In January 2012 Holly and I were interviewed and filmed for an upcoming documentary on individuals with CF (as well as their significant others) who are thriving and accomplishing incredible feats despite dealing with the disease.
After recently checking on the progress of the movie, I discovered it is now in post-production, and the full trailer can be seen here:
The last time I was streaking in 2011, I won Brew 2 Brew in April and ran my marathon PR at the Boston Marathon a couple weeks later. After months of lethargy and lack of ambition, I decided that getting a nice consecutive days running streak going again might be just what the doctor ordered to get in shape and motivated again for my 2013 adventures. (What type of streaking did you THINK I was talking about?!)
That being the case, I write you on Day 64. I have run at least one mile every day this year. My average weekly volume is probably floating between 30 - 40 miles, but I feel like I have good base fitness from the running and the intensity of the runs I have been doing.
I have started to formulate a race plan for 2013 that so far consists of 3 road marathons, a 50 miler, and of course, Leadville in August. It just dawned on me that my first road marathon is only about 8 weeks away so it's time to up the mileage volume and get serious about speed. I don't care which race it happens in, but I want a new marathon PR sometime this year. Ideally it would be under 2:45, but even a minute faster than my current best would be acceptable.
Here are the races planned:
Colorado Marathon - Ft Collins - May 5th
Colfax Marathon - Denver - May 19th
Jemez 50 Miler - Los Alamos, NM - May 25th
San Francisco Marathon - Mid-June
Leadville 100 - August
On the tentative list would be the recently resurrected "Moab Alpine to Slickrock 50" aka the MAS 50 in Utah in September. It was my very first 50 miler back in 2008 and I'd love to run it again to see how much I've progressed after 5 years of this crazy long distance running stuff.
My last CF checkup was in late December, and while I wasn't doing ANY running at the time, I'm pleased to report that I had the highest PFT readings (pulmonary function test) that I've had since I was 18. I was at 95% of what a fully healthy individuals lungs should be if they are my same age, height, weight, gender, etc. Not bad at all!
Finally, Holly and I have been married for almost 5 months now, with no talks of divorce so far, so I consider that another victory ;)
JK, babe... I love you.
You should hear from me before May, and I'll keep everyone in the loop if anything exciting happens in the interim.
The 2012 edition of the Leadville Trail 100 is just days away, and for the 4th consecutive year, I'm planning on toeing the starting line. This being the case, I'm long overdue for a running related post to recap my summer, and my training.
Something you might notice towards the top of the page is that my running log seems to have stopped months ago. No, I have not actually stopped running, however, I have stopped logging mileage or wearing a watch. I'm not going to profess to be a "zen" runner or anything like that, but rather, my laziness and lack of desire to track these things (or put a new battery in my watch) has led to a new found freedom and overall enjoyment of running. I've still managed a long run (20+) just about every week since I stopped tracking miles, and I've run at least a mile or two almost every day for about 6 weeks. Exactly how much? I can't really tell you because I don't know myself...
While this is fun, I'm slightly apprehensive going into next week's race. Have I done enough? Am I ready? Honestly, I think so, but my confidence is pretty low right now since I haven't had an ultra finish since February's 100 miler in Texas.
I'd love to beat my 2010 LT100 time of 19:57, but I'm not going to give a predicted time, goal time, or predicted finish... I'll leave that to Karl. All I want to worry about is running until I see that blinking stoplight on 6th Street calling me home!
Next time I write, I'll hopefully have big buckle #4 around my waist and a fun story for all.
First person race recaps that don't start with disclaimers or excuses are always best - for both the reader and the author - and I'm proud to say that I have no preface for my 2012 Rocky Raccoon 100 race synapsis, so here we go!
With the repetitive nature of a loop course, I doubt anybody wants to read a mile-by-mile play-by-play, so instead, I'll mention the highlights and time-splits that broke the monotony of suffering for a long time. (Also, after a while the scenery and distance all starts to blend together into a rain-soaked mush, so I couldn't get too detailed if I tried.)
To get things rolling, race morning began with a reinactment of The Flood, minus Noah and ark full of animals. Holly, Eric (crew chief extraordinaire), and I sat in the car counting down the final minutes before the race start, all the while in complete awe of the storm. We'd almost gone off the road while driving 10 mph, so how in the world was running 100 miles going to treat a guy?! Coupled with the fierce lightning, at least I had the backup option of getting electricuted early and not having to suffer all day and night...
Lap 1 - Splish Splash 20 Mile Time: 2:32
Around mile 2.5 the rain had backed off slightly and the feet were still dry, which was my main goal for lap 1. The longer I could delay the onset of blisters, the better, but when it came time to negotiate the first major flash-flood, I tripped on a hidden root and went face first into the water. Every square inch of my body was submersed... so much for dry feet. This was a blessing in disguise though, because now I could just take the path of least resistance when I encountered mud or water and didn't need to pussy-foot around.
The downside(s)? Apparently my Timex lost it's waterproof-ness when I recently changed the battery, and water tends to fry electronics. So much for knowing my splits or when to eat and take salt. From here on, I had to rely on feel and just listen to my body, and use the aid stations as a rough estimate of time.
This little swim also jacked up my headlamp, and it was now out of commission for night duties later on. I had to survive about 35 more minutes with terrible light and rolled my ankle several times. I made a mental note to high-step more than usual and that I better not sprain my ankle less than 10 miles into a 100. Apparently it worked, because after the sun came up, I didn't really have ANY more falls or close calls!
Lap 2 - Finding a Rhythm 40 Mile Time: 5:17
This stretch was all about backing off and setting a comfortable (using the term loosely), sustainable pace. Going out in 2:32 had been a bit of a risk, but then again, you can't have epic success without risking epic failure. I ended up doing this lap in a more comfortable 2:45 with the only noteworthy events being a brief break from the rainfall, along with my 2nd poo break of the day. I could already tell my bowels were going to hold up much better than at Leadville last summer.
Lap 3 - PR and Pain 60 Mile Time: 8:14
At this point I realized lap 3 brought with it the incentive of a new 50 mile PR, but not having a watch anymore, I could only guess what that actual number might be. From asking other runners and the aid station volunteers, it appears I went through 50 in about 6:39. Here I realized that I would most likely get my goal of 16:30 - barring any disasters.
Shortly after mile 53-ish, the blisters that had been forming on a couple of my toes decided to burst and ooze... yet, I surprisingly just didn't care. I was running strong - having not walked a step yet - and realized from my past experiences, that while painful, blisters shouldn't be a major concern or hinderance. So on I pushed...
Lap 4 - I Hate Josh 80 Mile Time: 11:28
I continued my pattern of changing socks after each lap (which ended up costing me an extra 17 minutes over the course of the day), and hit the course again. This time, while telling my crew what I needed before heading back out, I informed them that I needed a pacer to at least get me to the first aid station, otherwise, I would not be able to get going again. Eric volunteered, and after the now-traditional kiss and "I love you" to Holly, we started running again as I braced myself for what I remember as the toughest lap in 2010.
