Jesse S Clayton

2501 Burpees

2010-09-28T11:50:00.001-07:00

Just finished the 100 day burpee challenge. The challenge is to start with one burpee on the first day, two on the second, and so forth until you do 100 burpees on the hundredth day. All told that's 5050 burpees in 100 days. I actually did a variation on this where I combined it with the 100 day situp challenge... on odd days I would to burpees and on even days I would do situps. So I actually only did 2500 burpees, plus I added one on the last day to make it 100 for a total of 2501.

The situps were no big deal, but I have grown to hate burpees. The goal of course is to get them done as quickly as possible every day and it's amazing how much you start to worry about it.

My first goal was to do them continuously without stopping. I was able to do that until day 33. My next goal was do not go over 6 seconds per burpee (on average). I was able to do that until day 67. And my final goal was to never go over 10 minutes for my total time. I was able to do that all the way to the end, just barely. My worst performance was on day 89, which took me 9:51. Day 91 was my next worse at 9:45, and day 99 (100 burpees) was my third, at 9:44.

Below is a plot that shows my time per burpee through the whole challenge.

Performance for the 100 day burpee challenge

My technique gradually improved until day 27 or so, then I started to reach my limits for continuous effort. After day 33 I had to start taking rests. I had a few bad days (notably day 73 and 81).

I'm sick of burpees, but glad I stuck it out to the end.

River City Marathon Results

2010-04-18T20:49:00.001-07:00

Final results were posted this morning. Turns out the official time was correct, 3:41:20, 43rd overall (out of 296 finishers), 10th in my age group (out of 25 finishers). Not a strong showing by any means, but still happy with it.

I'm also happy because I don't have to run for awhile. As I mentioned before, Jen is pregnant, and my responsibilities over the next few months are going to change dramatically, meaning that I won't have enough time to train seriously for any kind of race. It's actually kind of a relief... all these long races, while rewarding, do take a lot of emotional energy for me, and I'm feeling a little burned out. I'm looking forward to putting this on the back-burner for awhile and coming back when it's fun again.

I don't know what that means for this blog. I'll probably post from time to time about Crossfit stuff, and other random things tangentially related to running, but for the time being this isn't going to be a focus of mine.

Thanks to those of you who've followed me on this forray. I hope to come back someday :)

River City Marathon Race Report

2010-04-18T15:43:00.000-07:00

Somehow I got it into my head that I am in good enough shape to run a Boston qualifier (a marathon on a certified course faster than 3:10:59 for my age group) and so I started today with that intention.

My thinking was something along the lines of this: a month or so ago I ran a 10K in training at the requisite pace (7:15/mi). I've been training pretty hard for a month. I always perform better on race day than I do in training (for road races), mostly because of adrenaline and tapering. I've learned how to properly fuel for longer races. After a few ultras I'm now comfortable tackling distances in excess of a marathon.

It all seems to add up right? Well, if you've run a marathon before you probably see where this is going.

I was more nervous for this race than I have been for any in a long time. In hindsight I think I was nervous because I was setting out to do something that in my heart I knew I was physically incapable of doing. When I woke up at 4:00 am this morning said heart started racing immediately. I badly wanted to go back to sleep and forget about the race, but that's not how one does these sorts of things, is it?

The logistics of getting to the starting line were somewhat complicated. Wake up, eat, get dressed. Then drive to the finish line by 5:30. Then sit on a bus while the stragglers are accounted for. Then travel on the bus to the starting line (26.2 miles on a bus takes quite awhile!). Disembark at 6:30 and wait until the race starts at 7:00.

All of this was done in 48 degree temperatures, meaning that I needed to bring an extra sweatshirt to stay warm, which would be discarded prior to the start (as it was too hot to run in). Jen had such a sweatshirt that she was planning on giving to goodwill (which is where discarded race gear typically ends up anyway). It was her race sweatshirt from the Big Sur Marathon, which she ended up skipping because she is now pregnant (very exciting), and wants to get rid of it as it reminds her of something she has to give up for a bit. It really was a nice sweatshirt, and it pains me to discard such things, but at least it will go to a good cause.

In my warm ups I was feeling out a 7:15/mi pace and it felt pretty comfortable. I know a 7:15 pace because for me it's the pace just short of pushing- I have to push myself for a 7:00 pace, but a 7:15 just seems to flow.

So, with start I settled nicely into my stride. The only two hills of note on this course are in the first three miles, so I felt if I could stay strong through those I had a chance of hitting my target.

My first mile was a 7:20. A little slow, but not to worry. Three of my next four miles were sub 7:15, and the slow one was 7:17. After 6 miles my average pace was 7:16 and I was on target for a 3:10 finish.

As fantastic as that was, I realized at this point that I would be unable to maintain the pace for the entire race. So I moved to goal "B", which was to beat my marathon PR of 3:17:58. Such a feat would require the more leisurely average pace of 7:30, which definitely seemed doable, especially given the first 6 miles that I had squeezed extra time from.

By mile 12 my average pace was 7:24.

During mile 13 everything started to come apart. I was feeling horrible. I had more than half of the race to go, I was exhausted, and I could hardly bear the thought of continuing. I very seriously considered the possibility of abandoning at the half-marathon mark.

In running races people usually refer to quitting as a "DNF" (Did Not Finish), as that's what is listed on the results for racers who don't cross the finish line. I prefer the term "abandon", at least for what I was considering. Abandoning suggests the failure to honor a responsibility, in this case one that you've assigned to yourself. And in fact this thought was one of the few things that kept me moving forward... a "DNF" sounds like no big deal, and should in my view be reserved for injuries or emergencies. This was neither, but I wanted it to end so badly.

It was a classic quit-point: the race staff were there to send off the half-marathoners, I could have easily persuaded one of them to drive me to the finish. I even started working out what I was going to say to the person I talked to. I would happily relinquish my timing chip and my bib. I would talk about how it just wasn't a good day for me, and I didn't have anything to prove by finishing as I'd already missed my two goals and this would just be another marathon for me.

NO! That's not me! I signed myself up to do this race... paid good money and challenged myself to achieve a goal. I had bravely pursued that goal, and it didn't work out today, but just because I made some miscalculations didn't mean I could or should throw in the towel. Damn it, I've run 50 mile races before. I can't hang on to this one for 13 measly more miles of slightly downhill pavement? NO!

I took what I've learned from ultra marathons, slowed the pace down, continued eating and drinking, and broke the remaining distance into manageable chunks. I decided that goal "C" was that there would be no walking (I've walked in every single marathon I've run, even my 3:17 PR run).

My outrage at myself was validated when I saw one of the race staff at the 13.1 mile mark. I laughed at the idea of explaining my story to one of these folks. Silly.

Despite slowing down, I still finished the first half-marathon in 1:37 (7:26/mi).

The next 13.1 miles were miserable. Every mile was literally "just make it to the next mile without walking". Mile 14 was an 8:03. Mile 17 was 8:58. Mile 23 was the slowest, an appalling 10:03.

I had forgotten how bad it feels to finish a marathon on which you've gone out too fast. It's agony. Literal agony.

And it was getting hot. Another miscalculation I made was in selecting what to wear. I had planned to finish around 10:10 AM, at which point the projected temperature was about 62 degrees. When I actually finished, it had soared to about 68. The hat and arm gaiters were not the right attire for 68-degree weather.

And I was dehydrating. The aid stations were spread out a little farther than a typical marathon, but I didn't want to carry my own bottle for a race like this. I couldn't seem to get enough water though, despite taking two cups from every station.

But I didn't walk. I had to stop for a few seconds five or six times to stretch out a cramp in my hamstrings, and I walked at the last aid station so I could down three cups of water without wasting a drop, but besides that I was always running (well, jogging at this point). I was going to make it at goal "C".

My finishing time was about 3:37 (an 8:23 pace... but it's actually not quite clear what my time was, because the official time said 3:41, but my watch said 3:37).

I started off too fast, I wore the wrong clothes, I didn't stay hydrated. I missed my target time by almost 30 minutes. By most measures this marathon was a disaster.

But for some reason I'm really happy about it. I was in more discomfort in this race than I have been in a long time, and I was certainly closer to abandoning than I ever have been before, but I managed to push through all that and make it to the end.

I'll post final results when I get them.

Woodside 50K Race Report

2010-02-07T19:25:00.000-08:00

While drinking a cup of coffee this morning I finished reading the book Once a Runner. Coupling this excellent novel with yesterday's memories was an immensely gratifying experience.

Yesterday... yesterday was the Woodside 50K, and it was pretty darn cool.

In northern California we've been getting hit with storm after storm this winter, bringing rain to the lowlands and snow to the mountains. I've been doing the bulk of my training indoors mostly because I can't be bothered on the weekdays with the inconvenience of getting my shoes all wet, and running around the San Jose suburbs in the rain just isn't all that fulfilling. And on the weekends the idea of sloshing around in ankle-deep mud doesn't sound enticing.

If it sounds like I'm being a little soft about the whole thing, I am. Or I was. All week I was watching the weather hoping that we'd get two rain-free days for the trails to dry out enough that they wouldn't be sloppy messes. On Thursday I realized that this wasn't going to happen, and then I realized what a wimp I was being. Some of my best runs have been in the worst weather.

In fact, my first run after deciding to get into ultra running was a ten mile point-to-point on the Bay Area Ridge Trail (a five-hundred plus mile trail system that mostly circumnavigates the San Francisco Bay) on Skyline Ridge. It was raining on and off through the whole run. The trail was muddy, shoe grabbing muddy in places. I was unprepared for the challenges of trail running. But I remember coming out of the forest at one point on the west side of the ridge, the clouds cleared, and I had a beautiful view of the giant valley below me, blanketed in mist. I loved every minute of it.

So at 5:30 am yesterday I awoke (the 8:30 am start time is mercifully late), gritted my teeth for a day of inclement weather, and went through my usual routine. My biggest concern was whether or not to wear a raincoat. No coat in a downpour can wind you up soaking wet, and possibly at risk of hypothermia in cold weather. And a raincoat when there is no rain can be like carrying a sauna around with you, as raincoats (not surprisingly) don't breathe very well. I took clothing for both eventualities and deferred the decision till the start.

Jen rode with me to Huddart Park prior to the start. As soon as we turned on to King's Mountain Road, the torrent started. We pulled into the parking lot and any misgivings I had about a raincoat were quickly dashed when she stepped out to use the bathroom and came back fairly drenched.

I tried to get all of my gear on while sitting in the driver's seat. Unfortunately I had just stuffed everything into my backpack and in the process of emptying it out lost a running sock. I got out of the car to get a better view of the seat and the floor, and started getting drenched myself (no raincoat on yet). After a few embarrassingly frustrating minutes I found my missing sock and several other items that I lost in the process of looking for the sock. Next time I will remember to organize things a little better.

In addition to the rain coat, one extra piece of gear I brought on this race was a second bottle. There is an 8.5 mile stretch between aid stations in the middle of the race that I didn't think one bottle would get me through.

Soon I had all of my stuff together and was ready to register. At the desk I saw Martin, one of the guys with whom I worked the aid station at the same Woodside series last December. We chatted for a bit about races, and I was reminded that he had won a spot for Western States this year. I'm really looking forward to hearing about his adventure, hopefully I see him again.

Is there a race around here?

Soon we were being called to the start, and at 8:30 sharp we were off. I didn't know the trail, but I could sense that soon after the gun the stampede that was moving across the meadow would need to collapse to a queue, so I tried to place myself so as to not get delayed for too long. After a tight turn around a fence we were on fast fire roads. I was trying to keep a good pace but not get too excited. I knew after a short downhill comes a six mile climb, so I was steeling myself for that.

Once on the climb it seemed that things were moving a little too fast. But I felt pretty strong and just tried to keep pace with those around me. Near the top most of us started to tire and there was a lot of walking, even on sections that weren't very steep, so I regretted pushing on the early parts of the hill. On the other hand, everybody was walking so I wasn't really losing time to anyone.

Which brings me to my strategy: Don't lose too much time on the uphills, put the pedal down on the flats, and keep pace on the downhills. The biggest challenge was going to be the downhills, as one can lose a lot of time there and it's been a weak spot of mine in the past. But I've been working hard on getting my legs stronger for this very purpose so I was excited to test myself.

Going through the King's Mountain aid station (mile 6) I was a little bothered at having to get in line for water. This was no one's fault, it was just that several runners arrived at roughly the same time and I was last of the bunch. Had I thought about it before hand, I might have skipped this aid station since two bottles would probably carry me to the second one, but for now that's just something to remember next time.

