Western States 100

Western States 100. The grand daddy of 100 mile trail racing. The big mamba jamba. The big ouch.

For those that don't know, Western States started as a horse race in 1955 in part to show that horses could travel far across tough terrain. In 1974 Gordy Ainsleigh showed up without his horse, helping start the modern sport of ultra trail racing and became a legend. Gordy is now in his sixties and still participates in the most prestigious 100 mile race in the world.

From the Western States website: "The trail ascends from the Squaw Valley floor (elevation 6,200 feet) to Emigrant Pass (elevation 8,750 feet), a climb of 2,550 vertical feet in the first 4½ miles. From the pass, following the original trails used by the gold and silver miners of the 1850’s, runners travel west, climbing another 15,540 feet and descending 22,970 feet before reaching Auburn. Most of the trail passes through remote and rugged territory, accessible only to hikers, horses and helicopters." I have run races at altitude, races in the heat and races in the snow. This was the first race which combined all three.

My training going into this race was patchy. I was injured most of the winter with an ankle injury. For most of April and May I had some good training, doing 50-60 mile runs on the weekends, getting speedwork in, and doing the best I could with hill training by running up and down a small sledding hill next to Soldier Field for hours and hours on end (ick). With about 5 weeks to go until the race, I had a knee injury come up in my right knee, which basically forced me to do non-impact workouts like bike and stair machine right up to the race. I knew I wasn't really in the shape I needed to be for a big mountain 100 like this, but running Western States is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I already had my crew of Abby, Eric Bell, and Bob Cox booked and ready to go.

The race:
We started in Squaw Valley at 5:00am and up the mountain we went. The first part of the race involved a lot of hard packed and slippery snow. I think I fell 6 or 7 times, including one doozy in which I went sliding down the mountain headfirst on my back, desperately trying to stop myself from falling off a ledge, ended up hitting a tree and came to hard, butt-spreading sideways stop. Ouch. Not a great start, I knew I was going to be running the rest of the race with a knot in my bum. Good thing my butt's so skinny it doesn't matter much anyway. I did the first 20 miles in around 10:30 pace, not bad considering the terrain.

Once we made it past the majority of the snow, the running got much easier. In fact, this race surprised me by how runnable most of the course is. With a few very significant exceptions, most of the downhills are relaxed enough you can really let it fly. The uphills were a little bit of a different story, there were at least 3 times in which there were very steep 3 mile+ sections, although there was quite a bit of runnable uphill terrain to be found. At 30 miles I was feeling good, I met the team at Robinson Flat in an upbeat mood with only a ghost of a twinge from the old knee injury. I was starting to think I might get lucky and be able to push past the injury and lack of adequate training to win the coveted under 24 hour silver belt buckle. Unfortunately, It wouldnt be long before things would go downhill fast.

After the Last Chance aid station around mile 45 there is the first real steep downhill section that drops over 1500 feet or so, followed by a steep uphill to Devils Thumb. At some point during the downhill section, the knee injury came back with a vengeance. Every step shot sharp pains through my whole leg and my range was seriously limited both uphill and down. Also, my quads were totally shot. The combined pain from the knee and quads was truly unbearable, nearly the worst feeling I have had. After the long, slow climb up to Devils Thumb, I had gone 48 miles in around 10 hours, well ahead of 24 hour pace, but I knew that it would be impossible to maintain speed with a bum knee. The smart thing to do would have been to stop and save myself for another race, another day. However, running Western States is a once in a lifetime thing, I didn't come all this way to quit, and besides, this is what I came for: truly testing my mettle when the going gets tough. The thought to quit was quickly put away, I was now in a fight to finish.

I saw my crew again around mile 55, it was wonderful to see everyone, I needed all the support I could get. They were extremely helpful but I think they could see that I was in a world of hurt. In fact, at almost every aid station the volunteers would ask me if I was all right as soon as they looked at my face. I must have looked awful. I certainly felt awful. Either the pain or the heat or both was causing dizzy spells, and I couldn't see clearly. At times I had trouble keeping my eyes focused and on the trail.

At mile 62 I was thankfully joined by Bob Cox, my pacer and Executive Director of the wonderful non-profit, Impossible 2 Possible. For the last 7 miles I had been doing barely more than a swift walk, but after some coaxing from Bob and a few teeth clenching screams, I was able to put together an ugly but somewhat effective run. We went that way for 10-15 miles with tears streaming down my cheeks while the sun went down.

