Sweet Victory

It Wasn't About the Runners. But It Was Definitely About the Marathon

2013-04-16T05:47:00.002-07:00

In the aftermath of yesterday’s tragedy in Boston, I struggled to understand how I felt. I found some solace in the words of others; one review that did a stellar job of capturing in a few short words what the Boston Marathon means to runners. Another one offered a poignant description of how what happened was the antithesis of what running is all about. But even so, I felt that these words weren’t capturing what I was feeling.

Like many, I watched the videos over and over, trying to find sense, trying to find a reason, trying to find something to make me think that things were ok, but the more you watch, the more you realize that for many, things may never be ok again.

Finally, I realized what it was. What I’d been scared to admit.

Watch the video from the finish line again. Or like me, just replay it in your mind. Now, at the moment just before things changed, pause it. Whisper to yourself, “There’s a bomb somewhere in this picture. Choose the safest place to be before you hit play.” Inevitably, you won’t choose the sidewalk. Instead, your place of refuge will likely be in the middle of the street, where the runners are.

And that’s when it hit me: this isn’t about the runners.

Like it or not, admit it or not, our sport – like most pursuits – is often a selfish one. I’m reminded of this every weekend I make certain the family activities don’t conflict with key races. I’m reminded of it on the nights before key workouts, when I’m preoccupied with the next day’s pain.

As runners, we try to deflect the idea of such things, justifying our selfish motives with talk of the pursuit of fitness or the importance of the development of discipline. All true, to be sure. That said, these excuses do more to explain our selfishness than to justify it.

Like most runners, I try to mitigate such things. Last weekend, for instance, I rose silently in the quiet of the sunrise, snuck off to a half marathon and returned home prior to the family so much as waking.

But last year, when the marathon gods had finally granted me access to Boston after four failed attempts, my family was there. While I ran down closed off streets, they navigated traffic in a city they’d never been before. While I heard the roar of the crowds, they swore at a Garmin that seemed entirely flummoxed by a traffic system seemingly designed by someone other than an engineer.

And when I finished, I noticed all of the families and friends, packed six deep into those same sidewalks that were the scene of such carnage, cheering for their loved ones, forgiving them for the days and miles of selfishness.

Last night, my daughter posted to her Facebook account that we should all "hug our runners a bit tighter" tonight. Like my daughter, it was kind and thoughtful, but it also showed that like many - she didn't grasp that yesterday wasn't about the runners. Or at the very least, it wasn't mostly about the runners.

In light of yesterday’s events, people have asked me if – given the chance – I would return to Boston again, and like any patriot, any marathoner, I give the snap answer. Of course, I say. And I mean it.

But ask me if I’d let my family go. Ask me if I’d be comfortable with them sacrificing more than they already have. Ask me if you must.

But I have no answer.

Rumspringa 1/2 Marathon Race Report

2013-04-15T05:43:00.001-07:00

So, three weeks after my hundred miler, my ankle is still far from great. Despite a cortisone shot, it's only allowing me up to 2 days of running in a row before soreness and swelling returns and I need 1-2 days off.

Understand, I'm not disappointed or even particularly distraught. It simply "is what it is." If I couldn't run, that would be an issue. I can, but not as much as I would like. And that requires a certain reshuffling of spring goals.

Originally, I had planned on doing the North Face 50 Mile in Bear Mountain, but that was my plan if I managed to sneak in 2 long runs after the 100. That didn't happen. Up until last week, I thought if I could manage a 20-25 miler last weekend I could go to the Iron Master's Challenge 50k at the end of the month, but by the end of the last week, I knew that wouldn't happen. So, I woke up bright and early Saturday AM and punted: I drove up to Adamstown for the Rumspringa 1/2 Marathon, my first 1/2 in 4.5 years.

Ankle-wise, it was the perfect test. By the end of the race, I was quite sore and 100% confident I'm not ready to return to stupid distances. But even so, I had a blast.

Of all the race distances I've done, the best opportunity I have for a PR, yet, is likely the half marathon. My PR is only 1:34:36, mainly because I haven't raced that many halves, hadn't raced any on a true course in 4.5 years and hadn't done one all out in even longer. Before father time catches up to me, I'd like to knock out something under 1:30.

That said, I knew this wouldn't be the course, as this particular half was advertised (accurately) as challenging. You can see an elevation map (not my splits) here.

The first 3.5 miles were easy and downhill. I dialed myself in around 7 minute miles. After that, the course started rolling and it all became about maintaining even pace.

The course was wide open, allowing for me to easily see a string of 10 runners in front of me. I told myself to try and reel them in, but over the first 10 miles, I couldn't seem to pick up the 30 or so seconds I needed. But then on the last 3 miles, when the course turned uphill, I found myself catching many of them 1 by 1. I focused as much as possible on the ones who looked to be in my age group.

I've thought a lot of the "gifts" given to me by the 100 miler and 1 of the most obvious to me is how short a half marathon now seems. It's odd to think that not that many years ago, I wasn't sure I'd ever race a longer distance than that, but on Saturday it seemed like such a manageable distance. I was able to view those last couple of miles as tactical challenges, rather than cases of survival. I really enjoyed that and know that it helped me to keep a strong effort throughout.

Though it looked like I'd get my PR for certain for most of the race, I knew the course would take back some time on the final uphill 3 miles, and it did, as I came in at 1:35:03.

BG management was awesome. I was 85 before the race and 106 at the end. I'm so much in ultra mode that I realized I didn't have any traditional gels to take with me. I took packs of fruit snacks out onto the course and ate 1 at mile 5. But I was thrilled to have volunteers handing out gu's at mile 8 and felt like that gave me a better boost, energy-wise, and helped me during the last half hour of the race.

This race is managed by Uber Endurance Sports, which features a German theme to all of their races, which was one of the reasons I wanted to do it. Age group awards are those cute German weather clocks, where the guy with the umbrella comes out if rain is on the forecast. Based on last year's results, I was hopeful I could bring one of those babies home, and if it was last year, I would've. My time last year would've netted me 9th place overall and 2nd in my AG. Alas, the race got a lot bigger this year, and I came in 28th overall, and 5th in my AG. (Official results haven't been posted.) No worries - I'll keep my eyes open for another Uber Endurance Race.

Paying the Piper

2013-04-05T12:15:00.001-07:00

In a post before my hundred mile race, I casually mentioned that I'd be ok with getting injured if I completed it. We should be careful what we're ok with.

After 3 days of all over-achiness, I was left with some pulled muscle-tendony stuff in my left ankle, which is the opposite foot from the one I was concerned about before the race. I rested it for the remainder of the week, went on a 5 mile run, and promptly asked for (and received) a cortisone shot from my doc.

Yesterday I ran 7 miles. Today I ran 7.5, but the foot is far from alright. In fact, it hurts fairly much.

Mostly, I'm ok with being injured right now. The 100 miler was by the far the most important thing on my agenda. But still, I had 1 eye on the 50 mile North Face in NY in May, and another one on the 50k Iron Master's Challenge at the end of April. If I can't managed a long run by the middle of the month, both of those will need to go by the wayside.

For the first time in a long time, I don't know what my next key race will be. On one hand, that's a good thing, because I'd be worried more about being injured. At the same time, I'm a better runner when I'm a runner with a purpose, so I'm looking forward to getting healthy and figuring out that purpose in the next few weeks.

A Tale of 2 Races - Part 3 - NJ Ultra Fest 100 Mile Race Report

2013-04-01T06:41:00.000-07:00

This is the final post of my 100 mile race report. You can read part 1 here and/or part 2 here.

There are a lot of things that can derail an ultra. Dehydration, injury and fatigue are broad buckets of three of the greatest and being diabetic simply adds high and low blood sugars to the mix. But none of these concerned me more than nausea.

Nausea has the ability to quickly put an end to an ultra race. In essence, not being able to keep fuel in your belly is like having a leak in a gas tank. It’s only a matter of time until you stop moving. And of course, my insulin strategies for the race were based on a regular intake of fuel.

During my training, I had moved away from energy gels to solid food and had successfully avoided nausea on my long runs. This had been intentional as I had completed all of my ultras last year by doing a lot more energy gels, but beginning to feel bad by the end of them.

During the first 70 miles of my 100 miler, my stomach had been an awesome shape, and I headed out for my 8th 10 mile loop, I had no reason to think things had changed.

Night had fallen now, and the temperatures quickly retreated into the 30s, which seemed worse, given the winds. My wife had cautioned me about adding additional layers of clothing, but so long as I was running, I was quite comfortable.

Around the 74 mile mark, I noticed it was time to take a couple more ibuprofens. As I had throughout the day, I popped them into my mouth but hadn’t even put my water bottle to my lips when I caught myself gagging and had to slam on the brakes.

Immediately, my belly started doing flip flops. I stopped, bent over, hands on my knees. Do not throw up, I told myself. In addition to not being a big fan of vomit, my reasoning was far more practical. Lose fuel at this point in the race, still a full marathon from finishing, and getting to the end would become that much more difficult.

I slowed to a walk and worked to my calm myself. A couple of other runners shuffled on by me. Ignore them, I thought. Your muscles are crying. Take the pills, I thought, and I did.

It wasn’t the nausea that had surprised me, but rather the suddenness of it. In all of my other races, it had come on slowly over several miles. Here, I had gone from flying down the trail to 100% holy crap in a matter of steps.

After a minute of walking, my stomach calmed and I tried running again. The nausea quickly returned. OK, I thought, walk for five minutes and then run. I tried that. The walk was fine but as soon as I started running, the nausea came back, stopping me in my tracks.

So this was it, I realized. The point where I had some thinking to do. Prior to the nausea, I had been on pace for a 19 hour race, faster than I’d ever imagined. I could still go for that mark, and assuming the nausea didn’t stop me, I had an hour to lose before losing the sub-20 belt buckle. Then again, if I really was unable to bring in any more fuel, would I be able to complete the race? Even running, I had about five and half hours left to go.

