It’s been 10 days since my finish at the Cactus Rose 100. For those reading this 100 years from now, a bit of perspective: last night the 44th President of the United States of America, Barrack Hussein Obama, was elected to a second term, marijuana became legal in Colorado, and a few more states acknowledged that any two consenting adults have the right to be married, regardless of religious traditions surrounding anatomical compatibility.
Over the course of October 27-28, I was, indeed, able to cover 100 miles on foot, without stopping for a meal and no stationary sleeping (though I think I cobbled together about 45 seconds of moving sleep over the final 5 or 6 hours of the event). The main thought I have about the experience, the idea that repeatedly came to mind both during and after the run, was this: participating in a 100-mile foot race is totally self-indulgent, likely dangerous, does not contribute to good health, and is largely pointless. Such a race is expensive and exacts a toll on loved ones and, since about half of those who attempt the feat aren’t able to finish, can be as much a blow to the psyche as it is destructive to the body. People usually fall and are cut, bruised, and aching everywhere whether or not they finish. Torn muscles, blisters, sprained joints, and all manner of maladies arise from dehydration, sleep deprivation, and the ravages of the elements and terrain. Puking, crying, and general disorientation are commonplace.
I finished, hobbling and spent, well off my goal time, and moaned in bed as I slept for the next 19 hours. When I woke up, I wanted to do it all again. Weird, right? It all comes down to the satisfaction of doing it outweighed and overshadowed everything else. It is supremely satisfying to lay out an objective goal, prepare for it for months or years, not knowing whether it is really even achievable, then have the opportunity to so fully test oneself. Had I DNF’ed, at least I’d have known what I was made of. It all probably sounds trite and cliché. Still, in adulthood with work and family and a house to maintain and all that goes with the largely suburban, workaday lifestyle, we just adjust to the reality of doing small things. Not to say that pizza with friends or taking kids to the park or paying the bills is unimportant. But the things we routinely do, even the really fun stuff, isn’t really all that satisfying. At least that’s what I believe the 80 runners starting the 100-mile race seemed to understand.
I went into the race with 2 main goals: (1) Finish without risking any permanent damage, and (2) do so in under 24 hours. Both were reasonable goals based on my training and preparation and I figured if I could cover the distance without any injury or illness I’d be able to do so in less than 24 hours. I was right and I was wrong. Having never gone longer than 52 miles or so, and only having covered than sort of distance a couple of times, every step beyond had all sorts of uncertainty. To improve my odds, I’d been running fairly high mileage, at altitude, almost entirely on trail, including many long runs (5+ hours), for months leading up to the race. Andres Capra, my longtime friend, training partner, and multi-race teammate, was also out there for his first shot at a 100. Between us we had quite a crew/pacer team, including my buddies Steve Levine from Chicago, Matt W. from Boulder, our mutual ultra-running friend, Rob Clark, and Andres’ co-worker runner-athletes, Chris Kelter and Rob Nunez. Pacers were allowed after 50 miles and Andres and I needed them every step.
I don’t think any potential race report readers have the endurance for a mile-by-mile sort of account of the day(s) on the trail so I’ll attempt to sumarize. The course deserves a word before going into my experience. That word could be sack-slapping. Or 100milesoflooserock. Or leg-grinding. The four 25 mile loops, which change directions after each go-around, lack the altitude and long climbs of the mountains but make up for such challenges with about 40 miles of short, steep, ups and downs that are essentially scree for many stretches. Having run the entire back half of the Leadville 100 just a few months ago, I feel qualified to say that, altitude aside, the CR100 course is at least as challenging. The terrain is certainly as tough or tougher.
Here’re the basics of my day…
Pre-race, with Andres. All optimism.
Loop 1 – Start to Mile 25
Within the first 10 minutes of the race Andres and I inexplicably found ourselves off-course with a handful of other runners. Not sure how it happened but luckily it was only about a 5-minute detour and the only of the entire race. We ran together, nice and easy, the entire loop coming through 25 miles right on schedule in about 5 hours.
