Category Archives: Race Reports & Training

Thumbnail Sketch of My Training – No Wasted Miles

Posted on April 30, 2018 by | Leave a comment

I’m often asked about my training regimen, and while I blog about specifics here and there in various posts, I thought I’d pull together a more complete view of how I train.

This post covers:

  • Suggested books & experts worth checking out
  • LSD vs HIT
  • My “No Wasted Miles” Philosophy
  • Example Run Workouts
  • Example Cross-Fit & Weight-lifting Workouts
  • Breathing
  • Nutrition & Fasting
  • Race Results

DISCLAIMER: Always consult a professional before embarking on any training program or regimen. I am sharing for informational purposes only – I am NOT a professional coach, trainer or medical expert.

Recommended Resources

Books:

Coaches:

  • Power Speed Endurance (PSE) – I’ve worked with the experts AT PSE over the past two years, first in 2016 for Uberman and this year ramping up the for the Zion 100 ultra-marathon. They have a huge bank of free resources, and you can pay $100/year to access their daily workout programs.
  • Kevin Coady at TriForce– I worked with Kevin for most recent two Ironman triathlons in 2011 and 2013. Following his programs, I reduced Ironman time by almost exactly 60 minutes, from 12:59:20 in 2010 to 11:59:49 in 2011 on the same course. Then in 2013, I reduced my time down to 11:20 at IroNman Asia-Pacific in Melbourne.

SWITCHING FROM LSD TO HIT

I used to believe in LSD Training: Long Slow Distance. That got me through my first Ironman races and early endurance running because that’s what everyone told me I needed to do. (“Just get in the miles…”)  Then I made a switch to a High Intensity Training (HIT), first starting during my latter Ironman training when my wife introduced us to Cross-Fit. But still, I wasn’t a full convert. I continued to straddle between weight-lifting/Cross-Fit workouts and still believing that I needed to log long miles.

As I ramped up training for Uberman in 2016, I hit the limit. In a single week in July 2016, my training included (See: “Uberman Training Update”):

  • Swim: 32,000 yards (18.35 miles)
  • Bike: 151.5 miles
  • Run: 20 miles
  • Weightlifting: Two (2) short sessions focused on posterior chain and stability I was out of time and energy to do any more distance in a week.

The final switch was made after a consulting session with Brian MacKenzie at PSE Endurance in July 2016. After sharing my LSD training schedule with Brian, he told me – “The engine is built. You don’t need to do any more distance. You need to build your strength so that your muscles don’t breakdown.” [paraphrase]

Now as a full convert to HIT, I’m baffled by how often people measure progress by their weekly mileage. This is usually the wrong metric to use, because it doesn’t measure how one is improving on their strength, speed and endurance. It’s just a tally. Sure, it’s important to be able to run a fundamental minimum of base miles without stressing or injuring your body. That’s sort of table stakes for any kind of long-distance running.

But after those baseline miles, the rest of the miles are just a vanity metric. Do you really gain that much more from running the extra 20 or 30 miles in a week? Yes, there is marginal benefit, and that comes at a marginal cost of time and injury. I’d rather use that time to strengthen (or rest!) so that when I’m out on the course, my body can withstand the constant pounding it’s taking with every step.

No Wasted Miles

I don’t need to run 100 or 50 or even 40 miles in a week because I’m extremely efficient in my training, and I measure that which matters most to my training.  My workouts and training measure my level of strength and conditioning, because if I’m hitting certain metric on that front, I know that come race day, whether I’m toeing the line for a 50k or 200-miler, I know that I’m ready to have a successful race.

All of these workouts measure conditioning and recovery time, not how long I can run.

A few examples of metrics:

  • Speed maintenance, and improvement, in 200-meter speed on a repeatable basis (10-12 intervals) – Can I maintain or improve my 200m times over 10-12 intervals?
  • Recovery heart rate down to 99 bpm from it’s peak after 800-meter intervals.
  • Ability to maintain nasal breathing at faster running speeds.
  • Recovery (heart rate and pace) after an intra-run interval, ranking from 60-seconds to 1/2 mile.

Example run workouts:

1 – The 99bpm Hear Rate Workout: This is one of my “favorite” (read: painful) running workouts. It’s 6 x 800 meters. After a 1-2 mile warm-up, I go all out for 800 meters (~ 1/2 mile), then stop and wait for my heart rate to drop from it’s peak – usually around 165bpm to 99bpm. Depending on the day and the rep in the set, this can take anywhere from 2-3 minutes. Sometimes a little shorter (90 seconds), and sometimes a little longer (up to 4 minutes).

What am I measuring?

This measures my ability to ramp up to and recover from extended hard efforts. It’s rare on the trail that I ever hit 160+ bpms, and if I do, that should mean that a bear is chasing me…  But knowing that I can push up quickly and recover quickly indicates a high conditioning level.

2 – 200 meter interval times: Another “favorite” is 10 reps x 200 meters, with a 2-minute rest between intervals.  For someone that runs 50, 100, and 200 mile races, doing speed work like this might sound strange. It builds muscular strength and speed, and builds on lactate thresholds and metabolic conditioning.

What am I measuring?

How much I’m able to hold, and improve, on every interval  my time throughout the workout. If I can maintain or improve throughout the workout, I know that I’m in good conditioning and strength.

3 – “Every Mile Faster” (while nasal breathing throughout): This is a good workout for both shorter and longer runs (6-9 miles), and useful anytime I need a way to push myself while assessing my overall conditioning.

After a one-mile warm-up, I slowly ratchet up my pace by 15-20 seconds every mile for the duration of the run, leaving a mile at the end for cool down and recovery. Example times (which I realize may seem either remarkably slow or fast depending on who’s reading this post…):

Mile 1: 8:15 min/mile (warm-up)

Mile 2: 7:50 min/mile

Mile 3: 7:30 min/mile

Mile 4: 7:15 min/mile

Mile 6: 7:00 min/mile

Mile 7: 6:45 min/mile

Mile 8: 6:30 min/mile

Mile 9: 7:30 min/mile (recovery)

What am I measuring?

I use this workout as a means to assess my capacity to handle an increasing workload, while maintaining nasal breathing. If I can hammer down into the sub-7:00 min/mile and sustain that pace while pulling in enough oxygen by nasal breathing, I know my conditioning is in a good place.

4 – Long Intervals

During a longer run, I’ll push myself for anywhere from 1/4 mile to one-mile intervals – going as hard as I can for that prescribed distance, then giving myself that same distance to recover before starting another interval.

Cross-Fit & Weightlifting

CAUTION: You MUST be VERY, VERY careful with any sort of weight-training Absolutely, positively work with a trained professional on form and workout structure. Here in Davis, we’re fortunate to have a kick-ass CrossFit gym – CrossFit Davis. Even light work with kettlebells and dumbbells can cause injury if you don’t have the right form, or if you’re stressing your ligaments and tendons before they are ready.

Muscles strengthen much faster than you ligaments and tendons, so while you might have the muscular strength to lift a certain amount of weight, your ligaments and tendons can tear because they’re not used to the stress and weight.  Again, working with a coach that teaches you the right form and balance, and knowing the form trumps absolute weight is critical here. Check out this Tim Ferris Podcast with former US national team gymnastics coach Chris Sommer on this topic.

Over the past few years, we’ve accumulated a variety of equipment for a home gym. We started with kettlebells, then dumbbells, then a wall ball, then a box for box jumps,  then a squat rack with a pull-up bar and barbell, and finally weight vest.

The good news, is that I’ve found that you don’t need a big inventory of equipment to make a major impact in your strength and conditioning.  Even a few kettlebells couple with body weight exercises go me plenty of gain in strength and conditioning. A couple of years ago, I had knee surgery and could only do push-ups, sit-ups, and dumbbell snatches for weeks on end, and those alone helped me retain some semblance of conditioning. When I’m traveling for work, hotel gyms offer very little in terms of equipment, yet I can get a plenty good workout while on the road.

A basic starting body workout looks something like this:

4 x 25 reps:

Even if you have to rest intra-set, i.e. do 10 then 10 then 5 pushups to get to 25 in the set, don’t stress. 🙂

Eventually I worked in some light weights so a typical workout was something like:

4 rounds of:

  • 25 kettlebell swings
  • 25 Wall balls
  • 25 Dumbell snatches
  • 25 Burpees

Now with a squat rack and weights, a pretty standard workout is something like:

Lifting: Deadlifts (4-5 rounds of 5-6 reps @ 70-80% weight)

Conditioning: 4-5 rounds of:

  • 5 pull-ups
  • 25 burpee box jumps
  • 25 kettle bell swings
  • 25 jumping squats

Then there are the two-a-days….

Some days, I’ll do both running and lifting, either as two separate workouts, or as a single workout with running then lifting. For example this week, I did a 6-mile run with long intervals, then in the garage did 8 x 6 pull-ups and 5 x 5-10 deadlights.

Even without the “full” workout, after a run, adding 100 kettlebell swings or 100 Wall Balls will really kick your butt and goes a long way for strength and conditioning.

Breathing

Working with PSE this year, their training program includes breathing as a cornerstone to all training, with pre-, during, and and post-workout breathing protocols. Check out a few videos here on YouTube on this topic.

Three (3) breathing practices I’ve instituted:

1 – Nasal Breathing. Nasal breathing is an addition to my training regimen this year.  I first heard about nasal-only breathing from Scott Jurek in his book “Eat and Run.” Now I ONLY nasal breathe when in my run workouts, no matter hard I’m running. On much longer runs (i.e. 20-mile trail runs), I’ll let myself mouth breath if I need the oxygen, but mostly I’m nasal breathing. Even during the Zion 100, I was nasal breathing most of the way.

As it was described to me, nasal breathing is more natural and your nasal breathing filters your oxygen intake, while your mouth is designed for eating and emergency breathing. When you nasal breathe, you’re pulling in higher quality breaths, and helping your body remain calm.

2 – Pre- and Post-Workout Breathing Exercises – This usually means 10 deep inhales and exhales, followed by a 30-60 second hold. I’ll do 1-3 rounds of this to oxygenate my body before exercise.

3 – Morning Breath Holds – ONLY do this if you know what you’re doing. I meditate most mornings, and after a 15-20 minute silent meditation, I do a breath hold which means that I take 2-3 deep breaths, then hold after the last intake. I typically shoot for three (3) minutes on each hold and can usually get there. Some mornings, I can go a bit longer. My record is 4:15. This helps build lung capacity and helps you realize how much farther you can push your physical limits.

Again… ONLY do this if you know what you’re doing. Take it slow, and consult a professional. Check out The WimHof Method for more on breathing if you want to get really, really serious on this.

Nutrition

I’m a low-carb person. I define this as consuming fewer than 50 grams of net carbs per day, and increasing to 100 grams of carbs per day based on when I’m consuming more carbs. (More on this below…)

My primary goal is to train my body to be fat-adapted – burn stored fat for fuel as much as possible.

I started with a low carb diet without realizing it after reading the book “Running Weight” a few years back (see above) as I started training for Ironman #2. I weighed about 200-205 lbs for Ironman #1, and while on a bike ride with a friend, I was complaining about a climb. He told me – “You’ve need to lose to some weight.” Message received. (Thank you, Michael L.!)

Using the book “Running Weight” as a I guide, I was able to get down to 190 lbs over 6-8 weeks and I’ve kept that weight off, and then some. My “racing weight” is now 183 lbs, and I can consistently stay under 185 lbs throughout training. As Lena introduced Cross-Fit into our lives, we adopted a Paleo Diet.

I’ve experimented with a Ketogenic Diet twice – first is April 2017 then again in January 2018, but I’ve had a hard time getting down under 20 net carbs per day, even when tracking every calorie and food morsel I consumed. Plus I found that as I experiment with timing my carb intake post-workout, my recovery times and energy have improved. Most days, I keep to the 50 net carbs target, but will increase my carb intake immediately after particularly hard running workouts and weightlifting – ideally within the first 15 minutes and for sure within the “Golden Hour.”

