Peacock pt 2

Just finished my Peacock loop. Yes, they caught me in the middle of a weird face. I've got tons of photos, will upload more when I get a chance.


A Few Facts:

51 people started the race, 21 finished the 'trail marathon' of 30+ miles (one loop), 30 finished the 100k (both loops), only 3 DNFs (Didn't finish the first loop, Brent was one).

Kert St. John was probably the runner Susan and I saw way out ahead of the pack. Pretty sure he's not a regular with HURT but maybe I've just never noticed him at a race before (I'm usually pretty far back so it's definitely possible). He finished in 13:09, more than an hour ahead of second, then everybody started coming in. If this is his first HURT race I'm blown away by how talented he must be to fly past the home team like that, on their home turf, in such a difficult race.

I've posted a question about Brent and tried to look him up without luck so far. If I hear anything I'll post it.


Not So Factual Summary:

There were some things I learned from the race that really encourage me and I wanted to share some thoughts.

First off, for all of my concern coming into the race my conditioning wasn't an issue. I was definitely huffing and puffing up some of the hills and took more breaks than I wanted to, but overall I have no complaints. I ran a very conservative race, as I planned, and I STILL kept up with my pacing plan. Had I not trashed my feet on the long road of the first loop I would have felt confident doing another loop, physically I was feeling that well.

The pre-race speed work definitely paid off. When I could run I was running faster than usual (5-6 mph instead of 4-5) and even when I was walking I was pushing a decent pace (3+ mph). Even with the conservative race plan, taking generous walking breaks, I was maintaining my original pacing goals without pushing myself. One of my biggest fears pre-race was being able to run the route but not being fast enough to make the cut-offs, which was why I started the speed work. Even stopping to help Brent out, and walking most of the ten miles back from the long road, I was still under the cutoff for the first loop. Not too shabby.

And lastly, compared to a few other races this year, I felt really good the week after the race. I've had some residual soreness but nothing bad considering the how rough the race was. I'm sure if I'd done the full 100k I'd have been on crutches, but considering the lack of long runs the month leading up to the race I am amazed at how good I feel. Apparently, having run the entire trail series this year I built up enough of a base to pull off this race without killing myself.

Anyway, I'm incredibly happy with how well the race went. It was a blast and I can't wait to start training for another ultra.

Peacock 100k pt1

Saturday's Peacock 100k wasn't exactly the experience that I'd anticipated, but then, what race ever turns out exactly the way we expect? What makes these races so amazing and interesting are the little surprises. What makes for a successful race is how well we deal with these surprises. In some ways this was a really good race for me and the things that didn't go so well taught me some needed lessons.

The race started out with about 50 runners on an imaginary starting line at the base of the very impressive ridgeline we were about to run up in the predawn light of the Hawaiian west coast. The first mile and a half was walked by almost everyone, as we went from sea level up to 1700 feet in that distance.

Once we hit the more runnable section at the top I found myself near the back of the pack, my usual place. I'm not a particularly fast runner to begin with and HURT is full of amazingly talented ones. I fell in next to a woman I'd never met, though we quickly became running buddies over the next few miles. It probably helped that we were both running our first ultra, though we'd both been admonished for choosing this as our first.


Susan is a much more accomplished athlete than me, running the ironman (if I remember right), though she was less familiar with trails, so our experience balanced out to a mutually agreeable pace. Over my time this year on the HURT trail series there's been a couple of times that I matched paces at what I considered a 'slow' pace. A couple times I got impatient with the speed and pushed on, usually only to blow up later. So when I ran with Susan, feeling a little sluggish, I decided to stick it out with her anyway. This turned out to be a good decision, we were keeping up with my intended pacing in a way that was sustainable for the race.

About an six miles in we came across another runner who was hunched over on the side of the road. He waved us on, said he couldn't keep anything down but that he was ok. Susan, having a fine-tuned female intuition realized he was in worse shape than he was implying so we stopped to assist him.


Apparently he'd eaten something that really screwed up his stomach, he couldn't eat or drink anything without promptly throwing it back up. Susan pulled out her phone and managed to get enough signal to text back and forth with her husband (who was with some of the race directors at the starting point) for advice on getting Brent off the ridge, who reluctantly agreed that he need help. The directors told us that there wasn't any way to get to him until he made it to the first aid station at mile ten, four miles away. We told them we'd stick with him until we reached the station. He thanked us and we set out walking at a pace he could keep up. We made sure he kept drinking water and then waited with him through the inevitable breaks to throw it back up. It took about an hour and a half to make it four miles. At the aid station he collapsed in the shade of a truck and once the worker assured us they'd look after him Susan and I set off on our own.

The aid worker's parting words echoed in my head for the next few miles, 'You guys are only doing one lap, right?' You see, Susan only planned on doing one but I wanted to keep the option open to do a second, depending on how I felt after the first. I planned all my drops for two just for that case. I might not be up for it but if I was I wanted to be ready. We were so far behind the rest of the field though, it'd taken four and a half hours for the first ten miles. At that rate we were perilously close to the cutoffs. If we ran it perfectly there was still a chance though. We made good time to the next aid station around mile twenty and prepared ourselves for 'the long road'.

At that point, my confidence was pretty high that I would set out on a second loop. My legs still felt good, my feet were fine, and though we were closer to the cutoff than I'd planned we were still far enough under that I figured I could at least give it a shot.

Yeah, the long road totally disabused me of the notion. The long road is a bit of a misleading title, though it is in fact a long road it could more accurately be described as the long hill. It's four miles of various graded hill, all down to the aid station and then back up to continue the loop. Almost immediately my feet started killing me on the downhill.

