Race Report: 2015 Hotshot Half Marathon

The Inaugural Hotshot Half Marathon was held at Bullards Bar Reservoir near Camptonville earlier this month. I was able to squeeze it in as a training run a week after American River 50 Mile. The race benefits the Wildlands Firefighters Association and is dedicated in memory of Mike Kelly, a Tahoe Hotshot and Smoke-jumper who was killed when struck by a car in November 2013.

I was excited to run this course; rolling single-track for most of its length, with somewhere north of 2000 feet of gain. Rumor had it that the course was a bit longer than 13.1, which worked well for my training plans for the weekend.

I was surprised to see Bay Area runners Christy and Erica in the parking lot before the race. There was little to no advertising West of the foothills. Turns out Erica had heard about it from someone in Cool, and she was stoked that the results would not be on Ultrasignup.com! I recognized many local runners amongst the throng of firefighters lining up at the start. 

source

I knew the first three quarters of a mile were downhill on a fire road, and that the next 12 miles would be single track or double track trail. So, I went out fast trying to secure a spot near the front of the conga line. The plan worked pretty well; I passed a few people after hitting the trail and settled in at the front of a group. After three miles, I could tell I was running too fast. My legs painfully reminded me about the fifty miles I had run the previous Saturday. I dialed it back a little bit, and the conga line began cruising by me.

By the time I reached the first aid station, I was in need of a pit stop. Fortunately, the course ran right past an outhouse, which I availed myself of for a couple of minutes. I rejoined the conga line and held onto my spot for the next few miles. My Garmin died somewhere in these miles, and the rest of the race I ran on feel. It was quite freeing to be without the data. Not something I would choose to do.

source

Around the midway point, the course climbs "7-ball trail". I had heard it gained about 800 feet in one mile, but it ended up being really runnable. Another aid station at the top offered fruit and candy, which I enjoyed before beginning the return trip along the ridge above the lake. The next few miles were wonderful downhill running on easy double track. A few runners passed me looking strong, but for the most part I felt like I was holding my own.

By the time the course rejoined the lake-level trail, I was running low on energy. The last three miles seemed to go on forever. Finally, with three quarters of a mile left, the single track gave way to the fire road and one more big climb to the finish. I ran/walked until I could hear the finish line, and ran it in the rest of the way for a 2:23:59 finish (103/226).

The finish line festival had a small town feel. Loaded baked potatoes and chili were available, along with ice cold water, Gatorade and coconut waters. I hung out for an hour or so, cheering in friends and taking an informal poll of those with GPS watches. Most reported somewhere between 1600 and 2600 feet of gain over 13-14.5 miles. 

Bay Area representing, Christy, me and Erica (photo courtesy of Erica Teicheira)

source

The race was well organized and executed. The spectators were effusive, filling each campground we ran through. I hope they continue this event, as it benefits a great organization and recognizes the important role wild land firefighters play in our community.

source

Race Report: 2015 American River 50 Mile Endurance Run

I squatted near a tree at mile 45 of the 2015 American River 50 Mile Endurance Run, trying to expedite an emergency pit stop. I turned to my right and realized there was a Poison Oak bush hunkered next to the tree. Now, I have never had any symptoms of Poison Oak exposure, and as a result do not look for it before I, well, leap, so-to-speak. I didn't think I had touched it, but my arrival next to this tree had been somewhat rushed, given the circumstances, and I couldn't be sure. I did not have too much time to reflect, as I was chasing my 50 mile PR. I finished my business and got back on course, focusing on the final five miles ahead.

After last year's successful execution at Lake Sonoma, I wanted to go back to Healdsburg. Alas, the lottery gods only had enough energy to gift me Western States and Miwok this year. I had not run the new American River 50 Mile course yet. While it lacks the vertical I need as States training, it does offer an opportunity to practice leg turnover and sustained running. It feels like a really, really long marathon.

AR50 Course Map

AR50 Elevation Profile

My training in the previous weeks had been lukewarm. Twirly's birthday party the weekend prior ate into my volume, enhancing the taper. I had hoped to have more speed work under my belt, but it was all I could do to eek out two long runs of 20 and 26 miles after the Marin Ultra Challenge 50k. I hung my hopes on the fact that I was healthy and without serious niggles standing on the start line.

Taking a lesson from my experience in Marin, my strategy was to go out at nine-hour pace (10:49/mile) and try to negative split the race. Usually this is a great strategy, but the AR50 course has the technical trail and the bulk of the elevation gain coming in the latter half of the race. My "A" goal was to break nine hours, followed by my "B" goal of breaking my personal record of 9:49. As always, my "C" goal was to finish. As in 2013, I would go without lights. The crowd is thick enough in the early miles, a pool of light was never far away.

We stayed at the Larkspur Landing Folsom. Super easy. I had a suite for a hundred bucks and they gave us warm chocolate chip cookies at check-in. I caught the shuttle in the parking lot at 4:15 am. I sat in the back, hoping to see some of the lunar eclipse that was coinciding with the race start. I forgot how bouncy the back of the school bus can be. I balanced my tea while protecting my pack and bottles from the blast heater at my feet. Twenty five minutes later we arrived at the race start.

I much prefer the new course to the old, especially at the start. Gone are the days of crowding onto a levee bike path and running a two mile out and back to start the event. The parking lot at the Browns Ravine Marina was stellar in comparison. I braved the chilly breeze to watch the eclipse, which happened to be the shortest eclipse of this century. Five minutes! The parking lot was invisible. The phone lit faces of those huddled in their cars gave some depth, but I found it difficult to navigate between the warming tent and the porta potties. It turns out the light of a Garmin 910xt works in a pinch.

The warming tent buzzed with the nervous noise of hundreds and the parking lot began to swell with people. David found me standing in the lee of the tent just as the full eclipse was happening. He planned to go out quick to get some running room and settle in after he warmed up. He would go on to have a great day. I saw many other familiar faces in the crowd but focused internally as the clock wound down.

The race starts near the lake and climbs for about a mile before turning onto single track trail. I kept my effort easy and settled into the conga line, sticking near those with head lamps lighting the way. The waning eclipse hung over the steel grey lake surface, and the birds began signaling the impending dawn. At mile 5 a clover-leaf series of loops at Folsom Point provided a good look at those in front and behind me, and offered a few little hills to get the blood pumping.

Historic Walker Bridge (source)

Rucky, my 28 hour Cougar

By mile 6 I knew I had gone out about a minute per mile too fast. I felt great. The single track gave way to surface streets and sidewalk running for a few miles. I reigned in my effort and reminded myself to stay loose and relaxed. My nutrition was going well, and no niggles were speaking up. After crossing the American River near Folsom Dam the course joined the American River Parkway. A fellow runner began chatting me up about States, a common occurrence since the addition of "Rucky" to my left calf. Amidst the banter my pace crept below 9-minutes per mile. I kept trying to figure a way out of the conversation, as this guy was running faster than my plan. On the other hand, talking about States is a worthy distraction and reminds me of my goals for the season. We encountered a group containing some people he knew, and while he chatted them up, I drifted off the back, resuming my planned pace.

