tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82943238877470912462024-03-05T04:07:00.472-05:00Snowman SaysA Blog by a Regular Guy Who Runs Trails.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.comBlogger553125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-64998566788592684212017-10-07T15:50:00.000-04:002017-10-07T15:51:12.400-04:00Vermont 100 2017<div style="background-color: white;">
<i style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Editor's Note: Initially, I had no plans to write a race report for this race. It felt too personal to share. Or, maybe the wound was still raw. Also, I don't how to write this post without sounding too self-aggrandizing. Yes, I suffered and fought through it, but I don't think that's too different from any other stories that day. Or, any other story from any other ultramarathon, for that matter. And, maybe I didn't want to have another one of "those" stories. It was special to me, but I can't presume that it would be for anyone else. Whatever the reason, I knew that writing the race report had the potential to be as painful as the race itself. So, I hesitated. Ultimately, I decided to start tapping the keys because I wanted to have a complete and honest account of my first 100 mile race. It's impossible to enter an ultra without some level of selfishness and narcissism, and a blog post is the natural extension of those. But, then, even after drafting this report, it's taken me weeks to post it. I still wasn't sure that I wanted it out in the world. But, maybe it should be. Maybe it's the closure that I need.</i><i style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"> So, sorry, dear reader, but this is for me. You've been warned.</i></div>
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<b>“Perfect conditions, it never exists. There’s always a problem. Mountains not in perfect conditions or something and you need to adapt from that. If things can kill you, it’s important to stop or turn around. If not, you can keep going, you know.”</b></div>
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<b>- Kilian Jornet</b></div>
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With any race report, it's tough to know where to begin, but I'm going to begin at the end. Regardless of the outcome, I have so many people to thank. I believe I have thanked all of you by now and in person, either directly or indirectly. To all of you, thank you.<br />
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The race doesn't begin when the gun goes off. I'd trained for a solid 6 months. Really more, through the accumulated mileage build up and additional "research." Plus, this was my sixth consecutive year attending the race, so I'd been thinking about toeing the line for a lot longer than just a few months. I felt ready. But, it did feel strange driving to the race as a runner rather than a crew member. I know how to crew the Vermont 100, but do I know how to run it? Once we arrived in Woodstock and met my parents, it had sunk in that I would be running 100 miles the next day. Or, rather, I was comfortable in the role of runner. In fact, I was very comfortable. I wasn't nervous at all. I knew I was in the right place.</div>
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Along with my experiences at the race and my extensive preparation, a big factor in my relaxed state was the team behind me. I was backed by an absolute rock star crew. Danielle was the crew chief with Mindy as the voice of reason and John as the pack mule. We all traveled together, and Zak, my pacer, was set to arrive the following day. Between them, I had more than a dozen 100-mile finishes full of wisdom to draw on, and people that I felt knew me really well. And, I knew they'd do whatever it would take to help get me to the finish. I had no reason to be nervous. Plus, knowing that my parents would be at the spectator viewing points along the way meant that I had even extra support out there. I was feeling very lucky to have so many in my corner.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-race frivolities</td></tr>
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After the what has now become the traditional pre-race dinner with the Trail Monster Running crew that is on the scene to staff the Lincoln Covered Bridge aid station at mile 39, I was able to get at least a little bit of sleep before the 2:15am wake up call. The biggest surprise of all was that I wasn't nervous. I expected that it would arrive race morning, but it didn't. We had to wait in traffic getting to the start. Runners were jumping out of cars and rushing to the tent left and right. Not me. I knew I'd get there. No nerves. I checked in and took a seat at the back of the tent. I took a couple deep breaths and realized why I wasn't nervous: I was right where I belonged. I was in the right place. A brief moment of panic, since we couldn't find my parents, but soon all the pre-race hugs were done, and I was on the starting line--well, many, many rows back from it. I took a couple deep breaths, and off we went.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The calm before the storm.</td></tr>
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It was great to jog down the hill. I've watched the race proceed down that same hill for the previous five years, and it was a relief to be a part of that crowd. I was way back in the pack jogging comfortably and feeling thankful to even be able to start this adventure. Injuries have been a constant companion in the past, so even feeling healthy enough to start was exciting--even with more than 1,200 miles and 95,000+ feet of climbing done in the past 6 months. In that first mile, I was full of confidence and ready to enjoy the rest of the day. I was also able to share this first mile with Chad, but, of course, he had to pull to the side to poop. But, I was confident that I'd see him shortly.</div>
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As the course turned off the familiar-to-me hardpacked dirt road onto a jeep road/trail, I was immediately taken aback by how muddy and slippery the conditions had become. I know that it had been a wet Spring and they'd seen some rain in the days leading up to the race, but I didn't expect all this squish. Plus, the light mist/high humidity was limiting the visibility in my headlamp. In my pre-race research, I'd seen that many people wore road shoes, which was my choice as well. I was seriously questioning that decision. Soon, my watch alerted me that I'd completed the second mile: 13 minutes?!?!?! What?!?!? My plan was to go out easy, but that was too slow.</div>
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And, there you have my first rookie mistake. Two miles into the race, and I was already thinking about my overall pace. Now, stepping back from it, my mistakes weren't simple rookie mistakes, but they were rookie mistakes caused by veteran experience. I have no idea if that makes any sense. Or, if I'm just rationalizing. But, I feel like I knew too much. I knew that I wanted to average between 11:00-11:25 per mile to mile 21.3--the first crew station, Pretty House. How did I know this? Well, if you know me and you know about my experience crewing the Vermont 100, you know about Ian's famous pace charts. Once upon a time, when Ian was less than engaged by his job, he devised these amazing pace charts for Vermont, which I have since tweaked and adjusted based on various runners' experiences at the race. They're great. And, as a result, I knew the time I wanted to hit based on my conservative projection of a 23-hour finish. I figured that 23-hour pace early in the race would set me up nicely for a sub-24 hour finish or possibly something closer to 21 hours. But, 2 miles into the race, I was already worried that 24 hours was slipping away. I took a breath and realized that I was being ridiculous. "There's still a long way to go. You'll get that time back." Terrible thinking because what this means subliminally is that I was thinking about making it up on the downhills. More on that in bit.</div>
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Either because of or in addition to my thoughts on pace, I felt like garbage. I just felt off. It was a very similar feeling that I had during the start of Stone Cat last November...but worse. Maybe I just don't do well with dark starts. Maybe I was worried about my pace. Maybe I was worried about my shoe choice. Maybe I was worried because I stopped to pee around mile 3. Maybe I was just worried. Was I finally nervous? Whatever the case, I just buckled down and hoped that the sunrise would turn things around. It didn't. The ups were work. The downs were uncomfortable. I was ready to call it a day around mile 6...a 12+ minute mile. I was not having fun. Everything was bad. I felt like I was working much harder than I should be. People were chatting all around me. I hated each and every one of them for enjoying themselves. Sunrise didn't help. Nothing helped. When I met my crew at Pretty House, I called it "the worst 8-mile run of my life."</div>
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The 8-mile point was significant in that it wasn't. But, suddenly, I felt better. No explanation for the switch, but I was finally happy to be running. Shortly after the mysterious change, I caught up to a fellow-Mainer, Corey. We ran together (more or less) for the next 22 miles, and it was good times. I really enjoyed our miles together, but more rookie mistakes. Corey has run the race the last couple years, and in some really solid times. In the back of mind--or maybe in the front--I still felt like I was slipping behind where I should be time wise, but knowing Corey's past finishes, I figured he knew what he was doing. Another rookie mistake: "100 miles is a long way to run someone else's race."</div>
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We both filled our water at the 11-mile aid station and headed off down the hill to the Taftsville Bridge. Or, rather, we ran. Let's go to the splits! 9:11, 9:34, 8:48, 9:04, 9:03. I wasn't paying any attention to the individual miles, but I was very tuned into the "average overall pace" reading on my watch. And, I was getting right back to where I wanted to be based on the pace charts. As we crossed the bridge, my parents were there all smiles and high fives. Pace back where I wanted, all dirt road, running buddy, family support, feeling good--100 miles is awesome! Now, this is turning into the day that I had envisioned. But, in hindsight, it's clear that I am an idiot. From all my time sitting at Pretty House as crew, I've developed a theory that the first 21 miles are the crux of the race and the section in which so many runners ruin their races. Even with all my "experience," unbeknownst to me, I was doing exactly what I was most afraid of. I didn't see it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taftsville Bridge with Corey. WHEEEEEEEE!!!!</td></tr>
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Shortly after the bridge, the road pitches upward and essentially climbs for 6 miles up to Pretty House. Time for some easy hiking. Man, this is fun! Due to a short pee break, I was separated from Corey, and soon after the course turned onto another jeep road/trail section alone. I took it easy, but in my mind I was surprised by the roughness, the wetness, and the steep grade of this section. On the flip side, there was a surprising downhill section, which was also more of a trail than I had expected. Obviously, I've run plenty of trails, but in my mind I had always pictured Vermont as a road race. I was really questioning my shoe choice as I slipped and tip-toed.</div>
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I soon hit a dirt road that went straight uphill, which is more of what I had expected. But, I will say this: many of the grades were much steeper than I expected. The best part of this section was another moment with my parents. I had given them directions to the spectator points, and I could tell that they were enjoying their own event within the event. I chatted with them for a couple seconds. It was all smiles, and I was on my way.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 20. More WHEEEEEEE!!!!</td></tr>
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I knew that I had about a mile and a half to Pretty House, and I was looking forward to seeing my crew. Soon, I recognized the road from my run at Runamuck in April. Spirits were high. With a only a few minutes to Pretty House, I took a gel: 1,200 calories since the start--exactly what I planned. Spirits were higher. I could see the crowd at Pretty House and looked at my watch: 3:52--exactly what I planned. Spirits couldn't be higher. Despite the first 8 miles and my lingering shoe questions, I was feeling great about the rest of the day.</div>
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I was stoked to meet the crew, but the stop was really odd. All of the mechanics were fine, as I dropped what I didn't need and picked up what I needed, but the energy was off. I yelled at John for taking a picture. All I remember hearing from Danielle and Mindy was "Time to get out of here!" I felt really rushed. I wanted to share my high spirits with them, but they were more interested in getting me going. In our pre-race meetings, I had instilled the crew motto of "Slow is Smooth, and Smooth is Fast." The stop felt smooth, but harried. It wasn't what I was hoping for. Recounting the stop with Danielle after the race, she said that I was the one who was in a rush, not listening, and being unfocused. It was really interesting to hear her perspective and realize that this may have been another example of me not heeding my won advice. Another rookie mistake.</div>
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As I jogged away, I brushed it off. I planned to address it with them in 9 miles at Stage Road. We had a lot more great crew stops to come for the day--that was just a minor hiccup. Crewing is hard work, and the first stop is always exciting. I just wanted to remind them to slow down. I was planning to be out there for nearly 24 hours, and I could handle a few extra moments with them. (Foreshadowing!)</div>
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The next stretch of the race was by far my favorite. Corey and I shared more miles. I had a brief chat with John Geesler--en route to his 25th Vermont finish. The weather was good. The views were beautiful. Running 100 miles is all rainbows and candy! That being said, I was still very aware of my footwear choice and the difficulty of the terrain. The latter sounds stupid, but it was more than I expected in terms of both technical terrain and steepness of the hills. In my mind, "Vermont is a road race." The difficulty never got me down, but it was on my mind.</div>
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As Corey and I ran the final mile into Stage Road, he glanced at his watch. "Wow. We're running 7:45 pace!" It certainly didn't feel that fast. And, my only thought was "That's cool because I'm on the overall pace that I want. My watch says so. I'm having fun." Clearly, I am an idiot.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All smiles at 50k.</td></tr>
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Arriving at Stage Road was awesome. Just a great crew stop. I mentioned that I wanted to move through this crew stop more slowly, and the crew agreed. My calories were on point, and everything was feeling good. It was a 9:35am, which is 22-hour pace--a bit faster than planned, but right where I thought I'd be. Vest and waist belt loaded up. Shirt and hat change. Ice bandana filled. High fives and smiles to all the other crews as I made my way through the aid station. Down the road I went feeling fantastic and turned right onto the trail and out of sight. This was the last enjoyable moment that I would have for many, many hours.</div>
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The general consensus seems to be "That hill after Stage Road sucks." I can't disagree. I don't really know what happened, but by the time I reached the top of the climb, my legs were shot. I tried to run a flat section, and my legs didn't respond. Nothing. Jello. It's not a huge climb, but it took everything out of me. Every ultra has its highs and lows, so I just kept plugging hoping that it would pass and my energy would return. I kept my calories on a regular schedule, until, suddenly I couldn't. As I started down the descent, my stomach knotted up. Painfully. Painful to the point that I could feel it pulling on my hip flexors, and it hurt to try to stretch out and run. So, there I was 33 miles into the race with no legs and a stomach that was restricting the amount of movement that I could even get out of them. The section was really runnable, too, which only added to my frustration. But, then again, why is there so much trail out here?</div>
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A number of people passed me--which wasn't hard to do--and many offered words of encouragement, including the woman who offered my a ginger chew and Joe from the Biddeford crew who chatted with me for a few minutes. His words were super-encouraging, but I could tell by the look on his face he thought I was done. I thought so, too. As the miles clicked by, the worthlessness and stinging in my legs was nearly forgotten thanks to the severe abdominal cramping. I could barely walk upright, much less run, I was so cramped. I was done.</div>
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At mile 38, I saw my parents again. I felt so horrible for feeling so horrible. They came out to support my run, and I could barely move at all. I choked back tears, as I told them my plans to just take a break at the next aid station. I remember repeating to them, "It's not going well." "It's not going well."</div>
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That refrain was all I had in my mind as I sadly crossed the Lincoln Covered Bridge and reluctantly made my way to the aid station. The Trail Monster aid station. Our aid station. I didn't want my friends to see me in the state I was in. The plan was to arrive smiling and dishing out sweaty high fives. It was supposed to be one of the high points of the entire race. I've never felt so low in an ultra. Never. Even during my legendary half hour on a milk crate at Pisgah, I've never felt this low physically and mentally. My race was done.</div>
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The first person I saw at the aid station was Linda. The same Linda who was registered for this race and tragically broke her pelvis while training. The same Linda that I convinced to volunteer at the aid station. I was supposed to be thrilled to see her. And all my other teammates. I didn't want to see anyone. I gave Linda a hug...or rather she held me up. Then, I slunk to the back of the aid station, sat in a chair, and cried. This was not supposed to happen. Everything that I had planned for this race...for years...was wrong. Shoe choice. Pacing. Nutrition. All of it. All wrong. This was not the Vermont I had imagined.</div>
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During my time in the chair, I had so many people offer me help. But, all I could see was the steady stream of runners grab what they needed from the table and move on up the road. I sat. And, sat. Chad came through at one point, and I'll never forget the look of disbelief and horror on his face when he saw me. I told him that I'd catch up, but I didn't believe it either. Special shout out to Billy for getting me chips and reminding me that I was ready for this race and could overcome. Billy just ran his first 100 mile race. He hurt his knee, but he finished. Suddenly, through my haze of pain and pity, I had an inkling that I didn't want to let Billy down. Moments later, divine intervention appeared: Amy, the race director. I have a ton of respect for Amy as a runner and a race director. Of course, I started our exchange by flipping her off, when she chastised me for sitting in a chair. But, Amy knew just what to say. She'd been in that chair before. And, I knew she was right. I needed to keep moving. I half-heartedly entered a pact with her that I'd see her at the finish. I don't think I believed it, but I got up and left the aid station.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMaDg1EnzFfG_lpjGawmCUnoOgXrCKBkP9NPcOXZ9aAB2mT3VkNpSGilzg_DzC6ZLxMFQrcsgnRyxtVLJHfqiiKpGJSHK-3m1LApCviPlPo7cwS78yRDDMwOnB1DxtsFKlXUMQnfS-uk/s1600/20229185_10211774550871985_471098545853945804_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMaDg1EnzFfG_lpjGawmCUnoOgXrCKBkP9NPcOXZ9aAB2mT3VkNpSGilzg_DzC6ZLxMFQrcsgnRyxtVLJHfqiiKpGJSHK-3m1LApCviPlPo7cwS78yRDDMwOnB1DxtsFKlXUMQnfS-uk/s320/20229185_10211774550871985_471098545853945804_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amy's peptalk at Lincoln Covered Bridge</td></tr>
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I shuffled up the road trying not to cry again. How did I get here? This was not the Vermont that I envisioned. But, it was about to get worse. The climb after the aid station has quite a reputation. I'd run it as an easy run last year, so I knew what was coming. Miles 40 and 41 took me a combined total of 57 minutes. If you include my time sitting at the aid station, miles 39-41 took 93 minutes. My stomach was in a knot, and I had zero energy. I was barely moving forward. With all that time, I at least had a chance to compose my "epic failure in Vermont" Facebook post. So many people passed me--some I knew, some I didn't--but most of them offered me encouragement or help--legitimate, "we're concerned for your well-being, you might not make it" kind of help. I was dead man walking. At Stage Road, mile 31, I was in 101st place. By the time I reached Lilian's, mile 43, I was in 206th. Twelve miles in 4 hours with more than 100 people passing me. I couldn't wait to get to my crew at mile 47, so I could drop. This is not the Vermont I had imagined.</div>
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Thankfully, about a mile before Lilian's my stomach started to feel a bit better. Not in a oh-good-I-can-run way, but in a at-least-I'm-suffering-less way. I was way behind on calories now, but I was able to squeeze in a gel or two. I was still shuffling, but there was at least a glimmer of hope. On the road just before Lilian's, Kyle and his guide, Samantha, passed me chatting happily with another runner. I wanted to crawl into a hole as I didn't want to really talk to anyone that I knew. Thankfully, I must have looked so bad, no one noticed it was me. Or, they were having too much fun. I decided to try to catch up--misery loves company. I should mention that Kyle is blind. Yup. If he can have a good attitude at not only running 100 miles, but also life, then I can certainly hang on for a bit longer. We all chatted a bit as we came to the aid station. Kyle asked me how I was doing, and I believe I responded, "Garbage." His response was super positive and encouraging. He's blind. My tummy hurt...</div>
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At the aid station, I ate a ton of potato chips, and took some for the road. Mmmmm...chips good! Maybe I won't suffer all the way to my drop at Camp Ten Bear. I also took a popsicle with me. I was running...err...jogging a bit here, and not feeling nearly as terrible as I had previously. TMI, forthcoming: I had let out a few farts in the last mile or so, and with each one, my stomach felt a lot better. My stomach pain wasn't traditional ultrarunning nausea--it was gas. I'm not certain why or how I hadn't figured this out. I just didn't expect it. No wonder the ginger ale at Lincoln Covered Bridge actually made me feel worse. It was too late now, though. I was about 1,500 calories behind schedule and my legs were still garbage. The goal was to just get to Camp Ten Bear to end things.</div>
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I knew that shortly after Lilian's I was going to see my parents, and at least I could tell them in person that I was going to drop. It was better than them receiving a text in the middle of the night. Then, my most indelible memory from the entire race: I looked up the road, and in the distance, I could see my parents sitting on the side of the road in their uncomfortable little folding chairs waiting for me. I saw them before they saw me. They were patiently waiting. I can't imagine their anxiety. When they realized I was coming, they both stood up. I decided in that moment that I was going to finish. I couldn't let them down. It was that simple. No matter what, I was going to finish. I didn't have any idea how, but I was getting it done. I had to. I will never, ever forget seeing them sitting in those chairs. That was the moment.</div>
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I don't remember much of our exchange, but unlike the phony pact I made with Amy at Lincoln Covered Bridge, I told them that I would see them at the finish. I meant it. As I left them, I heard my dad yell to me, and I raised a fist. A few strides later, he yelled again, and this time both arms went up. I was definitely going to finish.</div>
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The remaining miles to Camp Ten Bear, mile 47, were decent. I actually started passing some people back, and by the time I arrived, I was in good spirits. I had no idea where I was time-wise, and I didn't care. I just knew that I needed Tums. Zak had arrived and had come a fair way up the hill to meet me. I was pumped to see him. The crew had filled him in on my condition, so he seemed shocked that I was smiling. I told him, "This is getting done. It might be slow as shit, but this is happening."</div>
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I took some time at Camp Ten Bear to change my socks and discuss nutrition options. I was hopeful that Tailwind would help, so I left with one bottle full and another bag to refill along the way to Magaritaville, the next crew stop at 58.5. I ate more chips, and asked the crew to fill my vest pockets with them. Gels were out. (Yes, I ate gels for 12 hours at Wapack in May and felt great. I had brought 14,000 calories worth of them to Vermont. Ultrarunning is dumb.) John was incredulous at the thought of smashing chips into the little pockets in my vest, but I can honestly say that Pringle dust at mile 50 of a race is pretty awesome. Tums were also on the menu along with a number for the road. My gut was better, but I still felt less than ideal. As I left the crew, I told Danielle to tell my parents that I was going to finish, and that I wasn't going to let anyone down. I meant it. Carolyn, who was in charge of the chaos of Camp Ten Bear, took the time to walk with me out of the aid station. I wish I could've carried her Yoda-style for all the positive energy she poured into me. It was a huge boost to hear it from someone who just gets it. She knows the game, and her insight was invaluable.</div>
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With that, the section after Camp Ten Bear just sucks. I actually feel like I managed through it OK, but it wasn't a lot of fun. I wasn't really down because I knew I'd get through, but I wasn't exactly up either. The climb just before 50 miles is awful, and the top part was a muddy, rutted out mess. I thought this was a road race. Stupid road shoes.</div>
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At Pinky's just past mile 50, I ate a ton of chips because I knew I needed the calories and tried ginger ale again. The latter was a huge mistake as the carbonation knotted up my gut again. More Tums, please! I don't even really want to talk about the section between there and Birmingham's. I thought this was a road race?!?!?! Not to mention that the overzealous aid station folks put up "you're almost here" signs about a half mile before the aid station. I sat down for a couple minutes at Birmingham's, mile 54, to rest my legs, refill my Tailwind, and eat some turkey and cheese. Then, more suckage. I thought this was a road race?!?!? I now know why I had to adjust the time on the pace charts for this section. I thought it was because of the huge climb to Magaritaville. Honestly, that climb wasn't that bad.</div>
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Another crew stop, and more sandwiches. I took too much time here, but I was a wreck emotionally. I was feeling unworthy of all the people who were there physically helping me and of all the people who had checked in on me from afar. The litany of texts Danielle was getting was really too much for me. I was having a terrible race--not the Vermont that I had imagined--yet so many people were still in my corner. I felt unworthy of it all. They say that 100 miles strips you raw. Well, I was stripped. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the posture of people who are having a good day.</td></tr>
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Leaving Magaritaville was hard. I cried for about a half mile down the road. Eventually, I pulled it together when the reality of the time of day hit me. I had left after 6:00pm, and had more than 10 miles to get to Camp Ten Bear #2 at mile 69. If things went bad...or more bad...it could be a long trek--potentially in the dark. I did not take my headlamp because in my original plan, darkness wouldn't be an issue until after Camp Ten Bear #2. Danielle had even asked me if I wanted it. Apparently, math was bad for everyone at this point.</div>
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Luckily, this section was a good one, and I moved decently. Or, it least I felt like I moved decently. In retrospect, that feeling was skewed by the fact that I was taking a long time to regroup in the aid stations, so I'd immediately start passing people who were minutes behind me and overall moving more slowly. That being said, when I realized that it might be dark before I reached Camp Ten Bear, I began to worry about cutoffs. With the realization that I was far behind my goal time, I also realized that I had no idea how far behind. So, I just kept grinding along. And, really, grinding was all I could do here. My stomach was doing much better, and I was grabbing sandwiches and chips at all the aid stations. I also took a gel or two in this stretch, in hopes of avoiding an even deeper caloric hole.</div>
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One memorable moment from this section was catching back up to Kyle on a jeep road section. He was one of many that had passed me while I was in the chair at Magaritaville. (He had done the same at Camp Ten Bear #1.) I took a few moments to run behind him and his guide and listen to the exchange. It was impressive. The guide stays about two strides in front of him calling out the changes in the terrain and the various obstacles. "Rocks. Pick your feet up." "Tree branch." "Puddle. Do you want to go through or around?" He would either act accordingly or respond. For 100 miles. The mental focus is unbelievable. Dude is tough. I caught up and announced myself. Of course, he asked if I was feeling better. I replied that I was, wished him well, and rolled along. I was still consistently passing people and was surprised to arrive back at the out and back to Camp Ten Bear. I was going to make it in the daylight.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2XGAqoMZiCeTMLCGWJuRcELjfxGpx8mUX9_Zg3UCAZCB83h-hv6j5O-MJsOhI-82ZXwZAuLJQDhgckiYyhMvPSx9_hC2zCBWxjxdQlyO-2GTX_-6QBjhXly3A0fmCs2SIjqjb3HoGxc/s1600/36673283075_6dd5c35cff_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy2XGAqoMZiCeTMLCGWJuRcELjfxGpx8mUX9_Zg3UCAZCB83h-hv6j5O-MJsOhI-82ZXwZAuLJQDhgckiYyhMvPSx9_hC2zCBWxjxdQlyO-2GTX_-6QBjhXly3A0fmCs2SIjqjb3HoGxc/s320/36673283075_6dd5c35cff_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With friends like these...</td></tr>