Loop 2 – Mile 25-50
Coming into halfway…
Andres and I leapfrogged each other a bit but were mostly together all loop and we came through the halfway point in about 11 hours in good spirits, still chatting (probably about how awesome we are and how we’re so going to crush the race). I had some distressingly early leg pains as early as about mile 30 that never really went away but nothing that was keeping me from running. Not yet, at least.
Somewhere with Andres, I’m smiling so it must have been the first half…
Loop 3 – Mile 50-75
Many hours into the day, somewhere loop 3, I think.
I picked up Steve to pace me at about 4pm. It was a mental lift to have a friend along. And it was a huge logistical help, as I could now further minimize my aid station pit-stop times since Steve could grab what I needed and I could get on my way immediately. It is somewhat arbitrary, even misleading, to break the race into 25 mile segments. With aid stations every 4.5-5.5 miles, most runners, myself included, are mentally just working to get to the next aid station. After running for 11 hours, this was especially true. The highs and lows came often. I’d feel overwhelmed by the idea of running another 45 or 30 or eventually even 10 miles, while still having stretches where I felt really good. These swings, though not too high or low, came at me every few miles the entire third loop.
Steve is a minor legend within my group of college friends. He’s game, kind of freakishly so. That’s the best way of describing him. He can run a respectable marathon with minimal training, hammer back martinis and steaks like an alcoholic strong-side tackle, and dance for days at a time, sometimes all within the course of one long weekend. He’s as likely to be backpacking solo through remote sections of Hawaii as hand-picking fine fabrics for a custom suit he’ll be wearing to a wedding in London. He runs his own business mostly from his phone and is always looking for a challenge –or dare. He was just what I needed to keep me entertained and moving. Steve is also a big dude – more lineman than ultrarunner – but I’ve run and hiked and skied and otherwise suffered with him many times.
This is Steve.
But, as the miles wore on I found that his relative inexperience on trails, for long distances, and especially in the dark, made it tough to manage the pacing duties. By mile 67 I looked back and could no longer see any sign of his headlamp. A runner doesn’t stop for his pacer, it’s just the way it goes. Maybe (probably) it makes me a dick but I think knowing that I could drop my pacer, WAS dropping my pacer, made me speed up. I came into mile 70 aid station alone. Luckily Chris Kelter was there, semi-fresh (though he’d been crewing pacing ALL day long), and he kept me company until mile 75.
Loop 4 – Mile 75 to Finish
And that’s when things fell apart. Matt was patiently waiting for me around 10pm. Though a sub-24 was still mathematically within reach, I understood that a 6-hour final loop was looking unlikely. My legs were trashed. I was able to run pretty much all of the flats, downhills, and even some of the gentler climbs for 75 miles. But every step was hurting. Not the expected knee pains, somehow all of my joints felt ok. I had one blister developing on my left heel but that wasn’t much more than a minor distraction. The muscles in my legs, however, hurt down to the individual fibers. I wasn’t overly fatigued, my mood was acceptable (to me, at least), my stomach remained solid and I was able to keep taking in calories. I just couldn’t run, or more accurately, I couldn’t run any faster than I could hike.
Matt, a very experienced marathoner-recently-turned-trail-ultra-guy, was solid. He is one of the most even-tempered friends I’ve ever had and that’s just what I needed as I suffered, creeping along, for 10 hours on that final loop. When I felt good (I did have some decent short stretches) I ran. The rest I hiked as efficiently as possible. Matt pointed out at one point that his own pace was hardly changing and never more than a hike, even when I was running my hardest. That was helpful to know. Though somewhat discouraging, it made more sense to hike than run if I was essentially going the same speed. We both fell asleep repeatedly while running; Matt once awoke to the bright reflection from his headlamp light on a course marker, thinking a car was coming towards him. I did a lot of grunting the last few hours.
This must have been sometime after 7am (of the second day)…
Despite my inability to run for most of the last 10 hours, I somehow managed not to get passed until, with less than a mile to go, a guy flew by me (probably at 10 min/mile pace). I tried to stay with him and was able to, for about 10 seconds. Then I just stumbled my way in to finish in 27 hours, 44 minutes, 48 seconds, 18th place overall of the 47 runners who were able to finish (33 DNf’ed).
