Tapering

I Should Have Checked the Weather

It was a Saturday morning, and I was hung over.  After a bottle or two of red wine with dinner the night before, followed by a microbrew or two nightcap, my head ached.  The best way for me to get rid of the “I overindulged feeling” is to A) lie on the couch and do nothing or B) hit the trails.  Desperately craving fresh air, I opted for B.  But how far should I go?  Follow my thought process that took all of 20 seconds to transpire: “I’ll do four or five miles around the neighborhood. Nah… ooh I got it! I should run down to the old golf course and run the cart path. Nah… ooh I got it! I'll head out to Pinchot Lake for a trail run!”  As kid, I spent weekends swimming and fishing at Pinchot but never ran the trails. So just like that, I was mentally committed to trying out the lake trail.

Now, I never take a phone with me on my runs; I enjoy the freedom of feeling somewhat unconnected to the city and connected to my surroundings. But my Garmin 310XT was out of batteries, and I was ready to hit the trails ASAP. So I strapped on my MT10's and drove out to the lake at Gifford Pinchot State Park. Like a kid on Christmas Eve, I could not wait to have a go at the lake trail. When you're out for a long run, changes in weather are a realistic concern, so I knew to check the weather before heading out. Of course on this morning, I did not. Once I arrived at the parking lot, I grabbed a map so I could get a quick idea of where to go. This was a pivotal moment in my day and the reason I got lost. “A quick look” was my downfall... The Lakeside Trail runs 8.5 miles around the perimeter of Pinchot Lake, and if you don’t want to get lost, you should constantly be on the lookout for the trail head since it crosses various parking lots, boat mooring areas, and campgrounds more than a few times. Foreshadowing, anyone?

After a fairly bumpy start (losing the trail and trudging through shoe-tongue deep mud puddles), I got into a rhythm. The kind of rhythm where, with each footfall, you feel a brilliant connection to the Earth, trees, and birds. It was overcast that day, but it didn't look like rain was in the forecast (oh, really?). About six miles in, I hit the camping area. It was like a scene ripped from a Hitchcock film. Just as my right foot collided with the pavement, the sky rumbled with thunder and a steady rain commenced. Rain doesn't bother me in the least when I'm running. In fact, it actually feels quite soothing. But on this particular day, my first thought was “protect my iPhone,” and my second thought was “get out of here!” Little did I know, I would spend the next few miles in a Hotel California-esque dreamland, scampering about the campgrounds like a cornered rabbit. I didn't care which trail I found; I just wanted to get out of there!

Why it didn't occur to me sooner, I'm not too sure (see the second sentence of this post for a touch of insight), but I had my exit strategy tucked into my waistband the entire time: I was tracking my run with the Nike+ GPS app, so all I had to do was check the map and I was out of there! With my new found hope, I clicked on the “View Map” button and found where I was in relation to my car. Ugh. Not as close as I had originally thought, but at least I knew where I was. Investigating the tiny electronic map further, I realized I still didn't know where the trail head was. Double ugh. After a hopeful, albeit brief, few moments, the panic once again set in. 

The rain continued to fall along with my optimism:  rain + iPhone = dead (the phone AND me if I didn't figure this out soon). In times of desperation, we always go over worst-case scenarios in our heads. What if the rain kills my iPhone? What if I never find the trail? What if... BEARS! (Fright tends to coax hyperbolic thoughts from the most practical thinkers.) I realized then that running around in circles wasn't getting me anywhere. (A brilliant thought, right?) Even though I had a map, I only gave it a cursory glance thinking that's all I needed. Plus, I didn't want to risk the rain soaking my phone while I stood there like a caveman trying to get my bearings.

Before my phone was murdered by the rain, I needed to take a serious look at the map again. I realized I should just admit defeat, find the main roads, and get out of there. At least if I got on the main roads, I would avoid running around in circles for a few more miles.  Plus, at the time, it was the only option I felt like exploring. So I verified the route on my phone and started running. The route turned out to be two main roads that took me around the outskirts of the park back to the parking lot. But I was finally back in a rhythm and glad to be on the home stretch. The feeling of despair and hopelessness vanished, and with the help of the sun, the last bits of rain dissolved into a newly found bright sky.