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I had two goals when I arrived at Camp Ten Bear: Change my shoes and eat. I knew that calories were necessary. But, I also knew that some more trail sections lay ahead, and I wanted my trail shoes. Plus, they have a wider toe box, and my toes needed the space. The little toe on my left foot was no longer a toe. It was a blister. The fourth toe on my right foot was being mashed between the two on either side. (I would realize a couple days later, when I could move properly and analyze the situation, that along with a huge blister on the end, the nail on that toe was cutting into the toes on either side. I ended up with a deep cut on each toe. No wonder I barked at John when he tried to clean them off.) When my socks came off, my feet were a lot wetter than I had thought. At this point, Carolyn was back to check on me, and she took over. (After seeing a pic of her feet after the Superior 100, I would take any foot advice she had to offer.) "Get me diaper rash cream and a plastic bag." And moments later she was slathering, nay drowning, my feet in the stuff. The entire crew was standing there dumbfounded. I was eating pizza. Socks on over the goop. Shoes on. My feet were awesome the rest of the race. Thanks again, Carolyn.</div>
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I was in good spirits here and optimistic for the miles ahead not only because my stomach was feeling better but also because I would have Zak at my side for the rest of the way. I'd never had a pacer before, and I was lucky enough to have a great friend who both knows me and the race really well. That being said, cutoffs were on my mind. I was far enough behind in my time goals that I didn't have any idea where I was. The concept of time goals--and in some ways time itself--had gone out the window long along. I was just moving forward, but I had no idea at what rate or pace. So, when I asked the crew about the cutoffs, they were as baffled by my question as I was with their answer. I was on 26:30 pace. Really??!?!? I had assumed that I was closer to 29:30 pace. Awesome. If cutoffs weren't an issue, I could just keep grinding, and I'd get there. I never doubted my ability or will to finish, and now I knew that I wouldn't get pulled against my will. Perfect. Zak and I left, and I was full of optimism.</div>
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Less than a mile up the trail that optimism would fully fade.</div>
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The climb after Camp Ten Bear is notorious, so I knew it would be rough. On a flat stretch before the climb, I was running, and Zak said, "No need to be a hero here because we're going to be hiking soon." But, I kept running. I felt good. Well, about as good as I felt in hours. But, then I got hit by a brutal one-two punch: The climb and darkness. It was 9:00pm, and the sun was gone. Suddenly, I was moving as slowly as I had back at mile 40. My stomach was better, but my energy was gone. The caloric hole was just too deep. By, 10:00pm, I was falling asleep on my feet. All I wanted to do was lie down. If Zak wasn't with me, I would have. All I wanted was a nice soft spot alongside the trail to curl up and cover myself with leaves. I kept imagining how amazing that would feel. How great it would feel to lie down. Zak would later report to the crew, "That was sooooooo slow." It was. Maybe slower. Interestingly, in my mind, I knew I would come out of it. I knew that it would pass. I knew that I was going to get to the finish. That being said, Zak would also later report that I was somewhat incoherent. My mental state was strong, but I wasn't able to translate that out through my body. Ultrarunning is fun. Zak was awesome through here: pushing but not pushing too much. He told me that all of this was "normal" and that he'd been there before. He told me to take a caffeinated gel. I did. In fact, I did whatever he said. I was robotically reacting and obeying because I both knew that he was right but also because it was much easier to let him make the decisions for me.</div>
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Eventually, the caffeine started to work, and my body started to realize that there were literally miles to go before I sleep. By the time we reached the Seabrook aid station at mile 74, I was alive again. More grilled cheese...because Zak said so. We soon crossed Morgan Hill Road--a milestone I'd been looking forward to since I'd crossed it so many times while crewing. "Well, that was anticlimactic," I said, and set my sights on getting to Spirit of '76. As we approached the aid station, I knew that we needed to do a full reboot. I was feeling better still, but I knew that I needed to eat. Zak agreed with me that we'd take whatever time was necessary to make certain that I was completely good to go for the next stretch.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seventy-six quesadillas at Spirit of '76.</td></tr>
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Spirit of '76 was awesome. In my plans, I'd set a goal of getting there before dark, but I was no less thrilled to arrive there at 11:30pm. (For those of you scoring at home: yes, it took an hour and forty minutes to go 7 miles. "That was sooooooo slow.") Having good friends, Nick and Jeff, at this aid station was a huge boost, and these guys were awesome delivering me plate after plate of quesadillas and a ton of positive energy. My crew was perfect once again with everything I needed, and at this point, that included a can of "Jedi Juice," aka Starbucks Double Espresso Shot. As I ate and drank, I could feel life slowly returning to my pale corpse. Sure, I spent 20 minutes in a chair here, but they were well-spent minutes. I needed that time to recharge physically and emotionally. I really can't say enough about the people around me here. I was feeling so lucky to have such amazing support. The high here more than balanced out the lows from just a few miles prior. We left here in roughly 220th place at 11:50pm, which is almost 28-hour pace. I didn't know any of those numbers at the time, but I knew that I was ready to run.</div>
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With the new delicacy, "pocket quesadillas," in my shorts, Zak and I left the aid station. I told him that I was feeling much better, and that taking that time was definitely the right call. I told him that I was ready to run. And that's what we did. Zak would run a couple strides in front of me, and I would just follow. (He did get a touch too excited at one point and get a bit too far ahead. I had to reel him in, and say, "I'm feeling good, but not that good.") We got into a really good rhythm. We'd run for a bit, then break. "Good push." I'd just grunt. Other times, he'd suggest that we take a break from running, but I'd want to keep running. "Another good push." Even on the uphills, I was now hiking with purpose. "Good push." We went on like this the rest of the night.</div>
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Just before mile 83, the course comes within a quarter mile of the finish. I had no interest in getting there quite yet. I knew I was going to make it the whole way around. Soon after, we arrived at the Cowshed aid station and PIEROGIS! The pierogis were soooooo delicious. I should have taken more with me because pocket pierogis are even more delicious. I left here in about 204th place.</div>
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I lagged a bit in the last mile or so getting to Bill's at mile 88, and I bargained with Zak for another break. He agreed, but it wasn't going to be as long as the break at Spirit of '76. I was OK with that. Of course, I think a bit of a lag is allowed with more than 85 miles on my legs. The crew had another can of Jedi Juice. And, the mix of Tailwind, pocket delicacies, and gels was working well. I wished that I'd had more calories in me earlier, but I was running more on emotion than fuel at this point. </div>
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Once out of the chair, I glanced at my watch. It was 3:10am. If you'd told me before the race that I would be leaving Bill's at 3:10am, I would have been extremely disappointed. But, in the moment, I was excited. I said to Zak, "We have an outside chance of getting under 26 hours." He told me not get ahead of myself, but I felt it was important for him to know what I was thinking. I wanted to see what I could do, and it was the first time in hours that I had a goal besides just not dying and continuing to move forward. It was mile 88, and I was ready to push. Ready to run.</div>
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I didn't have the fastest final 12 miles of anyone in the race, but we ran. No one passed me. I felt better than how everyone looked. And, it was a good boost with each person that we passed. After the famous field after Bill's and a run-in with the crew on the road (they hysterically didn't recognize us), we were quickly (relatively) to Keating's at mile 91.5. I told Zak that I didn't want to stop. We checked in with the surprised volunteers, who were having trouble fathoming that I didn't want to stop, and rolled on. Soon after, we reach a hill that I didn't recall from my stint pacing Joe in 2012. I said that out loud, but I wasn't deterred. We set to climbing. In fact, we actually had to weave through a large group of runners who were moving much more slowly. Once out of earshot, Zak said to me, "All those people have resigned themselves to walking. That's not you." We had some serious momentum here, and I was even able to push a bit on the following trail section. Once we hit the road, I knew that Polly's, mile 95, was close. Zak stopped to pee before the aid station, and I decided that it'd be fun to make it hard for him to catch up. Of course, he did catch up, but it took a bit. He also decided to push ahead to let the crew know that I was arriving. He only arrived a couple seconds before I did.</div>
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The was starting to rise, which was another reminder that I was well off my goal pace. But, that was the new reality, and I was completely comfortable with it. I only wanted one thing here: Red Bull. Danielle had anticipated that and handed it right to me. I chugged and walked. We were off. It was 4:55am.</div>
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Zak and I were treated to the most amazing sunrise in this stretch. I jokingly apologized to him for being in that spot at that time to be able see it. A mile or so later, he said, "I don't remember this at all." To which I replied, "That's because it's always dark when you're here, you jerk!" We were having fun. It was such a huge contrast to 9 or 20 hours earlier, and it was very welcomed.</div>
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After a moment of quiet, Zak asked me, "Did you ever read AJW's article about grit?" (<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://www.irunfar.com/2013/12/ultrarunning-skill-5-grit.html&source=gmail&ust=1507486260116000&usg=AFQjCNFmT8yZb_xg1vBYy4B_PaY7HmZsOg" href="http://www.irunfar.com/2013/12/ultrarunning-skill-5-grit.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://www.irunfar.com/2013/1<wbr></wbr>2/ultrarunning-skill-5-grit.ht<wbr></wbr>ml</a>)</div>
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Me, "Yup."</div>
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"Well, you have have it"</div>
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That was the greatest compliment anyone has ever given me. To hear that at mile 98ish meant so much to me. And, this was after I made him trudge through the hills with a corpse for nearly 10 hours. I'm lucky to have such great friends.</div>
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A few minutes later, we saw a runner up ahead holding hands with his pacer. I barked an emphatic, "NO!" We laughed. We were still having fun. It was right at this point that we saw the sign that read "one mile to go." We ran.</div>
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Part of me didn't want it to end. Or, maybe I couldn't believe that it was over. It didn't seem possible. We reached the lighted milk jugs (no longer lit). "Are those the milk jugs?" Then, I saw the finish line fencing. "Is that the fencing?" It was all so surreal. My pace made it clear that I wanted it to end. I passed someone in the last 50 yards, which I know is a total dick move, but I did care. I believe I sad that same exact sentence out loud to Zak. Then, I "sprinted" up the finish incline, pumped my fists a few times, and it was done. The clock read 25:50, 163rd place. No one passed me in the final 25 miles. Hugs, tears, smiles, and laughs. Damn, that was cool.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7kMFLj5FbjXkw7iCnadDISAtlTa6HGV6LYpw_Frxbz4VEie_vPQHCkAfog47POsryoX6chFYHOn3nQ5xXvLGwgTpokPItHMNLBaVzLlRO94S-397c1yf5jQA9Fr7gS1YTcMIWw0TMyU/s1600/36534636161_81a6896793_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7kMFLj5FbjXkw7iCnadDISAtlTa6HGV6LYpw_Frxbz4VEie_vPQHCkAfog47POsryoX6chFYHOn3nQ5xXvLGwgTpokPItHMNLBaVzLlRO94S-397c1yf5jQA9Fr7gS1YTcMIWw0TMyU/s320/36534636161_81a6896793_b.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping my promise to Amy to see her at the finish.</td></tr>
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I had kept my promise to the crew to just keep moving. I had kept my promise to Amy that I would see her at the finish. I had kept my promise to my parents that I would see them at the finish. Most importantly, I kept my promise to myself, which was to believe that I could do it. Normal, regular, unremarkable me had just run 100 miles.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_4HIqdetweuqaISHfAwywVgo_OLfHEVMRF1-9CA0dgqTe0klNoRRGknN1eyfHgX1y4hD0TAuFslmaNUIZDezem506v88lcsgiT9dTTVOQ02HzkA7abbcLLHj2rXEAWK7FyRVx1JqkSc/s1600/36534633601_7eedb814e8_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN_4HIqdetweuqaISHfAwywVgo_OLfHEVMRF1-9CA0dgqTe0klNoRRGknN1eyfHgX1y4hD0TAuFslmaNUIZDezem506v88lcsgiT9dTTVOQ02HzkA7abbcLLHj2rXEAWK7FyRVx1JqkSc/s320/36534633601_7eedb814e8_b.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My crew. No way to properly thank them.</td></tr>
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If you had you told me pre-race that I was going to run 25:50, I would have been disappointed. If you had you told me that I was going to run 25:50 and be happy about it, I would have told you that you were insane. But, I'm ecstatic with my 25:50. I worked so, so hard for that 25:50. I earned it. I'm so glad that I have the smaller buckle. I think Danielle put it best: "It wasn't the race I wanted, but it was the race I needed." She is wise.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CI0Hqzw2czzNkeVLN3B5iYqL4X3h06Hp8XubTSNPUUZRqKw2Ppblv9qW8xqyva9Yc3fRfsLOHp1xWRWEf0CQvO18zSGa624-IqOuB-viHN4pGUUdn8-7LoXG-2fHDAj9TbaquAqWgDs/s1600/36534632751_bbc2274761_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CI0Hqzw2czzNkeVLN3B5iYqL4X3h06Hp8XubTSNPUUZRqKw2Ppblv9qW8xqyva9Yc3fRfsLOHp1xWRWEf0CQvO18zSGa624-IqOuB-viHN4pGUUdn8-7LoXG-2fHDAj9TbaquAqWgDs/s320/36534632751_bbc2274761_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my parents and my buckle.</td></tr>
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In the immediate hours and days following a big event, I spend most of it apologizing to my body. I'm thankful that I was able to complete the race but wonder if it was fair. Should I have asked my body to do that? That fades. And, the desire to run slowly returns. So, while no longer apologetic, I am mindful: the classic battle to avoid too much too soon. Additionally, I have seen many of my friends suffer from a "100-mile hangover". Some minor. Some severe. Me? Weeks out: none. I'm more excited than ever to tackle more challenges and run more ultras.</div>
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Finally, the question: Would I do it again? While I was having my existential crisis and apologizing to the knee that I couldn't bend, absolutely not. That faded. I've now attended the Vermont 100 for 6 consecutive years. This year was obviously different. And, I can't wait to run again in 2018. I hope I can bring the same belief. The same stubbornness. The same support. The same joy. See you in Silver Hill.</div>
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sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-47942577960534722972016-08-30T12:30:00.003-04:002016-08-30T12:30:28.777-04:00NopeThis isn't happening.<br />
Just follow me on <a href="https://www.strava.com/athletes/2664387">Strava</a>.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-31027408262649553942016-08-01T21:36:00.000-04:002016-08-01T21:36:07.200-04:00Training 7/18 - 7/24 and 7/25 - 7/31<span style="font-family: inherit;">I haven't been 100% faithful to the blog, but more faithful than I thought I would. Either way, it's time for some updating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Onto the numbers:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/18, Monday: Off</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/19, Tuesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/646840134">Cathance: 7.1, 1:08:15</a>) Strangely, no deer flies to be found. Not strange, my legs were ready to roll after the down week.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/20, Wednesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/647959361">Mt. Ararat: 5.2, 41:41</a>) A hill workout with 8 trips over Mt. A. Despite the heat, I felt great and really went after it. Legs had no trouble with that idea. Me likey.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/21, Thursday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/649072481">Heath Plus: 4.2, 37:35</a>) Even though I really wanted to run more, I knew that this was the first week of a big block, and I didn't want to overcook things. Keeping it short and mellow was definitely the right call. Also, I had a pain on the inside of my right shin just above my ankle all week. It bothered me on Wednesday, but dissipated today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/22, Friday: Off, except for some ankle work, foam rolling and core stuff.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/23, Saturday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/650858793">Bradbury: 19.2, 3:44:52</a>) Some Bowdoin Cross Country legends were in town for the track reunion, so we met at The Brad for a little tour. My plan was for 4 hours, regardless of distance: mission accomplished. We all started together on a Big Brad tour, but on the way back I knew that the pace was too hot for my plans, so I dropped off the back. Some were running shorter and others are just faster and fitter than I am, but I had to put the ego away and do my own thing. By the time I turned off the Boundary Trail onto Lunchbreak Hill, I knew that I was most likely on my own for the rest of the day. I was at peace with that, since I just wanted to focus on what I needed to do. That cam into play later after I bumped into Clark. We ran together for a few miles, but he's a beast and I told him that I wouldn't be offended if he wanted to shoot off. I was happy to have the company, but I didn't want to hold him up. Eventually, he did trot away, leaving me like I was standing still. But, again, I was totally fine with it. I had to focus on not overheating. I did a great job of keeping cool by keeping the pace in check, drinking plenty, and using an ice bandana. I actually altered my route late in the run to get back to the car to refill my ice. All of that added up to the best long run that I've ever done in the heat. I think that my asthma may have something to do with all my poor results in the heat, but I'm definitely managing it better with practice and patience. All in all, this was a really solid day.</span><br />
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BINeyVEgyys/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">The end of a four hour tussle with The Brad. It's close, but I'm calling this a victory for Snowman. #trailmonsterrunning</a></div>
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A photo posted by Ryan Triffitt (@sn0m8n) on <time datetime="2016-07-23T16:26:32+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jul 23, 2016 at 9:26am PDT</time></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/24, Sunday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/652067991">Cathance: 5.5, 53:15</a>) I was very curious as to how my legs would feel today, and I was thrilled that beyond a little fatigue, I felt great. Really encouraging. Also, encouraging--my shin pain was totally gone. It was never a factor on Saturday, so it should be behind me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">TOTALS:</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">Miles: 41.4</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">Time: 7:05</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">Elevation: 3,383</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">All of that above adds up to my second longest mileage week of the year. (The first being 41.5.) It was also a big boost in elevation. There's still more work to do, but this was a great week overall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's continue, shall we?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/25, Monday: Off</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/26, Tuesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/654720603">Cathance: 7.1, 1:09:32</a>) Hotter than <insert analogy="" color="" favorite="" here="" off="" your="">. Just happy to not melt.</insert></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7/27, Wednesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/655843601">Highland Green: 7.3, 58:20</a>) <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Second try at "The Nate Dawg": 10-minute warm up, 2 x :30 hard / :90 easy with 4-minutes between sets. 12-minute cool down. Felt like garbage for the first 5 minutes, but them felt solid. Tough going in the last couple "on" stretches, which I think is the point. My hope is that workout is going to not only build speed, but also help me improve at "switching gears," which I think is critical in trail running.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">7/28, Thursday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/656924974">Highland A: 5.4, 45:26</a>) An uneventful loop, but I did notch my 100th summit of Mt. Ararat for the year. That's significant because I didn't log that number in 2015 until December 27th. I'm definitely upping the ante on the #vert this year.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">7/29, Friday: Off, except for driving to Presque Isle and tackling Meatloaf Mountain.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFouDie8AbJJbyZ1q_BAmpYuQZzcaeSNtxEnrVdk9H9LaQaVCqCz68oxPUZ7_TErieowATH5uE2xDfH7Dvs0jA0SdXnFQWgquWYOXUGz9Z1THvaI4p0R8W7jjKXpXeY65yFKTmepSuVhw/s1600/13879382_10207681135365603_4280478204007853751_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFouDie8AbJJbyZ1q_BAmpYuQZzcaeSNtxEnrVdk9H9LaQaVCqCz68oxPUZ7_TErieowATH5uE2xDfH7Dvs0jA0SdXnFQWgquWYOXUGz9Z1THvaI4p0R8W7jjKXpXeY65yFKTmepSuVhw/s320/13879382_10207681135365603_4280478204007853751_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meatloaf this good is serious business.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">7/30, Saturday: (Nordic Trail Festival, 18 miles) Stay tuned for a full race report! It deserves it. In short, it was an amazing event that wrecked me. Good times.</span></span><br />
7/31, Sunday: Off. D and I had planned to run at the Nordic Heritage Center, but we were thrashed. A stop at the Bangor City Forest for a walk around the Orono Bog was more than enough.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLErDyr5TJiLNITyRsyHaoZi6fegnCjvIA9Ik5RZvTCxUUEPlT3KGzKppNgVX62m7fcKom3Y33ODVk4pfzE2iqbKUAO67muWDnoIm_8QmPGaQg5qRPcK2VAVZA5W4b8Q5rw3DaUO4fhP0/s1600/13680730_10208789550848718_1650349834996293190_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLErDyr5TJiLNITyRsyHaoZi6fegnCjvIA9Ik5RZvTCxUUEPlT3KGzKppNgVX62m7fcKom3Y33ODVk4pfzE2iqbKUAO67muWDnoIm_8QmPGaQg5qRPcK2VAVZA5W4b8Q5rw3DaUO4fhP0/s320/13680730_10208789550848718_1650349834996293190_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bog bridgin'</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">TOTALS:</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">Miles: 37.2</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">Time: 5:35</span><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">Elevation: 2,382</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">Honestly, a small part of me is bummed to not get over 40 again this week. But, really, that's an arbitrary number. The intensity of Saturday more than made up for it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.2px;">So where are we? I'm in the toughest point of my training right now as I'm both building the miles and intensity while trying to battle the heat of summer. I figure that if I can survive these next few weeks, I'll be in a good place. Will I be able to run 50 miles in November? Honestly, I'm still not certain. But, doubt is a powerful motivator.</span></span><br />
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sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-70647630836265738112016-07-19T22:04:00.001-04:002016-07-19T22:04:59.363-04:00Training 7/11 - 7/17With the pattern of three weeks up and one week down, it mean that this week was a down week. Down weeks are the best!<br />
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Onto the numbers:<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">7/11, Monday: Off</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">7/12, Tuesday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/639069704">Cathance: 7.1, 1:07:14</a>): Pace was aided by actually being picked up and carried by all the deer flies. Brutal.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">7/13, Wednesday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/639755495">Johnson/88: 7.2, 56:36</a>): Schedule was funky at work, so I had the chance to sneak out midday. It was HAWT! Plan was for a workout that I will call the Nate Dawg: 30 seconds hard, 90 seconds easy for 8 times per set. I did two sets of 8 with four minutes easy in between with a 10-minute warm-up and cool-down. Interesting workout. Sounds easy, but it wasn't all that easy. It's basically a structured fartlek. I did have to look at my watch a lot, which annoyed me, but otherwise it's a good workout. I'll definitely be hitting this one again. Also of note: new shoes! They're amazing in every way...especially the color...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BH0ThfKglby/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">So, this is happening. #roadie #eyeprotectionrequired</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">A photo posted by Ryan Triffitt (@sn0m8n) on <time datetime="2016-07-13T21:47:06+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jul 13, 2016 at 2:47pm PDT</time></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">7/14, Thursday (</span><a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/641195939" style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Heath Plus, 4, 36:09</a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">): Dragged a bit on this one, so perhaps the workout was harder than I thought.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">7/15, Friday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/642109692">Vermont, 7.8, 1:12:47</a>): Now, that was an awesome run. Headed to Vermont to crew at the Vermont 100 and had the chance late on Friday to get out on the country roads with John and Jamie. We had a blast--including sprinting into a radar gun--and I felt great despite the heat. Running is the best.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vermont looks like this.</td></tr>
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7/16 & 7/17, Saturday & Sunday: Off due to crewing Amy at the Vermont 100. Crewing is an endurance event unto itself. And, unfortunately, we didn't get to crew the whole 100 miles, as a foot injury knocked her out at 58.5 miles. Total bummer, but ultrarunning is a cruel mistress. If it were easy, it'd be a called a Tough Mudder...<br />
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So, there it is a solid down week. Getting back after it this week. Fingers crossed.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-81226169552016826102016-07-12T15:11:00.001-04:002016-07-12T15:11:09.893-04:00Training 7/4 - 7/10After bemoaning my lack of consistency and flow over the last two weeks, this week really came together. It wasn't perfect, but it's the type of week that should be the paradigm moving forward. And, the resurrection of the blog is what this type of course correction is all about. It gave me a solid look at how exactly how things were going and how to correct them. Since I don't have the time or discretionary cash for a coach, it's like submitting a weekly training log to a coach--you know, without the knowledge or objectivity. Otherwise, exactly the same. As always, I'm an idiot.<br />
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Onto the numbers:<br />
7/4, Monday: No running, but we did go on a <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/629990515">groovy little hike</a> as a family.<br />
7/5, Tuesday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/631468370">Cathance: 7, 1:10:04</a>): Started sluggish, but ended up being a really solid run.<br />
7/6, Wednesday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/632567147">Mt. Ararat: 4.1, 34:26</a>): Also started sluggishly, but this one was really encouraging. I could've definitely pushed harder and added more repeats. It's still early in the training cycle, so I didn't want to overcook things. More of these to come.<br />
7/7, Thursday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/633638459">Heath Plus: 4.2, 37:22</a>): Easy recovery jog. Again, also started a little draggy.<br />
7/8, Friday: Off<br />
7/9, Saturday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/635262828">Brunswick: 18, 2:36:23</a>): Prior to this run, I struggled a bit to determine the right location--I'm not really sure why. After hemming and hawing, I decided to run to the ocean from my house. And, much like my prep for this run, it was never great, but it was never awful. All that being said, this was exactly the run that I needed. The mental training is just important as the physical, and this was a mental test. I was never really into it--before or during--but I'm really happy about that. I got it done. And, in ultrarunning, sometimes that's really all it takes.<br /><br />
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BHpVZHAAej3/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">#blueberryfieldsforever #trailmonsterrunning</a></div>
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A photo posted by Ryan Triffitt (@sn0m8n) on <time datetime="2016-07-09T15:31:48+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jul 9, 2016 at 8:31am PDT</time></div>