To my surprise, my legs were able to start turning over again, and I soon was running solo after about a mile. My next huge mental boost came when I passed Ian Sharman and his pacer just before the Nature Center (mile 63). It was unfortunate to see him in that condition, but it gave me the surge I needed to continue on. I still hadn't walked a step, and was now determined to keep that streak alive until at least mile 80.
(Still running at 63 miles)
Shortly thereafter, I encountered Josh Katzman for what was probably the 5th or 6th time of the day. We had never been more than 5 minutes apart at any point, and we ended up running the remainder of lap #4 together. It was both fatiguing and motivating at the same time: On the one hand it was great to have someone to commiserate with off and on for close to 80 miles, but on the other, it made me push myself way past my comfort zone when I really didn't care to.
My favorite part was when we both had our pacers beside us and were running up one of the steeper hills towards the end of lap 4. Josh asked: "How are you feeling?", to which I clearly lied "Great!", in more of a grunt than spoken word. I reciprocated: "You?", to which I received the same lie "Great!"... it got a laugh from the pacers, and now that I'm not suffering, I can look back and laugh at it as well. Ah, the psychological games...
In all honesty, it was great having Josh around for so much of the day, and I'd like to think we both pushed each other to our very respectable times of 14:58 and 15:36. (He held on for 5th place.)
Lap 5 - I Hate Meredith Final Time: 14:58
When I saw that I was only at 11:28 for 80 miles, I decided to forego the last sock change in hopes of getting the pain over with sooner. I also knew that Meredith Terranova - who had paced Ian Sharman to his win last year - was going to be helping me once I got to mile 83. She had brought me through the last few miles of lap 4 after Ian dropped, and had told me she would pace me for the rest of the race as long as she got a quick break to grab some food and a headlamp.
I had STILL not walked a step, and she was determined to keep it that way, even though I was not! At mile 86, she needed to take a quick pit-stop, and told me not to wait for her, but that she would catch up with me in a mile or so. Why did I soon hate Meredith? That mile turned into 6. We finally reconvened at mile 92, and I was not in a very talkative mood. Not only had I just endured a pity-party for almost an hour, but I'd crapped my pants in the process... literally.
About 5 minutes later I told her how much I hated her, but after some negotiating, we decided that a sub-15:30 would be her redemption, and that she would achieve BFF status if she helped make it happen.
At mile 95.5-ish I saw my crew for the last time, and asked the time as we were heading out of the aid station: 14:20. I said my goodbyes and resumed running. I dreaded it, but I was now going to push through the pain and run every step, no matter what. The mental exhaustion of pushing when every fiber of your body is seizing up and begging for relief, is indescribable. While this course is no Leadville, my desire to go fast made me suffer and hurt more than at any point in my 3 Leadville finishes. I'd like to think I'm now a stronger person because of it.
At long last we crested the final hill and I tossed my water bottle and went into sprint-mode. Meredith had avoided the question of time for the last 4.5 miles and so I really didn't know what to expect when the race clock finally came into view... 14:58.xx... I couldn't believe it!
(In the medical tent with one of my biggest motivations!)
In conclusion, it was the race of my life so far. Not only because of my time, but because of the great people I got to spend the weekend with. Having Holly, Eric, Marc, Amanda, Dan, Karen, Andy, Melissa, and Amy as housemates, crew members, and fellow racers was a blast!
(Post race toe-carnage. At least 4 nails are goners...)
Everyone who's run a marathon (or farther) will appreciate this one:
While I ran the whole race without music, I did have a good one stuck in my head:
I'm pleased to report that my lungs are still in tip-top shape, despite recently recovering from a head/chest cold, and not having run as much as desired lately. At last week's check-up - which was my first since March - I was surprised to see my important number (FEV1) at 90%... a 1% increase from earlier in the year, and my highest since '09.
The lack of running was due primarily to a weeklong vacation in Costa Rica with Holly. Surpisingly, I had no desire to run while out there, despite the perfect weather. That was the last bit of rest I needed - mentally and physically - because I am now logging miles that I haven't touched since early September. I know I only have 7 weeks to prepare for Rocky Raccoon, but I'm confident in full fitness if I can hold the course I'm on.
This year's race will probably be the most fun out-of-state event I've ever done, just due to the size of the Colorado contingent. From Colorado Springs alone, the following friends will be racing: Marc Pevoteaux (100), Amanda Ewing (50), Sean O'Day (50), Andy Wooten (100), Amy Perez (50), Dan Vega (100), Andy Henshaw (ex-Colorado Springs friend, 50), and yours truly (100). When you include the following crew/pacers - Holly, Lizzie, Eric, Melissa - that ends up being 12 peeps.
I'll try to post a couple more times in the weeks leading up to the race to update everyone on my training progress.
The timeliness of this post is lacking, and I apologize...
Just over a month ago was the last race of my 2011 season, and thankfully - after a mildly disappointing Leadville 100 in August - I was able to end my year on a high note.
September 25th was the 2nd annual Bear Chase 50 mile trail race near Morrison, CO. This same event is where I set my old 50 mile PR in 2010, and I was optimistic that I could repeat the feat in '11. Adding to the excitement of running a fast time, this was to be my dad's first 50 mile race. Did I mention he turns 70 next month?! Needless to say, we BOTH were looking forward to this one.
After spending the night in the back of my Xterra in a Walmart parking with Holly the night before the race (that's love), we arrived at the race start bright and early to unseasonably warm temps. The sun hadn't even poked its head out yet and it was already in the 60's. As great as this is for spectators, it brought a wave of dread to those of us who would be running the 50k and 50 mile races.
(Holly taking one for the team. Now that's love...)
The first lap went smoothly, and after leading for the first 6 miles or so, I felt like the pace was a little hot, so I fell back and let a lone runner break away. After he disappeared, we had a nice little pack of 5 or 6 of us who ran together for the remainder of lap 1. Included in this group was last minute entry - and training partner of Killian Jornet - Marcel Battel. He was in the U.S. vacationing from Barcelona, and just happened to be in Colorado on the weekend of the race.
The first lap was a little faster than planned (1:31), but Marcel and I stayed together until about mile 16 when I finally had to take a pit stop in the bushes. Although I closed the gap on him late in the race, this would be the last I saw of him.
After hitting the trail again, I ran solo for the majority of the next 34-ish miles. Despite my bathroom break, my lap 2 time was still in the mid-1:30's (for 12.5 miles).
Lap 3 was all about enduring the heat and mental strain of repetitive courses. As I came into the start/finish aid station for the last time, I was completely spent and starting to cramp. I needed to pull off a sub-2 hour lap in order to hit my goal time of under 7 hours... the way I was feeling led me to believe it wasn't going to happen though.
