An excerpt from an email I just sent to a friend:
Easy 9 miles on the slightly rolling, mostly smooth and tree-shaded trails at Caribou Ranch. Our group was among the first handful of folks on these trails since March, as the ranch opened to the public for the season about an hour before we arrived. Our motley crew of assorted runners stuck together in changing groups of two or three, as is the norm, which makes for a good variety of conversation and efforts. As with most of my recent running, the first mile or two hurt from cumulative fatigue on my legs but I settled in to a nice rhythm and by mile 3 or 4 I was able to pick up the pace.
Chris, in back with the green shirt, is here from The Netherlands. He is a training partner to Hilda Kibet, a top Dutch female marathon runner who is Kenyan-born and getting ready for the Olympics. Their workout yesterday consisted of 5 X 5k at 17min pace, with a “rest” interval of 1k at about 6:25/mile pace. All at altitude. Absolutely insane.
I’m wondering whether I should take an easy few days or not. I wake up tired but no more so than when I haven’t been running a lot. And after warming up I feel really, really good putting in the miles, especially on the trails. But I know I need time to recover to get stronger, I’m just not sure when or how much. I’m thinking easier efforts tomorrow (3-4 miles) and Tuesday (6 miles) might be enough rest to be able to kick it back up later in the week, with some more big days over the weekend. If you are reading this and have any thoughts, let’s hear them.
Great one today, starting at around 9,500′ just below Brainard Lake, the Boulder Trail Running Breakfast Club broke into two groups at the start, with a handful taking the ~11-mile round-trip route while the rest of us (maybe a dozen?) headed off for the 18-miler. Photos from today, taken by others. The turnaround point was the summit of Pawnee Peak at 12,943′. The 9.3 miles took 2:40 and I was hurting the whole climb up. Since I found most of the 3,500′ climb too steep to run, I was roughly mid-pack and hiking as quickly as I could without totally red-lining. But, at the turn-around, I felt good and was able to hang with the front runners the entire return, finishing within just a handful of seconds of the first guy back to the cars, the speedy Dan Gorman, who recently challenged his cycling friends to a race to the top of Flagstaff Mountain, with him on foot and them on bikes. Yeah, it wasn’t a race a but is was nice to run easy and still stay with some talented guys who were working a bit.
Today’s run was beautiful, challenging, and the weather cooperated, with sunny 60s most of the run. Going into it, however, I was kind of wrecked. It was my longest run of the week (by time) and included the most climbing and technical terrain. I went into it with little sleep and the remnants from one too many white wines night. [Totally different and less objectionable than “white whines,” like “why are all the minorities taking our jobs and running faster than us?”.] It brought my weekly mileage total over 82, a heavy volume for me at any point but all the more exhausting with the altitude and recent heat. And it was my 5th longish effort in just eight days, with training runs of 15, 17, 13, 21, and now ~18 miles just since last Saturday.
In what would have to be largely unrelated news, Sagan saw a car covered with trolls yesterday.
I’ve actually gotten myself kind of worked up about blogging. Not in the “I’m going to kick some blogging ass with extra super totally awesome posts” way, unfortunately. It has been more a source of creeping guilt mixed with low level anxiety crossed with an undercurrent of overwhelmedness. The thing is, the more I’m training and enjoying life, the less time and energy I have for talking about it. While that may be just fine for me, I’ve got all of you – fans just itching to know about my clumsy falls and mile splits – to think about. And I haven’t been fair by holding back the spectacular details of my daily life. So, this post if for you, reader of my blog. I do it all for you.
Like a sailor crossing the, uh, something or another, I’m looking ahead into the distance with utter disregard for metaphors. I may sprinkle in some details from the last few weeks in future posts but, for now, I’m going to start mostly with today and concentrate on the here and now, man.