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7/10, Sunday (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/636673928">Bradbury: 5.8, 1:02:04</a>): An easy, early morning, recovery run in the rain to check the course marking for the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/">Bradbury Scuffle</a>. Legs felt good, and I was probably more tired at the end of the day due to standing all morning helping out during the race. With Stone Cat on the radar, I decided to not race the summer series this year, and this weekend confirmed my choice. With a Sunday race, I wouldn't have run as long on Saturday, and I would've beat myself up on Sunday. Glad I didn't take that route--gotta be smart.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">TOTALS:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Miles: 39.4</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Time: 6:00</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Elevation: 1,870</span><br />
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This week really felt like a week of training. And, it should have: it was the third of three "up weeks," and an (almost) 40-mile week, which is only my third of 2016. Plus, when I start a number of runs feeling slow or sluggish, but they end up feeling really good, then it means that my body is starting to adapt--and, hopefully, get fit. It's a feeling that I vaguely remember, and one that I like for sure. Down week on tap, then back to it, and I'm looking forward to more of the process.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-65264451572132976562016-07-05T21:44:00.001-04:002016-07-05T21:44:31.145-04:00Training 6/20 - 6/26 & 6/27 - 7/3This post was a bit delayed due to some work related travel, but it's tardiness is consistent with how I've been feeling about my training of late. Nothing is flowing. It's just a bit off. No idea why, but I need to start getting my act together.<br />
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Onto the numbers:<br />
6/20, Monday: Off<br />
6/21, Tuesday: (Longest Day 5k at Libby Hill: <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/616776984">2.4 warm up</a>/<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/616777510">2.8 race</a>/<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/616778376">3 cool down</a>; 8.3 total) The training plan called for starting speed work this week, so I jumped right in with a 5k. Perhaps not the smartest move, but I survived unscathed with a decent look at where I am right now. And, right now, my cherry picking sucks, and I can barely outkick a 13 year-old. I ended up 6th overall, but I was the 4th old guy. And, yes, I did need to outkick a small child. That being said, it was a fun time with a bunch of Trail Monsters. Plus, the Libby Hill trails were fun. It would've been fun to race on more of the singletrack, but perhaps I'll get to explore more there someday.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Respect your elders...</td></tr>
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6/22, Wednesday: Off. Plan was to run today, but a variety of life related factors made it a zero.<br />
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6/23, Thursday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/618835375">Highland A: 5.4, 43:46</a>) I'm starting to dig this loop.</div>
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6/24, Friday: Off. Thought about running, but decided against junk miles.</div>
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6/25, Saturday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/620458794">Topsham ATV Trails: 15.2, 2:24:25</a>) While I didn't feel perfect every step of the way this was a great run. Sometimes I just need to be out there alone to put it all together. This was one of those days. And, I wasn't totally alone...thanks, deer flies...</div>
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BHFI5-0gCfB/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">Trucker hat--check. Tunes from @ethannewberry --check. Thinking about all the adventures to come--check. Let's go get more miles. #ultranerd #topshamtreasures #trailmonsterrunning</a></div>
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A photo posted by Ryan Triffitt (@sn0m8n) on <time datetime="2016-06-25T14:10:02+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jun 25, 2016 at 7:10am PDT</time></div>
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6/26, Sunday: Off...sorta. Again, a run was in the plan, but it didn't happen. However, we did get out for a <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/621819157">hike with the whole family in Camden</a>. My hike ended with a run to get the car, since the child was having a major meltdown around possibly pooping her pants. Oh, the joys of parenting...</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">TOTALS:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Miles: 29</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Time: 4:24</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Elevation: 1,768</span></div>
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6/27, Monday: Off</div>
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6/28, Tuesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/623415202">Lakefront Trail: 6.8, 53:29</a>) My work schedule landed me in Chicago, so the Lakefront Trail was my best option. I decided that some early morning tourist running was a good option, so I head north from my hotel towards the city. While it's not my style, the Lakefront Trail is a great asset to a city the size of Chicago, and it is well-used. I can't imagine what it's like on a beautiful Saturday, as it was pretty busy with runners and bikers. Some of the bikers were ripping along, so that was a bit unnerving, but, otherwise, it was a fun, mellow run.</div>
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BHMs6swAZk8/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">#thebean #beanselfie #beantheredonethat #urbantrails #tourist #trailmonsterrunning</a></div>
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A photo posted by Ryan Triffitt (@sn0m8n) on <time datetime="2016-06-28T12:39:23+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jun 28, 2016 at 5:39am PDT</time></div>
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6/29, Wednesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/624525184">Lakefront Trail: 7, 52:03</a>) Second morning in Chicago, and my second workout in the cycle. Four-mile tempo at 6:55 pace. No idea why four miles or why 6:55 pace. It was uncomfortable. That being said, the south end of the Lakefront Trail was much quieter.<div>
6/30, Thursday: Off. Had planned to run, but my travel and work schedule left me exhausted.</div>
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7/1, Friday: Off. No excuse.</div>
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7/2, Saturday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/627639404">Heath: 3.9, 35:26</a>) Combined with the happiness of flying into Portland on Thursday, I was really happy to be back on home turf. I'm very lucky to be able to live in an awesome place. (Read: the Midwest kinda sucks.)</div>
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7/3, Sunday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/628843047">Cathance: 15, 2:40:29</a>) Unlike last weekend, I was happy to company on this one, especially someone I've been running with for 20+ years. Nate and I solved most of the world's problems as we wandered through the Cathance and out to Head of Tides. We tacked on four trips up and down Mt. Ararat at the end for extra vert and manliness. Solid run.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">TOTALS:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Miles: 32.8</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Time: 5:01</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Elevation: 1,270</span><br /><div>
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Three days one week. Four the next. It's just not as consistent as I would like right now. There are some great moments in those numbers and some solid runs, but I need to be a little more buttoned-up. I'm probably nit-picking, but I know I can do better.</div>
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Most importantly, I'm officially registered for the Stone Cat 50 Mile in November. Four months to get ready. I'm very much looking forward to it.</div>
sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-85961079620084652042016-06-20T20:49:00.000-04:002016-06-20T20:49:16.108-04:00Training 6/13 - 6/19Another week, and that means another post! Maybe this will be a habit once again.<br />
<br />
Plan for the week was to make this a step back week to remain consistent with the pattern of three weeks of build and one week to step back. As it turned out, I don't think I stepped back as much as I should have, but I felt good on all my runs. As always, I proceed with caution.<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers:<br />
6/13, Monday: Off<br />
6/14, Tuesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/609568292">Cathance: 6.7, 1:07:23</a>) Easy cruise down to and along the river. Legs felt good, but the rest of my body felt "kinda draggy." Sometimes running in the evenings isn't the easiest.<br />
6/15, Wednesday: Off. Last week was my first week with three, consecutive midweek runs, so resting today was the biggest part of the step back.<br />
6/16, Thursday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/611481711">Highland A: 5.3, 43:05</a>) Name for the run is derived by adding up and overs on Mt. Ararat to the "traditional" Highand Green Loop--yes, very creative. Consciously tried to hold myself back, but still managed a "snappy" pace. No complaints with that. I was a bit tight, which was only a slight bother.<br />
6/17, Friday: Off<br />
6/18, Saturday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/612947008">Southwest Harbor: 11.3, 2:17:49</a>) Our annual end-of-school tradition has become a weekend in Southwest Harbor, and with my parents along, D and I were able to get out together. In short, this run was awesome. Nothing else to say...just awesome.<br />
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BGy4c8rjSs2/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">Good morning! #trailmonsterrunning</a></div>
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A photo posted by Ryan Triffitt (@sn0m8n) on <time datetime="2016-06-18T11:59:55+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jun 18, 2016 at 4:59am PDT</time></div>
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6/19, Sunday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/614683981">Heath: 4.1, 36:02</a>): After downing a couple beers and a full rack of ribs, I'm not sure what exactly I was recovering from. Despite holding up my belly, my legs felt great.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">TOTALS:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Miles: 27.6</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Time: 4:44</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">Elevation: 2,707</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">So, like I said, not as much of a step back week as it probably should have been, since the miles were right, but the time was only 10 minutes less and the elevation was about 80% more. I try not to worry too much about numbers, but they do tell part of the story. I'll keep tabs on things this week and adjust if need be.</span><br />
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A photo posted by Ryan Triffitt (@sn0m8n) on <time datetime="2016-06-18T14:01:14+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jun 18, 2016 at 7:01am PDT</time></div>
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<br />sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-5572943247426857712016-06-13T20:03:00.000-04:002016-06-13T20:03:19.038-04:00Training 6/6 - 6/12<a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2016/06/a-blog-post.html">As promised</a>, it's another post! And, speaking of that post, I'm totally shocked and surprised at how many people read it or responded to it. More than that, the number of people that identified with my thoughts was pretty remarkable and humbling. My intent with the post was for my own cathartic review of the past few months, so it was comforting to know that I wasn't alone and gratifying to hopefully help others with their own running challenges. Yay Internet!<br />
<br />
With that, my hope for these weekly recaps is for me to get a snapshot of my training. I also hope it will help me know, beyond the numbers, exactly where I am in my training. For example, if I write my weekly recap and note that I felt tired on all my runs, it will be a flag to rest a bit more the following week. That's my hope.<br />
<br />
For those that do read these updates, I think it'll be interesting to find out that I really don't run all that much. From afar or through Facebook, it may appear that I'm crushing a ton of miles. Not true. In reality, my two biggest weeks in 2016, while training for an ultra, were only 40 miles. (More to come in my 2016-so-far recap.) There's something glamorous about running 100-mile weeks, but that's not for me. I'm just too fragile. Running a little is better (way, way better) than not running at all.<br />
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Onto the numbers:<br />
<br />
6/6, Monday: Off. I pretty much always take Mondays off.<br />
6/7, Tuesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/602204318">Bradbury: 5.1, 54:42</a>) Due to the need to be in Freeport for a meeting (was still late), I snuck in a run at The Brad with Half Bomb and Nate Dawg. Easy, conversational pace. Well, conversational enough for me to complain about the overuse/lack of care of the trails from a certain constituency. Felt good...and the run, too.<br />
6/8, Wednesday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/603255264">Mt. Ararat: 4.2, 35:32</a>) In the future, Wednesdays will be "Workout Wednesdays," but today was just some easy hills. Might have gone a little quicker than "necessary," but my legs are starting to come around.<br />
6/9, Thursday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/604339175">Heath: 4.1, 36:00</a>) First time running three consecutive days since Grayson Highlands, and my legs made certain I was aware of that fact..<br />
6/10, Friday: Off. I pretty much always take Fridays off.<br />
6/11, Saturday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/606265947">Fatherland: 4.6, 35:07</a>) We traveled down to my parents' house midday, so I could attend a retirement party for my high school cross country and track coach. Scheduling was tricky, but I was able to get out for a leg-mover in the afternoon. Felt fresh, which was a good sign.<br />
6/12, Sunday: (<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/607270843">Willowdale: 11.9, 2:13:21</a>) After the evening's festivities, which would only be considered festivities at my advanced age and were really only excessive eating and moderate drinking, we didn't get too early of a start. Emphasis on "we" in that last sentence, as D and I were able to get out together, thanks to my parents. (Although we did miss mini-golf.) And, despite the aforementioned festivities, I felt great. We headed to Willowdale State Forest to check out the "new" <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/stonecattrailraces/">Stone Cat</a> course. (Research, perhaps?) The running at Willowdale is pretty great and fairly easy: relatively flat and not too technical. But, trying to follow a specific route at Willowdale is nearly impossible: the trail system is a twisted spiderweb thrown into a blender. The time above does not include the 30 minutes of stops to look at the map and read the course directions. With each of those items, however, we were able to follow the course, which is smoother than I remember, but just as twisty. I had a blast out there and really enjoyed being able to spend some quiet time on the trails with my favorite adventure partner.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK5oEXWhmtgSUax81WtxweHPyrb72g1t4VoCzpKHsYUJoWgJJHMtvTftOUn9xisJZpFT3rfahQd-h_OymC1wW1tqrTzm7H78W3Uh88BtBxY5CyHCJ4N9yOqDVxkiHznsFYjWLVnTIWx8M/s1600/v7pSAdNhEF3t1R9COuzTFU_mle3KKnpBPPqJQCvZEYQ-1536x2048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK5oEXWhmtgSUax81WtxweHPyrb72g1t4VoCzpKHsYUJoWgJJHMtvTftOUn9xisJZpFT3rfahQd-h_OymC1wW1tqrTzm7H78W3Uh88BtBxY5CyHCJ4N9yOqDVxkiHznsFYjWLVnTIWx8M/s320/v7pSAdNhEF3t1R9COuzTFU_mle3KKnpBPPqJQCvZEYQ-1536x2048.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ferns of Willowdale</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
TOTALS:<br />
Miles: 30.1<br />
Time: 4:54<br />
Elevation: 1,509<br />
<br />
All in all, a solid week. Nothing spectacular, but a good building block week. It was the third week in-a-row that I've increased my mileage, so next week will be a step-back week. And, yes, I increased to 30 miles and will be stepping back. Like I said, I don't actually run all that much. The primary focus of each week is to stay healthy, with a secondary goal of quality miles that best mimic my goal race, if there is one.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-34371343353580591342016-06-08T21:19:00.000-04:002016-06-08T21:19:40.576-04:00A Blog Post?Full disclosure: I started this post a year ago. Let it sit, and now I'm trying again. Buckle up. I have a lot to recap. I suggest doses, or caffeine, or not even bothering...<br />
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It's been two years since my last post, and my wife has been lightly bugging me to start posting again. (As if listening to me whine and moan in real time isn't enough, she also requested it digitally.) Yet, if I'm writing this, it must mean that I've been missing it as well. And, in truth, I have. Now, there's no way to sum up two full years, but I'll do my best.<br />
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So where have I been?<br />
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After the <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2014/05/tarc-spring-classic-50k-race-report.html">2014 Spring Classic 50k</a>, (my last post) I was in high spirits. And, all along while training for that race, I was seriously considering taking a stab at the TARC 50 Mile. (After seeing <a href="https://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=26253">the heat and carnage</a> that day, I couldn't be happier to have skipped out on that. I would've died--possibly not an exaggeration.) However, I came to my senses, since the 50k took a lot out of me--more than I would have expected. In hindsight, it took out exactly what it should have based on the training I was able to put in. Ultramarathons--even "easy" ones--are hard. And, I went after it that day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWKkStdTOWOCpkCid9OR6uul_DoQ5yeISCD-20_I9XLkR2n23LO_pi9f8jFZab28zRyezzb0iL64K7IeD9N0EcXMi3aQvuz1fLqmH3veTQF0SGYKWmZMLZCdgL4dDUbwU_Jj3-2cmM-c/s1600/964050_689710074418893_5773437481947853751_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguWKkStdTOWOCpkCid9OR6uul_DoQ5yeISCD-20_I9XLkR2n23LO_pi9f8jFZab28zRyezzb0iL64K7IeD9N0EcXMi3aQvuz1fLqmH3veTQF0SGYKWmZMLZCdgL4dDUbwU_Jj3-2cmM-c/s320/964050_689710074418893_5773437481947853751_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamie showing perfect crew form. #alwaysbecrewing</td></tr>
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While I was smart enough to bail on a June 50 mile, I was dumb enough to register for a November 50 mile--<a href="https://sites.google.com/site/stonecattrailraces/">Stone Cat</a>. It made sense at the time, but training over that summer never came together for me--physically or mentally. I rolled my ankle at the <a href="https://app.strava.com/activities/179114036">Bradbury Breaker</a> in August, and I didn't rest enough. It ended up causing calf problems that plagued me into the Fall. Additionally, something wasn't right in my head. All my long runs were a struggle--all of them. Especially, a <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/190771672">7-hour tour of Bradbury</a> during which the 100% humidity and a mid-run, water-bottle-spiking, temper tantrum nearly led me to quit the sport altogether. Running just wasn't fun. It's tough to train for a 50-mile race, when your heart isn't in it, and you have a nagging injury. I'm not making excuses, I'm just illustrating how ego--the same ego that pushes you to success at the finish line--can make it impossible for you to see reality. I should have shut it down and healed up. It took a while longer for me to figure that out. Things got even worse.<br />
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What really wasn't fun was my "experience" at the <a href="https://app.strava.com/activities/197928554">Pisgah 50k</a> in September. The day included a rebelling gut and 30 minutes sitting on a milk crate at the 20-mile aid station. I finished. Why? Because I'm stubborn. I kept listening to my own advice: "There's a difference between hurting and being hurt." But, it was horrible. That horribleness was all my own doing: lack of training, lack of focus, eating terrible the day before, not respecting the race. I crossed the line a few ticks under 7 hours. In my previous two spins there, I've run 5:25 and 4:50. It was that ugly.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ETRO0ntVLu1I9Up-UiqW4K9RDw5W1g1txiVqWX5f-oNmeyJHaKHKhPsaxjGf_C4T2EJ-xFGeT4Qr0WVdVCwpRcdEj5GwPmsadnhWS3dZsXldL4K9w7a_NGSHg0iOs1YGK25iFoi8EkI/s1600/10614292_10203110376059477_7062946728979105483_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ETRO0ntVLu1I9Up-UiqW4K9RDw5W1g1txiVqWX5f-oNmeyJHaKHKhPsaxjGf_C4T2EJ-xFGeT4Qr0WVdVCwpRcdEj5GwPmsadnhWS3dZsXldL4K9w7a_NGSHg0iOs1YGK25iFoi8EkI/s320/10614292_10203110376059477_7062946728979105483_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That did no go well.</td></tr>
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I did manage a solid last long run prior to Stone Cat. I explored some new trails and really enjoyed my time out there. Unfortunately, that run was only <a href="https://app.strava.com/activities/208898858">14 miles</a>. That was about the limit of my body. Add to the lack of training, another roll of the same ankle a week prior to the race, and that was that. I went to the Stone Cat start knowing that I wasn't going to finish, but I hadn't admitted that to anyone or even myself. <a href="https://app.strava.com/activities/217069412">The result was a drop after 25 miles.</a> You can't fake 50 miles. That was expected. What wasn't expected was my attitude post-race: I was pretty happy with my time out there. I'd had fun. Sure the last few miles were a shuffle as my body came to grips with reality, but it was a great morning on the trails.<br />
<br />
Coming out of Stone Cat, I was feeling positive. Then, two weeks later I rolled my ankle again: as hoar frost collapsed underneath me on a flat section at Pineland. #pinelandsux. I finally got the message and shut it down. I also contracted a fairly terrible sinus infection that took me out of life for a week, lingered for a couple more, then knocked me down for a few more days later than month. It may have been a blessing in disguise as I stayed mostly off my feet, with a few random runs here and there.<br />
<br />
With the turn of the calendar to 2015, I knew that I needed a different approach. Older and wiser, my plan was to have no plan. Specifically, no race plans. I was always chasing the next race and had become the poster child for FOMO--fear of missing out. And, because of that, I was barely showing up or actually missing out. Luckily, the winter was awesome, so I was able to mix in a ton of snowshoeing and cross country skiing. I participated in five snowshoe races (one being a <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/264442465">duathlon</a>) and slowly built up my running mileage. Three weeks up and one week down--that was the basic pattern or as close to that as possible.<br />
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In short, it worked. In April, I had a test of sorts at the <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/288014838">Run the Rock 25k</a> in North Carolina. Aside from the heat and lack of training, it went really, really well. Seriously. With a long run of 10 miles and no run warmer than anything in the 50's prior to that week, I didn't know what to expect. What I really didn't expect was to be leading the race at 10 miles. Granted, it was a small field, but I went out conservatively and gradually worked my way up. However, it was at the 10-mile point that the clouds burnt off. It was close to 80 degrees with 100% humidity--not my favorite weather conditions. The hills near the end and the lack of training took it's toll, and I ended up third overall with a huge smile on my face--my very, very sweaty face.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zuEh5XiznOovLWw06Pj8xWv8LxtxjZHM32SgdGVIkxMH6uNgIIKlDWcv4G5EEwA0bvkG3iv0Y35bGFJ1ApR0Or06O23NBD8lYITA0r6Ek3HgX-cC3ah0gn2vMNFt6OQ1SNSwzT7tNyQ/s1600/11165288_10205440641648081_1163454321668593209_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zuEh5XiznOovLWw06Pj8xWv8LxtxjZHM32SgdGVIkxMH6uNgIIKlDWcv4G5EEwA0bvkG3iv0Y35bGFJ1ApR0Or06O23NBD8lYITA0r6Ek3HgX-cC3ah0gn2vMNFt6OQ1SNSwzT7tNyQ/s320/11165288_10205440641648081_1163454321668593209_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Southern bling for Team Snowplug!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the past, after this positive experience, I would've signed up for a host of races. I didn't. I took recovery seriously. And, surprise! It went well. The rest of the summer was a slow build of speed and mileage. I sprinkled in some hill and speed workouts midweek. I increased the distance on my weekend long (or almost long) runs. Now, it wasn't perfect. I had a calf niggle in June and rolled my ankle in July. I took time some time off, and I treated the injuries. I was smart. When I was healthy, I raced. I ran all three races at our summer series. The <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/344647763">Scuffle </a>was easily my best hot weather performance ever, and the <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/344647763">Breaker </a>went really, really well. The following week, I ran the <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/344647763">Falmouth Road Race</a>. It was slower than I had hoped, but I consciously decided to slow it up to avoid heat stroke--it was one of the hottest years on record. I'm not a fan of giant road races, but it was great to experience one of the New England classics.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7mgBi-KmGCYVGkzNQoG-uu7JDUR31_KG2cbWc4bD6E4thumIDMjxu87g-HnfNl6pvk2MjC2HhP3USjbAtUzBHCHghNq_OUFCuoMDuPvzhSJeX_WxEYYOp7gEMrWpMPhyphenhyphenzJFa5y__p2A/s1600/11880585_10206297947600326_4202448904695641107_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7mgBi-KmGCYVGkzNQoG-uu7JDUR31_KG2cbWc4bD6E4thumIDMjxu87g-HnfNl6pvk2MjC2HhP3USjbAtUzBHCHghNq_OUFCuoMDuPvzhSJeX_WxEYYOp7gEMrWpMPhyphenhyphenzJFa5y__p2A/s320/11880585_10206297947600326_4202448904695641107_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What is this place?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Falmouth came together as part of our family vacation on Cape Cod, and a few days later D and I ran together at a location known as the <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/374067458">Trail of Tears</a>. It was definitely a wake up call. The trails were very New-Englandy style singletrack, so a ton of little ups and downs. On every single flat or down, I would pull a bit ahead, but D would kill me on all the uphills--all of them. In translation: I was soft. Time to HTFU.<br />
<br />
In the next few weeks, I put in my strongest training in years. Hills, long runs, hills during long runs. I did it all. I also raced twice. First, the <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/391676330">Bruiser</a>, which was solid, and then had an awesome run at the <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/396662624">HVNC Run through the Woods</a> half marathon the following week. Things were clicking. My longest run of the year was still the Run the Rock 25k, but I was still performing well and feeling good in these half marathon-type races. Then I did <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/406244226">this</a>, <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/409674958">this</a>, and <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/414822743">this</a>. Things were really clicking, and I started to think about an ultra. Could I get one in 2015?<br />
<br />
My options were slim, but I narrowed it down to two: <a href="https://ultrasignup.com/register.aspx?did=33059">The Hamsterwheel</a> 6-hour on 11/14 or the <a href="https://ultrasignup.com/register.aspx?did=36675">TARC Fells Trail Winter Ultra</a> on 12/5. It's nearly impossible to pick two more disparate races. The former is a dead flat and smooth on a 2 mile loop. The latter, even though also loops, is relentlessly hilly and relentlessly rocky with hills and rocks on top of that. So, obviously, I chose the Fells. My logic was solid, though. The Fells gave me three more weeks of training, which I felt I needed. Also, I was worried that I might run too far at Hamsterwheel, since I think I could've come close to 40 miles, which I couldn't have realistically handled. Time to run some hills!<br />
<br />
I ran a <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/423827239">Double Breaker</a>, which is doubly hard. Then, one month before the race, I logged my first <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/429082443">20-mile run</a> of the year. Like I said, I knew I needed more time. I rounded things out with a <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/432643204">20 at Pineland</a>, that actually didn't suck. Was it enough to tackle 32 miles with 4,000+ feet of gain and loss over pointy, rocky nastiness? Nope, but it was what I had.<br />
<br />
With a race date in the first weekend of December in New England, weather can be a significant factor, but I got extremely lucky. It was a beautiful day, which is rare for this race. And, other than that, I ran smart, and I ran hard. It kicked my ass. This race is no joke. I ran the first two 8-mile laps comfortably, and then pushed as hard as I could for the last two. My crew, D and Half Bomb, had me in and right back out at each lap, and some college friends who live in Boston came out to cheer me on in the last mile. Their dog decided that I needed a pacer, so I even got that extra boost in the final stretch. Honestly, the race is a blur. Probably in part to the fact that it's all so similar, but also due to the fact that I just put my head down and ran. I was focused. I wanted it. <a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/444955368">Nearly 6 and half hours</a> after I started, I had completed my first ultra in 20 months. As a bonus, I was 9th overall, and the second old guy. It was indeed an awesome day and a hell of a way to close out 2015.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYsprHkZWD-RfCcSKYNjMvoE9gsXQPmte7I6jEDohLlpW8iqu3TScFZnl3xBKpg3zdsezTnWAY7gyH6HNdNXwzrjlyGiIiA1q1eMwmvKVv4w7i_ONf7IyNwsFk0dsNYyJq-CJzsA1nSo/s1600/12342486_10206921403426332_7574603418749193682_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYsprHkZWD-RfCcSKYNjMvoE9gsXQPmte7I6jEDohLlpW8iqu3TScFZnl3xBKpg3zdsezTnWAY7gyH6HNdNXwzrjlyGiIiA1q1eMwmvKVv4w7i_ONf7IyNwsFk0dsNYyJq-CJzsA1nSo/s320/12342486_10206921403426332_7574603418749193682_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oof.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In fact, it nearly was my final run of 2015, as it took me about three weeks to feel normal after that. But, I wasn't worried. If I learned anything in 2015, it was that I couldn't push it unless my body was ready. It really is that simple. So, I rested. I waited. And, eventually, as I noted in one of my runs on Strava: the pins are coming around.<br />