The sun going down helped my head a bit, but my pace continued to slow. By the time we got to the river crossing at mile 78, we were well behind 24 hour pace and I was now seriously worried about making the 30 hour cutoff. The next 10 miles were a blur, with many people passing us, including Amy Palmiero-Winters, the first amputee to successfully complete the race. One seriously tough woman.

Interestingly, Bob was the first one of us to have hallucinations. At some point he asks me: "Did you see that? I think I saw a.. I think I am seeing things, I just saw a woman in a purple dress cross the path." There was definitely no one in a purple dress crossing our path in a middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. We both had a good laugh and got back to the task at hand.

We got to Brown's Bar at mile 90 around 5:00am, with the second sunrise of this run on the horizon. I was basically limited to a shuffle from this point on, but I knew as long we didn't stop too long at the aid stations, a finish under the 30 hour cutoff was likely.

We got to see Abby and Eric one more time at No Hands Bridge, quickly refilled our bottles, and (slowly) pounded out the last 3 miles.

Getting to the track at Placer High School was wonderful. I had pushed through and survived one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. I crossed the line in just over 28 hours and 30 minutes.

I must not have been drinking enough the last 10 miles, because I was 140 pounds at the finish line, over 7 pounds less than at the start. The world started spinning and my blood pressure quickly dropped. I went to the aid station and got my first ever IV bag. Another new experience! I was quickly feeling better, although a lot of damage was done.

I really paid the price for this one. As I write this blog post almost a week after the start I still am walking with a major limp (A big improvement from not being able to walk at all Sunday and Monday). I am guessing my knee will take at least a couple of months to heal.

Was it worth it? I would have to say a resounding hell yeah! While my speed and placing left much to be desired, fast races and high places are not what this sport is about. I was able to face the darkness and come out the other side with the knowledge that if you put your mind to it, you really can accomplish almost anything.

Headlands Hundred

As it turns out, Pacific Coast Trail Runs Headlands Hundred was my big finale in the bay area before the move back to Chicago in September. It's been a lot of fun getting to know the running community here, everyone will be missed.

I will also miss all the hills to train on, HH gave me an opportunity to see what I can do when there are a LOT of hills, over 20,000 feet of elevation gain. To get an idea of what that kind of gain looks like, check out this great flyover video posted by the Endurables.

The course was a 25 mile loop done "washing machine" style, which apparently means each loop alternates directions. At the start line I noticed a lot of really fast runners. People like Brian Krogmann, Mark Tanaka, and Ray Sanchez were just a few of the people there (that I knew of) with impressive running resume's. My money however, was on Nathan Yanko. Nathan was running his first 100 mile race, but I knew from seeing him before that he had some real talent, and was coming in well prepared. I had a feeling that the previous course record of 20hrs 20mins would fall by the end of the race.

7:00am Saturday we all got started and immediately hit the first steep climb. Only a few of us ran the majority of the hill. No sense in getting into a huge rush, no matter what it's gonna be a looong day. I spent most of the first 25 mile lap trying to stay relaxed and keep an efficient stride. Around mile 16 I was running with Nathan, talking about strategy for the race when he relayed that we were currently in 2nd and 3rd place. This was a little worrisome, I really didn't want to go out too fast, but I also didn't want to waste my opportunity to run well while I was feeling good. The first 25 mile lap went very smooth, coming in at 4hrs 3mins, well ahead of my goal pace. The only real pain was the quarter mile or so of sand that we had to run on to cross Rodeo Beach. Running in sand is painfully slow, and now I had sand digging into the spots where my toenails used to be (I had lost a few toenails in my last race and they hadn't grown back yet). I made sure to give Race Director Sarah a semi good naturedly hard time about making us all run through the sand when I saw her.

The next 25 mile lap went the other direction, so first thing we did was run through the sand again (Sarah, I'm still blaming you personally). In my opinion, running the course this direction was much harder. While the elevation change was obviously the same either way, it just seemed a lot less runable in spots. Nevertheless, I was still feeling pretty good for most of lap 2, except for all the blisters that were now open and filled with sand. With about 3 miles to go in the second lap, I notice Brian Krogmann running toward me cursing like a sailor. Apparently, he had missed a turn and had taken a detour for a few miles. I feel his pain, I am terrible at following directions, and have gotten lost on even the best marked courses. It's demoralizing to know that you know have to run a 103 mile race, instead of 100. Even though 3 miles doesn't seem like much in a 100 mile race, 3 miles is still not a short distance. I made a note to self to make sure I didn't miss that turn when it came around again at night. I Finished the first 50 miles in 5th place (I think) around 9hrs 15mins. Now things were about to get serious.