It is worth mentioning, to help fill out rather important pieces of my very recent back story, that I’ve now been in Boulder for exactly two weeks. 14 days. We left Austin to avoid the soul-melting heat, arriving in Boulder just in time for a record-setting streak of high temps, with 1oo+ degree days being something of a regular thing. In that time I’ve run 13 times (one day off where I just did strength training instead of running), logging 157 miles over a total of 1599 minutes (26.25 hours). Most has been on trail with an assortment of new friends and some great guys I met while here last summer. Quite a bit of the mileage has been run on mountain trails between 8,500′-11,500′ (photos from one of the 15-milers in the high country), though I’ve also been exploring town and the Boulder Creek path and the foothills, usually around 6MPH.
Today was a good day, as I both enjoyed it and gives a pretty good feel for what my time here is all about, at least as far as the see-how-much-I-can-run part goes. Despite a later than expected bedtime last night, I was up by 5am. By 6am I was at a new trail head with a new friend, the super runner, ultra entertaining blogger, and really interesting guy, George Zack. He showed me the way to the top of Sanitas and around the parts of some of the close-in trail that aren’t on fire.
I did have my first real fall since arriving to town, with plenty of rock rash on my hands, arm and hip. I figured the photo below was the only reasonable way to share the injury visuals.
By 8:15am I was back home, showered, changed into new running gear, sorta fed (again and always), and driving Sagan to camp. By 8:45am I was back on my feet, running what totaled another 15 miles between a run with buddies along Boulder Creek and the solo round-trip from the house to to the creek. 21 miles into the day, I was home and again showered and fed by noon, able to slip in a nap and some extra Story snuggle time, that typically looks something like this:
Now, I’ve gotten a longish blog post in, along with some figurative and literal housekeeping, and I get to spend the evening with the whole family. Tomorrow might be a full-on rest day (push-ups don’t count), my first since June 9th. Or, maybe just a little run if I can’t help it.
So happy to be here. In upcoming posts expect to hear some Tales of the Man Called “Rock,” my thoughts about prairie dogs, and what it is like being the only guy in a running group with guys whose marathon PR times all start with 2:2.
Last night I faced a moral (or is it ethical?) dilemma. That very, very rarely happens while running. In fact, one of the reasons I so like to get out on the trails is to clear my head and just not worry about much of anything.
When at home I have no problem smooshing any fur-less creature that makes its way into “my” domain. But outside, especially in the woods, I feel like the assorted non-human life forms get right-of-way. So, roughly 5 minutes into my 5 hour run, when I came face-to-face with a chunky spider monster spinning a massive web right at face level across the single-track trail, I ducked under and continued on. Same with the next one, maybe 3 minutes later. And again a few minutes after that.
When I – surprise! – nearly ran into the next in the series of wannabe Mike-eating-arachnids, I stopped. I knew that I’d be doubling back over the same terrain, probably a couple of times. And I knew that the later it got, the more tired I’d be, and the more distressing it would be to get some eyelashes full of sticky web or, worse, inhale one of these particularly menacing looking bugs. I made a choice, one that I like to think saved my life and the lives of any other brave souls who followed in my footsteps: I knocked down a spider web in the woods. Then I did it, again and again and again, all along the trail.
I have to admit it felt both mean-spirited and empowering. While the spiders were super creepy, I’ve always thought it was a special brand of dick who did things like web-destroying. I justified each act as self-defense. Me or them. An hour or two of work for a mindless web spinner versus my safety and sanity. So, with breaks in the action only when crossing the creek (thigh high, almost stepped on a frog swimming underfoot) and on some of the wider sections of trail, I perfected my web-knocking strategy* over and over and over for many hours.
I got in over 22 miles, ending around 3am, without a single fall or known spider attack. It was mentally tough, with all the sudden stopping and starting for spiders and then hiking back and forth through the creek, and the dark and the heat and the humidity and wearing a pack with 70 ounces of water and the tired legs (I ran 15 miles the day before and just shy of 90 miles for the last seven days). But, it was a special run. Being out in the dark like that in the woods, completely alone, in the middle of the night, has a surreal aspect to it. I kept one ear to the often quite loud hissing and humming and squirming of a billion legged and winged things, and the other taking in stories, news, and interviews from a handful of my favorite podcasts (Talk Ultra, Adam Carolla, Endurace Planet, Real Time with Bill Maher, and an assortment of NPR staples). While tired and slow, I was able to stay steady and run without pain.
