Category Archives: Race Reports & Training

“When it starts to hurt, pick up the pace.” #Tahoe200 #GoFarther

I’m starting a series of open ‘Thank You’ letters to people that helped me finish the Tahoe 200 Endurance Run. These letters will be published in no particular order – just as people come to mind as I’m reviewing my race experience.

This first ‘Thank You’ letter goes to Eric Byrnes and Linsey Corbin.

Eric is an MLB Network Analyst, @diamond2rough, UCLA HOF, 10 X Ironman Triathlete, Western States 100 Silver Belt Buckler #LiveYourDash

Linsey is a Professional Triathlete. Ironman Champion. 70.3 Champion.

—-

Dear Eric & Linsey – I’m writing to say ‘thank you’ for some very valuable advice that Eric shared on the TrailRunner Podcast episode – “Eric Byrnes Hits a Home Run in Ultras

I listened to Eric’s interview the day before the Tahoe 200, and he shared advice he received from Linsey at a triathlon camp –

“When it starts to hurt, pick up the pace.”

I was on the Tahoe 200 course, around mile 130 on Day 3. My quads were burning and my feet were throbbing. I’d just finished a long climb and was really starting to feel the distance I’d covered over the past two and a half days. I sat for a break and hit a low point, thinking about the 70+ miles still ahead.

I had targeted an 84-hour time for the 205.5 miles, and given where I was and how I felt, I was resigned to scrapping the 84-hour target and just getting to the finish line.

But… I was tired of being tired, and tired of my legs and body screaming at me. The noise inside my head was intolerable.

Sean and me after getting from the Spooner Summit (mile 123) to Tunnel Creek Aid Station (mile 140).

As we began jogging (er… ambling) a descent , I remembered the advice Eric shared, and I said to Sean, my pacer – “Let’s pick it up and see what happens.”

We did for the next mile or two, and it hurt. It really f*cking hurt.

But that spurt put my mind in control for the rest of the race.

I kept chanting to body – “You’re not in charge – I’m in charge. You’re not in charge – I’m in charge. You’re not in charge – I’m in charge.”

Even better, the next day after 3 hours of sleep at Brockway Summit. I headed out at 2:30am for a 20-mile stretch down to Tahoe City. I starting flying (all relative, of course…) down the mountain, covering the 20 miles in 5.5 hours, almost beating my crew to the Tahoe City aid station.

On the next stretch from Tahoe City to Stephen Jones – another 20 miles included a long climb and descent – again I picked up the pace on the downhills, hitting 7:00-8:00-minute miles.  It was pure flow.

In the last four miles of the race, thunderstorms were cracking overhead and I sped down the mountain at Homewood, again running 8:00 min/miles after covering more than 200 miles already, to get to the finish.

My 4th day out there was my strongest of the race, covering 50+ miles in 15 hours and beating my personal target of 84 hours by TWO HOURS – a finishing time of 82:00:16, good for 36th overall in my first 200. (I’ve never even done a 100 before and I registered up for the race six weeks ago…)

I hit the wall and broke through it.

Eric and Linsey – Thank you for being who you are, and sharing what you’ve learned with everyone else.

-Scott Sambucci

P.S. Eric – You totally need to do a 200. It’s like a 4-day dream. I still can’t believe everything I went through, overcame and conquered.

 

The Fast 6.5 hour Marathon: Mt Diablo Trail Marathon Race Report #GoFarther

Summary: Hot. Steep. Finished. Ready.

Strava details.

The Mt. Diablo Trail Marathon. Yes, it was a Devil’s Day out there.

I expected to finish around 5.5 hours – with 6000’ of climbing and a slow approach to the day, I figured a 12:00 min/mile pace was reasonable and would leave me plenty of gas of the tank. This was a last training run before the Tahoe 200, and a chance to try out my newest assembly of gear.

Get on your Game Face!

Race Objectives:

  • Finish easy and strong: This race is about half of what I’ll need to do every day for four days at the Tahoe 200, so if I’m withering at the end of 26.2 miles and 6000’ of climbing, that’s not good.
  • Stay healthy: Don’t injure or strain any muscles, joints, ligaments or tendons, and don’t create an extended recovery time. I’ve got 11 days until the Tahoe 200 starting line. No reason to overdo on a training run this close to the race start.
  • Test my new gear: Trekking poles, a backpack with a hydration kit and all of the required gear (i.e. rain gear) I’ll carry for the Tahoe 200. I’m pretty I was the only runner out there with rain gear packed with them. (Lena joked that I should have taken it out and put it on at one of the rest stops.) The fully-loaded pack is 10 lbs, so that’s some extra weight for both the climbs and descents on the course.
  • Self-support: The Tahoe 200 has plenty of 15-20 mile stretches with no aid stations or water. I wanted to see how long 2 liters of water plus water bottles with nutrition plus real food would last.
  • Nutrition Plan: I was trying out Tailwind + Clif Bars. I used it a bit at The Ridge 60k two weeks ago, but later in the day. Today, I was starting with it to see if I’d respond differently. Usually I use 3Fu3l for the first 4-6 hours, then switch to a higher carb mix like Tailwind. I do really, really well with 3Fuel and so I just wanted to see if there was a noticeable difference by going with Tailwind.
  • Foot Care: Avoid blisters and hot spots, and treat them quickly if any pop up.

Pre-Race:

Complete with rain gear. You know, for those 100-degree August days on Mt. Diablo.

My super duper crew.

I had company today! Lena and Benjamin came out there with me, which was AWESOME! So much fun to share these days with them. Parking was right there at the race starts – no shuttles or long walks. Woohoo!

We arrived about an hour before race start. I grabbed my stuff and geared up in the [long]  bathroom line. Only three stalls and no Port-o-Johns out there, but the line moved fast and the bathrooms where very clean.

I collected my gear and then Benjamin participated in the Kids’ Run – a 50-yard sprint – then I headed to the starting line. No hiccups in the race prep. I wanted to keep it relaxed and mellow, treating the day as just another training run.

Race Start & The First Climb (miles 1-9)

The first two miles were a nice easy incline. I jogged out slowly until mile 3 when the course inflected upwards and the hiking began. There were some pretty steep sections which made even a light jog difficult so I focused on using my trekking poles and establishing a rhythm. I need to get used to 17:00-20:00 miles because I’ll have lots of those (and then some) in two weeks.

I skipped the first aid station at mile 5 after 2000’ of climbing and kept going to the peak at mile 7. Specular views atop Mt. Diablo from an observation deck, which I took in for all of five seconds, then back down to the same aid station at mile 9. I filled up one nutrition bottle and then headed down to the bottom of the mountain.

Descent #1 (miles 9-13.5)

The downhill was equally steep, which was frustrating. With the 10 lbs of weight plus the steepness, my knees were taking a beating. I keep my steps short and used my poles to take some of the weight off my joints.  I did bust my ass one time on a particularly steep grade. I lost my footing and slid. Nothing terrible, and a good lesson to stay patient and to feel a fall because I’m sure I’ll have a couple of those…

Once down at the mile 13 aid station, I plopped down to change my socks. My feet were pretty dusty – I was wearing Injinji no-show socks and no gaiters, so with the sliding and direct, my feet got dirty quickly. (I’ll definitely be wearing gaiters in Tahoe, plus probably an overpair of socks to reduce on dust and particles. I rewarded myself with a few Peanut M&Ms and some stretching, then heading out for the second half of the day.