I managed to turn the 8.5 trail into a 12.5 mile run for my life, but at least I was going to live to run another day. Although I normally take a minimalist approach to my running, I was really glad to have my iPhone with me. Without it, I could have (in theory) run around in that black hole of a campground for days, months, or even years! There I go again with the hyperbole...

Needed a bit more padding for a road 100-miler...

Nike Zoom Elite+ 5

TRAIN RACE BEER CapSac

To Race Fast,You Have to Train Fast

I finished reading Scott Jurek's "Eat & Run" yesterday. He mentions, on a few occasions, how his marathon time of 2:38 isn't all that impressive. Well, it's pretty impressive to me. But that got me thinking. I had to improve my marathon time if I wanted to consider myself a decent runner and move to the next level (mentally & competitively). When it comes down to it, a 3:35 PR is pretty pathetic for an aspiring ultrarunner.

So I signed up for the Bob Potts Rail Trail marathon which would take place on May 25th. I ran it in 2012 and completely bonked at mile 23 and finished in 3:36. I looked up Boston qualifying times for my age and decided that would be my goal. (Not that I'm even that interested in running Boston; my love for running has shifted to running longer distances through the woods. But I figured it would be a good time to measure myself against.) To qualify for Boston, I have to run under a 3:05. Totally doable, right?

I converted my goal time to a pace per mile and found I need to run a 7:03 pace for 26.2 miles to finish under 3:05. Yikes. I can't remember the last time I ran more than a mile at faster than a 7:30 pace. (Sometime last year, I resigned to the notion that I'm just not a fast runner and probably never will be. I'm built for distance, not speed.) But that got me thinking: why? Elite runners can run long AND fast, and that's exactly what I need to do.

After one last conversion (finding out what speed on the treadmill was around a 7:03 pace), I went downstairs to my treadmill to knock out my typical Wednesday 5-miler. I started at a 7:30 pace for the first 400 yards, then moved bumped up to a 6:59 pace for the next 4.25 miles. Then I went back to a 7:30 pace for the last 800 yards. Surprisingly, I felt awesome. Although it was a fast pace, I was surprised at how comfortable I felt. My average heart rate was around 165. It's higher than usual, but I'm not used to that pace (duh). Not too bad.

Today I went out for a 9-miler on the road and decided I wanted to run at or under a 7:03 pace. That's something I've never done so I was a little apprehensive. But once I got going, I fell into a rhythm. I ran my usual neighborhood route, an out-and-back route with a few uphills and downhills. I knocked out the first mile in 6:55. Mile two had a few uphills and finished in 7:15. Then I got into a rhythm and knocked out a 6:53 and 6:58. The next few miles rolled a bit and went into a steady uphill for 1/2 mile. After seven miles and knowing I only had two miles left, I really turned it on and finished with a 6:53 and 6:43 mile.

During my last mile, running faster and feeling stronger than the previous 8 miles, it hit me. I had a moment of clarity and pure hopefulness for my running future. I thought to myself: I might actually be good at this. I can say, without hesitation, that's the first time I truly believed I am (or could become) a pretty good and competitive runner. That's fastest I've ever run for an extended amount of time and felt like I could go even faster. Today's run made me hopeful for my running future and, most of all, made me happy,

A Snowy Midnight Run

A few days following my first 50-miler at the Rocky Raccoon 50 Trail Run in Texas, I was pretty sore. Like really sore. Stairs were a burden and trying to stand up felt like a Brobdingnagian challenge. But I did this to myself, and I had no right to complain when there are myriad other men, women, and children that had no choice when it came to their own pain and suffering. If you're ever in pain during or after a run, think about that.

On Monday, I started to get that familiar "what's next?" feeling. I was in peak shape and knew that my next adventure had to be to tackle the big one: a 100-miler. A quick Google search revealed the whens and wheres of the races. And there it was. March 8th in the OBX. It nearly jumped off the page, and here's why.

