It's been far too long since the last post, so I thought I'd do a quick update on what's happening with me right now (for those who really care). Probably just a lot of non-sense, but that's what a blog's for, right?!
It's been a month now since The Bear, and in case you're wondering, yes, my shin is still swollen. I had major tendonitis in it - where it hurt to even walk - for about three weeks following the race. Walking around a work conference in New Orleans for four days immediately following the race was comical, to put it lightly. However, I've added a few short runs in the last week or so and I think it's finally coming around. I also had the opportunity to crew and pace my buddy Matt Williams at the Pony Express Trail 50 miler on Friday. The good news is that it didn't bother me one bit during the run. The bad news is that my legs are sore from 15 miles of pacing. Looks like it'll take a little time to get back up to fitness, but I'm ok with that.
Having so much down time has really put me in a strange mindset, however. I don't have a routine by any means, but I feel an absence when such an enormous piece of my life (or two) has been missing. Now just trying to get out the door takes major effort; mental effort, mostly. So this week I'm pushing to run 4 days which I'm hoping gets me back to some sense of normalcy. I hope to see the fitness come around with that as a result.
These last few weeks (and months) have really got me thinking about mental focus and it's role in endurance activities such as ultrarunning. As I've experienced in my life, focus in training is just as important as focus during a race. My training focus has been all over the map this year. There's been some very intense, focus-driven workouts, but I've certainly had many days where I just didn't want to do anything; so I didn't. Everything came to a head on race day though, as my weak focus weighed me down in the early stages, then completely diminished at mile 70. My physical, and especially mental training, didn't properly prepare me for the demands I would see on race day. Don't get me wrong here, I'm very pleased with the result I had on race day all things considered. However, I know that with proper focus - especially on the mental front - I can achieve results that fall more in line with what I'm capable of. (That, and a brighter headlamp so I don't smash my leg into any large rocks next time.)
The question now is, am I willing to put forth the necessary effort to achieve the goals I set out for myself? And in the grand scheme of things, how important are those goals in my life? When it all comes down to it, it's all about priorities. Good thing it's the off-season and I have some time to prioritize my life and my goals for next year. Here's to happy running!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
2011 Bear 100
Running a hundred miles was an all-consuming thought in preparation for Wasatch last year. Coming into my 2011 focus race - The Bear 100 - however, I had much more on my plate in my personal life, so running became more of an afterthought. I didn't follow a schedule at all this year, but got out and ran only when I felt like it. Doing so helped me keep a more solid grip on reality, but I probably slacked more than I should have. I also didn't focus on my diet or mental preparation nearly as much this year.
Even with the less than stellar training, I felt as though I could go out there and hit my goal of 24 hours. I was planning to run on ability alone, which anyone can tell you doesn't really work when running a one hundred mile endurance run. Silly Josh, when will you learn? When I go out and experience it myself, that's when! I don't do well when people tell me what to do, so I go out and usually find ways to learn my own lessons. Well, I learned a lesson this year and it happened in the last 30 miles of the race.
The climb up from the road wasn't too tough, but it did seem pretty long. What's even worse is when you see people out on course and they tell you how far it is, but then they're way off... Yeah, that happened several times in this race. I did make it to the top though, then dropped down into some sweet single track leading to the lake and the Tony Grove Aid Station (mile 51.8). I took a little extra time here to change socks and drain some blisters, none of which were too bad just yet. However, I knew that if I had a few now, that meant a lot later.
I got back on my way and kept a steady pace. However, I was busy following someone and we missed a turn. The markings were obvious, but I was following him and not the trail. I've done this numerous times and you'd think I'd learn by now, but no. When you're fatigued you do some pretty stupid stuff. Luckily, I only lost 7 or 8 minutes by this little mishap, so nothing too serious. Aside from the miscue, these 19 miles from Tony Grove to Logan River were my best of the race. I was taking care of myself, my head was finally in the game and I was moving great, picking off people along the way. The only other thing of note was playing leapfrog with some guys on horses for about 3 miles, all while inhaling lots of dust. Good times!
I arrived at the Logan River Aid Station (mile 69.5) in pretty good shape and in about 24th place. I swapped out my jacket for one a bit heavier since I was getting cold, then moved on out. For as good as I was feeling on the previous sections, this next section to Lodge (mile 75.8) was terrible. I was starting to get quite tired and my stomach decided to stop processing food again. I almost puked on two separate gels here, so I basically stopped eating during this section. It was a grind. My quads were basically dead at this point and my left IT band started acting up. I've never had a problem with the left one before, so it came as a bit of a surprise to me. Then to top it off, about a mile from the Lodge, my eyes were getting tired and ended up going off trail. I panicked since I didn't know how long it had been since I'd seen the last marker. Eventually though, I gained my wits and just turned out my headlamp. I kept focused on my surroundings, waiting to see other lights coming off the mountain so I could follow them in. After 7 or 8 minutes, two lights came bounding at me and I was able to find the trail again. Another catastrophe averted.
I came into the Lodge and was mentally defeated. I decided to take my sweet time here and just enjoy the rest of the experience because I knew I wouldn't make my goal. I ate some soup, grabbed my waist pack and filled it with things non-gel, drank some Coke and finally headed out the door. It was a 30 minute stop - by far my longest of the race - but also much needed I think. I knew I wouldn't finish if I didn't take the time to get back in the game here.
