2010 Wasatch 100 Race Report
The Wasatch 100 is a big, bad mountain race. It covers 100 miles, point to point, from Kaysville, Utah to the finish at Midway, Utah. Along the way, it has climbs totaling over 26,000 feet. That’s five miles worth of vertical ascent, and about the same amount of descent. It’s a bruiser! There were things I knew about the race going in. I knew about the first 18 miles of the course, including the section called Chinscraper, which climbs over 4,000 between mile five and mile ten. I knew that there was a lot more climbs after this. But, I decided that I didn’t want to get caught up in too much worrying about this part and that part. So, I decided that I’d just take the rest of the course as it came. I’ve been working on living in the moment more, lately. I’ve adopted the theory of “think like a dog”. My dog doesn’t have regrets about things that happened yesterday. He doesn’t wish he was somewhere else today. He doesn’t have worries about what may or may not happen tomorrow. He lives in the moment.
As usual, I got a pretty lousy night’s sleep before the race. I may have slept for 4 hours. It seemed like I was awake periodically during most of it. No matter. I’ve learned that it’s not that important. Nerves and adrenaline were plenty to keep me going for now. The race starts at 5:00 am. At 4:00, I boarded the bus in downtown Salt Lake for the 40 minute bus ride to the start. Most of the other runners were pretty quiet. A few chatted with their seat mates.
I checked in at the start and said hi to a few runners I knew. I also met Chihping Fu, a California runner who I had come to know through the ultra list, but had never met before. This would be his third running at Wasatch. The countdown started and without much fanfare, about 250 runners set off. I stayed in a very comfortable pace for the the first 4 miles, until the big climb started. I had a long way to go and a fairly long time (36 hours) to get there. My plan was to stay within my training. Busting out a big move on this course could easily lead to a DNF (did not finish). My first goal is always to finish these things. Today, my secondary goal was to break 30 hours, and get the fancier belt buckle. I had a pacing chart for a 29 hour finish.
The first climb came and it was a grunt! I got into a good smooth hiking pace that I could maintain. I had to work on my breathing and controlling my heart rate a few times. As we approached the summit near 10,000 feet, we started to see some snow. Just an inch or so had fallen, but sometimes it made for slippery footing as hundreds of runners had packed it down into a bit of an icy film. At last, the top was in sight and we turned onto a jeep road for the next several miles to Frances Peak aid station. It was positively surreal on top. The clouds and fog were closed in and visibility was only a hundred yards, at times. Just as I reached Frances at mile 18.6, the clouds opened up and the views were amazing! Pretty much the entire course had incredible views. Much of the time, the trail traversed high ridges where one could see both east and west at the same time. Some of the views of Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake itself were just unbelievable! I arrived at Frances Peak around 5 hours. This was about an hour behind my 30 hour plan. Oh well! Think like a dog. Stay in the moment.
Next section covers a few miles of jeep road, then turns onto a trail. I call this a trail, but it’s hardly that at all. I’ve seen deer trails that were much better defined. On the climb up to Bountiful B aid station, the trail was crazy. At times, it was so overgrown, you could hardly see the 6” wide dirt path below. It would dead end at a huge, 5 foot wide fallen tree, which we would have to climb over. The climbs were short, but incredibly steep. It was lush in these little canyons, just over grown with low scrub, big conifers and giant aspen. It was beautiful, but tough. I remember my pacer, Bob, telling me to remember this section. He said it would be very difficult, but to remember that the rest of the course was NOT like this. Good thing.
More rolling ups and downs brought me thorough the next aid station and up high to another wonderful, high ridge section. The two sided views were awe inspiring and the trail was smooth and buttery! There was a great section of about 4 miles of this undulating, smooth trail into the Swallow Rocks aid station. Swallow Rocks had good soup and Popsiciles! Yum! I motored out after a 10 minute stop (too long). Big Mountain, at mile 39 was the next aid station. Overall, I had been moving fairly well, not fast but not slow. My energy was good and consistent and my hydration and electrolytes seemed to be working perfectly. So it went into the next aid stop. As I came in, it was like a huge party! People were screaming and ringing cow bells. I even heard a vuvuzela, the loud, annoying plastic horns they blew at the soccer World Cup.
I left Big Mountain anticipating a couple of short climbs and a 5 mile downhill. It wasn’t really going to be that way, though. The two climbs were about as depicted on my elevation chart. But, the downhill seemed to come…and then become another climb, over and over again. It was maddening! At one point, I just needed some help. I had been running mostly alone through the race. I sat down out of the wind, pulled out some food (I think I was bonking from lack of calories) and called my wife. Smart woman that she is, she told me to eat. She asked me what the view looked like. I told her it was amazing. She told me that there were two experienced runners at mile 53 waiting for me. All I had to do was get there and I’d be fine. So, we said goodbye and off I went. Problem was, I didn’t know if I could get my sorry butt to mile 53. I was at mile 42 and Things were pretty rough. I really had no choice but to get to the next aid station, so I kept moving. Even on the downhills, I just couldn’t get a run (or a jog) going. I went through the process of evaluating dropping. I just didn’t think that I could maintain anything better than a brisk walk for any length of time. Hiking in the last 58 miles was not an appealing option. I’ve been in this spot enough to know that it would likely pass. I had to get to the next aid station, anyway. I’d get there and then decide what to do. Finally, Alexander Spring appeared.
I got a bowl of three bean soup (kind of like chili) and ate. My other problem was that it was almost dark. My other light and batteries were 5 miles away. The light I had form the morning had weak batteries. If they gave out part way through, I was screwed. I imagined standing in the dark, and scaring the crap out of some other runner who came along, and asking if I could share their light with them. Instead, I asked if they had any batteries at Alexander Spring. They offered me a flash light that another runner had left there an hour earlier. They said to just leave it at the next stop and send it to lost and found. I was back in the game. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in the game, but I had no excuse. I picked up some energy from eating and put on a good speed walk. I met up with a couple of other runners and Keith Straw (known as Tutu Man). Keith is known far and wide because he runs virtually all of his races in a pink tutu and pink shirt. He even has a small fairy wand. He has run Badwater in this get up. I have no idea why he does this. But, I do know that everyone seems to get a big smile when they see him and he’s one hell of a runner. He was aiming to finish Wasatch to complete the Grand Slam of ultrarunning, finishing four tough, mountain 100’s within a 14 week period. So, the four of us power walked the 5 miles up and over to Lamb’s Canyon, where I would meet my pacers.
I arrived at Lamb’s sort of wanting to just go home. But, I couldn’t really bring myself to tell these guys who were total strangers to me, that I just wasn’t into it. Like the good pacers and experienced runners they were, they asked me how I was doing. I said I was not doing so well. They immediately sort of dismissed it and got down to diagnostics. Was I drinking? Yes. Eating? Yeah, mostly. Was I peeing? Yes. Okay then, what do you want to eat before we leave? This was a pivotal point in the race for me.
Mark would take me up and over the first climb. I think it was about 2,500 feet of climb and then a big descent to the other side. It was so nice to have some company! Almost immediately, I felt so much better, had so much more energy. We hiked steady up the climb, even passing a couple of others. The trees in the deep canyon were huge. Giant aspens would loom at the edge of my head lamp, then disappear into the night sky. We ran some of the downhill sections, but mostly kept a brisk walk. When we got to the bottom of the trail, we hit the asphalt for three miles of uphill to the next stop. It was COLD in the bottom of that canyon. I later learned that the temperature had dipped to 23 degrees. I was also getting sleepy, from the obvious effects of 19 hours on my feet. I had to stop a few times, just to try to clear the fatigue from my mind. We made it into Millcreek and met up with Bob. After unsuccessfully trying to warm up in the car, we headed up to the check point and sat in front of the heater. A few minutes did the trick. Combined with some food, I was ready to go. I bid farewell to “Jeff”. We had had some great discussions on building and other things. Doh! His name was Mark! Man, was I really that out of it, or just forgetful? I apologized to Mark.
Enter Bob Adler, rock star pacer. Bob was simply amazing. He knew every turn, every climb. At one point, he said “Watch out for holes along this area, there are some marmots and things up here.” I looked down and said, “There’s a hole now”. It was uncanny. I could not have asked for a better pacer to help me through the run. I should mention that I never met Bob before the race. He saw my posting on the race website, looking for a pacer to help with the night hours. He graciously offered to pace me for most of the last half. I have rarely met nicer people in other walks of life. Ultrarunners are really something special!
I was beginning to come to grips with the fact that I may not finish before the cut off time of 36 hours. At my average pace of 20 minute miles, it was a prayer, at best. But I didn’t mention it. I would just ask about the cut offs for Brighton (mile 75). It was 10:00 am. That left 7 hours to cover 25 miles. Simple, yes? Well, no… not at 3 miles per hour.
Bob brought me through the darkness, keeping me eating, keeping me drinking, keeping me up on caffeine. We arrived at Scott’s Pass just as the sun was rising. It was just beautiful! I had some hot chocolate, ate some food and we headed for the long downhill into Brighton. As we jogged, we discussed the pace and what was to come. There was a big climb after Brighton. But, the sun was now up and with it I was getting a nice boost from the second sunrise. They had hot food, specifically potato pancakes (hash browns) at Brighton.
As we came into Brighton, I had resigned myself to the fact that I was probably not going to have time to finish. As I sat there, I watched runners quit. I watched them shuffle off with blankets wrapped around them. The volunteers kept saying that I needed to get out of there. They would say. “See that girl over there. Stay with her. She has left here at 8:30 and finished. She knows how to do it.” I don’t know why, but I shoved the hash browns in, I drank a chocolate milk and told Bob, “I’m leaving. I’ll see you up the trail when you get there.” I think he was startled. My line of discussion had been about not being able to make it. It’s funny how total strangers start telling you things and you just do it. I think I just didn’t want to try to tell these people some lame excuse why I couldn’t do it. I think they would have said something like, “Nonsense. Others have done it. Why can’t you?” They would have been right.
The next 15 miles were just a brutal slog. There were occasional good stretches. I got my running gear back periodically. But, the climbs were killers. Bob would describe them in advance. “This one sucks. I won’t lie to you. Just keep moving and don’t stop. You don’t have to move fast. Just keep moving.” Then, he would say, “We have to run this downhill. Can you do it? Let’s run this next ½ mile.” My energy would come and go. Finally, just before Rock Springs (at around mile 88) I hit a wall, literally. There was a long climb to a small pass we could see in the distance. It just would not end! My energy was through the floor. I would eat a gel, or some food, with almost no effect. Bob finally suggested I take an ibuprofen, which I never do in races. The chance of kidney damage just seems to outweigh any potential benefit it provides. He suggested that one would not be a big deal I agreed, so I took one. It definitely helped, after a few minutes. Combined with eating some more food at Rock Springs, I was coming back around.
I’ll interject here a little fact from the pre-race meeting. The RD said that after 15 years of keeping statistics, they could estimate a runner’s finish time by when they left each aid station. “In fact”, he said, “we can project your finish time plus or minus five minutes, when you leave Brighton.” I later learned that when I left Rock Springs, my projected finish time was 5:43 pm, or 43 minutes after the allotted time. This was not information I needed to know. Happily, I didn’t hear this until later.
Leaving Rock Springs, we started running and walking. Bob said we would be coming to a steep downhill called the Dive. I’d heard about the Dive before. It is a long, very steep downhill. It’s loose, it’s rocky, it’s very hard to run. Bob said, “If you’re going to make it, we need to run this. It’s ugly, but we’ve got to run it” We turned a corner and he pointed above his head, in a downward motion and called out “Dive!” He took off. I followed. It was nuts! It was dusty, so dusty that I often couldn’t see from the dust Bob kicked up. The trail was a rut, about 12” wide and about 10” deep. At the bottom of the rut was 5-6” of fine dust, mixed with rocks, fist sized and smaller. It was controlled falling, absolutely chaotic. But, I ran. I ran fast. I turned my legs over just to stay upright. It felt fantastic! I didn’t run stuff like this this fast in training. Hell, I didn’t even run stuff like this at all. I decided that this was exactly what training was for. I smiled. I hooted. I got angry. I was NOT going to run for 100 miles and miss the deadline to finish. I did NOT come here to DNF. I was going to run like hell! This was the final ‘rising from the dead’ for me.
We came to the next big drop, called the Plunge. It was just the same. It was crazy footing, loose and rocky. We would see some other runners and Bob would say, “Let’s catch them” I would say “Yeah, let’s go. Let’s go!” We passed several other runners on this stretch. They looked startled that we were moving at that speed, especially at the back of the pack. Bob said that we had to have two hours form Pot Bottom (mile 93.4) to make the finish. He said we had 1.5 miles to go to Pot Bottom. We made a plan to get in and out quick and he took off ahead of me to prepare. It was a race. It was a race with the clock. It was all or nothing. Coming in at 36:01 was failure. Coming in under 36 hours was success. I changed my clothes (I’d been wearing tights since the start and it was hot!) and left my pack for Bob to fill with water and gel and started up the last major hill. It was 3:10 pm, less than two hours to go.
Bob caught up and we briskly hiked the hill for 1.7 miles. We passed a few runners, including an older Japanese man and his young pacer. He looked very rough and was moving very slowly. We hit the downhill and I opened it up. We ran. We ran fast! It was a nice open jeep road, although pretty rocky. It reminded me of one of my local training runs that I’d done many times. I probably overestimated it, but I would guess we were running 9-10 pace on this long downhill. I felt like I was just flying. We passed 7-8 runners. Some would turn in disbelief. One asked if we had just started the race. We didn’t have much of a cushion to finish, if any. There was no stopping. There would be no denying a finish!
We entered the final gamble oak section. We saw some people at an intersection that said “One mile”. To which Bob replied, “No, one mile to the road. Then, one more mile of pavement.” Holy crap, it was close! No letting up. We continued to run, although not quite as fast. We hit the road. We made the last mile. We turned the corner down the grass for the last 100 yards to the finish. I turned to Bob and said, “Let’s run it in fast.” I picked it up and crossed the line. 35 hours and 46 minutes! Bob had dropped off to the side, I suppose to let me take in the ‘glory’ for myself. In retrospect, I would have insisted that he cross with me. My ability to finish was in no small part due to his efforts. There was NO way that I would have made it without his course knowledge, prodding and good company. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to both Mark and Bob for their help in getting me to the finish.