The next couple of miles where slight rolling hills where I could jog on the single track and fire trails, and generally make some good progress before the next big climb.

Climb #2 (miles 13-21)

This is where I wanted to quit. Around mile 16, the day was heating up. The high temperature was forecast for 105, and it was already well into the 90s by now. I had been out there 4+ hours and knew I had a lot of work to do – another 2000’ of climbing.  I stopped and did some breathing exercises which helped for the next mile, then got myself to the mile 17 aid station.

Me: “What’s the course like from here?”

Aid Station Volunteer: “Up.”

F&ck. Another 2.9 miles up – more climbing on top of the climbing.

Taken around mile 8. Definitely wasn’t so chipper 10 miles later…

At mile 18, I, sat down on the course for a minute again. My groin muscles started cramping and I wanted to quit. Okay. Here it was. The real test of why I was out there.

But I couldn’t quit, more than anything because I was in the middle of nowhere and it’s not like I could hop in an Uber and head to the finishing area. This was the mental test I needed to just keep going.

I could feel the heat coming off the rocks and ground, as much of the course was exposed with nothing but yellow grass all around. Every so often, an oasis of trees covered the course for 20 yards or so and breeze would blow. When I noticed the breeze, I took off my hat to let my head cool down and to try to enjoy whatever relief was available. I passed a few racers along this stretch – people walking even on the flats. I had a couple of small mental and physical peaks in there. They were short-lived, but noticeable and that made me feel good about my overall fitness to feel that jolt of positive energy.

I kept drinking fluids – rotating water and nutrition and slowly and reached the mile 21 aid station.  By then, I was feeling pretty tired so I sat down for a few minutes to relax and take in a Coca-Cola. The climbing was done for me. (The 50k course headed all the way back up to the mountain peak 1000’ up from there.) Just five miles down to the finish. I knew the five miles would be steep, so that meant another hour. I was already at 5.5 hours, so a good hour behind what I expected going into the day.

The Final Descent (miles 21-26.2)

Mile 21 was on a single track with some mellow undulations, then I hit a 2-mile stretch that was as steep going down as it was going up because, well, it was the same trail… I used it as a chance to practice more with my trekking poles and thought about getting down to under two miles left where I knew the course leveled off and I could jog it in.

Once down to mile 24.5, I hit the more even terrain but was feeling pretty tired and ready to be  done for the day. I did a walk-jog strategy – jogging for 100 count, then walking for a 50-count. I extended the 100 count to sets of 2-3 and kept plodding along. I was hovering at 15:00 min/mile pace overall. I passed a hiker coming up the trail who said – “One mile to go…” I kept the rhythm and passed one last racer with about 1/4 mile to go. I jogged it in across the finish and was happy to be done at 6:35.

Lena and Benjamin were there, along with Kim and her kids.  All I could say was – “Oh man. Sorry that took so long.”

Six and half hours. That was a long day. For context, two weeks ago, I ran 39 miles in 6:32 at The Ridge 60k– an extra 13 miles in the same time as these 26 miles took today.

After dumping my gear and dosing my head at a water spigot, I heard my name called –

“Scott Sambucci – Age Group, First place.”

What? Really? Wow. The patience paid off. Don’t know how many were in my age group – probably fewer than ten, but one must be present to win. My first 1st-place age group medal. Nice.

My first Age Group win.

Recovery

Once home, I showered then stretched for a good 30 minutes – lacrosse ball and foam roller – across my leg muscles then took a 16-minute ice bath to reduce any swelling and help with recovery.

I felt good the rest of the day. I little bit of stiffness as the night wore on, but overall I felt limber and good. I slept through the night and today I feel good. A little sore, but definitely good.

What I Learned:

  • Nutrition: Definitely going back to 3Fuel for the first few hours. I didn’t feel badly or have any adverse effects to Tailwind. Just feels like I do better with 3Fuel at the start, plus switching in the day keeps my palette fresher.
  • Patience: There were some looooong climbs out there. That’s just the way it is. Keep moving forward. For every steep grade, there’s relief. Eventually. It’s good to know that I’ve experienced slow miles and could do a race without racing or worrying about my finishing time.
  • Gear: I LOVE my trekking poles. So, so, so awesome. Worth every penny. I couldn’t self-support for the day because of the heat, but I feel good about what I can carry if the temperature is 20-30 degrees cooler.
  • Fitness: That I was out there in 100 degree heat, finished strong with very little soreness is really super. I’m as ready as I can be for the Tahoe 200. Let’s do this.

The Tahoe 200: Race Prep (13 days left…)

Two Fridays from today, this very moment, I’ll be out somewhere between Homewood and Sierra-at-Tahoe, probably behind schedule and lamenting that I have another 6-7 hours to go before the first 62 miles and Day 1 is behind me.

I’m feeling really good about how quickly everything is coming together. Much easier when there’s only one sport involved, along with no RVs or boats…

Here’s where my preparation stands as of this evening…

Race Logistics:

WHAT I NEED: Not much here. It’s all about done…

  • HUGE support from my awesome in-laws to help with watching my son throughout the race.
  • Nina & Paul are coming down from Boise, and Tanya is flying in from Portland for the weekend. Woohoo!
  • Booked a house in South Lake Tahoe to be the team’s basecamp. Two blocks from the lake and a park. Perfect location. It’s about an hour from the race start/finish at Homewood, 9 miles from Sierra-at-Tahoe where I’ll make an extended stop after Day 1, and just down the road from Heavenly – my Day 2 stopping place.

Pacers & Crew:

WHAT I NEED: Pacers. Would love to have 2-3 more people on the docket to account for various shifts on Sunday and Monday. Interested in a 15-mile hike in Tahoe? C’mon out! I need low empathy people to keep me moving when I want to take a break or start complaining.

  • Lena’s offered (okay… I asked…) to pace for a segment and a friend is in for a stretch on Saturday or Sunday. Got 1-2 more pacers in the “thinking about it” mode.
  • I’ve been hitting up friends on Facebook and text. Seems that’s a big weekend for weddings. ????
  • I’m sending out a few emails today. If you’re one of the lucky ones to receive said email, I’d LOVE some help with a stretch of the course on Sunday and Monday. Both look to be brutal.

Physical Race Plan:

WHAT I NEED: Review the race reports I’ve found and make notes on each section as they are mentioned in the posts so that I have as much knowledge about the course as possible. I’ve heard of these “Candance miles” – stated mileage is a bit short of actual. The more I know about these, the easier it will be to keep it together out there.

Training:

WHAT I NEED: Take it easy on Sunday’s trail marathon. After Sunday, I’ll start dialing back mileage and effort, and focus on healing the few nicks I have in my legs – calves, hamstring, quads. I want to get to the starting line feels loose and limber. Keep with the mobility work and continue a steady dose of consistent training. No more gains to get – just stay sharp and don’t injure myself doing something stupid.