I clicked off the next two sections, basically keeping my placing in the race and just moving forward. I came off the climb down into Beaver Creek (mile 85.3) and was faced with a river crossing. Since the forest service wouldn't allow them to build a bridge here, a makeshift log was put into place where you crossed. With a long stick in one hand to keep my balance, I made my way across and at about the half way mark I slipped and went into the drink; soaked from the waist down. Nothing like a nice late night swim! Once I got to the aid station I changed my shoes and socks and invited my dad to join me for the last 15 miles. I knew I'd be slow since my knee was hurting so bad and I had a couple real nasty blisters.
About a mile out of the aid station I was running along and missed seeing a large rock. It smacked me in the middle of my shin while my leg was swinging forward full-force. It took me a second to realize what had happened, but I finally stopped for a moment to grimace in pain. Then around two miles out from the aid we headed straight down a long, open road. We didn't notice any course markings, but thought we'd keep moving ahead. Earlier in the race on the long, open, obvious sections like this, the markings were quite a ways apart so with that thinking in mind we kept going, and going, and going. Finally the road started to bend and we saw another runner out ahead of us. We all grouped together (by then another runner was with us) and we decided to go back. My dad went ahead and found where we'd missed the turn and showed us. The marking was nailed to a post where it had obviously been tampered with as only the top portion was left under the nail. It was probably 3/4 of an inch to an inch long and the rest had obviously been torn off. Come to find out later that some ATV'ers had taken down the marking there. So there's another 45 minutes wasted! I was ready to quit, but I'm stubborn so I kept moving forward. My dad stayed back and made a huge arrow on the road out of sticks and branches. We didn't want any other runners to have to experience what we just went through.
After moving through the Ranger Dip Aid Station (mile 92.2) and grinding up the climb just past it, I knew I was in for a long, painful downhill. It felt like someone was driving nail into my shin with every step. Then every time I had to really slow down or stop, my IT band would start giving me fits. Back and forth all the way down the mountain. At times the pain was so bad I would just be laughing. You know the kind of hurt where it's so bad the only thing you can do is that weird, teeth-clinching laugh? Yeah, that was me for about 5 miles straight. Once we got off the downhill though, I was able to run it in the rest of the way at a fairly decent pace. I eventually arrived and crossed the line in 27:44:46, 50th place overall.
It's been over a week and I've had some time to let things sink in. I ran a great race through 70 miles, then completely imploded the last 30. I learned my lesson and that lesson is that you can't fake 100 miles. I'm very proud of myself for sticking it out though and finishing such a tough race. A huge thanks to my parents for being there with me and helping me through it. Couldn't have done it without them. Also a thanks to all the volunteers and organizers. I've heard people rag on this race in the past for poor course markings, but I didn't have any major complaints about it. Maybe on those long, obvious stretches they could put markings closer together so you never have to wonder about things. Overall though, it was marked very well.
You've really gotta put in the time and mental focus to be able to do well in these races. I know what I'm capable of. Now it's just a question of whether or not I'm willing to put in the effort to get there. That's a question I can't answer today, unfortunately. Life's responsibilities will always take precedence over running. However, if the desire and time is there, I'd love to see what I'm capable of doing.
Even with the less than stellar training, I felt as though I could go out there and hit my goal of 24 hours. I was planning to run on ability alone, which anyone can tell you doesn't really work when running a one hundred mile endurance run. Silly Josh, when will you learn? When I go out and experience it myself, that's when! I don't do well when people tell me what to do, so I go out and usually find ways to learn my own lessons. Well, I learned a lesson this year and it happened in the last 30 miles of the race.
Race morning came and things were calm. One thing about the start line of a hundred miler is that there's no nerves involved, at least for me. You have an entire day ahead of you so there's nothing to be nervous about. So the start came and went, and the train of lights made its way up the mountain. I felt ok on the climb, but not great. I was also having difficulty getting my head into it. There's definitely a place you need to put your mind in a long race, and mine wasn't there. I made it to the top of the climb and cruised to the Logan Peak Aid Station (mile 10.5). After shoving my face full of strawberries and cantaloupe, I went on my way and continued with the battle in my head.
I know this may sound strange to a non-runner (or maybe even a runner), but I don't remember much about the next 20 miles or so. My legs were on auto-pilot and I was just moving along. I do remember the scenery being pretty fantastic, and I do remember seeing my parents at the Leatham Hollow Aid Station (mile 19.6), but that's about the extent of it.
After moving through the Cowley Aid Station (mile 29.9), it was really starting to heat up. I slowed down quite a bit, but remained ahead of my splits. It was between here and Right Hand Fork (mile 36.9) that my stomach started to revolt a bit, so I had to slow down when I ate and give it a few minutes to digest. The heat was starting to take its toll and I started thinking about how easy it would be to drop. I honestly didn't even care any longer, I just wanted to be done. I just kept grinding at it and eventually ended up at Temple Fork (mile 45.1) where I sat down for a minute, wiped off my face and talked with my parents. I was wiped out from the heat, but it was only 3:00 pm so I became demoralized at having to face the heat any longer. However, my dad mentioned that the next section would be in the shade. I didn't know if he was just trying to get me moving, but it worked and the next section was almost completely shaded. What a relief!
The climb up from the road wasn't too tough, but it did seem pretty long. What's even worse is when you see people out on course and they tell you how far it is, but then they're way off... Yeah, that happened several times in this race. I did make it to the top though, then dropped down into some sweet single track leading to the lake and the Tony Grove Aid Station (mile 51.8). I took a little extra time here to change socks and drain some blisters, none of which were too bad just yet. However, I knew that if I had a few now, that meant a lot later.