As is the case with all 100 milers, the second 50 miles is where people have to put their cajones on the line. Besides the typical fatigue and muscle soreness, some of the ultrarunning specific pains and injuries were starting to pile up. My shoulders hurt from holding my arms out all day, I was down to 4 total toe nails, and I had bloody rub spots around my collar, waistband, thighs, and um 'private areas'. For some reason, body glide just wasn't doing the trick this time. Luckily, blood is a good lubricant. Also, stomach upset was kicking in. I knew I had to eat, but I couldn't manage to swallow any solid foods. Not good when there is still 40 miles to go. While at an aid station trying to decide if there was something, anything that I could manage to swallow and keep down, I saw an empty ensure bottle in the trash can. Hmmm. I had never drank ensure, but I knew a lot of ultrarunners who did. I asked around at the aid station, and someone happened to have one in their car, success! Abby offered to go get some more at a store, so the rest of the race I was on an all liquid diet and the stomach issues disappeared.

While I was doing my best to run up a gnarly hill, Mark Tanaka came strolling up from behind. We talked for a while, and it turned out Mark had just completed an Ironman Triathlon the previous weekend! Wow. Just when I start to think I am getting pretty tough, someone comes along and shows what the next level is like. I suggested that maybe he take the next weekend off.

With 30 miles to go, darkness set in. My all pro pacer, Eric, gave me my headlamp and flashlight with the plan that he would join me at mile 75. I Finished the 3rd 25 mile lap in 4th place around 14hrs 30mins.

One more tough lap to go. I am glad Eric was there, he kept me motivated and on course. I probably wasn't the most pleasant running partner at all times and every few minutes I would let out a long groan. The first half of the last lap was a slog; I was doing my best just to be "running" although a lot of the terrain was basically walking. I was definitely slowing down. By the time Eric and I crested the tallest hill with 10 miles to go, I was toast. We limped into the next to last aid station with 8 miles to go.

As we were leaving the aid station, 5th place Dan Fish and his pacer came in to the aid station looking strong. At first I was apathetic; what's one more position? I was doing better than I had hoped, maybe I will just let them catch us. Then, suddenly I was racing. I couldn't let someone catch me with less than 8 miles to go. Besides, I didn't have anything I was saving myself for the next day. I started picking up speed, and was going faster than we had gone in hours. However, Dan and his pacer were still keeping up, and even catching up. We kept seeing their headlamps getting closer and closer. I was going to have to find another gear. With 5 miles to go, I decided there was no point in holding anything back at that point, and picked up the pace again. I musta been going pretty good, because Eric was suddenly way behind me. Looks like the last few miles would be on my own.

I ran into the last aid station telling Abby that I needed one more ensure on the double. Someone was hot on my tail and I didn't want to slow down. I thought for a second about getting extra batteries for the headlamp and flashlight since I was going to be on my own, but I didn't want to waste the time slowing down.

Naturally, a few minutes outside the last aid station my headlamp died (the box that the headlamp came in claimed it would last 25 hours, what a crock). I now only had a small flashlight and it was dark and foggy. I was also running as fast as I could, so it was a recipe for a faceplant or a tumble down a hill. Only sheer dumb luck kept me on my feet and Seeing Brian take the wrong turn earlier in the day was instrumental in making sure I didn't make the same wrong turn. Remarkably, losing my headlamp actually helped me run faster because I knew if my flashlight went out too, I was toast. 98 miles in, I was running up hills that I previously thought were too steep to run.

Thankfully, my flashlight held on through the final climb, and 20hrs 36mins after I started, I finished in 4th place. Whew! I was very happy with my performance, especially with so many quality runners in the race. Thanks to my crew, Abby and Eric, and everyone else who made the race possible. By the way, Nathan Yanko did end up winning and crushing the record in 18hrs 45mins.

What a great race, and a great year that it has been in California. I plan on coming back soon. One little tidbit that I was wondering if other runners experience: For three days after the race, I had this nagging feeling that I was still running. The best way I can think of describing it is like the feeling you get after being on a boat for a long time and then when you are on land it still feels like you are swaying. I would also have a constant feeling that I need to hurry up and get a move on, even if I didn't have anywhere to go. I think I got in such a mode of constantly pushing myself, that it took a few days to wear off. I wonder if this happens to anyone else?