At the beginning of 2012, my wife, Kate, and I moved to Nags Head. We packed up and went to live with one of my best friends and his fiancee who had moved to OBX the previous year. We shared a house just off of Beach Road (Hwy 12). But after 8 months, we decided we wanted our own house and to be closer to our family back in York, PA. I thought moving back home and working for the family business was the right thing to do. At the time, it was, but now I'm at the same place I was when we first decided to move away: unsure of what I want to do and where I want to love. But that's the stuff for another post.

Anyway, back to the 100-miler. It's called the Graveyard 100 and it runs the entire length of Highway 12 (where the highway starts in Corolla to where the highway ends 100 miles later in Hatteras). Although I had fallen in love with trail running and the Graveyard 100 was a road race, it seemed like a (near) perfect first 100-miler. The route traveled past our old house in Nags Head where I logged hundreds of miles two years ago, and it was a flat course. So on Tuesday, I began thinking if it was possible (physically running the race and logistically getting to the race), and the answer was an overwhelming yes.

I opened my spreadsheet which contained my 50-miler training schedule, added four weeks, and figured out what my next run would be. Figuring that a 100-miler would, at least, take me into the following day, I quickly realized I would need to get a few night runs in to physically and mentally prepare myself for the fatigue and darkness I would undoubtedly encounter. So I decided to head out for a long night run on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. I checked the weather and saw Southern Pennsylvania was going to be hit with yet another snow storm. The weather peeps were calling for 10-14 inches of snow beginning at 10 pm on Tuesday night. Sweet.

At 11:30 pm, after a cup of coffee and a Clif bar, I drove down to the Heritage Rail Trail and started my run at midnight. The trail was covered in snow with uneven ice grooves from where people had trampled along the trail. The night was clear and the moon reflected off of the snow-covered ground, so there was no need for a headlamp. There were 4-wheeler tracks that I could run down which helped my get into some semblance of a rhythm. After the first three miles, I came across a large oak that had fallen across the trail. I crawled through the icy limbs, hopped over the trunk, and kept running. What I didn't know is that this tree would be the first of roughly 30 trees that would block the trail every 100 yards or so. After about 8.5 miles of slipping and sliding down the trail and climbing up and over fallen trees, the 4-wheeler tracks ended and the trail was untouched. I tried to keep running, but with each step, I crunched through the top of the frozen snow and sunk down half a foot. Kind of fun but kind of annoying. So I turned around and headed back to where I had parked.

By this time, the snow was really coming down (about 1.5" an hour), and my footprints were completely covered. I was wearing my AK Race Vest with a 70 oz. CamelBak in the back, but the tube had frozen during the first hour so hydration was non-existent. After 13 miles, I was pretty exhausted. The trail conditions had worsened considerably and the groove I had found on the way out had disappeared. I only covered 17 miles in 3:30, but it was a physically and mentally tough run considering the snow, wind, and time of day. I cleaned off my car and drove back home. Kate was sleeping on the couch when I arrived and let out a few sleepy sighs, letting me know she heard me come in, and then dozed back off. After a hot shower and water, I crawled into bed a little after 5 am.

I woke up around 8:30 am, went downstairs to my computer, and registered for the Graveyard 100. I knew that the snowy, midnight run I had completed a few hours before was exactly what I needed to build some mental toughness for a 100-miler. OBX, here I come.

2014 Rocky Raccoon 50 Race Report

Disclaimer: This race report is somewhat dry due to its objective approach to writing and, as a consequence, is lacking any literary flair. Subsequent reports will differ greatly in tone and will, hopefully, read more like a good short story mixed with some straight-forward information. But I wanted to get this race report out there while the information was relatively fresh in my head.

