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.
I’m often asked about my training regimen, and while I blog about specifics here and there in various posts, I thought I’d pull together a more complete view of how I train.
This post covers:
Suggested books & experts worth checking out
LSD vs HIT
My “No Wasted Miles” Philosophy
Example Run Workouts
Example Cross-Fit & Weight-lifting Workouts
Breathing
Nutrition & Fasting
Race Results
DISCLAIMER: Always consult a professional before embarking on any training program or regimen. I am sharing for informational purposes only – I am NOT a professional coach, trainer or medical expert.
Power Speed Endurance (PSE) – I’ve worked with the experts AT PSE over the past two years, first in 2016 for Uberman and this year ramping up the for the Zion 100 ultra-marathon. They have a huge bank of free resources, and you can pay $100/year to access their daily workout programs.
Kevin Coady at TriForce– I worked with Kevin for most recent two Ironman triathlons in 2011 and 2013. Following his programs, I reduced Ironman time by almost exactly 60 minutes, from 12:59:20 in 2010 to 11:59:49 in 2011 on the same course. Then in 2013, I reduced my time down to 11:20 at IroNman Asia-Pacific in Melbourne.
SWITCHING FROM LSD TO HIT
I used to believe in LSD Training: Long Slow Distance. That got me through my first Ironman races and early endurance running because that’s what everyone told me I needed to do. (“Just get in the miles…”) Then I made a switch to a High Intensity Training (HIT), first starting during my latter Ironman training when my wife introduced us to Cross-Fit. But still, I wasn’t a full convert. I continued to straddle between weight-lifting/Cross-Fit workouts and still believing that I needed to log long miles.
As I ramped up training for Uberman in 2016, I hit the limit. In a single week in July 2016, my training included (See: “Uberman Training Update”):
Swim: 32,000 yards (18.35 miles)
Bike: 151.5 miles
Run: 20 miles
Weightlifting: Two (2) short sessions focused on posterior chain and stability I was out of time and energy to do any more distance in a week.
The final switch was made after a consulting session with Brian MacKenzie at PSE Endurance in July 2016. After sharing my LSD training schedule with Brian, he told me – “The engine is built. You don’t need to do any more distance. You need to build your strength so that your muscles don’t breakdown.” [paraphrase]
Now as a full convert to HIT, I’m baffled by how often people measure progress by their weekly mileage. This is usually the wrong metric to use, because it doesn’t measure how one is improving on their strength, speed and endurance. It’s just a tally. Sure, it’s important to be able to run a fundamental minimum of base miles without stressing or injuring your body. That’s sort of table stakes for any kind of long-distance running.
But after those baseline miles, the rest of the miles are just a vanity metric. Do you really gain that much more from running the extra 20 or 30 miles in a week? Yes, there is marginal benefit, and that comes at a marginal cost of time and injury. I’d rather use that time to strengthen (or rest!) so that when I’m out on the course, my body can withstand the constant pounding it’s taking with every step.
No Wasted Miles
I don’t need to run 100 or 50 or even 40 miles in a week because I’m extremely efficient in my training, and I measure that which matters most to my training. My workouts and training measure my level of strength and conditioning, because if I’m hitting certain metric on that front, I know that come race day, whether I’m toeing the line for a 50k or 200-miler, I know that I’m ready to have a successful race.
All of these workouts measure conditioning and recovery time, not how long I can run.
A few examples of metrics:
Speed maintenance, and improvement, in 200-meter speed on a repeatable basis (10-12 intervals) – Can I maintain or improve my 200m times over 10-12 intervals?
Recovery heart rate down to 99 bpm from it’s peak after 800-meter intervals.
Ability to maintain nasal breathing at faster running speeds.
Recovery (heart rate and pace) after an intra-run interval, ranking from 60-seconds to 1/2 mile.
Example run workouts:
1 – The 99bpm Hear Rate Workout: This is one of my “favorite” (read: painful) running workouts. It’s 6 x 800 meters. After a 1-2 mile warm-up, I go all out for 800 meters (~ 1/2 mile), then stop and wait for my heart rate to drop from it’s peak – usually around 165bpm to 99bpm. Depending on the day and the rep in the set, this can take anywhere from 2-3 minutes. Sometimes a little shorter (90 seconds), and sometimes a little longer (up to 4 minutes).
What am I measuring?
This measures my ability to ramp up to and recover from extended hard efforts. It’s rare on the trail that I ever hit 160+ bpms, and if I do, that should mean that a bear is chasing me… But knowing that I can push up quickly and recover quickly indicates a high conditioning level.
2 – 200 meter interval times: Another “favorite” is 10 reps x 200 meters, with a 2-minute rest between intervals. For someone that runs 50, 100, and 200 mile races, doing speed work like this might sound strange. It builds muscular strength and speed, and builds on lactate thresholds and metabolic conditioning.
What am I measuring?
How much I’m able to hold, and improve, on every interval my time throughout the workout. If I can maintain or improve throughout the workout, I know that I’m in good conditioning and strength.
3 – “Every Mile Faster” (while nasal breathing throughout): This is a good workout for both shorter and longer runs (6-9 miles), and useful anytime I need a way to push myself while assessing my overall conditioning.
After a one-mile warm-up, I slowly ratchet up my pace by 15-20 seconds every mile for the duration of the run, leaving a mile at the end for cool down and recovery. Example times (which I realize may seem either remarkably slow or fast depending on who’s reading this post…):
Mile 1: 8:15 min/mile (warm-up)
Mile 2: 7:50 min/mile
Mile 3: 7:30 min/mile
Mile 4: 7:15 min/mile
Mile 6: 7:00 min/mile
Mile 7: 6:45 min/mile
Mile 8: 6:30 min/mile
Mile 9: 7:30 min/mile (recovery)
What am I measuring?
I use this workout as a means to assess my capacity to handle an increasing workload, while maintaining nasal breathing. If I can hammer down into the sub-7:00 min/mile and sustain that pace while pulling in enough oxygen by nasal breathing, I know my conditioning is in a good place.
4 – Long Intervals
During a longer run, I’ll push myself for anywhere from 1/4 mile to one-mile intervals – going as hard as I can for that prescribed distance, then giving myself that same distance to recover before starting another interval.
Cross-Fit & Weightlifting
CAUTION: You MUST be VERY, VERY careful with any sort of weight-training Absolutely, positively work with a trained professional on form and workout structure. Here in Davis, we’re fortunate to have a kick-ass CrossFit gym – CrossFit Davis. Even light work with kettlebells and dumbbells can cause injury if you don’t have the right form, or if you’re stressing your ligaments and tendons before they are ready.
Muscles strengthen much faster than you ligaments and tendons, so while you might have the muscular strength to lift a certain amount of weight, your ligaments and tendons can tear because they’re not used to the stress and weight. Again, working with a coach that teaches you the right form and balance, and knowing the form trumps absolute weight is critical here. Check out this Tim Ferris Podcast with former US national team gymnastics coach Chris Sommer on this topic.
Over the past few years, we’ve accumulated a variety of equipment for a home gym. We started with kettlebells, then dumbbells, then a wall ball, then a box for box jumps, then a squat rack with a pull-up bar and barbell, and finally weight vest.
The good news, is that I’ve found that you don’t need a big inventory of equipment to make a major impact in your strength and conditioning. Even a few kettlebells couple with body weight exercises go me plenty of gain in strength and conditioning. A couple of years ago, I had knee surgery and could only do push-ups, sit-ups, and dumbbell snatches for weeks on end, and those alone helped me retain some semblance of conditioning. When I’m traveling for work, hotel gyms offer very little in terms of equipment, yet I can get a plenty good workout while on the road.
A basic starting body workout looks something like this:
Even if you have to rest intra-set, i.e. do 10 then 10 then 5 pushups to get to 25 in the set, don’t stress. 🙂
Eventually I worked in some light weights so a typical workout was something like:
4 rounds of:
25 kettlebell swings
25 Wall balls
25 Dumbell snatches
25 Burpees
Now with a squat rack and weights, a pretty standard workout is something like:
Lifting: Deadlifts (4-5 rounds of 5-6 reps @ 70-80% weight)
Conditioning: 4-5 rounds of:
5 pull-ups
25 burpee box jumps
25 kettle bell swings
25 jumping squats
Then there are the two-a-days….
Some days, I’ll do both running and lifting, either as two separate workouts, or as a single workout with running then lifting. For example this week, I did a 6-mile run with long intervals, then in the garage did 8 x 6 pull-ups and 5 x 5-10 deadlights.
Even without the “full” workout, after a run, adding 100 kettlebell swings or 100 Wall Balls will really kick your butt and goes a long way for strength and conditioning.
Breathing
Working with PSE this year, their training program includes breathing as a cornerstone to all training, with pre-, during, and and post-workout breathing protocols. Check out a few videos here on YouTube on this topic.
Three (3) breathing practices I’ve instituted:
1 – Nasal Breathing. Nasal breathing is an addition to my training regimen this year. I first heard about nasal-only breathing from Scott Jurek in his book “Eat and Run.” Now I ONLY nasal breathe when in my run workouts, no matter hard I’m running. On much longer runs (i.e. 20-mile trail runs), I’ll let myself mouth breath if I need the oxygen, but mostly I’m nasal breathing. Even during the Zion 100, I was nasal breathing most of the way.
As it was described to me, nasal breathing is more natural and your nasal breathing filters your oxygen intake, while your mouth is designed for eating and emergency breathing. When you nasal breathe, you’re pulling in higher quality breaths, and helping your body remain calm.
2 – Pre- and Post-Workout Breathing Exercises – This usually means 10 deep inhales and exhales, followed by a 30-60 second hold. I’ll do 1-3 rounds of this to oxygenate my body before exercise.
3 – Morning Breath Holds – ONLY do this if you know what you’re doing. I meditate most mornings, and after a 15-20 minute silent meditation, I do a breath hold which means that I take 2-3 deep breaths, then hold after the last intake. I typically shoot for three (3) minutes on each hold and can usually get there. Some mornings, I can go a bit longer. My record is 4:15. This helps build lung capacity and helps you realize how much farther you can push your physical limits.
