Race Report: Bull Run Run 50 miler, 4.9.11: Sex, drugs, and mud

Got your attention, right?  So, the sex and drugs part, not so much.  Ok ok--not at all.  But I wasn't lying about the mud.  Rained all afternoon and night Friday, finally stopped after two swipes of the wipers driving from the hotel to the race on Saturday morning. Not a massive amount, but enough.  Everyone I know that has run this race said "Don't worry about rain on race day, worry about rain the day before."  Everyone was right.

Race day itself couldn't have been more perfect.  Cool, 45 degrees, heavy overcast at race start, and I think the temp barely changed all day.  No rain.  But you already know that wasn't anything to worry about.

With just enough light to see without a headlamp, we were off at 6:30 am.  Never heard a shout, a gun, or a cowbell (where's Joe when you need him?)--but all of a sudden, we were running.  Worked for me.  The obligatory loop around the parking area to spread us out, then down to the river we did run.

As we headed upstream toward Centreville Aid, things gradually became slicker.  Slipperier.  Stickier.  Deeper.  Wetter.  Muddier.  And the stream crossings: Ankle deep.  Knee deep.  Waist deep.  No, I'm not kidding. This...this was a trail run.  This...this is why we do it!  This...this caused frequent use of a word beginning with "F"....


The real fun began after Centreville on the 2.2 mile out & back (i.e. 4.4 total).  It was probably fine for the lead runners, but for us mid-packers (ok...back of the pack), it was like running through a barnyard just after the cows came home.  The trail was churned deep and wide, with plenty of clay to stick to your shoes when it wasn't trying to suck them off your feet.  Throw in the "crooked bridge" crossing that put at least one runner in the creek and you have the makings of a fine trail race.


Back at Hemlock (the start/finish/staging area, 16.6 miles), I changed shoes and socks, re-Glided my toes, put on new moleskin (since the original apparently came off in the muddy, wet, brown blobs formerly known as "socks").  Was a bit chilled and decided to keep my long sleeve shirt, hat, and gloves with me (even though I wasn't wearing them).  Probably spent too long there but needed to fix my feet since it would be my last chance to do so for about 34 more miles.  I could either fix my feet now, or grill them up after the race when they would be indistinguishable from hamburger.  Yeah, that's kinda gross, ain't it?


Headed out of Hemlock looking forward to some upland (=drier) running. Much too tired already for only having done 16.  The next 10 or 12 would be the worst for me psychologically, but probably the fastest block of miles all day at about 10-12 min/mile (I know, smokin', ain't it?).  The Marina was great with the usual super volunteers, but I was distracted.  My time wasn't bad, but I just wasn't quite feeling the love again.  Only 21 miles to this point....long way to go.  I just wanted to keep moving, knowing my lowest spot is usually just south of 30 and then things would get better.

Pushed out of the Marina on to Wolf Run Shoals, where I was under direct orders from Chris Reynolds to eat the ice cream.  I followed orders.  Good orders.  And I don't even have a chipped tooth to show for it.  Dry ice is remarkable stuff, no?  Still struggling a bit, but 26 miles was past the halfway point.  The faint light in the distance was either the end of the tunnel, or the train. 
 
Left WRS with a slight twinkle in my eye.  Could have been the woman in the black tights and pink top in front of me.  Or maybe a second wind.  Yeah, that's it, a second wind.  Fountainhead was just two miles away, at 28.  Long two miles.  The light was flickering just a bit as I left Fountainhead, though my legs were pretty much back from the dead. Full-on mind/body disconnect.  Fortunately, we have all been here before.  Just keep swimming....

Random item (because for the life of me I can't place where this was): Best sign on the course, as you approached an aid station many miles in: "Captain, the trail is your bitch."

The White Loop was loopy to me.  Wasn't remembering the course description correctly and thought this was the section where no one should be coming at you on the trail.  People were coming at me on the trail.  WTF? But at this point I was once again running with Tom Green, one of the streakers: he's run every BRR, this being his 19th (oh, and a measly 200+ total ultras....).  If he didn't know the way, we were in trouble. Well, I'm writing the race report, so you can figure out the rest.