Check out this podcast interview with Art Zemach (founder of Tailwind) on Trailrunner Nation for more on this. If you’re concerned with the validity and bias of the founder of a company that sells high-carb products, there is plenty of alternative sources that also support this, such as this article on BodyBuilding Magazine. Post-workout for example, I’ll eat a tablespoon of honey, 1-2 tablespoons of jam or jelly, 1 tablespoon of maple syrup, a handful of jelly beans, and then wash all that down with a whey protein shake (I used 3Fu3l, a PSE product). Again, I do this immediately after the workout and only do this after difficult  workouts – following long, hard runs and weight-lifting/Cross-Fit workouts.

This is a topic of much debate, so I suggest doing some more research on your own and experimenting. Even if the effects I’m experiencing are placebo, that’s good enough for me. But I believe them to be more than placebo, as I have felt improved recovery times and improved energy levels when I consume high-glycemic carbs just after a hard workout.

I absolutely recommend the Cronometer App for tracking your food intake. They have an excellent free version. (I use the paid version so that I can see trending reports on my diet). I’ve found this app useful in several ways:

  • Shows me actually calories and the breakdown of caloric intake by macronutrient (protein, fat, carbohydrates).
  • You can set the app for a particular type of diet – Keto, Paleo, etc. and it will show you daily macronutrient targets.
  • It’s taught me to properly estimated quantities of food – i.e. How much is 2 oz of cheese? What does 1 cup of milk look like in a glass? How much salmon or chicken is included in restaurant salads?
  • It’s shown me how to improve micronutrient intake – Vitamin A, B, C, etc. For example, Lena discovered that cooked spinach drastically increases the micronutrients released vs raw spinach.

Fasting

Fasting is a new addition to my nutrition plan this year. I started with a morning fast back in February – going until 2pm on a Sunday before I ate anything. Then did a daily fast through dinner for four straight days in March. By late March and into April, I did a daily fast each Tuesday for 3-4 weeks because Tuesdays are usually my rest days in my workout schedule. I found that this had a huge benefit for me in several ways:

  • Reduces my mental dependence on food. When you know you’re not going to eat, it teaches you other ways to cope with hunger – water, green tea, or talking a walk. This is also huge when I’m out on the race course, knowing that I don’t have to take in a huge amount of calories – I can take in 200-300 calories per hour and avoid feeling hunger, while still maintaining the energy I need to keep going out there.
  • Reduces my physical dependence In the past, I’ve eaten constantly during my training – always hungry. I remember during Uberman, I was ALWAYS eating. I’d eat dinner, then be hungry an hour later. I didn’t need the short-term calories – I just needed to teach my body to burn a different fuel source.
  • Keeps my weight down. I generally lose 2-3 lbs in a day when I fast, and while some of that is water weight. The body stores 3 grams of water for every gram of carbohydrate. Eating fewer carbs, and burning through the glycogen stores in your muscles on fasting days then reduces the amount of water your body needs to retain.

On most workouts, I only take water with me, mostly because few of my workouts are more than 90 minutes so my body already has all of the glycogen stores it needs for fuel. But even for longer workouts, I’ll purposely reduce caloric intake to train my body to burn fat for fuel. For example, I did a very hilly 5-hour, 19.5-mile trail run a few weeks back, and I purposely kept my total caloric intake to 600 calories throughout the entire run.

I started this during Uberman training after reading Sami Inkinen’s blog post – “Becoming a Bonk Proof Triathlete: Fat Chance!?” I’d go on 4-5 hour bike rides with only water. I usually feel some hunger around 60-75 minute into a workout session, and found that if I can push through 15-30 minutes of hunger, then my body switches and I’m good to go without a hit of carbohydrates.

The Results

I can’t say what my results would be if I were to take another approach than what I’m describing here. I do know that my overall speed, fitness and rankings in my Age Group and Overall have improved over the years, and I’m now consistently in the top 15-25% of all racers in most races.

That could be simply because of the additive effect of training over time, plus general intelligence I’ve accumulated on how to race, but I suspect there’s something more to it.

Here are results from my races over the past year.

Zion 100: 34/195 Overall; 2/10 40-49 AG

Ruck a Chuck 50k: 37/158 Overall; 10/29 40-49 AG

Tahoe 200: 36/191 Overall; 13/45 40-49 AG

Mt. Diablo Trail Marathon: 8/31 Overall; 1/9 40-40 AG

The Ridge 60k: 17/90 Overall; 6/19 40-49 AG

San Francisco 50k: 6/27 Overall; 2/10 40-49 AG

For your typical 40-something just getting out there to challenge myself, I’ll take these results. I like to think of myself as one of the fastest of the slow runners. I’m never going to be a top 10% runner, but given the reduced time I put into training compared to most runners, and my recovery times and ability to maintain fitness without race-day injuries, I’m pretty darn happy with where I am.

Go Farther.

 

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What’s my final prep look like for big races?

Posted on April 2, 2018 by | Leave a comment

I’m now less than three weeks away from the starting line of the Zion 100. I’m often asked how I prep for these big races, so I thought I’d share how the last couple of weeks go leading into a big race.

This isn’t everything, but it’s most everything…

Diet & Nutrition

On Saturday’s trail run (~20 miles and 6500’ of climbing over 5+ hours on the Western States Trail), I intentionally took in fewer calories along the way to teach my body to respond to the need for fuel by burning stored fat vs short-term carbs.

I drank two coffees before the run – one with coconut oil, the other with heavy cream, then drank 200 calories of 3Fu3l. During the run, I drank 400 calories of 3Fu3l and 200 calories of Tailwind – not a completely fasted workout, but definitely low fuel, no solid food and I fought some hunger out there. After the run and yesterday on Easter, I did my last face-stuffing – too much in fact. I’ve gained about 6-7 pounds. Some of that weight is food weight, some is water retention from the gluten and sugar, as I can feel some swelling in my joints and extremities.

So today begins the last push – no more cheat days. No more alcohol. I’ll do day-time fasts today and tomorrow to cleanse from the weekend, drop a few pounds and get back to racing weight. From here, it’s all about a low-carb, high-fat diet to help myself stay fat-burning out on the trail. This includes lots of super food like organ meat (liver and onions!), cooked spinach, and tons of greens and healthy oils.

About a week leading into the race, I’ll also try to ween myself off of coffee because I’ll need the caffeine boost get through the night on the trail.

Training

Starting back with Ironman training, I learned from the traditional tapering methods that once I’m about three weeks out from a race, there’s really no more gain that can be done. And while I don’t follow the traditional 2-3 week tapering method anymore, I do accept that once I’m about 2-3 weeks out from a race, the idea of generating more gains from training adds more risk than reward.

I look at the last few weeks of training as a block of training episodes – I have about 10 more workouts in total, and there’s a certain mental lode lifted knowing that I only have that many workout sessions left, and that each one is just checking the box to keep me sharp and strong and ready for the race.

That means about 6-7 runs, and 4-5 lifting sessions. Yes, that adds up to more than 10 training sessions in two weeks, which brings me to the next part of training.

I’ve learned not to stress too much about missing a training session or two during these last couple of weeks. I usually have to load up a little on work-related activity to help me make up ahead of time for the time that I’ll miss from work. These big races can take at least 3-4 workdays away, and in the case of Zion, it’ll be a full week, so I want to make sure that clients have what they need while I’m away. While they’ll all certainly survive and thrive without me for a week, there’s a mental aspect that’s important for me to know that I’m fulfilling my duties to them.

Physical

As I scale back on training, I’m also looking for ways to get healthy. There are a couple types of injuries:

  1. Debilitating: These are injuries that make the race a no-go altogether. Last year, for example, I had hamstring problems in January and February that forced me to call off the 100-mile race I had resisted for in March.
  2. Manageable: This year, I have two of these. My left pubic tendon is strained. This is the same injury I had on my right tendon for nearly two years – a year leading into Uberman and a year after Uberman. It finally healed a couple months ago, and for some unbelievable reason, I have the same injury now on my left tendon. My second manageable injury in a mid-hamstring knot in my left leg that cropped up a few months ago, and despite weekly efforts, it just won’t go away. Both of these are annoying, and probably impact performance at some level, but I don’t feel these injuries when I’m training or racing, so it’s a matter of managing these injuries to make sure they don’t become debilitating.
  3. Recoverable: These are chips and nicks I’m feeling that have cropped up or come and go. Right now, my left calf has a strain. This crops up from time to time, and it’s tender and sore, and I know that paying attention to it these next two weeks will get it back close to 100% before race day. My left quad has a bit of knot in it – same as my calf, I know it’s recoverable if I keep rolling it and working on it.

Packing & Equipment

I use a large plastic storage tub to accumulate various items that I want to pack for the race. This includes all of my gear and nutrition, just to take stock of what I need. For big races, there’s too much to remember in a single packing episode (besides the stress of it), so I’ve learned to spread packing over a couple of weeks. As I think of something I want to bring along, I grab it or buy it and throw it in the tub. Not everything in the tub makes the cut, but at this approach prevents me from forgetting something I really wanted or needed to pack.

I’ll also do a final look at whatever equipment I may need to buy. Surprisingly, no matter how much I race, there’s always more to buy. For the Tahoe 200, the list was large – trail-running shoes, a hydration pack, rain gear, and trekking poles led the list.   This time around, I don’t think I’ll need much new stuff because of the amount of stuff purchased for Uberman and the Tahoe 200, but regardless I’ll stockpile now so that I’m not forgetting anything I’ll really need like iodine pills or nutrition (I just bought more of both this morning…)

Mindset

During training, and particularly leading into a race, I like to read books related to training and racing. Leading into Uberman, one of my favorites was “Swimming to Antarctica: Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer” by Lynne Cox.

Last year, I read “The Ultra Mindset: An Endurance Champion’s 8 Core Principles for Success in Business, Sports, and Life” by John Hanc Travis Macy and “The Brave Athlete: Calm the F*ck Down and Rise to the Occasion” by Simon Marshall and Lesley Paterson.

This year, I’m reading “Endure: Mind, Body, and the Curiously Elastic Limits of Human Performance” by Alex Hutchinson. I’m also reading books more generally about the topic of resilience, which is an an area of personal interest for me right now.

I’ve also read and re-read books like “Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner” by Dean Karnazes and “Going Long: Legends, Oddballs, Comebacks & Adventures” by David Wiley & The Editors of Runners World.  Leading up to the Tahoe 200, I took a regular dose of the Trail Runner Nation podcast to learn specifically how to train, prepare and what equipment to use for the 200-mile distance.

These books and podcasts remind that however crazy I might seem to the people around me, there are always crazier, tougher, stronger people out there that leave plenty of room for me to claim sanity in my race endeavors.

The Larger Plan & Next Race

There’s something about knowing that this race won’t be my last, that it’s a stepping stone to something else, or part of a larger plan.

Zion will be my first 100-mile race, so there’s a clear “check the box” aspect to this distance.

It’s is a part of a larger plan:

  • Zion a Western States 100 qualifier, so Zion earns me a lottery ticket for the 2019 race, plus having completed a qualifier I can apply to the spot available to our local running club for running an aid station at the race.
  • It’s a six-point race towards qualifying for the 2019 UMTB, and it’s also a six-point race as part of the ITRA system towards Patagonia-Chile.
  • Later this year, I’m planning to do the Castle Peak 100k, which is a five-point race for both UTMB and Patagonia, which will round out qualifying for both of those races.

Finally, after finishing the Tahoe 200 last year, I realized that with some planning and staying healthy, I could run the complete series of running distances in one calendar year:

  • Trail Marathon: Mt. Diablo (2017)
  • 50K: Ruck a Chuck (2018), Mt Hood (2018)
  • 40 mile: Pacing at Javelina (October 2017)
  • 50 mile: TBD (May 2018)
  • 100k: Castle Peak (August 2018)
  • 100 mile: Zion (April 2018)
  • 200 mile: Tahoe 200 (September 2017)

This feels like a really solid personal accomplishment and a good story to tell, so why not give it a shot?