Again… ONLY do this if you know what you’re doing. Take it slow, and consult a professional. Check out The WimHof Method for more on breathing if you want to get really, really serious on this.
Nutrition
I’m a low-carb person. I define this as consuming fewer than 50 grams of net carbs per day, and increasing to 100 grams of carbs per day based on when I’m consuming more carbs. (More on this below…)
My primary goal is to train my body to be fat-adapted – burn stored fat for fuel as much as possible.
I started with a low carb diet without realizing it after reading the book “Running Weight” a few years back (see above) as I started training for Ironman #2. I weighed about 200-205 lbs for Ironman #1, and while on a bike ride with a friend, I was complaining about a climb. He told me – “You’ve need to lose to some weight.” Message received. (Thank you, Michael L.!)
Using the book “Running Weight” as a I guide, I was able to get down to 190 lbs over 6-8 weeks and I’ve kept that weight off, and then some. My “racing weight” is now 183 lbs, and I can consistently stay under 185 lbs throughout training. As Lena introduced Cross-Fit into our lives, we adopted a Paleo Diet.
I’ve experimented with a Ketogenic Diet twice – first is April 2017 then again in January 2018, but I’ve had a hard time getting down under 20 net carbs per day, even when tracking every calorie and food morsel I consumed. Plus I found that as I experiment with timing my carb intake post-workout, my recovery times and energy have improved. Most days, I keep to the 50 net carbs target, but will increase my carb intake immediately after particularly hard running workouts and weightlifting – ideally within the first 15 minutes and for sure within the “Golden Hour.”
Check out this podcast interview with Art Zemach (founder of Tailwind) on Trailrunner Nation for more on this. If you’re concerned with the validity and bias of the founder of a company that sells high-carb products, there is plenty of alternative sources that also support this, such as this article on BodyBuilding Magazine. Post-workout for example, I’ll eat a tablespoon of honey, 1-2 tablespoons of jam or jelly, 1 tablespoon of maple syrup, a handful of jelly beans, and then wash all that down with a whey protein shake (I used 3Fu3l, a PSE product). Again, I do this immediately after the workout and only do this after difficult workouts – following long, hard runs and weight-lifting/Cross-Fit workouts.
This is a topic of much debate, so I suggest doing some more research on your own and experimenting. Even if the effects I’m experiencing are placebo, that’s good enough for me. But I believe them to be more than placebo, as I have felt improved recovery times and improved energy levels when I consume high-glycemic carbs just after a hard workout.
I absolutely recommend the Cronometer App for tracking your food intake. They have an excellent free version. (I use the paid version so that I can see trending reports on my diet). I’ve found this app useful in several ways:
Shows me actually calories and the breakdown of caloric intake by macronutrient (protein, fat, carbohydrates).
You can set the app for a particular type of diet – Keto, Paleo, etc. and it will show you daily macronutrient targets.
It’s taught me to properly estimated quantities of food – i.e. How much is 2 oz of cheese? What does 1 cup of milk look like in a glass? How much salmon or chicken is included in restaurant salads?
It’s shown me how to improve micronutrient intake – Vitamin A, B, C, etc. For example, Lena discovered that cooked spinach drastically increases the micronutrients released vs raw spinach.
Fasting
Fasting is a new addition to my nutrition plan this year. I started with a morning fast back in February – going until 2pm on a Sunday before I ate anything. Then did a daily fast through dinner for four straight days in March. By late March and into April, I did a daily fast each Tuesday for 3-4 weeks because Tuesdays are usually my rest days in my workout schedule. I found that this had a huge benefit for me in several ways:
Reduces my mental dependence on food. When you know you’re not going to eat, it teaches you other ways to cope with hunger – water, green tea, or talking a walk. This is also huge when I’m out on the race course, knowing that I don’t have to take in a huge amount of calories – I can take in 200-300 calories per hour and avoid feeling hunger, while still maintaining the energy I need to keep going out there.
Reduces my physical dependence In the past, I’ve eaten constantly during my training – always hungry. I remember during Uberman, I was ALWAYS eating. I’d eat dinner, then be hungry an hour later. I didn’t need the short-term calories – I just needed to teach my body to burn a different fuel source.
Keeps my weight down. I generally lose 2-3 lbs in a day when I fast, and while some of that is water weight. The body stores 3 grams of water for every gram of carbohydrate. Eating fewer carbs, and burning through the glycogen stores in your muscles on fasting days then reduces the amount of water your body needs to retain.
On most workouts, I only take water with me, mostly because few of my workouts are more than 90 minutes so my body already has all of the glycogen stores it needs for fuel. But even for longer workouts, I’ll purposely reduce caloric intake to train my body to burn fat for fuel. For example, I did a very hilly 5-hour, 19.5-mile trail run a few weeks back, and I purposely kept my total caloric intake to 600 calories throughout the entire run.
I started this during Uberman training after reading Sami Inkinen’s blog post – “Becoming a Bonk Proof Triathlete: Fat Chance!?” I’d go on 4-5 hour bike rides with only water. I usually feel some hunger around 60-75 minute into a workout session, and found that if I can push through 15-30 minutes of hunger, then my body switches and I’m good to go without a hit of carbohydrates.
The Results
I can’t say what my results would be if I were to take another approach than what I’m describing here. I do know that my overall speed, fitness and rankings in my Age Group and Overall have improved over the years, and I’m now consistently in the top 15-25% of all racers in most races.
That could be simply because of the additive effect of training over time, plus general intelligence I’ve accumulated on how to race, but I suspect there’s something more to it.
Here are results from my races over the past year.
For your typical 40-something just getting out there to challenge myself, I’ll take these results. I like to think of myself as one of the fastest of the slow runners. I’m never going to be a top 10% runner, but given the reduced time I put into training compared to most runners, and my recovery times and ability to maintain fitness without race-day injuries, I’m pretty darn happy with where I am.
I’m now less than three weeks away from the starting line of the Zion 100. I’m often asked how I prep for these big races, so I thought I’d share how the last couple of weeks go leading into a big race.
This isn’t everything, but it’s most everything…
Diet & Nutrition
On Saturday’s trail run (~20 miles and 6500’ of climbing over 5+ hours on the Western States Trail), I intentionally took in fewer calories along the way to teach my body to respond to the need for fuel by burning stored fat vs short-term carbs.
I drank two coffees before the run – one with coconut oil, the other with heavy cream, then drank 200 calories of 3Fu3l. During the run, I drank 400 calories of 3Fu3l and 200 calories of Tailwind – not a completely fasted workout, but definitely low fuel, no solid food and I fought some hunger out there. After the run and yesterday on Easter, I did my last face-stuffing – too much in fact. I’ve gained about 6-7 pounds. Some of that weight is food weight, some is water retention from the gluten and sugar, as I can feel some swelling in my joints and extremities.
So today begins the last push – no more cheat days. No more alcohol. I’ll do day-time fasts today and tomorrow to cleanse from the weekend, drop a few pounds and get back to racing weight. From here, it’s all about a low-carb, high-fat diet to help myself stay fat-burning out on the trail. This includes lots of super food like organ meat (liver and onions!), cooked spinach, and tons of greens and healthy oils.
About a week leading into the race, I’ll also try to ween myself off of coffee because I’ll need the caffeine boost get through the night on the trail.
Training
Starting back with Ironman training, I learned from the traditional tapering methods that once I’m about three weeks out from a race, there’s really no more gain that can be done. And while I don’t follow the traditional 2-3 week tapering method anymore, I do accept that once I’m about 2-3 weeks out from a race, the idea of generating more gains from training adds more risk than reward.
I look at the last few weeks of training as a block of training episodes – I have about 10 more workouts in total, and there’s a certain mental lode lifted knowing that I only have that many workout sessions left, and that each one is just checking the box to keep me sharp and strong and ready for the race.
That means about 6-7 runs, and 4-5 lifting sessions. Yes, that adds up to more than 10 training sessions in two weeks, which brings me to the next part of training.
I’ve learned not to stress too much about missing a training session or two during these last couple of weeks. I usually have to load up a little on work-related activity to help me make up ahead of time for the time that I’ll miss from work. These big races can take at least 3-4 workdays away, and in the case of Zion, it’ll be a full week, so I want to make sure that clients have what they need while I’m away. While they’ll all certainly survive and thrive without me for a week, there’s a mental aspect that’s important for me to know that I’m fulfilling my duties to them.
Physical
As I scale back on training, I’m also looking for ways to get healthy. There are a couple types of injuries:
Debilitating: These are injuries that make the race a no-go altogether. Last year, for example, I had hamstring problems in January and February that forced me to call off the 100-mile race I had resisted for in March.
Manageable: This year, I have two of these. My left pubic tendon is strained. This is the same injury I had on my right tendon for nearly two years – a year leading into Uberman and a year after Uberman. It finally healed a couple months ago, and for some unbelievable reason, I have the same injury now on my left tendon. My second manageable injury in a mid-hamstring knot in my left leg that cropped up a few months ago, and despite weekly efforts, it just won’t go away. Both of these are annoying, and probably impact performance at some level, but I don’t feel these injuries when I’m training or racing, so it’s a matter of managing these injuries to make sure they don’t become debilitating.
Recoverable: These are chips and nicks I’m feeling that have cropped up or come and go. Right now, my left calf has a strain. This crops up from time to time, and it’s tender and sore, and I know that paying attention to it these next two weeks will get it back close to 100% before race day. My left quad has a bit of knot in it – same as my calf, I know it’s recoverable if I keep rolling it and working on it.
Packing & Equipment
I use a large plastic storage tub to accumulate various items that I want to pack for the race. This includes all of my gear and nutrition, just to take stock of what I need. For big races, there’s too much to remember in a single packing episode (besides the stress of it), so I’ve learned to spread packing over a couple of weeks. As I think of something I want to bring along, I grab it or buy it and throw it in the tub. Not everything in the tub makes the cut, but at this approach prevents me from forgetting something I really wanted or needed to pack.
