Having “grown up” running-wise at Badwater, I know quite a few people running the race and wish them all the best. I may ending up crewing and pacing for a friend, but that is yet to be determined. It was a difficult decision, but in the end I decided not to put my hat into the ring for this year’s edition. Instead, I will apply for the 2011 edition.
While it’s certainly possible to have “A” races two weeks apart making for a unique “double”, the nature of preparing for two unique races makes it difficult to come into both of them and expect to perform at 100%. My racing over the past 7-8 months has clearly benefited from being more discriminating about when and where I choose to race. There are only a finite number of times that we can “go to the well” and pull out an “A”-level race. We often consider going to the well to be simply a matter of willing that level of performance out of us, when in fact there is also a natural physiological fatigue from trying to do it too much. It is the reason why most elite marathoners race only 2-3 marathons a year.
The temptation is there to make a serious run at going under 27 hours at Badwater this year, but it is tempered by the fact that I also have unfinished business to attend to at Western States. There is an emotional weight of having an excellent race in light of my abysmal DNF performance at Western States in 2007. Based on my performances in the last 7-8 months, I am definitely on a major upswing and want to take full advantage of it by taking on challenges that I can give my utmost to achieving. I have an opportunity to have a special race in June that could exceed my current expectations. Considering the current state of the demand to get into Western States, this is something which may not come around again at an age when I should be looking to maximize every ounce of athletic potential I have. To allow myself to split my energies to get ready for both races could ultimately result in cheating myself. Badwater will be there in 2011 and hopefully this upswing will continue so that if accepted, I will be there for another “race of a lifetime”.
That being said, I’ve finally solidified a good portion of my year’s race schedule. While I’m still tinkering with adding more summer and fall races, the bulk of the planning is completed. I am relying on a number of fairly tried and true assumptions when it comes to crafting a training and racing schedule leading up to Western States. Heck, everything seems to revolve around this race, even my fundraising efforts this year, which I will announce on my next post. That said, here's list of some of my basic training assumptions:
1)Go Long: Not all the time, but I’ve made sure to add in a difficult 50 miler in Old Goats as well the Miwok 100k on May 1st. In addition to the just completed Rocky Raccoon 100, this should leave no doubt in my mind that I am prepared for the distance.
2)Prepare For The Course/Race-Specific Challenge: Old Goats will help me refine and work on the climbing aspects that will come into play in the Western States canyons. Miwok will give me another chance to run quick and long over the rolling, non-technical terrain. I should be able to double my time at Miwok to give me a good time goal to fix my eyes upon for Western States. Rocky was also important to me as far as preparing for the uniqueness of night running and battling through the late race fatigue. Oh, how easy it is to forget just how much of physical and mental struggle it can be to keep the legs moving in the late stages of a 100 miler.
3)Hit Triple Digits: There isn’t an exact science as far as miles per week is concerned. However, a general rule of thumb I follow is to hit 100+ miles a week once every 4 weeks. The addition of these races to the schedule should allow me to do this effectively without too much additional effort. Plus, racing can make hitting triple digits somewhat exciting in the midst of the long months of training for one particular race.
4)Rest: I never race on back-to-back weekends. In fact, I only average 1 race per month leading up to the big race. I hope that this will keep me fresh and not mentally tax me too much. I often get sucked into the “competitive mentality” during races, so abstaining from becoming a race junkie is a good decision. This is not to say that I’ll never race back-to-back weekends as a way to simulate race fatigue; it’s just that my back-to-back runs will generally be a combination of racing on Saturday and a more leisurely recovery running on Sunday after church.
Next Post: The introduction of the "2010 Western States Challenge", my new fundraising campaign with some pretty cool prizes for the donors.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Evolution of the Fear Gear- A Rocky Raccoon 100 Case Study
It was only a week ago that I knew for sure that I would be running the Rocky Raccoon 100 in Huntsville, TX on February 6th. Without a contract position for the previous month, I had made a vow not to sign up for any new races until I got a new job. Fortunately, after searching and praying, I got the call I was waiting for a week and a half ago. I landed a 12 month contract at a medical device manufacturer here in the Bay Area, freeing me financially to spend some money on the entry fee for Rocky. I used miles for the flight, got a good deal on the rental car and planned to bring a sleeping bag to sleep in at Huntsville State Park where the race would be held. It would be the ultimate "travel race on a budget".
For me, one of the big drivers behind doing Rocky was the opportunity to do a 100 miler 4.5 months out from Western States. After investigating other potential 100 milers in the February/March timeframe in the Western region, the only other possibility was a rugged, mountainous Coyote Two Moon. In the end, I didn’t want to risk running a more intense race with more climbing than running. I simply wanted the experience of running into the night with that level of fatigue you cannot duplicate in any other type of training setting or race. Rocky has a reputation as a faster 100 miler with no super serious climbs, although the course redesign in 2008 replaced some of the straightaways that allowed runners to pick up good heads of steam with constantly twisting and turning single-track trails. It’s 5 - 20 mile loop format makes it a good choice for someone like myself who would be coming without the help of a crew or pacer as far as been able to organize my supplies efficiently and effectively measure my ability to hold pace throughout the race.
With the conditions mostly dry, save for a few nice sized mud pools, I expected the course to play out similarly to last year when just a shade under 16 hours took home the prize. The weather would be 15 degrees colder, with highs in the 50s and lows in the 30s.
I went into the race with a rather simple pacing plan to do the first lap in 3 hours and add 10 minutes to each additional lap. This would put me with a finish of 16:40:00, which I thought would probably be good enough to at least be in the Top 5. It would help me to focus on staying strong through the end of the race, particularly when the mental games can start wrecking havoc. It was also a goal that wouldn’t wreck my legs or prevent from recovering quickly enough to continue training well the following week.
The one variable in this plan was how I was going to do without a Garmin. I had chosen to leave the Garmin at home and instead focus on my perceived effort and pacing off of other runners. Knowing that Jamie Donaldson would be at Rocky and that her effort last year had gotten here a sub-16:50 finish, I was determined to loosely use her as a gauge for whether I was going relatively too fast or too slow. One of my past failings at Rocky has been going out too fast and not focusing on a running a more consistent race. While I’m certainly not alone in this failing considering how easy it is to get sucked into everyone else’s race on this course, I need to continue to become a better tactical runner to maximize my performance. As a 2:51 marathoner, I don’t have the speed to win a 100 miler (the ultimate goal) by running as fast as I can for as long as I can and then expect to survive the resulting blowup. I need to rely more on my strength and endurance to stay in a race until hopefully surging late to create separation. I didn’t need to break 16 hours here as much as I needed to run a good race that would give me the confidence that I am on track for the Miwok 100k and then ultimately Western States.
After flying into Houston on Friday afternoon, I made my way to Huntsville where I went to Chili’s and enjoyed the dinner of champions: Chicken Tacos, Black Beans and Rice. With the carbo-loading process completed days before the race, I’ve always taken liberties the night before to have a meal I enjoy. One of the waiters at the bar, noticing my track jacket, correctly surmised that I was there for “the race”. He and the bartender took turns expressing their own desires to run a marathon, which I wholeheartedly endorsed.
After a restless night of sleep moving between my rental car (VW Beetle) and the concrete floor of an acquaintence’s camping area, I finally awoke for good at 4:30 in the morning on race day. I didn’t feel particularly good, but I wasn’t overly groggy which is a good thing given my normal disdain for waking up early in the morning. I spent the next 90 minutes prior to the race start getting my supply bags in order and positioned next to the outbound (right-hand) side of the trail at the race headquarters’ aid station. I would visit here once every 20 miles and each plastic bag of 6 Chocolate Outrage GUs and 6 NUUN electrolyte tablets had enough for a 3-3.5 hour loop.
My setup was designed allow me to save time by not having to rummage through my bag and think about what I needed. While I could have chosen to go with the offerings at each of the aid stations, GU and NUUN have become my staples at long races helping to keep my stomach at bay. A major reason for my increased success over the past 7-8 months is clearly due to simplifying my nutrition and these two nutritional supplements are a big part of that.
After some quick photos and chatting with friends, we were off at 6:00 A.M. With a forecasted high temperature in the 50s, I chose to go with a black technical top and a black base layer underneath it. Combined with my dark blue cap, black shorts, black compression tights and black over-the-calf Injinji compression socks, I decided to go with the “Jedi Knight” look. If anything, it certainly made my white Brooks racing flats stand out.
Right away, I settled into a large pack of runners upfront. I quickly found my light to have a less than ideal luminescence and after a mile and a half of running mostly in my own dark bubble, I slowed to allow the next runner to pass me so that I could supplement my light with their light. That runner turned out to be Jamie Donaldson, which pleased me considering that I was somewhat using her pace for this race as a baseline for my own race.
Along with a few other folks, we began trading positions back and forth depending upon time at the aid stations as well as moving a little faster or slower through certain sections. Once the light shone through for good 45 minutes after the start, I pulled ahead of the pack through the second aid station. Intermittently, I looked back to make sure I wasn’t trying to pull away too hard from the pack. Eventually they would catch up to me just after the Park Road aid station with 4.4 miles to go in the 1st loop. At that point, I made it a goal to get passed by at least one more runner before making it back to the start/finish area. This was a goal that I implemented first at the Javelina 100 last Halloween with the intention of disciplining myself to simply relax and not allow the emotional adrenaline that surges this early to push my body beyond that which would be good for me. Not only did I achieve that goal, but I exceeded it with at least a few runners scooting by me including Jamie.
I finished the first loop in just under 2:50 which was a little faster than the 2:55-3:00 loop I had envisioned. But, I wasn’t about to give the time back and instead focused on keeping close to a 3:10 second loop. I estimated that I was probably in 13th-15th place, which was just fine by me considering my overall time. The first 20 miles was about setting a tempo; the next 20 miles would be about maintaining that tempo. After a 3 minute break to get my nutritional supplies together, I quickly headed back on out.
Usually, I would’ve discarded the base layer with daylight now upon us. But, in keeping with the theme of simplification, I was intent on finishing in these clothes barring a major fall into one of the black mud pits scattered throughout the course. The weather was still rather comfortable and the second loop passed without much fanfare. A 3:10 loop translates into an average pace of 9:30 min./mile which, while rather unspectacular, was a pace that I continued to match or exceed between each aid station. I knew the distances between each station and used my stop watch to give myself an estimate of the average pace to that station. As long as I was able to match it, I would simply move on to calculating my time to the next station. This would be a race of small battles and if I could “win” a majority of them, I could expect to come out of this with a good time and placing.
While the theme for the second 20 miles was to simply maintain position, I quickly found myself passing quite a few people who were fading back. Each aid station brought with it the pleasant surprise that I was continuing to exceed the 9:30 min./mile for each section. I wasn’t exceeding it by more than 15-20 seconds at a time, but it was consistent. With the music playing, my body and mind were moving in rythym and the miles seemed to go by without much hard effort. I had moved ahead of Jamie earlier in this loop and was continuing to play leap frog with her as we both moved up the general classification. I saw a few people I knew, including the Jimmy Dean Freeman and the Coury brothers (the young race directors, Javelina Jundred) who were moving along at a brisk pace themselves. One of the nice features of this course is the opportunity to see other runners on the way out to start a loop as they are finishing.
At one point, I was in 6th or 7th place by my estimates since there was no clear, definitive answer from the aid station volunteers. It was rather early to be moving that high up the GC, which I had preferred to see happen in the 3rd loop. Nevertheless, I was pleased with continuing to stay at a healthy pace while always near my Badwater buddy Jamie. I would ultimately yield a couple positions in the final 4.4 mile section before hitting the start/finish area again at the 5:57 mark. Although I ultimately dropped a place in the GC, I was nevertheless right on target. Including the 3 minute break at the start, I had taken 3:07 for this second loop which was right where I wanted to be. I was continuing to feel good as far as my stomach was concerned, although a dull pain in my right knee was beginning to become an annoyance.
I got an unexpected boost at the start/finish area when Alan Gehraldi, a fellow Bay Area resident and Badwater veteran, offered to help me get my water bottle filled and prepped with NUUN. I took the opportunity to pack up with more GUs and switching out to another iPod shuffle. While the aid station volunteers could have probably helped me as well, having Alan there to do it gave me that added assurance that I had one less thing to worry about. Jamie came in a couple of minutes after me and left after a quick 20 second meeting with her husband David at the turnaround sign directly in front of me.
After taking an extra minute to relax and get my head together, I would start my third loop at the 6:02 mark looking to maintain a 10 min./mile pace and a 3:20 loop. About a mile after I headed out, I looked at the pouch on my water bottle realizing that I did not have my NUUN tablets for this 20 mile loop. There wasn't any time to go back to the aid station; I was resigned to the fact that I would have to go on and simply take whatever electrolyte drink they serve at the aid stations.
When I reached the first aid station 3.1 miles away, I took a seat for a minute while the aid station volunteers filled my water bottle with what I learned was Gatorade and fetched me a couple of acetametaphin. The acetametaphin was an attempt to kill the soreness that was creeping into my right knee and both calves. As opposed to ibuprofren, which has been linked to kidney damage, acetametaphin is generally safe as long as their's food in the stomach to act as a buffer. For some reason though, I didn't think to ask about the Gatorade. Although I was weary about the taste or long term effectiveness, I assumed it was Gatorade Endurance with little or no calories. Either way, I just hoped there were enough electrolytes to keep my body going well.
While the acetametaphin slowly kicked in, I continued onward at a brisk sub-10 minute mile running pace. My legs definitely didn't feel fresh, but I continued to pick up my legs well and avoid any potential obstacles or pitfalls. I would use the extra time to take short walking breaks leaving each aid station in order to keep my legs loose. At the next aid station, Dam Road, 3.1 miles away, I finally learned that it was regular Gatorade and not Gatorade Endurance. I knew Gatorade had less electrolytes but also over 100 calories for every 20 oz. bottle. I would have to adjust my GU intake down to approximately 1 GU per hour instead of the 2 GU per hour that I had originally calculated. I continued to add in banana and orange slices at each aid station to supplement my diet and help keep my stomach in check.
While finishing off the Dam Road loop to come through a second time, my GU packet didn’t go down right out on the trail, causing a bit of a gag while pausing briefly before swallowing it with a swig of Gatorade. While a seemingly minor inconvenience, the relative lack of stomach fortitude did not go unnoticed. Later, as I was coming back into Dam Road, the light headedness and slouched running posture that accompanies an electrolyte deficiency started to set in. I wasn’t upright or strong in my running; instead, I was lethargic and lazy with my foot strikes.
Electrolyte deficiency is a subtle condition, often coming on slowly. At first, you often feel like you can simply run through it and it will simply get better. It simply feels like the physical fatigue you’d expect later in a race. Then, all of the sudden, your stomach goes south fast and you find your body in a freefall. I tried to take in an additional cup full of Gatorade along with more banana slices and a piece of PB&J, but still felt somewhat out of it. The last looping section back to Dam Road had left me lacking with only one water bottle full of Gatorade to take in. With the next section only 3.4 miles, if I took my time and drank a full 20 oz of Gatorade, I'd figured I could start to right the ship.
