Waking up on race day morning, I focused on slipping into a pre-race routine. I dropped off my aid bags. The race organizers recommended an AM drop-off because bears had been coming into the race site and messing with food and aid bags the night before.
I also needed to eat, pick up my SPOT device and gear up – fill my backpack with water, nutrition and make sure I had all the necessary gear – rain jacket, rain pants, warm shirt, headlamp and everything else. I knocked off the drop bags first which gave me a sense of completion – there was nothing more to prepare for what was ahead, just get myself ready to start.
I walked back to the van, dressed and ate breakfast – sweet potatoes, walnuts and a banana. Lena boiled water for coffee and then I only had my SPOT device to pick up. I headed over, did that, and everything was set and the waiting began. We had about 20 minutes before the start, and I felt nervous energy from everyone. I tried to stay calm and tell myself that I was ready but really, I was nervous.
From the race briefing the day before, there seemed to be a lot of first-time 200-milers – I guessed about 60% of the runners were tackling their first 200-miler, which gave me some confidence knowing how much more experience I had having done this distance before. I’d done it two years ago, and I knew I could do it again.
As I walked to and from the bathroom and back and forth to the van, I felt a combination of nerves but also a sense of belonging – that the race was here, and I was here, and this was my place. I knew I did my very best to prepare for the race and thought about everything I’d put into my training and preparation over the last nine months, and since July, I put in three months of very good training designed to improve my fitness and strengthen my resolve.
Even so, life at work had be hectic, especially over the last six weeks as I made several changes to the company based on how we were doing and the new directions that I needed to take the business. This was stressful. I was working most evenings and leaving the house by 6:00am most mornings for weeks on end, fitting in my training mostly during the day – I’d break from the office in the afternoon to do 7-10 mile runs, or head over to campus for what I called my “UC-Davis Day” – a Cross-Fit style workout that included 10×10, 11×11 and 12×12 workouts – sets of pull-ups, push-ups, jumping squats and then either 200-yard sprints or stair climbing. These were both physically and mentally exhausting, necessary both for training and stress-relief.
On the weekends, I did my long runs on Wednesday or Saturday mornings, and was able to fit in a couple of solid trail runs along the way. I did three-mile repeats at Pena Adobe – once doing five rounds and another time doing three rounds while wearing a 40-lb weight vest. I headed out to Stebbins Canyons to get in some climbing miles on technical terrain. I did a 24-mile trail run on PCT about six weeks before the race. I had planned to run the Mt. Diablo 50k as a final race prep about four weeks before the start, but I was feeling tired and opted for family time instead that weekend.
Most Fridays, I did lifting workout in the garage – usually shoulder presses, kettlebell swings, squats and occasionally some burpees followed with 5-7 rounds of 600-yard sprints around the block. On Sunday mornings, I did another garage workout of pull-ups, deadlifts and box jumps followed by a two-mile time trial around my neighborhood.
In Portland back in July, I ran as many hills as I could, frequenting Forest Park. I did all of my training without food or nutrition, even my 4-5 hour trail runs. Going all the way back to the start of the year, I slowly built up my endurance engine in January, February and March with longer, slower miles, then focused on speed work in April in preparation for the Bryce Canyon 100 in May. I ran three local 50ks early in the season – the FOURmidable in February, Ruck-a-Chuck in March and the Napa 50k in April. I had a solid race at Bryce Canyon – a 30-hour trudge that tested my mettle. I thought I’d take a longer break after Bryce Canyon, but found myself back into a training regimen within a week feeling antsy and ready.
I had a couple of nagging injuries throughout my training – my right hamstring has had a knot in it since last year that won’t go away. One of the muscles high on my right leg – the iliacus, pectineus, or psoas major (not sure which) – had been strained years ago and healed last year, but I was feeling it again. The tendon on the outside top of my left foot was sprained – I felt a sharp pain if I landed unevenly whenever I ran on the trail, which is kind of a problem because one tends to land unevenly often when trailing running.
About three weeks before the race, I bonked during a 10-mile midday run – I just simply lost my legs and had to jog-walk back to the office for three miles. From there, I wound down my training, calling it an extended taper, just working on getting back my legs and staying fit with garage workouts. But even with the physical maladies and the extended taper, I knew my cardio engine was really strong, muscularly I felt great and my body was fat-adapted for fuel. In the weeks before the race, I fasted each day until lunch and stayed away completely from sugar, carbs and alcohol, except an occasional small glass of red wine on Sunday night with dinner.
This race was a quest that started back in November – nearly ten months ago when the idea first came to mind that, for whatever reason, I wanted to give the Tahoe 200 another go. When I finished in 2017, I was so elated with my race that I thought I wouldn’t want to run the race again for fear of doing worse or having a bad experience. I wanted nothing to spoil that accomplishment, but even after that race as friends would ask me about it, I would say that if I ever did go back, I’d want to see if I could break 72 hours – a full ten hours faster than my 2017 finishing time of 82:00:16, two hours ahead of my stretch goal of 84 hours.
Since the 2017 race, I’d become a much stronger runner with two 100s under my belt (Zion and Bryce Canyon), the Mt. Hood 50-miler and several 50ks. I was much stronger and even more fit than two years ago, and looking at my 2017 race, I knew there were hours I could chop off simply by moving more quickly through aid stations and sleeping less. Combining those “free” hours with running faster made me feel like I could get down to 72 hours if I had the perfect race.
I purposely waited until the race was full to register so that I would be on the wait list and have more time to decide if I wanted to do the race. I jumped on the wait list in December and it wasn’t until May 1 that my name cleared. When I got the email notification, I was in the lobby of a hotel San Francisco in the middle of a three-day client event. I texted Lena:
After all of that, there I was, standing at Homewood Mountain Resort feeling nervous and anxious, but knowing that I’d done pretty much everything I wanted to do in my training and preparation. I knew I was as ready as I could be.
The final countdown
Per usual with me, I was scurrying to the starting gate with little time to spare before the start, even with two hours since waking up to get ready. (I don’t know why I do this every race…) As the starting time crept closer, I made a couple of bathroom runs, including once during the national anthem. I could hear it in the background and was sorry to miss it because it was a wonderful rendition, but when ya gotta go…
Candice led us in the ultra-runner’s oath, taken from Micah True (a.k.a. Caballo Blanco) – “If I get lost, hurt or die, it’s my own damn fault.” She gave the countdown from ten and we started.