The circumnavigation of Lake Natomas on rolling bike path was meditative. The path is surrounded by piles of river rock, likely the remnants of gold prospectors dredging the river for a pay day. After crossing back to the North side of the river, the Hazel Bluffs provided another blood-pumping climb, albeit a short one. The trail felt more familiar now that we had rejoined the old course, and Mr. Mojo was in residence at the summit of the Bluff.

Nearing the 20 mile mark and the first time I would see Twirly, I took stock of my condition. My right hamstring was tight, but my gait was still symmetrical. My energy was good. I rolled into the Negro Bar Aid Station about 12 minutes ahead of my planned split and found Twirly. I dropped my pack and picked up two bottles of Tailwind, swapped my hat for a visor and popped a Vitamin I for good measure. I have been trying to avoid using it for runs less than 100k, but it felt like an appropriate action to mitigate my hamstring.

A few miles later, the Ibuprofen had kicked in and I fell into a nice rhythm. The trail wound up and down along the shore of Lake Natomas. I passed a few runners here and there and kept my pace fast enough not to get passed. The weather was heating up; I began craving ice water. These middle miles clicked by comfortably, but my hamstring was speaking up by the time I saw Twirly again at mile 29.

The Granite Bay Aid Station had buckets of ice water. I drank cup after cup while Twirly got ice in my replacement Tailwind bottles, and fellow hasher "Zucchini Bareback" provided some Motrin ointment to my hamstring. She was crewing for "Pussy Whisperer", who was running his first 50 miler.

I left the aid station feeling pretty good. A mile later I was back in the groove. The new course has a 2.5 mile loop on some pretty single track. I began picking up some carnage on the approach to the Meatgrinder section. These were my best miles of the race. I tackled the technical Meatgrinder section with determination. I would catch a conga line picking their way through the relentless rollers and do my best Kilian impersonation to pass them, using rocks and berms along the edges of the trail to leap around them. It took more energy than I should have spent, but it allowed me to continue at my own pace.

Rattlesnake Bar, photo by Jenny Lindberg

I got to Rattlesnake Bar in okay shape, but now about 15 minutes behind 9 hour pace. My feet felt confined in my Hoka Conquests, so I swapped shoes and socks. Hashers Bubble Boy and Edamame had joined Twirly and ZB. In the commotion one of my bottle tops fell into a patch of poison oak. While the crew was sorting that out, I took the MAP replacement baggie Twirly had handed me and put it into the bottle I was holding. Unfortunately, that bottle was empty and would exchanged for a fresh one. I got another application of pain relieving gel, and fueled up with some orange slices and potato. One of the volunteers told me that this was the last aid station to offer food. I had heard a similar falsehood in 2013 at Dowdins Post and told the volunteer I thought he was wrong. He argued that was the information he had, and we left it at that. I find it strange that this rumor about no food in the final miles persists, even though it has no truth.

The final 15k was a push. I missed having the MAP. I ran most of the rises in the rolling trail, and continued picking up some carnage. A few miles out of Rattlesnake Bar I felt a familiar rumbling in my gut, accompanied by gas pains. I began scouting the foliage for suitable leafy greens to facilitate a pit stop, but found none. Upon reaching Dowdins Post (they had plenty of food there) I asked if anyone had handi-wipes. I was in luck, as a volunteer provided me a couple from her personal stash. About a mile later, I found myself getting close and personal with the Poison Oak bush.

Folsom Lake is still pretty low from the epic drought we are mired in, and I figured that the riffles of the American River would begin to show sooner as a result. I knew from 2013 that the final three miles to the finish climbed out of the river canyon just above the lake, and the whitewater is a good landmark. Every time the trail rounded a bend I would expect to see the riffles; time slowed. Finally, the Auburn Dam excavation came into view and I could smell the barn.

I had about 45 minutes to climb three miles and beat my PR of 9:49. I put on my best power hike for the steep ascent from river level, and ran whenever my heart rate dipped into zone 2. By the time I hit Last Gasp Aid Station I knew I had a PR in the bag. I had the station runner fill my bottle with ice water and ran through without stopping (they had food at this station too). I jockeyed with a "bro-team" for a while, both runner and pacer wearing identical kits, haircuts and beards. The runner was negotiating run/walk breaks with his pacer, which I found hilarious.

I shuffled up the final mile and into the finish line festival, ten minutes ahead of my PR (9:38). I felt pretty good as I collected my finishers jacket and swag bag. Twirly and David greeted me at the end of the chute. He finished in 8:2x! I signed up for a Monster Massage, got my grub and started re-hydrating.

The take home lesson from this race? I still go out too fast. I may not have been able to execute the negative split, given the trail and elevation in the later miles, but  my hamstring may have been in better shape. After my massage (I finally got one from the master, Ve Loyce), I felt a little stiff, but no significant niggles screamed at me. I had experienced some pain at the base of my neck, which has happened in the past. I think it is residual stress. I just need to relax my shoulders more.

Jesse Jay, Twirly and yours truly at the finish festival

As always, Julie Fingar and the rest of the NorCal Ultra team put on a stellar event. The hundreds of volunteers do a great job catering to the runners. Despite the red herrings that seem to have taken up permanent residence at the final few aid stations, the run is supported well. The new course is an improvement, in that it has more trail and less exposure in the early miles. I could do without the long, pavement pounding descent to Folsom Dam, but it is still much better than the half marathon of bike path they removed. I'll probably do it again. I have my sights set on that 9 hour mark. Besides, the jackets are cool ;)

I did end up with an itchy ass, by the way. It could have been worse! I set my sights on Miwok 100k as my next training race. The stakes are getting higher as the 2015 Western States 100 approaches. I am beginning to realize that a silver buckle will be... uncomfortable to attain.

Here are the deets from my race:

Race, Rest, Repeat Redux

Recovery from American River 50 Mile goes well. Hamstrings are still sore, and I picked up a little poison oak as a keepsake. I have never been bothered by it before. Hopefully it doesn't develop into an ongoing concern. I had enjoyed my immunity; it allowed me to not care that it is everywhere I want to train.