It was nice to see the familiar territory of the King's Mountain station- this was the one that I had volunteered at last time. There are a couple of tricky trail directions leaving the station and I was glad to have them already mapped out.

After King's Mountain the trail flattens out. We were running along a section of the Bay Area Ridge Trail that I hadn't seen before. The trail is invariably well maintained, and I was excited to be checking another segment off my list. I put the hammer down... so did everyone else around me, and so did the clouds as they opened upon us. I was very happy for my raincoat.

I had passed a few folks at the aid (I carry my own food so I don't have to agonize over such concerns while the clock ticks away), and only one or two of them passed me on the flats. I overtook a couple of people who were dealing with technical problems, but mostly we all stayed together. We were in a good rhythm.

At the Bear Gulch aid station (mile 11) I got my water quickly and found myself in a new group starting the big descent into Bear Gulch itself. Stay smooth, stay light, let it coast. That's what I told myself. Not an easy feat when negotiating 2 inch-deep mud puddles.

Mud is strange. Most of the time it's best to just charge through the puddle. The ground seems to be the most stable there. Except for the rare step that grabs your shoe and muddy water pours in over your ankles. I had nabbed a couple of these on the flats earlier, and while my shoes are good at draining water, they're also good at filtering out the suspended dirt in the process, leaving a fine grit against which to grind your macerated piggies (i.e. an invitation for blisters). I felt the beginnings of a blister around mile 12, but decided that it would be best to just tough it out.

Near the bottom of the descent the trail forks off in a loop around which runners go before returning on the same trail that brought us here. I was really hoping to get to the fork before seeing the leaders. I hadn't worked out the distances, but intuitively I figured I would be doing pretty good if I managed that. I didn't quite make it; I saw three guys and one girl before splitting off. But I do always enjoy seeing the leaders, so it wasn't all bad.

The trail bottoms out about halfway around the loop, stays flat for awhile, and then starts to climb again. Once I hit the uphill I realized my legs were spent from the descent. But I didn't panic. My scant two ultra marathons previous have at least taught me that a lot changes over the course of a race, and as long as you're still moving you're fine.

So I walked a bit. Some fellows caught up with and passed me in a slow jog, so I picked it up for a minute or so and then started walking again. I decided to employ a technique whereby I would run for a minute-thirty or so, and then walk for a minute. This seemed to allow me to recover sufficiently and I found that I could comfortably run up the gentler sections out of Bear Gulch and power walk the steeper ones.

About halfway up I started to feel good again. At first I was happy about this. But then I asked myself, do you want to look back and know that at mile 18 you could have picked it up and didn't? I didn't. So I started pushing the pace again.

And somewhere I have developed quite a power walk. In the past I've always been disheartened by folks speeding past me while we both trudge uphill. I couldn't understand how they could move themselves so much faster. But I think through a combination of strength training, ankle rehab, and determination, I can move at a reasonable clip now. I passed several people near the end of the climb, which I found quite satisfying.

Back at Bear Gulch aid the second time (20 miles) another quick fill and I was off retracing the Bay Area Ridge Trail segment. Time to put the hammer down again! The 35K race turnaround is at this aid station, so I was now encountering lots of people in that race, always uplifting to get and give encouragement.

I had to take it easy on the slight uphills, but I was feeling pretty good on the flats. But the fatigue was starting to take its toll. I didn't think I would be able to hold it together for another 11 miles (I thought it was 11 because I am have not gotten used to the miscalculations that my new GPS watch makes, especially over winding and wooded terrain), but I pressed onward anyway, continuing to push the pace. At some point I broke into the caffeinated Clif Bloks that I save for the end of a race, which allowed me to keep it going. But my strength I was flagging.

Before I knew it I was back at King's Mountain aid for the second time (26 miles). My watch suggested that I had about 7 miles to go, and I thought I had remembered reading that it was 6 miles from here to the finish. I asked the aid station volunteer how far it was, and she said 4 miles. I couldn't believe it! But when I thought about how far it must be given what I knew about the 17K course that follows this same section, I realized that she must be right. I was overjoyed. Just topped off the water and was off again.

After King's Mountain it is a slight uphill before a long downhill. Once I hit that downhill I kicked it into high gear. At one point I my watch showed me at a 7:00 pace, which I believed. I was feeling great (the caffeine helped), ready to run this thing home. There is a bothersome little climb in the middle of the descent, but after dispatching with it I knew I was home free. I kept pushing, pushing. I wasn't running against anyone else at this point (my nearest competitors were 1-2 minutes ahead and behind), just running faster because, well, that's what you do.

Soon I saw the parking lot and the typically confusing finish of trail races (literally across a path, around a parked car, through a parking lot, down a sidewalk, through a children's playground complete with spongy platform, across another section of the same sidewalk, through a meadow, into a foreshortened finish chute). Then I saw Jen standing on the side with the camera at the ready. I regretted having unzipped my jacket because I knew it would make for a crappy photo (I had unzipped it so the finish staff could see my number), but whatever.

Hammering down the hope stretch

Before I knew it I was over the line and breathed a sigh of relief. I was really happy with my performance, I knew I was fast compared with my previous races, and I had pushed myself the whole way.

My finishing time was 5:35:49. While only 6 minutes faster than my last 50K, I don't feel so bad about it for a couple of reasons. First, Jen and I heard many people complaining about slow times because of the trail conditions. Second, my overall place was 30th, but, more importantly I finished at the 30th percentile of finishers (my last two races have been at about the 50th percentile). So measured in raw speed I was not substantially faster, but measured against the field (a better measure in my opinion) I improved substantially.

That said, I'm excited for the next one. I'm forever wary of flukes, so I feel I need another performance to prove it to myself that I really have gotten faster. For now I have a week of soreness to look forward to, and a nasty blister to take care of. But I am very happy with my race. Best ultra so far.

New Toys

2010-01-20T19:51:00.000-08:00

Jen got me a GPS watch for Christmas. It comes with a heart rate monitor and loads of other neat stuff. It's been fun to take it out on the trails and then come back and upload the data. I've never had that kind of visibility into my workouts before.

Today I decided to use it for a crossfit workout. The workout is called Barbara, which consists of the following:

5 rounds for time:
20 pullups
30 pushups
40 situps
50 squats
3 minutes rest

Below is a plot of my heart rate over the duration of the workout. I started the clock right when I started and stopped it right when I was finished, so the plot starts and stops at those instants. The workout took me 41 minutes and 31 seconds.

My heart rate for Barbara

You can clearly see the four rest periods. The sharpest peaks are at the end of the pullups; I can bang out twenty of those nonstop using the butterfly method (a way to recycle more of your energy from one pullup to the next, generally accepted in crossfit workouts). The other peaks are during the squats, as I can string together long sets of those as well. The lulls are during the pushups and situps. I have to stop several times per round for those exercises.

Downtime

2009-12-25T10:22:00.000-08:00

This week I’m taking the first week off in probably over a year. I’ve definitely had lighter weeks, but doubt that I have gone more than three days without some form of exercise in that time.

Things have sort of come to a head for me in the last two months training wise. Since I was recovering from an injury and decided to focus on power lifting and biking in the interim, I figured this would be a relatively low period. But I soon felt compelled to spend as much time biking as I had been running, and once I healed to a point I moved back to running anyway. Then I made some commitments to my wife to go for walks in the mornings a couple of days a week. And Dr. Ho, my sports rehab doctor, started me on high-intensity work in conjunction with my treatment. Between the power lifting, the running, the walking, and the rehab work, I’m doing eleven or twelve workouts a week! My body needs a break.

Most articles I’ve read about long-term training recommend rest weeks and even rest months to give ones body time to recover and avoid the effects of overtraining, and it all seems quite sensible. But I’ve found it’s surprisingly difficult to convince yourself to do this.

For one thing I’ve grown accustomed to thinking about my next workout or next couple of workouts, always somewhere in the back of my mind, wondering if I’m going to feel light and strong or heavy and slow, making sure I’m eating and resting so as to be prepared. I think about the last time I’d done that workout and what was hard about it, or think about the area where it might take me if it’s a new running route or trail. It’s strange not having that next workout in mind.

The hardest thing is the nagging thought that if I miss a workout I’m going to incrementally lose some fitness. And missing a whole week is a lot of incremental losses. This is a pretty common feeling… I suspect it’s responsible for the day-to-day motivation for many runners. I guess I just have to have faith that whatever I lose I will gain back and more if I give myself time to rest.

The most annoying thing is probably going to be trying to not eat too much. I still follow the paleo diet, although my caloric intake has ballooned over the past few months to support muscle growth in conjunction with power lifting. I’ve been eating a large breakfast, two full lunches, and two full dinners every day. I’ve gained about 6-8 pounds of muscle, but have gotten used to this huge appetite. A week isn’t very long, but if I gain an extra 3 pounds of fat this week before I start training again, that’s an extra 3 pounds of dead weight I have to carry up the mountains, and if I keep consuming all of these calories without burning them off that’s exactly what will happen. It doesn’t help that this is the holiday season, though most of the usual culprits are off the paleo list anyway.

But it’s important to break habits if for no other reason than your body has to adapt to the change (which I generally view as a healthy thing). I recognize that the exercise is a bit of an addiction, as is the supporting lifestyle. I hope that a week off will give me a new take on things, get me fired up about upcoming races.

Speaking of which, I’m almost certainly going to do the Woodside 50K in February (the spring version of the race that I just volunteered for, it’s a twice-annual event). After that I have no plans, though maybe after this week off I’ll put together my general strategy for next year.

Calling All Volunteers

2009-12-06T10:28:00.000-08:00

There is a television show called "Man Vs. Wild" in which a guy named Bear Grylls shows viewers how to survive in various wilderness locations. I watched it a few times when it first aired, but the only lesson I took away from the show is that burpees are a good way to warm yourself up quickly. A burpee is an exercise where you start from a standing position, squat down and put your hands on the ground, kick your legs out behind you into a plank position, do a pushup, bring your legs back under you so you're in a full squat, then jump as high as you can. Basically quickly getting your center of mass from the lowest possible position to the highest possible position without any sort of equipment. I did lots of burpees yesterday because I was freezing my butt off working at an aid station.

Given my current injured state (update: I'm running again, but not very hard), I decided to volunteer to help out at the PCTR Woodside races this weekend. What a fun experience!

I requested to work at the King's Mountain aid station because I had thought that my friends were running in the 17 and/or 35K events, and I would get to see them here. Unfortuneately they both backed out, but I decided to volunteer anyway. I joined two ultra running veterans John and Martin (not sure on last names), as well as two uninitiated, Song(?) and Avitica(?).

Manning an aid station is mostly a pretty straightforward task. You keep the bowls of food and candy filled, keep cups of water, electrolyte, and soda available, fill bottles for folks, help people cross the road, look for potentially dangerous situations with runners (dehydration, etc.) and generally try to be a positive and encouraging force for the runners. Occasionally someone must deal with an injury (not me, as I'm not trained for that).

One thing I've always appreciated as a runner at an aid station (and wished for when it wasn't there) was someone telling me what to do. When you're out on the trail for awhile, especially when you're alone, arriving at an aid station can be an overwhelming and confusing experience. What was I supposed to do here? Get water? Should I eat anything? What should I eat? Oftentimes folks pass through completely forgetting the things that they had reminded themselves to do for the last hour. So I decided to tell folks what to do once I figured it out for myself. "17K turnaround is here, food and drinks over here, who needs a bottle refilled, let me get that for you".

I think people appreciated it. One woman told me I was really nice. At the time I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not, because I felt like I was barking more than being nice, but I think she meant it, insomuch as I was being as helpful as I knew how to.

There are a few things that I learned that I think all future volunteers (and race directors recruiting volunteers) should take note of:

Learn the job before the first runner shows up.
The first runner to show up is the lead runner in one of the races. He or she is arguably the person you most want to get through as efficiently as possible, there may even be a course record on the line. I felt like an idiot trying to figure out which cups had water and which had electrolyte, how to work the water cooler nozzle, as seconds ticked by. Next time I will go through a dry run before the first runner gets there.

Scope out the possibilities for going off-trail in the vicinity of the aid station and figure out how to get people going in the right way.
There were two potentials for this at King's Mountain, both on the way back. First, folks would see the aid station and head directly across the road to get to it, running through potential traffic for about 200 feet. Second, folks leaving could miss the trail turnoff and head up a private driveway. We should have figured out how to more clearly mark both of these.