Quick aside – I am back to doing some of my trail running with trekking poles, in order to gain some upper body fitness, move more confidently over technical terrain, and lighten the load on my legs. I’m undecided about using them for Cactus Rose but leaning towards it. I did something of a test on two recent workouts; a 15-repeat (15-mile) hill session without them, followed a week later by a 20-repeat (20-mile) hill session with them. Each time I went on tired legs, perhaps more tired the second outing, and at the same time of day on the same course, with similarly hot/humid conditions. I actually had an easier time doing 20 repeats with the poles, and less resulting soreness, than I did doing the 15 repeats without them. I know some purist trail runners think that poles are, at best, a crutch for the weak-minded and, at worst, a legal aid that may as well be cheating. But, to them, I say this: my reasons for running are to (1) move as quickly as possible under my own power, (2) gain full body fitness without injuring myself, (3) enjoy the experience and (4) have enough longevity in the sport to be ready to run with my grandkids. I think poles might help on all four fronts, though I welcome the thoughts of my trail running buddies who think otherwise.
In non-running news, this is how I spend my most mornings:
*Strategy evolved to a single wide clockwise sweep of the web perimeter with the tip of my trekking pole. It was quick, assured that a spider wasn’t still hanging by a literal thread, and avoided the possibility of hitting the spider with the pole, as that would increase the likelihood of it crawling up to my hand, up my arm, hopping into my hair, and burrowing a hole into my scalp, where it would lay baby spiders who would eat important brain parts.
Official Race Results at MyChipTime.com
Back in 2009 I had a near-complete collapse in this race, dazed and dehydrated and experiencing one of my ugliest running experiences ever, along with perhaps my worst relative finishing position in any trail race to date. Last year I made up for it a bit, running much more to my fitness level and enjoying the race in the process.
This year, however, things came together from the start. It was a good day on the trail. Despite the two marathons and a 50-mile race in the 4 weeks leading up to this 30k, I felt rested and ready from overall lighter total weekly mileage. It was nice to sleep at home the night before, with the race being only a few miles from the house. Pretty much everything went the way it was supposed to – I came in motivated, the weather was mild (for May in Texas, anyway), no cramping, no falls, no getting off course, and fairly even splits over the three 10k loops.
As with races under a marathon, I knew that my place in the field wouldn’t be great. I let the speedy folks get away without stressing about it. I held back early, not allowing myself to surge on the flats or push the uphills. The course has quite a few very short but steep ups and downs and tons of loose rock but there are some nice stretches of winding, tight, wooded single track, which is my favorite terrain. I did my best not to fall too far into no-man’s land so I put in just enough effort to catch whichever runner or two were within reasonable distance. Both for confidence and conversation, as well as a bit of insurance that I’d stay on course, I made sure to stick with a rotation of guys who settled into similar paces. (Ben Phenix, if you happen to read this, thanks for the chat and keep up the impressive running.) The front 10 or so were a lost cause for me but the next 10 spots seemed up in the air.I came through the first 10k loop in 57:42, a bit quicker than intended but close to the hour I figured it would take.
Loop 2 I pushed the pace a bit in places, overtaking a few runners and just enjoying the sweet spot of the day: I was warmed up, the weather was still sort of cool, and I felt good. In spots I was really moving and it was the first time in about a month that I so fully enjoyed running for its own sake. [Digression – most non-runners usually assume that runners like running all the time. I don’t know any runners who feel that way. At times, for me, running is a chore. At its worst, it feels like I’m just punishing myself. But more and more, it has become relaxing when I need to clear my head, and exciting at times when life doesn’t readily present healthy adrenaline rushes. Running is often hard and uncomfortable but it is also incredibly satisfying. Racing, in particular, offers the kind of special, meaningful, and uniquely objective challenge I rarely have found as an working, family-guy adult. You don’t get that feeling from laundry or spreadsheets or buying a car or even the joyful times cuddling babies or spouses. So, if I don’t like to run much some days, even some weeks, so what. I get out there and do it anyway, knowing I’ll probably feel a little better when I get back and will certainly appreciate today’s effort months and even years down the line.]
