Bandera 100K

I haven't been to Bandera before - but have read a lot of race reports from the Bandera 100K and the Cactus Rose 100M - both run in the same area. Everything that I've read has mentioned rocks and nasty, gnarly terrain. A great physical and mental challenge to start the new year off was exactly what I needed - not to mention I needed some good mileage to burn off holiday and birthday eats  :)

I arrived just in time for the pre-race briefing late Friday afternoon. The drive down was awesome - and about 10 miles before arriving at the start/finish I started getting into the hills - which are pretty tall for Texas! The scenery really is picturesque - and it's hard to imagine anything tough or gnarly about the terrain when you see it from a distance. There were a good number of people at the race briefing - and I met up with some DFW folks that had made the trip down. There were 950 registered runners for all three distances - so I knew it would be chaos the next morning getting to the start so I decided I'd give myself plenty of time.

I was on the road Saturday morning at 530am even though the race didn't start until 730am. Before I left I checked weather.com - it was 64. Yikes! Warm for a January MORNING. The forecast was a high of 66 and then a cold front was supposed to move through later in the evening and cool things off into the 40's. I decided to carry my hydration pack without the bladder and use it instead of drop bags - and then carry one handheld since it was only 5 -6 miles between aid stations. I grabbed my gear and headed out.

When I walked outside it was a heavy, heavy mist and warm. The road was wet like it had been raining and as I made the nearly hour drive from the hotel I had to use my wipers. I made it to the start line in plenty of time - and could tell from my squishy footsteps that the trail was going to be sloppy. This was going to be "one of those days" where you just deal with it. At straight up 730am we were off.

The first part of the course was very rocky. Normally not a big deal - but the rocks were covered in mud and extremely slick. I was slipping and sliding all over the place - and rather than take a chance at falling in the first few miles I took it easy and was as careful as possible with my footing. The footing wasn't the only thing that was a little sketchy. There were cactus every now and then that were covering the trails that you had to run through. They had serrated edges - and every time I'd run through one I could feel it scratch - followed by itch. Really? So - muggy weather, slick muddy rocks, and cactus/itchy legs? Really?

After the first aid station - the course seems to flatten out and there were less rocks - but that only meant there was more mud. Thick, sticky mud. I could feel it sucking the shoes off of my feet every time I would step - and I'd have to really pull up on my shoes to take a step. Then - there was so much mud on my shoes that it was like wearing ankle weights. Every now and then a huge clump would fall off - but within a few steps there was more tacked right back on.

The first loop was just a battle. I was hot - sweating like a pig - muddy - cranky - but still moving relatively well and still processing food/liquid ok. I did the first 50K in just under 7 hours. Back at the start/finish I re-stocked my pack - threw a long sleeved shirt and gloves in even though I was burning up - and headed out to start the 2nd half of the race. The first few hours were still hot - muggy and humid - zero breeze - still cranky! When is it going to cool off? I could really tell the trail had dried out and firmed up some - it wasn't nearly as sloppy as it had been in the morning - but the cactus were still there eating at my legs.

At the Crossroads aid station around mile 48 I stopped to get my headlamp since the sun was down - and asked where the heck all of this "cold weather" was that everyone had been talking about all day. Right that very moment - a huge gust of cool aid blew through. Ahhhhhhh! It felt remarkable. Even though people were already in jackets and bundled up - I decided I needed to cool off and enjoy the cooler, dry air so I kept running in my short sleeved shirt.

The rest of the race was a lot more enjoyable with cooler weather and better footing. No more cranky runner. Everyone else on the course seemed to be moving better as well. As the miles continued to tick away, the temperature continued to drop and the wind continued to pick up. Fortunately I crossed the top of the last hill and dropped down to the finish line in just over 15 hours - and found a warm tent full of great volunteers that were literally waiting on me hand and foot. "Here sit down - let me unlace your shoes - what do you need to warm up?" Thank you volunteers! After about 10 minutes of relaxing - I knew it was time to get up - gather my folding chair and supplies that I had used all day - and hobble across the dark field in the cold wind to the car.

As I pulled away - with the heater on - I was impressed with the tough souls that would still be out battling the elements all night long. These are the folks that impress me the most - because they have grit and determination and they're mental warriors. This wasn't the best day with the weather conditions - but that's never a reason to stop - or worse to not start. When you battle through tough conditions in a race - it always gives perspective to other races. I can always look back and say "well I remember at Bandera 100K in 2013 when the mud was so thick..." and know that I can battle through anything.

A Fine Line...

I woke up this morning with the room mostly dark. I had no idea what time it was since I had closed the wooden shutters to sleep in - I know I needed sleep - my body told me so. I looked at the alarm clock and it was 9:45am. 10 hours without waking up - I can't remember having slept that long uninterrupted in a long time.
I spent most of the day on Friday on the couch with laptop and i-phone working and on conference calls, struggling to make it through the day without throwing up. I had some type of stomach virus the previous night that kept me up til all hours and was feeling south of 50%. I was ok when I was laying down and still - but as soon as I would start to stir - the nauseous feeling that made me say to myself "oh please no" would rear it's ugly head. One conference call I was on speaker muted hovered over the toilet ugly vomiting when the other people started asking for my opinion on something. Brian? Brian, hello? Brian, are you there? I just let it go. Then saw emails - Brian are you still on the call? I unmuted and escused myself for having to step away. What else can you do?