Recently, I read about the North Pole Marathon. I also looked at Boston Marathon qualifying times and realized that I’m not far from hitting those times, so I might give that a shot with CIM in December.

Last night, while reading Alex Hutchinson’s book, I learned about the Tor des Géants – a 200-mile race with 80,000’ of climbing and a 150-hour time limit. It’s in September and still has spots open.

Hmmm… So many races, so little time…

Logistics & Race Planning

I learned this from Kevin Coady, my triathlon coach for Ironman #2 and #3. He had be write out a complete day-by-day, hour-by-hour plan for the 2-3 days leading into the race.

I worked with Simon Marshall (book above) before the Tahoe 200, and he had me write out all of the things that could possibly go wrong during the race and how I would respond to each situation.  I’ve got that work to do, as well as the actual race plan – breaking down the course section-by-section, mile-by-mile to know where I’ll be by when and where I might be able to have Lena meet me for race support, though I’m expecting to do this race self-supported because we’ll have an RV and it’s out in the desert. No pacer either – just me, my drop bags and the course.

Most of the big travel logistics are handled – plane tickets to Las Vegas, RV rented, campsite booked. Now it’s time for the minutiae – what can we pack vs buy when we arrive to Las Vegas, including cooking equipment and food that I absolutely need to bring from home.

 

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Ruck a Chuck 50K Race Report: The Complete Ass-Kicking I Expected

Posted on March 22, 2018 by | Leave a comment

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:

  1. Don’t get injured
  2. Find my way to the finish line.
  3. 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.

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I started over a week ago. Here’s what happened…

Posted on March 11, 2018 by | Leave a comment

A week ago, I gave myself permission to start over. My training was off. My body was revolting. My training was off. I felt physically discombobulated. I needed to hit the reset button, and did.

The highlights:

  • I did a daily day-time fast from Sunday-Wednesday, with almost no food consumption before dinner each day, and keeping to 1500-2000 total calories per day.
  • I dropped my weight from 190 lbs on Sunday AM to 181.7 labs on Saturday AM
  • My muscular and joint inflammation is completely gone.
  • I feel like I’m back on track for the last 4-5 weeks of training before the Zion 100.

Most of all, the experiment with daily fasting was a HUGE successful for me. There are many ways to do fasts – some people just go a day without food, others go as much as a week. For me, I simply wanted to reduce caloric intake, and see how well I’d do going the day without food. Dropped eight lobs in a week and proving to myself that I could train, travel, and maintain a decent training schedule was a BIG boost of my confidence and results.

Caloric intake by day, week of 3/04/18

The details…

It started with a simple, slow six-mile run on Sunday built from there. Monday was a rest day. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were running days. I don’t usually do three days back-to-back-to-back, but my schedule necessitated this.

Sunday

Sunday, 3/4/2018

After my Sunday run following a Saturday evening dinner of burgers, fries, and beer, I just wasn’t hungry in the morning, even after the run, so I skipped breakfast and lunch, and maintained relative sanity through a trip to IKEA. I staved off any food until a steak dinner on Sunday night, which I cut back and only at e about 60% of the meat portion I usually eat, finishing the day just under 1500 calories.

I felt pretty good physically and mentally. While the hunger throughout the day was noticeable, it was far from intolerable. I was pretty damn proud of myself, as that’s the longest I’d gone without food in a day. Ever.

Just goes to show how fortunate I am in my life – here I’m nearly 44 years-old, and never before in my life, not for a single day, have I gone more than 20 hours before my last consumption of food of any kind.

Monday

With the success on Sunday, I figured I should try the same again on Monday. Again, I went the whole day without any food or calories until dinner, with the exception of some coconut oil in my morning coffee, keeping to under 1500 calories for the day. Again, while I might have displayed a few signs of hanger and discontent, I managed pretty well through the day. Remember though, this was a rest day, so no real physical activity, aside from playing tag at the park with my son, which did end with me insisting the game was over and it was time to head home for dinner.

Tuesday

Tuesday, 3/6/2018

Tuesday rolled around, and I figured – “why not?” So I skipped breakfast and lunch again, but with an early afternoon run planned in my training calendar, I drank a scoop of sports drink before the run so that I had some decent short-term energy and to make the most I could from the time logging miles.

Overall, it went pretty well. I did some short intervals, and while I felt some energy drag, the run was passable. Afterwards, I drank another scoop of protein drink and ate a Quest bar just to make that I had something for my body to use for recovery. I finished the day at 2500 calories, which was still about 1000 calories below my normal daily calorie base, and at a ~1000 calorie deficit as compared to what I likely burned that day.

Wednesday

Wednesday, 3/7/2018

I had a work trip for the rest of the week, starting with a very early AM flight to Los Angeles on Wednesday morning after only four hours of sleep. I was staying in Redondo Beach, with access to a bike/running path that goes for miles and miles and miles.

After a day sitting in a workshop, I hit the running path and knocked out a decent six miles. Again, not awesome, but passable. Best of all, I went the entire day without food again, except for a bit of coconut oil in my morning coffee. This meant skipping breakfast, traveling, skipping lunch and all of the yummy treats that are served when one is attending a professional workshop (you know… cookies, fruit, and such…) I had a solid dinner by way of the local Whole Foods, and an evening yogurt snack because I was up late working, and finished the day just under 1800 calories.

Thursday

Thursday, 3/8/2018

Thursday came and I planned to go for Day 5 as the final day of my daytime fasting exercise. Lunchtime came and I was invited to join some colleagues, and did, and at a Cobb Salad. Daytime fast officially broken, but I kept the intake low, and even with a big group dinner, I finished the day under 2200 calories.

After I got back to my AirBnB after the big group dinner, I hit the running trail and knocked out a VERY solid six mile run – my “every mile faster” run that I love to do… One mile warm-up then slowing turn up the dial to make every mile faster, with a one mile cool-down. Even with only four miles of actual workout, it’s a grinder and that I ate so much compare to previous days, I felt great even thought it was my third running day in a row, and this run was at 9pm after dinner and a long day in the workshop.

Friday

Friday, 3/9/2018

Friday was a rest day, and I started the morning with breakfast – a can of sardines, whipped butter and a couple of scoops of peanut butter. When I sat down at my table for an early morning workshop session, my plate stacked with whipped butter balls, the women next to me said – “You know that’s butter, right?” I said – “Yep! I eat a high fat, low carb diet. I love butter.” She just said – “You’re from California, aren’t you?” Mixing butter with peanut butter is one of my favorite yummy treats. (Maybe I’ll have some right now…) I kept the rest of the day light until I got home just past 9pm, when I ate a bigger meal and finished the day at 3500 calories.

Saturday

This morning was a garage workout – my first lifting in more than a week – a solid 20-minute EMOM workout (every minute on the minute).

5 rounds of:

  • Deadlifts (4 x 6 reps, 1 x 3 reps)
  • Pull-Ups (5 x 8 reps)
  • Lateral bench back-and-forths (5 x 50)
  • Kettle bell swings (5 x 25)

… followed by a 0.67 sprint. I felt spent, and I felt like I was back in the flow. I kept the rest of the day reasonable, and even with dinner at the local brewpub, I avoided pizza and stuck with a poke bowl with less rice and more salad.

So… A week later after starting over, I’ve lost eight lbs, I’m back running, and feeling really good about my readiness for this next big race.

One week after starting over, I’m back on track with a full week at home to keep the momentum going.

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Giving my Self permission to start over #gofarther

Posted on March 5, 2018 by | Leave a comment

Yesterday, I recorded a video in which I shared that I was starting over.

What does that mean, and why am I starting over?

Because I’m now six weeks away from the Zion 100 and my body is revolting, and it’s because my mind lost control of my daily habits.

The past week and a half have been a tough slog on the training front. Going back to the Wednesday before last, a speed workout ripped my legs to shreds. I was so sore that I needed an impromptu midweek rest day. Two heavy lifting sessions, including max weight deadlifts on Friday and max weight shoulder presses on Saturday, revealed their consequences.

I toiled through my long run on Sunday morning – my hamstrings felt like frozen piano cords.  By Monday, I was sensing a tendon tear near my pubic bone on my right leg. Tuesday morning, I headed out for an early AM run only to be hamstrung by my left hamstring, struggling just to get myself home while preventing it from tearing completely.

I’d label last week’s training regimen “maintenance” at best, and more likely, it was more like “slowing the pace of attrition.” Monday’s workout was medication for an anxiety-ridden day. Tuesday was the unpleasant morning run. Wednesday and Thursday were self-prescribed rest days. Friday and Saturday were garage workout days to avoid any injury that would prevent me from reaching the Zion 100 starting line.

While my training load decreased, my diet got worse. Last Saturday, I demolished a sticky bun at the Farmer’s Market – a mental breach of the dam. I was using food to cope with stress. Lena had been away for a couple of days and I was feeling the effects of a week of after-school pick-ups, daily meal prep, and evening after-dinner bedtime routines.

In the week that followed, I nibbled on dark chocolate squares, munched on leftover mac and cheese, then scarfed Girl Scout cookies while working late on Friday night. Saturday’s burger-fries-beer combo (along with demolishing the last of my son’s chicken fingers…) and the frozen yogurt covered with Heath bar crumbles were the final blows.

So Sunday morning, after seeing 190 lbs on the scale (my ideal racing weight is 182-183 lbs), I decided that I was giving myself permission to start over – an act of acceptance for where I was and an act of forgiveness for the last week and a half. With six weeks to go, I’ve got enough time to reset and push through on last training cycle before Zion.

I took my time with a slow run to introduce my legs just feel the motion of running again. After the run, I decided I would fast for the day. I’ve experimented with some intermittent fasting recently to reduce total calories – skipping breakfast and keeping to a very light lunch – but that led to overeating at dinner and still reaching 3500+ calories in the day. Not good.

Yesterday, I fasted all day through dinner – a day that included house cleaning and a trip to IKEA as a true test of my resolve. I kept dinner disciplined, consuming less that 1500 calories for the day. Throughout the day, I drank a lot of water and a couple of hot tea drinks in the afternoon to stave off the feelings of hunger.

This morning, I awoke at 4am to head down to Palo Alto for the day, and so far I’ve had only coffee with just a bit of coconut oil and water infused with apple cider vinegar and sea salt. It’s past 8am now, and my plan is to go the whole day without food until I get home this afternoon. I feel a little jittery from the coffee, so it’ll be interesting to see how this workshop goes today… 🙂

This is all in an effort to reset my mental dependence on food as medicine for stress relief, and to give my body a chance to clean out the deposits of gunk and grime that I feel like are jamming up my joints and muscles. I dropped to under 50 net carbs daily throughout most of January, and in the past, when I drop carb intake, I feel a reduction in inflammation throughout my body.

I remember during the Tahoe 200, when I was feeling at my absolute worst with aching legs, I decided that I would not let my body rule me – that I would be in control – that I would decide how to respond to my situation. This week, I’m choosing this again. This is a choice to restore to myself to a place where my mind rules over my body. (Check out “When it starts to hurt, pick up the pace.”).

So I’m starting over this week. Maybe today, this choice will prove too difficult and I’ll decide to eat, or later this week I’ll end up injuring myself on a training run. If I do, I’ll give myself to start over again.

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Back on the trail! #RunningforRefugees #GoFarther

Posted on October 19, 2017 by | Leave a comment

Quick note… I have a special announcement coming about the #RunningforRefugees that will give you and your friends a little extra motivation to contribute… Stay tuned for more.

In the mean time, if you’d like to donate or know a friend that would like to support the cause, here’s the link to the campaign page on the Mercy Corps website.

_________

All my best ideas come from Lena.  She came home from work last week asking me if Tara got in touch with me.