Read the course description ahead of time.
Runners are going to ask you how long they've been running for, how far they have to go, what color ribbons to follow. Pretty fundamental info for a runner, but the guy at the aid station doesn't know? Horrible. Next time I will take it upon myself to read this and educate any of my fellow volunteers who do like I did.

Think about how what you say might be interpreted by a runner.
After one fellow near the end of the race was leaving, he visibly picked his pace up to a jog and John commented that he was saving it for the end. Then I made the joke "well, you don't want to peak too soon". I hope the runner didn't hear me, it would have sounded like I was making fun of him, but it was just a stupid comment.

Two pitchers
You really need at least two pitchers to work efficiently, one for water and one for electrolyte. I will likely bring at least one of my own next time in case the station is short. Waiting in line to fill up a bottle sucks.

Don't forget the essentials
In my mind the must-haves are water, electrolyte, potatoes, cliff blocks, sandwiches, and salt tablets. I think a runner will forgive anything else that seems to be missing, but these are must-haves.

That's about it. I'm not going to walk through the whole day at the aid station, but a couple of notable highlights:

I had a great time talking to John and Martin, who both had lots of stories and ultra running lore to share.

Mark Tanaka came through the stations, running the 50K. I've never met Mark, but his is one of the first ultra running blogs I started reading. I said "Is this the famous Mark Tanaka?" when I recognized him, and got a "yeah". Me: "I love your blog man!" Mark said something like "I don't have a blog", which I didn't understand, but in hindsight he probably thought I was a stalker and trying to distance himself :)

One poor girl face-planted on the trail somewhere and Martin cleaned her up. I heard from another runner that she was coming, and as she approached I only had a profile view so she looked fine. Then when she turned the corner I saw the extent of her injury. Ouch! She kept running though, one tough cookie that one.

On guy came through running the 50K with no water bottle. He was dying by the time he hit our aid station the second time. I hope he made it okay, John made him take a lot of salt before he left.

The last guy through, didn't make the cutoff, but quite bravely finished the race. What a great attitude! Hope to see him again and making the cutoff.

In short, I really enjoyed this experience and I encourage anyone to do it. But make sure you're either dressed for it or have your burpees dialed-in.

Mostly Half Empty

2009-11-29T13:27:00.000-08:00

Most pessimists think of themselves as realists, or maybe pragmatists, myself included. I don't think of myself as being a downer all the time, and I certainly know the value of believing believing that something can be done in order to make it happen. But I think on the glass-half-full, glass-half-empty spectrum, I lean more towards the latter.

I'm always telling myself that something is going to suck, that it's going to hurt, that I might not finish. So much so that I'm embarrassed to share these thoughts with others because they seem irrational (and, well, pessimistic). I mean, you never hear Lance Armstrong or Dean Karnazes talk like this. I even feel a little superstitious about it, in that I worry I won't do well unless I purposefully worry that I won't do well (if that makes sense).

But I found this article about Jenny Barringer's (failed) bid at the NCAA Cross Country Championships particularly insightful to my disposition. Specifically the author's assertion:

If Barringer had simply gone into the race expecting it to be extremely painful, and expecting her victory to come with great difficulty, she would have won. As her rebound at the end of the race demonstrated, there was nothing physically wrong with her. Yet her meltdown was not “all mental,” either. The subconscious brain is in the driver’s seat during races. When it decides to make you bonk, you bonk. A runner can no more overcome fatigue caused by the subconscious brain through “mind over matter” than a person could jump off a building [or] fly by overcoming gravity through mind over matter.

Reading the above article makes me think that there is a good reason for my worry, that it's really just my brain and body getting all of the dials adjusted to prepare for suffering. In the end, hopefully I suffer less because I think I'm going to suffer more.

Running Home Cookie

2009-11-24T12:17:00.000-08:00

Another post I've been meaning to get to.

On October 18 my friend Natalie (a.k.a. "Cookie") completed her first 26.2 in the Nike Women's San Francisco Marathon. Jen and I came to support her and to run her in the last few miles.

We drove up to the city the night before to meet Cookie and her older sister Christine for dinner. We ended up going to an Italian place in the Mission district. It was a little frustrating because while we had made reservations it was awhile before they were able to seat us, and they seemed very disorganized about the whole thing. Normally I wouldn't mind that much, but the night before someone's first marathon stuff like that is annoying.

The dinner was pretty good but our waitress was flakey as hell. She forgot to put Cookie's order in, and didn't even realize the oversight when she brought our dishes out and was one short. I had to ask her when it was coming before she corrected it, then another few minutes for them to prepare it. As the only veteran marathoner at the table I felt a special empathy and responsibility to make sure everything went correctly, and I just about lost it (kind of silly, I know). But Cookie was remarkably composed and I made a personal note to try to stay more levelheaded in the future.

The next morning Christine and Cookie woke up at some ridiculous hour to take Cookie to meet her team at the start. She was running with the Team in Training program, which raises money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It's really quite an incredible program, both providing funding for a good cause and supporting novice athletes in completing their first marathons/triathalons/century rides/hiking adventures. Cookie planned to run with two friends with whom she had trained.

Christine came back and Jen and I woke up at a far more reasonable hour, got some breakfast and coffee, and drove out to the Outer Richmond district to intercept the race. We had decided to pick Cookie up around mile 17. I would run from there to the end, whereas Jen would run to mile 19 or so, and then wait for Cookie and I to complete the loop around the lake, and then finish with us. We waited on the side of the road, looking for our runner.

Waiting for Cookie

Suddenly there she was, and looking really strong! Jen and I started running with her and her two friends. We left Jen and mile 19, and then at mile 20 or so Cookie's friends had some support runners join as well, so Cookie and I started running on our own.

Jen, Cookie, and me

I know that at this point in a race, most folks want anything to take their minds off the pain, so I was trying to think of any humorous/edgy/off-the-wall story I could come up with to entertain her, adding as much hyperbole as I could manage. The one thing I did not talk about was the pain that I had felt the previous week at my 50 miler... I thought that would just make things worse.

Hopefully it helped. Cookie was looking so strong that I couldn't really tell. She was continuing to drink and eat, and had just as many stories to tell as I did. She was really putting in a great performance.

For me it seemed like the miles were just flying by. As strong as she was, I don't think Cookie was feeling the same way. I would say "Wow, mile 22 already!" and Cookie would say "Only mile 22?" I guess that's the difference between feeling fresh and nearing the end.

We soon picked up Jen again and made our way to the finish. Cookie just kept getting stronger and stronger, and she really wanted to get in under 5 hours. So we picked up the pace and I related all of the end-of-race visualizations/actualizations I could think of. When we got within the last quarter mile she took off and we couldn't weave throught the crowds fast enough to stay with her. We also didn't want to get in the way of other people who were actually trying to finish the race, so we hopped off the course and walked around to the finish line

The San Francisco Nike Women's Marathon is unique in a few ways. While I don't think the event is closed to men, it definitely focuses on women running. The finish is an interesting spectacle where finishers are presented with Tiffany's necklaces, by tuxedoed SF firefighters no less, designed specifically for the event (the necklaces, not the tuxedoes). Talk about race schwag! It's a pretty great souvenir for a woman.

Cookie finished under 5 hours, and is already thinking about the next one. Congratulations! It's always fun to see someone complete their first, and to be able to support them in the effort.

Cookie at the end of her first marathon

Interestingly, I found out later that the event was won by ultra marathoner Caitlin Smith. Caitlin has really been killing it in the trail running world lately, and she keeps a very well written blog that I recommend you read.

Fighting Through "Fight Gone Bad IV"

2009-11-23T20:53:00.001-08:00

I've finally got some time to catch up on a few posts I've been meaning to make. This one is about something called "Fight Gone Bad", an event in which I participated back in September.

Fight Gone Bad is a international fundraising event. On one day Crossfit athletes from around the world compete in one brutal workout to raise money for Althetes For A Cure and The Wounded Warrior Project. You can find more information about it on the FGB4 website.

In order to enter you simply find a participating affiliate (a Crossfit gym), sign up on the website, and then ask your family and friends (an whoever else you can wrangle) to donate money. You then show up at the gym on the designated date (September 26th) prepared to endure 17 minutes of torture, along with the thousands of other athletes around the world who all do the same workout within 24 hours of one another.

I became interested in doing this because my friend Troy is opening a new Crossfit gym (Prometheus Crossfit), and hosted FGB4 in conjunction with his grand opening. What could be better than punishing yourself with good friends for a good cause? So I signed up, not really knowing what I was getting myself into.

The "punishment" comes in the form of a truly brutal workout. I won't go into details, except to say that if you don't think you can hurt in 17 minutes, you should try it (or any of the other benchmark Crossfit workouts for that matter), it will likely be the hardest workout you have ever done. An explaination of the workout and the scoring system is here.

Jen and I drove up on Saturday and helped Troy and his family set up some last minute things. Once everyone arrived, my Crossfit coach Martin led us through a warmup and we divided up into heats. I ended up in the first heat.

Troy's son pulls away in the warmup

I had never done the FGB workout before, but I estimated I could score about 300 points. After talking to some veterans I began to suspect that this was a bit optimistic, but I decided to go for it anyway.

Round one felt great, I hit all of my targets. Round two was rough. By round three everyone was falling apart. What had been so easy in the first round was simply impossible in the third. We nonetheless kept pushing as the seconds ticked by, straining to lift that bar, throw that medicine ball, jump onto that box, pull that rower just one more time. When we thought we could do no more we eked out one, two, three more points.

Me trying for one more push press

At the end of the proscribed seventeen minutes we collapsed onto the ground. I was straining for breath and could not focus my eyes. I learned later that I had scored 263 points. Not what I was shooting for, but a great score for my first attempt, and I knew that I had given it everything.

Carnage after FGB4

Free massages from Massage Envy afterwards!

All in all it was a great time. I'm really happy for Troy and his new gym, and it was really fun work out out for a good cause. Our team raised over $4000, and collectively FGBIV raised over $1.08 million! Pretty amazing. I'm already looking forward to next year.

The Prometheus Crossfit FGB4 team

Injury Strikes Back!

2009-11-07T13:55:00.001-08:00

I'm currently on the bench as far as running is concerned.

About four years ago, while training for 10Ks, I managed to get Achilles tendonitis in both heels. I'd never had a tendon injury before, so at the time I didn't realize how frustrating these can be. It effectively put a halt to my training and by the time I was ready to run again (more than six months later) I had lost so much of my fitness and didn't want to risk another injury that I effectively gave up serious training.

Since then I have learned to work around this injury through weight training and lots of stretching and application of heat. My heels actually flared up a little durnig Skyline, but I was able to get past it and finish the race.

After Firetrails, I decided to take a few months off from ultras and focus on shorter races. During that time I also planned to work on two things that I think will really help my ultra performance. The first was to develop some serious leg strength to help me on long downhills. The second was to start running more in the new five fingers shoes from Vibram to develop my technique and strengthen my calves, ankles, and feet.

Everyone you talk to and every recommendation from the manufacturer says that you should ease into your five fingers shoes. I had done warmups, a tabata workout, and a 2-mile run in them in the past and figured I was ready to start using them for full workouts. A friend and I did a ladder of the following two Thursdays ago:

One minute on, one minute off, one minute on, fifty seconds off, one minute on forty seconds off... one minute on ten seconds off, one minute on twenty seconds off... one minute on, fifty seconds off, one minute on, done.

This is a fun little speed workout that I'd done before (but not in five-fingers). I was feeling great, but in the third-to-last work set my right heel started to feel weak. In the second-to-last set I was limping, and I skipped the last set and went inside and did it on the rower. In hindsight my body was not ready.

Over the next couple of days I realized that I had re-injured my old condition. Damn!

I decided to address the injury head-0n this time.

I have received several recommendations for sports chiropractic and rehab practitioner Dr. Harry Ho. Dr. Ho has a great reputation and has treated several high-profile athletes for various sports related injuries. He himself is an iron man triathlete (and in fact was unable to see me the end of this week so as to travel to Florida and compete in the 2009 Ford Iron Man, which I took to be a good sign).

Over the last few days Dr. Ho and his associates have employed on me novel and sometimes tortuous techniques to break down scar tissue, loosen muscles, and increase circulation in my heel. I really feel like things are improving, and that I am actually healing (and heeling) rather than just working around the injury. After this one is fixed I'm going to ask them to do the other one too.