Tahoe Rim Trail 50M

I have been living in San Francisco now for 10 months, and one of the things that I have been wanting to do since moving to Northern Callifornia was to run a mountain race. So, July 18th I ran the Tahoe Rim Trail 50 Mile Endurance Run. I had initially planned to run the 100 mile race that was going on at the same time. However, achilles tendon and hamstring injuries prevented me from running for 5 weeks during what was scheduled to be my heaviest training. I had been able to run for a few weeks, but didn't feel like I would be ready for the demands of 100 miles in the mountainous terrain, so I signed up for the 50 mile version instead.

The course is in the alpine and sub-alpine regions of the Sierra Nevada mountain ranges. There is 9,894 feet of elevation change, and it ranges from 6800 to over 9200 feet above sea level. It's also one of the most beautiful places on earth. Especially once you get above the tree line, the views of Lake Tahoe and the rest of the region are amazing. This was my first race at altitude, (and my first time hearing phrases like "above the treeline" or "just one more mountain to climb after this one") so I was curious to see how I was going to handle the thin air.

The race started just as the sun was coming up. I started in the middle of the pack, with my race strategy being to take it as easy as possible. I soon found out that there is no 'easy' way to run up a mountain. Since the alternative to running up a mountain was walking up a mountain, I decided to run. Nevertheless, I did try to stay as relaxed as possible going both uphill and downhill since my fitness level and my ability to run in thin air were both relative unknowns. I decided early on not to 'race' anyone. If someone was faster than me, they would pass, if I happened to be faster, I would pass. I also worked on what I call "zen running," which is basically meditation while running.

My goal with zen running is to remove all of the extraneous thoughts that pop into my head when there are hours upon hours upon hours of running. Thoughts like: "Am I going too slow?," "Can I catch that guy?," "How should I prepare for that meeting Monday?," "The pain is too much," "I think I'm going to puke," or "I think my big toe nail just ripped off." To remove those thoughts, I focus on my breathing, and that's all. Just in and out, in and out. It's amazing how hard it is to focus on nothing. It takes a lot of practice. At first I could only focus for a few seconds, but after hours of practice, I could sustain it for several minutes, or even a few miles. Doing this makes the miles go by faster, and keeps me emotionally prepared for the hardship.

As I was getting close to the 26 mile turnaround, I passed Mark Gilligan going the other way, who awoke me from my concentration and pointed out that I was in 3rd place! (He was in first). I couldn't believe it, I had no idea that I was near the front. I also passed Brett Rivers going the other way, who was running his first 100 mile and was running top 8! Brett had asked me before the race if I had any last minute advice. I told him to not get excited, there is no point in getting pumped up to go run slowly for a whole day. I don't know if he took my advice, but he definitely wasn't going slowly.

The 26 mile aid station was the only place that crew had access to the course, and by this time it was getting hot, so I decided to take some time to get my temperature down. Abby helped me get fueled up, and I got some additional help from Larissa Pallischuck and Sara Spelt who were crewing for Brett. While I was taking my sweet time, a couple other runners passed me, but I was sticking to my plan of not racing. Only one more marathon over four mountain peaks to go.

The return run was HOT, and the pain was starting to get intense. But I was able to maintain my basic speed and run up and down almost all of the hills (I even passed a few people). By the time I reached the final peak at over 9200 feet above sea level, I was exhausted and couldn't catch my breath. We had come up here two weeks ago and there was snow on this peak, but today it was 75 degrees on the summit and over 90 in the valley.

I was thrilled because it was literally all down hill from there. Anyone who has run really far up and down a lot of hills knows that the downhills can be awful, especially once your quads are destroyed from a days worth of running. So the next seven miles (Seven miles! All down hill. That's a big hill.) went like this: ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow. But at least it wasn't taking a lot of energy, I was just letting gravity do the work. In no time, the end was in site.

I ended up crossing the finish line in 9 hours and 33 minutes, more than 2 hours faster than my goal time, and in 2nd place! I think I even get a prize of some North Face trail shoes. Which is good because the trail shoes I was wearing are toast.

After my race was over, Abby and I went back to the hotel, got cleaned up, and went back out to go cheer on the 100 mile runners, who still had a long way to go. We were at the finish line as the leaders crossed the finish line in the middle of the night more than 20 hours after the start. Most of the runners were completely decimated by the finish, but Brett Rivers, who came in 3rd place (3rd place! on his first 100 miler!) actually ran across the finish line jumping and screaming and giving high fives. Amazing. Congratulations to all the finishers!

Up next is the Pacific Crest Trail Runs Headlands Hundred August 8-9, which is my last chance to run a seriously hilly course (over 20,000 feet of elevation gain) for a while as we are moving back to Chicago the end of August.