Race Week: My first foray into distances longer than marathons was a 50k at The North Face Endurance Challenge Series in Washington, D.C., so I'm fairly new to ultrarunning. Although the course and conditions were difficult that day (heavy rain the week of the race created a thick, soupy, muddy trail), I wanted to go faster and farther because my time was embarrassing and I knew I was better than that. After having a fairly easy running schedule in 2013, I started looking for a good 50-miler for first-timers and found the Rocky Raccoon 50 Mile Trail Run that coincided with my 30th birthday in February. I had already built up a decent base mileage, so after looking up a basic 50 mile training schedule, I signed up, counted back the days, and got to work in October 2013.

By the time the week of the race arrived, I had logged roughly 900 miles and 140 hours since the end of October and was ready to go. On Wednesday of race week, I began drinking a bunch of water, eating a few Clif bars as snacks in place of my usual Cheddar Jack Cheez-Its that had satisfied my post-IPA snack binge over the past few weekends. I ate quinoa for dinner on Wednesday, 2/5, and for lunch on Thursday. For dinner on Thursday, I loaded up on a ton of whole wheat spaghetti with marinara sauce.

Kate (my wife), Krista (my brother's wife), and Braden (my brother) all agreed to make the trip to Texas with me. (Hereafter, they'll be referred to as the Family.) So we all drove down to BWI to catch an 8:45 am flight to Houston on Friday morning. After we landed and picked up our rental car, we stopped for lunch in Conroe (roughly halfway between Houston and our destination in Huntsville). We sat down for lunch but quickly realized we had to get our food to go if I was going to make it to Huntsville State Park in time for the race brief. So I ate my black bean burger and sweet potato fries in the car and arrived at packet pick up just after 3 pm. We then checked in to the hotel and, since I was the DD for the evening and my three travel partners were on vacation, I drove us to a local bar so they could have a few pre-dinner 'tinis. We found a place called Homestead on 19th and sat down for dinner around 7 pm. After a decent meal (linguine primavera), we went back to the hotel so I could assemble my drop bag and get my gear ready for the morning.

(from left) Me, Kate, Krista, & Braden having drinks Friday night

I set my alarm for 3:57 am and was in bed by 10 pm. Luckily, I was able to fall asleep quickly but was woken up by a text a little after 2 pm. Knowing that falling asleep again would be fruitless, I got up at 2:45 am to get my day started. After taking care of the usual morning coffee and consequence thereof, I realized I forgot to grab breakfast for this morning! So I hopped in the rental Jeep and hit the town trying to find a gas station or grocery store that sold bagels and Gatorade. After striking out at the first gas station and finding the only nearby grocery store was closed, I pulled into a Denny's and the manager hooked me up with a bagel with peanut butter and coffee on the house. Sweet. Once I got back to the hotel, I put on all my clothes, packed the rest of my gear, woke up the Family, and made our way to the park.

We got to Huntsville State Park at 5:30 am. I put my drop bag in sequential order with the others according to our bibs, then made my way to the tent to fill my CambelBak with water. I walked around a bit while my Garmin 310xt connected to satellites (and a thousand heart rate monitors) before making my way to the start.

The Course: The course consists of three 16.67 loops around a soft pine needle trail that's mostly single track with a few road crossings. The trail has copious amounts of roots that you do need to be aware of, but don't let them or other race reports scare you; they're just roots. Plus, you're running through the woods so... It's a lovely course, and parts of it reminded me of a trail run I do frequently at home. Here is the breakdown of the aid stations on each loop:


                            aid      mile        split
Dogwood    
Nature Center       1       03.10       3.10
DamNation           2       06.19       3.09
DamNation           3       08.87       2.68
Park Road            4      12.28        3.41
Dogwood              5      16.67        4.39