I’ll also do a final look at whatever equipment I may need to buy. Surprisingly, no matter how much I race, there’s always more to buy. For the Tahoe 200, the list was large – trail-running shoes, a hydration pack, rain gear, and trekking poles led the list. This time around, I don’t think I’ll need much new stuff because of the amount of stuff purchased for Uberman and the Tahoe 200, but regardless I’ll stockpile now so that I’m not forgetting anything I’ll really need like iodine pills or nutrition (I just bought more of both this morning…)
These books and podcasts remind that however crazy I might seem to the people around me, there are always crazier, tougher, stronger people out there that leave plenty of room for me to claim sanity in my race endeavors.
The Larger Plan & Next Race
There’s something about knowing that this race won’t be my last, that it’s a stepping stone to something else, or part of a larger plan.
Zion will be my first 100-mile race, so there’s a clear “check the box” aspect to this distance.
It’s is a part of a larger plan:
Zion a Western States 100 qualifier, so Zion earns me a lottery ticket for the 2019 race, plus having completed a qualifier I can apply to the spot available to our local running club for running an aid station at the race.
It’s a six-point race towards qualifying for the 2019 UMTB, and it’s also a six-point race as part of the ITRA system towards Patagonia-Chile.
Later this year, I’m planning to do the Castle Peak 100k, which is a five-point race for both UTMB and Patagonia, which will round out qualifying for both of those races.
Finally, after finishing the Tahoe 200 last year, I realized that with some planning and staying healthy, I could run the complete series of running distances in one calendar year:
Trail Marathon: Mt. Diablo (2017)
50K: Ruck a Chuck (2018), Mt Hood (2018)
40 mile: Pacing at Javelina (October 2017)
50 mile: TBD (May 2018)
100k: Castle Peak (August 2018)
100 mile: Zion (April 2018)
200 mile: Tahoe 200 (September 2017)
This feels like a really solid personal accomplishment and a good story to tell, so why not give it a shot?
Last night, while reading Alex Hutchinson’s book, I learned about the Tor des Géants – a 200-mile race with 80,000’ of climbing and a 150-hour time limit. It’s in September and still has spots open.
Hmmm… So many races, so little time…
Logistics & Race Planning
I learned this from Kevin Coady, my triathlon coach for Ironman #2 and #3. He had be write out a complete day-by-day, hour-by-hour plan for the 2-3 days leading into the race.
I worked with Simon Marshall (book above) before the Tahoe 200, and he had me write out all of the things that could possibly go wrong during the race and how I would respond to each situation. I’ve got that work to do, as well as the actual race plan – breaking down the course section-by-section, mile-by-mile to know where I’ll be by when and where I might be able to have Lena meet me for race support, though I’m expecting to do this race self-supported because we’ll have an RV and it’s out in the desert. No pacer either – just me, my drop bags and the course.
Most of the big travel logistics are handled – plane tickets to Las Vegas, RV rented, campsite booked. Now it’s time for the minutiae – what can we pack vs buy when we arrive to Las Vegas, including cooking equipment and food that I absolutely need to bring from home.
The Demons emerge weeks before the race – “Will I be ready?”
The Demons assemble when the clock reads 5:43am and the thermostat informs me that it’s 38 degrees outside. I’m standing in my pajamas about to change and step into the garage for a workout of deadlifts, pull-ups and burpees.
The Demons amass when the alarm buzzes at 4:30am on race day morning – “Am I really going to scrape myself out of bed for this today?”
The Demons chuckle when you arrive to the race site and start gearing up – “Can I just go back to my car and go home?”
The Demons snicker at the starting line – “Will I need to pull a DNF out there?”
The Demons remind you that turning back is always an option – that you don’t have to go another step; that you can just wait at the aid station; that you can quit any time.
The Demons clutch your muscles – gripping your quads, your calves, your feet. They lodge in your brain and attack like a virus.
The Demons blazed at 2:00am on Day 1 of the Tahoe 200. I’d been moving for 17 hours already – by far the longest I’d ever gone in a single go – slogging up a 2000’ climb behind a English guy I latched onto as my unofficial pacer.
Trudge, trudge, trudge.
Grind, grind, grind.
I was tired and frustrated and out of water. The Demons laughed – “What happened to the water station they promised back at Mile 50? Where the hell is the peak of this climb? When the fuck am I going to get to the Sierra-at-Tahoe rest stop? What the fuck am I doing out here?”
Then English Guy broke the silence to join forces with the Demons – “Ne’er ending, itn’t it?”
Even when you know you’re going to finish, the Demons whisper – “You’re not going to hit you goal time. You might as well slow down. Stop trying so damn hard.”
The Demons persist when you’re making that last push in the final miles – “You’re more than two hours behind the leaders. No one cares about your time. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. A finish is a finish. Just walk. No one will care.”
It doesn’t matter if it’s a 200-mile race or box jump #14 in a set of 100. They ask – “Am I really putting myself through this?”
You can never beat the Demons. You can’t exterminate them. You don’t have to. They’re there, and they’ll always be there.
They strengthen with the immobility of fear and doubt and worry – they want you to stop. They need you to stop.
They fear the moment you decide to do something hard. They panic when you decide to keep moving forward.
I knew I was in for an ass-kicking going into Saturday’s Ruck a Chuck. It was just that, and I loved every minute of it.
Well, I loved every minute of it after it was over that is…
Hamstrung
I’ve been training for the Zion 100 since early January, and wanted to do a 50k back in early February as an early gauge of fitness. I’d had my eye on Ruck a Chuck since January, thinking that I’d use it as a second 50k to benchmark my training progress. I expected January to be my “strength month,” February to be my “length month” and March to be my “sharpen & speed month.”
But alas, all of that unwound with a moderate hamstring pull in mid-January just as I was ramping up my training. I wasn’t ready for a 50k in early February and the rest of last month didn’t get much better with a second round of hamstring problems.
On top of the injuries, work and life overtook a chunk of my typical training time, so I’ve been cutting corners on training week after week – fewer quality miles, a little less weight training and Cross-Fit, and a couple of weeks of less-than-stellar nutrition. At one point, I engaged in a 4-day fasting exercise to drop the extra weight that had crept up on me.
I was also considering the Shasta 4mph challenge this weekend, but Ruck a Chuck was closer to home – only an hour away and no overnight – and with my recent schedule with life and work, it was a better option, plus the elevation and full course would be better for testing my running fitness and nutrition planning than the back-and-forth six mile route for the Shasta 4mph challenge.
Race Day Morning
Saturday was a wet, wet, wet, wet day. I left Davis before 6:00 am, arrived to the upper parking lot at Driver’s Flat around 7am and hopped on the shuttle down the start area. I brought all of my gear down to the starting line, opting to change and pre-race down at the start area. The early morning rain was holding off so far, but the start area was muddy with soupy red clay. I found a spot on a grassy area, using my poncho as a ground covering to keep my stuff dry.
Most of my nutrition and backpack was ready to go from Friday night’s pre-race prep, so really my final prep was to make sure everything was in order and to decide what gear to wear and pack. I decided to wear my rain jacket to keep dry with the forecast and a long-sleeve running shirt underneath to stay warm, then packed an extra dry shirt and a pair of socks.
My trekking poles were the best part of my gear. From what I could tell, I was the only one that had them, and maybe they were overkill for a 50k but with the hills and the slop, I wanted a way to arrest any falls on the downhill sections and a way to pull my self up the up-hills. I love my trekking poles – easily one of the best purchases I’ve ever made in my life.
Pre-Race Prep & Expectations
Ruck a Chuck is an “out and back” course – 15.5 miles out along the Western States Trail, hit the turnaround about a mile past the Cal 1 marker, then back to the starting area. The event website didn’t have an elevation profile, so I had to look for previous year race reports for an elevation profile. From what I found, I expected the “out” portion of the course to be mostly downhill, then the back to be mostly uphill.
I did a 14-mile trail run about a month ago from Auburn to Cool and felt pretty good that day, running a couple of 8:30 min/miles on the flat and downward sloping trail sections, so I figured that if I could keep a good pace today, I should average 9:30-10:00/min miles pace on the what I thought was a mostly downhill “out” section. After hitting the turnaround, even with a 14:00 min/mile pace heading back, that’d average out to a 12:00 min/mile pace and a 6-hour finishing time finish.
The main goals were:
Don’t get injured
Find my way to the finish line.
Finish in under six hours
I’m usually pretty good about nailing my race plan – pace and time – but this time I was WILDLY off…
The first few miles…
Countdown. Air horn. And away we go!
The first mile was steep a downhill on a fire trail. I’m not much of a downhiller, so plenty of people bombed past me. I just focused on picking my way down the hill and finding a rhythm, using my trekking poles to take the pressure off my knees and legs. My hamstring problems persisted in my mind, and I wanted to make sure I was properly warmed up before worrying too much about my pace.
We hit a water crossing in the first mile – the first of about 16 or so along the trail. Better to accept it because squishy feet were going to be non-negotiable today.
Water crossings #2 and #3 in Mile 2 – both much deeper with water running up to my calves. The footing was unstable and I was happy to have my poles here again. There was an aid station right away, which seemed odd so early in the race. I skipped it, still searching for any semblance of a rhythm.
By Mile 3, I already started to feel like I was in for a long day. I expected the course to be mostly downhill for the first 15.5 miles, but we hit a little bit of an uphill which was surprising.
The good news was that as I ran, I found realized that I was nasal breathing much of the way. This has been a focus in my training runs these past six weeks – only breathing in and out of my nose. I found this to be relatively easy on slow to moderate training runs, and a bit more difficult on harder runs. It was interesting to see that I was now doing this instinctively on the course, and I used it as a governor to my pace. Comfortably nasal-breathe meant I wasn’t pushing too hard, and early in the race, there was no reason to push hard. After the short uphill and subsequent downhill, I hit more climbing at Mile 5.
WTF?!
In Mile 6, I was feeling some tightness in my upper hamstring. I didn’t feel like it was pulling, just tightness, but piano string tight… I took it easy on the pace, not that I had much choice with my overall fitness level or the course. Aside from a couple of short downhill sections, by Mile 7, I felt like I was persistently running uphill.
By Mile 8, I still hadn’t found any rhythm. It felt like work. I tried to tell myself that I was finally making a dent in the course now. I started thinking hard about the Mile 10 aid station as a checkpoint, and I figured that from the aid station, I could coax myself into another five miles to the turnaround at 15.5, and then it was just a matter of getting back to the finish.