Boston Marathon

4/20: Boston Marathon. Patriots Day.

In Boston, they celebrate a little known holiday called Patriots Day by taking the day off and putting on one of the most prestigious marathons in the world. This year, Patriots Day fell on 4/20, a holiday of a different sort, that is traditionally celebrated like this in my part of the world.

This year, I took the road less traveled on 4/20 by being one of 23,211 starters for the 113th Boston Marathon. Running Boston has been a dream of mine since I ran my first marathon. A dream that I thought was a mere pipe dream since my first marathon finish was 3 hours and 55 minutes. Boston's strict standards meant that for my age group, I needed to run 3 hours and 10 minutes to qualify. After using all of my strength to finish in just under 4 hours, shaving 45 minutes off my time seemed impossible. However, once I started training for my first 50 miler, all those extra training miles started to add up. I was doing 70-80 miles a week when I ran my second Chicago marathon in 3 hours and 20 minutes. After that, I thought I had a chance, so I started being more diligent, piling on the miles and adding more speedwork to my regimin. Then, after one 90 degree disastrous attempt in Chicago, I qualified for Boston by running 3 hours and 5 minutes at the ING Miami Marathon.

I debated how I wanted to run the race. Qualifying for Boston was my one big marathon goal, so I thought about treating the race as a giant victory lap. I also felt like I was in the best shape that I have been, so I considered challenging myself for a PR as well. The courses rolling hills make it challenging to PR, but with the cool, 48 degree weather and all the hill training I have been doing in San Francisco, I decided to give it a shot. Looking back, that was probably a mistake.

0-7 miles

The race started with a flyover by a couple of F-16 jets, and then we were off! The race starts off in Hopkington, a small town that is completely taken over by all the runners. The first few miles are mostly rural. It's also mostly downhill at first, so it's easy to keep a good pace. So easy in fact, that my 5k time was 20:35, a 6:37 mile pace. I saw Abby and Eric at the 4k mark. Later, Abby and Eric said that the course was challenging to find places to meet me, but they still met me at 3 places, plus the finish. (thanks guys!)

7-13.1 miles:

Next up was the town of Natick. Quaint little village from what I could tell as I ran by along with thousands of others. After passing through Natick we ran uphill for a while until reaching Wellesley College at the top of the hill at mile 13. Wellesley is an all girls college with a tradition of giving out kisses to marathon runners to speed them on their way. I didn't take advantage of that particular tradition, but was definitely greeted warmly. As I ran up the hill, the first thing I saw was a giant sign that said "brace your ears" (or something to that effect). That was good advice, because when I got to the top of the hill, it reminded me of when the Beatles first played the Ed Sullivan Show. So now I was really feeling like a rock star. I completed the first half in 1:28:23, a new half marathon PR by about a minute. I knew I was going pretty fast, my plan for the rest of the race was to hold this pace as long as possible, and use grit and determination to push through to the end.

13.1-20 miles:

Unfortunately, as long as possible turned out not to be that long. Not long after the halfway point, I started feeling a little light headed. I recognized this as the first indicator that my heart rate was getting too high, and if it was allowed to get too high, I would be in a world of hurt. I slowed to about a 7:15 pace and tried to relax as much as possible. The slowdown seemed to help for a while, but by the time we got to Newton at around mile 17, I could feel my heart rate spike, this time for good. This is the feeling some people call hitting the wall. I was hitting it hard, and way too soon. I knew if I was going to keep running for another 9 miles, it was going to be an extremely painful 9 miles. The next 3 miles I think I did about 8 minute miles, but I was starting to lose track of pace and was mostly just trying to keep it together.

20 miles-finish:

Between mile 20 and 21 is the infamous "heartbreak hill". In actuality, I didn't really notice the hill being all that tough, by this time, every step was tough, uphill or downhill. I couldn't have been going very fast though, perhaps 9 minute miles. I was trying to focus on my form, anything to distract myself from the pain all over and the lightheaded feeling. I considered stopping or walking to allow my heart rate to go back down, but I knew that could take up to a half hour, it would be like giving up completely. I also knew that the rest of the course was downhill, so I was clinging to the hope that I could improve my speed at the end.

Next up, we ran through Brookline and then into downtown Boston. This part of the race was literally a blur as I was having some trouble seeing straight. I remember it hurt. I know I have felt this kind of pain in almost all of my major races in which I have gone all out, but for some reason, it surprises me each time how painful it is. I am writing this on the day after the run, and I can remember it, but just barely. I will probably have forgotten it completely by next weekend. It's amazing how quickly we forget (or at least how quickly I forget). I guess that's what allows us to do this kind of thing over and over.

