hugged Emma and then looked for the nearest object to prop myself up against. A boulder would do, and it was just about the most comforting rock to ever have embraced me. I may be skewed by the freshness in my mind of how much this race hurt, but I think I felt worse than after any other race I've ever done.
time: 12:20:08
distance: 53.5 miles?
pace: 13:50
elevation: (RunningAHEAD) 12,250' gain, 12,280' loss
place: ?
results: ?
weather: low 30's to high 70's, sunny
conditions: everything imaginable (except ice and snow)
gear: Inov-8 Roclite 295, socks, compression shorts, over-shorts w/ pockets, singlet (t-shirt, sleeves & gloves removed), hat, handheld bottle or Nathan HPL #020
After resting on the rock and being tended to by Emma, Alison, Rick and Pete I eventually stood up to see Zak coming into the finish, then Jeremy right behind finishing his fifth lap of the 10 mile loop. Hard to believe he was only half way done with his journey. Jeremy's cousin Jeff was there to join him for a lap and he was soon back out there with a smile on his face. I don't know how he does it.
Over the next 17 hours I got cleaned up, ate, and watched the rest of the Trail Monster team come through the finish line with impressive displays of grit, determination and inspiration. Zak and Valerie both battled stomach issues and made strong comebacks. Mindy and Dave couldn't have picked a tougher race for their debut 50 miler, but that's just how they roll. After crewing for me all day, then running me in for the last 10 miles Emma took a 7 hour break and then joined Jeremy for some of his toughest miles, 70-90 through the late night hours and into the new day. The next morning the team was there to support Jeremy as he continued to knock out one lap after another. And when Emma was done and Jeremy still had one lap left to go Pete jumped in without thinking twice to keep the team strong to the end. I'm truly honored to be part of such an amazing group of runners.
The 2004 Muddy Moose was the first trail race I ran in the US, just a few weeks after Emma and I moved to Maine from Scotland. Today was the 6th time I've run this race, which is more times than any other race I've done. Why? That's a good question. To be honest, the course isn't that great. Apart from a 1/3 mile stretch of single-track it's mostly logging roads or Jeep trails with about 3 miles of dirt road. The whole race course is a bit contrived, I don't think anyone ever says "hey, lets go for a nice run on the Muddy Moose course". Races like 7 Sisters or the Escarpment Trail Run are seriously rugged races on legitimate trails that people hike or run throughout the year, but Muddy Moose puts people on terrain that no one would ever set foot on outside of this race. That doesn't necessarily make it a bad race, if it did then I wouldn't go back almost every year along with so many other runners, including some of New England's best trail runners. The Muddy Moose seems to strike a perfect balance between absurd running conditions, good competition and the youthful joy of a good romp in the mud that people, myself included, find compelling.
photo by Josh Spaulding
On a personal competitive level I've also had a goal of breaking the 2 hour barrier at this race for a number of years:
2004 - 2:06:58
2005 - 2:02:51
2006 - injured and didn't race, Jim Dunn broke 2 hours
2007 - 2:00:35 so close!
2008 - ran the Bull Run Run the week before so didn't race
2009 - 2:14:57 the hot year
2010 - 2:07:33 under-trained
2011 - ran the Big A 50k instead
More than just about any other race course I've run this one seems to be effected by the weather (snowfall during winter and rain during spring) in ways that dramatically impact finishing times. While we all know that the early spring was unusually dry this year we had some heavy rain recently that left me uncertain about what to expect. I knew it wouldn't be as wet as some previous years so I was optimistic that the combination of a solid winter and spring of training with a somewhat dry course would add up to less than 2 hours.
I was definitely a little nervous before the race today, mostly because of my goals, but I also bumped into Michael Wade and Steve Wolfe before the race. Not that I should get too hung up on what other people are running, but they were two faces that I recognized and I was guessing that they would be shooting for a similar time as me. I haven't actually done much racing with either of them, but knowing that they are both solid 3 hour marathoners (and I am not) had me wondering if it would be wise for me to try and run with them. I took a fairly conservative position at the start, behind Steve and Michael, well behind the really fast guys (Tilton, Johnson, Freeman), and behind the pack of much younger guys who were mostly doing the 4 mile race. I really hoped to take it out easy today, but in typical gIANt style I ended up getting frustrated with the pack and kicked into a high gear pretty early.