When my friends get injured I always counsel them by saying that successful athletes are not successful because they never have setbacks, they are successful because they work through the setbacks, and that's what I keep reminding myself now. And truthfully this could not have come at a better time; I don't have any big races planned, I had decided to focus my crossfit training for the next few months on strength more than conditioning anyway (which means lots of squats, deadlifts, presses, and eating, and no jumping or running), and I am in a position financially to be able to afford proper treatment.

In the meantime I am biking on days when I would normally run, sticking like I said to heavy lifting and not dynamic movements for crossfit, and soon I hope to be able to start taking walks with Jen. In a way it's kind of nice to have a change, albeit a forced one, and I know that it will make me enjoy running all the more when I get back to it.

You can survive on Clif Bar products: Dick Collin's Firetrails 50 Miler Race Report

2009-10-17T13:40:00.000-07:00

Finally, I'm rested and I have some time to do a race report.

A little background on the race: This event is named for ultra running legend Dick Collins, who as I understand it created it back in 1981. According to his profile , Mr. Collins has run over 151 ultra marathons, has done a sub-8:00 50 miler, and has completed the ultra running grand slam (comprised of 4 famous 100-mile races, done all in the same year). Already a serious ultra marathoner in 1981, he contacted the East Bay Regional Parks District about organizing a running race through their park system. They assumed he meant to put together a 5K or maybe a 10K. When he proposed a 50 miler, they decided they needed to create some special rules for this unlikely event. The rules were: aid stations at least every 5 miles, and every racer must wear shoes.

Last Saturday, I showed up at the starting line with my shoes, uncertain of what I was getting myself into. When I had finished, I was uncertain of what exactly had just happened. I'm only now beginning to put the pieces together.

First, the race by the numbers:

Time I had to wake up: 3:50 AM
Number of starters: 234
Miles run: 50
Elevation gain/loss: 7800'/7800'
Ounces of water I drank: ~312 (2.4 gallons)
Total Clif Shots + Clif Roks eaten: 112 (58 + 54)
Calories ingested: 3400
Est. calories burned: 5400
Mile at which I learned about sponge baths: 37
Number of sponge baths taken in the last 13 miles: 4
Finishers: 219
Winning time: 6:30:34
My time: 10:04:58
My place: 113

The alarm went off at 4:00 AM (actually that clock is 10 minutes fast, so I really woke up at 3:50 AM). I got up early to give myself enough time to eat (2 eggs, 2 bananas, 1 glass orange juice, 1/2 scoop protein powder, some almond butter), take care of a few personal things, draw the course profile on my left arm, with aid stations, and write instructions for myself for the drop-off point halfway through the race on my right arm.

Jen was good enough to go with me to the start. The signin was in exactly the same spot as the Skyline 50K, which was nice in that it saved some concern about finding the location, especially because it was still dark when we arrived. I lubed up with some body glide, donned my socks, shoes, shirt, threw on my new running hat, and pulled on some arm warmers as it was about 53 degrees F. I packed my pockets full of energy, 24 Clif Bloks and 24 Clif Roks in plastic bags, plus another 6 of each in the pocket of my water bottle hand strap.

All runners are required to sign in so the race organizers can keep track of who is still out on the trail (you can imagine how easy it would be to lose someone on 50 miles of trail), and milling around I recognized a few folks, though I didn't say 'hi' to anyone. I think I was a little nervous, and I deal with anxiety by not talking (unlike Jen, who does the opposite when she is anxious... makes for some very one-sided airplane trips!).

Lots of activity at sign in

Just before 6:30 we were called to the starting line. We were related the above story about the organization of the first Firetrails 50 Miler, and moments later we were off! I didn't try to work my way to the front, sticking to my plan to start off slow. I regretted this a little because I had to run exceedingly slow in the beginning because the road is pretty narrow. On the other hand, it was still dark and it was easier to just follow the person in front of you than it would have been to blaze my own path. I struck up a short coversation with one woman who's goal it was to qualify for the Boston Marathon next year, and she was pretty certain she was going to make it.

Somewhere between the second and third mile there is a bridge that's only wide enough for one person, so everyone backed up there. But after that it started to get lighter out, and things opened up a lot more so I could really get my pace dialed in. I was trying very hard to stay at a relaxed pace, walk on steep hills, and just stay calm. One big climb and we hit the Marciel Road aid station at mile 3.2, and I topped off my water bottle. I had missed my first 20 minute feed interval because I didn't want to risk dropping all my food in the dark, so once I started off again I caught up on that.

Running was pretty easy up to this point. I was feeling good, eating a lot, drinking a fair amount. That's when the gas started. It may be a little gross, but it plagued me through the rest of the race. I wasn't uncomfortable because I had no trouble passing it, very audibly, but I felt bad for the folks running near me. I had to make several apologies over the course of the day. How embarrassing.

Soon we arrived at Bort Meadow, mile 7.9. We were back on familiar trails, as the Skyline 50K covers this same ground. Out of Bort Meadow is a reasonably big climb and then a short but steep descent to Big Bear Gate, mile 10.5.

I hit my first low point just before Big Bear. I was happy that I had nearly knocked off the first 10 miles, but was seriously questioning the sense in being out here. I knew I had many hours in front of me, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I had hit a short low point at about this time into Skyline as well, so now with two data points I know that that's just something that happens with me, so I can expect it next time. My theory is that around this time my body determines that this is going to be a long run and is transitioning from burning pure glycogen to burning fat as well, and the disruption throws some things out of whack. But I kept to my eating and drinking. and after Big Bear I started to feel better.

After Big Bear is a long gentle climb up to Skyline Gate, mile 15.0. I met a fellow named Eric on this climb, who was coming off of a DNF at the unseasonably hot (over100 degrees!) Sierra Nevada 100K from a couple of weeks prior. From what he said it was a warzone there, folks overheating all over the place. Firetrails was his event to get back on the horse, as it were. We ran together for a few miles and split up around Skyline Gate.

Skyline Gate had been the turnaround point for the Skyline 50K . Upon leaving the aid station I had the sense of stepping into the unknown. I had run this far before distance-wise, but since this was an out and back course, each step until the Firetrails turnaround would take me farther from the finish than I'd ever been.

The next aid station was Sibley Park, mile 18.4. There was an awful lot of confusion here. My goal at every aid station is simple: get my water bottle filled with water. That's it. I carry all of my fuel with me, so I don't need to spend time trying to figure out what to eat at the stations and normally I breeze right through. I'm not sure exactly what the problem was, but it seemed to take me forever to get my bottle filled.

To begin with it was crowded, and my brain was a little cloudy, so I just walked up with my water bottle open and said "water please". It seemed that everyone standing around with a pitcher had Gu2O, or some other energy drink. So I looked for a cooler with which to fill my own bottle, but I didn't see one. I kept looking back and forth between the table and the volunteers, and kept saying "water please". I think at some point I got confused because I saw a fellow who previously only had Gu2O, so I kept pulling my bottle away from him when he reached to fill it. He must have exchanged pitchers, or maybe he had always had water, or maybe it was a different person... I really have no idea. Things just seemed so confusing. Eventually I got my water and was off again.

I think what had happened is this: The Firetrails is held in conjunction with the Golden Hills Marathon. The marathoners start from the Firetrails turnaround point and run to the Firetrails start. What this means is that the 50 mile runners run past all of the marathoners going the opposite direction. I started noticing these folks just after Sibley, so it stands to reason that the lead runners in the marathon had arrived at Sibley just seconds before I had, and the aid station was focused on getting them through rather than on the middle-of-the-pack 50 milers. That seems like the right decision to me, but boy was it perplexing at the time!

I left Sibley right behind a guy named Jay with whom I went running with a few months ago at Coe. He wasn't in my sights at all prior to the aid station, so he must have gotten similarly delayed. Anyway, Jay and I ran together for a couple of miles. He too had a DNF at Sierra Nevada a few weeks before and was trying to get back on the horse. It was nice to talk to someone I had met before, and it seemed to energize me a bit. I left Jay and pressed onward.

After Sibley there was a lot of single track. This was problematic because the marathoners were coming through more frequently now. I don't know what the ettiquite is in this case, but I assumed that whoever seems to be going the fastest has the right of way, though I tried to get as far to the side as practical for everyone who went by. It was nice to get and give words of encouragement from so many people in such a short time.

As I got close to the next aid station (Steam Trains, mile 21.7) I recognized Chikara Omine flying towards me in the other direction. The leaders in the 50 miler had already made the turnaround and were coming back the other way. Chikara ended up taking second overall. I don't know if I didn't notice Dave Mackay (first overall), or if he was still behind Chikara at that point (I don't know what Dave looks like), but it's always impressive to see the leaders go by. I also recognized Victor Ballesteros with his characteristic beard, who took third. Pretty cool.

After seeing these guys I encountered the hardest part of the race, the long slog down the hill after Steam Trains to the turnaround at Lone Oak, mile 26.0. The slope was steep enough that it was a little hard to descend, and it just kept going and going and going. I would think I saw the bottom again and again, but no. I was really down at this point. I knew I had to traverse this hill and the rest of the course in the opposite direction, and I was upset that I was still out here. My hips and knees were hurting, I was tired, my food was getting very unappetizing. It was bad.

Finally, I heard someone ahead of me say it was almost there. Thank God. I was so happy to get to the turnaround. I had assumed that the turnaround was exactly halfway, or 25 miles, but turns out it was at 26 miles. For some reason this made me exceedingly happy and pulled me out of my depression.

I made it through the turnaround very fast. I went through the checklist I had written on my arm:

Fill bottle
Lose arm warmers? (yes)
Sun block
Get rid of empty bags of food
Get full bags of food
Extra water bottle? (no)

I was gabbing to myself like an idiot the whole time, but I think that really helped me keep it all together. When I was finally ready to go I announced to the aid station "All right, now for the fun part!"

Climbing back up that long hill was tough, and my knees and hips were starting to hurt a lot. Hell, my whole body was starting to hurt a lot. I popped a couple of ibuprofin. About that time Eric, the guy who I had met earlier, caught up with me and we climbed the rest of the hill together. We talked about how strange it is that you can hit such dramatic highs and lows during the race, and it happens to everyone. That was right about the time the ibuprofin kicked in, so I had the gumption to expound upon this subject. Hopefully he didn't get too sick of it.

When the hill finally levelled off, I picked up the pace a little because I wanted to get to Steam Trains, mile 30.3, for the second time. Getting into the 'teens for miles remaining felt like a psych0logical milestone to me, so it was great when I got there. It was also great because I ran out of water on this leg and went the last mile and a half without.

After Steam Trains, I went through Sibley Park again (mile 33.6) and there was much less confusion this time. 17 miles felt very doable at this point.

Between Sibley Park and Skyline Gate I decided to try a time-saving technique that I had read about. Mark Tanaka calls it the "duck walk". I won't describe it in detail, except to say that it's a distinctly male skill. After a few false starts I was able to employ this technique, but it took a lot of concentration, and while focusing on just executing I neglected to realize that I was messing the single track for whomever came down the trail next. Sorry about that! I even heard people behind me trying to decipher the meaning of the trickle of liquid in the dirt, and they eventually reached the right conclusion. Again, how embarrassing. I promise to be more considerate next time!

Anyway, Skyline Gate (mile 37.0) held a new surprise for me. I was really looking forward to this aid station because 13 miles to go seems infinitely easier than 17 miles to go. When I arrived I asked for a little water to splash on my face to wake myself up a bit, and one fellow suggested a sponge bath. "A sponge bath? What is that?" Well let me tell you, it's amazing.

Sitting at the end of the food table was a plastic bucket with two sponges and water that looked like it hadn't been changed since the first runner came through. I didn't care. I grabbed a sponge and rubbed its refreshing goodness up and down my arms. I felt like a new man coming out of that station.

After Skyline Gate the trail is a gentle downhill for awhile, which suits my style. Invigorated from the bath I picked up the pace quite a bit and really started eating up the miles. Before I knew it I was at one of the marathon aid stations and picked up some more water, and soon after I was at Big Bear Gate again (mile 41.5), though after a serious bout with gas (ugh!). This was great news: just one hard climb left and only 8.5 miles to go. I walked up the last climb, and noticed that I got passed by quite a few folks. I really need to work on my power walking. One of the people I got passed by was the race's youngest competitor, a 17-year-old guy. What an accomplishment! Once the grade levelled out I was able to catch back up with him and a few others as well.