Loop 1 (Mile 0 - 16.67): The gun went off at 5am, and like most races, the first hundred feet was congested. The weather was drizzling and about 34 degrees as we headed out. It was an incredible feeling hearing the patter of feet heading down the trail and seeing the runners ahead of me like glowworms winding through the first few turns with their headlamps leading the way. The congestion cleared up just after the Nature Center aid station, where I took off my Marmot, and I found a rhythm. My nutrition plan was to continually sip from my CamelBak, eat a GU every 45 mins, and eat whatever looked good at the aid stations. As the light started to come up, I saw a headlamp in front of me about 100 yards. I put my head down and kept running. I was on a jeep road, and after reading the race brief, I knew there was a brief stretch on this type of dirt road. But then I got scared because there were no other runners following me. After nearly 1/4 of a mile, I saw other runners coming off of a trail section to the right and knew I missed a turn. Luckily the DamNation aid station was a few 100 feet farther, so I caught up with the runner that also took a wrong turn, and we asked the volunteer what mile marker DamNation was. The volunteer said 6.2 miles, and my watch said 5.5. Damnation! Knowing I missed a turn and not wanting to cheat myself of the mileage, I told the other runner I was going back to make up the mileage. He agreed to come with me, and we ran back 0.35 miles, turned around, and arrived back at DamNation with our watches saying 6.2 miles. I felt pretty dumb because the race directors warned us the day before not to be lemmings and to watch where we were going. Ugh. I chuckled a little, shook it off, and kept going past DamNation. I made the loop past Lake Raven (a beautiful stretch where I felt really fast) and grabbed a handful of almonds as I passed back through DamNation. A quick refill of Heed, and I kept going. With one minor screwup, this loop was fairly uneventful.. The Family was there waiting for me when I get back to the turnaround and hung around while I changed. I spent way too much time at the turnaround, about 16 minutes, but since it was my first 50, I didn’t know any better; I was just focused on being comfortable and finishing without bonking. I felt fast and strong through this point and was ready to get back out there.

Me and Kate at the turnaround after Loop 1

Loop 2 (Mile 16.67 - 33.34): Before heading out on the second 16.67 mile loop, I topped off my CambelBak with water, filled up on more Heed, ate half of a PB&J sandwich, and popped a SaltStick cap. The volunteers were super helpful and continually made sure I had enough food and water. I said goodbye to the Family and was on my way. This loop was fairly uneventful (which, in an ultra, is pretty great). I continued eating GU every 45 minutes and sipping on water. The roots that I heard so much about in other race reports from previous years were not a problem at all. Don’t get me wrong; there certainly are a ton of roots. But it’s a trail through the woods. Of course there are roots. At the Park Road aid station (the last before the turnaround), I ate two more PB&J quarters, an Oreo cookie, and ran the last 4.5 miles back to the turnaround. Before heading out on this loop, I told the Family I’d be back at the start in a little over three hours. Well, I was a little too fast and beat them back. I sat down at my drop bag, changed gear, and got ready to go. Again, I spent too much time here (12 minutes). I had my phone with me, so I called Kate to ask her a friendly WTF?! They were just pulling up, and I waved and told them I had to get going! They waved back, and I began my last loop.

Loop 3 (Mile 33.34 - 50): I again stopped at the turnaround aid station before heading out. The volunteers ran over to me and filled up my water and Heed (so awesome) and pointed me toward the food. I was starving. When I approached, the woman said nobody's eating our food! I said, "Well you're in luck because I'm starving!" I ate 1/2 of a quesadilla, a handful of potato chips, a banana, and another half of a PB&J. She then asked if I wanted any mashed potatoes in Ramen noodles and I said, “Of course I do!” Needless to say, they were pleased and so was I. It was delicious. I ate my cup of taters & Ramen on the go, threw the cup in the trashcan, and got going. The Family drove up the road and pulled over ½ a mile from the turnaround to see me. Definitely gave me a boost! I did a bit of showboating with a few jump kicks, said hello/goodbye, and then got going again. At mile 36, I started doing some mental math and realized if I put in 10 min miles until the end, I could be in under 9 hours. I knew I hadn’t been pushing myself too hard the first two loops because, having never run over 50k, miles 32-50 were a mystery, and I didn’t want any unpleasant surprises. I kept eating gels every 45 minutes (only skipping if I had a few PB&J quarters at aid stations) and sipping on water and Heed. When I got to DamNation at mile 39.5, I knew I had it in me to push it and finish strong, so I turned it on. The last 10 miles flew by! A group of runners said, as I passed at mile 42, “looking good. Looking REALLY good. Your stride is strong and your form is perfect. Finish strong!” How cool is that?! I reciprocated the kind words and kept pushing. I didn’t stop at the Park Road aid station; just waived and said thank you. I came up behind a guy, and as he heard me approaching, he yelled back to me, “You sound much stronger than I do.” As I passed he also commented on how strong I looked and said, “Here comes the toughest 4.5 miles in show business.” Since I was going to finish much earlier than I had told the Family, I called Kate to tell her I'd be done before 3 o'clock. (She didn't pick up UGH! But she called back within a minute and said they'd be there at 2:45 pm.) Another guy that was coming the other way at about mile 48 said, “Dude, you’re killing it. Man, way to finish strong!” Then it was on. I threw down an 8:55 mile at mile 49 (which felt like I was flying, but in hindsight, isn’t all that fast). After passing a few of the last service roads at the end, I started sprinting down the last 200 yards to the finish, weaving in and out of some walkers that were finishing up loop two. Again, I beat the Family to the finish line. I was at my drop bag for about five minutes before they showed up. I ended up finishing 34th overall in 8:41:04, and it felt amazing!