That second loop took 59:19, total elapsed time 1:57:01, meaning that with the final 10k loop I knew my 30k PR (2:59:43) was definitely within reach, and on a tougher course than where I had previously set it. With the temperature rising and 6.2 miles of rocks to still fall on, I tried to just run evenly. The entire race I ran without looking at any GPS watch data – no pace or distance or splits or even elapsed time. This was a first for me and I think it was smart. I didn’t stress about my pace falling, I just focused on the trail immediately ahead of me, listed to my music (Kenny Rogers is fun to run fast to), and went as quickly as I could without hurting myself.
Then, a break in the action. After getting passed by 3 runners in the final loop I sped up over the last few miles to give everything I had left. I’m guessing my miles 16 and 17 were some of my fastest of the day. But, with less than a mile left, I came to a dead stop when the trail ahead of me was blocked by a downed, bloody runner, who was being helped by my speedier buddy Andres. The hurt runner was a mess – Andres had come across her stumbling around and incoherent, already bloody from a fall that included her face hitting the ground. There was little I could do do help – I had neither the expertise nor materials to make the situation any better. So, after maybe 2-3 minutes of coordinating phone numbers with a fellow bystander so I could get Andres’ medical bag back to the scene, I used a final burst of energy to sprint to the finish.
Loop 3, even with the delay, took me just 60:51, for a final finishing time of 2:57:52, good for a PR and 15th place overall. Granted, there were at least 2 people who should have finished ahead of me – Andres and the fallen runner – but I was racing for time more than position and I was happy to cover the distance about 4 minutes faster than last year on the same course.
Immediately after the finish, through the frenzy of trying to re-locate the hurt runner and get Andres his pack, I ended up taking Andres’ car to double-back on the road running parallel to the course, hopped back on the trail, walk-jogging to get back to the scene. Not easy, as it was getting warm, I hadn’t caught a breath at the end of the race, and I was now carrying the pack, not knowing which direction they were. I heard they may have started back on foot to the start area so I drove back to the start line, meeting them and a mess of additional paramedics and firefighters. No word on the girl, who I hope isn’t too beaten up. Andres guessed that she had pushed too hard and passed out, falling and breaking her nose and who knows what else. He did what he could, and she was taken off by ambulance.
I’ve seen Andres in action before but it was really cool to see him running point, with at least 4 others taking notes and following his directions. In the middle of the woods, after at least 18 miles of hard running. It definitely sucked for him to essentially forfeit his race (he’d have been top 8 overall) but I think the folks from the event – runners and staff, to sauy nothing of the girl – were more impressed by his help than where he’d have placed.
Now, I’m on the road to the Cactus Road 100. Seriously. No more screwing around. I’m going to take things week to week, with a generally loose training structure. First and foremost, I want to get in lots of miles on trail. For the next month or two it will be a build up with the idea of getting in 60-80 mile weeks. I don’t plan on including much top-end intensity but expect to get solid work on hill repeats and maybe some tempo runs. I don’t expect to do much running at all under 7:00min/mile but that may change when out of Austin this summer. Maybe some back-to-back long runs starting soon, probably 2-a-days at least once or twice a week. Time to go get it.
Full list of professional photos (of me) from AzulOx Photography:
http://azulox.zenfolio.com/p1071826218/h25e18569#h25e18569
Neat little addition: Turns out MAJOR media coverage isn’t always limited to the frontrunners. The kind folks at texasrunners.org did a nice write up of the event, which included a rather verbose quote from me.
Pictures and words help tell a story but stats sometimes work even better. For the inaugural Pandora’s Box of Rox Trail Marathon at Reveille Peak Ranch in Burnet, Texas, 109 dedicated, generally experienced runners toed the start line. 15 didn’t make it beyond the halfway point. A dozen more didn’t make it to the end. Only two runners finished in under 4 hours; 5 hours after the start only 15 had made it to the finish line. Well over half who did finish took over 6 hours.