So - 9:45am this morning - I laid there not wanting to move. I felt ok - though still a little groggy. If I move - will I feel the nauseous feeling yet again - or have I stomped the bug out of my system? I finally get up the nerve to see how my day is going to go - and am pleased that I'm feeling a ton better. No stomach issues - but not a lot of energy since I haven't had anything to eat or drink in 24+ hours. I get a little breakfast in me - it stays down - whewww. I have a few friends that check on me - my folks even call - several are glad that I'm feeling better and end the conversation with "take it easy - probably not a good day to go running." Wha???

Coming off of a stomach virus and no food except two small breakfast tacos in 24 hours and moderately dehydrated, 95 outside with a heat index even higher - you're right, in a perfect, rational world everything would say "stay in - relax - recover." However, my irrational Ouija board arrow pointed to "run" - and of course that's what I did. I put on my shoes - loaded up Callie - and headed for the Trinity Trails. Yah, it was hot. Yah, I didn't feel great. Yah, I was glad when it was over. But the entire run I thought about the fine line of listening to your body, and knowing when to push through or climb over a wall, or when to accept limits.

I remember my first attempt at a 50 mile run - Grasslands 50 up in Decatur - and running with my buddy Cathy Nevans. It was a tough day - long stretches of sand - hot - windy - just miserable. The course was a clover leaf and we kept coming back to the start/finish which mentally was hard. After the third loop at mile 42 I told her "I'm done." There was a long silence - and finally she said - "are you done or is this a wall that we need to push through?" It ends up that I was done - but the words and the lesson aren't done - they still live on. I ask myself that question a lot when I feel like I've given all I can give. Is it a low point - can you rally - or is it time to call it a day?

There is a fine line between knowing when to go on or quit. How do you know? After a couple of years, I've decided the best way is to listen to your body - and it takes a while to learn to listen to your body. I have people ask all the time about my training schedule. How much do you run a week? How many miles per day? In the last few years I haven't had a training schedule. I just run. Sure, I plan long races usually once a month as my long training runs - but other than that I just go with what feels right. When I know I need a long run - I run long. When my legs feel like they need a break - I take a break. I've found that adhering to a regimented training schedule just doesn't work for me. If I miss a day - I beat myself up. If I skip a day - I beat myself up. If I feel good and it's a scheduled day off - I'm bummed. So - I just run.

Today was a great example of pushing through the wall. Somewhat sluggish, moderately dehydrated, an empty stomach that had been tempermental recently. Aren't these the exact conditions that you experience during a low point of a 100 mile race? It was a great time to take advantage of the simulated conditions for training. Had I listened to sanity - or if I had been following a strict schedule that had me off today - I would have missed a great opportunity to have an uncomfortable - but necessary run. Instead, I listened to my body that said "go for it" - and took orders obediently.

I don't know how to tell anyone to listen to their body - I think it's something that just takes time. But I guarantee my running has greatly improved since I've learned to listen to it - instead of listening to someone else via a training schedule. UltraRunner Neil Gorman gave a quote in 3/2011 about just this thing, in it he says "I believe in listening to, and feeling, your body throughout training and going off of that, as opposed to simply following a heart rate monitor, gadgets, a demanding training schedule, etc. Sensing injury sort of follows with this methodology because, as pointed out in Matt Fitzgerald's book, Run—the Mind-Body Method of Running by Feel, no one knows our bodies better than ourselves." I concur - so get out there and strap on your shoes and hit the trails - and don't forget your listening ears.

Trail Running to Road Cycling

With the Zion 100 in the rear view mirror, it's time to focus on the next goal. I've come to realize that without something to work towards, I'm a nomad wandering around aimlessly. Goals give me focus, purpose, and when they are finished, a sense of accomplishment. Next thing on the radar: a 500 mile bike ride from Atlanta to Orlando in October. Wha??

I know - as much as I despise the pavement - and as much I love the trails and everything about running - I'm going to try my hand at cycling. Well, how the heck did I come up with this goal?! It certainly wasn't my bright idea - but when I heard that some of my co-workers were riding from our corporate offices in Atlanta to our annual conference in Orlando (also the home of Give Kids the World!) to fundraise for Give Kids the World I said count me in! http://www.gktw.org/

Running can be a very self-centered sport. How far can you run? How fast can you run? How much can you train? What races are on your calendar? Who is going to be your pacer to help you to the finish line? YOU get the point? Any opportunity to give back and make it less about the self - and more about others - the better. The best times I've had training and participating in an event were those that had a purpose greater than me crossing the finish line. The first (and only) marathon I ran I did training and fundraising with Leukemia/Lymphoma in honor of my dad who is a lymphoma survivor. My first 100 mile run I ran to raise money for Give Kids the World. They provide housing for terminally ill children and their families that are visiting Disney World as a chance to create memories and get away from the hospitals and doctors. Yes - these are the two races that have really meant the most - making a positive impact on others through my running.