At Bort Meadow (mile 44.1) I went for another sponge bath, and one of the volunteers got my neck too. Ah, it was energizing! I really kicked it up into high gear with less than six miles to go. I decided to break open the caffiene chews since I was close to the end. Suddenly all of the pain and suffering of the last 45 miles was erased.

At Bass Cove (mile 47.0) I was feeling great, joking with the volunteers and went for another sponge bath. I realized that if I could put together a fast 5K I could finish in under 10 hours! That was motivating, so I really took off.

I soon learned that they make you earn those last few miles. Right after Bass Cove is short but nasty little hill that kills your stride. Then another little hill. And another. It never really lets up until the very end. I was still going fast, but a sub-10 hour finish was no longer a possibility. Oh well, I wasn't ever tied to any specific time anyway. I still felt great and was passing several people.

The last 1.5 miles or so are marked in quarter-mile increments on the paved trail. It felt so good to knock those quarter-miles off. I kept popping caffiene chews and using up my water by spraying my head and face. Coming around the corner into the marina I saw Jen waiting for me, and boy was it a good feeling to be done.

Running into the finish!

My finishing time was 10:04:58. I told Jen that I didn't think I wanted to run any more long runs, as this one was so hard. Nevertheless I was very happy with my performance and it felt good to finish so strong.

At the end of my first 50 miler

I came out of this race in remarkably good shape. Only a couple of minor blisters on my big toe, quads, hamstrings, and knees a little sore. I did a crossfit warmup the day after and felt pretty good. The soreness was all gone by Wednesday. The only lingering issue is that I think I left my feet in a pretty fragile state, as I went for a 2 mile run on Thursday and got 4 blisters (granted I was running in 5-fingers shoes, the farthest I had ever run in them).

Where does this leave me now? I am going to take a break from ultras for at least 3 months. Some friends are doing some of the PCTR Woodside races this December, one of which is a 50K, and I felt obligated to do that one. I don't want to feel obligated to run. I want to run because I love it. So I definitely plan to volunteer for that race so I can see my friends compete.

I'm really looking forward to doing some shorter races, like a few 10Ks or half-marathons. Jen has signed up for the Big Sur Marathon, and I am very excited to support her in that. So lots of exciting things coming up. I expect to get back to the ultra marathoning in January or February.

After my first 50 miler: Day Five

2009-10-15T20:38:00.000-07:00

The race no longer seems like it could have been that hard. I'm fantasizing about myself running 100 miles now. I mean, I'm sure it was difficult, but I finished, and I finished strong. So the next logical thing is to go farther, right? It's very strange how easily we forget.

Looking forward to putting together a real race report this weekend. Stay tuned!

After my first 50 miler: day one

2009-10-11T18:08:00.001-07:00

Feeling somewhat better today, both physically and mentally. I took a cool bath last night, slept for 12 hours, and got a massage this afternoon, all of which helped with the former.

As for the latter, it probably has to do with a few of things. First, I think there is a relationship to the physical aspect: your body is no longer screaming at you to stop doing whatever it is you've been doing, which your brain translates into a strong sense of aversion.

Second, it feels like the brain tends to forget about the bad parts more easily than the good parts. I don't know why that would be, but yesterday I remembered my feelings during the race that I never wanted to run an ultramarathon again. Today I can only remember remembering those feelings.

I trust my memory, so I'm still not chomping at the bit to sign up, but I'm guessing that with each passing day I'll probably forget a little more. Eventually the sense of accomplishment will outweigh the memories of pain (or my brain will convince itself that those were actually good memories). I'll again throw better judgement to the wind and fork over a good amount of money for the privilege to suffer for hours on end, subsisting on the most contrived and dubious foodstuffs, and in the company of like-minded masochists.

This process seems to be pretty common among endurance athletes. Again in my bag of shwag from the race I received a copy of the lastest issue of Ultrarunning (this one October 2009). In this issue Susan Farago covers the Leadville Trail 100, specifically the story of 15 Austinites who put together an informal club targeted at training for this event. When Susan asked club member Joseph Moore about his finish:

"The first thing I said when I crossed the finish line was 'That was the dumbest f***ing thing I've ever done. I'm never going to do that again.' That was three days ago. Today, I'm already thinking about next year's race."

I suspect this will mirror my thoughts pretty closely. Better not to think too much about it now though.

One thing that did lift my spirits today was this: every issue of Ultrarunning includes a list of finishers and times from the prevoius month for every official ultra marathon in the United States, and some international ones as well. It's amazing to me that there are so few ultra marathons and ultra marathoners out there that this is even possible (consider that the complete results listing for a single big "standard" marathon would take an entire issue by itself). Anyway, my previous ultra was the Skyline 50K, and low-and-behold, there I am on page 53, right smack in the middle of the pack. Pretty cool!

Finished my first 50 miler

2009-10-10T19:08:00.000-07:00

Race report to follow aftere I have recovered. The summary is that it was very, very hard, but I ran a strong race and am happy with my performance.

One thing I wanted write about is how I feel about running now and over the next few days because I think it will be interesting to see how it changes.

When I finished today, I told Jen that I didn't think I wanted to run any more long races. It was just too hard

Now, a few hours after that, I am feeling proud of my accomplishment, but I still don't think I'll be signing up for any more long races any time soon. There were a lot of low points in the race where I was asking myself why am I doing this? This hurts. I'm a little down about the whole ultrarunning thing.

More to follow.

New strategy: No strategy!

2009-09-26T15:17:00.000-07:00

For my last race (Skyline 50K) I spent a lot of time figuring out my strategy for what splits I wanted to hit based on my previous performances, determining exactly what pace to start out at, doing test runs at the pace to get a good feel for it.

I think this was part of my way of dealing with the unknown. 50K was an unknown distance for me, especially given the fact that it was on trails. There was something psychologically daunting about an "ultra marathon". I hadn't trained anywhere near this distance, so I wasn't completely confident in my ability to finish. Breaking it down by the numbers helped.

This time I'm not going to do any of that. It just doesn't seem interesting to me to do all the analysis. My approach is going to be simple. Go out slow slow slow. For me that's nine- or even ten-minute miles. Walk more of the early hills than in the past. Don't kill yourself on the downhills. Take in 300 or 400 calories per hour. Try to stay strong through the entire thing (unfortunately the old addage "it's a marathon, not a sprint" doesn't really apply). I'm going to try to look at this as a grand tour of the east-Oakland hills rather than a race.

Nonetheless, there are a couple of things I plan on doing that I've felt to be invaluable in my last two races. The first is to draw the course profile on my forearm in Sharpie marker, along with aid stations. For me this is a huge psychological help in that I can see what's coming up and steel myself for it, rather than coming around the corner feeling strong and slamming straight into a huge climb.

The second thing is to carry as much of my own fuel as I can manage. I love breezing through the aid stations, asking only for water, rather than wasting time looking for something palatable. It arguably might be more efficient from a running standpoint to depend on the stuff at the aid stations for part or all of my fuel needs, but I think it's just too much to worry about (Will they have what I'm looking for? What if they're all out? Everything I see looks nauseating, etc.) , I don't like stopping for any longer than I need to, and to be honest by the second half of my last race my thinking was pretty muddled. In a confused state, making no decision and going without food is easier than making a decision about what to eat, but has obviously disasterous consequences.

Two new things I'm going to try are Clif Bloks and Roks (see my last post) and a hat. The former seem like a pretty appetizing and cleaner alternative to gels, and the latter is just something I want to try to get used to. In long, hot races, a popular thing at the aid station is ice, meant for placing in your hat to help keep you cool. I've never been big on hats, but if it's hot in this or any future race, I just don't see a good alternative. This will also save me from the annoyance of sunglasses, which just bounce around on my nose and get blurred with sweat. I picked up a pretty cool hat from Zombie Runner for ten bucks. It's white, and has a built-in headlamp (might be handy for an emergency on an overnight run if everything else fails). It also says "Western States" on it... I was leary of buying it for this reason (I am not in the same league of folks who have run the Western States 100 mile run, is it bad form to sport this apparel?) but I reasoned that the hat will be a motivator for me while I'm running (to self: "you think this hurts? Think about what it's like to run Western States, this is nothing! Suck it up!", and: "if you ever want to run Western States, you had better learn to push through this!").

Okay, so that's all great, but the elephant in the room here is the fact that the race is freakin' 50 miles long. Nineteen miles longer than I've ever run before. Proportionally similar to Skyline in terms of climb and descent. I don't know what to make of this. If you told me at the end of Skyline that I needed to go 19 more miles I might have cried (I mean this very literally). Imagine the most gruelling workout you've ever done and add another 60% on top of that (that's precisely what it is for me).

I suspect that part of the reason I'm not doing much planning is because it will force me to face the realities of a 50 mile race. It's sort of like when you get hurt very badly (e.g. a visibly broken bone or gaping cut), there's that little guy in the back of your head saying don't look at it, don't look at it. If you're smart, you listen to that guy. Otherwise you go deeper into shock, which isn't likely to improve your situation. I think that little guy is helping me deny what's coming up in two weeks. I don't think I'm being melodramatic here... subconciously this is serious stuff!

As an illustration of this point, I'm going to steal a page from Dean Karnazes's book Ultra Marathon Man. In one chapter he succinctly and dramatically demonstrates the difference between Western States and the Boston Marathon. The Boston Marathon is somewhat notorious among marathons for a trio of nasty hills near the end that, paraphrasing Dean, have broken more than one runner. While Dick Collins is no Western States, take a look at the same comparison of course profiles in the chart below:

Holy cow! Don't look at it, don't look at it :)

My First Fifty-miler

2009-09-20T14:52:00.000-07:00

Well, I did it. I signed up for Dick Collin's Firetrails 50 miler on October 10th. What am I getting myself into?

Homebrews On Sierra Azul

2009-09-13T14:49:00.000-07:00

I decided to start making my own energy blocks because I'm dissatisfied with what is available on the market, but it turned out to be a disaster. In the past I've been using Accelerade or Accelerade gels as my energy source while running, but the stickiness is just a pain. It gets your water bottles dirty, you end up spilling it on your shirt, your hands get all messy. And I bet that volunteers at aid stations don't appreciate being handed a gooey water bottle. Energy blocks are easier to deal with because it's like carrying around gummy candies, much easier to manage, and incidentally less nauseating after several miles on the trail.

Shot Bloks, made by the same folks who make Clif Bars, are the only energy blocks I've tried, and I really like them. The problem is that they have no protein. Studies have shown that protein taken with simple carbs both aids in the absorbsion of water and inhibits muscle damage from extended efforts. Accelerade is the only major sports supplement that contains the proscribed ratio of sugars to protein, but Accelerade only comes in powder, liquid, or gel (no blocks).

I started experimenting a few weeks ago with a gummi bear recipe I found on the internet. It's basically like Jello, only with more flavoring (Kool-Aid) and less water. These turned out pretty well. A little chewy for exercise, and protein only from the gelatin, but not bad.

Next I made Knox Blocks from the recipe on the back of Knox unflavored gelatin, only I used Accelerade instead of fruit juice. These also turned out well, and one step closer to getting everything in the correct ratio.

I reduced the water content and increased the Accelerate content until I got pretty close to the caloric density and consistency I was looking for. They tasted good (if a little chalky), but would be easy to carry and eat on the go. The recipe was as follows:

Sprinkle 2 envelopes of unflavored gelatin into a quarter cup of cold water. In a separate pan, bring three quarters of a cup of water to a near-boil, and add four scoops of orange Accelerade powder and stir until it's dissolved. Then pour the Accelerade mix into the gelatin mix and stir for five minutes. Pour this into a container with a flat bottom and flat sides, put in the refrigerator for 3 hours. Cut into pieces and Voila! Home made energy blocks.

There's one problem with this recipe, which you might have guessed.

On Saturday I met my friend and adventure racer extraordinaire Andrew for a point-to-point run through Sierra Azul. The plan was to do the ~11 mile section of the Bay Area Ridge Trail from Lexington Reservoir to Hicks Rd. by Mt Umunhum. I proudly packed up my energy blocks and we started off.

The first part of the trail is a brutal climb up out of the reservoir basin. It was pretty hot and I was struggling to keep up. On the bright side, my blocks were working well. I did notice that they seemed to be sweating a little bit, and were wet and sticky on the outside. I figured I could fix that in the next batch with some corn starch or something.

Andrew at the top of the first climb.

The trail goes over steep rolling hills after that, and I felt strong on the downhills and flats, but still struggling to keep up on the climbs.