<br />
If you've actually made it through all that, I'd seriously question your sanity. And, with that, I think I'll save the first half of 2016, including a Grayson Highlands 50k race report, for another post. In the meantime, my hope is to put together a weekly-ish training recap. I've looked back on those in the past for reference, so my hope is that they'll help me moving forward, and perhaps you, my limited audience, can see deep into my twisted mind. Onward!sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-85309490669804785362014-05-13T22:21:00.000-04:002014-05-13T22:24:12.795-04:00TARC Spring Classic 50k Race ReportFinally burdened with the task of writing a race report nearly two and a half years since my last ultramarathon, and it took me nearly two and half years to finally write this. At last, it was time to pass the grill tongs and the bottle opener to someone else and get in the game myself. I'm very thankful to have been able to do so.<br />
<br />
The theme of my training, which I dubbed "Operation Get to the Starting Line," was to stay healthy. Easier said than done. But, I knew that pushing too much in training could only set me back once again. I went into the race with decent fitness and strength, but nothing that I would call great. Even if I got to the start line a bit underprepared, I knew it was better than not starting at all. My training was very much focused on my weekend back-to-back runs with the midweek being reserved for resting and assessing. And, above all, no speed work. My final three long runs, while not perfect, certainly gave me some confidence:<br />
3/28: 21 miles at 8:16/mile - all road<br />
4/3: 20 miles at 10:50/mile - all trail in 80+ degree heat. I melted.<br />
4/12: 21.5 at 11:28/mile - all trail and crazy technical<br />
Note that I didn't say "a lot of confidence." The amount of time running was solid, but the distance was not. On race day, I'd be running close to 50% longer than my longest run in terms of miles. That fact had me concerned. Still, with a flat course, I hoped that I wasn't in too much trouble. But, again, I wasn't injured.<br />
<br />
On race day, I was shockingly relaxed. I had a great time pre-race sipping coffee and chatting with <a href="http://rocknrunner.blogspot.com/">Michael Wade</a> and the large contingent of Trail Monsters that were there to run the various distances (10k, half marathon, marathon and 50k). In fact, I was so relaxed that I skipped the pre-race meeting (see: sipping coffee and chatting) and missed out on the news that the race was going to start early. Suddenly, there was a howl and a whole slew of runners heading off down the trail. Well, I guess the race is starting.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxr7VResfEqnNNqe38Auq558J2pTI-pkbdl6zZEJvOEURBPT817Ndcp-K_9IxdfxCSnqN_UcPH1KB_Djr8wYwI_iN4o5uwRvnM9EPUGqgzHl2Gz7TNj4xNLBES-nGQa74rmSES5HRZRg/s1600/10319860_10152791162918747_771890787_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvxr7VResfEqnNNqe38Auq558J2pTI-pkbdl6zZEJvOEURBPT817Ndcp-K_9IxdfxCSnqN_UcPH1KB_Djr8wYwI_iN4o5uwRvnM9EPUGqgzHl2Gz7TNj4xNLBES-nGQa74rmSES5HRZRg/s1600/10319860_10152791162918747_771890787_o.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail Monsters not attending the pre-race meeting.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Lap 1</b><br />
The trail narrows fairly quickly off the starting line, so I don't think I took a running step until about 30 yards in. And, even then, with all the people--approximately 300 in the 3 races (10k had started 10 minutes prior)--I was barely jogging. My race plan called for going out easy, but when the average pace read out on my Garmin read 13:XX a half mile into the race...well, I guess I was going out easy.<br />
<br />
In all seriousness, pre-race I believed I could run between 4:30 and 5:00, with a realistic goal of sub 4:50. I figured on an amazing day, I might be able to sneak under 4:30. Nine minutes per mile is a 4:39 50k, so my plan was to run nine-minute pace for the first two laps. From there, I would assess, with the hopes of picking it up or at least not slowing.<br />
<br />
I was running with John in the first couple miles, and we were steadily passing people until about the two-mile mark. Then the following exchange happened:<br />
Me: "Nice to be free of the crowd."<br />
John: "Yup."<br />
Me: "This pace feels about right."<br />
John: "Yeah, I don't want to go out too fast."<br />
Seconds later he was speeding away from me down the trail. I kept him in sight, but I kept closer watch on my Garmin: average pace 8:50ish. I didn't want to overcook things just yet. I still had John in my sights about a mile later when Ian, running the half marathon, caught and passed me. He heckled me about the "old man" beating me, but I was able to keep my ego in check. I was worried than Ian speeding by would entice John to pick up the pace, and, unfortunately, that's just what would happen.<br />
<br />
It wasn't raining at the start of the race, which was a blessing, but it starting raining about 20 minutes in. I was feeling a bit overdressed at first, but the rain cooled me down to a reasonable temp quickly. In fact, I was very comfortable through out the race.<br />
<br />
The average pace crept down to 8:45, but it felt very comfortable, if a touch risky. I tried not to think about it too much and just focused on staying relaxed and "no effort"--that was my mantra.<br />
<br />
Lap 1 passed uneventfully in 54:22<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW25BOZXnmvKholD8HYiD-ueOx-kWbRt3KYPpRKsNZZ_oi2V79t9PA4aSZI5FnQSGNMxpxffIo3a2wJBxjbWKZy2kCcJFsuOEl8eB2i3H4xiyk47a-AUrphG0AIqtH-dWv4f63Y0HY-t4/s1600/10291810_10202250845251744_1296951318384694664_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW25BOZXnmvKholD8HYiD-ueOx-kWbRt3KYPpRKsNZZ_oi2V79t9PA4aSZI5FnQSGNMxpxffIo3a2wJBxjbWKZy2kCcJFsuOEl8eB2i3H4xiyk47a-AUrphG0AIqtH-dWv4f63Y0HY-t4/s1600/10291810_10202250845251744_1296951318384694664_n.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing the first lap. Photo by <a href="http://tophamphoto.smugmug.com/TARC-Spring-Classic-2014/">Topham Photo</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Lap 2</b><br />
After a flawless bottle hand off from <a href="http://mainerunner.blogspot.com/">Jamie</a>, my crew, and more heckling about the old man, I was off for my second lap. While finishing my first, I was very surprised to see Michael on the short out and back section that starts and ends each lap. I figured he'd be long gone with the training he'd been putting in this year. I'd seen John as well. "No effort."<br />
<br />
I ran the majority of this lap alone. Just me and the mud. It was muddy to start, and the rain added to it. But, after the tales of the TARC 100/50 that was held on some of these same trails last year, I couldn't complain. I will say that I was amazed to watch some other runners try to figure out ways around it. Not that I'm the toughest guy out there, but it is a trail race.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusr_160XAFSQiVC5UtFNxWGAJawXNvu_3cKzSzrchlt4yLtVK26jM4Zg1Ys50NEdfa1cuPk0Q8EdzXM29kFmkqzFPUjtM2lOX4HORcPIau_IJPl5pwioEADJoLKN9Ai4zx5eKNQOke50/s1600/10308184_10202250846211768_5921526738802354166_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusr_160XAFSQiVC5UtFNxWGAJawXNvu_3cKzSzrchlt4yLtVK26jM4Zg1Ys50NEdfa1cuPk0Q8EdzXM29kFmkqzFPUjtM2lOX4HORcPIau_IJPl5pwioEADJoLKN9Ai4zx5eKNQOke50/s1600/10308184_10202250846211768_5921526738802354166_n.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squish. Photo by <a href="http://tophamphoto.smugmug.com/TARC-Spring-Classic-2014/">Topham Photo</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Of note: I stopped to pee during this lap. I never do that in a race.<br />
<br />
Another flawless bottle swap with Jamie, and I was off.<br />
<br />
Lap 2 time: 53:02<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 3</b><br />
I was surprised to see Michael even closer at the close of the second lap, but I assumed that he was about to pick up the pace. I stayed consistent with my splits and noticed that the average pace was now closer to 8:40. With that realization, I started to dream of my uber-reach goal of sub-4:30, but then I remembered that I still had half the race ahead of me.<br />
<br />
On one of the twistier sections, I could see Michael and John just ahead, and with some quick math, I counted them less than a minute up. In a few clicks, I had caught up to John who was feeling the effects of his early pace. We were almost exactly halfway through, 15.5 miles, and he told me he was going to dial things back a notch. I told him not to worry and that he was right on 4:30 pace. A steady pace would get him to a fine finish. Well, he later informed me that "my skipping and frolicking" while passing him really took the wind out of his sails. Oops, sorry about that.<br />
<br />
Less than a mile later, I caught Michael just in time to heckle him for dropping his water bottle. We ran together for a bit, and I confided in him that was feeling good but concerned I was in over my head. What I didn't tell him was that I was stoked to be running with him at this point in the race, since he's been killing it this year in preparation for the Ghost Train 100 in October. He's run twice as many miles (literally) as I have this year, so to be feeling solid and with him at this point was a big boost. Of course, shortly after I thought that, he gapped me slightly, and was a few strides in front of me as we closed out the lap.<br />
<br />
Lap 3 time: 52:52<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVe3cH81srVoi1ySWQ4mZvR7NQRBgNeW22VsAiKSraichZnTwJGDPAYEuC0dgaIzLv_DXq9KvuWfkB37CaE7-OAcBYKdsP0YS2mC9feoStP3Tn3AlFfYtV4HL_I1NBKLFn0uP4HVEvo5U/s1600/10171852_10202974218109166_4398866948733587987_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVe3cH81srVoi1ySWQ4mZvR7NQRBgNeW22VsAiKSraichZnTwJGDPAYEuC0dgaIzLv_DXq9KvuWfkB37CaE7-OAcBYKdsP0YS2mC9feoStP3Tn3AlFfYtV4HL_I1NBKLFn0uP4HVEvo5U/s1600/10171852_10202974218109166_4398866948733587987_n.jpg" height="400" width="387" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The handoff.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Lap 4</b><br />
This was, as they say, when shit got real. Thanks to another flawless hand off from Jamie, I was able to get out of the aid station ahead of Michael. And, because I've spent so much time watching ultras, I recognized a couple guys I passed early on in this lap as fairly experienced and/or accomplished ultrarunners. Suddenly, I was feeling a lot of pressure. I felt like I was racing. No, I was racing.<br />
<br />
Then, almost out of no where, I heard myself say out loud, "You gotta believe."<br />
<br />
That was it. At 20 miles, I made the decision to keep it going. I could have easily backed off, conserved a bit, and not worried about blowing up. But, where's the fun in that? Plus, my competitive disorder was in high gear right now. My legs were still churning out the miles, and I needed a test. This is what I had been missing all this time. Time to take a risk, suffer a bit, and see what I could do.<br />
<br />
It was during this lap that I also got to experience what makes ultrarunning so great. I was starting to lap a number of other 50k runners and marathoners. Everyone was so encouraging. One woman even said to me, "You're amazing." I wanted to reply, "I'm totally normal," but my communication skills had diminished to neanderthal level at this point. Another gentleman even scolded me lightly for not more fervently asking to pass: "You gotta tells us slow pokes to get out of the way!" I grunted a smile.<br />
<br />
Lap 4 time: 53:42<br />
<br />
<b>Lap 5</b><br />
I only have snippets of memories from this lap. I remember saying out loud on more than one occasion, "Just...keep...pushing." I remember another runner cheering me on as I ran ever step of the "steep hill." (Those who ran the race know the hill to which I'm referring.) I remember a blur of ouch.<br />
<br />
I had been wearing gloves for the first four laps but tossed them at the aid station. Shortly into this lap, I absentmindedly pressed my thumb and forefinger together. Something felt strange. I looked down and realized that my left had was pale and swollen. Better check the right. Yup, that hand too. I tried to wiggle my fingers, and they felt like foreign objects. That process probably took three minutes, but my brain was still sharp enough to realize that I'd overdone it with my fluids. In each of the first four laps, I'd drained almost an entire 20-ounce bottle of Nuun. I was on electrolyte overload. I squirted half of my bottle out knowing that I didn't need to carry all that extra weight, and probably took 3 sips in the final 5 miles.<br />
<br />
With that issue solved, I was able to get back to my main focus: suffering. It was a manageable level of suffering, and although the splits would later reveal that I was slowing a bit, I was hanging tough. Then, suddenly, I wasn't. I popped. It was like a switch was flipped. The risk at mile 20 hit me hard sometime after mile 29, and I was a shuffling mess. I was moving forward, but barely. Less than two miles to go, but they were by far the longest two miles of the race. In one of the muddier sections, with about a half mile to go, Michael went flying by me babbling nonsense about sub 4:30. I could barely see, and it felt like my skeleton was made of Twizzlers. It's amazing how fast a 9-minute mile can look. ;)<br />
<br />
But, I finished. I crossed the line with a smile on my face and a high five from Michael, who was nice enough to wait for me after his finish.<br />
<br />
Lap 5 time: 57:13<br />
<br />
4:31:46<br />
11/108<br />
<a href="http://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=26411">RESULTS</a><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEqTrqkzxSJSgETz5v5VWYwJaoXqADrQwgu4EgIvJuxoFvlMDI2-66KNBd0_2TJDJB4I4QfpcZcdju9hDIJ2eqtDLsNFNJNo8NQcJg1UOVq-lgtybjZ_ps0S5BlU6ka9oDjeqzdYb94g/s1600/10259447_689727911083776_277161291_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEqTrqkzxSJSgETz5v5VWYwJaoXqADrQwgu4EgIvJuxoFvlMDI2-66KNBd0_2TJDJB4I4QfpcZcdju9hDIJ2eqtDLsNFNJNo8NQcJg1UOVq-lgtybjZ_ps0S5BlU6ka9oDjeqzdYb94g/s1600/10259447_689727911083776_277161291_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Done.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13JUdR3EhhsZrTwOpCE-ee-5UodHvmy2eYTAxU8VbuGHcdiw1baPvRTheV6_saVfqQiwlD5Yet8opuRCp4IYnMVnbECioBFNqWOzwb0bOLy-ENjfglfPTP2veCtEZAsJUIkM6RyHRU7I/s1600/IMG_20140426_124108146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13JUdR3EhhsZrTwOpCE-ee-5UodHvmy2eYTAxU8VbuGHcdiw1baPvRTheV6_saVfqQiwlD5Yet8opuRCp4IYnMVnbECioBFNqWOzwb0bOLy-ENjfglfPTP2veCtEZAsJUIkM6RyHRU7I/s1600/IMG_20140426_124108146.jpg" height="400" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ultrarunning is fun.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Once the results were posted, I was bummed to realize that the pass at the very end dropped me out of the top ten, but I can't complain. For my first ultramarathon back after such a long hiatus, it's a huge relief to have finished. While I'm pleased with the result, I'm more proud of the way I ran the race. I ran smart, even splits. When Michael pass me, he was the only 50k runner to pass me...period. I took a bit of a risk, and it paid off. Sure, the last two miles were gruesome, but that has more to do with training than race day tactics. Could I have backed off in the third lap or at the beginning of the fourth lap? Sure. But, I believe I was still destined to run into some trouble with the lack of training. Again, it was all about getting to the starting line healthy, so I wasn't in prime fitness. Will I get there again? Maybe. But, running an ultra was far more satisfying than watching one...two...three...<br />
<br />
Thanks to...<br />
<br />
Jamie for crewing. It takes a true friend to stand out in the rain and not mind me barking orders at him. Then, he gave me a beer and a sausage after I finished. He's almost as good at crewing as I am...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.raymondchiropractic.com/">Dr. Jamie Raymond</a> for keeping my parts in working order by bending and popping me in unspeakable ways.<br />
<br />
John for holding me accountable through the winter--a couple nights per week at 8:00pm, often in sub-zero temperatures. There is absolutely no way I would have gotten the miles in without such a committed training partner.<br />
<br />
The <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/trailanimals/">Trail Animals Running Club</a>, specifically the race directors Bob and Josh. They put on a helluva show.<br />
<br />
Danielle for putting up with all my whining and believing that I could get back here. (Speaking of my lovely wife, <a href="http://snowplug.blogspot.com/2014/04/2014-tarc-spring-classic-race-report-in.html">she won the women's race</a>. Topper.)<br />
<br />
My <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/">Trail Monster Running</a> teammates who encouraged me during my injuries and sent me kudos post-race. Even this athletic supporter needs support sometimes.<br />
<br />
The obvious question, now, is: what's next? The first priorities are to recover and stay healthy. Beyond that...<br />
<br />sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-84435488983544250302014-03-22T15:07:00.000-04:002014-03-22T15:07:35.655-04:00Snowshoe SeasonHappily feeling saddled with the burden of updating the blog, since I'm actually fairly ambulatory these days. And, I'm even more happy to report that I completed my first snowshoe season since 2011. Granted, I wasn't able to attack it as hard as I would have liked, but two years of injuries and sporadic training will do nothing but erode one's fitness. That erosion was on display in all my races, but I made it to the start line of five races, finished each one, and survived unscathed. Here's a recap...<br />
<br />
<b>January 19, Bradbury Squall</b><br />
After some quality early season snowfall, a prolonged and particularly aggressive January thaw put this race in serious jeopardy. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my race director duties, but wrestling with Mother Nature is stressful. I managed to devise a course on the East side of the park that was just under three miles, but it took much more shoveling than should ever be needed to pull it off. Plus, with the icy conditions, it was more like a road race than a snowshoe race--firm and fast.<br />
<br />
After a healthy period of sandbagging from the crew pre-race, during which we all professed our disinterest in racing that day, the race went out like a 1500 meters on the track. It was insane, and a giant mistake for me. Around the first corner and on to the first stretch of single track, I "settled" into fourth place behind gIANt, but my heart was already dangling out of the side of my mouth. We hit the Snowmobile Trail after 3/4 of a mile, and Jamie, Tyler and Scott easily moved past me a pulled away. Due to the firm conditions, I was able to keep them in sight, but by the time we reached the turn around, Chuck and Jennifer were breathing down my neck. Thankfully, fat is aided by gravity, and I was able to grunt and froth my way back down the Snowmobile Trail to the Link. I could see Jamie ahead of me, as he looked back approximately 37 times in the final quarter of a mile, but I was wide open and had no shot of getting him. I did manage to hold onto 7th place overall, but I knew that it was smoke and mirrors. The course really played into my hands being short and fast. I can handle that right now, but I know that in a real snowshoe race, I would've been toast.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/bradburysnow/2014-bradbury-squall-results">RESULTS</a><br />
<br />
<b>February 8, Maine State Snowshoe Championships</b><br />
It's no easy feat to get to Rangeley, so I was happy to have John as my driver and official MEDOT tour guide for the journey. It was cold when we arrived, but the yurt was warm and cozy. The field this day would be small, so I knew that even in my weakened condition all I needed to do was finish and I'd qualify for Nationals. As it turns out, that's exactly what would happen.<br />
<br />
After an uneventful but beautiful warm up on a mix of groomed trail and singletrack, I made my way to the starting line in the "stadium." The race was held at Rangeley Lakes Trail Center--a Nordic skiing facility--and it was the perfect venue for a state championship. Even with the small field, the set up and course made it feel like a big deal. I could almost picture stands full of screaming fans. I was pumped to go after it...for about 100 yards...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Vkhhs-_EfmT4rcCt2-Y-pcPH6YHjcvwZGRolGpUIk9Hy2szIiGVH_0YtLVVCu24CFWo4FM8-xb2pVkgXRTEmH3S3Iqah5tcubQHuuUIYv8yG24W6As2fHP2N2y6-YCG98_b7zBuJJ7E/s1600/502_2-8-14_ss_race_start.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Vkhhs-_EfmT4rcCt2-Y-pcPH6YHjcvwZGRolGpUIk9Hy2szIiGVH_0YtLVVCu24CFWo4FM8-xb2pVkgXRTEmH3S3Iqah5tcubQHuuUIYv8yG24W6As2fHP2N2y6-YCG98_b7zBuJJ7E/s1600/502_2-8-14_ss_race_start.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maine State Snowshoe Championships Race start.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The gun went off, and so did my left hamstring. It wasn't a full on pop, but I felt a significant tug only a few seconds after the start. For the next mile or so, I tried everything I could to try to make it feel normal with no success. Lengthening my stride, shortening my stride...nothing seemed to work. After turning off a lengthy singletrack section during which I shadowed Jamie, and once again, had Chuck and Jennifer on my tail, I shut it down. I knew that I just needed to finish to qualify, and I hoped that I could complete 10k without doing any real damage.<span id="goog_74221754"></span><br />
<br />
My reaction was strangely measured, since you'd think that I would be quite upset, but I after so many injuries I was nonplussed. I would have loved to have been able to race, but I was able to stay focused on the bigger picture as I have other fish to broil this year and the goal was to just get to Nationals. So, I jogged along and enjoyed the scenery. The upside was that I could enjoy the aforementioned scenery, which was stunning, and I was feeling very lucky to be able to be out in the woods on a such a winter's day...ahem. It was definitely worth the travel to be out on those trails, and I hope to find myself back there again.<br />
<br />
At about 5k, I caught up to Tyler who was walking after realizing in only his second snowshoe race that it's really easy to go out too hard. He soon caught back up and trailed me for a bit before I decided to stop trying to race on my bum hamstring, and I let him by. Then, much to my surprise only a few minutes later, I came upon a group of seven or so all standing a trail junction totally befuddle. I quipped that it was nice of them to let me catch up, but once we confirmed we were headed down the correct path, they quickly pulled away. I was alone again and meandering along the singletrack toward the finish. As it turned out, we all stayed on the singletrack too long as the course wasn't clearly marked, but I was just as happy to enjoy the woods rather than try to run on a groomed nordic trail. I crossed the finish line with a disappointed smile, happy to have finished and hoping my hamstring wouldn't become a major issue.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://rangeleylakestrailscenter.com/images/MSSS_results.pdf">RESULTS</a><br />
<br />
<b>February 16, Bradbury White Out</b><br />
A few sessions with the ice pack and a fortuitously schedule appointment with Jamie, and my hamstring was feeling just fine as the second Bradbury Mountain Snowshoe Series race came around. I definitely dodged a bullet on this one and was pleased with myself for making the right decision during the race in Rangeley. The downside, although a few days of training wouldn't have made much of a difference, was that I was not physically ready for the conditions on this day. This was a real snowshoe race.<br />
<br />
I wanted to make up for the easy and short course from the Bradbury Squall, and combined with the conditions, I really nailed. I still opted for the flatter East side, but I packed in the two biggest climbs I could find along with half of the dreaded O Trail. In short, this course is a keeper! Plus, Mother Nature threw a snow/rain/snow combo at us in the days leading up to the race, and breaking the trail to mark it was a Herculean task on Saturday. The crust was heavy and thick leaving chunks of various sizes on top of soft, sugary powder below. After marking, John and I ran the course together that day, and I told him, "Those are the hardest conditions I've ever run in. No fun at all." I wasn't exaggerating.<br />
<br />
Prudently, I opted for a more leisurely start in this race, and it was necessary. My lack of strength is painfully obvious in the soft snow, and I was still leery of my hamstring. I was chasing David for most of the first two miles, but he has 20 years of experience on me...um, yeah...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZLmXGyp53xXcbMJS9_SooIP6n4o7ZKtXK-5QOnmjGcMycG8A0xo8DDwLhIx7NpMik_65DJxUd6j0JWfrT2P4XHlL3qnHgfcLWlojNrwb-QGpXm4YrYWJR-GRCSqxoNHhc4-iAmPVT_o/s1600/1898248_748537391831090_360519208_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisZLmXGyp53xXcbMJS9_SooIP6n4o7ZKtXK-5QOnmjGcMycG8A0xo8DDwLhIx7NpMik_65DJxUd6j0JWfrT2P4XHlL3qnHgfcLWlojNrwb-QGpXm4YrYWJR-GRCSqxoNHhc4-iAmPVT_o/s1600/1898248_748537391831090_360519208_n.jpg" height="267" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bradbury White Out start</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Laurence tailed me for most of the race, and each time I offered for him to go around he declined. We did manage to pick a few people off here and there--including a few folks who went out way too hard and Scott who was having a very uncharacteristically off day. We reached the O Trail with Ben right on our tails, and I knew that I was going to get nipped eventually. I managed to keep the train moving through the O (while cursing the race director), but as soon as we turned onto the Knights Woods Trail, Ben moved around and off up the hill. I told Laurence to go after him, but he once again declined content to listen to me grunt and snort my way up the final hill (once again cursing the race director). I managed a bit of a smile near the finish, knowing that I'd gutted it out. I never attempted to really race in this one, but I didn't just go through the motions. It's tough for me to not race when I put on a number, but the stars were not aligned for me to go after it on this day. It's a strangely measured and mature attitude from me, but I think it's going to be necessary moving forward.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/2014-bradbury-white-out-results">RESULTS</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH9ZWuFZ73l9SCzVWMuklVYZwL9FHbgUfoxWonQvHXAUhE1G0Yo3eIEgRNeqQIFqP4MwPenJ6_871aNoA5jwIN5q9ugtUWGQkWCHaryvqIpnhrG9VOfy8DATjVHelgxVUkscTNByyBBI/s1600/1655937_748559091828920_710707152_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH9ZWuFZ73l9SCzVWMuklVYZwL9FHbgUfoxWonQvHXAUhE1G0Yo3eIEgRNeqQIFqP4MwPenJ6_871aNoA5jwIN5q9ugtUWGQkWCHaryvqIpnhrG9VOfy8DATjVHelgxVUkscTNByyBBI/s1600/1655937_748559091828920_710707152_n.jpg" height="400" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost a smile at the finish line</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>March 1, U.S. National Snowshoe Championship</b><br />
How often do normal people get to compete in a national championship event? Measured and mature was replaced by balls to the wall. I knew that I don't have the fitness or strength to do any damage at this event, but I wanted to give it everything I had--even if I was bringing a butter knife to a gun fight.<br />
<br />
The ride to Bennington, Vermont on Friday evening was a mix of awesome--a bacon cheeseburger with peanut butter--and less awesome--being second hand rear ended by a drunk driver. Luckily, no one was hurt by either the burger or the moron...aside from Scott's car, but it was still drivable. With the drama behind us, Saturday dawned sunny and cold, as we made our way to Prospect Mountain, which was the perfect venue for a New England snowshoe race. A retired alpine ski area turned Nordic touring center, time has stood mostly still at Prospect, but the energy for a National Championship was off the charts.<br />
<br />
The day started with the Junior 5k, in which Chris was entered. Because he's a true American hero, he sacrificed his race to help a competitor in distress. Then, the women's 10k race went, and we were able to get some course intel from Jennifer before our start. In short, don't go out too fast, and it's hard. With an opening mile on all groomed Nordic trail and a mile long climb to the summit in the third mile, it confirmed what we already knew.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-GpoSfAnkVE3XU3W_P_ovhF-_I_qpT7XHkpzvt_yYbCTJoxNmcx-u5Ldn63sBScz9VlHPHW7dc5VH5aJkonrOqjFLHn4fWt8cV7Ov787XfTFAFTAYhUkJNUHSUEEe8g-R27PdBC2i14/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-03-22+at+2.35.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB-GpoSfAnkVE3XU3W_P_ovhF-_I_qpT7XHkpzvt_yYbCTJoxNmcx-u5Ldn63sBScz9VlHPHW7dc5VH5aJkonrOqjFLHn4fWt8cV7Ov787XfTFAFTAYhUkJNUHSUEEe8g-R27PdBC2i14/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-03-22+at+2.35.09+PM.png" height="261" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near the mile mark. <a href="http://www.joeviger.com/">Joe Viger Photography</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The race had more than 200 runners on the line making it easily double the size of the largest snowshoe race in which I'd ever competed. And, it felt like it. I was lucky to keep my snowshoes attached to my feet, but I saw a number of other runners who had to pull over to get shoes back on after being trampled. It was tricky to not get caught up in the energy of the race, but I did a good job of staying relaxed in the opening miles and was ready to go when the climbing begain. I was able to get into a good gear and just kept grinding. I passed a number of people on the climb, but I could also feel that I was pulling a group along. Shortly after the 4k mark, a runner went by, then another, then another. I was lamenting my lack of strength and was leery to start pushing, but after a few seconds, I decided to drop a gear and try to pick off those three. It was Nationals after all. I picked up the pace and was able to earn those places back. My timing was perfect as I was worked by the time I reached the summit. I was able to regroup and get into a line of other runners as we entered a tough and twisty singeltrack section in which I was running all out and just trying to stay upright. Once it flattened out, I must have relaxed and caught my snowshoe on the edge of the trough. I supermanned in spectactular fashion losing a couple places in the process. I was able to get back up and give chase. Another climb was a slap in the face, but I was charging and clipping the heels of a runner in front of me. He let me by at the top, and I kept chasing on the final, long descent to the finish. After 8k of snowshoe racing, a steep, fast downhill is pretty painful to say the least, and my legs were wobbly. A trio of runners snuck past me a few clicks before the final downhill switchback, which was severely rutted out since 300+ runners had churned it up prior to my arrival. I negotiated this stretched and was determined to catch that trio in the final quarter mile or so to the finish. The pictures will attest to the fact that I gave it everything I had. The trio and I were separated by a total of four seconds, and I didn't have enough real estate to catch them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruecwFKcbqS_177pfKt-MFPFX225MpqOkR3cAdNDTDqLGL7v6VT6H2_z-cBoj898XJZva4eWx1R8JvAu5hQzk9cRzp6NP3HFBHBneRFMeFQv5o55_wJsAAhhQeVsnCB7vCnGBefL2Sd0/s1600/1794635_845533762138874_1425428699_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruecwFKcbqS_177pfKt-MFPFX225MpqOkR3cAdNDTDqLGL7v6VT6H2_z-cBoj898XJZva4eWx1R8JvAu5hQzk9cRzp6NP3HFBHBneRFMeFQv5o55_wJsAAhhQeVsnCB7vCnGBefL2Sd0/s1600/1794635_845533762138874_1425428699_n.jpg" height="400" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Satan face at the finish. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/SNAPacidotic/503426696349584">SNAPacidotic</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Post-race I was stunned to find out that I finished 105 out of 213. Even in my weakened condition, I never expected to be that far back. Then, I remembered that every single person in the race needed to qualify, and they came from all across the snow-covered United States and the Canadia. How cool is that? I'm honored to have been able to compete in such a great event and proud of the effort I showed.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.albanyrunningexchange.org/results/resultsView.php?ID=3766">RESULTS</a><br />