That process of righting the ship took a little longer than I thought, lasting all the way back to the start/finish area. Those 7.8 miles total weren’t a grind, but the biggest difference was the lack of spring in my legs when going up some of the gradual uphills. Keep in mind that these are probably only 50 to 200 ft. in height, but the slight cramping from lack of electrolytes that cause muscles to contract and tighten wasn’t allowing my muscles to absorb energy in order to “spring” my body forward with any authority. In order to focus on my running, I found myself praying with more frequency and shutting off my iPod which was cluttering my mind with too much noise.
I was a bit surprised that I was able to continue staying just below 10 min./mile for my running pace. For this final 7.8 miles to the start/finish area, I started paying less attention to my overall pace and focused more on drinking in regular intervals. The back and forth with other runners also continued, athough I didn't believe I lost any placing. Incredibly, I actually moved up the GC from 13th to 10th position, highlighting how much of this sport is about consistent effort rather than running like a banchee. Upon my arrival to the start/finish area at the 9:19 mark, I could tell in Alan's eyes that he noticed my deteriorated condition. He moved quickly to get my water bottle prepped with water and NUUN while I took a seat on a camping chair next to the outbound path. The two previous years, this upcoming 4th loop had been my undoing. I just didn’t have the energy, physical strength or internal fortitude to see it through. This time, although I didn’t feel great, I didn’t feel bad either. I was definitely very “into it” at this point. I had just had a 3:22 3rd loop including that 5 minute break after the 2nd loop. I was also running pretty much according to plan with a small 11 minute cushion built upon the speed of the 1st loop.
Once Alan was done with the bottle, he also got me a cup of chicken noodles with broth and some bananas. I drank the broth, which was loaded with salts and ate the banana pieces for an added dose of potassium. While I originally intended this break to last 5 minutes became 7 minutes by the time I starting walking back into the great unknown. If there was anything to fear, it was whether I was going to melt down again. Memories are a powerful thing, but here was an opportunity to look beyond them. It was not lost on me that I had the chance to write a new, better chapter. It was 2010 after all. As I was praying for myself, I even had people back home praying for me and my stomach. We were calling on a little divine intervention to supplement the desires of my heart.
With this new energy, I started methodically rattling off the miles on my 4th loop. While my stomach seemed to recovering nicely with each gulp of NUUN water, my legs continued to feel sluggish. The toll was considerably noticeable in my calves going downhill in sections that at first seemed to breeze on by. Each application of my “brakes” brought with it an intense pain in my calves and left knee. Having taken two ibuprofren earlier in the race, I started contemplating when it might be appropriate to take two more.
I reached the 66.2 mile mark at Dam Road at a sub-10:30 min./mile pace and continued to remain on target. I worried less and less about who was in front or behind me, partly because I wasn't exactly feeling confident that I would make a surge. During the ensuing 6 mile loop back to Dam Road, I made my first acquaintence with Greg Stofka. It was first real conversation with another runner since early in the race. Greg and I traded stories over the next few miles until getting back to Dam Road. Greg was faster than I was on the downhill sections and I moved quicker on the uphill sections. We were both feeling the strain of the miles beginning to bear down, athough he had a little big bigger problem figuring out what to do about his blisters. I suggested he stop to put some NuSkin on his wound, although he seemed resolved that he could make it through to the end even with the blisters popped.
We both relished in the sight of the half mile straightaway leading to the Dam Road aid station in the distance. With the terrain slightly uphill, I surged ahead to make it into the aid station ahead of him. While I stopped to sit on a camping chair and wait for some ibuprofren tablets, Greg would leave a half a minute ahead of me. I continued to trudge on with the hope that ibuprofren would kick in soon and relieve the pain and swelling.
Not more than a half-mile down the road, I heard a familiar voice say "Jonathan". It was Nick Coury along with his older brother Jamil. It was nice to see another familiar face, although it also meant that I had most likely dropped out of the top 10 to 12th (or so I thought). Considering how strong they are with excellent finishes at the Hardrock 100 and marathon times under 2:50, I didn't expect to see much of them again. After exchanging pleasantries, they moved along ahead of me on a 1.5 mile single-track section. This exchange would ultimately become a major turning point in the race.
After finishing the slog along this single-track section, the course opens up on a fire road for over a mile towards the next aid station. Stuck in 11th place, I began this section on the fire road by walking a sharp 100 ft. long uphill. I had spent the previous 1.5 miles sulking a bit with the thought that once again had I let a great finish slip through my fingers. Within the past 2 miles, I had watched 3 fellow runners pass with with many more almost assuredly awaiting me.
At the top of the hill, I found the strength to begin jogging on the down and towards the flat. It wasn't much of a run, but gravity seemed to pull my legs along helping me begin to overcome the inertia that was keeping my legs stuck in neutral. Once on the flat, I started slowly increasing the speed as my legs allowed. No longer was the pain I felt only a few miles before overwhelming my mind. Maybe it was the ibuprofren kicking in? Maybe I decided that finishing top 10 meant too much to me? Maybe, considering the cyclical nature of a race like this, it was just my time to feel better? In a race like this, there was very little time to consider the reason I felt better. I just knew that it was time to roll with it.
Off I went, determined to make up the time and placing I had lost. Not more than a half mile up the road, I saw Greg up ahead. With less than 5 miles to go until the start/finish area, I caught Greg and we smiled at each other with grins on our faces while wishing each other well. After that, I was off "like a rocket". Each passing mile brought with it the joy that I was indeed running again and my energy level helped me keep me moving well.
Continuing to drink generously, I continued to pass other runners on the their 3rd loops while encouraging them to continue going strong. I passed the Park Road aid station with 4.4 miles to the start/finish area at just before the 12:20 mark as the sunlight faded away. I switched on my headlamp with my cap turned backward and hustled towards the end of the loop. Fire road became winding single-track which once again opened up to two-wide traffic. With less than a mile to go, I saw two headlights bouncing just ahead. It was the Coury brothers. I was in a chipper mood again, engaging them in a brief conversation about the fast-filling Javelina 100 in late October which they were directing. After a minute, I started to pull away from them before the trail quickly opened up to a clearing leading across a road and 0.1 more miles to the start/finish area.
After coming across the line together at the 13:05 mark, I quickly slipped over to a camping chair next to my supplies where Alan quickly met me to take care of filling my water bottle with water and NUUN. I sensed an opportunity to move out ahead of the Coury brothers by making this final major pit stop as quickly as possible. After loading up on 7 Chocolate GUs in my various pockets, I left in 2 minutes flat which was my quickest stop at the start/finish area yet. I didn't announce my departure in any way, shape or form. I simply slipped out quickly, hoping to go unnoticed.
Thus began what quite frankly was the most on-edge final 20 miles of a race that I've ever run. Throughout a 100 mile race, there are several gears you'll physically use. Most runners will operate between 1st and 3rd gear, slowly and steadily clicking off miles. Some will venture into 4th gear and a few select runners may crank it into 5th gear. While not always sustainable for long periods, 5th gear can be exciting and often kicks in when a finish line is near.
There is one gear that is not always used, but extremely effective for runners: the Fear Gear. While it's often brought out by runners pursuing from behind, it can also manifest itself when fear of losing a particular finishing time comes upon a runner. It is to long distance running what Nitrous Oxide is to street racing; the ultimate short term adrenaline shot tapping into our deepest competitive desires. While there are no universal rules governing its use or appearance, the Fear Gear can more succinctly be put as the fear of what is lurking in the shadows or the distance.
What added to my own anxieties as I kicked it into Fear Gear was the topography of the course. Because of the tree cover overhead and the endless twisting and turning that accompanies a good majority of the course, it becomes almost impossible to tell if anyone's coming up on you or you on them. You have no clue whether someone is on their 4th lap or 5th lap until you actually come up along side of them. The only thing you can do is simply put your head down and run. The first 3 miles went effortlessly, moving at a brisk 9:45 min./mile pace. But as the miles went by, the pace slowed frustratingly. This course plays out much differently at night, with the inordinate number of roots which litter the trails now shrouded in darkness. Even with a light, the course as well as fatigued legs demand that you slow down to ensure firm footing.
I kept finding that through each aid station, I would need the abbreviated rest afforded when volunteers would fill up my water bottles. Once they were done, I was immediately gone for fear that maybe in the moment the Coury brothers or anyone else for that matter would simply stroll on by.
15 miles to go, 10 miles to go. I was solely focused on the next aid station ahead. Each passing minute was a minute closer to the end. Soreness kept returning and and with each mile, a new twitch or pain appeared. Right calf, left calf, right knee, etc. To me, it became inevitable the someone, heck anyone would be pulling up along side me any minute.
With 7.8 miles to go, I had 88 minutes to go to try to slip under 17 hours. I tried to focus solely on the time goal to distract myself from the coming competitors. But with each straightaway or segment of trail, not a light behind me seemed to be closing in. Even when I was hitting 11 min/mile to 12 min./mile pace, there was no one out there except for those on their 4th loop that I was passing in front of me. When I got to the final aid station with 4.4 miles to go and 44 minutes to go under 17 hours, I kind of took off. The effort felt like I a lot, but in reality I was probably struggling even to keep 12 min./mile pace, While that's pedestrian in a road marathon, the effort to sustain that after 96 miles on the legs can feel downright painful.
My calves twinged after spending the duration of the race in racing flats which now had their tread flapping off the back of the shoes. It was go time and the only thing on my mind was the pain in my legs and simply ending this thing. Every half mile, I would peak back, see lights and shrug. Was it the Coury brothers? Was it Greg? Was it someone else? At that point, I wanted to leave this long straightaway section and get back to the single-track trail for the final 2.5 miles. If they only knew that I was out there right in front of them for the taking, then maybe they'd sprint past. But the shadows and lights in the distance would not move fast enough. With 1.5 miles to go, I passed a group of spectators who had camped out next the trail all day long. I smiled dimly, working harder and harder to get to those last set of open straightaways. 30 seconds later, I heard a yell go up behind me. They were close; really close.
But they would get no closer as I barreled down the trail, eventually crossing a road with the bright lights of the finish line in front of me 200 ft. away. After one more quick look back, I broke out a smile before finally raising my hands and crossing in 17 hours, 8 minutes and 4 seconds. It was over and I had a new PR for the course, 7th overall and 5th Male which got me an interesting Texas Fire Ant trophy. It was a nice day and a good run; I can't ask God for much more.
After a couple minutes trying to right myself with the help of volunteers, I was quickly let to a heated tent to sit down and unwind. A minute later, I learned the Coury brothers had crossed the finish line. We would later sit around the heater in the tent, along with a few others, trading stories about the race that was as well as other races we've done before. Jamie ended up scooting in at 16:54, one spot ahead of me in 6th place overall, 2nd woman. While she was a little less than 14 minutes ahead of me, she might as well have been on a different planet out in that darkness. Nick and Jamil never did know whether I was ahead or behind them because they had never seen me leave on my 5th loop. I asked them if that sound of cheering I heard behind me at the end was for them, but we never could tell. Greg's blisters ultimately led to his relative undoing, coming in overall in 17:55:57. Jimmy Dean Freeman, would had spent most of the day trying to patiently grind out 3:10 loops, would finish in 17:34:26. A couple others would ultimately join in with war stories of their own, turning our heated (I used that term liberaly) tent into a roundtable of wounded, sore-as-heck runners telling stories about the "glory day". It amazes me how inextricably our experiences were linked in the midst of a race where holding a conversation with another runner for more than half a minute was a rarity.
As for me, there's no more time left to look back at this race. Fear led to urgency which led to action; it is a powerful thing. Fear of the past can be an even more powerful thing. But the past is the past for a reason: because it already happened. What happens now in 2010 is what I have to work with. I need to look ahead, to the Lake Sonoma 50, the Miwok 100k and the Western States 100. I need to keep my eyes on the prize and that prize keeps getting bigger every day. If anything, I made a statement to myself that the best is yet to come.
Here's a small tribute to the greatest quarterback ever in light of the recent superbowl:
For me, one of the big drivers behind doing Rocky was the opportunity to do a 100 miler 4.5 months out from Western States. After investigating other potential 100 milers in the February/March timeframe in the Western region, the only other possibility was a rugged, mountainous Coyote Two Moon. In the end, I didn’t want to risk running a more intense race with more climbing than running. I simply wanted the experience of running into the night with that level of fatigue you cannot duplicate in any other type of training setting or race. Rocky has a reputation as a faster 100 miler with no super serious climbs, although the course redesign in 2008 replaced some of the straightaways that allowed runners to pick up good heads of steam with constantly twisting and turning single-track trails. It’s 5 - 20 mile loop format makes it a good choice for someone like myself who would be coming without the help of a crew or pacer as far as been able to organize my supplies efficiently and effectively measure my ability to hold pace throughout the race.
With the conditions mostly dry, save for a few nice sized mud pools, I expected the course to play out similarly to last year when just a shade under 16 hours took home the prize. The weather would be 15 degrees colder, with highs in the 50s and lows in the 30s.
I went into the race with a rather simple pacing plan to do the first lap in 3 hours and add 10 minutes to each additional lap. This would put me with a finish of 16:40:00, which I thought would probably be good enough to at least be in the Top 5. It would help me to focus on staying strong through the end of the race, particularly when the mental games can start wrecking havoc. It was also a goal that wouldn’t wreck my legs or prevent from recovering quickly enough to continue training well the following week.
The one variable in this plan was how I was going to do without a Garmin. I had chosen to leave the Garmin at home and instead focus on my perceived effort and pacing off of other runners. Knowing that Jamie Donaldson would be at Rocky and that her effort last year had gotten here a sub-16:50 finish, I was determined to loosely use her as a gauge for whether I was going relatively too fast or too slow. One of my past failings at Rocky has been going out too fast and not focusing on a running a more consistent race. While I’m certainly not alone in this failing considering how easy it is to get sucked into everyone else’s race on this course, I need to continue to become a better tactical runner to maximize my performance. As a 2:51 marathoner, I don’t have the speed to win a 100 miler (the ultimate goal) by running as fast as I can for as long as I can and then expect to survive the resulting blowup. I need to rely more on my strength and endurance to stay in a race until hopefully surging late to create separation. I didn’t need to break 16 hours here as much as I needed to run a good race that would give me the confidence that I am on track for the Miwok 100k and then ultimately Western States.
After flying into Houston on Friday afternoon, I made my way to Huntsville where I went to Chili’s and enjoyed the dinner of champions: Chicken Tacos, Black Beans and Rice. With the carbo-loading process completed days before the race, I’ve always taken liberties the night before to have a meal I enjoy. One of the waiters at the bar, noticing my track jacket, correctly surmised that I was there for “the race”. He and the bartender took turns expressing their own desires to run a marathon, which I wholeheartedly endorsed.
After a restless night of sleep moving between my rental car (VW Beetle) and the concrete floor of an acquaintence’s camping area, I finally awoke for good at 4:30 in the morning on race day. I didn’t feel particularly good, but I wasn’t overly groggy which is a good thing given my normal disdain for waking up early in the morning. I spent the next 90 minutes prior to the race start getting my supply bags in order and positioned next to the outbound (right-hand) side of the trail at the race headquarters’ aid station. I would visit here once every 20 miles and each plastic bag of 6 Chocolate Outrage GUs and 6 NUUN electrolyte tablets had enough for a 3-3.5 hour loop.