We joked along the way that if I was going to be so close to the cut off, I should really try to be DFL (dead f*#@ing last). I missed that honor by three places. The honor of last place went to the Japanese man, who we had passed at mile 95. I don’t know how he pulled it together. We had passed several people in that last 6 miles, and he was the one I thought least likely to finish. He proved me wrong. He crossed the line with less than 90 seconds to spare, and to a huge round of applause. He is 64 years old.
People often ask why I run 100 mile races, or even longer. I think that the best answer I’ve come up with is that I do it for the adventure. Everyone loves a good adventure story, a good adventure movie. A good adventure story is one in which you never know how it will end. Running tough 100 mile runs, such as this, is the closest I’ve come to living one of these great adventure stories. I plan, I scheme, I think about what it will be like. I reach huge highs, I bottom out in the lowest of lows. I learn all kinds of life lessons that are sometimes hard to come by.
Occasionally stripping away all of the trappings of everyday life shows me who I really am. To quote (paraphrase) Ephraim Romesberg, a fellow ultrarunner, “You start with all these lofty goals…Then, you get to the point, where I am now, when the best you can hope for is to not throw up on your own shoes.” To pull yourself out of a spot like that, and turn it around to make some sort of success out of it is a pretty rewarding experience. This makes it a lot easier to deal with most of the small annoyances of daily life and gives me the knowledge that I can handle the big stuff.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Badwater 2010
The Experience
Wow. I don’t know where to start. Running Badwater was the most amazing outdoor experience of my life. I’ve run rivers, I skied big mountains, I’ve snowboarded big peaks in Alaska. It all pales in comparison. I’ve always lived by the motto “collect experiences, not things”. This is truly one of the best experiences of my life. Suffice it to say that when this story is written, it will probably not sufficiently convey the overwhelming joy, satisfaction and emotion that I experienced out there.
My crew was fantastic. They were always on top of the situation. They knew when to keep me in the know, and when to not tell me what I didn’t need to know. Apparently, the van would not start at one point. I’m very glad that I was never informed of it until the finish. My crew consisted of five people, then later six!
Crew Chief was my good friend Scooter Jones. He was, as always, an incredibly giving source of inspiration. He is also a massage therapist, and former Paramedic/ EMT. The medical side wasn’t necessary. But, the CMT skills were invaluable to stay loosened up. He is a always a ray of sunshine and a source of amazing positive energy.
Other crew members include Mandy Miller, who I had only met briefly at Rocky Raccoon, in February and have known through email conversations. Mandy was a great pacer. She seemed to know just when to keep me going in conversation and when to just let me keep moving quietly. She lit a great fire under me, encouraging me to catch the “Pinklings” (Team Moeben).
Brian Harvey was a crew member who I had never met before the race. Brain turned out to be one of my favorite people of the whole experience. He is amazingly positive and motivating. I felt like it was the start of a new race, whenever he came out to pace. He would pump me up, telling me how well I had done the previous section and what I should be shooting for over the next section.
Heath Johnson and Stephanie Day came to the crew as a couple. I have known Stephanie for a few years, as we have run into each other at several races and spent several hours running together and talking. She would regale me with stories for long periods of time and keep it light with a great sense of humor. Heath was great, too. He was great as a pacer and always on the ball, handing off supplies. Heath is also a great source of levity, cracking jokes all the time.
My final crew member was my wife, Paige. Her duty was to man the home front, with my daughter. As you will see later, there was a small problem with this plan. Suffice it to say that she put up with a lot. My mind was often in the desert and not always focused for the weeks leading up to the race. She was very patient with me.
The Race
The race events began the day before. We had attended the race meeting. It was sweltering hot in the auditorium. The AC was on. But, in a matter of minutes, the 500 people in there had simply overwhelmed it. After an hour, I went outside to use the bathroom. The 120 outside temps felt absolutely cooling after the stifling heat and humidity inside. We had a crew meeting. Really, we had a crew meeting all day. Everyone really wanted to do the best they possibly could to help me. It was fantastic. But, after an entire day of questions, I was mentally fried. We had dinner at the restaurant and then retired to our rooms. By 9:30, I was in bed fast asleep. Sadly, I woke up at 11:20 pm. I laid there for the rest of the night, thinking about how badly I really needed a good night’s sleep. It never came. It was not an ideal way to start a race that would likely last for two days.
At 7:30 am, we rolled to the start line at Badwater. It was electric. Everybody was pumped up, crews, runners, race officials. We snapped a group picture at the Badwater sign and a young woman sang the National Anthem, amazingly well, I might add. At 8:00, we were off! I started very slowly at a jog. I mixed in some walking every 5-10 minutes. This was going to be a very long race and I had no business going out like a shot. My main strategy was to keep as cool as possible and keep myself healthy and hydrated. I planned to be at Furnace Creek (mile 17) around 3:30-4:00 hours. I made it in exactly four hours. Next up, the Highway To Hell, 25 miles to Stovepipe Wells, in the hottest part of the day. The temp at Furnace Creek was near 118. It was noon.
The next section is where I began with my pacers. One of the crew would come out and run with me for a few miles, then switch off with another. Our basic plan was for me to drink a 20 oz. bottle of water (heavily iced) every mile. This equated to about every 15 minutes. I was taking an S!cap (electrolyte capsule) every 30 minutes. When I was weighed, I was always within 1-1.5 pounds of my starting weight. This indicated that hydration and electrolytes were perfectly balanced. As the heat really started to bake, my crew would place an ice bandana around my neck, sometimes a fresh one every mile. The other thing that helped to keep cool was misting with a sprayer. But, the really big thing was to drape a wet scarf around my head. I was given a large piece of wicking fabric at racer check-in, by the girls at Moeben. It was about 18” wide and 6 feet long. The crew would stick it in a bag of ice water, then wring it out and drape it around my head and shoulders. It made HUGE difference in how cool I felt. The temperature definitely topped 120 on the first day. One person from another crew said he saw 131 degrees. I don’t have any verification. But, it was damn hot!
All went well until around the sand dunes at mile 36. I had turned the corner and the wind was now coming from the side and in front. I suddenly started feeling very over heated. I spent a few minutes (maybe more like 20?) sitting down in the shade of the van and trying to cool down. It took a few stops over the miles, but I managed to get comfortable again. I made it to Stovepipe Wells (mile 42) around 11:30 into the race. That was about an hour slower than I had hoped. And I think I lost that whole hour from mile 36 on. On arriving, I changed into my swim trunks and jumped in the pool. Sweet relief!
When we left Stovepipe eating an ice cream sandwich. It was after 8:00 pm, 12 hours into the race and the sun had set. It was 112 degrees and the wind was head on at about 20 miles per hour. It was brutally drying. I had to constantly shoot small amounts of water in my mouth and down my throat, just to keep it moist. Ahead lay 17 miles of climbing to the top of Townes Pass. I was not running, but walking this section. I was apparently walking well, as I passed about 10-12 runners during the climb. It took seven hours to cover that 17 miles. Uggh! How can such a seemingly brisk walking pace be so slow? I reached the top of the pass and sat for a few minutes and tried to sleep, to no avail. I had also tried at mile 47 also, but sleep would not come. How could I be on two hours of sleep in the last 40 hours and not sleep?
Next up, 13 miles across the Panamint Valley to Panamint Springs at mile 72. The first 9 miles were all downhill. Brian and I started running down. It was wonderful for a few miles. Then, the grade got so steep it was difficult to run without having to brake every step. I didn’t want to push my legs so hard, so early in the race. So, we kept a quick walk. At times, it was so steep, it even was difficult to walk without really working the quads. By 7:23 am, we had reached Panamint Springs. I sat in a chair and had some food, while the crews changed shift. 23 hours to cover 72 miles was an absolutely pathetic pace. But, physically I was in good shape. No aches, a few pains, but generally good. I think that a severe lack of sleep was probably what led to my very slow pace.
Stephanie came with me to start the climb up to Father Crowley point. The initial climb is about 8 miles, gaining over 4,000 feet of elevation. The climb was steep, but the views back down the course were spectacular! We again passed a few runners. This was Stephanie’s hill. She would not give up pacing duties until I reached the top of the major climb. We moved well, at a brisk walk. The road was very narrow, with almost no shoulder. There were a few tense moments, as huge tour buses would come around a blind corner. With a guard rail on one side, there was no where else to go. Things went well and the day heated up again. Around mile 82, I had a serious case of heat and sleep deprivation hit me. I came to the van, sort of semi-babbling. “I need shade. Is the van cool? Is there a breeze in there? I need ice! I’m really tired” Scooter put my calves on ice and I laid down in the van, with my legs elevated. I tried again to sleep. After 15 minutes, I heard Scooter snoring. Damn, why can he sleep and not me? I sat up and ate an orange and drank a big bottle of ice water. I was good. It was time to go. I went for another couple of hours to the mile 90 check point, arriving at 2:14 pm.
The next section was downhill, for 32 miles. It was time to get some good running in. Rock star Brian came out to pace a good portion of this section. We started moving well, again. He afternoon was hot, but very tolerable compared to the heat of the valley the day before. I would guess it was around 105-110. Occasional clouds really helped. Between Brian’s coaxing and Mandy being determined to catch the Pinklings (Team Moeben), I made some reasonably good time over the next 10 miles. Then came the shocker of the trip. I looked up as I approached the van around mile 105. My mind couldn’t connect the dots. There was someone who REALLY looked like my wife. But no, Paige was at home. Wait, that’s the shirt that my wife always wears. No, it must be some other runner wearing a shirt form that race. NO…no. That’s Paige! My wife was there, running across the road to me! What an amazing surprise! She had been planning it for a few weeks. She took a flight to LA, rented a car and drove up to meet me and the crew. I was buzzing for the next 10 miles! She took turns with the others running with me, as we headed toward Lone Pine at mile 122.
The early evening was great. I was really enjoying talking with all of the crew, as they came out and took turns running and walking with me. I probably got complacent and just kept walking much of the time, when I could have been running. But, I was just having such a good time! Scooter came out with me for the last two miles into Lone Pine. Scooter is not a runner. But, it sure was nice to be out with him. During the entire race, he never once left the van, faithful and dedicated Crew Chief that he was. He also provided excellent quick tune ups with massage, whenever my legs would tighten up. We cruised into Lone Pine , arriving at around 1:30 am. A chair, a chicken sandwich, a Coke and a little foot massage. Ahhhhh!
So, here we sit in Lone Pine. It’s 1:30 am, I’ve got a brutal 13 mile climb to go, covering around 5,000 feet of climb. I’ve got 6 ½ hours to get under 48 hours and get a buckle. I vow that the RD will NOT put my buckle in a box for next year. Off we go! As we leave town, I see a runner ahead. He is listing badly to one side. I’ve seen it before. The body just gets out of alignment and they tilt to one side. It was Art Webb. This will be Art’s 13th finish at Badwater. I believe he is in his late 60’s. The man is made of steel! I decide that we will pass him. Time to pick up a couple of places. We go by, and I wish him well and congratulate him. The problem is, he doesn’t know that I’m feeling better than him and that he should be behind me. In a few miles, he’s ahead again and stays there. Geez, these old guys are tough! He pretty much kicked my butt on that ill, lean and all.
That hill was brutal! Just when I thought we were through the toughest part of the climb, we hit the switch backs. They were even steeper. There were times when each step was like lifting up to climb a stair. I hit the 131 mile mark, as I pased Dan Marinsik. Dan is a multiple finisher at Badwater. He was having a rough go, but was not stopping. I may have been moving slow, but I was in some great company. I was feeling very humbled and honored to be climbing to the finish with the likes of these two.
The final miles, the sun was starting to rise behind the mountains to the east, behind the mountains I had just run across. Three huge valleys separated me from the start. This was my third sunrise since the race had begun. It had been long, but it had been an unbelievable adventure. There was some confusion with the mileage near the end. At one point, it was 1.5 miles to go. Yes! Then, it was two miles to go. WTF?! My wife tried to tell me, “It’s really just…” I cut her off. “Nobody tell me how far anything is. I don’t want to know. I’m just going.” I was fried. Mentally, I was just incapable of anything but going forward. I was literally on the verge of tears for the last mile or two. All I could do was to bite my lip and move. Just move, damn it! The mountain was incredible. The huge granite slabs were towering over us. I noticed. I tried to appreciate. But, I had to focus forward. Finally, the finish was there! I made sure that my crew was there with me. But, at the last minute, I surged forward ahead of them. I really wanted to cross simultaneously. I could never have gotten there without all the help of everyone who was there with me. But, I just couldn’t take it. I had to be done!
I crossed the line and practically collapsed on my wife’s shoulder. I was wasted. I could not hold back. I sobbed on her shoulder out of relief, out of gratefulness, out of a sense that it was over. Although it was a long standing dream for many years, it was a huge relief to be done, to not have to think about the race, water, time, anymore. We gathered everyone together for the obligatory photos. I got a big, shiny belt buckle. I embraced each of my crew and thanked them as best I could, trying hard not to burst into tears. Again.
The Aftermath
Once again, I have to give so many thanks to my crew: Scooter Jones, Brian Harvey, Mandy Miller, Heath Johnson, Stephanie Day and my fantastic wife, Paige. People overuse the phrase ‘couldn’t have done it without you’. But, in this case, it is completely true. I am so humbled that these people would come out to this desolate, unbelievably hot, forbidding place and give several days of their time, and spend their own money traveling there, to help someone who was, to most, a stranger. I am eternally grateful to all of them.
Several days have passed now. I am still just overwhelmed with what a fantastic, unbelievable, almost surreal experience it was. Scooter described it as being “one long National Geographic moment.” I would have to agree. I simply can not find adequate words to describe what an amazing, fulfilling experience it was to run Badwater. I’ve always lived by the motto, “collect experiences, not things”. This was, by far, one of the best experiences of my life.
The Experience
Wow. I don’t know where to start. Running Badwater was the most amazing outdoor experience of my life. I’ve run rivers, I skied big mountains, I’ve snowboarded big peaks in Alaska. It all pales in comparison. I’ve always lived by the motto “collect experiences, not things”. This is truly one of the best experiences of my life. Suffice it to say that when this story is written, it will probably not sufficiently convey the overwhelming joy, satisfaction and emotion that I experienced out there.