<br />
<b>March 9, Bradbury Blizzard</b><br />
Even though it felt anti-climatic to have a race the weekend following Nationals, my race director hat was back on for the final race of the Bradbury Mountain Snowshoe Series. I had a chance to get to The Brad on Thursday to assess the conditions, and I was excited that we'd be able to race on the mountain side. Of course, it was warm on Friday and Saturday during the days and cold at night, so the course had more ice than I would have liked, but no one ever said that snowshoe race directing reduced stress. On Saturday, I had a ton of help marking the course. John and Sean had no idea that it would take two hours to mark a quarter of the course. We placed approximately eleventy billion flags on the Switchback and South Ridge Trails. Then, we ran the Beautiful Loop, 15 miles--it was a big day.<br />
<br />
Sunday was the first day of Daylight Savings Time, and I somehow set my clock ahead two hours. At least I had extra time to get registration and the start and finish lines set up. The good part about having a race after Nationals was that I had finally really tested my fitness and strength. Granted, the results weren't entirely encouraging, but they also weren't unexpected. But, armed with the knowledge that I could actually push a bit and not explode, I was looking forward to testing myself at the Blizzard.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBUi2tXA3AGbY6aibPM8CiOcdromHcnBqEz_0f_EGo4Wj3wtF5SCt3Ctp3lKvQK72Uws1RccB3nGKD33xwAN7APWajZPIobfo2WLDrmbZbFTJ3s7bg4VncYq_zh7Nl1NZe9hNcfuGdo8/s1600/1489046_760768210608008_837508155_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBUi2tXA3AGbY6aibPM8CiOcdromHcnBqEz_0f_EGo4Wj3wtF5SCt3Ctp3lKvQK72Uws1RccB3nGKD33xwAN7APWajZPIobfo2WLDrmbZbFTJ3s7bg4VncYq_zh7Nl1NZe9hNcfuGdo8/s1600/1489046_760768210608008_837508155_n.jpg" height="190" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bradbury Blizzard start</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At the "gun" (me yelling GO!), things went out a bit faster than I expected, but I was happy settling into my pace knowing that the first part of the course was the much easier than the rest. Also, without the opportunity for a proper warmup, I really needed to take it easy to work the previous day's effort out of my legs. By the time I turned onto the Boundary Trail, I was a few strides behind the ageless David where I would remain for the remainder of the day either chasing or annoying him. I picked off a few folks along the way who didn't realize how hilly this sucker was, which gave the race director in me a point of pride. Then, while starting the South Ridge trail a few strides behind David the race director in me was terrified watching him descend with reckless abandon. The racer in me was disheartening by my complete lack of downhill ability. I resigned myself to reel him in slowly on the climb on the Switchback, which is just what I did. I pushed pretty hard up the zigzags, but took a moment to enjoy the crunching sounds of those behind me and watch the conga line move along--I love climbing the Switchback as both a racer and race director. At the top, I opened up the best I could and with each step, I was gaining a bit on David around the Tote Road. Finally, at the top of the Northern Loop, I was right on his shoulder, but then we started down the Terrace Trail. I would never see him again, and I was once again left to lament my downhill "running."<br />
<br />
While compiling the results, I was stoked to see that I wasn't too far behind the crew I've been trailing all season. There's definitely something brewing. And, of course, it was a huge relief to complete my second consecutive Bradbury series and my first snowshoe series since the first in 2011. Above all, people loved the course--many said it was their favorite. It's clearly the hardest of the three, with 700+ feet of climbing in five miles, but the crew that comes out to run my crazy idea embraces that. I'm lucky to be supported by each and every one. Bad asses, indeed.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/2014-bradbury-blizzard-results">RESULTS</a><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvc7Oq_WnhIIHmHnoXQNYiYFm13_exGp6XmjO5opVFxE7Knglq6LZm8WZSmq9B1dNt4LlPm6yIE_9oVyJORaCt7uGCILwQEh2GizyYEcfBFX45DJrLqCRh8RhyphenhyphenlQznEyrtuaCixM8WwU/s1600/1920224_760777440607085_1745261920_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvc7Oq_WnhIIHmHnoXQNYiYFm13_exGp6XmjO5opVFxE7Knglq6LZm8WZSmq9B1dNt4LlPm6yIE_9oVyJORaCt7uGCILwQEh2GizyYEcfBFX45DJrLqCRh8RhyphenhyphenlQznEyrtuaCixM8WwU/s1600/1920224_760777440607085_1745261920_n.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing up snowshoe season.</td></tr>
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Despite what the results might depict, it was a very successful snowshoe season. I made it through healthy. I competed. I had the honor of competing. I was surrounded by great competitors and, more importantly, great people. Snowshoe season is my favorite season of all, and it was tremendous to not be standing on the sidelines. Fitness-wise, I have a lot of work to do, but that will come. I'm in no rush. It's more important to be healthy than to be at top fitness. Easier written than done...sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-58838339931967720812013-09-17T22:37:00.001-04:002013-09-17T22:37:11.584-04:00Bradbury Bruiser - Race ReportAn actual, living, breathing race report. It's true. I finally put in an effort worthy of a report. Not the result I would have liked, but certainly the effort. But without giving away too much of the ending, here's what went down at the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/bradburydirt">2013 Bradbury Bruiser</a>.<br />
<br />
Since setting my sights on the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/bigbradultras">Big Brad Ultra 50k</a>, I'd basically forgotten about the Bruiser. It was on the calendar, but I didn't think about the course or race strategy or anything until the day before. I took a quick peek at my <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2010/09/bradbury-bruiser-race-report.html">2010 race report</a>--the year I PR'ed in 1:38:23--to get refresh my memory on the three key splits: end of the Island Trail, the beginning of O Trail and the finish. That year, I went approximately 15:00, 60:00 and 23:00, but this year I'd hoped to get under 1:44:48 to put me a 4 hours even for the series. I thought this was a bit a stretch, but still held out hope.<br />
<br />
What I didn't need to review pre-race was the strategy. I've learned how to best tackle this race: stay relaxed on the Island Trail, race hard until the O Trail, then hang on to the finish. It's worked well for me in the past, and this was my goal again despite my depleted fitness. While marking the course with <a href="http://runefficient.com/">Jeremy</a> on Saturday, we were chatting about something that had become quite clear to me this summer: it's really hard to race, when you don't trust your fitness. It's tough to push yourself early and often, when you haven't trained and tested yourself enough to know if you're going to survive. Right now, I don't trust my fitness--what little of it there is--but I knew that if I was going to have a satisfactory day on Sunday, I needed to have a little faith.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, on Saturday night, I felt terrible. Not sure quite what it was, but had some aggressive gastrointestinal issues that evening that left me feeling a bit wiped out on Sunday morning. In my favor, however, was the weather. A cool September day was on tap, so I knew the weather wouldn't be holding me back. After the usual song of dance of setting up the Start/Finish area, which I feel like I have down to a science now, and the hustle and bustle of registration, Ian was giving the pre-race instructions, and we were off.<br />
<br />
Unlike the previous races this summer, after the announcements, I moved quite a few rows back from the start line. I did not want to get pulled out too quickly, potentially sabotaging my race even before it began. My plan worked, and according to the photos I was in 36th place at the start of the Island Trail.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZwNW5hSLG5a3ZMuZR9KG2FcZXWAQq17Eh-1Zxx9CroAIQR_QkBxsJ5hJUQhWekr-6GOD_0ipqSINkcMis17H8MXUgtc19_Qp-_BIi4fBxlLyaONGtv-zKacO3CBm_FKZagkzkBQe8NXk/s1600/9764203945_ed76258c99_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZwNW5hSLG5a3ZMuZR9KG2FcZXWAQq17Eh-1Zxx9CroAIQR_QkBxsJ5hJUQhWekr-6GOD_0ipqSINkcMis17H8MXUgtc19_Qp-_BIi4fBxlLyaONGtv-zKacO3CBm_FKZagkzkBQe8NXk/s400/9764203945_ed76258c99_b.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeling comfortable in 36th place at the start of the Island Trail. <br />Photo courtesy of hurdlingreggie/Maine Running Photos.</td></tr>
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It was a very comfortable spot to be in and then throughout the Island Trail, while I watched others waste far too much energy jockeying for meaningless positions and wasting crucial energy so early in the proceedings. The end of the Island Trail came in 16:30, a full 90 seconds off PR pace, but just where I thought I should be, and once we made that left hand turn, I was in a good place to pick up the pace.<br />
<br />
I say "we" because at about a mile into the race a kid in a blue shirt pulled up behind me. He would end up staring at the back of my head for a very long time. It was great to have the push, and it definitely put me into race mode. But, of course, I wouldn't have minded dropping him either. It is a race.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMG0BG2wa50syZmdgC6bJfEAZw4dBIuuvxBbZ3R5as2dF30qWqsDMJDi1Xrc6X6BX4zOHpzVbrp-1abwvBbSzAbzNmAX0QjclOiNk19LbPNvtwJr3hgGYVbJv6Tk-jcBNEbLBN_M0uYnU/s1600/9764435212_5b79de7174_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMG0BG2wa50syZmdgC6bJfEAZw4dBIuuvxBbZ3R5as2dF30qWqsDMJDi1Xrc6X6BX4zOHpzVbrp-1abwvBbSzAbzNmAX0QjclOiNk19LbPNvtwJr3hgGYVbJv6Tk-jcBNEbLBN_M0uYnU/s400/9764435212_5b79de7174_b.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exiting the Island Trail. Note the blue shirt lurking. Thirty-third place at this point.<br />Photo courtesy of hurdlingreggie/Maine Running Photos.</td></tr>
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I asked him a couple times if he was interested in passing, but each time he declined. He seemed more than content to let me dictate the pace, and I know without him I probably would have backed off a bit. Either way, we would run alone--together for a bit--then catch a group, pass them...rinse and repeat.<br />
<br />
We rolled through the first aid station which was quite spirited due to our awesome volunteers, so I decided to give them a bit a a cheer back. Or, perhaps I'm completely insane.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!<br />Photo courtesy of hurdlingreggie/Maine Running Photos.</td></tr>
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At this point, we'd moved up to 22nd and 23rd, and I was really enjoying the stress of racing. A third runner joined our train just past the entrance to the Bat Cave due to an untied shoelace, and it felt like even more of a race. I still didn't trust my fitness, but I also knew that I needed to try to shake my blue shadow. I'm not as nimble on the technical terrain as I would like, so part of my Bruiser strategy is to hammer the Snowmobile Trail, which comes at mile 6 or so. The treadway is smoother, and no one likes to pick up the pace on an uphill, so it's a good place for me to try to break things open.<br />
<br />
So, as soon as we hit the Snowmobile Trail, I dropped the pace considerably, and I as the trail pitched upward the footsteps behind me got quieter and quieter. I was putting myself fairly deep in the hurt locker at this point, but it was working. As an added bonus, I was catching up to two guys in front of me. A frothy and subdued thanks to the aid station crew this time, and I pushed some more. I was pretty worked by the time, I turned left off the Snowmobile Trail, but was super stoked with the risk I'd just taken. It had seemed to have paid off as I took a glance back at the left hand turn onto the next bit of singletrack: no blue shirt in sight. Plus, I was able to latch on to the two guys in front of me. I say "latch on" but I was always a few strides back of second guy who was always a few strides back of the dude in front. We were a pretty disorganized train, but we were moving pretty well. Or so I thought.<br />
<br />
Then just before the long, superfluous mountain bike bridge, the blue shirt reappeared right on my tail. Oh, to be young and fit. Damn. Since I now had company--or more likely from fatigued--I dropped back a bit from the two dudes in front and ran along on with my blue shadow once more. As we entered the singletrack on the other side of the Snowmobile Trail, I tired to pick up the pace again, knowing that I was going to blow through the upcoming aid station and push hard up the hill on Knight's Woods--that dreaded, awful, terrible, hill on Knight's Woods. I flew through the aid station with Jeremy and Zak yelling wildly at me, and I put the hammer down going up the Knight's Woods Trail. That hill hurts like hell. It must have hurt blue shirt too because I got another gap, and actually caught back up to the other two guys in front. I was a grunting mess by the time I ran the final few yards to the O Trail, and it was at this point that the blue shirt finally went around. I managed to squeeze out a "Great job" or other such congratulatory phrase as I knew I wouldn't be seeing him again.<br />
<br />
I enter the O Trail at 1:18:59 in a train of four other runners. The split was only about two minutes slower than my PR split from Island to O, which was encouraging. However, I knew I had pushed really hard to get to the O, and my plan of just hang on backfired somewhat.<br />
<br />
Being the caboose in a train of five meant that it was easy to get dropped off the back. And that's exactly what happened less than a minute or so in. I couldn't--or didn't--hang on. Since my race strategy at this point has always been "hang on as best you can," I cut myself a little too much slack. If I had tried to stay with them longer, which would have been a tough task, perhaps the O would have gone a little better. As it was, I soon found myself running alone and not moving very well. Then I was moving even slower. It's really hard to know what's going on in the O Trail with its myriad twists and turns, but I could tell that a group of three or four was gaining on me. I started to see them more frequently, but at the same time, I also knew I was nearing the end. After stumbling and shuffling, I started running harder when I was afraid of getting caught, and I was somewhat ashamed at how well I was able to run as I popped out onto the Knight's Woods Trail for the final push to the finish. Then I remembered that I was about to claim my first Bad Ass hoodie in three years, and I picked up the pace another notch.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNg9hbOGDwjV8c8b3jo8PYtymzHnRsO9CPgWqxby18hqTucgFYYAi6FE1rD7GO6MybcWuZCLinkC-jMQu0VI6KTOo2ys9-yJWJilVD_JANkY70_c-pwWrp3FCHFtihl2_MNtJtVmclGo/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-09-17+at+10.28.07+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNg9hbOGDwjV8c8b3jo8PYtymzHnRsO9CPgWqxby18hqTucgFYYAi6FE1rD7GO6MybcWuZCLinkC-jMQu0VI6KTOo2ys9-yJWJilVD_JANkY70_c-pwWrp3FCHFtihl2_MNtJtVmclGo/s400/Screen+shot+2013-09-17+at+10.28.07+PM.png" width="347" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After they'd broken out the calendar to record my O Trail split, I headed for the finish.<br />Photo courtesy of Maine Running Photos.</td></tr>
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I crossed the line in <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/results/13/me/Sep15_Bradbu_set1.shtml">1:45:47, 22nd place</a>. I made sure to seek out the guys that I ran with throughout the race, especially my blue shadow, congratulate them on their efforts and thank them for their push. It had taken me nearly 27 minutes to complete the O Trail, and I'd missed my goal of breaking four hours <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/bradburydirt/2013-bradbury-mountain-trail-running-series-standings-2">for the series</a> by 59 seconds. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to be healthy enough to complete the series and actually racing the Bruiser was so much fun, but there's more there. There has to be. I just have to keep working for it--both mentally and physically. I am fit enough to run the O Trail faster than that, but my mind wasn't there. Training isn't just about the body. Damn, this sport is cool.<br />
<br />
Who's ready for the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/bradburysnow">Snowshoe Series</a>?sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-22163318732467976342013-09-06T20:41:00.002-04:002013-09-06T20:42:27.498-04:00State of Love and TrustI've drafted this post on countless runs over the past few months, but when it has come to putting keys to pixels, nothing has materialized. Fear of the enormity of the task was the biggest obstacle. How do I properly sum it up? Well, here's a crack at it.<br />
<br />
In short, it's been a roller coaster. But, the up and downs have been more complicated than healthy or injured--a lot of gray area. I'll go into more details in a bit because I want to focus on the one constant. Throughout the running problems, the one constant is that I've never given up. Even when I was "<a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2012/06/all-done.html">All Done</a>," I knew that I would still be running. Deep down I never gave up. I enjoy the act. I enjoy the people. And, I'm too damn competitive. I never gave up because even though I'm getting older, I believe I can still get faster. There's a 3:10 marathon PR that's begging to be lowered. There's a 3:56 50k PR that can be bested. And, there's a 50-mile puzzle that I know I can solve. Maybe I'm just too stubborn. I'm typing this with ice on one Achilles and ice on the opposite calf. Stubborn. And, stubbornly, but happily, moving forward.<br />
<br />
Where have I been?<br />
<br />
At the beginning of 2013, I was in the midst of a positive stretch. I wasn't putting any pressure on myself, and I was just enjoying it. I was enjoying it to the point that I could feel some fitness coming around--enough fitness that I was excited about the start of the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/bradburysnow">Bradbury Mountain Snowshoe Series</a>. Unfortunately, two days before the first race, I strained my calf. Again. (I'd rather discuss religion or politics, but I can say with relative certainty that it was the 4mm drop shoes I was running it at the time. They been shelved and no problems since. Yes, I had calf problems previously, but let's just say that minimal isn't for me.) I still started the race, but dropped at a half mile to avoid further damage. It was hurting, and running on one leg is a bad idea. I was crestfallen. Snowshoe season is <i>my</i> season. To that point, I had never lost to any of my Trail Monster teammates in a snowshoe race, and my goal was to keep it that way. Based on my fitness, I knew that it was a long shot with Jeremy, Scott, Jamie and more toeing the line that day. But, stubborn. No offense, fellas: I believed that I could have out-suffered anyone on that day. I wanted to make someone suffer to beat me, and suffer a lot. My only real talent is my ability to suffer. I just wish I'd had the chance to test it that day.<br />
<br />
I took the next four weeks off from running to let the calf heal. It was a very smart decision. It killed me watching snowshoe season pass me by, but it wasn't as if I could have raced at a high level. I was starting in the basement. This point was proven in early March at the final snowshoe race six weeks later. I was healthy enough to run...er...participate...after two weeks of light running, but I finished well back. I felt like I was missing one, two, maybe even three gears as I made my way around the course. I was glad I raced, but I was a bit embarrassed by my result. The spirit was willing, but the body was weak. Very weak.<br />
<br />
In the ensuing days, I hatched a plan. Regardless of my fitness, I've always been able to muster a bit of speed. I figured I would build off a strength--focus on speed and the rest will follow. That would become my goal for the summer. So, at 7:00am on March 15, I jumped on the computer and registered for the Beach to Beacon 10k, which would become my goal race. With August 3 circled on the calendar, I also decided to register for the Back Cove Series--a weekly 5k series, which I figured would be a great way to tune up and speed up. On top of that, a group of us started a regular Thursday night "Sufferfest," which was usually hill repeats. I was hopeful that this combination would bring it all together.<br />
<br />
In late April, I got a tempered ego boost with a win at the <a href="http://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=18256">TARC Spring Classic 10k</a>. My winning time was slower than the first lap of the 50k leaders, but a win is a win, even if the pond is really small. I actually got to race: led the first mile, then trailed, took the lead at mile 3 and extended from there. Racing is fun. But again, I knew that the talent pool was limited, so I didn't put too much stock in it. However, my time of 43:22 did give me a good target for the Bradbury Scuffle in July. I figured with increased fitness, I could get down around that number on a much harder course.<br />
<br />
With a road race as the goal, though, I decided to test the speed in a road 5k the first weekend of May. I ended up <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/results/13/me/May4_Woodfo_set1.shtml">second overall in 18:37</a>. As my training log notes: "5k's hurt!" It was a good effort, and a good baseline for the rest of the summer. I figured with the right training, I should be able to be under 18 or better by the end of the summer. Unfortunately, this would be my fastest 5k of the season, as I melted in the summer heat. At the end of May, I managed an age group win and 5th overall at the <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/results/13/me/May25_Pinela_set4.shtml">Pineland Farms Trail Challenge 5k</a>, but much like the TARC 10k, the pond was small--the undercard for the heavyweight races the next day. Plus, I barely outkicked an 11-year-old girl and was behind a 14-year-old girl until 2.25 miles. This was telling.<br />
<br />
I did a good job of mixing in track work, hill repeats and snappier long runs with plenty of easy runs until early June. Then, it all fell apart. The heat of the humidity of the summer were really hard on me. I barely made it through a number of long runs, and generally felt off most of June and July. Sometimes I waited until 8:00pm to go out for a run to avoid the heat, but it still didn't help. Early mornings weren't much better as I can never get in the quality first thing in the morning, since I struggle with mornings and always feel as if I'm missing a gear. The Back Cove 5ks weren't much better. My first of the season was the fastest: 18:59. On top of that, I didn't really enjoy the series--just not my particular brand of vodka. And, since my heart wasn't really in it, it was tough to motivate to get to the races and even harder to motivate myself during the races. I ended up only making three races, and even that felt like three too many. (No offense to those who work hard to put on the series, as it's a great asset to the Portland community, but I have some issues with the race organization and set up. While this may sound like sour grapes, my performances are my own issue. No one's fault but my own. Again, just not my scene.) The good side of the race management was that after getting "closed out" of one week, I jumped into a <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/results/13/me/Jun27_Gorham_set1.shtml">4-mile race in Gorham</a> the next day, clocking an optimistic 24:43, taking third place. One important note: that evening, the weather was 60 degrees and lightly raining.<br />
<br />
By the time the Bradbury Scuffle rolled around in mid-July, I knew I wasn't where I'd hoped to be, but I still figured a sub-45 clocking was possible. Or at least, I hoped so. The notes in my training log are brief: "Awful." I felt great for the first mile, going out very easy, thinking I'd reel in people in the last 4 miles. By the time mile 2 passed, I was slowing when I should have been speeding up. The rest of the miles got slower, and I had no pop. Another humid day, and my race was a joke--even more embarrassing than the snowshoe race. I was pissed.<br />
<br />
I'm not entirely certain when it happened, but it was around this time that I realized something else: I'd put on some weight. I'm not fat, but I'm getting close. I'd say I'm 5 pounds more than what I should be and about 12 pounds away from fast. Add this to the race results, and I wasn't feeling so rosy about my fitness, my effort or much else. Oh, and I still had Beach to Beacon on the horizon.<br />
<br />
For once, I made a smart decision. With so many questions surrounding my fitness, I really had no idea how fast I could run 10k. I just didn't know. I decided that my goal for the Beach to Beacon was to enjoy the experience: go out comfortably quick for the first 5k, and come home in whatever. It wasn't exactly a detailed plan, but it was one that set me up for success. Although the race was a gigantic mega-production, which I usually avoid, mission accomplished. <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/results/13/me/Aug3_16thTD_set1.shtml">I finished in 40:49</a>, which isn't close to the time I had hoped for when I registered in March, but I enjoyed my race. I even negative split the 5ks. It's not my style of race, but I had fun. A positive racing experience. That was the goal.<br />
<br />
Where am I now?<br />
<br />
With the "goal" race for the summer behind me, I used the same plan going into the Bradbury Breaker. With the extra weight and the lack of training, it was pretty clear that wouldn't be tearing it up. And, I didn't. My climbing was terrible, but I could really move on the flats--which make up 4% of the course. I finished further back than I would like, but I put in an honest effort. I wouldn't call it fun, as that course is tough, but it was another good race experience. Being as competitive as I am, it's tough to look at the results, but I can't be in PR shape at every race. I'm slowly coming around to that idea. And, that's really where I am right now.<br />
<br />
I'm not certain if it's age or experience or sobering reality, but I'm coming around to the idea that it's fine to go to races and not be near the top of the heap in both placing and fitness. After Beach to Beacon I posted on Facebook: "Not what I'm capable of, but it's what I'm capable of right now." It's the right now that I need to focus on. I can never really be upset with a result, if I'm putting in the best effort I can. Sometimes that effort will put me near the top. Other times, that same effort will put me in the middle or bottom of the pack. Either way, I've started focusing on the experience. I've been having this same conversation with ultramarathons. Yes, they're races, but they're also something to experience. Experiences I've been missing out on.<br />
<br />
Since the <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2011/12/lookout-mountain-50-mile-race-report.html">Lookout Mountain 50</a> in December of 2011, I've attended 8 ultramarathons as crew or pacer. Not once have I put on a number myself. I even coined this little number: "Those who can't do, crew; those who can't race, pace." That's me! Sigh. Now, a large part of the reason I've been in this position is due to injury, but an additional piece is that I've been reticent to jump into something if I couldn't perform at my peak. (Maybe I'm really just concerned about my ranking on UltraSignUp getting too low.) In some ways, that's missing the point. But again, I can never really be upset if I give it my best effort with what I have at the time. Case in point: I'm one race away from completing my first Bradbury Mountain Trail Running Series Bad Ass since 2010 (not a typo). That's three years that I haven't been able to finish all three races. Sure, this summer will be far from my fastest clocking in the series, but I'll be proud to rock a new hoodie. However, it's another hoodie that interests me. Well, that's a lie--it's not about the hoodie. It's about going after it and having the experience. And, sadly, attending all those ultramarathons has only fueled my addiction to them. Seeing the "other side" of the race is tremendous, but I miss competing. I miss actually putting on a number. So, I've decided to run the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/bigbradultras">Big Brad Ultras 50k</a> on October 20. I know that I'll be going in a bit heavy and a little undertrained, but at least I'll be going in.<br />
<br />
So that's the state of things. I'm still tumultuously in love with this bizarre world. And, I'm ready to trust myself to give it everything I have regardless of what I have. Who knows? I may even start blogging again on a regular basis.