The question that nags me constantly – “Am I a good dad?”
I know that I am in a relative sense – I do my very best to be patient and present, and to provide opportunities to experience and learn life’s lessons.
I also know I can do better.
I do well in the idiosyncratic situations of parenthood – figuring out how to get him down the mountain during a crappy weather day on the mountain, and getting him excited for yet another summer camp in Portland where he doesn’t know any other kids.
This week, we’re on vacation in Squaw Valley. Yesterday was day three, and with wet snow coming down that forecast to change to rain, we faced the “Should we give it a shot?” ski decision.
We gave it a shot. The open trails were modest blues I had scouted the day before – all trails I knew Benjamin could ski. But that was the day before, and this was today.
The trails that had been groomed hours ago were now covered in 6 inches of wet snow, and the conditions were just a little too tough for him.
So there we were, atop the mountain, struggling to keep his skis attached, and experiencing the typical frustrations that go with a tough day on the mountain, or any situation where one might have felt thrust into without complete free will.
Whether you’re seven or forty-seven, we’ve all been on a proverbial mountain at one time or another and decidedly did not want to be there. And there he lay, face down in the snow, a ski off one leg, the other ski somehow still attached, twisted under his body. Within three minutes of hopping off the lift, all confidence was lost and any chance for fun evaporated.
We tried pizza turns from side to side on the trail. We tried side-stepping down the mountain.
We tried encouraging. We tried cajoling.
We tried lying – “You’ve skied much tougher runs…” (he hadn’t given the weather and wet snow) and “This isn’t a blue, it’s a green.” (It was a blue).
We tried austerity – “Not being able to do something is okay, but not trying to do something isn’t okay. You have to try.”
I even picked him up skied with him between my legs for a stretch, partly because that was the quickest way down that particular section and partly hoping that might make him feel a little embarrassed that he had to be carried down the slope.
Nothing worked.
The wet snow indeed turned to rain, and the three of us stood there staring at each other, the weather, and the slope ahead. I tried to imagine myself at seven years old and how I felt in a situation that was beyond my willingness to tolerate. I couldn’t remember specifics, but I definitely remembered that feeling of quit.
Then I told him – “Okay, here’s the deal – the only way off the mountain is to ski down. There are two ways we can do this – the slow way or the fast way. Right now, it’s raining and it’s cold, and none of us want to be here right now. The sooner we get off the mountain the better, so here’s what I want you to do – Point your skis down the mountain and pizza your way as far as you can, and when you fall, laugh.”
That was all I had left.
It worked.
He pointed and pizza-ed to the bottom of that section and then yard-saled. When I caught up, he was smiling. So we did it again. And again until the slope leveled out and the ski lifts were in sight. It took us close to an hour and a half to grind our way down the mountain on that single run.
We unbuckled, celebrated, and headed in for lunch.
Later we played foosball, had a snowball fight, read Harry Potter and had movie night in the hotel room. Life was good again. You can tell from this story that I’m pretty damned proud of myself – these are the situations of parenthood I do well.
It’s the other stuff that’s the toughest – the constant self-questioning about how I handle day-to-day situations – the inevitable morning fight to get ready for school, negotiating how many bites before he can be finished dinner, and how to motivate him for his jiu-jitsu classes. I try everything from patience to incentives to idle threats to raising my voice. The yelling is most embarrassing because I’m the adult and I’m supposed to be the mature one. The incentives bother me – why does he need ice cream as motivation to go to jut-jitsu when he absolutely loves it when he gets there and tells me after class how much fun it was?
Why is the hard stuff in parenthood easy, and the day-to-day stuff so hard?
How perfect do I need to be?
When he’s 17, or 27 or 57, or even just tonight when he’s lying in bed, will he only remember my annoyance over finding socks before school or telling him to hurry up because we’re going to be late?
How much will he remember foosball, movie night, Harry Potter and surviving our ski adventure?
It was slow going getting up and running, then I figured out a plan. I grabbed my gear and headed downstairs to the bathroom where there was bench and lots of light to spread out all the contents from my drop bag. This made preparing for the day ahead much easier. I filled up my nutrition, cleaned my feet, donned clean socks, stretched and rolled my glutes and hamstrings with a tennis ball, and got myself into a ready mental state.
A few other runners were down there, and I found them to be loud and annoying. Just upstairs were the sleeping quarters and the people down here didn’t seem to care. That really bothered me. I tried to tune it out and just focused on getting ready. How much did it bother me? Enough that I’m taking the time to write about here…
Once I had myself together, I headed back outside to the food station for eggs and bacon. I made another Starbucks Via coffee and overall I was feeling optimistic about starting off for Day 3. It was creeping closer to 3:30am, so my “ready time” was longer than I wanted given that I got up at 2:06am. I made a few final adjustments to my my gear and myself and I headed out.
I asked the for directions from the volunteers checking runners in and out – “Just head back where you came from and go right.” I walked about a 1/5 mile back to the ski lift and couldn’t figure out where or how to go right. That made no sense – right was a road into town.
I thought a bit, and reluctantly headed back to the aid station to ask again – “Sorry guys, it’s probably me, but I don’t see where to go right.”
Another volunteer re-explained it to me – I needed to head to the ski lift and go up the hill a bit from where you came in, THEN hang a right.
Aha! Now I had it. It was closer to 3:45am by now when I restarted my Garmin for the next segment, but I was rested and happy to relieve the anxiety of knowing where to go.
Heavenly to Spooner Summit: The First Early Morning
This 20-mile stretch was the longest of the course without any reliable water – no streams or waterfalls to refill. The course on the west and north side of the lake was much different in this respect. I’d heard other runners talking about knocking out this stretch at night or in the early morning because much of the trail was exposed. The good news is that on the other side of the stretch, Sean, my pacer, would be waiting for me to take me to Tunnel Creek, then I’d “only” have the Powerline climb to tackle before hitting the Brockway Summit aid station tonight for more sleep. It was 4:00am and I was already thinking about the end of the day.
I don’t remember much from this stretch of the course, other than enjoying a couple of hours of night running and breaking the early hours into smaller segments – false dawn around 5:30, sunrise about an hour later, then I would be about three hours away from the next aid station at Spooner Summit. Funny how hours seem short and fast when you frame them that way…
But along the way, I got into a bad habit of checking my Garmin too often. I’d check and see something like 10.27 miles, then go on for a what I thought was a good distance – a half mile or more – then look back at my Garmin to see 10.35 miles. It was tough slogging.
I remember the final push up to the top of Spooner Summit and how the course was rocky and annoying. I stopped to snap a few pictures at the peak, ate a bit, then really just wanted to keep moving.
The final miles down to the aid station seemed to take forever. This was a theme all along the course – it seemed like the last couple of miles into every aid station was marred with a lot of turns, switchbacks or some other distinguish trait that made it seem difficult to reach the next oasis. Fortunately, my Garmin mileage was off so while I thought I had more than a mile to the aid station, I spotted it at the bottom of the hill. Woohoo!!
Spooner Summit AID STATION: STarting to figure out my aid station plans
I arrived to the aid station ahead of Lena and Sean, mostly because I was about 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Despite my grousing and slogging, I was able to keep up with my 84-hour race plan schedule. This is partly because of some buffer time I built into the schedule, and partly because I feel like I had a natural pace that correlated well with the race plan.
I started to get smarter about how to approach aid stations. Knowing I had some time before Lena and Sean would arrive, I came up with plan:
First make sure I got my feet checked out and take care of any blisters. Then eat a good breakfast, then refuel my water and nutrition for the next segment. When I arrived to the aid station, 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.
Rob, a Coast Guard veteran, was the medical volunteer. He was just wrapping up – Haha – “wrapping.” Get it? ???? with another runner so I ordered food and pulled off my socks for Rob to check me out. We found a blister on the underside of my foot that we taped up and I was good to go.
Lena and Sean arrived just as Rob finished the patchwork on my feet and they set up a station for me. Nina, Paul, Tbone and Benjamin were also there and it was really nice to see everyone together in one place. We snapped a few pictures and double-checked that I had plenty of water and fuel for the next stretch. There was a campground around midway with a water pump, but it was reported broken a few days ago, and while we were told at the pre-race briefing that it would be fixed, I didn’t want to take any chances.
Spooner Summit to Tunnel Creek (mile 123-140): “You said 10 minutes if you slept…”
Sean was awesome. We got going and into a rhythm pretty quickly – jogging the downhills and flat sections, even if they were only a few strides, just to get in to that habit. Most of the first six miles were a long slow climb from 7200’ to 8900’ feet, and at the top of the climb, I was staring to feel pretty tired.
Me: “I need about ten minutes.”
Sean: “Are you taking a nap?”
Me: “Maybe, but not more than ten minutes.”
I found a rock, laid down and watched the clouds go by. One of them looked like a crab that I watched crawl across the sky. I closed my eyes trying to sleep, but couldn’t get into a relaxed state. I felt like I might have dozed off, then when I opened my eyes again, the crab hadn’t moved far from it’s last position. Then I heard Sean say – “Okay, let’s go.”
I looked at my Garmin.
Me: “It’s only been five minutes. I said ten.”
Sean: “You said ten if you slept. You’re not sleeping, so let’s go.”
I just looked at him for a moment. He was serious, and he was right. Five minutes was enough.
Sean: “We have some downhill here, so let’s just get moving and see how it goes.”
Off we went, and about 1/4 mile into the downhill, I could feel my quads aching and the bottoms of my feet were sore. I’d really had enough of that and I remembered what I’d heard Eric Bynes share on the Trailrunner Nation Podcast – “When it starts to hurt, push harder.”
Me: “Let’s pick up the pace to see what happens.”
We did, and something spectacular happened – we ran faster! Over the next three miles in a few spots, we pushed down under 8:00/min miles, running miles at 12:37, 12:34 and 14:28. This might not seem fast, but when you’ve been slogging uphill at a 19:00-min miles, 12:37 was outright flying.
We passed a few runners that had gone by while I was resting then hit one stretch where we both screamed – “Yahooooo!” It was awesome. I didn’t care if I was unnecessarily spending energy. It was fun and freeing to let release the hounds for a change.
We slowed up when we saw a sign for the campground, finding it about 1/4 mile down the trail. We took another break and Sean found the well. Water! Yes! I think we would have been fine, but it was a treat to have fresh, COLD water to drink.
We regrouped and headed out again. Mile after mile, we tracked past Marlette Lake and started another climb along a ridge towards Herlan Peak. Along this stretch, we stopped to look back at the lake.
Sean said, “Take a look at where you started and where you are now.”
Looking across the lake, I could make out where Homewood was, and thought about the miles along the Rubicon Trail, pushing to Sierra-at-Tahoe, managing my way to Heavenly yesterday, then pushing farther and farther here on Day 3. It was overwhelming and I broke down and cried. I was so proud of myself and what I’d accomplished. Finishing the race seemed secondary at the moment to knowing that I’d already gone well beyond any reasonable expectation I could have made of myself.
We powered on and over Herlan Peak and then down to the Flume Trail.
Me: “I have a feeling I know why they call it ‘Flume Trail.’”
It was more than three miles of STEEP descent along a sandy road. Unpleasant. Very unpleasant. I got grouching again. We mostly walked, occasionally trying to run for spurts. It hurt my knees to run and my quads felt pretty shot.
We were making solid time on a tough stretch, and while I was still ahead on pace for 84 hours, I became resigned that I would need a long rest tonight, not to mention the next stretch with the Powerline Climb standing between me and Brockway Summit to rest for the night. I told Sean that I didn’t care about the 84 hours, that instead, I’d rather get some well-needed rest tonight, have a good day tomorrow and come in past 84 hours than try to slog through the miles and be miserable all day on short sleep.
To make conversation, I started making plans for the aid station – food, feet, sunscreen and rest. I decided I’d stay an hour or longer if needed to recoup and recharge before plodding forward up Powerline.
Day 3 had easily become the toughest day. While Day 1 was the longest in distance and time, I had fresh legs and mind. Now I was working on five hours of sleep over three days and had covered 140+ miles so far. The notion of tackling Powerline was intimidating. It’s in a perfect spot to mess with your psyche.
We finally worked down to Tunnel Creek where Lena was waiting with chairs and supplies. So, so, so good to see her!
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.
I plopped down then Marinka and Eric become my personal race concierges. Marinka checked me in and made sure Sean and I had everything we needed after a rough 17-mile stretch. Eric was doubling as medical and chef, cooking up the world’s best grilled ham and cheese for me then tending to the blisters on each of the toes on my right oot. Turns out they’re both from Davis! Marinka remembered me from The Ridge 60k from back in August. We talked a while and hung out with them. just sat to rest and I felt myself stiffening up a bit. After a while, I got motivated, organized my nutrition, said goodbyes, and off I went to tackle Powerline.
Tunnel Creek (mile 140) to Brockway Summit (mile 155): The Powerline Climb & starting the celebration
The first three miles ran along the bike path in Incline Village. I did a walk-run strategy here to pick up time on the flat miles. I’d like to say the flat miles were easy miles, but the asphalt was a killer on my feet and knees. I’d pick a tree or sign up ahead, run to it, then walk to the next tree or market, then pick another spot and run to it, which enabled me to cover the first four miles of this stretch in just under an hour. Then the course turned into a neighborhood and it meandered about until hitting the bottom of Powerline.
From the bottom of Powerline.
I hooked up with two other runners and we started off as a group up the hill. About a third of the way up, I decided to take break and they went on ahead. I looked up and counted seven poles protruding from the ground up the hill and started to pick off them off one at a time using a counting strategy – I’d count 100 steps at a time, then stop for a moment, then another 100. As I reached each pole, I stopped for a minute and about halfway up, I stopped to sit down and eat. I was in no rush to expend myself on this climb, and I budgeted extra time in this stretch, plus had the benefit of the previous flat miles.
Once I got going, I was sure I’d get to the top. I don’t know why I ever thought I wouldn’t, but the placement of this climb in the course was ideal to psyche myself out. At the top, I looked back down and snapped a picture.
At the top, I took a break, talked to the videographer up there with a drone and ate some Peanut M&Ms as a reward for polishing off Powerline. I was glad to have more than a third of the 15 miles in this segment done. The sun was now setting and the day was transitioning to evening.
This is where I started to feel a sense of celebration and victory – that I was going to get this race done. I felt a lift in my spirits now that Powerline was behind and I had fewer than ten miles to Brockway for rest before starting Day 4.
The course took a nice gentle downslope for the next two miles, then apparently there was a two mile climb of about 800’ from mile seven to mile nine that I don’t remember. I think I remember some switchbacks on the course, and as I crept closer to Brockway, I was getting tired. Even though the trail was clearly marked without any deviations, I had a paranoia that I was going in the wrong direction. I waited for a runner behind me to catch up, asking him if this was the right way to Brockway.
“Yeah. There’s only one way to go here.”
The Brockway Aid Station, a.k.a “BrockwayBnB” (mile 155)
At Brockway, I was greeted by several volunteers, all ready to help. This time, I had a plan:
Grab my drop bag
Get a good dinner ordered
Check out and clean up my feet
Fill up my backpack and nutrition right away so that I could just grab my gear and go in the “morning.”
Sleep
Remembering how good it tasted at Tunnel Creek a few hours earlier, I ordered a grilled ham and cheese. Sean and another fellow helped me remove my gear and get settled. Liz came over and asked me if I was planning to sleep because she was “taking reservations for beds.” Not only was she reserving a sleeping spot, but asked me how long I planned to sleep so that she could wake me up.
I asked, “How long am I allowed to sleep?”
“How long are you planning to sleep?”
“Not sure, but I thought I read there was a five-hour limit on sleep stations.”
“We’ve never had to enforce that.”
Even after reaching Brockway way ahead of schedule – it was about 9:30 when I got there and I planned to be there at 11pm – I still was thinking that the 84-hour goal was well out of reach. I expected to sleep for at least 4-5 hours and my schedule had me getting to Tahoe City by 9am tomorrow. It just didn’t seem possible. I felt totally comfortable with this decision and mindset, focusing on getting rest and having a good day tomorrow.
I got my grilled ham and cheese, plus a bonus slice of pizza. I gobbled my food and found Liz to show me to the sleeping tent. I told Liz that I wanted to sleep until 3:30am, so she set my wake up call. I figured about four hours would be a solid amount of rest and still get me up and out of the aid station well before dawn.
After the indoor sleeping quarters at Sierra-at-Tahoe and Heavenly, I was a little worried about the outdoor tents here. They were tents, but more like coverings with flaps extending down to the ground. The camping beds were laid right on the ground – this was much more like outdoor camping. We set my backpack and poles outside of the tent and I found my spot. . It was drafty with the wind blowing into the shelter below the side flaps, but I was tired enough that I figured I’d find a way to sleep.
Once I settled down under the wool blanket, I managed to get reasonably comfortable and fell asleep. Day 3 was in the books.
Routine is discipline and discipline is freedom. While I don’t have control of what happens to me every day, routine gives me control of what I chose to do with each day.
Routine gives me the freedom to say no, to avoid situations that I know will negatively affect me. I spoke at a conference last week and was invited to a “Speaker Dinner” that started at 8pm. An 8pm start? That’s what time I like to hit the sack. My routine gave me the freedom to say “no thanks” to the invite. This is what I wrote:
Hey Brett – I answered “yes,” but right now I’m a definite maybe.
I’m a super early riser (4am), and I’m usually in bed by 8:30 or 9pm. I’d like to go, except that I’m afraid that I’ll fall asleep in my soup and possibly drown, impacting the rest of the dinner enjoyment for everyone else…
Routine is committing time to myself. I have a huge to-do list today. It’s hard as heck to resist opening my inbox right. I want to do that work. I need to do that work. I just came from that speaking gig and have 75+ emails and calls to make (no joke…). On Monday, I’m leading a workshop in San Francisco and I’ve got tons of prep left for that event. I can’t believe that I’m taking the time to do this post right now, but it’s been a week since my last post and that’s unacceptable to me, so I’m forcing myself to sit and write.
Most mornings, I’m up at 4:30am. If I don’t get up early, I won’t. I need my mornings. It’s my time to establish the day for myself, to take control with Morning Pages and mediation. That only gives me an hour to do any real writing given the probability that Benjamin will wake up by 6:30. Today it was 6:12, putting a halt to my writing. Now I’m in the coffee shop. Man, I really, really want to get to my inbox… But I won’t. I will resist!
Daily training and workouts are routine. They are an anchor – my chance to step aside from the day, to step out of myself, to leave the mental intensity of work and life – and let the physical Self take over for its dose of daily. Sonan Chainani has two anchors in his day – tennis at 7:00am and a session with “Trainer Dave” at 2:00pm. Those anchors give him the freedom to focus on his writing. Sometimes I workout because I want to but mostly it’s because I have to. I have to alleviate stress. I have to feel the rush of endorphins. I have to see sweat dripping on the garage mat. I have to feel my legs and lungs burn through intervals on a run. I have to feel the satiation of a huge meal afterwards. I have to be training for some kind of ridiculous race to push myself farther. It’s my routine.
I typically work in sprints throughout the day. I start the timer and choose a single task to complete. There’s freedom in that focus to know that I’m working on an activity that I choose. I’m in control.
There’s routine in choosing when to work and when to put it aside, the freedom to focus on whatever is most important in the next moment. My routine dictates that I shut off my phone before dinner – I give myself permission to focus on family. Bad things happen when I break this routine.
I was weak a couple weeks ago. After a stellar work day, I worked out then picked up Benjamin from school. I felt proud and satisfied with my accomplishments. I felt calm and relaxed. As I prepared dinner, I decided to scan my email. I don’t know why. I found a message that I didn’t want to read – a soon-to-be client feeling last minute jitters. The thing is… I couldn’t take any action on that information so receiving that input only negatively impacted me. Lena asked about work. I shared my good day and I told her that I stupidly just checked my email for no reason. She knew right away. Now a week later, that would-be client that had last-minute thoughts is now on board and happy. It didn’t matter either way that I knew about that email.
I’m reading Steven King’s “On Writing.” Reading is part of my nighttime routine. I just read last night that he often hears – “I’d like to be a writer too, but I just don’t have the time…” I call myself a writer and I’m committed to this time, and because of my evening reading routine, I have the motivation and rationale that I need to write instead of cracking open my email. Had I skipped last night’s reading, I might be pounding out email #32 instead of creating this post. Thank you, routine.
Three and a half seconds from walking out the door – “I’m not wearing these socks. They’re too small!” Dude, WTF.
It’s another day of rain. I yanked my hamstring on Wednesday and now I can’t run. My calves are sore. My shoulders are stiff. The power went out. The dishes aren’t done. We’re out of clean towels. I need a haircut. The music in the coffee shop is too loud.
The email to a new client went unanswered, even though I know he opened it. I track these things. I have seven unfinished projects at work and I can’t get that video I’m recording to come out just right.
But… I have my new rubber boots and a raincoat. I needed the rest anyway. I’ll exercise this afternoon in my garage. The dishes and towels will eventually get done. They always do.
I just heard The Beatles, The Doors and David Bowie (“Ground Control to Major Tom..”). “Piano Man” is playing right now. The music doesn’t seem so loud now.
I’ll finish those projects today, and what doesn’t get done didn’t need finishing right now anyway. The client will get back to me. There are more coming anyway.
Right now, a 16-year-old girl is waiting on her lab test results. An alcoholic is cracking open his third Budweiser, while his wife makes eggs and packs the kids’ lunch, hoping she’s not late for work this morning. Man, she’s tired after working the late shift at her night job, but it’s the only way to make the rent.
The homeless guy downtown is wet and soaked, cold and hungry. He wishes he had rent to make.
Everyone moment can’t be wonderful, and they aren’t. I’m supposed to be present, and that’s hard. Really, really hard. Maybe that’s why the present is so important. In the moments that suck, we need to accept that the suckiness could be much worse.
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon Little boy blue and the man in the moon “When you coming home, dad?” “I don’t know when But we’ll get together then You know we’ll have a good time then.”
We got back to Marina del Rey in about 90 minutes where Paul (my father in law) was waiting. We unloaded the boxes and cargo and everything else to his car and headed back to our rented apartment in Venice. Benjamin was already asleep for the night and Nina (my mother-in-law) just looked at me in disbelief. I think she fully expected me to get eaten by sharks and was honestly surprised that we all made it home successfully. Admittedly, the fear of sharks was VERY real for me throughout the swim, so I’d be insincere if I didn’t admit a certain amount of astonishment myself for being back at the apartment safely. There was something surreal about it having that massive effort successfully behind me.
Lena and I shared pizza and as much of the adventure as we could, though I found myself mostly unable or unwilling to recount the day because of fatigue and a sense of relief for arriving home safely.
My sleep that night was terrible. My shoulders and lacerations on my feet throbbed. My nasal passages were swollen from the salt water. The abrasions on my neck stung. and the cuts on my feet stung. I hobbled to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a midnight snack of ibuprofen, bananas and ice cream.
The next morning, I couldn’t lift either arm more than a few inches above my waist without a sharp pain, especially my left unless I swung my right arm to push it higher. I texted Brian MacKenzie. He suggested Voodoo Floss (which we had because Tbone and Lena are awesome) and mobility work – even some pushups and shoulder presses if possible (which they were not). I tried leaning against a lacrosse ball pinned against a wall which was intensely unpleasant.
Next stop: The Mojave Desert
We cleaned up the apartment and packed up The Beast, shared leftover birthday cake (it was Paul’s birthday was the day of the swim), and said our goodbyes. Paul and Nina headed back to Boise while Lena, Tbone, Benjamin and I proceeded to Mojave. With any luck, we’d be there by early afternoon to start prepping for tomorrow’s bike segment. I’d pick up with the other competitors there and start the second 200-mile segment on Friday. On the way, I texted my chiropractor – Michelle Chu – she’s awesome and is trained in ART and also works with the Sacramento Kings – who phoned me right away with advice to massage lightly and slowly get them moving. We’d find out later today if tomorrow’s bike segment was a possibility.
The Mojave Airport
After checking into our hotel in Mojave and unpacking, the team vibe was discernibly lacking enthusiasm. Yesterday had tapped all of us and Benjamin was getting a bit stir crazy. Lena and Tanya took Benjamin for a drive to check the Mojave airport while I stayed back at the hotel. To get myself back into a positive mindset, I did deep breathing exercises I learned from the Wim Hof Method, then allowed myself relax and fall into a comfortable nap. I slept for about 30 minutes and felt revived and excited for the prospect of tomorrow’s bike segment. It was time to test out my shoulders.
First I tried George, my TT bike. Not bad, but I definitely felt pressure especially when turning to my left to check oncoming traffic, or steering with any significant turning. A bit disconcerting given the descents on the tomorrow’s course. I returned to the hotel and switched to Pedro, my road bike. Ahhh….. much, much better! Almost no pain because I was sitting upright!
I decided I’d start the bike on Pedro. Then once my body warmed up after a couple of hours, I’d switch to George until I got to the Town Pass climb at mile 130. From there, I’d switch back to Pedro for the ascent, then knock out the last 50 miles on George.
Tbone and Lena used the Voodoo Floss on my shoulders. It worked surprisingly well. I prepped Pedro and my cycling gear for the next morning, and met the team for dinner downstairs at the hotel restaurant. Spirits were much higher now from the breathing exercises, nap, and now the excitement knowing that in the morning, I’d be cycling across the desert in the early morning dark and chill. For Lena and Tbone, I think the wine at dinner helped a little too… Mostly, we all started to embrace the ridiculousness of the journey, and that the effort was as much about the adventure as anything.
Benjamin was predictably finicky at dinner but we got back to the room for bath time and bed, and he fell asleep quickly. I followed soon after with my alarm set for 5am, preparing for a 6am departure to tackle tomorrow’s 200 mile segment from Mojave to Death Valley, finishing at Badwater Basin.
Sunrise in the Desert
I woke up Friday excited. My shoulders were definitely better, though still far from 100%. I felt confident that I’d be okay on the bike based on yesterday’s test ride, and I was ready to hit the road. After a breakfast of nuts, a banana and some coffee-flavored, caffeine-infused nutrition mix, I was ready to go.
Lena and I headed out to The Beast where Tbone slept that night. With my head covering on because of the chilly desert morning, I needed to adjust the strap on my borrowed aero helmet.
Snap. F*ck. The strap broke. Oh well. Two is one, one is none. I had brought my regular cycling helmet, strapped it on, and off I went.
Anyone up for 200 miles through the Mojave Desert?
I felt great muscularly – refreshed by the cool morning air and thrilled to be on the bike after how I felt just 36 hours on the Terranea rocks. Just hopping on the saddle for mile one felt like a victory.
I planned to go ride at an average pace of 15mph, including stops, as this was my pace at the recent Levi’s Gran Fondo Century ride. That ride had nearly 10,000′ of climbing over 100 miles. Today’s bike segment would be just under 10,000’ of climbing over twice the distance so I felt the 15mph pace was a solid estimate, putting me on a 13-14 hour day to finish the 200 miles – arriving at Badwater Basin between 8:00-9:00pm that night.
Watching the sun rise over the desert
The first couple of hours were just plain fun. I watched the sun rise over the desert and had my first taste of long, straight quiet desert roads – miles and miles of space to myself. While I felt alone, I never felt lonely. There was a tranquility to the landscape and roads.
A whole lotta nothing out there…
Our first rest stop – an impromptu break before Randsburg
After about two hours, I turned onto Redrock-Randsburg Road and felt something behind me. It was The Beast! We did an impromptu rest stop where I stripped off my head covering and arm sleeves and started the first climb of the ride towards Randsburg. At Randsburg, I switched from Pedro to George for a two-hour stretch including some magnificent descents where I picked up some time by regularly hitting more than 25mph. We met up again for another rest stop in Trona where I decided to switch back to Pedro because of the long inclines ahead between here and the day’s midway point to Death Valley before the Town Pass climb. Those two hours turned out to be my only two hours on George…
Rest stop at Trona. Just one of a hundred examples of the awesomeness of my crew.
Climbing out of Trona, boredom really kicked in. While the road wasn’t an out-and-out climb, it was a long slow incline that pushed me down to my small ring where I spun at about 8-10 mph. After being on the bike for 6-7 hours, this was starting to get pretty old. I was okay with the ride and the environment – it was just the slow progress that got to me.
I reached The Beast again at the top of a climb to Ballarat where I planned to hop back on George. After reviewing the course elevation profile and looking at the descent in front of me, I decided to stick with Pedro and I’m glad I did.
Dan Bercu caught up with us here. While it’s odd to meet people you know in the middle of the desert, it also shows that it actually pretty tough to get lost out here. I commented to him how the roads had been great so far. Surprisingly good. Dan offered to drive ahead to the top of Town Pass, ride his bike down and climb back up with me. Even though I’d been riding for so long alone, I did consider whether I wanted company or not, then decided that it’d be better to have company than not and accepted his generous offer.
Seems I spoke too soon about the road conditions. After the descent from Ballarat, the roads were plagued with bumps and ruts. At one point, the strap on my bike bag beneath my seat broke and I pulled over. An SUV stopped to ask if I needed anything.
“Got a rubber band by chance?” He hunted around and found an orange construction ribbon. Bingo!
“You’re a long way from anything. What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I started in Mojave and I’m headed to Badwater.”
“You’ve got a ways to go. Good luck.”
I asked him the same question. He was a government employee out to see if they had started the road construction on the road up ahead. Floods a few years ago washed out parts of the highway, explaining the road conditions I was experiencing.
He drove on and about 20 minutes later, I caught up with the construction site and The Beast. The road was completely torn out for two miles and only a dirt passage was available, so I happily climbed into the belly of The Beast for another impromptu break and shoved PBJ sandwiches down my throat at a pace that would make Joey Chestnut proud.
Hitching a ride through the construction in the belly of The Beast
The crew dropped me off past the construction and more long slow desert miles lay ahead.
After about 30 minutes, I reached The Beast again at the entrance to Death Valley National Park. It was getting later in the afternoon – about 4pm, so I’d been riding more than ten hours. More importantly, we had only 2.5 hours of daylight with ten-mile, 4000’ climb up ahead, and I was only 130 miles into the trip, well off my planned 15mph pace. I wanted to get to the top before dark so I could descend with some daylight and finish the rest of the ride in quick order on George fitted with lights and glowsticks.
Made it to Death Valley!
I refueled headed to the Town Pass climb. Dan was waiting about a mile up the road and off we went. The first 2-3 miles were flat and we chatted. Then the incline started.
“Once we start climbing, I’m not going to much for conversation,” I said. Dan was very understanding and we settled into a quiet, slow pace.
The Climb. Was. Long. It starts at 1000’ on the edge of Death Valley National Park and peaks at nearly 5000.’ After climbing for what I thought was a while, we hit the 2000’ elevation sign. Ugh. Then later, the 3000’ foot sign about six miles into the ten-mile climb.
Somewhere on the Town Pass Climb
Dan optimistically called from behind me – “We’re about halfway in terms of elevation.”
Of course I replied pessimistically – “Yeah, and we’re six miles in so that means the grade is going to get steeper for the last 2000 feet.” Poor Dan – I kept dousing his upbeat nature. I promise I’m not a negative person – just realistic about what’s ahead. It was late, I was tired and I could see daylight fading behind the mountains behind us. Just getting to the top before dark would be an accomplishment now, let alone figuring out how to descend and polish off the last 50+ miles.
The Beast leapfrogged us along the way, parking at turnouts and cheering us on. Each time, I quickly exchanged water bottles and nutrition and kept climbing. I unclipped three times during the climb – once about 30% into the climb to cool down where the mountain contours cast shade on the road, and to do a round of breathing exercises. My back was aching more than anything. I felt strong in my legs and my heart rate stayed in check around 120 bpm. The second time I unclipped was to shed some weight from the bike – I dropped off my second water bottle and front-mount bike bag. The third time, I shed my bike pump, rear big bag and anything else resembling weight.
To pass the time, I found a rhythmic counting cadence: I counted pedal strokes in sets of ten – 100 strokes, then 90, then 80, then 70, down to 10, then I would upshift my gears a click or two, stand up and push for 30-50 strokes, then back down and start the counting over again. It was a way to make progress and focus on sets of 500 pedal strokes at a time.
The sun set behind us and I reached a false peak at dusk. The Beast was pulled over, and they saw as I did there was still a bit of climbing left left. Plus Dan’s truck was no where in sight, so that meant we had some more work to do.
I pushed hard for the last 1/2 mile where the grade evened out a bit and reached the peak of Town Pass at dusk. As I pulled up to The Beast, Lena had George out and was pulling out the lights.
“Let’s have a meeting,” I said. “I think this is it for the bike. The descent is pretty tricky and it’s getting dark. I think this is enough. Even I make it, I’ve got three hours to go and that’s going to make for a late night and early morning. I’d rather get to the hotel and eat and be ready for the run tomorrow.”
Atop Town Pass after more than 140 miles and 9000′ of climbing over 12+ hours, feeling great and wishing for more daylight to finish the bike.
No arguments from Lena, so we snapped a picture and loaded up The Beast for Furnace Creek about 35 miles down the road. Dan caught up after a few minutes, reaching the top in the dark. I told him my plan to end the bike segment here and hightail it to Furnace Creek to prep for tomorrow’s run.
A week from today, I’ll be in Los Angeles for final prep before hopping on a boat to head to Catalina Island to kick off my attempt at Uberman.
The boat ride will take about two hours. The swim back to shore will be a bit closer to 15 hours…
I’ve done all the training I can do and now it’s just a matter of whether or I’m able I can put together five days of execution. I’m well past the physical challenge of the ordeal. It’s become a massive puzzle:
… How to manage a 21-mile swim that starts in the dark and likely ends in the dark
… How I’ll keep myself going while still deploying good judgement after what’s safe and responsible to my family and myself.
… What to do if the current is strong. Or the winds create chop. Or there’s a migration of sea lions causing a shark feeding frenzy. Or that I’m just plain tired and unable to safely continue.
… Then if I finish the swim, how to get on a bike less than 12 hours later to start the first of two, 200-mile cycling segments knowing I’ll have back pain after the first 90 minutes…
… And if I finish the bike, how to start, continue, and complete a 135-mile trek by foot over 36 hours.
NOTE: This post, nor any of my posts, are to be considered medical or training advice. This is only my reports of what I’m doing and what’s working and not working. Use it for informational and educational purposes only. If you’re thinking about endurance training, get some help from a certified coach…
As some of you know, and the rest of you now do, I’m training for Uberman. It’s a multi-day endurance event in October comprised of:
The race is now three months away, which gives me less than three months of training to go…
I spent April, May, and June ramping up my general baseline fitness – getting myself into general Ironman shape and focusing heaving on ramping up swim mileage each week.
Last week was a bit of a personal test to see how much volume my body could take in a single week, while still working, sleeping, and otherwise functioning as a husband and father. I think I passed the test. Now the hard stuff ahead…
TRAINING TOTALS FOR THE WEEK:
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
THE DETAILS:
Sunday: 5000 yard swim, Weightlifting
Notes:
I planned to go longer – as much as 7500 or 10k yards, but just didn’t have the energy. At least I got in the pool after two weeks away from regular training.
We spent two weeks in Portland where I worked in frequent open water swimming, but my total mileage dropped way down and I paid the price on this first day back in the pool.
Deadlifts and kettle bell swings after the swim to work on posterior chain and stability.
Monday: 35 mile bike, 6 mile run
Notes:
I planned to do 50 miles on my Tri-Bike (aka “George”) but had some mechanical issues and instead did a shorter ride on my road bike (“Pedro”), using the wind as a workout.
I had a pretty solid crosswind and headwind the entire ride, so I put Pedro in a heavy gear and focused on heart rate. The ride felt like a long incline most of the way, giving my legs a very solid workout.
With temperatures in the low 90s, the run was a chance to see how I’d do in the heat with pace and heart rate. Overall, I’m pleased.
My baseline running heart rate is 135 bpm for long runs, and I started there, with it slowly climbing throughout the run.
By the last couple of miles, I was into the 145 range, and I practiced a run-walk strategy to make sure my HR would drop when I walked, and it did quickly, which is a positive sign that I have it under control in the heat.
I purposely didn’t take any water or cold packs with me to reduce variables contributing to my heart rate test.
Tuesday: 7500-yard swim, 2.75 mile run
Notes:
Back in the pool for real yardage by doing 7 x 1000, then a 500-yard cool down. It felt forced and lacked rhythm which I further attribute to my lack of pool swimming the last couple of weeks.
By 4000, it got a little better when my arms fatigued and I was forced into a longer, slower stroke more representative of what I’ll need to do in the race swim.
I was able to keep a 15:30 to 15:45 per 1000-yard pace, which is a good indicator for me. That’s roughly a 2.0 mph pace, and about what I’ve swam in my Ironman races.
The run was a simple jaunt around the neighborhood in the evening to get my legs moving and find a few extra miles for the week.
The swim was a bonus – I found an extra 45 minutes in the day so I hopped in the pool and did 500 yards to warm up, then 10 x 100 intervals at an 7-8 RPE, then 500 cool down. I mostly just wanted to get in a little intensity for the swim and force myself to sharpen my stroke with the faster pace. Mission accomplished.
Weightlifting – overhead squats with dumbbells and kettle bell swings. Focusing on posterior chain to strengthen my cycling and climbing, and the kettle bells for core strengthen and overall stability.
Cycling was very, very hard. It was 99 degrees and no joke. The first hour was generally okay and smooth, though I was feeling Monday’s ride in my quads.
Hour two included some basic climbs that I’ve done a hundred times, and I knew I was fatigued based on the gears I needed and the amount of time I spent out of the saddle trying to work up the Steiger and Cantelow climbs. These are pretty modest climbs that I usually do in the saddle and at a controlled heart rate. Today? Not so much… I thought about turning around and going home a couple of times, and kept going, and was glad I did.
For the final stretch on Putah Creek Road, my butt was burning in the saddle and I turned to meditating while riding and simply facing the sensation until it was over. Good practice for Uberman.
Thursday: 7500-yard swim, 3.25 mile run
Notes:
Swim Ladder workout in the pool: 500-1000-1500-2000-1500-500-500
The second 1500 was the toughest. I was VERY drained after this, and at home laid on the floor staring at the ceiling while Lena made dinner. This never happens. I felt much, much better after eating, and concluding that I’m just not eating enough during the day. More fats please…
The run was another quick evening jog to work in some miles and otherwise reset myself to recover from the swim. Then a good stretch at night and felt much better the next morning.
Friday: 10,000-yard swim, 5.35 mile run
Notes:
10 x 1000 yards midday in 99 degree heat. I learned about a new hazard while pool swimming – sunburn. Ugh. Sunscreen next time…
The first 3000 yards were smooth, then I dipped a bit until 6000-7000 where I found a nice glide for the first time on my left side. This has long been a struggle for me. It only lasted about 2000 yards, then I was fatigued.
9000 was a bit more tolerable because I knew then I had only one set left. The last 1000 went really well and I pushed hard for a 15:30 pace – a solid indicator.
I brought nutrition to drink during the swim to begin thinking about my “feeds” in the open water. I drank my drink mix every 2000 yards (roughly every 30 minutes0 to get some calories and I felt a huge difference between yesterday’s and today’s post-workout. I was far less hungry and drained afterwards, so a positive development there.
With the heat as it was, I thought an outside run would be good so I plodded along the miles at a 8:50 pace to feel the heat and see how I’d feel. Wasn’t too bad and I was glad to get in a solid run and a few miles, and to know I had only a bike ride left in the week.
Saturday: 65-mile bike, 2.75 mile run
Notes:
Early ride in the cool morning air. Wow – what a difference 30 degrees makes. I felt great the entire ride and did some decent climbing and repeats.
But… I had a hard time getting my heart rate UP… I’m usually at a 118-122 HR in my zone 2, and was about 10-12 bpm slower. This is a sign of general fatigue. Even climbing, I couldn’t get above 130-135 bpm.
I was glad to experience this for a few reasons. First, I knew that I hit a physical limit for the week, which was kind of the plan anyway. Secondly. despite the signal of physical fatigue, I was able to maintain speed and power throughout the ride, and even the last 10-15 miles home, I felt good and strong and felt I could have gone another 35 miles if needed.
Most of all, I used ZERO nutrition on this ride. 3:35 in the saddle and 65 miles while fatigued with nothing but water. Of course I brought drink mix and an energy bar, and was able to go without. Before the ride, I ate an avocado and a banana, and drank black coffee. A good indication that my body can turn to fat for sustained energy.
Sunday: Rest
Notes:
I thought about a run, and mostly felt mentally tired from the week and wanted to just spend time doing nothing.
It’s my birthday today. I’m 42 now. Here’s what I’ve been up to…
Work Stuff:
I’m nearly through eight months running my own company full-time (www.salesqualia.com). I started the year with very lofty goals around revenue and customers. Then I realized the most important thing I can do is survive the first year, and all the mistakes that I’ll make. I’ve made a few, none disastrous, and some have been pretty frustrating and good learning opportunities.
Life Stuff:
Lena is also eight months into life as a PhD. It’s pretty awesome spending weekends together and watching her have the opportunity to fly airplanes. Very cool. Benjamin is now four-years-old. I try to make everything we do together fun like taking him to school in the bike trailer, and sometimes taking the long way through the olive grove.
Training Stuff:
I’m registered for this thing call Uberman. It’s a multi-day endurance event that’s pretty close to what I wanted to do this summer on my own. But better because there are eight of us doing the event, and it’ll only take 5-6 days instead of the 10-day event I was planning for myself.
The end of May concludes my second month of training. Pretty happy with where I’m at – did a 100+mile bike ride on Saturday and off to the pool tomorrow AM for a 10,000 yard swim (10 x 1000). For those keeping score at home, that’s 400 lengths in a 25-yard pool, and comes to roughly six miles. Yeah. This is how I choose to spend the day after my birthday.
I haven’t been running to let my tendon injury heal, and it seems to be working. I figure I can catch up on the running training with my general fitness at a very solid level. People I’ve know for a while have said things like – “You look really fit.” – which I says a lot because I’ve considered myself pretty fit for a few years now. Seems that the training is having an effect.
Back in December, I ran my first ultra-marathon. I have a race report drafted that I need to finish and post.
Personal Stuff:
I’m continuing my practice of Morning Pages and meditation most mornings, though cutting back from 6-7 days/week to 4-5 simply because some mornings are swim mornings and I need to get to the pool by 5am. On weekends, I also generally skip to grab some more sleep or get up early for a bike ride.
Thanks for reading. I’ll do a better job of posting.