My crew was fantastic. They were always on top of the situation. They knew when to keep me in the know, and when to not tell me what I didn’t need to know. Apparently, the van would not start at one point. I’m very glad that I was never informed of it until the finish. My crew consisted of five people, then later six!
Crew Chief was my good friend Scooter Jones. He was, as always, an incredibly giving source of inspiration. He is also a massage therapist, and former Paramedic/ EMT. The medical side wasn’t necessary. But, the CMT skills were invaluable to stay loosened up. He is a always a ray of sunshine and a source of amazing positive energy.
Other crew members include Mandy Miller, who I had only met briefly at Rocky Raccoon, in February and have known through email conversations. Mandy was a great pacer. She seemed to know just when to keep me going in conversation and when to just let me keep moving quietly. She lit a great fire under me, encouraging me to catch the “Pinklings” (Team Moeben).
Brian Harvey was a crew member who I had never met before the race. Brain turned out to be one of my favorite people of the whole experience. He is amazingly positive and motivating. I felt like it was the start of a new race, whenever he came out to pace. He would pump me up, telling me how well I had done the previous section and what I should be shooting for over the next section.
Heath Johnson and Stephanie Day came to the crew as a couple. I have known Stephanie for a few years, as we have run into each other at several races and spent several hours running together and talking. She would regale me with stories for long periods of time and keep it light with a great sense of humor. Heath was great, too. He was great as a pacer and always on the ball, handing off supplies. Heath is also a great source of levity, cracking jokes all the time.
My final crew member was my wife, Paige. Her duty was to man the home front, with my daughter. As you will see later, there was a small problem with this plan. Suffice it to say that she put up with a lot. My mind was often in the desert and not always focused for the weeks leading up to the race. She was very patient with me.
The Race
The race events began the day before. We had attended the race meeting. It was sweltering hot in the auditorium. The AC was on. But, in a matter of minutes, the 500 people in there had simply overwhelmed it. After an hour, I went outside to use the bathroom. The 120 outside temps felt absolutely cooling after the stifling heat and humidity inside. We had a crew meeting. Really, we had a crew meeting all day. Everyone really wanted to do the best they possibly could to help me. It was fantastic. But, after an entire day of questions, I was mentally fried. We had dinner at the restaurant and then retired to our rooms. By 9:30, I was in bed fast asleep. Sadly, I woke up at 11:20 pm. I laid there for the rest of the night, thinking about how badly I really needed a good night’s sleep. It never came. It was not an ideal way to start a race that would likely last for two days.
At 7:30 am, we rolled to the start line at Badwater. It was electric. Everybody was pumped up, crews, runners, race officials. We snapped a group picture at the Badwater sign and a young woman sang the National Anthem, amazingly well, I might add. At 8:00, we were off! I started very slowly at a jog. I mixed in some walking every 5-10 minutes. This was going to be a very long race and I had no business going out like a shot. My main strategy was to keep as cool as possible and keep myself healthy and hydrated. I planned to be at Furnace Creek (mile 17) around 3:30-4:00 hours. I made it in exactly four hours. Next up, the Highway To Hell, 25 miles to Stovepipe Wells, in the hottest part of the day. The temp at Furnace Creek was near 118. It was noon.
The next section is where I began with my pacers. One of the crew would come out and run with me for a few miles, then switch off with another. Our basic plan was for me to drink a 20 oz. bottle of water (heavily iced) every mile. This equated to about every 15 minutes. I was taking an S!cap (electrolyte capsule) every 30 minutes. When I was weighed, I was always within 1-1.5 pounds of my starting weight. This indicated that hydration and electrolytes were perfectly balanced. As the heat really started to bake, my crew would place an ice bandana around my neck, sometimes a fresh one every mile. The other thing that helped to keep cool was misting with a sprayer. But, the really big thing was to drape a wet scarf around my head. I was given a large piece of wicking fabric at racer check-in, by the girls at Moeben. It was about 18” wide and 6 feet long. The crew would stick it in a bag of ice water, then wring it out and drape it around my head and shoulders. It made HUGE difference in how cool I felt. The temperature definitely topped 120 on the first day. One person from another crew said he saw 131 degrees. I don’t have any verification. But, it was damn hot!
All went well until around the sand dunes at mile 36. I had turned the corner and the wind was now coming from the side and in front. I suddenly started feeling very over heated. I spent a few minutes (maybe more like 20?) sitting down in the shade of the van and trying to cool down. It took a few stops over the miles, but I managed to get comfortable again. I made it to Stovepipe Wells (mile 42) around 11:30 into the race. That was about an hour slower than I had hoped. And I think I lost that whole hour from mile 36 on. On arriving, I changed into my swim trunks and jumped in the pool. Sweet relief!
When we left Stovepipe eating an ice cream sandwich. It was after 8:00 pm, 12 hours into the race and the sun had set. It was 112 degrees and the wind was head on at about 20 miles per hour. It was brutally drying. I had to constantly shoot small amounts of water in my mouth and down my throat, just to keep it moist. Ahead lay 17 miles of climbing to the top of Townes Pass. I was not running, but walking this section. I was apparently walking well, as I passed about 10-12 runners during the climb. It took seven hours to cover that 17 miles. Uggh! How can such a seemingly brisk walking pace be so slow? I reached the top of the pass and sat for a few minutes and tried to sleep, to no avail. I had also tried at mile 47 also, but sleep would not come. How could I be on two hours of sleep in the last 40 hours and not sleep?
Next up, 13 miles across the Panamint Valley to Panamint Springs at mile 72. The first 9 miles were all downhill. Brian and I started running down. It was wonderful for a few miles. Then, the grade got so steep it was difficult to run without having to brake every step. I didn’t want to push my legs so hard, so early in the race. So, we kept a quick walk. At times, it was so steep, it even was difficult to walk without really working the quads. By 7:23 am, we had reached Panamint Springs. I sat in a chair and had some food, while the crews changed shift. 23 hours to cover 72 miles was an absolutely pathetic pace. But, physically I was in good shape. No aches, a few pains, but generally good. I think that a severe lack of sleep was probably what led to my very slow pace.
Stephanie came with me to start the climb up to Father Crowley point. The initial climb is about 8 miles, gaining over 4,000 feet of elevation. The climb was steep, but the views back down the course were spectacular! We again passed a few runners. This was Stephanie’s hill. She would not give up pacing duties until I reached the top of the major climb. We moved well, at a brisk walk. The road was very narrow, with almost no shoulder. There were a few tense moments, as huge tour buses would come around a blind corner. With a guard rail on one side, there was no where else to go. Things went well and the day heated up again. Around mile 82, I had a serious case of heat and sleep deprivation hit me. I came to the van, sort of semi-babbling. “I need shade. Is the van cool? Is there a breeze in there? I need ice! I’m really tired” Scooter put my calves on ice and I laid down in the van, with my legs elevated. I tried again to sleep. After 15 minutes, I heard Scooter snoring. Damn, why can he sleep and not me? I sat up and ate an orange and drank a big bottle of ice water. I was good. It was time to go. I went for another couple of hours to the mile 90 check point, arriving at 2:14 pm.
The next section was downhill, for 32 miles. It was time to get some good running in. Rock star Brian came out to pace a good portion of this section. We started moving well, again. He afternoon was hot, but very tolerable compared to the heat of the valley the day before. I would guess it was around 105-110. Occasional clouds really helped. Between Brian’s coaxing and Mandy being determined to catch the Pinklings (Team Moeben), I made some reasonably good time over the next 10 miles. Then came the shocker of the trip. I looked up as I approached the van around mile 105. My mind couldn’t connect the dots. There was someone who REALLY looked like my wife. But no, Paige was at home. Wait, that’s the shirt that my wife always wears. No, it must be some other runner wearing a shirt form that race. NO…no. That’s Paige! My wife was there, running across the road to me! What an amazing surprise! She had been planning it for a few weeks. She took a flight to LA, rented a car and drove up to meet me and the crew. I was buzzing for the next 10 miles! She took turns with the others running with me, as we headed toward Lone Pine at mile 122.
The early evening was great. I was really enjoying talking with all of the crew, as they came out and took turns running and walking with me. I probably got complacent and just kept walking much of the time, when I could have been running. But, I was just having such a good time! Scooter came out with me for the last two miles into Lone Pine. Scooter is not a runner. But, it sure was nice to be out with him. During the entire race, he never once left the van, faithful and dedicated Crew Chief that he was. He also provided excellent quick tune ups with massage, whenever my legs would tighten up. We cruised into Lone Pine , arriving at around 1:30 am. A chair, a chicken sandwich, a Coke and a little foot massage. Ahhhhh!
So, here we sit in Lone Pine. It’s 1:30 am, I’ve got a brutal 13 mile climb to go, covering around 5,000 feet of climb. I’ve got 6 ½ hours to get under 48 hours and get a buckle. I vow that the RD will NOT put my buckle in a box for next year. Off we go! As we leave town, I see a runner ahead. He is listing badly to one side. I’ve seen it before. The body just gets out of alignment and they tilt to one side. It was Art Webb. This will be Art’s 13th finish at Badwater. I believe he is in his late 60’s. The man is made of steel! I decide that we will pass him. Time to pick up a couple of places. We go by, and I wish him well and congratulate him. The problem is, he doesn’t know that I’m feeling better than him and that he should be behind me. In a few miles, he’s ahead again and stays there. Geez, these old guys are tough! He pretty much kicked my butt on that ill, lean and all.
That hill was brutal! Just when I thought we were through the toughest part of the climb, we hit the switch backs. They were even steeper. There were times when each step was like lifting up to climb a stair. I hit the 131 mile mark, as I pased Dan Marinsik. Dan is a multiple finisher at Badwater. He was having a rough go, but was not stopping. I may have been moving slow, but I was in some great company. I was feeling very humbled and honored to be climbing to the finish with the likes of these two.
The final miles, the sun was starting to rise behind the mountains to the east, behind the mountains I had just run across. Three huge valleys separated me from the start. This was my third sunrise since the race had begun. It had been long, but it had been an unbelievable adventure. There was some confusion with the mileage near the end. At one point, it was 1.5 miles to go. Yes! Then, it was two miles to go. WTF?! My wife tried to tell me, “It’s really just…” I cut her off. “Nobody tell me how far anything is. I don’t want to know. I’m just going.” I was fried. Mentally, I was just incapable of anything but going forward. I was literally on the verge of tears for the last mile or two. All I could do was to bite my lip and move. Just move, damn it! The mountain was incredible. The huge granite slabs were towering over us. I noticed. I tried to appreciate. But, I had to focus forward. Finally, the finish was there! I made sure that my crew was there with me. But, at the last minute, I surged forward ahead of them. I really wanted to cross simultaneously. I could never have gotten there without all the help of everyone who was there with me. But, I just couldn’t take it. I had to be done!
I crossed the line and practically collapsed on my wife’s shoulder. I was wasted. I could not hold back. I sobbed on her shoulder out of relief, out of gratefulness, out of a sense that it was over. Although it was a long standing dream for many years, it was a huge relief to be done, to not have to think about the race, water, time, anymore. We gathered everyone together for the obligatory photos. I got a big, shiny belt buckle. I embraced each of my crew and thanked them as best I could, trying hard not to burst into tears. Again.
The Aftermath
Once again, I have to give so many thanks to my crew: Scooter Jones, Brian Harvey, Mandy Miller, Heath Johnson, Stephanie Day and my fantastic wife, Paige. People overuse the phrase ‘couldn’t have done it without you’. But, in this case, it is completely true. I am so humbled that these people would come out to this desolate, unbelievably hot, forbidding place and give several days of their time, and spend their own money traveling there, to help someone who was, to most, a stranger. I am eternally grateful to all of them.
Several days have passed now. I am still just overwhelmed with what a fantastic, unbelievable, almost surreal experience it was. Scooter described it as being “one long National Geographic moment.” I would have to agree. I simply can not find adequate words to describe what an amazing, fulfilling experience it was to run Badwater. I’ve always lived by the motto, “collect experiences, not things”. This was, by far, one of the best experiences of my life.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Ultracentric 24 Hour Race Report - 2009
OK, I'm gonna keep my race report pretty simple and short (yes, it's a first!). But, I also want to comment on the state of the race, especially after last year's fiasco (debacle/ unfortunate incidents?)
I got a call from the RD ten days before the event. "Hey, we've got a great new course. It's flat. It's been certified. We're giving prize money to all top three finishers in each race. We're gonna write checks on the spot." I respond, "Well, that sounds like a good change. When is the race going to be held?" The RD says, "It's next week." Hmmm...? Weird. Very weird.
So, I guess he hooked me a little. At least, got me thinking. I was very interested in doing a 48 or 72 hour race this year. But, since ATY got cancelled, there were no other options available. Given the incredibly short time frame, I had no chance to really train. Plus, I had just run Heartland 100, 4 weeks ago. I had planned on taking a few months off and skiing and trying to get fat (if you know me, it's a funny thought). My work situation has been very hectic. I wasn't really planning on attending. On Wednesday, I cashed in a frequent flyer ticket and signed up for the 24 hour race. I love impulsive decisions!
The Race:
Things went really well. The course was a short 1/2 mile loop. It was pretty flat. I would estimate there was maybe 10' of vertical gain/drop over the loop. It was nice to have a small undulation to vary muscle usage a little. It wasn't terribly scenic. Although, you could get a glimpse of the lake every now and then. There was a sharp turn at the far side which was a little stressful on the joints. I started slowing down for it early on. It was fine at a slightly lower speed.
The aid station was great! Lorrie Gray was in charge of most of the aid fare. She did a great job, along with her husband and mom (?), and several other great volunteers. Once again, the volunteers rock! The food was the usual fare, plus LOADS of Hammer products. At the end, there was a big table just stacked with boxes of bars, gels, energy drinks. They had more than they could give away. If I wasn't flying with one small carry-on, I would have grabbed a few boxes of bars. The finale was a full breakfast, including bacon, eggs, oatmeal, pancakes and juice. My favorite - yogurt with fresh fruit. Big strawberries and giant black berries! Excellent job, Lorrie!
The timing was provided by RunFar, out of Austin. They had live updates any time I wanted one. They also posted results every 30 minutes. The guy even showed me how to pull up splits on is laptop, if he wasn't there. But, usually he was. It was great.