Feeling proud and accomplished

Gear for at the start:

• New Balance MT110’s
• Swiftwick Four socks
• Garmin Forerunner 310xt
• New Balance Go 2 tights
• Nike compression underwear
• Nike Pro cold weather long sleeve shirt
• Marmot rain shell
• REI mittens
• Buff Anton visor
• Ultimate Direction AK 2.0 race vest (with one UD 10 oz bottle)
• 70 oz. CamelBak reservoir
• Headlamp

Gear change:

• New Balance MT10’s, no socks (Loop 2)
• New Balance 3” Impact split shorts (Loop 2)
• Nike Dri-Fit long sleeve shirt (Loop 2)
• New Balance MT1010’s (Loop 3)
• Injinji toe socks (Loop 3)

Hydration and Nutrition:

• Coffee
• Gatorade
• Bagel with peanut butter
• 10 Hammer gels
• handful of almonds
• 2 PB&J sandwiches
• 1 banana
• 1 Oreo cookie
• Mashed potatoes with Ramen noodles
• 1/2 cheese quesadilla
• handful of potato chips
• 120 - 140 oz. of water
• 50 - 60 oz. of Heed

Recap and Thoughts: Overall, it was a wonderful experience and awesome first 50-miler. I would definitely run this one again and would love to run the 100. The crew and volunteers were all topnotch, and the support along the course was unreal. There is a code of pleasantry and encouragement during ultras that most runners follow. Saying "looking strong" and "keep it up" as runners pass is part of the experience and just makes you feel good. The trail certainly isn’t pancake flat and there are a lot of roots, but I really think people make a bigger deal of them than is necessary. If you’re a trail runner, you’ll be just fine. My last 16.67 loop was my fastest, so that’s always a positive stat. I never once thought "I wish I was done" or "Ugh, I can't go any farther.” I felt really strong the entire run because:

•  I trained really hard and put in the miles and hours on my feet
•  Went out slow and at a sustainable pace (since it was my first 50-miler, I wanted to be conservative)
•  Drank and ate the entire time so I was never hungry or thirsty

Now that I (sort of) know what to expect, I can push myself and finish much faster. In future races, I'll be careful of time wasted while rummaging through gear and changing. I'm used to feeling depleted after a race, and it was kind of a letdown to know I still had a lot left in my tank and that I could have finished with a much faster time. It was nice to feel comfortable throughout the race, but I don’t run ultramarathons to feel comfortable; I run to push my personal limits and get faster so I can be competitive. But feeling comfortable also means I was doing something right and that I can run faster in subsequent 50-milers. Although I was happy to have completed my first 50-miler, I had a strange feeling: OK, so that's it? Now what? I wasn't disappointed in myself; that's not it. But I knew I could go faster and farther. Up next: 100-miler.

For information about the race, visit Rocky Raccoon 50 Trail Run