Crossing the finish line…
Immediately after the race, with Matt. We look pretty good…
I never contemplated not finishing, though I wanted to stop more than I’ve wanted just about anything in my whole life. I thought of my friends across the country, my family, especially Sagan, and everyone else who knew I was out there. My ultrarunning-star friend, Olga, was out there supporting runners at an aid station we passed through 8 time over the course of the race. She’s a hard woman to let down. And I thought of Andres, who I admire and respect and sometimes hate a little for always being the better runner. I was able to pull away a little bit around mile 60 and hadn’t seen him since. I was certain he was just steps behind me, likely to speed past me soon, or surely in the final stretch to the finish. I wanted him to finish, to have a good experience. But I absolutely could not DNF and still hold my head high if he finished. Of course, he finished and he likely would have been ahead of me if not for some lengthy aid station stops. But, for once, I finished ahead of him. I’ll bask in that achievement even if it makes me a dick, as I can’t quite imagine it ever happening again. And I’m super proud of him for gutting it out in a still very-respectable time. Even if it was slower than mine. 🙂
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Some FAQs, as I’ve had a lot of people ask the same stuff.
How close was I to the winner? Why didn’t I win?
This is one I get a lot, including from Sagan, who doesn’t understand why I don’t win the races. I understand why people ask it. I’m fairly fit looking and I train all the time, at least compared to people who train less. What well-meaning, very supportive friends and family don’t realize is that I’m super average as a runner. I’ve never won an award or any kind, in over 50 races. In ultras, the frontrunners are HOURS ahead of me. In fact, in the CR100 I crossed paths with the eventual winner when I was at mile 43. He was 14 MILES ahead of me at that point and he finished over 10 hours before me. And he would be an hour or two behind some of the guys who I’ve met in Boulder if they came to the race. I’ll never run a 13-hour 100 or a 2:15 marathon or 4-minute mile. Not even close, with all possible coaching and training and doping and course cutting and machete throwing at runners ahead of me. That said, I’m ok with my running and typically in the top quarter of runners in races, sometimes in the top 5-10%, and I continue to improve as I race and train more.
What’s my excuse for not running faster?
I have none. The weather was nearly perfect, high in the 60s, lows in the upper 30s, and dry. I never fell. I didn’t get sick or injured. I trained as much as I reasonably could, and on race-specific terrain. I tapered well, came in rested, fit, lean, and in good spirits. I had great pacers and crew and a sound nutrition plan that I stuck with. The course was well-marked, the aid stations close together, and I didn’t have any trouble with gear. I’m not sure what, if anything, I could or should have done differently, which is both comforting and discouraging since I don’t know how I can go faster next time.
What did I eat?
50-60 gels, one every 20 minutes for more than 12 hours then as often as I could stomach, all Powerbar brand, mostly un-caffeinated vanilla with some caffeinated strawberry-banana after halfway.
~100 ounces of plain coconut milk with whey powder, chugged at aid stations. Maybe 30 ounces of “green” Odwalla juice
1 Bobobar, a few peanut butter sandwhich halves, 1 large bag of potato chips, small cup of mashed sweet potatoes, 1 cup weak coffee
How much did I stop/rest?
Essentially, not at all. I think my longest aid station stop was under 5 minutes. I never sat down (though I did squat once at mile 39), never intentionally slept. I maintained a running motion, if not pace, for probably about 80 miles of the race.
How long did it take to recover?
I’m still not sure. I fully took off 3 days after the race and have since run easy 3 times, hiked twice, and done some strength work in the last week. I feel a bit sluggish but no major lingering pains. My first real run test, a 9.5 mile trail run this past Sunday (7 days post-race) was a mixed bag. Mentally I felt good, physically I felt great through about 4 miles, then I started aching until the finish. I think I’ll be close to 100% in another week.
Is this out of my system, finally?
Nope. I’m not super excited to run the CR100 course again but long distance trail running isn’t something on my bucket list, something to check off. While the experience of the race itself may not be done for health, the training and nutrition and dedication are good for me, year-round. It can fill my need for social time and solo time, it gets me outside to beautiful, remarkable places, it provides goals and direction for me, and an example of discipline and the strength of will and demonstrates the benefits of fitness for my kids. And if I can look ok in my underwear 20 years from now, all the better for me and Alison.