I don't know what to make of the RD for this race. He seems like a really nice guy. He obviously puts a ton of work into this event. But, on the other hand, he didn't have anything up on the website until maybe a month before the race (maybe less?). Last year, he told everyone that the course was flat. It was a lie. There was a big hill. Many big time runners showed up for records and were very pissed off, and understandably so. Me - I had a good time, in spite of the hill. But, I certainly understood people's frustrations. I have emailed with a couple of people who say they are still owed money from last year's prize money. I won't make any call on this, since I don't really know the whole story.
There were a total of 12 runners in the 24 hour. All told, I think there were around 40 participants in all events. In 2008, I would estimate well over 200 participants. There was supposed to be a 24/48 hour mountain bike event. But, I never saw a bike, nor heard anything about it. It seems to me that the RD probably lost money on this event, possibly quite a bit. But, in the end, it was pretty well run. I think that if future events are run as this one was, there is hope for this race. Sadly, it's going to probably take a lot to overcome the problems of last year. I really like that there is another opportunity presented to do a longer event, like a 48/72 hour. The RD joked (?) that he would have a 96 hour event next year.
My Race:
I decided that I would try to win. Yep. I've never said it before in a race, or even thought it possible. But, there were 12 entrants and I knew I could pump out at least 100 miles, or more. If there was not a ringer in the field, I could do it.
I started out at a 10:00 per mile pace. It felt good, so I stayed with it through about 20 miles. At this point, I was leading. Holy crap, I've never been in the lead! I tried to drop down to a 11:00 pace for a while. A 50 mile split of 9 1/2 hours would mean a 11:30 pace. At mile 30, I started to fade to about 12:00. By the time I hit 50 miles, it was just past 10 hours. I was still hoping to put up 105-110 miles total. Unfortunately, I soon realized there was a ringer. Sam Thompson from Seattle was banging out laps at a 10:00 pace and was not slowing down. By 14 hours, he was about 15 miles ahead of me. Man, he was smooth and consistent! I vowed to hold onto second place for the time being. If he stopped, or went to sleep, I would keep going. I wasn't going to bail out early, under any circumstances.
As the night wore on, I started to slow some more. I was putting in some 15:00-16:00 miles. When I added in a stop for water, food, or a clothing change every few laps, the pace was really starting to drop. Getting 100 miles in was starting to look iffy. As the sun came up , I got a burst of energy (oh, glorious sun!). I was at 89 miles, with two hours to go. I had 3.5 miles over 3rd place. Damn, I wanted that 100 miles! I decided to just start cranking the speed up. If I could go hard for a few laps, maybe I could still squeak in 100 miles. I really hated the thought of ending with 99.4. I started running harder. As I approached the small downhill, I let it pull me. I was movin'! I started clocking 11:30 miles, then down to 11 minutes per mile. I kept it going for the last two hours. Each time I crossed the line I would call out to see if new laps had been posted. At about 23:30, I passed the 100 mile mark. Better put in a couple extra, just in case. I ran two more miles. At 23:54, I crossed the line again. That was it. I sat down.
Overall, I finished in second place with 102.4 miles. Sam Thompson took the 24 hour win, with 115.6 miles,a very good run. He even slowed down for a few hours at night, so he had a lot of good solid miles built up. I PR'd my 100 mile time at 23:30. I increased my 24 hour total by 1/3 mile over my best finish. Small steps... small steps. I've never finished in second place. Third place, once. But, there were only three runners. As a comparison, I would have placed seventh at FANS with this mileage. But, I am very pleased. Plus, to top it all off, I got a check for 75 bucks, on the spot!
So, now I'm back to lazing around, getting fat, and waiting for the ski lift to open on Wednesday. Life is good!
I got a call from the RD ten days before the event. "Hey, we've got a great new course. It's flat. It's been certified. We're giving prize money to all top three finishers in each race. We're gonna write checks on the spot." I respond, "Well, that sounds like a good change. When is the race going to be held?" The RD says, "It's next week." Hmmm...? Weird. Very weird.
So, I guess he hooked me a little. At least, got me thinking. I was very interested in doing a 48 or 72 hour race this year. But, since ATY got cancelled, there were no other options available. Given the incredibly short time frame, I had no chance to really train. Plus, I had just run Heartland 100, 4 weeks ago. I had planned on taking a few months off and skiing and trying to get fat (if you know me, it's a funny thought). My work situation has been very hectic. I wasn't really planning on attending. On Wednesday, I cashed in a frequent flyer ticket and signed up for the 24 hour race. I love impulsive decisions!
The Race:
Things went really well. The course was a short 1/2 mile loop. It was pretty flat. I would estimate there was maybe 10' of vertical gain/drop over the loop. It was nice to have a small undulation to vary muscle usage a little. It wasn't terribly scenic. Although, you could get a glimpse of the lake every now and then. There was a sharp turn at the far side which was a little stressful on the joints. I started slowing down for it early on. It was fine at a slightly lower speed.
The aid station was great! Lorrie Gray was in charge of most of the aid fare. She did a great job, along with her husband and mom (?), and several other great volunteers. Once again, the volunteers rock! The food was the usual fare, plus LOADS of Hammer products. At the end, there was a big table just stacked with boxes of bars, gels, energy drinks. They had more than they could give away. If I wasn't flying with one small carry-on, I would have grabbed a few boxes of bars. The finale was a full breakfast, including bacon, eggs, oatmeal, pancakes and juice. My favorite - yogurt with fresh fruit. Big strawberries and giant black berries! Excellent job, Lorrie!
The timing was provided by RunFar, out of Austin. They had live updates any time I wanted one. They also posted results every 30 minutes. The guy even showed me how to pull up splits on is laptop, if he wasn't there. But, usually he was. It was great.
I don't know what to make of the RD for this race. He seems like a really nice guy. He obviously puts a ton of work into this event. But, on the other hand, he didn't have anything up on the website until maybe a month before the race (maybe less?). Last year, he told everyone that the course was flat. It was a lie. There was a big hill. Many big time runners showed up for records and were very pissed off, and understandably so. Me - I had a good time, in spite of the hill. But, I certainly understood people's frustrations. I have emailed with a couple of people who say they are still owed money from last year's prize money. I won't make any call on this, since I don't really know the whole story.
There were a total of 12 runners in the 24 hour. All told, I think there were around 40 participants in all events. In 2008, I would estimate well over 200 participants. There was supposed to be a 24/48 hour mountain bike event. But, I never saw a bike, nor heard anything about it. It seems to me that the RD probably lost money on this event, possibly quite a bit. But, in the end, it was pretty well run. I think that if future events are run as this one was, there is hope for this race. Sadly, it's going to probably take a lot to overcome the problems of last year. I really like that there is another opportunity presented to do a longer event, like a 48/72 hour. The RD joked (?) that he would have a 96 hour event next year.
My Race:
I decided that I would try to win. Yep. I've never said it before in a race, or even thought it possible. But, there were 12 entrants and I knew I could pump out at least 100 miles, or more. If there was not a ringer in the field, I could do it.
I started out at a 10:00 per mile pace. It felt good, so I stayed with it through about 20 miles. At this point, I was leading. Holy crap, I've never been in the lead! I tried to drop down to a 11:00 pace for a while. A 50 mile split of 9 1/2 hours would mean a 11:30 pace. At mile 30, I started to fade to about 12:00. By the time I hit 50 miles, it was just past 10 hours. I was still hoping to put up 105-110 miles total. Unfortunately, I soon realized there was a ringer. Sam Thompson from Seattle was banging out laps at a 10:00 pace and was not slowing down. By 14 hours, he was about 15 miles ahead of me. Man, he was smooth and consistent! I vowed to hold onto second place for the time being. If he stopped, or went to sleep, I would keep going. I wasn't going to bail out early, under any circumstances.
As the night wore on, I started to slow some more. I was putting in some 15:00-16:00 miles. When I added in a stop for water, food, or a clothing change every few laps, the pace was really starting to drop. Getting 100 miles in was starting to look iffy. As the sun came up , I got a burst of energy (oh, glorious sun!). I was at 89 miles, with two hours to go. I had 3.5 miles over 3rd place. Damn, I wanted that 100 miles! I decided to just start cranking the speed up. If I could go hard for a few laps, maybe I could still squeak in 100 miles. I really hated the thought of ending with 99.4. I started running harder. As I approached the small downhill, I let it pull me. I was movin'! I started clocking 11:30 miles, then down to 11 minutes per mile. I kept it going for the last two hours. Each time I crossed the line I would call out to see if new laps had been posted. At about 23:30, I passed the 100 mile mark. Better put in a couple extra, just in case. I ran two more miles. At 23:54, I crossed the line again. That was it. I sat down.
Overall, I finished in second place with 102.4 miles. Sam Thompson took the 24 hour win, with 115.6 miles,a very good run. He even slowed down for a few hours at night, so he had a lot of good solid miles built up. I PR'd my 100 mile time at 23:30. I increased my 24 hour total by 1/3 mile over my best finish. Small steps... small steps. I've never finished in second place. Third place, once. But, there were only three runners. As a comparison, I would have placed seventh at FANS with this mileage. But, I am very pleased. Plus, to top it all off, I got a check for 75 bucks, on the spot!
So, now I'm back to lazing around, getting fat, and waiting for the ski lift to open on Wednesday. Life is good!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Heartland 100 2009
This is the third time I have run the Heartland 100. It was also the first race where I ever ran 100 miles, in 2007. Thus, it has a special place in my heart, and holds some nostalgia for me. In addition, it is just a great race. The race is very well organized, with many experienced runners involved. The volunteers are great and the food is fantastic, with each aid station having something unique. From burgers and sloppy joes to home made soup and cookies, it’s all there and all delicious. The course is fantastic, laid out on 99% dirt roads. Wide open, tall grass prairie stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction. It is very rare to see a house out here. I would say that the course passes by 8-10 homes, about half of which are actually inhabited. Other than a few race vehicles associated with the crews and volunteers, I probably saw four cars during the entire experience. Most would call this “the middle of nowhere”. Being a long time lover of all things desolate, I think it’s just fantastic!
I’ve come to realize that one of the main reasons I run 100 mile races is for the adventure of it. Most folks in our modern world never get to have any real adventure. Given that I’ve always loved great tales of adventure, and putting myself out a little close to the edge, the sport of ultra running seems to fit very well. I suppose when you compare it to jumping off of cliffs with a parachute, it may be rather tame. But, combined with the personal struggles involved, I find it very fulfilling.
Race day in Kansas typically holds good weather. The average highs and lows are 69 & 55 degrees. This year would tip the scales and set a record for the coldest race weekend yet. The morning temperature was 29 degrees at 6:00 am. The wind was calm, but an expected front was scheduled around lunch time. Forecast: cloudy, with a high of 40, low of 30. After training in normal fall temps, this was a bit of a shock to the system. But, as usual in these races, it was really more of a mental issue, most of the time.
The race began at the old school in Cassoday, Kansas, about 45 minutes northeast of Wichita. Wichita is dead flat, but Cassoday is the beginning of the Flint Hills area. Lots and lots of rolling hills, covered in some of the last remaining tall grass prairie in the Midwest. This makes for a course with around 6-7,000 feet of elevation gain, over 100 miles. The 50 mile runners (43 of them) started about 100 yards ahead of the 100 milers (a total of 61 starters). At the count, we all started off together.
I held a pretty fast pace for the first several miles. I had been working on speed work in my training and was eager to see how it would translate. I ran at what felt like a comfortable pace for the first 9.2 miles to the Battle Creek aid station. I arrived at a pace of around 10:30 minutes per mile. I had already taken off my jacket after the first couple of miles and was starting to wonder why I had worn it. As I left Battle Creek, after a quick stop to fill up my water and grab a snack, I felt the wind. It immediately hit me and chilled me. I took the jacket from around my waist and put it on. I would keep on my jacket for the entire rest of the trip. Running in 30 degree temps was no big deal. But, combine that with a 20 mph wind and it was down right chilly.
I kept clipping along at a comfortable pace to the next major aid station. Coming into Lapland, I met Susan Lance from Georgia. She knew my name from the Ultra list. I came into Lapland (mile 16.8) at around three hours. I had made a time sheet with splits to keep me on a 11:00 min/mile pace through mile 25. After a stop for chocolate milk, a water fill up and snacks to go, I was 5 minutes ahead of my schedule. Susan left a few minutes before me. It was the last time I would see her, as she went on to finish in something around 18:35, good enough for second place among the women runners. Amazing!
I ran well for the next hour or so. I arrived at mile 25 (Teterville aid station) at around 10:30 (4 ½ hours in). I was still 5 minutes ahead of schedule. I was aiming to make the 50 mile turnaround at 9:40. This was pretty aggressive, and about 30 minutes faster than I had ever run. But, I thought it was possible, and without setting a big goal, you never know if you can reach it.
The next section entails about 5.5 miles to Texaco Hill, a manned aid station, then 5.2 more miles to Ridgeline at mile 34.5. The first 4 miles involve a few fairly long climbs. Not terribly steep, but consistent in their climb. I had been running up hills in training and decided that I would run up this section, as much as possible, while not blowing all my energy. It went pretty well. I met up with Bob Murphy, when I noticed that his light was on and flashing in his pack. We ran/ walked the hill for an hour or so and came into Texaco Hill together. Another quick stop and I headed out. I enjoyed talking with Bob, but really wanted to stick with my own pace. I’ve found in the past that I sometimes will latch onto someone at a different pace and wind up slowing down considerably. So, I headed out solo. As I covered the next section, I could see Bob behind me, a few hundred yards back, but hanging tough.
Coming into Ridgeline, I was starting to slip off schedule. I was 15 minutes behind. I had set my pace at about 11:30 per mile for this section. I soon realized that the pace was unrealistic for me, at that point in the race. But, I made a quick, efficient water and food stop and headed back out. On average, my aid stops were typically around 5 minutes each. It doesn’t seem like much time. But, when there are 11 manned aid stations, it really starts to add up. Plus, during the night, I had a couple that went to 10 minutes. I came to the realization that my goal of 9:40 was not going to happen. I set my sights on 10 hours even. I ran well into Matfield Green , at mile 42.5. I also met up with Bob again, who seemed to be running very strong. He eventually ran ahead of me and I couldn’t quite keep up. Although, I did keep him in sight through this section. Bob would go on to finish around 22:35, quite impressive.