It was a beautiful but excruciatingly difficult race. Normally, any one of the contributing factors would have made for a tough outing:
- full sun with very little of the course unexposed
- temperatures in the 90s much of the race, reaching over 100 degrees at the finish for many runners
- humidity peaking at 90% (for reals)
- technical, rocky trail with few straight or flat sections
- frequent sections of running over massive granite outcroppings
- cumulative elevation gain of about 2200′, with the same amount of descent
So, I suffered like everyone else. Despite 6 SaltStick capsules and 16 gels (each containing electrolytes) and ample water, I cramped like a mofo the last 3-4 miles. Full on seizing of the legs, much like the final couple miles of the warm St. George Marathon. Swirly brain functioning, no peeing, an overwhelming eagerness to stop running. But, I kept going and finished in a relatively respectable fashion in a time of 4:40:55, good for 11th overall. For those interested in some totally unflattering, emaciated race photos, check them out and see if you can come up with any clever descriptions for my pencil legs.
Hours earlier, before entering the pain cave, I was content with the morning. My motivation wasn’t through the roof or anything but I was well rested, well fed, and generally in the right mood for a long effort. My pre-race thoughts of a sub-4 hour run faded away quickly after starting, as I found holding the requisite pace impractical, if not impossible. [The last few weeks have been something of a cluster-fuck for me physically – nearly a month of a fever and sore throat morphing into head congestion and runny everything morphing into chest congestion and a cough. That, plus a left knee with a roaming pain that will soon qualify as “chronic,” has made me feel a little less bionic than I’ve imagined myself to be over the last few months.] While sub-4 hopes became something of a fairly tail, I was still confident that I’d be able to finish in about 4:15, maybe 4:30 if things fell apart.
The first loop felt a bit harder than it should have but not unbearable and I made it to the 13.1 mile turn-around in 2:05. In 8th place at the time, I was pretty confident that if I could just hold the pace, I’d move up a few spots, perhaps even making it into the top 5 (and maybe get the first tangible race award in my running career?!). The next 2 hours and 35 minutes became a war of attrition. And I was losing the war. Each successive mile became more of a chore as the heat soared and I just couldn’t get in enough electrolytes or calories or water or combination of them all to ward off the pain. Luckily, I was able to keep moving forward in something like a running motion, only hiking when absolutely necessary on some of the rockier climbs (the same climbs that were comfortably runnable the first loop through).
I know that some of my my massive readership isn’t super into running but here is an unrelated recent photo that has something for everyone…
Ultimately, 3 runners passed me on the 2nd loop, the last at about 22 miles, each serving a proper blow to my ego. But, avoiding a more complete collapse was something of a minor victory. Once the leg cramping started I thought that a full on wave of runners might fly on by me but none did. After crossing the finish and getting myself into the cool little stone pool just steps away, my focus was squarely on stopping the pain in my legs. Seeing how few others came through the finish in that next hour, I was better able to keep my underwhelming performance in perspective. Clearly, as much as I was hurting, others were having a rougher day.
All in all, a good day. I didn’t get off course at all and, for the first time in my three races at the venue, the course was well marked and there was plenty of cold water, and I didn’t have any big falls (just one little one about 8 miles in but no damage). I felt good within about 30 minutes of the finish and am no more sore today (24 hours later) than most days. Amazingly, my knee feels better today than it has for most of the last 3+ weeks. So, I’m considering yesterday the restart to my 100-miler build-up and am looking forward to lots of long, easy running in the coming months, with just enough faster work so I don’t forget why I don’t like running fast.
A big congrats to Ted Larison, who soldiered on for a hard-fought finish in the full marathon, and to Olga King, who breezed through the half as a training run, taking 3rd female without even really trying.