What’s next?
First, helping to get Story sleeping and Alison some much needed rest and time to herself. Running-wise, I’ll just do whatever seems like fun for the rest of 2012, though probably no racing. I need and want to get some cross-training over the winter to get stronger. Probably a decent amount of skiing and snowshoeing, definitely regular strength training, perhaps mixing in some swimming and rowing. Further out, I know that I want to race more long-distance. A shot at the Leadville 100 or a return to the TransRockies Run (6 days racing across the Rockies) interest me a lot for next summer. Pacing others in trail ultras interests me, as do long adventure runs with friends outside of a race setting.
Race pics were included in registration for last Sunday’s 50k (race report). Here are a few that I think summed up my experience.
Early on, sun starting to shine on the mountains, when I still had something resembling an actual running stride:
Smooth, flat, soft single-track. This must have been sometime in the first hour or two – later on, there’s no way there would have been five runners in such a tight shot:
I ran with runner #302 for about 8 miles in the final third of the race, leapfrogging each other and running stretches together. He was a good guy and quality runner (recent 3:05 marathon), learning some of the hard lessons of ultras in his first time racing beyond 26.2. There were six similar water-crossings (3 that were each done twice on the looped course). The weather warmed up but the water didn’t. Cold water and tired legs account for that look on my face:
Moments later, happy to be running and away from the slippery, rocky creek bed:
Most of the course was exposed and warmed up quite a bit a few hours into the race. But the open course was great for knowing where others were, giving me a constant stream of little goals along the way (“Catch that guy – there’s no good reason he is ahead of me” sort of reasoning/inspiration.)
At the finish line. Trail races are sort of anti-climactic, at least for anyone looking forward to cheering crowds and impressed fans. Most folks are out there for their own reasons, myself included. It may not show but this is what I look like when I’m running happy. It was great to muster a legit, albeit solo, sprint finish:
Looking at these pictures, especially for friends who knew me 5, 10 years ago, the first thought is “Jesus, didn’t he used to have muscle?”. I was a solid 195lbs about 8 years ago. Yeah, that has been one of the downsides of ultra training – once the fat melts off, the muscle is soon to follow. Currently hovering around 150lbs (at 6’0″), I know that I better focus more on strength work over the winter or next summer you won’t be able to see me if I stand sideways.
The preliminary results for the Bear Chase 50k: 4:55:32 for 28/190 overall and 10/45 age group (M30-39). Beat my previous best 50k time by 8 minutes on what I think was an equivalent course (at elevation here but warmer and more humid for prior PR race). People here are fast – when I ran 5:03 last year in TX I was 8th overall in, the Bear Chase winner was more than AN-HOUR-AND-A-HALF faster. Wow.
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Up by 3:30am after a night at the spectacular Boulder Sports Hall of Fame induction ceremony, I didn’t feel much. Not as tired as I would have expected, not as anxious, either. Normally I try to get everything dialed in just right before a long run, especially sleep and diet. Still half-stuffed from the tasty but less-than-ideal-for-the-night-before-a-race HOF dinner and fuzzy-headed from less than half a night’s sleep, I headed out to Lakewood in the dark.
Typically, a few minutes before a race I’ll try to calm my nerves even while squeezing closer to the start line through the crowds. There were about 200 starters for the 50k, which started 20 minutes after the 50mi race. The race started and I just did what I do on pretty much every other long run: I went out slowish and just plodded along at a level where I didn’t feel like I was working. There were points I pushed a little to bridge a gap to the next runner(s) but mostly I approached the race as a simulation for the CR100. That meant hiking anything I couldn’t see the top from where I started, sticking to my 100mi nutrition plan, even wearing the exact gear. I figure if running 9:30 miles felt easy for 31 miles, MAYBE averaging 14-somethings for 100 will be possible.