So - switching gears from running to cycling wasn't that hard to swallow since there was a purpose. The hard part is that I feel like a fish out of water. Yes, I can ride a bike. Yes, I have a bike. But as much as I have learned about running over the years - I feel like there has to be a learning curve with cycling - it has to be more than "can you ride a bike?" What are the things that I need to know? How long will it take me to learn them? Can I ride 500 miles (over multiple days) by "winging it" and get back to my true passion of trail running? Can I continue with my running and be a part time cyclist on the side? Can both exist simultaneously - and will my running get stronger as a result of cross training and really making every mile and every run count? Yes - lots of questions. (and one that I'll answer up front - yes, I will continue to run ultra trail races while figuring everything else out)

One of the questions that came up today revolved around gear. I have heard many, many people look at my race prep - all of the supplies that I have - all of the gear that it takes to get me across the finish line - and tell me "I thought all you needed was a pair of shoes to run" or "running is an expensive sport, isn't it?" Today I stopped by the cycling store to get a decent pair of cycling shorts to pad my bony haunches from the concrete seat. $120 later I'm walking out with one small bag and one small pair of shorts so tight I feel like a sausage stuffed in a casing. Swallowing hard and paying for the shorts wasn't easy - but the chatter about all of the other things that I would need - or might want - or should get - from the store personnel was a little unsettling yet vaguely familiar. I've heard - and said - all of those things in the running store. So - the question today - though it may be one that I cannot answer - is not do I have what it takes to ride 500 miles? But rather - how much am I willing to spend to ride 500 miles?

Pearl Izumi Shorts = 1 pair of running shoes - and then some  :(

Zion 100 Race Report

Zion 100 Buckle

At 4:30am I decided to crawl of out bed and get ready for a long day and night ahead. I didn’t sleep at all – and I’m not sure why. Drop bags had already been dropped off – pace chart had been made – clothes were laid out with race number attached – I had already run 100 miles before - what was there to be nervous about?

I was really looking forward to this race since southern Utah is my favorite place to vacation. The race prep by the RD leading up to the inaugural Zion 100 was tops. Excellent communication, maps, course descriptions, directions for crew to access the runners, course photos from training runs, a video clip, recommendations on what to do in the area. The RD also took it upon himself to try and find pacers for anyone that wanted and needed one. While not expected – I was certainly appreciative when I was paired with a great trail runner turned friend out of the SLC area that was to join me at mile 70. Everything indicated that this was going to be one awesome adventure – and it certainly didn’t disappoint.

The drive out to Virgin, UT from the hotel was about 30 mins. I did my usual race prep reviewing the course, elevation, aid stations – eating my honey stinger bar, saltine crackers with peanut butter and hydrating. After a pre-race weigh-in (three weigh-ins throughout the day to stay within +/- 3% body weight) where we were reminded that the course was harder than the elevation chart indicated - we were off at straight up 6am.

The first part of the course ascends Smith Mesa with a fairly steep but walkable verticle of about 1000 feet. The adrenaline was pumping and the climb was pretty easy in the dry 50 degree air. The view at the top with the sunrise was spectacular and was a great way to start the morning. 

View from Smith Mesa - Starting Line is on the right side of the photo in the valley

Once on top of the Mesa – the course follows 10 miles of dirt road. After the slow climb to the top – this was a great way to make up some time and really get the legs turning. This was one of the few non-tech section where you can look around and enjoy the amazing scenery of southern Utah. A couple of hops over a few snakes and running hard through a fairly substantial headwind – the Mesa #2 aid station was in sight at mile 18.5 and the legs were feeling good.

Runnable section on dirt road

The RD had posted some photos of the next section which included a short distance that was narrow and then a steep drop off where holding onto a rope was required. I had been a little anxious about this section – but made it through fairly easily with a little guidance from a volunteer before dropping into a creek bed where we hopped large boulders and pools of water for what seemed to be ½ mile to a 1 before the trail opened up to some awesome single track – and eventually a jeep road. I ran into Andee from LA that was running her first 100 and we talked about how awesome the course had been so far – and the miles flew by. Towards the bottom of the trail the aid station was in sight, and we hit pavement at mile 27.5 where I had a surprise visit from my crew.

Runnable section on pavement

Crazy Crew Cindy giving aid and motivation

Transitioning to pavement for a few downhill miles was a welcome relief – as was seeing my crew which I hadn’t anticipated. Some minor GI issues were taken care of (no fun – but necessary!) and I continued keeping the legs moving on the pavement which was now starting to heat up. Forecast had been in the lower 90’s – and I knew the next 15 miles of exposed desert would be a battle throughout the afternoon. Sure enough – around mile 31 I started slowing down and going with a walk uphill and trot downhill to the aid station at mile 35 where I met my crew again – and my pacer Troy!