The first 1/10th mile is on paved road, then downhill on a dirt road for a half mile before we enter the woods. Last fall there had been substantial logging in this part of the woods so the trail was nearly impossible to identify with a layer of woody debris scattered across a thick base of mud. Not long into the nastiness I found a runner coming straight at me, apparently going back to retrieve a lost shoe. I bumped shoulders with Steve as people seemed to be going every which way and that's when I decided to just go for it. Screw the pussyfooting and just blaze down the middle of the mudfest. This worked to get me through the crowd, but also had me concerned that maybe I was burning through a little too much energy too soon. I also was starting to regret pulling away from Steve and Michael, figuring it was only a matter of time before they caught back up to me and I didn't know if I'd be able to hang on once they passed.
a dry course this year?
At mile 2 the 4 and 14 mile races split off from each other and the big kids run along a stretch of dirt road for just over 1 mile. I turned my heavy wet feet over as quickly as I dared, not wanting to lose any of those places I so boldly took, but also trying to be mindful about not continuing the trend of going out too hard. As we neared the end of the dirt road my watch beeped a mile split and I looked at it for the first and only time during the race: 7:03. I wasn't sure what to do with this information, it was a flat mile on hard packed dirt road so of course it should be fast, but was that too fast? Too slow? No time to analyze, it was time to climb. 200 feet up in about 1/4 mile on a "trail" covered with slippery dry leaves. I ran what I could, but it wasn't much.
Once at the top of the escarpment I managed to get back into a run pretty quickly and the course then dropped back down about 250' in the next mile on nice dry trail. There were three runners ahead I was attempting to chase down, and another two or three right on my heels. The next 1.5 miles were a gradual climb up about 400' on terrain that was more rugged, although not too wet. Just before 5 miles the course branches off to the left where we run one side of a loop before re-joining the mostly out-and-back course. Then at about 6 miles there is a 1 mile loop that can be run in either direction and serves as the turn-around point in the race. It's also the wettest part of the course.
I've run this loop in both directions and have been part of a lot of debate about which way is faster. I chose the counter-clockwise direction which features a gradual, totally runnable up, steep technical drop, then a short gradual climb. I think this is faster than the other direction which has you running (or attempting to) up the steep part. Kevin Tilton disagrees with me, and he set a course record today so maybe he's right. Anyway, when I was roughly half way around the loop I saw two of the three guys I had been chasing coming towards me, but I had no idea if they were still ahead of me at this point, and when I exited the loop I couldn't see anyone in front of me so who knows.
I did close in on another runner who had done the loop the same direction as me, but two others came up from behind and we had a fairly tight pack as we cruised back down the long, gradual 1.5 mile hill. This part was the most fun of the entire race, but all this fast downhilling was taking a toll on my legs. When it came time to switch gears and head back uphill I had a hard time making the transition. The lead woman in the race passed me and I couldn't keep up with her running pace. Luckily I was able to hike at a pretty good clip so I didn't slip too far behind, and I managed to keep ahead of the other guy who had been chasing me down. Back up to the escarpment, too tired to think about enjoying the view, I started to stress about what was going to happen when we hit the dirt road, and then the 1.5 mile mudfest after that. Down the slippery dry leaf-covered drop I managed to pull away from my chaser, and back on the dirt road I tried to catch back up to the lead woman and the other guy ahead that she had passed.
I was putting in a tremendous effort but my legs just weren't responding the way I wanted them to. My shoes, socks and gaiters were soaking wet and caked in mud making my feet feel heavy and sluggish. Looking at my splits after the race I see that I ran the dirt road mile in 7:58 on the way back, 55 seconds slower than the way out. Of course there were 7 gnarly miles in between, but I'm not sure if that's good or not. At the time it definitely didn't feel good. Lucky for me everyone else must have been suffering as much as me because I managed to hold my position.
photo by Josh Spaulding
From the dirt road we turned back onto the mudfest trail for 1.5 miles of soggy slogging. On the way out there were probably less than 50 runners ahead of me, but on the way back I was running through mud that had been churned up by all 225 people on the way out and however many people there were ahead of me on the way back. What kept me going was the fear of an acidotic runner catching me in the final stretch of the race. Serves me right for going out too fast, but I really didn't want to drop a place after running well for most of the race.