Leaving Matfield, I saw the leader come by on the way back. It was Dan Schmidt, local Salida runner and the guy I picked (as did he) to win. He was cranking along, as he passed by. I said hi, but I don’t think he recognized me. One minute later, along came the second place runner. Dan was being chased down hard! I started to count the runners to figure out my place. I knew I was around 23rd at mile 25. By the time I reached the turnaround at mile 50, I was right at 20th place. I also saw Amy, who would go on to win the women’s race (somewhere around 18 hours?). At first, there was nothing remarkable about her, although she was quite attractive. But if you looked down, you noticed that she had a prosthesis on one leg. A super, high-tech looking steel spring that flexed. She had no handicap in my mind. And I’m sure all the other runners, most of which were a long ways behind her, would agree. My time at the 50 mile mark was 10:30. Not what I’d hoped for, but a good pace for me, for the first half.
My mind now took a rest. I had been worrying about making my goal time for the first half. When I started to fall behind, I worried about that. Now, I just felt like I could let it go and just go with the flow. I still thought I could make a 24 hour finish. I had done my last race with a second half of 12 ½ hours. So, I knew that it was within reach. I headed back to Matfield for a sloppy joe and some chocolate milk.
On the next section, I met James. He was running his first 100 miler. Every time I have run this section, I have met someone doing their first 100. James was moving very well for a first timer. I told him he could easily get a finish, and probably a fast one. We ran together through the Ridgeline aid station, with a quick stop for Prairie Power Pellets, a sort of glorified beanie weenie, with 15 different beans. It was a tradition at this aid station and it really hit the spot. Night fell a few minutes before Ridgeline, and head lamps were donned. As we left for Texaco Hill, the wind was blowing from the side again, and it was cold! The only saving grace was that it caused us to run to keep some heat generated.
We arrived at Texaco Hill to a warm tent. James had mentioned a few times that his stomach didn’t feel too good. I told him that was pretty normal. I offered him an electrolyte pill, as it didn’t appear that he had been taking any. At Texaco, he didn’t feel much better. He was nice enough to give me an extra set of batteries, if I needed them later. As we left, we shivered from the cold and wind. Each time I went into a warm tent, upon leaving it took me 5-10 minutes of shivering to feel warm again. Just 100 yards out of Texaco Hill, James announced that he was going to throw up. Knowing that this was not uncommon in hundred milers, I said, ”Ok, no problem. I’ll just walk a bit. Do what you need to.” He then said he was going back to the aid station. I was surprised. I told him, “Throwing up is not fatal. You can still keep going. Go back, if you want. Those guys are experienced ultra runners. Just tell them your problems. They’ll fix you up.” He said he would. Finally, I yelled back “Don’t quit. Just keep going. I’ll see you at the finish!” Unfortunately, that was the last I saw, or heard, of James.
I came into Teterville alone at 11:30 pm. I’d been on my feet for 16 ½ hours. I was feeling pretty tired, but overall in good spirits. I had started taking caffeine at around 8:30. I’ve learned from experience that I need to start taking it before I get tired. After the yawns start, it almost impossible for me to come back to a mentally awake state. Half of a NoDoz, every 2 hours seemed to work well. I thought about taking some extra clothes, as I left. I had a second jacket tied around my waist already and I hadn’t needed it yet. I had some soup and headed out. As I left, I heard one of the volunteers yell out, “#58 dropped, #18 dropped, #33 dropped”. Yikes! I was getting out of there, just in case it was catching.
I had run miles 50-75 in 7 hours. I had 25 miles to go, and only 6 ½ hours to do it. If I was going to break 24 hours, it was going to be a long hard battle. So, I got down to work. I knew the course pretty well, after running the race three times. I would think about each turn ahead, as it approached. I could see two lights behind me. I kept running to stay ahead of them. Every time I turned a corner and the headwind caught me, I would run as long as I could, before taking a walk break. It was just too cold to walk. I came to the Lapland aid station at 1:30 am. 4.1 miles per hour! I was on pace. I had 4 ½ hours to go 16.8 miles.
I kept up my pace, continually doing math, over and over, in my head. If I reached the next aid station, at a certain time, I was good. The last manned station, Battle Creek, came at 3:45 am. I had 8.2 miles to go. I had to keep a 15 minute per mile pace. It seems easy, on paper. But, after 90 miles, it’s no small feat. I grabbed two cookies and headed out quickly. I had been experiencing the beginnings of a blister for the last several miles. But, I wasn’t going to stop to tape it. If I spent 5 minutes on it, I wasn’t going to make 24 hours. And as long as I kept good running form and didn’t walk on it much, it didn’t hurt. Good impetus to keep up my form and pace, I thought.
The last aid station (Mirage) is at mile 95.1. It’s not officially part of the race, but is manned by Bad Ben, a runner from Kansas City, who comes out every year to help out. And every year, he serves home made beer. A wonderful gesture. But, I don’t know how anyone can stomach beer at mile 95. I asked him how far it was. “4.9 miles”. Perfect, I thought. It was 4:45 am. At 15 minutes per mile, I’d have 5 minutes to spare. Way too close, but still doable. I kept it up, kept doing math, kept running and trying not to walk.
As I rounded the final turn and hit the pavement, with about 100 yards to go, I kept running. I also started to get very emotional. It’s pretty common for me to feel a little choked up at the end of 100 miles. You fight so hard, for so long. You try to remain in control, to keep telling yourself that you can do it. You encourage others and they encourage you. You dig deep into yourself. Almost nothing in daily life requires the commitment and the fortitude that it takes to run 100 miles on foot. It’s one of the main reasons why I run these races: to go outside of myself and my capabilities. I think that most other runners would agree. There really is no other valid reason to explain why I run 100 miles.
I crossed the line. My time was 23:54:34! I made it with 5 ½ minutes to spare! After sitting by the heater for about 20 minutes, I crawled into the back of my truck. I pulled out a sleeping pad and two sleeping bags and collapse into a nap for about 90 minutes. I ended up placing 15th, overall, 12th among men. There were some great performances out there. The winner, from Wichita, ran 17:05. My buddy Dan, from Salida, finished in 17:36 (?), good enough for third place. There were 41 finishers, out of 61 starters, for the 100 mile. Every one of the 43 who started the 50 mile race finished. Pretty good statistic for a race that long. I got my third matching belt buckle from the Heartland 100. So many buckles, so few belts!
This race was my fourth 100 mile race during 2009. I finished the Moab 100 in 29:57 (3/28/09), my slowest ever finish and a long hard slog, while trying to manage a bad blister. I ran the 24 hour race at FANS, in Minneapolis, completing 101 miles (6/6/09). I ran the Lean Horse 100, in South Dakota in 24:35 (8/20/09). It felt really good to be able to complete four 100 milers in one year (5 ½ months actually), and to bring my finish times down quite a bit from my first few races. I also completed every race which I started. I’ve come a long way in a little over two years of running ultras. Right now, I’m going to relax and wait for ski season. I may run the Rocky Raccoon 100, in February, or not. But, given how these adventures have gotten under my skin, I probably will.
I’ve come to realize that one of the main reasons I run 100 mile races is for the adventure of it. Most folks in our modern world never get to have any real adventure. Given that I’ve always loved great tales of adventure, and putting myself out a little close to the edge, the sport of ultra running seems to fit very well. I suppose when you compare it to jumping off of cliffs with a parachute, it may be rather tame. But, combined with the personal struggles involved, I find it very fulfilling.
Race day in Kansas typically holds good weather. The average highs and lows are 69 & 55 degrees. This year would tip the scales and set a record for the coldest race weekend yet. The morning temperature was 29 degrees at 6:00 am. The wind was calm, but an expected front was scheduled around lunch time. Forecast: cloudy, with a high of 40, low of 30. After training in normal fall temps, this was a bit of a shock to the system. But, as usual in these races, it was really more of a mental issue, most of the time.
The race began at the old school in Cassoday, Kansas, about 45 minutes northeast of Wichita. Wichita is dead flat, but Cassoday is the beginning of the Flint Hills area. Lots and lots of rolling hills, covered in some of the last remaining tall grass prairie in the Midwest. This makes for a course with around 6-7,000 feet of elevation gain, over 100 miles. The 50 mile runners (43 of them) started about 100 yards ahead of the 100 milers (a total of 61 starters). At the count, we all started off together.
I held a pretty fast pace for the first several miles. I had been working on speed work in my training and was eager to see how it would translate. I ran at what felt like a comfortable pace for the first 9.2 miles to the Battle Creek aid station. I arrived at a pace of around 10:30 minutes per mile. I had already taken off my jacket after the first couple of miles and was starting to wonder why I had worn it. As I left Battle Creek, after a quick stop to fill up my water and grab a snack, I felt the wind. It immediately hit me and chilled me. I took the jacket from around my waist and put it on. I would keep on my jacket for the entire rest of the trip. Running in 30 degree temps was no big deal. But, combine that with a 20 mph wind and it was down right chilly.
I kept clipping along at a comfortable pace to the next major aid station. Coming into Lapland, I met Susan Lance from Georgia. She knew my name from the Ultra list. I came into Lapland (mile 16.8) at around three hours. I had made a time sheet with splits to keep me on a 11:00 min/mile pace through mile 25. After a stop for chocolate milk, a water fill up and snacks to go, I was 5 minutes ahead of my schedule. Susan left a few minutes before me. It was the last time I would see her, as she went on to finish in something around 18:35, good enough for second place among the women runners. Amazing!
I ran well for the next hour or so. I arrived at mile 25 (Teterville aid station) at around 10:30 (4 ½ hours in). I was still 5 minutes ahead of schedule. I was aiming to make the 50 mile turnaround at 9:40. This was pretty aggressive, and about 30 minutes faster than I had ever run. But, I thought it was possible, and without setting a big goal, you never know if you can reach it.
The next section entails about 5.5 miles to Texaco Hill, a manned aid station, then 5.2 more miles to Ridgeline at mile 34.5. The first 4 miles involve a few fairly long climbs. Not terribly steep, but consistent in their climb. I had been running up hills in training and decided that I would run up this section, as much as possible, while not blowing all my energy. It went pretty well. I met up with Bob Murphy, when I noticed that his light was on and flashing in his pack. We ran/ walked the hill for an hour or so and came into Texaco Hill together. Another quick stop and I headed out. I enjoyed talking with Bob, but really wanted to stick with my own pace. I’ve found in the past that I sometimes will latch onto someone at a different pace and wind up slowing down considerably. So, I headed out solo. As I covered the next section, I could see Bob behind me, a few hundred yards back, but hanging tough.
Coming into Ridgeline, I was starting to slip off schedule. I was 15 minutes behind. I had set my pace at about 11:30 per mile for this section. I soon realized that the pace was unrealistic for me, at that point in the race. But, I made a quick, efficient water and food stop and headed back out. On average, my aid stops were typically around 5 minutes each. It doesn’t seem like much time. But, when there are 11 manned aid stations, it really starts to add up. Plus, during the night, I had a couple that went to 10 minutes. I came to the realization that my goal of 9:40 was not going to happen. I set my sights on 10 hours even. I ran well into Matfield Green , at mile 42.5. I also met up with Bob again, who seemed to be running very strong. He eventually ran ahead of me and I couldn’t quite keep up. Although, I did keep him in sight through this section. Bob would go on to finish around 22:35, quite impressive.
Leaving Matfield, I saw the leader come by on the way back. It was Dan Schmidt, local Salida runner and the guy I picked (as did he) to win. He was cranking along, as he passed by. I said hi, but I don’t think he recognized me. One minute later, along came the second place runner. Dan was being chased down hard! I started to count the runners to figure out my place. I knew I was around 23rd at mile 25. By the time I reached the turnaround at mile 50, I was right at 20th place. I also saw Amy, who would go on to win the women’s race (somewhere around 18 hours?). At first, there was nothing remarkable about her, although she was quite attractive. But if you looked down, you noticed that she had a prosthesis on one leg. A super, high-tech looking steel spring that flexed. She had no handicap in my mind. And I’m sure all the other runners, most of which were a long ways behind her, would agree. My time at the 50 mile mark was 10:30. Not what I’d hoped for, but a good pace for me, for the first half.
My mind now took a rest. I had been worrying about making my goal time for the first half. When I started to fall behind, I worried about that. Now, I just felt like I could let it go and just go with the flow. I still thought I could make a 24 hour finish. I had done my last race with a second half of 12 ½ hours. So, I knew that it was within reach. I headed back to Matfield for a sloppy joe and some chocolate milk.
On the next section, I met James. He was running his first 100 miler. Every time I have run this section, I have met someone doing their first 100. James was moving very well for a first timer. I told him he could easily get a finish, and probably a fast one. We ran together through the Ridgeline aid station, with a quick stop for Prairie Power Pellets, a sort of glorified beanie weenie, with 15 different beans. It was a tradition at this aid station and it really hit the spot. Night fell a few minutes before Ridgeline, and head lamps were donned. As we left for Texaco Hill, the wind was blowing from the side again, and it was cold! The only saving grace was that it caused us to run to keep some heat generated.
We arrived at Texaco Hill to a warm tent. James had mentioned a few times that his stomach didn’t feel too good. I told him that was pretty normal. I offered him an electrolyte pill, as it didn’t appear that he had been taking any. At Texaco, he didn’t feel much better. He was nice enough to give me an extra set of batteries, if I needed them later. As we left, we shivered from the cold and wind. Each time I went into a warm tent, upon leaving it took me 5-10 minutes of shivering to feel warm again. Just 100 yards out of Texaco Hill, James announced that he was going to throw up. Knowing that this was not uncommon in hundred milers, I said, ”Ok, no problem. I’ll just walk a bit. Do what you need to.” He then said he was going back to the aid station. I was surprised. I told him, “Throwing up is not fatal. You can still keep going. Go back, if you want. Those guys are experienced ultra runners. Just tell them your problems. They’ll fix you up.” He said he would. Finally, I yelled back “Don’t quit. Just keep going. I’ll see you at the finish!” Unfortunately, that was the last I saw, or heard, of James.