Troy and his wife Kandi were both volunteer pacers and had driven down earlier in the day to see their racers and hang out. Meeting them, seeing my crew, and getting an ice cold sponge dumped on top of my head unexpectedly (thanks Troy!) was the mental boost I needed to get me out of the funk I had been experiencing the last few miles. Out of the aid station and back in the desert on some smooth single track I started passing people. I wasn’t 100% but was still moving well. The heat radiating off of the rocks made me feel like I was baking in the sun – it was so hot. I figured if I could endure about 3 - 4 hours out in the sun, it would cool down and I could rally. So – my strategy was to keep the legs moving – even if it was at a slower pace than I wanted – stay hydrated and keep a positive attitude. Easier said than done! Although I didn’t have a really low point mentally – I definitely was in survival mode until the aid station at mile 42 where I had to sit down and completely regroup. I was in the stage where nothing except water sounded good. The thought of a gel, a cracker, a cookie, broth, candy made me almost sick. I knew I needed calories – and I knew there was no way I would make it to the top of the next climb coming up without calories – but I just couldn’t stomach them. So – reluctantly I put electrolytes in my handhelds – didn’t eat anything (but shoved a few gels in my shorts) and kept moving.

I thought the next section would have been a breeze to fly through on fresh legs – it wasn’t technical – had a few rollers –  just a great running surface but I still struggled. The encouraging thing was that I could see a few people in front of me that I had been leaping frogging through the desert – Sue from Calgary and a guy from Cleveland running his first 100 - and I didn’t appear to be losing ground so I felt like I was moving about as well as everyone else was. I finally got to a water only station at mile 45 – which I incorrectly thought was a drop bag station (mental bummer) - refilled my water bottles with hot water that had been sitting in the sun all day and started heading towards Gooseberry Mesa for the toughest climb of the day.

The steep, rocky climb up Gooseberry in the heat of the day (around 430pm) was not what the doc had ordered after 15 miles of crossing the desert. I felt like I was standing under a heat lamp. My mouth was dry and my lips were sticking to my gums. My legs felt like lead – so heavy and slow. This was the type of climb where you put your hands on your hips and slowly take one step after another. Stopping to catch your breath almost isn’t an option – because it’s easier to move up slow and steady than it is to keep your balance while standing still on the steep slope. Looking up I thought the trail went on forever. I was mentally and physically fading. Just about the time I thought I couldn’t go on – pretty close to the top – a volunteer came flying down the trail and grabbed my handhelds. A few minutes later he had them filled with ice cold water and brought them back to me. He told me “we’re all waiting for you up at the top” so I was expecting to see my crew – air guitar! But when I got to the top there were all of the runners I had been leap frogging sitting in chairs trying to bounce back. Well – no crew – but it was good to see that everyone I had been running with/near had made it! I sat down in the shade in a chair – ate shaved ice snow cones with electrolytes – cooled down and rehydrated and felt like I had a new lease on life. I had battled through the only real low point so far and was back in the game.

The trail on Gooseberry was a slow go. It was a mixture of trail, sand, and many, many rocky outcrops. Because there were no trees to tie ribbons to on the outcrops – there were painted dots and reflective tape to follow. So – you would come to an outcrop – stand there and look around for a dot. Then another dot. Then another dot. It was like a human version of connecting the dots. Sometimes they were hard to find – and while this was really the only way the RD could mark the course – it really took a lot of time and there was no opportunity to get into any rhythm. Fortunately Sue from Calgary was running with me hand we picked through the terrain together giving each other direction “I see a dot over here Sue!” until the first aid station at mile 51. This continued past the aid station for another 10 miles – about half which was run in the dark once the sun went down.

Around mile 60 the sun is down and I’m moving well when I see headlamps coming towards me. Two guys ask “are you going the right way??” Well – I tell them that I think I am – and have been following the markers. I tell them I am working my way to aid station at mile 62 – and they tell me they are as well – but we are going in opposite directions. A guy that I had recently passed a mile or so back seemed familiar with the course – so we all waited a few seconds – saw his headlamps through the trees and waited for him to catch up to verify who was going the right direction. It ends up that he had actually marked that section of the course – so he verified he and I were going the right way – so the guys turned around and we all started heading in the same direction. Whewww disaster avoided – the last thing I needed was to be off course. After a few miles we were at aid station 62.

The next section was a flat direct road and the first time I had been able to get into any rhythm since pavement earlier in the day around mile 27. I met up with a couple of folks that were running well - another lady from Calgary and Dennis from Utah - got the legs turning – the miles clicked away – and I could see the Smithsonian Aid Station near mile 70 in the distance.

Seeing my crew and my pacer Troy was awesome since it had been 35 battle scarred miles since I had last seen them. The medics took my bloodpressure – 120/78 and my weight (only down a pound) – I took care of a blister that had developed on the side of my heel – downed a few calories - and Troy and I were off.

This was my first time to run with a pacer. I actually wasn’t running – it was a shuffle every now and then but mostly a steady, decently paced walk. Most of the miles to the next aid station were uphill – but it was gradual and went by quickly. I immediately appreciated the benefit of having a buddy around to run.. er… walk with. I never really verified Troy’s plan to get me to the finish because he had paced people before at 100’s and honestly I really didn’t want to know the strategy – but it seemed he was always a step or two ahead of me and I was forced to keep my pace going to keep up so I didn’t get left! I think his legs were twice as long as mine – so even when I was trotting – he was still walking! Anyways – having to keep up worked for me. It was similar to dragging me along without dragging me.