“No, why?”

“She’s looking for a pacer for 100 she’s doing.”

“Which one?”

“Not sure, but it’s at the end of October.”

 

After exchanging a few emails and finding a reasonable flight to Phoenix, I’m now booked as Tara’s pacer to pull her home over the last 40 miles. This is how these things go…

The Javelina 100 is a Western States Qualifier, 4-point qualifier for the UMTB and an entry race for the Patagonia Run in Argentina. Lots of leverage for one race. But… seeing how far Arizona is from here, Tara was finding a dearth of pacers available.

It’s been less than six week since the Tahoe 200, and it’s already starting to feel like it was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

My recovery time was remarkably short. Aside from swollen ankles and a mild case of plantar fasciitas, I was back to normal in just a few days. Muscularly I felt really strong with no soreness or injury.

As is the norm, I took a few days to gorge on Peanut M&Ms, pizza, and pretty much whatever food I felt inclined to consume, but most of all, I was back doing light workouts right away and I started running about a week later.

The post-race glow had me thinking about knocking out a 100-miler this year. More so, I got in my mind that now that I’ve knocked out a trail marathon, 50k, 60k and 200-miler since May this year, why not knock out a 50-miler, 100k and 100-miler between now and next May to complete the full compliment of ultras in a calendar year?

Finding a race before the end of 2017 proved tough. The races left don’t work well with my schedule – they all fall on weekends after weeks when I’m traveling, or on weekends when we have other family plans, or they’re just a little too far away to knock out in a day trip. I don’t want to force races into my calendar. Every race should be a fun event. I even got accepted from the wait-list for Rio Del Lago, but logic got the best of me and I declined the invitation.

Javelina 100 is October 28-29. I arrive on Friday, and I’ll be pacing Tara through the night hours and I gotta say, I’m pretty damn excited to view the sun set over the desert, run under the night sky and then watch the sunrise the on Sunday morning. The last time I watched the sunrise over the desert was in the Mojave Desert during Uberman. 

Most of all, it’s a chance to pay it back to the people that have helped me over the years – my crews, pacers and the innumerable volunteers that helped me along the way in every race, from local 10-milers and sprint triathlons to my three Ironmans to the recent Tahoe 200.

Of course, it’s not exactly torture to be out there running. It brings me joy to experience these races, and the planning and discipline to train and prepare is something I’ve learned is a necessary in my life.

So here I go, ramping up my training regimen. Two weeks ago, I had to break entirely from training for five straight days because of a stomach bug that left me with low-grade nausea every day for two weeks and an insane, self-inflicted work schedule.

That is all behind me and last week kickstarted a more serious training schedule. This week has been even better with a strong run on Tuesday, a rigorous lifting and Cross-Fit workout yesterday, followed by my plan of run-lift-run-run over the next four days through Sunday, all designed to sharpen me up and get back my racing edge.

And finally, it’s a chance to resurface my #RunningforRefugees Campaign!

With your help, we’ve raised close to $3000 so far, and I’m keeping the campaign going until we reach the original target of $20,550 that I set before the Tahoe 200.

If you’d like to donate, or know a friend that would like to help, here’s the link to the campaign page on the Mercy Corps website.

Remember… I have a special announcement coming about the #RunningforRefugees that will give you and your friends a little extra motivation to contribute… Stay tuned for more.

 

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Tahoe 200: Day 4 – Brockway Summit to The Finish #Tahoe200 #RunningforRefugees

Posted on October 9, 2017 by | Leave a comment

I got to “bed” around 10:30pm and planned to sleep until 4am – no real plans to rush the morning. Instead I wanted to get a really good rest so that I could have a strong day on Monday to finish the race. While 84 hours was still on my mind, I was also willing to eschew hitting that time in exchange for good strong day.

I woke up sometime around 1:30am. The air was cold outside, blowing under the tent flaps, and the wool blanket felt warm and comfortable. I did a quick diagnostic – no soreness in my legs and I felt  rested, so it was time to rise and shine.  The only thing standing in my way of the finish line was 50 miles of trails. Having that singular focus was so freeing and enjoyable. I slipped on my shoes and ambled back to the aid station area from the sleeping tents.

First things first – pop in my contact lenses so I could see. I didn’t think through this like I should have, trying to put them in my eyes while standing outside on a rug using my iPhone as a mirror. Duh.

One of my contacts fell on the ground, so the mad scramble to find a needle a haystack began. I was able to find it, and then asked for some help. One of volunteers had a camper with a mirror. Much more civilized and practical. I then ordered some breakfast and found a spot on ground to start limbering up.

While I was stretching, a runner came into the aid station, telling a story about a bear encounter. He had turned a corner on the trail a few miles back and saw a bear standing there. When he tried to make some noise to scare it away, the bear stood its ground. Then he heard some rustling and saw three cubs up in a tree – not exactly this situation you want to find yourself in, so he backed off down the trail a bit and waited until he heard them leave.

I told this story to Todd, the head medic, at the Tahoe City aid station later that morning. He asked me – “Do you think he really saw a bear?” as if to say – “Maybe the guy was hallucinating…” Either way, it was both entertaining and a reminder that I was in the wilderness, even though the aid stations, trail markers and constant drip of runners made it feel like we were out for a walk in the woods on a race course.

Once I ate, I remembered that I left my trekking poles down at the sleeping tent, and Liz was kind enough to go grab them. Final adjustments to my gear and I got some advice on the next stretch from the Donner Running Party – “mostly downhill and very runnable. Really great surface.” Yes. Awesome.

On the way out, the volunteers played exit song requests. Here’s mine:

Brockway (mile 155) to Tahoe City (mile 175): Flying Down the Mountain

It was just past 2:30am and I was on my way to Tahoe City, 20 miles of nighttime and early morning running. Like yesterday, I segmented this stretch into smaller parts. I knew I had about three hours of darkness, then I’d start to see the false dawn around 5:30, then the sunrise an hour after that.

I figured this 20-miles stretch would take about 6-7 hours given the wear and tear of the past three days, bringing me into Tahoe City around 9:30am. I had budgeted to be there by 9am on my 84-hour race plan, and given my early start – arriving about two hours ahead last night and leaving much earlier this morning than planned – I started to think that as long as I kept plodding along at the same pace, I might still have a chance to hit the 84-hour mark. I tried to do some math in my head – 50 miles, divide by 3 (20:00 min/mile pace) was 17 hours. Three o’clock AM, add 17 hours…. 12 hours is 3:00pm, remainder 5 hours, which is 8pm, which would be 83 hours so even at a 20:00 min/mile pace for the day, I have an hour buffer to get to the finish by 9:00pm, or 84 hours. This could happen.

I hadn’t thought much about bears too most of the way, but during this morning I definitely thought about bears. The guy’s story at the aid station spooked me. Plus I was now working on eight hours of sleep over three days and more than 155 miles, so the visuals were pretty strong.

I wasn’t hallucinating, but rocks, trees and shrubs took shape. Stumps looked like giant frogs and the heads of giant ferrets. Fallen trees and rocks started to look like bears. I decided to just have fun with it. I knew none of it was real, so why not enjoy the show?

The first part of this stretch was a gentle uphill then an easy downhill for the first 2.5 miles, then there was a long gradual uphill for the next five miles that gained about 1000’. Definitely manageable even if it meant a lot of slow miles. I just focused on plodding along.  I came down a hill to a small lake or pond, and stopped for a few minutes to eat a bag of sweet potatoes and bacon. I called that “breakfast.”

After reaching the end of the gradual climb, the rest of this stretch was as promised – flat and runnable, and a super opportunity to bank some time, dropping into 16:00 and 17:00-minute miles in the first ten miles. Around mile 12, I stopped for a longer break, then the next 5-6 miles were GLORIOUS!

My legs felt remarkably fresh. No soreness in my quads or hamstrings at all. A few ligaments and tendons were feeling worn, but nothing debilitating, so I was able to pick up the pace and knock out miles all the way into the 11:00-13:00 minute/mile range. This was HUGE to bank this time, and to feel really strong, almost like Superman. Every mile that I picked off was one less mile to go to the finish. Every mile at a pace under 20:00-minutes was banked time.

I zoomed by a couple of runners on this segment that I had run with last night. They had gotten an earlier start than me, but with my pace, I was able to catch up and pass them. At one point, I got down to 7:23 pace for a short spurt. I was flying down the mountain.

After riding that wave, I had about three miles to the aid station. The trail turned rocky and hard to manage at a quick pace. I took that as a sign to slow down, enjoy the time I banked and start resting up for the next stretch from Tahoe City to Stephen Jones.

Travis and Lena would be meeting me at Tahoe City. I told them sometime between 8:30-9:00, thinking that I would arrive a bit later than that, but at least they’d be there ready to go when I arrived to shorten the rest stop time but I was well ahead of that.

As I came down to the trailhead, the course ran along a couple of streets to reach the aid station. As I pulled into the aid station, it was only 8:15am! The sun was shining, and I felt awesome, just awesome. Lena was just walking up to the station with chairs and gear just as I arrived.

The aid station was quiet so I had the place pretty much to myself at first with just 1-2 other runners there. I ordered a huge breakfast – eggs, bacon and pancakes. I wanted to refuel and enjoy the fruits of my early morning work. I had just covered 20 miles in under 5:45, feeling great and starting to believe that 84 hours was very, very possible after all.

Todd patched me up one more time, taking care of a blister under a toenail. He told me that I was looking strong and really in good shape. Travis pulled into the parking lot, got together his gear while I ate and got medical attention. I was juiced and ready to go. Lena snapped a picture and off we went.

Two guys headed out for a 20-mile hike…

Tahoe City (mile 175) to Stephen Jones (mile 195): Just Two Buddies on a Day Hike

I saw this stretch as the last dragon to vanquish. While the last ten miles from Stephen Jones to the finish included one last big climb, I knew that once I got to Stephen Jones, I would be unstoppable and my finish inevitable, save for a major catastrophe.

Travis and I departed Tahoe City at 9:03am, so I was well ahead of my 84-hour plan. I had planned to arrive to Tahoe City at 9am, so pulling out of the aid station at that time felt really, really good. I briefed Travis on our walk-run strategy, and the first bit of the course ran along pavement before darting back onto the trails. We had a short climb before a steady flat few miles before the mega-climb on this stretch – nearly 2000’ over 3-4 miles right in the middle of the 20 miles.

We knocked off the first 5-6 miles pretty quickly, and again I was happy to bank time, bracing for any possible delays where I’d need to use that time – needing a long break, and injury or anything else. I’m not sure where my worry came from given how well my body help up through 3+ days, but I just wanted to keep that mindset to brace for or avoid any total meltdown.

We came upon a small footbridge at the base of the big climb, crossing a stream near a waterfall.  We sat for a minute to rest before the climb and decided to fill up our water bottles just in case. It felt like we had enough, but I was close to empty on one bottle and the thought of the first night when I ran out of water getting into Sierra-at-Tahoe, which seemed like weeks ago now, was still in my mind. Travis was good enough to climb down to the stream for us and our climb began.

By now, runners were scattered far apart on the course. We went miles without seeing anyone else, I remarked that it didn’t even feel like I was in a race anymore. It jut felt like two guys out for a hike. That feeling alarmed me because I didn’t want to lose any intensity in mindset and pace, but with the climb, there wasn’t much I could do to go faster so it was just about plodding and plodding and plodding. Just keep moving and trust that I was executing on my race plan.

After about an hour, Travis called out the time and asked if we should break. Very good of him to stay on schedule – 55 minutes of movement then a 5 minute break. Perfect timing. We continued the climb and the path crossed an open field close to the top.

Travis was as much as a guide and storyteller as he was a pacer. He knew the geography, plants and flowers around us really well. The best part was that he kept me talking. We talked for a while about endurance racing – marathons, triathlons, training and qualifying for the Boston Marathon. Then we talked about his backcountry adventures with Richard Sexton, a fellow economist at UC-Davis. In his stores, Travis described the terrain, the story, the situation, the weather, the equipment. It was entertaining and most of all, helped pass the time, which meant that as long as we kept moving forward, distance was passing as well.

