The Longest Run

Top Ten Things I learned from the 2012 Greenland 50k

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Tue, 08 May 2012 04:43:00 +0000

Hey, it's a new week, so I guess it's time for another race report.

Colorado Runner Events

The short-short version:
I ran the 2012 Greenland 50k and finished! (Third time's a charm.)
7:42:16 was the time.
It was one hour and thirteen minutes faster than my 50k last week.
I finished 137th out of 138 finishers.

The long meandering version (kind of like my racing style):

I went into the race with a plan and with some doubts. I had no idea how I would respond to another 50k one week after this one. I'm told this doesn't correspond to normal rest and recovery timeframes. However, I had not finished this race in two previous tries. Once was due to youth coaching commitments and last year was due to...well...giving up. To be perfectly honest the course is not my favorite, but I had no intention of letting this go unfinished. So I had signed up for these two races back to back and now it was time to close the deal.

My plan was to run the first two laps fairly rapidly and bank some time so that if and when the wheels came off on the second two laps I would still have time to make the eight hour cutoff. Last year I had gotten to the final lap with less than two hours to go and gave in to the idea that I couldn't make it. I wanted to finish the first two laps in 3:30 and that would give me time to trudge in the last two laps if necessary.

The doubts came from a number of things. My feet were still in pretty bad shape from the extensive blisters I had from Cheyenne. I also knew my legs were still feeling pretty lethargic after the long effort on the previous Saturday. I had gotten a couple of runs in but I was pretty far from Downy "fresh". I also knew it might get warm which could exacerbate the normal puking issues.

The pre-race machinations were highlighted by a great visit with Mr. and Mrs. Happy Trails.
They are just some wonderful folks and it is always great to talk with them. Mr. HT had some great training going into the race and I can't wait to see Mrs. HT get back to her blazing fast ways (next year's Greenland?) Mr. HT finished the 25k in 2:00:48! Unbelievable. I just asked him not to pass me twice on the first lap and thankfully he didn't.

So, I ran the first lap. I spent a big portion of the first lap talking to a runner I've talked to previously at Cheyenne and Greenland, a guy I call Firefighter Chuck. (He works for CSFD). We have a similar pace and he is fun to talk to about ultras and races and the local running scene. I don't normally go in for the socializing but in this case it made the first part of the race go very quickly. Chuck and I would wind up going back and forth several times during the race.

The first lap was 1:39, a perfect time for me. I felt good, I was moving at a slow, but easy pace and I was trying to set myself up for a consistent finish. I also tried Injini socks. I needed something to try and stave off blisters and my good friend and fellow Leadville conspirator has been recommending them for some time. These are the socks with built in toes. Let me just say, they. were. awesome. I'm really sorry I waited so long to try them. My feet were pretty horrendous going into the race with barely any skin on several toes, but I didn't have a hot spot one time during the whole race. The other big change I made was to hit S-Caps instead of Endurolytes or just food. This is another item that the co-conspirator and Mr. HT have pushed on several occasions but I just never got around to it. Today I was hitting them every 45-60 minutes. On the first lap, I did not puke.

The second lap came in at 1:46. I was pushing into this one, trying to make sure I was banking the time I would need to finish. For me this was a perfect time. I had planned to finish the first half in 3:30 and left the aid station at 3:27. This was really encouraging. I also saw the fam' and the extended clan; what an encouragement they are! It felt nice running by and actually feeling like I wasn't yet totally defeated. Also, on the second lap, I did not puke.

The third lap was the tough one. I hit a really tough patch where I ran out of water (pack didn't get filled up all the way at the aid station) and my knee started having some shooting pains. I knew it was just a little pre-tendonitis that comes on occasionally but it was very discouraging. The hurricane-like winds that normally come out on the Greenland open space also picked up. It makes you feel like you're running into a wind tunnel. Despite the amount of time I had to finish I just felt mentally defeated. Almost every step up or downhill was painful and I slowed to a crawl. If the turn around had been at that point, the outcome might have been different. However it wasn't and in the time remaining I hit another gel, popped another salt pill and started "running" (aka waddling) again. I mentally regrouped and reverted back to my mantra from Cheyenne. Whatever it takes. I decided that I hadn't gone out there in the 80+ degree weather for five and a half hours just to quit. I hadn't bombed those downhills and banked all that time just to give up. I hadn't doused myself in endless gallons of sunscreen just to work on my tan. I was going to start the fourth lap. I saw Chuck moving on the fourth lap as I was finishing the third and he asked me if I was going to do it. My response? Whatever it takes. 2:05 for the third lap. Additionally, on the third lap, I did not puke.

Then, I started the fourth lap. There really is no way to describe starting the fourth lap. Starting the fourth lap is a beautiful thing. It means that even if I don't make the time I am going to cover the distance. It means I pushed through all the obstacles and made it to the final stage. It means that I did not quit. It means that I was FINALLY going to finish the race. Starting the fourth lap is magic. I will also say that the Aid Station dude who supplied me a bunch of ice was clutch. The fourth lap went quickly. I was feeling better and getting faster as I went along. I felt like I could have gone ten more miles. To be honest it was a bit emotional. I had really beat myself up after pulling out last year, and it was hard to take. I think I must have envisioned crossing the finish line and getting that medal about a dozen different times just during the last lap. When I finally crossed the line, I had the biggest smile on my face. I had finally conquered this bugger. 2:15 final lap. 7:42 overall. And I even didn't finish DFL. (Yeah I was set for it, up to the last mile when I passed someone.) AND, I didn't puke. Not once during the entire race. In nine ultra attempts, that has never happened before.

It was a beautiful day. After managing to change into my race shirt, put on my medal, and drive home, I walked in the front door and was met by cry of glee and an enormous hug from the most beautiful woman in the world and my best friend. It was a great ending to a great day.

Top Ten things I learned from finishing the 2012 Greenland 50k.

10. Chafing in the nether regions = not much fun.
9. A little mental victory in one race can go a long way...
8. Recovery time between races is overrated.
7. Not having to stop and heave saves a lot of time.
6. I have several bottles of Endurolytes that have recently become available, any takers?
5. S-Caps are quite lovely.
4. I love Injini socks.
3. My family loves me whether I finish ultras or not.
2. My wife loves me whether I finish ultras or not.
1. My God loves me whether I finish ultras or not.

Back to Back

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Wed, 02 May 2012 04:08:00 +0000

Back to Back

AKA the Top Ten Things I Learned from Repeating as DFL at the Cheyenne Mountain 50k.