Through the aid station at mile 77 and then a decent but manageable drop off into the valley and we were at Kokopelli Golf Course around mile 80. In the middle of the golf course we see three of four headlamps. Other runners that had been just ahead of us were apparently lost. Which way is the trail? After a few minutes of searching – we decide as a group we’ve found the right path and head off to the next aid station around mile 83.

We leave mile 83 aid station – still on a dirt road – and after a mile or so see headlamps coming towards us again – the same group that we met at the golf course that was off course. They tell us we are off course again and we have to backtrack. We about face – and start walking back towards the aid station and find a very scarcely marked single track trail. We’re back on track after adding a little extra mileage – and surprisingly enough mentally I’m handling the few extra miles ok. I think it was because everyone else was in the same boat and we were all just dealing with it as a group.

In and out of a small canyon along Gould’s rim the sun started to come up. This is the first time I had seen the sunrise twice during a race. I hadn’t forgotten how the sun had baked me the day before – and Troy and I decided it was going to get hot quickly – and that was motivation for me to suck it up and get a move on. The aid station at mile 90 was a good place to work on getting my mojo back – which I did with a couple of cups of broth and a transition back into sunglasses and sunscreen.

Brian and Troy at mile 90

Apparently we had both forgotten about an aid station at mile 95 – because neither of us could figure out what the heck it was that we saw in the distance. A house? A barn? We weren’t sure until we got close enough to realize that it was an aid station – and our crew was there for motivation. At this point – I was ready to keep on moving and didn’t stop long. We started down the single track trail and about 100 yards from the aid station a couple of mountain bikers headed towards us. I was in the lead – and as I started to get over off of the trail Troy said jokingly “hey – this guy just ran 95 miles – let’s give him some room.” Apparently the mountain bikers had encountered some less courteous runners ahead of us – because the guy jumps off his bike and starts swinging at Troy saying he doesn't care how far I've run. Yes – I hear my pacer turned bodyguard tell the mountain biker’s wife who is also riding to get her husband under control before the cops are called. Wha?? Is this a hallucination? I hear the chaos behind me – but any step that isn’t towards the finish line is a step that I am not going to take. Sorry Troy buddy – you’re going to have to take them out without me – and I had confidence that he could! He diffuses the situation – catches back up to me – and we make pretty good time on the easy, smooth and slightly downhill single track laughing about the situation. The altercation gave me the adrenaline boost I needed!

The final mile was back on pavement and I could see the turnoff for the finish line in the distance. The heat was already back – and it was hot even for 945am in the morning. As much as I wanted to walk uphill to the turnoff – I kept the legs moving. We turned the corner – saw the park in the distance – and ran it in to finish my second 100 in 27:46 and 34^th place out of 103 starters and 59 finishers.

Brian and Troy with 100 yards to the finish

Crossing the finish line!

Overall – the race was definitely harder than I expected – and while I did have a few moments where I felt deflated I never had the feeling that I wouldn’t make it to the finish line. Well – maybe for a brief moment while dry roasting in the desert! But in general I was able to keep it together pretty well. I’ve read a few blogs about races like Western States where it gets really hot during the day – and the consensus is if you can hang on and get through the heat – you can turn it around once the sun goes down and you get some calories in you. I kept telling myself that throughout the hot sections of the course – this isn’t forever – it will cool off – keep moving. I think Troy told me this at the mile 35 aid station - keep going and don't stop.

I heard a lot of people that were a little annoyed with course markings – and while there were a few places where it could have been marked better – particularly between miles 80 – 90 when we were all fatigued and in the dark – overall I thought it was fairly easy to navigate. The course markings and a few glitches here and there were far outweighed by the overall organization of the race which I thought was awesome. The RD also took complete responsibility for some sketchy markings and was extremely apologetic both at the finish line and in some online posts.

I can’t give enough thanks to my crew – the dos locas senoritas – that came all the way from Texas to crew my second 100. Even though I wasn’t able to see them often – there were multiple times that I wasn’t expecting to see them and did. They were always positive – made sure I was ready for the next section – and boosted my spirits.

I also can’t say thanks enough to my pacer Troy who very subtly kept me moving and dialed in. I think one reason I didn’t have any low points was because I never had a chance to think a whole lot of negative thoughts since we were talking and I was distracted. Maybe that’s the point! Races we’ve run – races we want to run – work – Church – growing up – family – more running – and roughing up mountain bikers.  J

Recovery has been surprisingly quick – and I’m already out running – doing gym work – and feeling great. I’m really glad I chose to run the Zion 100 – I met some amazing people that I can’t wait to see again at future races – saw some amazing scenery – and tested myself mentally and physically. There are already talks from the RD of tweaks to the course for next year – moving it up a month earlier to avoid some of the heat – and switching the course around to include less time in the desert. Even without the changes – this is a race that I would definitely consider running again – and would without a doubt recommend to anyone looking for a fun, challenging 100 mile run.