I came into Teterville alone at 11:30 pm. I’d been on my feet for 16 ½ hours. I was feeling pretty tired, but overall in good spirits. I had started taking caffeine at around 8:30. I’ve learned from experience that I need to start taking it before I get tired. After the yawns start, it almost impossible for me to come back to a mentally awake state. Half of a NoDoz, every 2 hours seemed to work well. I thought about taking some extra clothes, as I left. I had a second jacket tied around my waist already and I hadn’t needed it yet. I had some soup and headed out. As I left, I heard one of the volunteers yell out, “#58 dropped, #18 dropped, #33 dropped”. Yikes! I was getting out of there, just in case it was catching.
I had run miles 50-75 in 7 hours. I had 25 miles to go, and only 6 ½ hours to do it. If I was going to break 24 hours, it was going to be a long hard battle. So, I got down to work. I knew the course pretty well, after running the race three times. I would think about each turn ahead, as it approached. I could see two lights behind me. I kept running to stay ahead of them. Every time I turned a corner and the headwind caught me, I would run as long as I could, before taking a walk break. It was just too cold to walk. I came to the Lapland aid station at 1:30 am. 4.1 miles per hour! I was on pace. I had 4 ½ hours to go 16.8 miles.
I kept up my pace, continually doing math, over and over, in my head. If I reached the next aid station, at a certain time, I was good. The last manned station, Battle Creek, came at 3:45 am. I had 8.2 miles to go. I had to keep a 15 minute per mile pace. It seems easy, on paper. But, after 90 miles, it’s no small feat. I grabbed two cookies and headed out quickly. I had been experiencing the beginnings of a blister for the last several miles. But, I wasn’t going to stop to tape it. If I spent 5 minutes on it, I wasn’t going to make 24 hours. And as long as I kept good running form and didn’t walk on it much, it didn’t hurt. Good impetus to keep up my form and pace, I thought.
The last aid station (Mirage) is at mile 95.1. It’s not officially part of the race, but is manned by Bad Ben, a runner from Kansas City, who comes out every year to help out. And every year, he serves home made beer. A wonderful gesture. But, I don’t know how anyone can stomach beer at mile 95. I asked him how far it was. “4.9 miles”. Perfect, I thought. It was 4:45 am. At 15 minutes per mile, I’d have 5 minutes to spare. Way too close, but still doable. I kept it up, kept doing math, kept running and trying not to walk.
As I rounded the final turn and hit the pavement, with about 100 yards to go, I kept running. I also started to get very emotional. It’s pretty common for me to feel a little choked up at the end of 100 miles. You fight so hard, for so long. You try to remain in control, to keep telling yourself that you can do it. You encourage others and they encourage you. You dig deep into yourself. Almost nothing in daily life requires the commitment and the fortitude that it takes to run 100 miles on foot. It’s one of the main reasons why I run these races: to go outside of myself and my capabilities. I think that most other runners would agree. There really is no other valid reason to explain why I run 100 miles.
I crossed the line. My time was 23:54:34! I made it with 5 ½ minutes to spare! After sitting by the heater for about 20 minutes, I crawled into the back of my truck. I pulled out a sleeping pad and two sleeping bags and collapse into a nap for about 90 minutes. I ended up placing 15th, overall, 12th among men. There were some great performances out there. The winner, from Wichita, ran 17:05. My buddy Dan, from Salida, finished in 17:36 (?), good enough for third place. There were 41 finishers, out of 61 starters, for the 100 mile. Every one of the 43 who started the 50 mile race finished. Pretty good statistic for a race that long. I got my third matching belt buckle from the Heartland 100. So many buckles, so few belts!
This race was my fourth 100 mile race during 2009. I finished the Moab 100 in 29:57 (3/28/09), my slowest ever finish and a long hard slog, while trying to manage a bad blister. I ran the 24 hour race at FANS, in Minneapolis, completing 101 miles (6/6/09). I ran the Lean Horse 100, in South Dakota in 24:35 (8/20/09). It felt really good to be able to complete four 100 milers in one year (5 ½ months actually), and to bring my finish times down quite a bit from my first few races. I also completed every race which I started. I’ve come a long way in a little over two years of running ultras. Right now, I’m going to relax and wait for ski season. I may run the Rocky Raccoon 100, in February, or not. But, given how these adventures have gotten under my skin, I probably will.
Monday, September 7, 2009
FANS 24 Hour Race Report- June 2009
I ran the FANS 24 Hour race this weekend, in Minneapolis. The people were great, the weather...not so much. This report is a bit long. So, get a cup of coffe and cozy up.
First of all, the folks that put this race on were absolutely great. Everyone was very friendly and helpful. Sure, it's pretty much the norm for an ultra. But, it's always appreciated and sort of amazing. These poor folks, many of them non-runners, sit around freezing their butts off, so that us poor, filthy slobs can abuse ourselves by running in circles. Some of my favorite things which this team delivered: 1) Pizza, twice! At 6 pm, and again at midnight, I had pizza. Awesome! 2) Massages. Yes, that's right. At any given time, there were 2 massage therapists on hand. Wow! I loved it and took advantage of it a few times when a few minor aches wouldn't go away. 3) I really enjoyed the full breakfast after the race. I was hungry and tired, as was everyone else. It was great to walk right into breakfast. Perhaps the best part was to be able to sit and talk with some of the other runners.
There's always sort of a sadness when an event is over. You think about it for so long. You plan. You travel. You run like hell. Then, when it's over, your regular life just pops back on. It's nice to spend some time to ease out of it, talking with others who've experienced this kind of weird experience (volunteers and runners, alike), before easing back into the 'normal world'. As I sat in the airport, trying not to fall asleep before getting on the plane. I thought,"These people don't have any idea why I walk like I'm 90 years old, why I can't keep my head upright on my shoulders." But, the others that were present 'out there', they get it. They understand the things that went on at the lake. The nondescript piece of a city park that saw a thousand amazing things take place in the hearts and minds of those that were there.
Like the guy who couldn't run after the first 5 hours because of pain. So he walked for the next 19 hours. What kind of impression do you think that made on his two kids? Their dad was certainly as amazing as any super hero.
The forecast for the week looked great. 64 degrees and partly cloudy. But, two days out, it changed to rain, 70% chance. Sure enough, it dawned cloudy. At the start, it was still dry. By the second hour, the rain started. It was light, but constant for the first 6 hours, or so. Then, it turned to a moderate, but very consistent rain. This continued for about 3 hours. It was cold, too. The temp was around 50 degrees.
I had on a rain jacket and gloves that had been soaked for hours. I was wearing shorts that stuck to my legs. There were a lot of folks who were starting to go hypothermic. You could put on something dry. But, within minutes it would be wet again. All in all, most runners seemed to deal with it pretty well. There was far less activity in the medical tent than I expected. Happily, around 9:00 pm, the rain stopped and settled into a fine foggy mist. Manageable with a dry rain jacket and a dry change of clothes. I'd been resisting pulling out the dry set. I knew that I'd need it to get through the night.
My race went pretty well. I had stated my goal to anyone that would listen: 100 miles in under 24 hours. I started somewhat slow and easy, as planned. I went for a 12 minute pace for the first 5-6 miles. Then, I brought it up a little. I tried to keep it around 10-11 minute pace for the remainder of the first 25 miles. Plus, I walked the bridge across the lake every lap. It was about 5 minutes, out of every 25-35 minute lap. A good break to keep my legs fresh.
That bridge was always the coldest part of every lap. The wind blew off the lake and right across the bridge. There was definitely a cold, nasty wind a-blowin'! But, the best thing about the bridge was the planes. The planes would line up for the airport runway, about 300 feet off the deck. It was awesome! They'd come roaring in every few minutes, leaving swirling trails of mist in the wakes of their wing tips. Great full sensory experience!
I never came to my "wall", which I usually hit around mile 16-20, and sometimes repeats every 30 miles, or so. I believe that my fueling was the reason. I ate mostly fruit and a few small pieces of turkey sandwich. Never underestimate the power of an orange slice! I felt like I got a charge for the next lap, every time I ate a couple. A slow and even burn of quick carbs was the main goal. I was able to PR every distance at this race, From marathon (yeah, my marathon time is slow) to 50k, through 50 miles and 100k, I was ahead of all of my best times. The flat loop course was the secret. But, that was the reason I showed up.
Around mile 40, I started to hear that old familiar voice in my head. It was raining. It was cold. I could go to the motel, watch some bad TV, go to the steakhouse for a big dinner and dessert. I just kept telling myself no. Not this lap. Just go around again, one more time. Stay in the now. I've learned that being present is what gets me through these things. Thinking about what's to come is not a good strategy. And besides, I had chosen this. I had thought about it for months. I had spent a few hundred bucks to get here. My wife had reorganized her life for the week, so that I could do this. My daughter told me I could do it. I couldn't tell her, I couldn't tell everyone, that I just decided to quit and go somewhere warm and dry.
At mile 40, I looked at the top ten. I was there! I was number 10! I'd never been number ten, unless maybe there were ten entrants. By mile 62, the voice was finally gone for good. I had 10 hours left to go about 38 miles. I had clean, dry clothes and shoes. It had stopped raining. I was going to break 100 miles. I was. I knew it. There was nothing that was within my control that could stop me. It was possible that there could have been something else. But, I didn't see any problems. I had a few small aches and pains. I stopped at the massage tent for a couple of quick 10 minute tune-ups.
Every lap, I would yell out my number to the lap counters. They would yell back, "That's lap 31. That's 75 miles!" I'd yell back, "25 to go!" Then, I'd do the math. If I hold a pace of at least 17.5 minutes per mile. I'll have 20 minutes to spare. I must have done the math 200 times during the night. The last 3-4 hours, I was still very close to making it, or not. I had to keep moving. Walking it in was not an option. I was NOT going to end up with 97 miles. There were a lot of folks out there walking. I admired each and every one of them. I was just not going to be one of them.
Mile 98.5. The time clock said 23:20, I had 40 minutes to go 1.5 miles. I decided to go over to the short course, instead of the long loop. I was pretty sure I could manage the pace. But, I didn't have a watch. There would no denying my goal. So, I ran short loops back and forth, near the finish area. It was really fun. There must have been 60 people running back and forth, 220 yards out, then back again.
"I need six short loops", I thought. "Six, and I'm done."
There were some who were just walking. Some were running hard, like a six minute pace. They were cranking out laps, passing by slower walkers, over and over. I decided that if all these people could keep going for the last few minutes, I would too. Plus, I didn't want to come up short, due to some math error. I felt like 101 was a good number. I picked it up. I passed 100 miles. Yes!!! I counted 4 more loops. I passed 101 miles. There was 15 seconds left. Others came sprinting in, literally as the clock turned 24:00. Amazing! Absolutely awesome!
I saw one woman getting congratulations from her family. She had hit the line with literally no seconds left. She had run HARD for the last 30 minutes. Her family was ecstatic. She started to tear up. And I felt it, too. I was a little sad that I didn't have someone there with me, to share my joy. But, I understood the joy and the pride. All around me, there was appreciation for all the athletes, young and old, fast and slow. There were volunteers yelling "You guys are awesome! 24 hours! Yeahhhhh!" It was a great display of human emotion on so many levels. One of the many reasons that I, and so many others, love this crazy, ridiculous sport that is ultrarunning.
There were a lot of astounding things that happened out there. From a pure numbers stand point, there was a new course record set. Michael Henze put up just over 145 miles, to break the old course record of 136. This guy was just fast and consistent, the whole time. The only time I saw him walk, he was coming by me up the small hill they call Mt. Nokomis. He told me he had to break 135 miles to be considered for the US 24 Hour team. I think he took care of that! Of course, there were many other stories there. Most of which probably went on within the minds of those participating. But, I'll leave it to them to tell their own story.
First of all, the folks that put this race on were absolutely great. Everyone was very friendly and helpful. Sure, it's pretty much the norm for an ultra. But, it's always appreciated and sort of amazing. These poor folks, many of them non-runners, sit around freezing their butts off, so that us poor, filthy slobs can abuse ourselves by running in circles. Some of my favorite things which this team delivered: 1) Pizza, twice! At 6 pm, and again at midnight, I had pizza. Awesome! 2) Massages. Yes, that's right. At any given time, there were 2 massage therapists on hand. Wow! I loved it and took advantage of it a few times when a few minor aches wouldn't go away. 3) I really enjoyed the full breakfast after the race. I was hungry and tired, as was everyone else. It was great to walk right into breakfast. Perhaps the best part was to be able to sit and talk with some of the other runners.
There's always sort of a sadness when an event is over. You think about it for so long. You plan. You travel. You run like hell. Then, when it's over, your regular life just pops back on. It's nice to spend some time to ease out of it, talking with others who've experienced this kind of weird experience (volunteers and runners, alike), before easing back into the 'normal world'. As I sat in the airport, trying not to fall asleep before getting on the plane. I thought,"These people don't have any idea why I walk like I'm 90 years old, why I can't keep my head upright on my shoulders." But, the others that were present 'out there', they get it. They understand the things that went on at the lake. The nondescript piece of a city park that saw a thousand amazing things take place in the hearts and minds of those that were there.
Like the guy who couldn't run after the first 5 hours because of pain. So he walked for the next 19 hours. What kind of impression do you think that made on his two kids? Their dad was certainly as amazing as any super hero.
The forecast for the week looked great. 64 degrees and partly cloudy. But, two days out, it changed to rain, 70% chance. Sure enough, it dawned cloudy. At the start, it was still dry. By the second hour, the rain started. It was light, but constant for the first 6 hours, or so. Then, it turned to a moderate, but very consistent rain. This continued for about 3 hours. It was cold, too. The temp was around 50 degrees.
I had on a rain jacket and gloves that had been soaked for hours. I was wearing shorts that stuck to my legs. There were a lot of folks who were starting to go hypothermic. You could put on something dry. But, within minutes it would be wet again. All in all, most runners seemed to deal with it pretty well. There was far less activity in the medical tent than I expected. Happily, around 9:00 pm, the rain stopped and settled into a fine foggy mist. Manageable with a dry rain jacket and a dry change of clothes. I'd been resisting pulling out the dry set. I knew that I'd need it to get through the night.
My race went pretty well. I had stated my goal to anyone that would listen: 100 miles in under 24 hours. I started somewhat slow and easy, as planned. I went for a 12 minute pace for the first 5-6 miles. Then, I brought it up a little. I tried to keep it around 10-11 minute pace for the remainder of the first 25 miles. Plus, I walked the bridge across the lake every lap. It was about 5 minutes, out of every 25-35 minute lap. A good break to keep my legs fresh.