How to dance was clearly not one of them. (photo by Paul Monday)

As usual, this race report consists of the short-short version and the unnecessarily long version.

Here goes the short-short version.

I ran the Cheyenne Mountain 50k for the second time.
I finished DFL for the second straight year.
I finished five minutes and 13 seconds before the final cut off. (8:54:47)

And now for the details. I'll probably break the race report up into phases. I think most of my ultra marathons have had similar phases that are characterized by similar feelings and thoughts. Perhaps you can relate.

Phase 1: Denial
I signed up for what? When? Is that today? No really. Seriously. I paid money to go do this?
Got up early with teh wifey to go make the trek to Cheyenne Mountain State Park. This would be teh wifey's first dance over the 26.2. I had supreme confidence in her and her ability to have a great race. She has a long history of loving running, winning races, and just being a very talented runner. I have a long history with Twinkies. I also had my usual assortment of doubts. Could I finish? Could I go a couple of hours without puking? Would the pink fanny pack consume me?
Nevertheless we got there, it was a bit cold, but shaping up pretty nicely. We met up with my Leadville buddy who was looking to smoke the course this year. At the registration table I overheard a familiar blogger's name who I frequently stalk and introduced myself. Then to round out the meet and greet we ran into the fabulous race director Andrea who gave us a big hug and welcome. I informed Andrea that I was back to defend my DFL (Dead *!$%ing Last) title. We got the pre-race briefing and lined up. Everything was going perfectly. Then the running started.

Phase 2: The Part Where I Try to Forget How Long This Will Take
The first part of the course goes up. Then up some more. I started at the end of the line and tried to enforce my personal rule of "Never Ever Ever Pass Someone". There really is no point. Whenever I feel compelled to pass someone I go crazy and think I need to speed up so much that they never catch up to me. Which of course they will and then they will pass me. It's much easier to just avoid the soul-crushing disappointment. It's also better not to think about the fact that you have 28-29 more miles to go. It doesn't help.

I knew last time I had gone out way too fast. I thought if I "started slow and got slower" I would have a chance to hit eight hours or so. Ridiculously slow? Yes. Committed to the strategy? Yes At least until I hit the 5k mark in 44 minutes. Then I freaked out.

Phase 3: The Part Where I Forget I'm Not Really in Shape
Then I got rambunctious. I had been rambling along nice and easy along with another lady who wound up finishing and doing very well. However when I hit the 5k mark in that slow of a time I panicked. I started thinking crazy thoughts. "I've got to pick up the pace or I'll never make it." "I'm going to collapse on the second lap, I've got to bank some time!" "I really missed my calling as a Soul Train dancer!" So I forgot all about my strategy and plan and started booking it along the Blackmer section of the trail. The technical term for this reaction is, dumb. I was bombing downhills, even sneaking in some running up hills and made great time. And wasted a ton of energy way too early. I finished the next 4-5 miles way too fast. At three hours in I had my first krakatoa moment (see shouting at shoes) and knew I had just ignored my hydration strategy while being consumed with making time. Good job, now it's time to pay for your mistakes.

Phase 4: Have I Ever Mentioned How Much Fun it is to Have the Runs while Running?
The only thing I will say about this is that I have postulated a running maxim which in my humble opinion I find to be universally true. You can call it the Streak Run maxim. (OK maybe it needs a different name.) The distance a runner will go off the trail to find a "private" location to do one's business is inversely proportional to the time they have been running. In other words by the time you hit mile twenty, you're lucky if you make it off the center of the trail. Moving on.

Phase 5: Losing the Battle
I inevitably hit this point. In some races I hit it multiple times. It is that point where I am mentally defeated. I don't want to keep trying. I don't want to keep running. I may even consider wearing a black belt with brown dress shoes. I just don't care. Even before the first 15.5 mile lap of two was completed I was ready to be done. I didn't want to start the second lap. I started to rationalize the excuses. Probably due to some encouragement from a volunteer I knew from last year and from the RD when I got to the point of starting the second lap I just kept going. I have no idea why. But I did. I still was rationalizing. I thought at least I will have made it 22 or 23 miles. That's good, right? Better than nothing? This puking is getting old. The "running" is getting REAL old. I have incredibly bad blisters already which I don't normally have. Quitting is perfectly fine right? If I slow down enough on this section I won't even make the 3pm cutoff, then I won't be quitting I will just be stopped. This was my mental state when I turned the corner and saw the love of my life coming towards me on the trail.

Phase 6: Winning the War
I waddled up the trail and gave a big smile to teh wifey. Instantly my thought process changed. She was looking like she was struggling and I wanted to do whatever I could to encourage her and keep her moving. I stopped thinking about myself and got to think about someone else, MUCH better. I believe the three weeks of sickness she was still recovering from was causing real problems for her. I'd like to think I uttered some sort of Knute Rockneyesque Gipper speech which propelled her on to the finish. It was probably more like a grunt and a "YOU CAN DO IT!!!!!" Needless to say she gutted through it and finished well. It was the last time I would see her until the finish.
It was at that point that I had a bit of a mental breakthrough. There was something about giving some encouragement that made me think differently about things. The mantra I had discussed with teh wifey going into this race was "Whatever it takes" Whatever it takes to finish. And so I asked myself, what if? What if instead of slowing down I got back to running? What if instead of saying I can't do this, I can't make this, I said, I can? What if instead of creamy, I mixed in a little super chunk? I'm just saying. I figured in my mind how much time I had before the nine hour cutoff. I knew it was going to be tight. I had wasted a bunch of time and every time there was an option to run or walk I would need to run. Every time there was an option to bomb it down a hill, or wince from blisters and thrashed quads I would need to bomb. Every time I had the option to mix in some interpretive dance in a business meeting, I would need to nail the Anton Artaud. So I did. Every time. For the next five hours.

Phase 7: The Part Where I Keep Asking, Why Are You Running?
It is perhaps a bit strange to dramatize the insanely slow waddling of an extreme back of the pack wannabe ultramarathoner, but then again why not? I must have asked myself a hundred times, "WHY ARE YOU STILL RUNNING?!? JUST STOP!" Normally I would have stopped. Over and over. But I didn't. I wondered whether it would all be for naught. I wondered whether I would crest the final hill only to find myself just a few minutes past nine hours with the finish line packed up again and gone like last year. I wondered if those minutes of puking and uh, other stops would be the final margin. Every second seemed precious. With the help of the fabulous volunteers I sprinted through aid stations like I was in first place and running like I stole something. I gave everything I had. The blisters had grown their own blisters, the puking returned, but I was in this strange zone where I just lowered my head and said "Whatever it takes." Winning these mental battles was a new feeling. It felt good.