My adapted ketogenic diet continues to perform. My energy levels at AR50 were steady, and my body fat% continues to decrease:

Wednesday Weigh in, April 8th:

• Weight: 184.2 (-3.5 lbs)
• Body fat%: 16.09 (-0.62)
• Ketone level: 0.5 mm

I plan to continue the same routine through the next couple of weeks. I am considering using Vespa at Miwok 100k, but I want to be in optimal ketosis (1.5-3.0 mm) to take full advantage of the Optimized Fat Metabolism approach. I am finding it difficult to get 200 calories of Tailwind down every hour, and if I can lower my hourly requirement, I think I'll have my nutritional plans for States ironed out.

Short update today. I am working on the AR50 race report. Stay tuned!

Sleep, Rest and Tapering

Sleep cycle statistics

"Rest days are when you become a better runner"

An adage I adhere to, in paradigm more than practice. My volume increases as I march towards Squaw Valley. Rest becomes more and more important. To ensure adequate time in the rack, I decided to add rest as a metric in my training log. In a serendipitous Facebook posting, Bryon Powell of iRunFar mentioned he had been using an app called "Sleep Cycle". I have been using it since the night before Marin Ultra Challenge 50k, and so far it has provided some great information.

To use the app, you set the time you would like to wake up ("weekend mode" allows you to track your sleep without a waking time) and place your phone face down on the corner of the bed. They recommend you place it under the fitted sheet corner to keep it secure, but I have not had problems with it on top of the sheet.

The app monitors your sleep cycle, and as you approach your desired wake up time, it waits until you are in a waking period before it sounds a soothing tone. The result is that you wake feeling more alert and refreshed instead of groggy and tired. It measures your "sleep quality" against your history, and you can tag each night with your days activities, providing some correlation between lifestyle and rest. 

One of my favorite features is the resting heart rate monitor. In the past, my morning resting heart rate proved difficult to measure. I would either have to sleep with my HR strap on, or fumble around putting it on when I wake up. Neither is optimal, and the latter provides data corrupted by the simple act of putting on the strap. The Sleep Cycle app handles this with a novel solution. When you turn off the alarm, it turns on the led flash on the back of the phone. You place your finger over the flash and camera lens, and the phone determines your pulse as you lay motionless. It works pretty good, and provides data within the range I expect to see for my current fitness. A jump of 10 bpm over my average on any given morning would indicate potential over training, so I am watching that trend.

Then there are the other trends I am monitoring. My weight/body fat% and ketone levels:

Wednesday weigh in, March 25th, 2015:

• Weight: 187.7 (- 1.3 lbs)
• Body fat %:16.73 (-0.14)
• Ketone level: 0.4 mm

Despite avoiding carbs all day and during my weekday workouts, I am struggling to stay in ketosis. It doesn't help that I am in the midst of Twirly's birthday week. Yet, I am feeling strong and energetic, and the weight loss continues. I am on track to toe the line in Squaw at least 15 lbs lighter than 2014. That ought to be good for an hour improvement, I figure. The other three hours will have to come from training, grit and efficient crewing and planning.

Another side effect of Twirly's birthday is this week's schedule, which includes sailing our ketch Kuani this weekend. To make room for her party on Saturday (Angel Island from noon to three, if you're in the Bay Area), I put my long run on Thursday night. I hope to get a marathon in along the Bay Trail around our marina, using my truck as an aid station. Oddly, I am looking forward to seeing what kind of time I can put up for the pancake flat course. I look forward to another sunset like this one we enjoyed last night.

Home sweet home

After that, I have a nine day taper to American River 50 Mile. I hope to improve my 50 mile PR (9:49) by a good measure. Maybe sub 9-hour. Time will tell ;)

Race, Rest, Repeat

Despite blowing up at the Marin Ultra Challenge 50k last Saturday, I feel pretty good this week. The legs are not protesting my recovery runs too much. My hamstrings are a little sore four days later, but an A.R.T. session this evening should have everything ready to resume training in earnest for the American River 50 Mile in under three weeks.

I continue to adhere to a low carb diet all day and during workouts, allowing for some carbs with dinner and no-holds-barred during races. My weight loss continues, albeit at a slower pace than when I was limiting carbs all day.

Wednesday weigh in: March 18th, 2015:

• Weight: 189 (-1.3 lbs)
• Body fat%: 16.87 (+0.16)
• Ketone level: 0.7 mm

 

I will likely limit the dinner carbs as well in the next few weeks. I'd like to get back into optimal ketosis for AR50. My A goal is to go sub-9 hour. My B goal is to beat my 50 mile PR of 9:49 (set at AR50 in 2013). It sounds good on paper, but with the pain of last Saturday fresh in my mind it isn't low hanging fruit either! I doubt two weeks of speed work will pay very large dividends. None-the-less I plan to begin incorporating tempo runs and fartleks into the plan next week. Hill repeats and hill trail runs will round out the weekly routine.

Tunnel Vision

Wildcat Peak. The summit of my weekly time trial course (see Strava deets at the bottom)

Time accelerates as events grow near. This weekends Marin Ultra Challenge 50k will be the first real measuring stick of my training thus far. I am wrapping up the strength building cycle of my plan with this race; my confidence and climbing comfort are right where I had hoped they would be. Despite scaling back my volume after the American Canyon 25k, I am back on track with my plan, and I feel good at 45+ miles per week. My weight loss has stalled. Not surprising given my continued carbohydrate experimentation. 

Wednesday weigh in, March 10th:

• Weight: 190.2 lbs (+.3)
• Body fat %: 16.61 (-2.03)
• Ketone level: not measured

I am somewhat skeptical of that body fat %, but it will all come out in the wash. After this weekends 50k I will begin focusing on speed. Tempo runs and interval sessions leading into the American River 50 Mile in early April will require even more carbohydrate intake. I may monitor my ketones more often as I try to dial in the right amounts.

A funny anecdote from earlier this week: 

I was enjoying some suds at the Sierra Nevada Torpedo Room on Fourth in Berkeley after work, when a flock of Faraday electric bikes pulled up (like, ten of 'em). Before leaving, I asked the group leader (Bridget) if it was a meet-up or something. She was talking with a group of people which included a short guy that looked familiar. After Bridget explained that it was a media outing sponsored by Gu, the short guy gestured to my WS100 vest and asked if I had run it. I explained that I had last year and have gained entry again, and asked if he had run it, to which he replied that he had run it last year as well. I asked his finishing time and immediately regretted asking when his reply started with a "15". I meekly admitted my 28 hour finish, which he congratulated me on. The conversation returned to the Faraday electric bikes, and soon I was on my way.

As I rode along the Bay Trail a few miles later, it hit me. I had just asked Max King (4th place) what his WS100 finishing time was... I'd never really seen him without sunglasses! I felt like a tool. I suppose treating him like an average Joe was better than being a fan boy and snapping a selfie, but I feel like it was a missed opportunity to connect with another of ultra's elite.

Maybe I'll be able to joke about it with him at Squaw...