I hit lap 4 with the sole goal (no pun intended) of just running (or jogging) as much as possible, even if it was slow, and pushing through the pain. I got a HUGE boost when I ran into my friend Alex Nichols a couple miles in. He ran with me for a portion of the last lap as he was out on a training run, and it was nice to have a familiar face to talk to for a few. Shortly thereafter, I lapped my dad who was cooling off at one of the aid stations. By now it was in the 80's and my heart went out to him for having a lap and a half left to go...
After our goodbyes, I continued my sufferfest. From here it was a miserable blend of heat, fatigue, blisters, thirst, and cramps. I had to start walking some of the uphills, and as I got to the last aid station (about 3 miles to go), I realized that I was likely not going to hit my goal time. I knew I still had a PR in the bag, so I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and - as usual - questioned why I had to choose such a painful sport.
With a about a mile to go, I looked at my watch and saw my time was at 6:52. The thought of pulling out a sub-8 minute mile seemed impossible, but I wasn't going to go down without a fight. The pain (cardio and muscular) hit an 11, but I just kept cranking and telling myself that I could retire and never run again if I somehow managed to break 7 hours. This incentive surprisingly works almost every time, yet I must have short term memory loss, because I always come back for more.
Anyway, I tossed the bottles and waist belt and sprinted in at 6:58.55, which was good for 2nd overall. About midway through lap 3, the early leader blew up, and was already resorting to walking on the uphills, so the only person I wasn't able to reel in was Marcel, who won with a time of 6:49.xx.
(Literally SECONDS after finishing. Ouch... Marcel on the left.)
As exciting as this new PR was, the real highlight of the day was bringing my pops in for the last mile and getting to see him finish. Hats off to his accomplishment. Besides the distance and the heat, just being on your feet for 11:48 is pure hell, yet he did it with a smile!
(My dad rocking it at the 20 mile mark!)
Since then, I've barely run at all as I've been nursing nagging foot pain and burnout for the last couple of months. I'm almost fully recharged, and just decided last week that I'll start training again in about a week, with the goal of being fit in time for Rocky Raccoon in February.
Lastly, I was informed yesterday that there's an article about me in the December 2011 issue of Trail Runner Magazine. As soon as I finish writing this, I'm out the door to go pick up a copy!
Just saw these guys about 3 weeks ago in Denver. Enjoy...
When I first saw a dude wearing a 'Running Sucks' shirt last month, I instantly knew I had to get my hands on one, and that it would definitely get some face time at Leadville this year. Thinking about the words on that shirt around mile 93 (as I layed in the fetal position on a concrete boat ramp shivering uncontrollably) was about the only thing remotely humorous to me over the last 8 hours of this year's Leadville 100... talk about understatement of the decade, Nike. Finally, after 21+ hours on the trail it was over. 21:21, 19th overall.
On a positive note, I successfully picked 7 of the top-10 runners at last weekend's race. Congrats to all my fellow Colorado runners and friends who made this top pack, especially Ryan Burch, who has been overdue for a killer 100-miler for a long time. On a slightly less positive note, I was one of the 3 incorrect guesses, as was my buddy, Dan.
For those of you with ADHD, that was the condensed version. For a slightly more elaborate race recap, keep reading...
Here's how it all went down:
Pre-Race
Thursday was travel, campsite setup, and picture taking day. Friday consisted of the now infamous Ken Chlouber pre-race pep rally, the arrival of the rest of Team GU Demon (the shirt pictured below should explain the name nicely), and a pre-drive to the Mayqueen Aid Station in order to get everyone's bearings.
(Pretty self explanatory shirt design.)
After a little bit of campsite relaxing and an early dinner, it was time for me to pre-tape my feet and call it an early night. 5 restless hours later, the moment I'd been waiting 364 days for had arrived.
Start to Mayqueen
Rather than having defined splits that I wanted to chase in order to bag a sub-19 hour finish, I decided to write all of last year's splits on my arm and use these as a benchmark of how I was doing throughout the day. I like this strategy since it allows me to focus more on how I feel (legs, lungs, stomach), rather than chasing numbers which can be both unforgiving and unattainable at various points in a 100 mile race as fatigue sets in.
(Team GU Demon)
After the shotgun blast went off, I quickly settled into an easy, relaxed pace and prepared to find my rythym for what are by far the easiest miles of the entire race. Without overly exerting myself, I found myself leading after about a mile, and there I would stay all the way into Mayqueen. I do not regret this decision, nor do I think I went out too fast. I was conversing with Michael Arnstein the entire time, and never once lost my breath or felt any leg fatigue, so why in the world would I have gone slower? In the two weeks leading up to the race, I had run almost zilch in order to nurse some nagging foot pains, so it felt easy and relaxed to run the first half marathon in 1:42.
2011 Mayqueen Aid Station (13 Miles): 1:42
2010 Mayqueen Aid Station: 1:48
2009 Mayqueen Aid Station: 1:56
Mayqueen to Fish Hatchery
As I headed into the first real climb of the day, I decided to back off on the pace a little and allow myself to fall into a position near where I hoped to finish (7th to 10th, roughly). I also experience a psychological boost from passing people late in a race, rather than starting off hot and fading. This being said, I still managed to crest the summit of Sugarloaf (11,000ft +) about 14 minutes ahead of last year's time, no worse for wear. Little did I know, life was about to change abruptly.
I had already taken two poo breaks by the time I began descending the powerlines, which is par for the course. What I hadn't anticipated was the nausea that was about to set in as soon as I hit the bottom of the last descent. With a photographer straight ahead, I decided to duck into the trees to puke my guts out as I didn't want to show weakness this early into the race. Once done, I seemed to feel 100x better, shook it off, and resumed running the short stretch of road into the Fish Hatchery, where I took a 5 minute pit stop to replenish as much as possible after my recent GU exorcism. I proceeded to lose several positions due to this long pit stop.
(Fish Hatchery)
2011 Fish Hatchery Aid Station (Mile 24): 3:24
2010 Fish Hatchery Aid Station: 3:38
2009 Fish Hatchery Aid Station: 3:55
Fish Hatchery to Twin Lakes
I felt extremely good after refueling at Fish, and continued feeling that way most of this stretch. Other than a couple more dumps in the woods, I was clicking off consistent miles and didn't walk a step, other than to fumble with a GU, salt, or the iPod. I made up several more positions along here, and bettered my time to Twin Lakes by nearly 20 minutes compared to last year. Nausea gone. No cramps. No falls. Only minor blisters. Sub-19, here I come.