There were several groups of volunteers along the course and I was able to gauge the distance of the runners behind me by the lapse in time between them cheering for me and the next person. It was uncomfortably close, but I didn't dare turn back to see who was there. I wasn't about to take my eyes off the mud and splintered forest debris in front of me.
When I finally came out of the woods and hit the dirt road it was only 1/2 mile of uphill "sprinting" to go. I actually managed to close in on the guy in front but didn't have enough to catch him. The combination of chasing and being chased served as great motivation throughout the race and right up to the finish. I didn't look at my watch until after I crossed the line, having absolutely no idea of what my time was going to be and I was totally surprised to see that I had broken the 2 hour barrier by a substantial amount. While there was definitely less water on the course than in some previous years the mud seemed to be just as thick and nasty as ever. I'd like to think that my time is mostly due to better training, but I can't totally discount the course conditions, and of course give credit to the other runners who motivated me from in front and behind.
photo by Deb Wolfe
time: 1:50:09
distance: 13.14 miles
pace: 8:22
place: 16/93
This high (for me) mileage thing is beginning to take a toll. Luckily I don't have any injuries or significant aches and pains (except for my little broken toe, but that doesn't count since it's not a running injury). It's not that I don't enjoy running a lot, but I'm looking forward to a few easy weeks and then getting on with the Peak 50. My last long run on Saturday at Pineland felt like hard work, tougher than any of the other 10 long runs I've had in the past 4 months (5 runs between 20 and 25 miles, 5 runs between 29 and 31 miles). In theory I should be getting stronger and the long runs should be getting easier, but as my overall mileage has increased in the past two weeks I think I'm reaching the limit of how hard/far I can push myself in training. Now I just need to rest up for the big race.
Fancy graph of my weekly mileage this year courtesy of RunningAHEAD:
I'm in a vaguely recognizable pattern of three weeks high, one week lower mileage. A few things (like a broken toe) have come up along the way to mess with my plans a little bit, but overall I'm happy with the way my training has gone over the past four months. One thing I realized is that my first three really long runs each came in a week following one of my lower mileage weeks, so I was somewhat rested going in. The 50k I ran at Blaine's 1 More Mile For Sunshine came after a 54 mile week. Saturday's long run followed a 77.4 mile week (my highest mileage training week ever), so perhaps its not surprising that I was feeling a little tired.
Saturday morning I arrived at Pineland at 7 to meet Jim and get in a few miles before joining the 8:00 crowd. We ran a shortened version of the 10k course down to the yurt and back. The weather forecast I had seen online called for temps to remain around 50 degrees all morning, overcast sky and a high chance of rain. Perfect long running weather. It was definitely cool and overcast but what I hadn't anticipated was high humidity. By the time Jim and I returned to the YMCA parking lot at 8:00 we were both soaked with sweat.
I swapped my handheld bottle for a loaded hydration pack and we set off with a large group on the 25k course. Once our group got back to the Yurt people went in all different directions as some didn't want to run the fields, others ran a modified version of the fields, while Julia, Laura and I stuck precisely to the race course. Laura cut her run a little short before returning to the Campus Loop, and Julia kept going to the Oak Hill side while I stopped off back at the car to top up my fluid and food supply. 15.5 miles down and by now the clouds were breaking, the sun was coming out and it was quickly warming up. I took off my shirt to wring out the sweat, put it back on and continued alone to the Oak Hill side.
When I got to the Gloucester Hill cut-off I saw Jim and Julia coming up the hill so I took the cut-off and joined them, although it wasn't long before Julia pulled away. Jim and I plodded along. We returned to the cars at 19.5 miles and I filled up my pack with the last of the water I had with me. I think I had gone through about 3 liters already. Jim and Julia were done for the day so I prepared to head out on my own when I bumped into Linda who was just heading out for an hour long run. Perfect timing and her company helped take my mind off the increasing heat. Not that it was particularly hot, just a lot warmer than I had planned for. We ran the complete Oak Hill loop which brought me up to a little more than 24 miles.