I got back on my way and kept a steady pace. However, I was busy following someone and we missed a turn. The markings were obvious, but I was following him and not the trail. I've done this numerous times and you'd think I'd learn by now, but no. When you're fatigued you do some pretty stupid stuff. Luckily, I only lost 7 or 8 minutes by this little mishap, so nothing too serious. Aside from the miscue, these 19 miles from Tony Grove to Logan River were my best of the race. I was taking care of myself, my head was finally in the game and I was moving great, picking off people along the way. The only other thing of note was playing leapfrog with some guys on horses for about 3 miles, all while inhaling lots of dust. Good times!
I arrived at the Logan River Aid Station (mile 69.5) in pretty good shape and in about 24th place. I swapped out my jacket for one a bit heavier since I was getting cold, then moved on out. For as good as I was feeling on the previous sections, this next section to Lodge (mile 75.8) was terrible. I was starting to get quite tired and my stomach decided to stop processing food again. I almost puked on two separate gels here, so I basically stopped eating during this section. It was a grind. My quads were basically dead at this point and my left IT band started acting up. I've never had a problem with the left one before, so it came as a bit of a surprise to me. Then to top it off, about a mile from the Lodge, my eyes were getting tired and ended up going off trail. I panicked since I didn't know how long it had been since I'd seen the last marker. Eventually though, I gained my wits and just turned out my headlamp. I kept focused on my surroundings, waiting to see other lights coming off the mountain so I could follow them in. After 7 or 8 minutes, two lights came bounding at me and I was able to find the trail again. Another catastrophe averted.
I came into the Lodge and was mentally defeated. I decided to take my sweet time here and just enjoy the rest of the experience because I knew I wouldn't make my goal. I ate some soup, grabbed my waist pack and filled it with things non-gel, drank some Coke and finally headed out the door. It was a 30 minute stop - by far my longest of the race - but also much needed I think. I knew I wouldn't finish if I didn't take the time to get back in the game here.
I clicked off the next two sections, basically keeping my placing in the race and just moving forward. I came off the climb down into Beaver Creek (mile 85.3) and was faced with a river crossing. Since the forest service wouldn't allow them to build a bridge here, a makeshift log was put into place where you crossed. With a long stick in one hand to keep my balance, I made my way across and at about the half way mark I slipped and went into the drink; soaked from the waist down. Nothing like a nice late night swim! Once I got to the aid station I changed my shoes and socks and invited my dad to join me for the last 15 miles. I knew I'd be slow since my knee was hurting so bad and I had a couple real nasty blisters.
About a mile out of the aid station I was running along and missed seeing a large rock. It smacked me in the middle of my shin while my leg was swinging forward full-force. It took me a second to realize what had happened, but I finally stopped for a moment to grimace in pain. Then around two miles out from the aid we headed straight down a long, open road. We didn't notice any course markings, but thought we'd keep moving ahead. Earlier in the race on the long, open, obvious sections like this, the markings were quite a ways apart so with that thinking in mind we kept going, and going, and going. Finally the road started to bend and we saw another runner out ahead of us. We all grouped together (by then another runner was with us) and we decided to go back. My dad went ahead and found where we'd missed the turn and showed us. The marking was nailed to a post where it had obviously been tampered with as only the top portion was left under the nail. It was probably 3/4 of an inch to an inch long and the rest had obviously been torn off. Come to find out later that some ATV'ers had taken down the marking there. So there's another 45 minutes wasted! I was ready to quit, but I'm stubborn so I kept moving forward. My dad stayed back and made a huge arrow on the road out of sticks and branches. We didn't want any other runners to have to experience what we just went through.
After moving through the Ranger Dip Aid Station (mile 92.2) and grinding up the climb just past it, I knew I was in for a long, painful downhill. It felt like someone was driving nail into my shin with every step. Then every time I had to really slow down or stop, my IT band would start giving me fits. Back and forth all the way down the mountain. At times the pain was so bad I would just be laughing. You know the kind of hurt where it's so bad the only thing you can do is that weird, teeth-clinching laugh? Yeah, that was me for about 5 miles straight. Once we got off the downhill though, I was able to run it in the rest of the way at a fairly decent pace. I eventually arrived and crossed the line in 27:44:46, 50th place overall.
It's been over a week and I've had some time to let things sink in. I ran a great race through 70 miles, then completely imploded the last 30. I learned my lesson and that lesson is that you can't fake 100 miles. I'm very proud of myself for sticking it out though and finishing such a tough race. A huge thanks to my parents for being there with me and helping me through it. Couldn't have done it without them. Also a thanks to all the volunteers and organizers. I've heard people rag on this race in the past for poor course markings, but I didn't have any major complaints about it. Maybe on those long, obvious stretches they could put markings closer together so you never have to wonder about things. Overall though, it was marked very well.
You've really gotta put in the time and mental focus to be able to do well in these races. I know what I'm capable of. Now it's just a question of whether or not I'm willing to put in the effort to get there. That's a question I can't answer today, unfortunately. Life's responsibilities will always take precedence over running. However, if the desire and time is there, I'd love to see what I'm capable of doing.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Pacing at the Wasatch 100
I had the opportunity to pace my friend Darrell Phippen from Brighton to the finish at the Wasatch 100. The race boasts around 27,000 feet of vertical gain and 26,000 feet in descent over the course of 100 miles. The section I was running is easily the toughest 25 miles of the course, with over 6,000 feet of gain and nearly 10,000 feet of descent.
I was tracking Darrell’s progress online throughout the day and comparing his splits with the pace chart he gave me. He was expecting to arrive at Brighton around 2:00 am. He was right on his splits until he hit Lambs Canyon (mile 53) where he experienced some stomach issues, so I knew we'd have some time to make up once he got to me. I got to Brighton around 1:00 am, mostly because I don't trust technology and I wanted to make sure I was there in case the computer splits were off at all. It was fun hanging out and talking with other crew members, pacers, and runners.