2011 Twin Lakes Aid Station (Mile 40): 5:55
2010 Twin Lakes Aid Station: 6:13
2009 Twin Lakes Aid Station: 7:04
Twin Lakes to Winfield
As I approached the crux of the race course, I performed a self diagnostic and found myself doing surprisingly well. While tired, my legs were still able to churn, and I found myself employing a walk-run-repeat strategy for a good part of the climb up Hope. As always, it seemed like an eternity before I broke out of the trees and got a glimpse ahead to the summit, but eventually I was at the Hopeless Aid Station hanging out with the llamas. I only needed water here, and was quickly back on the trail in hot pursuit of Charles Corfield who was just a couple switchbacks ahead.
I reached the summit around 11:30am (7 hours 30 minutes) and began descending after a short break to catch my breath. Besides another bathroom break about halfway down the mountain, I descended uneventfully, and hit the 2.5 mile gravel treadmill of death into Winfield. This year I was at the base of the trail before I ran into the leader, which told me I was either faster than ever, or the competition was slower than ever. (After seeing how the results panned out, it was definitely the first option.)
Some time was lost on this section due to the blistering heat and sun exposure, and I was forced to walk close to 1/2 mile of it. Regardless, I was still on a nice PR pace as I cruised into the halfway point.
50 down. 50 to go.
Winfield to Twin Lakes
Ahead of pace? Check. Best friend and pacer by my side? Check. What could possibly go wrong?
The answer to that question is nothing... for a while, least.
The backside of Hope pass was predictably hard as always, and the fact that it felt like it was 110 degrees out didn't help the cause. Either way, Andy kept coaxing me along, even if it was just barely one foot in front of the other, and we slowly neared the summit. Seeing lots of familiar faces and well wishers provided a much needed distraction from the arduous task of climbing 3000+ ft, but I was hardly in the mood for pleasantries - I was ready for this sufferfest to be over.
(It was all downhill from here... literally and metaphorically speaking.)
After cresting the summit, I finally started to feel bad. Really bad... and I'm not talking about '55 miles into a hard 100-miler' bad. I'm talking, 'internal organs and brain not functioning properly' bad. I had to sit and drink some fluids at Hopeless, and also pulled the socks for a second to tend to some blisters. Now that I had some fresh contents in my stomach, the real hell could officially begin...
About 2 miles from Twin Lakes, I began my unending cycle of 'puke-recover-repeat' which would last for the next 10 hours. I had a bad blister that needed to be tended to when we finally arrived in Twin, but this would be the least of my worries over the next 40 miles.
Twin Lakes to Fish Hatchery
I had bad diarhea during this stretch of trail and brought my total bowel movement count to 9. More puking ensued, and I finally started to feel sorry for myself and go into pity-party mode. I've been there before and know that it gets a guy nowhere, so I tried to just suck it up as much as possible. Around mile 65 we had a cold rain to contend with on top of everything else. Again though, I know 100-milers are supposed to suck and just tried to keep going as fast as possible. Despite a long break at the Half Pipe aid station and another at the Pipeline crew access point (where I wanted nothing more than to cry like a little kid), I was still making record time! I didn't care... but this just served to reaffirm that I'm a stronger runner this year than in 2010 - despite the disaster I was enduring.
2011 Fish Hatchery #2 (Mile 76): 14:42
2010 Fish Hatchery #2: 14:56
Fish Hatchery to the Finish
I wasn't doing well upon arrival at Fish. Here I needed to sit for over 10 minutes and warm up and have another mini pity-party. I was just so thankful for my friends and family being there and wanted to remind all of them how grateful I was for them. This was followed by apologizing profusely for the disasterous next 24 miles I was sure to have. I had so wanted to impress everyone with a PR and a great placement, and here I had to kiss that goodbye. Sometimes the mind is willing, but the body is weak.
Andy and I eventually hit the road again and as soon as I hit gravel I needed to hit the trees again for my final bowel movement of the day. I felt good for less than 15 minutes and soon was laying on the ground in the middle of the trail begging Andy for a 10 minute nap. I didn't know exactly what was wrong with me, just that I internally, and mentally wasn't right. I knew my salt balance was off to some degree, but I was experiencing a feeling I couldn't put my finger on.
It was like being drunk, sleep deprived, and having the flu... all at the same time.
Hiking resumed at a snail's pace and somehow we were up and over Sugarloaf in the daylight. Surprisingly, I was actually STILL ahead of last years time by the time we hit Hagerman Road. Unfortunately, with recurring vomitting throughout this stretch, I was mostly reduced to a slow downhill walk that afforded Andy and I some time for deep conversation about, life, love, and why we put our bodies through this crap.
By the time we reached Mayqueen, I had finally fallen off of my 2010 pace and collapsed into a chair to warm up. I still hadn't been passed or passed another runner in more than 8 hours when Lynette Clymons finally came cruising by. Neither seeing her, nor hearing that I'd closed the gap on Brendan to within 7 minutes was enough to motivate me to attempt running again.
Andy had gotten extremely dehydrated over the last 37 miles and needed to relinquish his pacing duties at this point. This wasn't a problem though, since most people could crawl as fast as I was now moving. Kelly joined me and we made small talk to pass the time, but I was slowly becoming less lucid and more light headed. Before long I was dizzy and could hardly keep my eyes open. This led to repeated tripping and stumbling. After the longest hour and a half of my life we arrived at the Tabor boat ramp and I insisted on laying down again for my own self-preservation.
I would have been content staying on that cold concrete all night, but my crew finally persuaded me to get back up and dig in for the last 7 miles.
For this stretch Andy's girlfriend Lizzie accompanied me and it was again nice to have someone to talk (listen) to. This helped keep my mind active and I was far more alert as we finished our walk around the lake. The only problem we encountered on this stretch was a dying headlamp, but thankfully I had packed extra batteries that would get me through to the finish. As we were sitting down fumbling with my headlamp, my friend Patrick came running by... he seemed to be hauling and in good spirits. I was pretty stoked for him, yet somewhat jealous of the pace he was holding, since I would have killed to get this suffer-fest over with sooner. On-on we went.
Finally reaching the road I knew it was still 1-1.5 hours before I would be done. Combined with the fact that we passed our campsite along the way, I hit a new low. Another mile down the road more vomitting ensued, and after being depleted for as many hours as I had been, this one brought me to the ground - nearly in tears. Here more familiar faces paced, Tim and Marc if I remember correctly, and I eventually got up and we marched on.
Surprisingly, we eventually saw light and then hit pavement just after 1am. I now knew for a fact I would finish and decided to embrace the moment and walk in with an entourage of 9 other friends, family, and fellow runners. As I approached the red carpet I gladly just walked on through - no need to run now. What a relief to finally be done.
For the record, 21 hours and 21 minutes hurts. I can't imagine what the 28-30 hour finishers must go through. After an hour and a half in the medical tent this year's adventure was finally over.
Never before during any race have I wanted to quit so bad for so long, but never before have I been so determined not too. I was not about to disappoint my friends and family who had come out to support me by dropping. I'd never felt as selfish as when I gave into the pain at Hardrock last summer, and held true to my vow to never experience that feeling again.