When we returned to the cars I was so ready to be done. My hydration pack was empty and I didn't have any more water in my car. Luckily I was able to fill a water bottle at the YMCA. After giving up 23 miles into my long run last weekend I needed to push through this one so I headed back downhill to the Yurt along the 10k race course and then struggled back uphill for the last 3 miles of my run. I didn't get enough water from the Y so I was forced to drink - and run - very conservatively to get through these last miles without bonking. I managed to keep it together but moved at a very slow pace with a lot of walking on hills I would ordinarily run.
I had hoped to get in 31 miles today, wanted to quit at 19, and when I got back to my car at 30.5 I said good e-fucking-nough.
time: 5:03:11 (stopped watch at 4 stops at the car)
distance: 30.5 miles
pace: 9:56
weather: low 50's, cloudy and humid to clear sky, near 70
I've always considered myself to be a low-mileage runner, even when training for an ultra I rarely seem to log as many miles as many other runners I know. However, for the past four and a half months I have stepped it up a little bit and have consistently averaged just over 50 miles per week, which for me is a lot. Over the past few years I have had a handful of big weeks, but I have never sustained this kind of mileage for this amount of time. It's also worth pointing out that I have quite a bit of variation in my weekly mileage, ranging from about 25 to 75 as I go through cycles of building up and recovering. Lately it seems that I have plateaued and a lot of my runs haven't been quite what I hoped for; for some runs it's speed, others distance, or just the feeling of being a bit worn down that has me feeling that my training for the Peak 50 isn't going quite as well as I'd like.
On the other hand, I'm still putting in more miles than I ever have before when training for a 50, and I've had some pretty good races so far this year. So perhaps it's my expectations that are a little out of whack. Part of this might have to do with my being more aware of what so many other people are doing for training since so many of my fellow Trail Monsters are training for spring ultras. It's great to be able to be inspired by others, but I have to be careful to run what works for me and not get caught up with other peoples plans.
Here's a summary of what I got up to in my highest mileage training week (although I didn't get in as much as I had planned). Oh yeah, I think I broke my little toe last Saturday night which lead to an unexpected rest day on Sunday 4/8.
Monday: Twin Brook - with Emma and the dogs
time: 50:37, distance: 5.8 miles, pace: 8:43
Easy paced run to test out the toe and make sure it wasn't badly damaged. There was some pain but not enough to significantly hinder my running.
Tuesday: Twin Brook - TMR TNR
time: 46:50, distance: 5.5 miles, pace: 8:34
Slightly quicker than the day before, but still a comfortable pace. Toe was still purple and swollen, and a little sore when running.
Wednesday: Roads from home
time: 2:35:00, distance: 20 miles, pace: 7:45
Since I was racing this weekend I couldn't get in back-to-back long runs so I opted for a mid-week long run, and went with roads to go easy on my toe. This was a pretty lousy run, the first 10 miles went by in 1:15 and the second 10 in 1:20. I had really hoped to maintain a consistent pace throughout but I felt crappy in the second half, even walked for a few minutes because my breathing was labored and my heart-rate felt too high. Felt pretty beat-up afterwards which I suppose is not surprising since this was my longest road run in quite a while.
Thursday: Leighton Hill - with the dogs
time: 46:15, distance: 5.25 miles, pace: 8:49
At the beginning of the week I said I was going to avoid hills and technical trails to make sure my toe had a chance to heal, so I'm not sure why I decided to head to Hardy Road and run a loop through the Skillins Tree Farm, power lines and up the first of the Three Bitches. I guess it's because the dogs like to run here. It was a fun run but my toe was a bit grumpy. My quads were pretty sore from yesterday's road run and the hills didn't help.
Friday: Roads from home
time: 43:36, distance: 5.45 miles, pace: 8:01
This was an easy road run just to try to shake out the lingering soreness from Wednesday's long run. Felt good apart from the tightness in my quads.