We reached the top of the climb along with 2-3 other runners about the same time and stopped to look over the valley and take a few pictures. Such a wonderful feeling to have that climb behind me. Just like with Powerline, it was milestone to the finish – it was starting to feel real.   I started thinking about the distance not just to Stephen Jones, but to the finish line. We were now about ten miles into this stretch, with ten miles to go, then just another ten miles from Stephen Jones to the finish line. The mental countdown started, even as much as I wanted to stay present and focused on just getting to the next aid station.

Victory shall be mine!

Soon after reaching the peak, we stopped for another break to refresh and start the downhill.  The next seven miles were simply GLORIOUS again. First, Travis started ahead, picking up the pace ever so slightly. I felt GREAT! Very strong and enjoying the downhill. I told him to nudge the pace a bit more, so faster we went. We stopped for a short break, then I took the lead, running ahead for a few miles, ratcheting up the pace even more, faster and faster. For a two mile stretch, we dropped down to a sub-8:00 min/mile and even down to a 7:07 pace at one point. Pure flow. Knocking off miles in 11:00-16:00 range was just damn fun. More time in the bank.

We reached the bottom of the trail into a neighborhood down to the lake. After about 1/2 mile, we picked up the bike trail along Lake Tahoe. Just like the day before near Incline Village, the asphalt miles were painful. Travis kept me moving with a walk-run strategy – “Run to the second telephone pole” and we’d run to it. “Run to the big tree off to the right” and we’d run to it.  Along the path, we stopped to dip our hats in cool lake water which was welcome relief. While the air temperature was moderate, the sun felt hot and we’d been going almost six hours.

The course has us cross the road and head back into some asphalt neighborhood roads before reaching another walking trail on the way to Stephen Jones aid station. We were about two miles from the aid station and I was starting to feel the first real effects of the mileage in my feet and legs. The arch on my left foot was starting to throb and I thought about it would be entirely possible for this to flair up to the point where I couldn’t run. Most of this track was flat or modestly uphill but I had a hard time running with any pace so we walked it. Along the last two miles, Travis and I talked about the aid station plan. Refuel, eat, take Advil and apply more sunscreen.

The trail came out to another asphalt road and we crossed a bridge with a volunteer there. “Just go right up there and hang a left. The aid station is about a quarter mile.”

“A quarter mile from when we take a left, or a quarter mile from here? Because it matters…”  I asked half-jokingly, half-seriously.

She laughed – “From when you make a left.”

Into the aid station we trudged, where Lena, Benjamin, Nina and Paul were waiting. It was just past 3pm, and again, I was ahead of schedule by nearly an hour. THIS MEANT I HAD SIX HOURS TO GO 10 MILES AND STILL BREAK 84 HOURS!

I took my time at the aid station to make sure I was completely regrouped before the last climb. I had the medical volunteer check out my feet. The bandages on my blisters were holding up, and I told him about the shooting paid in my arch.

“I never really get plantar faciatis. This is pretty unusual.”

He didn’t say a word, instead giving me a hilarious look that said – “Are really surprised that after 195 miles, you might actually have some problems you’ve never experienced before?” He applied some rock tape to hold my arch in place. “That should get you through these last ten miles.”

Two guys after a 20-mile hike…

While in the chair, I broached the topic of having someone pace me for this last stretch. Travis said, “I’d stay with you if I think you needed it. You look great – really strong. You don’t need me.” Lena and I talked about her pacing me, and decided that I was good on my own, and that I’d rather her get to the finish line with everyone to meet me there. Paul and Nina helped to refill by water bladder and nutrition and off I went.

STEPHEN JONES (mile 195) TO THE FINISH (mile 205.5): A Massive Climb & A Massive Thunderstorm

Ten miles to go! JUST TEN MILES TO GO!

The first two miles were unexpectedly flat. The surface was littered in large rocks about the size of my fists and feet, but even so, I was able to walk-run to keep the pace going and bank a few minutes before the climb started.

Then it started. Travis had briefed me about this last segment of the course – “It’s a climb about the same as the one we just did, but there’s a saddle on the top, so when he hit the first peak, you’ll go down a little, then back up to a second peak.”

Nope. It was not a climb like the one we just did. It was way, WAY worse. SUPER steep – like climbing stairs but without the stairs. I knew I had about 1750 feet of vertical to reach the top, so I segmented the climb into 250 foot chunks. It was really, really hard to avoid looking at my Garmin. When I did, I’d see I’d only climbed 60’ or 80’ so I started picking a spot above me and climb to that, the find another turn and climb to that. Very slow going, but I kept it steady. At one point, I looked back down and it felt like a roller coaster descent behind me. My only regret is that I didn’t take a picture back down the hill.

I was both cursing and applauding Candice, the race director. “Well done, Candice,” I thought. “Take everything we’ve done over the past 195 miles to get to these last ten, the turn the screws on us one more time.”

After about 1000’, I reached a false peak where a car with a couple of race supporters were, offering water and soda as an informal aid station. I declined and kept moving. The course ran along a paved road for about 1/2 mile before turning back into trail. One more push to the top.

More switchbacks and steepness. A hiker passed me on the way down. I managed a “Hello.” and she replied with – “Enjoy you walk!” Giggle.

As I got closer to the top of the climb, the trees thinned out and I could start to see more of the sky, and what I saw was not good. A thunderstorm was brewing directly across the lake and headed my way. As I reached a clearing towards the top of the climb, it was pretty obvious that I’d be in a race to get up and over the peak before the storm hit. I didn’t care much for the feeling of being at 9000’ feet on an exposed peak with a thunderstorm approaching. I reach one peak, then the trail descended briefly, then back up to the actual peak.

This is NOT the saddle on the last segment. Still more climbing after the peak ahead…

The storm grew closer and I was glad for a decision I made in the last aid station. I had gone through my backpack and handed off some stuff I wouldn’t need to Lena to save on weight – electronic equipment and a couple of other things. I had thought about handing over my rain gear, assuming I won’t need it, but instead thought about Deep Survival. The jacket and pants weighed less than 1/2 lb and what if….

As I reached Ellis peak, I felt a relief to have that behind me so that I could start the race to the finish. The trail descended quickly and the storm was coming closer. Fast. The trail flattened a bit then had a slight incline. Then the slight incline turned steeper. F&CK! I thought I’d hit the saddle before the last peak, and only now was I hitting it!  More f&cking climbing.

Now I was starting to feel concerned for getting stuck up there somehow in the storm, so much so, that I was now running the uphills. I just wanted to get to the next peak, knowing it really would be the last, then I could haul ass it to the finish line.

Not what you want to see while standing on a 9000′ peak.

I hit the peak and started down the true final descent. I came upon a patch of snow that I remembered from the start of the race, and knew that I was about 3 miles to the finish. I was well ahead of schedule again, and right now, looking to finish around 7pm – two hours ahead of my 84-hour race plan.  As I started down, I texted Lena –

 

 

I checked the time – just before 6:30pm. With about three miles to go, I started thinking about breaking the 7pm barrier and having a time of 81:something. Wow. So impressed with my performance. But no time to celebrate because of the damn storm rolling in.

The trail was exposed because I was now running down ski trails and the thunderstorms kept approaching. I’d see lightening flash, then I counted until I heard thunder – one one thousand, two one-thouasand, three one-thousand.  I was running scared.  By now, I locked into a flow state again, picking a line through the trail rocks, eyeing the trail about 50 feet ahead for my line, not even looking down at where my feet were going – they just knew. A few times I stumbled and once I fell. Inconsequential. Just get up and run.

The thunderstorm was now directly over me and passing from the west to the east. Rain hadn’t fallen and I was running scared. The trail ran along the ski lifts, which of course were made from metal, which was awesome in a thunderstorm, and the farther I descended, the more I kept looking for the last turn down into the open ski run area where I could spot the finished gate. But it kept eluding me. I was peeking at my Garmin, and now breaching 10 miles for the stretch. I had to be close, so close. Right?

The trail turned again with a few switchbacks and the flow state dissipated. The storm had blown overhead and now was to the East. It seemed to stay at a high altitude and never hit squarely over me. My pace slowed and I was feeling it in my feet and quads for the last two miles. I kept pushing even though I knew I couldn’t keep the same pace as the miles before.

My Garmin ticked past 10 miles and the finish was no where in sight. I starting to sense I couldn’t break 7pm without a miracle.

More turns. More switchbacks. Maybe there were only 3 or 4 or 5, but they felt endless and steep, then FINALLY I saw the opening to the gate.

This was it! I couldn’t even enjoy the moment, worried about getting to the bottom of the mountain, worried about the family and especially Benjamin waiting out there for me, exposed to the storm. I pushed as hard as I could to hit the finish without taking time to consider what I was accomplishing – 205 MILES! Even as I write, I’m feeling my eyes tear up. 205 miles… 205 miles… 205 miles… Wow.

The race team propped up the finishing gate and my mother-in-law, Nina, was standing across the finish line with a red umbrella. She tried to hand it to me. I pushed it aside and said – “Thanks, Mom, I don’t want an umbrella.”

All I wanted was to see Lena and Benjamin and give them an enormous hug. And I did.

At THE FINISH: 205.5 Miles

Just like at the start of the race, the finish to ultra-marathons are equally melodramatic. No one on a loud speaker yelling – “Scott Sambucci! YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!”

Instead, it’s just a couple of people standing around. No crowds. No cheering except for your own crew. With the storms, it was much worse because a wind gust had just blown over the inflatable finishing gate and the food tent. While I was coming down the course on the last mile, everyone at the finish was scrambling to lock down the tents and food.

Had it not been for Nina, then would not have even had the gate stood up for me. I learned later that she had made friends with the race team, as she’s prone to do :-), and she asked them – “Could you please put the gate back up for him?”

So awesome. Thanks, Mom. You’re the best. 🙂

I was feeling great. I’d just run 205.5 miles and was standing there having a conversation, talking about the storm, and getting briefed on all that happened with the wind gust while I was approaching the finish.

I asked for my finished time.

82:00:16.

I just missed finishing before 7pm, and somehow felt disappointed, immediately starting to think about how with the right planning before a few aid stations and taking a few shorter breaks, or running a few more flat spots, how I could have dropped into the 70s. It’s gave me a glimpse of what is possible with the right training, the right planning and the right effort.

Check the box. 205.5 miles.

I talked to another runner or two, and one of the race coordinators. I asked for my buckle which had been packed away with all of the other race gear after the wind gust. She kindly retrieved the box and I picked out my buckle.

But it wasn’t about a buckle. It wasn’t about loud cheering. This was for me – that I set out to do some incredibly hard, and with the right plan and the right team and the right execution, I was able to do something wonderful.

205.5 miles.

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Tahoe 200: Day 2 Sierra-at-Tahoe to Heavenly #Tahoe200 #RunningforRefugees

Posted on September 22, 2017 by | Leave a comment

Sierra-at-Tahoe (mile 62.9) to Housewife Hill (mile 70).

I collected my belongings from the floor next to me, headed to the bathroom, popped in my contacts and washed up. Next back to the main aid station area where I found Tim from the Medical team to help me with my feet.

I told him about the wrinkled mess from last night (two hours ago…), and a couple of small hot spots starting developing.  Fortunately, my skin was mostly dried out so he taped up the hot spots and I was ready to go. I put clean pair of socks (Injinjis) and my over-pair socks (CW-X) were mostly dry too. My shoes were still a bit damp, but definitely much better than I expected. Lena was meeting me at Housewife Hill, just seven miles ahead, so I figured I could change shoes there if I needed to complete the reboot (haha!) from Day 1 before the long climb up to Armstrong Pass.