While I'm on the subject of crew, I need to thank Shelley, Kelly, Eric, Andy, Holly, and Lizzie for providing the hours and days of support and forcefulness I needed in order to get Leadville finish #3 under my belt. It sounds cliche' to say "I couldn't have done it without you", but honestly, I couldn't have. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Don't let the post title deceive you - I have had much bigger suffer-fests, by far - but that doesn't mean White River was a cake walk, or that things went exactly as planned.
(Mt. Ranier - The backdrop to White River.)
(Getting the low-down on the route from Mr. Henshaw.)
(Time to square off.)
To start with, the weather was pretty hot, which generally leads to slower times. Judging from the complete results, this was a slow year, even for the elite-level guys. As I mentioned in my previous post, I had thrown all definitive time goals out the window when I discovered snowy conditions still existed on sections of the course, and it's a good thing I did. 7:15 ended up being the time Andy ran, and his goal was sub-7. Even Uli ended up running a time of 6:49 that, while fast, was well slower than his previous best of 6:32.
(The start)
The race starts with about 4 miles of flat and then rolling terrain, before you hit the longest and steepest of the 2 climbs on the course - a 12 mile ascent to the Corral Pass aid station. I was able to run nearly every step of this climb, but was conscientously being conservative at the same time, knowing that the 2nd climb is supposedly where the race is won or lost. Combined with some of my usual problems - a bowel movement and a pair of minor falls - I reached the mile 17 aid station close to my original goal time but considerably farther back in the field than I'd hoped to be (approximately 20th place).
At Corral Pass I had to take my longest break of the day to get composed, take rocks out of my shoes, fix a broken handheld water bottle, scarf some calories, and lose the last of my warm clothing (gloves). In all, I probably lost 6 minutes here. It was definitely a huge boost though seeing familiar faces, as always. At each aid station I had the pleasure and psychological boost of seeing Holly, Andy's parents (Cheryl and Todd), and his girlfriend Lizzie.
(In a funk trying to get my bearings at Corral Pass.)
After saying my goodbyes I took the first long descent relatively conservatively and arrived back at the Camp Creek aid station (mile 27) near the start/finish in 19th - partially due to another bowel movement during the descent. Here I just topped off the necessities, said hi to everyone, and mentally dug in for the beginning of the real race.
Over the next 10 miles of mostly climbing, it got incredibly hot and exposed BUT I was determined to push through the pain and discomfort no matter what. By the end of the climb, I had vomitted several times (around the mile 32 aid station), felt like crap the whole time, and somehow managed to improve my position by 10 places!
After taking a second to appreciate the incredible views of Mt. Ranier from the Suntop Lookout aid station, I decided to let gravity help for a while and let the quads have their turn suffering. The next 6.5 miles are all downhill on a hard, steep, and dusty gravel road and aren't as enjoyable as one would imagine - even after 2 hours of climbing. Despite the pain in my legs and more stomach problems, I was able to cover this section in just under 43 minutes, and in doing so, I was in 6th place at the last aid station (mile 44).
While refueling to prepare for the last 7 miles of rolling, rocky, rooty terrain under a gigantic tree canopy alongside the White River, I was passed by one of the runners who I had overtaken just a few minutes prior. I left the aid station just a few seconds behind him, but pursuit was all for naught after I performed my best superman impression about a mile from the aid station. Toes were stubbed and screaming with pain, and my thumb rammed into a rock and split open under the nail. This pain and frustration took the fight out of me and I went into suffer mode for the next 5-6 miles, wishing for nothing else but for the pain to be over.
Finally, I rounded the last bend out of the trees and back toward the air strip and crossed the finish in 7:49 - good for 7th overall.
(7th place. 7:49.49)
I bit the bullet and soaked in the river after the race and within 2 minutes my legs were numb and my lips were purple. Even though this frigid water was excruciating to sit in, I think it greatly helped in my recovery as I'm not nearly as sore as usual after a 50-miler. I'm mainly nursing a really sore hamstring on my left leg, but I have no doubt I can be 100% recovered by Leadville as long as I take it somewhat easy this week.
(Post race freeze-fest.)
The rest of our time in the Seattle area was very relaxing and full of good seafood. A few more pics:
(Getting our post-race grub on.)
(Hey Brooks, which way to the Olympic Mountains?)
(We even found time to bag Rainier before catching our flight!)
And now, it's Leadville or Bust!
After landing in Denver, we tried to catch these guys at the Larimer Lounge, but the show sold out:
Here's what I know so far about this coming weekend:
Lots of snow still. What this means is fixed ropes and miscellaneous treachery for about 2 miles of the course. CAN NOT WAIT!
Bib #4. This is the same number I had when I won Brew to Brew in April. I'm not superstitious at all, but I'm still excited to have gotten this race number.
Live tracking via Twitter. I don't know much about this Twitter crap, but if you just can't contain your excitement and need to know where the runners are at at all times, then go to: http://twitter.com/#!/whiteriver50
I had an A goal of running <7:15 going into this week, but after hearing more about the course conditions, I wouldn't be surprised if only the top 1 or 2 guys go this fast. This being the case, all time goals are out the window, and I would be ecstatic with claiming a top-10 at this iconic race, regardless of how long it takes me. We shall see!
Oh, and finally, I predict a big win for the recently unstoppable Andy Henshaw. He's super fit right now as he is looking to improve on his world-leading 100k time from April, when he races in the 100k World Championships in September in the Netherlands.
I've been analyzing my running abilities (and life in general) lately, and something I ponder frequently is what it is that has made me stronger and faster at races this year. What I've started to realize is that there is no real trick or shortcut to it, but rather, a few reminders that make the suffering more palatable. Everybody's mind and body will work slightly differently than mine, but for what it's worth here's what works for me:
Past experiences: After 2 1/2 years of pummeling my body at 50-100 mile distances, I've learned that humans are resilient creatures, and it takes a LOT to kill a person. Case in point: I'm sitting here writing this. And while I've certainly tried at races (read: 2009 Minnesota Voyageur 50), nothing has proved fatal. This is a vital bit of knowledge when the going gets tough... I simply have to mentally remove myself from the current moment and current suffering and remind myself that this too, shall pass, that it won't kill me, and there is no reason to stop pushing.
The faster you go, the sooner the suffering ends: Easy concept. Difficult to execute at times.
The 'Small Drop in a Big Bucket' concept: This is one I came up with around mile 80 at last years' Leadville 100, and it has had the greatest psychological impact for me when I enter super-suffer mode. During a 100 miler, think about how short of a time period the 20-30 hours you're out there is in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it will be the worst 24 hours of your life, but consider how you have 8,736 hours to recover and NOT be in that level of pain until next year (assuming you don't swear off running altogether). Really doesn't seem like that long then, does it?