Finally, Darrell arrived at about 2:50 am . He said he was feeling good, although I could tell he was a little bit incoherent. He spent some time getting some food in him and changing shoes. He said his feet were really sore and he was looking forward to jumping into his Hokas for the final stretch. After a long stop, we left Brighton at about 3:20 am, 80 minutes behind schedule. I formulated a plan to help him get his goal, but right out of Brighton he wasn't interested at all. He would laugh every time I talked about it. However, we cut 20 minutes off his split to the next aid station, Ant Knolls (mile 80).
I could tell he was still a bit out of it when we arrived at Ant Knolls. He sat down and had some broth and a few things to eat. After a 13 minute stop, we were back at it. I told him he still had a chance to get his goal, but he'd have to work for it. Once again, all I got was a laugh. He still wasn't interested. During this section we also both started getting tired. To make sure we kept up on the pace and didn't fall asleep, I started asking him all sorts of random questions. I also mentioned that at any point he could just tell me to shut up and I wouldn't be offended. We had a few laughs and were able to hit his pace target for this section.
We arrived at Pole Line Pass (mile 83) just as light was breaking. Since this was the last drop bag spot, we agreed that we'd wait 20 minutes or so before leaving, that way we didn't have to carry our lights and cold gear to the finish. Darrell decided to take a 15 minute nap by the fire. I was talking with one of the volunteers there who said she had a brother named Darrell who looked just like him. When I woke him up, I could tell he had no idea where he was. To add to the confusion, this lady immediately starts talking to him about her brother Darrell. He had no idea what was going on. Finally, after about 2 minutes he snapped out of it and we got him out of the aid station.
From this point, I knew we didn’t have a shot at 30 hours unless he could muster up something special. So when I mentioned the 30 hour belt buckle, he said he’ll just borrow mine when he needs it. Obviously, he still wasn’t interested. The section to Rock Springs (mile 87) was right on his target pace, but I knew there was no way to get 30 hours now; It was all about getting him to the finish. At Rock Springs I pulled out his Payday bar that he wanted for breakfast. He ate about half of it as we headed out of the aid station.
I knew the next section would be tough with The Dive and The Plunge in front of us. These two sections are extremely steep and covered with a layer of dust several inches deep. However, they were a blessing in disguise because they got Darrell running again instead of just trotting. At the bottom of The Plunge we started working hard and passing a few people. Darrell even started running some of the short uphill sections. My jaw completely dropped! This guy had over 90 miles in his legs and he was running like he had just started. We ended up passing 9 runners on this section and were 20 minutes ahead of his split for this section. It was incredible!
We arrived at Pot Bottom (mile 93) and filled up Darrell’s bottles. Suddenly, he was out of there. I told him I’d catch up since I still needed to refill my bottles and drink some Coke. I eventually caught up to him after he’d passed 3 more people. Then we passed one more on the climb out of Pot Bottom. Once we dropped down for the final descent, he was running hard again. We passed 3 more people en route to the finish. As we arrived at The Homestead, I gave him a high five then peeled off as he ran the final stretch to the finishing banner. We cut 15 more minutes off his split for the last section and he finished in 30 hours and 33 minutes. What an incredible experience! Darrell did great and was able to shave off an hour from his finishing time last year. I was so impressed with his climbing all day and especially with his downhill gear those final 10 miles or so.
As for me, I felt great the whole run. The legs weren’t even a touch sore afterwards. My feet were pretty tired though. I had bought a new pair of shoes for The Bear 100 in two weeks and I wore them on this run. It’s the same shoe I race in, so it wasn’t a big deal just putting them on and running 25 miles straight out of the box. The problem was, I wasn’t prepared for the structure of a brand new shoe. I’m used to running in my old Wildcats that have over 1,000 miles on them. I raced Wasatch last year in them, the Buffalo Run 50 and Squaw Peak 50 this year, not to mention all the adventure runs and big training runs this year. I love them and will probably run in them til they fall off my feet. Because of the foot fatigue I felt in the new shoe though, I’m rethinking my strategy for The Bear. I’ll probably start the race in the old trusty shoe, then change them out for the new ones part way through the race when I’m in need of more cushion.
Congrats to all the finishers at the Wasatch 100. I had an incredible time out there and was amazed at all the stories I heard. Hopefully, I can draw out next year and run this one again. But first, The Bear 100 is less than two weeks away. The training is done and now I just gotta go out and do it.
I was tracking Darrell’s progress online throughout the day and comparing his splits with the pace chart he gave me. He was expecting to arrive at Brighton around 2:00 am. He was right on his splits until he hit Lambs Canyon (mile 53) where he experienced some stomach issues, so I knew we'd have some time to make up once he got to me. I got to Brighton around 1:00 am, mostly because I don't trust technology and I wanted to make sure I was there in case the computer splits were off at all. It was fun hanging out and talking with other crew members, pacers, and runners.
Finally, Darrell arrived at about 2:50 am . He said he was feeling good, although I could tell he was a little bit incoherent. He spent some time getting some food in him and changing shoes. He said his feet were really sore and he was looking forward to jumping into his Hokas for the final stretch. After a long stop, we left Brighton at about 3:20 am, 80 minutes behind schedule. I formulated a plan to help him get his goal, but right out of Brighton he wasn't interested at all. He would laugh every time I talked about it. However, we cut 20 minutes off his split to the next aid station, Ant Knolls (mile 80).