I got a minimal amount of nutrition together for the short stretch and headed out around 7:30am. As I was heading down the hill from Sierra-at-Tahoe, I passed a few runners still just arriving to this aid station and thought about what their Day 1 must be feeling like, now almost 24 hours into the race without sleep. I was glad to be on my way and excited that I felt good for these next few miles.

I came across a runner and his pacer (can’t remember their names ????) super guys and we ran together for a mile or so. This guy had just run the Bigfoot 200 and told me that he slept 16 hours during that race, and improved his overall time by 7 hours over last year. This data point definitely made me feel good about my sleep decision and my overall plan to sleep as much as I could along the way, instead of trying to go 36 or 48 hours without sleep out of the gate.

Feeling good on Saturday AM!

I felt energized. The sun was shining, the morning brisk and the air cool. The segment was mostly a rolling downhill so I could run a nice smooth pace and made good time down to the aid station.

About a quarter mile from the station, I looked ahead and saw my crew waiting for me! Lena, Benjamin, Nina and Tbone!

Benjamin starting running towards me and I almost starting crying I was so happy to see them.  When he reached me, I said – “Can you believe that I’ve been running since I saw you yesterday?” I said that as much for him as for me. I felt very happy and proud to have made it through Day 1 and felt a confidence that I was on my way to knocking out this journey.

I took some time to try out different shoes but no one them felt right, and my Altras were now mostly dry from the running and dry morning weather.  Nina found me a nice breakfast of eggs and bacon from “The Guy in the Red Suit” serving as cook at the aid station. Very yummy and satisfying.

We snapped a few pictures and off I headed for the 18 miles stretch to the top of Armstrong Pass.

Housewife Hill (mile 70) to Armstrong Pass (mile 88): The long, slow climb

A few miles into this stretch (can’t remember exactly how many…), I crossing a stream. Thinking about the 5-6 hours ahead and remembering how I ran short on water last night, I took a few minutes to fill up one of my water bottles to be sure I’d have enough for the day.

Slowly, slowly, slowly plodding up the first part of the climb, I reached 8000’ about four miles in and felt pretty good about myself and the progress I’d made. The peak was 9750’, so I segmented what was ahead into 250’ elevation climb sections.  I figured I’d be at the top in the next two hours.

Oops…

I should have read the course elevation profile better.  Turns out that once you reach 8000’, there’s a 1000’ descent which drops you back down to 7000’ before heading back up to the 9750’ peak. The downhill miles were nice to knock off a few faster miles, but with each step I couldn’t help but think of the future cost I was incurring, knowing that I’d have to climb back up.

I remember running mostly alone alone along this stretch. With the overnight at Sierra-at-Tahoe and now well past 24 hours into the race and only ~175 runners, the field was stretching out quickly. I passed one runner that was off the trail, sitting high on a rock looking very happy and relaxed. We chatted a short bit, and I liked the idea of finding my own rock for rest somewhere along the midpoint up the climb.

I found my boulder – a huge flat boulder – and set up a picnic for myself. I had a bag of sweet potatoes and bacon that would be become my mainstay fuel for the rest of the race and found an extra packet of Tailwind in my running vest. After a quick bite, I laid on my back and looked up at the trees and watched the clouds move across the sky. A few gray clouds starting to infiltrate the blue canvas above, and all I could think was that another thunderstorm was brewing. I really, really didn’t want it to rain. I did well with it yesterday, managing my mindset and working through it, but the thought of more rain and water on the trail, especially as I was climbing worried me about a slick trail, not to mention climbing up close to 10,000’ where I’d be closer to the clouds and lightening.

I looked up on the trail from my rock, and saw my running friend Jonathan pass by with his pacer and felt a pang of jealousy that he had someone with him on this stretch. A few thoughts of loneliness crept into my mind, but all in all I knew this was just a tough slog that I’d have to do on my own, and eventually when I reached Heavenly tonight, I’d be at mile 103 and more than halfway done.

Big Meadow (appropriately named…)

After a few minutes, I motivated and headed back to the trail.  Climbing higher and higher, the course took me across Big Meadow and along several huge meadows that rested between peaks all around me. Wild flowers were abound in these fields, with yellow and purple flowers everywhere. It really took me aback to think about these plateaus resting thousands and thousands of feet about where I was used to seeing fields of grass and flowers.

I stopped to snap a few pictures just to force myself to appreciate what I was seeing, with the thought that I may never in my life be back on this trail to see what I was seeing. Too many times in situations like this, I’d think – “I’ll take a picture next time” – and too often, there hasn’t yet been a next time.

I took another break along the trailside, laying back on a rock.  I couldn’t sleep but at least I reset a bit. A couple of runners passed me, and one asked if I was doing okay just as I was started to doze off. I was a little perturbed that he interrupted my rest, but really, this was just me being grouchy and instead I considered should be grateful that other runners were aware enough to check in with me. We were miles and miles from anything resembling civilization so if any one of us got in trouble, the only help we could rely on was each other.

I packed up again and continued up the mountain. Another runner somewhere along this stretch passed me, and we kept climbing and climbing and climbing. Eventually we reached a peak, then short downhill, then another peak at 9300′. I asked him if he thought this was the top of the summit.

“I think there’s one more little climb to reach the top.”

Ugh.

We started downhill and he went ahead. The terrain got steep as I descended, and I loathed the idea of heading back up again to hit another peak, but the trail kept descending. My spirits picked up when I realized we had already reached the peak and now I was heading down to the next aid station in the next mile or two. I passed a couple of hikers and a runners heading back up, and that charged me more to know the aid stations was very, very close.

I found the oasis, relieved to have Armstrong Pass behind me, and feeling happy and proud with my progress. From a time standpoint, I was about 45 minutes ahead of my projected time. I expected to arrive to Armstrong around 5pm, and it felt good to know that my pace was holding, I had budgeted 8 hours for this stretch, and I knocked it out in less than seven!

As I meandered into the aid station, and a bearded volunteer, who later I’d learn was named John, asked me – “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good.”

Then he looked at me again – straight into my eyes and said – “Are you sure?”

He was right. I wasn’t necessarily bad, but I was pretty worn out after the climb up and over Armstrong.

“Roseanne is the medical person here – she’ll take care of you if you need anything.”

Roseanne came over and just sat for a moment to see how I was. She gave me a roller for my quads. Perfect timing after that climb. John got me a hamburger and Roseanne hung around just to make sure I took enough time to reset. Meanwhile, she tended to another runner that was shivering in the middle of the day because he hadn’t been eating.

As much as this was a reminder to myself to keep eating, none of the food was appetizing. I took a bite of the burger and it just didn’t agree with me. I knew I’d been good about taking in calories along the way and made myself a protein shake from a packet in my drop bag. That’s about the only food I ate at the aid station, and promised myself to keep eating along the next stretch and to do eat well tonight when I made it to Heavenly. I had a couple of bags of my magic sweet potatoes for calories, plus Tailwind and Clif bars stashed as “just-in-case.”

John and another volunteer (I can’t remember her name), helped me fill my water bladder and nutrition bottles. I was a little slow mentally getting things together, but eventually I got packed up and on my way out. Before I left, I drank another Starbucks Via packet as my afternoon coffee, and to hopefully enjoy a little late-afternoon pick-up from the caffeine.

I was happy to know that Heavenly and some sleep was only 15 miles from here – about five hours if I stayed on pace. More importantly, that the hardest part of the day was over.

Or so I thought…

Armstrong Pass (mile 88) to Heavenly (103.5): More Climbing? Really?

Climbing back out of the Armstrong Aid station was tough but my spirits were up. Before leaving the aid station, I asked about the next section of the course.  “You head back up Armstrong then it’s mostly rolling down to Heavenly.”

Okay, I thought, I just go back up to where I passed the runners coming out of the station then it’s rolling for 14 miles. I could handle that.

I worked my way back up the main trail and reached what thought was the peak of the stretch, only to be sadly mistaken. Instead, I had solid 3-mile climb from there back up to 9600’. It was switchback after switchback, and it was DEMORALIZING. I saw Peggy for the first time since late in Day 1 near the creek crossing, which felt like a lifetime ago.

Another runner (John) and I hitched up a bit and slogged along together, finally reaching the crest of the climb that transitioned from one side of the mountain to the other.  After about 1/4 mile of reaching the top, I found a rock and sat down to rest. I was wiped. That section was unexpected and tough, and I still had about 10 miles to go before Heavenly. I gave myself permission to take as much time as I wanted, ate some sweet potatoes and did a round of breathing exercises. That really reset my brain and body.

Once I got myself going, I told myself to just take it slow and make whatever progress I could on the downhill. By now, the sun setting across a valley to my left, and ahead of me stood a mountain with numerous spiked peaks decorating its side.

My body picked up the pace a little and the next 4-5 miles. I dropped down into a 10:00/min mile pace in a few stretches and knocked out a few sub-15:00/min miles overall. This was a welcome change in body and mind to be moving at a faster, more fluid pace. The trail now was a very nice gentle downslope and with the daylight hanging in the air, I was able to make some solid time over this stretch.

As the sun set over the mountain, I sat to rest then headed back down the trail. A few hundred feet down trail, I realized I’d left my gloves on the rock and had to backtrack. It was a good time to get my headlamp on for the last push down to Heavenly. When I pulled my headlamp from my backpack, it was already clicked on. Oh man.

John and I hiked along the next couple of miles together. He just started racing ultras a couple of years ago, and like me, hadn’t done a 100 before tackling a 200. The trail transitioned from a runnable single track to a rocky path of switchbacks. Down the mountain to the east, we could see the lights of the hotels and casinos along the lake. My headlamp light felt dim, so I sat down to change the batteries. I was very grateful to have packed extra batteries because the difference was HUGE. I could see much, much better.

On and on when trekked down the mountain and eventually we reached the Heavenly property, but still had a good three miles until the aid station. We hit a VERY steep short climb up a fire road – not more than a 1/4 mile but unexpected a killer on the legs. More switchbacks, along with more switchbacks, along with more switchbacks. I’d read about these switchbacks from a race report from a previous year, but it didn’t make them any more tolerable. They were steep and hard to run. I found myself walking on the downhills, then growing impatient and frustrated, so I tried to run the straight parts of the path just to pick up a few minutes and to prevent boredom.

Finally I reached the bottom of the mountain and the Heavenly aid station where Lena and Tbone were waiting.  So good to see them, and a little silly to think that it’d been about 12 hours since I saw them at Housewife Hill that morning, and that I’d covered about 33 miles since then.

They asked me what I needed, and I realized I didn’t have much of a plan. The aid station was oddly configured. The inside area was only for sleeping. The food station was outside on a metal grate deck, and the drop bags were down a flight of stairs, as was the bathroom.

Not a having a plan really sucked. I had Lena and Tanya ready to help me with whatever I needed, and I had no idea what to tell them. I felt decently well physically, but mentally, I was spent. I couldn’t make a decision. It was nighttime – around 10pm (still about an hour ahead of my plan!) and the set up of the aid station just wasn’t what I expected and I was trying to figure out what to do. Finally, I settled on eating what I could, then just getting some sleep to figure out what to do in the morning.  My feet were holding up well, and all I could think about what getting some rest to recharge.

I asked one of the volunteers to help me find a sleeping pad, and  I headed back to the bathroom to clean up a little and take out my contacts.  When I came back up to the sleeping quarters a few minutes later, I saw a guy with a blanket and pad. I thought it was the volunteer, so I said to him – “Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”

He looked a little stunned, and said, “This is for me.”

Oops.

Turns out it wasn’t to volunteer but another racer. It was dark inside and I didn’t have my contacts in, so I could see much. Lena came inside and helped me get settled. I was having a pretty tough time just trying to organize my stuff and figure out what to do with everything while I slept. The medical staff was working inside the sleeping area with headlamps, which made it hard to get comfortable, plus there was ambient talking all around both inside the sleeping quarters and downstairs at the bathroom.