My setup was designed allow me to save time by not having to rummage through my bag and think about what I needed. While I could have chosen to go with the offerings at each of the aid stations, GU and NUUN have become my staples at long races helping to keep my stomach at bay. A major reason for my increased success over the past 7-8 months is clearly due to simplifying my nutrition and these two nutritional supplements are a big part of that.
After some quick photos and chatting with friends, we were off at 6:00 A.M. With a forecasted high temperature in the 50s, I chose to go with a black technical top and a black base layer underneath it. Combined with my dark blue cap, black shorts, black compression tights and black over-the-calf Injinji compression socks, I decided to go with the “Jedi Knight” look. If anything, it certainly made my white Brooks racing flats stand out.
Right away, I settled into a large pack of runners upfront. I quickly found my light to have a less than ideal luminescence and after a mile and a half of running mostly in my own dark bubble, I slowed to allow the next runner to pass me so that I could supplement my light with their light. That runner turned out to be Jamie Donaldson, which pleased me considering that I was somewhat using her pace for this race as a baseline for my own race.
Along with a few other folks, we began trading positions back and forth depending upon time at the aid stations as well as moving a little faster or slower through certain sections. Once the light shone through for good 45 minutes after the start, I pulled ahead of the pack through the second aid station. Intermittently, I looked back to make sure I wasn’t trying to pull away too hard from the pack. Eventually they would catch up to me just after the Park Road aid station with 4.4 miles to go in the 1st loop. At that point, I made it a goal to get passed by at least one more runner before making it back to the start/finish area. This was a goal that I implemented first at the Javelina 100 last Halloween with the intention of disciplining myself to simply relax and not allow the emotional adrenaline that surges this early to push my body beyond that which would be good for me. Not only did I achieve that goal, but I exceeded it with at least a few runners scooting by me including Jamie.
I finished the first loop in just under 2:50 which was a little faster than the 2:55-3:00 loop I had envisioned. But, I wasn’t about to give the time back and instead focused on keeping close to a 3:10 second loop. I estimated that I was probably in 13th-15th place, which was just fine by me considering my overall time. The first 20 miles was about setting a tempo; the next 20 miles would be about maintaining that tempo. After a 3 minute break to get my nutritional supplies together, I quickly headed back on out.
Usually, I would’ve discarded the base layer with daylight now upon us. But, in keeping with the theme of simplification, I was intent on finishing in these clothes barring a major fall into one of the black mud pits scattered throughout the course. The weather was still rather comfortable and the second loop passed without much fanfare. A 3:10 loop translates into an average pace of 9:30 min./mile which, while rather unspectacular, was a pace that I continued to match or exceed between each aid station. I knew the distances between each station and used my stop watch to give myself an estimate of the average pace to that station. As long as I was able to match it, I would simply move on to calculating my time to the next station. This would be a race of small battles and if I could “win” a majority of them, I could expect to come out of this with a good time and placing.
While the theme for the second 20 miles was to simply maintain position, I quickly found myself passing quite a few people who were fading back. Each aid station brought with it the pleasant surprise that I was continuing to exceed the 9:30 min./mile for each section. I wasn’t exceeding it by more than 15-20 seconds at a time, but it was consistent. With the music playing, my body and mind were moving in rythym and the miles seemed to go by without much hard effort. I had moved ahead of Jamie earlier in this loop and was continuing to play leap frog with her as we both moved up the general classification. I saw a few people I knew, including the Jimmy Dean Freeman and the Coury brothers (the young race directors, Javelina Jundred) who were moving along at a brisk pace themselves. One of the nice features of this course is the opportunity to see other runners on the way out to start a loop as they are finishing.
At one point, I was in 6th or 7th place by my estimates since there was no clear, definitive answer from the aid station volunteers. It was rather early to be moving that high up the GC, which I had preferred to see happen in the 3rd loop. Nevertheless, I was pleased with continuing to stay at a healthy pace while always near my Badwater buddy Jamie. I would ultimately yield a couple positions in the final 4.4 mile section before hitting the start/finish area again at the 5:57 mark. Although I ultimately dropped a place in the GC, I was nevertheless right on target. Including the 3 minute break at the start, I had taken 3:07 for this second loop which was right where I wanted to be. I was continuing to feel good as far as my stomach was concerned, although a dull pain in my right knee was beginning to become an annoyance.
I got an unexpected boost at the start/finish area when Alan Gehraldi, a fellow Bay Area resident and Badwater veteran, offered to help me get my water bottle filled and prepped with NUUN. I took the opportunity to pack up with more GUs and switching out to another iPod shuffle. While the aid station volunteers could have probably helped me as well, having Alan there to do it gave me that added assurance that I had one less thing to worry about. Jamie came in a couple of minutes after me and left after a quick 20 second meeting with her husband David at the turnaround sign directly in front of me.
After taking an extra minute to relax and get my head together, I would start my third loop at the 6:02 mark looking to maintain a 10 min./mile pace and a 3:20 loop. About a mile after I headed out, I looked at the pouch on my water bottle realizing that I did not have my NUUN tablets for this 20 mile loop. There wasn't any time to go back to the aid station; I was resigned to the fact that I would have to go on and simply take whatever electrolyte drink they serve at the aid stations.
When I reached the first aid station 3.1 miles away, I took a seat for a minute while the aid station volunteers filled my water bottle with what I learned was Gatorade and fetched me a couple of acetametaphin. The acetametaphin was an attempt to kill the soreness that was creeping into my right knee and both calves. As opposed to ibuprofren, which has been linked to kidney damage, acetametaphin is generally safe as long as their's food in the stomach to act as a buffer. For some reason though, I didn't think to ask about the Gatorade. Although I was weary about the taste or long term effectiveness, I assumed it was Gatorade Endurance with little or no calories. Either way, I just hoped there were enough electrolytes to keep my body going well.
While the acetametaphin slowly kicked in, I continued onward at a brisk sub-10 minute mile running pace. My legs definitely didn't feel fresh, but I continued to pick up my legs well and avoid any potential obstacles or pitfalls. I would use the extra time to take short walking breaks leaving each aid station in order to keep my legs loose. At the next aid station, Dam Road, 3.1 miles away, I finally learned that it was regular Gatorade and not Gatorade Endurance. I knew Gatorade had less electrolytes but also over 100 calories for every 20 oz. bottle. I would have to adjust my GU intake down to approximately 1 GU per hour instead of the 2 GU per hour that I had originally calculated. I continued to add in banana and orange slices at each aid station to supplement my diet and help keep my stomach in check.
While finishing off the Dam Road loop to come through a second time, my GU packet didn’t go down right out on the trail, causing a bit of a gag while pausing briefly before swallowing it with a swig of Gatorade. While a seemingly minor inconvenience, the relative lack of stomach fortitude did not go unnoticed. Later, as I was coming back into Dam Road, the light headedness and slouched running posture that accompanies an electrolyte deficiency started to set in. I wasn’t upright or strong in my running; instead, I was lethargic and lazy with my foot strikes.
Electrolyte deficiency is a subtle condition, often coming on slowly. At first, you often feel like you can simply run through it and it will simply get better. It simply feels like the physical fatigue you’d expect later in a race. Then, all of the sudden, your stomach goes south fast and you find your body in a freefall. I tried to take in an additional cup full of Gatorade along with more banana slices and a piece of PB&J, but still felt somewhat out of it. The last looping section back to Dam Road had left me lacking with only one water bottle full of Gatorade to take in. With the next section only 3.4 miles, if I took my time and drank a full 20 oz of Gatorade, I'd figured I could start to right the ship.
That process of righting the ship took a little longer than I thought, lasting all the way back to the start/finish area. Those 7.8 miles total weren’t a grind, but the biggest difference was the lack of spring in my legs when going up some of the gradual uphills. Keep in mind that these are probably only 50 to 200 ft. in height, but the slight cramping from lack of electrolytes that cause muscles to contract and tighten wasn’t allowing my muscles to absorb energy in order to “spring” my body forward with any authority. In order to focus on my running, I found myself praying with more frequency and shutting off my iPod which was cluttering my mind with too much noise.
I was a bit surprised that I was able to continue staying just below 10 min./mile for my running pace. For this final 7.8 miles to the start/finish area, I started paying less attention to my overall pace and focused more on drinking in regular intervals. The back and forth with other runners also continued, athough I didn't believe I lost any placing. Incredibly, I actually moved up the GC from 13th to 10th position, highlighting how much of this sport is about consistent effort rather than running like a banchee. Upon my arrival to the start/finish area at the 9:19 mark, I could tell in Alan's eyes that he noticed my deteriorated condition. He moved quickly to get my water bottle prepped with water and NUUN while I took a seat on a camping chair next to the outbound path. The two previous years, this upcoming 4th loop had been my undoing. I just didn’t have the energy, physical strength or internal fortitude to see it through. This time, although I didn’t feel great, I didn’t feel bad either. I was definitely very “into it” at this point. I had just had a 3:22 3rd loop including that 5 minute break after the 2nd loop. I was also running pretty much according to plan with a small 11 minute cushion built upon the speed of the 1st loop.
Once Alan was done with the bottle, he also got me a cup of chicken noodles with broth and some bananas. I drank the broth, which was loaded with salts and ate the banana pieces for an added dose of potassium. While I originally intended this break to last 5 minutes became 7 minutes by the time I starting walking back into the great unknown. If there was anything to fear, it was whether I was going to melt down again. Memories are a powerful thing, but here was an opportunity to look beyond them. It was not lost on me that I had the chance to write a new, better chapter. It was 2010 after all. As I was praying for myself, I even had people back home praying for me and my stomach. We were calling on a little divine intervention to supplement the desires of my heart.
With this new energy, I started methodically rattling off the miles on my 4th loop. While my stomach seemed to recovering nicely with each gulp of NUUN water, my legs continued to feel sluggish. The toll was considerably noticeable in my calves going downhill in sections that at first seemed to breeze on by. Each application of my “brakes” brought with it an intense pain in my calves and left knee. Having taken two ibuprofren earlier in the race, I started contemplating when it might be appropriate to take two more.
I reached the 66.2 mile mark at Dam Road at a sub-10:30 min./mile pace and continued to remain on target. I worried less and less about who was in front or behind me, partly because I wasn't exactly feeling confident that I would make a surge. During the ensuing 6 mile loop back to Dam Road, I made my first acquaintence with Greg Stofka. It was first real conversation with another runner since early in the race. Greg and I traded stories over the next few miles until getting back to Dam Road. Greg was faster than I was on the downhill sections and I moved quicker on the uphill sections. We were both feeling the strain of the miles beginning to bear down, athough he had a little big bigger problem figuring out what to do about his blisters. I suggested he stop to put some NuSkin on his wound, although he seemed resolved that he could make it through to the end even with the blisters popped.
We both relished in the sight of the half mile straightaway leading to the Dam Road aid station in the distance. With the terrain slightly uphill, I surged ahead to make it into the aid station ahead of him. While I stopped to sit on a camping chair and wait for some ibuprofren tablets, Greg would leave a half a minute ahead of me. I continued to trudge on with the hope that ibuprofren would kick in soon and relieve the pain and swelling.
Not more than a half-mile down the road, I heard a familiar voice say "Jonathan". It was Nick Coury along with his older brother Jamil. It was nice to see another familiar face, although it also meant that I had most likely dropped out of the top 10 to 12th (or so I thought). Considering how strong they are with excellent finishes at the Hardrock 100 and marathon times under 2:50, I didn't expect to see much of them again. After exchanging pleasantries, they moved along ahead of me on a 1.5 mile single-track section. This exchange would ultimately become a major turning point in the race.
After finishing the slog along this single-track section, the course opens up on a fire road for over a mile towards the next aid station. Stuck in 11th place, I began this section on the fire road by walking a sharp 100 ft. long uphill. I had spent the previous 1.5 miles sulking a bit with the thought that once again had I let a great finish slip through my fingers. Within the past 2 miles, I had watched 3 fellow runners pass with with many more almost assuredly awaiting me.
At the top of the hill, I found the strength to begin jogging on the down and towards the flat. It wasn't much of a run, but gravity seemed to pull my legs along helping me begin to overcome the inertia that was keeping my legs stuck in neutral. Once on the flat, I started slowly increasing the speed as my legs allowed. No longer was the pain I felt only a few miles before overwhelming my mind. Maybe it was the ibuprofren kicking in? Maybe I decided that finishing top 10 meant too much to me? Maybe, considering the cyclical nature of a race like this, it was just my time to feel better? In a race like this, there was very little time to consider the reason I felt better. I just knew that it was time to roll with it.
Off I went, determined to make up the time and placing I had lost. Not more than a half mile up the road, I saw Greg up ahead. With less than 5 miles to go until the start/finish area, I caught Greg and we smiled at each other with grins on our faces while wishing each other well. After that, I was off "like a rocket". Each passing mile brought with it the joy that I was indeed running again and my energy level helped me keep me moving well.
Continuing to drink generously, I continued to pass other runners on the their 3rd loops while encouraging them to continue going strong. I passed the Park Road aid station with 4.4 miles to the start/finish area at just before the 12:20 mark as the sunlight faded away. I switched on my headlamp with my cap turned backward and hustled towards the end of the loop. Fire road became winding single-track which once again opened up to two-wide traffic. With less than a mile to go, I saw two headlights bouncing just ahead. It was the Coury brothers. I was in a chipper mood again, engaging them in a brief conversation about the fast-filling Javelina 100 in late October which they were directing. After a minute, I started to pull away from them before the trail quickly opened up to a clearing leading across a road and 0.1 more miles to the start/finish area.
After coming across the line together at the 13:05 mark, I quickly slipped over to a camping chair next to my supplies where Alan quickly met me to take care of filling my water bottle with water and NUUN. I sensed an opportunity to move out ahead of the Coury brothers by making this final major pit stop as quickly as possible. After loading up on 7 Chocolate GUs in my various pockets, I left in 2 minutes flat which was my quickest stop at the start/finish area yet. I didn't announce my departure in any way, shape or form. I simply slipped out quickly, hoping to go unnoticed.
Thus began what quite frankly was the most on-edge final 20 miles of a race that I've ever run. Throughout a 100 mile race, there are several gears you'll physically use. Most runners will operate between 1st and 3rd gear, slowly and steadily clicking off miles. Some will venture into 4th gear and a few select runners may crank it into 5th gear. While not always sustainable for long periods, 5th gear can be exciting and often kicks in when a finish line is near.
There is one gear that is not always used, but extremely effective for runners: the Fear Gear. While it's often brought out by runners pursuing from behind, it can also manifest itself when fear of losing a particular finishing time comes upon a runner. It is to long distance running what Nitrous Oxide is to street racing; the ultimate short term adrenaline shot tapping into our deepest competitive desires. While there are no universal rules governing its use or appearance, the Fear Gear can more succinctly be put as the fear of what is lurking in the shadows or the distance.