I'd worn my new Cascadias for the race, I was pretty confident in my shoe-choosing abilities so that despite the fact that I hadn't taken them on a decent run yet I wore them for the race. Up until the long road I was totally confident in my choice of footwear. However, once we hit the long, very consistent and awkward decent my feet started sliding forward in the shoe. Now, this happens with any shoe but for the Cascadias it seemed more exaggerated. It might have been that little elastic bit I complained about in my review, not being firm enough to hold the foot tight, or it might have been too loose a fit for the hardcore course. Either way, by the time we made it to the bottom I had silver dollar sized blisters on the balls of my feet.

I'd put a pair of Minimus trails in my drop bag for the turnaround for just this scenario but the damage had already been done. Susan wasn't feeling too much better but it was less feet and more of leg issues for her. My legs felt pretty good after 3500 feet of elevation change but my feet were killing me.

Again, our mutual speed balanced out... to a walk. We made our way, very slowly, through the rest of the loop. At the top of the long hill the male leader passed us going the other direction, Susan and I were both blown away. He was FLYING down the hill, seven hours into the race and he had to have completed at least 45-50 miles to be at that point of the course. We made it to the next branch of the trail an hour later without seeing a second place runner.

We finished in a little over ten hours, 30.15 miles, just under the cutoff. A second loop was out of the question for me, which was a little disappointing. I mean, ideally we could have made it in under nine hours, a good cushion under the cutoff, and if I hadn't messed up my feet on the Long Hill I would definitely have at least tried another. On the other hand, my biggest goal had been to finish 30 miles as my 30th birthday was two days later, and I definitely completed that goal. I definitely had fun, definitely have some new stories to tell, and even though it wasn't 100k I can definitely live with a 50k for my first completed ultramarathon.


There will be a follow up with some of the lessons learned and more info about the race when the results are published. I'm also going to try and include a follow up on Brent and that amazing runner in first.

The Accidental Taper

I have had the worst luck with my long runs over the last month.

1. Got totally lost at Peacock Flats (12 mile run instead of 20+)
2. Experimented with Powdered lubricants AND tape, bad idea (10 mile run instead of 20, and blisters)
3. Forgot my GPS and my Sunblock (8 miles instead of 30+)
4. Had to work a weekend. (3 miles around the area instead of 30+)
5. Bleach residue in my Camelbac (8 miles instead of 22, sick stomach)

And the list could go on...

I'm incredibly far behind on my miles for the month and am rapidly coming up on the longest race I've ever attempted. Luckily, my mid-range miles have been excellent. I've fit in a lot of faster, shorter runs more frequently. It's just the time-on-the-trails that I'm seriously lacking.

Last weekend it kind of 'came to head' for me, I was freaking out. I'd signed up for DailyMile, which is kind of a cool gadget to stay motivated, and I happened to look at my monthly summary. Here, I thought I was doing half-way decent on my miles and that one look totally disabused that notion. I was so down that I considered backing out of the 100k. Seriously, if I can't fit in a 30 mile training run, how the heck can I run a race twice that long? I had only completed about half the miles per week that I had scheduled in my training plan.

Mentally, I was done. It was a week before the race even started and I knew I couldn't finish it.

Then I was at Runner's HI picking up a couple things for last weekends long run (forgot the GPS and sunblock) and I had a conversation that changed my perspective. I was telling the sales guy about the twenty miles I had planned for the weekend and the 100k next weekend. He looked at me like I was nuts, "Aren't you supposed to be tapering?" he asked. That little statement snowballed down the slopes of my brain.

It wasn't missed training, it was an accidental taper!

I'd been looking at my lack of miles as "I'm totally unprepared, totally under-trained, and way over my head" when I should have been thinking "Wow, what an awesome taper! My legs feel amazing and I won't be over-trained come race day. I'll be totally rested up!"

I might not be as prepared as I wanted to be, I might not have gotten in the work outs that I wanted to, but as long as I can keep my wits about me... that is, not shooting myself in the foot before the race even starts... than I at least have a chance.

Obviously, I'm planning a very, very conservative race. I'm not under any illusions that I'm going to breeze through this thing. Honestly, I don't know that I can even finish it, but I'm going to go out there and run as smart a race as I can, do as much of it as I can, and have an incredible learning experience no matter what happens.

The 'accidental taper'. It sounds like a cheesy comedy starring Leslie Nielson. It makes me smile, which is far preferable to quaking in my shoes.

Had To

Just another quick story from work.

Friday afternoon after work I was walking with my boss towards the parking lot. We were making idle chit-chat and he asked me what I would be doing this weekend.

"I'll probably doing some running. I've got a race at the end of the month."

"What, like a 5k?" he asked.

"Uh... not quite. It's a 100k."

"Oh. How far is your leg?" he asked.

I was confused.

"What?"

"How far is your leg?" he asked again, enunciating it more.

"I don't understand."

"What part of that do YOU run? It's a relay, right?"

"Uh... no..."

Just thought that was a funny exchange, had to share it.

Quick Update

I've had a bit of a dilemma for the past two weeks with training. There is a Physical Readiness Test I have to do for work twice a year which is a fast mile and a half... and there is the upcoming Peacock 100k. All summer I've been doing long, slow trail runs for the HURT trail series, so I have been doing a lot of 10-15 minute/mile long trail runs.

For both the Peacock and for the PRT I wanted to pick up some speed work. The PRT is a fast 1.5 mile run and I need to increase my pacing for the Peacock so that when the trail is runnable I can make up some time for all of the areas that aren't.

So for the past two weeks I've been doing a lot more tempos and intervals, a lot less distance-wise. Up until today I was really worried that I was shooting myself in the foot for both of the runs, not enough speed work for the PRT and not enough time on my feet to benefit for the Peacock.

Well, this morning I smoked my PRT with a 10:50. Lets just say that was way, way better than I was expecting. And when I was done my legs and feet felt fine, which is so uplifting. This was the fastest time I think I've ever had on a PRT and I didn't even kill myself to do it.