Or, I thought, I could walk. Walking, as I’d learned over the past mile, didn’t make me nauseous. Indeed, after 14 hours of running, it felt, if not nice, at least tolerable. True, 25 miles was a long way to walk but the funny thing was, after 75 miles of running, it didn’t seem that far to go. OK, I said aloud. If you can walk, walk.

While mentally, I had passed this first critical test, I still had at least one more physical obstacle to overcome. For while I had been plenty warm while I was running, the walking pace chilled me within minutes, and I was still an hour and a half away from finishing my loop. For the first time all day, I got cold. And then I got very cold. Leon had told me to look for the joy, and for a bit, I convinced myself that the full moon was pretty. But it was a lie, and no different from any other full moon I’d seen on any night when I wasn’t freezing to death. There is no joy out here, I told Leon. You’re a charlatan. A liar!

I came out of the trail for the last mile around the fairgrounds, and while I knew I was close to completing the loop, this mile was unprotected by trees. The wind cut through me and my teeth started chattering uncontrollably.

I finished the loop and my wife look understandably concerned. First because I was more than an hour late after being early on every other loop and second because I was shivering so bad.

“OK,” I stammered. “Now I’m cold.”

I immediately threw off the two shirts I’d been wearing, replacing them with another two and my warmest running jacket. I sat down in my chair and my wife wrapped a large blanket around me, and replaced my baseball hat with her own winter hat.

I tried to do a blood sugar test, but failed on three attempts, none of my fingers warming up enough to generate a drop of blood. I convinced my wife to trust my CGM, which read 165. Certainly a nice advantage of walking was that my fuel strategy was based on running. If anything my blood sugar was running a bit high at this point.

My wife knew better than to try and convince me to stop, but she did convince me not to go again until I had stopped shaking quite so bad. We argued a little about whether or not I should wear my winter coat on top of my running gear. At first I said I’d get too warm if I started running, but then realized that for all intents and purposes, I was done running. What was left now was one long, cold walk. I put on the coat, and grabbed a bottle of diet pepsi I had brought and headed out into the night.

Though I had convinced my family to let me continue, the next quarter mile was when I had to convince myself. I was still shivering and this portion of the course was all headwind.

Eighty miles is pretty far the voice in my head said. They don’t give buckles at eighty miles I said. I’m so cold, I thought. Not as cold as her, I countered, and it was true. I passed another walker, more underdressed than I’d been on my previous lap. Finally, I turned the corner away from the headwind and sighed. I knew I’d make it now. It was just time for a long walk.

If those last twenty miles were easier physically, they weren’t emotionally, as I watched runners and walkers slowly pass by me. Not all of them, to be sure, but enough to know that my high-water 4th place of mile 70 was a distant memory. I’d heard rumors that no more than 20 runners might finish the race. If that were true, I could be close to last at this point! Last with a buckle, I thought, and kept walking.

The 85 mile aid station was being worked by Stephen England, a talented diabetic ultra runner I’d known online but had never met in person. He came out from behind the table, greeted me with a hug and asked what he could get me.

I told him that the running was over for me, but I’d simply walk it out if I had to. “I know you will,” he said. “I’ve heard about you.”

Whether or not Stephen had heard anything about me, I have no idea, but I would say that hearing that bolstered my confidence for the 15 miles that still remained. I walked away from the aid station, Stephen’s confidence ringing in my ears.

I had turned on my cellphone after the last lap to keep my wife and daughter from worrying (my son had wisely taken a few hours to relax at the hotel), and about 20 minutes before I finished the 9th lap, they called me, wondering what they could get me to warm me up when I came in. I think they were as grateful as I was when I told them I was plenty warm and to just have another diet pepsi ready for me.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. At this point, from the waist up in a winter coat with a bottle of diet soda, I looked more like a casual walker than an ultra runner. Still, the proof was on my legs and feet, which by now were caked in frozen mud.

I came into the aid station for the last time and it was a much different scene than the last time I’d been in. My wife and daughter were thrilled to see me not shaking. They were joined by Ryan, who had won in convincing fashion, outperforming second place by two hours! It was now 1:30 in the morning and I had 10 miles to go, but I knew at this point, I’d make it.

As I stepped past the aid station for the last time, a volunteer appeared right in front of me. Impossibly, in front of her was a cookie sheet and on it, a dozen chocolate chips. “Right from the oven,” she smiled.

No. Way. I thought.

I turned around to call to Ryan, but he was gone. I looked around for other runners to share with, but there were none. I reached for them.

“Be careful,” she said. “They’re really hot.”

And they were. And they were wonderful. I walked into the headwind, but didn’t even notice it, as the chocolate chips melted on my tongue.

I realized then, that Leon hadn’t lied to me. I had looked at Leon, with his love of the mountains and hills with his Grizzly Adams beard and had assumed he meant I’d find joy in the wilderness, but he’d never been that specific. Instead, he promised me joy in the night, and I’d found it in the people around me. My wife and kids, who put up with this silly idea. Ryan, who gave me encouragement throughout the day and had stayed long past his own victory, and definitely now from a volunteer who decided that 1:30 in the morning was the perfect time to bake cookies.

I don’t remember much about that last 10 mile loop. I remember banging the high-five gate for the last time and telling it what I thought of it. I remember cursing the eight bridges individually with each passing and counting them down until I screamed, “No more bridges!” into the night.

I remember misjudging a step in the water quite badly and sinking deeper than I had all day. The ice water numbed me but I knew it didn’t matter any more.

I remember my kids walking part of the last half mile with me and being so glad they were there. I remember a song on my iPod at that point was one I’d sung to my daughter when she was only four.

And I remember the very end, when I came in at 21:28, well beyond the sub-20 buckle but well under the sub-24 buckle, 14th place out of 41 finishers.

Truth is, I remember everything about it, and I hope I always will.

A Tale of 2 Races - Part 2 - NJ Ultra Fest 100 Mile Race Report

2013-03-30T07:18:00.000-07:00

When speaking to diabetic athletes new to training, or more common, parents of diabetic kids in sports, a common question is how to handle a high blood sugar during an event. Common sense would tell you to skip your nutrition and let the exercise bring down the blood sugar.

In practice for me, this works, albeit slowly and at risk to performance in the given event. So staring at my 351, I took about 65% of the insulin I normally would when that high, and still loaded up at food at the aid station and headed out for my second 10 mile loop.

Another diabetic complication soon followed. When CGMs and blood sugar readings are as far apart as these 2 were, it’s not uncommon for the CGM to ask for another calibration test. Because I just left the aid station, I didn’t have time to give it one. Soon after, the CGM stopped reading until I would provide it with that test.

Despite the diabetic issues, the run was going well at this point and the second loop progressed uneventfully. I came into the aid station at the twenty mile mark about five minutes ahead of schedule, inadvertently missing my family in the process.

I was hopeful to find my blood sugars back in line, or at least heading that way but when I tested at mile 20, both gave me temperature errors, due to the cold. I shifted my one meter from my race vest to my waist belt, hoping that would warm it up by the 30 mile mark.

At the 30 mile mark, I was thrilled to finally meet up with my family at the aid station. While I had a long day in front of me, it was awesome to greet them with hugs after nearly 5 hours of running. The cold weather had my nose running freely and I was able to ask my wife to bring me some skin cream for it. I was a little disappointed, however, to find both of my meters still frozen! I gave my wife the larger one and told her to keep it someplace warm. I also removed the smaller one from my race belt and slipped it under my glove – in retrospect something I should’ve done far sooner.

Out on the trail, I was bumping into Ryan every hour or so. By now, he was running strongly in 2nd place, though first was well in front of him. I thought it was funny how every time I saw him he was walking while I still had my runner shuffle going. He’s walking, I’m running, and he’s kicking my butt by more every time I saw him!

I came into the 40 mile mark at 6:48, and was thrilled that my meter warmed up enough to give me a reading of 77. In 30 miles, I had taken enough insulin to knock down the high and had kept the fuel going in me enough to keep from going low. 5 hours and 30 miles with no blood sugar tests and I still had close to a perfect blood sugar. I ate a bit more than usual and headed out for the trail.

In addition to diabetes, I was employing other strategies to make the miles pass. I started taking a couple ibuprofens at mile 10. I had hoped to wait until at least 20, but the foot tendinitis I’d been dealing with for the past few weeks made itself apparent when I was leaving the aid station after the first loop, so I thought it best to be a bit proactive. At mile 20, I’d also added music to the mix – a huge eclectic play mix of everything from old country to alternative and Meat Loaf.

When I met up with Ryan on the trail after mile 40, he told me a lot of runners were pulling the plug, due to the deteriorating trail conditions. The shoulders of the mud puddles had pretty much given way to the slush by this point and every loop required getting our feet wetter and colder. I had switched my socks at 30 miles and wondered if the other 3 pair that remained would be enough.

Still, I was surprised to hear that so many runners were quitting. While the trail was in horrible shape, it was still a flat trail. Wait and take my chances on another trail on another day? No thanks, I thought.

The next 30 miles didn’t pass in a blur, but they did pass. Aside from 1 strange pass where I got in a funk for 5 minutes, I didn’t walk at all, aside from up the 1 hill each loop. I talked a bit with some runners, but not much, and was fairly satisfied with being alone with my music. The highlight of each loop was magnified by seeing my wife and kids at the close of most of the loops. A particular spot of brilliance was when my daughter got the idea to take my soiled socks to the laundrymat, which allowed me to switch every 10 mile for the rest of the race.

I couldn’t call it a perfect blood sugar day. I had a habit of eating too much at 1 aid station and too little at the next, so I’d see myself vacillating from 170 to 100. Still, all in all, it was pretty good.

By now, the guy in first place had quit and Ryan had taken control of the lead.