What added to my own anxieties as I kicked it into Fear Gear was the topography of the course. Because of the tree cover overhead and the endless twisting and turning that accompanies a good majority of the course, it becomes almost impossible to tell if anyone's coming up on you or you on them. You have no clue whether someone is on their 4th lap or 5th lap until you actually come up along side of them. The only thing you can do is simply put your head down and run. The first 3 miles went effortlessly, moving at a brisk 9:45 min./mile pace. But as the miles went by, the pace slowed frustratingly. This course plays out much differently at night, with the inordinate number of roots which litter the trails now shrouded in darkness. Even with a light, the course as well as fatigued legs demand that you slow down to ensure firm footing.
I kept finding that through each aid station, I would need the abbreviated rest afforded when volunteers would fill up my water bottles. Once they were done, I was immediately gone for fear that maybe in the moment the Coury brothers or anyone else for that matter would simply stroll on by.
15 miles to go, 10 miles to go. I was solely focused on the next aid station ahead. Each passing minute was a minute closer to the end. Soreness kept returning and and with each mile, a new twitch or pain appeared. Right calf, left calf, right knee, etc. To me, it became inevitable the someone, heck anyone would be pulling up along side me any minute.
With 7.8 miles to go, I had 88 minutes to go to try to slip under 17 hours. I tried to focus solely on the time goal to distract myself from the coming competitors. But with each straightaway or segment of trail, not a light behind me seemed to be closing in. Even when I was hitting 11 min/mile to 12 min./mile pace, there was no one out there except for those on their 4th loop that I was passing in front of me. When I got to the final aid station with 4.4 miles to go and 44 minutes to go under 17 hours, I kind of took off. The effort felt like I a lot, but in reality I was probably struggling even to keep 12 min./mile pace, While that's pedestrian in a road marathon, the effort to sustain that after 96 miles on the legs can feel downright painful.
My calves twinged after spending the duration of the race in racing flats which now had their tread flapping off the back of the shoes. It was go time and the only thing on my mind was the pain in my legs and simply ending this thing. Every half mile, I would peak back, see lights and shrug. Was it the Coury brothers? Was it Greg? Was it someone else? At that point, I wanted to leave this long straightaway section and get back to the single-track trail for the final 2.5 miles. If they only knew that I was out there right in front of them for the taking, then maybe they'd sprint past. But the shadows and lights in the distance would not move fast enough. With 1.5 miles to go, I passed a group of spectators who had camped out next the trail all day long. I smiled dimly, working harder and harder to get to those last set of open straightaways. 30 seconds later, I heard a yell go up behind me. They were close; really close.
But they would get no closer as I barreled down the trail, eventually crossing a road with the bright lights of the finish line in front of me 200 ft. away. After one more quick look back, I broke out a smile before finally raising my hands and crossing in 17 hours, 8 minutes and 4 seconds. It was over and I had a new PR for the course, 7th overall and 5th Male which got me an interesting Texas Fire Ant trophy. It was a nice day and a good run; I can't ask God for much more.
After a couple minutes trying to right myself with the help of volunteers, I was quickly let to a heated tent to sit down and unwind. A minute later, I learned the Coury brothers had crossed the finish line. We would later sit around the heater in the tent, along with a few others, trading stories about the race that was as well as other races we've done before. Jamie ended up scooting in at 16:54, one spot ahead of me in 6th place overall, 2nd woman. While she was a little less than 14 minutes ahead of me, she might as well have been on a different planet out in that darkness. Nick and Jamil never did know whether I was ahead or behind them because they had never seen me leave on my 5th loop. I asked them if that sound of cheering I heard behind me at the end was for them, but we never could tell. Greg's blisters ultimately led to his relative undoing, coming in overall in 17:55:57. Jimmy Dean Freeman, would had spent most of the day trying to patiently grind out 3:10 loops, would finish in 17:34:26. A couple others would ultimately join in with war stories of their own, turning our heated (I used that term liberaly) tent into a roundtable of wounded, sore-as-heck runners telling stories about the "glory day". It amazes me how inextricably our experiences were linked in the midst of a race where holding a conversation with another runner for more than half a minute was a rarity.
As for me, there's no more time left to look back at this race. Fear led to urgency which led to action; it is a powerful thing. Fear of the past can be an even more powerful thing. But the past is the past for a reason: because it already happened. What happens now in 2010 is what I have to work with. I need to look ahead, to the Lake Sonoma 50, the Miwok 100k and the Western States 100. I need to keep my eyes on the prize and that prize keeps getting bigger every day. If anything, I made a statement to myself that the best is yet to come.
Here's a small tribute to the greatest quarterback ever in light of the recent superbowl:
Saturday, January 2, 2010
2010, The Year Ahead
Here we are with Christmas over and New Year’s Day approaching. Did Santa bring you everything you wanted this Christmas? It’s a good time to reflect further on the year and look forward to the good things ahead in 2010.
The first place to start is to look back at the goals I set forward in 2009 with my actuals immediately following:
1)Raise $18,000 for development programs with WHM in Uganda
-$3500 raised
2)Run sub-30 hours at Badwater (if accepted)
-Ran 31 hours, 33 minutes
3)Get weight down to 169 lb. from a high of 181 lb. last year
-170 lb.
4)Run sub-2:50 marathon by the end of 09’
-2:51:59 at CIM, a 8.5 minute PR
5)Run sub-18 hours 100 miler
-20:31 at Javelina Jundred (100)
6)Finish top 5 at a 100 miler
-8th at Javelina Jundred (100)
It seems like with most of my goals, I came up just a little bit short. In some ways, it was a reflection of my choice to challenge myself. But in other ways, it was a reflection of a need to dig a little deeper. For goals 2 through 6, I was ahead of the target in the second half each time but just came up a little short. At Rocky Raccoon 100, I made an error in pacing and let some physical ailments overwhelm me mentally. At Badwater, I allowed my mental and physical exhaustion to overwhelm my focus on the goals at hand during the climb up Whitney Portal. At Javelina, I didn’t take care of my electrolytes consistently enough. Coming up just a bit short let me know that you can’t just get 70% right and sit on that in this sport. You have to keep fighting and work smarter to get that 30% righted when it does get off track. There is a struggle that takes place in each competitor throughout the course of these long races that takes a consistent attention to detail to overcome. I’ve gotten much better, but it continues to remain key to unlocking my own potential in 2010.
The two complete races where I came in right on my target were the following: the 4:25 5th place at the Angel Island 50k, which I used a tune-up for Badwater, and the 7:25 5th place finish I posted at the Firetrails 50 Miler, which I also used as a tune-up for Javelina. I’ve gotten much better at the shorter races, which is evidenced by these results as well as my 2:51 at CIM. These shorter races allow for more leeway as far as taking care of electrolytes or even the fatigue that comes with running through the night.
But…..when you come that close to so many goals, that is also a sign of good things to come. I like setting goals which will challenge me and cause me to dig deeper. I like goals that I can look at and honestly not know whether I’ll meet all of them or none of them. Goals should cause you to look beyond your current situation. They should have concrete gating points you can do continuous self-assessment, but also have an air of imagination and planning of where you want to be. Some goals should have much greater than 50% chance of happening and others should have much less. 2009’s been a solid year, but I want 2010 to be a great, more aggressive year. So, here are my 2010 goals:
1) Raise $10,000 for development programs with WHM in Uganda
2) Run sub-19 hours at the Western States 100
3) Get weight down to 164 lb. or less from 170 lb.
4) Run sub-2:42 marathon by the end of 10’
5) Run sub-18 hour 100 miler
6) Finish top 3 at 2 races and top 5 at 3 other races
7) Run sub-7:05 at Firetrails 50
The first goal is always try to take care of business with regards to the well-building program in Uganda. I’ll be rolling out a new fundraising program this year, although on a different scale with a different focus. I really enjoyed the fun run last year I helped put together, so we’ll see about partnering with Injinji and some other companies again to put on some fun events. The scaled down dollar amount is more a reflection of having a little less time to put in and a focus on probably 3 key events related to that fundraising. I ran out of steam last year, but doing a trail fundraising run in Los Angeles (Running For The Wells L.A.) is high on my list of things to do this year.
The rest of goals are meant to build upon my successes and increased leg speed at the end of 2009 and also develop consistency to my racing (goal 6). If I hit the time goals and didn’t hit the placing goals, I would probably still be pleased. The two race-specific goals are at the Western States 100 and Firetrails 50.
With a big fat DNF emblazoned on me from 2007, I owe Western States a much better effort to say the least. With an 18% (approximately) chance of hitting the lottery, I came up golden and intend on capitalizing on the opportunity. I also came up golden on the Miwok 100k lottery for the race held on May 1st here in Marin County, which will serve as the perfect all-out tune up effort. I hesistated to put a goal out there in cyberspace for Miwok, partly because I want my eyes squarely on the prize no matter what kind of race I post.
While Western States is clearly the 100 mile showcase race in the ultramarathoning world, Firetrails is a local Bay Area race that I’ve developed an affinity for due to its excellent race organization, tremendous views, and all-around good people whether runners, volunteers or race organizers. The proximity of the course to me also affords me a great opportunity to “baseline my fitness” against specific course sections prior to the race. It also allows me to do it with family and friends there to support me and lend a hand to get me in and out of the aid stations with supplies all ready to go. Besides, everyone loves “their” local race.
About the only thing on this list not race related is the weight goal. I found that to be a great help to me in the 2nd half of 2009 and believe it will be a big key going into Western States all the way through my fall goal marathon as far as allowing me to push the pace even more. At this point, I might be joining a local running club but I need to clear up some potential sponsor conflicts. It would be good to add an even greater social component to this long distance running that often takes us deeper into our own minds with the levels of isolation. While I enjoy running with people like Rick Gaston and others during training, it would be even better to expand that running social circle. I am friends with others who are runners, but the team component might help further harness my competitiveness for the sake of things outside of myself.
I’m still working on the race schedule for 2010 and apart from the Miwok 100k, Western States 100 and the rescheduled Angeles Crest 100 (from those fires last year), it’s still wide open. Is there another Badwater in line or is it time for a break? Is there a Rocky Mountain 100 in there? Maybe an East Coast Race? The New York City Marathon? Maybe a 50 miler down in So. Cal? We’ll see….. :)
For now, I'm in the midst of "Christmas Camp". I'm into day 9 and at around 132 miles. Hopefully today and tomorrow will help cap that off nicely and get my going into the new year after a short break after CIM in December. Happy New Year and may your lives be enriched and may your lives enrich others. God Bless.
Gundy
The first place to start is to look back at the goals I set forward in 2009 with my actuals immediately following:
1)Raise $18,000 for development programs with WHM in Uganda
-$3500 raised
2)Run sub-30 hours at Badwater (if accepted)
-Ran 31 hours, 33 minutes
3)Get weight down to 169 lb. from a high of 181 lb. last year
-170 lb.
4)Run sub-2:50 marathon by the end of 09’
-2:51:59 at CIM, a 8.5 minute PR
5)Run sub-18 hours 100 miler
-20:31 at Javelina Jundred (100)
6)Finish top 5 at a 100 miler
-8th at Javelina Jundred (100)
It seems like with most of my goals, I came up just a little bit short. In some ways, it was a reflection of my choice to challenge myself. But in other ways, it was a reflection of a need to dig a little deeper. For goals 2 through 6, I was ahead of the target in the second half each time but just came up a little short. At Rocky Raccoon 100, I made an error in pacing and let some physical ailments overwhelm me mentally. At Badwater, I allowed my mental and physical exhaustion to overwhelm my focus on the goals at hand during the climb up Whitney Portal. At Javelina, I didn’t take care of my electrolytes consistently enough. Coming up just a bit short let me know that you can’t just get 70% right and sit on that in this sport. You have to keep fighting and work smarter to get that 30% righted when it does get off track. There is a struggle that takes place in each competitor throughout the course of these long races that takes a consistent attention to detail to overcome. I’ve gotten much better, but it continues to remain key to unlocking my own potential in 2010.
The two complete races where I came in right on my target were the following: the 4:25 5th place at the Angel Island 50k, which I used a tune-up for Badwater, and the 7:25 5th place finish I posted at the Firetrails 50 Miler, which I also used as a tune-up for Javelina. I’ve gotten much better at the shorter races, which is evidenced by these results as well as my 2:51 at CIM. These shorter races allow for more leeway as far as taking care of electrolytes or even the fatigue that comes with running through the night.
But…..when you come that close to so many goals, that is also a sign of good things to come. I like setting goals which will challenge me and cause me to dig deeper. I like goals that I can look at and honestly not know whether I’ll meet all of them or none of them. Goals should cause you to look beyond your current situation. They should have concrete gating points you can do continuous self-assessment, but also have an air of imagination and planning of where you want to be. Some goals should have much greater than 50% chance of happening and others should have much less. 2009’s been a solid year, but I want 2010 to be a great, more aggressive year. So, here are my 2010 goals:
1) Raise $10,000 for development programs with WHM in Uganda
2) Run sub-19 hours at the Western States 100
3) Get weight down to 164 lb. or less from 170 lb.
4) Run sub-2:42 marathon by the end of 10’
5) Run sub-18 hour 100 miler
6) Finish top 3 at 2 races and top 5 at 3 other races
7) Run sub-7:05 at Firetrails 50
The first goal is always try to take care of business with regards to the well-building program in Uganda. I’ll be rolling out a new fundraising program this year, although on a different scale with a different focus. I really enjoyed the fun run last year I helped put together, so we’ll see about partnering with Injinji and some other companies again to put on some fun events. The scaled down dollar amount is more a reflection of having a little less time to put in and a focus on probably 3 key events related to that fundraising. I ran out of steam last year, but doing a trail fundraising run in Los Angeles (Running For The Wells L.A.) is high on my list of things to do this year.
The rest of goals are meant to build upon my successes and increased leg speed at the end of 2009 and also develop consistency to my racing (goal 6). If I hit the time goals and didn’t hit the placing goals, I would probably still be pleased. The two race-specific goals are at the Western States 100 and Firetrails 50.
With a big fat DNF emblazoned on me from 2007, I owe Western States a much better effort to say the least. With an 18% (approximately) chance of hitting the lottery, I came up golden and intend on capitalizing on the opportunity. I also came up golden on the Miwok 100k lottery for the race held on May 1st here in Marin County, which will serve as the perfect all-out tune up effort. I hesistated to put a goal out there in cyberspace for Miwok, partly because I want my eyes squarely on the prize no matter what kind of race I post.
While Western States is clearly the 100 mile showcase race in the ultramarathoning world, Firetrails is a local Bay Area race that I’ve developed an affinity for due to its excellent race organization, tremendous views, and all-around good people whether runners, volunteers or race organizers. The proximity of the course to me also affords me a great opportunity to “baseline my fitness” against specific course sections prior to the race. It also allows me to do it with family and friends there to support me and lend a hand to get me in and out of the aid stations with supplies all ready to go. Besides, everyone loves “their” local race.
About the only thing on this list not race related is the weight goal. I found that to be a great help to me in the 2nd half of 2009 and believe it will be a big key going into Western States all the way through my fall goal marathon as far as allowing me to push the pace even more. At this point, I might be joining a local running club but I need to clear up some potential sponsor conflicts. It would be good to add an even greater social component to this long distance running that often takes us deeper into our own minds with the levels of isolation. While I enjoy running with people like Rick Gaston and others during training, it would be even better to expand that running social circle. I am friends with others who are runners, but the team component might help further harness my competitiveness for the sake of things outside of myself.