Confidence: I don't know what this years LT100 field looks like yet, but I'm sure there will be 20+ runners at the starting line who are more talented, more fit, and stronger than me, but I doubt there will be 5 who can endure and push through as much pain as me. I consider this to be a great equalizer at the 100 mile distance.
Regrets: Nothing has eaten away at me, and bothered me as much as my DNF at last years' Hardrock Hundred. Period. I plan on it being the last DNF I ever experience. Knowing the regret I still feel because of it provides all the motivation I need to keep grinding.
Something to prove: I'm a bit of an anomoly, having Cystic Fibrosis and still doing ultra-distance racing. I like knowing that I'm doing something previously unfathomable, and want to see just how fast I can get despite this minor disadvantage.
Oh, almost forgot... this was in this months' Ultra Running magazine:
As I mentioned in my last post, I found out I'd be running the San Juan Solstice 50 miler on short notice. This being the case, my expectations - along with my training - were not very impressive. I had just barely started breaking the 50 miles per week barrier in training again after my long post-Collegiate Peaks hiatus, and this isn't exactly the mileage necessary to succeed at a mountain 50 that many tout as the hardest in North America.
This made for an interesting attitude and dynamic going into last weekend...
Basically, I was planning on participating in a gorgeous 50 mile "fun-run" with no time goals whatsoever (sub-12 was all I really hoped for in the back of my mind) that would ultimately serve as good Leadville training. Also because of not planning on running this one, I had no transportation or lodging arrangements going into the week of the race. Here, I have to thank Andy Wooten and his girlfriend Melissa for letting me tag along on the ride down and back, and for providing me a roll-out bed to sleep on in their cabin - not sleeping on the floor goes a long way to a succesful race!
Friday was filled with traveling down to Lake City, eating as much as possible, and attending the pre-race meeting and packet pick up. Having only gotten a couple hours of sleep the night before, I had no problem calling it an early night after the necessary pre-race prep. Speaking of which, check out the real secret to my newfound speed:
(Feel fast. Be fast. Thanks, Holly)
Before I get to the race recap itself, here's a link to the race website, as well my very loose synapsis of the SJS 50 - solely based on personal perception after hearing two years' worth of musings by other runners. http://web.me.com/grayj923/San_Juan_Solstice_50_Mile_Race/Welcome.html
San Juan: Run to 13000 ft. Descend to 9000 ft. Repeat. Run through a river. Run through some snow. Start to dry off. Repeat. Run along the Continental Divide and pray you don't get struck by lightning. Basically, just plan on suffering. ALL DAY. This is the only 50 miler I've encountered which requires a 16 hour cut-off time, thus the reason for the late-June race date on the Saturday nearest the summer solstice on June 21st. Generally, if you talk to the experienced mountain runners in the U.S. they will almost invariably say the toughest 50 they've run is either San Juan, Jemez, or Zane Grey.
This year however, due to record snow and runoff levels, a new "alternate-alternate" course had to be used. The route that was decided upon actually had slightly more vertical over more climbs - 13000+ ft of gain spread amongst 4 ascents - but lacked the river crossings, and the same amount of mileage on the Continental Divide. When all was said and done, it sounds like this was an equally difficult course, just for different reasons.
(Heading out to suffer all day. Fun.)
To the race...
Climb #1 of 4 starts about 1.5 miles into the race and is the "baby" of the 4. This is good, as it primes you for the real hell that comes later. On this first ascent, I started about 15 people back from the leaders and went down from there. I wasn't having any problems, I just didn't want to burn out my calves early, so I hiked it at a moderate pace, even stopping twice to answer natures call(s). This climb up Vickers Ranch was crested about 1:30 into the race and we then began the descent to the mile 11 aid station.
Side note: Neither the climbs, nor the descents are pleasant at San Juan. They are uncomfortably steep in both directions, thus the reason it has earned the nickname Hardrock Jr. or Hardrock Lite.
Anyway, on this descent, I along with about 50 other runners got off course at various times and points. Thankfully, I was only misguided for a half mile or so, and soon ran into another group who was just getting back on track. Here I was surprised to see Karl Meltzer just ahead and ended up running with him into the Silver Coin aid station. I stocked up on GU's and fluid and prepared for the first 'real' climb of the day.
I now relaxed and told myself I didn't have to push climb #2 since there needed to be something left in the tank for later. This caused me to power hike most of the climb with a little running interspersed here and there. Surprisingly, without spending much effort, I began passing runner after runner on this section, finally cresting after almost an hour and a half of climbing right as Karl came back into my sights (he had left me in his dust at the previous aid station). There was some confusion while running the high ridges before the descent, and thankfully another runner saw me and yelled in order to keep me on course. Looking back, had I taken the wrong turn to my left, I would have missed out on an extra 1/2 mile of suffering that I would have regretted in the end... masochistic, I know.
On this first LONG descent which eventually took us to the mile 22 aid station, I started to have my first major issues of the day, and they came in bunches:
Knees and quads started hurting
Bowel problems - Poo #2
Vomitting ensued.
The puking was due to choking on a salt tablet, so it was no big deal as long as I was able to replenish fluids at the next aid station. I was more concerned with self-preservation than placement at this point, so I gladly allowed a handful of runners to overtake me as I approached the aid station. Once there, I took my shoes and socks off and made my one long pit-stop of the day. Rather than worrying about the lost time, I deemed it necessary if I was going to finish the race at all.
After attending to my fuel, fluid, and foot issues (I taped some toes), I hit what had to be the worst part of the course, the seemingly never ending gravel treadmill of death. I had flashbacks of the long road sections at Leadville that seem so easy, but quickly defeat and crush you. I was reduced to the point where I was walking some gradual uphill sections when I ran into Ben (Diana Finkels' husband) and began talking with him. This seemed to greatly increase both of our spirits, and we were able to sustain a run together for the majority of this 5-ish mile section.
Climb #3 was a welcome change of scenery from the road, despite it seeming like a never-ending haul up to the Yurt Aid Station. It was tough not knowing when or where the aid station would be; all they told us in the pre-race briefing was that it would depend on how bad the jeep roads were (snow and mud), and that it would be somewhere between miles 31 and 34. I hadn't seen a soul in over an hour and had no idea what place I was in overall, when I caught my first glimpse of another runner near the top. It ended up being my buddy Mike Patrizi, and it was nice to both see a familiar face, and also realize I was making up ground on other runners. This was the first time all day that I started to smell blood and get my competitive juices flowing. After this I overtook two more runners as we ran on the Continental Divide, despite having bowel movement #3 somewhere around mile 33.
At the aid station I wasted no time in filling up my water bottles and slamming down some Coke since I was really looking forward to the long downhill that was coming. After a couple hours of labored breathing, I looked forward to switching to the pain of downhill running... at least it would be my knees hurting and not my lungs. Right before leaving the aid station, I asked what position I was in and how far behind the previous runner I was. To my surprise, they said I was in 6th and that Duncan Callahan had gone through about 5 minutes earlier.