So, I have more speed than I thought I did, now I just need to fit in as many miles as possible for the next two weeks in preparation for the 100k.

Little Surprises on the Trails

Trail running in Hawaii is awesome. The views are gorgeous, the trails range from fun-little-jaunt-in-the-woods to 10-mile trails that take four hours to "run" and you end up completely covered in mood and blood by the end. There's no poisonous plants, no snakes... pretty much the only thing that might pose a threat would be stumbling across a large boar. In short, Hawaii is paradise for trail running.

Of all my runs here I've only been nervous a couple of times.

A few months ago I was getting ready to run the Maunawili trail, a 22 mile out and back. I'd just parked my car, gotten my pack on and was getting everything ready. When I say parking 'lot' I mean small stretch of gravel on the side of a rural road in the country. A very large black truck did a slow cruise past the lot. Boar-hunters. Locals packed into large trucks, with guns, and about a dozen barking dogs in the back. I didn't think too much of it at the time, they're pretty frequent sights around the trails.

I started walking to the trail head and I noticed the truck coming back. The driver called out to me.

"Hey! Where you going?" He was a late twenty-something local guy. He didn't sound angry, but there was a weird tone to his voice which kind of put me on edge. There's a lot of stories that go around about people having problems with locals, but the only guys I have ever personally known who had problems were the kind of people that tended to create problems. I'm really easy going and I'd never had any sort of issues.

"Up there," I replied and waved at the trail.

He stared at me for a moment. "Is there anyone else up there?"

I tried to hide how nervous that question suddenly made me. His stare was seriously creeping me out and the cold way he asked the question was borderline threatening. It would be like a woman answering the door in the middle of the night to find a stranger there, who then asks if there's anyone else in the house...

"I guess, there's a couple of other cars here." I was quick to point out that there were other people on the trail.

He stared at me for a minute, then slowly took his foot off the brake and the car idled down the road.

I went up the trail and started my run. Logically, I knew the guy and his buddies were probably just frustrated and trying to find a place to go hunting. If there were hikers and trail runners than there probably wouldn't be any boars around to go after. They'd probably been cruising around for hours trying to find a quiet place to set up.

But as I ran the scene kept playing over and over in my head. There was just something off about it. The vibe was wrong. Logic kept saying one thing but in the back of my mind some animal part of me was freaking out. Here I was, in the middle of nowhere, no witnesses and spotty cell coverage. If something happened to me I would probably never be found. What if on my way back I ran into the middle of a real life version of The Most Dangerous Game? Dogs, guns, creepy local guy, in the middle of the woods... there's too many pop-culture references to make here. It's like the beginning of every creepy movie ever made in the woods.

At that point I actually got out my cell phone and called up my ex. I told her it was probably nothing but to take down a description of these guys and the exchange. Basically, if I disappeared I wanted someone to look at it as more than just a lost runner.

The entire run I kept my eyes and ears pealed for any sign of them.

I never saw those guys again and obviously nothing happened to me on the way back but to this day I still get creeped out just thinking about it. I'll never look at all those boar hunters the same.

So when I was doing a practice run at Peacock flats a couple months later I was a little unnerved to find myself again in the middle of nowhere, on a dirt road, that was apparently in prime boar-hunting territory.

Every half hour or so as I was running I would hear the distant roar of a massive diesel engine. I'd grab Abby, my Ex's dog and my constant running companion, and get off to the side of the small road. There were a lot of sharp, blind corners, so it seemed safer to just get out of the way when we heard them. The roar would get louder and a big truck full of guys with guns in the front and barking dogs in the back would come around the corner and cruise slowly past us. A couple of them would give us a brief wave, most of them seemed to ignore us.

Then as we were headed back we heard the now familiar sound of a truck coming. Abby was getting used to the ritual and ran over to me. We got off the road and waited.

The truck came crawling around the corner ahead of us. As it drew closer it started to slow down until it stopped even with me. Something cold settled into the bottom of my gut. One of the passengers asked something but I couldn't make it out.

"What?" I asked.

"You need any water?" He repeated. I'm sure I looked startled by the question. I felt my camelbak which was still half full.

"No, I'm good." I replied.

"Alright," he said, waved, and they pulled away.

Yes, I felt like an idiot.

Before my first encounter with the creepy hunter I'd never felt threatened in Hawaii, and nothing came of it, so I realized how stupid it was to cling to the feeling when all of the evidence was to the contrary.

So, thank you to the Good-Samaritan boar hunters for reminding me of all the reasons that I love Hawaii and it's perfect trail running.

Why a Runner? pt 2

(continued)

There are two other aspects that really attracted me to ultras (other than impressing my co-workers), the distance and the scenery.

Why do these 'crazy' distances attract me? Lots of reasons, but predominantly because distance is the great equalizer. There is absolutely no way to fake your way through these long distance ultras. Nobody walks up to a 100 mile race and says "Hey, this looks like fun, I think I'll give it a shot" and does well.

There is simply no way short-cut it. There is too much involved; the training, the research, trial and error. The will power. You need to figure out what kinds of shoes work, nutrition, hydration, what kind of weekly mileage you need to get ready for it... It takes serious dedication and time to complete the distance (not to mention money and support).

The distance is real and finishing is a REAL accomplishment. In our world of instant gratification and comfort, where we expect everything to be handed over or disdain anything that takes effort there are very few things that we can do that are truly an accomplishment.

That's why people react like ultrarunners are 'crazy', because ultramarathons are so far out of what society considers 'normal'.

Of course, the other amazing aspect of ultrarunning is the scenery. Every race website I've seen is full of photos and videos of amazing athletes performing amazing feats in the world's most amazing vistas. Want to travel to cool places and see cool things? Take up ultrarunning.