I’m still working on the race schedule for 2010 and apart from the Miwok 100k, Western States 100 and the rescheduled Angeles Crest 100 (from those fires last year), it’s still wide open. Is there another Badwater in line or is it time for a break? Is there a Rocky Mountain 100 in there? Maybe an East Coast Race? The New York City Marathon? Maybe a 50 miler down in So. Cal? We’ll see….. :)
For now, I'm in the midst of "Christmas Camp". I'm into day 9 and at around 132 miles. Hopefully today and tomorrow will help cap that off nicely and get my going into the new year after a short break after CIM in December. Happy New Year and may your lives be enriched and may your lives enrich others. God Bless.
Gundy
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
2009 CIM Race Report and a Western States Christmas
Simply put, my goal was to break 2:50. While I envision trying to take 10 minutes off per year for the next few years (which is pretty out there), I felt like my fitness had grown so much over the last 7 months that it was worth putting myself out there. Even with some minor setbacks at each race, I had been putting together some well-run races at the Angel Island 50k (4:25, 5th place), Badwater (31:33:13, 16th place), Firetrails 50 (7:25, 5th place) and the Javelina 100 (20:31, 8th place). More importantly, I was putting myself in better position in these races to challenge for top spots going into 2010 with my established endurance base. CIM has become my go-to end of the year race over the past 3 years with the opportunity to run a terrific, faster marathon course that helps to propel me into an off-season filled with grinding, base-building runs and hours of cross-training. With 2:50 representing close to the upper limit for the wide marathoning ability range of top competitors and winners of many 100k/100 mile events, I knew it was important to try to set a good leg speed standard for 2010.
It was about 30 degrees at the start, but it surprisingly felt alright to me; it must’ve been those cold San Francisco nights recently. It remained in the 30s throughout the race, which caused me to keep my $1.99 CVS gloves on as well my arm warmers. While the cold weather was ever present, it never seemed to get so uncomfortable that it detracted from my running out there.
Even with a 3:00:32 PR, I knew I wasn’t taking too big of a risk to go for a 2:50:00. My tempo runs and speedwork was progressing well and put me almost exactly on target. While I didn’t have the breadth of runs that one usually has in a marathon-specific training cycle, I had 4 or 5 specific workouts in the last month that were spot on target. Perhaps the biggest variable was weather, which you can’t control and you just learn to live with. I didn’t fret the potential wind prior to the race, leaning on my year of intense long distance ultra races where weather varied from freezing cold and rain to scorching heat and wind. I find focusing on things outside of my control tend to distract me from my goals and make me less likely to focus on taking of the things I could control.
While not a pure 100% downhill course (as if one could ever expect that at any race), most of the uphill sections of the rollers are preceeded by downhills. Uphills and downhills tend to favor me relatively speaking due to my experience on the uneven trails. I tended to take a relatively aggressive approach to downhills while . Even with the heavy wind taking off seconds on various uphills, I found that my experience on steep trails allowed me to get lower and drive through the hills allowed me to gain on those around me during these sections. While taking an aggressive approach, it was worth it to me considering my relative strength on those 1st half miles.
While spending quite a bit of time pacing with another running friend, Larry and a couple of his friends, we moved along briskly at a 6:20-6:22 minute/mile average while chatting it up on and off. One of the spectators at mile 5 who caught me joking with another runner yelled jokingly, “No talking. You should be running.” I jokingly said to the runners around me, “Like that’s going to cost me the 1-2 seconds I miss my goal by in the end.” Beyond that, there wasn’t much that was eventful till mile 7. Yes, there were ups. Yes, there were downs. In the end, though, the only surprise was that the gap between my pace on the downhills and my pace on the uphills was 30-40 seconds per mile rather than the 20 seconds per mile that I originally intended.
The really strong headwinds came between miles 7-9 and another one after the half way mark for a few miles. I believe that I usually don't feel headwinds much since I tend to run lower to the ground with shorter strides, but this one was very noticeable. Runners formed small packs to try to blunt the impact of the wind. The problem with these packs was that even with wind slowing things on these hills by as much as 30+ seconds per mile, they eventually slowed even more. At that point 7-8 miles into the race, I said goodbye to this pack running; this was going to be my race to do it or not. They were beginning to run a much different race which didn’t play into my relative strengths as a runner. With runners occupying the right side of the road (or the “west side” next to building and trees) to try avoiding the wind, I moved towards the middle by myself to keep chugging along.
I hit the 10 mile mark in under 1:04, smiling as I passed my wife Wilma while she snapped a picture. I eventually hit the halfway mark in 1:23:33, which was 1:27 under my goal pace. I felt good, in spite of beginning to feel a mild heaviness in my legs. What worried me most at this time was that I was hitting a pleateau as far as hitting my per mile paces. A good indicator of my running prowess in the later stages of a marathon is often the point at which I start to pleateau. If I can get to mile 19 or 20 before using some of that “time in the bank”, then it’s usually a good sign that I can take it all the way. Still, I was planning on going big for that 2:50:00 and was willing to let it all the anxiety and inhibition go at that point, replacing it with a laser-like focus and a one-track mind. It was still “my race to lose”.
With the upcoming headwinds for the next few miles, the cushion under my goal pace dwindled to 1:00 at the 18 mile mark. I was beginning to lose time at a 10 second/mile clip. More importantly, I was losing time at a clip that had potential disaster written all over it. My mind was wandering, with thoughts of what a disaster could look like. 2:55? 2:58? 3:00? I kept trying to do the math in my head, trying to use whole minute paces to conjure up just how bad I could fall. The only thing I could do to keep myself on target was try focusing on the rest of the course yet to come. It was time to pick up the intensity, crank up Metallica’s “No Leaf Clover”, and get to work.
I remember a running friend of mine, Ron, reminding myself and others that the mostly pancake flat final 10k was a good place to let it loose. Passing under the inflatable wall overhang on the course, I continued to remind myself of that in my head. It felt like it couldn’t just be “my race to lose”. I still had to assert myself with the attitude that this was “my race to win”. Like the song “No Leaf Clover”, I imagined myself as a “freight train coming”. It took another ¼ mile to get started up, taking 3 tries to grab a GU packet from the volunteers lining the GU station around mile 20.5. Once I got GU down the hatch sans water, the surge was on.
As I pressed the gas pedal, the per mile pace fluctuated between the high 6:20s and the 6:40s. At the 22 mile mark, I was still even with a 6:30 pace and a 2:50:26 marathon. I continued to lose some ground against the pace goal over the last few miles, but was pleased that as I consistently pushed and was still able to hit mostly 6:45 min/mile on the Garmin while passing a few more runners. The flat, smooth run winding westbound through the residential areas of downtown Sacramento had a pleasant feel to it, with the tree releasing their leaves onto the pavement below and the spectators, U.S. National Guard officers and Police Officers ushering us towards the finish with smiles and hand claps.
To keep my intensity and pacing up, I would intermittently yell “Come On!” to myself out loud. I’m not sure if I scared any of the spectators, but it seemed most of them just kept cheering knowing that I was just trying to push until the end. I tend to keep most of the motivation internal, not wanting to expend too much energy to get myself going. In this case, I was close enough to the finish to let loose a little bit.
I dipped to 7:15-7:25 min./mile after the 25 mile mark due to spasms in my left calf which I first began to feel around mile 23. My right hamstring was also twinging and at this point I didn’t want to jeopardize the huge race I was having irrespective of the 2:50:XX. It was going to be a huge personal best marathon. To keep my mind off of things, I started considering what I was going to do at the finish line. At this point, it was a given that I would probably come in around 2:51 to 2:52 for the race, which was a huge accomplishment. Letting that fact sink in, a wide grin began to show on my face for all to see. I was at the end and I was enjoying it at this unspectacular, but steady pace. Even some rather serious war protesters on one of the final blocks, who seemed somewhat misplaced among the cheering crowd, couldn’t get me down.
Normally, I’m so intent of just getting it over with that after a quick point to the sky, I just stick my head down and drive towards the finish without looking at the crowd too much. It can sometimes lead to awkward faces on finishing photos. This time, though, I was pretty proud of the race I had run under the weather conditions (heck, under any conditions). Rounding the final 2 turns before the finishing chute, the huge grin stayed plastered on my face. I made a quick point with both index fingers upwards while looking towards the sky, always aware that it’s the One who makes it possible for me to run period.
As I barreled down the finishing chute, I soaked in the cheers and claps from behind the barricade. With only about 5-10 feet before the first mat, I stopped. In a continuous motion, I crossed my arms to mug for the photographer. Right after I started, with my weight now shifted completely back, my right hamstring suddenly seized up. That ended my attempt at hot-dogging quickly. I quickly hobbled across the mat and fell over just past it to finish just under 2:52. After the medical volunteer tried to help me up, both hamstrings seized up due to a lack of electrolytes over the final 10k. I was on the ground rolling over with a cinched look on my face and a as I tried to stop it. They ended up bringing over a wheelchair to take me to the medical tent.
Being taken to the med tent in a wheelchair wasn’t exactly the ending I envisioned. On the way over to the tent, they stopped to allow one of the volunteers to slip the finisher’s medal around my neck. I smiled over at my wife behind the barricade partly because I was really pleased with the race, but now dealing with the implications of my hot-dogging. Oh man! What a way to end my race.
After exiting the tent, I stopped to take pictures with wife as well as my friend, William Kasiyre and his family. William is a native Ugandan who is the president of World Harvest Mission, the charity I work with to build the water wells in Uganda. He and his wife Olivia graciously allowed my wife and I to stay with them at their house less than 10 miles from the starting line in Folsom. It was great to see them at the finish area outside the Capitol building and thank them in person for their contribution to my successful race effort.
When I started at Marathon #1, I ran a 3:47:XX. I had fun, but I was also young and undisciplined both as a runner and as a person. As much as I eventually wanted to qualify for the Boston Marathon, I never had the training or discipline to do it. I also never had the open resources we have today with the rapid expansion of information on the Internet. It wasn’t until, ironically, that I decided to give myself a mental break from marathons by delving into ultramarathons 4 years ago that I began to develop the discipline which ultimately made the difference in developing myself as a knowledgeable, disciplined and more passionate runner than I ever was before.
If I made a mistake in a marathon, I suffered for ½ hour to an hour. If I made a mistake in a 50-100 miler, I could suffer for hours on end. Even as I made errors over the first year or two of the “ultramarathon experiment”, it forced me to take responsibility. It made me a better person because it forced me to dig deeper and really ask the question of “how badly do you want it?”, which in turn made me a better long distance runner. By plugging away, the gates finally opened and this past 7 months has yielded a complete break though at all distances at a variety of courses, and hopefully a whole slew of new break throughs in 2010.
Now, I am training and attacking the dream of seeing just how low my marathon PR can get by doing the antithesis of every major training program out there: by going longer and longer. Sometimes, I train well enough to finish, but more often than not, I want to train to finish well. I still commit myself to some of the basics of marathon training such as the long run, the tempo run, and the track work. However, by mixing in the types of never-ending, undulating ultramarathon trail and road runs that most programs avoid, I hope to prove that the physical and mental endurance/perserverance required to sustain oneself for that long can translate into major success/improvement at the marathon level. The marathon is my 10k, the 50 miler is my half-marathon, and the 100 miler is my marathon. I work from the top down and from the bottom up. I don’t know how low this marathon PR can go, but I plan to take it all the way. For now, I’m content to take my guaranteed entry into New York City and get myself ready to go after a sub-seeded entry to the Bay to Breakers. I’m also content to begin the process of gorging myself for the next 3 days and savoring a job well done before moving on to the next adventure which will be getting ready for Western States 2010! Even as I move on, I salute God, my family and all of you my friends who support me in all ways no matter what time I get. You free me from the burden of failure so that I can find success on and off the course.
Here are my key splits, based on the race’s mile markers:
Mile Split
5 31:46
10 1:03:38
Half 1:23:33
18 1:56:00
20 2:09:34ish
Final 2:51:59
124th place overall out of 7500 runners (registered)
1:23:33 1st half, 1:28:26 2nd half
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Coming down from Javelina 100 and ramping up for CIM
Post-Firetrails 50, the preparation for the Javelina 100 didn’t involve too much in the way of running. Firetrails was a harder effort, which took a few days afterwards to physically recover from. Instead of running too long, I focued more on the tempo runs and speedwork that are the staple of my marathon training. It would allow me to push my body in shorter, focused efforts to get ready for CIM in December without taxing myself too much and compromising my fitness for Javelina.
What I ended up with, race-wise, is a hodge-podge of a lot of things. I enjoyed the warm weather in the desert north of Phoenix and ended up with a race that I can build upon. 20:31:45 and 8th place out of 250+ starters ain’t that bad.
Since I don’t have time to post a full report, I do want to touch on the positives and lessons from the race.
Positive 1: As always, the "crew" and pacer were awesome. Thanks to my wife Wilma, Rick and Lori for putting up with me. They got me what I needed in a timely manner and kept me smiling. Lori also had to put up with my stupid dry heaving 2-3 times over the final 20 miles. I sounded awful but hey, great ab workout!
Positive 2: My first 4 laps were right on target. I planned to come in at the 10:25 mark and ended up coming in at the 10:32 mark. I had banked a little bit of time over the first 3 laps and used it to slow myself on the 4th lap when the heat was at its most intense bearing down on people. While I think a change of clothing (going long sleeve to limit sun exposure or desert hat) and a little better electrolyte management on the 3rd lap could’ve yielded much better results, I was still able to clock a 3 hour lap (+6 min. break at main aid station). I allowed myself the space to slow down during the most intense sunlight, which resulted in a much faster 2nd half of the lap than 1st half.
Positive 3: My placings at the end of each of the first 4 laps were 20th, 16th, 12th and 9th. You can’t always use placing as a measure of strength, but consistently moving up the board in a race which always has folks blowing up later on was a good indicator that I was on the right track. I left myself more than enough room to make a run at 2nd or 3rd place based on my pacing and the eventual final times.
Positive 4: Even in a distressed physical/mental state, I still finished in 8th place. This is probably more a function of survival and grit than it is anything else. Battling most of the day with some top notch runners (and people), it’s good to outlast some of those folks (including some well-known names) even if it was a struggle. Top runners learn how to grit it out when things don’t go right.
Lesson 1: My NUUN tablets go everywhere with me. There is such a thing as not being flexible enough as far as food/drink, but considering the results of this race, a consistent flow of NUUN could’ve kept my GI from getting distressed. Instead, I allowed myself to go out there and take in the Gatorade mix they had at the aid stations. The beauty of using NUUN is the ability to accurately control electrolyte intake. While the aid station volunteers do a great service by providing electrolyte mixes, it may ultimately do a disservice by not giving you what you, the individual, properly need. The distress ultimately increased my lap times on the crucial 5th and 6th laps, where I should’ve made a good push for 3rd place instead of floating in 7th through 9th place. By itself, that should’ve gotten me back in the 18:xx:xx range. The constant flow of NUUN throughout Firetrails is definitely a big difference between the stronger finish there and the grinding finish that Javelina became.