Saturday: Merrimack River Trail Race
time: 1:12:17, distance: 9.37 miles, pace: 7:42 (plus ~3 miles of warm-up and cool-down)
Ran a good race and got a course PR by nearly 3 minutes (previous best 1:15:05 in 2009). My legs still didn't feel as fresh as I would have liked, but at least my toe wasn't an issue. Definitely lacked strength on the uphills which come in the middle of the out-and-back course. After running right around a 7 minute pace for the first 3 miles I slowed on the hills in miles 4 and 5 and then pretty much hit a wall during mile 6 when I ran a 10:03 mile. I think the hills are steeper on the way back than on the way out, but still... I couldn't climb. It was hard to get my pace back down for the flat finish but did manage to get it close to 7 minutes for the last 1.37 miles. Finished 22/240 which I'm pretty happy with. I can't help but wonder if I could have gone a little faster had I not done the 20 mile road run in the middle of the week, but this wasn't my goal race so it's all good training for the 50 miler.
Sunday: Falmouth Trails - with Jeremy and Tyler
time: 4:16:21 , distance: 23.19 miles, pace: 11:04
My plan was to run 25-30 miles, but decided I'd go with what felt right rather than trying to get the numbers for my training log. I definitely wasn't feeling fresh when I met Jeremy and Tyler at 7AM, although I was pleased not to have any significant soreness after the race, just not super perky. Jeremy had a pretty sadistic plan for 35 miles that would take in all of Falmouth's best hills and gnarliest terrain. The first part of our run was a nearly 12 mile loop that brought us back to our cars for refueling. The second part of the run turned out to be an 11 mile loop, mostly on snomo trails that were new to us. With warm temps and big hills I was sweating a lot and drinking more than I was used to, and as a result ran out of water around mile 21. Jeremy tried to get me to refill my pack and go out for a few more miles but when we returned to the cars at 23 miles I felt ready to stop. My energy level was actually pretty good, my biggest concern was that after running 2 miles without any fluids I was in a state of hydration deficit that would be hard to come back from if I kept going. Maybe I would have been fine to keep running once I drank, but I decided that I'd rather end the week feeling good instead of running myself into the ground and needing to take more time to recover afterwards. The little toe was definitely complaining about the technical terrain, but it really doesn't effect my running. Tyler had turned back around 17 miles, to finish off with about 20, and Jeremy continued on for another 12+ miles after I stopped.
I came very close to hitting a total of 80 miles this week, but I'm glad that I decided to listen to my body instead of becoming a slave to the numbers. 77+ miles is still a lot for me.
Today we celebrated the culmination of Blaine's 1 More Mile For Sunshine challenge: part fundraiser for Camp Sunshine, part "let's see if I can run 500 miles in one month." Being the 31st of the month Blaine was looking for company during his 31 mile run (after having run mileage at least matching the calendar date all month long) so he created a Fat Ass 50k event. A lot of people showed up with various distance plans ranging from 10k all the way up to 50k. I hoped to get in the full distance but wasn't feeling 100% and wasn't sure how I'd feel once I put in a few hours of running. The course Blaine came up with was a mix of road, beach, bushwhack, trailer park and hard packed double-track, over generally flat terrain.
Since the course wasn't marked prior to our start most of the group moved along at Blaine's (thankfully slow for him) pace, although the group of slower runners behind us found the sparse marking hard to follow. My plan was to start out slow and easy and try to pick the pace up a bit in the second half of the run. The first lap definitely felt like a very easy pace, especially with a handful of short stops along the way for everyone to regroup. I was carrying my Nathan pack with plenty of food and drink so there wasn't much need for me to take time at the aid station between laps, just graze the table for what looked good.
About 2 miles into the second lap I felt the need for a bio-break, then ran hard to catch up with the group. I was reminded of the importance of eating right the day before, not just quality but also quantity. A few years ago I learned that carbo-loading the day before a long run is more likely to result in extra pit stops than extra energy during the run, but for some reason I didn't follow that plan before today's run. One too many burritos.
On the third lap our group had thinned quite a bit, and we picked up Alan who is notorious for pushing the pace. This resulted in my quickest lap time of the day, but at the time it felt pretty good and I hoped to be able to keep that pace up for the rest of the run. Jeremy and Zak made a very quick transition into lap 4 and Alan and I ran hard to catch up with the two of them. I caught up to Zak and Alan went on to chase down Jeremy, but it wasn't long before I felt the need to make another stop. It was a slow walk to the out-house, and then took me a little while to get back into a rhythm once I started running again. Definitely not feeling right on the inside, but my legs were ready to move. If I subtracted out the pit-stop this probably would have been my fastest lap of the day.