The course to the aid station was completely uphill, and I struggled to keep semblance of a pace. I was feeling really discouraged and confused. The course wasn’t aligned with my mental model of “downhill out, uphill back” and while I expected a few rollers on the downhill out, it was discouraging to struggle so much here in the early going.
Mile 10 Aid Station
At the aid station, I took some time to figure out what I needed. Because of the weather, the two aid stations planned for later in the course were shut down, so the Mile 10 aid station would also be the last aid station until Mile 21. Depending on my pace, that meant at least two hours, and probably closer to three hours, before I’d be able to refuel again.
I wanted to be smart here to make sure I had enough water and calories, but not overload myself with too much bulk. I filled my water bladder about halfway and dumped in two Tailwind packets. I refilled my front-loaders with 3Fuel, and already had a Clif Bar and a bag of M&Ms in my zip packs – about 1200 calories – plenty for a three hour stretch.
I gobbled up a few boiled potatoes dipped in salt, looking for anything that could give me a boost. Nutritionally to this point, I’d only been taking in 3Fuel so far, and coming out of the aid station, I figured I would stick with that until I hit the turnaround, then switch over to Tailwind, which is much higher in carbs and in a past training run, I found it really gave me a noticeable jolt well into a long trail run.
Once I was fueled and ready to keep slogging, I headed out again, with more uphill. This was really confusing – I kept waiting for a sloping downhill to make up some time. My pace was well into the 11:00 min/mile pace, which was more than a little dejecting.
My Garmin showed about 9.5 miles when I finally hit the Mile 10 aid station (which would also be the Mile 21 aid station), and I pretty much felt like being out there was a bad idea. The air was cold and damp. My hamstrings were tight. I felt weak in my legs and my pace was slow. I reset, ate a few boiled potatoes dipped in salt, filled my bladder with Tailwind, and off I went.
Fighting the demons
The stretch out of the aid station continued on a moderate uphill (more WTF!?), and by the time I was a mile up the trail, my hamstring tightness worsened and I started thinking that maybe I should head back. From here, I could call it a 20-mile training run which would still be a solid day, and a step forward from where I’ve been with training this last month. But the “just keep going” side of me wanted to push to the turnaround.
Mentally, I shortened the race to 15.5 miles – all I needed to do was to get to the turnaround, then I’d have no choice but to finish the course. If I hit the turnaround, I’d have to get back to the Mile 10/21 aid station because there was no way off the course, and even if I wanted to quit there, I really wouldn’t be able because that would mean waiting there for the last runner to pass, help the volunteers pack up and hike out. Either way, I was going to be out there for a long time, so now that I was on the course, the best option was to just keep pushing forward. (And it absolutely felt like pushing…)
I told myself something I learned long ago from my friend Cary – no matter how bad or how good you feel out there on the course, it never lasts. Except I hadn’t felt good for a single mile yet – not even the first mile out of the starting gate – and I was seriously doubting if I would ever feel good. I told myself to treat this as an exercise in mental fortitude, and to keep slogging through the miles.
At Mile 11, the thought of turning back persisted as my hamstring tightness continued. Now I could call it a 22-mile training run. But now I was only four miles to the turnaround and along this stretch I ran with the same 3-4 runners – we would take turns passing each other – they would pass me on the steeper downhill sections and I would pass them on the flat and uphill sections. The give and take was akin to having a pacer, and kept me going to see the same people along the way.
Finally!
Around Mile 12, I started focusing seriously on the turnaround and my mood improved . I felt like I broke through the wall a little, and I also started seeing the leading runners that were on their way back. I got a lift from the obligatory “good job” that we grunted at each other, and mentally it helped me to know that while I was more than an hour off of the leader’s pace, the turnaround really did exist.
At Mile 14, I passed the Cal 1 station which is where our Davis running club (GVH) has an aid station for the Western States 100. I knew I was about a mile from the turnaround and I actually feeling pretty good.
The Turnaround to Mile 21
At the turnaround, I felt a solid sense of accomplishment to have pushed through the slog of the first 15 miles, to have kept going, and to have finally experience a positive mindset. I also knew that the only way back was to finish the race – the option to turnaround was gone, and removing that was mentally liberating. Absent a significant injury, I knew I would finish the race no matter what.
My Garmin showed a 11:30 min/mile pace for the first half, and that was tough to see – more than 1:30 min/mile pace slower than expected, and right about now I starting wondering if I could finish in under seven hours, figuring the “back” could take me more than a hour longer than the out. If I averaged 11:30 on the out – nearly three hours, I figured the back would be closer to four hours. I accepted that this was going to be a long day out there. But I was on the way back, and one way or another I was getting to the finish.
Then something pretty interested happened… My pace picked up. The course felt mostly downhill. The single track was in really good condition and I told myself that I to take whatever the course gave me. On the downhill sections, I ran harder, even when it felt a little uncomfortable, remembering the advice I used in the Tahoe 200 – when it starts to hurt, push a harder. I figured that if I could keep my overall race pace under 12:00 min/miles as long as possible, it would give me some leeway for the uphill sections and get me to the finish line sometime under seven hours.
Somewhere along this stretch, I hit some hail, or more so, some hail hit me. Pretty cool to be running in the clouds – mystical and magical to be out there. I wanted to take pictures of the waterfalls and mist, but I also didn’t want to stop and break my pace.
As the miles clicked by, I was able to maintain an overall race pace of 11:30-11:45/min miles. I’d stopped a time or two to pee, which cost me several seconds on my pace, but then the course gave me the chance to grab that time back.
I ambled into the Mile 21 aid station, still under a 12:00 min/mile pace, and at this point, starting to think seriously about getting to the finish. I remembered from the out section that there was some downhill ahead, and thinking that the last three miles were uphill, I just kept telling myself to keep taking whatever the course would give.
I fueled up again with Tailwind in my bladder and gobbled more potatoes dipped in salt. I took my time at the aid station, but without talking too much time. Four or five racers came through after me, and left before me, and while I said to myself not to bother with them, it did spur me to get back on the trail.
The 20s
From here, it just focused on clicking off the miles. I’d run for a good clip and resist checking my Garmin, and mostly was able to check just before the next mile was done. I had a couple of 10:00 and 11:00 minute miles, and my total pace stayed under the 12:00 min/mile target. I was happy, surprised and proud of myself for pushing through the wall that I felt way back at Mile 8 – to be having a strong second half of the race. I knew at this point, I just needed to get to the last three miles, knowing that even if I had to hike at a 18:00 min/mile pace, I could get this thing done and get home.
With about four miles to go, the sun burned through the clouds. I stopped to put away my raincoat and swapped out my very wet long-sleeve running shirt and for my dry short-sleeved shirt, a refreshing change for the last push.
The final push
I kept waiting for the course to turn uphill, but it didn’t. Finally I hit the Mile 2/Mile 29 aid station, stopping only long enough to chug a 12-oz can of Pepsi. (Cola is my magic elixir for a boost in any endurance event…) Once I crossed the second big water crossing, I knew the finish was getting close, and yet the course hadn’t turned into the big uphill I expected.
Finally with about 1.5 miles to go, it did turn uphill, and got very steep. I checked my Garmin – I kept the sub-12:00/min pace the entire way back and I had about 18 mins for a sub-6 hour race! I told myself to chill and not get attached to the sub-6 – not to be disappointed, and instead be proud of the race with all of the mental hurdles. As I powered up the hill (thank you, trekking poles!), I passed one of the runners I’d been swapping places with throughout the day and he said – “Keep going – You can make it for a sub-six.”
I really wanted to, and would be damn proud of that given the effort, but the course wasn’t working in my favor. I started running in stretches of 25- 50 steps, then I’d walk for 75-100 steps.
With about 0.75 miles left, I passed another runner who asked me how much we had, and I saw that I had just under six minutes left to break six hours.
I found a some reserve power, and starting running up the hill. I checked my Garmin and I was running at a 10:09 pace, and I knew that if I could keep this pace, I could sneak in under six hours.
I told myself that this was just an interval on a training run – just keep pushing until the interval was over. I got to 0.50 miles left, then 0.33 miles left. Push. Push. Push.
I turned a corner and saw the shimmering hood and windshield of parked cars through the trees, and a few steps later saw the blue and white finished gate. I kept motoring and as I got to the gate, the people at the finish were cheering for me, crossing the finish at 5:58:31! Made it!
I think my facial expression says it all…
Post-Race & What’s Next
Post-race was the best I felt all day. The adrenaline was pumping and I was feeling proud for finishing with a sub-6 race. I knew I was probably more than two hours from the race leaders and didn’t care a single bit. This race was completely against myself and the mental hurdles I needed to overcome along the way.
The post-race spread was super! Chili and tacos. I shoved them down along with my celebratory bag of Peanut M&Ms and a Mountain Dew. I talked with Paulo, the race director for a while, thanked him for the race, and made my way to the shuttle to head home.
While I was sore on Sunday and Monday (both rest days), I had a very solid hotel workout Tuesday night with some treadmill running and Cross-Fit exercises (push-ups, sit-ups, dumbbell snatches and dumbbell squats).
Now it’s back to a regular training schedule with quality miles where I can get them, strength training, and staying focused on getting to the Zion 100 starting line as healthy as possible. As my friend Kelly shared last week, better to be undertrained and healthy than forcing it with an injury. I know if I can get to the starting line, I’ll find a way to finish.
Because I’m now six weeks away from the Zion 100 and my body is revolting, and it’s because my mind lost control of my daily habits.
The past week and a half have been a tough slog on the training front. Going back to the Wednesday before last, a speed workout ripped my legs to shreds. I was so sore that I needed an impromptu midweek rest day. Two heavy lifting sessions, including max weight deadlifts on Friday and max weight shoulder presses on Saturday, revealed their consequences.
I toiled through my long run on Sunday morning – my hamstrings felt like frozen piano cords. By Monday, I was sensing a tendon tear near my pubic bone on my right leg. Tuesday morning, I headed out for an early AM run only to be hamstrung by my left hamstring, struggling just to get myself home while preventing it from tearing completely.