The entrance to the Do Loop was the turnaround point for me mentally.  I was now past 30 miles (32.5 to be exact).  Or maybe it was the pizza.  Pizza.  Pizza.  Did I mention there was pizza?  Mmm.  Pizza.  Ok, done with that.

The "infamous" Do Loop wasn't so infamous to me.  It went by pretty quickly.  I was shocked when I got back to the "stick" of the lollipop.  Back to the aid station.  The pizza was gone.  I'd done the right thing eating 3 slices on the way in.  Thirty-five miles done, and it was game on.  My spirits were up and I screamed out of there.  Hammered back to Fountainhead and Wolf Run Shoals, where I went for the popsicle instead of the ice cream. Note to self: 5 miles is a long way to carry a freakin' popsicle stick.  Just sayin'....

After WRS, I just had the Marina, then beer....uhh, the finish.  I hammered four miles.  Problem was, the Marina was five miles. I got caught up looking ahead on the trail, thinking "the aid station must be just up there" or "just around this bend."  Not.  It became a game of "Where the f*%$ is that freaking aid f#^&ing station?  Not a good game to play.

By the time I hit the Marina, I'd hit the wall.  My left quad was threatening to join the confederates and secede from the union that was my body.  I knew I would finish--I will ALWAYS finish--but I had been thinking I could break 11 hours and could see that was gone.  Time to recalibrate.  Breaking 12 would be ok, or at least beating my Stone Cat time of 12:32.

So I staggered around the Marina for a couple minutes.  Then I found watermelon.  And (again) the guy making the warm ham and cheese wraps on the grill.  I love you, man.  That was huge.  Stupid--I was just out of fuel.  Knew it would take awhile to recover, so I headed out on a slow walk, hoping (expecting) (determined) to get my groove and flow back.  After about 5 minutes, I started to pick it up.  After 10, I was running.  After about 15, I was groovin' and flowin.'  Some part of me kept wanting to stop and walk, but as I mentally checked myself over, there was just no reason to stop.  All systems go.  I had to keep saying to myself "Why stop when there's nothing wrong?"

I got into a very fun (for me) game in the last 10 or so miles, and especially in the last 5.5 from the Marina to the finish.  I had done lots of hills in training, both running and powerhiking.  Doug Freese, the ultra god I was lucky enough to train with all winter, had said to me "Wait and see how strong you are late in the race."  He knew.  Once I saw someone ahead of me struggling up a hill...they were all mine.  Resistance on their part was futile.  I probably passed 20 people in the last 10 miles, and no one passed me.  Not like I was threatening the course record or anything, but it was great to have some gas left in the tank late.  And the runnable stretches--I was really running.  I actually kept thinking to myself "Look at me, I'm running!"  That was a great accomplishment for me, to run strong to the end and not walk it in.  Cool.

So I hit the tape (ahem) at 11:42, almost an hour faster than Stone Cat last fall.  Many people said BRR is similar to the Cat, but I think the BRR course is much tougher, and the conditions this day were certainly an issue.  Not a blistering pace, but my fastest time yet in three 50 milers (I know, you can't compare courses but we all do).  Biggest thing was that I was strong to the end, and never did I think "I'm never doing this again" as I have in past races. In fact, it was the opposite--I felt strong and like I'd conquered the 50 mile distance.  Now to keep whittling down those times....