After all, in a 100 mile run there has to be something cool to look at.

Why a Runner? pt1

I was re-affirmed as a long-distance runner yesterday at work, an interesting episode I had to write about.

There is one co-worker who shares my love of running (and minimalist-barefoot running), she's training for the Marathon in December and we frequently talk about training tips, gear, nutrition, etc.

At the end of our shift we were all sitting around waiting to be released and I passed her a sheet I'd worked up with my goal splits for the upcoming 100k. The Peacock has some pretty epic climbs that I was worried about and I'd wanted to see how much I was going to have to compensate for the time spent walking up them. After messing around with the numbers I figured out that even with plenty of time set aside for the climbs the average pace to complete the course was still pretty doable. I even figured in some degradation over the course and still had a pretty good buffer before the cutoffs.

Another co-worker, as bored as us, was listening in an asked how long the race was.

I replied that it was 100k.

I could see the math-gears churning in his head, then it clicked and his eyes bugged out of his head.

"62 Miles?!?! Why would anyone do that?!? It's crazy!"

We went back and forth a bit, I told him that his reaction is exactly why I wanted to do it. It IS crazy and none of you runners out there can deny it. It's crazy, it's extreme, it takes so much time and effort just to train to run that distance... which is why so few people do it.

I ran in a 15k when I lived in Jacksonville, which was a fun race experience that I shared with about 15,000 people (it's the largest 15k in the US). I ran (very poorly) in the Honolulu marathon a few years ago, a cool race experience shared with over 20,000 people.

It's pretty awesome to run a marathon and I have absolutely no intention of taking anything away them (I plan on trying to make up for my past Honolulu Marathon debacle this year), but there are aspects of them that turn me off a bit. I've seen statistics that say 1 in a 1000 people has run a marathon. So it's awesome, but it's not that far out of the ordinary. They're also pretty well attended and almost entirely run on roads. Neither of which appeal to me. I'm more of a slow-pace runner who hates crowds, lines, and bored almost immediately whenever I have to run on a road.

Which is why I wasn't all that interested in running until I heard about Ultras.

More to follow, stay tuned for pt 2.

Two Miles to Humility

(Originally Posted 4/7/2008, Writing Room and Runners World. It's one of my favorites. This was written when I first started really enjoying running and racing.)

Two Miles to Humility

Disclaimer: I write this now to empathize with the men that have remarkable wives, and to let women know how miserable their remarkability can make us.

I’d like to think that I have reached the point in my life where there aren’t too many big life lessons left to learn. However, it’s when you think you don’t have much left to learn that you end up being forcibly shown how little you actually know.

My wife, Cari, is an amazingly gifted woman. I say this with some confidence because I’m fairly gifted and she is far more talented and gifted than I am. When applying for a University, eight years after High School, I was required to retake the SATs. I studied for two weeks and scored a 1390, two hundred points higher than I had almost a decade before. I’ve learned through the years that given a little time and effort I can truly accomplish anything I put my mind to. My wife, on the other hand, can match any accomplishment of mine almost instantly and with little discernable effort.

At the beginning of our marriage we used to do “game nights”, where we would break out board games or cards or whatever paraphernalia we’d accumulated that week. This was before we had a daughter and overnight vital game pieces would go missing to parts not yet discovered. Many of those games I had been previously familiar and adept with, while she’d never played them. A typical night would include a first round, which I would win while she was still familiarizing herself with the play and rules. Then, while polishing her nails or watching TV, she would sweep the rest of the rounds effortlessly. Monopoly, Risk, Brainiac, etc. After a few weeks I resorted to games of chance rather than games of skill and she still managed to defy all laws of statistics and win at least 90% of the time.

I’d like to think that “game night” was discontinued due to challenging work hours but it was more likely that I was sick of losing and she was bored with the lack of any challenge whatsoever (and tired of my snotty responses to constantly losing).

We were both very competitive but it was obvious only one of us could compete, through no lack of effort and cheating on my part. There is no doubt in my mind that Cari could master neurosurgery if given a couple of days of instruction before getting bored with it and moving on to something more challenging – like rocket science. If given the reins of the current economy she would have it fixed up in a couple of days to where the national debt would be gone and other countries would owe us money instead. Unbelievable? Only if you haven’t met her.

In more recent years Cari has made a career out of one of her passions, the fitness industry. She teaches classes and is a personal trainer for half the gyms in Jacksonville. She cycles and lifts weights and is a highly certified Yoga instructor (as well as 13 or 14 other certifications). About the only thing she hasn’t done is taken up running.

I took up running. Possibly there was some mischievousness on the part of my subconscious in making that decision, I’m sure the psychiatrists could make something of it. So I was very surprised when Cari signed up with me for the 10k (6.2mi) Fun Run this past weekend. She’d never run more than two miles at a time in her entire life so this was a little out of the ordinary. On the other hand, I’d been running seriously for almost three years with the goal of working up to marathons. I typically run 15 to 20 miles a week, a 10k was a pretty normal run for me.

I smiled. If she wanted to jump in head first than who was I to discourage her, I thought smugly. After all, it wasn’t like she could beat me.

All the way up to the race she kept saying how crazy she was for signing up, that she was going to finish last, etc. All the while I listened, heart full of anticipation. My wife, the fitness master, was about to embark on the only journey that I could, without a doubt, best her at. I was already composing the encouragement and condolences I would give her when she finally crosses the finish line, “You did good, you didn’t end up coming in last!” “That was a good run, honey. When you want pointers for the next time you know where I live!” “You beat the power walkers by almost five minutes!”