That bridge was always the coldest part of every lap. The wind blew off the lake and right across the bridge. There was definitely a cold, nasty wind a-blowin'! But, the best thing about the bridge was the planes. The planes would line up for the airport runway, about 300 feet off the deck. It was awesome! They'd come roaring in every few minutes, leaving swirling trails of mist in the wakes of their wing tips. Great full sensory experience!
I never came to my "wall", which I usually hit around mile 16-20, and sometimes repeats every 30 miles, or so. I believe that my fueling was the reason. I ate mostly fruit and a few small pieces of turkey sandwich. Never underestimate the power of an orange slice! I felt like I got a charge for the next lap, every time I ate a couple. A slow and even burn of quick carbs was the main goal. I was able to PR every distance at this race, From marathon (yeah, my marathon time is slow) to 50k, through 50 miles and 100k, I was ahead of all of my best times. The flat loop course was the secret. But, that was the reason I showed up.
Around mile 40, I started to hear that old familiar voice in my head. It was raining. It was cold. I could go to the motel, watch some bad TV, go to the steakhouse for a big dinner and dessert. I just kept telling myself no. Not this lap. Just go around again, one more time. Stay in the now. I've learned that being present is what gets me through these things. Thinking about what's to come is not a good strategy. And besides, I had chosen this. I had thought about it for months. I had spent a few hundred bucks to get here. My wife had reorganized her life for the week, so that I could do this. My daughter told me I could do it. I couldn't tell her, I couldn't tell everyone, that I just decided to quit and go somewhere warm and dry.
At mile 40, I looked at the top ten. I was there! I was number 10! I'd never been number ten, unless maybe there were ten entrants. By mile 62, the voice was finally gone for good. I had 10 hours left to go about 38 miles. I had clean, dry clothes and shoes. It had stopped raining. I was going to break 100 miles. I was. I knew it. There was nothing that was within my control that could stop me. It was possible that there could have been something else. But, I didn't see any problems. I had a few small aches and pains. I stopped at the massage tent for a couple of quick 10 minute tune-ups.
Every lap, I would yell out my number to the lap counters. They would yell back, "That's lap 31. That's 75 miles!" I'd yell back, "25 to go!" Then, I'd do the math. If I hold a pace of at least 17.5 minutes per mile. I'll have 20 minutes to spare. I must have done the math 200 times during the night. The last 3-4 hours, I was still very close to making it, or not. I had to keep moving. Walking it in was not an option. I was NOT going to end up with 97 miles. There were a lot of folks out there walking. I admired each and every one of them. I was just not going to be one of them.
Mile 98.5. The time clock said 23:20, I had 40 minutes to go 1.5 miles. I decided to go over to the short course, instead of the long loop. I was pretty sure I could manage the pace. But, I didn't have a watch. There would no denying my goal. So, I ran short loops back and forth, near the finish area. It was really fun. There must have been 60 people running back and forth, 220 yards out, then back again.
"I need six short loops", I thought. "Six, and I'm done."
There were some who were just walking. Some were running hard, like a six minute pace. They were cranking out laps, passing by slower walkers, over and over. I decided that if all these people could keep going for the last few minutes, I would too. Plus, I didn't want to come up short, due to some math error. I felt like 101 was a good number. I picked it up. I passed 100 miles. Yes!!! I counted 4 more loops. I passed 101 miles. There was 15 seconds left. Others came sprinting in, literally as the clock turned 24:00. Amazing! Absolutely awesome!
I saw one woman getting congratulations from her family. She had hit the line with literally no seconds left. She had run HARD for the last 30 minutes. Her family was ecstatic. She started to tear up. And I felt it, too. I was a little sad that I didn't have someone there with me, to share my joy. But, I understood the joy and the pride. All around me, there was appreciation for all the athletes, young and old, fast and slow. There were volunteers yelling "You guys are awesome! 24 hours! Yeahhhhh!" It was a great display of human emotion on so many levels. One of the many reasons that I, and so many others, love this crazy, ridiculous sport that is ultrarunning.
There were a lot of astounding things that happened out there. From a pure numbers stand point, there was a new course record set. Michael Henze put up just over 145 miles, to break the old course record of 136. This guy was just fast and consistent, the whole time. The only time I saw him walk, he was coming by me up the small hill they call Mt. Nokomis. He told me he had to break 135 miles to be considered for the US 24 Hour team. I think he took care of that! Of course, there were many other stories there. Most of which probably went on within the minds of those participating. But, I'll leave it to them to tell their own story.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Moab 100 Race Report - March, 2009
I ran the Moab 100, last weekend. It was a somewhat ugly experience in a beautiful location.
For the first few laps (5.37 miles each), everything went pretty well. I started too fast on the first lap. When will I ever learn? By lap 2 & 3, I was in a good groove, doing about 12 minute miles. I had a low point around mile 20. Low energy, lack of speed, typical "wall" for me.Things went generally well for the first 50 miles. I came into the mile 48turnaround at about 11 hours.
Around mile 45, I realized that I hadn't been peeing all day. Made a little stop and found that both quantity and quality did not look good. I decided to stop at the aid station and drink at least a quart, before continuing any further. I also had some pasta with chicken,since I was lolly gagging in a chair, anyway.
Things seemed to be on track shortly thereafter. But, around mile 55-60, I started feeling some blisters starting on the balls of my feet. There was a lot of deep, dry sand on the course. Much more than I remembered from last year (when I dropped at mile 64 of the 24 hour - wimp!). Between the sand in my shoes and the crazy off-camber angles of the slick rock sections, it was turning into a fine sanding on the bottoms of my feet. Although it was a minor problem, I knew that I had to address the issue, or I wasn't going to be continuing. Thus began 3-4 laps of 10 minute stops each lap, farting around with tape, changing socks, dumping out sand. Repeat, repeat, repeat.I was loosing tons of time. My moving pace was reasonably good. But, I felt like I had to take care of my feet, first and foremost. Otherwise, there would be NO pace at all.
My wife, Paige came out with me to pace for three laps, starting at mile 60.I felt like I was moving pretty well, as she did. However, we realized at the end of each lap, that we were still doing about 20 minute pace. Some were quicker, but more time was wasted dealing with keeping blisters at bay.Not good. My wife, on the other hand, was awesome! She has paced me for part of every 100 miler that I have finished. Curiously, the two I did not finish, she did not pace me. Hmm? Around 4:00 am, she went to sleep and I continued on.
I asked the RD how many 100 milers were still out there when I left at mile80. He said there were about 10. I almost asked what my 24 hour mileage was,and what place that put me in. I knew I had the option of dropping down to the 24 hour race.Then, I thought better of it. I wasn't going to get to the finish with that thought in my head. So, out I went, solo. I had one more lap to do in the dark. I knew that I would get a nice boost with the second sunrise. I had 9 hours to go 20 miles. Easy, right?
Overall, I felt pretty good for the last 4 laps. My blistered foot started flaring up again at mile 86. I was out of tape and out of ideas. Arrgh! It was in a very awkward spot between my big toe and the pad of the ball of my foot. I tried to wrap it in duct tape, out of desperation. No deal. It couldn't move and flex. I was literally debating dropping at mile 86.Finally, I looked over and saw some corn pads I had bought. Ah-ha! I stuck one on, no tape. But, It seemed to work. I was back again. I felt like this was the 3rd time I had been able to pull this race out of my ass. There would be a fourth yet to come.
I finished my final lap (mile 98.4) with an hour and 5 minutes left. I knew I had it in the bag! I left for the 1.6 mile out and back. I walked briskly up the hill, feeling like I was moving well (for a walk, anyway). I had some running in me. But, I didn't see much point in trashing myself to knock off10 or 15 minutes from a slow time. During the last couple of hours, the wind had really picked up. By the time I got close to the out and back turnaround, it was screaming! I would estimate it was blowing consistently at 50-60 mph. It was difficult to remain upright, at times. I turned around at the cone. Less than a miles to go. I figured I had lots of time,probably 40-45 minutes left. However, I didn't have a watch. Good move!
I met another runner, about a 1/3 mile from the finish. We walked and chatted.With about 100 yards to go, I saw my wife and daughter. My 5 year old ran out to me and said, "Four minutes, dad!" Holy crap, four minutes!? I wasn't gonna lose a finish at this point. I kicked it into gear and ran hard. Up the hill and even faster toward the finish. My time: 29:57:00. Three minutes to spare!I was very happy to have the finish. And very happy to just be done.
Things I learned:
1) Slick rock is brutal. It's hard on your knees. It's makes your feet slip around, because the surface is uneven. Add in lots of sand, and it's even worse. This is my fourth finish of 100 miles or more, with my worst blister problems, by far. Happily, they are not huge and felt reasonably good, once I stopped.
2) My wife pacing me dramatically increases my chances of finishing. I told her in the middle of the night,"If you hadn't been pacing me, I probably would not have a 100 mile finish to my name." She is awesome! In the wee hours of the night, the company of another is worth a lot. The company of someone you love, and just enjoying the night together is worth even more.
3) Just focus on maintaining forward motion. Once again, I was trying to make excuses for stopping. But, I just kept moving and everything took care of itself.
I also met a few members of the Ultralist. Janet Thomson and her friend Luis had a great race, and smiled the whole way. Janet took the women's category in the 100, around 27 hours. Outstanding for a first 100 miler, on a tough course. Fred Davis, who I met at Ultracentric looked good, but had a tough time with his temperature system. Fred is very prolific. This guy runs 100'sand beyond like most people do training runs. Oh, and he's in his early60's. Wow! Davy Crockett was like a man driven mad. Every time I saw him, he was running HARD. From what I've seen, Davy gives it all he has every time.
I don't know if I'll go back to the Moab 100. I like the race, but the slick rock really gives you a beating. Maybe a shorter 12 hour next year, or a fun relay team? I was excited to get a race shirt this year. This should be a given when you sign up for a race, in my book. I also really liked the warm pasta with chicken and the potatoes with broth. However, the general food spread at the aid station was pretty sparse and didn't change. I'd love to see some more variety.
I think this race is underestimated by many people.The description says 450 feet of vertical per loop. I would estimate at least 600 feet, which was backed up by a Moab local. This would put the total vertical gain as close to 11,000' vs. the 8,200' advertised. And the slick rock will kick your butt!
For the first few laps (5.37 miles each), everything went pretty well. I started too fast on the first lap. When will I ever learn? By lap 2 & 3, I was in a good groove, doing about 12 minute miles. I had a low point around mile 20. Low energy, lack of speed, typical "wall" for me.Things went generally well for the first 50 miles. I came into the mile 48turnaround at about 11 hours.
Around mile 45, I realized that I hadn't been peeing all day. Made a little stop and found that both quantity and quality did not look good. I decided to stop at the aid station and drink at least a quart, before continuing any further. I also had some pasta with chicken,since I was lolly gagging in a chair, anyway.
Things seemed to be on track shortly thereafter. But, around mile 55-60, I started feeling some blisters starting on the balls of my feet. There was a lot of deep, dry sand on the course. Much more than I remembered from last year (when I dropped at mile 64 of the 24 hour - wimp!). Between the sand in my shoes and the crazy off-camber angles of the slick rock sections, it was turning into a fine sanding on the bottoms of my feet. Although it was a minor problem, I knew that I had to address the issue, or I wasn't going to be continuing. Thus began 3-4 laps of 10 minute stops each lap, farting around with tape, changing socks, dumping out sand. Repeat, repeat, repeat.I was loosing tons of time. My moving pace was reasonably good. But, I felt like I had to take care of my feet, first and foremost. Otherwise, there would be NO pace at all.
My wife, Paige came out with me to pace for three laps, starting at mile 60.I felt like I was moving pretty well, as she did. However, we realized at the end of each lap, that we were still doing about 20 minute pace. Some were quicker, but more time was wasted dealing with keeping blisters at bay.Not good. My wife, on the other hand, was awesome! She has paced me for part of every 100 miler that I have finished. Curiously, the two I did not finish, she did not pace me. Hmm? Around 4:00 am, she went to sleep and I continued on.
I asked the RD how many 100 milers were still out there when I left at mile80. He said there were about 10. I almost asked what my 24 hour mileage was,and what place that put me in. I knew I had the option of dropping down to the 24 hour race.Then, I thought better of it. I wasn't going to get to the finish with that thought in my head. So, out I went, solo. I had one more lap to do in the dark. I knew that I would get a nice boost with the second sunrise. I had 9 hours to go 20 miles. Easy, right?
Overall, I felt pretty good for the last 4 laps. My blistered foot started flaring up again at mile 86. I was out of tape and out of ideas. Arrgh! It was in a very awkward spot between my big toe and the pad of the ball of my foot. I tried to wrap it in duct tape, out of desperation. No deal. It couldn't move and flex. I was literally debating dropping at mile 86.Finally, I looked over and saw some corn pads I had bought. Ah-ha! I stuck one on, no tape. But, It seemed to work. I was back again. I felt like this was the 3rd time I had been able to pull this race out of my ass. There would be a fourth yet to come.
I finished my final lap (mile 98.4) with an hour and 5 minutes left. I knew I had it in the bag! I left for the 1.6 mile out and back. I walked briskly up the hill, feeling like I was moving well (for a walk, anyway). I had some running in me. But, I didn't see much point in trashing myself to knock off10 or 15 minutes from a slow time. During the last couple of hours, the wind had really picked up. By the time I got close to the out and back turnaround, it was screaming! I would estimate it was blowing consistently at 50-60 mph. It was difficult to remain upright, at times. I turned around at the cone. Less than a miles to go. I figured I had lots of time,probably 40-45 minutes left. However, I didn't have a watch. Good move!
I met another runner, about a 1/3 mile from the finish. We walked and chatted.With about 100 yards to go, I saw my wife and daughter. My 5 year old ran out to me and said, "Four minutes, dad!" Holy crap, four minutes!? I wasn't gonna lose a finish at this point. I kicked it into gear and ran hard. Up the hill and even faster toward the finish. My time: 29:57:00. Three minutes to spare!I was very happy to have the finish. And very happy to just be done.
Things I learned:
1) Slick rock is brutal. It's hard on your knees. It's makes your feet slip around, because the surface is uneven. Add in lots of sand, and it's even worse. This is my fourth finish of 100 miles or more, with my worst blister problems, by far. Happily, they are not huge and felt reasonably good, once I stopped.