Game on.
After another mile or so on the Divide, there was an open uphill section that afforded me a view for about a half mile ahead of me, and this was when I caught my first glimpse of Duncan. I soon hit the long, steep, and rocky downhill jeep road to the Slum Gullion aid station and started to really open it up with hopes of gaining on the Leadville 100 champ.
About 2 miles from the aid station I was bombing down the mountain, keeping my eyes focused on the technical trail in front of me, when I happened to briefly look up and see a giant kitty cat dart in front of me and up the hill to my right. Yep; that just happened.
Seeing a 120lb (+/-) mountain lion less than 30 yards away has a startling affect on an unarmed and depleted runner who has been on his feet for almost 8 hours. At first it didn't really sink in, but once I fully realized what I just saw, I proceeded to find a gear I never knew I had. Mix this reckless abandon with all the grunting and growling and arm-flailing I was doing, and I must have been a sight to see. Thankfully, this was the last I saw of Mr. Catamount, and I soon was at the aid station telling my story. Here I also got a huge surge of adrenalin after hearing I was still only about 5 minutes behind Duncan, and from getting cheered through by Dakota Jones and Scott Jurek.
Quickly it was back to the trail, and within 5 minutes I was beginning the final climb of the day. Before sacrificing all the energy left in my tank, I decided to lighten my load one last time in the bushes. This made it a total of 4 bowel movements on the day, not to mention a vomit break, and 3 or 4 pee breaks...
Anyway, I knew that it wasn't going to be a fun climb, but at least the hard work would be over after I crested. Finally, about 1/2 mile from the top, I entered the meadow at the top of Vickers and not only saw Duncan only 2 minutes ahead, but another runner far off in the distance: Karl Meltzer.
At this point I was confident I could overtake Duncan on the climb, but the doubtful part was whether or not I could fend him off over the 5 mile descent to the finish line. Karl was probably 7 minutes ahead right here and I realized catching him was out of the question. Duncan and I crossed the top at the same time and after regaining our breath and chatting for a second, I decided it was time to run as hard as I possibly could until I finished or collapsed - whichever came first.
After several miles of running downhill with reckless abandon, I hit the final paved mile to the finish line, constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to get reeled in, but it was not to be.
I cruised through the finish line 9 hours and 48 minutes, 13,000+ ft, 18 GU's, and 51.5 miles after starting my little jaunt through the mountains. I ended up 6th overall, about 4 minutes behind Karl. (Clearly the Yurt aid station had mis-quoted when they said I was in 6th at that point.)
(It was a good day for the C-Springs contingent.)
(El Conquistador and his booty.)
So back to the title of my post: Confidence.
I don't know if something is physically changing for me, or if I was just lucky on that particular Saturday, but I'm starting to consistently run with the lead pack guys, and I really can't process it yet. Regardless, I have a newfound confidence and predatory instinct going into the home stretch before Leadville. I'll have one more test before then when I race White River in about a month. Hopefully this will help to increase my confidence further as I hunt for a sub-19 hour Leadville 100.
I'm a little bummed that I didn't get to writing this sooner - since the memories aren't burned as intensely into my brain as they were early in the week - but regardless, this years' edition of Collegiate Peaks was a memorable race and I had a completely full weekend with good friends.
My buddy Sean, who was going to be taking his first stab at the 50 mile distance, and I hit the road in the early afternoon on Friday with prospects of great weather all weekend. As I look back, it was really almost too nice, in that mother nature really cranked up the thermostat for the race on Saturday, and left me with a sunburn that would make a snake jealous. I'm still leaving a trail of dead skin everywhere I go almost a week later! Oops. When you're dumb in the head, your whole body suffers.
Friday evening consisted of checking into our hotel, having a minor-freakout when I realized I didn't bring my salt tablets (thanks for saving my bacon on that one, JT), and then meeting our friends Marc and Amanda - who were also racing on Saturday - for some food and beer at Eddyline Brewery. Marc was also planning to attempt the 50 mile distance for the first time.
(The pre-fight weigh-in between Sean and myself.)
In the weeks and months leading up to this race, thanks to Sean and Marc, I was reminiscently able to get small doses of the excitement and fear of the unknown that goes with taking ones first plunge into ultra-distance running. It was infectious and great to see that fire again. This went a long way to motivating me as well, because, even though running is a huge passion in my life, I do unintentionally find myself viewing races as just another day at the office from time-to-time. Being around these two, training with them, and being able to mentor - when needed or wanted - served to reignite the fire in me and remind me just how great it is to push our bodies to the limit and see where our personal boundaries lie. Thanks, guys.
Getting back to the story, Saturday morning arrived quickly after some surprisingly restful sleep, and the morning routine began. Marc and I decided to arrive at the race a little later than the rest of the gang and had about 30 minutes to lay out our drop bags, mingle, take potty breaks, and get mentally ready to suffer all day in the heat. When it's almost 50 degrees out at 6:00am at 8,000ft elevation, you know you're in for a doozy...
I lined up in front with the fast guys (Ryan Burch, Duncan Callahan, Dylan Bowman, Corey Hanson, etc.), took a deep breathe, and then began the routine... left foot, right foot, water, sugar, salt, repeat. This was my first attempt at the 50 mile distance this season, and I honestly was looking forward to the dull pain that comes with running for the equivalent of a normal work day, vs. the intense pain of pushing at your body's redline for a short period (ie: a road marathon, ie: Boston, ie: a 5k, ie: the Incline).
Within ten minutes the gloves and armsleeves were already gone, and it was time to suffer. I was running at a steady, relaxed pace for the first 8 miles and was still within eyesight of the leaders for about 6 of them. Once obligatory bowel movement #1 took me into the trees around mile 8, I rejoined the pack after losing about 10 positions and was quickly in my element. I really begin actually racing if I'm a ways behind in the pack and always do better playing the hunter, and not the hunted.
Sean caught me shortly thereafter and made the first pass of what would turn into many in our all day game of cat and mouse. This lead was short lived though as he had to stop for his first pit stop shortly thereafter. I held on for another mile or two, and then when I began walking to eat a GU, Sean quickly passed. This was during the long sustained uphill section leading to the mile 17 aid station, and knowing this ascent can take a lot out of a guy, I was content hanging back about 200-300 meters as long as I kept him in my sight. We crested this climb together and then after some strategic talk, we began our long descent to the turn around with the plan of sticking close together and letting gravity do the work while we saved our legs for later in the day. We had no idea where we were in relation to the rest of the pack, but looking at our watches, it seemed that we were on pace for about a 3:30-3:35 first lap, which I'd assumed would have put us only about 10-15 minutes back from the leader.
Wrong.