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<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="275" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/wc7frlML7eo" width="500"></iframe>sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-52217067995059733052012-11-17T10:53:00.002-05:002012-11-17T10:53:39.740-05:00Mostly Dead Is Partly AliveSince my last non-crew-report update, nearly 5 months ago, I wish I could report a running and fitness renaissance, but that is not the case. In general, I've either been running a little, reinjuring things or struggling with new injuries. And, for the most part, I've had a general disinterest in running. It still wasn't fun. Of course, even when it wasn't fun, I'm still competitive as hell. I was trying to get back in the game, but that was a mistake. August started to look promising, but the classic too-much-too-soon came back to bite me, and I couldn't run. I spiraled even further downward mentally. I barely ran a step in September, and I didn't care. An attempt at an 8-mile run at the end of the month nearly broke me. Nothing was working.<br />
<br />
Looking back, it's clear the hurdle has been as much mental as physical, perhaps even more so. To illustrate that point, I started to feel a renewed interest/less hatred with the notion of running after the day of the Baystate Marathon had come and gone. That was to be my goal race for 2012, and I was going to absolutely throw down. It was never meant to be. But, in the days following the race, I began to come to grips with the fact that I wasn't part of that race. It was history. If I had raced, it would have been time to look forward, and I found myself in a similar mindset without having raced. Additionally, I'm wrestling with my inner competitive demons and have drastically scaled back my expectations. The result has been two-fold. First, it's taken a huge amount of pressure off. (All of that pressure being internal.) And, second, it has allowed me to take a rational look at how I train. And, as a result, things are looking up.<br />
<br />
My current running has been nothing more than relaxed, 5-mile runs. I've mixed up road and trail, and I'm actually enjoying it. As a normal person, everyday life also affects running, and I recently started a new job. I've gone from a run-whenever-I-want-working-at-home-self-employed consultant to a regular-nine-to-five guy. In September, I told D that if I did get a "regular" job, I couldn't possibly see myself getting up in the morning to run. I don't believe in mornings. I figured my running would be over. Much to my (and her) surprise, I've done an amazing job of getting out the door around 6:00am most mornings. (Yesterday's sunrise was incredible.) I'm generally running 3 days on, one day off, not caring about the weekly mileage. And, if I feel like taking another day off or adding another run, I'm doing that. It seems to be working. I'm going to continue in this vein and start to mix in a little speed and hills because that sounds...well...fun. My only goal is to be healthy for snowshoe season this winter. It was really depressing to miss out on it last year. Even if I'm not in shape, I hope to at least be able to participate. I need to just put in a base of consistent, healthy running. I feel like I'm doing that. Or at least not get fat...<br />
<br />sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-34123071058245967272012-07-26T11:21:00.002-04:002012-07-26T11:21:48.761-04:00The Vermont 100To be clear, there is no possible way I can adequately sum up the weekend at the <a href="http://www.vermont100.com/">Vermont 100</a>. I had never crewed, paced or even attended a 100-mile event, and I came away truly believing that ultrarunning is a team sport. Watching the runners, crews and pacers work together for a common goal was inspiring. It was even more inspiring to see my Trail Monster Running teammates and crews come together for some amazing results. It has also never been clearer to me that ultrarunning is about adapting, and I learned that the same is true for the crews. <span style="background-color: white;">But, I'm getting ahead of myself... (WARNING: This may be longer than my race reports, if you can imagine that.)</span><br />
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My role for the weekend was to lead Zak's crew for his second attempt at completing the Vermont 100. Last year, he dropped at mile 93, unable to walk, so he was looking for redemption. Additionally, I was also slated as back-up pacer, if necessary. I met Zak and his wife, Lenka, in Portland for the ride to Vermont. We stopped in Scarborough adding to the caravan <a href="http://runefficient.blogspot.com/">Jeremy</a> and his crew: his girlfriend, Alison; <a href="http://5squirrels.blogspot.com/">Mindy</a> and his pacer, <a href="http://100thmile.blogspot.com/">David</a>. Following an uneventful drive, we arrived at Silver Hill Meadow, the start/finish/hub of the Vermont 100, which is conveniently located in the middle of nowhere, for weigh-in and medical check.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silver Hill Meadow</td></tr>
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Lunch at a greasy spoon after and on to Zak's friend's house to meet the rest of the crew: Zak's friend Kevin, who would be pacing him either 30 or 19 miles, Kevin's girlfriend, Christsonthy and Zak's sister Sarah. Yes, that's a large crew. I knew that it was going to be pretty cozy in the little yellow engine that could for an entire day, so I was pleased to see from the get-go that we would all get along really well. Following an amazing dinner courtesy of Alison and Lenka, we went over last minute details and hit bed (or tent, in my case) around 9:00pm in advance of our 2:00am wake up call.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monster Fuel!</td></tr>
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Getting up at 2:00am is terrible. Luckily, my body didn't realize it was up for the day until a couple hours later, and by then, I was 32 oz of coffee deep and there was no going back. We followed the parade of headlights and dust along the Vermont country roads to the start and prepared to send the Trail Monster boys on their way. We had 5 guys tackling the 100—Zak, <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.blogspot.com/">Ian</a>, Jeremy, Joe and George—and each was ready to kill it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8DGCTDk4kHSONRa_Q92-X-7nUsD2RcwJmRNKkQqKce5ijekLLbvnj_QC5aetGybmwzXmHyVo_XkVAG5X2J3n4VCT2ttaaI2qT6VxTf77u_ghr7y3oS8NAdhRkj3tw_h7Zrs4C8JGp9I/s1600/IMG_1293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8DGCTDk4kHSONRa_Q92-X-7nUsD2RcwJmRNKkQqKce5ijekLLbvnj_QC5aetGybmwzXmHyVo_XkVAG5X2J3n4VCT2ttaaI2qT6VxTf77u_ghr7y3oS8NAdhRkj3tw_h7Zrs4C8JGp9I/s320/IMG_1293.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ian, Zak and Jeremy just before the start.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">At 4:00am, headlamps aglow, they were off into the darkness along with 300+ other runners. </span><span style="background-color: white;">We didn't have to leave Silver Hill Meadow until around 6:00am, so the ladies took the opportunity to grab a quick snooze while Kevin and I hung out in the tent, watched the horses start and talked about beer. (Along with the 100 mile and 100km runs, the Vermont 100 also features 3 horse rides of different lengths.) The first handler-allowed aid station is Pretty House at mile 22.5, but this year, due to the effects of Hurricane Irene, the runners also took a detour through Woodstock at mile 13. We saw this as an opportunity to not only provide moral support for the Trail Monsters but also grab "second" breakfast for the crew. Starting my third cup of coffee at 6:30am meant I was even more fun than usual! We saw all 5 guys in Woodstock, looking comfortable and easy, including Ian skipping. Fueled by gas station breakfast sandwiches, we jetted north to Pretty House.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High fives.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SMOOCHES!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIda1IA2YxU1KSsZStog3igpG_4zK7TFaX747WMiM-9a0tmP17jQIN-Xpfvm_Z9dMmYjBm6Q5qNtvmEOjlrC6ypRoOIFo6PJX3AcnWEOwqN9I8784S1UP5RaGxn2OQ7-9-REgDQEOqnag/s1600/IMG_1299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIda1IA2YxU1KSsZStog3igpG_4zK7TFaX747WMiM-9a0tmP17jQIN-Xpfvm_Z9dMmYjBm6Q5qNtvmEOjlrC6ypRoOIFo6PJX3AcnWEOwqN9I8784S1UP5RaGxn2OQ7-9-REgDQEOqnag/s320/IMG_1299.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just George.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Following a very minor navigational blunder and correction from a French-Canadian volunteer ("Dees not da waaay."), we arrived at Pretty House with plenty of time to set up Zak's personal aid station. It also gave me time to catch up with some friends from the running world, including </span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_141775621" style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">Scott</a><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">who was crewing his wife, Debbie, to a third place finish and Nick and Sarah who were crewing the eventual men's winner, Brian, and women's second place finisher, Amy. (And, yes, I just crew name dropped.) As crew, your heart rate at aid stations goes from flatline to about 329 as soon as your runner arrives. Thankfully, Zak kept things pretty simple for us, and we'd discussed our roles beforehand. Kevin and I would meet him before the aid station. I would take his pack and restock it: refill the hydration bladder with water plus a Nuun tablet or two, fill one pocket with 3 gels, fill the other pocket with 2 shot blocks and keep the s-cap pocket loaded. Meanwhile, Kevin would bring him to the table, get him eating and bring him to the crew. There, the ladies would wait on him hand and foot. Not a bad deal, really. And, this is exactly how it went at Pretty House. We had him out in a minute or two, and he was off down the road. He looked exactly as he should. His only complaint was that he felt tight and not warmed up—a good sign with nearly 80 miles to go. I couldn't wait to see him again at the next stop—Stage Road, mile 30.5.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">It would take Zak about 90 minutes to Stage Road, but by car, it was only a 20-minute drive. There is no sense getting to the aid station too early because you're just taking a (very-limited) parking space and you're in the way. We chilled for a bit at the Teago Country Store, the halfway point, between the aid stations, and I finished my third large mug of coffee for the day. So, fully caffeinated, we drove to Stage Road and set up Zak's station in the shade. Ian and Jeremy, once again, rolled in together and were out in a flash. By this time, Ian's parents had joined the fray as his crew, giving Emma some much needed support. And, of course, Alison had every little thing Jeremy could ever need. Only two or three minutes later, Zak arrived looking much more comfortable than one should after running 50k. We fueled him up, and Kevin and I walked him down the road away from the aid station.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">"OK, now that we're away from everyone, you can tell us how you really feel," I said. Unless things were dire, I knew that Zak would put up a good front for Lenka and Sarah, but my job was to strip away the bullshit to make certain he had everything he needed. He said he was feeling great and running relaxed. He couldn't believe Jeremy and Ian were only a couple minutes ahead. His only complaint was a "wonky" knee, but Kevin and I told him it was probably just some weirdness from the taper working itself out and that he would forget about it after a couple more miles. He agreed, and we sent him into the woods.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYRv5TYoosXVeRQG1GnF9nWtNRlBVaqL0EDmklNtqB9rh2ZPqHQvliaDGx9neLUORWiBCgFQNDrvibJkRfFsVo6jRWaYsAZPziEAOHzFR6jJUG6f4r_m_uyyQ2CIh1U4Ukx533-O896w/s1600/576111_10151944190360526_869951979_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYRv5TYoosXVeRQG1GnF9nWtNRlBVaqL0EDmklNtqB9rh2ZPqHQvliaDGx9neLUORWiBCgFQNDrvibJkRfFsVo6jRWaYsAZPziEAOHzFR6jJUG6f4r_m_uyyQ2CIh1U4Ukx533-O896w/s320/576111_10151944190360526_869951979_n.jpeg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Stage Rd. (Chip Tilden photo.)</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The next handler-accessible aid station wasn't for another 17 miles, Camp 10 Bear at mile 47.6. It would take Zak nearly 3.5 to get there, so we stopped at the Teago Store again and hatched a new plan. We decided to head to Lincoln Covered Bridge at mile 39.6. We figured we could see the boys run through, and it would be a nice spot to have lunch. Plus, we'd still have plenty of time to get to Camp 10 Bear. It was a flawless plan.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We arrived at Lincoln Covered Bridge, parked on the opposite side from the aid station and dove into the piles and piles of food Lenka had brought for us. It was awesome. I've never eaten a bigger lunch at 11:00 in the morning. So, with bellies full we strolled up to the bridge to offer encouragement to the runners coming through. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdbC6F4JoiNzR0KNnCMzn8gyNpiUeROfD2a3Vj0lOdRcKHPxs3O1xzGIj3dbfegtY3oxuy0R8yFCj0uCMhO9BlQha7HvRBiPe9mj-pjuDzgHXVCESeaZ49ExMP2dJ0nqb9Etuq8tVwBk/s1600/IMG_1305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpdbC6F4JoiNzR0KNnCMzn8gyNpiUeROfD2a3Vj0lOdRcKHPxs3O1xzGIj3dbfegtY3oxuy0R8yFCj0uCMhO9BlQha7HvRBiPe9mj-pjuDzgHXVCESeaZ49ExMP2dJ0nqb9Etuq8tVwBk/s320/IMG_1305.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clydesdale Division.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Just before noon, Jeremy and Ian rolled through the bridge and knowing Zak left Stage Road only minutes behind them, the countdown was on. I figured he'd probably be about 15 minutes behind them. Fifteen minutes came and went—no Zak. A half hour went by—no Zak. I was standing alone inside the covered bridge to stay out of the sun, and Lenka walked up to me noticeably concerned.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">"Zak could finish two hours behind Jeremy and still have an awesome race. He's fine."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I barely believed this lie, but I think she bought it. I knew something was up. Best case scenario was that he had stopped a couple times with stomach...err...pooping issues that he had mentioned to me at the start. And, I tried not to think about the worst case scenarios as Joe rolled past looking great 45 minutes after Jeremy and Ian. Once an hour had passed I walked to the other side of the bridge to give me a view down the road in the direction from which the runners were coming. Soon after, I saw Zak. I walked to the other end of the bridge to let the crew know he was coming. As soon as I saw him shuffle onto the bridge, I knew his day was done. His head was down, and he barely looked at me. Lenka walked with him the 100 meters to the aid station, while Kevin and I hung back. Not knowing exactly what was wrong, I said, "Let's let Lenka make him feel better, then we can swoop in with the tough love." Kevin was thinking the same thing, so we walked to the aid station where Zak was icing his left knee.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Since I'm having trouble recounting this part of the day, let's just say that I let Zak make his own decision to drop. I walked with him for about 200 yards out of the aid station before he let the reality of what was happening to him set in. He couldn't put any weight on his left leg and continuing would have been foolish at best. I wanted to take his number and run for him, but all I could do was give him a hug and cry with him. It was so unfair. He was fit enough to run an amazing race. A sub-24 hour buckle was practically a given. He was on his way early. After dropping at mile 93 of this race last year, I couldn't understand why it was happening to him again. I still don't understand it. I went to back to the aid station and said "316 is a drop." It was the worst thing I think I've ever said.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We piled the crew and Zak into the car and drove in silence to Camp 10 Bear. I know that another aid station or anywhere near the race was the last place Zak wanted to be, but his parents were there volunteering (because they're awesome!), and we had to deliver the news. We also dropped Zak's sister off here since her parents were also watching her dog. We got out of there as fast as we could so Kevin and Christsonthy could drive Zak back to the house to shower, eat and try to feel human again. The day was just beginning for me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
We had fortuitously decided to bring two cars to Silver Hill Meadow in case we needed to split up the crew for supplies. But, as it turned out, it allowed me to jump right back into the fray and lend a hand to Jeremy and Ian's crews. Beyond that, it allowed me to crew Joe, who in typical Joe fashion was running solo. I felt bad leaving Zak, as I was there for him, but as an ultrarunner, I knew he understood that I had to get out there and help our Trail Monster teammates any way that I could. I'm not certain everyone else did, but I knew Zak did. If the roles were reversed, I would have sent him out there, too. So, at 3:30pm, I was at Margaritaville, mile 62.5, awaiting the arrivals of Jeremy and Ian.<br />
<br />
Not to be overly dramatic, especially in the face of Zak's situation, but I had a really tough time making the shift from lead crew man to menial task crew gimp. I didn't know Jeremy or Ian's plans or gear. I didn't know their expected times. I just knew that I was a pair of hands. I even had to check with the timers at Margaritaville to see if they had come through yet. I was a bit lost. I wanted to help, but I didn't know if I'd just be in the way. Not long after I arrived, Alison, Mindy and David appeared, and not a moment too soon. Jeremy came into the aid station before they were really set up. He'd just run 100k in 12 hours flat and was looking amazing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0MoAnPK-USSpW6974jZyGyCW_JN3e7gCN0spPd2CcPlYS6cIhg6WNj5HN-JEEOTZK7vE7xcKBc8dZjgfgu-dmhfQKgLtZR2vi4GiBJHWf_ZM6-R6XaH3hwUBgaIjj_FMKgpvbtLX4U9g/s1600/IMG_1309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0MoAnPK-USSpW6974jZyGyCW_JN3e7gCN0spPd2CcPlYS6cIhg6WNj5HN-JEEOTZK7vE7xcKBc8dZjgfgu-dmhfQKgLtZR2vi4GiBJHWf_ZM6-R6XaH3hwUBgaIjj_FMKgpvbtLX4U9g/s320/IMG_1309.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeremy at Margaritaville. Time to eat!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I helped out where I could and after some food and a sock change, he was gone. As he was rolling out, Emma, Bob and Ann arrived for Ian, and he also arrived just as they were setting up. Ian plopped into a chair about 10 minutes after Jeremy did the same, and I've never seen anyone so excited to eat pickles.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Wb29DIHopZYYahicjP39jU6SiTqILfOzf86jsuVaEPhUZC9TpjfoFyPTToyNyPIAELOkoecbLtiIDgxoLz_cT6XR4hJeUqhMXDglYSJRYw8A60unpd2w_4FNDKtftauZLld9soY4hkA/s1600/IMG_1310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Wb29DIHopZYYahicjP39jU6SiTqILfOzf86jsuVaEPhUZC9TpjfoFyPTToyNyPIAELOkoecbLtiIDgxoLz_cT6XR4hJeUqhMXDglYSJRYw8A60unpd2w_4FNDKtftauZLld9soY4hkA/s320/IMG_1310.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where dem pickles at?!?!?!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white;">I offered my water bottle to wash his dusty feet. Emma popped a couple blisters. He changed his shoes and socks, and he was gone. It was really impressive to see both of these guys' attitudes at this point. No whining, no complaining. Just focus. They were polite to their crews, which is hard to do and many runners are not.</span><i style="background-color: white;"> </i><span style="background-color: white;">In those brief moments, I gained even more respect than I already had for these guys, and I knew they were both on their ways to amazing days. I was still sad that Zak wasn't out there with them, and I hated delivering that news to them. But, the race must go on, and, suddenly, I was back in it.</span><br />
<br />
The runners pass through Camp 10 Bear twice, and mile 70.5 was the next stop for our guys. Camp 10 Bear is ridiculous. It's far too small an area to accomodate all the runners and crews. For one weekend, it's the most ridiculous place on earth. The runners come through here twice, but each time they approach from a different angle. (I think.) It's wildly confusing. After arriving early enough to watch enough befuddled runners come down the hill to the medical check in, I decided that even though it would be more fun to hang with the crews, I would go a ways up the hill to catch the guys as they were coming in, take their bottles and run them right to the scale. The crews could get everything ready, and I could get them to the right place. Seriously, this place is a madhouse.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_eFVVd_H9w2gUij3EFAvRK9176NE-__m28YyEor_V0Tlvr7H7lIlvpgbYuerWb0ML8U8KJroK6qMM1lJm3SYTAYS2PME1IWuVkRFkcf2VAFHYv4M5lXCpjeT1kPF6z6DKaaJ_0H6iFE/s1600/IMG_1312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_eFVVd_H9w2gUij3EFAvRK9176NE-__m28YyEor_V0Tlvr7H7lIlvpgbYuerWb0ML8U8KJroK6qMM1lJm3SYTAYS2PME1IWuVkRFkcf2VAFHYv4M5lXCpjeT1kPF6z6DKaaJ_0H6iFE/s320/IMG_1312.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Camp 10 Bear</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The good part about Camp 10 Bear is that it is the point at which the runners pick up their pacers for the final 30 miles. Having a pacer is a huge psychological boost for the runner. In fact, the race organizers actually connect runners who don't have pacers with volunteer pacers, if the runner would like one. And, while I ripped on Camp 10 Bear in the previous paragraph, the Vermont 100 is an astounding organizational achievement. The race director, Julia, and her team do a fantastic job. The problem with Camp 10 Bear is really geography. They do the best they can in an extremely limited space.<br />
<br />
Jeremy arrived looking relaxed and feeling not that bad, you know, for running 70 miles. I could tell he was ready to pick up David for the mental boost. I got him to the scale. His weight was dead on—78 pounds. ;) Then, we loaded him up with fuel, and he and David took off moments later. One down. More to go.<br />
<br />
Ian arrived looking better than he had at Margaritaville and raised his hands in celebration as I met him on the hill.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_Sh8U7wjIbIxoolP27r-pdXTZrst0a1w0IRYXw65ZFaHNTc_88bE2OYapmnKgOMTQbs4Bl0R6PaUpHpub0UvOKk6u6lJGLabaueOJpjEmhXHl1T6v5LQutAh1vG1CiKFsMOy6JH9L3s/s1600/IMG_1313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_Sh8U7wjIbIxoolP27r-pdXTZrst0a1w0IRYXw65ZFaHNTc_88bE2OYapmnKgOMTQbs4Bl0R6PaUpHpub0UvOKk6u6lJGLabaueOJpjEmhXHl1T6v5LQutAh1vG1CiKFsMOy6JH9L3s/s320/IMG_1313.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to Camp 10 Bear!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white;">I grabbed his bottles and pointed him to the scale. He'd actually gained weight, a cause for celebration—every little boost counts. His parents, who are a stellar crew—seriously, they should crew for hire—got him everything he needed, all of which came out of the Husky, think of a giant fishing tackle box on wheels, complete with multiple, segmented compartments, stocked with everything an ultrarunner could need. Emma was dressed and ready to pace, and off they went to an ovation prompted by the Camp 10 Bear master of ceremonies complete with a microphone who was part air traffic controller, part carnival barker, part safety monitor. "Look out for the cars!" (Personally, I would have been yelling at the cars, "Look out for the runners!" Dear people driving to Camp 10 Bear: this race is for runners. It's not a mall parking lot. Slow down and yield to the runners. While bringing Ian to the crew, I had to walk centimeters away from a bumper in order to get the car with Massachusetts plates to stop. Obnoxious.)</span><br />
<br />
While driving from Margaritaville to Camp 10 Bear, I had made the decision to wait for Joe at Camp 10 Bear. Joe has a tendency to fly solo. (Understatement of the year.) He had neither a crew or pacer for the race. In addition, he wasn't exactly fresh. Joe just completed the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/2887/western-states-100-joe-wrobleski">Western States 100</a> last month. Barely a month away from his last buckle, he was looking for another sub-24 hour finish. Joe is one tough dude. He hadn't asked for any help, but I was available. I hiked back up the hill to my car to wait for him.<br />
<br />
I should point out that by now it was about 6:00pm. I was polishing off my first Red Bull of the day. I was finishing my third BLT, courtesy of Zak's parents. I was also head first into the giant cooler Lenka had packed. I'd asked them to let me keep the food, since I knew I'd be wandering around for a while. I didn't know how long exactly, but that bounty really saved me. While waiting for Jeremy and Ian, I tore through a entire quart bag of raw veggies—something I wouldn't have been smart enough to pack for myself. Lenka had the crew set up, and I was extremely thankful to be well fed.<br />
<br />
I hadn't seen Joe since Lincoln Covered Bridge—30 miles earlier—so I wasn't certain how long it would take him to arrive. I was sitting on the cooler next to car devouring a BLT when I saw Joe coming my way only about 30 minutes after Ian had left. I tossed half my sandwich on the driver's seat and jumped up to run him to the scale.<br />
<br />
"Hey, Joe! Zak dropped. I'm your new crew."<br />
I had no idea how he would react. This is the same guy that completed <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/1486/maine-100-mile-wilderness-run-joe-wrobleski">Maine's 100 Mile Wilderness</a> solo, using only 5 gallon buckets he'd placed the day before as crew. He declined a pacer (or even a ride to the airport) for Western States. I honestly didn't know what to expect. However, without hesitation, he held out his hand and said, "Great. Take this. Fill it with ice, then water."<br />
<br />
I was lead crew once again! I ran him to the scale and took his bottle to a volunteer at the aid station. I ran back to Joe to take him to his drop bag. He was downing an Ensure, when I asked him if he'd like company for the final 11 miles. His response was exactly what I expected: he was noncommittal because I could tell that he didn't want to inconvenience me.<br />
<br />
"I was planning to run with Zak, so I'm ready if you need me."<br />
"Sure, that'd be great."<br />
<br />
It was never completely established between Kevin and myself whether or not I would be pacing. Kevin was to pick up Zak at Camp 10 Bear, and hopefully take him 30 miles to the finish. But, since Kevin's life had been unrealistically busy of late, he hadn't been able to train as much as he would have liked. If he was faltering, I was prepared to jump in. So, now I was definitely pacing. But, before that, I needed to get to Spirit of 76 to meet Joe with his lights. I had crew duties again!<br />
<br />
Navigating from aid station to aid station at the Vermont 100 is difficult. It's not impossible, but it's tricky. Kevin had done a terrific job of reading the directions to me early, and all went smoothly. Now, I was on my own. With the logistics of shuttling people around after Zak dropped, I'd seen a little more of the course, so I was becoming more familiar with the roads, but n<span style="background-color: white;">avigating the Vermont 100 solo is hilarious. It was me, the direction sheet, the Vermont gazetteer and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GA8th9vUA48">Smashing Pumpkins</a>—cranked. So much for the quiet countryside.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
With my second Red Bull in hand, I was thrilled to arrive at Spirit of 76 before Jeremy and Ian. I really wanted to keep helping them, even just by offering encouragement, as long as I could. My presence was fairly inconsequential as their crews and pacers had it covered, but I was there as an extra set of hands and for a snarky comment or two. I barely remember Jeremy's stop, as he and David were in and out. Of course, Jeremy put down 4,000 calories in that time. He basically ate his way through 100 miles. As he left, I knew his buckle was in the bag as he was right around 21-hour pace and looking incredibly strong. Plus, I knew David would push him if need be.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0M6V9jG6A7Bm4gSO4PPhd9V-HEUpMLFKT2fQeBGTYFXJ9sCUlhNrQoobDC8SVAPQAJPWMchHJDaePXbgUeZVQGJ0185FQ6XAy3mlgFeI_sJrcGoHm7BvKPoIuBX8FtpKeWzVCtWtDTgg/s1600/IMG_1316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0M6V9jG6A7Bm4gSO4PPhd9V-HEUpMLFKT2fQeBGTYFXJ9sCUlhNrQoobDC8SVAPQAJPWMchHJDaePXbgUeZVQGJ0185FQ6XAy3mlgFeI_sJrcGoHm7BvKPoIuBX8FtpKeWzVCtWtDTgg/s320/IMG_1316.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeremy and David leaving the Spirit of 76.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white;">Ian arrived about 30 minutes later in fantastic spirits. It was clear that picking up Emma had done wonders for him. They're an amazing team, and while his quads were shot, I knew he was also going to buckle. His mom applied a generous amount of muscle rub to his legs, Emma popped a blister, he changed his shirt and off they went. It was a bit of a tiptoe out of the aid station due to his feet and quads, but it was done with a smile and positivity. I couldn't have been more impressed with my teammates.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctJLhbCFmwrw-kS7ZEXqFu02bzSYCZbt-d6bEqmYHG_atysZYThOvHNTHADhqEzkOFBhWy_jqNhGuJwMSJ4FpRUcz-nc9f7pESQ3kFbjR9XbDAexMbgXdttTTNiOer5o7sH6tX5Su5Lw/s1600/IMG_1318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctJLhbCFmwrw-kS7ZEXqFu02bzSYCZbt-d6bEqmYHG_atysZYThOvHNTHADhqEzkOFBhWy_jqNhGuJwMSJ4FpRUcz-nc9f7pESQ3kFbjR9XbDAexMbgXdttTTNiOer5o7sH6tX5Su5Lw/s320/IMG_1318.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pit stop and the HUSKY!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white;">The crews packed up and headed for the next stop, while I waited for Joe. Compared to Alison's wagon and the Parlins' Husky, I felt a bit silly waiting for Joe with nothing but his drop bag from Camp 10 Bear. All it contained was a long sleeve shirt, a small ziplock bag with a couple gels and a Clif bar and his hydration pack stuffed only with his lights and a lightweight jacket. Let's call this approach minimalist. While staring down the hill cheering for each runner that trudged into the Spirit of 76, I found myself standing near a runner seated in a chair, his pacer and his crew—his mother and wife/sister/friend (not sure which). While slowly sipping his soup, he looked at his pacer and said, "I think I'm gonna call it." He looked fine. A bit tired, but he should after completing 77.4 miles. Each member of his team cajoled him to press on, and when they were done I looked at him and said, "I don't know you, but there's a buckle waiting for you, so get your ass out of that chair." A few moments later he was on his way. I'd see him a number of hours later at the finish, hobbling with a smile on his face. He'd finished in under 24 hours, and I told him I was really glad he got his ass out of that chair. He said he was to. Sometimes, you have to be reminded that you believe.</span><br />
<br />