We finally got me settled and I found a spot with a blanket and laid down. Ahhh… Time to sleep!  Except that I was WIDE AWAKE. My eyes wouldn’t close. Maybe it was too much caffeine. Maybe I was wired from the race. Whatever it was, I couldn’t get my eyes to close.

I finally told myself – “Dude, you’ve been going since 7:30 this morning, and have covered 103 miles in the last two days on two hours of sleep. You are tired. You have to be tired, so fucking GO TO SLEEP!” Within two minutes, I was asleep.

I woke up about an hour later at 11:30pm feeling very uncomfortable laying on the floor. “Oh man. No way,” I thought. I can’t be done sleeping already. No way I wanted to gear up and head out right now, so I found a second camping pad and to double up the custioning again I fell asleep. I woke up at 1:16am feeling much better, but also wondering if I’d had enough sleep to keep going. Did I really want to get up now and start Day 3 already? Then I checked my phone again and now it was 2:06am, so I must have dozed off a bit more.  By now, I accepted that it was time to get going, and if I got up now, I could hit the trail by 3:00am and start the day.

I rolled off the mattress, found my gear where I left, and Day 3 began…

 

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Tahoe 200: Day 1 Pre-Race to Sierra-at-Tahoe #Tahoe200 #RunningforRefugees

Posted on September 20, 2017 by | Leave a comment

Pre-Race: The anti-Ironman & Meeting Scott Jurek

We arrived to Homewood at 7:45am, just an hour and fifteen minutes from the race start, and that seemed early.  Ultra-runners are pretty mellow, especially compared the Ironman triathlete crowd I’ve grown used to seeing on race days. Many of the runners slept in their vans and campers in the parking lot.

Ultra-runners are more like Neil Young compared to the Guns-n-Roses craziness of Ironman races. No rock music blaring at 5am. No $10,000 bikes and transition set up. No wetsuits. No pensiveness. No one yelling at me through a loudspeaker – “By the end of the day, you will be an Ironman!” I’m glad I experienced the Ironman races, and now I’m glad to be in a more relaxed crowd. In ultra-running, you just lace up your running shoes and go.

Most of the pre-race time was spent waiting to get our SPOT device, so I used that time to get my feet and shoes prepped.  Then Lena said – “Isn’t that Scott Jurek?”

Lots of waiting for Daddy began at the race start…

Whoa! He was just chilling with his wife and baby.  I said hello and thanked him for his book – “Eat & Run.” He introduced me to his wife, Jenny. They were there to pace a friend.

To put this in perspective… Imagine showing up to play a weekend softball game and seeing Babe Ruth warming up the pitcher. Or before a pick-up game of flag football, seeing Tom Brady playing catch with your buddies. I’ve had similar interactions with Dean Karnazes at two other ultras – he just showed up, grabbed a bib number and said – “We’ll have to run some miles together today…”

I don’t know of any other sports where you can hand out with the titans of the sport.

 

Just four days to go before we’d be back here at the finish!

Race Start to Barker Pass (mile 7): Let’s do this

Candice called everyone over about three minutes before the race start to line up behind the gate. I gave my goodbye hugs and kisses, and blended in with the other 182 starters waiting for the countdown.

It’s pretty melodramatic, if only because it’s not really a “race” for most of us. It’s a journey – more like starting a road trip. You don’t exactly pull out of the driveway at 65 mph and rip open the beef jerky while still in your neighborhood. It’s freaking 205.5 miles. Plus the course immediate goes uphill, so no one is actually running more than a few steps to push through the starting gate.

I considered the first segment from the race start to Barker Pass as a prologue – it was a feeling out phase to see how I would do with elevation and staying patient, and to make sure that my backpack and gear was all sorted and working comfortably.  The course doesn’t give you much to be impatient about – you hike the first 3.5 miles with everyone else then you meander down to the first aid station at Barker Pass.

I sensed nervous energy throughout the crowd.. I spent a mile talking with Brent from Georgia. He struck up a conversation by asking – “What’s your name?” I felt a little out of breath walking up the first few miles and he seemed unphased.  It wasn’t the elevation as much as my body adjusting to the activity. That create a twinge of doubt in my mind  – did I really belong here? Was I ready? I slowed my walking pace and just told myself – “Conserve, conserve, conserve.” I really had no idea of what was ahead.

I also felt curiosity in the group of runners. I think everyone wanted to know if they belonged too. Were we crazy to be going after this distance? Were we ready and prepared for what was ahead? Would doing a 100 translate to knocking out a 200? For me, I hadn’t even done a 100, which surprised everyone I shared that tidbit with throughout the race.  It was hard to think about the next four days out there, and even just getting through the first day so mostly I just wanted to get to the first aid station and get on my way to Loon Lake.

First snow sighting. I came across 3-4 more patches like this along the course.

At the top of the climb out of Homewood, a patch of snow remained which was an well-placed reminder that we were, in fact, in the mountains. This was the wilderness and I was about to spend the next four days out here.

Along the jog down to Barker Pass, I remember looking at my Garmin and seeing we were past 5.5 miles into the race – less than 200 to go! A small milestone achieved.

At the aid station, I tried to be swift and deliberate. The next stretch was 14 miles so I wanted begin gauging how much water and fuel I would need for these longer stretches between aid stations, as these distances between aid stations would get longer as the day and the race wore on. The more I could learn early in the race about hydration, the better.

 

Barker Pass (mile 7)  to Loon Lake (mile 24): Getting off-course & the Rubicon Trail

This is where the race became real. Past the aid station, the course led you about 1/2 mile down fire road then turned sharply to the left onto a single track trail. With the runner group so compact, it was easy to follow the person ahead and stay on the course.

Or so everyone thought…

After about 1/2 mile down the single track, a group of runners were doubling back yelling – “No flags!” About 100 runners aggregated in an open area along the trail, pulling out our phones and checking out the GAIA app.

It was an interesting sociological experiment in group think and decision-making. We all appeared to be off course, and according to GAIA, should have been on another trail just slight downhill from where we were.

A few people wanted to go back where they came from saying things like – “This is the Tahoe Rim Trail. I know where we are.”

Then I remember one woman taking charge – “Think about this guys – there are NO FLAGS down there and Candice was very clear that no flags means you are OFF COURSE, and we should go back to the last place we saw a flag.” She was right and that made the most sense to me.  I continued the double-back to the fire road and we found a second trail that appeared to be the right trail according to the GAIA app. Still no flags though.

For the next four miles, no one saw a flag but the GAIA app and corroborating with other runners, we seemed to be on-course. Eventually we picked up a trail with a marker. The only thought we hd was that someone wet through a picked the flags as a really bad joke.  Gladly this happened early in the race when everyone was bunched together and people could work it out together. If this happened at mile 130, it could have meant big trouble for anyone that was fatigued and out on the trail alone at night.

Along this stretch I met Peggy from Nevada City. She’s 61 and has grandkids. Wow. She and I spent the next few days leap-frogging each other. It was comforting to see a familiar face along the way, and I was glad to make a friend on the course. (Thanks, Peggy!)

Heading to Loon Lake brought us onto the famed Rubicon Trail. Around mile 12 or 13, I chatted for a few minutes with a women from Arizona. She asked how I was doing. I said – “We’re doing it. We’re here. We’re on the course.”  I started to feel like I belonged, and at the least, I felt like I’d figure out a way to get through Day 1.

Reaching the Rubicon Trail

On the Rubicon Trail, while the boulders and rocks were a huge pain, the recent rain kept the dust I had read so much about at bay. This was a very fortunate break compared to past years – runners had reported 2-3 inches of dust the made breathing hard and caused blisters by penetrating shoes and socks.

Pretty typical trail along the Rubicon Trail.

It was slow going along the trail as expected, mostly walking on and between big rocks.  I met Gene on this stretch, 69 years old and going for the Triple Crown this year – Bigfoot, Tahoe and Moab. Next year, he’s gunning for a sub 3:00 marathon to set a course record in Europe. I walked with him and another fellow that was on the course for the second year. He knew the distances and climbs ahead, which helped to manage expectations and felt nice to have an impromptu guide for this section even if he hadn’t signed up for that duty. I tried to be judicious in my questions because I wanted to respect his space and race. Hopefully I was.

As we reached Loon Lake, I stopped with about 10-15 others to refill my water bottles from the lake. I didn’t really need the water, but thought it would be a good break and a good exercise to get in the habit of getting water – using my water tablets and generally staying disciplined to keep my water bottles and water bladder full. Late in the day, I’d have to learn this lesson the hard way…

I don’t remember much from the Loon Lake aid station.

Loon Lake (mile 24) to Tell’s Creek (mile 30.5)

In this stretch, I met Jonathan from Texas. He and I ran together for a while and down to the Tell’s Creek aid station. It was good company for both of us. I stayed just ahead of him almost like a pacer and for a good hour or more, we talked without me ever really getting a good look at his face – just a voice along the trail. Thunderstorms were brewing as forecast and the skies turned gray.

The skies opened up as soon as I hit the aid station. Oh my. The rain was frustrating in working with my drop bag. I didn’t have any space to spread out and go through my drop bag for what I wanted. I wanted to be quick here, but not hurry too much.

I saw Jonathan at the aid station, and he and I made eye contact as if to say – “Let’s keep running together. I was game, but the rain and chaos separated us and I was on my own.  Time to get on my way to the next stretch – a half-marathon to Wright’s Lake.

I ate a couple of quesadillas and two pieces of bacon hot off the grills, dripping with grease, donned my rain gear and headed down the trail.  Less than a 1/4 mile out of the aid station, I doubled back for my aid bag to grab my plastic poncho as well. The rains were really coming down and I wanted to stay as dry as possible. Once situated again, I felt ready to get going, and got myself to accept that rain was just part of the challenge. There’s was nothing to do but accept it was there, and be thankful I had my rain gear, poncho and headlamp.

Tell’s Creek (mile 30.5) to WRight’s Lake (mile 44): Night-time & BROKEN-DOWN JEEPS ON THE RUBICON

I caught up to Jonathan and we put in a few more miles together, chatting more about podcasts and books, and just mostly passing the time along the slow miles.  The rains stopped and the air temperature dropped. Somewhere along here, I donned on my long-sleeved shirt and headlamp. Night-time running had officially begun.

For context, it was about 7:30pm, which mean I’d been going for 10.5 hours, and still had at least another 8-9 hours of work to do before I would reach Sierra-at-Tahoe. This was a little unnerving to think about, but overall, while my legs where feeling tired, I felt capable and strong enough to keep going.

There was more of the Rubicon Trail, and what I remember from this stretch is climbing and jumping from boulder to boulder up and down the trail, occasionally slipping past Jeeps that were on the trail. A few Jeeps were broken down or stuck on rocks. Guys had headlamps and spotlights out trying to fix broken engines. Man, those guys are crazy to be out there… ????

I tried to keep up with a group of 4-5 runners that formed, and every so often I’d catch up and then they’d pull ahead. I noticed two guys were running together closely and I tried to stick with them, as they seemed pretty experienced in ultras and mentally there was a certain comfort in having someone else there in case something went wrong. Not that I’d expect them to help much, but it was dark, getting late and I was now in unchartered territory for me. The longest single day endurance event I’d done was the 14.5 hour Catalina Channel swim, so every step I took into the evening felt like I was going farther and farther out on a precipice to see what I could do and what I could handle.

At Wright’s Lake, I think I ate some decent food, but I can’t remember what. I do remember drinking a Starbucks Via packet that I had packed in my drop bag, and that was a good boost to get me going from the next stretch. It was a longer one, with only the Highway 50 water station for the next 19 miles, about 10-12 miles from Wright’s Lake, then “only” another 8 or so miles to Sierra-at-Tahoe. I packed plenty of Tailwind so that I could refuel at the water station for the last stretch to keep up with both hydration and calories.