The course had a ~6 mile loop, followed by two longer loops to cover the total 31 miles. With about 2000′ of climb over the entirety of the race, it felt essentially flat with the exception of a one decent climb done twice over Mt. Carbon, which was really not much more than maybe 10 minutes of switchbacks that I hiked but could have run if I was really going for it. There were a few other hills and six ankle-deep water crossings to slow the pace but the rest of the course was perfect for speed for those who are speedy. Single track dirt, mostly exposed, with long straightaways and sight-lines of the course and a backdrop of mountains from just about everywhere.
I never really suffered but also didn’t get any euphoric highs. I think that made for a solid race and my time reflected it. But, it is sort of a bummer to go out and race and not get the expected buzz and the emotional peaks and even a taste of the low times. Weird run, really – I just plugged away and was settled in from the start. I didn’t grab mile splits on my watch and final results with splits haven’t been posted but I’m curious if I ran as evenly as I suspect. I am quite sure my final mile was one of my quickest, as I figured I had 14 minutes to break 5 hours from the “One Mile to go” sign and I came in 5 minutes under. If I understood the posted race results at the finish, I passed 16 50k runners in the final loop, which is pretty cool. And, despite aching knees, I had plenty of energy even after my solo sprint finish. But, I think I’d have had more fun cruising around the high country with my Boulder buddies.
The event was very well run from start to finish, with great pre-race communication, friendly support on course, smooth logistics, easy-to-follow route, nice size of field (all events reached caps), live tracking, race photos included, and quality shirts, medals, post-race food. Definitely recommended.
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Time to ease into taper mode, though I’ll still do a good bit of running over the next two weeks. Just nothing too long. I’m looking to fit in a run-hike trek of 15-20 mountain trail miles over the Continental Divide into Winter Park, where we’ll crash for the night before the return trip, for a total of 30-4o miles. But everything else will be either short and tough or medium and social.
Today I met up with the Library Crew and with them was one of their buddies, Geoff Roes, whose laundry list of incredible feats includes winning the 2012 Iditerod Trail Invitational (350-mile race, non-stop, on foot, pulling a sled with all his gear, across Alaskan wilderness) and the 2010 Western States 100 in a course-record-breaking time of 15:07. While he wasn’t able to join us for our borderline-silly 5-miler along Boulder Creek we did get to chat for a bit beforehand. Like the fan-boy I am, I had awkwardly introduced myself to Geoff a few weeks back at the farmer’s market (he remembered) but this was more of a real interaction and he was just as nice and down-to-earth as all the other trail trompers everywhere else.
The super prestigious WS100 course record that Geoff broke had been set by Scott Jurek, who won Western States a staggering 7 consecutive times. I’d seen Scott in passing near Pawnee Peak back on August 12th but properly met him, too, about a week ago, also on a Boulder Creek run. In addition to being one of the hands-down greatest ultra-runners in history, Scott is a NY Time Bestselling author and world-traveling humanitarian.
These two guys are true icons in the ultra-running world and really supportive of anyone else who gets out there and gives the trails a shot. Who could be a cooler runner for a guy like me to meet while running? How about Frank Shorter, the 1972 Olympic Marathon Gold Medal Winner! Yup, just finishing up a typical run on the trail right by the house and I rolled up on Frank. Just him and me. I made my usual stumbling “Wow, you are so inspiring and I think you’re great and do you need any muscles massaged” sort of hello and he was nice enough to listen to me and wish me well. Looks like I’ll see him again tomorrow night at the Boulder Sports Hall of Fame induction ceremony and fundraiser for One World Running, a great organization started by Library Crew buddy, Mike Sandrock.
Just another week on the trails in Colorado. I will say that my star-stuckedness is starting to fade but I still totally appreciate the chance to soak up this experience.
Photo: Alfred de Wijn. One scene from Saturday’s run, aspens changing colors.
Last week was a big one, running-wise. The 81.5 logged miles doesn’t really tell the story, since it was an oddly structured week, only running 5 days and no doubles.
Sunday 10, 1:36
Slightly up, then slightly down Switzerland trail with the usual Sunday crew. Pretty steady pushing 8-minute-miles on the return.