Joe arrived like clockwork at 8:00pm—exactly when I expected him. He looked strong and had closed the gap on Ian. I was certain he was going to catch him. He was talking about sub-22 or better as I slipped his pack on him. He was soon going to need those lights. We walked to the aid station table, and he ate a few items, including a hot cup of ramen noodles. It was an efficient and great stop, and I sent him off down the trail with our spirits high. He was running so well. I couldn't wait to start pacing him in 11 miles, as I knew he was going to kill it. Then again, a lot can happen in 100 miles.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQygCnPOamykYL43DMxU3fkYz81dJh2VJCaZYPdIN4iwUPKeTq2WOcw3BuPMCBRdHr2AgH9BPBsoNthasl_fy460XuR43t3WYPoGw-NqCzinsiNUBUTdaEniu9FPJYcYGtx3cg35zUjg/s1600/IMG_1320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQygCnPOamykYL43DMxU3fkYz81dJh2VJCaZYPdIN4iwUPKeTq2WOcw3BuPMCBRdHr2AgH9BPBsoNthasl_fy460XuR43t3WYPoGw-NqCzinsiNUBUTdaEniu9FPJYcYGtx3cg35zUjg/s320/IMG_1320.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun begins to set over the Vermont 100.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white;">The one trick about pacing Joe was the logistics involving my car. Sure, I could drive around and crew, but I would need to leave it someplace while pacing. I had spoken with Zak before they left, and he had decided to come out and cheer on the guys. It showed a lot of heart and class for him to do this, since I knew that the last place he wanted to be was anywhere near the Vermont 100 course. But, he knew that he'd be able to give the guys a boost by coming out. I really admire him for doing that. It also helped me a great deal because it meant that someone could drive my car back to the finish from Bill's—the aid station at which I would start pacing Joe. Even ultracrews need to be flexible, but this was a decent plan. However, as I was driving away from Spirit of 76 (and decent cell coverage) and past the road to Silver Hill Meadow, I thought of a better plan. Zak & crew could meet me at Silver Hill Meadow and drive me to Bill's. This way, they wouldn't have to return to Silver Hill Meadow just to shuttle my car, and my car with all my clothes would be waiting for me at the finish. Unfortunately, I didn't know where they were in transit as they had hoped to be at Bill's by 9:00pm. And, without good/any cell coverage, I couldn't relay my genius plan. So, I kept driving towards Bill's until I had coverage, which was 10+ minutes past Silver Hill Meadow. When I finally connected with them, they were headed down the highway, so they could meet me at Silver Hill Meadow. Off I went back the way I came at a rapid pace with more </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQT1G3pistc" style="background-color: white;">Pumpkins</a><span style="background-color: white;">. I quickly had to shift from crew mode to pacer mode, which also meant a change of clothes—my first since 30 hours prior. They arrived moments after I did, so I had to hustle. And, amazingly, I remembered everything that Joe and I would need.</span><br />
<br />
It was dark as we made our way to Bill's, mile 88.6. Now, the roles were reversed with Kevin driving and me navigating. Despite the directions making the navigation sound tricky, we made it to Bill's without issue. Although, I'm not certain I could have done it that smoothly solo. Upon arriving, I moved quickly down to the barn that houses the aid station, but before I got there I came upon Alison and Mindy. We had just missed Jeremy and David. I was too slow changing at Silver Hill Meadow, and I felt really awful that Zak had hobbled down the hill with ice wrapped around his knee and missed him. He could still see him at Polly's at mile 95.9, which they did end up doing. They were able to see Ian and Emma come in, however, so the trip wasn't a total bust.<br />
<br />
Bill's is a crazy, crazy place. The aid station is actually inside a barn. Runners come down the road, down a small incline, onto the scale for a med check, over to the picnic tables for sustenance and back out again. It seems simple enough, but then you realize that these people have just run more than 88 miles. It's a place full of skinny zombies, thousand yard stares, headlamp blindness and shivering crews. Thankfully, everyone is moving slowly enough that people don't crash into each other too hard. Although, while I was there, one runner vomited, passed out and hit his head on the concrete floor of the barn. I'll never forget that sound. Ultrarunning is fun.<br />
<br />
Ian and Emma arrived shortly after 10:00, once again with spirits high. Ian was in a terrific mood, even though his quads were not. I snapped off his light and waist pack, so he could hop on the scale. His weight was fine, and he plopped down at a picnic table. His mom applied more muscle rub to his ailing quads while I resnapped his waist pack on. Needless to say, that position put me a little too close to the muscle rub, and if my third Red Bull hadn't woken me up that full assault on my nostrils certainly did. After a few minutes, they were off. He had a buckle to get, and Emma was going to push him to the finish.<br />
<br />
It was time to wait for Joe, and Ian's father, Bob, was nice enough to hang out with me for a while. Based on how he looked at Spirit of 76, I was surprised that he hadn't come in ahead of Ian, and I was more surprised when at 10:45, he still hadn't appeared. Bob had to get up the road so as not to miss Ian at Polly's, so I thanked him for waiting with me and keeping me company. It was a little unsettling being left alone with the zombies. 11:00pm. No Joe. 11:15pm. No Joe. Then finally, I recognized the headlamp that was bobbing down the road. He'd made it.<br />
<br />
"How ya doin', buddy."<br />
"Not good. Really bad. My stomach."<br />
<br />
Joe put on a great poker face at the aid station. He was calm and cool on the scale and while talking with the med staff. Knowing his stomach wasn't great, I didn't push any food on him, but I did recommend some watermelon and ginger ale. He had both, and shortly before 11:30pm, we walked out of the barn.<br />
<br />
Here's what Joe didn't know: I had never paced anyone before. I had averaged about 10 miles per week for the last 6 weeks. The last time I ran 11 miles was more than 6 weeks ago, and my right Achilles blew up on that run. I have probably run a total of 30 miles at night in my entire life. In short, I was not the model pacer. All I knew was that I was going to do everything I could to help Joe to the finish. I really just hoped that he wouldn't drop me.<br />
<br />
Once we were out of the light and earshot of Bill's, Joe said, "We're going to have to walk for a while." It became quite clear very quickly that running really upset his stomach. We did chat a bit, but he was feeling generally horrible. We reached a wide open field with a beautiful look at the starry sky. I shut off my headlamp and took it in, but I don't think Joe was able to enjoy it. The field sloped downhill and got progressively steeper. Joe was also feeling worse and worse. He was dizzy and at one point, I thought he was going to hit the deck. He stayed upright, and we reached the end of the field to begin the never ending climbing on dirt roads. We climbed 500+ feet in the next mile, and it was nothing but hiking. Slow, slow hiking. A downhill mile ticked by in 17:30, followed by a 20:50 uphill mile. And, it felt like he was slowing. He voiced what I was thinking: at this rate, 24 hours was in doubt.<br />
<br />
It took us more than an hour to reach Keating's at mile 92.4, and Joe hadn't said much for the last 20 minutes. He was also breathing much heavier than the pace would dictate. Frankly, I was stunned he hadn't vomited yet. At Keating's, I mentioned to the volunteers that it would be best if they didn't mention food. Joe leaned on the tent post sipping a ginger ale while I filled his water bottle. I forced him to take another cup of ginger ale before we left.<br />
<br />
"But, then I have to deal with the cup."<br />
"I carry it. That's how we deal with it."<br />
<br />
He was reluctant, but off we went. A few strides down the road, he realized he wasn't carrying his water bottle. Fearful he forgot it, he stopped, but I assured him that I was still carrying it. His hands were full: cup of ginger ale in one, flashlight in the other. He was perplexed. And, then came the exchange that sums up Joe.<br />
<br />
"It's OK. Drink your ginger ale. I've got it."<br />
"No, you're not supposed to mule at any time."<br />
<br />
There we were alone on a dirt road in the dark, him feeling like complete and utter shit, and he was worried about breaking the rules. Or even the spirit of the rule. I handed him his bottle. He took a final swig of ginger ale, and I swiped the cup from him as he was looking for a place to put it. We moved forward in silence, and I knew at that point that we would get to the finish. I didn't know how, and I didn't know when. I just knew that he was far too strong to not get there. I was just along for the ride.<br />
<br />
We moved along in silence for a while, only broken by me pointing out a turn or to offer a bit of encouragement. He actually apologized at one point for being quiet. I knew that speaking was making him sicker. He said, "I just need to concentrate." And, focus he did. The glow sticks marking the trail became our goals. He'd see a glow stick, and he'd run to it. Then stop. He'd see another one and run to it. Now, I'm using the word "run" here liberally as he was really barely shuffling. Yet, it was obvious to me that he wasn't shuffling because of his legs, but because of his stomach. I felt terrible for him because it was unfair that his stomach would betray him, when his legs were still strong with Western States only a few short weeks behind him. Then, suddenly, it happened.<br />
<br />
We went through a short section with some high grass and around a gate around mile 94. The trail pitched upward on some doubletrack. We started hiking. Then, he started hiking faster. Then faster and faster. He kept shifting gears, moving better and better until we reached the top. Then, we started running. The trail was a bit technical, but he moved over the roots and rocks with ease. We were now passing people. Something we hadn't done since Bill's. I encouraged him as we moved along, and I could feel a real rally coming on. He still wasn't speaking, but he was moving. That was just fine with me.<br />
<br />
We reached the end of the trail and turned left onto an uphill dirt road. He stopped running. I was stunned and deflated. He'd been moving so well, but the roads were killing him. I think that mentally he couldn't handle any more roads. I didn't let him know how I was feeling, but as soon as the road flattened I suggested we pick off that next glow stick. He started running. And running well. Something had clearly changed. I knew his stomach was still terrible. I'd glance at him every now and then, and he was green. Really green. He was sick. Sick, but moving forward. His running pace was solid, though, and he even started passing glow sticks without stopping. He wasn't quite alive, but the buckle was back in play.<br />
<br />
The lights of Polly's at mile 95.9 were a welcome sight. For my part, I was hungry. With Joe being so nauseous, I didn't want to eat near him. I snuck a couple gels while stopping for pee breaks, but I'd had nothing else in almost two hours of running. You know, running that started at 11:30pm after being awake for 21.5 hours. So, yah, hungry. I downed a whole PBJ, a cup of soup and finally a Honey Stinger waffle, as we headed down the road. At the aid station, I knew the drill: fill his bottle with ice and then water. I pointed to the watermelon and he ate 2 or 3 small pieces. But, really, my job at the aid station was to keep him upright. He was wobbly and unstable, but he once again checked in with composure. After only a few seconds, we were gone. No sense hanging around with 4 miles to go. Plus, some of the Bill's zombies had made their way to Polly's, and I didn't think it was a good idea to have that visual around Joe.<br />
<br />
About a hundred yards down the road from Polly's we missed a turn. Bad pacing on my part. I was following another runner/pacer duo and a car down the road. I wasn't looking for the yellow paper plates and glow sticks that pointed us to the left. We only went a few extra feet, but it was downhill. We had to climb back up. Big momentum loss. I felt terrible. Luckily, Joe couldn't speak to cuss me out. It worked out OK, though, because we took the opportunity to stop and change out Joe's fading headlamp. But, then again, looking back, maybe it was the perfect mistake. Joe took off. It was time to get this sucker done.<br />
<br />
I will never forget what I witnessed over the next 4 miles. Joe was a machine. We passed dozens of people. Joe was back from the dead and cranking. He still wasn't speaking, but he didn't need to. My role had now changed. First, each time we passed someone, I had to say to them, "Good job!" And, second, I needed to run between Joe and the ditch on the side of the road. Although wobbly, he was running so well, and there was no way I was going to lose him in a ditch now.<span style="background-color: white;"> Mile 97 ticked off. I looked at my Garmin: 10:34! I told Joe the split, and he kept running. Downhill, flat and even uphill. He ran it all. I can't do justice to his rally in this blog post. It was beyond impressive. I wanted to jump up and down, yell and scream, slap him on the back, high five. I didn't do any of that. I offered quiet encouragement, but I was exploding inside. I was so happy for him. The buckle was his his. Two sub-24 hour 100 mile finishes in month!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">We passed the final, unmanned aid station at mile 98 and turned onto some trail. Joe said, "I remember this." He was speaking again. Moments later, he was chatting. Then, he was yelling, cursing at the trail, singing the Clash and laughing. It was awesome. We passed the one mile to go sign. We passed the giant congratulations sign. We started passing the "toxic waste" jugs (green glow sticks in the water). Then, we saw the finish line. I dropped back to let Joe cross the line. 22 hours and 14 minutes! He'd done it. I walked up to him and gave him a huge hug. We laughed and cried. Then, in the happiest of voices, we said in unison, "Let's go to the medical tent!"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAPfp4yIJEFyXHNrR_vrxyL15z9TnBUpggpZUlDr6FErNJMsoQJPGzPy2lv_Xt0y3YcPbES1SAi2o_uGOa6nGSauEOUHJrjxQTgrRDc4CwXUMMvrg0WHFTWBmGXdYG5g2pJgNizgU74s/s1600/IMG_1321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAPfp4yIJEFyXHNrR_vrxyL15z9TnBUpggpZUlDr6FErNJMsoQJPGzPy2lv_Xt0y3YcPbES1SAi2o_uGOa6nGSauEOUHJrjxQTgrRDc4CwXUMMvrg0WHFTWBmGXdYG5g2pJgNizgU74s/s320/IMG_1321.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home sweet home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white;">I won't go into all the details of our time in the medical tent, but as it would turn out, I wouldn't head out of there until about 6:15am—four hours later. I will say this: Paula, wherever you are—thank you. She was amazing. She delivered the perfect balance of caring and tough love. I was planning to stay awake just in case Joe needed anything else, but once he fell asleep/passed out around 4:00am, she threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't also get some shuteye. I felt bad about taking a cot from a runner. After all, I'd only run 11 miles, but Paula insisted. I did go to Joe's tent to get his sleeping bag. (I'd already been there to get his clothes. Finding his tent in the dark, when I'd never laid eyes on it before was an interesting task.) As I half-heartedly laid down on the cot next to Joe's, Paula came over and wrapped me up and basically told me, "Sleep or else." I did manage to get about a half hour sleep despite the French-Canadian crew looking over their snoozing runner by drinking beer and talking loudly to a woman who had finished the 100 who was enthralled by her own awesomeness and wasn't nearly as hot as she thought she was.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Joe woke up about 5:30am, and we wandered over to the food table. Joe was hungry, which as a great sign. As he ate we recounted the events of the previous hours, and his stomach issues came into focus. The soup at Spirit of 76 was the culprit. Joe is a vegetarian, and he and I both mistakenly assumed that the ramen he ate was vegetarian. It was not. The chicken stock combined with the effort of running 77 had ravaged his stomach. He said he started to feel bad less than a mile after the aid station and had considered dropping at Cow Shed at mile 83.4. I felt a little guilty as I'd mentioned that the soup was an option at the aid station. He was back among the living now, and I felt comfortable enough to be released of my pacing duties. I had no idea they would extend well beyond the finish line, but I was glad he was feeling better. He looked like hell propped up in a chair in his hooded jacket with a blanket wrapped around him, but he was alive. Then again, I probably didn't look much better.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I headed for my car and my plan was to head back to the house for a nap before returning for the awards ceremony. My tent was still set up on the lawn, so I wouldn't disturb the rest of the crew who was no doubt snoring comfortably. I plopped down in the front seat and paused to collect myself. I was hungry, so I pounded a Larabar and some watermelon. I started the car and headed in the only direction that seemed appropriate: back into the fray to meet George at Polly's.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I hadn't seen George since 24 hours earlier in Woodstock. I wasn't even certain which side of Polly's he was on. If he was having a great race, he'd already be gone. If he wasn't, I'd hopefully be able to give him a boost. Shifting gears once again, I switched from pacer to cheerleader and tore off down the road wishing I had some coffee, knowing that the half hour nap was going to be all the sleep I would get for the weekend. Open windows and <a href="http://youtu.be/Ljr41LTpCUg">Thievery Corporation</a> would have to do.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Arriving at Polly's was surreal. I'd been there a few hours prior, but I barely recognized it now bathed in early morning light. I parked and went to the volunteers at the aid table to see if George had passed through yet. I was pleased to hear that George had not yet come through, yet at the same time, I hoped that he hadn't dropped (they didn't have that information) and that his day was going well. I had until 8:40am to find out as that was the time that the aid station closed, and no runners would be allowed to continue after that point. I grabbed a few vittles from the car and laid down in the grass. The sun rejuvenated me as I waited and watched the back of the pack come through. The cutoff for the Vermont 100 is 30 hours, and each of the people now passing through needed to be aware of that number.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I wasn't worried about George's well-being, since <a href="http://perpetualmotion-vja.blogspot.com/">Val</a> was pacing him. I can't think of a better pacer in any capacity. George's spirit alone could carry him, but with Val on board, I knew he could do anything. Of course, waiting is still tough to do. But, a few minutes before 8:00am, I saw George and Val headed towards the aid station. I walked out to meet them to Val yelling, "DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!" At first, I thought she was kidding, but as I approached, I realized she was dead serious. In fact, George held out his hand to shake mine, and I thought Val was going to kill me. George's neck was shot. He couldn't move his head, and he could barely lift his arms. It had been like that for 50 miles. You'd never it know if from his smile, however. Seriously, he'd barely been able to move for 46 miles, but he was all smiles and laughs as he made his way down the road. He's amazing. He had two hours to finish under the cutoff, and I knew he'd get there. I grabbed Val's hydration pack and filled it with water as they continued. When I caught back up to them, George chatted me up for so long, I was a good ways down the road from the aid station. I think he wanted me to come the rest of the way with them. I bid them farewell and ran back up to my car as my most important crew duty of the weekend was up next.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I drove back to Silver Hill Meadow and made my way to the finish line. It took me a minute, but I found her just as I knew I would: sitting in her chair facing the finish line. I told Ann, George's wife, that I had seen George. His neck hurt, but he was moving. He was going to make it under the 30-hour cutoff. I gave her a hug, and felt like the weekend had come full circle. George, holding hands with Val, arrived at the the finish shortly after 9:15am. The race for the Trail Monsters was over.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HHGqNtAH8dfo-UOe-Qs1MGWLeYb5mZVIY86wSpyj2Io59F_RaBXyeyCbFd2YYz8L-bZzFCYyWIWGhOZG5MiBJerRh1sZQAoNz1Mt5W1IXiQceE961FhCdSWAJuO3pg1GXnpsYF0anWs/s1600/IMG_1325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HHGqNtAH8dfo-UOe-Qs1MGWLeYb5mZVIY86wSpyj2Io59F_RaBXyeyCbFd2YYz8L-bZzFCYyWIWGhOZG5MiBJerRh1sZQAoNz1Mt5W1IXiQceE961FhCdSWAJuO3pg1GXnpsYF0anWs/s320/IMG_1325.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George and Ann at the finish.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white;">Here are the final numbers:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Jeremy Bonnett - 20:05:07, 34th</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">gIANt Parlin - 21:03:47, 48th</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Joe Wrobleski - 22:14:36, 70th</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">George Alexion - 29:24:41, 212th</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Zak Wieluns - DNF</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">306 starters / 218 finishers</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I snuck away to get some breakfast but returned for the awards and barbecue. A lot of hobbling figures around that tent, but they were hobbling with pride. It was great to see the three guys get there buckles, but it was just as hard to see Zak sit there without his and ice on his knee. I know he'll be back some year and get that buckle. Personally, I don't think he needs it to validate his badassery, but I know he feels like he has a score to settle.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">For my part, the Vermont 100 was an unforgettable experience. Perhaps most surprisingly of all, even with all the energy, I didn't come away feeling an overwhelming urge to run 100 miles. Watching everyone go through their races, I know I'm not ready for that challenge both physically and mentally. Not even close. Prior to <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2011/12/lookout-mountain-50-mile-race-report.html">Lookout Mountain</a>, I put myself on the wait list. I was number 23. I would have certainly gotten in. I'm really glad I couldn't run. I'm not ready, and I won't be ready next year. The 100k is intriguing, however...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-74958003977783037742012-06-20T12:01:00.001-04:002012-06-20T12:01:09.610-04:00All DoneThat's all she wrote.<br />
<br />
After taking 3 days off with tightness in my right Achilles, I did a short, easy 3-mile test run. It no longer hurt, but it was still a bit twingy. I decided to take more time off. It felt much better throughout the week, and after an additional 5 days off, replete with icing and ibuprofen, I went for another 3-mile test run on Sunday. My right Achilles felt basically fine, but towards the end of the run, my other Achilles/calf tightened dramatically. I limped in the last few strides and was completely hobbled the rest of the day/night. I woke up the next morning limping, and I knew it was a strain.<br />
<br />
Another injury means more time off, more rehab, more...more...more...<br />
I'm done. I don't have the mental energy for another stint of rehab. Running is supposed to be fun. It's not anymore. No more training. No more goal races. It's just not enjoyable this way.<br />
<br />
I'll probably run here and there. I'll still show up at the <a href="http://http//trailmonsterrunning.com/bradburydirt">summer Bradbury races</a>. I'll still direct the <a href="http://www.trailmonsterrunning/bradburysnow">snowshoe series</a>. I'll still consider myself a runner. But, I'm not training. It's just not worth it.<br />
<br />
And, with no more training. No more training posts.<br />
I'm done.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-53091079354796190732012-06-09T13:54:00.003-04:002012-06-09T13:54:45.078-04:00Training 6/3 - 6/9The week started out strong, but ended with a setback. My right Achilles really tightened up on me at the end of my run on Thursday. (IT-band trouble was in the other leg.) With my main focus more than 4 months away, I'm being extremely cautious and shutting things down until I'm 100% pain-free. Not sure if it's a case of "too much too soon", the change in stride or a combination of the two. Either way, it's a bit annoying, and I'm hopeful it won't escalate beyond that. Icing as I type.<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers...<br />
<br />
6/3, Sunday: 9 - 1:06:27, Bike Path. Looking for a moderate effort with a dose of speed, after the first two miles, I added a 2:00 pick up at each mile. Opening mile was 7:57, but then averaged 7:23 for the duration of the run. It's all downhill from my house to the Bike Path, which means you-know-what on the way back. Admittedly, this was a bit harder than I had hoped, but definitely a workout I'd like to repeat. Due to the rain and wind, I had the Bike Path to myself, which never happens, and I was probably the last person out there before it flooded.<br />
<br />
6/4, Monday: 7 - 1:09:37, 14x Mt. Ararat. Considerably slower than <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2012/06/training-527-62.html">last week</a>, but that was dictated by the conditions more than my condition. It was raining heavily, and the downhill sections were extremely muddy and slippery. I only ran the "backside" twice since the bog bridges were green ice and the mud was over my ankles in many places—not really conducive to a steady pace. After Sunday's effort, I thought I'd be a little more off as I was creaky at first, but once I got moving I felt pretty decent. I nearly called it at about 4 miles as another downpour had me borderline hypothermic. Thankfully, the rain stopped or diminish to a heavy mist, and I was able to complete the workout.<br />
<br />
6/5, Tuesday: 6.75 - 55:16, Back Cove & Eastern Prom + 5x 100 strides. Due to the aforementioned rain, we moved the TMR TNR from Twin Brook to keep from trashing those trails. Good, easy run with a smallish group, including Ian, Jeff, Zak, Nathan & Sara. Well, it was mostly easy except for when the damn ultrarunners had to run up and down every little hill. "Oh look! Steps!" Strides felt great post-run, and I was in the car just as it started pouring.<br />
<br />
6/6, Wednesday: Off. Did a new/revised/augmented core workout. It is the devil.<br />
<br />
6/7, Thursday: 10.75 - 1:41:12, Head of Tide Park/Cathance Trails. Somewhat random out and back, but I wanted to see the effects of the rain on some notable sections of the Cathance River. I was able to check out the famed Cathance & Pancakes stream crossing, and it was uncrossable. Right now, we'd need to use <a href="http://mainerunner.blogspot.com/">Jamie</a> as a raft and <a href="http://runefficient.blogspot.com/">Jeremy</a> as the paddle. I felt like garbage right out of the gate, and nearly bagged the entire run at 1.5 miles. Held it together, and actually got rolling pretty comfortably later on. Took my time on this one with decent breaks to check out the falls at Head of Tide and the narrows at Barnes Leap. Crazy amount of water. I was even wading in a couple spots. At about 7 miles, I could feel my right Achilles start barking. It hurt mainly on the downhills. Stretched it as best I could and iced it that evening.<br />
<br />
6/8, Friday: Off. Achilles didn't feel right.<br />
<br />
6/9, Saturday: Off. Achilles still twingy, so another zero.<br />
<br />
Total: 33.5<br />
Trail: 24.5<br />
Road: 9<br />
<br />
Good start. Bad finish.<br />
<br />
Of note: I'm hungry. I can really tell the training volume has bumped up, as I'm eating non-stop. Friday, in particular, was out of control: I ate two lunches, snacked until dinner, and ate more after dinner. Hopefully, all those extra calories will go straight to my Achilles.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-31872332337380500792012-06-02T14:26:00.000-04:002012-06-02T14:26:08.961-04:00Training 5/27 - 6/2<i>(Please note the omission of "Log" in the post title. It's gettin' all kinds of serious up in here.)</i><br />
Mileage was actually down this week, but the quality was way up. Only reason for the drop was an extra day off that, at this stage of the game, seemed prudent. I need to focus on building not setting myself back. Additionally, this was a bit of a "race penance" week, as I felt I needed to atone for my <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2012/05/training-log-520-526.html">horrible (mental) performance at Pineland</a>.<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers...<br />
<br />
5/27, Sunday: Off. It was really hard to not get a run in today, but it would have been tricky. I was at <a href="http://www.pinelandtrails.com/">Pineland</a> for a little over 12 hours, starting at 4:45am, volunteering at registration and cheering on my fellow <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/">Trail Monsters</a> and others. Many, many impressive performances out there, especially those running their first ultras. I feel both honored and lucky to be part of a group with such tremendous heart and determination. Plus, aside from the actual running, Pineland is the best event of the year. By the time I got home, I was pretty beat and entertained the thought of running but decided to eat and hang out with the kiddo instead—two of my favorite activities.<br />
<br />
5/28, Monday: 7 - 1:06:23, 14x Mt. Ararat. With the horrible taste still in my mouth from Saturday, I needed to prove to myself that I could actually run up and down hills. So, what better way to do that than tackle my favorite little bump: Mt. Ararat? Pushed myself to 14 summits and called it a day. Not only good to get back to this run after a long hiatus, but also good to put out that kind of effort, as my pace was only about 20 seconds slower per mile than when I'm fit.<br />
<br />
5/29, Tuesday: 8 - 54:57, Meadow Cross. I wanted to follow up the hills with some speed to further cleanse myself of the Pineland fiasco. I was not disappointed with my effort. Even with a 7:18 opening mile, I averaged 6:52 for the entire loop. And, this loop isn't flat. I pushed the entire way, which was what I needed. In time, this pace should (and will) feel easy, but I wanted to see how close to (projected) marathon pace I could get. Throw in the fact that it was windy and raining, including some crazy downpours, thunder & lightning and a wee bit of hail, and I call this a good effort. Much work to be done, but this was a solid start. Of note: this was the first run post-injury in my <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/Racer-ST-5/1000181D810.130,default,pd.html?start=15&cgid=mens-runningshoes-competition">Racer ST 5's</a>. I think these may end up becoming my full time road running shoe. They felt so much less clunky/heavy than my <a href="http://www.brooksrunning.com/Ravenna-2/1100891D315.140,default,pd.html?start=3&q=ravenna%202">Ravennas</a>. Plus, I don't think it's possible to run slower than a 7:59 mile in them. I love everything about them.<br />
<br />
5/30, Wednesday: 5 - 40:02, Highland Green. Sluggish. Possible causes: A.) Monday; B.) Tuesday; C.) Monday & Tuesday; D.) Playing 9 holes of golf in the morning in Massachusetts with my father and father-in-law; or E.) All of the above.<br />
<br />
5/31, Thursday: 11 - 1:44:07, Cathance Trails. Not the perkiest of runs, but a good effort nonetheless. The heat was definitely a factor as it was in the high 70's by the time I finished, and I'm just not accustomed to either that or the technical trails enough quite yet. Also, I was a bit thrown off by not being able to complete the loop I hoped, as I started with a 1.5 mile out and back at the beginning of the run due to an equipment malfunction.<br />
<br />