Phase 8: The Finish
I came up to the final set of hills and I was still worried. Despite having done the previous loop I couldn't remember how far I had to go. When I hit the last aid station with two miles to go I had far less time than I thought I would have. I had just under thirty one minutes to finish the last stretch. That sounds like a lot, but at that point in the race I was hanging on for dear life and didn't know whether two miles meant 2.0 miles or 2.9999 miles. I went faster. I kept cresting hills hoping for a view of the finish line to know whether this whole day of effort was going to pay off. I just didn't know. Those nagging voices kept suggesting that it was pointless, all this was for naught, you are just wasting all this effort. I took those thoughts out back behind the woodshed with a double-barrel, a shovel, and a bucket of lye and ended the conversation. Finally I reached the last crest. There was literally under ten minutes to go. As I reached it, the RD was there in the sweeping vehicle? and joked, "you know if you had been running you would have gotten here a lot earlier." I grinned. I could see the finish. I was going to make it. Whatever it takes? Oh yeah. I pushed the pace into the finish line. It was still set up! (It's crazy to think your goal is to finish before the tear down is completed, but I don't care, I wanted to run through that stinkin' finish line). I crossed the line, threw my hat in the air, kissed my wife, (she realized I had been puking all day and was somewhat disgusted), I high fived one of the volunteers who had been encouraging me all day long and then did a Kirk Gibsonesque fist pump. Look I know celebrating a DFL is a little bit like celebrating a fluke touchdown when your team is down by 47 points, but I didn't care. I had made it. I had won the mental war. I had done whatever it took. Then I went and puked some more. It was beautiful.

Top Ten Things I Learned from Repeating as DFL at the Cheyenne Mountain 50k

1. I can do this thing.
2. It might take me a long while, but I can do this thing.
3. I wish it didn't take me quite such a long while.
4. Wet wipes are an ultra runner's best friend.
5. Teh wifey is an ultramarathoner! Woot!
6. When your feet are covered with blisters, running feels better than walking.
7. In order to properly secure a DFL you must pace yourself to come as close as possible to the cut-offs. At least, that's my story.
8. I still don't like North Talon. I think I like that sneaky little hill on South Talon even less.
9. Seriously. If you are even thinking about doing an ultramarathon, why in the world wouldn't you do the Cheyenne Mountain Trail Race? It is awesome. Great RD, great volunteers, great organization, great trails. Go do it. Now.
10. Next year there will be a new DFL....

Game Day

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 01:15:00 +0000

Weather forecast? Pain and suffering. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well here we go again.

Tomorrow is the 2nd edition of the Cheyenne Mountain Trail 50k. I am signed up to run it...again. Last time was pretty eventful, it represented the first and only time I have actually finished one of these ultra things I keep trying.

There's not a lot that lends itself to success coming into the race. Prior to Tuesday I had not run in two weeks due to some nasty bronchitis and fever. I'm still on antibiotics. The whole, lose the piano, effort has been going backwards. My conditioning going into the race has been really rather mixed. Also, I'm a little discouraged that Alan Trammell never gets recognition from Hall of Fame voters. But I digress. Optimism is running a bit low. However...

Here are the positives:

Teh wifey is running it! (She is going to smoke her first ultra! And beat me by at least two hours!)
They shortened the course. (Last year it was a mile or two long...)
I have awesome shoes. (Orthopedic fat guy shoes ftw!)
It looks like there might not be snow this year! (Actually that was a fun part.)
I don't have to imagine how bad North Talon will feel on the second lap. I know!
I have a new hydration/salt strategy. (I'm thinking something like this....)

Sweet Acorn flavor!

There isn't even 10,000 feet of elevation gain. Psssht it's like running on a track! (9800' approximately).

All that to say this thing will clearly be a walk in the park. Albeit, that walk may take me nine hours...See you at the finish. (Assuming it isn't packed up again by the time I get there... :)

Every day

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 04:31:00 +0000

Every day is a new day, a new chance at life. It's a chance to start fresh, to pick yourself up and try again. Giving up is so yesterday, so stuck in last week. Why bring along the baggage? Why not just fill in all the space that today's coloring book gives you and then go outside the lines? I don't have time to process and regret everything I said yesterday. I only have time to live and fill up today. Will I be mastered by my thoughts of yesteryear or will I fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds run?

I choose to run.

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Rudyard Kipling

Four Months to Go

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Sat, 03 Mar 2012 05:59:00 +0000

Four months to go.

Not four months until the race. Not four months until my birthday. Not four months until the Olympics.

Just four months to go. March, April, May, and June. Four months of decisions.

Every day for the next four months I have to answer the question. It is a very simple question, but the answer is difficult to give.

Do you want to finish?

The next four months will be the critical period of training and transformation. It is the proverbial putting up hay in the barn. There is no time for cruise control, no time for lackadaisical, haphazard indifference, no time for waiting until tomorrow, no time for bad nutrition, no time for skipped workouts, no time, no time, no time.

In four months I'll be running a fifty mile warm up race that I have failed at twice before. If I pay the price between now and then I will be ready for the race and I will have laid the foundation for August. If I don't give the right answer every day between now and then, well there's no make up quiz.

I'll give an answer to this daily question in three ways:

What I eat.
How I train.
Making the hard choice.

Pretty simple right? It just takes some blood, sweat, tears, a whole lot of body glide, and some desire. It's always a question of desire. Are you willing to pay the price or not? Are you willing to sacrifice the time, push through the pain, embrace the difficult path and bypass the easy one? We'll all find out on August 18-19th. Just know, that I will have already answered the question about 122 times between now and then.

Running and Getting Laughed at

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 15:25:00 +0000

So I ran recently, and something strange happened.

I saw a hyena.

No really, a hyena was crossing my path during my run the other day. It didn't hurt that I was in Tanzania at the time. Thankfully there wasn't a pack of them laughing at my running form, but it did spice things up a bit.

There also was an epic running showdown. After I had completed the non-planned, random, "jump out and run some arbitrary distance" run, I ran into a few folks from the summit I was attending who wanted to run.

Problem.