I was comfortably enwrapped by these glowing feelings of “it’s about time!” through the start of the race and the first mile and a half. I ran with her, easily matching her pace, chatting to her panting. At that mile and a half marker she slowed a little and told me to just continue on at my own pace. I gleefully took off and she was out of sight within moments. The next mile or so I spent passing slower runners and reveling in triumph! It was petty, I knew, but there are few things in this life I’m really good at and I could count on one finger of one hand the number of things I’m better at than Cari.

At two and a half miles I sprained my ankle. I was doing a normal run, nothing out of the ordinary, and my left calf started to ache. I thought it was a muscle cramp. I tried rubbing it, resting it, massaging it, but the next thing I knew I couldn’t put any weight on it. I tried a slow jog that sent bolts of agonizing pain up my leg. Finally I just hobbled on, a halting walk all I could manage.

Cari caught up to me at the halfway mark. She had apparently found a groove and with all her other conditioning was actually running quite well. She asked if I wanted her to walk the rest of the way with me but I had sunk to a wallowing 13 different levels of self-pity and I didn’t want the company. Only I could so thoroughly snatch defeat from the jaws of victory! From such great heights I fell!

I wanted to crawl off the road and die in an anonymous bush somewhere.

The race was a big loop and I had to limp the last two miles, each step painful physically and equally depressing. My non-runner wife had passed me, then the aging slow joggers passed me, then the lady pushing her mother in a wheelchair, and finally the obese power-walkers until I was the only person in sight… in either direction.

I cried out to myself! How many thousands of completely injury free miles had I run in the past few years only to be laid up now!

At the last half-mile mark a volunteer who’d been directing traffic away from the race asked me if I was the last one. I wasn’t positive, but I had a sneaking suspicion. How total the irony! After Cari had expressed that fear only two hours previously!

The volunteer was a very kindhearted woman and decided to walk with me to the finish line (since we were both pretty sure I was the tail end of the disheartening race). I ended up spilling my guts to her, telling the story of my wife and the whole debacle. I told her about the irony of coming in last in this one of oh-so-many races.

She laughed and told me there was some sort of big “last finisher” celebration at the finish line. Bells, whistles, and maybe even a certificate of some sort. I had to fight the urge to pull off my race number and pretend I was just a bystander. How complete the embarrassment! Images of laughing faces filled my head. I picture Cari, arms crossed, smirk on her face, waiting patiently to see my disgrace.

By this point we were within sight of the finish and Cari saw us making our way. She ran back to us. I was saved from some portion of shame by passing the finish line and finding out there were indeed two people behind me (PS: one ended up in the ER and the other had dropped). It had taken me an hour and forty minutes to finish, only twenty-five minutes of which was actually running (I’d finished a race three miles longer two weeks before with a faster time). Cari had finished in 114:00, 13^th in her age group the first time she had ever run that far.

When Cari walked us to the line I expected some form of sarcastic comment, some form of gloating from Cari. She had beaten me at my own game. Instead, she chatted with the volunteer and me. She was encouraging and nice, saying things that I might have said were the positions reversed but without the mirthful sparkle in her eyes.

I felt baseless, shallow. I don’t think I could have been so kind to her as she was to me. All of those things that seemed so important to accomplish and so crushingly disappointing to not, seemed so suddenly superficial. Maybe she’d beaten me so many times that it was no longer an achievement. Maybe in addition to being a more talented, more remarkable person than me she’s also just a better person.

After all, is it her fault that she’s so who she is? Is it my fault I’m slightly less talented, less lucky, and less remarkable than her? I have a lot of questions I need to consider.

Whatever the answers to those questions are, I’m going to have 2-3 weeks in crutches to slow down and ponder them. The doctors said that walking two miles on the sprained ankle didn’t help it at all. Two to three weeks that I need to spend off my feet as much as possible.

Maybe it’s time to get out some of those old board games.

(PS: I later found out that it was actually a pressure fracture in my upper Tibia. It was missed for a long time because they kept x-raying my ankle and lower calf. It took three weeks to be able to walk on it, almost 8 months until I could even briefly run on it)

DNF lessons

After my first DNF, at the Tantalus Triple Trek, I was more devastated than I thought. At the time I was disappointed and a little confused but not overtly upset. A couple of days later though, I was still pretty down. I felt like I had prepared well, was ready for the race, and yet I didn't finish. What was going on? I thought I'd done everything right.

What was really bugging me was not knowing what I did wrong. I had completed every race in the HURT trail series up to the Triple Trek, and the only race I had left in the series was the Peacock 100k, which I'd already signed up for before my Triple Trek DNF. After the Triple Trek I was seriously doubting my ability to run the 100k. If I can't finish a 50k than how in the world was I justified in competing in a race twice as long.

What started my mental recovery was reading a race report about UTMB and Western States 100. Over the years I've started to recognize and idolize many of the successful American Ultrarunners. Anton Krupicka, Geoff Roes, Scott Jurek, Jez Bragg, Topher Gaylord, Michael Wardian... and many others (there are plenty of inspirational female athletes as well).

As I was reading these race reports I noticed something that I'd previously ignored, many of these ultra-athletes have dropped during recent races. This isn't an unusual occurance, these people have intense schedules, intense training, and really intense races, it's not that unusual for a talented athlete to drop from a race.

What?

I'd seen these reports before and just never really paid attention to the list of the names that didn't finish. Once I had my own DNF experience the names suddenly jumped out at me.

I would never equate myself to these amazing runners, that would be like a weekend pick-up player comparing himself to Michael Jordan.... there is no comparison. And yet it made me feel a little better to realize that even these supreme beings of the running world have had a bad day, have problems, have issues. It makes them more human, and therefor makes my own humanity a little more excusable.

One of the things that I've learned in the interim is how difficult it is to explain the mental aspect of ultrarunning. When you're hurting in a 5k it's pretty easy to rationalize pushing yourself through it, 'only a couple miles left', 'only ten minutes left'... etc. When you're running marathon and beyond it becomes a little more difficult.