This past Sunday I ran the St. Louis Marathon, just 8 days after my 50-miler, mostly because I was excited to be able to pace an old high school friend to his first 26.2 attempt and finish. I was determined not to go too hard, as 8 days isn’t really enough time to recover from anything. In the days leading up to the marathon I got as sick as I’ve been in at least a year – throat on fire, fever, congestion – and was only able to sleep about 4 hours the night before the race. And my knees, especially the left one, were aching before I got my shoes on. But it is nice to sometimes see what I can do when I’m not 100% so the test was laid out ahead of me.
My buddy, Josh Wallach, has been running for just a year, after years of smoking and no experience with endurance sports. He’s come a long way, having built mileage significantly in the 4 months prior to the marathon. But, a marathon was more than 7 miles further than he’d ever run so, come race morning, he had the expected anxiety that comes with trying something meaningful you aren’t sure you can do. I was just hoping my sickly, aching body would perform well enough not to hamper his race, though I didn’t let him know that’s what I was thinking.
The plan was fairly loose, with Josh shooting for a 4:15-4:30 marathon. I now prefer to have very specific time goals for something like a road marathon, in order to know how hard I should be pushing at different points. However, I understand that for a first marathon, it may be hard to commit to time goal or pace so I was cool with letting things unfold as Josh wanted. To have some gauge of how to run it, we decided to stick to roughly 10-minute miles for the early part, then reevaluate as necessary. With two newbies (me for pacing, Josh for marathoning), we did alright. In retrospect, an easier pace early on would have made for a better experience for Josh and perhaps a faster finishing time but we both got to learn a little.
The day didn’t turn out as warm as feared, probably in the 70s most of the race. The course was about as scenic as St. Louis gets, starting near the Arch downtown and weaving through the assorted historic districts that spread out to the west. Josh didn’t seem to push too hard, which was just what both of us wanted. We chatted a little along the way and he didn’t seem to have any labored breathing. My knee did hurt but not enough to affect my running much.
Through 15 or 16 miles all went to plan. We were ticking off miles pretty consistently and the effort felt even, accounting for some of the inclines (no real “hills” but still some stretches that rolled). Then, around mile 16 Josh started to get the full marathon experience. Fatigue, of course, but the bigger issue was nausea. It was almost certainly due to drinking too much water, not enough calories, and having a digestive system that hadn’t ever really experienced running for so many hours. It happens and I did my best to tell him there wasn’t anything to really worry about. From that point until the end, it became something of a run-walk, turning to more of a walk-run in the final few miles. Still, he powered through the discomfort, uncertainty, and anxiety to finish. Final time was 4:39:04.
Mile splits from my Garmin:
1 9:58
- To pace properly, I need to have a better idea of realistic pace in order to keep it going the whole race. Some fade is to be expected but I think upwards of 3 minutes a mile is far too much. If I pace again for the duration of a race, I’ll start the runner slower and insist on a projected goal finish time to pace accordingly.
- Running a whole marathon while sick and injured was probably pretty dumb. My knees are feeling it this week and I’m still not 100% healthy, though I can’t be certain that the run is to blame.
- Helping a friend hit a goal is almost as rewarding as hitting my own goals. I look forward to pacing again, maybe if someone needs some help out in Leadville this summer?
- Despite being less than race-ready, it was really cool for a full marathon to feel so relatively easy. There was never a point where I struggled and I even had the reserves to run the stretch back to my car after the race. Even a couple of years ago it would have been hard to imagine running nearly 90 miles in 9 days and not feeling tired from the effort.
A big congratulations to Josh and good luck in reaching whatever goals he targets next. Up next for me, my first shot at a trail marathon on May 5th: http://www.tejastrails.com/Pandora.html
No broken bones, no major screw-ups, and I didn’t poop myself even a little, even once. So, it was a better-than-average day of running. I don’t mean to suggest it was anything close to a perfect day but it was one of my best. Despite temps in the 80s, plenty of humidity, full sun, 3 full-on trail humpings (falling all the way down), many stumbles, and veering off course enough to add at least a half mile to the run, things came together for me.