Me struggling to keep up.

About one hour in I pulled out my second pack of blocks, and my god, what a mess! I had a zip-lock bag full of blocky orange soup. I was able to rescue a few blocks that hadn't yet completely melted, but the next time I pulled the bag out it was hopeless. It could only have been eaten with a spoon. So much for avoiding stickiness.

Andrew on the downhills.

I decided to complete the run without fuel. We only had about 45 minutes left, so really not a big deal. But I was upset that my grand hope to mix my own energy had literally melted away.

On the way back I was thinking about where I would go next with my energy blocks. I just didn't have a next step, and was worried that without industrial equipment I wouldn't be able to make something usable. It was just so frustrating that with all these innovative products out there there were no gummy chews that included sugar and protein.

We went up to Zombie Runner in Palo Alto because Andrew wanted to look at some compression tights (for preventing blood from pooling in the legs during long events), and I came across a relatively new product from the Clif Bar Company, Clif Roks. Wow, these were exactly what I had been looking for, small protein "candies" in enticing flavors that can be used to supplement Shot Bloks.

It's funny how sometimes you have to go through a process before you find out that what you are looking for is right in front of you. Shot Roks have apparently been around since September, 2008, but I've never seen them, or did and thought they were something else. In any case, I have a deeper appreciation for the alchemists at these companies that create performance nutrition products. I was starting to believe that any jerk with a stove and the ability measure ingredients could easily make these things.

On a side note, I finished the run pretty strong, and the best news is that my IT band didn't bother me a bit. Which means I don't have any more excuses to not sign up for Firetrails (almost 5 times as long as this run we just completed!) Hooo boy...

Andrew used his GPS phone to create a profile of our run. Check it out here: http://bit.ly/ALOF8

Cavemen Should Be So Lucky

2009-08-18T21:38:00.000-07:00

I follow a pretty strict diet. Yesterday, I started with some chocolate covered espresso beans, a 3-egg omlet, a pastry, and a cappuccino. Later in the morning I had a chocolate croissant. For lunch I had fajitas with rice and beans, and a big cookie for dessert. I mean a really big cookie. It was really more of a chocolate chip pie. Later on I had a muffin and an ice-cream sandwhich. When I got home I had some chocolate b-bs, some walnuts, and then steak and asparagus for dinner. Then a rediculously sweet dessert bar, dripping in caramel. Finally some more walnuts, and then a bowl of raisin bran.

Yesterday was Tuesday. And Tuesday is special.

The other six days of the week I eat like a caveman. As rediculous as that may sound, eating like a caveman is the basis for the paleolithic diet (a.k.a. the caveman diet). I follow the paleo diet as described in The Paleo Diet for Atheletes. Essentially, most of the time you are allowed to eat anything that a caveman would have had available.

The foundation for the theory behind this diet is that humans evolved over 100,000 years or so to eat certain types of foods. It's only in the last 10,000 or so that foods requiring processing came into our diet (grains), more recent than that for sweets, and still more recent than that for synthesized oils (trans fats). Thus, many of the health problems that humans experience may be related to consuming foods that our bodies have not evolved to consume.

While it may not be obvious what a caveman would have had available, it's easy to identify lots of things that a caveman would not have had available. Tuesdays notwithstanding, I don't eat refined sugars (e.g. sweets, soda), grains (wheat, rice, oats, etc.), legumes (beans, peanuts), dairy (milk, cheese), or trans fats (e.g partially hydrogenated soybean oil). I only eat fruits and vegetables, meats (leaning towards fish and other lean meats), and nuts.

I do make a few other exceptions besides Tuesdays. I have a cup of coffee every day. I have maybe five alcoholic drinks a week. And if I'm out to dinner with friends or family, if someone has something that's especially good I will have a small bite so as not to miss out. Finally, the protein powder I use to complement my protein intake from natural sources is made from whey and is flavored with cocoa.

There are two things that are so bad (in my opinion) that I avoid even on Tuesdays. The first is trans fats. These molecules are very hard for your body to break down and cause all sorts of health problems with cholesterol. The second is peanuts. Peanuts and peanut oil cause big problems with atherosclerosis, which I understand as arterial plaque.

Those two things aside, why would I do all of this? We typically think of endurance atheletes as calorie burning machines who get to eat anything they want. And at 6 feet 1 inch and 170 lbs, I certainly don't have any concerns about my weight. The reason is twofold.

First, one's diet has a significant impact on one's performance. According to The Paleo Diet for Athletes, athletes who follow similar diets are able to recover faster, get sick and injured less frequently, can train at higher intensities, and observe improved results in controlled endurance tests.

Second, I believe that the effects of an unhealthy diet (and by unhealthy, I mean one high in any or all of grains, dairy, legumes, sweets, trans fats) have a cumulative aspect that contributes to health problems down the road. I am not aware of any studies that are conclusive on this in a comprehensive sense, but I think there are many partial results and this claim will be supported by ongoing and future research.

As an anecdote, I eat as much as I want of fruits, veggies, nuts, and meats. Probably about 3000 calories a day. I get roughly 30 percent of them from fat (nuts, oils, and animal fat). I eat a dozen eggs in a week, and eat some form of animal protein in every single meal. I'm somewhere between 6 and 7 percent body fat. My cholesterol is 114. My LDLs and HDLs are all well within the healthy paramaters.

I recognize that no small part of this is due to lucky genetics, but last time I evaluated these things I was training (and eating) for marathons the traditional way (i.e. lots of miles, lots and lots of carbs from grains). I was unquestionably in good shape by most traditional standards. But I was less muscular, my body fat percentage was about 2 points higher, and my cholesterol was about 15 points higher.

From a diet standpoint, this is what has changed: Now, on a typical day, I will have a glass of orange juice or some unsweetened applesauce with protein powder and some walnuts before my workout. If it's a particularly hard workout I might forgo this and eat a gel or drink some sports drink during my workout instead (not paleo, but okay during and immediately after exercise). After my workout I have two eggs with veggies, some juice, and a cup of coffee. For lunch I get a gigantic salad with spinach, peppers, broccoli, beets, sprouts, grilled squash, and fresh fruit. I liberally pour olive oil on top of it if I think of it, but dressing doesn't really matter to me anymore. I also get about 6 ounces of deli meat or tuna or lobster salad (technically deli meat is not paleo because of the salts added for preservation, but it's a very convenient option for me). I split my lunch into two, have half around 11:00 and the other half around 2:00. In the afternoon I'll have a piece of fruit if I'm hungry. For dinner it might be chicken, or beef, or occasionally fish (I'd like it to be fish more, but it's not always convenient or cost-effective), a vegatable, and some more nuts, and if it's the weekend perhaps a couple of beers or glasses of wine. For dessert a glass of orange juice, some protein powder, and some more walnuts. Maybe another piece of fruit or a carrot if I'm still hungry.

Since going on this diet I feel notably better in many ways. Occasionally in the morning I used to feel very lethargic for 15 minutes or so after waking. That's gone. I feel stronger in my workouts. I can do back-to-back workouts and even double workouts with less fatigue. If you've been doing crossfit with me you've probably noticed an increase in my performance over the last two months. And going from 8-9% body fat down to 6-7% just happened as a side-effect of starting this diet.

So given all of this, what's up with Tuesdays then? To be honest I find it too difficult/discouraging to follow the diet indefinitely. Sometimes I'll see something that's not on the "approved" list and the thought of never being able to enjoy that thing again seems unfair and makes it even more desirable. By giving myself one day a week to eat anything I want, not only is it easy wait x days to enjoy it, I can quantify the part of my diet that is not paleo. If you're just having a snack here and there you never really know how it adds up. One day of splurging a week allows me to get the benefits of the other six days.

Cavemen should be so lucky.

Getting Through the Rough Spots

2009-08-12T21:43:00.000-07:00

One of the things I got in my bag of schwag from Skyline was a copy of the latest issue of Ultrarunning. I've never looked through one of these before so doing so was kind of interesting and pretty good reading.

One thing that stood out was a fantastic article written Gary Cantrell called "Quitpoint". Basically it talks about how running an ultra marathon is not a matter of persevering continuously for 30 or 50 or 100 miles. It's a matter of persevering through a finite set of rough spots, or what he calls "quitpoints". These are points in the race where quitting looks like an extremely attractive option when compared with not quitting.

As an example, unless forced to by serious injury or health concern, nobody quits a race out in the middle of nowhere, miles in either direction from an aid station. People quit at aid stations, where the volunteers are warm and helpful, their families and friends are present, food and drink is abundant, and a free car ride to the finish is available. Aid stations are classic quitpoints.

The article is strictly about ultra running, and that aspect of it resonated with me as I know that had my injury flared up just before or after an aid station, I would have had more options avaible, one of which would have been the aforementioned car ride to the finish.

But what I really enjoyed thinking about was how this way of looking at races might apply to other aspects of life. We all have many struggles that we go through, big ones and little ones. Challenges with work, school, relationships, family, friends, health. There are times when we think about throwing in the towel, and there are especially arduous times when throwing in the towel would be easy, or at least seemingly more attractive than the alternative. Success in a lot of areas isn't about working through problems day-in and day-out. It's about working through those few times when giving up is simple and means and end to the hardship, while forging on promises more pain and suffering.

But at the end is the gratification that one can only know after having suffered. That's why you thank the volunteers for their kindness, you wish your family and friends well, you take some food with you to go, and you push thoughts of a soft seat in an air conditioned vehicle out of your mind.

Adding Up, Subtracting Down

2009-08-09T21:16:00.000-07:00

It's hard to know what to take away from last weekend. There are the obvious things, like start a little slower next time, try stressing the downhills more and do other exercises to try to mitigate the IT band problem I suffered, come up with a different solution than gels (I've decided they are too messy and, after awhile, too nauseating to bother with). The harder part is the psychological part.

When you run a perfect race you know it. You can feel that you set the right pace, made the right decisions, and there's nothing you could have done to finish any faster. When you don't run a perfect race, you know that too.

While I'm obviously happy that I finished, I am a little disappointed that I didn't finish sooner. Given the circumstances (my first 50K, an unexpected injury), I think I should have expected to come up a little short, and most folks would tell me that I should be more than satisfied with completing my first ultra. I guess I'm not like that.

When I don't live up to my own expectations, when I feel I can do better, it sits in the back of my mind and gnaws at me. It bothers me. I start plotting. I want to go back and do it again, I want to show myself that I can meet certain challenges.

Maybe I should be more realistic with my expectations. Maybe I'm being a little too melodramatic and this is just the one-week low spot that occurs after big races.

Okay, so what's next? My plan was that if Skyline went well I would sign up for Dick Collins Firetrails 50 miler in October. While I think Skyline went well enough (despite my misgivings above), I'm worried that my IT band won't be back in shape soon enough to keep my workout intensity at the level it should be in time for October. I've decided that if I'm not doing hilly trails with no problems by the weekend after next, I don't think I can be ready and I won't sign up. Maybe I will volunteer for trail crew or something.

I still want to do a 50 miler soon, but I'll do a 50K if there aren't any 50 milers coming up after Firetrails. The San Jose Rock 'n' Roll half-marathon is coming up too, which might be a fun little diversion, especially since the only elevation change is when the road dips to go beneath an underpass (meaning that it won't aggravate my IT band).

It's funny that I've started to think of a half-marathon as a fun little diversion. I guess I have taken some things away from last weekend after all :)

I Still Suck at Running Hills: Skyline 50K Race Report

2009-08-03T20:52:00.000-07:00

Well this sucks, I thought. I couldn't run. I could barely walk. I was about 25 miles into my 50K. 2.5 miles in either direction to an aid station. I was moving along fine, a little slower than I had hoped, but otherwise fine. And then my left knee just stopped working. I could put weight on it, but taking a stride was excruciating. Conditions were great. I felt good. But I was here pondering what was starting to look like my first DNF.

The day started at 4:30 AM. I didn't sleep well the night before, which was strange because I didn't feel nervous or anxious. I couldn't seem to get my temperature under control, which I can usually solve by getting some magnesium, orange juice, and water into my system. But I was on the verge of sleep and I (foolishly) couldn't bring myself to get up and address it. Anyway, first thing to take care of was breakfast. 1 cup of unsweetened applesauce, 1/2 scoop of protein powder, 2 eggs, 1 banana, a few almonds (all based on recommendations from The Paleo Diet for Atheletes). Next was to complete the last few items on my pre-race checklist that I didn't do the night before. Recovery drink and cooked yams into the cooler; cooler, drop bag, and gear bag into the car. Jen got up at 5:00 and by 5:30 we were out the door.