Here is a link to my most recent time trial in Tilden Park. I have been improving my time on this course over the past few weeks.

Pacer's Report: 2014 Western States 100 (by David Leeke)

David and me at our first ultra, the 2012 Bizz Johnson 50k

With another run at States on the horizon, I have been pondering last years run. Apparently, so has my pacer David Leeke, as he has submitted his pacer's report from 2014. Its timely perspective has reminded me how rich the experience was, and I am grateful that he has provided these words and insight as I train once again for this iconic race.

David has come into his own as a MUT runner, notching a podium finish at Ann Trason's inaugural Overlook 100k (his 100k debut) and a win at the 2014 American Canyon 15k. His 2015 schedule includes the American River 50 Mile, Ruth Anderson 50k, Miwok 100k, Ohlone 50k, Tahoe Rim Trail 100 Mile and the Waldo 100k.

Here is Davids take on those last twenty miles of the 2014 Western States 100, with minor editing on my part.

 2014 Western States 100: A Pacer's Report

Would I ever pace again? Definitely. Pace and crew? Maybe.

The idea of fun becomes surreal in the arms of sleep deprivation. Déjà vu becomes common-place. The order of events and time get jumbled. Perception turns dreamlike.

“It seems we were just here yesterday,” I say as we leave the finish line.

“We were. Remember seeing Howe finish?” Mackenzie responds sleepily.

That doesn’t seem possible. How could I have just watched Ken finish, after myself running a marathon alongside him, after beginning the day in Squaw Valley? Clearly, four hours of sleep in two and a half days was catching up to me. Sleep would put my pieces back together again.

Let’s back up. To Green Gate aid station.

“Where are the shoes?” Mackenzie asks as we finish the hike down to the AS. They’re behind the driver’s seat on the floor. Right where I put them yesterday.

“Damn it.” I say, absentmindedly patting myself down for the shoes. I contemplate explaining the missing shoes to Ken. The last time I saw him was yesterday (it feels weird to talk about a race in terms of ‘yesterday’, as opposed to hours and minutes) just after sunset.

“I had Jon Vonhof look at my feet in Michigan Bluff, spent over 20 minutes there,” he had said as we jogged into Foresthill.

“How are they?” I asked.

“Some blistering and the start of maceration. Not bad… It’s my stomach. My Tailwind theory didn’t work out. Ann said I need to eat.”

“You want to try a ginger chew?” I asked.

“Too fucking tired to chew,” he said. Then he and Torrey dropped into Cal Street, and I had not seen them since.

I knew his feet were in bad shape. Twenty miles from Green Gate to the finish in wet shoes was not an option. A DNF would be more likely. The thought flashed through my head and back up the hill I ran, tacking on a 10k as a warm up for 20 miles of pacing I was about to do. I met Ken and his first pacer Torrey just as they were leaving the aid station. Ken changed shoes and off we went.

Ken had this look that said ‘I don’t give a fuck how bad I feel, I’m going to finish this race.’ That was good. He also had the look of a guy who had been on a bender for a few days. That was expected and somewhat true. He and Torrey were soggy from the river crossing. Torrey looked pained. He was ready to be done.  Poor guy was so tired before pacing Ken he’d passed out in the poison oak behind the Foresthill porta-potties and it might as well have been a bed at the Hilton.

Over several hours of power walking and jogging, Ken’s hallucinations came and went. At one point, he remarked about a guy lounging in a hammock amongst the trees.

Near Brown’s Bar AS we were on a downhill at a fine clip. I was actually jogging. Sixty miles of stomach issues were catching up with Ken. Chewing on ice seemed to tame his gut to some degree. I poured ginger ale back and forth between cups to kill the carbonation. We were entering the 26th hour of the race, and I was feeling the concerned looks of the volunteers. At Brown’s Bar one put a hand on my shoulder and asked if I was okay as I sloshed ginger ale between cups. I was too tired to explain, but Ken was on it.

“It’s for me, removes carbonation,” he said, throwing the soda down the hatch.

I grabbed some grub and turned to see Ken jogging. No. RUNNING down the hill. I squeezed a gel, spilling half on my shirt, threw down a Mountain Dew and began to take chase. A hand reached out to shake mine at the edge of the aid station. A Hal-ucination? I took the hand, looking into a bright smiling face and smiled back. It took me halfway down the hill to place the face of Mr. Koerner. He really does have a great smile. Ken and I both felt a little bit faster. He was moving; 80 miles into the race and he was running.

There were a few moments of exercise-induced asthma that were worrisome, but being the last bit of 100 miles some problems were to be expected. I did force some slow downs when symptoms elevated.

Crossing at Highway 49 was a landmark moment at Western States, literally and psychologically. This was a surprise for me in that Ken's father (Junior) was there waiting. Seeing the breadth of Juniors smile really helped drive home the pride and love a father can have for their son in a way I was just starting to learn about. That smile represented a feeling that many of us could only hope our fathers had.  We'd be fortunate to ever have anyone smile so profoundly at us during our lives.

“Pick up your feet” became the mantra. Listening and watching for the smallest dragging of the toe… I tried to sound encouraging but demanding. At least, that’s the tone I hoped for. I’ve run with him enough to know his form, and I tried to see it through the miles he had on him. His shuffle wasn’t too bad. I’ve heard of folks falling this late in a race and DNFing, so I just wanted to get him done and finish.

Seeing my friend cross the finish line was definitely one of the great moments of my life. It is amazing that something so hard and painful, full of suffering, can be so rewarding. Clearly sleep deprivation plays a big role in our perception of fun.

Finally, after years of training, the Western States magic glides to a conclusion with 300 yards around the track, proving that helping others achieve their goals can be just as powerful, if not more so, of an experience.

American River 50 Mile

Alas, the lottery Gods have chosen my fate and blessed me with 2 of the 4 lotteries I entered this season. Gorge Waterfalls 50k and Lake Sonoma 50 mile will be enjoyed by others but remain on my bucket list.

American River 50 Mile will take the place of Lake Sonoma in April as I build towards Western States. AR50 was my first 50 mile run, and while the course has been altered I am looking forward to improving my time (9:49). 

Now that my schedule is set, I just have to survive the holidays and put my nose to the grindstone. Having a go at these distances without a coach is an exciting prospect. I am already feeling more in tune with my body as I lay the foundations for base training. I feel confident and motivated. Running is fun again, which is good, because I am not very good at it at this point in my fitness.

I have been hearing podcasts and opinions on cross training and strength conditioning occupying a larger part of training for ultras. I have to be careful not to try to incorporate too many different philosophies into my training plan this winter. I could easily sabotage myself. More strength cannot hurt though. Stay tuned for how all of this manifests...