Monday 15.6, 4:50
I figured Monday was a good chance to give a workout a try that I’d been contemplating for a few weeks: looped repeats on the Hogback Ridge trail. It’s about 1.75 miles long, with about 1300 ft of total elevation change from the starting point of the loop. I set up my own mini aid station cooler at the base and hiked up then ran down it as many times as I could fit in between noon and dinner, alternating clock-wise and counter-clock-wise loops over the technical, rocky terrain.
Photo: Protrails
Was able to get in 8 repeats, plus a little mileage too and from the house. Great CR100 training terrain and for the mental challenge. Estimate about 5500′ of total climb – pretty stout for me over such a relatively short distance. Cute baby rattlesnake gave me a scare on loop #7.
Tuesday 0, 0:00
No running but got in what has become my go-to cross-training/semi-recovery day: an hour on the rowing machine (12,400 meters in an hour seems to be just about right for a good workout without crushing myself) and some easy strength training.
Wednesday 11.4, 2:04
Boulder Reservoir r/t via Boulder Valley Ranch (BVR) trails. Nothing technical but ran the whole thing rather than hiking the few short but steep hills.
Photo: Sean Hudson
Thursday 25.9, 5:08
Only resembled a marathon in the distance. Ran entirely with Chris Petrizzo, chatting the whole way with an easy effort throughout. Meandered through BVR, Foothills, Wonderland Lake, various neighborhoods, joined up with the Library Crew for an hour on Boulder Creek, then a return trip through the heart of town.
Friday 0,0:00
Only second genuine rest day in last 5 weeks. Long overdue.
Saturday 18.6, 4:20
Photo: me. I get lost and this served as my “oh shit” map on my phone.
Out-and-back along the St. Vrain Glacier Trail with the Boulder Trail Running Breakfast Club in the Indian Peaks Wilderness area, with some extra distance for exploring over boulder fields. Lots of great photos of the day. Easy effort with the exception of the final 3-4 miles, where Scott Manning, Matt W., and I pushed the pace on the downhill (had to get down to 7-minute pace for a while to catch Scott – nice to get a tempo effort for a piece 4 hours into a run!).
Photo: Matt W. Turn-around point for Saturday, just above treeline.
I pee a lot, certainly more than others I run with. That means frequent stops and I’m no longer one to stray far from the trail just for a little relief. During one such stop I was mid-stream when one of the dogs of a fellow runner stuck its nose right under my crotch, taking a pee slap across the snoot. No one seemed put off, not me nor the owner, nor the dog, so we just got on with the run.
Photo: me. Not the most runnable section of our off-trail route. Jay, lovingly helping his pee-nosed-dog down a 60-degree rock face.
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I’m now just under 5 weeks out from the big race. Feeling good, ready to get after it this week in training, with one last race this Sunday as my final real tune-up. I’ll be pushing a good bit at the Bear Chase 50k and, while not expecting a PR on tired legs, it should be a good fitness test. I just found out this race will post live tracking so check it out and feel free to follow my progress.
My Monday training was more of a mental challenge than a run. I filled up some empty milk cartons with water, tossed them in a cooler with some gels and chips, and jogged through the neighborhood to meet up with the Foothills trail. From there, I parked my one-man aid station at the bottom of the Hogback Ridge trail, a 1.75-mile loop with about 650 feet of climb (and, since it is a loop, about 650 feet of descent).
Lately, for self-directed long runs, I’ve been going on time rather than distance. I had right about 5 hours free so I got to it, starting counter-clockwise. Since this was ultra training and and not intended to be anything else, I hiked the uphills and jogged the flats and downhills. When I finished loop one, I reversed direction, heading back up from where I had just been. Each loop took a little over 30 minutes and I was able to fit in 8 of them which, with the to and fro pieces to join up with the loop, totaled 15.6 miles on the day with, I think, a good bit over 5000′ of climbing. Right about 4:50 total time.
I had hoped to fit in 10 loops and that certainly would have been possible if I’d pushed a little harder or had fresher legs to start but I feel good about the effort. I felt extra good not to be bitten by the angry little baby rattlesnake I hopped over halfway through loop #7. Or the much bigger unidentified snake that slithered alongside me earlier in the run. The easy pace and half a day’s worth of Adam Carolla and This American Life podcasts made the time pass reasonably fast.