As for me, I had hoped to be somewhere between miles 60 and 65 when the sun went down, and was thrilled to be at 67 when I turned on my light. It was at this point that I began to realize that things were going better than I’d expected.

I came into the aid station at mile 70, and my wife said, “Do you know you’re in 4th place?” While the number was surprising to me, I can’t say I was overly surprised. At this point, I’d been running steady for 13 hours and things were feeling awesome. For the first time, I acknowledged that I might have a shot at a coveted “Speedster Buckle,” reserved for those under 20 hours.

Fortunately, I didn’t spend too much time worrying about the Speedster buckle, because while I left the aid station at mile 70 on top of the world, things were about to some crashing down.

End part 2

A Tale of 2 Races - Part 1 - NJ Ultra Fest 100 Mile Race Report

2013-03-28T10:54:00.000-07:00

Note: I've never written a multi-post race report. Until now.

“Don't forget the joy this weekend, Marcus. It likes to go hiding in the dark hours of the night but it's still there if you look for it.”

Those lines appeared on my Facebook wall as I was packing for my trip to the NJ Ultra Fest and my first attempt at the 100 mile distance.

They were written by Leon Lutz, a local runner known as much for the length of his beard as for the length of his runs. Leon was speaking from experience, both from his own successful hundred mile race last year as well from his hectic lifestyle which often sends him on his regular runs when the sun is gone. Very well, Leon, I thought. I’ll look for the joy.

I won’t use this post to recap my training, though I recognize that the runners who stumble upon it will be particularly interested in it. That being the case, let’s just link to my public running log here. You’ll see a lot of long runs beginning ninety days prior to the race, no speedwork (I didn’t want to risk injury) and only one back-to-back.

I stayed home from work on Friday while the family went off for a half day of school (if you don’t know, my wife is a teacher). I knew that by the time we came home Sunday we’d all be exhausted so I got the groceries and whipped the house into reasonable shape.

A few days prior I’d learned that northern New Jersey had been hit with about six inches of snow the previous weekend, which was more than I’d seen all winter. As the week progressed, temperature reports out of the area suggested that while melting was likely, it was a slow melt and I had no idea what shape the trails would be in when we arrived.

The course for the NJ Ultra Fest starts on the NJ State Fairgrounds. Runners exit a large pavilion (which had a roof but the coldest concrete floor I think I’ve ever felt) circle a mile of pavement and then turn onto unimproved rail trail.

Unimproved rail trail means a couple of things. Because it’s rail trail, it’s certainly flat and certainly straight. For runners seeking speed, those are good things. However, unimproved also meant that the terrain shifted from grass to mud and ruts. And perhaps most important in this case, unimproved also meant there was no drainage, which meant that a couple hundred yards of easy running were often broken up by fifty yards of sloppy, icy mud.

Rail trails can also be boring and this one had that quality as well. We ran down one end of the rail trail about 1.5 miles to a gate, which we were required (honor system) to touch. From there, we turned around and went in the opposite direction for about four miles, to where the aid station was. This longer stretch included four dilapidated bridges, which the race director had frugally patched with 2x10s. Because it was an out and back, that meant each of our ten loops required eight bridge passages. Coming off of the second out-n-back returned us to the fairgrounds and the only hill in the entire loop, no more than a couple hundred yards long.

To be clear, there are ultra course built for beauty and awe. This one is built for speed and simplicity. But I would also argue that it’s built for comradery. The Ultra Fest includes races from marathon distance up to one hundred miles and all of the out and back assured you would be passing people most of the day. You get to see other runners far more than in other races. This was good both for cheering for each other as well as getting a feel for where your closest rivals were.

When we arrived at the fairgrounds, I was relieved to see that much of the snow had melted, though I suspected that meant the trails would be in bad shape (a huge understatement). I had been texting my buddy, Ryan, throughout the week and while he expected to arrive around the same time as me, I’ve come to learn that Ryan’s late to most things except the finish line, so we made plans to hook up at the start.

From there we went to the hotel check-in, where we bumped into Richie Sambora. My wife was thrilled by this, but I was a bit too distracted by what was coming to be properly awed. Not that I have anything against Bon Jovi.

An early dinner gave way to an early bedtime, and a mostly restful sleep. I had my alarm set for 5am and woke without it at 4:50am. My Sherpa/wife drove me to the fairgrounds. I don’t remember much about the conversation, likely because I was trying to maintain some sense of Zen. After dropping off my bags, I stayed in the warm car until about 6:30, leaned over, kissed her and said, “OK, let’s do this. Go get some sleep,” and got out of the car. I tested my blood sugar just before the race and was thrilled that it was a perfect 112. I ate a Clif bar with no insulin and prepared for the start.

Inside the building I saw Ryan’s bag but no sign of Ryan. I correctly assumed he was making a final pit stop prior to the race and greeted him with a hug two minutes before the start when he walked out during the pre-race briefing.

Many in the briefing commented on the large pack of runners for a race this long. Though I don’t know an official count, calling it a hundred wouldn’t be the worst guess. And just like that, at 7 on the dot, we started.

Ryan and I chatted for about a minute before I told him to go chase the lead pack of five that was moving in front of the main field within a half mile. As for me, I settled in around 15th, both because that’s where I felt I would be at the end, and also because it felt quite easy without being too slow.

Within a quarter mile of being on the trail, we came face to face with what the trail conditions would be. There were roughly six patches of mud scattered along the few miles. Each patch was about 20 yards long, filled with icy ankle deep water. Six patches times two for an out-n-back times ten loops meant we’d have to negotiate roughly 120 terrible spots, in addition to 80 rickety bridges.

Avoiding the patches by going onto the shoulder was possible in some cases, impossible in others, but even where there were shoulders, they quickly became icy slides that would work to drive us into the mud. Conditions weren’t ideal and as more and more runners hit the trail, they were all but certain to get worse.

Still the first lap was all about remaining calm and finding a place in the race. I caught myself going too fast with a small pack and slowed down. Then I got annoyed by two guys talking too much for my taste and had to speed up. Finally, I found a middle ground.

Though I was cold at the start, I soon had confidence in my choice of tights, gloves, long sleeve shirt, topped by short sleeve shirt. I was warm without being too warm.

As I rolled into the fairgrounds at the end of my first loop, I felt confident that the race was off to a great start. My first lap was ninety five minutes, which meant 9:20 miles plus a 3 minute walk during the only hill on the course. I stopped at my bags for supplies and pulled out my blood sugar meter, and was shocked to be staring at a 310, while my CGM said 94. Somehow I’ve have to lower my blood sugar 200 points while eating enough fuel to still put in 90 more miles.

End Part 1
Continue with Part 2.

The Unknown

2013-03-21T05:14:00.002-07:00

48 hours from now, the NJ Ultra Fest will be underway. It will be my 6th race greater than a marathon, though of course that doesn't include all of the training runs that have been longer. My longest race to date has been 55 miles. This is nearly twice that.

I'm scared, but then again, that is kind of the point: to see if I can accomplish what I haven't. And I can't say I'm any more terrified than I was before my first 50 and that day was a dream come true.

For most 100 mile races, a third or more of the field don't finish. That's a sobering number. When I'm feeling cocky, I tell myself that those people were probably undertrained, but when you think about it, most people going into a hundred mile race, including me, probably are.

As far as my health goes, I'm fairly close to 100%. I've been battling foot tendinitis, but have cut my miles so much this week that it currently feels perfect. Still, I'm not betting it will stay quiet for the entire race. But with this being the most important race of the year for me, I'm ok with the idea of injuring myself, a little. As the late Dave Perry said, "Not all pain is significant."

Work has been unexpectedly hectic this week, likely a blessing that kept me from spending time worrying.

My family will be there, which will be awesome. They'll need rewarded after spending most of the weekend in the middle of nowhere in New Jersey and they will be. My wife has spent the week alternatively cheering for me and telling me this is my stupidest idea, ever, and that's the kind of honesty that caused me to marry her in the first place.

Ryan Jones, my former teammate, is racing. Ryan's resume speaks for itself and no one has inspired me more to try this than him. We've been texting throughout the build and it comforts me to know he'll be here.

Stephen England will also be there, manning the aid station during the darkest hours. Though we've never raced together, he's an ultra runner and a diabetic, which means when I see him in the middle of the night, it will be like having an instant friend appear.

I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about my time. Judging by last year's results, runners of my ability tended to finish around 21 hours. Of course, there are outliers, and guys typically slower than me were near 20 and people faster than me were considerably slower. It's not like a 5k, and the race, as much as one's preparedness, will dictate the results. The course, too, is supposedly covered in slush, which has the potential to affect things greatly.

For that reason, and for many others, the only pressure I'm putting on myself is to continue forward, for as long as possible, for as many miles as possible. And if all goes well, that will be enough.

My daughter likely will play the social media maven during the race, with periodic updates to FB and Twitter. The race starts at 7am Saturday and they pull the plug at 1pm Sunday. Hopefully, by then I will be long gone. :)

Team Novo Nordisk and I Have Agreed to See Other People

2013-03-11T05:22:00.001-07:00

Last week I resigned from my position on the running team at Team Novo Nordisk, ending a more than two-year relationship including being named the Amateur Athlete of the Year in 2011 for Team Type 1 – to this day perhaps the award I cherish most.

There has been a lot of Internet chatter about the changes that have occurred since TT1 became TNN. From what I saw, some of the comments were right, and some of them were wrong. And as far down the chain of command as I was, it’s probably fair to say I’m not the best judge of what all was true.

Here’s what I can say: Novo Nordisk shares Phil Southerland’s dream of putting a professional cycling team into the Tour de France. That’s what makes the partnership perfect for both of them - a common goal.

Novo Nordisk is a pharmaceutical company. As such, they are governed by a lot of rules and anyone who works for them (or represents them, in my case) has to agree to play by those rules. My decision to leave the team isn’t based on what I think of those rules; only that I’ve decided I’m not interested in following them.