I ran 20 miles in the Triple Trek and started to fall apart. If I'd had a couple of miles left it wouldn't have been too hard to push through it, but when you know you have AN ENTIRE LAP left, TEN MORE MILES (of mountainous, muddy trail= 3+ hours)... that becomes a little more difficult. Then you look at these amazing endurance athletes who run hundreds of miles, every little difficulty becomes harder to push through. The mental aspect is something that I've learned (now) that you can't do much to train for. If you aren't very used to running these extreme distances than mentally it can be very difficult on race day when problems pop up.

It's been said in many places that the effort it takes to run an ultra is not linear. If you can run 10 miles in 60 minutes than you should be running 100 miles in 10 hours, right? Yeah, no. Even the best athletes have their performance gradually degraded over long distances. The better the athlete the longer it takes, but it still happens.

In the time since the race I've been able to rationalize the race and my performance more. I figured out a couple of things, and in doing so realized some pretty large faults in my pre-race planning and training.

First, I was not mentally prepared for the distance... mostly because I had never run that distance on that difficult a course before. This also resulted in more knee problems because of my unfamiliarity with the difficulty and the distance. I pushed myself too hard too fast and my knees paid for it.

Secondly, after much internet research I have realized that I 'decouple' during these long difficult races. That is, after a while my heart rate was much higher than it should have been for the effort I was putting out. I had a feeling this was a cardiovascular issue but it wasn't until I found the books and blogs by Joe Friel (http://www.joefrielsblog.com) that I learned some of the specifics of this issue and ways to address it.

I ran a lot, right? So, my cardio should not have been an issue, right? Except for the fact that I pushed myself harder on race day and therefor spent more time in my 'cardio' zone than in my 'fat burning' zone. Which meant that I wasn't training my cardio as hard as I should have been. Or I should have forced myself to slow down on race day.

After looking at some of the race reports and having some time to learn from my mistakes I am feeling a lot better about myself and my abilities. I've learned a lot about what I'm doing wrong and the things I could be doing better.

I'm looking forward to putting my lessons to the test, though I really wish I'd done better at Tantalus. I really wish I had the confidence of a finish behind me going into my next race.

Short Distance - Big PR

As I huddled in the concrete irrigation channel looking at all my coworkers soaked and shivering I had to laugh a little. It's not often you're cold in Hawaii and yet somehow we'd managed it quite nicely.

It was the morning of the mock PRT (Physical Readiness Test), a full length practice to get us ready for the full test in November. Our command is really focused on having everyone pass and therefore used this preemptive test to see where the overall fitness level was before we' actually get graded.

I knew I could pass, it'd been years since I'd had an issue finishing the 1.5 mile run within my age-group time requirements, but I was still a little jittery. Most of the time if you blow a race you just get upset, if I had a poblem with this run I'd have a black mark against me in my service record and get put into the command's mandatory fitness program (probably more likely to hurt than help).

This mock PRT was broken down into two sections, one starting at 6 a.m. and another at 7:30. Apparently they didn't think that anyone would voluntarily show up to the earlier run and half the administrators hadn't shown up on time, the course hadn't been ironed out yet, and they had planned on less than 30 people doing the run (about 90 of us had the same idea to run it early and avoid the Hawaiian heat which starts aggresive and early).

At 6 in the morning, Hawaii is still pitch black. We stood around the field in groups, chatting amicably, waiting for the head administrator to show so we could get the show on the road. Then it started sprinkling.

We laughed about it at first, our testosterone showing. Bring on the rain! Ha ha. Then the wind started to pick up and the sprinkling turned to pouring. Testosterone went out the window, we started scrambling for some cover. Some people had parked close enough that they just sprinted for their vehicles (probably the fastest they would run all day), others like me opted for the closer concrete drainage. There was a small hill with a concrete gap build in, it looked like the entrance to a bunker or something but didn't go anywhere. What drainage value it has, I don't know, but it did provide a semblance of shelter from the rain and wind.

About forty of us piled into the crack. For a couple minutes we were laughing at ourselves and how Hawaiian rain storms typically only last a few minutes. Then we were shivering and joking about huddling together for heat. Five minutes later, rain and wind still going strong, we were joking about the headlines the next morning across the nation "Dozens of Servicemen Die of Hypothermia in Hawaii".

Eventually the rain died down and the requisite people showed up. We attempted to get warmed up, jumping jacks (a military staple) and some ineffective stretches. They obviously weren't prepared for the number that showed up as everything took forever. It took a good portion of an hour to do the push-ups and sit-ups portion. No one ever worries about those, they're run on an honor basis. That is, you count the push-ups and sit-ups you complete in the time frame and report how many you've done. Unless one of the administrators notices a person having problems with the exercise they're just about impossible to fail.

The only good thing about these delays was that by the time the run portion was started the sun had peeked over the mountains. Our shirts started to dry and the temperature had risen enough (thankfully) that I didn't feel too stiff when I lined up at the start.

I'm always nervous before the physical readiness tests for the reason I listed above, but this one had a little extra riding on it. I'd recently, somewhat jokingly, challenged my supervisor to beat me in the PRT. So I'd started treating this mock PRT like a practice for a race; not only did I worry about messing up and having it go on my record but I was also anxious for it to go well to avoid potential embarassment in front of my coworkers.

I'm not much for speed running, never have been, but I run quite a bit so I thought that was a pretty good foundation for having a good run. I figured I'd start out at about 80% of my top speed, keep it up as long as possible, and hope for the best. It was only a mile and a half so I could push myself pretty hard and not have to worry too much about blowing up before I finished. I hoped.

They shouted "GO!" and we were off. One of the nice things about running in smaller 'races' is that the crowd thins out pretty quickly and getting into your groove isn't as difficult. That was definitely the case here.