I could tell he was still a bit out of it when we arrived at Ant Knolls. He sat down and had some broth and a few things to eat. After a 13 minute stop, we were back at it. I told him he still had a chance to get his goal, but he'd have to work for it. Once again, all I got was a laugh. He still wasn't interested. During this section we also both started getting tired. To make sure we kept up on the pace and didn't fall asleep, I started asking him all sorts of random questions. I also mentioned that at any point he could just tell me to shut up and I wouldn't be offended. We had a few laughs and were able to hit his pace target for this section.
We arrived at Pole Line Pass (mile 83) just as light was breaking. Since this was the last drop bag spot, we agreed that we'd wait 20 minutes or so before leaving, that way we didn't have to carry our lights and cold gear to the finish. Darrell decided to take a 15 minute nap by the fire. I was talking with one of the volunteers there who said she had a brother named Darrell who looked just like him. When I woke him up, I could tell he had no idea where he was. To add to the confusion, this lady immediately starts talking to him about her brother Darrell. He had no idea what was going on. Finally, after about 2 minutes he snapped out of it and we got him out of the aid station.
From this point, I knew we didn’t have a shot at 30 hours unless he could muster up something special. So when I mentioned the 30 hour belt buckle, he said he’ll just borrow mine when he needs it. Obviously, he still wasn’t interested. The section to Rock Springs (mile 87) was right on his target pace, but I knew there was no way to get 30 hours now; It was all about getting him to the finish. At Rock Springs I pulled out his Payday bar that he wanted for breakfast. He ate about half of it as we headed out of the aid station.
I knew the next section would be tough with The Dive and The Plunge in front of us. These two sections are extremely steep and covered with a layer of dust several inches deep. However, they were a blessing in disguise because they got Darrell running again instead of just trotting. At the bottom of The Plunge we started working hard and passing a few people. Darrell even started running some of the short uphill sections. My jaw completely dropped! This guy had over 90 miles in his legs and he was running like he had just started. We ended up passing 9 runners on this section and were 20 minutes ahead of his split for this section. It was incredible!
We arrived at Pot Bottom (mile 93) and filled up Darrell’s bottles. Suddenly, he was out of there. I told him I’d catch up since I still needed to refill my bottles and drink some Coke. I eventually caught up to him after he’d passed 3 more people. Then we passed one more on the climb out of Pot Bottom. Once we dropped down for the final descent, he was running hard again. We passed 3 more people en route to the finish. As we arrived at The Homestead, I gave him a high five then peeled off as he ran the final stretch to the finishing banner. We cut 15 more minutes off his split for the last section and he finished in 30 hours and 33 minutes. What an incredible experience! Darrell did great and was able to shave off an hour from his finishing time last year. I was so impressed with his climbing all day and especially with his downhill gear those final 10 miles or so.
As for me, I felt great the whole run. The legs weren’t even a touch sore afterwards. My feet were pretty tired though. I had bought a new pair of shoes for The Bear 100 in two weeks and I wore them on this run. It’s the same shoe I race in, so it wasn’t a big deal just putting them on and running 25 miles straight out of the box. The problem was, I wasn’t prepared for the structure of a brand new shoe. I’m used to running in my old Wildcats that have over 1,000 miles on them. I raced Wasatch last year in them, the Buffalo Run 50 and Squaw Peak 50 this year, not to mention all the adventure runs and big training runs this year. I love them and will probably run in them til they fall off my feet. Because of the foot fatigue I felt in the new shoe though, I’m rethinking my strategy for The Bear. I’ll probably start the race in the old trusty shoe, then change them out for the new ones part way through the race when I’m in need of more cushion.
Congrats to all the finishers at the Wasatch 100. I had an incredible time out there and was amazed at all the stories I heard. Hopefully, I can draw out next year and run this one again. But first, The Bear 100 is less than two weeks away. The training is done and now I just gotta go out and do it.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Timp 8/20/11
I was able to get up and run Timpanogos from the Timpanooke trailhead on Saturday morning. It was a perfect day out and even though I had to dodge hundreds of people on the trail, it was still a fun outing. I ran at a fairly moderate pace with lots of picture breaks and ended up finishing in just over three and half hours.
Who really cares about all that though, you just wanna see the pictures right? Let's get to it...
Who really cares about all that though, you just wanna see the pictures right? Let's get to it...
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Quest For Kings (double attempt)
Kings Peak is the highest peak in the state of Utah, reaching an elevation of 13,528 feet at the summit. My friend Craig was putting on an informal race called Quest For Kings. The route starts at Henry's Fork, run 13 miles to the summit, then turn around and do it in reverse. The whole run has about 5,000 feet of cumulative elevation gain over the 26 miles, and it's all above 9,500 feet in altitude. After some talking, myself, Scott, and Matt decided to make an attempt at a double. We also heard that Crockett would be attempting a double, starting about 7 hours ahead of us.
The plan was to get to Henry's Fork around 7:00 or 8:00 in the evening, set up camp and try to sleep for a few hours before starting at midnight. Well, we ended up taking entirely too long to get out of Salt Lake and stopped way too long in Evanston. We finally reached Henry's Fork around 9:00 pm. We talked it over and decided that by the time we got camp set up, we'd only be able to sleep for maybe an hour, if we could sleep at all. So we made the decision to get ready and go. We started our journey at about 10:45 Friday night... Mistake number one.
A few miles later we ran into Crockett who was on his way down from his first summit. He warned us about a snow covered section just above Gunsight Pass that was really sketchy. He crossed it during the day when it was slightly soft and said it was one of the scariest things he's ever done. In the cold and dark, it was guaranteed to be a slide of death, so we navigated below it. We were also able to turn off our headlamps and run up this section by the moonlight, which ended up being a lot of fun. After a quick scramble up to the plateau, we got our first look at the mountain. Stunning!