In all of this, I feel a tremendous sense of loss. Selfishly, I think of never going to a race again with some of the greatest people I’ve ever known who happened to be diabetic, and it breaks my heart. Somewhat less selfishly, I think of how some of the recent changes affect outreach efforts and my only hope is that those changes are temporary because those efforts were how I saw the team making a difference on a daily basis.

But I don’t want this to sound like an indictment against Novo Nordisk or the team. They do want to change the world, but they just want to change it in a different way than I do, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And when that team goes to the biggest stage of pro cycling in the next couple of years, I will be cheering them every mile of the journey. And I plan on keep using Novolog insulin, because it's the one that works best for me. Your mileage may vary.

I’m not going to be anymore specific about what happened in this blog post. Those who wish to know more know where to find me.

Also, I’m going to keep comments on this particular blog post closed. I’ve read some other blogs and comments on blogs about TT1/TNN that I knew to be incorrect and unnecessarily mean, in my opinion. Again, I’ve got nothing against TNN. They’re just moving in a different direction than I and I wish all of them the very best. But because I’ve been one of the more vocal members of the team, I think it makes sense to post this so people aren’t left wondering.

In just a few short weeks, I’ll be on the line for my 100 mile race and for the first time in a few years, I won’t be wearing a Team Type 1 jersey. Fortunately, the Ultra Fest was never a team event, but rather an individual one I chose for myself.

Either way, I will run it hard. Because that’s what runners do. Even or maybe, especially, diabetic ones.

And the taper begins...

2013-03-04T06:06:00.001-08:00

Just like that, I'm now tapering for my first 100 mile race on March 23. Insert your favorite phrase: The hay is in the barn. The cords of wood are stacked. Whatever. For better or for worse, this is what I have.

Research into 100 mile plans varies so much that I think it's really impossible to know if I'm ready. Broadly speaking, what I've done is taken what worked well for me in a 50 mile race build and added as much as I could. Here are some stats:

Running up to my first 50 mile build (which I'm using for comparison since it was the same time of year):

1. I had 6 weeks 50+ miles per week. For this 100 mile build, I had 8 of those and will likely have a 9th this week.
2. I had 4 weeks 60+ miles per week. For this 100 mile build, I had 5 of those.
3. I had 0 weeks of 70+ miles per week. For this 100 mile build, I've had 3.
4. I had 3 long runs of 30+ miles with the longest of 35 miles. For this 100 mile build, I had 5, maxing out at 39.4 miles. I also had an additional weekend with a 20 on Saturday and a 15 on Sunday, but really didn't feel it was as worth it to me so I stopped doing the back to backs.

In a perfect world, all of the stats from this build would've been 1 week better, but a head cold 2 weeks ago derailed one of the long runs. While that was unfortunate, I'm pretty much glad I rested that weekend, as it meant a fairly speedy recovery.

My final 35 mile run in 2011 averaged 9:25 per mile (including all stops). My 39 miler last weekend was similar for the first 31 miles, but then my pace lagged to an overall average of 9:52. Still, the weather was a lot windier yesterday than 2011 and I felt that, all in all, the run was a success. Some of the slowdown yesterday was intentional, too, as after 30 miles I started putting walk breaks in, which will be a critical facet to the 100 mile effort. And all in all, if I come through 50 miles around 10 min/mile on race day, I think that'll be a good start.

Even so, I find myself sitting here absolutely as unsure of my ability to complete this race as I was prior to my first 50 miler. I take solace knowing that on that particular race day, I was shocked how ready I was for it and am hoping something similar happens here. I'm also comforted knowing I've never dropped out of any race, though I've been tempted several times. That doesn't mean I won't DNF. 100 miles is a very long way. But it does mean that I have faith that if I can't do it, I will have given it everything I have.

But that's all 3 weeks from now. Now, the long runs are over and the time I spent doing them will likely be replaced by the worrying.

100 Miler, Hopefully Getting Close

2013-02-19T11:43:00.002-08:00

Someone recently asked me if I'd registered for my 100 mile race, yet, and I commented that I was waiting to get through these 3 critical weeks of training. Armed with confidence, I felt, I would be thrilled to enter.

Instead, this past weekend I missed my first scheduled long run since I don't know when, and still entered the race today.

The missed long run was just that. A head cold that came on around Thursday, didn't effect my Thursday or Friday runs, but peaked on Sunday morning when I'd planned to run for 6 hours. I got up after 11 hours of sleep, got dressed to run, got the paper, and went back to sleep for 6 more hours. Got up. Ate breakfast. Slept for 2 more hours.

Yesterday I was off work and slithered through 8 miles, and did another 7 today in the freezing rain. The headcold is going away, but slowly, and in its place is the divot left from a key missed workout.

It's not entirely bad, of course. When I went through a similar build in 2011, I had 3 runs of 30 miles or longer. In this build, I've already had 4 and have room for 2 or 3 more before the build ends. Even writing that makes me feel a lot better than I did, but taking a goose-egg for a workout never sits well with me.

But even so, I did it. I've registered for my first 100 mile race. I'm looking forward to it. Looking forward to toeing the line at a distance well beyond what I've ever done with no idea if I have it in me to complete it. That said, I'll be hoping to be headcold-free, come March 23.

One Very Long Run or Back to Backs?

2013-01-21T05:58:00.000-08:00

So I did something different last weekend.

For all of my previous ultras, I've done 1 single long run on the weekends. The core of what makes a long run for me seems to be about 5 hours or 30-31 miles, though I've done a few at 5.5 hours and as long as 35 miles.

The other school of thought is to do back long runs, but have them be shorter. Until this past weekend, I'd never done that.

I can't say going into it, I had a great reason for doing it, either, other than training plans for 50 milers don't look much different than training plans for 100 milers, and that just scares me, so I decided different might be good.

On the other hand, many runners say that the risk of injury is greater on back to backs, and hey, I'm not getting any younger here, so injury is a concern.

To recap, last weekend, I did 31.1 miles in 4:55 of total running.

For some reason, even though I'm a stickler about running time for ultras, I focused on miles for my btob.

On Saturday, I did 20.3 miles in 2:56. On Sunday, I did 14.8 in 2:15. So, in the end, I did just over 35 miles in 5:11.

On the plus side, both runs were faster than my average pace when I go very long. On the surprising side, the second run was much easier than I expected it to be, as I loosened up nicely after the 3rd mile or so.

But even so, I can't say I was a big fan of it.

I've become very accustomed to psyching myself up for 1 tragic workout over the weekend. It takes a ton of time, I punch the clock, I come home exhausted and sleep great, and then have a wonderful second half to my weekend.

Here, even though I didn't have to really psyche myself up, I still had to get up early and get myself mentally prepared twice. And then afterward, because the runs were still 20 and 15 miles, I was pretty tired. And since I ran on both days, I'm stuck with taking a rest day today (Monday).

I haven't decided if I'll repeat the back to back again on this build. I posted about this at RunningAhead and one of the speedy runners suggested that the back-to-backs would likely help with speed. That makes sense, but it's also not really my focus for my first 100 - survival is.

Either way, it was nice to put another long weekend in the books, regardless of how many runs it took.

Blood-sugar-wise, I fought lows the whole run on Saturday, but finished in the 80s. I was more cautious on Sunday, and finished at 98. Fuel of choice for both runs were the fig newtons.

Your So-Called Militia Has Failed. Here's Why.

2013-01-17T07:25:00.003-08:00

Warning: not about diabetes or running. Just a rant because I feel like it.

Enough already. Enough with your Second Amendment rights being taken away, for a couple reasons.

The first is the idea that limiting magazine sizes is a slippery slope to losing handguns. I don’t buy it. There are speed limits on our highways. By and large, they keep us safe on our way to work. At the very least, they send a message all drivers can understand, so that we can work together to get to the office in one piece.

There are also limits to how much beer I can buy at the store. Make no mistake: I like beer. But these limits don’t keep me in bed at night clutching a cold bottle of Yuengling for fear the government will take it from me. Oh and by the way, those limits are plenty high enough for me and most people to catch a decent buzz or get through a Sunday’s worth of football. Moreover, I suspect the government likes the tax revenue generated by alcohol sales, just as they do the tax revenue generated by gun sales. If for no other reason than that, your guns aren’t going away.

How about what our Founding Fathers thought? People – not lefties or righties – but people of all sorts, love to pull out quotes from smart folks to prove their points. One of the oft-played ones of late is this gem by Ben Franklin:

“Those who would sacrifice freedom for security deserve neither.”

That’s poignant and sure seems to prove a point, doesn’t it? Except that’s not what Franklin said. This was the actual quote:

“They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” Franklin's Contributions to the Conference on February 17 (III) Fri, Feb 17, 1775

Franklin was comparing essential liberties (not freedom, and not all liberties) to a “little temporary” safety. Well, duh, who would do that?

And because I tend to be a fan of Franklin quotes, allow me to pull out my favorite: “Do everything in moderation, including moderation.”

In an era when a gun could fire a single shot, I wonder what capacity magazine Franklin would consider would go beyond moderation. Thirty? More? Less?

But enough about that. We’ve come to the part that I really want to talk about to those of you who say that you need your assault weapons and high capacity magazines to be part of a “well regulated militia.”

I’m sorry, but if that’s the case, your militia has failed. It has failed consistently, continuously and gloriously. Thousands of people are dying and where are you to protect us from these threats? Where were you in Aurora? Or Sandy Hook? Or any of the myriad of places where these legal weapons were used to gun down the innocent. I’ll tell you where you weren’t. You weren’t there, standing guard, like a proper member of a militia would.

I’ve heard your so-called experts say that defensive gun use prevents a million crimes a year. Really? A million? If that’s the case, why don’t I know about these? Wait! I know your answer: the media! They’re hiding it.