Lesson 2: Now that Javelina is over, I think there are positives as well as key areas of improvement that I’ve already identified as I look at what kind of running goals I have for the next 12 months. I haven’t raced much as far as volume since the San Diego 100 slogfest, but each time I have raced has been a good result: Angel Island 50k: 5th place, 4:25. Badwater: 16th place, 31:33:13. Firetrails 50: 5th place: 7:25. Javelina 100: 8th place: 20:31:XX. Good, but not great. If my closing at Badwater (final 12.2 mile climb to Whitney Portal) and Javelina had been more on par with the rest of the race, the finishing places and times could’ve been much better. But, the fact is that at the time, maintaining a good time by not having a bad blow up and setting the foundation for ’10 was more important. I’ve done that and considering the brutal 2.5 month stretch with shin splints earlier in the year, I can be happy about that. I chopped 6 hours off my time in ’08 at Badwater and 5 more hours off my time in ’09. If I do it in ’10, what should I shoot for? Not sure.
Now that ’10 is fast approaching, it leads more into a discussion about what I need to do in the next 6 months to make ’10 the best year yet:
1) First Things First: Running 2:49-2:52 at CIM is clearly the first priority. 2:50 is around the upper marathon time limit for winners of 100 mile races as far as having sufficient leg speed to pair with top-level endurance in order to compete well. It will be tough, but some of my most recent tempo runs and interval times grade out on target in this regard.
2) First 100 Mile Race of ’10: The Rocky Raccoon 100. I’ve internally debated this quite a bit over the past few days. Admittedly, Rocky is not exactly a scenic course and with some course alterations put in place this past year, there are less and less of the clear views to enjoy the night sky. In addition, there is less of the “race course straight” trail which has been replaced by some much windier sections. This should lead to a relative increase in times for those pushing the envelope. BUT, I seem to respond well to resting the last half of December and getting off my butt in January to train. Plus, I owe this race a much bigger effort than I’ve had the 2 times I’ve run it. Because of the very real possibility of running sub-18 hours on this course, I would probably judge my performance on some different time metrics as well as overall placing. Still, I can’t accept setting my sights on anything slower than 18 hours. It would be a good opportunity to work on the racing aspect of ultra-running.
3) Miwok 100k: Regardless of whether I get into Western States, I will go all-out there (assuming I get into Miwok). It will be Firetrails^n as far as the intensity with which I plan on racing. I have never done Miwok but considering that the race is run on trails that I frequent all the time in training, I should be able to test myself against pre-defined small sections of the course prior to race day. Course knowledge should be valuable as far as understanding how to best use my energy. I’ve already started studying splits for the race and will test those splits to get a better idea of just how low I can drop it at this race. Right now, a rough baseline would be sub-9:45 hours, although that’s my starting point which can be adjusted accordingly.
4) 0 DNFs: This one is the most important goal of all, because even if I blow up at any race, I can not quit. I can’t let “I was going for it” be an excuse for mailing it in ever. Granted, if the injury was bad enough that a doctor/nurse seriously told me to stop, I would.
What I ended up with, race-wise, is a hodge-podge of a lot of things. I enjoyed the warm weather in the desert north of Phoenix and ended up with a race that I can build upon. 20:31:45 and 8th place out of 250+ starters ain’t that bad.
Since I don’t have time to post a full report, I do want to touch on the positives and lessons from the race.
Positive 1: As always, the "crew" and pacer were awesome. Thanks to my wife Wilma, Rick and Lori for putting up with me. They got me what I needed in a timely manner and kept me smiling. Lori also had to put up with my stupid dry heaving 2-3 times over the final 20 miles. I sounded awful but hey, great ab workout!
Positive 2: My first 4 laps were right on target. I planned to come in at the 10:25 mark and ended up coming in at the 10:32 mark. I had banked a little bit of time over the first 3 laps and used it to slow myself on the 4th lap when the heat was at its most intense bearing down on people. While I think a change of clothing (going long sleeve to limit sun exposure or desert hat) and a little better electrolyte management on the 3rd lap could’ve yielded much better results, I was still able to clock a 3 hour lap (+6 min. break at main aid station). I allowed myself the space to slow down during the most intense sunlight, which resulted in a much faster 2nd half of the lap than 1st half.
Positive 3: My placings at the end of each of the first 4 laps were 20th, 16th, 12th and 9th. You can’t always use placing as a measure of strength, but consistently moving up the board in a race which always has folks blowing up later on was a good indicator that I was on the right track. I left myself more than enough room to make a run at 2nd or 3rd place based on my pacing and the eventual final times.
Positive 4: Even in a distressed physical/mental state, I still finished in 8th place. This is probably more a function of survival and grit than it is anything else. Battling most of the day with some top notch runners (and people), it’s good to outlast some of those folks (including some well-known names) even if it was a struggle. Top runners learn how to grit it out when things don’t go right.
Lesson 1: My NUUN tablets go everywhere with me. There is such a thing as not being flexible enough as far as food/drink, but considering the results of this race, a consistent flow of NUUN could’ve kept my GI from getting distressed. Instead, I allowed myself to go out there and take in the Gatorade mix they had at the aid stations. The beauty of using NUUN is the ability to accurately control electrolyte intake. While the aid station volunteers do a great service by providing electrolyte mixes, it may ultimately do a disservice by not giving you what you, the individual, properly need. The distress ultimately increased my lap times on the crucial 5th and 6th laps, where I should’ve made a good push for 3rd place instead of floating in 7th through 9th place. By itself, that should’ve gotten me back in the 18:xx:xx range. The constant flow of NUUN throughout Firetrails is definitely a big difference between the stronger finish there and the grinding finish that Javelina became.
Lesson 2: Now that Javelina is over, I think there are positives as well as key areas of improvement that I’ve already identified as I look at what kind of running goals I have for the next 12 months. I haven’t raced much as far as volume since the San Diego 100 slogfest, but each time I have raced has been a good result: Angel Island 50k: 5th place, 4:25. Badwater: 16th place, 31:33:13. Firetrails 50: 5th place: 7:25. Javelina 100: 8th place: 20:31:XX. Good, but not great. If my closing at Badwater (final 12.2 mile climb to Whitney Portal) and Javelina had been more on par with the rest of the race, the finishing places and times could’ve been much better. But, the fact is that at the time, maintaining a good time by not having a bad blow up and setting the foundation for ’10 was more important. I’ve done that and considering the brutal 2.5 month stretch with shin splints earlier in the year, I can be happy about that. I chopped 6 hours off my time in ’08 at Badwater and 5 more hours off my time in ’09. If I do it in ’10, what should I shoot for? Not sure.
Now that ’10 is fast approaching, it leads more into a discussion about what I need to do in the next 6 months to make ’10 the best year yet:
1) First Things First: Running 2:49-2:52 at CIM is clearly the first priority. 2:50 is around the upper marathon time limit for winners of 100 mile races as far as having sufficient leg speed to pair with top-level endurance in order to compete well. It will be tough, but some of my most recent tempo runs and interval times grade out on target in this regard.
2) First 100 Mile Race of ’10: The Rocky Raccoon 100. I’ve internally debated this quite a bit over the past few days. Admittedly, Rocky is not exactly a scenic course and with some course alterations put in place this past year, there are less and less of the clear views to enjoy the night sky. In addition, there is less of the “race course straight” trail which has been replaced by some much windier sections. This should lead to a relative increase in times for those pushing the envelope. BUT, I seem to respond well to resting the last half of December and getting off my butt in January to train. Plus, I owe this race a much bigger effort than I’ve had the 2 times I’ve run it. Because of the very real possibility of running sub-18 hours on this course, I would probably judge my performance on some different time metrics as well as overall placing. Still, I can’t accept setting my sights on anything slower than 18 hours. It would be a good opportunity to work on the racing aspect of ultra-running.
3) Miwok 100k: Regardless of whether I get into Western States, I will go all-out there (assuming I get into Miwok). It will be Firetrails^n as far as the intensity with which I plan on racing. I have never done Miwok but considering that the race is run on trails that I frequent all the time in training, I should be able to test myself against pre-defined small sections of the course prior to race day. Course knowledge should be valuable as far as understanding how to best use my energy. I’ve already started studying splits for the race and will test those splits to get a better idea of just how low I can drop it at this race. Right now, a rough baseline would be sub-9:45 hours, although that’s my starting point which can be adjusted accordingly.
4) 0 DNFs: This one is the most important goal of all, because even if I blow up at any race, I can not quit. I can’t let “I was going for it” be an excuse for mailing it in ever. Granted, if the injury was bad enough that a doctor/nurse seriously told me to stop, I would.
Monday, October 12, 2009
2009 Firetrails 50 Recap
The details of the days prior to the race mostly consist of the same old, “I trained, I carbed up, and I showed up”. However, one of the more interesting things that played into my approach to this race was the cancellation of the Angeles Crest 100 in mid/late September. Without a race since Badwater in July, I saw Firetrails as an excellent benchmark race going into the Javelina 100 on Halloween and CIM in December. With the three week gap between Firetrails and Javelina, it was more than enough time to recover fully from a 100% effort.
In support of my effort, I got Uncle Andy to handle crewing until Skyline Gate (mile 37 aid station) where my wife Wilma and brother-in-law Wilfred would take over. Wilfred ran his first marathon in January and since then, has added two other marathons to his “running resume” including a PR at the San Francisco Marathon of 3:55 in August where I ran with him the final 10 miles. Uncle Andy has crewed me at numerous races and although this race doesn’t require a crew, his and Wilma’s services to pre-prepare water bottles with NUUN water as well as GU tucked into the bottle holders would prove invaluable at helping me shave precious minutes off of my final time.
The morning of the race, Uncle Andy and I arrived at Lake Chabot just before 6 am for a 6:30 am start. Having been up since 4:15 am with 5.5 hours of sleep the night before, I was surprised with how energized I felt in the morning. Usually, I’m a sleep-walking zombie clamoring for that last few minutes of sleep. I didn’t want to speak to many people before the race because that would eventually lead to conversations about what I’m shooting for and what’s my game plan. I didn’t need to rehash what I had been obsessing about for a week and I felt like most of the pre-race small talk would take my focus away. I just wanted to start running and start hitting those time splits I had printed out onto my homemade pacing band on my right wrist.
Going into Firetrails, I talked about using the previous year’s splits of another runner; that runner was Ron Guiterrez. I wanted to use as a starting point the splits of someone who was consistent in their performance. Even though I felt like he’d be a better climber than I based on sharing a short segment of one of my runs on the Headlands trails with him, I felt that my performance on the flats and downhills would even it out. Even though I wasn’t sold on using Ron as my “standard-bearer”, I felt I at least had a decent shot to hit them based on 2 key double-digit mile runs on key segments of the course to gauge my fitness against the splits. It also sounds rather weird to be using someone’s ghost from 2 year prior as my performance guage without telling them. Hehe. Oh well. I’m sure there’s a more calculated way to predict performance, but this is a start. :)
With the ultimate ultramarathoning couple Ann Trason (14-time women’s champion at Western States including 10 consecutive) and Carl Anderson (record holder on numerous ultra courses) to set us on our way, we would be in good hands with experienced volunteers to greet us ever step of the way. Just to boot, there was incredible swag and BBQ spread awaiting us at the finish to look forward to. I tucked myself into the third row of runners at the beginning of the bike path around Lake Chabot, inconspicuously blending away in the sea of headlamps. I turned the iPod on softly to keep tabs on the countdown. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go! We were off into the coming dawn, a sea of humanity released from behind the dam.
I tried to keep myself from getting sucked in to the plethora of runners who always seem to push forward in the first couple of miles before settling in. After the first half mile, I started to quietly wade through the crowd. Up ahead, in a red and white singlet, was my good friend and training buddy Rick. Rick is known to be deliberately slow in the first ¼ of races only to surge ahead later in races. I had been in races past where I’d gone out too fast, only to be passed by Rick later in the race. While I probably have greater linear speed, Rick’s discipline and strength late in races are to be desired. I parked next to him briefly before he said the one thing I think I needed to hear. “Kill it.”
Two simple words that seemed to release me from going out too slow and emboldened me to take my 2009 surge to a new level, which started at the Angel Island 50k in late June and continued at Badwater in July. I can’t completely put my finger on it, but I’d compare it to an experienced competitor putting on the stamp of validity on your own race plan. I like to pride myself on running my own race and having my own internal fortitude, but even the recent successes came with the asterisk of not pulling all the way through at the end which relatively detracted from the overall result. I felt like I had never run a full race. Crazy, huh?
With that, I was off but still patient in my approach. I moved swiftly through the flats and downhills while employing the standard intermittent run/walk on the hills. The greater the grade, the more power walking to be done. Approaching the second aid station Bort Meadows at mile 7.9, I passed a couple more runners on a mild grade climb who came out of the chute wayyyy to hard. My band had 1:03; I came rolling through at 1:01:30. Right on target.
The next section takes a long, methodical 1.2ish mile uphill followed by a short 0.3 mile flat section before a mile-long screaming downhill. It was here that I started to settle in, passing a few more folks before beginning the day long duel with Greg Katzbauer, better known as “Red” to me for his red cutoff technical shirt since I didn’t know his name until after the race. He was moving slightly better than me on the downhills while I was faster on the ups. After hitting McDonald Gate at mile 10.5 at 1:23 still 2 minutes ahead of the band, about a mile worth of rolling ups and downs before opening up on a larger fireroad leading to Stream Trail in the valley of Redwoods behind the Oakland Hills. With Red out in front of me and Victor Ballesteros (who finished 11th at Western States, 2nd at Miwok 100k and winner of numerous 50k events) a little ways past, we continued to make good time. We passed one other runner, Ron Guiterrez, who I chatted with briefly before creating some separation focusing solely on Red and Victor in the distance. This was probably the first time I realized I was really in The Race. I figured Victor was probably running 3rd with Chikara Omine and Dave Mackey off like banchees out of sight since the start. In my head, I did the math placing Red in 4th place and myself and Ron tied for 5th place. However, the competitive aspect was still about hitting splits rather than chasing individual runners. I merely using these other runners to help pull me along as long as the pace felt sustainable.
Red and I passed each other before the final mile long climb to the Skyline Gate aid station off of Skyline Blvd. along the Oakland ridgeline. Knowing that I would get into the aid station at 15 miles below my pacing split of 2:03, I relented a bit on the final 0.25 miles of climbing to come in at 2:00:30. While Red went off to the left to the aid station table, I grabbed a fresh water bottle of NUUN water with gels loaded in the carrier and gave him my empty one as I scooted off.
We continued to trade places through Sibley Preserve (mile 18.4) and then the Tilden Park Steam Train aid station at mile 21.7. Each section was marked by a shaded downhill into a green valley before gradually climbing back up again. The cool morning mist kept things rather comfortable while waiting for the impending sunshine. I met Uncle Andy again at Tilden Park, quickly swapping water bottles with carriers and barely glancing at the aid station volunteers before announcing my number while leaving. I was 5.5 minutes ahead of the pace band at about 3:00:30 and still feeling solid in spite of a little stomach instability caused by the gel only approach. Popping a few Pringles and a quick switch to the Chocolate Outrage GU instead of Vanilla helped to settle it down quickly.