I started out with my 80% in mind, running as close to a maintainable sprint as I could. I thought there was no way I could maintain it for the full distance but I was going to go as far as I could.

Then I reached the 'quarter' marker and the volunteer yelled out our time as three minutes. That was depressing. I mean, running harder than I ever had for a PRT and only being set up for a 12 minute time? I was still running at my goal pace, body feeling good, and I was barely going to beat my normal-easy time? I wanted to yell.

When we reached the turn around point another volunteer was yelling out times and we realized that the 'quarter' marker wasn't close to the actual quarter distance. I heard this second volunteer yell out "5:15" and felt my spirits return a bit.

You see, I've never beaten the 11 minute mark in the 1.5 mile PRT. Partially it's that I'm not a particularly fast guy and partially it's that running shorter/faster races never appealed to me. This time, though, if I could keep the pace up I would beat my personal record (PR) of 11:09.

We reached the same 'quarter' volunteer on the way back, I was still on pace. I ignored the time, knowing that it wouldn't be an accurate guage of pace. I just needed to focus on my feet and keeping them moving the same speed they'd been going.

Then my feet started really burning. I'd gotten a few twitches from them since the start. Apparently my stride changes a little bit when I'm pushing my speed and I was getting some blisters in weird places. They were really hurting when I rounded the last corner and saw the finish 80 yards away.

I thought of what it would feel like to beat my PR (and my supervisor) and pushed it out. There was one guy about twenty feet in front of me and I focused on passing him. I had this nagging suspicion that I'd slowed down when my feet started to really hurt and I knew that if I didn't pick it up, and quick, than I might end up close-to but not better than my best time.

He sped up as we closed in. I sped up. We flew through those last 80 yards at a dead sprint. Apparently I had a little more gas in the tank because I managed squeeze past him a few yards from the finish. We grabbed our cards and crashed in the nearby grass.

One of the techniques the administrators came up with for the PRT was to simply record finish times in order and hand out cards to the finishers. Then you'd go up after everyone finished, give them the numbered card and they would know what time you had by what place you finished.

We waited around. I felt pretty good, I knew I'd passed with time to spare but was really interested in finding out what time I had. In my heat I'd finished 6th. I knew my supervisor had been on duty the night before and wouldn't be running with us, but for some reason I wasn't concerned with him at all. PRs aren't something I generally track and pursue but this one had been such a difficult one over the years, so elusive, that it had developed it's own deep meaning.

Once the last person finished we all crowded around the guy with the clipboard as he called out finish places. He wasn't calling out finish times unless the person failed but I managed a glimpse over his shoulder as he took my card.

10:47

I couldn't believe it.

This is one of the great things about running. I'll never break a world record for my speed but it meant the world to me. When I had finished in 11:09 I'd been 23 years old. Now, almost exactly five years later, I beat that time by 22 seconds! And now that I know I can break 11 minutes, now I'm thinking that with a little more training I could break 10:30 by the time the real PRT rolls around in November!

There won't be any headlines like "Guy Breaks 1.5 Mile PR!" or even "Irony: Frozen Servicemembers in Hawaii!!", but I won't forget this for a long, long time. Or at least until I break this PR.

(Originally Posted 19 September 2009, Runners World and Myspace)

Abnormal Motivation

Another writer suggested recently that I pick a subject to ponder for the week while running, then write about it after the seven days are up. This week's subject; motivation, though I think it picked me this week rather than the other way around.

A couple of days ago my supervisor, in front of the whole shop, asked me if I was in FEP. The Military loves it's acronyms and in this case FEP stands for "Fitness Enhancement Program". When someone has a hard time passing, or fails, the Navy Physical Readiness Test (PRT) than they are automatically put in FEP and do three mandatory command-coordinated workouts a week.

My supervisor is new to the shift and hasn't been around while I've talked about races I'm running, the tri's I'm training for, or the really cool new workouts that have come out recently. He simply came to the shift, looked at me, and assumed that I wasn't within Navy standards.

A year ago I wouldn't have been insulted, I was out of shape and looked it. I've never had a hard time passing the PRT but I wouldn't have faulted the guy for thinking that I might. Now though, I've lost twenty five pounds, run a marathon and multiple shorter races, and do a variety of workouts at least four times a week. Right now, the Navy PRT (for my age group: 45 pushups, 55 situps, and a timed 1.5 mile run) is basically a warm up. I still look like a big guy, but rather than fat-big I just look stocky (or so I thought).

This supervisor, who smokes and probably weighs 160 pounds soaking wet, looks like he'd have a hard time opening a stubborn pickle jar. I gave him my best you-can't-be-serious look and calmly told him in front of our entire work shift that just for saying that I was going to have to smoke him on the next PRT. He said "Oh" and went back to whatever it was he'd been doing.

So this morning, instead of the long, slow run I would normally do, I did two miles of hard-core intervals around the track. I've been training for some longer races that will lead to the Honolulu Marathon in December but I think for the next month until the PRT I am going to throw in some variety. Namely speedwork, intervals, and some killer hills.

Motivation comes in many forms. Some run for health, some run to lose weight, others run because someone made a negative implication about them in front of their co-workers. Before, I just looked at the PRT as something I had to do every six months, now I'm looking at it like a race. It's something to train for, something to work towards, and in doing so probably setting a new PR. Look out PRT, look out supervisor, here I come.

(Originally Posted 04 September 2009, Runners World and Myspace)

Big Az Hill

I have been off-schedule this week with my runs. You know how that is, some weeks are just too cluttered to put in the workouts you'd hoped for, the kiddo was sick, the wife had meetings, I did too many squats the day before and my legs were jello... It happens to everybody.

So it was a bit of a surprise when I realized I had 40 open minutes this morning. I grabbed my running shoes and dashed out the door, no plan, no route, just the desire to try and fit in a decent workout in less than an hour. As I set out I started thinking that maybe I needed a hill workout, the perfect way to get in some burn in a short time. Otherwise I was going to have to settle for just a quick couple miles before heading back.

There is one large hill on base called "Radar Hill", a hill with a road spiraling up it most of which is going upward at about a 45 degree angle. I started doing the math in my head, a mile to the hill, half mile uphill, half mile downhill, mile run back. Yeah, I thought, I can do it in time!

I kept checking my watch as I approached the hill, I was keeping perfect pace to make it back. As I started uphill I noticed a 'serious' runner on his way down. As much as I run I have a hard time calling myself a serious runner, they're the ones that are hardly breaking a sweat and yet still outpacing me. We nodded to each other as we passed.

For the next ten minutes I grinded out the hill. I kept expecting my body to protest the workout because the last time I started dragging almost immediately. The last time I'd tried the hill a couple months previously my legs started burning almost as soon as I set foot on it, this time I was motoring up the road efficiently without the feeling of impending collapse. I reached the top and looked around at the amazing vista. To some degree I realized how much stronger I was, but didn't really think about it before I started back down.

About twenty meters of downhill and I saw something startling. That same 'serious' runner was almost back to the top. Again! A second trip up Radar Hill? This guy is REALLY serious about his running.

As we passed I looked at him in amazement and said, "Two trips? Man, you are way more hardcore than I am." He smiled and we continued on our seperate ways.

Then this crazy thought occured to me, IS he more hardcore than me? Probably, but that doesn't mean I can't try, right? I mean, one of the motivational quotes that always moved me was (I'm very roughly paraphrasing, and I have no idea who said it) "If you know that you can finish, you're not pushing yourself." I did a quick inventory, and was amazed that my legs still felt pretty good. I did a quick time check and was amazed again, I'd done the uphill faster than anticipated and the downhill was waaaay faster than the uphill.

Am I seriously considering this? Turning around at the bottom and going back up? I was. I laughed at myself and reasoned that even if I couldn't finish it, at least I'd tried. So I paused at the bottom, tagged the light pole, checked my time once again and turned around.

About a third of the way back up I saw the runner again, I grinned and said a quick Hi.

He looked at me, shook his head a little, then grinned yup-you've-been-bitten-too and between puffs said "Good... Good..."

I'm not sure if I'm in way better shape than I was, or if the boost I got from having a 'serious' runner compliment me was enough, but I made it all the way back to the top and down again.


When I reached the end of the run I looked down at my watch "00:40:30".

Maybe not "Good... Good..." but certainly not bad.

(Originally posted 29 August 2009, Runners World and Myspace)

My First Marathon, Take Two

I recently posted the report of my first disastrous attempt at a marathon last December. What I didn't really go into in that post was the mentality I came away from it with. As I lay in bed for the two days immediately following the marathon, nursing my solidified calf muscles, the biggest thing in my mind was revenge. I decided I was absolutely signing up for the next year's Honolulu Marathon and I was going to completely blow it out of the water.

I couldn't wait to get back out, up the miles, find a pair of shoes I could love, and put to use all the lessons I'd had to learn the hard way. I envisioned myself running as many races as I could get into, doing cheerful 26-mile training runs every Sunday. Then, a glorious return to the HM and a smiling finish, crushing the beast completely.

Well, nothing ever quite works out the way we think it will. Oh, I've upped my miles significantly. I'm a much stronger runner than I have ever been before. I've got all the tools that I need to conquer the upcoming HM... except one. Confidence.

You see, in all of this planning I did for the year the biggest was to have at least one longer race. A confidence-builder, if you will. I needed something to wash the bad taste from the previous attempt out of my mouth. I needed a couple of positive points up on the board so I wasn't going into HM behind in the score. Somehow it just didn't happen.

It wasn't like there wasn't the opportunity. Hawaii has a wonderfully runner/triathlon-centric mind set. There's dozens of organizations that host informal and formal races practically every month. Yet all of the ones that I picked out and planned for fell through.

The biggest was the Kauai Marathon. I was ecstatic when I heard the Dean Karnazes was hosting it next month. Not only terrific timing for a confidence-boost (two months before HM), but as added incentive to attend and do well, Dean was going to be there. Non-runners who've heard of him are few and far between, but in the running world he's a really big deal and he was going to be on the next island over!

And I had to move. The timing of the move wasn't that bad, but it definitely killed the budget for a plane ticket, hotel room, food, race entry, cab rides... Aaarrrgggghh!

Honestly, I'd have starved myself for a month to pay for it but having a kid takes that option off the table. (Or keeps it on the table? I’m confusing myself with this figurative language)

The Kauai Marathon was the last big road race I had a realistic chance of attending... There's a couple of 5 & 10k's coming up, but not the long distance I need to get the monkey off my back. And time is running out.

I've got some chills. As I let some of the other races slip past, it didn't really concern me that much, but as the HM date gets closer I'm realizing exactly how much I needed a good race. It's like being a boxer, getting punched into the hospital, and as soon as you heal up... going back into the ring with the same guy who took you out. It's nerve wracking.

Of course, no one would be a runner if we gave up easily. Distances that commuters complain about, we're measuring up for weekend runs. Anyone who's done long distance learns to court The Wall, learns to love pushing past our mental and physical boundaries. I've tried explaining that to the wife but she continues to think I'm just plain crazy.

So, whether or not I can squeeze in another race I'll be lining up with everyone else for the Honolulu Marathon. Up until the starting gun I'll probably be the guy in the back swallowing constantly and looking slightly green around the

gills. However, once the feet start moving I have a feeling that all the nerves in the world won't hold me back for long.

(Originally posted 15 August 2009, Runners World and Myspace)