Guess what? I’m a Type 1 diabetic, like approximately one million people in the US. The media largely ignores us, too, yet I can easily give you the names of hundreds of people just like me, even though it’s rare to recognize one in public. You’re telling me that there are similar numbers of defensive gun use and you can’t even put together a Facebook page of people who’ve done it? Please. So the argument that there are a million of you each year is hogwash.

And why not? Well, there are a lot of reasons for this, but let me give you the simplest. The single greatest reason why your so-called militia has failed. Because, unlike the Second Amendment begs of you when it says that you be well regulated, you’re not prepared to defend me.

Top snipers in the military shoot tens of thousands of rounds per year to hone their craft. Policemen continuously learn new assault techniques, defensive strategies, hostage negotiation and more. You? You’re attending company budget meetings and expect I’ll believe you when you say that you’re the best choice to keep me safe when the shit hits the fan. No thanks. I wouldn’t call a cop to balance my budget and I sure don’t trust some weekend cowboy to keep me safe, either.

What it all comes down to is this. You’re not part of any militia. You lack the training, knowledge and experience to even claim that you do. You pretending to be at the ready to defend me from some lunatic armed to the tooth is no less delusional than the 13 year-old convinced she’s the next American Idol.

You have failed to protect us, but it’s not your fault. You have failed because you aren’t militia. You’re a human being. And it’s high time you started acting like one.

More Miles, Less Pain

2013-01-14T08:36:00.002-08:00

Just like that, January is half-way gone.

Quick update on my shoulder: after an unsuccessful month of PT and a clear MRI, one well placed cortisone shot did the trick. Granted, it also put my blood sugars through the roof for a week, but now I'm sleeping through the night again.

Speaking of blood sugars, I also received my latest A1c, which was 6.1. That's pretty darn good. I think I may have had a 6.1 1 or 2 other times, but that's close to my best ever.

Meanwhile, the miles add up, with 102.3 in the books for January and it's only the 14th. I expected to miss some time last week when I was in NYC, and while a few runs went a little short, I actually didn't miss a single day, which was nice.

Last weekend, I did my 2nd 5 hour run of this build, reaching up to 31.1 miles in 4:55, which was a nice tick faster than the last one. While the weather was a little better, I attribute much of the improvement to my new Hoka One One's.

If you're not familiar with Hokas, they are somewhat contrary to the minimalist thing that's going around. while they have a minimalist drop, it's all built on a very big, very light platform. The result? A very, very cushioned ride. I ordered a pair from Boulder Running Co last week and was thrilled they got here Friday night, just in time for my run on Saturday.

During this 5 hour run, I noticed a lot less fatigue in my legs. Granted, it wasn't gone, but heck, I'm a 41 year old man running for 5 years. I'd need to bathe in unicorn tears to not hurt some. But even so, what I really noticed was that I had a something left in my legs at the end, which is very rare for a long run. But you can see from my splits that when I was eager to get home in the last 4 miles, I knocked a good 30 seconds off my pace. In fact, my 28th mile tied for my fastest, which was impressive.

Thus far, it's fair to say I'm a fan of the Hokas.

Meanwhile, operation "eat real food when you run" is going well, too, with my go-to food being fig newtons. I spent the first half of the long run around 200 (this was the last day my steroid shot kept me elevated), before dipping down to 100 for the second half. And my stomach felt awesome, which would never be the case with 5 hours of gels. All of which goes to say I'm pleased how everything's going right now.

History in the Making

2013-01-14T05:57:00.000-08:00

If you're not a diabetic endurance athlete, this likely won't matter to you, but history was made yesterday!

My teammate Tommy Neal finished the Houston Marathon in 2:30:36, good for 16th place among men out of a projected 13,000ish starters. To the best of my knowledge, this is the fastest marathon ever run by a Type 1 diabetic. Missy Foy commented to me on Twitter that she believes it broke Bill Carlson's diabetic record of 2:38.

Perhaps most impressive? Tommy was disappointed in his time, which happened in a rain-soaked race. As the owner of a 65:00 half marathon, he's got 2:15 speed, so it's just a matter of putting together the right race on the race day.

And as far as mastering diabetes? Consider this: Tommy tweeted that his BG was 153 at the start and 83 at the end. I'd say he's well on his way.

As the Miles Pile Up and The Calendar Flips Over

2012-12-31T13:12:00.001-08:00

So with a 30.4 mile run including headwinds of 20mph and windchills in the teens, that pretty much does it for 2012.

Without trying it, I discovered that my total mileage for the year came in around 2,270... just about 10 more than I accomplished in 2011. More immediately, though, the 230.5 for December was my second highest total of the year as well as second highest all-time... all of which is good as I aim for the NJ Ultra Fest in March. And because my long runs were technically 6 days apart, I just wrapped up an 81 mile week, my longest week ever, too.

I still haven't officially signed up for the 100M in NJ. I need to make sure the calendar is clear and the training goes well, and even if it doesn't happen, 2013 is going to be a great year. But still, things are starting to line up that way, with the long runs now officially up to 5 hours with more than 10 weeks to go until race time. If I can confirm that Team Novo Nordisk Training Camp isn't that weekend, I'll be all systems go.

I'm also training myself to get off the gels and onto real food. One of the things I've noticed is that while I can do 50 milers on gels, my gut is pretty trashed by that point, so getting to 100 will likely take real food. My go-to off late is fig newtons, and yesterday's 30 miler included more than 600 calories of them.

The weather made it too cold to test during the run, but my current CGM sensor has been running like a pro and when I tested at the end of run, I was 85.. suhhhweeet!

My shoulder still isn't great, and an MRI is forthcoming, but most signs are pointing toward "frozen shoulder," a strange ailment more common among diabetics for which there is no fast cure. Still, anything that doesn't involve surgery and allows me to run is cause for celebration.

And speaking of which, the year has been worthy of celebration. I've gone 1 day left on a long vacation that's been little more than holiday visits, sleeping in eating well and resting up. Good times, indeed! Happy New Year, everyone!

Jingle Bell 5k - Race Review

2012-12-12T09:43:00.001-08:00

After participating in Girls on the Run on Saturday, the wife and I decided to tackle the Jingle Bell 5k on Sunday, encouraged by some of her students, who were also participating in both. As this was also my weekend of no long run after 3 weeks in a row of being "up," it seemed like a good idea at the time.

That said, the weather was fairly yucky, 40ish degrees and light rain. I would've considered it horrible, if it weren't for the fact that I remember doing this race in 35 degree HARD rain only a few years ago.

Though not a hard course, this one can't be described as a PR course, either, and I've run this race 3 times somewhere between 19:40-19:50. Though I was hopeful to do that again, I've only had my mileage up for about a month, none of which has been speedwork.

My blood sugar was high at the beginning; right around 180. I was nearly done with a 6 day pack of steroids, aimed at helping my rotator cuff. I'd kept my pump around 130% basals for most of the week, which was enough to take off the edge of the steroids, but still, it didn't take much to get the BG high last week.

The race itself was fairly unremarkable. I tried to go with a guy I find myself chasing in a lot of local races, but he had a gear I didn't in this one and beat me handily. In the last half mile, I took a turn wide after a volunteer told me to, and another guy passed us both on the inside. So, technically he cheated, though he wasn't off the course. Still, it annoyed me a bit, but I didn't have any kick to pull him in.

I was a little bummed to finish in 20:07, which is my slowest 5k that I've gone all-out in for some time. The fact that I went a full 90 seconds faster just 8 months ago affirms how much faster I was in the spring, but that said, it's all about piling on the mileage and not getting hurt right now, and I'm pretty much doing that. And I did finish 3rd in my AG out of 81, which was good for a little metal that took some of the sting off of not breaking 20.

My rotator cuff is still given me fits, though PT is starting to help and Vicodin is helping me sleep. And it's not getting in the way of the long runs, which is the best part of all.

Obligatory turning off the watch pic. As I'm waiting for my Team Novo Nordisk gear to come out in January, this was the first race I've run in two years without Team Type 1 gear, and it made me a little sad! Looking forward to the Team Novo Nordisk 2013 kit!

Girls on the Run - Somewhat of a Race Review

2012-12-10T13:46:00.001-08:00

Last year, I went to speak to at my wife's elementary school about goal setting, as it relates to me as a distance runner. I was walked to her classroom by a 5th grader who impressed me with her poise and conversation as we walked the halls. I told my wife if she had the chance to get the kid in her homeroom the falling year, I bet she'd love her. A year later, Maria is definitely one of my wife's favorites in a room full of great kids.

Periodically, my wife likes to use my insanity as fodder for classroom material; the result of which is that the kids have a wide range of opinions about my foolishness on the roads and trails. But when Maria signed up for Girls on the Run, this year, she asked my wife if I'd be her run buddy, which is how I found myself at Clipper Stadium on Saturday morning.

I'm no Girls on the Run expert. I only know it's about teaching girls how to have fun through running events. The 5ks skew more fun, less competitive, and those that do it seem to really like it. Who was I to say no?

For the 5k, Maria and I decided to have 3 goals. The first was to have fun. The 2nd was to beat enough people back that we could easily get cocoa before the supplies ran low. And the final one was to not walk. I knew Maria's previous 5k PR had been around 33 minutes, but I also knew that she was nervous enough about the time that we decided to do it sans-Garmin.

With the no-walking goal on our mind, we set off at a nice easy pace that I was certain we could maintain the whole way, and in fact, we did. I wasn't sure what Maria wanted from me, but I assumed giving her first-hand versions of stories my wife had told would entertain her for a bit, so I told her about running over an aardvark in the North Face Endurance Challenge and stopping at mini-markets during 5 hour training runs. I asked her what she liked about running and let's just say she likes all of the right things; the ease of the sport, the ability to spend time with her good friends, and the feeling of a workout well-done.

I thanked the volunteers at the intersections and told her why I usually did that and within 1 or 2 intersections, she was doing it, too. We made it back to the stadium and she was stoked to see 30:30 on the clock. We were both equally pleased to get the cocoa well before it ran out, with better than 3/4 of the pack behind us.