Brian and Troy with the finisher's buckle and tired legs!

Checking In

It's been a few weeks since I've blogged and I thought it was time to check in and put some thoughts down.

The heel is better than a it was few weeks ago for the Summer Solstice 6 Hour Run. I started using a can of green beans to roll my foot over - and after denting a few cans upgraded to a wooden rolling pen. I didn't realize how sore the bottoms of my feet were until I started doing this. Now that I've been able to manage the heel pain - my right calf has been extremely sore. I can mostly run without pain after the first few steps - but it's the feeling of it just not being right that's bothersome. I haven't had many aches and pains in a while - so I'm probably do a few tweaks - and I've admittedly been doing more mileage than usual mid-summer with "two a days".

It's amazing how the heat really zaps the energy out of you. I really haven't had many runs in anything less than 100+ weather since May. I'm typically a fairly good hot weather runner - but I'm already feeling somewhat fatigued and ready for it to cool off some.

Today I was able to order my new ASR 8's that I've been waiting for since I first saw them in May. Since part of my injuries lately have been too many miles on worn out shoes - I'm really looking forward to getting my hands on them and taking them for a spin. Next month there's another shoe called the ASR GTX that's made with waterproof Gore-Tex and I am pumped about that shoe also. Add to that some new Adrenalines for putzing around town and I'll have a small shoe store in my closet, soon!

This month I have a couple of races - El Scorcho Cinco 50K and the Speedgoat 50K. El Scorcho is one of my favorite races - here in Ft Worth - the trails that I'm familiar with - friends and family out running and cheering - what more could I ask for? Having only a few weeks between races I'm not 100% sure I'm going to leave it all out on the trails for El Scorcho - need to save a little in the tank for a much tougher Speedgoat - but when I get wrapped up in the energy and excitement who knows what will happen!

Today I launched my website for Christian Athletic Apparel called "Exercise Your Faith." http://www.exercise-faith.com/  The whole process began when I was looking for a simple shirt with a cross to run in. I searched the internet and local stores and couldn't find anything - so rather than resign to the fact that it just didn't exist and I was out of luck - I decided to create what I was looking for. After a few months of logo design, web design, and battling through uncertainties - I finally have a product that I'm proud of and looking forward to wearing. Check out my designs!

Summer Solstice 6 Hour Run

Last night I ran in the Summer Solstice 6 Hour (SS6H) Run in Abilene, Texas. This is my second time to run in the event - and I just love this race. Well organized, super friendly volunteers, a great aid station and awesome shirts and hats - what else could you ask for? The course is a 1 mile loop that you do over, and over and over. Now, before you start grumbling about how boring that is I'll confess that I was right there with you before I had participated in a timed event. I didn't "get it" or understand why anyone would run around in circles for hours on end - it just didn't make sense. After the Summer Solstice 6 Hour last year I was hooked and have really enjoyed other timed races (Run From the Ducks, Run Like the Wind).

Last year the SS6H race greeted us with hot weather - oh boy was it hot and with an 8pm start we still had sun for our first hour or so. This year I was happy to see that the start had been pushed back to 9pm - no sun - which would surely mean cooler temps, right? WRONG! At 9pm the wind was blowing and the temp was still over 100 which gave you the feeling that you were standing looking face first into a hair dryer. Rather than lap counters, this year we had chips to count our laps - so I strapped on my chip - listened to the pre-race comments and lined up at the start with a larger crowd than last year.

My goal this time around was to keep a steady, even pace throughout. You know, that's always easier said than done  :)  I took off and kept what I thought was a relatively conservative pace - but after the first few laps and looking at the start/finish clock I realized I was clipping along fairly quickly for someone that's typically a tortoise. Nevertheless - I running - I wanted to see how long I could keep a relatively quick pace. The heat and low humidity were definitely a factor - on the stretches that we ran into the wind I would feel my mouth completely dry out. I drank as much water as I thought my body could process, took a good number of S Caps and gels, and hunkered down for a long night.

The toughest stretch for me was somewhere around mile 17 for about 1.5 hours. I could still run - but I just didn't have the ability to turn my legs over quickly enough to keep up with my previous pace. I slowed down a little and really focused on eating and drinking and sure enough - a little later I had my legs back and was able to knock off a good last hour for a 2nd place 36 mile finish.

What do I like about timed races?

1) Even though you might not have long conversations with other runners, you're really out there battling the elements and the course with them. You almost feel like you know them just by association!
2) Every timed race I've done has been a mile loop. No getting lost!
3) I like setting up near the course so I have access to additional supplies (a new hat, more body glide, etc)
4) If you have a crew - you see them often which is always a boost! (and lots of photo ops!)

If you're looking to give a timed race a shot - consider this race (either the 3hr or 6hr). Not only do the proceeds go to benefit a great organiation (Autism) - but the race is a ton of fun and fits nicely into a somewhat scarce June race calendar in TX.