I was soon in for a surprise when I crossed paths with Ryan (who was on his second lap which goes the opposite direction and allows you to see where you are in relation to all the other runners) at the same spot as I saw Andy last year. The difference this time was that I was 10 minutes faster than the year before and yet I was just as far back in the field. It was obvious that if he held it together for the next 24 miles or so, that he had a Course Record in the bag. (That was exactly what happened, too, as he won with a time of 6:37, after a 3:09 first lap.)
I hit the Start/Finish area at 3:29 - about 1-2 minutes ahead of Sean - and made quick work of getting in and out. It ended up being only a 3 minute break, due in part to the fact there was no water to cross this year, which meant no shoe/sock changing. By the time I got out of there I had about a 3 minute lead on Sean, with several other 50 mile runners within 2-5 minutes of us.
On the long climb after the turnaround, I was quickly made aware of the price I'd be paying for the rest of the afternoon... 1) It was HOT. 2) My legs were heavy and feeling cramp-ish. 3) It had only been 3 days since my strep-throat symptoms had begun to subside, and I was feeling extremely fatigued. It had taken a lot more energy than normal to turn a 3:30-ish first lap.
After enduring about an hour of this misery and (surprisingly) being able to run almost every step, the heat finally caught up with me and in classic Brooks fashion, I started projectile vomitting all over the place. Projectile. Everywhere. I was still crossing paths with 25 mile runners at this point and a few of them were lucky enough to get a show and see why it's just plain stupid to run 50 miles. Unlike similar past situations though, I felt remarkably good after purging and never considered quitting or dropping out. No matter how awful you feel during a race, you just have to remind yourself that 'this too shall pass' and that you'll bounce back and feel human again at some point.
Once I crested at mile 32 and had several downhill recovery miles to eat, drink and relax the legs, I was determined to beat my '10 time and, was ready for the long grind to the finish. Despite not feeling great, having familiarity with a race course helps tremendously from a psychological standpoint, until...
... I glanced over my shoulder and saw a pursuer closing the gap quickly. It was none other than Mr. O'Day (again). I felt defeated since I'd been pushing a pretty hard and consistent pace for a couple hours and assumed I was putting a gap on the competition. Rather than pushing my already gassed and cramping legs any harder, I opted for Plan B: Pull off into the bushes and take a dump while Sean runs by. If nothing else, I was going to make him lead and do the hard work now, because I was done.
We ended up running/hiking about 1-2 miles together and decided that we would tag-team the rest of the race and finish together. We both arrived and left the mile 44 aid station together and hit the final descent back into Buena Vista. What I didn't realize was just how much energy Sean had spent trying to catch me all afternoon, and I soon found myself running alone after his tank hit empty.
From here until the finish, it was just a matter of racing the clock. I say this because I hadn't seen another runner (besides Sean) since the 25 mile mark, when I saw Duncan and Corey in 3rd and 4th. Having run the entire 2nd lap alone I really had no idea of where everyone else was and therefore lacked motivation to really push it. The only update I received was at the second to last aid station, where I was informed I was about 15-20 minutes behind 3rd and 4th. Regardless, I was able to run a consistent clip to the finish, arriving 7 hours and 38 minutes after starting. This time was 8 minutes off my 2010 time, and good for 5th place despite the various issues I was dealing with. I was less than five minutes behind 3rd and 4th, and got a huge confidence boost being closely behind some big name guys! Shortly thereafter Sean came through, clinching a 6th place finish in his first ultra, with a time of 7:45. Rounding out the hugely successful day for the Colorado Springs contingent, JT ran a 50 mile PR of 8:06, and Marc finished no worse for wear in just over 10 hours.
(Rounding the last corner.)
(Marc finishing. 10:09)
(Medicine.)
(3rd place age groupers get bananas.)
Nap time followed, and a few adult beverages were in order to numb the pain!
(Seemed like a fitting backdrop!)
On a side note, my running streak ended last week after 90+ days without a break and I've only run 3 out of 8 days since the race, but my body has been begging for rest for a while and with no races in my imminent future, I'm surprisingly okay with this time off!
June is still up in the air as far as racing goes, since I'm still quite a ways back on the waitlist for San Juan. This leaves me with some options, which include Bighorn, or possibly just no racing whatsover. I'm all about being smarter this summer and making Leadville the one that counts, so we'll see what happens.
For todays musical selection that JT can make fun of: 'Portugal. The Man'. I just saw these guys play an incredible show last week in C-Springs... enjoy.
2012: Bear Chase - 50 Miles 7:31.05 - 5th Place Colorado Colfax Marathon 2:50.02 - 4th Place Collegiate Peaks - 25 Miles 3:32.xx - 6th Place Rocky Raccoon - 100 Miles 14:58.37 - 4th Place(100 Mile PR)
2011: Bear Chase - 50 Miles 6:58.55 - 2nd Place(50 Mile PR) Leadville Trail 100 21:21.31 White River - 50 Miles 7:49.49 - 7th Place San Juan Solstice - 50 Miles 9:48.17 - 6th Place Collegiate Peaks - 50 Miles 7:38.15 - 5th Place Boston Marathon 2:49.37(Marathon PR) Brew to Brew - 44 Miles 5:35.31 - 1st Place Salida Marathon 3:35.31 - 8th Place
2010: The North Face, San Francisco - 50 Miles 8:48.37 Deadman Peaks - 54 Miles 9:26.20 - 2nd Place Bear Chase - 50 Miles 7:16.44 - 3rd Place Run Rabbit Run - 50 Miles 9:21.00 - Very sick on raceday Leadville Trail 100 19:57.52 - 11th Place Hardrock Hundred DNF Blue Canyon - 50 Miles 11:02.00 - 1st Place Jemez Mountain - 50 Miles 10:56.12 Colorado Colfax Marathon 2:55.16 - 3rd Place Collegiate Peaks - 50 Miles 7:46.05 - 8th Place Desert R.A.T.S. - 50 Miles 9:02.50 Salida Marathon 4:08.43 Rocky Raccoon - 100 Miles 17:31.26 - 12th Place
2009: Xterra Trail Marathon 4:16.05 - 4th Place The North Face, Washington, D.C. - 50 Miles 7:45.42 - 6th Place Leadville Trail 100 23:21.27 Bighorn - 50 Miles 10:22.27 - 10th Place Colorado Colfax Marathon 3:05.32 - 11th Place Collegiate Peaks - 25 Miles 3:55.59 Desert R.A.T.S. - 50 Miles 8:49.26 - 6th Place Carlsbad Marathon 3:35.30 - Injured
2008: Denver Marathon 3:21.53 MAS 50 11:04.00 - 1st 50 Miler San Francisco Marathon 3:15.54 High Mountain 50k 5:21.54 - 7th Place Estes Park Marathon 3:35.41 Colorado Marathon 3:21.26
2007: Denver Marathon 3:31.39 ADT Marathon 3:21.54 (1st time running over 16 miles)