Before the race, a parent of another student running that day told me that she thought it was great how some of the kids were inspired to run because of me. Those are always wonderful things to hear, though at the same time, it always surprises me. It's never been my goal to inspire people to run, and I think rather than being the reason, I'm just a carrier of something that has the ability to improve others' lives. Whether or not they choose to "be infected" is wholly up to them. This past weekend, it was awesome to be part of the Girls on the Run as they recruited hundreds of the next generation of lifelong runners.

Can't Wait for 2013... But Then Again, Maybe I Can.

2012-12-04T06:17:00.001-08:00

When last we left this blog, I was coming off my 3rd ultra in six weeks, looking for a month of downtime, prior to my next build. And that's pretty close to what's happened.

The month of November was only about 160 miles of largely unstructured running. The early weeks were shorter, mostly due to some foot tendinitis that took a while to heal, but at the moment is completely gone. And last week I got in over 50 miles, including an easy 3.5 hours.

All of this is because I'm hopeful that 2013 will be big. My tentative race schedule includes my first 100 miler in March and my first 24 hour race in July. I've done enough 50s now that they don't scare me, so I want to go bigger.

And speaking of bigger, today brings with it news of Team Type 1's rebranding as Team Novo Nordisk. There's little I can say about it at this point other than to say I remain so grateful to be part of an organization that is doing amazing cool things.

And, yet... there is a "but." Two weeks ago, for no apparent reason, I started getting insane pain in my arm, only when I was in bed at night. The first night, I thought it was an odd cramp. And then it continued and has pretty much every night since then. Keep in mind, the pain during the day is so slight to barely register. It doesn't hurt at all when I run. At one point, just to test my sanity, I banged out 15 push-ups, pain-free and went immediately to bed, where the pain was intense enough to wake me all night long.

I'm off to the doc this morning, but it turns out that I'm not insane. Rather, it looks like I've got rotator cuff problems. Yes, a guy who does next to no upper body work, who hasn't played competitive baseball in 25 years, who should be telling you about blowing out his knees at this point, is terrified to lose his season over his shoulder. Odd, isn't it? I'm hopeful it will only be a matter of a cortisone shot, which I seem to be needing like cars need oil changes these days, and I'll be good to go. To this point, it hasn't affected my running, other than it really is affecting my sleeping, which is an important part of the ultra-running deal. As always, I'm planning on this being merely a blip is the plan for an awesome 2013. But I am reminded of the guy who told me that he wasn't too concerned when he hit 40, until he realized that 40 hits back.

Happy Diabetes Month

2012-11-01T05:46:00.001-07:00

Given the Hallmark sponsored world we live in, you might be aware that November is American Diabetes Month, so if you were going to buy me something, you're fresh out of shopping days.

All of this culminates on World Diabetes Day on November 14.

As you might expect, there are a couple things you could do, if you're so inclined, to celebrate the festivities.

I've listed a couple of these things below, with my own opinions as to how I feel about them, given my lifestyle as a Type 1 diabetic and my vocation as a marketing professional:

1) The Big Blue Test. The concept here is simple. Do a BG test, exercise for 20 minutes, and do another one. Upload your results.

I'm a big fan of this one because it's primarily going to be done by diabetics (more on that in the next paragraph) and it's a concrete way to show the benefits of exercise. It's not foolproof - someone who doesn't understand how anaerobic exercise works might lift weights for 20 minutes and wonder why their BG shot up - but if it makes them curious to learn more about exercise and BG, I think that's awesome. Not entirely certain if I'll participate, since I tend to have my own big blue test 5-7 days a week when I run, but I might, and I think this program is the best at showing something measurable among those most likely to pay attention.

2) Be T1D for a Day. This one is from the JDRF and it's designed as a way for non-diabetics to understand what we go through. Basically, you get nagged by your cell phone for a day, telling you to test, to exercise, to test, to eat, to test, to check your feet for sores, to test, etc.

I'm not a big fan of this one. Aside from the fact that it's a game, which can be ignored (I'd love to see the data on how many people text STOP to end it early!), in general, I tend to be less impressed with campaigns that seek to create awareness among those who have none. I think those campaigns are rather short-sighted and not likely to have lasting effects. Those who are affected by diabetes - either with it or among loved ones - are already "sold" and those who aren't will likely end up focusing on those things that DO affect them and their loved ones on a daily basis.

3) Build a Picture of Diabetes. Here, you can send a picture a day to the ADA about life with diabetes. I'm lumping this one into the can't hurt/might help category.

Like the JDRF campaign, although they say they hope to create awareness among the unaffected, I doubt they'll do much of that, and again, I don't think it matters if they do. They've got a ton of us who ARE affected. At the same time, the Internet likes pictures and photo campaigns have a way of getting a lot of cool submissions. My expectation is that if the pics are all posted somewhere (which the ADA doesn't say it's going to do), they'll get a lot of online activity. For better or for worse, I suspect those looking at them will already know full well about the disease.

However you decide to celebrate Diabetes Month, make it a sweet one!

The Worst

2012-10-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

(L-R) Ryan Jones, Matt Patrick, Marcus Grimm, Jon Obst, Tom Kingery, Benny Madrigal and Rhet Hulbert

Nearly two weeks ago, I found myself at a cocktail party for a business expo. It was a good event with a lot of local business people. The cocktail party was sort of a pre-game for the expo, which was starting the following day, but not for me.

Toward the end of the expo, I found myself in a conversation with three other people and learned that one of them was also a type 1 diabetic . She’d also had it 24 years, nearly as long as my own 28.

In the course of the conversation, she dropped one of those sentence “bombs,” as I call them – words that can derail the entire conversation or at the very least change the attitude of all the people who hear them.

“Let me tell you,” she said, mostly addressing the two non-diabetics in our foursome. “Diabetes is the worst.”

Admittedly, I have trouble with such declarations. On one hand, I can’t deny someone their own feelings, gained honestly after better than two decades with the same disease I have. But on the other hand, and I hear such things and I can’t help but think, “The worst?”

Friday morning, while my coworkers were already at the expo that I had avoided, I boarded a plane for Atlanta. Beside me on the plane was Ryan Jones, my teammate and one of the most accomplished type 1 diabetic ultra runners in the US.

While this was the third time Ryan and I had raced together, it was our first time to travel together, and I used the entire flight to grill him about his training and racing experiences.

We also discussed the race we were heading to, the North Face Endurance Challenge 50 Miler. It would be my 3rd race of a distance this far, but on harder terrain than I’d ever been on before. Still, what none of us was exactly how much harder. We had all seen previous results and they were definitely slower than other races, but in the end, I don’t think any of us wanted to admit how much slower this course could be. With my own PR of 7:55 at 50 miles, I’d decided that 11 hours sounded about right. After all, that gave me a large cushion of more than 3 hours.

At the airport, we were joined by Matt Patrick and Tom Kingery, both of whom had signed up for the 50k. A second group consisting of 50 miler Jon Obst and half marathoners Benny Madrigal and Rhet Hulbert completed the men’s squad. Pro cyclist Morgan Patton would be on hand later in the weekend to also take on the half.

Finding a traditional pre-race spaghetti meal in Pine Mountain was impossible. Fortunately, finding a pleasant restaurant wasn’t, and a BBQ pork chop and sweet potato fries proved more than adequate for my pre race meal.

As most of our meals, this one was a blast; equal parts diabetes and running conversation, trash talk and random sports information. Running and diabetes are both such central aspects of all of our lives that the conversations come fast and free. But like before most races, it also led to an early bedtime. I was asleep just past nine to prepare for my 3am wake-up call.

Typical for the night before a race, I slept relatively well, in between startling every 90 minutes for fear I’d overslept. I dressed quickly and quietly since I was rooming with Matt, whose race started two hours later. Jon, Ryan and I made our way to the short shuttle ride that took us to the starting line.

Twenty minutes prior to the race, my blood sugar was 71. I ate a Clif Bar without insulin and made my way to the start.

Though I’m hardly the first to mention it, one of the coolest things about running is how the amateurs mingle, start and race with the most elite pros. I stood on the start line right beside Nicky Kimball and Hal Koerner, literally two of the giants in our sport. And by the looks of the others in the pack around me, I knew there were many others with resumes more impressive than my own.

Of course, the worst thing about a 5am start meant that when the horn blew, we headed directly into the woods in total darkness, aside from our own headlamps and glow sticks that were sprinkled about every 50 or so feet on the course. This was all compounded by the fact that the terrain itself was rocky, rooty and rolling single track, which would challenge our skills and sanity for the entire day.

There’s no easy way to say it: my lack of night running experience and my unwillingness to take chances so early in the race made the hours until sunrise frustrating ones for me. By and large, I found myself consistently passed during the first twelve miles of the day, and while I’d pass roughly 4 runners for every 1 who passed me in the final 11 hours, any hopes I’d harbored of finishing in the top 50 were long gone before the sun even came up. At one point, a park ranger warned us of the “big cliff” just off to our right and I had to will myself not to stare into the blackness that seemed to be just beyond where my feet were landing.

I was elated when I checked into the second aid station and was able to ditch my headlamp in one of the two drop bags I had prepared.

The course proved to be challenging for both the runner and diabetic in me. The constantly changing terrain and elevation meant my pace fluctuated greatly throughout the day. The varying pace meant that my fuel level adjusted, too. My BG went from a low of 97 to a high in the 240s. I tested at every aid station, which translated into about every 90 minutes.

Despite the course and blood sugars, the first hours after sunrise were some of my favorite. I enjoyed a nice two hour grind spent largely by myself. At this point, about 4.5 hours into the race, I still seemed on pace for close to an 11 hour finish, though I knew that eventually the bear would hop on my back.

Finding the trail for the first half of the race was quite easy. The course we were on was identical to that being cross by the 50k, marathon and in most cases, even the half marathon. This meant that multi-colored streamers dangled from several trees and there were no concerns of getting lost.