We got down into the basin and made our approach to Anderson Pass. Once we got here, we were all feeling a bit wounded. I was starting to feel a little bit of vertigo; nothing too serious. Matt was getting a major headache, and Scott was dealing with nausea. Matt pushed on ahead to tag the summit and get back down quickly. I stayed back with Scott and let him dictate the pace since I could tell he was feeling it. I don't know what this, we'll call it "paternal" instinct I have is all about, but I really want to make sure people are ok when they're with me. I'll always stick back and hang with someone who's not doing well. I feel like I owe it to them for some reason. Kinda weird. Anyway, with about 100 yards to go I pushed ahead and hit the summit at about 3:50 am. I snapped a few pictures and waited for Scott. He arrived shortly after and we hung out briefly before tackling the descent on the talus slope. About 25 yards off the peak Scott doubles over and starts puking everywhere. I did my best not to laugh, but some of the noises he was making were killin' me. After 5 or 6 sessions, he finally stopped and we continued down the mountain.
Once we got back down below Anderson Pass, Scott decided he should get some calories and he choked down a gel. I could tell he had no energy, but I know what it's like trying to eat something after you've just yakked all over the place. We made it back to the plateau and Scott laid down for about 15 minutes to take a nap. He said he swore he was talking to us, but we weren't talking to him at all. He was obviously exhausted. When we got to Gunsight Pass we ran into Crockett back on his way up the mountain. He went on to finish the double! We filled up with water at the spring just below the pass and got to actually run again. It felt good.
We kept a slow running pace the rest of the way down, stopping to chat with others on their way up the mountain. They couldn't believe we had already been to the top and were heading back down now. Lots of people out on the trail, and I'd imagine it would get even busier once all the scouts were awake and on their way. We ended up finishing just after 9 AM, 10 hours and 27 minutes after we started.
The plan was to get to Henry's Fork around 7:00 or 8:00 in the evening, set up camp and try to sleep for a few hours before starting at midnight. Well, we ended up taking entirely too long to get out of Salt Lake and stopped way too long in Evanston. We finally reached Henry's Fork around 9:00 pm. We talked it over and decided that by the time we got camp set up, we'd only be able to sleep for maybe an hour, if we could sleep at all. So we made the decision to get ready and go. We started our journey at about 10:45 Friday night... Mistake number one.
Scott & Matt scouting out the route
Having never been on this trail before, I let the boys lead out and guide me through the forest. It was nearly a full moon out and the temperature was more mild than I anticipated. The first 5 miles were great. We kept a running pace for most of the way and finally reached Elkhorn Crossing where the forest opens up and leads you into the meadows. Apparently we were very slow though compared to splits the guys had on previous attempts. This trail is unbelievably technical. Rocks litter the trail in places where you can run, and the last 3 miles to the summit is a completely different story. More on that later. It was tough navigating the terrain at night, which is probably why we were so slow.A few miles later we ran into Crockett who was on his way down from his first summit. He warned us about a snow covered section just above Gunsight Pass that was really sketchy. He crossed it during the day when it was slightly soft and said it was one of the scariest things he's ever done. In the cold and dark, it was guaranteed to be a slide of death, so we navigated below it. We were also able to turn off our headlamps and run up this section by the moonlight, which ended up being a lot of fun. After a quick scramble up to the plateau, we got our first look at the mountain. Stunning!
I'm still all smiles before Gunsight Pass
We descended into the basin and mistake number two reared its head. Scott was wearing his Hoka Bondi B's and he wasn't able to navigate the boulders very well in them. He tweaked his ankle countless times on the boulders and would yell out "HOKAS!" which would get me laughing. The Hokas slowed our pace significantly, especially on the descents. I'm sure he'll never wear those shoes on that trail again.
We got down into the basin and made our approach to Anderson Pass. Once we got here, we were all feeling a bit wounded. I was starting to feel a little bit of vertigo; nothing too serious. Matt was getting a major headache, and Scott was dealing with nausea. Matt pushed on ahead to tag the summit and get back down quickly. I stayed back with Scott and let him dictate the pace since I could tell he was feeling it. I don't know what this, we'll call it "paternal" instinct I have is all about, but I really want to make sure people are ok when they're with me. I'll always stick back and hang with someone who's not doing well. I feel like I owe it to them for some reason. Kinda weird. Anyway, with about 100 yards to go I pushed ahead and hit the summit at about 3:50 am. I snapped a few pictures and waited for Scott. He arrived shortly after and we hung out briefly before tackling the descent on the talus slope. About 25 yards off the peak Scott doubles over and starts puking everywhere. I did my best not to laugh, but some of the noises he was making were killin' me. After 5 or 6 sessions, he finally stopped and we continued down the mountain.
My first Kings Peak summit
Once we got back down below Anderson Pass, Scott decided he should get some calories and he choked down a gel. I could tell he had no energy, but I know what it's like trying to eat something after you've just yakked all over the place. We made it back to the plateau and Scott laid down for about 15 minutes to take a nap. He said he swore he was talking to us, but we weren't talking to him at all. He was obviously exhausted. When we got to Gunsight Pass we ran into Crockett back on his way up the mountain. He went on to finish the double! We filled up with water at the spring just below the pass and got to actually run again. It felt good.
We kept a slow running pace the rest of the way down, stopping to chat with others on their way up the mountain. They couldn't believe we had already been to the top and were heading back down now. Lots of people out on the trail, and I'd imagine it would get even busier once all the scouts were awake and on their way. We ended up finishing just after 9 AM, 10 hours and 27 minutes after we started.