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In related news, I finally got myself officially registered for the Cactus Rose 100. The starter list is updated every few days so I expect a few others to join me soon but right now only 60 runners are in the 100-miler.
Looking for the best way to sicken yourself on high performance sports nutrition products? I think the good folks at Wait Wait, Don’t Tell me figured it out.
Matt W. had a good day a the Sliprock 50-Miler, his first shot at the distance. Despite it being an unexpected 3 miles longer and a total of 12,000′ of climbing, with about half the field DNFing, Matt was steady and strong and is now a no-shit ultra-marathoner.
Silke Koester crushed it at the Run Rabbit Run 50-Miler, 3rd woman and 10th overall on another course where just finishing under the time cut-off would have been a big accomplishment.
Good Colorado-lifestyle day for the family. I got a nice trail run, Alison hiked with a neighbor friend, Sagan worked on his mountain-boy skills with some climbing and kayaking, and Story pooped outside (ok, in her diaper and that’s not much of a milestone).
Sagan at the top of one of his 4 ascents:
And enjoying a little down time, mid-paddle:
10 miles this morning along the Switzerland trail with the usual Sunday crew: Marty, Rock, Smitty, and Brett, plus a couple of guys I haven’t run with much, including Chris, who has recently started exploring meditation, trail running, and social exercise, roughly all at the same time. Chris knows all sorts of stuff about hawks and trees and what eats who and why and when. Nice to have a nature guide along to describe what we’re actually looking at as we cruised through the forest at 9,000′.
I got in my planned long double Thursday-Friday, totaling about 10 hours and 45 miles all over town. It was an odd way to do long runs, as I didn’t plot a course either day and just ran wherever, incorporating about an hour in the middle of each run to join up with The Library Guys (a rotating mix including Marty, Rock, Brett, Smitty, and an assortment of whoever else shows up for loosely organized group runs that often start at, you guessed it, the library). Over the two runs I weaved through town, up and down the foothills and Wonderland trails, Sanitas, Flagstaff, Green (with summit), Boulder Creek, and neighborhoods in between. A good chunk of technical, steep, rocky stuff, and I fell just once, on a nearly flat, mostly smooth, well lit stretch of sidewalk. Ridiculous, but at least I got to practice my roll-so-I-don’t-break-myself maneuver, right in front of whoever was watching from the rows of houses on either side of me. I’m so tough that (after brushing off wood chips, cleaning off blood, feeling sorry for myself for a minute, then taking a picture) I immediately popped up and ran my ass the 5 miles back home.
The major obstacle I somehow couldn’t find my way over without a somersault:
I hit the elusive 100 miles in 7 days that I was shooting for, the first time I’ve ever been able to hit that mark in a training week. I followed it up with 23 miles over the next 3 days. I’m not particularly tired. Nothing is injured. I’m not even sore. I’m just, uh, sorta blah about training. That hasn’t happened in a long time and I’m sure it won’t last. It better not, since the next 4 weeks are prime time for training and I better not slack if I want to be ready for the CR100.
To be fair, there’s good reason for me to be a bit burnt out. This has been a huge year for my running, especially the increasing training load. The first half of a year was a breakthrough in training volume, with frequent 70+ mile weeks. Since landing in Boulder 89 days ago I’ve pushed my limits further, logging 872 miles at elevation, mostly on trail, with 20 days of at least 15 miles and probably more climbing than I had done cumulatively in the prior 10 years. I’ve only taken 10 days off running in that stretch, meaning that I’ve averaged over 11 miles on the running days. The “rest days” have only come at an average of 1 day out of 9 over a three month period.
So, I find myself lacking motivation a bit. Likely it is some brain chemistry getting frizzled. I know I’ve also lost some muscle, as it is getting harder to find any time during the day when I can get the scale to register much over 150.0. I’m still doing plenty of core work and trying to get at least some push-ups and pull-ups but all of it is drudgery and my strength is not where it was even 2 months ago.