But eventually, the 50 mile course went in its own direction and the multi-colored streamers gave way to only one color, which happened to be orange and of course, the season happened to be autumn. Shortly after the 25 mile mark, a group of four I was traveling with found ourselves inexplicably off the course.

As the one who had been leading the group, I immediately felt responsible, but while retracing our steps, we discovered that in fact we were following some old orange trail markers. While this helped to ease my guilt, it didn’t change the fact that we were losing time, and doing so at a point where maintaining pace is of critical concern.

One member of our foursome took it harder than the rest. As we made our way down one trail after another, he lagged behind, stopping periodically to say, “Is that it?” with his hands on his knees. By the time we found the course, our GPS showed we had lost almost exactly two miles. Not only that, but those miles had been slow ones with plenty of walking and backtracking. An eleven-hour finish was completely out the window now, and I spent much of the next three hours hoping to make it in under twelve.

For the next hour or so, I kept the hammer down a bit, pushing my heart rate a bit higher and trying to get back some of the time we’d lost. But by now the sun was crawling high into the sky and the weatherman’s prediction of 80 degree highs was proving to be dead on and by the time I passed 32 miles, my pace was beginning to slide.

Somewhere around this point, I fell into conversation with one of the women whom I’d gotten lost with. I’d dropped her after we found our way back onto the trail, but being from the South, she was handling the heat better than I and would go on to beat me handily.

While she was with me, she picked my brain a lot about diabetes. It turns out that she’s a personal trainer and had a client whose diabetes was out of control. She confessed to not knowing much about the disease and we discussed the basics at length. She was grateful for the knowledge she hopes to take back to her client and as for me, I was simply grateful for the distraction. I’m hopeful those miles with me will help her to help her client.

With ten miles to go, however, my pace had gone out the window. My quads were screaming, forcing me to walk on all of the uphills, of which there were many. I ran some of the downhills, but every step seemed to involve avoiding rocks that were at ever more precarious angles. I willed myself to keep going, briefly pondered quitting a few times but in the end told myself that by the time I could find an aid station to quit and get driven back from, I could likely just as easily finish on my own two feet.

Near the next to last aid station with under ten miles left, I hooked up with two guys, one of whom had been with me when we’d gotten lost so many hours before. We were of a common mind at this point (unhappy but resolute) and also of a common body (good enough to shuffle, not good enough to move fast) and the three of us settled into a deathmarch for the final two hours. Alternatively, we fantasized about what we’d eat that night (a lot) or drink (even more), and how long it would be until we’d run again after today (quite a while, we agreed). But step by step, mile by mile, we moved through the mountain trails until we could hear the crowd from the finish line in the distance.

About a quarter of a mile from the finish, we made our last pass of a runner, reduced to a walk. Though we willed him to come with us, he was having none of it, so we pressed on, finishing within a few steps of one another.

In the end, I finished in 13:10, running 52 miles. My GPS had hit the 50 mile mark at 12:41. Though I wasn't pleased to be so close to the bottom of the pack, it wasn't lost on me that 40% of the entire field had either quit or been pulled from the course for missing the cut-off. In the end, I had to be satisfied with finishing.

I was the last of my teammates to finish that day; my fifty mile friends finished well ahead of me, as did my 2 50k teammates. A day later, two of my friends would take two of the three podium finishes in the half marathon and Morgan Patton would finish her first half marathon.

Like most of my ultras, the result was just part of the story. While I wasn’t thrilled with my finishing time, the terrain was easily the most difficult of any race I’d accomplished and my half-hour detour certainly didn’t help. Moreover, there were moments on the course when I found myself elated, dejected, exhilarated and bored. Like a good race, I had found it all out there; the best of myself and the worst.

I spent some time since then considering what the diabetic I’d met the previous week had said, that having diabetes was the worst. As I thought at the time, I don’t believe that, and have never believed it. In the end, it seems to me that finding things that are bigger, scarier and altogether more horrible than diabetes helps me have confidence, knowing that if I can face the wounds of an ultra, I can face whatever the disease decides to throw at me.

In the end, I’m grateful to live a life without believing that diabetes is anything close to the worst, one where I find my own pain, my own path. Even, and maybe especially, if it takes me two miles out of my way.

Trails 4 Tails 40 Mile Race Report

2012-09-24T07:24:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was the Tails 4 Trails 40 Mile Ultra in Hanover, PA. For me, it meant the 2nd of 3 ultras in a 6 week period.

Going into this race, I wasn’t too sure of what to expect. I had never run in Codorus State Park, before. Moreover, the previous weekend had been my only failed workout of this build so far – a scheduled 5-6 hour long run that I pulled the plug on at 4 hours due to a head cold. And just to keep the mystery elevated, I elected to get my flu shot the day before the race. I’ve been getting them for years, and tend to respond fairly well to them, but sniffles and a little fatigue wouldn’t have been unexpected. But rather than stress about these unknowns, I opted to go into the race with a “Let’s just see what happens” approach. Either way, I had to run long this weekend, so why not make it a race?

I woke up at 4am, with a perfect blood sugar of 112. I arrived at the race site an hour before the scheduled 7am start, which meant I got there in pitch blackness. At 6:45, I tested and was 96. I had a Gatorade prime and a PowerGel during the pre-race briefing, and at 7, we were on our way.

On the first loop, I settled in and tried to survey the competition. It was a little difficult, as there were relay teams sprinkled in with the solo runners. I figured I was in about 7th place overall, but guessed that about 2 of the runners in front of me were on relays. More so than the competition, however, ultras are about running your own race. Because this race would be shorter than my 12 hour race 3 weeks prior, I instead aimed to run at a slightly higher heartrate than I had then.

The course for Trails 4 Tails was interesting and couldn't have been better marked (despite the fact that I kept pointing out wrong turns to a guy on the first lap). It began with a couple of miles around a lake. While beautiful, the pitch of the shoreline was really annoying and being the water lover I am, I was surprised how much I came to hate this section! After that, we mostly climbed up through some technical trail for about 2 miles to the ad station. After the aid station was about a mile of road (downhill going out, uphill going back), with a different technical trail loop. Because the second half of the 8 mile loop repeated some ground, this was the best chance to see other runners, which gave us all a psychological boost. I grew to despise the first half of the course and love the second half of it!

My nutrition plan going into the race had been my usual 27g of PowerGel every half hour. Every 8 mile loop, I’d stop to do a blood sugar test. At the first loop, I was 86, so I doubled up on the gels, taking 2 on the hour, and 1 at the half. While I knew my stomach might not like that later, I thought it was important to keep from going low.

While I expected the bonus gel to make me a bit higher, I tested as 96 on the second loop, so I repeated the process. Surprisingly, I was only 84 at the third test and doubled up again.

The fact that my blood sugar was running lower could be attributed to 2 things. First, while the course had a lot of technical trails and hills, none of the hills could be considered overwhelming, and unlike a lot of ultras, I hadn’t been forced to walk until about 28 miles into the race. Secondly, my plan to run the race at a higher heartrate than usual also increased the rate at which I was burning sugar.

As the race progressed, I still wasn’t sure exactly what place I was in. I passed by the the guy I knew was winning several times and I also lapped several runners, but I wasn’t entirely sure about the few guys I thought were between me and the leader. Around mile 28, I passed a solo runner who I knew had been in front of me, so I assumed I was now in 4th place. On the previous lap, I had seen one of the guys in front of me on another part of the course and noted he was walking up a hill. While he was still in front of me, the fact that he was walking and I hadn’t, yet, encouraged me as well.

At my 4th blood sugar test, I was still only 84 and did my final double gel. While they were getting pretty disgusting to eat at this point, I knew the end was in sight. Also, this was the point I picked up my “pacer.”

My niece, Tania, happens to live about 10 minutes from the park and had agreed to join me for the last lap, even though most of her runs are around 5 miles and she’d never ran trails before. I’d coaxed into her into it, saying I expected to be walking a good bit by the last lap.

Having her join me was exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. By this point in the race, my legs were screaming, but it had been several hours since I had the chance to actually speak with another runner, so this was a very welcome distraction.

I knew going into the last lap that we had a decent chance to finish under 7 hours, so I set this as a goal for no other reason than I decided 6 sounded better than 7.

About 2 miles from the finish, I made my only real mistake in the race. I was so tired of eating the sugary gels that I had given myself permission to skip my final one, thinking I could easily get through the last 30 minutes without it. On the last long uphill, however, I knew my blood sugar was getting low. Realizing that the successful day was in danger of going down the tubes, I slugged down one more sickly sweet gel and walked up the final 2 minutes of the hill, letting the sugar do its thing.

Tania and I came through the finish at 6:56. I was exhausted but completely surprised when the race director called my number and said, “There’s our second place runner.” Second place?

While I don’t know when, it turns out that the 2 guys I had been certain were ahead of me had both dropped out at some point.

While I’ve been fortunate enough to be in the top 3 at other races, this was my first podium finish ever in an ultra. While the Trails 4 Tails race is small (race results haven’t been posted, yet, but just 38 runners finished it last year), it’s great confirmation that this has been a successful build as I head into next month’s North Face Endurance Challenge in Atlanta. The field will be far more competitive in Atlanta, and the terrain will be worse, but I can honestly say that I’m as prepared as I can be for it, and that’s really all you can hope for.

Here's a picture where I'm shocked to be getting the silver medal, just a minute after finishing.

Labor Pain Ultra 12 Hour Run Recap

2012-09-10T07:03:00.001-07:00

I had been interested in the 12 hour Labor Pain Endurance Trail Run ever since its first running in 2010 when my teammate, Ryan Jones had won it, but this was the first year I was able to fit it into my schedule.