Jemez 50 Race Report

It's been a few weeks since I ran the Jemez 50 - but the experience is still etched in my mind. With more races looming upon the horizon it's time to put down my thoughts - reflect on the experience - and focus my attention on the next goal.

Last year I toed the start line for the 50 miler - and dropped midway at the Pipeline Aid Station to the 50K. Being my first mountain trail run I really didn't know what to expect - would the elevation get to me? Would my legs hold up with all of the climbing and descending? Would I hold it together mentally? Perhaps I was naive - even though I hadn't really done any hill training - I thought my time in the gym would be enough to really get me through. Boy was I wrong. I ended up walking most of the 2nd half of the 50K - but rather than feeling completed defeated by the experience - I was motivated to return again and conquer the course. I needed redemption.

Getting to the starting line wasn't nearly as dramatic as it was last year when the car started smoking in the parking lot of the hotel. Instead I was at the posse shack in plenty of time - already a ton of runners huddled together on a low 40 degree morning. I decided to wear a jacket for the first part of the race and was glad I did. After training in 90 degree temps in TX, 40 degrees was cold! We took off at 5am with headlamps that quickly reflected all of the dust that the front runners had already kicked up. The first 5 miles of the course are fairly un-eventful. Sometimes you're in a single file line - other times you have enough room to really stretch out the legs and pick up the pace. This section is relatively flat and give a middle to back of the pack runner on a mountain course an opportunity to get a lead on the cut off (close to 37 miles, 12 hours).

After the first aid station there is a substantial climb up to the 2nd aid station. The trail goes up a mountain that burned during the fire - and when you look up you see runners all over the mountain. The trip up the mountain this time was significantly easier than last year - I'm not sure if it was conditioning or cooler temps - but I'll claim I'm just a better runner! Once on top of the mountain there is a nice downhill section (somewhat steep) with a lot of switchbacks - I was in a small group of 3 or 4 runners and had some great conversation which was a ton of fun. We kept this up down the mountain and then up through a narrow canyon to the 3rd aid station at the bottom of Caballo.

Caballo base to Caballo top is 1700 - 1800 feet elevation gain in just a couple of miles. These long up and downhill sections are something that you just can't simulate when you live in an area such as Texas. For me, the way up was a slow hike - sometimes with hands on hips with the really steep sections that got me winded - occassionally having to yield the right of way to faster runners that were already heading back down the same trail (boy were they flying). When the steep wooded trail finally opens up to a grassy mountain top with amazing views the effort to get up there is definitely worth it. The - turn around and head back down the same way you came - offering encouragement to those that are still heading up.

After you reach Caballo base for a 2nd time there's another climb up to the Pipeline aid station. Last year this is where I officially folded mentally. For some reason I was expecting a flat section since I had just did a lot of vertical up/down with Caballo - but nope - there's another climb. Even though it's still relatively early - this portion has some exposed spots that are in the sun and it's hot and steep. It's another slow go - but once you finally reach the top you have a nice flatish section til Pipeline Aid Station.

At Pipeline Aid Station I was able to gain access to my drop back - which was more like a security blanket with pretty much everything and anything I could possibly need. I dropped the jacket in exchange for some sleeves - snagged a new hat and some food an extra handheld water bottle and I was off again.

Dropping into the caldera/Valle Grande was every bit as steep as I had read and expected. When I finally made it to the bottom - my shoes were full of black dirt as was the mouthpiece of my handheld water bottle - yah not the greatest to get a mouthful of grit! The reward however was a nice jeep road with some gentle rollers and an opportunity to finally make up some time which I really hadn't done much of since the first 5 miles of the course. I ran most of this section til the aid station around mile 21 - refilled the water bottles for the long 8 mile stretch to the next aid station - and followed the flags through an off-road/trail section through the grass. I could see a group of runners about 1/2 mile ahead slowly heading up the mountain and I could tell by their pace that it was relatively steep. Bummer!

I expected this off road section to really be tough to navigate from what I had read - but I found the clumps of grass to not be that big of an issue. Maybe it's because I was walking  :)   So - the flags headed uphill and towards the trees - and not long after the trees we hit a scree field with large rocks. The flags went up and over the rocks - some which was a little unsteady and shifted when you would step - and continued to head up-mountain after the scree field. And we climbed - and climbed - and climbed. I remember asking Joe from Austin who was about 100 yards behind me "are we near the top?!" - and my spirits sank when he said "not even close." He was right - can't blame the guy for being honest! We kept going and going and going - a few false summits where I thought "surely this is the top?" - and then finally we made it. Whew! By this time Joe had caught up to me and told me there was a sweet downhill section coming up. The first 1/2 mile was steep with another scree field to traverse - but then he was right - AWESOME downhill section. I flew - made great time - felt amazing - whizzed past some people that were walking - and finally rolled into the Pajarito Aid Station feeling good and with my spirits up.