  • Knocked of The Ridge 60k two weeks ago, and I’m registered for the Coastal Trail Run Diablo Marathon this weekend. It’s a big opportunity to run with all of my gear – backpack, trekking poles, nutrition. Excited for that.
  • I’ve been diving heavy into Cross-Fit and weight-lifting to dial in strengthen and conditioning between logging running miles.
  • A new workout I’m doing during the day is running from my office back home, lifting/Cross-Fitting, then running back to the office. Getting stronger with every lifting session – shoulder presses, deadlifts, thrusters, pull-ups, box jumps, kettle bell swings, etc. etc. et
  • Feeling very good and strong. The engine is built, so now it’s just a matter of fine-tuning to keep the truck moving along the course day-by-day, hour-by-hour.
  • Booked time with Michelle Chu for ART workon various muscle groups.
  • Ice baths. Did a couple of these to help with overall soreness and swelling from the training. I like the baths – feels great on my legs. I don’t like that I’m shivering for the next hour in bed trying to get to sleep!
  • My weight is super steady. I’m weighing in every morning at exactly 184.1 pounds all week. I was down to 182 a week ago. That feels light to me, and when I’m too light, I feel like I sacrifice a certain amount of power and stamina. This is also important because I’ll be carrying about 8-9 lbs of gear. 2 liters of water weights 4.4 lbs. Lightweight rain coat, pants, food, headlamp, batteries, hat, etc., etc. etc.
  • Michael offered his cabin as a place to get in some training at altitude. Not sure if I can squeeze this in. Very happy to have this option available.

Mental Race Plan:

WHAT I NEED: Build my mental race plan. Sit down with Lena to build the plan and strategies so we’ve got that nailed down with both specific contingencies for positive or negative situations that occur, and a framework to make the best possible decision for unforeseen situations.

Equipment & Nutrition:

WHAT I NEED: Another trip to REI for an endurance race vest and few more items.

  • Big trip to REI last weekend – rain gear, water purifiers, trekking sticks and a 2-liter water bladder.
  • Looks like I need to head back again for a new backpack – one with broader shoulder straps and a carrier for a water bottle. My hands will be holding the trekking poles, so I need quick access to my drink nutrition and solid food.
  • Got some odds and ends left to knock off: Making sure my gaiters are secure, buy Pedialyte and Ensure as part of my arsenal of nutrition and calorie intake.

The Tahoe 200: I’m in! #GoFarther

Here’s the race link for The Tahoe 200. 205.5 miles by foot around Lake Tahoe. 40,000′ of climbing, 80,000′ of total elevation changes. 100 hours.

I see no downside to trying

It’s like paying for a class. Even if I don’t finish, I’ll learn a helluva lot about trail running, new equipment, my body and the mental aspect of ultra-running.

And what if I do finish? It’s absolutely possible and I’ll toe the line with every intention of doing just that. But if I don’t, that’s okay too. You can only succeed if you give yourself permission to fail.

I am very, very fit right now. Discipline is freedom. By putting in the effort these past few months, I feel ready to give it a shot. I’ve spent the summer training hard and pushing the hills during my time in Portland, seeing the benefits in my 60k time at The Ridge last weekend. I’m lifting and Cross-Fitting regularly. My endurance engine is built.  I feel confident enough to start, so I will.

How did this happen?

I was registered for the Badger Mountain 100 back in March, but that race got pushed because of recurring hamstring injuries. In May, I ran a very good 50k to prove my injury recovery to myself.

After volunteering at the Western States 100 in June, I was even more convinced that I wanted to run that race at some point.  I had locked into the Pine to Palms 100 – a WS qualifier – in September to knock off the 100 from my endurance event to-do list, but with the five-hour drive from home, camping, the point-to-point race course and general lack of available pacers among my friends, it was becoming clear I wouldn’t be able to pull what I needed together for that race.

My thoughts turned to Rio Del Lago 100 in November – it’s local and a WS qualifier – but November is three months away and I wasn’t keen on continuing my training for that long. I could scale back and maintain where I was, but I felt mentally ready for a race sooner than later.

About a week ago, laying in bed, I started searching for other ultras in the area, whether they be Western States qualifiers or not. I came across a bevy of gnarly races – the Euchre Bar Massacre, the New Years One Day, the Bay Ridge Endurance Runs and the Headlands 50/75/100.

Then I found it – the Tahoe 200. Something about the course and the event made it feel more genuine to me. It was the same weekend as P2P – just four weeks away. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling thinking about the race when Lena walked in.

Lena: “What’s up?”

Me: “I found the race I want to do. It’s called the Tahoe 200. It’s 200 miles circumnavigating Lake Tahoe. And there are still spots available for this year!”

Lena: “Um… of course there are still spots open. If you want to do it, then you should do it.”

I am the luckiest man in the world. Ever.

That was it. After a week of research, I registered. I’m in.

One of my mantras is “Just Start.” Get yourself in position to start whatever endeavor you want and see where it takes you. Yes, there is always more to prepare and always more to learn, but implementing is learning.

More on why the Tahoe 200…

  • The Course: The uniqueness of circumnavigating Lake Tahoe seems oddly calming to me, and Lake Tahoe has become a special place for me since swimming across it last year and helping another swim cross this year. Before Uberman, I had mapped my own multi-day triathlon that included a length swim and circumnavigating Tahoe as part of the run course.
  • It’s a Multi-Day Event: Getting myself up and running after hitting the first sleep stations will be an interesting experience. I had some of this with Uberman, but with longer breaks between days and efforts from swim to bike and bike to run.
  • The 100-Hour Cut-off Time: This is a 2 mph pace. It’s not a race – it’s an adventure. It’s all about pacing and fueling. (Thank you to Max Wunderle for that advice.)
  • 40,000 feet of vertical climb: That’s 10,000’ higher than climbing Mt. Everest over a four-day stretch. Sounds good to me.
  • The first 62 miles: No pacers are allowed for the first 62 miles and from what I’ve read, this is the toughest segment of the course. Just getting that segment done solo makes it the longest ultra distance I’ve run.
  • Race Support & Safety: After listening to the TrailRunner podcasts after last year’s race, it’s clear that race organizers go all out to support the race and are 100% focus

Potential Risks & Obstacles:

  • Altitude: Most of the trail is between 6500’ – 9000’. I’ve the Donner Lake half-iron triathlon at 6000’ and didn’t feel much in terms of altitude. The next 2000’ of altitude is a marked difference, though I think I can adjust with the right pacing.
  • Bears & Spiders: Not really.  ???? Like sharks in the Catalina Channel and rattlesnakes in Death Valley. They’re there, but not really…
  • Physical maladies: I could very well hurt myself. I could also get hit by a bus today in San Francisco or trip on the deck of Uno cards decorating my living room floor.
  • Preparation: My longest ultra-marathon is the 50-mile North Face Endurance Challenge three years ago. I’ve run a 50k and 60k this year, and of course there was the Uberman odyssey last year. But I know I am fit and strong right now, and listening to how others trained and executed on previous Tahoe 200 races, this is much about overall fitness and execution – much different than a 100 where I’d be looking at my pace constantly trying to break the 24 hour mark.
  • Time: The race starts in three weeks. I’ve got A LOT of new equipment to acquire and learn how to use like trekking sticks and a backpack. I’ll figure it out. I have to. I’m in.

Let’s do this.

The San Francisco 50k Ultra-marathon Race Report

Results

If I look pretty proud of myself in this photo, because I was. :0)

I’m a happy guy after 32.76 miles on the trail

I took 2nd in my AG and 6th overall with a time of 5:47. Going in, I absolutely wanted to finish under 6:00, and thought that a sub-5:30 shouldn’t been a problem. Had I run exactly 31 miles, I would have bagged a 5:30, but alas, my Garmin showed that I ran nearly 33 miles because of the course and missing a turn. The overall pace per mile is more important to me than the total time.