In the late fall, I won a single bottle waist pack in a raffle from the awesome dudes at <a href="http://ultrarunnerpodcast.com/">Ultrarunner Podcast</a>. The prize was a <a href="http://www.ultimatedirection.com/p-550-access-airflow.aspx?category=waist-packs">Ultimate Direction Access Airflow</a>, which I was pretty stoked to score, as it looked awesome and I don't have a single bottle waist pack. Plus, I hadn't been healthy enough to go on a run to actually need to carry anything in quite some time. Unfortunately, the belt was a complete bust. About a quarter mile in, the bottle fell out. I could easily see that this was operator error as I hadn't put the elastic cord around the bottle to secure it. No big deal, and off I went. About a mile into the run, I decided to take my first drink. As I pulled the elastic cord off to remove the bottle, I heard a pop. The elastic cord popped right out at one end leaving it dangling and useless. I figured I could manage for the run, but over the course of the next half mile or so, I had to keep pushing the bottle back into the holster every few yards. There was no way I was going to put up with that for another hour and a half, so I turned around, carried the bottle in my hand and headed home. I swapped it out for trusty <a href="http://www.nathansports.com/our-products/hydrationnutrition/handhelds/quickdraw-elite">Nathan handheld</a>. Worth noting: The bottle that came with the pack has a really odd spout that was a bit hard to drink from. Perhaps I would have gotten used to it, but it's hard to know, since the pack only lasted a mile. Needless to say, I recommend avoiding this product.<br />
<br />
So, back to the actual run, I never really got into a good groove for whatever reason: pack, heat, previous days' runs, but I still put in a decent effort. At about halfway, I dunked my head in the river, which was a welcomed relief. Regardless, it's always great to be out on these trails, and we're very fortunate to have them so close to home.<br />
<br />
6/1, Friday: Off. I definitely could have gotten out this day, but, as I mentioned, I don't want to overdo it. They'll be plenty of time to bury myself later on.<br />
<br />
6/2, Saturday: 5 - 40:41, Highland Green + 5x100 strides. Woke up with a splitting headache (I've been battling my allergies for a couple weeks), so I wasn't thrilled to have to put in an early morning run. But, I was on kiddo duty all day, since D had to work, so that's what it had to be. Plan was to take it nice and easy to see if the rest day had helped. Not only did I feel great and fully recovered, but the run also cleared my headache. Good stuff. Also, for the first time in forever, I added some strides post-run. I really need to work on both my form and my speed, so I'm going to start doing strides a couple times a week. They felt great. Going fast is fun. Plus, the midfoot strike felt great, and I feel like these will really help finalize the transition. All good news.<br />
<br />
Total: 36<br />
Trail: 18<br />
Road: 18<br />
<br />
Very happy with the week, and I feel like I've exorcised the Pineland demons...at least for this year. Going to keep building and mixing up the type of runs moving forward. I'm feeling good enough to seriously think about training now. I feel like the injury is behind me. And, as I get more and more comfortable with the change in form—I'm already feeling far more efficient—I know that I'll only feel stronger and smoother. Throw in one black toenail, a couple blisters and some chaffing, and I really feel like a runner again.<br />
<br />
<b>Official Announcement:</b> Goal race for the year is the <a href="http://www.baystatemarathon.com/">Baystate Marathon</a>. Really going to get after it and more on my reasons for choosing this race at another time. My finishing time will start with a "2". Mark it down.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-50931123102557636092012-05-29T21:16:00.001-04:002012-05-29T21:16:21.501-04:00Training Log 5/20 - 5/26Much better overall week. Zero pain and very little tightness. (Well, for me, anyway.) More importantly, I felt comfortable running, which was a big boost both physically and mentally. Things are definitely coming around...well, until I got to Pineland...<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers...<br />
<br />
5/20, Sunday: 5 - 40:05, Highland Green. Felt oddly sluggish, perhaps the body didn't like taking the previous day off.<br />
<br />
5/21, Monday: 10.5 - 1:30:20, Topsham ATV Trails + 3x Mt. Ararat. Great to be back out on some trails I hadn't seen in months. Miles clicked away pretty easily. I knew based on the loop I was on that I would need to add a bit to get the 10 miles I wanted, so I decided that I might as well run a couple laps of Mt. Ararat. Tough choice, but I'm glad I added that challenge at the end of the run. Good stuff.<br />
<br />
5/22, Tuesday: 5.5 - 45:59, TMR TNR @ Twin Brook. My first TNR since January 3. That's way too long. Aside from Tom pushing the pace the whole way, it was great to be back in with the team. My legs were a bit draggy from the bay before, so I was glad the sprint lines never materialized.<br />
<br />
5/23, Wednesday: Off<br />
<br />
5/24, Thursday: 5 - 37:54, Highland Green. Proving that I have no idea how to train, this run turned into a lame progression run. I thought it wouldn't hurt to do something a little up tempo, but not too hard as to blow myself out for Saturday's race. I felt great, but running only moderately faster probably didn't really do anything.<br />
<br />
5/25, Friday: 5 - 42:30, Homeplace. Another "classic" from our house that I hadn't done in months. Just a mellow trail run on a humid day.<br />
<br />
5/26, Saturday: 8 total. <a href="http://www.pinelandtrails.com/">Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival</a> 10k - 49:51, 41/302. This race couldn't have gone any worse. It was embarrassing. Basically, I went out at a pace that was perfect, if I'm in shape. I know my fitness is poor, but I wanted to see how much I could push. Basically, it started to hurt at about 2 miles, and I just gave up. I pathetically jogged the rest of way while the entire field passed me. I wanted to drop because I was embarrassed to run through the finishing chute and be seen by so many people. I didn't drop, but it was tempting. I'm not upset about the time or place. I'm upset about the effort. I didn't give any. Utterly disappointing. If the time and place we're the same but I'd given 100%, I'd be fine with it. Not sure what happened aside from another bad racing experience at Pineland, which is sad because the event is awesome. Let us never speak of it again.<br />
<br />
Total: 39<br />
Trail: 29<br />
Road: 10<br />
<br />
Aside from the disaster at Pineland, it was a good building week. I'm definitely on my way to being a runner again. And, it was entirely by accident that the trail mileage dramatically outpaced the road mileage. But, I'm certainly not complaining. Looking to continue to build.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-30826077466785156672012-05-21T21:23:00.000-04:002012-05-21T21:23:54.831-04:00Training Log 5/13 - 5/19Fairly lackluster week. Yes, I'm grateful to be running at all. (Thanks, <a href="http://www.raymondchiropractic.com/">Jamie</a>!!!) However, the miles aren't coming easily. At my best, I've felt ok, but mostly I've felt off and sluggish. My fitness is just poor. It should be after taking 4 months off, and rationally, I understand it. But, while I'm running, it's frustrating. I am hoping it will turn around soon.<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers...<br />
<br />
5/13, Sunday: 5 - 39:48, Highland Green. I came very, very close to a zero here, but after the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.com/category/race-report">impressive performances of my Trail Monster Running teammates at the Peak 50 & 100 and the Massanutten 100</a>, I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't get out. So, following dinner and as the sun was setting I shot out for an easy five. Due to the light situation, I ran the loop in reverse, which I never do, to get the dirt road out of the way first and to take advantage of the street lights on the way home. As it turned out, I had just enough light on the final trail section back towards my house to be able to navigate it without issue. Good mental boost to get this run in.<br />
<br />
5/14, Monday: 6 - 50:52, Pineland Farms. Circumstances were such that I needed to watch the kiddo in the morning for a short stint, but then D would be able to handle her regular Monday duties. I headed over to Pineland to drop her off with D, and they went to Story Time, while I snuck out for a run. It was a soggy, misty, humid day down on the farm, and my feet were drenched as soon as I started the first field. I decided to run the 10k course...you know, just in case. It wasn't exactly an auspicious test run, as my legs felt heavier and heavier with each step. It felt as if I was shuffling the whole way. Pineland and I just don't get along.<br />
<br />
5/15, Tuesday: Off<br />
<br />
5/16, Wednesday: 5 - 39:13, Highland Green. I was hopeful that a day off would have a restorative effect, but it was not the case. Another so so run around the neighborhood.<br />
<br />
5/17, Thursday: 9 - 1:25:15, Cathance River. It was great to be back out on these trails again, and this was definitely the most technical run I've done this year. Spiritually, this was a fantastic run, as it was great to feel like a trail runner again. My form is coming around, and I'm becoming more and more comfortable with each run on the trails. Physically, however, I still felt a bit off. I kept it nice and easy, but 90 minutes felt more like 3 hours. I was still feeling the effects later in the day. In many ways, it felt great to have the "long run/hard effort" feeling, but it was tough to reconcile that feeling after only 9 miles.<br />
<br />
5/18, Friday: 5 - 40:04, Highland Green. I felt better than I thought I would after Thursday's run, so I'm taking that as a good sign. I do need to start mixing it up a bit, though, as I don't want to fall into the trap of racing myself on this loop. Since I run it so frequently, I know all the splits, and it's easy to get caught up in comparing it to other runs. Perhaps I'll just leave the watch at home. *gasp*<br />
<br />
5/19, Saturday: Off. I was at an event for work all day and into the evening, so a run never materialized.<br />
<br />
Total: 30<br />
Trail: 15<br />
Road: 15<br />
<br />
I'm glad the trail running is feeling more comfortable, so I could at least get a 50/50 between surfaces this week. (Although, Highland Green has over a mile of dirt road and about a half mile of trail, so it's not a pure road run.) Right now, even though I'm just in a base building phase, it would be nice to feel a bit more fluid. I'm just out of sync. With that in mind, I'm going to jump into the <a href="http://www.pinelandtrails.com/">Pineland Farms 10k</a> on Saturday. It's a race, and I'm certain I'll be disappointed with the result. But, I can't help myself. At the very least, it will give me a barometer of how out of shape I actually am. At best, maybe some faster running will be the spark I need to jump start this training. Long term, I'm hopeful for something big in the Fall, but I want to be certain I can have a full and focused training cycle. Right now, I'm not certain that it's going to happen.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-33037766438693800752012-05-12T21:02:00.002-04:002012-05-12T21:02:33.644-04:00Training Log 5/6 - 5/12Originally, I was hoping to keep the momentum rolling this week, but I was prepared to have to take a step back week. And, the body put on a hearty "Whoa, big fella!", so this week was certainly less than even the planned step back. I'm definitely erring on the side of caution, but that seems prudent.<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers...<br />
<br />
5/6, Sunday: 6 - 51:00, Eagle Lake, Acadia National Park. My legs were tight and sore from <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2012/05/training-log-429-55.html">Saturday's run</a>, and the rest of me was less than chipper after the previous night's festivities, which may have included Oxbow Farmhouse Pale Ale, venison, Marshall Wharf Phil Brown ale, bratwurst, Stone 15th Anniversary Imperial Black IPA, more bratwurst, Oxbow Freestyle #4...oh, I did have a salad. Needless to say, I felt terrible. I did manage to take all the signposts. Big group for this one, and a great way to close out the weekend.<br />
<br />
5/7, Monday: 4.25 - 38:04, Heath Loop. Probably should have taken the day off. Legs were tight and heavy. Sluggish run all around. Beautiful day around the Heath, though. I scared up a mother duck and her chicks, which were hunkered down alongside the trail. Didn't see them until they were scattering and squawking in all directions. Also of note, my trail running is crap. I clearly need more practice with the new gait on technical terrain. I was a bit of a mess.<br />
<br />
5/8, Tuesday: Off<br />
<br />
5/9, Wednesday: 5 - 39:39, Highland Green. Felt terrible. No energy and my calves were killing me. Reduced to a shuffle by the end. Developed a large knot in my left calf, which had me icing afternoon and night.<br />
<br />
5/10, Thursday: Off. Calf definitely a concern much icing and stretching.<br />
<br />
5/11, Friday: Off. More of the same<br />
<br />
5/12, Saturday: 3 - 23:11, Patriot Commons. Calf felt markedly better in the morning and throughout the day, so I decided to go for a little test jog when D got home from work. Aside from being a touch hungry, things felt pretty good. Legs had a bit of spring in them, and both calves felt fine. If anything, the right was a touch tighter, which makes sense since I haven't been paying as much attention to it. Good sign.<br />
<br />
Total: 18.25<br />
Trail: 4.25<br />
Road: 14<br />
<br />
As I said, definitely more of a step back week than I had anticipated, but I think it was a wise choice. Hopefully, it will pay off in the long run. My lack of skills/comfort on the technical terrain was a bit unsettling. I plan to both boost the mileage back up and add in more technical trails this week.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-64064941180329370732012-05-07T11:51:00.003-04:002012-05-07T11:51:54.163-04:00Training Log 4/29 - 5/5In short, it's all good news on the training front. The calves are getting better day by day. I had my "last" appointment with <a href="http://www.raymondchiropractic.com/">Dr. Jamie</a> on Wednesday, and he gave me the green light to get after it. It was good to talk running and racing rather than adhesion and inflammation. I've come out on the other side a total convert. I was a bit skeptical when I first started treatment, but he really rebuilt me. I'm very thankful. On top of that, with my gait change, I'm beginning to feel as if this injury was actually a positive event. I'm going to be stronger (and, hopefully faster) going forward. Like I said, it's all good news.<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers...<br />
<br />
4/29, Sunday: 5 - 38:45, Weldon Farm Road. After my <a href="http://sn0m8n.blogspot.com/2012/04/training-log-422-428.html">10k "race"</a> on Saturday, I was anxious to see how I would feel. Happy to report that I felt great. A little tight in the calves, but other than that, no ill effects from the day before. I even had a little snap in my step and opened it up a touch in the final mile. Good stuff.<br />
<br />
4/30, Monday: Off<br />
<br />
5/1, Tuesday: 10.25 - 1:22:06, Simpson's Point via Brunswick Town Commons. I wanted to up the distance, but didn't want anything too hilly. This route, which is a 50/50 mix of road and trails, in addition to being a classic from Bowdoin College (or pieces of it, anyway), fit the bill perfectly. Looking back at my training logs, I last did this route in September '11 in around 1:20ish with a notation that I was looking for something "slightly up tempo." With that in mind, I was pleased to average 8:00's pretty comfortably throughout. Although, I was pretty uncomfortable at times as it was raining and very windy. Not the best day to be out on the roads, but the view oceanside at Simpson's Point is always worth it. Drew a lot of confidence from this run.<br />
<br />
5/2, Wednesday: 5 - 39:00, Highland Green. Little sluggish, but that wasn't a surprise.<br />
<br />
5/3, Thursday: Off<br />
<br />
5/4, Friday: 5 - 36:58, Highland Green. Unintentional progression run. Chased a dump truck on the dirt road and just decided I wasn't going to let him go. Once I turned back onto the powerlines to head home, I was feeling good, so I decided to see what was there. Last three miles were 7:21, 7:01 and 6:38. Nothing blazing, but certainly good to open it up. Calves felt great, and it was interesting to focus on the new gait at faster speeds. Definitely a lot of work to do.<br />
<br />
5/5, Saturday: 11.25 - 1:37:27, Around the Mountain Loop, Acadia National Park. Headed to MDI on Friday evening for a weekend of camping, running and shenanigans to celebrate <a href="http://mainerunner.blogspot.com/">Jamie</a> and Kate's pending nuptials. After an evening at Geddy's and more festivities around the lantern light at the campground, things were a bit foggy both in the weather and in my head, when we started out from Jordan Pond House. I love this loop, but I was a bit nervous that I was biting off more than I could chew. It would be my longest run since returning from injury—my previous being on Tuesday—and it's hilly. Really hilly. After rolling for three miles, you do basically nothing but climb for the next 4 miles...then you have to come back down. Plus, I'm a competitive idiot, so I decided to sprint at each of the signposts. I was toast by about 6 miles. The last mile to the top, I just tried to keep Jamie from dropping me too badly. On the way down, he flew away, and I ran with Randy hoping he could pick me up if I fell over. We regrouped with a couple miles to go, and Mindy kept telling me I was doing great, even though I may have whined otherwise a number of times. Overall, I held up OK. No pain or bodily issues, which is key, but I'm clearly out of shape. But, I'll take it. Great run with friends. I was really glad to call it at 11.25, as Jamie and Zak tacked on 4 more miles at a rapid pace. Heh heh.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-rAB48lkHEunQaKNvk7G9F99az5ISk7iETp0YdEKdd6EMd5snb5TAeGakC04F08FzP5iYX-v0vvoLhRG-ttm8wN8ytlZYdRI8kwW6Fk6ZEAAmLVuYVp6JIxq8FBe5AtW9bnLIVA4CO4/s1600/415065_10151081939468747_606233746_13191290_1422388667_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-rAB48lkHEunQaKNvk7G9F99az5ISk7iETp0YdEKdd6EMd5snb5TAeGakC04F08FzP5iYX-v0vvoLhRG-ttm8wN8ytlZYdRI8kwW6Fk6ZEAAmLVuYVp6JIxq8FBe5AtW9bnLIVA4CO4/s400/415065_10151081939468747_606233746_13191290_1422388667_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowman and Squirrel in the mist.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKysyry3SdOwDFpm0bMOyCqDLr2Yo7OMs0rVzHa_vo-Sig6ECzxKzk1kQxENLDLOAFiebdPleJGBQrYqahDTmm6CqCtMAVShMDp1MWzljiZrsdLwS0bT9WOmVJJc1t7YdUOXM3WCuBycE/s1600/526206_10151061795878747_606233746_13175207_939913457_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKysyry3SdOwDFpm0bMOyCqDLr2Yo7OMs0rVzHa_vo-Sig6ECzxKzk1kQxENLDLOAFiebdPleJGBQrYqahDTmm6CqCtMAVShMDp1MWzljiZrsdLwS0bT9WOmVJJc1t7YdUOXM3WCuBycE/s400/526206_10151061795878747_606233746_13175207_939913457_n.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slide...slide...slippedy...slide...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
(Photos stolen from Jamie.)<br />
<br />
Totals: 36.5<br />
Trail: 16.25<br />
Road: 20.25<br />
<br />
Possibly an aggressive jump up this week, so I'm going to be cautious this week. The goal right now is just to build a solid base. I feel like injecting a bit of speed and upping the difficulty is going to pay dividends moving forward. Very happy to be over the injury hump and moving forward pain free. Look out...sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-67906742773367365952012-04-30T21:51:00.001-04:002012-04-30T21:51:33.420-04:00Training Log 4/22 - 4/28Well, well, well...lookie here! A training post. Well, not exactly. I'm not training. I'm running. Note the title difference: it's "training log"; not "training." Semantics, yes. But, it's an important distinction that I need to keep in my head to insure that I don't get caught up in too much, too soon. And, I definitely accomplished that this week. Last week: 26.5 miles. This week: 29. I thought a couple different times about adding on an additional mile to get to 30. But, why? It really doesn't make a difference. The key is to not overdo it. Plain and simple.<br />
<br />
Here's the best news: over the last 2 weeks, the knee/IT band has been a non-issue. I haven't had any pain and only minimal tightness. That <a href="http://raymondchiropractic.com/">Dr. Jamie cat</a> really does know what he's doing. Really, the limiting factor right now is my calves. The complete gait change is really taxing them, but they seem to be getting better with each run...and foam rolling. Needless to say, I'm very optimistic.<br />
<br />
Onto the numbers...<br />
<br />
4/22, Sunday: 5 - 40:44, Highland Green. This was actually my first successful attempt at three consecutive days. Calves were definitely barking by the...well, beginning, but they never got any worse. Soooo windy.<br />
<br />
4/23, Monday: Off<br />
<br />
4/24, Tuesday: 8 - 1:06:11, Neighborhood + Patriot Commons + Mt. A HS. My left calf, especially, bothered me for the most of the day on Monday, so I wanted to play it safe and stay close to home. With this odd configuration of laps/loops, I was never more than a mile or so away from home if things went south. The calves held up, but it wasn't pretty. I was somewhat miserable for most of the run. The wind didn't help. However, I ran 8 miles. That was a huge milestone.<br />
<br />
4/25, Wednesday: 5 - 41:37, Highland Green. Calves were about the same as the previous day, so I just gutted it out. Still windy. Chased a hawk for about a half mile along the dirt road section. Went to see Dr. Jamie in the afternoon—didn't even look at my knee. That was awesome. My calves wish he looked at my knee.<br />
<br />
4/26, Thursday: Off<br />
<br />
4/27, Friday: 5 - 39:34, Highland Green. After treatment and a rest day, my calves felt pretty decent. It was windy again, which seems to be a theme. Nice to hit this loop in under 40, comfortably. In the past that's been a benchmark for my level of rest/fitness. I think that might change moving forward, since I'm already feeling so much more efficient with the new gait. And, I felt like I had it rolling pretty good this day. Dr. Jamie gave me some pointers, which helped a lot.<br />
<br />
4/28, Saturday: 6 - 45:50, <a href="http://www.trailanimals.com/tarc-trail-series/race-results/">TARC Spring Classic 10k</a>, Weston, MA. In December, I registered for the 50k not knowing that I would be sidelined all winter. With that distance out the window, I was excited to learn this week that I could switch distances. I'd already paid; I might as well run. I was confident that my knee wouldn't be an issue but was a bit curious to see how it would react to 6 miles of all trail. My only plan was to run as fast as my calves would allow. I definitely wasn't out to race.<br />
After leaving the kiddo with my parents for the day, D and I made our way to Weston arriving in plenty of time to register, wait in line for the porta-potties, change and listen to the pre-race meeting. But, somehow, I barely made it to the starting line. I ran across the field and took a spot on the front of the line, just as the race director yelled, "Go!" I settled into a comfortable pace and just cruised along. By the mile mark, I was in fifth place and was already bracing myself for the "sandbagger" comments to come. I traded places and conversation with a guy in Five Fingers, Josh, for the next couple miles as we enjoyed the trails and the real estate. The course was great: flat, mostly smooth and a good mix of double and singletrack. It had a ton of turns, but was marked flawlessly. We passed another runner around 3 miles and at right around 5 miles, I was behind Josh but starting to feel that race itch. I may have been pushing him a bit as he jammed his right foot hard on a rock. Remember those Five Fingers? He slowed quite a bit, and I jumped around telling him that "I'd let him cry by himself." About a quarter mile, I found myself really opening up my stride and moving at a pretty respectable pace once I hit a dirt road. I was just getting a great rhythm up, when I hit a boggy, rocky, wet section, which was probably a sign that I needed to dial it back. I cruised comfortably into the finish a very distant third as the first place man and woman were already posing for pictures with their awards. Plus, the majority of the stronger runners were running the longer distances, so the place was irrelevant. I was just happy to feel so comfortable and smooth. My calves felt the best they'd felt yet, and I'm already thinking about incorporating more trails back into my runs.<br />
The rest of the day was a blast. I broke out the camp stove to grill up sausages and sketchy turkey burgers. Jamie and I may have downed a beer or two. I definitely got sunburnt. Hats off to the Trail Animals for hosting a terrific event. Hopefully, we'll get to another of their races soon. Of course, I wasn't just there to get fat, as I was race crew for D. She finished her third 50k battling a completely shut down stomach for the last 10 miles. She ended up<a href="http://snowplug.blogspot.com/2012/04/tarc-spring-classic-50k-race-report.html"> 4th woman in 4:52</a>. The Trail Monsters were well represented with Erik in the 10k; Brenda, Christine, Kate and Ann in the marathon; and Blaine, Nathan and George in the 50k. I hang out with some awesome people.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkHHMvdgJY_TN4gnEzSQLvDXU_3TlikhgY6VHvF_xTtAVKuux4P-pivtuw0-RObAslNlOyNOkGCKj_PqgtJhcHF5RkFQeRtMzM5LVvimT3zoeLfrFf82FVIkLU4yZo2PK-yKVVRjjLw8/s1600/575239_10150989737969746_571964745_13391165_417143174_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkHHMvdgJY_TN4gnEzSQLvDXU_3TlikhgY6VHvF_xTtAVKuux4P-pivtuw0-RObAslNlOyNOkGCKj_PqgtJhcHF5RkFQeRtMzM5LVvimT3zoeLfrFf82FVIkLU4yZo2PK-yKVVRjjLw8/s400/575239_10150989737969746_571964745_13391165_417143174_n.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-race. Post-sausage.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Miles: 29<br />
Trail: 5<br />
Road: 24<br />
<br />
That's a lot of words for a 29-mile week, but it's great progress. On top of that, I've also been semi-regularly getting the core work in. I can't get to the 4 times a week range, but I'm averaging twice a week. I hate it. I do believe the knee is behind me, and I'm looking forward to a continued easy ramp up of the mileage. It's really nice to be running again.<br />
<br />sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-53738728632477408912012-04-23T20:18:00.000-04:002012-04-23T20:18:55.582-04:00It's the Old StyleQuick visual addendum to my last post. Let's compare the finishes of two 5k cross country races, shall we?<br />
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Craig Cup, October 2011:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqZ_sjEaiq84uCqS1WH9Lx3d6ZvC7BVouaobumw1vlmn6uNbQXaSCZgYRVTYt2zQ-FNcSf3B6iAB-ogQL0YsFud7z8dd-Hxgsm_F-2I2lV1TY3wUk5Q5MlQWBWBp-fq8gIpr7jR5sQg4/s1600/6234985350_0c930859d9_b.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjqZ_sjEaiq84uCqS1WH9Lx3d6ZvC7BVouaobumw1vlmn6uNbQXaSCZgYRVTYt2zQ-FNcSf3B6iAB-ogQL0YsFud7z8dd-Hxgsm_F-2I2lV1TY3wUk5Q5MlQWBWBp-fq8gIpr7jR5sQg4/s640/6234985350_0c930859d9_b.jpeg" width="424" /></a></div>
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Eastern Massachusetts Class A High School Championships, November 1992:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQLbA2ngec3QZf2mc9rcCcm0M4hGKcXHf1I4eb96qFqRtu8ejj-Vr5iI10qoYVqyM20ccFfk6V_7op4Bx05ZMIYsJl4Gn3daPNq4JoEInaCap2ZT-DIvZH0-kacOJ8Q87MPuawZ0HXnA/s1600/IMG_1110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsQLbA2ngec3QZf2mc9rcCcm0M4hGKcXHf1I4eb96qFqRtu8ejj-Vr5iI10qoYVqyM20ccFfk6V_7op4Bx05ZMIYsJl4Gn3daPNq4JoEInaCap2ZT-DIvZH0-kacOJ8Q87MPuawZ0HXnA/s640/IMG_1110.JPG" width="476" /></a></div>
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I'd say I have a consistent history of heel striking. So, it's not going to be an easy transition, but I do feel like I'm getting it. Calves are a bit sore, but getting better almost daily.</div>
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And, in case you're wondering...yup, I got that guy from Cambridge R&L. And, yup, the younger me would already be cooling down by the time the older me finished. A beer to closest guess on the time from 1992.</div>
<br />sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8294323887747091246.post-48119581143981638762012-04-21T22:18:00.000-04:002012-04-21T22:18:46.721-04:00It's the New StyleFour and three and two and one...when I'm on the mic the suckas run. WORD!<br />
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Weeks of 22.75 and 26.5 since our last post, and things are looking up. I'm not ready to proclaim myself injury-free quite yet, but i'm very, very close to all systems go. Obviously, I'm still not training, but I am running.<br />
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My runs last week were interesting because the knee pain never manifested itself in the same way. It was minimal most days, but each time it seemed to appear in a different fashion. When I saw <a href="http://www.raymondchiropractic.com/">Dr. Jamie</a> on Friday, he said that was a good sign because it meant that the issue was no longer in my knee but in something eiher above or below. And, based on what I describe to him and what he'd seen in all my visits, he worked a lot on my TFL—<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tensor_fasciae_latae_muscle">tensor fasciae latae</a>, which is near the hip flexor. (I assumed TFL was the acronym for "Totally Fucked Ligament.") It made sense to me since I felt like I was getting the most from the hip flexor and quad stretches I'd been doing rather than the IT stretches. Also, he tested my strength and balance and noted that I was exactly where I should be. He said, "Well, the onus is on me to get rid of the scar tissue in your leg." In other words, I'm in the homestretch. He worked mainly on the quad-side of my IT, showed me how to foam roll my TFL and sent me on my way for 10 days. <i>gulp </i>Can I go without a fix for that long?<br />
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This week has been nothing but encouraging. Sunday I explored some really <a href="http://connect.garmin.com/activity/169015444">fun trails</a> behind an industrial park in Waltham, MA, and it was the first run during which I experienced zero knee pain. My knee was <a href="http://snowplug.blogspot.com/2012/04/seven-and-one-more-rhyme.html">cranky</a> on part of my run on Wednesday, but actually felt better by the end. Two five-milers yesterday and today, and things felt perfect. All good news, and I'm ready to push out on some longer distances. For the most part, trails seem to aggravate the knee a bit more, so I've been staying away from anything too technical, but that will come.<br />
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Needless to say, there has been much planning and scheming. All along I've been looking at trying to hit 30 miles by the last week of April as my first milestone, and it looks like I should get that next week. Really happy to be at this point, and in another month, I think I'll know if I'll be ready to start training in earnest. I'm ready.<br />
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One thing to which I need to atribute my success begins with a mea culpa. I was wrong. As it turns out, just because I'd been running a certain way since...forever...doesn't mean it was right. After a lot of discussion with Dr. Jamie about my running history, my history of injuries, my physiology and physiology in general, he convinced me to take a long look at my running form. More specifically, take a look at my heel-striking. I've been heel striking since I "started" running, and I've been injured a lot. In his words: "If you're starting from scratch, you might as well really start from scratch." I took it to heart and did a ton of research. But, no, I still haven't read <i>Born to Run</i>. I'm not going to get a pair of Five Fingers. I'm not cutting the heels off my shoes. What I am doing is working on my posture and shifting to a midfoot strike. Thus far, it's felt very strange, but each time out something seems to click. Downhills are still odd, but they'll get better. What is really telling is that when I purposely switch back to my old stride, my knee begins to hurt within a matter of seconds. Fairly conclusive. So, not only am I building back up, but I'm building a new running style. I'm convinced that long term it's going to pay huge dividends.sn0m8nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09815043766342554921noreply@blogger.com2