On the positive side, the run training seems to be working. Despite a current mental low, I still generally enjoy each run, which is the important part. While I’m certainly not gaining speed, I’m finding that there is nothing that is really preventing me from just running and running and running. My aerobic capacity feels limitless and I can maintain (a slow but running) pace hour after hour without any bonk, even on the warmer days. Mentally, I’m getting tougher and the more I run, the fewer little niggles bother me. And I’ve discovered new abs, or perhaps protruding organs, that I previously didn’t have the opportunity to observe.
Yesterday was a full-on rest day. Today I’m taking it easy. But that’s it. Time to “zip up my man suit” and get back at it Thursday and Friday for long back-to-back runs. I’m looking at 4 hours tomorrow, maybe upwards of 6 hours Friday, and one way or another, I’ll do what I need to do. What I want to do pretty much all the time except right at this moment. To get out and run trail, some solo, some with friends, until I can’t anymore.
Odds and ends…
I got out for two great hikes with life-long bud, Kevin Lehrer. The first was a Eben G. Fine Park -> Green Mountain Summit r/t, totaling about 10 miles. It took us long enough that we had to break out the semi-emergency headlamp that we shared to stumbled our way down the final 2 miles. The following day we did a 3.5-mile night-time hike (with proper lighting) of Hogback Loop. Great to get out on the mountain terrain together and one of these days we’ll get back out for some lengthier adventures, though maybe not as lengthy or adventurous as our times road-tripping across the U.S., backpacking through Mexico, or any number of shared but not-safe-for-blogging experiences.
Ryan Smith and Ben Nilsestuen completed the TransAlpine Run – 200 miles across the Alps over 8 days – as the 9th place men’s team. Read all about their journey on Silke’s blog. Tough, rugged, fast, and nice, these guys are inspirational and I’m lucky to have had a chance to spend some time training with them in their build-up. Congrats!
Some friends are ultra-racing this weekend. Matt Weincek is tackling his first run beyond 31 miles at Moab’s Alpine to Sliprock 50-Miler in Utah and Silke Koester will be following up her recent win at the Aspen Trail Marathon with another 50-miler at the Run Rabbit Run 50 in Steamboat Springs.
Last week, from August 26 through September 1, I got in another 90+ mile week, a rarity in my running “career”. I totaled just over 94 miles but, if I push myself through tomorrow, I think I’ll be able to log my first ever 100-mile week (excluding the 2009 TransRockies Run event). Hitting 100 miles is totally arbitrary, as so much of the wear and tear and physical benefit from running comes from not just mileage but a combination of intensity, terrain, elevation, vertical change, weather, and other varied factors. But hitting 100 weekly miles, especially in my build-up to my first 100-mile race, holds special meaning for me. So I’m going for it.
Currently, I’m just shy of 81 miles over the last 6 days. My plan is to get a second run in this evening then run whatever I need to tomorrow to make it official. Interestingly, some of my 70-80 mile weeks up here, ones that have included much more vertical, have been more challenging but I like the objective measure of mileage, at least for this very short term goal.
Other notes:
- Eric Lee succeeded in completing the insane challenge of the Nolan’s 14 route. I’m glad to have a chance to run with Eric and look forward to more trail time together whenever he’s ready.
- I’m looking at one last training race before the Cactus Rose 100. The 50k at the Bear Chase Race seems about right.
- Today was my first stroller run with Story. I’d say it went pretty well. She slept the first hour, played with her toes for the next 30 minutes, then cried the last 10 minutes home. Sort of a baby triathlon.
- Weather report for tomorrow: Boulder, high 72, low 48. Austin, high 104, low 75. I can just hear the regular refrain from my beloved Austinite friends, “It’s only really hot here for a few months.” The thing is, I can remember back to May 6th, when it topped out over 100 degrees during a trail marathon I ran. That was 4 months ago and Austin’s forecast calls for at least mid-90s well into next week.
- Lean is good, skinny is bad. I hopped on the scale after my long outing on Saturday and looked down at a number last seen around my sophomore year. In high school. I just drank another 48 ounces of protein shake but it just doesn’t seem to make much difference.
Kind of Like Fun 