A windy 0.5 mile climb up a paved road gives way to another 0.5 mile downhill before opening up on fireroads which wind quickly downhill with a couple gradual hills to Lone Oak campground and the 26 mile aid station. At the top, I even tried to make small talk with Red with a “Getting Hot” comment while smiling as the sun started to shine overhead. The lack of response was like, “Ok, guess he’s not the talkative type”. About this time, we also encountered the marathon runners who started from Lone Oak 2.5 hours after we started the 50 miler. I gave a few of them “Good job”s and gave my running friend Joe Kelso a fist bump and a smile as I descended and he ascended a cruising rate of speed. He knew I was having a good day already, ready to keep rocking the course. At times, I even let myself go while aligning my arms like the wings of an airplane. I hit the 26 mile mark (which ended up being the turnaround on this mostly out n' back course (except for a slightly modified finish as compared to the out bound starting section) at just a shade under 3:35 and still 5 minutes ahead of schedule.
After an unusual 1 minute long pit stop due to a refueling issue, I finally got back on the trail back up to Steam Trains. One of the interesting features of the race is that with an out and back, you get to see all your pursuers come towards Lone Oak while you’re climbing the hill back to Steam Trains and guesstimate your gap on them. Ron came by about 1 and a half minutes after leaving Lone Oak, which represented approximately a 2.5 to 3 minute gap (considering I was going up at a slower pace than they were going down). I briefly lamented taking the full minute at Lone Oak, but didn’t dwell on it further while focusing on getting up the hill and hitting that next split.
About the time I got to the top of the hill along the ridge and began the windy 0.5 mile descent to Steam Trains, I started thinking about Red again. 30 miles into the race, I gave myself a minute to think about the what ifs. Before this race had even begun, I thought a 7:25 would be good for a top 10, but even I had told a couple co-workers that a top 5 was a stretch. Here I was with 20 miles to go, 5th place in hand and 4th place up ahead a little ways. This felt good; this felt really good. I was just going to keep cranking the tunes and trying to hit the splits. After meeting Uncle Andy at Steam Trains for one last exchange, I was still only 4:22:30 into the race, 4.5 minutes ahead of the pace split. The split difference was tightening, creating a dual race against the clock and Red.
At Sibley, I found out I was about 10 minutes back of Red and 3.5 minutes ahead of the pace split before narrowing the gap with Red to 8 minutes at the 37 mile Skyline Gate aid station and expanding my lead over the faceless pace split to around 6 minutes at 5:23ish on the clock. I came down the 0.15 mile road leading to the aid station on the ridge with a big grin on my face, cognizant that for once, I was doing what I set out to do. I told Wilma and Wilfred I’d be there by noon and it was now coming to pass. I switched to a full water bottle/carrier with NUUN and Chocolate GU with Wilma while grabbing a couple of GU Chomps to chow on from her hands. I shouted to my ultra running friend Steve, who was working the aid station, “What place am I in?”
“Fifth”, he replied with a smile. “You’re doing awesome”. I gave him my thanks and let out a “Let’s Go!” as Wilfred and I descended into the redwood forest below. Wilfred and I methodically moved through the valley floor, clocking sub-8:30 minute miles as we cruised along. I just needed to keep moving and keep seeing sub-9:00 min/mile paces on my GPS watch, that is when I actually got signal. The Garmin kept intermittently going out of GPS signal, but that feeling of constantly moving well kept me from feeling that I might be off-pace. The need to be reaffirmed by a GPS was no longer there. The quick hitting intervals between aid stations gave me all the feedback I needed.
I smiled broadly, chatting briefly with Wilfred as the miles ticked away. I balanced the desire to push with the desire to maintain a constant pace. I wanted that finishing time more than I wanted that chase. Ignited by that constant motivation to “Kill It” and the mix of Gospel, Hip-Hop and Hard Rock blaring through my iPod, I knew I needed to finish strong. At times, Wilfred fell behind my pace but was still able to catch up. There was no time to wait; it was "GO" time.
I ended up maintaining the 6 minute cushion on the pace splits with an average 9 min/mile pace going into the 41.5 mile McDonald Gate aid station (and 8.5 miles to go) while again chopping Red’s advantage on me to 5 minutes. I just had to keep pushing with the final monster mile long, several hundred foot climb waiting to tear me down. With 2.6 miles total until the next aid station at Bort Meadows, I just wanted to keep moving.
The climb to the top of the hill out of McDonald was long and hot. The weather in the East Bay was heating up into the 70s and the highly exposed fire trails allowed the sun to bear down. Wilfred quickly fell behind but continued to encourage me to keep pushing forward. The pace splits called for an almost 11 minute/mile average in this section, about the same as the section from Lone Oak up to Steam Trains. I knew if I could just keep my feet moving, I still could move swiftly enough over the last 1.5 miles. I mostly power walked, with small sections of running. I kept looking back, for both Wilfred as well as Ron. I had done well to keep moving up to this point, but I knew I was leaving time on the course by intermittently walking some uphill sections of the smaller roller hills. I kept encouraging some of the marathoners I passed by, blasting "Remember The Name" by Fort Minor on the iPod. This was the 5% pleasure and 50% pain.
Before I knew it I was at the top of the hill 15 minutes later. I quickened my turnover and pace as soon as the hill flattened and the terrain took on a greater and greater downhill slant. 10 minute miles, 9 minute miles, 8 minute miles, 7 minute miles. On tired legs, I use downhills as a way to overcome inertia and generate the energy needed to lengthen the stride and get moving faster. I only looked back a couple of times without seeing Wilfred. Just focus on what's ahead, forgetting what is behind is all I told myself.
Slipping through the cow gate to the parking lot aid station at Bort Meadows at the 6:32 mark of the race, I saw Wilma there waiting for me with a new bottle and GUs. The aid station folks let me know I was still a number of minutes behind Red (they never said exactly). Still, I had a 6 minute cushion on my pacing splits and the end seemed closer than ever with only 5.9 miles to go! After chopping down on a few more Pringles for a couple of seconds, I began walking backwards away from the aid station. I was ready to go but there was no Wilfred.
Just as I thought that, Wilfred was slipping through the cow gate and getting a refill on his bottle. I quickly pipped in, "Come on", waving my hands for Wilfred to come. I wanted to go! I laughed briefly before he came over 20-something seconds later. One of the aid station volunteers briefed me on the race up front so far, walking with Wilfred and I for 45ish seconds as we left the aid station. Soon, we were off and running. This section was shorter on the way to the finish than on the way out, with mostly flat and downhill terrain. The trail quickly closed to a lush, moist area covered in vegetation. Once at the final aid station with 3 miles to go, it would open up to a fire trail with 3 miles to go and then to a bike path over the last couple of miles to the finish on the lawn at the Marina.
I only needed to average sub-9:00 minute miles to achieve the 7:25 finish, and 8:00 minute miles would get me a 7:19-7:20 finish. If I could do either of these things, I would probably maintain my top 5 finish. I kept eating the GU and felt like I was moving briskly, but still the GPS was only giving me readings of 9:00-10:00 minute miles. It even went as high as 12:00 minute miles, which I thought was probably an aberration due to the vegetation cover. Minutes ticked away as one turn lead to another, only to lead to yet another turn and more trail to run. Wilfred was now gone, a ghost runner pushing me forward with the mere idea of his presence. He had gotten me through the hardest hill and although he planned on making it through to the end, I had completely out run him with only the end driving me forward.
I kept glancing at my watch as the minutes ticked away. 6:42, 6:47, 6:52, 6:57. Closer and closer, I kept hoping that the next corner would be the aid station, only to be greeted by more trail and another blind corner. 6:58, 6:59. Then, there it was. 7 hours and 30 seconds on the race clock and the aid station personnel 50 feet ahead. rounding the corner, I shouted my race number, "108!", before kicking it into gear to the last 3 mile stretch. I was now only 1.5 minutes ahead of the pacing splits.
Out of the dense foliage, I popped out onto the fire trails and soon I saw Lake Chabot once again. Just hang on, I thought. Just hang on. I wasn't thinking much about Red, who I hadn't seen in almost 20 miles. I was still chasing 2007 Ron and that 7:25 goal, while being chased by 2009 Ron. Once on the road, my stride opened with 2.5 miles to go and the miles kept clicking off as I crossed the dam and followed the path adjacent to the lake's west edge.
I must've watched every 0.2 miles on my watch go by, but with the end so near the pain had subsided to a mere annoyance. 7:10, 7:15, 7:20. With every 0.2 miles to go by, the threat of 2009 Ron catching me faded and the closer I was getting to 2007 Ron. With about 0.7 miles to go, I still needed a strong finish.
Bearing down with my eyes forward looking for the grass ending, I thrust my arms while moving faster and faster. Sub-8:00 min/miles, sub 7:30 min/miles, and then sub 7:00 min/mile pace. More and more people appeared, letting me know how close I was. Elation and soreness overcame my body, each one pushing me further. I was so close to tasting a job well done and ending the perpetual soreness that was enveloping my leg muscles.
Then, it happened. To the left came the green lawn and the large race clock came in view. "7:25:35". I thrust my arms wildly in a full sprint with my chest and head forward from my torso. Go, go, go. With hands raised, I crossed the finish line in 7:25:58. A couple steps beyond the finish, I collapsed to the grass. I had done it. Officially, 5th place overall out of 231 starters. I ended up 5 minutes out of 4th place. It was by far my most complete race effort ever from beginning to end. Not a bad day's work and hopefully it portends of more to come as I get another step closer to my goals and dreams.
"Are you OK?", people asked.
"Yeah, I'm OK", I replied.
"He does this at every ultra. He's OK", Wilma quickly chimed in. I turned over and smiled.
In support of my effort, I got Uncle Andy to handle crewing until Skyline Gate (mile 37 aid station) where my wife Wilma and brother-in-law Wilfred would take over. Wilfred ran his first marathon in January and since then, has added two other marathons to his “running resume” including a PR at the San Francisco Marathon of 3:55 in August where I ran with him the final 10 miles. Uncle Andy has crewed me at numerous races and although this race doesn’t require a crew, his and Wilma’s services to pre-prepare water bottles with NUUN water as well as GU tucked into the bottle holders would prove invaluable at helping me shave precious minutes off of my final time.
The morning of the race, Uncle Andy and I arrived at Lake Chabot just before 6 am for a 6:30 am start. Having been up since 4:15 am with 5.5 hours of sleep the night before, I was surprised with how energized I felt in the morning. Usually, I’m a sleep-walking zombie clamoring for that last few minutes of sleep. I didn’t want to speak to many people before the race because that would eventually lead to conversations about what I’m shooting for and what’s my game plan. I didn’t need to rehash what I had been obsessing about for a week and I felt like most of the pre-race small talk would take my focus away. I just wanted to start running and start hitting those time splits I had printed out onto my homemade pacing band on my right wrist.
Going into Firetrails, I talked about using the previous year’s splits of another runner; that runner was Ron Guiterrez. I wanted to use as a starting point the splits of someone who was consistent in their performance. Even though I felt like he’d be a better climber than I based on sharing a short segment of one of my runs on the Headlands trails with him, I felt that my performance on the flats and downhills would even it out. Even though I wasn’t sold on using Ron as my “standard-bearer”, I felt I at least had a decent shot to hit them based on 2 key double-digit mile runs on key segments of the course to gauge my fitness against the splits. It also sounds rather weird to be using someone’s ghost from 2 year prior as my performance guage without telling them. Hehe. Oh well. I’m sure there’s a more calculated way to predict performance, but this is a start. :)
With the ultimate ultramarathoning couple Ann Trason (14-time women’s champion at Western States including 10 consecutive) and Carl Anderson (record holder on numerous ultra courses) to set us on our way, we would be in good hands with experienced volunteers to greet us ever step of the way. Just to boot, there was incredible swag and BBQ spread awaiting us at the finish to look forward to. I tucked myself into the third row of runners at the beginning of the bike path around Lake Chabot, inconspicuously blending away in the sea of headlamps. I turned the iPod on softly to keep tabs on the countdown. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go! We were off into the coming dawn, a sea of humanity released from behind the dam.
I tried to keep myself from getting sucked in to the plethora of runners who always seem to push forward in the first couple of miles before settling in. After the first half mile, I started to quietly wade through the crowd. Up ahead, in a red and white singlet, was my good friend and training buddy Rick. Rick is known to be deliberately slow in the first ¼ of races only to surge ahead later in races. I had been in races past where I’d gone out too fast, only to be passed by Rick later in the race. While I probably have greater linear speed, Rick’s discipline and strength late in races are to be desired. I parked next to him briefly before he said the one thing I think I needed to hear. “Kill it.”
Two simple words that seemed to release me from going out too slow and emboldened me to take my 2009 surge to a new level, which started at the Angel Island 50k in late June and continued at Badwater in July. I can’t completely put my finger on it, but I’d compare it to an experienced competitor putting on the stamp of validity on your own race plan. I like to pride myself on running my own race and having my own internal fortitude, but even the recent successes came with the asterisk of not pulling all the way through at the end which relatively detracted from the overall result. I felt like I had never run a full race. Crazy, huh?
With that, I was off but still patient in my approach. I moved swiftly through the flats and downhills while employing the standard intermittent run/walk on the hills. The greater the grade, the more power walking to be done. Approaching the second aid station Bort Meadows at mile 7.9, I passed a couple more runners on a mild grade climb who came out of the chute wayyyy to hard. My band had 1:03; I came rolling through at 1:01:30. Right on target.
The next section takes a long, methodical 1.2ish mile uphill followed by a short 0.3 mile flat section before a mile-long screaming downhill. It was here that I started to settle in, passing a few more folks before beginning the day long duel with Greg Katzbauer, better known as “Red” to me for his red cutoff technical shirt since I didn’t know his name until after the race. He was moving slightly better than me on the downhills while I was faster on the ups. After hitting McDonald Gate at mile 10.5 at 1:23 still 2 minutes ahead of the band, about a mile worth of rolling ups and downs before opening up on a larger fireroad leading to Stream Trail in the valley of Redwoods behind the Oakland Hills. With Red out in front of me and Victor Ballesteros (who finished 11th at Western States, 2nd at Miwok 100k and winner of numerous 50k events) a little ways past, we continued to make good time. We passed one other runner, Ron Guiterrez, who I chatted with briefly before creating some separation focusing solely on Red and Victor in the distance. This was probably the first time I realized I was really in The Race. I figured Victor was probably running 3rd with Chikara Omine and Dave Mackey off like banchees out of sight since the start. In my head, I did the math placing Red in 4th place and myself and Ron tied for 5th place. However, the competitive aspect was still about hitting splits rather than chasing individual runners. I merely using these other runners to help pull me along as long as the pace felt sustainable.
Red and I passed each other before the final mile long climb to the Skyline Gate aid station off of Skyline Blvd. along the Oakland ridgeline. Knowing that I would get into the aid station at 15 miles below my pacing split of 2:03, I relented a bit on the final 0.25 miles of climbing to come in at 2:00:30. While Red went off to the left to the aid station table, I grabbed a fresh water bottle of NUUN water with gels loaded in the carrier and gave him my empty one as I scooted off.