It was an easy enough drive to the course. I was in a good mood, a little nervous but not the way I typically might get for a road race.

Arriving at Lake Chabot I took care of the last minute things: sunscreen, body-glide, pockets full of gels, popped one gel right before the start.

I've only done one other trail race (Mt Diablo 25K), and I thought I recognized some folks from there, but I didn't know anyone.

Jen wished me luck, and at 7:00 AM sharp we were off. The course starts with small rolling hills, then a moderate climb to some more rolling hills, then the first aid station (Grass Valley) around mile 4.5. A short descent and then an easy climb to the next aid station (Bort Meadow) around mile 6.25. My target split time at Bort Meadow was 56:31. My actual split was 56:05. Not bad, I thought! Next is a moderate climb to a flat area, to a steep descent, to the Big Bear aid station. Target split: 1:22:52. Actual: ~1:23:00. Looking good!

I feel like all longer races go through similar phases. In the beginning you tend to think about the folks around you, I'm going to pass this guy, I'm going to let this woman pass me because she's fast. It's almost like you're sizing them up. In the middle you become a little more introspective. You've been running around many of the same people for awhile, the nervous energy has burned off a little. You think less about the other runners as your competition and more as your compatriots. It's a nice transition.

In the rolling hills after Big Bear I got into a group that was a little too fast, and then my achilles suddenly flared up. I've suffered from tendonosis in both heels for a few years, but I've mostly got it under control, and they haven't bothered me on a run in awhile. This was a disturbing development. But I stopped to stretch and was happy that the problem seemed to go away (it would happen a couple more times in the race).

On the big climb up to Skyline Gate I spent some time talking to a guy who was training for the Golden Hills Marathon, just out for a training run. It was really nice to break up the silence a little. Shortly after I got passed by a woman near whom I had been running for most of the morning. I'd end up talking to her later.

At Skyline Gate Aid Station Jen was there to greet me! She had organized all of my stuff and filled my water bottle for me. I went through the station quickly, but I forgot to dump my empty gel containers, and I forgot to get a new bag for my soon-to-be-empty gel containers. I realized about 10 mintes later that I would be carrying these for several miles. Oh, and my splits: Target: 2:14:02, Actual: 2:16. Damn, I'm good!

Shortly after Skyline Gate (mile 15) I hit a low point. There are some tough technical descents, followed by climbs, eventually levelling out to a flat path. I was struggling to keep in touch with the folks I left Skyline Gate with, I was feeling bad, and I was not excited about continuing another 15 miles. I thought Look, this is stupid. You're not having fun anymore, and if you drive yourself into the ground you're not going to enjoy this race, which is the whole reason you're here. So I backed off, and a few minutes later I started feeling better. I realized how beautiful the path through the conifer forest was, and how lucky I was to be out here enjoying it.

Next the course goes down some switchbacks, and I worried for a bit that I was off-course, but then some guy with a number flew by me and I assumed I was okay. I arrived at Big Bear the second time (mile 20) in reasonably good shape. I had lost quite a bit of time off my target by slowing down, but I was okay with it. Target: 3:14:52. Actual: 3:23.

I walked up the steep climb out of Big Bear and popped my first caffienated gel. Boy, was I glad I saved those! In my improved mood, I realized that the hard terrain was all behind me, and I was beginning to believe that I was going to finish. I came into Bort Meadow the second time (mile 23), some more time lost. Target: 3:43:50. Actual: 3:57:45.

Disaster struck after I left Bort Meadow. The trail goes to single track down a wooded valley. I knew I had 8 miles left and I figured I would just bang out what I thought were probably 10 minute miles for the rest of the race and be done in an hour and twenty minutes later. I was congratulating myself on having run a smart race. At my 20 minute interval I decided to walk momentarily to give myself a little rest and pop another gel. Then my left knee seized up.

I tried stretching. I tried massaging. I didn't want to try sitting down and didn't think it would help anyway. I limped a few paces and stopped. I felt the seconds slipping away. More limping. Time passing. I found if I walked with a straightened left leg I could make forward progress. I've read that no matter what, in an ultra-distance event you need to force yourself to make relentless forward progress. So that became my mantra, and that's what I did. The knee seemed to get marginally better and I found that if I took really little steps I could run on it.

Some more experimenting: I could handle the uphills and the flats okay, but the downhills just killed me. Once I started the little climbs coming into Honker Bay I was getting passed (literally) left and right. I remember thinking that I had believed myself to be so clever in picking runners who gradually improved their places in previous years' results as a basis for my target split times, because the runners that were getting passed at the end were hurting and not running the race that they had wanted (see my "How Fast" post). And now I was that guy, slipping through the places. Honker Bay splits: Target: 4:35:29. Actual: 5:01.

But I was going to finish, darn it. On the downhills I did a straight-legged long strided walk, and on the flats I did a little jog, and on the uphills I walked or jogged. At the finish my parents and my friend Mark were waiting for me, so it was great to see them there. My final time: Target: 5:04:08. Actual: 5:40:46! Wow, lots of time lost at the end there.

Me at the finish of my first 50K!

I felt great at the finish, besides the knee. I got a chance to talk with the woman with whom I had run near the first half of the race. It was Terrie West, who took something like 30 minutes off her PR, and who incidentally hit my finish target time. She was hitting all of the splits I wanted to hit, which means she ran a smart (and fast) race. Great job!

All in all, I enjoyed my race. I didn't hit the times I wanted to hit, but I mostly had fun and it was so great to be outside on the trails in such perfect weather. My assessment of the injury is that my IT band really flared up. I've been rolling it out at night, and I think I'll know in a few days if it was that or if I need to go to the doctor to get it checked out. On one hand, I could say that none of the things that I was worried about and could have planned for impacted me. But on the other hand, it might be a problem with leg strength or just experience and endurance on hills, both things I may need to work on (and hills being something that I did cite as a concern prior to the race).

On a side note, today I feel fantastic. My quads are a little sore, my knees are a little sore, and my left knee is still hurting, but besides that I feel as good as the day after any workout. I even did a crossfit warmup today, and my situps and pullups felt exceptionally strong. I attribute my recovery to crossfit and to the paleo diet. I'll talk some more about my diet in a future post.

Finished Skyline 50K

2009-08-02T15:25:00.000-07:00

Just got back home from the race. Didn't hit the times I was projecting, but I enjoyed myself and finished. I'll post a race report with pictures when I've rested up a bit.

Track Etiquette

2009-07-28T18:35:00.000-07:00

Stay in your damn lane. It seems so obvious and intuitive to me that this is the right thing to do to me that it kills me when people don't do it. I was doing mile repeats the other day and two women were walking with iced Starbucks in lanes 2 and 3. The track rules posted by the school clearly state that slower runners should be in the outer lanes, but it wasn't that crowded and I figured perhaps they wanted an accurate measure of their distances, so I was just happy they weren't in lane 1. I came around on my second lap and they were in lanes 3 and 4, which I thought was strange but it didn't impact me. Then on my third lap I went into the first turn and realized that they had moved into 1 and 2. WTF? If it was just one person I wouldn't have minded going around her, but it really throws your stride off to suddenly have to look over your shoulder and then move out 2 lanes. They left the track for a bit while I was resting, but then came back on my second repeat and the same thing happened. This time I caught them on the straight. I yelled "track" as I was approaching and they assumed I wasn't talking to them, then I yelled it again. They jumped out of the way and looked pretty pissed off about it.

Afterwards I apologized for scaring them and tried to explain that they needed to pick a lane and stay in it, but mostly I just got blank stares.

Other things that bug me at the track:

People who bring their kids and don't teach their kids what to do. Little kids do stupid things at the track. It's not their fault, they just don't realize the danger they're in. Kids like to race you, which means they run in front of you in your lane. You have to be very careful when going around them because when they hear you getting close sometimes they make a 90 degree turn and cut across the track. Kids also like to run straight at you, head on, which wouldn't be horrible except that it's distracting and I'm terrified that one will trip before veering off and I have to fall to aviod trampling them. The worst is when there is an older and a younger sibling, and the older sibling is doing something stupid but knows what to do to avoid getting run over, and the younger copies what the older is doing, except for the part about avoiding getting run over.

People who walk or go slow in the inside lanes when there are faster runners out. I don't mind this so much as long as it's a concious decision. If someone wants to run a tempo run and is slower than me, I get that, and I don't mind it, I can choose another lane or go around them if it's crowded. It bugs me though when people run in pairs and take up two lanes to do this , especially when I'm trying to do a tempo run. But most people are happy to move outward if you talk to them.

People who take a lane that's obviously in use. There are 8 lanes. There are three people on the track. You're clearly not faster than me. Why are you trying to Bogart my lane?

Okay, enough complaining. Back from vacation, did my last full intensity workout today: 3 x [100m, 200m, 400m], resting as long after each interval as you took to complete it. Tomorrow I will do just a crossfit warmup, Thursday an easy 1.5 mile run at an 8:30 pace (to dial-in my starting pace), Friday a rest day, and Saturday a 3/4 mile run at 8:30, just to keep the legs loose. Sunday is the race! I'm starting to get excited.

One Week to My First 50K

2009-07-24T07:32:00.000-07:00

On vacation in Michigan now. Feeling reasonably good. A minor nagging chest cold that I hope resolves itself. I think going Paleo for the last month is really keeping it at bay. A little nervous.

What I'm Worried About

2009-07-12T17:59:00.000-07:00

Three weeks until Skyline. Here are the things that I think pose the greatest risk to my finishing:

Going out too fast

This one seems like a no-brainer, but in all the excitement of a race it's hard to not go out faster than your ability proscribes. You're in good shape, you're running at a pace substantially slower than you would run say, a 10K, you can't imagine that such a slow pace could possibly tire you. That's on mile 5 or so. By mile 14 you start to think that maybe it wasn't such a good idea going out so fast. At mile 18 you're cursing yourself, and at mile 20 you completely bonk, as in moving-faster-than-a-slow-walk-is-no-longer-possible bonk. That's happened to me before. It takes experience and/or discipline to stick to a realistic pace in the beginning. As this is a new distance for me (especially on dirt), I'm lacking in experience and will have to rely on discipline.

Fortunately there are a few things to help me out. In my armchair recon of the course I’ve learned that the first three miles are flat on pavement, and that every quarter-mile is marked. That will help me dial in my target pace early, and stay there hopefully until I get into a good groove. Also, in my previously pace-finding exercise (see my “How Fast” entry), I figured out that I should be targeting about an 8:30 pace over the first six miles. That includes some smaller hills, so I should be targeting a bit faster than that on the flats. But I’m going to hedge a bit, just to be safe, and go out at an 8:30 pace, maybe even 8:40. That’s about 2:08 or 2:10 per quarter-mile.

Lastly, I’m going to do my track warm-ups from now on out at precisely 8:30 so I get a good feel for the speed.

Heat

The average high in Castro Valley is 76 degrees in August. The 10 day forecast, which goes out to July 21 also shows a high of 76 degrees. If that holds I think it's pretty manageable. More than a few degrees hotter than this though and I could be in trouble.

I need to keep my eyes on the weather. If it's going to be a scorcher I'll lower my target pace by an average of a full minute-per-mile. I will run with two bottles all day instead of one in for the first half and wait-and-see for the second. Also, I've been trying to get some hot training days in, and days with an extra layer on to simulate more heat.

Injuries

Either now or before the race. I'm most worried about rolling an ankle during the race, or breaking a fall with my face or something. Neither one of those things has happened to me in a long time, so as long as I stay alert I think I'll be okay. As for getting injured training I think all you can do is listen to your body, make sure you're lifting safely, and don't be scared to take a rest day.

Digestive rebellion

I've heard this happens sometimes, though usually on longer races. I've continued my one gel every twenty minutes regimen for longer training runs, and that still seems to be treating me okay. We'll see if the same holds true with the sixteen-plus I plan to eat during the race. If I do start to get nauseous, my reaction will depend on how far into the race I am. In the last three miles you just suck it up. In the last fifteen miles, you spend some extra time at the aid stations trying to pick some things that you think you can hold down, and slowing your pace in hopes of recovery.

Destroyed quads

I would have ranked this higher a few weeks ago, but I've been working some downhill training in this past week and I think it will really help. I'm confident that if this happens it will be in the second half and I'll just need to walk all of the hills from there on out.