I’d label last week’s training regimen “maintenance” at best, and more likely, it was more like “slowing the pace of attrition.” Monday’s workout was medication for an anxiety-ridden day. Tuesday was the unpleasant morning run. Wednesday and Thursday were self-prescribed rest days. Friday and Saturday were garage workout days to avoid any injury that would prevent me from reaching the Zion 100 starting line.
While my training load decreased, my diet got worse. Last Saturday, I demolished a sticky bun at the Farmer’s Market – a mental breach of the dam. I was using food to cope with stress. Lena had been away for a couple of days and I was feeling the effects of a week of after-school pick-ups, daily meal prep, and evening after-dinner bedtime routines.
In the week that followed, I nibbled on dark chocolate squares, munched on leftover mac and cheese, then scarfed Girl Scout cookies while working late on Friday night. Saturday’s burger-fries-beer combo (along with demolishing the last of my son’s chicken fingers…) and the frozen yogurt covered with Heath bar crumbles were the final blows.
So Sunday morning, after seeing 190 lbs on the scale (my ideal racing weight is 182-183 lbs), I decided that I was giving myself permission to start over – an act of acceptance for where I was and an act of forgiveness for the last week and a half. With six weeks to go, I’ve got enough time to reset and push through on last training cycle before Zion.
I took my time with a slow run to introduce my legs just feel the motion of running again. After the run, I decided I would fast for the day. I’ve experimented with some intermittent fasting recently to reduce total calories – skipping breakfast and keeping to a very light lunch – but that led to overeating at dinner and still reaching 3500+ calories in the day. Not good.
Yesterday, I fasted all day through dinner – a day that included house cleaning and a trip to IKEA as a true test of my resolve. I kept dinner disciplined, consuming less that 1500 calories for the day. Throughout the day, I drank a lot of water and a couple of hot tea drinks in the afternoon to stave off the feelings of hunger.
This morning, I awoke at 4am to head down to Palo Alto for the day, and so far I’ve had only coffee with just a bit of coconut oil and water infused with apple cider vinegar and sea salt. It’s past 8am now, and my plan is to go the whole day without food until I get home this afternoon. I feel a little jittery from the coffee, so it’ll be interesting to see how this workshop goes today… 🙂
This is all in an effort to reset my mental dependence on food as medicine for stress relief, and to give my body a chance to clean out the deposits of gunk and grime that I feel like are jamming up my joints and muscles. I dropped to under 50 net carbs daily throughout most of January, and in the past, when I drop carb intake, I feel a reduction in inflammation throughout my body.
I remember during the Tahoe 200, when I was feeling at my absolute worst with aching legs, I decided that I would not let my body rule me – that I would be in control – that I would decide how to respond to my situation. This week, I’m choosing this again. This is a choice to restore to myself to a place where my mind rules over my body. (Check out “When it starts to hurt, pick up the pace.”).
So I’m starting over this week. Maybe today, this choice will prove too difficult and I’ll decide to eat, or later this week I’ll end up injuring myself on a training run. If I do, I’ll give myself to start over again.
Quick note… I have a special announcement coming about the #RunningforRefugees that will give you and your friends a little extra motivation to contribute… Stay tuned for more.
All my best ideas come from Lena. She came home from work last week asking me if Tara got in touch with me.
“No, why?”
“She’s looking for a pacer for 100 she’s doing.”
“Which one?”
“Not sure, but it’s at the end of October.”
After exchanging a few emails and finding a reasonable flight to Phoenix, I’m now booked as Tara’s pacer to pull her home over the last 40 miles. This is how these things go…
The Javelina 100 is a Western States Qualifier, 4-point qualifier for the UMTB and an entry race for the Patagonia Run in Argentina. Lots of leverage for one race. But… seeing how far Arizona is from here, Tara was finding a dearth of pacers available.
It’s been less than six week since the Tahoe 200, and it’s already starting to feel like it was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
My recovery time was remarkably short. Aside from swollen ankles and a mild case of plantar fasciitas, I was back to normal in just a few days. Muscularly I felt really strong with no soreness or injury.
As is the norm, I took a few days to gorge on Peanut M&Ms, pizza, and pretty much whatever food I felt inclined to consume, but most of all, I was back doing light workouts right away and I started running about a week later.
The post-race glow had me thinking about knocking out a 100-miler this year. More so, I got in my mind that now that I’ve knocked out a trail marathon, 50k, 60k and 200-miler since May this year, why not knock out a 50-miler, 100k and 100-miler between now and next May to complete the full compliment of ultras in a calendar year?
Finding a race before the end of 2017 proved tough. The races left don’t work well with my schedule – they all fall on weekends after weeks when I’m traveling, or on weekends when we have other family plans, or they’re just a little too far away to knock out in a day trip. I don’t want to force races into my calendar. Every race should be a fun event. I even got accepted from the wait-list for Rio Del Lago, but logic got the best of me and I declined the invitation.
Javelina 100 is October 28-29. I arrive on Friday, and I’ll be pacing Tara through the night hours and I gotta say, I’m pretty damn excited to view the sun set over the desert, run under the night sky and then watch the sunrise the on Sunday morning. The last time I watched the sunrise over the desert was in the Mojave Desert during Uberman.
Most of all, it’s a chance to pay it back to the people that have helped me over the years – my crews, pacers and the innumerable volunteers that helped me along the way in every race, from local 10-milers and sprint triathlons to my three Ironmans to the recent Tahoe 200.
Of course, it’s not exactly torture to be out there running. It brings me joy to experience these races, and the planning and discipline to train and prepare is something I’ve learned is a necessary in my life.
So here I go, ramping up my training regimen. Two weeks ago, I had to break entirely from training for five straight days because of a stomach bug that left me with low-grade nausea every day for two weeks and an insane, self-inflicted work schedule.
That is all behind me and last week kickstarted a more serious training schedule. This week has been even better with a strong run on Tuesday, a rigorous lifting and Cross-Fit workout yesterday, followed by my plan of run-lift-run-run over the next four days through Sunday, all designed to sharpen me up and get back my racing edge.
And finally, it’s a chance to resurface my #RunningforRefugees Campaign!
With your help, we’ve raised close to $3000 so far, and I’m keeping the campaign going until we reach the original target of $20,550 that I set before the Tahoe 200.
Remember… I have a special announcement coming about the #RunningforRefugees that will give you and your friends a little extra motivation to contribute… Stay tuned for more.
I got to “bed” around 10:30pm and planned to sleep until 4am – no real plans to rush the morning. Instead I wanted to get a really good rest so that I could have a strong day on Monday to finish the race. While 84 hours was still on my mind, I was also willing to eschew hitting that time in exchange for good strong day.
I woke up sometime around 1:30am. The air was cold outside, blowing under the tent flaps, and the wool blanket felt warm and comfortable. I did a quick diagnostic – no soreness in my legs and I felt rested, so it was time to rise and shine. The only thing standing in my way of the finish line was 50 miles of trails. Having that singular focus was so freeing and enjoyable. I slipped on my shoes and ambled back to the aid station area from the sleeping tents.
First things first – pop in my contact lenses so I could see. I didn’t think through this like I should have, trying to put them in my eyes while standing outside on a rug using my iPhone as a mirror. Duh.
One of my contacts fell on the ground, so the mad scramble to find a needle a haystack began. I was able to find it, and then asked for some help. One of volunteers had a camper with a mirror. Much more civilized and practical. I then ordered some breakfast and found a spot on ground to start limbering up.
While I was stretching, a runner came into the aid station, telling a story about a bear encounter. He had turned a corner on the trail a few miles back and saw a bear standing there. When he tried to make some noise to scare it away, the bear stood its ground. Then he heard some rustling and saw three cubs up in a tree – not exactly this situation you want to find yourself in, so he backed off down the trail a bit and waited until he heard them leave.
I told this story to Todd, the head medic, at the Tahoe City aid station later that morning. He asked me – “Do you think he really saw a bear?” as if to say – “Maybe the guy was hallucinating…” Either way, it was both entertaining and a reminder that I was in the wilderness, even though the aid stations, trail markers and constant drip of runners made it feel like we were out for a walk in the woods on a race course.
Once I ate, I remembered that I left my trekking poles down at the sleeping tent, and Liz was kind enough to go grab them. Final adjustments to my gear and I got some advice on the next stretch from the Donner Running Party – “mostly downhill and very runnable. Really great surface.” Yes. Awesome.
On the way out, the volunteers played exit song requests. Here’s mine:
Brockway (mile 155) to Tahoe City (mile 175): Flying Down the Mountain
It was just past 2:30am and I was on my way to Tahoe City, 20 miles of nighttime and early morning running. Like yesterday, I segmented this stretch into smaller parts. I knew I had about three hours of darkness, then I’d start to see the false dawn around 5:30, then the sunrise an hour after that.
I figured this 20-miles stretch would take about 6-7 hours given the wear and tear of the past three days, bringing me into Tahoe City around 9:30am. I had budgeted to be there by 9am on my 84-hour race plan, and given my early start – arriving about two hours ahead last night and leaving much earlier this morning than planned – I started to think that as long as I kept plodding along at the same pace, I might still have a chance to hit the 84-hour mark. I tried to do some math in my head – 50 miles, divide by 3 (20:00 min/mile pace) was 17 hours. Three o’clock AM, add 17 hours…. 12 hours is 3:00pm, remainder 5 hours, which is 8pm, which would be 83 hours so even at a 20:00 min/mile pace for the day, I have an hour buffer to get to the finish by 9:00pm, or 84 hours. This could happen.
I hadn’t thought much about bears too most of the way, but during this morning I definitely thought about bears. The guy’s story at the aid station spooked me. Plus I was now working on eight hours of sleep over three days and more than 155 miles, so the visuals were pretty strong.
I wasn’t hallucinating, but rocks, trees and shrubs took shape. Stumps looked like giant frogs and the heads of giant ferrets. Fallen trees and rocks started to look like bears. I decided to just have fun with it. I knew none of it was real, so why not enjoy the show?
The first part of this stretch was a gentle uphill then an easy downhill for the first 2.5 miles, then there was a long gradual uphill for the next five miles that gained about 1000’. Definitely manageable even if it meant a lot of slow miles. I just focused on plodding along. I came down a hill to a small lake or pond, and stopped for a few minutes to eat a bag of sweet potatoes and bacon. I called that “breakfast.”