Feeling great in the early morning
We went back to the car to refuel and decide what we wanted to do. Because of the time it took for the first lap, we didn't think we'd have enough time to do a second due to time committments. If lap one was any indication of things to come, I'm sure lap two would have been a bad idea. I'm glad we made the decision to call it a day.
On the home stretch
I learned a few things on this trip. I learned that my body adapts well to the altitude. I wasn't sure how I'd hold up having never been that high in elevation before. When we go back to attempt the double again (which I'm hoping will be in the next couple weeks), we definitely need a better game plan. We need to show up the night before and camp, then wake up early in order to tackle both summits in the daylight. We underestimated how slow we'd be on the trail in the dark. The boulder sections are especially difficult to maneuver through at night. Scott learned to leave the Hokas at home and Matt learned to keep lots of wipes on hand. It was a ton of fun and I'm officially hooked!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Attempt at Timp 7/13/11
Went up and made an attempt at Timp with my friends Matt, Craig, and Scott. Having never been there before, the surroundings blew my mind. This was my first time on this trail, and I left wondering why I had never done this before.
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
![]()
After about 2 miles in, we were in snow the rest of the way up. I slipped on a set of Yaktraks once we hit the snow. Traction devices on your feet only do so much when the snow isn’t hard-packed. Lots of slipping and sliding. And I was the idiot that didn’t bring trekking poles! Scott offered me a set, but I didn’t think I’d really need them. I managed without, but things would’ve been much easier with them, that’s for sure.
There were a few places we couldn’t find the trail so we’d just climb straight up in the snow. I actually love this kind of “bushwhacking” on hikes, but there were a few really steep spots where I was afraid of falling. And I’m a baby when it comes to heights!
We didn’t make the summit, but made it just below the saddle. We made the decision to turn around there because of time, and because the approach to the saddle was sketchy. It needs a few more weeks to melt down. Coming back down was fun since we got to glissade down on our butts in a few different places. It was an absolute blast!
On the drive home we talked about the “run” and how weak it looks on paper. Less than 10 miles in 4 hours... Are you kidding me? Even with the vertical, it seems pretty pathetic. I can tell you that I’m spent though! This is why I measure my long efforts in time on my feet, and not in miles. There’s no way to express the amount of work we put in out there, for such small numbers (other than the time of course).
Thursday, June 23, 2011
2011 Ragnar Relay - Wasatch Back
I told myself I'd only sign up for this if I was feeling good after Squaw Peak. Since two weeks isn't necessarily ample time to recover, I didn't want to waste my money by signing up in advance. Turns out my legs were ready to run again two days after Squaw, but my feet were not. I had a couple blisters that I wanted to make sure were healed over before I started running again. So I took 6 days off. After a few runs I could tell that my legs were still quite tired, but felt like I could run a few easy relay legs. So I began my search.
One week before the race I found an ultra team that needed a runner. It was a co-ed team consisting of several out of state runners. I was excited for the opportunity so I emailed them and told them I'd take the spot. I was also excited when I found out I had a choice in which leg I was going to run. I chose to be Runner 5 for two reasons: the 17 mile 2nd leg, but more so for the 3,000 foot climb on the 3rd leg.
Friday morning came and I met up with the group. The team consisted of: the captain, George, who completed an Ironman last year and regularly competes in half Ironman events; Dennis, who also does triathlon events; Hana, also into triathlons, is a regular age group placer; Ken, an avid runner, ran 4 different Ragnar events last year and was previously CEO of Ragnar; And finally Marianne, who ran a sub-4 hour marathon last year. Our team seemed to be pretty solid.
![]()
My first leg was scheduled to be just over 7 miles on relatively flat terrain. On an ultra team, you run two normal legs back-to-back. So Runner 1 would run legs 1 & 2, then Runner 2 would run 3 & 4, etc. Well, the runner before me, Marianne, was struggling on her first leg and asked me to run the second half of that leg for her. She obviously hadn't trained much since her marathon last year, but I know she was also working on no sleep the night before due to a graveyard shift at work. This turned into the theme for the day, where she'd run the first part of her leg and someone else would run the second.
So my 7 turned into 10.5. I tried to keep it at a moderate pace and not get too caught up in catching people. Things basically went according to plan and I finished it in 1:16:32, or a 7:17/mile pace. A little bit faster than I'd wanted to go, but it felt good so I went with it.
My second leg started at 3:07 in the morning. I knew it would be a slog, especially since I hadn't slept yet and since it was in the dark. The conditions were nearly perfect though and most of the run was on a graded trail, so it was just what I needed. The first portion of the leg, 9.3 miles, went well. I felt good and was alert. At the transition to the second portion, I had George grab me a pancake since they were serving them at this station. It tasted amazing and I just kept taking little bites for about 25 minutes while I was running. But I started having doubts about running. What was I thinking? Can you really do this? Then my brain kept telling me it was ok to walk and to just stop for a minute. It was a constant battle for nearly an hour and my tired brain just wanted to quit. But my body kept moving. I didn't stop but kept the pace really easy. I finished the leg just as it was getting light out. Total leg was 16.9 miles, 2:28:19, or a 8:46/mile pace. I passed the baton to George and went to the van.
I arrived at the van to find everyone asleep. Looks like I'm driving! I ended up driving for awhile til I was finally relieved of my duty. I tried to sleep, but it just wouldn't come. I didn't end up sleeping til 12:30 Saturday afternoon, and it was only for about 45 minutes. I felt much better after I slept though.
