Newfound Confidence

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:

1. Knees and quads started hurting
2. Bowel problems - Poo #2
3. 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.

2011 Collegiate Peaks 50

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.

Running and Rabid Rodents

Running:
So after my much needed 3 week hiatus from running, I got back on the horse on January 1st with the annual 'Hangover Run'... I mean Rescue Run 10k. This was the second consecutive year that my friend James and I were late to the race start, but unlike last year where we arrived maybe 5 minutes after the gun went off, we were a good 12 minutes behind schedule this year which made it too late to for me to officially register. But hey, I hadn't planned my outfit and decked myself out in snowboard/running attire for nothing, so I still went out and put in the miles.

Since then I have run every day of this cold new year, which puts my streak at 10 days as I write this. While I have no specific longevity goals for this streak, I also have no intentions of breaking it unless my body forces me to do so (ie: injury). Consistency and higher mileage will be the name of the game this year in hopes of a sub-2:47 marathon at Boston and a top-5 at the Leadville 100.

Oh, and I almost forgot... I'm in the 'What it Takes' section of the February 2011 Runners World.

Rabid Rodents:
Okay, so there is actually only one rodent in this video - a squirrel - but you won't be disappointed. While this video has potential to go viral on YouTube if I put techno music in the background, it's still pretty funny as it is. I rarely run with my phone, but last Saturday was thankfully one of those occasions.

Here's the scenario: I was two hours into my long run, and I'd just gotten off the snowy trails and hit the road behind Bear Creek Park to run home on surface streets when I encountered the squirrel in the videos below. I recommend watching BOTH videos, even if only for the entertainment value of the of the hill-billy comments the local resident provides in the background.
(I especially like "Who knows what happens when you get hit by a car?", and "He must have some sort of brain damage.")

Video #1. 'My Discovery':

Video #2. 'Squirrel and Stick':

Brooks