At the station, I cleaned my feet and changed into dry socks here to keep them in good shape. So far, so good. While my shoes and outer layer socks and shoes where a little wet from the rain, my feet felt good and I figured I could go the 18-19 miles and finish the day in good shape. Every day without foot issues was a bonus out there.

Wright’s Lake (mile 44) to Highway 50 (mile 56.7): Wet Feet & Running into the Abyss

My clean, dry feet only lasted about a mile…

Soon after the aid station, I reached a creek crossing. So far, any of the creeks or stream crossings had rocks and trees to walk on to stay dry, but this crossing was a wider and deeper. No way to cross without walking through the ankle deep water.

F&CK.

After crossing, I plopped down and changed socks again but the outer pair of socks where drenched, as were my shoes so while my feet were clean from dust and debris, they were wet and would be wet for the next 16 miles or so. As soon as I changed my socks, I questioned if I should have waited in case there was another creek crossing. Oh well. So be it.

Past the crossing, I hit a good stretch for a while. The trail was pretty modest and I could actually do some light “running” here. At mile 46, I was “running” at a sub-12:00-min/mile pace. I caught up to the pair of runners that had been running tightly and I passed them – “I had some coffee at the last stop!” It was a good burst for a couple of miles, then my Garmin battery started to fade. I stopped to recharge it and they passed me back.

Out of the words, the course hit a long 3-mile downhill pavement stretch that led down to Highway 50. Pretty painful on the knees. The slope was steep enough that I couldn’t take a true running stride, so it was a lot of small steps to try to take advantage of the downhill, but even with poles, I could feel my knees aching. One of the guys I ran with suggested taking it easy – “I’m going to need my downhill legs later…”

We got to the bottom on the hill all the way down to 5500’ and I looked for the water aid station. My mileage and time was off because my Garmin was charging and I asked another runner where he thought we were on the course.  He seemed to think the water station was about three miles ahead.

I ran ahead of the group a little, feeling antsy because I was pretty low on water, depending on the aid station to refill it. I found myself alone on the trail and now it was deep into nighttime. My Garmin was charged up by now so I tried to estimate miles and looking for the Highway 50 aid station felt like the quest for El Dorado. After a while, I realized that I must have missed it or it didn’t exist, and now it was just a matter of plugging through the next 8-10 miles to get to Sierra-at-Tahoe.

I was mentally tired, but overall, felt surprising good for having now gone 14-15 hours since the morning. Even the first day alone felt like a very, very long journey. It was strange and magical to think that I ran through the starting gate this morning, along the Rubicon Trail, dealt the thunderstorms, passed well beyond my previous personal single-day limits, still had 8-10 miles to do, and remarkably felt able and strong enough to work complete Day 1.

Highway 50 (mile 56.7) to Sierra-at-Tahoe (mile 62.9): Hallucinations: Wolves & Jim Morrison

Yep. I had ‘em.

I ran past one fallen tree and thought I saw a wolf perched, ready to pounce. I actually jumped backwards then tried to laugh it off. In my peripheral vision, I saw a poster of Jim Morrison and The Doors, and when I looked over, it was gone. When I looked back ahead, I saw it again. The trail seemed like a meandering mess, and I lost my sense of direction, just looking for the dragon flags every so often to make sure I was on course. Occasionally I’d see a headlamp ahead or behind me on the trail, so at least the next person wasn’t that far away.

I caught up to another runner – an guy from England. I was low on water and I asked him how much water he had. “I’ve got three bottles if you need some.” Good to know. We ran and walked along for a bit, not saying much of anything and then we hit a long, long climb. He hiked ahead of me and I followed his heels up the mountain. At one point he said – “Jeez, this thing is never-ending isn’t it?”  Yes it was. It was dark, very dark, cold and about two o’clock in the morning. It just kept going and going and going, looking at my Garmin for elevation changes. We were well past 6500’ and still going higher. I rationed my water and nutrition and eventually we hit the top of the climb at 7200′ and descended down to the entrance to the Sierra-at-Tahoe ski area.

This stretch taught me a painful lesson about distance and time. When hiking, even fast hiking up a hill, I was going about 3 mph, or 20:00/min miles. That means you’re only three miles away from a destination and it’s going to take AN ENTIRE FREAKING HOUR TO GET THERE! Covering 60 miles and knowing I was so close to the end of the day, then knowing I still had another hour out there was rough on my psyche. I just told myself to keep moving forward and eventually I’d get there.

The road up to the aid station included one last climb. On the way up, I saw other runners heading back out. I really couldn’t fathom this. It was 19 hours since the race start, with 7 miles to the next aid and 23 miles to the next sleep station at Armstrong Pass that included a 4000’ climb. I couldn’t understand this decision. I’m guessing and hoping that these runners arrived to Sierra-at-Tahoe a couple of hours ahead of me, got some rest and started out again as I would do in a few hours.

Finally I reached the parking lot of the ski resort, turned the corner and saw the wonderful Christmas lights strung out on the ground leading into the ski resort.

It was 4:09am on Saturday morning. I had been going more than 19 hours, and made it to the first big checkpoint in my race, and was only nine minutes behind schedule on my 84-hour race plan. Pretty damn awesome.

 

While I was excited to be on schedule, I also accepted right there that it would be tough to keep this pace for the next three days. For now, I was just glad for the day to be done, and didn’t care if I slept for the next 5 or 6 or 8 hours to reboot. Plan be damned, I just wanted a respite from the never-ending trails.

Candice said Day 1 would be the toughest, so I kept telling myself that. I got through the first day and covered more ground and went longer – 62.9 miles and 19+ hours – than ever before. I already had won, and I knew I’d at least be able to start Day 2.  I declared victory and got myself inside to figure out what to do next.

Sierra-at-Tahoe Aid Station: Wrinkled, White Feet, Wool Blankets & Catching ZZZZZZs

Other than to try to find some food and then sleep, I had no plan whatsoever coming into the aid station. I got my aid bag and dumped everything I had on a chair.

I pulled off my shoes and socks to check the damage. After 16 miles of running in wet socks, I had wet prunes for feet. The skin on the underside of my feet was white and wrinkled, and had I gone too much longer, the skin probably would have started to peel. I figured the best I thing I could do was to let them dry out completely before starting the next day.

I grabbed my contact case from my drop bag, ate what I could and asked for the sleeping station. Up the steps, I found camping pads strewn across the floor. I headed to the back corner away from the snoring, dumped my stuff – phone, contacts, trekking poles and headlamp – laid down. It was cold and drafty, and I was pretty disappointed there weren’t any of these fabulous wool blankets I’d heard Don Freeman talk about on the Trailrunner Nation Podcast. I was wearing my two running shirts and my jacket and laid down to sleep around 4:30am. I didn’t set an alarm, just accepting that I’d sleep as a long as I needed.

I woke up feeling groggy and checked my phone. 5:30am. I had to pee, so I walked down to the bathroom and headed back up to sleep some more. On the way, I found a plastic bin with the fabled wool blankets! Yes!

I grabbed a blanket and snuggled back to sleep. I woke up and saw it was daybreak outside,  wondering how long I’d slept. It was only 6:30am – a whole two hours.  I checked my legs for soreness. Not bad. Still pretty limber.

I sat up and felt refreshed somehow, thought – “Okay, let’s get on with it…” and Day 2 began…

 

 

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Blisters, Concierges & The World’s Best Grilled Ham & Cheese #Tahoe200 #GoFarther

Posted on September 16, 2017 by | Leave a comment

This post continues my series of open letters to all of the people that made the 2017 Tahoe 200 Endurance Run possible.

Dear Todd, Tim, Roseanne, John, Eric, Marinka, Sally, Liz, Steve, Sean and Every Race Single Volunteer –

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I saw Todd, the “Head Medical Dude,” before the race start. I felt like I already knew him from the YouTube videos I watched from previous years. I introduced myself, jokingly saying – “It’s good to meet you and I hope I never see you.”

Todd said – “Oh… you’ll see me. But let’s hope it’s only to check in on you.”

He was right. I saw him EVERYWHERE – Tell’s Creek (mile 24), Sierra-at-Tahoe (mile 62.9), Heavenly (mile 103) and Tahoe City (mile 175). Incredible. Every time, he was positive and chill.

Sally helped me fill up my nutrition at Tell’s Creek then Wright’s Lake, making sure I had food and water.

Tim got me patched up at Sierra-at-Tahoe after the 19-hour first day on the course. He was my first real encounter with medical help, taping up a blister forming under my foot. “This is my ultra – those that can’t do, help.” The dude was just so positive and just seemed to love being there. Todd taped up my heel before I headed out for Day 2.

And I was told my feet were in great shape compared to others’…

Down at Housewife Hill, a guy with a red suit (can’t remember his name…), helped my mother-in-law to get me a super duper yummy breakfast of eggs and bacon to refuel before the long climb up Armstrong.

About seven hours later at the Armstrong, I came meandering in and John asked – “How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Then he looked at me again – straight into my eyes and said – “Are you sure?”

He was right. I wasn’t necessarily bad, but I was pretty worn out after the climb up and over Armstrong. Then he said – “Roseanne is the medical person here – she’ll take care of you.”

Roseanne immediately came over and just sat for a moment to see how I was. She gave me a roller for my quads. Perfect timing after that climb. John got me a hamburger and Roseanne hung around just to make sure I took enough time to reset. Meanwhile, she tended to another runner that was shivering in the middle of the day because he hadn’t been eating. John and another volunteer (I can’t remember her name), helped me fill my nutrition bottles to get me on my way to Heavenly.

At Heavenly, another person whose name I can’t remember, found me an camping pad and a blanket so I could sleep a few hours. When I woke up to get going on Day 3, he was there to find me some first aid tape for more blisters. I remember someone asking at Heavenly – “Where’s Todd?” The answer way – “He’s asleep down in his Subaru.” Aha! The man IS human! 🙂

Rob, a Coast Guard veteran, checked me out at Spooner Summit (mile 123) on the morning of Day 3, taking care of a blister on the underside of my foot. I overheard here that the food tent volunteers had just run an overnight shift and were planning to be there until 9pm that night. Wow.

Knocking out a pedicure at mile 140, courtesy of Eric, while Marinka helped me figure out the next section of the course including the dreaded Powerline climb. (Photo Credit: Lena Sambucci 🙂

When Sean and I arrived to Tunnel Creek, Marinka and Eric felt like my personal race concierges. Eric was doubling as medical and chef, cooking up the world’s best grilled ham and cheese. Marinka checked me in and made sure Sean and I had everything we needed after a rough 17-mile stretch. (Turns out they’re both from Davis! Marinka remembered me from The Ridge 60k from back in August.)

When I arrived to Brockway Summit (a.k.a. Brockway BnB), Liz, Sean and Steve (I *think* Sean and Steve are the right names…) made sure from the first second that I got what I needed. Liz booked me an air mattress and asked when I wanted to sleep until so she could personally wake me up. Sean refilled all of my nutrition for the next morning, and Steve brought over a wash bucket and sponge ready to wash my feet. Seriously. The dude was about to wash my feet for me.

Me: “Dude – I can do that myself. You don’t have to wash my feet.”

Him: “No big deal. I’ve been doing it all day.”

Wow.

Many thanks to the Donner Running Party who sponsored the Brockway aid station.

At Tahoe City, I gobbled up a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon that beat any New Jersey diner breakfast I’ve ever had. Todd tended to a nasty toenail blister. He just looked completely tired, and still had a smile on his face. Every time he worked on me, he’d say – “Let’s get you to the next aid station and to the finish line.”

Just before the final push from Stephen Jones to the finish, the crew at the aid station were all business to make sure everyone kept the going to the finish. I don’t remember names. I do remember the Cup of Soup, the refilling of my water bladder, a cup of ice cold Coca-Cola and ice for my water bottles.

There are so many more nameless volunteers that helped along the way. Thank you to each and every one of you!

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Gratefully yours,

-Scott Sambucci

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