I knew I was in for an ass-kicking going into Saturday’s Ruck a Chuck. It was just that, and I loved every minute of it.
Well, I loved every minute of it after it was over that is…
Hamstrung
I’ve been training for the Zion 100 since early January, and wanted to do a 50k back in early February as an early gauge of fitness. I’d had my eye on Ruck a Chuck since January, thinking that I’d use it as a second 50k to benchmark my training progress. I expected January to be my “strength month,” February to be my “length month” and March to be my “sharpen & speed month.”
But alas, all of that unwound with a moderate hamstring pull in mid-January just as I was ramping up my training. I wasn’t ready for a 50k in early February and the rest of last month didn’t get much better with a second round of hamstring problems.
On top of the injuries, work and life overtook a chunk of my typical training time, so I’ve been cutting corners on training week after week – fewer quality miles, a little less weight training and Cross-Fit, and a couple of weeks of less-than-stellar nutrition. At one point, I engaged in a 4-day fasting exercise to drop the extra weight that had crept up on me.
I was also considering the Shasta 4mph challenge this weekend, but Ruck a Chuck was closer to home – only an hour away and no overnight – and with my recent schedule with life and work, it was a better option, plus the elevation and full course would be better for testing my running fitness and nutrition planning than the back-and-forth six mile route for the Shasta 4mph challenge.
Race Day Morning
Saturday was a wet, wet, wet, wet day. I left Davis before 6:00 am, arrived to the upper parking lot at Driver’s Flat around 7am and hopped on the shuttle down the start area. I brought all of my gear down to the starting line, opting to change and pre-race down at the start area. The early morning rain was holding off so far, but the start area was muddy with soupy red clay. I found a spot on a grassy area, using my poncho as a ground covering to keep my stuff dry.
Most of my nutrition and backpack was ready to go from Friday night’s pre-race prep, so really my final prep was to make sure everything was in order and to decide what gear to wear and pack. I decided to wear my rain jacket to keep dry with the forecast and a long-sleeve running shirt underneath to stay warm, then packed an extra dry shirt and a pair of socks.
My trekking poles were the best part of my gear. From what I could tell, I was the only one that had them, and maybe they were overkill for a 50k but with the hills and the slop, I wanted a way to arrest any falls on the downhill sections and a way to pull my self up the up-hills. I love my trekking poles – easily one of the best purchases I’ve ever made in my life.
Pre-Race Prep & Expectations
Ruck a Chuck is an “out and back” course – 15.5 miles out along the Western States Trail, hit the turnaround about a mile past the Cal 1 marker, then back to the starting area. The event website didn’t have an elevation profile, so I had to look for previous year race reports for an elevation profile. From what I found, I expected the “out” portion of the course to be mostly downhill, then the back to be mostly uphill.
I did a 14-mile trail run about a month ago from Auburn to Cool and felt pretty good that day, running a couple of 8:30 min/miles on the flat and downward sloping trail sections, so I figured that if I could keep a good pace today, I should average 9:30-10:00/min miles pace on the what I thought was a mostly downhill “out” section. After hitting the turnaround, even with a 14:00 min/mile pace heading back, that’d average out to a 12:00 min/mile pace and a 6-hour finishing time finish.
The main goals were:
- Don’t get injured
- Find my way to the finish line.
- Finish in under six hours
I’m usually pretty good about nailing my race plan – pace and time – but this time I was WILDLY off…
The first few miles…
Countdown. Air horn. And away we go!
The first mile was steep a downhill on a fire trail. I’m not much of a downhiller, so plenty of people bombed past me. I just focused on picking my way down the hill and finding a rhythm, using my trekking poles to take the pressure off my knees and legs. My hamstring problems persisted in my mind, and I wanted to make sure I was properly warmed up before worrying too much about my pace.
We hit a water crossing in the first mile – the first of about 16 or so along the trail. Better to accept it because squishy feet were going to be non-negotiable today.
Water crossings #2 and #3 in Mile 2 – both much deeper with water running up to my calves. The footing was unstable and I was happy to have my poles here again. There was an aid station right away, which seemed odd so early in the race. I skipped it, still searching for any semblance of a rhythm.
By Mile 3, I already started to feel like I was in for a long day. I expected the course to be mostly downhill for the first 15.5 miles, but we hit a little bit of an uphill which was surprising.
The good news was that as I ran, I found realized that I was nasal breathing much of the way. This has been a focus in my training runs these past six weeks – only breathing in and out of my nose. I found this to be relatively easy on slow to moderate training runs, and a bit more difficult on harder runs. It was interesting to see that I was now doing this instinctively on the course, and I used it as a governor to my pace. Comfortably nasal-breathe meant I wasn’t pushing too hard, and early in the race, there was no reason to push hard. After the short uphill and subsequent downhill, I hit more climbing at Mile 5.
WTF?!
In Mile 6, I was feeling some tightness in my upper hamstring. I didn’t feel like it was pulling, just tightness, but piano string tight… I took it easy on the pace, not that I had much choice with my overall fitness level or the course. Aside from a couple of short downhill sections, by Mile 7, I felt like I was persistently running uphill.