Year in Review: 2013

2013 turned out to be a very satisfying year at Wanderplace, despite interrupted training by a mid-spring groin pull. I did not see the volume I set out to complete, but I did finish all of my races, and I ventured into new territory via a couple of fifty milers. Here are the numbers:

• Total miles run: 1499
• Average week: 28.8 miles
• Total miles raced: 300.25
• Elevation gained: 154,553'
• Avg HR: 139
• Total calories burned: 172,108 (about 49 pounds worth!)
• Longest run: 49.88miles
• Avg run: 8.56 miles

My total mileage for the year was a bit low (only 125 miles more than 2012) but within my goal of keeping it under 2000. Too much too fast has gotten me into hot water more than once, and upping the distance raced in lieu of total volume worked well for me in 2013. In fact, I doubled my total distance raced from 2012, despite participating in only 10 races, compared to 16 in 2012. Elevation gained increased 50% and my average run rose 33%. The numbers are trending in the right direction.

2012 provided me the opportunity to get to know my body and how it feels under exercise stress. My daily training impulse graph (TRaining IMPulse (TRIMP) = Avg HR zone * minutes) illustrates my progression from running Bizz Johnson 50k (Zone 2 * ~400 minutes) at a much lower TRIMP than CIM (Zone 5 * ~225 minutes), to fully realizing how hard I could push, and for how long, in the Tamalpa Headlands 50k and NFEC 50 Mile. Ironically, it was my Garmin that was holding me back. I raced Tamalpa Headlands 50k and NFEC 50 Mile without looking at anything but the time of day and using a heart rate alarm to let me know when I was nearing my lactate threshold, and my resulting effort was much higher. I was letting my watch tell me I was going too fast, when I actually had another gear (or two).

Daily TRIMP Chart

Finishing the year with a strong and comfortable day at the NFEC 50 Mile was the icing on my ultra cake for the year. All of my GI woes were mitigated by using Tailwind for calories and electrolytes. This simplified my fueling and allowed me to focus on my performance instead of reacting to my discomfort. Of course, just when you think you have everything figured out, everything changes.

2013 also brought Nevada County's first Hash House Harrier club, the Cougars. Twirly and I have really enjoyed getting out for fun runs with like minded beer drinkers. The hash runs are just the thing to break up my regimented training schedule. They remind me how fun it is to run with no expectations. Speaking of expectations, after employing Footfeathers as a coach for a little over a year, I had to let him go after NFEC 50; we just weren't aligning anymore. The feedback had become scarce, the support failed to materialize in my darker moments, and Tim held the opinion that States was "a lot to bite off" for someone in my position. Obviously, that attitude was not one I cared to have in my camp while preparing for my first hundo. Fortunately, Jorge and Laura at Mauka Running have stepped in to support the next six months of training.

Last but not least, 2013 brought me my first Western States 100 entry. This follows a rather smooth progression into longer distances, and despite feeling a deep-seated anxiety about the distance I am eager to experience such an epic and prestigious event.

Western States 100 Mile



Crossing the river at Rucky Chucky, source

Finishing up an evening walk with Twirly yesterday, I received the following email from my running club, the Sierra Trailblazers:

"Due to a change mandated by the new WS race director, we couldn't hold our drawing during the club Christmas potluck on December 14. He wants a name for our automatic entry by December 1, which isn't too far off. So we have now held our club drawing and will send the winners name to the race director.

The winner who is now in the 2014 WS100 Miler is:"

ME!

So my wait, and the anxious build up to the lottery, has been truncated. Training starts now! I am honored to represent the Trailblazers. I cut my teeth in the Gold Country Grand Prix, and now I can return the favor. This continues my serendipitous progression into ultra distances. After my first 50k, I signed up for my first 50 miler. With one 50 miler under my belt, I am registered for a 100.

While I am excited to begin this next level in my adventure, my coach was less than enthusiastic, pointing out "it's a lot to bite off". As if I wasn't aware of my rapid rate of advancement. October marked one year with Footfeathers, and while he did support and prepare me well for American River 50, the past few months have seen little in the way of support and communication. Moving forward to the challenge of 100 miles will require a supporting team with effusive energy and I need to feel like they are on my side. With that in mind, at the risk of sounding dramatic, North Face 50 will be my last race with Coach Tim Long.

Pacer's Report: 2013 American River 50 Mile Endurance Run

Me, David and Torrey in the Yuba River Canyon

I invited Torrey to submit a report on his experience pacing me the last nine miles at AR50, and he jumped at the opportunity. Torrey is a Nevada County runner who is dabbling with ultra distances and trail racing, having run Steep Ravine Trail Marathon, Lake Chabot 50K and American Canyon 50K so far this year. His report:

 

 

Ken has generously invited me to write the pacer's report for his blog. It'll go on my new blog too.

 

Here are four pertinent facts of the day regarding my duty as pacer:

 

• I hadn't ever paced before.
• I only had a rough idea of what was involved.
• I am in my first year of running ultra distances.
• My approach to distance running started off at the far other end of the spectrum from Ken's and there's still a chasm.
• Bonus facts: It was a gorgeous mild spring day- and I was sober as a schoolboy.

My thought process leading up to the putting on of shoes to run that day was as follows: I'll show up early, watch some runners working hard, drink a couple of beers and BS with Ken's lovely wife and David's family, then do an easy ten mile jog with one or the other of my buddies in the race, followed by hanging out for more post race beers and food.

 

For better or worse, the first part didn't work out quite that way. I neglected to study the map on my phone like I should have and ended up taking a 45 minute detour through suburbia. Because I was late, I didn't stop for beers. I got to the aid station in the freakin' nick of time, two minutes ahead of Ken and then off we went. There were a few other things I didn't do. I didn't think about the psychology of motivating my runner through exhaustion, injury or unexpected difficulties. I didn't read up on the course or history of AR50. I also didn't talk to my runners pre-race about their goals, strategy, expectations, etc.

 

I think most of the reason I didn't do my homework was because I was pretty darn sure both my guys would do just fine. Also I assessed that having a pacer for a 50 is a nice perk, but some fifties don't even allow it. The impression I get is when you start running into the night and the following day is when a fresh pair of legs and brain running with you becomes more vitally important.
 

According to Ken I started things off with all the right questions and concerns. I figured I'd run just a tad bit faster than the pace he was going so he'd be motivated to catch me and see how that worked. Here is where I should explain just how different our styles are with distance running. I don't have a GPS watch. I have an old Timex Ironman and half the time I don't set the chrono at the beginning and most of the time I don't remember to stop it at the end. Side story: Our first race together, where I met Ken and Twirly, was the 'Other Half' marathon in SF. I thought whoa. This guys a pro. He's talking all sorts of words I barely understand about the race we are about to run. I didn't "get" in my pre-race over-caffeinated and excited state, the little timing chip thingie you put on your shoe. I just tossed it. I thought it was swag. So when I finished they didn't record my time, and I only glanced at the clock after a couple of minutes of being done. That's how little I gave a crap about the tech. Ken was sort of aghast when he asked me what my time was and I gave him a rough estimate. I'm competitive, but my approach is total hippie barefoot guy. I ran my first few races in minimus shoes. I don't pay attention to splits or pacing, I start strong and fast and gradually taper down toward a painful finish. This is in stark contrast to Ken. If you read his reports, you know he's in the majority camp- the data junkies. If it's measurable, it gets analyzed and considered and factored in. I'm coming around. But slowly.