Ok, that was way too much about me and not enough about the people that made it happen and the race per se.  The race director, Anstr Davidson and crew were a well-oiled machine and the nicest folks you could be lucky enough to meet.  The volunteers ROCKED as always.  The other runners were, as always, family.  Couldn't ask for a better-marked, easier to follow, sweeter-to-run trail.  Great schwag--nice shirts, a bandana, a pin, simple stuff but really nice and not overdone.  And leading up to the race, running all winter with Doug (11:30, a very slow day for him, he usually rocks it pretty hard) and Jacque Schiffer (9:39--she didn't feel good--imagine if she HAD felt good...).  I also worked with a great exercise physiologist, Dorothy Hamburg (if you live near New Paltz, NY, and want to get stronger and healthier, go see Dorothy), who I subsequently hired as a coach (never had a coach before so this has been fun--and very productive!).  Between all of them, they made me so much stronger and taught me so much.  And there I go talking about me again when what I really wanted to do was talk about them--and say "Thank You" for all your help and encouragement, and "Thank You" to Anstr, VHTRC and all the volunteers who made it possible for me to have such a great day.  And of course to UltraChris, who kept telling me I was gonna rock BRR--and I did, in my own, weird way!

So my first Bull Run Run 50 miler is in the books.  It won't be my last.  What a race.  What a group of people.  What a blast!!!

Race Report: Wurtsboro Mountain 30K 3.26.11

It's a road run.  Deal with it.  Great course.  4 miles up.  About 6 miles down overall...steep in places, rolling in others.  Some flats, then the final 6ish is rolling along the Basha Kill wetlands.  Beautiful course.  Crazy guy with an axe chasing the runners.  He's moving up in the world--it was only a knife a couple years ago.  But don't let that color your opinion of the race--it's a blast.  Even if it felt like early February instead of late March.  It was sunny, and I was running.  What more is there to life? (don't answer that).  Ran comfortably hard, wasn't truly racing as I've got Bull Run Run 50 miler in two weeks and a cranky achilles this morning that I didn't want to piss off too badly (seems okay now...or maybe that's the IPA talking...).  Ran about 2:51, only a few minutes slower than my PR (about 2:44, last year) and ran much easier and stronger to the end this year.  So life is good, the race is great, the volunteers rock, and the organizers (Sullivan Striders - Myriam Loor - Kim Klemen - et al.) get high praise.  If you suddenly find yourself in Wurtsboro some late March weekend, come run.  Pizza afterwards.  And IPA in the back of my van....

Bull Run - it's a go!

I made it into the Bull Run Run 50 miler.  Woo Hoo!!!

Race Report: Stone Cat 50 miler, 11.6.10: Sweet. Simple as that.

Yes, I know--it's like three weeks since the race.  But almost nobody reads my blog anyway, so no matter.  And the one follower I have, UltraChris--well, she ran Stone Cat too (much faster than me, I might add).  So she knows all about it.

Since I'm so late posting this, let's go straight to the videotape (you'd have to live where I do and watch NYC TV stations to get that...):

• Sweet is indeed what this race was.  Great bunch of folks that  put this on, run the aid stations, etc. 
• Fun is also what this race was.  Live band at the staging area and even at an aid station at one point.  Which point that was, I can't say.  It was all a little foggy by that time.   But I know I saw them out there, somewhere, playing music.  Well, I think I did.  Didn't I?
• The aid stations lived up to their reputation.  What did they have?  How about, what didn't they have? I recall everything from sausage, eggs, and bacon to soup and grilled cheese, with the usual assortment of pringles, M&Ms, etc.  Thank You, Volunteers!!
• I always carry a second light with me in case my headlamp fails.  Always.  Except when I don't.  It was really dark out there.  But the light did stay on most of the time, until going off for good about 50 feet from the finish.  
• And in case you were wondering (I'm sure you were), yes, a three-battery LED headlamp WILL work with only two batteries going in the right direction.  It's just really dim.  Except when it goes out completely.  Did I mention it was really dark out there?
• Trails were perfect.  Nicely soft from recent rains, but not slippery and not so soft as to suck the energy out of every footstrike.  Wet leaves on the trails made it slick in spots and hard to see, but it was manageable.
• There was the small matter of that wetland we had to run through...the one where FREAKING COLD ICE WATER was running ankle-deep across about 100 yards of the trail and there really was no getting around it.  Oh, and it was conveniently located somewhere before the first aid station, if I recall correctly.  Meaning, with a four-loop course, we got to iceberg our feet four delightful times, and a change of socks at the staging area only kept your feet dry for a short while.  I did carry a pair with me to change after the swim, but just never bothered...hey, it was a trail run.
• Wonder if it was the ice water that caused my right foot to slowly cramp as the day wore on, to the point where I started walking almost immediately after starting the final loop.  I was afraid if I ran it might cramp so bad I'd have to drop at an aid station.  But as I made my way along the loop, I found I could run, and once I was halfway through, I figured I could stump along for 6 more miles no matter how it felt, so I "ran" again.  Thing I like about these long-distance endurance events is dealing with adversity, be it injury, illness, weather.  And this being the worst thing that hit me all day--I'll take it.
• Overall, the course was virtually entirely runnable, with very little elevation change.  Nice diversity--different forest types, wetlands, fields, and pleasantly rolling.  Being entirely runnable actually made it very difficult for me.  Courses with lots of elevation change, like Virgil Crest (my first 50 miler six weeks prior) force you to walk/hike a lot.  Not the Cat.  Run run run.  Until I barely could.  
• The four-loop course was one loop too many for me.  To keep thinking (or trying not to think) all day that I've got three more...two more...that was hard.  But the worst wasn't the last, it was the third.  I knew if I headed out for Loop 3, I'd finish, because there was no way I was dropping at 37.5 unless both legs fell off.  And the end of Loop 2, where you can decide to run a 1.2 mile baby loop and take a marathon finish instead, that was (or could have been) the danger point.  Though I must say it wasn't for me--I came to run the 50 and wouldn't even think about dropping.  After all, there was the coveted Stone Cat 50 miler finisher's jacket on the line.  
• Speaking of that jacket, I may have one from the tenth (?) and final 50 miler.  There is consideration being given to changing to a 50K next year, but no decision has been made.  I hope they keep the 50 miler, though--it's such a great distance, in my mind--plenty long enough to be truly challenging, but not completely destroying.
• Oh yeah, my time: 12:32:02.  About 3.5 hours faster than VCU.  Which it should have been, given the less-topographically-challenging course.  At VCU I was about 6.5 hours slower than the winner, but just over 6 hours slower at Cat, so I figure that's an improvement.  And I was far from last.  Four people finished behind me, but around 40 either dropped to the marathon or dropped after 3 loops.
• The Stone Cat Ale at the end, in my hand bottle and while wearing my Stone Cat 50 finishers jacket, now that was good.  Water bottles are made for more than just water and sports drinks, you know.
• Stone Cat: Add to Favorites. Then click annually.  Loved it!! 

Trail Diary 10.16.10: Ashokan High Point--how to run 9 miles and take forever

The plan:  Run up Ashokan High Point, in recent years a lollipop trail with some nice running over the top of High Point, around the sweet part, before coming back down the stick.  Not long, but close to home.

The reality: Nine miles isn't long.  Except this day.  Nice but rocky herd path for much of the stick.  Goes up gently, never got a groove on.  Sharp left at 2.7 miles, pass the junction with the sweet leg return, then...up.  False summit after false summit.  Every one a boulder climb.  Very cool.  Eventually, up top.  The view is, well, nice.  Nothing that special.  But the run over the top, through fields of mountain laurel and open woodlands--that was nice.  A long downhill stretch that got a little "scree-ey" at times and a bit annoying.  And then, back to the stick...ad the groove and flow finally kicked in.  The perfect downhill pitch--not so steep as to be un-runnable, but steep enough to hammer, and the rocks were just right to demand that laser focus but not be dangerous. 

Nine miles in 2:11.  Ok, so I'm not Anton Krupicka.  But the fast last miles made for a great "back at the car" feeling.  And hey, it's another trail done.  What more could a person ask for?  (Don't answer that...)

Run it again? Sure, why not.  Actually a decent little run.

Trail Diary 10.23.10: Kingston RailTrail, or, Getting Ready for Stone Cat

Nothing especially gnarly about this trail.  Very nice rail trail, as rail trails go.  Flat. Nice surface.  Wickedly runnable.  Ran it with my friend Jack, who I met at the Monster Marathon (his first marathon--baptism by fire!) and who just ran his first 50K last weekend.  All this after running his first half-marathon this past spring.  See Jack Run.  Run Jack.  Jack Can Run.  Nice Running Jack.  Ok, I'm done with that now.  But Jack can run, that's for sure.

Started out south from Leggett Rd. trailhead.  I'd never run that part, and Jack had done a bit.  Quickly became, umm, "underutilized."  But we managed over three miles (per Jack's Garmin) before turning around.  So about 6 miles back up to Leggett Rd, a nice warmup.  The section north towards Kingston has a great running surface, and is very nicely wooded for most of the route.  A perfect, cool fall day.  We imperceptibly picked it up, and were bombing along, until Jack looked at the Garmin and said "Uh, we're running about 7:30 pace."  Like!  We dialed it back, but before we knew it, were steaming again.  Think we ran much of that ~6 mile leg at sub-8 minute pace.  May sound pitiful to you, but it's hammering for me, and pretty impressive for a guy 7 days removed from his first 50K.  May not be singletrack, but it grooved, and it flowed, and it was really fun.

So we wound up with 18 by the time we got back to the car.  That was a perfect tune-up run for me, two weeks prior to the highly-runnable Stone Cat course.  Nice to see I can still run, and not just do the "ultra shuffle."  New orthotics and a good arch taping job prior to the run today and I had no problems.  About 8:30 pm as I write this and, so far, so good on the injury front (or it might be the IPA "anti-inflammatory" kicking in).

Cat!  Cat!  Cat!  Cat!  Cat!  Cat!  Cat!  Cat!  Cat!  Cat!

Race Report 9.25.10. Virgil Crest Ultras 50 miler: More fun than a sharp stick in the eye (well, let me think about that...)

And, as any true ultrarunner knows, that title is the ultimate compliment.  If I wanted easy, I'd run on the roads.

First, let me say this: You volunteers ROCK!  What awesome aid stations!  You guys were just the icing on a really, really good  chocolate cake. With strawberries.  And cool whip.  A few nuts.  Some coconut.  Ok, you get the idea. And the christmas lights at the Gravel Pit at night...lovin' that, guys.  Saw them from a mile away and knew there was sanctuary ahead.

Whoever ordered up the weather for this day--nice work.

To Ian, the RD, for that "alpine loop" (sounds pleasant, right ?): may your quads quiver and your Achilles scream for the rest of your days.  I strongly advise you to NOT be at Lift House 5 when people are making their second circuit (or third or fourth, for the hundred milers) of that little jaunt.  WTF dude?  Nice touch.

After a windy night (=how much sleep did I get in my tent, exactly?) at Hope Lake Park, runners were treated to a beautiful, cool morning.  The race went off at the stroke of 6am.  My first 50 miler.  What?  I'm going to run 50 miles today?  Just, like, yeah. Ok then.  Headlamps in the pre-dawn dark.  The first 5 miles to AS1 at the Gravel Pit includes some of the most runnable trail you could wish for.  Groove & Flow.  And all with the usual ultrarunning family suspects.

After some more sweet trail, a long road downhill (or so my recollection goes, but fair warning: this could bear no resemblance to reality).  Then a left past Gatherings, the start of the Monster Marathon I did 3 weeks ago as the perfect last long run for VCU, over onto Tone Rd to AS2 at Lift House 5 (and the first time up the evil alpine loop).  People taking my pack off and filling it, giving me food, finding my drop bags (hint: pink is hot). 

Then, contrary to popular belief, up to hell.  Start up a side trail, then follow the chair lift up.  And just when you think you've reached the top, an even steeper pitch up through the woods.  Did you catch that word "up"?  There was another word I was saying a lot on this leg, but I won't repeat it here.  And of course, what goes up, must come....

...back to Lift House 5.  Fuel and go.  Fuel, because I had run Monster.  I knew.  Virgil awaited. That's all you need to know.  Except that it includes that word "up" again.  And that other word.  A lot.

Then, the Rockpile.  Oh. The Rockpile.  Party Party Party, Party!  Party!  And lentil soup.  Wow, was that good.  Changed my outlook on life.  At least until I left there and fell flat on my face three minutes down the trail. Actually, that was good too.  Gotta have one good fall on a trail run, right?  Got it over with.

Some very runnable trail from here to the turn around at Daisy Hollow.  Well, except for all those stretches with the ropes tied to trees to pull yourself up and let yourself back down later.

As for the Daisy Hollow AS, I just have three words: Chicken. Noodle. Soup.  Oh, and dry socks, but the volunteers didn't cook those, they were in my drop bag.  Thanks guys.  25.7 miles.  Halfway. (Yes, 51.4 miles, more bang for your registration buck).

Still feeling really good at this point. Funny how knowledge of the endpoint influences you.  If this was a marathon, I'd be hanging on for dear life.  Instead, I was just changing my socks and eating soup.  Nice weather today, isn't it?

Back to the Rockpile.  This time, they had just come back from a pizza run.  I love you guys.

Back down Virgil.  Back to the evil alpine loop.  Evil, evil alpine loop.  Evil race director.  But the quesadillas at Lift House 5 were great, guys--even if they did make me want to puke.  Just the kinda thing that happens at mile 36, dontcha know?  Yeah, you know.

The good news is, my running partners and I all agreed it would be easier running the alpine loop in reverse.  The bad news is, we were wrong.  Really, really, wrong.  And that word came up again.  Not the "up" word, the other one.  At the AS, they said "it's only 3.9 miles, you'll be back in an hour."  They were right. There are 90 minutes in an hour, right?  And that climb after Lift House 4 when you think you're at the top and don't remember there's another hill yet?  Evil, Ian.  Just plain evil, man. 

Now it's pushing on towards dark.  Got the long road hill to climb again, then back into the woods.  Headlamps? Check.  Fortunately, this is now back on some of the most runnable portions of the course.  The RD did arrange for some rapid glacial rebound to create a hill where I didn't remember one before, but hey, that's the RD's job, right?

Thankfully, I was running with an ultrarunning family member I never knew about until today, Tom Sperduto. Tom, who did the Brazil 135.  Tom, who has been doing back to back 40+ mile training runs in preparation for a 200 miler (among other things).  Tom, who pushed through dozens of miles with feet full of blisters.  Thanks, Tom.  Nice to have some company out there in the dark (and the day).  One of my favorite parts of trail races is meeting new people who seem, right from the start, like friends you've known for years.  VCU was no exception.

Three hours running with headlamps  That was new to me.  And it was, well...fun!  But those hundred milers going back past me, out for a second trip--uh, sorry, not today guys.  See, there's this evil alpine loop out there, and ....  More power to ya.

And then, there it was...christmas lights floating out in the distance, either a hallucination or an aid station (sometimes there's no difference, right?).  I mentioned the party at Rockpile before.  It was great.  It had nothing on the night crew at Gravel Pit.  If I hadn't been running my first 50 miler, I might have called it a night right there.  Amazing what a bunch of semi-drunken ultrarunners & friends cooking soup can do for your spirits.  Although, at this point, I was a scant 5.4 miles from the finish, and there was no denying me.  To the finish I would go.  Just with a lot more joy in my soul.  Thanks guys.

From this point on, it was just the victory lap.  Success was near.  As I came back to the Hope Lake Park area I could see the finish up ahead, but cleverly, the paved last stretch switchbacks seemingly forever through the dark.  It was good, though.  Just prolonged the feelings of success.  I almost didn't want to finish.  51 miles and I didn't want to stop.  What more could you ask for?

A super race.  Well organized.  Fantastic aid stations. Grassroots affair, just the way I like 'em.  Not too big, not too small.  A great course.  Camping at the start/finish area.  Great support by the local volunteer fire departments, including all the meals.  Virgil Crest...run it if you can.