By Mile 8, I still hadn’t found any rhythm. It felt like work. I tried to tell myself that I was finally making a dent in the course now. I started thinking hard about the Mile 10 aid station as a checkpoint, and I figured that from the aid station, I could coax myself into another five miles to the turnaround at 15.5, and then it was just a matter of getting back to the finish.
The course to the aid station was completely uphill, and I struggled to keep semblance of a pace. I was feeling really discouraged and confused. The course wasn’t aligned with my mental model of “downhill out, uphill back” and while I expected a few rollers on the downhill out, it was discouraging to struggle so much here in the early going.
Mile 10 Aid Station
At the aid station, I took some time to figure out what I needed. Because of the weather, the two aid stations planned for later in the course were shut down, so the Mile 10 aid station would also be the last aid station until Mile 21. Depending on my pace, that meant at least two hours, and probably closer to three hours, before I’d be able to refuel again.
I wanted to be smart here to make sure I had enough water and calories, but not overload myself with too much bulk. I filled my water bladder about halfway and dumped in two Tailwind packets. I refilled my front-loaders with 3Fuel, and already had a Clif Bar and a bag of M&Ms in my zip packs – about 1200 calories – plenty for a three hour stretch.
I gobbled up a few boiled potatoes dipped in salt, looking for anything that could give me a boost. Nutritionally to this point, I’d only been taking in 3Fuel so far, and coming out of the aid station, I figured I would stick with that until I hit the turnaround, then switch over to Tailwind, which is much higher in carbs and in a past training run, I found it really gave me a noticeable jolt well into a long trail run.
Once I was fueled and ready to keep slogging, I headed out again, with more uphill. This was really confusing – I kept waiting for a sloping downhill to make up some time. My pace was well into the 11:00 min/mile pace, which was more than a little dejecting.
My Garmin showed about 9.5 miles when I finally hit the Mile 10 aid station (which would also be the Mile 21 aid station), and I pretty much felt like being out there was a bad idea. The air was cold and damp. My hamstrings were tight. I felt weak in my legs and my pace was slow. I reset, ate a few boiled potatoes dipped in salt, filled my bladder with Tailwind, and off I went.
Fighting the demons
The stretch out of the aid station continued on a moderate uphill (more WTF!?), and by the time I was a mile up the trail, my hamstring tightness worsened and I started thinking that maybe I should head back. From here, I could call it a 20-mile training run which would still be a solid day, and a step forward from where I’ve been with training this last month. But the “just keep going” side of me wanted to push to the turnaround.
Mentally, I shortened the race to 15.5 miles – all I needed to do was to get to the turnaround, then I’d have no choice but to finish the course. If I hit the turnaround, I’d have to get back to the Mile 10/21 aid station because there was no way off the course, and even if I wanted to quit there, I really wouldn’t be able because that would mean waiting there for the last runner to pass, help the volunteers pack up and hike out. Either way, I was going to be out there for a long time, so now that I was on the course, the best option was to just keep pushing forward. (And it absolutely felt like pushing…)
I told myself something I learned long ago from my friend Cary – no matter how bad or how good you feel out there on the course, it never lasts. Except I hadn’t felt good for a single mile yet – not even the first mile out of the starting gate – and I was seriously doubting if I would ever feel good. I told myself to treat this as an exercise in mental fortitude, and to keep slogging through the miles.
At Mile 11, the thought of turning back persisted as my hamstring tightness continued. Now I could call it a 22-mile training run. But now I was only four miles to the turnaround and along this stretch I ran with the same 3-4 runners – we would take turns passing each other – they would pass me on the steeper downhill sections and I would pass them on the flat and uphill sections. The give and take was akin to having a pacer, and kept me going to see the same people along the way.
Finally!
Around Mile 12, I started focusing seriously on the turnaround and my mood improved . I felt like I broke through the wall a little, and I also started seeing the leading runners that were on their way back. I got a lift from the obligatory “good job” that we grunted at each other, and mentally it helped me to know that while I was more than an hour off of the leader’s pace, the turnaround really did exist.
At Mile 14, I passed the Cal 1 station which is where our Davis running club (GVH) has an aid station for the Western States 100. I knew I was about a mile from the turnaround and I actually feeling pretty good.
The Turnaround to Mile 21
At the turnaround, I felt a solid sense of accomplishment to have pushed through the slog of the first 15 miles, to have kept going, and to have finally experience a positive mindset. I also knew that the only way back was to finish the race – the option to turnaround was gone, and removing that was mentally liberating. Absent a significant injury, I knew I would finish the race no matter what.
My Garmin showed a 11:30 min/mile pace for the first half, and that was tough to see – more than 1:30 min/mile pace slower than expected, and right about now I starting wondering if I could finish in under seven hours, figuring the “back” could take me more than a hour longer than the out. If I averaged 11:30 on the out – nearly three hours, I figured the back would be closer to four hours. I accepted that this was going to be a long day out there. But I was on the way back, and one way or another I was getting to the finish.