After reaching the end of the gradual climb, the rest of this stretch was as promised – flat and runnable, and a super opportunity to bank some time, dropping into 16:00 and 17:00-minute miles in the first ten miles. Around mile 12, I stopped for a longer break, then the next 5-6 miles were GLORIOUS!
My legs felt remarkably fresh. No soreness in my quads or hamstrings at all. A few ligaments and tendons were feeling worn, but nothing debilitating, so I was able to pick up the pace and knock out miles all the way into the 11:00-13:00 minute/mile range. This was HUGE to bank this time, and to feel really strong, almost like Superman. Every mile that I picked off was one less mile to go to the finish. Every mile at a pace under 20:00-minutes was banked time.
I zoomed by a couple of runners on this segment that I had run with last night. They had gotten an earlier start than me, but with my pace, I was able to catch up and pass them. At one point, I got down to 7:23 pace for a short spurt. I was flying down the mountain.
After riding that wave, I had about three miles to the aid station. The trail turned rocky and hard to manage at a quick pace. I took that as a sign to slow down, enjoy the time I banked and start resting up for the next stretch from Tahoe City to Stephen Jones.
Travis and Lena would be meeting me at Tahoe City. I told them sometime between 8:30-9:00, thinking that I would arrive a bit later than that, but at least they’d be there ready to go when I arrived to shorten the rest stop time but I was well ahead of that.
As I came down to the trailhead, the course ran along a couple of streets to reach the aid station. As I pulled into the aid station, it was only 8:15am! The sun was shining, and I felt awesome, just awesome. Lena was just walking up to the station with chairs and gear just as I arrived.
The aid station was quiet so I had the place pretty much to myself at first with just 1-2 other runners there. I ordered a huge breakfast – eggs, bacon and pancakes. I wanted to refuel and enjoy the fruits of my early morning work. I had just covered 20 miles in under 5:45, feeling great and starting to believe that 84 hours was very, very possible after all.
Todd patched me up one more time, taking care of a blister under a toenail. He told me that I was looking strong and really in good shape. Travis pulled into the parking lot, got together his gear while I ate and got medical attention. I was juiced and ready to go. Lena snapped a picture and off we went.
Two guys headed out for a 20-mile hike…
Tahoe City (mile 175) to Stephen Jones (mile 195): Just Two Buddies on a Day Hike
I saw this stretch as the last dragon to vanquish. While the last ten miles from Stephen Jones to the finish included one last big climb, I knew that once I got to Stephen Jones, I would be unstoppable and my finish inevitable, save for a major catastrophe.
Travis and I departed Tahoe City at 9:03am, so I was well ahead of my 84-hour plan. I had planned to arrive to Tahoe City at 9am, so pulling out of the aid station at that time felt really, really good. I briefed Travis on our walk-run strategy, and the first bit of the course ran along pavement before darting back onto the trails. We had a short climb before a steady flat few miles before the mega-climb on this stretch – nearly 2000’ over 3-4 miles right in the middle of the 20 miles.
We knocked off the first 5-6 miles pretty quickly, and again I was happy to bank time, bracing for any possible delays where I’d need to use that time – needing a long break, and injury or anything else. I’m not sure where my worry came from given how well my body help up through 3+ days, but I just wanted to keep that mindset to brace for or avoid any total meltdown.
We came upon a small footbridge at the base of the big climb, crossing a stream near a waterfall. We sat for a minute to rest before the climb and decided to fill up our water bottles just in case. It felt like we had enough, but I was close to empty on one bottle and the thought of the first night when I ran out of water getting into Sierra-at-Tahoe, which seemed like weeks ago now, was still in my mind. Travis was good enough to climb down to the stream for us and our climb began.
By now, runners were scattered far apart on the course. We went miles without seeing anyone else, I remarked that it didn’t even feel like I was in a race anymore. It jut felt like two guys out for a hike. That feeling alarmed me because I didn’t want to lose any intensity in mindset and pace, but with the climb, there wasn’t much I could do to go faster so it was just about plodding and plodding and plodding. Just keep moving and trust that I was executing on my race plan.
After about an hour, Travis called out the time and asked if we should break. Very good of him to stay on schedule – 55 minutes of movement then a 5 minute break. Perfect timing. We continued the climb and the path crossed an open field close to the top.
Travis was as much as a guide and storyteller as he was a pacer. He knew the geography, plants and flowers around us really well. The best part was that he kept me talking. We talked for a while about endurance racing – marathons, triathlons, training and qualifying for the Boston Marathon. Then we talked about his backcountry adventures with Richard Sexton, a fellow economist at UC-Davis. In his stores, Travis described the terrain, the story, the situation, the weather, the equipment. It was entertaining and most of all, helped pass the time, which meant that as long as we kept moving forward, distance was passing as well.
We reached the top of the climb along with 2-3 other runners about the same time and stopped to look over the valley and take a few pictures. Such a wonderful feeling to have that climb behind me. Just like with Powerline, it was milestone to the finish – it was starting to feel real. I started thinking about the distance not just to Stephen Jones, but to the finish line. We were now about ten miles into this stretch, with ten miles to go, then just another ten miles from Stephen Jones to the finish line. The mental countdown started, even as much as I wanted to stay present and focused on just getting to the next aid station.
Victory shall be mine!
Soon after reaching the peak, we stopped for another break to refresh and start the downhill. The next seven miles were simply GLORIOUS again. First, Travis started ahead, picking up the pace ever so slightly. I felt GREAT! Very strong and enjoying the downhill. I told him to nudge the pace a bit more, so faster we went. We stopped for a short break, then I took the lead, running ahead for a few miles, ratcheting up the pace even more, faster and faster. For a two mile stretch, we dropped down to a sub-8:00 min/mile and even down to a 7:07 pace at one point. Pure flow. Knocking off miles in 11:00-16:00 range was just damn fun. More time in the bank.
We reached the bottom of the trail into a neighborhood down to the lake. After about 1/2 mile, we picked up the bike trail along Lake Tahoe. Just like the day before near Incline Village, the asphalt miles were painful. Travis kept me moving with a walk-run strategy – “Run to the second telephone pole” and we’d run to it. “Run to the big tree off to the right” and we’d run to it. Along the path, we stopped to dip our hats in cool lake water which was welcome relief. While the air temperature was moderate, the sun felt hot and we’d been going almost six hours.
The course has us cross the road and head back into some asphalt neighborhood roads before reaching another walking trail on the way to Stephen Jones aid station. We were about two miles from the aid station and I was starting to feel the first real effects of the mileage in my feet and legs. The arch on my left foot was starting to throb and I thought about it would be entirely possible for this to flair up to the point where I couldn’t run. Most of this track was flat or modestly uphill but I had a hard time running with any pace so we walked it. Along the last two miles, Travis and I talked about the aid station plan. Refuel, eat, take Advil and apply more sunscreen.
The trail came out to another asphalt road and we crossed a bridge with a volunteer there. “Just go right up there and hang a left. The aid station is about a quarter mile.”
“A quarter mile from when we take a left, or a quarter mile from here? Because it matters…” I asked half-jokingly, half-seriously.
She laughed – “From when you make a left.”
Into the aid station we trudged, where Lena, Benjamin, Nina and Paul were waiting. It was just past 3pm, and again, I was ahead of schedule by nearly an hour. THIS MEANT I HAD SIX HOURS TO GO 10 MILES AND STILL BREAK 84 HOURS!
I took my time at the aid station to make sure I was completely regrouped before the last climb. I had the medical volunteer check out my feet. The bandages on my blisters were holding up, and I told him about the shooting paid in my arch.
“I never really get plantar faciatis. This is pretty unusual.”
He didn’t say a word, instead giving me a hilarious look that said – “Are really surprised that after 195 miles, you might actually have some problems you’ve never experienced before?” He applied some rock tape to hold my arch in place. “That should get you through these last ten miles.”
Two guys after a 20-mile hike…
While in the chair, I broached the topic of having someone pace me for this last stretch. Travis said, “I’d stay with you if I think you needed it. You look great – really strong. You don’t need me.” Lena and I talked about her pacing me, and decided that I was good on my own, and that I’d rather her get to the finish line with everyone to meet me there. Paul and Nina helped to refill by water bladder and nutrition and off I went.
STEPHEN JONES (mile 195) TO THE FINISH (mile 205.5): A Massive Climb & A Massive Thunderstorm
Ten miles to go! JUST TEN MILES TO GO!
The first two miles were unexpectedly flat. The surface was littered in large rocks about the size of my fists and feet, but even so, I was able to walk-run to keep the pace going and bank a few minutes before the climb started.
Then it started. Travis had briefed me about this last segment of the course – “It’s a climb about the same as the one we just did, but there’s a saddle on the top, so when he hit the first peak, you’ll go down a little, then back up to a second peak.”
Nope. It was not a climb like the one we just did. It was way, WAY worse. SUPER steep – like climbing stairs but without the stairs. I knew I had about 1750 feet of vertical to reach the top, so I segmented the climb into 250 foot chunks. It was really, really hard to avoid looking at my Garmin. When I did, I’d see I’d only climbed 60’ or 80’ so I started picking a spot above me and climb to that, the find another turn and climb to that. Very slow going, but I kept it steady. At one point, I looked back down and it felt like a roller coaster descent behind me. My only regret is that I didn’t take a picture back down the hill.
I was both cursing and applauding Candice, the race director. “Well done, Candice,” I thought. “Take everything we’ve done over the past 195 miles to get to these last ten, the turn the screws on us one more time.”
After about 1000’, I reached a false peak where a car with a couple of race supporters were, offering water and soda as an informal aid station. I declined and kept moving. The course ran along a paved road for about 1/2 mile before turning back into trail. One more push to the top.
More switchbacks and steepness. A hiker passed me on the way down. I managed a “Hello.” and she replied with – “Enjoy you walk!” Giggle.