My "final" leg was 7.2 miles up Guardsman Pass. Over 3,100 feet of climb. I was excited. My legs felt fatigued, though (as you can imagine.) Two weeks isn't enough time for me to recover in order to put forth a hard effort. So I stayed at a steady pace. Based on how I felt, my goal was to do the climb in 90 minutes. I also wanted to attempt to run the whole thing. The first portion went well, but I found that it was quicker to power hike in some places, so that's what I did. I passed a lot of people while I was doing this! I ran through the transition and about halfway through the second portion I had nothing left in the tank. I wasn't bonking, but my energy was low and my legs were fatigued. I powered through it though, and even had a few moments where I was able to run hard, trying to give myself some motivation. I finished the leg in 1:22:54, or a 11:31/mile pace.
Man, it felt good to be "done." However, George ended up getting "dead quads" on his 2,000 foot descent coming down Guardsman. He ran through transition, but then we pulled up to him walking about a quarter mile out. He was done. So naturally, I pulled off my jacket and jumped out to finish his final leg. I was slow though! I gutted it out and came through the finish with my team waiting. We ran it in together for a finishing time of 28:36:46. I forgot to start my watch since I had to get out so suddenly on this last leg, but I would guess I was right around a 9:15/mile pace or so. Like I said, really slow but I had nothing in the tank so I just had to gut it out.
Overall it was a fun experience! Not sure if I'll do it again, though. Not enough bang for the buck when it all comes down to it. I ended up forking out about $300 to run 41.5 miles. In contrast, I paid about $240 last year to run 100 miles at Wasatch. You do the math.
One week before the race I found an ultra team that needed a runner. It was a co-ed team consisting of several out of state runners. I was excited for the opportunity so I emailed them and told them I'd take the spot. I was also excited when I found out I had a choice in which leg I was going to run. I chose to be Runner 5 for two reasons: the 17 mile 2nd leg, but more so for the 3,000 foot climb on the 3rd leg.
Friday morning came and I met up with the group. The team consisted of: the captain, George, who completed an Ironman last year and regularly competes in half Ironman events; Dennis, who also does triathlon events; Hana, also into triathlons, is a regular age group placer; Ken, an avid runner, ran 4 different Ragnar events last year and was previously CEO of Ragnar; And finally Marianne, who ran a sub-4 hour marathon last year. Our team seemed to be pretty solid.
My first leg was scheduled to be just over 7 miles on relatively flat terrain. On an ultra team, you run two normal legs back-to-back. So Runner 1 would run legs 1 & 2, then Runner 2 would run 3 & 4, etc. Well, the runner before me, Marianne, was struggling on her first leg and asked me to run the second half of that leg for her. She obviously hadn't trained much since her marathon last year, but I know she was also working on no sleep the night before due to a graveyard shift at work. This turned into the theme for the day, where she'd run the first part of her leg and someone else would run the second.
So my 7 turned into 10.5. I tried to keep it at a moderate pace and not get too caught up in catching people. Things basically went according to plan and I finished it in 1:16:32, or a 7:17/mile pace. A little bit faster than I'd wanted to go, but it felt good so I went with it.
My second leg started at 3:07 in the morning. I knew it would be a slog, especially since I hadn't slept yet and since it was in the dark. The conditions were nearly perfect though and most of the run was on a graded trail, so it was just what I needed. The first portion of the leg, 9.3 miles, went well. I felt good and was alert. At the transition to the second portion, I had George grab me a pancake since they were serving them at this station. It tasted amazing and I just kept taking little bites for about 25 minutes while I was running. But I started having doubts about running. What was I thinking? Can you really do this? Then my brain kept telling me it was ok to walk and to just stop for a minute. It was a constant battle for nearly an hour and my tired brain just wanted to quit. But my body kept moving. I didn't stop but kept the pace really easy. I finished the leg just as it was getting light out. Total leg was 16.9 miles, 2:28:19, or a 8:46/mile pace. I passed the baton to George and went to the van.
I arrived at the van to find everyone asleep. Looks like I'm driving! I ended up driving for awhile til I was finally relieved of my duty. I tried to sleep, but it just wouldn't come. I didn't end up sleeping til 12:30 Saturday afternoon, and it was only for about 45 minutes. I felt much better after I slept though.
My "final" leg was 7.2 miles up Guardsman Pass. Over 3,100 feet of climb. I was excited. My legs felt fatigued, though (as you can imagine.) Two weeks isn't enough time for me to recover in order to put forth a hard effort. So I stayed at a steady pace. Based on how I felt, my goal was to do the climb in 90 minutes. I also wanted to attempt to run the whole thing. The first portion went well, but I found that it was quicker to power hike in some places, so that's what I did. I passed a lot of people while I was doing this! I ran through the transition and about halfway through the second portion I had nothing left in the tank. I wasn't bonking, but my energy was low and my legs were fatigued. I powered through it though, and even had a few moments where I was able to run hard, trying to give myself some motivation. I finished the leg in 1:22:54, or a 11:31/mile pace.
Man, it felt good to be "done." However, George ended up getting "dead quads" on his 2,000 foot descent coming down Guardsman. He ran through transition, but then we pulled up to him walking about a quarter mile out. He was done. So naturally, I pulled off my jacket and jumped out to finish his final leg. I was slow though! I gutted it out and came through the finish with my team waiting. We ran it in together for a finishing time of 28:36:46. I forgot to start my watch since I had to get out so suddenly on this last leg, but I would guess I was right around a 9:15/mile pace or so. Like I said, really slow but I had nothing in the tank so I just had to gut it out.
Overall it was a fun experience! Not sure if I'll do it again, though. Not enough bang for the buck when it all comes down to it. I ended up forking out about $300 to run 41.5 miles. In contrast, I paid about $240 last year to run 100 miles at Wasatch. You do the math.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)