My “A” goal was 9:15 but I’d have been happy to see anything under 9:30. My previous best was 9:47 back in December. I ended up running 8:43:06 (averaging 10:27/mile), which was good for 6th place overall of 129 starters. It was a 3-lap course and I even managed respectably close splits even with the added distance, which came at the front end of lap 3 (when I should have known the course better since I’d already run that part twice).
In the lead-up to the race I had been building up my trail mileage base, which I’ll continue through the spring and summer as I get ready for the Cactus Rose 100. While I have been doing some faster running a couple of times a week, I think it is the increasing weekly totals and running more on trail that helped me in this race. It ultimately came down to just slogging through the miles during the race, not letting myself walk much, that got me so far ahead in the field. It was really nice to still be passing folks 7 or 8 hours into the day – usually that has been when I really start fading and losing pace and position.
Loop 1 was almost entirely in the dark. That, plus my enthusiasm to race well and my seeming love of superman falls resulted in my first dive of the day, probably less than 10 minutes into the race. It was the hardest of my falls but luckily only cut up my arm. A cut arm doesn’t matter much for trail running. Actually, there were a few points in the race that I welcomed the sensation of sweat and sunscreen in my open elbow, as it really made it hard to think or worry about much else. The dark woods made footing tricky but I got through the first loop perhaps a bit too quick in 2:40.
Loop 2 I spent leapfrogging the leading woman, Hiroko Suzuki, who had come in all the way from Japan specifically for this race. She was strong and steady and we were running close for a good 8-10 miles. After just a very little bit of chatting (she was there to race and I didn’t want her to waste energy speaking English), we took turns doing some of the work, essentially pacing one another. At about the halfway point of the race I was able to pull ahead and somehow held the lead to to the end, though Hiroko won the women’s divison by almost 30 minutes and broke the female course record.
Loop 3 allowed pacers and that’s where I picked up Andres Capra. He was quite a good friend to make it out to the race just to pace me and he kept me steady and in relatively good spirits. I’d been running for over 5 and a half hours when he joined me and the heat was getting to me so I doubt I was a great running companion. He did just what he needed to, telling lame jokes, reminding me to eat and drink, and letting me suffer how I needed to as long is I didn’t slow down.
The last few miles of a race – just about any race – really drag on for me. I get stupid. By the last dozen miles my thigh was cramping, I’d get sorta dizzy when I’d slow down (“So don’t slow down” – Andres), my math skills dropped from 10th grade to 5th grade level, and every tree looked like it was mad at me about something. Coated in salt, sticky from gels, scraped up and oozing here and there, I found a final burst of energy in the final half mile and finished strong with something like a sprint. Even better, crossing the line I felt pretty good, knowing that with a little easing of the pace I could have gone further.
Now, three days later, I feel not so good. The scraps are healing and I was able to walk with Story for 5K around the neighborhood so I know the muscles aren’t in too bad of shape. But, I think the combo of the effort, the heat, the minor dehydration, and a sniffly Sagan have me on the edge of sickliness. I almost took a picture of the substance(s)/object that came out of my throat this morning. My motivation for running isn’t totally gone but I don’t have a whole lot of enthusiasm for laundry and dishes, which indicates something wrong if you know me at all. Another solid day or two of rest should do it. Assuming that I recover enough over the next few days, I’m tentatively planning to pace a friend of two in the St. Louis Marathon (or perhaps just half if I can’t man up) this weekend.
On March 24th I ran in the 2012 Manzano Mile, the second year of the event hosted by local Olympian fast guy, Leo Manzano. It was, uh, an interesting day. That’s about the best I can say of the experience. Heading into the race I’d been racking up many weeks of 70+ miles, mostly run easy but on tough trail terrain. With my 2012 focused on the build towards the Cactus Rose 100-miler this October 27th, I need all the rugged, hilly trail miles I can fit it. But, knowing this 1-mile race was looming, I did make sure to get in some speedier efforts once or twice a week, mostly 1/4- and 1/2-mile repeats on the treadmill. I’ve also been doing some tempo work and hit some hard hills on the longer runs.