Unlike a fixed distance ultra, the concept for Labor Pain was different. The course consists of 5 miles of technical trail running over rocks and mud, the first half of which has 325 feet of vertical climbing before giving all of that elevation back on the last 2.5 miles. Runners could stop whenever they wanted, but awards were given for furthest distance traveled in 12 hours. Elapsed time only became a factor if you had run the same number of loops as other runners.

Based on the results of the previous two years, I decided to set a stretch goal for myself of 60 miles.

Fifteen minutes before the race, I tested my blood sugar and found myself at 48. Whoops! Fortunately, I had planned to take in carbs just prior to the race anyway, so I set out feeling fine.

My plan consisted of taking in an energy gel every 30 minutes. Though my preference would’ve been to stop and test every hour, on the first several 5 mile loops I came in around fifty minutes, so I decided to test every 2 loops when I returned to my drop bag. While my first test had me at 143, my second test at mile 20 had me at 291! I should’ve expected this, however, as by now downpours had reduced the trail to a mud bog, forcing me to slow my pace.

The slower pace meant I wasn’t burning as much sugar as I’d expected to, but knowing how important fuel is during an ultra, I simply took a small bolus to compensate and kept my fuel strategy going. By the time I tested at 30 miles, my blood sugar had settled around 150, where it would stay for the rest of the race.

By now, a far greater problem than my diabetes were the blisters I was acquiring from 5 hours of running mostly in the rain. While my feet had a couple of raw spots, these were nothing compared to my underarms and waistband. Though I was applying Bodyglide on virtually every lap at this point, it did little good and my skin was raw.

Even so, my 7th lap felt great, and at that point I still thought I might make it to 60 miles. But as quick as the good feelings came, they were gone, and I limped into the checkpoint at mile 40 feeling tired and sore.

The great news was this was exactly when my wife and kids showed up. They helped me change into dry socks and shoes, bandaged some of my blisters, and sent me on my way.

Though my spirits will still strong, there was no denying that the humidity and miles were taking their toll on me, and I came to the realization that I probably wouldn’t get a chance at 60 miles. Per the race rules, no partial laps were allowed, so if the race director wasn’t certain I could make a 12th lap in less than 12 hours, I’d be cut off at 11.

On my 10th lap, I briefly considered stopping and calling it a day when I reached 50 miles. I knew from talking to other racers that many of them were planning on doing just that. But at the same time, I realized that the race I was in rewarded tenacity even more than speed. Regardless of how fast anyone came through 50 miles, they would all be behind me if I simply managed to slog through the 11th lap, regardless of my time.

I headed into the check-point and a runner whom had just called it a day at 50 miles looked at me. “Are you going back out there?” he asked.

“Yup,” I said. “I paid for this and I’m getting my money’s worth.”

As I was leaving the checkpoint, a friend of mine asked me how many laps I was doing.

“That was ten,” I said. “This one’s for extra credit.”

Indeed, that last lap felt like extra credit. When I looked at the results after the race, I noted that slightly less than a quarter of the runners continued or were permitted to run in that final hour of competition. I was one of them, clocking my 55 miles in 11:26:45.

Though I came in 5th among runners in my traditional age group of 40-49, this particular race extended the age group to 59, meaning my technical finish was 6th, or just out of the money! Still, I couldn’t complain. Overall, I was 16th out of 211. In every race, some poor guy has to be the fastest guy not to get an award. In this particular race, it just happened to be me.

Nearly Go-Time

2012-08-27T07:51:00.001-07:00

We are 1 week until the 12 hour Labor Pain Ultra. Man, do I hate the week before a big race.

Of course, calling it a "big race" isn't exactly fair. Truth is, it's the first of 3 ultras on my calendar for the next 6 weeks and my training is structured in such a way that, results-wise, I'm probably not ready to do something awesome this weekend.

Then again, who knows. I've done 3 runs greater than 5 hours so far in this build. Last time before my 50 miler I did 4. So I'm in pretty good shape and have plenty of time before my peak 50 miler on Oct. 13.

But still, confidence is in a bit of short supply right now. I've noticed the paces for my 5 hour runs haven't quite been where they were on my last ultra build. I'm hopeful that it's due to the fact that these have been in August when the last time around was February, when it's easier to maintain a quicker pace. But the truth is, I won't really know for sure until the weather turns cooler.

I remember, however, feeling this way toward the end of my last ultra build; like my legs could move forever but were also very heavy. And I also remember being happy to find myself further up in the pack during the race than I expected to be. One thing that's been true about me is that I DO the mileage required to do well in ultras and I'm hopeful that will pan out for me next week as well. I'd like to get an age group award, which will likely require 60 or so miles. But if not, hey I've got 2 more ultras left in the fall.

But ah, the week before a race is always annoying... pent up energy, pent up worry, pent up everything. Sunday won't get hear soon enough!

Ultra-Season Nearly Upon Us (or Me)

2012-08-09T12:25:00.001-07:00

As always, it seems when I'm not blogging, that means I'm running. And if I'm really not blogging, well then I must be really running.

The weekend long runs have now reached 5 hours. Last Saturday's topped 30 miles. My last 30 mile run 18 months ago was about half a mile further, but it was in January, and this was August, when the temp was close to 90 when I was done. All of which goes to say I think this build is going better, but it's hard to say.

And of course all of this running isn't just to run, but to race. And over the next 2 months, I've got a pretty cool calendar planned:

1.) Labor Pain, September 2 - This 12 hour event will be my first timed race. I've had my eye on this one ever since it started 2 years ago, but we generally are out of town for Labor Day weekend. Not this year, and so this one is on the calendar. Ironically, the course record for this one is owned by my Team Type 1 teammate, Ryan Jones, who went 72.5 miles in 2010. Given the terrain, that's not in the cards for me. From evaluating results over the past 2 years, I'm putting in a realistic goal of 55 miles and a stretch-if-everything's-going-my-way goal of 60 miles. Either of these would put me solidly in the top 10% of the field and should give me a chance at an age group award, which would thrill me.

2.) Trails 4 Tails 40 Miler Ultra, September 22 - This one's not definite. It's the smallest race and a bit of a drive from my house. But the reality is I need to go really long that weekend anyway, so why not have the excitement of it being a race? Assuming I'm healing well from Labor Pains, it's on the calendar.

3.) North Face 50 Mile Endurance Challenge, Oct. 13, Atlanta, GA - This is a Team Type 1 race, so my hope is to be as sharp as I can be for it. It's the most technical of the courses, and I've shifted my training a bit, focusing more on overall endurance than a lot of technical running. Hopefully, that won't bite me in the butt.

So 3 ultras in the next 2 months should be fun, assuming of course I don't break anything.

Aside from my usual goals of top 10% finishes and age group placings, I'm also planning on fine-tuning my blood sugar control as much as possible. I've had some awesome long training runs averaging real close to 100 and it's been fun trying to nail the perfect blood sugar. It'll be fun trying that when the runs get really long.

Double Trouble 30k Race Report

2012-07-09T08:19:00.001-07:00

The first thing I got when I opened my car door at French Creek State Park yesterday was, "I should've brought bug spray." Within seconds, I was bombarded by gnats. The good news, however, was that the car beside me included 2 runners in the process of bathing themselves with OFF and were happy to share. Crisis #1 averted.

Aside from the bugs, though, I felt ready for 18.6 miles of trail mayhem. My blood sugar was a very nice 121 thirty minutes prior to the race. 15 minutes prior to race time, I had a Clif bar. Rather than set my basal rates to 50%, I get them normal for this race, as I wasn't sure if the trails would allow for a full-out effort. Some of my recent trail training runs had left me a bit higher than I wanted and I didn't want that to happen here.

Five minutes prior to the race, the thunder rolled in and at race time, the rain was coming down. For better or worse, however, the sun was out within 5 minutes.

I had read online that the first 2 miles of the course would have some backlogs with 400 people crowding onto single-track so I went out fairly hard. It wasn't quite hard enough, however, as the first hill found me walking. Before long, however, things opened up and the pack didn't really prevent me from doing what I wanted to do.

What I "wanted" to do was fairly simple: keep my heartrate in the 140-144 range and maintain good bloodsugars. For the most part I did that with the HR, though the nature of trail running meant I had some awful uphills where I was 150s and some technical downhills that were 130s. My average heartrate for the total run was right at 140.

It wouldn't be a trail race without a fall and I went down at about the 5 mile mark, ripping my knee open, but otherwise only scratching my hands. I was more scared about a stumble I took around the 17 mile mark. That one happened on a very technical downhill with rocks all over the trail. I was lucky enough to catch myself and prevent what would've been a very painful spill.

Despite never having run these trails before, I had put an approximate goal of 3 hours for the race, likely because that's where 3rd place in my AG was last year. Whether I was overly optimistic or not, I don't know, but when I came through the mid-point at just under 1:34, I knew that goal was out the door. Instead, I reset my goal for sub 3:10, deciding that I'd be happy with a strong second half.

Blood sugar-wise, I had felt pretty good with taking a single 27g. gel every 40 minutes. But when I took my last planned one at 2:30 into the race, I realized that I was feeling a little low. My CGM still showed 105, but it's not uncommon for the CGMs to be off, so I decided to trust myself and pounded my emergency gel. I was on the last big uphill of the course and knew that if I totally bonked now, I'd have a long walk in front of me. Instead, the second gel was exactly what the doctor ordered, and within a couple minutes, I was running strong again.

When I went through the final water stop with a little under 2 miles to go, I knew I'd have to stretch to hit 3:10, but I also knew that I had 2 downhill miles, so I let loose as much as I could, passing my last runner of the day. (On the second loop, I think I passed about 3-4 runners and only recall being passed once.) I finished strong, but missed my new goal, coming in at 3:11 and change with a blood sugar of 120.

At first I was dismayed coming in so much slower than I'd hoped, but then I noticed that my finishing place (24th) last year would've been right at 2:59. While trail conditions vary year to year, it's possible that the heat or trails were worse this year than in 2011, so I'm taking that as comfort that my training for the the fall is going well.