Then something pretty interested happened… My pace picked up. The course felt mostly downhill. The single track was in really good condition and I told myself that I to take whatever the course gave me. On the downhill sections, I ran harder, even when it felt a little uncomfortable, remembering the advice I used in the Tahoe 200 – when it starts to hurt, push a harder. I figured that if I could keep my overall race pace under 12:00 min/miles as long as possible, it would give me some leeway for the uphill sections and get me to the finish line sometime under seven hours.
Somewhere along this stretch, I hit some hail, or more so, some hail hit me. Pretty cool to be running in the clouds – mystical and magical to be out there. I wanted to take pictures of the waterfalls and mist, but I also didn’t want to stop and break my pace.
As the miles clicked by, I was able to maintain an overall race pace of 11:30-11:45/min miles. I’d stopped a time or two to pee, which cost me several seconds on my pace, but then the course gave me the chance to grab that time back.
I ambled into the Mile 21 aid station, still under a 12:00 min/mile pace, and at this point, starting to think seriously about getting to the finish. I remembered from the out section that there was some downhill ahead, and thinking that the last three miles were uphill, I just kept telling myself to keep taking whatever the course would give.
I fueled up again with Tailwind in my bladder and gobbled more potatoes dipped in salt. I took my time at the aid station, but without talking too much time. Four or five racers came through after me, and left before me, and while I said to myself not to bother with them, it did spur me to get back on the trail.
The 20s
From here, it just focused on clicking off the miles. I’d run for a good clip and resist checking my Garmin, and mostly was able to check just before the next mile was done. I had a couple of 10:00 and 11:00 minute miles, and my total pace stayed under the 12:00 min/mile target. I was happy, surprised and proud of myself for pushing through the wall that I felt way back at Mile 8 – to be having a strong second half of the race. I knew at this point, I just needed to get to the last three miles, knowing that even if I had to hike at a 18:00 min/mile pace, I could get this thing done and get home.
With about four miles to go, the sun burned through the clouds. I stopped to put away my raincoat and swapped out my very wet long-sleeve running shirt and for my dry short-sleeved shirt, a refreshing change for the last push.
The final push
I kept waiting for the course to turn uphill, but it didn’t. Finally I hit the Mile 2/Mile 29 aid station, stopping only long enough to chug a 12-oz can of Pepsi. (Cola is my magic elixir for a boost in any endurance event…) Once I crossed the second big water crossing, I knew the finish was getting close, and yet the course hadn’t turned into the big uphill I expected.
Finally with about 1.5 miles to go, it did turn uphill, and got very steep. I checked my Garmin – I kept the sub-12:00/min pace the entire way back and I had about 18 mins for a sub-6 hour race! I told myself to chill and not get attached to the sub-6 – not to be disappointed, and instead be proud of the race with all of the mental hurdles. As I powered up the hill (thank you, trekking poles!), I passed one of the runners I’d been swapping places with throughout the day and he said – “Keep going – You can make it for a sub-six.”
I really wanted to, and would be damn proud of that given the effort, but the course wasn’t working in my favor. I started running in stretches of 25- 50 steps, then I’d walk for 75-100 steps.
With about 0.75 miles left, I passed another runner who asked me how much we had, and I saw that I had just under six minutes left to break six hours.
I found a some reserve power, and starting running up the hill. I checked my Garmin and I was running at a 10:09 pace, and I knew that if I could keep this pace, I could sneak in under six hours.
I told myself that this was just an interval on a training run – just keep pushing until the interval was over. I got to 0.50 miles left, then 0.33 miles left. Push. Push. Push.
I turned a corner and saw the shimmering hood and windshield of parked cars through the trees, and a few steps later saw the blue and white finished gate. I kept motoring and as I got to the gate, the people at the finish were cheering for me, crossing the finish at 5:58:31! Made it!
I think my facial expression says it all…
Post-Race & What’s Next
Post-race was the best I felt all day. The adrenaline was pumping and I was feeling proud for finishing with a sub-6 race. I knew I was probably more than two hours from the race leaders and didn’t care a single bit. This race was completely against myself and the mental hurdles I needed to overcome along the way.
The post-race spread was super! Chili and tacos. I shoved them down along with my celebratory bag of Peanut M&Ms and a Mountain Dew. I talked with Paulo, the race director for a while, thanked him for the race, and made my way to the shuttle to head home.
While I was sore on Sunday and Monday (both rest days), I had a very solid hotel workout Tuesday night with some treadmill running and Cross-Fit exercises (push-ups, sit-ups, dumbbell snatches and dumbbell squats).
Now it’s back to a regular training schedule with quality miles where I can get them, strength training, and staying focused on getting to the Zion 100 starting line as healthy as possible. As my friend Kelly shared last week, better to be undertrained and healthy than forcing it with an injury. I know if I can get to the starting line, I’ll find a way to finish.
One month to go – let’s do this.