As I got closer to the top of the climb, the trees thinned out and I could start to see more of the sky, and what I saw was not good. A thunderstorm was brewing directly across the lake and headed my way. As I reached a clearing towards the top of the climb, it was pretty obvious that I’d be in a race to get up and over the peak before the storm hit. I didn’t care much for the feeling of being at 9000’ feet on an exposed peak with a thunderstorm approaching. I reach one peak, then the trail descended briefly, then back up to the actual peak.
This is NOT the saddle on the last segment. Still more climbing after the peak ahead…
The storm grew closer and I was glad for a decision I made in the last aid station. I had gone through my backpack and handed off some stuff I wouldn’t need to Lena to save on weight – electronic equipment and a couple of other things. I had thought about handing over my rain gear, assuming I won’t need it, but instead thought about Deep Survival. The jacket and pants weighed less than 1/2 lb and what if….
As I reached Ellis peak, I felt a relief to have that behind me so that I could start the race to the finish. The trail descended quickly and the storm was coming closer. Fast. The trail flattened a bit then had a slight incline. Then the slight incline turned steeper. F&CK! I thought I’d hit the saddle before the last peak, and only now was I hitting it! More f&cking climbing.
Now I was starting to feel concerned for getting stuck up there somehow in the storm, so much so, that I was now running the uphills. I just wanted to get to the next peak, knowing it really would be the last, then I could haul ass it to the finish line.
Not what you want to see while standing on a 9000′ peak.
I hit the peak and started down the true final descent. I came upon a patch of snow that I remembered from the start of the race, and knew that I was about 3 miles to the finish. I was well ahead of schedule again, and right now, looking to finish around 7pm – two hours ahead of my 84-hour race plan. As I started down, I texted Lena –
I checked the time – just before 6:30pm. With about three miles to go, I started thinking about breaking the 7pm barrier and having a time of 81:something. Wow. So impressed with my performance. But no time to celebrate because of the damn storm rolling in.
The trail was exposed because I was now running down ski trails and the thunderstorms kept approaching. I’d see lightening flash, then I counted until I heard thunder – one one thousand, two one-thouasand, three one-thousand. I was running scared. By now, I locked into a flow state again, picking a line through the trail rocks, eyeing the trail about 50 feet ahead for my line, not even looking down at where my feet were going – they just knew. A few times I stumbled and once I fell. Inconsequential. Just get up and run.
The thunderstorm was now directly over me and passing from the west to the east. Rain hadn’t fallen and I was running scared. The trail ran along the ski lifts, which of course were made from metal, which was awesome in a thunderstorm, and the farther I descended, the more I kept looking for the last turn down into the open ski run area where I could spot the finished gate. But it kept eluding me. I was peeking at my Garmin, and now breaching 10 miles for the stretch. I had to be close, so close. Right?
The trail turned again with a few switchbacks and the flow state dissipated. The storm had blown overhead and now was to the East. It seemed to stay at a high altitude and never hit squarely over me. My pace slowed and I was feeling it in my feet and quads for the last two miles. I kept pushing even though I knew I couldn’t keep the same pace as the miles before.
My Garmin ticked past 10 miles and the finish was no where in sight. I starting to sense I couldn’t break 7pm without a miracle.
More turns. More switchbacks. Maybe there were only 3 or 4 or 5, but they felt endless and steep, then FINALLY I saw the opening to the gate.
This was it! I couldn’t even enjoy the moment, worried about getting to the bottom of the mountain, worried about the family and especially Benjamin waiting out there for me, exposed to the storm. I pushed as hard as I could to hit the finish without taking time to consider what I was accomplishing – 205 MILES! Even as I write, I’m feeling my eyes tear up. 205 miles… 205 miles… 205 miles… Wow.
The race team propped up the finishing gate and my mother-in-law, Nina, was standing across the finish line with a red umbrella. She tried to hand it to me. I pushed it aside and said – “Thanks, Mom, I don’t want an umbrella.”
All I wanted was to see Lena and Benjamin and give them an enormous hug. And I did.
At THE FINISH: 205.5 Miles
Just like at the start of the race, the finish to ultra-marathons are equally melodramatic. No one on a loud speaker yelling – “Scott Sambucci! YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!”
Instead, it’s just a couple of people standing around. No crowds. No cheering except for your own crew. With the storms, it was much worse because a wind gust had just blown over the inflatable finishing gate and the food tent. While I was coming down the course on the last mile, everyone at the finish was scrambling to lock down the tents and food.
Had it not been for Nina, then would not have even had the gate stood up for me. I learned later that she had made friends with the race team, as she’s prone to do :-), and she asked them – “Could you please put the gate back up for him?”
So awesome. Thanks, Mom. You’re the best. 🙂
I was feeling great. I’d just run 205.5 miles and was standing there having a conversation, talking about the storm, and getting briefed on all that happened with the wind gust while I was approaching the finish.
I asked for my finished time.
82:00:16.
I just missed finishing before 7pm, and somehow felt disappointed, immediately starting to think about how with the right planning before a few aid stations and taking a few shorter breaks, or running a few more flat spots, how I could have dropped into the 70s. It’s gave me a glimpse of what is possible with the right training, the right planning and the right effort.
Check the box. 205.5 miles.
I talked to another runner or two, and one of the race coordinators. I asked for my buckle which had been packed away with all of the other race gear after the wind gust. She kindly retrieved the box and I picked out my buckle.
But it wasn’t about a buckle. It wasn’t about loud cheering. This was for me – that I set out to do some incredibly hard, and with the right plan and the right team and the right execution, I was able to do something wonderful.
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.
Sierra-at-Tahoe (mile 62.9) to Housewife Hill (mile 70).
I collected my belongings from the floor next to me, headed to the bathroom, popped in my contacts and washed up. Next back to the main aid station area where I found Tim from the Medical team to help me with my feet.
I told him about the wrinkled mess from last night (two hours ago…), and a couple of small hot spots starting developing. Fortunately, my skin was mostly dried out so he taped up the hot spots and I was ready to go. I put clean pair of socks (Injinjis) and my over-pair socks (CW-X) were mostly dry too. My shoes were still a bit damp, but definitely much better than I expected. Lena was meeting me at Housewife Hill, just seven miles ahead, so I figured I could change shoes there if I needed to complete the reboot (haha!) from Day 1 before the long climb up to Armstrong Pass.
I got a minimal amount of nutrition together for the short stretch and headed out around 7:30am. As I was heading down the hill from Sierra-at-Tahoe, I passed a few runners still just arriving to this aid station and thought about what their Day 1 must be feeling like, now almost 24 hours into the race without sleep. I was glad to be on my way and excited that I felt good for these next few miles.
I came across a runner and his pacer (can’t remember their names ????) super guys and we ran together for a mile or so. This guy had just run the Bigfoot 200 and told me that he slept 16 hours during that race, and improved his overall time by 7 hours over last year. This data point definitely made me feel good about my sleep decision and my overall plan to sleep as much as I could along the way, instead of trying to go 36 or 48 hours without sleep out of the gate.
Feeling good on Saturday AM!
I felt energized. The sun was shining, the morning brisk and the air cool. The segment was mostly a rolling downhill so I could run a nice smooth pace and made good time down to the aid station.
About a quarter mile from the station, I looked ahead and saw my crew waiting for me! Lena, Benjamin, Nina and Tbone!
Benjamin starting running towards me and I almost starting crying I was so happy to see them. When he reached me, I said – “Can you believe that I’ve been running since I saw you yesterday?” I said that as much for him as for me. I felt very happy and proud to have made it through Day 1 and felt a confidence that I was on my way to knocking out this journey.
I took some time to try out different shoes but no one them felt right, and my Altras were now mostly dry from the running and dry morning weather. Nina found me a nice breakfast of eggs and bacon from “The Guy in the Red Suit” serving as cook at the aid station. Very yummy and satisfying.
We snapped a few pictures and off I headed for the 18 miles stretch to the top of Armstrong Pass.
Housewife Hill (mile 70) to Armstrong Pass (mile 88): The long, slow climb
A few miles into this stretch (can’t remember exactly how many…), I crossing a stream. Thinking about the 5-6 hours ahead and remembering how I ran short on water last night, I took a few minutes to fill up one of my water bottles to be sure I’d have enough for the day.
Slowly, slowly, slowly plodding up the first part of the climb, I reached 8000’ about four miles in and felt pretty good about myself and the progress I’d made. The peak was 9750’, so I segmented what was ahead into 250’ elevation climb sections. I figured I’d be at the top in the next two hours.
Oops…
I should have read the course elevation profile better. Turns out that once you reach 8000’, there’s a 1000’ descent which drops you back down to 7000’ before heading back up to the 9750’ peak. The downhill miles were nice to knock off a few faster miles, but with each step I couldn’t help but think of the future cost I was incurring, knowing that I’d have to climb back up.
I remember running mostly alone alone along this stretch. With the overnight at Sierra-at-Tahoe and now well past 24 hours into the race and only ~175 runners, the field was stretching out quickly. I passed one runner that was off the trail, sitting high on a rock looking very happy and relaxed. We chatted a short bit, and I liked the idea of finding my own rock for rest somewhere along the midpoint up the climb.
I found my boulder – a huge flat boulder – and set up a picnic for myself. I had a bag of sweet potatoes and bacon that would be become my mainstay fuel for the rest of the race and found an extra packet of Tailwind in my running vest. After a quick bite, I laid on my back and looked up at the trees and watched the clouds move across the sky. A few gray clouds starting to infiltrate the blue canvas above, and all I could think was that another thunderstorm was brewing. I really, really didn’t want it to rain. I did well with it yesterday, managing my mindset and working through it, but the thought of more rain and water on the trail, especially as I was climbing worried me about a slick trail, not to mention climbing up close to 10,000’ where I’d be closer to the clouds and lightening.
I looked up on the trail from my rock, and saw my running friend Jonathan pass by with his pacer and felt a pang of jealousy that he had someone with him on this stretch. A few thoughts of loneliness crept into my mind, but all in all I knew this was just a tough slog that I’d have to do on my own, and eventually when I reached Heavenly tonight, I’d be at mile 103 and more than halfway done.