By the time I started the 5th and final lap I was starting to feel a bit tired, overall my energy wasn't great and my stomach still felt a little off. I had brief thoughts about trying to catch up to Zak but I really wasn't in the mood for pushing the pace. I just cruised along at what felt "comfortable" knowing that I was slowing down a bit. At least I didn't have to make any stops during this lap.
Lap splits (excluding stops between laps which ranged from 1-4 minutes):
Lap 1 - 58:00
Lap 2 - 57:00
Lap 3 - 52:00
Lap 4 - 54:30
Lap 5 - 55:00
All in all it was another good long training run. Fun while I had company to run with and a good mental and physical test when I was running alone for most of the last two laps. Congratulations to Blaine for completing the 1 More Mile Challenge!
Enjoying a post-run adult beverage
time: 4:45:21
distance: 30.39 miles
pace: 9:27
weather: low 40's, sunny
gear: Inov-8 Roclite 295, socks, capris, long sleeve shirt, gloves, hat, Nathan HPL #020
I was a little disappointed that Zak and I didn't manage to get in a full 31 miles last Saturday so I decided to get out in the middle of the week for another long run in what I hoped would be better conditions. I didn't have the whole day free so I headed out in the afternoon from home and planned to attempt three laps of the "Jungle Run". The Jungle run is a loop that James (next door neighbor) came up with from our houses that starts and finishes with about 1.5 miles of road on each end, and has a solid chunk of gnarly trail terrain in the middle. The exact distance of the loop seems to vary each time we run it because there are so many trail options out there, so it ends up being anywhere from 8.5 to 10.5 miles. I planned to shoot for laps that would be about 10 miles each.
This loop also has some pretty decent elevation change, and it's where James did a lot of his training for Barkley (and other ultras) so this run seemed like a good punishing workout. To the best of my knowledge no one had ever attempted three laps, James and I (and Zak and Jeremy) have all done 2 laps. Even though I had my house as an aid station 10 miles is still a pretty long way between stops so I had to carry a fair amount of fluid and snacks to sustain me on the loops. Not knowing exactly what to expect for conditions I wasn't sure how long each lap would take. I had been out on some of these trails at the beginning of the week and found a few icy spots so I planned my route to avoid some of the worst ice that I knew was still out there. I had post-holed early in the week and slightly hyperextended my left knee, another reason I wasn't feeling 100% confident in being able to complete all three laps.
the first trail section from Hillside Ave
the gas line roller coaster
My first lap turned out to be a little less than 10 miles, and for the sake of consistency I decided to keep each of my laps on the exact same route so I could compare my splits for each lap and see how much I slowed down. I was pleasantly surprised to find the trails in pretty good condition, only a few icy spots, plenty of mud, but enough dry stretches to allow for some fairly consistent running. After the first lap I stopped at home long enough to change into dry shoes, pick up another gel and Honey Stinger wafer.
snomo trails in Blackstrap Preserve
the power lines at the edge of Blackstrap Preserve
deep water in some places
Skillins tree farm
nice dry trails along Blackstrap ridge
As I neared the end of the second lap, coming down Blackstrap Road, I saw Nathan running up the road towards me. I had told him I'd be doing this run today and invited him to come along for part of it but since he didn't know the loop I didn't expect him to find me. But luckily his timing was good and he found me not far from home. It was nice to have his company on the third lap and his presence helped keep me slowing down.
the Three Bitches, from the top of Bitch #1
power line mud
big puddles good for washing off the mud
pretty sloppy
I was really happy to be able to keep my pace consistent throughout with only about a 1.5 minute variation in my lap times. I have to admit though that this is partly attributed to stopping to take most of the pictures in the first lap, then running the last one without stopping.
splits: 1:33:28, 1:34:54, 1:34:50
time: 4:55:51
distance: 29.2 miles
pace: 10:12
elevation: 4028' gain
weather: upper 30's/low 40's
conditions: Lots of mud, a few icy spots, plenty of dry spots
gear: Inov-8 Roclite 295 (lap 1), X-Talon 212 (laps 2-3), socks, shorts, long sleeve shirt, gloves, hat, Nathan HPL #020