I figured I was ready for a big mile PR, shooting for 5:29 but hoping for something faster. 5:20, maybe? Though this was my first track race of any kind, I “knew” a track mile would be faster than a road mile, even if my legs were a bit shot from the non-specific training. Since there are no gimmes I figured a kinda worst case performance would be low 5:30s, maybe 5:35. Well, I was wrong.
It turned out there were 8 guys in the M35-59 heat. I wasn’t focusing on beating everyone and that’s a good thing, as one was my always-faster buddy Andres and the only other guy I met beforehand was shooting for sub-5:00. Lining up for the 11:00am start, I was calm and felt reasonably ready. Just run steady and don’t blow up, I told myself. And don’t try to go out with guys who are clearly faster. Easy enough.
Apropos of nothing, how I spend my recovery time…
First lap I felt ok, running the lap-and-a-little [extra distance tacked onto the first lap to eventually make up the total distance needed for a true mile, which is 4 laps plus 9 meters] in 1:22 (5:28/mile pace. Not too fast, not too slow. The problem was that, in the course of the first 30 seconds of the race I got into something of a no-man’s land. The top two guys were running together, the second two guys (which included Andres) were running together. And the 3 guys behind me were enough behind me that I didn’t sense them.
The wheels came off pretty quickly, running the second lap in 1:29 (5:56/mile pace). I just couldn’t muster the energy to go any faster and each turn and straightaway was a chore. By the halfway point of the race I just wanted it over with and knowing that the best case scenario was not getting passed by anyone was a bit demoralizing. All the worse knowing that Sagan and Alison (with Story attached), who very rarely see me race, were witnessing it all.
My third lap was even worse – 1:32 ( 6:08/mile pace) – and it was rough. Most of it I just spent thinking about how I never wanted to race again. I think it was at the end of lap 3 when the announcer commented that I was running “smooth as butter”. I guess that sounds better than “this guy might make it all the way to the end even though the guys in front are at least half a lap ahead!”.
Lap four was marginally better, run in 1:27 (5:48/mile pace). I just wanted the whole experience behind me and I put in a sad little burst in the final 50 yards and ran through the line without much grace or form. I crossed the line in 5:52, 5th of 8 in the heat. After catching my breath, though utterly dejected, I circled back to the family with a smile. Despite my disappointment I wanted Sagan to enjoy the day without my bad attitude.
My race footage is below, though it understandably focuses on the leaders, which means my coverage is limited and my finish isn’t included:
http://www.flotrack.org/embed/MTc4NjIyNjA3?related=1
In what was the highlight of the day for me, Sagan ran in the kid’s event, a 1-lap race with dozens of kids 6 and under. He had humored me with a couple of training sessions on the track in the weeks leading up to race day and I’m happy to report that he had fun AND race a PR of 2:20. He ran the whole way and really sprinted the final stretch.
Sagan’s race, the cutest race video you are likely to see (see him flying by at 2:46 in grey t-shirt):
http://www.flotrack.org/embed/MjU0NjIyNTgz?related=1
The finale of the event was a mile race for the elites, included Leo Manzano, the event’s host and namesake. Leo race an amazing 3:55 – yes THREE FIFTY FIVE! – for the win, along with setting a new record for the State of Texas. It really was remarkable witnessing the fluidity of his running. He was just so smooth it was hard to believe he was moving so fast.
I was still a bit down as the event was winding down. The family headed out to grab some lunch but I needed to do something to get my day right. So, with the sun beaming down and the heat rising, I set off for a solo 5K on the same track. I pushed hard from the start and finished in 22:19. With still too-much bad attitude consuming my thoughts, I got home and immediately ran the hilly 2.5 mile neighborhood loop just about as hard as I could. That did the trick, tiring me out just enough to give me the right perspective on the day.
Regardless of the mile time, I’m glad I put myself on the line to try it. I’ve only raced the distance a few times and don’t know if I will again, though I feel like there’s still some unfinished business there. For now it’s time to move on, with a 50-miler on April 7th and a number of months of challenges and adventures to get me as ready as I can be for the Cactus Rose 100.
Kind of Like Fun 