Big Meadow (appropriately named…)
After a few minutes, I motivated and headed back to the trail. Climbing higher and higher, the course took me across Big Meadow and along several huge meadows that rested between peaks all around me. Wild flowers were abound in these fields, with yellow and purple flowers everywhere. It really took me aback to think about these plateaus resting thousands and thousands of feet about where I was used to seeing fields of grass and flowers.
I stopped to snap a few pictures just to force myself to appreciate what I was seeing, with the thought that I may never in my life be back on this trail to see what I was seeing. Too many times in situations like this, I’d think – “I’ll take a picture next time” – and too often, there hasn’t yet been a next time.
I took another break along the trailside, laying back on a rock. I couldn’t sleep but at least I reset a bit. A couple of runners passed me, and one asked if I was doing okay just as I was started to doze off. I was a little perturbed that he interrupted my rest, but really, this was just me being grouchy and instead I considered should be grateful that other runners were aware enough to check in with me. We were miles and miles from anything resembling civilization so if any one of us got in trouble, the only help we could rely on was each other.
I packed up again and continued up the mountain. Another runner somewhere along this stretch passed me, and we kept climbing and climbing and climbing. Eventually we reached a peak, then short downhill, then another peak at 9300′. I asked him if he thought this was the top of the summit.
“I think there’s one more little climb to reach the top.”
Ugh.
We started downhill and he went ahead. The terrain got steep as I descended, and I loathed the idea of heading back up again to hit another peak, but the trail kept descending. My spirits picked up when I realized we had already reached the peak and now I was heading down to the next aid station in the next mile or two. I passed a couple of hikers and a runners heading back up, and that charged me more to know the aid stations was very, very close.
I found the oasis, relieved to have Armstrong Pass behind me, and feeling happy and proud with my progress. From a time standpoint, I was about 45 minutes ahead of my projected time. I expected to arrive to Armstrong around 5pm, and it felt good to know that my pace was holding, I had budgeted 8 hours for this stretch, and I knocked it out in less than seven!
As I meandered into the aid station, and a bearded volunteer, who later I’d learn was named John, asked me – “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good.”
Then he looked at me again – straight into my eyes and said – “Are you sure?”
He was right. I wasn’t necessarily bad, but I was pretty worn out after the climb up and over Armstrong.
“Roseanne is the medical person here – she’ll take care of you if you need anything.”
Roseanne came over and just sat for a moment to see how I was. She gave me a roller for my quads. Perfect timing after that climb. John got me a hamburger and Roseanne hung around just to make sure I took enough time to reset. Meanwhile, she tended to another runner that was shivering in the middle of the day because he hadn’t been eating.
As much as this was a reminder to myself to keep eating, none of the food was appetizing. I took a bite of the burger and it just didn’t agree with me. I knew I’d been good about taking in calories along the way and made myself a protein shake from a packet in my drop bag. That’s about the only food I ate at the aid station, and promised myself to keep eating along the next stretch and to do eat well tonight when I made it to Heavenly. I had a couple of bags of my magic sweet potatoes for calories, plus Tailwind and Clif bars stashed as “just-in-case.”
John and another volunteer (I can’t remember her name), helped me fill my water bladder and nutrition bottles. I was a little slow mentally getting things together, but eventually I got packed up and on my way out. Before I left, I drank another Starbucks Via packet as my afternoon coffee, and to hopefully enjoy a little late-afternoon pick-up from the caffeine.
I was happy to know that Heavenly and some sleep was only 15 miles from here – about five hours if I stayed on pace. More importantly, that the hardest part of the day was over.
Or so I thought…
Armstrong Pass (mile 88) to Heavenly (103.5): More Climbing? Really?
Climbing back out of the Armstrong Aid station was tough but my spirits were up. Before leaving the aid station, I asked about the next section of the course. “You head back up Armstrong then it’s mostly rolling down to Heavenly.”
Okay, I thought, I just go back up to where I passed the runners coming out of the station then it’s rolling for 14 miles. I could handle that.
I worked my way back up the main trail and reached what thought was the peak of the stretch, only to be sadly mistaken. Instead, I had solid 3-mile climb from there back up to 9600’. It was switchback after switchback, and it was DEMORALIZING. I saw Peggy for the first time since late in Day 1 near the creek crossing, which felt like a lifetime ago.
Another runner (John) and I hitched up a bit and slogged along together, finally reaching the crest of the climb that transitioned from one side of the mountain to the other. After about 1/4 mile of reaching the top, I found a rock and sat down to rest. I was wiped. That section was unexpected and tough, and I still had about 10 miles to go before Heavenly. I gave myself permission to take as much time as I wanted, ate some sweet potatoes and did a round of breathing exercises. That really reset my brain and body.
Once I got myself going, I told myself to just take it slow and make whatever progress I could on the downhill. By now, the sun setting across a valley to my left, and ahead of me stood a mountain with numerous spiked peaks decorating its side.
My body picked up the pace a little and the next 4-5 miles. I dropped down into a 10:00/min mile pace in a few stretches and knocked out a few sub-15:00/min miles overall. This was a welcome change in body and mind to be moving at a faster, more fluid pace. The trail now was a very nice gentle downslope and with the daylight hanging in the air, I was able to make some solid time over this stretch.
As the sun set over the mountain, I sat to rest then headed back down the trail. A few hundred feet down trail, I realized I’d left my gloves on the rock and had to backtrack. It was a good time to get my headlamp on for the last push down to Heavenly. When I pulled my headlamp from my backpack, it was already clicked on. Oh man.
John and I hiked along the next couple of miles together. He just started racing ultras a couple of years ago, and like me, hadn’t done a 100 before tackling a 200. The trail transitioned from a runnable single track to a rocky path of switchbacks. Down the mountain to the east, we could see the lights of the hotels and casinos along the lake. My headlamp light felt dim, so I sat down to change the batteries. I was very grateful to have packed extra batteries because the difference was HUGE. I could see much, much better.
On and on when trekked down the mountain and eventually we reached the Heavenly property, but still had a good three miles until the aid station. We hit a VERY steep short climb up a fire road – not more than a 1/4 mile but unexpected a killer on the legs. More switchbacks, along with more switchbacks, along with more switchbacks. I’d read about these switchbacks from a race report from a previous year, but it didn’t make them any more tolerable. They were steep and hard to run. I found myself walking on the downhills, then growing impatient and frustrated, so I tried to run the straight parts of the path just to pick up a few minutes and to prevent boredom.
Finally I reached the bottom of the mountain and the Heavenly aid station where Lena and Tbone were waiting. So good to see them, and a little silly to think that it’d been about 12 hours since I saw them at Housewife Hill that morning, and that I’d covered about 33 miles since then.
They asked me what I needed, and I realized I didn’t have much of a plan. The aid station was oddly configured. The inside area was only for sleeping. The food station was outside on a metal grate deck, and the drop bags were down a flight of stairs, as was the bathroom.
Not a having a plan really sucked. I had Lena and Tanya ready to help me with whatever I needed, and I had no idea what to tell them. I felt decently well physically, but mentally, I was spent. I couldn’t make a decision. It was nighttime – around 10pm (still about an hour ahead of my plan!) and the set up of the aid station just wasn’t what I expected and I was trying to figure out what to do. Finally, I settled on eating what I could, then just getting some sleep to figure out what to do in the morning. My feet were holding up well, and all I could think about what getting some rest to recharge.
I asked one of the volunteers to help me find a sleeping pad, and I headed back to the bathroom to clean up a little and take out my contacts. When I came back up to the sleeping quarters a few minutes later, I saw a guy with a blanket and pad. I thought it was the volunteer, so I said to him – “Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”
He looked a little stunned, and said, “This is for me.”
Oops.
Turns out it wasn’t to volunteer but another racer. It was dark inside and I didn’t have my contacts in, so I could see much. Lena came inside and helped me get settled. I was having a pretty tough time just trying to organize my stuff and figure out what to do with everything while I slept. The medical staff was working inside the sleeping area with headlamps, which made it hard to get comfortable, plus there was ambient talking all around both inside the sleeping quarters and downstairs at the bathroom.
We finally got me settled and I found a spot with a blanket and laid down. Ahhh… Time to sleep! Except that I was WIDE AWAKE. My eyes wouldn’t close. Maybe it was too much caffeine. Maybe I was wired from the race. Whatever it was, I couldn’t get my eyes to close.
I finally told myself – “Dude, you’ve been going since 7:30 this morning, and have covered 103 miles in the last two days on two hours of sleep. You are tired. You have to be tired, so fucking GO TO SLEEP!” Within two minutes, I was asleep.
I woke up about an hour later at 11:30pm feeling very uncomfortable laying on the floor. “Oh man. No way,” I thought. I can’t be done sleeping already. No way I wanted to gear up and head out right now, so I found a second camping pad and to double up the custioning again I fell asleep. I woke up at 1:16am feeling much better, but also wondering if I’d had enough sleep to keep going. Did I really want to get up now and start Day 3 already? Then I checked my phone again and now it was 2:06am, so I must have dozed off a bit more. By now, I accepted that it was time to get going, and if I got up now, I could hit the trail by 3:00am and start the day.
I rolled off the mattress, found my gear where I left, and Day 3 began…
I stopped to snap a few pictures just to force myself to appreciate what I was seeing, with the thought that I may never in my life be back on this trail to see what I was seeing. Too many times in situations like this, I’d think – “I’ll take a picture next time” – and too often, there hasn’t yet been a next time.
I took another break along the trailside, laying back on a rock. I couldn’t sleep but at least I reset a bit. A couple of runners passed me, and one asked if I was doing okay just as I was started to doze off. I was a little perturbed that he interrupted my rest, but really, this was just me being grouchy and instead I considered should be grateful that other runners were aware enough to check in with me. We were miles and miles from anything resembling civilization so if any one of us got in trouble, the only help we could rely on was each other.
Once I got myself going, I told myself to just take it slow and make whatever progress I could on the downhill. By now, the sun setting across a valley to my left, and ahead of me stood a mountain with numerous spiked peaks decorating its side.
As the sun set over the mountain, I sat to rest then headed back down the trail. A few hundred feet down trail, I realized I’d left my gloves on the rock and had to backtrack. It was a good time to get my headlamp on for the last push down to Heavenly. When I pulled my headlamp from my backpack, it was already clicked on. Oh man.