I probably spent longer in the aid station than I should have - but I needed to catch my breath and refocus mentally. I knew I'd have to push ahead the next 8 miles to get to the cutoff in 12 hours - and I've learned that a few extra minutes at an aid station can yield good results if the time is spent wisely. Potatoe soup hit the spot and was a few minutes spent wisely  :)  Leaving the aid station there was a short downhill section and then the trail started to climb. It was another canyon - some of it exposed and in the sun - warm. I started wondering how long the sunny, warm climb was going to last - but it wasn't too bad. It was uphill but it wasn't steep - and so I power walked and made great time. I passed a few more people - and actually ran some of it til we made it to the aid station at the ski area.

I snagged some goodies at the aid station - cheese and tortilla and ginger chews. Yah! Then started the slow climb up the mountain. Yes, this climb is another hand on the hips - steep - go on forever kinda climb. I could never really tell where on the mountain I was - sometimes we would be winding up through the trees - other times we would traverse a ski run. We finally made it to what I thought was the top - oh no just a false summit - and then we finally hit the top - oh wait another false summit - haven't we played this game before?? You really do keep climbing and climbing - always thinking that you've reached the top. Finally once you're at the top it's time to come down. The first few downs are pretty steep - then there's some gradual slope - and then you get to the actual ski run that you run straight down and it's crazy. Reading other race reports I didn't think there was a trail of any kind - I thought you were just runnning down the grassy slopes - but there's actually a trail. I am NOT a good downhill runner so I took it slow and steady but I knew I was ok with the cutoff since I had about 20 minutes to make it down.

Boy was I ever glad to make the cutoff. To me, this was pretty much finishing the race. I knew the rest of the course from last year - a gentle up back to the Pipeline Station - a steep short uphill and then downhill all the way to the finish. Simple enough. I ran/walked the uneventful section to the Pipeline Aid Station where I sat down and refueld. I grabbed my headlamp, ate a little bit, dropped my hydration pack for a waist belt - and I was off.

I started down Pipeline Road and immediately saw the steep uphill. Ok - here we go - walk, walk, walk. Made it to the top and down the other side and actually felt pretty good. I was able to manage a decent jog at this point - and being on the gravel road it was a time to mentally relax and enjoy some mindless running. I'd been up for 14 - 15 hours and have been running for about 13 so I was wiped. I kept going and going waiting for the 3.9 mile aid station. I finally realized that I hadn't seen a flag in a while. Where the heck is the cutoff back to the trail? How long have I been running? I kept going thinking it had to be soon. Eventually I realized - I was lost! I had no idea where the trail was or how far past the trail cutoff I was. I have no idea why I kept thinking that if I just kept going I would eventually find a trail. I think it was the mental fuziness of the moment - because now being rested and lucid the logical thing would have been to turn around and go back until I found a flag. I know this. This isn't my first long run. But at the moment the only thing that sounded reasonable was to continue to go and go and go. Finally I realized there was no trail ahead of me - and the trail behind me was too far to go back and find now that the sun was starting to set. I had picked up my phone at the Pipeline Aid Station and even though I was way up on a mountain - I got cell signal! I was able to talk to someone with the race that said my best bet was to follow the gravel road all the way down the mountain until I hit pavement and someone would be there to grab me - about a 5 mile run down. So - I started running - knowing that I wasn't going to get an official finish but wanting to get the heck off of the mountain. About a mile into my run - I hear a truck pull up behind me. The aid station volunteers from Pipeline Aid Station were heading back to town! I put my hitchhiker thumb up and grabbed a ride back to town. I couldn't have been happier for the lift - even though there was some dispappointment that I didn't make it down on my own two legs.

The whole experience at Jemez was awesome despite the finish. I've found that during long races you measure success in so many different ways. Your time, your time compared to previous attempts, your nutrition and hydration, your recovery after the race, your place in the pack, etc. Though I ended up getting lost (duh!) there were a lot of victories for me. First, I was fairly steady throughout the race. Some races I have ups and downs and am all over the place - but mentally I was completely dialed in. On the steep sections - where last year I mentally caved - I was able to keep plugging away and really tackle the terrain. I remember last year after the first climb to the 2nd aid station I was ready to throw in the towel. This year I just stayed focused and kept plugging way. I also did MUCH better this year with nutrition.hydration - which is probably why I didn't have the wild ups and downs and ran a better race between the ears. Another difference is understanding that it's important to have trail comraderie - but not to the point where you start running someone elses race. Last year I met a running buddy on the course which was great - but I lost track of running my own race. I had a lot of conversations this year with people on the trail - but I didn't start running their race - and they didn't start running mine. Most importantly - I had fun. I just had a great time out on the trails. I really wanted to make the cutoff at the ski area in 12 hours - but it wasn't an obsession. If I dropped a few minutes in a section - or if it took my longer to get to an aid station than I thought - I didn't beat myself up about it.

If you haven't run the Jemez and are looking for a well organized, tough mountain trail run I highly recommend signing up. You'll have to make a decision early as the race sold out well before the race date this year. The course will challenge you - the elevation gain/loss is substantial at around 12K - but the trail itself is runnable and a ton of fun. The aid stations and volunteers as all ultras I've run are top notch. There's also a lot of info about the race (umm, this post as an example?) which I like - I enjoy reading about people's experiences and then comparing them to my own when I'm out there. Who knows - maybe I'll read one of your reports one day...