We continued to trade places through Sibley Preserve (mile 18.4) and then the Tilden Park Steam Train aid station at mile 21.7. Each section was marked by a shaded downhill into a green valley before gradually climbing back up again. The cool morning mist kept things rather comfortable while waiting for the impending sunshine. I met Uncle Andy again at Tilden Park, quickly swapping water bottles with carriers and barely glancing at the aid station volunteers before announcing my number while leaving. I was 5.5 minutes ahead of the pace band at about 3:00:30 and still feeling solid in spite of a little stomach instability caused by the gel only approach. Popping a few Pringles and a quick switch to the Chocolate Outrage GU instead of Vanilla helped to settle it down quickly.
A windy 0.5 mile climb up a paved road gives way to another 0.5 mile downhill before opening up on fireroads which wind quickly downhill with a couple gradual hills to Lone Oak campground and the 26 mile aid station. At the top, I even tried to make small talk with Red with a “Getting Hot” comment while smiling as the sun started to shine overhead. The lack of response was like, “Ok, guess he’s not the talkative type”. About this time, we also encountered the marathon runners who started from Lone Oak 2.5 hours after we started the 50 miler. I gave a few of them “Good job”s and gave my running friend Joe Kelso a fist bump and a smile as I descended and he ascended a cruising rate of speed. He knew I was having a good day already, ready to keep rocking the course. At times, I even let myself go while aligning my arms like the wings of an airplane. I hit the 26 mile mark (which ended up being the turnaround on this mostly out n' back course (except for a slightly modified finish as compared to the out bound starting section) at just a shade under 3:35 and still 5 minutes ahead of schedule.After an unusual 1 minute long pit stop due to a refueling issue, I finally got back on the trail back up to Steam Trains. One of the interesting features of the race is that with an out and back, you get to see all your pursuers come towards Lone Oak while you’re climbing the hill back to Steam Trains and guesstimate your gap on them. Ron came by about 1 and a half minutes after leaving Lone Oak, which represented approximately a 2.5 to 3 minute gap (considering I was going up at a slower pace than they were going down). I briefly lamented taking the full minute at Lone Oak, but didn’t dwell on it further while focusing on getting up the hill and hitting that next split.
About the time I got to the top of the hill along the ridge and began the windy 0.5 mile descent to Steam Trains, I started thinking about Red again. 30 miles into the race, I gave myself a minute to think about the what ifs. Before this race had even begun, I thought a 7:25 would be good for a top 10, but even I had told a couple co-workers that a top 5 was a stretch. Here I was with 20 miles to go, 5th place in hand and 4th place up ahead a little ways. This felt good; this felt really good. I was just going to keep cranking the tunes and trying to hit the splits. After meeting Uncle Andy at Steam Trains for one last exchange, I was still only 4:22:30 into the race, 4.5 minutes ahead of the pace split. The split difference was tightening, creating a dual race against the clock and Red.
At Sibley, I found out I was about 10 minutes back of Red and 3.5 minutes ahead of the pace split before narrowing the gap with Red to 8 minutes at the 37 mile Skyline Gate aid station and expanding my lead over the faceless pace split to around 6 minutes at 5:23ish on the clock. I came down the 0.15 mile road leading to the aid station on the ridge with a big grin on my face, cognizant that for once, I was doing what I set out to do. I told Wilma and Wilfred I’d be there by noon and it was now coming to pass. I switched to a full water bottle/carrier with NUUN and Chocolate GU with Wilma while grabbing a couple of GU Chomps to chow on from her hands. I shouted to my ultra running friend Steve, who was working the aid station, “What place am I in?”
“Fifth”, he replied with a smile. “You’re doing awesome”. I gave him my thanks and let out a “Let’s Go!” as Wilfred and I descended into the redwood forest below. Wilfred and I methodically moved through the valley floor, clocking sub-8:30 minute miles as we cruised along. I just needed to keep moving and keep seeing sub-9:00 min/mile paces on my GPS watch, that is when I actually got signal. The Garmin kept intermittently going out of GPS signal, but that feeling of constantly moving well kept me from feeling that I might be off-pace. The need to be reaffirmed by a GPS was no longer there. The quick hitting intervals between aid stations gave me all the feedback I needed.
I smiled broadly, chatting briefly with Wilfred as the miles ticked away. I balanced the desire to push with the desire to maintain a constant pace. I wanted that finishing time more than I wanted that chase. Ignited by that constant motivation to “Kill It” and the mix of Gospel, Hip-Hop and Hard Rock blaring through my iPod, I knew I needed to finish strong. At times, Wilfred fell behind my pace but was still able to catch up. There was no time to wait; it was "GO" time.
I ended up maintaining the 6 minute cushion on the pace splits with an average 9 min/mile pace going into the 41.5 mile McDonald Gate aid station (and 8.5 miles to go) while again chopping Red’s advantage on me to 5 minutes. I just had to keep pushing with the final monster mile long, several hundred foot climb waiting to tear me down. With 2.6 miles total until the next aid station at Bort Meadows, I just wanted to keep moving.
The climb to the top of the hill out of McDonald was long and hot. The weather in the East Bay was heating up into the 70s and the highly exposed fire trails allowed the sun to bear down. Wilfred quickly fell behind but continued to encourage me to keep pushing forward. The pace splits called for an almost 11 minute/mile average in this section, about the same as the section from Lone Oak up to Steam Trains. I knew if I could just keep my feet moving, I still could move swiftly enough over the last 1.5 miles. I mostly power walked, with small sections of running. I kept looking back, for both Wilfred as well as Ron. I had done well to keep moving up to this point, but I knew I was leaving time on the course by intermittently walking some uphill sections of the smaller roller hills. I kept encouraging some of the marathoners I passed by, blasting "Remember The Name" by Fort Minor on the iPod. This was the 5% pleasure and 50% pain.
Before I knew it I was at the top of the hill 15 minutes later. I quickened my turnover and pace as soon as the hill flattened and the terrain took on a greater and greater downhill slant. 10 minute miles, 9 minute miles, 8 minute miles, 7 minute miles. On tired legs, I use downhills as a way to overcome inertia and generate the energy needed to lengthen the stride and get moving faster. I only looked back a couple of times without seeing Wilfred. Just focus on what's ahead, forgetting what is behind is all I told myself.
Slipping through the cow gate to the parking lot aid station at Bort Meadows at the 6:32 mark of the race, I saw Wilma there waiting for me with a new bottle and GUs. The aid station folks let me know I was still a number of minutes behind Red (they never said exactly). Still, I had a 6 minute cushion on my pacing splits and the end seemed closer than ever with only 5.9 miles to go! After chopping down on a few more Pringles for a couple of seconds, I began walking backwards away from the aid station. I was ready to go but there was no Wilfred.
Just as I thought that, Wilfred was slipping through the cow gate and getting a refill on his bottle. I quickly pipped in, "Come on", waving my hands for Wilfred to come. I wanted to go! I laughed briefly before he came over 20-something seconds later. One of the aid station volunteers briefed me on the race up front so far, walking with Wilfred and I for 45ish seconds as we left the aid station. Soon, we were off and running. This section was shorter on the way to the finish than on the way out, with mostly flat and downhill terrain. The trail quickly closed to a lush, moist area covered in vegetation. Once at the final aid station with 3 miles to go, it would open up to a fire trail with 3 miles to go and then to a bike path over the last couple of miles to the finish on the lawn at the Marina.
I only needed to average sub-9:00 minute miles to achieve the 7:25 finish, and 8:00 minute miles would get me a 7:19-7:20 finish. If I could do either of these things, I would probably maintain my top 5 finish. I kept eating the GU and felt like I was moving briskly, but still the GPS was only giving me readings of 9:00-10:00 minute miles. It even went as high as 12:00 minute miles, which I thought was probably an aberration due to the vegetation cover. Minutes ticked away as one turn lead to another, only to lead to yet another turn and more trail to run. Wilfred was now gone, a ghost runner pushing me forward with the mere idea of his presence. He had gotten me through the hardest hill and although he planned on making it through to the end, I had completely out run him with only the end driving me forward.
I kept glancing at my watch as the minutes ticked away. 6:42, 6:47, 6:52, 6:57. Closer and closer, I kept hoping that the next corner would be the aid station, only to be greeted by more trail and another blind corner. 6:58, 6:59. Then, there it was. 7 hours and 30 seconds on the race clock and the aid station personnel 50 feet ahead. rounding the corner, I shouted my race number, "108!", before kicking it into gear to the last 3 mile stretch. I was now only 1.5 minutes ahead of the pacing splits.
Out of the dense foliage, I popped out onto the fire trails and soon I saw Lake Chabot once again. Just hang on, I thought. Just hang on. I wasn't thinking much about Red, who I hadn't seen in almost 20 miles. I was still chasing 2007 Ron and that 7:25 goal, while being chased by 2009 Ron. Once on the road, my stride opened with 2.5 miles to go and the miles kept clicking off as I crossed the dam and followed the path adjacent to the lake's west edge.
I must've watched every 0.2 miles on my watch go by, but with the end so near the pain had subsided to a mere annoyance. 7:10, 7:15, 7:20. With every 0.2 miles to go by, the threat of 2009 Ron catching me faded and the closer I was getting to 2007 Ron. With about 0.7 miles to go, I still needed a strong finish.Bearing down with my eyes forward looking for the grass ending, I thrust my arms while moving faster and faster. Sub-8:00 min/miles, sub 7:30 min/miles, and then sub 7:00 min/mile pace. More and more people appeared, letting me know how close I was. Elation and soreness overcame my body, each one pushing me further. I was so close to tasting a job well done and ending the perpetual soreness that was enveloping my leg muscles.
Then, it happened. To the left came the green lawn and the large race clock came in view. "7:25:35". I thrust my arms wildly in a full sprint with my chest and head forward from my torso. Go, go, go. With hands raised, I crossed the finish line in 7:25:58. A couple steps beyond the finish, I collapsed to the grass. I had done it. Officially, 5th place overall out of 231 starters. I ended up 5 minutes out of 4th place. It was by far my most complete race effort ever from beginning to end. Not a bad day's work and hopefully it portends of more to come as I get another step closer to my goals and dreams."Are you OK?", people asked.
"Yeah, I'm OK", I replied.
"He does this at every ultra. He's OK", Wilma quickly chimed in. I turned over and smiled.
Friday, October 9, 2009
2009 Dick Collins' Firetrails 50
With a few weeks since our successful "Running For The Wells" run in the Headlands (click the photos link below), it’s time to return to racing. Tomorrow is the Dick Collins’ Firetrails 50. The race is an out and back course held in the East Bay up here in Northern California. It’s a favorite of veterans and rookies alike for its nice mix of extremely runnable single-track and fire roads, as well as some challenge climbs as you work your way from the valley by Lake Chabot all the way to Skyline Gate and the Tilden Park area ridgeline. The race is scheduled on the same weekend as Fleet Week in the San Francisco Bay, meaning runners can also expect loud fly-bys by the Blue Angels as well as reasonably warm early October weather (typically Indian Summer here).
In developing a plan for this race, I started with a friend and fellow ultrarunner Rick Gaston’s 2008 race as a baseline. While I spent last year’s race pacing a friend of mine through her first 50, Rick was racing it. His running style of waiting it out early before turning it on late is definitely one to be mimicked, reflecting the patience and discipline that for me was part of my own relatively successful race at Badwater this year. However, the 50 mile distance is a much quicker race which challenges me because it is much closer to the marathon as far as that feeling of always “needing” to be in motion. After that, I went lower, looking at times that seemed to be good approximation of stretch goals. I took the splits from one performance in particular out to the course itself on some key segments to see how they felt to me and to give myself an approximation of where I needed to be on the course (away from aid stations) at various times. After a couple of extremely solid runs, I came up with this: a 7:25 goal for the race.
Since many trail courses aren’t the evened out, flat-ish races expected out on the roads, it leaves many of us in the dark about what we should expect of ourselves. This is particularly true when we race a course for the first time. We have relative expectations based on elevation profiles, but the option to run on a course is not always available for a more accurate representation of our capabilities. Having run on the course over the past couple weeks, I really honed in on whether this was even possible in my shorter runs out there in comparison to previous racers. Throwing away all the placings from previous years (which are more a product of who shows up and in what condition they’re in), I wanted a goal that will stretch me and cause me to work hard. With Javelina 100 in 3 weeks, I have the perfect opportunity to race as hard as I want without compromising that race. With CIM on 12/6, I have the perfect opportunity to continue add strength and endurance to the speed I’ve been working on during my weekly tempo/speed workouts.
Races are a great opportunity to stretch ourselves, particularly because their competitive nature tends to bring about a higher level of performance that can rarely be duplicated in the sterile, solitary capsules we often train within. For me, I’m looking forward to a course PR, killer training for the 100, and a good indicator that the speed and mental stamina is there to take it all the way at CIM to big PR. For all the other runners out there, I wish you the best in going after your own goals on that course. At minimum, we’ll all have some great weather to do it in.
Gundy
Photos: "Running For The Wells"
In developing a plan for this race, I started with a friend and fellow ultrarunner Rick Gaston’s 2008 race as a baseline. While I spent last year’s race pacing a friend of mine through her first 50, Rick was racing it. His running style of waiting it out early before turning it on late is definitely one to be mimicked, reflecting the patience and discipline that for me was part of my own relatively successful race at Badwater this year. However, the 50 mile distance is a much quicker race which challenges me because it is much closer to the marathon as far as that feeling of always “needing” to be in motion. After that, I went lower, looking at times that seemed to be good approximation of stretch goals. I took the splits from one performance in particular out to the course itself on some key segments to see how they felt to me and to give myself an approximation of where I needed to be on the course (away from aid stations) at various times. After a couple of extremely solid runs, I came up with this: a 7:25 goal for the race.
Since many trail courses aren’t the evened out, flat-ish races expected out on the roads, it leaves many of us in the dark about what we should expect of ourselves. This is particularly true when we race a course for the first time. We have relative expectations based on elevation profiles, but the option to run on a course is not always available for a more accurate representation of our capabilities. Having run on the course over the past couple weeks, I really honed in on whether this was even possible in my shorter runs out there in comparison to previous racers. Throwing away all the placings from previous years (which are more a product of who shows up and in what condition they’re in), I wanted a goal that will stretch me and cause me to work hard. With Javelina 100 in 3 weeks, I have the perfect opportunity to race as hard as I want without compromising that race. With CIM on 12/6, I have the perfect opportunity to continue add strength and endurance to the speed I’ve been working on during my weekly tempo/speed workouts.
Races are a great opportunity to stretch ourselves, particularly because their competitive nature tends to bring about a higher level of performance that can rarely be duplicated in the sterile, solitary capsules we often train within. For me, I’m looking forward to a course PR, killer training for the 100, and a good indicator that the speed and mental stamina is there to take it all the way at CIM to big PR. For all the other runners out there, I wish you the best in going after your own goals on that course. At minimum, we’ll all have some great weather to do it in.
Gundy
Photos: "Running For The Wells"
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