Running with people. Hmmm. This would require human contact and perhaps even speaking. Since I'm usually gasping for air at a thirteen minute mile pace, that is a problem. Then there is the whole social interaction thing. Yeah I usually try to avoid this. However, in this case I thought to myself, how often are you in Africa and get invited to a track meet?

Game on.

So I went and ran a few additional laps, slowly, on the grounds of the place we were staying along with another American as well as a Kenyan. There was an additional Kenyan who was going to come but he was obviously intimidated by the incredible physical specimen that I am. So on the last lap the Kenyan slowed down and ran with me. I took this to mean he wanted an all out running duel over the course of the next four hundred meters. Well let me tell you, the duel in the hot Tanzanian sun was an epic one. There we were, jogging around the track, bantering in the way only truly "elite" athletes can, putting on an epic show (at least 10 minute mile pace). Then we finished a lap. At that point all the benefits of really mediocre ultramarathon training kicked in. I may not have trained to have Edwin Moses type speed, but I can run really, really slowly for a short time. Well upon finishing the lap my Kenyan friend decided to opt out from running any further. Some could look at this as him deciding that running any further at that ridiculously slow speed would be revolting. However I look at it like this:

Winner, winner chicken dinner! Me=faster than Kenyans.

'nuff said.

Writing Checks

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 04:42:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia

It's almost become a tradition at this point. I suppose that January is the time that people start thinking about improving their fitness. Resolutions, and gym memberships, and realizing that tire around your waist isn't a set of left over water wings are all part of it I suppose. For me it is the time when people start asking me, "So are you going to try that Leadville thing again?" The answer is of course yes, and it is a good reminder that I'd better start busting my hump in earnest if I'm going to make any progress towards this goal. It really is only a short time away already, and it would be easy to think about all the reasons that any work is futile. However I'm stubborn enough and bull-headed enough to try again anyways.

All that being said I really would like to establish some different traditions. More like, how many ultras are you going to finish this year, and how fast are you trying to run it this time around? Instead of, are you going to try and finish it.? Baby steps. First things first. I realize.

It's time to invest. Banking miles now with the idea of reaping dividends in August. That is my financial plan. It's painful at times to cough up the extra change and spend time and sweat paying the cost now, but I think, I hope, I dream that the final payday will be worth it. It seems a long ways off, but I'm going to think strategically. Keep an eye on those p/e ratios (hill training), diversify the portfolio (strength training and cross training), reinvest the dividends (speed work), and max out the 401k (high mileage weeks). All this of course has to fit in the budget (sound nutrition and losing the piano). The formula is simple. Time to write some checks.

Ultras ruin everything

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 20:12:00 +0000

Scottish Highlands - Image via Wikipedia

Have you ever noticed how running ultramarathons (and running in general) ruin things in your life?

This was reconfirmed last night while watching a movie (The Eagle, if you are interested and no I am not recommending it in any way **insert full legal disclaimer** and yes there are a few vague spoilers)

In the movie there is a point where two characters are literally running from a band of brigands over rough territory in Scotland and Northern England. They start off on horseback and after the horse goes lame they have to hoof it themselves. Well of course there comes the emotional climax when the protagonist who has had a sword slice on one of his legs can continue on no further due to exhaustion. His side kick, who for various reasons has mixed loyalties, has to make the dramatic choice of staying with his friend or leaving him behind to be killed by the coming ever closer marauders. Now a normal person enjoys this movie moment, is caught up in the tension of the conflict, and if you are Aristotlean in your outlook, experience a little catharsis.

However, my reaction was different. Can't continue? Seriously? Get your rump up and get moving. No excuses! Sword slashes are for wimps. Not only will you be slaughtered if you don't get up, you won't get a finisher's medal! (Cutoffs any one?) Also, why did his pacer let him sit down in the first place? Big mistake. Keep that guy moving, sitting down let's him think about it and his muscles tighten up and cramp. Pacer dude is definitely failing in his job if he's gonna let his runner sit around and whine about not being able to go on. Relentless forward progress my man. Psssht please, can't go on. If you can talk you can walk. Move it!

Am I the only one who relates a preponderance of life experiences to running ultras?

Moonfall

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 22:57:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia

In a long dark distant past I knew something about the dramatic arts. Not this kind of dramatic arts, or this kind or this kind or even this kind, more like...this kind. The result of that, and having been coerced into directing a few musicals is that occasionally I'll get strange lyrics stuck into my head like, oh say this one...

Moonfall, I feel its fingers
Lingers the veil of nightshade...
Light made from stars that all too soon fall.
Moonfall that pours from you.
Betwixt our hearts, let nothing intervene.
Between our eyes, the only sight I've seen
Is lust'rous moonfall as it blinds my view,
So that soon I only see but you.

Very motivational stuff for the running playlist wouldn't you say?

So that song is best played when I run at night and during what I think of as a type of "Moonfall". In our neck of the woods, on a moon-filled, cloudless night, it sometimes appears so bright that it seems as if it's day time again. It's a little bit eerie but nice because no headlamp is necessary. There's no city light and almost no household lights around so it is a fun time to run.

Do I lose a corner of my man card for this?

Now that I've given you your glimpse of my secret inner life, what is the strangest item on your mp3 player right now? The strangest thing stuck in your head while running?

Pushing into the Night

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 04:14:00 +0000

Steve Guttenberg (Image via RottenTomatoes.com)

Have you ever really struggled? Have you ever just met a challenge that seemed impossible? Have you ever tried and failed and tried and failed and then failed utterly? Have you ever tried to complete an all day Steve Guttenberg movie marathon beginning and ending with Cocoon II: The Return? Have you ever just wanted to give up? Or throw up (paraphrase of previous question?)

I'll admit I've been struggling a bit. Had a few more down days than up of late. Life can "feel" a bit dark and heavy at times. Similar to being sat on by a morbidly obese gorilla without the body lice.

What to do?

A) Give up, put on the fancy pants, and wait for the backhoe to extract your two thousand pound corpse from the living room couch.

B) Write blog posts about what you should do, think about what you should do, do google searches for what to do, and spend your time on anything else that doesn't actually involve 'do'ing.

C) Keep fighting.

It doesn't matter how many times you've failed. It doesn't matter how many times you've quit. The past doesn't matter. The critics don't matter. Your own lies and doubts and memories don't matter. That time you bombed out of the geography bee in 4th grade really doesn't matter. All that matters is the next try. The next attempt. What are you going to do right now? Not five minutes from now, not in the sixth hour of some potential run, not in next month's deposition to the grand jury. What are you going to do NOW?

Allow me to posit an answer for you and for me.

Lace 'em up.

Signing on the dotted line.

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 05:57:00 +0000

Image via WikipediaI signed up again.

I have performed this crazy act before...

So why try again?

Why go through all the pain and suffering? The early mornings, the late nights, the lost time for doing other things with family and friends, the mental grind, the push, the cost, the mental anguish, the endless lubrication, the sweating, the stiff joints and aches in the morning, the dread of another high mile week, the sticky pockets from stuffing food in them for multi-hour runs, the loneliness......the solitude, the peace, the putting out big mileage numbers, the sweet ache of working out hard, the pore-cleansing sweat taking off pounds, the smooth joy of Body Glide, the challenge of working for something hard, the reward from achieving that something hard, the visceral feel of moving in a direction with purpose, the thrill of the fight to say yes when everything and everyone says no, having friends and family join you in the crazy adventure, being up and out and in the wilds when everyone else is in bed...

Wait, what was the question?

The answer is, I'm in.

My Shopping List

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 05:20:00 +0000

Image via WikipediaSo I went to the store to pick up a few things today. There was no sale. Everything was listed at the full price. There were no discounts, no 10% off coupons, no buy six get one free. There was no frequent shopper card, no volume discounts, no free dessert on your birthday. Everything at this store costs what it costs and you can either pay the price or go home empty handed.

Today I went shopping for some new goals.

Here is what I came up with, along with the corresponding price.

1. Goal: I would like to change a certain number from a "2" to a "1".
Price: Eat consistently right, track progress, don't fall into destructive cycles, get back to running.

2. Goal: I would like to become a meathead (aka muscle-bound oaf) (or at least be able to do more than one pushup)
Price: Learn what a Romanian Dead Lift is, and follow the plan that my olympian meathead friend sent to me. Also, I must abandon hope of lifting my arms above my head the day after I "lift".

3. Goal: I would like to finish a 100 miler, finish the Leadville 100, qualify and run the Hardrock 100.
Price: Run. Also, run some more. Finally, keep running and don't stop. Then again, I might have to run. The other thing I was thinking was that I will probably have to do a bit of running.

4. Goal: Run a sub 20 minute 5k. (stop laughing)
Price: Speed work, Consistency of workouts, Lose the piano (see #1 above)

5. Goal: Run an ultra with teh wifey.
Price: Convince her having two people training for an ultra is possible while still remembering the names of our children.

6. Goal: Do all of the above and still be the husband, father, servant, family member, friend, and rodeo clown that I want to be.
Price: Find balance?

So that is quite a shopping list. I'm not sure I can afford all of these. I might have to pick and choose. I might have to put some on layaway and save up. All that being said, I have some money in my pocket and may have to spend it on a few things. After all, the price might go up. The store might close. I might not be able to afford these fun things some day. Think they take credit?

Friends and Family Plan

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 03:08:00 +0000

Image via WikipediaSo. There have been some kewl things happening in the running world.

First of all there was this. Chris, an amazing streak runner, finished 1000 days of running. Incredible! Amazing. Having done a small streak myself I feel like I can appreciate a little of what he went through. He had some crazy stuff happen including dog bites, sickness, injuries, etc. but still managed to persevere. Very inspiring stuff if you ask me.

Then there was this. A couple of - awesome people/uber fast runners/trail fiends had an amazing race. Sounds simple, but there is so much joy in the race report you should really check it out. My favorite word in the whole report is the use of the term "Ahem."

Third of all there was this. Teh wifey has been working in some runnin' and followed it with some racin'. She competed in the Xterra Trail Half-Marathon at Cheyenne Mountain Park this past Saturday. Let me tell you the conditions were intense. The temperature never got above 40 degrees and it rained/snowed the entire time. The trails were complete mud, the rocks were slick, and for whatever reason none of the aid stations had any food?!? Despite all of that she crossed the finish line with a smile on her face and I'm quite sure she wouldn't have had it any other way. Hard Core!

I dunno about you but I love and am inspired by seeing friends and family experiencing joy and success and I just had to share.

p.s. I started training again.

DWI

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 05:19:00 +0000

No, I haven't received a Driving While Intoxicated. I haven't been pursuing a run on Dancing with the Stars by, Dancing With Intensity. And despite the many signs I also don't fit the demographic category of Dumb Whitey Inbreds.

Image via Wikipedia

Instead I was reading through some random news articles and I was reading a story about Navy Seals. A team of Seals was conducting an informational and inspirational talk and were describing some difficult situations during a recent deployment to Afghanistan. The term that they commonly used in describing how they pushed through the ridiculously hard challenges was DWI. In this case DWI stands for Deal With It. There wasn't a detailed methodological formula as to what this meant. None was needed.

It caused me to think about the fact that, too many times when faced with the inevitable difficult or challenging situation we come up with far too many excuses, or complicated plans, or overreactions based on fear, or rationalizations or just plain analysis paralysis. I think running is like that. We can either linger on the fear, uncertainty, and doubt, or just keep trying, keep pushing, keep running.

Around the same time I was reading a race report from Ryan Burch about the Run Rabbit Run 50 miler around Steamboat Springs, CO. Apparently the weather turned bad, and the wind and rain and sleet and snow and hypothermic temperatures made for a rather challenging day. But what I liked about Ryan's description was that there was no internal dialogue about quitting or making excuses or wishing he had brought different gear. The bottom line was, deal with it and finish the race. Which he did.

So?

Haven't followed the training plan for the big race faithfully? DWI

Haven't pushed away from the Godfather's buffet early and often enough? DWI

Plagued by fears and doubts that you will never achieve your dream? DWI

Made mistakes, failed over and over, got knocked down and don't want to get up? DWI

Miss out on the Lombardi trophy and need something to do in the offseason? DWI

2011 Leadville Race Report - Ultrarunning is life.

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 04:06:00 +0000

Hello friends and welcome to another edition of my Leadville 100 trail run race report.

I don't think it will be as long as last time, but there are no guarantees.

For those who like to skip ahead, I missed the Twin Lakes outbound cut off by thirteen minutes and thus completed 40 miles in 10 hours and thirteen minutes.

For those who like a few more of the gory details, read on.

Honestly, I'm not sure what I'd like to say at this point. The prevailing thought that I have come away with from this last weekend and really the entire year is that training and attempting an ultramarathon like Leadville is a lot like life. I spent about ten months training for an event that, for me, lasted only ten hours. When I was standing at the start line at 4AM on Saturday morning with a couple of friends, I remarked that "this race is going to be over in the blink of an eye." I think due to my propensity for sarcastic humor they thought I was joking about how long thirty hours might feel, but I wasn't. I was really commenting on the fact that all of these months of training, all of the long runs, all of the preparatory races, all of the organization, all of the packing supplies, and planning crew, and asking people to come, all of it was going to be over in one short moment. This was my experience from last time. It seems like it takes so long to come, but then when it does, it's gone before you know it.

And depending on how you look at it, that moment can define a lot of things. Going through a DNF (Did Not Finish) can be catastrophic. All that investment, the time, the money, the sweat and tears and what is the result? Failure. And there is at least an entire year to wait to try and achieve redemption. This race and life outlook is one that I have been tempted and probably occasionally succumbed to. However I'm not going to do that today. I could tell you about the splits (2:39 to MayQueen yeah!), and the puking (it was so loud people thought I was dying), and the race approach (don't stop moving), and the hydration problems (is black goo in your hydration pack a bad thing?), and the struggle up the hills (where did those hills after Half-Pipe come from? Yowser), and more of the puking (Krakatoa would have been proud) , and the cramping for many, many hours (running with one leg entirely straight looks funny), and the leg locks (you know, besides the break dancing), and the mental battles (do you want my styrofoam peanuts?), and the heartbreak of just missing the cutoffs (some film crew caught it on tape). But I'm going to tell you about something else today. I'm going to tell you about the sheer joy of being there and enjoying the final step of a long journey.

Before I started my run, I decided to enjoy each moment and here are some of them:

- Physically standing in a parking spot on Harrison street while one of our crew vehicles drove back to get a forgotten item. We had some interesting conversations with folks who wanted to park there...

- Praying with a good friend before the race (we got it right this time!)

- Standing at the starting line with two other good friends who were running the race, and just soaking up all the energy and excitement.

- Running by folks cheering us on in the early morning sections. Our pattern was that my friend would ask them for a cigarette and I would ask for a revolver.

- Smokin' it to Tabor Boat ramp in about 1:12.

- Seeing the alien swarm of headlights rise up into the night at the first hill.

- Hearing the traditional hooting and hollering and pretend animal noises echo across the lake.

- Looking up at the stars in the sky.

- Running past the spot I spent thirty minutes puking last time...and only dry heaving...

- Getting cheered by other runners for the volume and intensity of your burps.

- Holding back on the May Queen section conserving energy but still moving fast.

- Coming into May Queen with lots of other people around me within my goal time frame (2:30-2:39) and not being mentally defeated already!

- Dancing along the rocky single track which starts the hill up to Sugar Loaf.

- Puking so loudly I caused a race official to scramble down from Hagerman road to see if I was still alive (it was funny).

- The amazing view towards the top of the hill where I could see Turquoise Lake shrouded in fog and see the town of Leadville in the distance.

- Getting to the top of Sugarloaf pass!

- Not having my quads die from running down Powerline.

- Passing people, and staying ahead of them.

- Not having to sprint into Fish Hatchery just to make the cutoff.

- Taking my time to browse the buffet of eats at the aid station.

- Not having a mental breakdown and shouting match on Half-Moon road this time.

- Coming across a random runner laying in the middle of the road doing pushups.

- The wondrous feeling of "making good time."

- The wondrous feeling of thinking "so you're saying there's a chance."

- Not giving up, even with some crazy leg cramps.

- Not getting lost!

- Having an awesome unbelievable crew that got me through every aid station faster than anyone else.

- Seeing new parts of the trail.

- Feeling like I was a little, tiny bit "in shape."

- Not having to stop at Half-Pipe aid station.

- Unsettling casual hikers with your insane adventures.

- Descending the last little hill into Twin Lakes (I'd only seen others do it in videos up to this point.)

- Running the last few steps of my race, hand in hand with my best friend, while hearing the cheers of so many good friends, and as the official cut my band, having one of my little children sprint over and give me the biggest hug in the world.

Thanks to all those who shared these latest steps in the journey with me, crewing, preparing to pace, coming out to run the silly thing and just having great fellowship. Thanks to the family for checking in on me after the race. Thanks to teh wifey for encouraging me and putting up with me all along the way and being the best crew chief and wife and mother ever.

God is good to me. My life nor my race is not defined by individual moments, but by the entirety of the journey. I'm going to try to live each step that I am blessed to take, to the fullest.

Final Weigh In

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Thu, 18 Aug 2011 14:00:00 +0000

My eyes are bleeding from looking at pacing spreadsheets.

I tweaked my knee and it feels like I strained a ligament.

I am second and third and fifty-fourth guessing all of my gear, training, and general personal hygiene choices.

We have more packed than will ever fit into two vans.

...

It must be time for Leadville.

364 days of training and waiting for another shot are just about upon us.

God is good, and getting to this point is success. There are a whole lot of friends coming and pacing and running and it will be fun just to be there.

Right now I choose to believe. I choose to toe the line and give it my best. I choose to not quit, to speed up when it hurts, and to faithfully honor those who have supported me by doing everything I can to cross the line at 6th and Harrison in under 30 hours. If it was easy, it wouldn't be fun. :)

See you at Hope Pass.

20 Days to go - Last Long Run

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 04:04:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia, Carbonation via high fructose corn syrup.

Is this a normal thing for a four year old daughter to say? "Mama, when I get older I'm going to do a fifty mile hour run, so when I get done I can take a really long bath."

Context is everything I suppose. I was doing my normal torture training by sitting in an ice bath following today's long run and she was begging to get in. I suppose having parents who run does have an impact on impressionable young minds...

So that's it. There are no more long runs to go. No more 60+ mile weeks (some of which I make, some I don't). There are no more trying things out, or figuring out the gear, or experimenting with more hydration options (I've settled on a trail running-friendly IV unit, as soon as I find one). There is only the countdown. I got in a four hour run today. Did it intentionally in the hottest part of the day to do some analysis of my sweat rate (measured in gallon buckets) and try out the final approach for food, hydration, and salt (twinkies, whiskey, and licking my arm, respectively.) There was no puking so I will call it a success.

I was joined by the best pacer any one could ask for. AKA teh wifey/coach/co-conspirator/inspiration/friend. She was trying out our pacing system and kept me going up the hill (are hill repeats in the heat a bad idea?) for many miles and even came by later with the support crew in the urban assault vehicle. My six year old son jumped out of the van and sprinted to me with arms open wide to give me a huge hug. Does it get much better? Oh yeah, the ice cold Sprite and the soundtrack of the Imperial march (my running looked more like a death march) to keep me going. Score.

And so now we wait. We try not to spend too much time obsessing about things, we resist the urge to go do multi-hour runs and we refer to ourselves in the royal third person. We should do this more often.

Here's to us having a great time going through taper madness! (Since we're royalty it will probably just be chalked up to in-breeding.)

Flashbacks and Running Advice

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 03:27:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia, Faux Injury via Russian Soccer player.

About 360 days ago, I wrote this post. Strangely enough I should probably post it again.

I have today, very exciting news. I was all set to go start my re-re-re-redemption try again tour part four when I suddenly have pain in my shin again. In the same spot as one year ago. The pain isn't as bad, though I also seem to have a slightly sprained foot which causes me to limp. This is good stuff. No really. I am a newly born optimist. All these things can come to good. The shin pain, which I'm assuming will go away with a few days of rest (optimism) will only prevent me from doing crazy things like trying to run 50 miles again, this weekend, and force me into a normal taper. This is good. If I didn't have these last minute injuries I would probably go crazy and try to hit eighty mile weeks when at this point it does me absolutely no good. So. Let the taper begin.

Also let the running advice begin. Look there are a LOT of things you can read about running. There are a lot of things you can read about ultras. There are experts, and coaches, and pfffbbbtt people talking who've actually finished races, but when I need the bottom line, rock solid, no doubt about it running advice, there is only one source to go to. My perpetually dancing, prancing, and smiling four year old daughter.

Here are quotes from tonight's dinner about the running strategy I should use..

"Don't sit down by the side of the road and quit."
"When you get tired, just walk for a while."
"Start slow, then get faster."
"When you get to the end, run as fast as you can."
"Don't you quit Daddy!" (said with a half serious/half grinning face)

What else do you need to know?

Drinky Drink

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 13:10:00 +0000

Ok. Enough of that nonsense.

The honesty and critical introspection phase of the blog is over. It lasted 24 hours longer than I like. It's time to run.

Try #2 at 50 miles didn't go so well, I figure, why not try again? So I'm going to, on Saturday. 70 miles this week, 50 miles on Saturday, location TBD. Why don't they have 50 milers every weekend instead of 5ks? I'm not pretending last week didn't happen because I have to learn from it and get stronger. Whoah sorry sounds a little self-helpy. I'll leave that to this guy.

I've been reading AGAIN on hydration and all of that. Here is an interesting article on the Succeed site. I particularly like the chart which shows various symptoms that might be experienced while working out and how it positions them by Low, Medium, High levels of Hydration and of electrolytes.

Here is an excerpt of where I find myself most often, usually after about five minutes of running...

"Hydration: LOW
Electrolytes LOW
Hyponatremia with dehydration
Likelihood: rareWeight is down a few pounds or more
Thirst is high, and salty foods taste good
Mouth is dry, can’t spit
May have cramping
Skin is dry and may tent if pinched
May have dizziness on standing up
Causes: insufficient drinking, no electrolyte
intake
What to do: Take electrolytes and drink
sports drink or waterCopyright SUCCEED! Sportsdrink LLC,
2007 "

Thus I am reexamining my hydration strategy. One particular item that I often see thrown about is the statistic of how much liquid your body can absorb in one hour. I see it over and over again stated (almost universally without a reference to actual research) that you can only absorb 32 oz / hour. Now I assume there must be some research to support this but I sure would like to read this myself. Any hydration researchers out there?

Finally, here is my random Leadville Race report of the week. I can not help myself when it comes to reading these things. If I'm an expert at anything it is Leadville Race reports, because I've read hundreds of them. I enjoyed RUTrunner's because of the great detail he put in on each part of the race, very informative!

Belief

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 13:02:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia

There is no reason to believe.

There is NO reason to believe.

In fact there is a mountain of evidence to suggest you should not believe.

I've started six ultramarathons and finished one. The one I did finish I was DFL and it took me over nine hours to do 31 miles (16:49 pace if you are keeping score at home).

The other races I have missed cutoffs because I slowed down and quit or just quit outright and dropped. I've puked multiple times, gotten blisters, had breathing problems, knee problems, plantar fasciitis, and generally been dehydrated in every race I have run. In fact it may be impossible for me to stay hydrated. I've never peed during a race (a normal sign of proper hydration) and I probably sweat more than my stomach can possibly take in. My knees sound like Rice Krispies every time I bend them. Sometimes my nose/throat swells up while running and it feels like I am "breathing" through my ear. No really. I'd say I wear orthopedic shoes and get sick just smelling booze, but that would be piling on. Physically I am weak.

I weigh 250 lbs. Enough said.

I don't run fast, in fact I probably couldn't run under 28 minutes in a 5k. My marathon PR is 5:15 and I've been as slow as six hours on a course with no elevation gain. I've never run more than forty miles and the time I did I thought I was going into shock afterwards.

I'm not a good climber, even power walking. The piano on my back slows me down. I don't have the strength or will to power walk (more like stumblin', runblin' and bumblin') and thirty minute miles going up hills are not abnormal.

I don't run fast down hills. My knees/feet hurt after a few hours and I'm too tentative to gain back much of the time I lost ambling up the hill.

When I'm on level ground I go slow and slower. If I start off doing five minutes of running for every one minute of walking, it isn't very long before that trend is reversed and I'm walking five times more than I run.

I'm a quitter. Evidence has shown that I'm not willing to endure the pain and push through the bad patches. My willpower wanes when things get tough and many times all I can think about is quitting.

I'm a perfectionist. The first time anything happens which could vaguely be interpreted as bad, or a mistake, I jump to complete and abject failure. I accept defeat. In fact I rush to defeat, I embrace it, look for it, make friends with it, and translate anything that happens to mean defeat. Mentally I am weak.

I'm five weeks out from Leadville and had another epic failure at an ultra. At the North Fork 50 yesterday I did worse than I did the previous year. 20 miles, fell apart after two hours, had some strange breathing problems, stumbled around for a few more hours and dropped.

Bottom line: I suck at running, and have no business trying to do ultramarathons.

...

My response to all of this?

...

I believe.

Wyld Stallyns

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 03:28:00 +0000

Image by Looking Glass via Flickr

I am ready to go.

Someone asked me the always asked question of, "Are you ready?" in reference to Saturday's North Fork 50 miler. The way my brain worked, I instantly tried to think of a reason for why I'm not. I couldn't think of one.

I don't have a ton of miles but I've had some good hard runs. I've put in some relevant mileage. Other than a few shin twinges my legs feel fresh and ready to tear up the mountain. I could be a lot lighter but I'm on my way down. I'm leaner and meaner than I was last year. I know how I will feel after nine hours in the heat. I know I will want to stop, but right now I'm preparing to do what is necessary. I will feel pain, I will want to quit, I will want to slow down, I will want to give up. I will not.

Instead, I'm going to have fun running 50 miles in the mountains.

Bill S. Preston, Esquire would demand nothing less.

40 Days and 40 Nights

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 05:13:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia Caffeine via I.V.

The countdown is getting serious now.

40 Days to go.

220 miles of training to go.

Two more "hard" weeks of training to go (e.g more than 60 miles per week).

320 hours of quality sleep to go.

2,347 bypassed cans of Mountain Dew to go.

40,000 net calories to go.

23 lucid dreams about Leadville where I'm either running naked or get lost, to go. (Wait, are those dreams?)

Losing a four year old child off my back to go. (buh bye poundage)

One fifty mile ultramarathon warmup redemption race to go.

One stroll on the red carpet at 6th and Harrison to go.

I'm really not obsessive compulsive about this thing, it just sort of sneaks into my mind every two or three seconds.

354 miles to go - Dear Diary

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 04:04:00 +0000

Image via Wikipedia

Dear Diary, -err Running Journal,

It has been 220 miles since my last blog post. A few things have happened.

Some mountains have been run. Some miles have been logged. Some shoes have been worn out. Some sweat has been oozed. Some flight miles have been logged (30,000 or so). Some running on other continents has occurred. Some craziness has been engaged in. Some twenty and thirty mile runs have been done. Some thousands of feet of elevation have been climbed. Some sixty mile weeks have been trudged through (OK just one). Some coaching has been received. Some low spots have burned. Some high spots have inspired. Some running has been done.

Forty-six days to go to Leadville.

That pretty much catches you up on things.

Once again we are on the home stretch. The North Fork 50 miler is in eleven days. It is the next stop on Ace's redemption tour of failed ultramarathons. I've actually been feeling pretty good of late. A Pike's Peak ascent and descent on Saturday actually felt pretty good. There have been some minor breakthroughs on pacing as well that are encouraging. I'm still working on downgrading my piano to a harpsichord (i.e. lose more weight) but progress is slowly being made.

So I hope all your crazy dreams and goals are progressing well and that they involve twinkies and runs in the mountains. Wanna do 50? (twinkies that is...)

574 Miles to Go - 50 and 50

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Sun, 29 May 2011 04:03:00 +0000

So this post has, a, few, precedents...

Check it fools! I done run fast. Thirty-one miles fast. You like that? You want some more? Chew on it for a while running suckahs. You feeling my speed, my amazing endurance, and sweet aroma (just go with it)? Yeah you like it, I know you do. That's why you keep coming back for more. I pity the fool that tries to get me on that plane...

/end Mr.T inspired rant

You probably didn't know it, but there was a very elite race today, run out in the boondocks of Colorado.

It is called the First Annual Streakrun.com No Puke 50k. And hey I was the winner and also set the course record! Pretty sweet for me. The race was, in fact, so exclusive that I was the only runner. But hey, it made race management much easier. Though that one guy did complain a lot.

I ran fifty kilometers today. My time was 7:14 or so. That is around one hour and forty-five minutes faster than this other 50k I finished. Admittedly today's course was much easier, (2500' of elevation gain?) but hey a "PR" is a "PR", especially when it happens in a "race", right? The big change today was there was no eruption of Mount Krakatoa. I basically drank three to four swallows of water every eight to ten minutes and ate a Gel every thirty minutes. On this day, it worked perfectly. My shoes were clean and the side of the road had no liquid fertilizer. It helped that the extreme wind kept things rather cold (optimism at fighting through the sand storm?) so I didn't have to try and figure out additional salt. Also I ate bacon. Eating bacon always results in fast times, guaranteed. It's a universal truth.

Today I really started visualizing Leadville. It helped that I started running this morning at 3:45AM. And I actually felt encouraged. My time was almost suggestive that I might even make a few cutoffs. This is nice. Here's to 50ks under eight hours and weekly mileage totals over fifty.

p.s. Do you think a mohawk would enhance my professional work appearance?

605 Miles to Go - Getting the band together

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Wed, 25 May 2011 20:10:00 +0000

There are exactly 87 days until Leadville 2011. After looking at version seventeen of my training plan today, I was reminded that the time available to actually prepare for this ridiculous idea of a run is rapidly diminishing. If I have a five week taper or so, that leaves about eight weeks of hard training. Eight weeks. Since the training plan started back in October of last year, you can understand why I might be feeling a little bit of increased pressure. There is also the fact that there are seventeen versions of the training plan because I generally haven't done a very good job of following the plan. Skipping runs, getting sick, being lazy, reading blogs about running, and being generally unmotivated get in the way of logging miles.

All that to say: there's no turning back.

It's go time. There can be no quitting, no stopping, no giving in, just moving forward. There are no guarantees that any of this will produce the result, but I'm committed to this course and I will pursue it.

Every day for the next eight weeks I have to remain focused on the goal. Having been a high school sports coach I am prone to cheesy motivational activities. So a few months ago I "bought" something that was gouda-flavored.

It's hard to see but the band says Hope ^2 or Hope Squared. Then there are some mountains on both sides of the words. What does it mean? Well for me there is a spiritual component to my hope and there is a running component to my hope. The underlying principle of both is that hope has to be lived out practically. If I place my trust and faith in God or on anything else, (like the idea that I could finish a 100 mile race in the mountains) then my actions will match that. If I believe in the possibility of earning a buckle, then I necessarily will run. And train. And stop trying to relive episodes of Man vs Food at home. The other layer of meaning for Hope ^2 is of course that to finish the race you must go over Hope Pass at 12,600' of elevation. Twice.

So why wear a bright green, glow in the dark (ok, I love that part, it will help guide me on the trails through the night, right? Also, it freaks out teh wifey :)) piece of silicone? Well for me, it's like a string tied around my finger. It is there to remind me. I need to be reminded of what my goals are, what I need to do to try and get there, and most of all to remind me where my hope is placed.

Cheesy? Yeah, go cut a slice. Hopeful? I am.

Where is your hope?