 

So back to the pacing. It went easy. Ken seemed to have a pretty decent amount of wind in his sails. I couldn't talk pace or data with him so I stayed clear on his calorie and water intake. It was hard to measure the water because he wasn't using bottles- I guess I could have checked the weight of his water pack but it didn't occur to me. I was just out for a jog. He seemed to get faster as we came up toward the dam. faster than I probably would have been. It was fun. Pretty too. I was abashed by the cheering onlookers. It's not me, I wanted to say.

 

I'm pretty sure I'm running it next year. It has two things I really, really like: A point to point course and a single dedicated distance. While I'm thankful for all the multi-distance trail runs offered in Northern California I get thrown off by all the different paces and distances. I don't know who to try to beat. For a guy with no GPS racing other people becomes the fixation. Events like AR50 are my favorite.
 

I look forward to pacing Ken again, but only if it's a 100k or 100m. Next time I'll have my fancy Garmin watch that talks to NASA satellites, and I'll be ready to chop up the numbers like Billy Beane. Thanks to Ken for asking me for a report. I've learned a lot. And thanks to everyone thats made AR50 happen for twenty plus years. Glad to have caught on. - Torrey

Race Report: 2013 American River 50 Mile Endurance Run

The 2013 American River 50 Mile Endurance Run was my first 50 mile race. I cannot recall a moment when I actually decided to pursue the distance, but a series of small events brought me around to signing up at the end of last summer. I was attending Footfeathers running clinics on hill running, race nutrition, etc., and in back-to-back clinics I won AR50 swag: a tech t-shirt the first time, and a hat the second. It felt like the running gods were goading me into running this race, and I am glad I heard the call, especially as 2013 would be the last year the course followed the established course.

The race has a rich history going back almost 35 years. In the beginning, the race was run downhill from Auburn to Sacramento. In those initial years the race became a litmus test for Western States: in 1980, '81, '86 & '87, those who won AR50 also won WS100. In 1982, the course reversed direction and ran from Sacramento to Auburn for over 30 years. A fast course popular for those seeking a qualifier for WS100, AR50 has attracted some of the world's elite ultrarunners, such as Ellie Greenwood, Dave Mackey, Nick Clark and Max King. Despite the participation of the sport's best athletes, only two male runners have cracked the top ten performances since 2000: Anton Krupicka and Geoff Roes. On the women's side, the last ten years have a better showing with Ellie, Nikki Kimball and three others breaking a top ten list dominated by Ann Trason.

Obviously, a top ten performance was far from my mind in the weeks leading up to the race. Coming to terms with the idea of running the second largest 50 miler in the country occupied most of my thoughts. Unexpected anxiety began creeping in about two weeks out, and I found myself wondering if I could persevere in the unknown territory beyond 50 kilometers. I leaned on my coach, emailing questions almost daily. How fast should I go out? Should I change shoes? What can I do to mitigate blisters? What time should I shoot for?

Having run the American Canyon 50K, Way Too Cool 50K and the Steep Ravine Trail Marathon in the previous two and a half months, I knew I had the fitness and endurance to finish but I had no idea how to approach the race or what strategy would produce my best effort. Tim counseled me to bank some time in the easy, early sections, and then to go for it once we hit the single track around the 50K mark. Jimmy Dean Freeman, while speaking at the pre-race pasta dinner the night before, recounted the year he went through the 50K mark with a 30 minute PR and promptly blew up on the trail. So I had a few metrics to work with when race morning came, and it came early.

AR50 Course Map

Race morning I slept fitfully, waking often in a panic that I had missed the race start. By the time my alarm went off at 4:15 AM, I was eager to get out of bed and get ready. My muesli smoothie went down fast after a shower. I taped my hip and ankle and got my kit together before waking Twirly and checking the drop bags one last time. Twirly was crewing for me, and her support would play an integral role in my race.

AR50 Vertical Profile - note the "Dam Wall"

On the elevator ride down to the lobby, a fellow runner asked for a ride to the start; Cesar, from Foster City, was running his first 50 miler as well. We quipped about our nerves on the way, and got dropped off right at Guy West Bridge with 25 minutes until race start. I quickly found David amongst the throngs, spotted Gordie Ainsleigh again (that guy is everywhere lately), and we hit the starting area with 5 minutes to spare. Jimmy Dean was on the PA with RD Julie Fingar, getting the crowd energized for the race start. With three minutes to go, the realization that more than nine hours of running was about to begin hit me like a ton of bricks.

And then we began.

Start: 0:00:00

The ten mile mark, photo by Facchino Photography

The pace was easy as the herd shuffled off into the darkness. A few runners had headlamps, but I did not find myself wanting one. Daylight was already creeping into the horizon by the time we hit the turn-around for the short out-and-back beginning the race. David and I found ourselves running next to Tony Nguyen, aka Endorphin Dude, in these early miles. I congratulated him on his ambitious race scheduling. In the three weeks leading up to the race, Tony had finished a 100 miler, eight half-marathons and five marathons! He's a Titanium Level Marathon Maniac , but he admitted he was probably going out too fast. He kept his pace up for the first 5 miles, and then began to fall back as David and I picked up our pace to sub 10:00/mile. Our goal was a 9 hour finish, which meant we needed to average 10:45/mile, and banking time in the easy miles was going pretty well.

About a mile from the first aid station, William Pond, I felt a familiar rumbling in my gut. I began looking for a bathroom, and let David know that I would catch up if I found one. The only restroom I found had a line of runners waiting, so I ran on, and the urge passed before we got to the aid station. This early in the race, I did not need any gear or fuel, so Twirly got a kiss, Coach Ken wanted one too, but got a hug, and on we ran.

William Pond: 8.16 miles; Goal split 1:21; Actual split 1:21

Shortly after William Pond, the trail crossed over the American River. Despite overcast skies, the morning had brightened and birds were plentiful, as were butterflies! David and I spotted a couple swans swimming in this stretch; I even forgot I was on a bike path. Our pace was steady, and we would cut each corner of the winding path, weaving amongst our fellow runners and chatting about training, future races and life in general. The views of the river were much more scenic than I had anticipated, and time was flying - we were two hours in already and I felt like I was just getting started!