The final 2 miles took what seemed like forever, but the crowd was fantastic. I found out later that Abby and Eric were on a train that was about ready to head to the finish line when they saw me, yelled to the driver to open the door, and jumped out and started screaming for me before the driver yelled at them to get back in the train.

Finish! The finish was great, although it felt more like relief than triumph at first. I was a bit delirious for a while. The walk to get my gear, meet up with Abby and Eric and get back to the train felt very disconnected. Once I was able to relax and clean up a bit, I felt much better and had time to contemplate the run. I finished in 3:13:51, a 7:24 mile average. I am pleased for the most part with my performance, I know I tried like hell. I did make some mistakes however. Mistakes that I hope I learn from and hopefully those reading might learn from as well.

Next up: It's time to start putting in the big miles preparing for my summer 100 milers. I am going to take out my new New Balance shoes, put them through the ringer and report back next time.

Big things in 09'

Lot's of stuff has happened since my last post. I've participated in several races, met some very fascinating ultrarunners and set up my races and training plans for the rest of the year.

Since January I have participated in 4 50k races put on by Pacific Crest Trail Runs. The races were all held at state parks throughout the bay area. They have been a great way for me to get to know the area, train for the rest of the running season, and get to know the local trail running community. I have been happy with the results for the most part: 7th place at the Pacifica 50k January 17th, 10th place at the Woodside 50k February 7th, DNF at the Sequoia 50k February 28th (My first DNF! I lost my concentration and got lost), and 4th place at the Pirates Cove 50k March 21st.

Throughout these races I have gotten to know Brett Rivers, an up and coming runner who has started a great new website, Trail Run Times. I think the site is destined to become a great central location for the trail running and ultra running community.

I also recently met a fascinating man with some of the most incredible running stories you will ever hear. His name is Reza Baluchi and, among other things, in 2007/2008 Reza ran around the perimeter of the United States. 11,500 miles and he did it in 202 days. That's 57 miles a day every day for almost 7 months! I got to know Reza while we were both in Chicago recently, and I now plan to crew with him this July at Badwater. Reza's next big adventure is the most ambitious human endeavor I have ever encountered. Reza is planning on running through all 194 recognized country's in the world and cross the ocean in a human powered craft! Reza is currently raising money for this 5 year endeavor, check out his website for more information.

2009 is shaping up to be a busy year. April 20th I head to Boston to complete my dream of running the Boston Marathon. This summer I am running the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 a few days after crewing for Reza at Badwater, that should be a tiring week. Then 3 weeks after Tahoe Rim, I am signed up for the Headlands Hundred, put on by PCTR, practically in my back yard. The final race I am planning on (for now, I may add some) is the San Francisco One Day 24hr event. I suprised myself by winning the 2008 San Francisco One Day, so I feel like I need to defend my title. I also just read in the latest issue of Ultrarunning Magazine that my 130.2 mile 24hr performance was the 6th best 24hr performance by an American in 2008. Rock! I can run around in circles hour after hour after hour with the best of them.

Finally, the people at New Balance Outlet recently contacted me with an offer I couldn't refuse: free shoes! In the near future, I am going to be subjecting some New Balance shoes to 100 mile per week training weeks and perhaps a trail race or two and then writing about my experience with the shoes here. Frankly, I am a little worried because I have been wearing Mizuno Waverider shoes for several years now and it took me several tries before I found a shoe that wouldn't kill my feet. However, I have never worn New Balance before, maybe I will love them. We shall see.

That's it for now. Next post will most likely be my review of the Boston Marathon, along with training plans for the summer running madness.

North Face Endurance Challenge 50 Mile

The North Face Endurance Challenge Presented By Gore-Tex presented several hundred runners with quite a challenge in the Marin Headlands north of San Francisco this weekend. There were 10K, Half Marathon, Accelerade 50K and 50 Mile distances. I was one of 210 people to enter the 50 mile division, with the unfortunate start time of 5:00am. I say unfortunate because we had to catch a shuttle to get to the start line before 4:00am, which means the alarm was set for 2:30am in order to get up, get ready, drive across the Golden Gate Bridge ect. Ugh. I am glad we were local, and didnt have to drive a long way to get there. (Thanks for waking up and driving us there Abby!)

This race is one of the few ultras worldwide with a significant cash prize ($10,000 for first place), so the best runners in the world showed up. It was fun to run with the best. My goal was to run the whole thing, no matter how steep the hills. Like most ultras, it was a humbling experience.

The setting of the race was beautiful, we often ran on hilltops that looked out over the Pacific and other times we had views of the Golden Gate Bridge. You didn't want to gawk too long though or you could land on your face. This race had almost no flat parts, you were basically going uphill or going downhill. The uphill was tough for obvious reasons, the downhill killed the quads and shook the insides. Somewhere around mile 20, I was running downhill without any other runners around and I noticed the smell of vomit. As I was thinking that maybe I stepped in something, I suddenly puked all over the place. No warning at all. I didn't feel nauseous, but I was distressed that I lost all that food I had been trying to keep down! One of the most difficult parts of an ultra is consuming enough calories to get through it. I gulped down my drink and the gel I had been carrying and tried to double up on eating the rest of the race.

Starting around mile 22, the course seemed to go up and up and up and up. I was exhausted. By the time we started to descend the hill around mile 30, I was starting to think that maybe I went out too fast. It was about this time that was passed by a familiar runner, Karl Meltzer. Karl has won dozens of 100 mile races and recently ran the the entire 2,174 mile Appalachian in less than 55 days. The fact that Karl was passing me at this point was another sign that I went out too fast. Amazingly, Karl didn't just fly by, we passed each other back and forth for several miles, and he ended up ahead of me by only a few minutes. It probably helped that at some point he accidentally inhaled an electrolyte tab, causing him to throw up, allowing me to pass. Ouch.

Around mile 37, I faced the steepest hill I had seen all day, straight up, no switchbacks. I gave up on my original goal and decided to walk the hill. One thing that made me feel better, everyone else was walking the hill, you could see a winding line of walking racers all up and down the hill. As I was thinking there was no way anybody could run this hill after 37 miles, I heard footsteps. Fast footsteps. And then, a smiling Nikki Kimball passed me with what looked like very little effort. Nikki has won the Western States Endurance run, and on this day ended up in 22nd place, 3rd woman overall.

The remaining 13 miles was a struggle, but fortunately I was able to keep the wheels from falling off. For the most part I ran the rest of the way, the worst part being the downhills. I was worried that my quads would be killed by the downhills. Fortunately, my quads stood up ok, but the backs of my legs were cramping terribly. It was so bad that my toes would uncontrollably point downward because my calfs would cramp mid stride, causing me to stumble and almost fall several times. One thing I learned during the San Francisco 24 hour race, running faster can cause an adrenaline spike that kills the pain enough to keep going. So thats what I did.

For the first time in an ultra, I was dreading getting to the finish line. I knew the moment I stopped, I was going to get racked with cramps. Don't get me wrong, seeing the finish line come up was thrilling, and it felt great to cross the finish line. But as soon as I slowed down, yikes. Luckily Abby was there to help me through th worst of it.

After 15 minutes or so, I was able to stand back up, and check out the results: 8hrs, 50mins, 23rd place, 3rd in my age division! One interesting thing, the slow age division is the 21-29 yr olds, the winner was in his 40s and most of the top 25 were in their 30s. So hopefully I have my best years ahead of me!

As the 3rd place finisher in my division, I got to go up on the podium and I won a nice new North Face shirt. I also go to meet Dean Karnazes. Deans book is what originally inspired me to get into all this crazy ultra stuff, so that was cool.

This was the last race for 2008. It was a big year, 2 boston qualifiers, a run from Chicago to Indianapolis, 130 miles in 24 hours, and a 50 miler in extreme terain. Now im ready for 2009!

San Francisco One Day

I started this blog to update friends, family and anyone interested in my preparations for the Medals 4 Mettle, Windy 2 Indy run. With that run now in the rear view mirror, I think I will use the opportunity to keep a record of all the new ultra stuff that I do (And maybe regular marathon and even other stuff, who knows.)

Since Medals 4 Mettle, Windy 2 Indy in June, I have moved to San Francisco, so I finally have real hills to train on. Two weeks ago I ran the Chicago Marathon in 3hrs and 7mins, and this last weekend I ran the San Francisco One Day 24hr race, organized by Pacific Crest Trail Runs.

San Francisco One Day:

The SF One Day is a 12 and 24 hour timed race run on a 1.067 mile loop in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge. I thought the format would play to my strengths of running very long distances on flat surfaces. (I am not sure if I am completely acclimated to the San Fran hills yet.) I ran in the 24hr race, the events sold out with approximately 65 people in each event. The participants were the usual ultra tough motley crew with a wide range of ages from 9 years old to over 70.