2) My wife pacing me dramatically increases my chances of finishing. I told her in the middle of the night,"If you hadn't been pacing me, I probably would not have a 100 mile finish to my name." She is awesome! In the wee hours of the night, the company of another is worth a lot. The company of someone you love, and just enjoying the night together is worth even more.
3) Just focus on maintaining forward motion. Once again, I was trying to make excuses for stopping. But, I just kept moving and everything took care of itself.
I also met a few members of the Ultralist. Janet Thomson and her friend Luis had a great race, and smiled the whole way. Janet took the women's category in the 100, around 27 hours. Outstanding for a first 100 miler, on a tough course. Fred Davis, who I met at Ultracentric looked good, but had a tough time with his temperature system. Fred is very prolific. This guy runs 100'sand beyond like most people do training runs. Oh, and he's in his early60's. Wow! Davy Crockett was like a man driven mad. Every time I saw him, he was running HARD. From what I've seen, Davy gives it all he has every time.
I don't know if I'll go back to the Moab 100. I like the race, but the slick rock really gives you a beating. Maybe a shorter 12 hour next year, or a fun relay team? I was excited to get a race shirt this year. This should be a given when you sign up for a race, in my book. I also really liked the warm pasta with chicken and the potatoes with broth. However, the general food spread at the aid station was pretty sparse and didn't change. I'd love to see some more variety.
I think this race is underestimated by many people.The description says 450 feet of vertical per loop. I would estimate at least 600 feet, which was backed up by a Moab local. This would put the total vertical gain as close to 11,000' vs. the 8,200' advertised. And the slick rock will kick your butt!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Ultracentric 48 Hour Race
Jim & Sue Norwood sent me this inquiry about my 48 hour strategy. Here is a brief report. Ok, it's kinda long!
Happy Thanksgiving!
Jim wrote:
Well, how did UC go for you? Sue and I were entered, but for various reasons didn't go. For one thing, we were a bit concerned about the lack of organization and conflicting information we found on the race website. From what we've heard, it may have been a good decision. We hope your experience was positive.
We're interested in hearing how things went for you. How did you deal with sleep? That seemed to be a concern you had. You received several responses from your post to the list in October and we're wondering how much was helpful, and if you were able to adhere to any kind of predetermined schedule. Since you solicited advice from the list, others may be interested in your comments.
I had a good race. As has been mentioned, there were some problems with the organizer, mainly a ridiculous, completely false course description. Lap counts were often hard to get. Sometimes, for several hours at a time. But, all in all, I had a great time at my first 48 hour experience.
I ran at a steady pace most of the first 9 hours. Started slow (15 min. pace) for the first couple laps. Then, cranked it up (ha, ha!) to around 11-12 min. pace for the remaining daylight hours. With rest breaks (bathroom, few minutes for dinner), I was keeping about a 13:30 average. Night brought a slow down, with a few laps coming in around 20 minutes (17 min. mile). But, one of the best things for me, psychologically speaking, was knowing that I could sleep. I decided to take a 90 minute rest around 2-3:00 am. At 1:30, I started to get the yawns. So, I pulled into the tent around 2:00 and set the alarm for 90 minutes. I think I only slept about the last 20-30 minutes. But, it felt very good to just rest and close my eyes. I woke up and immediately got moving. What made it worse was that our tent was at the bottom of the hill. So, I immediately had to go into a climb. But, no big problem. After a lap or two of loosening up, I was able to get my running going again.
Overall, I ran the flats. I mostly ran the downhill, alternating walking down every third or fourth lap, to save the quads. This seemed to work well. I walked mostly all of the uphills. Although, on the first day, I mixed it up a little to work different muscles. I would estimate that the 1.15 mile loop was 1/2 flat to slightly downhill, 1/4 slight uphills, 1/4 big hill at the start/finish.
I stopped again for a rest around 5:00 am. This time for 45 minutes. Due to a misunderstanding (and my wife being mostly asleep) she set the alarm for 35 minutes. But, it worked out great. I would guess I actually slept about 15-20 minutes. I felt fairly refreshed upon waking 5 minutes before the alarm. Once again, a lap or two of walkng got me back to a running gear. My best times during the wee hours of darkness were around 14-15 minute miles. I passed the 100 mile mark around 28 hours. I would estimate the course as having 50-60 feet of elevation per loop. Hundred mile total was around 4,500 5,000 feet of gain. I feel that I could have been faster through the first 100. But, I felt it was smart to try to keep my ability to run as long as possible.
Day two brought back some speed. I was able to do mostly 14 min. miles through the daytime hours. Eating real food every 5-6 hours seemed to work well for energy and felt great. I had a good, consistent appetite throughout, a rarity for me. I only had one shot of gel during the whole race. Took an S-cap! every hour during daylight, every 2 hours at night. I drank about 10 oz. of Clip2, about every 3-4 hours throughout. I did start out with my hydration pack for the first 2 hours. I realized that it wasn't needed, as I could get water every 15-20 minutes. So, for the first time, I ran the rest of the race carrying nothing. It was nice. I did feel like I lost a bit of time this way. At times, I found myself stopping every lap for a drink, a snack, to pee, etc. After 3-4 laps like this, I'd get frustrated at my lap times. Then, I would decide to go something like: 2 laps no stops, get water quickly, take food with me. Then, 2-3 more laps non-stop, etc. This kept my pace up to a reasonable rate, maybe 15 min. miles, average.
As the second night started, the constant wind finally stopped. The wind had blown strong and gusty since early afternoon on the first day. During day 2, I was in a jacket most of the day, sometimes with hat and gloves. I couldn't understand how the 12/24 hour runners were out there in shorts and singlets! I figured I was just physically depleted and not able to keep the furnace stoked. I also noticed most of the 48 hour runners were also bundled up. As the sun went down, I got a great second wind. I pulled out 4-5 laps at 12-14 minute pace. My goal was 150 miles. I decided that when I hit 150, I would call it and go to sleep. This gave me good incentive to keep moving. I was constantly doing math in my head: "only 9 hours to go".
Around hour 34, my achilles tendon really started to hurt. It went from a very slight twinge, to "hey, idiot!" in just a few minutes. This gave me cause for alarm. I know that achlles injuries can be very chronic. I asked a couple of well seasoned runners about it. They agreed that I shouldn't keep going if I had pain. After catching up with Dr. Andy Lovy, he also confirmed the diagnosis. He said to stretch and rest. If it didn't hurt, I could continue. If it still hurt, I would be risking more injury. After walking two more laps, it was time to throw in the towel. They had me counted at 126 miles. I felt content with that. So, at 36:05, I handed in my timing chip and caught a ride back to the motel. By 10:30, I was in bed.
We returned in the morning, just before the runners finished at 9:00. We had a nice breakfast. We hung out at the awards ceremony and cheered the other runners. There were some great performances, especially considering the course. Afterwards, we packed up camp and headed down the road.
Overall, I felt pretty good physically. Spending 2-3 days driving home was terrible for my circulation. We only drove 4-5 hours a day, taking it slow and milking a few more days of vacation. But, the blood just pooled in my legs. When we would stop at a hotel, I would walk around a bit and elevate. No problems. 11 days later, my achilles is still slightly sore, with a small nodule. A regular routine of RICE has helped a lot. I did my first run of about a mile on day 9, before it started to tighten up. I walked back. Yesterday, I went for a 4.5 mile loop. Ran 4 miles at pretty slow pace. More tightening up. I deceided it was time for some other therapy. So, I'm going to see my PT on tuesday. Slow and easy and no more injury is my motto.
I hope to be back on my regular, rigorous ;-) schedule of 30 mpw soon. Plus, as soon as it starts snowing, I've got some ski days to get in. And, of course, like any junkie, I'm thinking about trying to get down for Rocky Raccoon 100 in February.
PS- A huge shout out to my wife Paige, and daughter Ripley. The best crew a guy could ask for. They brought me Chick-Fil-A twice for dinner. And were generally fantastic! And, as is always the case, great volunteers at the race, Always helpful, always gracious. I hope that the RD can get his act together. This could really be a class act, with a few minor changes.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Jim wrote:
Well, how did UC go for you? Sue and I were entered, but for various reasons didn't go. For one thing, we were a bit concerned about the lack of organization and conflicting information we found on the race website. From what we've heard, it may have been a good decision. We hope your experience was positive.
We're interested in hearing how things went for you. How did you deal with sleep? That seemed to be a concern you had. You received several responses from your post to the list in October and we're wondering how much was helpful, and if you were able to adhere to any kind of predetermined schedule. Since you solicited advice from the list, others may be interested in your comments.
I had a good race. As has been mentioned, there were some problems with the organizer, mainly a ridiculous, completely false course description. Lap counts were often hard to get. Sometimes, for several hours at a time. But, all in all, I had a great time at my first 48 hour experience.
I ran at a steady pace most of the first 9 hours. Started slow (15 min. pace) for the first couple laps. Then, cranked it up (ha, ha!) to around 11-12 min. pace for the remaining daylight hours. With rest breaks (bathroom, few minutes for dinner), I was keeping about a 13:30 average. Night brought a slow down, with a few laps coming in around 20 minutes (17 min. mile). But, one of the best things for me, psychologically speaking, was knowing that I could sleep. I decided to take a 90 minute rest around 2-3:00 am. At 1:30, I started to get the yawns. So, I pulled into the tent around 2:00 and set the alarm for 90 minutes. I think I only slept about the last 20-30 minutes. But, it felt very good to just rest and close my eyes. I woke up and immediately got moving. What made it worse was that our tent was at the bottom of the hill. So, I immediately had to go into a climb. But, no big problem. After a lap or two of loosening up, I was able to get my running going again.
Overall, I ran the flats. I mostly ran the downhill, alternating walking down every third or fourth lap, to save the quads. This seemed to work well. I walked mostly all of the uphills. Although, on the first day, I mixed it up a little to work different muscles. I would estimate that the 1.15 mile loop was 1/2 flat to slightly downhill, 1/4 slight uphills, 1/4 big hill at the start/finish.
I stopped again for a rest around 5:00 am. This time for 45 minutes. Due to a misunderstanding (and my wife being mostly asleep) she set the alarm for 35 minutes. But, it worked out great. I would guess I actually slept about 15-20 minutes. I felt fairly refreshed upon waking 5 minutes before the alarm. Once again, a lap or two of walkng got me back to a running gear. My best times during the wee hours of darkness were around 14-15 minute miles. I passed the 100 mile mark around 28 hours. I would estimate the course as having 50-60 feet of elevation per loop. Hundred mile total was around 4,500 5,000 feet of gain. I feel that I could have been faster through the first 100. But, I felt it was smart to try to keep my ability to run as long as possible.
Day two brought back some speed. I was able to do mostly 14 min. miles through the daytime hours. Eating real food every 5-6 hours seemed to work well for energy and felt great. I had a good, consistent appetite throughout, a rarity for me. I only had one shot of gel during the whole race. Took an S-cap! every hour during daylight, every 2 hours at night. I drank about 10 oz. of Clip2, about every 3-4 hours throughout. I did start out with my hydration pack for the first 2 hours. I realized that it wasn't needed, as I could get water every 15-20 minutes. So, for the first time, I ran the rest of the race carrying nothing. It was nice. I did feel like I lost a bit of time this way. At times, I found myself stopping every lap for a drink, a snack, to pee, etc. After 3-4 laps like this, I'd get frustrated at my lap times. Then, I would decide to go something like: 2 laps no stops, get water quickly, take food with me. Then, 2-3 more laps non-stop, etc. This kept my pace up to a reasonable rate, maybe 15 min. miles, average.
As the second night started, the constant wind finally stopped. The wind had blown strong and gusty since early afternoon on the first day. During day 2, I was in a jacket most of the day, sometimes with hat and gloves. I couldn't understand how the 12/24 hour runners were out there in shorts and singlets! I figured I was just physically depleted and not able to keep the furnace stoked. I also noticed most of the 48 hour runners were also bundled up. As the sun went down, I got a great second wind. I pulled out 4-5 laps at 12-14 minute pace. My goal was 150 miles. I decided that when I hit 150, I would call it and go to sleep. This gave me good incentive to keep moving. I was constantly doing math in my head: "only 9 hours to go".
Around hour 34, my achilles tendon really started to hurt. It went from a very slight twinge, to "hey, idiot!" in just a few minutes. This gave me cause for alarm. I know that achlles injuries can be very chronic. I asked a couple of well seasoned runners about it. They agreed that I shouldn't keep going if I had pain. After catching up with Dr. Andy Lovy, he also confirmed the diagnosis. He said to stretch and rest. If it didn't hurt, I could continue. If it still hurt, I would be risking more injury. After walking two more laps, it was time to throw in the towel. They had me counted at 126 miles. I felt content with that. So, at 36:05, I handed in my timing chip and caught a ride back to the motel. By 10:30, I was in bed.
We returned in the morning, just before the runners finished at 9:00. We had a nice breakfast. We hung out at the awards ceremony and cheered the other runners. There were some great performances, especially considering the course. Afterwards, we packed up camp and headed down the road.
Overall, I felt pretty good physically. Spending 2-3 days driving home was terrible for my circulation. We only drove 4-5 hours a day, taking it slow and milking a few more days of vacation. But, the blood just pooled in my legs. When we would stop at a hotel, I would walk around a bit and elevate. No problems. 11 days later, my achilles is still slightly sore, with a small nodule. A regular routine of RICE has helped a lot. I did my first run of about a mile on day 9, before it started to tighten up. I walked back. Yesterday, I went for a 4.5 mile loop. Ran 4 miles at pretty slow pace. More tightening up. I deceided it was time for some other therapy. So, I'm going to see my PT on tuesday. Slow and easy and no more injury is my motto.
I hope to be back on my regular, rigorous ;-) schedule of 30 mpw soon. Plus, as soon as it starts snowing, I've got some ski days to get in. And, of course, like any junkie, I'm thinking about trying to get down for Rocky Raccoon 100 in February.
PS- A huge shout out to my wife Paige, and daughter Ripley. The best crew a guy could ask for. They brought me Chick-Fil-A twice for dinner. And were generally fantastic! And, as is always the case, great volunteers at the race, Always helpful, always gracious. I hope that the RD can get his act together. This could really be a class act, with a few minor changes.
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