Blisters

Haven't really had a problem with this lately. I wear double-layer socks and put body glide between my toes. I don't have much experience with fixing blisters once you get them... I'm just going to put some duct tape and extra body-glide, neosporin and a needle in my bag. I've usually been able to run through minor blisters in the past.

That's about it I guess. There's always the chance of some freak incident, but you can't really plan for those anyway.

First Muscle Up!

2009-07-07T09:05:00.000-07:00

Holy cow, I did my first muscle-up last night! A muscle-up is an exercise where you start hanging from gymnasts' rings, you do a pull-up to a dip and end up with your arms locked out and your torso above the rings, and it's a heck of a lot harder than you'd think it would be. It's pretty standard faire for gynmasts, but a significant accomplishment for us mere mortals. It's a big milestone for crossfitters. I'm stoked!

Henry W Coe State Park

2009-07-03T14:31:00.000-07:00

My friend and coworker Brian (and incidentally the guy who talked me in into giving ultra running a shot) invited me to join him and his friend Jay up at Coe. Brian has done several ultra events and at least one 100M that I’m aware of. Jay is training for the Tahoe Rim 100M and Brian is going to pace him. It was cool to spend a little time with guys who have actually been doing this for awhile.

Their goal for the day was to get some miles and some heat training in… they planned on doing 3 different loops of downright nasty hills for a total of 30 miles. After spending some time on those hills myself I can only say that I’m very impressed.

My goal for the day was to answer the question of whether it’s the downhills or the uphills that are killing me (see my Almaden Quicksilver entry), so I planned to do a couple laps on a single steep hill, starting with the downhill first.

I hooked up with Brian and Jay after their first lap (about 8 miles in). I think I earned my keep by bringing out the chocolate covered espresso beans, they seemed pretty excited about that, and Jay related some Western States lore about how these potent treats saved Dean Karnazes one night. We power hiked together up Lyman Wilson Ridge Trail, a gnarly 1.5 mile climb with a 19% grade. I was thinking that they seemed a little tired, but I wouldn’t truly understand this until later.

I was fresh, so the climb was an nice and easy warmup for me. At the top Brian and Jay continued on for their second loop and I popped a gel and started my descent. My approach to downhill running is to just go as fast as I can manage, which is pretty fast when it’s not too steep and my legs are feeling good. 19% is too steep, and I was surprised to see how quickly I got tired. I’ve been reading some tips online for how to run downhill efficiently, but nothing seemed to obviously help that much. By the time I got to the bottom I was running low on water and needed to go back to the parking lot to refill. While I was still going reasonably fast on the grade, I slowed to a pretty pathetic pace on the half-mile flat road.

After filling up with water and popping another gel (my secondary goal for today was to see how my stomach handled the three-gels-per-hour menu I plan to use at Skyline) I felt a little better and my run back to the base of Lyman Wilson Ridge Trail was a little faster. But on my second trip up the climb I understood why Brian and Jay had seemed a little tired. I was spent! I had anticipated running up most of this climb the second time, but I couldn’t manage it. But part of distance running is learning to keep going though the pain, so I power hiked it a second time, though with far less gusto than the first trip. When I got to the top I popped gel number four and started back down at about half the pace I had done the first time. The slog back to the car this time was, well, a slog. It was hard to keep going.

I was a little despondent after I had finished. This workout really handed it to me. If I get destroyed so easily on 8 miles, how will I make it through 31 at Skyline? All of the excuses I could make about today, it was hot, this was a really steep hill, I got a nasty abdominal cramp on the second downhill, all of those things could be part of my race and it would be stupid to discount them.

A couple of hours and two cups of coffee can do wonders for one’s perspective. I learned a lot today. First, I’m not nearly as strong a downhiller as I thought, and this weakness could jeopardize the rest of my performance at Skyline. Second, my body handles gels pretty reasonably, at least for an hour and a half of hard exertion. Third, I really need to remember to be sensible about my expectations. Why did I think I could run up a 19% grade? That’s just silly.

So, to sum it up, for better or worse I answered the question I wanted to answer today. Time to get some downhill miles in.

Inspiration

2009-06-30T19:39:00.000-07:00

I saw a great poster yesterday. It was a photo of a woman running alone along a remote and dramatic stretch of road, and I wish I could remember exactly what it said, but it was something like “Running never gets old because I like the woman I run with”.

I’ve never seen anything that captures so accurately and succinctly the way I feel about running (I mean besides the fact that it portrays a woman and I am a man… the poster wouldn’t have worked with a guy anyway). For me running is a solo activity, but it’s not a lonely activity. I like the occasional group run or going to the track with Jen but, and perhaps it’s because I’m naturally pretty introverted, running by myself on trails is one of the most enjoyable things that I do. I empathize with what the poster says about self reliance and motivation, but also about enjoying one's self, one's own company, even through challenges.

Whoever came up with this poster (presumably it was somebody at Brooks Sports, Inc.) really understands something fundamental about running. Or maybe he/she just put some words together and got lucky. I don’t care, I’ll take it.

How fast?

2009-06-25T19:43:00.000-07:00

The training methodology that I am using (Crossfit/Crossfit Endurance) emphasizes strength and shorter, faster runs. The biggest drawback to this methodology, in my opinion, is that I have no idea how fast I can/should run Skyline.

I’ve run enough races and workouts between 5K and 10K that I know about how fast to start out those distances. The correct pace just feels right. Sure, I might be off by 10 seconds-per-mile, but more often than not it’s just an indication of how good my legs are feeling that day. But the longest training run I ever do is 15K, and I do that less than once a month. The only time I run farther than that is in a race (my last was the Mt Diablo 25K on June 6).

Of course I’m competitive (at least with myself) and I don’t want to turn in a slower time than I am really capable of. But the real fear is that I start it off too fast and the last ten miles are excruciating, (or simply not achievable). I’ve been in this horrible place before in marathons, and I can tell you that it’s not a fun way to run a race. That conflict between ambition and ability that all athletes face is particularly troublesome in endurance races: going out too fast can easily mean a DNF.

What makes this process even harder for trail running is that a 50K on a flat and rolling course is a completely different race than a 50K that goes up to the top of a mountain and back down.

What I do have to go on is my previous performance relative to my peers, as well as my peers’ previous performances at Skyline. Fortunately most races post results online, and the Skyline 50K in particular is organized enough that they report split times at every aid station. Why is this useful? Well, it makes it easy for me to estimate what my time is likely to be if I run a reasonably good race. I do this as follows:

In the Mt Diablo 25K I placed 43rd overall. There were 182 finishers in that race, which put me at about 23rd percentile (23% of the racers finished before me). If I look at the 2008 results for Skyline, there were 120 finishers. The person at the 23rd percentile in that race was someone by the name of Adrian Jue, who finished 28th at 5:12:20. If I look at the 2007 results, the person in the 23rd percentile was Layne Kemp, finishing in 4:57:35. A quick glance over previous years shows that most of the times are in this range (except for 2005, perhaps it was really hot that year?).

From this I can speculate that I should target finishing in the 5:00 to 5:10 range. But how do I break this down further? If I take a look at the split times for 2007, I can see runners’ times at each of 6 aid stations (plus the finish). I want to be hitting the split times for the people who run at the pace I’m targeting, so I’m looking for folks who finished in the 5:00 to 5:10 region. Another piece of data that is provided is the person’s current place at the station. This is important because I want to use times from runners who gradually improved their overall place throughout the race. Why? Because I’m guessing those folks that are getting passed in the last half of the race are in pain and are not running the race they wanted to run. I know this race is going to hurt, but I want it to hurt on my terms, not on the course’s terms.

So I pick five or six of these “well-paced” runners and average their split times to get a sense of where I want to be. Now I have a rough plan for my race that I think is reasonable and has decent level of granularity. If I had more data on myself, I would use it, but given what I do have I think this is pretty good.

The most important thing to keep in mind with this sort of analysis is that it was all based on statistics (hand-wavy ones at that). And the thing about statistics is that while you can be reasonably sure that things will work out the way you’ve predicted, some percentage of the time you’ll get burned (just look at the 2005 results). So it’s important that I continue to keep my eye on the weather forecast, ask myself how strong I’m feeling as the race approaches, and have a backup plan in case things aren't feeling right out on the course.

Almaden Quicksilver County Park

2009-06-21T12:59:00.001-07:00

The workouts I look forward to the most are the trail runs. You can cover a lot of ground when you're running, which means you get to see a lot more stuff than if you were hiking. The constantly changing terrain requires you to be mentally alert, preventing boredom, but you generally don't have to be so engaged that you can't enjoy the scenery.

Jen and I went to Almaden Quicksilver County Park yesterday to get a few miles in. It was great! The weather was warm but not hot, so I put on a long-sleeved thermal shirt to get a little heat training in. Jen took off up Senador Mine Road, and I hopped on New Almaden Trail. Eventually I met up with Mine Hill Road and got some good climbing in. I made it up the steep face of Mine Hill and then turned around to meet up with Jen. The views of the Guadalupe Reservoir, Mt Umunhum, and San Jose were amazing.

I took the route back down that Jen had taken up, hoping to catch her before the end, but then I was surprised by a nasty little hill after Guadalupe Road bottoms out. My climbing legs were burned out so I just had to plod slowly through it. By the time I made it back Jen was drinking cool water from a Nalgene and playing video games on her iPhone.

This run reminded me a lot of what happened at the end of the Mt. Diablo 25K a few weeks ago. There are a few short uphills in the second half of that race, and I had to walk all but the smallest of them. I don't know if it's the sustained downhill that kills me, or if it is just that I'm really out of uphill gas. In any case there is a pattern here that I'm going to need to learn to break if I want to survive Skyline.

I was excited to post some great pictures that I took in the park, but I learned my camera phone (an old Motorola Razr) has the annoying feature that if you don't explicitly press the 'save' button, it assumes that you meant to delete it. The frustrating thing is that those images still exist in the thumbnail view in my phone, but if I view them or send them in a pic message they just show up as gray. Grr! If anyone knows how to get those pictures out please let me know. Anyway, here is the only one that survived, Jen getting ready to tear up some dirt. Also, Bay Area Hiker has some good photos of the park here.

Dr. Tabata, I Presume

2009-06-18T20:13:00.000-07:00

This morning I did Tabata intervals. If you’ve never done a Tabata workout, you should do yourself a favor and try it out. There’s lots of info online about Dr. Izumi Tabata’s research, but the short of it is that Tabata intervals are one of the best, if not the best, means of quickly producing both aerobic and anaerobic adaptations.

It can be applied to many activities, but a simple formula for running espoused by the CFE guys is as follows: hop on the treadmill, set the incline to 12% and the speed to a little slower than your 5K pace. Twenty seconds of running, ten seconds of rest, for eight rounds. If it’s not all you can do to keep from falling off the treadmill on the eighth round (unlikely), you’re not doing it fast enough.

I try to do Tabatas every couple weeks or so, and I always get a little nervous beforehand because I know it’s going to hurt. Today was no exception. It’s amazing how intellectually you can know that you only have two twenty-second rounds left, but physically it may as well be another hour. The first time I did it I briefly fell asleep on the floor of the gym when I was stretching afterwards. It doesn’t seem like four minutes (really 3:50) could really do much for you, but I urge you to give it a shot. Whatever your training philosophy may be, I think you’ll agree that Tabata intervals will kick your ass.

Kicking things off...

2009-06-15T18:34:00.000-07:00

This blog documents (or will document) my forray into ultra running. It officially kicks off, if things go as planned, with the Skyline 50K in Castro Valley, CA on August 2.

This is all an experiment for me. I ran on and off in my twenties, did some 10Ks, some marathons (3 to be exact). I had some successes that I am proud of. But it seemed like running and I were always in conflict. My marathon PR is 3:17, my 10K PR is 39:35, and training for those times was, for me, a serious commitment. It was physically and emotionally draining, though at the time I viewed that as the sacrifice necessary to be a better runner.

In retrospect I was probably doing some things wrong: I didn't know how to fuel properly, in training or in races. I didn't know a lot about current training techniques. In any case running inevitably became more of a burden than a hobby. The emotional draw began to impact other aspects of my life too.

This time I'm doing things differently, focusing far more on strength and interval training via crossfit and crossfit endurance. I don't know what the result is going to be- like I said, this is an experiment- but so far I am happy doing it.

It would be cool to see those PRs fall as I work towards ultra distance, but I'm going to try to not worry about it too much. Enjoying running is the most important thing to me right now.