This is the first time I have run a race with this kind of timed format. There are some distinct advantages and challenges to running 24hrs as compared to running a 100 miler. On the down side, its boring, although it was in a beautiful location, inevitably it comes down to running around in circles all day. Luckily, after a while the pain takes up so much of your attention that it’s hard to be really bored. The other thing that makes a 24hr challenging is that the format really entices the runner to be slow. In a 100 miler, if you walk or stop, you feel like you will never get to the finish line unless you get moving. In a 24hr race, the finish line comes at you just as fast whether you are running 6:00 minute miles or sitting on your butt. On the plus side, there is more of an opportunity to get to know your competitors, since we don’t get spread miles and miles apart. This also breeds a clear feeling of camaraderie. It is also a lot easier on the crew since they don’t have to travel miles and miles into the wilderness to try to bring you a gel and a bottle of Heed. However, having Abby there was really important for me, without her help I never would have been able to go as fast, she made it so I never had to slow down at the aid station and basically stayed up the whole night with me.

We started at 9:00am Saturday. The first few laps I did around 8:30mins/mile pace. I feel like my most efficient stride is just over 9:00mins/mile. At that pace, I can breathe normally without the need to open my mouth and keep a nice easy stride. After the first few laps, I slowed to 9:00mins/mile and planned to keep at that pace for as long as possible with only a few short walk and bathroom breaks mixed in. My goal was 120 miles, I knew if I was going to hit that mark, I would have to do the largest chunk of miles in the first 10-12 hours, because I knew aches and pains and exhaustion would eventually slow my pace significantly.

My steady pace plan worked well through the morning and into early afternoon. PCTR had a leaderboard set up so I could see I was in 3rd place. However, by early afternoon it was getting into the low to mid eighties and I was having serious problems putting in calories. I never expected San Francisco to be so hot next to the water in late October. I was able to keep the pace up, but I was feeling really terrible, and knew I was going to have to slow down soon or risk overheating. I also knew that if I slowed down, the chances of picking my pace back up later were not good. Around 3:00, I stopped for my first and last 5 minute break.

After another hour or so of running, Abby walked with me for the first significant walking break of one lap. The backs of my legs hurt so much during that lap that I decided it would hurt less just to run. (I know, its nuts) So into the evening I hobbled at 10:00-11:00 minute miles.

Once nightfall hit, I started feeling much better. I was able to down some food and kept my pace at a steady 9:00-10:00 mins/mile. I was in 3rd place, close behind 1st and 2nd all the way through the 12 hour mark with just over 70 miles completed.

9:00pm-3:00am, the hours went by slowly but consistently. I decided I would have to start walking some, but I wanted to keep my pace up enough so that the adrenaline would keep pumping the pain away. I started breaking down everything into “manageable” 2 hour blocks, in which I would run 9 miles and then walk one mile with Abby. By 3:00am I had reached 103 miles, which means I passed 100 miles in approximately 17.5 hours, a new 100 mile PR. I think I was still in 3rd at this time, although I was getting very close to 1st and 2nd place. “Only” six hours left to go.

Somewhere between 3:00 and 5:00 am, I realized that I was in first place! It was actually quite nerve racking, I had never led a race before. Still, I kept going at my 5 mile per hour pace. Around 5:00am, I asked Abby to check on the other runners to see how close they were. Apparently both of the guys that had been close all day had stopped. I was now at least 10 miles ahead of the nearest competitor. It was hard to be motivated, I would easily reach my pre-race goal of 120 miles and I was well ahead of my nearest competitor. So I asked folks at the checkpoint what the course record was. It turned out to be 127 miles. It would be hard, but reachable. So now I had a new goal.

As the sun came up, I continued running and by 7:30 I passed the record. I finally slowed down and walked for most of the rest of the time. I think the relaxed pace allowed the pain and exhaustion to set in, because by 8:30 I was feeling really horrible. The RD had to convince me that I should stick it out for one more lap to make it 130.2 miles. And after a 25 minute walk, Abby and I finally finished just in time; I no longer had the strength to stand.

I am excited to have gotten my first ever 1st place finish. However, first place finishes aren’t really what running ultras are about. Just participating and finishing an event like this is reward in itself. The prizes are nice though; a coffee mug with “San Francisco One Day 1st place finisher” on it. Totally worth it. J

On to the next event December 6th: North Face Challenge 50 Miles. True test on hills!