Having a great time in the early miles, photo by Facchino Photography

Enjoying the scenery

Sunrise aid station was crowded. I looked for Twirly but couldn't see her, so I hit the food table and had my water bladder refilled. I called Twirly, but got her voice mail. I was a little perturbed that I was going to miss her, but ultras are all about managing expectations and adapting when plans go awry. I was in the midst of this internal dialogue as I ran out of the aid station and into the woods. Around the next corner I came into another crowd of spectators, and there was Twirly. I grabbed a few more VFuel gels and my second Vespa, got another kiss and David and I set off on the final 35 miles.

Sunrise: 14.61 miles, Goal split 2:22; Actual split  2:21

Sunrise aid station

I am amazed at how quickly the first three hours went by; the difference between a 90 minute run and a multiple hour run are stark during training, but the beginning of this race felt like a shakeout jog for the first 20 miles. Being able to turn around the negative attitude once I found Twirly at Sunrise really helped the first half seem easy.

Hazel Avenue bridge

The bike path continued along the river towards Lake Natomas, and we kept our pace as we made new friends along the trail. A rafter of turkeys greeted us at one point, perturbed at the commotion of the morning. Eventually, we crossed back to the north side of the river on the Hazel Avenue bridge. Views of the Natomas Dam made me realize how far we had come already. David began to falter a little, but I was feeling good and charged up the Hazel Bluffs, taking some energy from a spectator with a bullhorn at the top of the hill. He had mojo to spare and was handing it out. Once over the hill, I stopped to let David catch up while I removed some pebbles from my shoes. The Main Bar aid station had children offering Kleenex (a nice touch) and high fives from the volunteers. There was no crew access, so we did not linger and continued on after grabbing some Gu Brew, enjoying the absence of pavement. Our moving pace was around 9:30/mile.

Hazel bluff ascent

Main Bar: 19.2 miles;  Goal split 3:00; Actual split 3:06



Happy to be on dirt!

David and I kept a steady pace along Lake Natomas, and temperatures crept up as the overcast began to break. I recalled a scuba diving course I took at Negro Bar to get certified as a Rescue Diver in 2008; the water was murky and cold.

Tasty single track

The lush and winding single track trail descended to the Negro Bar aid station, and we reunited with Twirly after a quick stop at the buffet table for a water refill and some Gu Brew. I dropped off my cap, replacing it with a headband to mitigate the sweat dripping from my visor. The pavement returned for the next few miles, and the variety of trail surfaces in this section kept it fresh. I was still amazed at how quickly the miles were coming and going.



Getting loaded at Negro Bar aid station, photo by Ken Michal

"What am I looking for?", photo by Ken Michal

A wet bandana felt as good as a shower, photo by Ken Michal

Time to get out of here, photo by Ken Michal

Running and eating as we hit the trail, photo by Ken Michal

Negro Bar: 22.4 miles; Goal split 3:38; Actual split 3:47



Skirting Lake Natomas

The next 4 miles to the marathon mark were the death of that fresh feeling. We ran through 26.2 in about 4:20, which was my fastest marathon since CIM. I felt like I had plenty of gas in the tank, and no niggles yet, which was a welcome realization. Our pace was comfortable and consistent, averaging under ten minute miles.

The marathon mark

After the marathon point, we arrived at Beal's Point aid station and the end of the pavement. I was looking forward to a change of shoes and finding a bathroom to relieve the GI distress Satan Spawn in my bowels which had slowly returned over the past hour. 

Adapting to circumstances as they unfold is an important part of any successful ultramarathon. I know this, and it is the unknown factors that I would be confronting which make ultra distances such a curiosity to me. Twirly left my shoes in the car with one of my drop bags, and this was the first real curve ball I faced. At first, I got frustrated and ran off in pursuit of David, who had been pulling slowly away from me over the previous half an hour and had gone straight to the food table. But I stopped, took a deep breath, and went back to Twirly to ensure we were on the same page. I realized then that I also needed to grab more gels and Vespa. I said hi to aid station captain Peggy Davidson from the Sierra Trailblazers, and set off to find David. Fortunately for me, he stopped at the restrooms in the park, and we were able to reconnect after my own blissful pit-stop, during which I pulled my shorts down so fast I ripped the KT Tape off of my hip.

Beals Point: 26.53 miles; Goal split 4:25; Actual split 4:38

A body check as we resumed running yielded the first signs of real discomfort. I had some chafing of the armpit variety, to which I applied more Body Glide. My stomach was beginning to feel bloated, like it was not emptying. The temperatures were still rising, and I knew that I had to keep fluids, salt and calories going in, even if they weren't getting far enough to do any good. David took the point and I did my best to keep up with him, occasionally asking him if he could hear my stomach sloshing...

We ran with a guy wearing an Ironman - St. George shirt for a while, comparing the triathlon and ultramarathons. I was impressed by the variety of athletes we came across over the course of the day. David and I eventually wished him luck and found ourselves running alone for the first time in the race.

Folsom Lake panoramic

We reached Granite Bay and the 50K mark, only two minutes off my 50K PR. Jimmy Dean's words rang in my head, but aside from the sloshing stomach, I felt pretty good. My energy levels were good, I had no cramping, and Twirly had my trail shoes (Hoka One Ones) and a fresh shirt. Cate, a friend from Nevada City with a ton of ultras under her belt, came in on our heels not feeling very good. I offered to run with her for a spell but she wouldn't have it, saying she needed to "do this alone".

Granite Bay: 31.67 miles; Goal split 5:03; Actual split 5:27

I drank a few slugs of Nuun and Ultra Fuel and tried to get out of the aid station before David with the hopes that I could gap him for the next leg to Buzzard's Cove; he caught me within a mile and kept going. I told him he was killing it, and let him go. I wouldn't see him again until the finish. He really looked strong, and his results have been steadily improving as he pushes his limitations. I'm proud of the guy.

Near Granite Bay

Nearing Buzzard's Cove

Token tourist shot, a welcome break in a beautiful spot

As for my own performance, my pace fell off to 11:xx + after the marathon mark, and I would not see a sub 11 minute pace again until the final mile.

My GI woes water balloon belly continued through the Buzzards Cove aid station, so I passed on the ice cream. I began drinking a couple cups of GU Brew and continued eating potato dipped in salt at each aid station. Despite my discomfort, my energy remained stable, so I must have been getting "some" calories out of my stomach. Yet it felt like I had a bucket of jello in my gut. One of the volunteers was sporting a WS100 24 hour finisher belt buckle, and I recognized him from Auburn Running Company; he helped sell Twirly her last pair of running shoes. I thought about asking his advice on my malady, but I also wanted to keep moving. Relentless forward motion, you know.