For the data geeks out there, here are the mile-by-mile details from my Garmin.

Most importantly, I felt GREAT at the finish. Yes, I was tired and cramping, but no injuries or physical issues during the race, or in the days after. I took Sunday and Monday off, did a light four miles on Tuesday, a harder six on Wednesday and turned out a solid Cross-Fit workout this AM to celebrate my birthday.

Doing Difficult Things

Tucking my son into bed on Friday night, I told him – “Tomorrow morning, I’m going to leave early and won’t be here in the morning. I’m going to do a race and I’ll see you in the afternoon.”

“I don’t want you to go. Do you have to?”

“I want to go.”

“Why do you want to do?”

“Because sometimes you have to do difficult things.”

“Why?”

“To make yourself a better person.”

“Why does it make you a better person?”

“Because when you do hard things, it makes you work really hard to see how well you can do. Next time, you guys can come with me.”

That’s probably the closet I’ve come to answering a question I get a lot – “Why do you do these races?”

Race day is an evaluation, a checkpoint. It’s the culmination of months of training and a chance to see how hard I’ve really worked compared to how hard I think I’ve work, and to see that hard work payoff – the intervals, Kettle bell swings, box jumps, Wall Balls, eating well and maintaining discipline each week.

Less than two months ago, I was hampered by hamstring problems and an overall sense of stiffness. I committed in April to fixing myself with dietary changes and taking time for my Self to visit my doctors about the state of my health. I jammed in workouts at lunch and planned long hilly runs in San Francisco, running up Hyde Street and Divisadero just because they were the steepest hills I could find.

Races test my focus and mettle – how much do I want to improve and be well. How badly do I want to finish a race to feel that sense of completion?

I guess that’s why I do these, but I still don’t really know…

“Am I really going to do this?”

Then race morning happens.

I slept horribly Friday night, tossing and turning, waking up at 3:30, thirty minutes my 4:00am alarm. Laying in bed, I asked myself – “Am I really going to do this?”

But I pulled myself out of bed.

I grabbed my gear and hopped in the car. I was barely out of my neighborhood and I thought to myself – “Am I really going to do this? Am I going to drive an hour an a half at 4:30 am just to run 30+ miles over 5500’ of hills?”

Then the song “Try Anything” played from my music list.

When the race started and I heard my Garmin beep the first mile, and I asked myself – “Am I really doing this? Am I really going to do this 30 more times over the next 5-6 hours?”

But I had already started. Just keep going.

At the mile 12 aid station preceding a five-mile climb to the turnaround point, I asked myself – “Am I really going to do this?”

Yep. Just get to the turn-around and I’ll have this course licked.

And so it goes. Moment by moment. Segment by segment. Mile by mile.

A Brush with Greatness

About fifteen minutes before the race start, I saw Dean Karnazes. The dude grabbed a racing bib. He was racing! Really cool. It’s one part of endurance racing that I love, whether it’s Ironmans or ultra-marathons, everyone races the same exact course. No one escapes the same test.

Dean was very chill with people talking with him and taking photos. Seemed like he knew of the amateur racers there. I walked up and said – “Dude. This is so cool that you’re out here.”

That’s Dean just ahead of me.

He said, “Well, I was in town and I figured what the heck? We’ll run some miles out there together today.”  I wanted to snag a photo but it was less than ten minutes from the race start, and I felt like he deserved a little space.

I ran near him for the first two miles until the 50k/50-mile course split and that was the last I saw him for the day. He finished the 50-miler in 10:22, a solid effort for a guy that probably hasn’t done any hard training or competitive racing in a long time. “Ho-hum. I guess I’ll knock out a 50-miler with 10,000’ of climbing today…”

The Course

It’s and out and back course, starting at Fort Cronkite in the Marin Headlands, over a long climb to Tennessee Valley, over another climb down to Pirate’s Cove and out to Muir Beach. From there, it’s a five-mile climb up Cardiac to the turnaround a few miles before Stinson Beach.

Heading down to Pirate’s Cove

I like the out-and-back because I knew that once I reached the turnaround, the biggest climb was behind me and I knew exactly where I was on the course on the way back. Mentally, it made the second half much easier mentally and physically.

Funny Story of the Day

A few years ago after I finished 13th in a half-marathon trail run. A couple years later, I finished 5th overall in that same race. Since then, I can’t help but to pay attention to my race position. I never expect to win a race, but I know that if I’m fit and run a good race, I can finish near the top of my age group and in the top 10-15% of all racers. I think of myself as being the slowest of the fast racers, or  maybe more like being one of the fastest of the slow people.

This was a small race, about thirty racers each for the 50k and 50-mile course – so it was pretty easy to know where I was relative to the field.

I started the race bunched with a pack of 5-6 runners. Occasionally we’d run together (and miss a course turn together, adding another 3/4 mile to the course for us), then we’d break apart on the climbs when two of the guys pushed harder on the uphills. I’d see these two guys at the next aid station, heading out just as I was pulling in. I kept my stops short to reduce dead time on the clock.

Around mile 14, I saw the the lead runner heading down the mountain. By the time I hit the turnaround at mile 16.5, I only remembered counting 3-4 racers passing by me on the way back down, and I saw two faster guys from our pack still at the stop. I’d caught up to them again. I quickly refilled my nutrition, then jumped in the port-o-john then headed back down to scoot ahead of them.

I knew from an earlier stretch that I was a notch faster than both of them on the flats and gradual downhills, while they were faster on the steep descents and uphills. The next five miles were all downhill and I knew that with a push, I could build a cushion before the last two climbs where they would make up time on me.

I hammered along this stretch, dropping 7:58-7:53-8:16 in consecutive miles and feeling really, really strong. I checked back up the hill every once in a while and never got a glimpse – my strategy was working! I love it when a plan comes together.

At the bottom of the descent, I approached the next aid station which marked about 13 miles to go. By then, I felt a little thrashed from the push but excited that the last part of the race was ahead. I unscrewed my nutrition bottle and looked ahead across a pedestrian bridge leading to the next climb.

Guess who I saw? Yup.

They must have started AHEAD of me from the turnaround when I jumped in the port-a-john. F&ck. It was a little depressing at the time, and pretty funny now that I look back at it.

All in all, it was a good thing. Mentally in that stretch, I was running from ahead, which forced me to push more aggressively. Had I known they were ahead of me, I might have pulled back thinking there was no way for me to catch them. That wrong information push pushed me to work harder than I would have otherwise and test myself.

The Finish

The last 9-10 miles were a tough slog, but because I knew the course from the day and previous races, I was able to break the remaining miles into 2-3 mile chunks.

I worked back to the Tennessee Valley rest stop (~mile 25) where the station worker told me I had five miles to go. That just didn’t see right. I knew the very last aid station was two miles from the finish, and ain’t no way that station was only three miles from this point. She said she was sure, but  I still didn’t believe her.

I’m glad I didn’t. There were, in fact, seven miles to go from that aid station. I pulled into the last station only to see another racer from the early pack right on my heals. I hadn’t seen her the last ten miles and was really surprised to see her pushing. Dammit. Now I had to hammer the last two miles of rolling hills.

I did hammer, dropping back into a sub-8:00 mile pace for the last mile to make sure she didn’t pass me. I didn’t care that she was a she. I just couldn’t have someone pass me that late in any race on principle. One of my strengths is my ability to pace myself and finish strong, and having anyone sneak by me after five and half hours out there is unacceptable.

I finished the race about two minutes ahead of her, delightfully accepted by medal for my 2nd place AG finish, packed up and headed home. My race was done.

Training Regimen & Diet

The results from training continue to surprise me. I’ve been running 20-30 mile WEEKS, and finished a 33-mile DAY with 5500’ of climbing. My longest run since January was 12.5 miles two weeks ago.

I’m a devout believer in three aspects to my training:

1 – Diet & Nutrition: Mostly low carb throughout the week with one cheat day on Saturday. I dropped into a Paleo diet for four weeks in April. The week prior to the race, I upped my fat intake and have been eating fruit as a carb source these past couple of weeks.

Race morning, I ate three scrambled eggs and two bananas before the race, then only used 3fu3l nutrition throughout the race. It wasn’t until the mile 26 aid station that I ate any solid food – 3Fuel only to that point. My body’s adapted to fat-burning mode so I don’t need much food or calories during the race.

2 – Run Intervals: Nearly all of my runs include dropping into regular speed work intervals, ranging from 1-minute drops every mile to 1/4 to 1/2 mile intervals with a 1/2 to 1-meirest between. This cooks my legs and pushes my heart rate. I feel like I get as much from a 8-10 mile run with intervals as I used to get from a 15-mile long run at a steady pace. Much more efficient.

3 – Cross-Fit & Weightlifting: I’ve long subscribed to this approach, and really focused on this during last year’s Uberman training. Oddly, I’m most sore post-race in my UPPER body, which is awesome. It means that I’m recruiting all of my body to run. I’ve got a strong core and upper body (for an endurance athlete…) and I felt strong enough to drop a 7:47 mile at mile 30, and finished the last mile at a 7:30 pace.

What’s Next?

I’ve got my sights on a 100-miler this year. That was the original goal back in March, which got pushed back from injury. The Pine-to-Palm 100 looks incredibly hard.

This week, the Uberman race director pinged me to see if I’d like to join a relay team as their runner. Damn. He had to send me that email… Going back to do the Badwater course is still in my crawl. I just may need to do that.

In the mean time, I’m volunteering at the Western States 100 mile 65 aid station to experience that race first hand.

Can you deal with your dreck? #GoFarther

Seth Godin says that there’s no such thing as writer’s block. You can type. You can write. So type and write. What writers call “writer’s block” is their unwillingness to deal with their dreck – the wretched writing that must be done to find the true gems.

Dealing with your dreck teaches you where and who you really are – what you really want.

My first novel is dreck. It’s so bad that I worked on it only once in five years. I want to trash it, but I know I can’t no matter how bad it is. I need to battle the dreck, only so that I can type the words “The End” and be done with it. Heck, this post feels like dreck to me right now. I started it on Tuesday morning, and I’m grinding through it now while sitting on kitchen floor at 6am.

My first company was dreck. After blowing through $150k in investment capital, my only significant project required me to shepherd a low-level Kazakhstani government bureaucrat around California and Canada to tour wheat research institutes.

My workouts lately have been dreck.  I’ve been fighting a hamstring injury and joint stiffness since mid-January. This past week, I’ve started to feel recovered, kicking up my running regimen and restarting my Cross-Fit workouts. Dreck. My breath is shallow and labored. My legs are heavy. My muscles ache.

This week I decided to go Keto for the month. I found myself pining for a banana and a chocolate square in the first three hours. Last night was dreck – home late from the Farmers Market and hungry for second dinner. Steamed lentils at 9pm aren’t as appetizing as they sound. Dreck.

All of it dreck, and all of it necessary to come out the other side better and stronger.

Beating Back Regret & Lessons Learned from Uberman 2016

Thursday night, I listened to the Zen and the Art of Triathlon podcast, an interview with Uberman race organizer Dan Bercu. Listening to Dan recount the 2016 race and share the challenges of all the competitors should have been a fun, enjoyable experience.

But it was wasn’t.

I felt a sense of incompletion. I felt angry. I felt regret.

Most of all, I felt disappointed that I was feeling this way because at that moment when I turned off the timer in Death Valley, I promised myself and my team that I wouldn’t feel this way.

The more I thought about that regret, the more that regret was directed to what could have been with the right planning.

Going into the race, I know I prepared the best I could, from training to diet to logistics, all while running a business and supporting my family. I sat on my living room floor every night pinning lacrosse balls into my back and shoulders. I woke at 4:30am for 7500- and 10,000-yard swims before breakfast. I tortured my lungs and muscles through Cross-Fit workouts. I found experts to help me prepare.

By all measures, I accomplished an enormous amount with the adventure. And still, I sat there on the couch, then in bed unable to go to sleep, then I laid awake at 3:38 AM because I let the missing parts of my Uberman experience override what I completed.

My mindset improved markedly on Saturday night, when Brett Blankner interviewed me for the podcast as well. We talked about the importance of starting versus finishing, and how to approach endurance athletics with the right perspective towards family and personal health.

This is the important moment to remember from Uberman.

If you’re wondering, the answer is still no. I’m not going for Uberman #2. It’s too much on my body and family. It’s never the same the second time, and if I did decide to give it a go, it would be for the wrong reasons – it would be against why I chose to stop and against the contentment with that decision. Uberman, and any form extreme event or life objective, should always be about the journey not the destination, no matter how trite that sounds. Brett and I talked about this at some length in our conversation.

Most of all, we’re talking about a silly endurance event. On the other side of the world right now, a seven-year-old with murdered parents is trudging these distances without a water bottle in flight from torture and death. For real.

In the mean time, while waiting for the podcast episode to publish, I wanted to share a few lessons for those thinking about Uberman or any massive personal effort of its kind, I hope you’ll learn from these mistakes so you don’t lay awake at 3:38am wondering “what if?”

1 – A plan that can’t be changed is a bad plan. Looking back on my race planning, I had absolutely no room for error. I didn’t have a backup plan for missing the targeted swim landing spot. I didn’t build in a rest day. I didn’t account for the probability of injury.

There was plenty of information I ignored – accounts from other Catalina swimmers that missed the Terranea landing spot, the rocks, experience with going longer on an event. Despite these data, I built an inflexible plan that prevented my race completion.

2 – My 4:00am swim start. Marathon swimmers tackling the Catalina Channel usually leave the island at midnight. We chose a 4am start because we wanted to avoid crossing the shipping lanes.Had I started at midnight and even with a 15-hour swim (I finished my crossing in 14:24), I would have hit land by 3:00pm on Wednesday, instead of 6:30pm. This would have meant:

  • Less time battling wind and current as the day wore on, reducing the physical toll of the swim on my body.
  • More time to recover from the swim before the bike start.
  • Time to comfortably return to Marina del Ray post-swim, then back to the bike start on Thursday morning.

Maybe I still would not have been ready to hit the bike, but the extra few hours of a midnight start would have increased my chances, say from 1% to 15-20%. A 1% chance is no chance, while 15-20% is something. As soon as I missed the first bike segment, I lost the opportunity to complete the whole course.

3 – No backup plan for pickup after the swim. From research about Catalina crossings that swimmers are regularly pushed down shore from the target landing spot at Terranea Beach. Even though I was only 1/4 mile off from my target, that 1/4 mile was a world away. Tbone (my sister and crew) awaited my landing with an RV where I planned to sleep for the night then hit the bike in the AM.

Missing the landing spot meant there was no way for her to meet me. Rocks jutted out from shore that prevented her from meeting me and there were no access points to the beach where I landed. This meant that post-crossing, I had to return back to the boat about 1/2 mile offshore and then was faced with a choice of either swimming back to shore again, in the dark, by myself. No thanks.

I didn’t give clear directions and while I was getting settled back o the boat, the rest of the crew was putting away the kayaks. No one was in charge of thinking through the scenario that could have had a kayaker ready to take me back to shore again. It was now past dusk and dark. No flashlights were ready. No glowsticks. No one ready to hop in the kayak to help me. That’s my fault for not taking command and thinking through this scenario before it happened. In my condition, it would have been exceedingly foolish to try to swim back to shore with the current and the conditions, so I was forced to opt out of meeting Tbone.

By the time the boat returned to Marina del Ray and we got back to the apartment, it was well past 10pm or later (I can’t even remember), making the trek back to the bike start 30 miles south at 5 or 6am was a world away.

4 – I thrashed my feet hitting land. Feet are pretty important to cycling and running. Duh. Again, I knew about the rocky beach and how many other swimmers had cut their feet reaching shore. I rushed my landing to clear the water and ended up with two deep cuts on the bottom of my right foot. This was stupid. I could have worked with Nicki (my super awesome kayaker) to find a clear spot to land. Taking an extra minute or two would have saved my a lot of pain down the road (no pun intended…).

5 – I didn’t expect my shoulder ailments post-swim. In July, I did an 11-mile Tahoe crossing. Afterwards, I felt very, very good and had no soreness whatsoever. I wrongly assumed that any additional soreness I’d feel after doubling that swim would be manageable, if not tolerable.

This was a mistake and I should have known better. Having completed 70.3 triathlons vs Ironmans, and half-marathons vs marathons, I should have known that the effort and physical toll to one’s body is three to four times what half of the same distance does. With under a 12-hour turnaround planned from swim finish to bike start, even if I would have hit my landing spot on shore, the chances of being ready for the AM bike start were almost nil.

6 – Omitting buffer times in my race plan. Seeing a trend here? I planned one day for the swim, two for the bike and two for the run – a five-day race plan to cover the entire course. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Even adding a single “wildcard” rest day to my plan to use when needed would have given me a number of options:

  • A full rest day post-swim (which I took, forfeiting the first bike segment)
  • Three days on the bike: 3 x 133 miles vs 2 x 200 miles
  • Three days for the run

Pay me now or pay me later. I didn’t plan a rest day, and that cost me the opportunity to complete the course. The sole finisher (Giorgio) took eight days (191 hours).  One rest day built in could have meant a finish, and probably a finish ahead of him.

7 – No way to extend my race plan. This is more of a constraint than a mistake. Lena and I had each taken an entire week from work already. The five-day race plan also meant that my crew commitments were over on Sunday night. T-bone had flight home from Sacramento on Monday night, and had already taken a week from work to crew. Tim had a job to get to Monday AM. I could have chosen to extend my race plan, and that would have left Lena, Benjamin and me flying solo in the desert with an overdue RV. No thanks.

8 – A big support team. Just like #7, this was a chosen constraint.  I wanted and needed my family to be there with me. I wanted to share the journey, not just embark on some crazy odyssey then report back with pictures. I wanted all of us to see it and experience it together.

This decision meant committing to a large support crew and heavy logistics, everything from the RV to having Tbone and Tim meet us in California, to having my in-laws fly to LA to stay with Benjamin while Lena and I crossed Catalina. Each night, I couldn’t just crash in the RV. We had to think about getting food and checking into hotels. We had to think about bath time, finding a glass of milk and which books to read before bedtime.

Having Lena there along the way for emotional support was, without question, a critical component to every moment of the effort. I remember a walk we took after arriving to Catalina Island. I was scared. Very scared. Scared of the swim.  Scared of what might happen out there. Scared of sharks. Scared of not finishing. Scared to start. She was there to tell me that everything would be okay.

At the end of my race, having Lena, Benjamin, Tbone and Tim there was an enormous sense of closure. It was a celebration of what we had accomplished as a team over the week, and over the past six months.

—-

So there you go… A few mistakes and a mini-therapy sessions for myself. I’m feeling much more at peace this morning than Thursday night and Friday, when for a period of about 36 hours, I was seriously considering taking another crack at this year’s race.

Nope. That’s okay. I’m good for now. I’m closing this door so another can open. I don’t know when, but another journey awaits, one more important and more impactful. I just wonder what it’ll be…

I’m so stupid. My F&#%*ing Hamstring. Dobermans & a no-go for the Badger Mountain 100

I did this Facebook Live about a month ago, priding myself on going out in a downpour for a midday track workout. Little did I know that 15 minutes later, I’d be out of my attempt at my first 100-mile ultra-marathon at the Badger Mountain 100 ultra-marathon in March, and I was just starting to hit on all cylinders in my training.

Worse, had I been smarter in my recovery, maybe I wouldn’t be out of it because I re-injured myself twice now trying to get back…

I’m most perturbed about my decision to ramp up miles so quickly this week after healing. I should have known better. After an elongated three weeks from injury to recovery, I knew this week that the Badger Mountain 100-miler was off the table, and traveling there to do the 50-miler wasn’t a good use of time. I can do a 50-miler closer to home, so there wasn’t any rationale for making a 11-hour drive and taking time from work for both Lena and me to do something I can do locally.

Yet, I still tried to press and ramp up mileage this past week. I was excited to run again. I wanted to take a week to do nothing but run – no lifting or Cross-Fit – plus the feeling that I had to make up for lost training time, which is just really stupid. I could have easily done a 6-miler on Saturday along with a bit of Cross-Fit and gotten close, if not the same physical benefit as a 10-miler. I just wanted to brag to myself that I did 30 miles this week after doing none for nearly two weeks. Stupid. Just stupid.

Here’s the background…

Leading up to the original injury back in mid-January, I did a very strong 15-miler on Saturday then a deadlift + Cross-Fit workout in Sunday. Heavy lifting after a big endurance day is a training tactic I did deployed successfully during Uberman training.

But, it was a little chilly that Sunday morning. I did my usual warmups, and I could (and should) have done more. And while I wasn’t trying for any weight PRs, I was pushing pretty hard with sets of 6 reps at about 75% of max. After warming up with the bar, then with a set of 10-15 reps with light weights, I usually do 4 sets of 6 reps. I decided to do an extra set (5th set) when I didn’t need to, spurning the advice of “minimum effective dose,” and I felt the slightest twinge in the outer part of my left hamstring in this last set. I didn’t think much of it. I assumed it was just from the load and it would repair itself quickly. I’ve often tweak or twinge muscles during weight-training. (Maybe that’s another stupid thing…)

The Monday after was an off-day and I came back strong on Tuesday with a very good 7-mile run, so I thought nothing about heading out on Wednesday for my planned track workout. While it was cold and rainy, I did some stretching inside and then jogged 1/4 mile to the university track where I planned to do a pyramid workout:

  • 400 meters easy, 400 meters hard **
  • 400 meters easy, 800 meters hard
  • 400 meters easy, 1200 meters hard
  • 400 meters easy, 1600 meters hard
  • 400 meters easy, 1200 meters hard
  • 400 meters easy, 800 meters hard
  • 400 meters easy, 400 meters hard

** 400 meters is full lap around the track, which is just slightly more than 1/4 mile.

** “Hard” is defined as 70-80% max effort, or 7-8 RPE (Relative Perceived Effort). The 400 meters “easy” laps are at a slow pace to recover on heart rate and muscular fatigue.

** This workout sums to 4+ hard miles and 2+ easy miles, including the cool down laps, and then jog back to the office. It’s a tough one, but highly effective for me.

I got to the track and did the first easy lap before accelerating for the first 400 hard meters. I turned around the last bend down the straightaway and LOCK! I felt my hamstring tear. I tried to stretch it out, thinking it was just a spasm, but alas it was torn.

Not to be deterred, I obstinately found a spot under the stands to do a round of 100 push-ups and sit-ups in the downpour. I wanted, or needed, to get something out of the time that day. After I finished, I hobbled back to my office downtown, pretty much freezing my a$$ off because I was walking in the cold rain.

A few days later on Saturday, I did a very light 3-mile jog/walk as a test and it was definitely still in disrepair.

By Thursday morning the next week, I was feeling much better so I headed out that morning for an easy 6-miler, only to have it tear again 1.5 miles into the run. I tried to make the best of the walk home. It was still dark, trying to enjoy the quiet of the morning walking past University Airport and along the olive groves, but I was still frustrated. Again not to be deterred by injury, I did a 21-15-9-6-9-15-21 workout of pushups and sit-ups, with sets of pull-ups in between.

So now it had been a week since the injury and I was right back where I started. I switched to what I could do to maintain fitness and did a heavy week of Cross-Fit and lifting. I even shed about two pounds, but there are only so many burpees, box-jumps and kettle bell swings that one can take. I would have preferred a 10-mile run over a 12-minute Cross-Fit workout many-a-times…

By the following Saturday, I was feeling healed and headed out for an easy 4-miler. No issues! On Sunday, I did an easy 6-miler followed by 100 wall balls and 100 kettle bell swings. Again, feeling great. I was back!

On Monday, I did a 7-miler at lunch with 1/4 mile pickups along the way. Still no issues. Wednesday, I did the same 7-miler with a few more pickups and a faster pace. Again, no issues and by now I assumed this was all behind me. Woohoo!

I stayed overnight in San Francisco on Thursday, so I did a hilly 4-miler from Union Square, up and over Nob Hill, down to North Beach, up Telegraph Hill, back up Lombard down to Fillmore, up to Nob Hill and back to Union Square. (One can cover a lot of neighborhoods in a short distance in San Francisco…). I kept this run slow because I had to with the hills, and it was more for mental relief after a focused week at work than it was for training.

With Friday as an off-day, the success of the past week and the fact that I had a few days since my last hard run, I thought a Saturday AM 10-miler with one-minute pickups each mile would be no problem.

And it was until 6.5 miles into the run when I felt the twinge return… Oh man… I slowed down for 1/2 mile, then had to walk the last 2.5 miles home. The hamstring injury was back.

That night, I dreamt that I was in a ski house with friends and I opened the bathroom door. A doberman leapt out and bounced uncontrollably across the house, barking with teeth glaring. In my dream, I finally managed to grab hold of its collar and got it to lay down on the bathroom rug again. I assume the doberman was my hamstring.

So here I am on Monday morning, trying to figure out my week of training with no running. Back to 4-5 Cross-Fit and lifting workouts for the week. At least I don’t have to bring my workout clothes to the office, and I’ll have more time during the day to get work stuff done. When I run at work, it lops about two hours off my day. This week, I’ll either fit in a short workout in the AM before the day begins(which I already did today), or get myself home by 4:30 to crank out something before the day ends at 5:30 or 6:00 for dinner. I don’t do well with late night workouts. My body gets too amped up and I don’t sleep well after.

The AM workouts settle my mind with the physical and mental satisfaction that I’ve done my training for the day. The afternoon workouts are an opportunity to reset after a focused day at work and to relax my mind so that I can be present with at home in the evening.

It’s looking I’ll push off the 100-miler until September and do a 50-miler without a pacer in May to keep me motivated and give myself more time to train and recover.

And so it goes…

I registered for a 100. Why? #gofarther

Alas, tis true… I’m registered for my first 100-mile ultra marathon – The Badger Mountain 100 in Richland, WA. No, I don’t know why. Well… not entirely….

It’s event that will take 24 hours or more (hopefully less…) to complete. Ironman races take half that time, and even with Uberman where I was out there for multiple days, I had the chance to rest overnight before starting the next leg of the journey. The 24 hours of persistent movement. It’s just something I want to experience.

During Uberman, I watched the sun rise and set in the same day twice in three days – first over the Pacific Ocean then in the Mojave Desert. The experience brought a calm about the endeavor – that I travelled not across a distance, but through the day.

The day of this 100-miler, the sun will rise at 6:52am on race day and set at 7:16pm that evening. I’ll watch the sun begin the day just before we toe the line, then I’ll run all day, and if I’m on pace, I’ll watch it set right around the midway point. Then I’ll go all night and cross the finish line at sunrise on Saturday.

There’s something wildly intriguing about this.

screenshot-2017-01-18-09-43-18

But seriously… why do a 100?

Even before completing my a 50-mile ultra in December 2015, I’ve long had the thought that I wanted to give a 100-miler a shot, so I am.

Three Ironman finishes are pretty satisfying and I’m happily done with those. It’s overwhelming to look over the bike transition area in the early morning hours – 3000 sparkling bikes lit up at 5:00am by flood lights, racked and awaiting the return of their owners, one-by-one, to enter the hamster wheel bike and run courses. The crowds, the congestion, the constant stress about transitions, the 30 pieces of gear – wetsuits, Body Glide, bike pumps, helmets… The cowbells. The music. There was a time all of this was magical for me. And even more, the training is more than I’m willing to bear. That’s why my end to Uberman was so emotional for me. I knew that was it. I was done.

I knocked out three huge swims since 2015 – Alcatraz (2.5 miles), a Tahoe crossing (11 miles) and the Catalina Channel (23.74 miles). I feel pretty damn good about that part of my endurance event portfolio, and I’ve got absolutely no desire to get back in the water. I was at the gym last month to cancel my membership and figured I’d fit in a quick workout. As I walked past the pool to the locker room, I watched a lap swimmer hit the wall and flip back for the next 25 yard length. Then I smelled the chlorine. I thought I was going to vomit. Yep, I think I’m good with swimming for now. (Another good reason to skip Ironman races…)

Cycling has never been my favorite. I like going all out on a flat. I like ascending a big hill even if I climb like an anvil. I like the shorter rides where I’m pushing out intervals and sucking hard for air, but my back always aches by the third hour of a long ride. The best part of a 50, 70, or 90-mile ride is when I hop out of the saddle knowing that I’m done for the day.

I’ve done a few century rides. They’ve taken me to places like Palm Desert, Sonoma and along the Pacific Coast Highway. I’ve biked the Sutter Buttes. While I see the camaraderie in big groups, I’m usually trying to separate from a pace group that seems to be bothering me. Doing the “Death Ride” isn’t on my bucket list. I’d rather Everest if I’m going to put myself through that.

So what’s left?

Running, with all it’s simplicity – lacing up my shoes and heading out for a run. It’s my default. Running is what I couldn’t do before or after knee surgery, and for a time, it’s what I thought would never return to me. It’s what I do when I need to de-stress – I can always run a lap or two around the neighborhood any time of day or night. I can walk out my front door at 5am, turn off my headlamp and run in total darkness along the olive grove with the stars. I can run down the middle of the road because it’s too early for cars. I can stop to watch the sky turn purple, then orange, then yellow with the sunrise over the Sierras.

On the trail, there’s total peace and quiet. No kicks to the face. No blinding white caps. No gear shifts clicking. No mid-pack Ironmanners passing me on mile 79 just because the want to reach the top of the roller first, only to pass them back on the downhill because I weigh more or have a better bike.*

Sure, there’s gear, electronics and nutrition. It’s just that running is the most basic of our human movements – using our legs to move from one place to the next.

During my Uberman training, I spoke with Max Wunderle. Max was the second-youngest person to ever swim around Manhattan Island (28.5 miles at the age of 17). In our conversation, Max asked me why I was doing Uberman, and I couldn’t answer the question. (Heck, I’m still not sure why and it’s been three months since I finished.)

Max told me this:

“You’re doing it because you don’t know if you can.”

Yep, that’s probably right. 100 miles is a long, long way. 24 hours is a long time to be be moving. I might get bored. might get injured. It’s hard damn work just getting to the starting line. It’s just something I need to do, to prove to myself that I’m willing to start… willing to try… willing to see if I can.

Go Farther.

* I’ve had phenomenal experiences at my Ironman races, and I wish EVERYONE well that makes an Ironman effort. I know exactly what it takes to get there –training, family, schedule. It’s just not my thing anymore…

Mind Games & Project Management to Endurance Training

I wrote about working in sprints earlier this week. I think the same goes with workouts in whatever training you’re pursuing. Whether you’re training for a 10k, half-marathon or 100-mile ultra, it’s all the same:

  • The Race = The “Project”
  • Weekly workout plan = “Weekly Workout Sprints” comprised of daily workouts.
  • Daily workouts = “Daily Sprint Sessions” or “Tasks.”

Each week, or my “Weekly Workout Sprints,” is different – they take on a personality and theme of its own.

Last week’s theme was “Do Miles.” I didn’t do any lifting or Cross-Fit except on Sunday morning. The rest of the week was focused on running and returning to an evening mobility routine. I did four runs of 9, 6, 5 and 13 miles to get myself above 30 miles in a week. I hadn’t done that many miles in a week in a while and the miles were mostly longer, slower miles.

The 9-mile run on Tuesday was very slow – running 9:00 (or slower miles). My 13-miler was with GVH so I ran 8:00/miles the whole way without intervals or pickups.

Only my 5-mile run on Friday when I went to the track was “hard” running where I did a ladder workout, going hard over increasing distances – 1/4 mile, 1/2 mile, 3/4 mile, 1 mile, then back down the ladder to 1/4 mile with easy 1/4 mile segments between each hard segment.

This week’s theme is “Strength & Conditioning + Harder Miles” – more difficult, faster running and more strength and conditioning (SC). I’ve got three (3) SC sessions with fewer, but harder, miles in the week.

Strength & Conditioning:

  • Sunday: Hanging shoulder presses, followed by a CF workout of 4 x (5 pull-ups, 25 kettle bell swings & 15 goblet squats), then 2 x (5 pull-ups, 50 sit-ups)
  • Tuesday: Deadlifts with 5 pull-ups between sets, followed by a CF workout: 4 sets of Russian twists and Burpee Boxjumps. (I was toasted after this one…)
  • Friday (planned): Hanging shoulder presses, then CF with kettle bell swings and a 10-minute hard run.

Running:

  • Monday & Tuesday: off-days to recover from Saturday’s long run and Sunday’s strength & conditioning work.
  • Wednesday: 7-mile run consisting of a 2-mile warm-up then 8 x (1/4 mile hard, 1/4 recovery) for the next four miles, then a 1-mile cool down.
  • Thursday: Track workout – 3 x 1-mile time trial (TT) runs with a 1/4 mile recovery in between, for a grand total of 4 miles. Eventually, I get that up to 5-7 mile TT runs, but for now, three miles was all I needed.
  • Friday (planned): Time permitting after the SC workout, I’ll add a few easy miles to experience running after a hard SC workout.
  • Saturday (planned): 13 miles with intervals scattered throughout. This is a group run with GVH so I’ll need to figure out who to do the intervals while sticking with the group.

Having a theme each week helps me justify whatever pain I might feel along the way with each workout. Each workout is just a “task” or “daily sprint session” in my “weekly project sprint,” and each workout, set or interval is just a “job” within the “task” or “daily sprint session.” When I’m doing 8 x (1/4 mile hard, 1/4 recovery), it’s hard and it’s painful, especially the early intervals when I’m still getting my body revved up. Keeping a mindset that each interval gets me closer to finishing the day’s workout helps me bear the discomfort of that particular rep or interval. In other words, mind games…

Using the 8 x (1/4 mile hard, 1/4 recovery) workout as an example, I’ll think to myself:

  • Rep #1: Okay, let’s just do the first one to get started. Once I get started, then I’m on the way.
  • Reps #2-3: We’re on our way. Get to the midway point of the workout, then I’m on the downside.
  • Rep #4: Woohoo! Halfway done!
  • Rep #5-6: On the downside, just a couple more after these.
  • Rep #7: Only one more after this one
  • Rep #8: Last one, then we can jog it home.

Same goes with Cross-Fit workouts where I’m doing 4-10 sets in a workout. I break down the thinking into individual goals I’m hitting along the way. For me, reaching the midway point is the tipping point for most workouts – once I’m halfway, I know I’ve got whatever workout I’m doing licked.

Finally, I apply the same breakdown strategy within sets. If I’m doing sets of 25, I think:

  • Reps 1-5: Getting started
  • Reps 6-10: Now I’m in this
  • Reps 11-15: Get to 15 and then I have 10 left, and I can do 10 of anything
  • Reps 16-20: Only 5 more after these
  • Reps 21-25: Last five
  • …then I’ll add 1-2 more reps as buffer for any bad reps in the set: I can do a couple more. The 1% rule…

For me, this process generates confidence at the end of long training cycle leading up to a race when, despite following whatever training program, however rigorous, when I’m feeling like I could have done more. If I’ve put in the time along the way and completed my “daily workout tasks” and “weekly workout sprints” then the completion of those tasks should yield a successful “Project”for me – a solid race with the opportunity to hit whatever time or completion goals I’ve set.

Looking back, I’ve almost always hit my time and races goals. Using my Ironman races as examples:

  • Ironman #1 Goal (2010): sub-13:00 attained [Race report here.]
  • Ironman #2 Goal (2011): sub-12:00 attained [Race report here.]
  • Ironman #3 Goal (2013): sub-11:00 missed… came in at ~11:15 in gnarly windy conditions on the bike. [sadly, no race report yet…]
  • Completed my first ultra marathon (2015) [Race report here.]

(Wait a minute… Maybe I should set more difficult race goals…? Oh no! Confidence crisis!)

If you’re struggling to keep motivated in a given day or week, try the mindset that each week and each workout is just another task or sprint along the way to a winning project.