Buzzards Cove: 34.67 miles; Goal split 5:50; Actual split 6:07

Mile 35, photo by Facchino Photography

The Meatgrinder section was a welcome distraction, as the technical single track twisted and turned along the lake shore. I passed quite a few people in this stretch, and felt like I improved my technique for tight trail running; I focused on steering with my hips. Some descents really did feel like I was skiing! I am encouraged by my continued comfort on technical single track. It brings me back to my youth when I could bound with abandon.

By Horseshoe Bar aid station, my condition, and spirits, had improved somewhat. I had made up a little time through the Meatgrinder. Ironically, this aid station was a little more subdued than those with crew access. The fact that you had to climb a short but steep road to enter contributed to the anti-climactic welcome. That is not to say to the spectators lacked energy; there were simply fewer of them. Like six.

Post-meatgrinder

I could not hear my stomach sloshing any longer, but I still felt dehydrated, and bloated. I made an effort to continue taking small sips of water and to eat a gel whenever I felt low energy. I had fallen off schedule with my caloric intake after the marathon, so I also began to eat more solid food at the aid stations.

Horseshoe Bar: 38.14 miles; Goal split 6:52; Actual split 7:04

After leaving Horseshoe Bar, my spirits lifted even more. I was ten miles into unknown territory, and I became aware that the pain and discomfort of running had leveled off. Sure, 50K  hurts, but miles 31-47 hurt the same; it never got any worse! The trail smoothed out again, and I looked forward to swapping my pack out for handheld bottles for the final stretch to Auburn.

Torrey agreed to come out and pace David and me for the last 9 miles of the race. I had hoped we would all run together, but knew that David or I would probably fall off the pace. There was no doubt that it was me at this point. David scooted through Rattlesnake ten minutes before me, and Torrey arrived just minutes later after getting a little lost, but was ready to run. My mood soured a little when I learned that Twirly had left my bottles in the car, so I was not going to be rid of my pack as planned. Just another surprise to adapt to, in the end. I tried to contain Captain Cranky, and Twirly did offer to run to the car, but I wanted to keep my momentum. I grabbed a new cap and fueled up for the home stretch.

Rattlesnake Bar: 40.04 miles; Goal split 7:20; Actual split 7:45

I spent the next few miles catching Torrey up on the race to that point, and warned him I would be walking most of the hills to try and mitigate my stomach. He asked all the good pacer questions about fueling and water, and he set a good pace when we ran. I was still eating gels, although only one per hour. We arrived laughing at Dowdin's Post aid station, because I had just made Torrey stop so I could eat a gel 100 yards around the corner. The volunteers at this aid station claimed that this would be the last food available on the course; Last Gasp aid station was just water. Torrey had the foresight to stuff a banana into my pack pocket as I loaded up on a few extra bites of salted potato and pb &j. As we left the station I felt pretty good.

Dowdins Post: 43.92 miles; Goal split 7:39; Actual split (not quite sure)

The American River at the bottom of the "Dam Wall"

Knowing that the "Dam Wall" was waiting, I picked up my pace for the last three runnable miles. 11:00 pace felt awfully fast... I dropped Torrey when he pulled over to pee, but he caught me at the foot of the hill. We power walked the steeper parts and jogged the runnable stretches. We hit Last Gasp aid station, and its token juvenile track team volunteers in stretchy pants, with about 40 minutes left to go sub ten hours. I couldn't help but notice they had food at the aid station. I grumbled a little about the misinformation as we left, but I knew I was just being cranky, and ate another gel.

Last Gasp: 47.56 miles; Goal split 8:27; Actual split 9:18

The last three miles are counted down with with big signs and motivational phrases which I cannot recall, and as we passed the "one mile to go", Coach Ken came galloping down the hill. I got a big high five, and a kick in the ass as he told me to pick it up, the end was near. I managed to tap into the adrenaline and pulled an 8:30 pace out of my ass for the last mile. As I ran the finishing chute, I clapped for the spectators, gave high fives to the crowd, and flew in arms outstretched. The culmination of almost ten hours on the trail left me feeling a rush of exuberance. I felt like I could have kept going!

Finish: 50 miles; Goal 9:00; Actual 9:49:10

Finish line struttin', photo by Facchino Photography

I was given my medal and finisher's jacket (a nice tech windbreaker from Patagonia), and I immediately signed up for a massage as my legs and body were already reeling from the lack of movement. I slammed a coconut water and a couple bottles of water. Twirly gave me my dry clothes, which I quickly changed into, and lickety split I was on the massage table, trying to relax and avoid cramping as the massage therapist kick-started the flushing process. After ten minutes, I was ready to rock, if not a little delirious. I found Cesar hobbling through the parking lot and recommended signing up for a massage up as soon as possible.

Our crew and we hit the Auburn Alehouse for well deserved pints and pub food, and then Twirly and I stopped back at the race finish to exchange my tech shirt for a larger size (more on that in my next post). As I arrived, the clock was approaching the 13 hour cut-off. Watching those last few runners complete their journey was icing on the cake. I even got to see Tony (Endorphin Dude) finish with a scant three minutes to spare. Tony is in beast mode, and is accomplishing unreal racing volume.

Well deserved recovery beverage, with bling

David finished in a stellar 9:16:27, and ran strong in the second half. He is progressing quickly as an ultrarunner, and I am looking forward to crewing and pacing him this summer at the Tahoe Rim Trail 50 Miler, and possibly at his debut 100 miler in September, the Pine to Palm 100.

Julie Fingar and NorCal Ultras have trail racing dialed. I was impressed once again by the sheer volume of volunteers (350+) and how smoothly the race progressed. The course unfolded like a good book; the flat bike path sections developed character and a good base of running, the middle sections had varying terrain and the final miles had technical single track and the bulk of the elevation. The race reminded me of rafting the Grand Canyon, where the rapids build in difficulty and scale over the course of the trip.

In the days following the race I felt great. My energy levels were sky high for the next 48 hours and I had trouble sleeping. Once that wore off, I slipped into a post-race depression caused in part by my desire to step back from running for a few weeks. With nothing on the immediate horizon to train for, I find myself with too much time and an apathetic attitude. I promised myself I would take a long enough break for my joint niggles to heal, and I have renegotiated with myself to resume training after a two week hiatus. Maybe.

Endorphin Dude, after squeaking in under the wire

In retrospect, 50 miles was much easier than I anticipated. The hurt just never got any worse after 50K. Once I figure out how the keep my stomach working for more than 4 hours, I think I'll have even more fun at this distance. I look forward to The North Face Endurance Challenge 50 Miler in December as my next "A" race, and plan to sprinkle in some interesting training races between now and then.

Thanks for reading, it's been quite a journey so far, and I feel like I'm just getting started!

Here are the Garmin details: