Bighorn 100 Recap - June 2016

A more appropriate title for this post could be The Ecstasy of a Beatdown, which I lifted from the most recent issue of the American Alpine Club's annual journal.  It's the title of a short trip report of one of the AAC's members recounting his attempted traverse of a portion of the Brooks Range in Alaska. The title and this excerpt connected with me:
"This trip was the hardest thing we have ever done. And it was also the greatest thing we have ever done. It took us some time to realize those two ideas are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are often synonymous, even if it's hard to see that when things go sour."

This post will end up on the long side, but hey, there's a lot to cover in 100 miles! This is my way of fully processing the experience, so I hope you can bear with me.

On June 17 and 18th, I competed in my first 100 mile foot race. I'd like to say it was a logical progression, having completed multiple Ironman distance triathlons, 50 milers and a 100 km race, but I'm anticipating the comments informing me that there is nothing logical about attempting to run 100 miles. The best I can offer is what I wrote a few months ago about why I'm drawn to these challenges.

The Bighorn 100 is run in the Bighorn National Forest in northern Wyoming each June. It starts and ends in the small town of Dayton, however a lot of the activities around the race like pre-race check-in and dinner, and post-race pancake breakfast and awards ceremony are held in the larger town of Sheridan, about 20 minutes away. Jennifer and I camped on the lawn of the Dayton Community Center and had access to the facilities of the center. It was the right decision, rather than getting a hotel in Sheridan. Dayton is a lovely town and the people were, without exception, extremely warm and welcoming. We love these races in small towns where it seems like the whole town is involved and welcome you with open arms. I bet these people are like this all the time to everyone.

Dayton, WY Hospitality

The 100 mile course is an out and back. 48 miles to the turnaround point, then go back the way you came, pass the start and go an additional five miles into the finish in the town park in Dayton. The 11:00 am start time is different, as most races start very early in the morning. Personally, I like it...it's warm at the start, so you're pretty much dressed for the day, no 3am wake-up and theoretically you're fresher going into the night, as it comes sooner.

My Course Cheat Sheet Mashup: Elevation Graph with Aid Stations and Estimated & Actual Times

The Lead Up

I'm sure there are some people who just show up to these events and go, but that's generally not the case with these long-distance challenges. Of course, there are months of physical training that are absolutely required, but there is also a litany of other preparations that have to occur in order to be appropriately prepared to run and support a runner in a 100 mile race.

Jennifer started over a month out by researching the right USGS Quadrangle maps to order. Easier said than done, as she had to reach out to multiple Park Rangers around the Bighorn forest, but she finally found a fellow maps guru who pointed her in the right direction. Once received, she spent hours drawing the course and charting her car route to access all of the crewable aid stations on these detailed topographical maps.

Wife Coach, Lead Planner, Energy Food Chef, Crew Chief AND Cartographer

Then, in the week leading up to the race, the big organizational and packing activities go into high gear. Food, clothing, drop bags, crew bags, estimated times between aid stations, travel routes all have to be figured out and Jennifer takes on the brunt of those responsibilities for me. It's also the week where I am making an effort to get as much rest as possible. Jenn was always on the lookout for foods that would be appealing to me, even in later stages of the race, when it can get very difficult to eat and I'm done with sweet stuff. Fritos and Pringles are a standby, along with some homemade energy bars, and new this race were Sour Patch Kids. Whatever it takes to get calories in.

Race food (not one gel)

I'll burn somewhere on the order of 18,000 calories over the course of the race, so fueling is critical. Interestingly, we're looking for foods that are the direct opposite of what we want to eat in daily life. We want foods that are calorically dense, so they come in a small, easy to carry and consume size and don't fill you up. Justin's Nut Butter packets are just about perfect and I was able to down many of them this race.

We drove the 500 miles to Dayton, WY on Wednesday to make sure we had a relaxed couple days. It also gave us time do dry runs to the Start and two of the three aid stations where Jenn would see me five times throughout the race, as well as do some sightseeing along the way. It's a beautiful area!

Visiting the site of the Dry Fork Aid Station

Purple Haze in the High Alpine

All Quiet at the Start Line the Day Before

 

Race Start to Dry Fork Aid 1: Miles 0-13.5

We drove to the race start on a dirt road alongside the Tongue River at about 10:00 for the 11:00am start. It was crowded with 318 starters, plus all of their family, friends and crew.

We Are Ready

100 milers generally require a pretty experienced field, so there wasn't too much in the way of extraneous high energy at the start line and right at 11:00, we started on this beautiful day.

Minutes Before the Start

Amazingly I Didn't Get Tripped Up

And We're Off...Up Into the Canyon

After a little over a mile on the dirt road, we get onto a single track trail that will take us up 3500' in the first 6 miles. It's a long climb, but climbing is my strength. About 5 miles in, I had my first concern of the day...a hot spot on the back of my right ankle. I don't generally have blister problems, so I let it go for a few minutes, but it didn't improve. So I stepped off the trail and sat down in the brush to tighten my shoe, hoping for a quick fix. It wasn't to be. So I stepped off the trail again, took off my pack and got out some anti-blister lube, took off my gaiter and shoe and saw that the skin had already started to blister. I applied lube, redressed and was off again, trying not to worry about this issue which I'd somehow have to manage over the next 95 miles.

At mile 8.5, there is an aid station, where I topped off my water, grabbed some watermelon and for the first time in my racing experience, but not the last time in this race, checked in with the medic. Fortunately, he had duct tape and Vaseline, which he applied to my blistered right ankle and sent me off with smiles and well wishes. This was just the beginning of my challenges, but fortunately things didn't get much worse, at least as far as I was aware, for many miles and hours.

With the first big climb done, we had a short steep descent to some generally rolling terrain that was largely runnable. I spent a good amount of this section running with a 51 year-old Army Colonel and veteran of many ultra marathon races. He took the patient approach all day and ended up finishing in an impressive 28 hours, which he had predicted. This guy's seen a lot as a medic in Iraq during heavy combat and I learned all I could from his approach to this race and it helped the miles pass by for a while. He also utilized his Army Colonel voice to yell at me when I missed a turn when I was about 100 feet ahead of him. Thank You Sir!! Soon enough, though my mind was on getting to mile 13.5 and the Dry Fork aid station, where I'd see Jennifer.

Crew Chief Tracker

This was also the beginning of Jennifer's ultra marathon of crewing, 31 hours straight. From the start, it was about a 38 mile and 1.5 hour drive to the Dry Fork aid station.

Dry Fork Aid 1 to Footbridge Aid 1: Miles 13.5-30

I reached Jennifer at Dry Fork in about 3 hours, which was about 30 minutes ahead of my optimistic estimate and feeling good, except for the concern about my blister. It was a quick, maybe 3 minute stop to take in a some food and down a Coke and get moving down the Dry Fork drainage about 1000'.

Dry Fork Aid Station

Raising the Roof Coming In to Dry Fork

About 4 miles out of Dry Fork, I ran into a bit of gastro-intestinal "instability" which slowed me down for maybe an hour, but I was then able to regain my pace on the rolling, then generally descending route to the next major aid station, Footbridge.

Crew Chief Tracker
Next, Jennifer had to drive all the way back the way she came and then go north, actually getting into Montana for a few miles, before heading down a moderately rough 4WD road with a couple of minor stream crossings, then walk about 3/4 of a mile to the Footbridge aid station with all my supplies in tow.
This segment: 80 miles, 2 hours

Footbridge to Jaws Aid Turnaround: Miles 30-48

I arrived at Footbridge to Jennifer cheering me on at about 5:50pm, 20 minutes ahead of my optimistic estimate and feeling strong, but still a little concerned about my blister.

Coming In Strong to Footbridge Aid

One of the top priorities I had coming into this race was to approach it as an eating and drinking contest and stay as well fueled and hydrated as possible. I carried a 2 liter water bladder in my race vest and I topped it off at almost every one of the 28 aid stations on the course. I also took an electrolyte capsule every hour to replace salts lost from sweat. It was a hot race, with very little cloud cover and daytime temps in the 80s and maybe hitting 90 on Saturday.

I was also eating something just about any time I thought about it. This is critical in any race more than a couple hours, and more critical the longer you go. Based on physiological testing I had done back in March at CU Boulder, I knew that I'd be burning around 600 to 800+ calories per hour of almost an even distribution of fat and carbohydrates. Also knowing that the body can only metabolize about 300 calories of carbohydrates an hour, I'd barely be keeping up on the carb front and I was relying on burning internal fat stores, as well.

My Fat and Carb Oxidation Profile at Increasing Heart Rates

I also wore my heart rate monitor for most of the race to make sure I stayed mostly in my sweet spot at or below 151 beats per minute. This is where my fat burn is maximized - represented by the purple bars in the above graph. Important, because even lean people have 10s of thousands of calories in fat stores...might as well make use of them. Bottom line is I needed to eat, and I ate.

I spent 17 minutes at Footbridge, mostly to get medical attention on my blister, eat and drink what Jennifer offered me, switch packs to one with more capacity for extra clothes as nighttime approached, don my headlamp and finally, grab my hiking poles, which I'd use for the remainder of the race.

Footbridge is also where a lot of people drop. Of the 318 starters, 86 (27%) had dropped by this point and of these, around 45 of them had come into Footbridge but did not continue.

The next segment is an 18 mile, 5000' ascent up to the Jaws (also known as Porcupine) Aid Station at about 9000' elevation is generally considered the crux of the route. My trip to Jaws went as well as I could have hoped. My newly re-patched blister wasn't too painful, I didn't hit much in the way of mud or water until just before Jaws and the thunderstorm that passed very close only spit graupel and some big raindrops on me for a few minutes around 9pm. Plus it stayed warm enough for me to stay in short sleeves and no gloves. Sunset was glorious in this wilderness and amplified by the repeated lightning in the clouds from the departing storm.

Jenn's view of the sunset storm on her way from Footbridge to Jaws

I made every effort to not get lost in my own bubble and look around at my surroundings as much as possible, even after things got bad. My headlamp went on at about 9:45pm and I rolled into the Jaws Aid tent at around 11:17pm, 10 minutes ahead of my optimistic estimate.

Maybe a little delirious, but apparently happy arriving at Jaws Aid

Looking at this picture now and how I was standing, it's apparent that I was starting to feel some discomfort in my right ankle, but it wasn't a serious concern at the time. It wouldn't be long before it got my full attention.

Coming into major aid stations in the middle of the night is a surreal experience. After spending hours in the dark, with just a headlamp to light the way and generally alone, you come into an area with lots of activity and energy and comforts, like your very own folding chair! The aid was set up in a big (probably 20' x 50') tent, like what they set up at outdoor weddings in case it rains. There are heaters and hot food and it's jam-packed with competitors in various states (some on cots and wrapped in thermal blankets), crew people and volunteers. It's a big blur coming in, but Jenn just grabbed me by the hand and led me through the crowded tent to the little spot she made for me and gave me a Coke and laid out the food choices. Pringles were good, I had half an avocado, probably some candy and I ate half my tofurkey, Swiss and mustard wrap while we spoke. I do remember rolling my left ankle around a bit, as I was starting to realize it was a bit sore and stiff. I figured I landed awkwardly on it at some point. It's inevitable.

One of the volunteers made a point of telling me that he had been observing Jennifer's preparations for me to arrive with awe. He'd never seen a more organized and comprehensive crewing display. Man, I look forward to seeing her during these races!

My wife coach ready to send me back out into the night

At about 11:38pm, after 21 minutes in the aid station, I headed out to begin the second half of the race by descending the 5000' back to Footbridge. I was feeling confident heading out. I felt I had been smart with my pace, fueling and hydration the first half and was feeling good...until I hit the descent.

Crew Chief Tracker
This segment: 93 miles, 2.5 hours

Jaws to Footbridge 2 Aid: Miles 48-66

This is where things really went sideways on me. As soon as I began descending, I felt the pain above my right ankle with every step. What I'd hoped would be a faster 18 miles down than up, ended up being much slower. There was no running on any downward-sloping terrain and in the dark I caught many rocks with my foot, inducing a painful strain on my injury. And there seemed to be way more rocks on the way down than I noticed on the way up. It was a pretty full moon night though, and I tried to soak it in as much as I could. Being out in the middle of this wilderness in the middle of the night is a special experience.

In the hours I had to think, I was wondering how I was going to continue with the ankle getting worse and worse and with very painful blisters forming on my left foot due to the change in my gate from my injury.

Footbridge Aid at night - You can see the headlamp of an arriving runner in the middle

I finally hobbled into Footbridge at about 5:45am in a much different state than I had almost 12 hours prior.

Arriving at Footboridge 2 - Pained & Concerned

At this point, I was a little more than an hour and a quarter behind my optimistic projection, but still almost an hour ahead of my conservative estimate. Jennifer suspected something was wrong, as she had been expecting me for a while and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw my face. No more raising the roof from here on out. In the 46 minutes I spent in this aid station, the medic drained and bandaged several blisters on my left foot and took a look at my ankle, while Jenn tended to my other needs, like getting me a amazing freshly made Egg McMuffin (hold the Canadian Bacon), a nut butter, a cup of hot coffee and a Red Bull. I also changed into fresh socks, calf sleeves, shoes and shirt. Jenn also worked on getting my emotions pointed back in a positive direction. At this point, I didn't understand what was going on with my ankle and I had become disappointed at the idea that perhaps I had fatigued some important muscles by not running a smart strategy.

This was the most critical juncture for me as it required some thinking about whether was smart to proceed from an injury perspective, or drop. I had plenty of time to finish within the 34 hour limit and my ankle and blister problems, although very painful, were not likely a threat to my long-term health. So I don't think I seriously considered dropping, but I know I didn't have a clear vision of how I was going to be able to get through the next 36 miles. Lesson One of any endurance activity is not to get ahead of yourself, be in the moment and literally take one step at a time. I also thought about how much time and effort I'd put into getting to this point and how shitty I'd feel in the car driving out from that aid station, having given up. At 6:30am, armed with fresh shoes, socks and calf sleeves, patched up feet, my music and a fresh resolve, I headed out.

Embarking on an Uncertain Journey

Crew Chief Tracker

This segment: 93 miles 2.5 hours 
It's worthwhile noting that there was only one other crew person in addition to Jennifer who met her runner at every aid station, including twice at the remote Footbridge Aid. My crew chief rocks!

 

Footbridge 2 to Dry Fork 2: Miles 66-84.5

The good news for me coming out of Footbridge 2 is that there is an immediate 2500' climb, which allowed me to get back into a less painful movement and make relatively good time for a few hours. The methodical pace of climbing also gave me time to collect my thoughts, tap into positive energy from my music and the people sending me their love and support. I knew there were some big downhills coming, but I'd take them on as they came. For this section, I'd just enjoy the time powering uphill.

I actually passed several competitors on these uphills, but the downhills were increasingly painful, both from my right ankle and from the blisters which were continuing to take over all parts of my left foot. About halfway through this segment, the 100 mile course joins up with the 18 and 32 mile courses, which were being run that Saturday, so those competitors started intermingling with us. It was good to have more distractions and many of them said very nice things as they passed by or ran/walked with me, understanding that we were a long way into our race experience by that time.

By this time there was no more passing people for me. I was getting repeatedly passed by other 100 milers and also leaders of the 50 mile race, which began at Jaws at 6:00am, when I was 18 miles ahead at Footbridge.

Crew Chief Tracker
This segment: 80 miles, 2.5 hours

Dry Fork 2 to The Finish: Miles 84.5-100

I arrived at Dry Fork 2 at around noon on Saturday. It was crowded with competitors from all four distances using the aid station this go-round, but of course, Jennifer had a seat waiting for me with my supplies laid out next to it. When I vacated it for a few minutes to visit the port-o-john, another competitor had taken my seat and when Jennifer told him the seat was taken his snide remark about having to make reservations was not taken to kindly by Jennifer and he found another seat. It's best not to cross her when she's looking after me!

Hobbled but Happy to be Arriving at Dry Fork 2

Not that it mattered anymore, but I was now 10 minutes later than my conservative time estimate. After 27 minutes of of eating, drinking and getting my ankle looked at by the medic, I was off on the final 15.5 mile segment of the race.

Embarking on the Final Segment

I was able to trot along the dirt road, which was flat to gently ascending for a couple of miles. My spirits were buoyed by the knowledge that I was still 4+ hours ahead of the time cutoffs, so I almost certainly was going to finish my first 100 mile race, but I still had a long way to go. I wasn't eating much at this point, other than some energy chomps, but knew I was burning less calories with my slower pace and felt confident I would not bonk. Hydration remained a top priority, however, as I was going into the hottest part of the day with no cloud cover and temps getting into the low 90s.

The final descent was brutal. It felt like being in a solar cooker in the descending valley with high ridges on both sides and getting baked by the sun from all sides. At one of the final aid stations before the trailhead and the final road section, in addition to potable water, they were offering dousings with cold Tongue River water. A welcome brief chill that I happily accepted.

At long last, I reached the road, where I'd started about 28 hours ago and Jennifer was waiting on her mountain bike.

Final Few Feet of Trail Before the Road

My intent was to run the road, as much as possible, but my ankle pain and the big blister on the bottom of my left foot was just too painful to do so. Jennifer was tirelessly (she'd been up for almost 36 hours at this point too) trying to divert my attention from the pain with small talk, but it was tough to break through.

Jenn Doing Her Best to Pull Me Along on the Last Five Miles

Slow as it was, each step brought me closer to the finish, but there was one more painful jolt. Just as I was about to enter the park and the finish in Dayton, the huge blister on the bottom of my left foot burst, feeling like my foot had been lit on fire. The new, searing pain was soon forgotten, though, as I saw the Finish!

Yes! 

Final time 30 hours 47 minutes. 106th place of 318 starters and 173 finishers (54% finisher rate).

So Happy to be Finished!

Crew Chief Tracker
This segment: 38 miles, 2.5 hours
Total Crew Chief Miles: 422 miles

Final Thoughts

I'm extremely happy to have finished a 100 mile race in my first attempt. I am proud that I was able to persevere for a long time and not get derailed by several significant problems to accomplish it. A few weeks have allowed it to settle in, and Jennifer and I have debriefed about our separate and shared experiences of the race. We've celebrated and have had emotions well up unexpectedly. It's interesting to me that feelings of wanting to do this again have come back so quickly. I find it hard to explain, but I suspect one reason is that I feel that I left something on the table in this race, due to my injuries. I feel that I prepared well and approached the race with a sound strategy and was disciplined in my execution, but unexpected things happened along the way that slowed me down. At the half way point, I was on a pace for a sub-26 hour finish and feeling very strong and the first half is generally considered the harder part of this race. But then I ran into problems.

In a 100 mile race, there are just so many opportunities for things to go awry. The challenge is how they are dealt with, how you adjust your approach and expectations, and just persevere and keep relentlessly moving forward. Even when things were at their worst, I had enough experience to know that there are ebs and flows of the suck and I could call upon tactics to improve my spirits, even just a little. I managed to smile even when the pain was really bad. I looked around and felt fortunate to be where I was with the freedom to take on this challenge of my own choosing and learn a lot about what I'm really capable of. I chatted with others, learned from them, took the encouragement of the runners in the shorter distances. One woman passed by said she was in awe of us running the 100 and felt like she was running with royalty. An overstatement to be sure, but I got it, as I've been in the exact same position. I was moved and it helped me embrace the pain more and feel energized, proud and kind of badass.

Surely this is TMI for some, but I do want to share the good, bad and in the case, the very ugly of the things I do for those who are interested. So I'll spare those who would rather not be exposed to how gnarly my feet looked by just putting links here. For those who are interested, enjoy this post-race journey of my feet and ankle:

• At the Finish: <photo>, <photo>, <photo>
• +2 days: <photo>, <photo>, <photo>
• +3 days: <photo>, <photo>
• +5 days (3 hours after acupuncture-amazing reduction in swelling): <photo>, <photo>
• Lymph Drainage Kinisiology Tape Job: <photo>

On Thursday after the race, I went to an ankle and foot orthopedist who diagnosed a severe case of tendonitis in my right ankle and he put me in a walking boot for two weeks along with physical therapy, which involved massage to move out the swelling and a prescribed electrically-stimulated topical steroids and no running whatsoever.

Sidelined and Booted

He diagnosed my right ankle injury not as a high ankle sprain, as I had suspected, but as severe tendonitis of the tendons on the front of the ankle that control ankle and toe flexion. Now, two weeks later, this is my hypothesis of what went wrong...
It all started 4.5-5 miles in, with the blister on the back of my right ankle. From that point on, I was purposely trying to minimize heel lift on that foot, thereby putting long-term additional stress on the two tendons running up the front of that ankle that control lifting the foot and the toes. That led to the tendonitis. The pain of the tendonitis caused a limp ,which put more stress on my left foot, which led to the blisters on that foot. I don't have a clear understanding of what caused the original blister, but it seems that led to all of the other issues.

I generally don't have chafing or blister issues, but in retrospect, some pre-race Body Glide, or even Vaseline on the feet may have eliminated the blister and all of the subsequent problems. No regrets...lesson learned. 

Thank you to everyone who supported me leading up to and during the race and especially to Jennifer, who took on so much to make sure I had EVERYTHING I needed in terms of supplies, guidance and love before, during and after the race. It's a huge burden to take on, but sharing these experiences as a team is maybe the best part. 

A Bighorn 100 Thank You

I'm not sure how to begin other than saying THANK YOU. Thank you all who took the time and energy to share a part, no matter how brief, or if you followed all of Jennifer's posts leading up to, during and following our experience getting me through to the finish line in the Bighorn 100. If you peeked in any time on Saturday, you know I had some struggles for many hours and miles. I needed help. I was emotional and as close to broken as I've ever been. Sitting in the aid station at mile 66 at 6am on Saturday with a medic tending to my feet and Jennifer tending to everything else, she kept telling me how many of you were following, cheering me on, and sending love and energy.

When I finally left the aid station after 45 minutes of care and THE BEST Egg McMuffin (no Canadian bacon please) I’ve EVER had, I had a 1000' climb in front of me. That's actually good news for me, as climbing is my strength on good days and on this day with my high ankle sprain making descending very painful and slow, it gave me some relatively pain free time to collect myself, put my situation in some type of perspective and focus on what I needed to keep moving forward. It was then that I felt the power from all of your support that convinced my logical mind, as well as the spiritual part of me, that there was no doubt I was going to finish this thing. Logically, I knew I was not going to give up, short of some serious medical condition. I know you’re all kind and care for me and would not want to put a burden on me, but in some way, I'd be letting you down if I just quit because of pain and frustration that my goal time was not going to happen. Spiritually, at that moment, pushing up that hill, I opened up somehow to receive your energy, maybe for the first time. Maybe that only happens when you need it most. Dunno, but I accepted it.

So, when the trail leveled out a bit, I started trotting along again and soon, I was able to open up my stride for the first time in many miles and started putting down a handful of miles at the best pace I'd been able to manage since the previous day. Soon enough the trail forced me to slow down and pain got worse, but it was a great confidence-builder and was a significant time in my race experience. And I thank you for being there with me!

I've a lot still to process about this experience and will be sharing my full experience in a subsequent post in the coming week or so.

A couple final thoughts...I love sharing my experiences, but have also found that I have mixed feelings when sharing them. They are big things, I know, but they are almost purely selfish endeavors. I always like when some good for someone else can come out of it in any form. This go-round, my sister-in-law, Amanda, took care of that by starting a small family text communication asking for estimates of my finishing time and with each guess, a pledge to donate any amount to the charity of my choice. I’m very happy to report that over $400 has been pledged to www.thejuniperfund.org as a result of this! Thanks A!

And finally, one image that I’ll always remember is at the very start of the race, I noticed one male runner with one word written in block letters on the back of each calf – “FUCK” & “CANCER”. My pain was a pittance.

Bighorn 100 Tracking

I set out in the Bighorn 100 mile trail race today at 11:00am MT. If you're interested in checking in on my progress, download the ityourrace app, or go to the following URL

http://www.itsyourrace.com/event.aspx?id=384

My number is 159.

Here's a sample of the scenery I'll be going through.

Ironman Triathlon Recap - May 2016

I had a strong start and a strong finish in the full Ironman distance triathlon I competed in this past Saturday in Loma, Colorado, just west of Grand Junction, on the Utah border. Unfortunately, I only sustained my strong start in the 2.4 mile swim for about 1.6 minutes and the 112 mile bike was largely spent battling the relentless winds on my non-aero 18 year-old trusty steed of a bike. Redemption in the form of a 5th place overall finish came through perseverance and a strong run. 

I had reasons to feel good going into this race, which I also ran in 2014. I had been running consistently through the winter and had been sticking largely to my training plan starting in February, despite a heavy load of business travel every week in the month prior, including the week of the race. I had put in my training time in the pool and was swimming strong. Jennifer and I had been able to invest time to get out on the bike and run courses over the preceding month. I had made significant changes in my race fueling strategy over the past 2 years and I feel I am just a better runner than I was 2 years ago. So, I felt relaxed and confident standing on the beach at Highline Lake with about 200 other competitors (only about 45 of us were doing the Full 2.4 mile swim / 112 mile bike / 26.2 mile run, the rest were doing the Half distance) awaiting the countdown to the start of a long day.

That's me

There were some challenges I dealt with, however. My travel schedule limited my pool time in the final week before the race. Swimming is a tough discipline due to the fact that it affects your breathing pattern and I've found that I need to swim regularly to keep my breathing trained and in control. If I don't swim for just a week it takes me 20 minutes to get it back under control in my next training session. Well, I hadn’t swum (swam?) for a week going into the race and I hadn’t practiced in my rental wetsuit, which only arrived the weekend prior. A triathlon wetsuit has added buoancy in key areas to put you in the most efficient swim position (generally higher in the water from hips to feet) to be significantly faster in the water and it's also skin tight. I suspect that the combination of this different body position, the snugness of the suit, the fact that I hadn't swum for a week and the added excitement of race day set me up for some breathing challenges. You may see where this is headed…

The Swim

Fortunately, Jennifer got some great video of me at the start, looking strong and controlled in my first few dozen strokes off the beach. I’m thankful that’s she stopped filming before minute 1.7, which is approximately when the wheels fell off and stayed off for the next ~18.3 long minutes. I was hyperventilating and could not control my breath, no matter how hard I tried. Jennifer saw me stop my freestyle stroke and shift between the slower lifesaving and breast strokes and the even slower non-stroke to keep my head above water in efforts to regain a controlled breathing cadence. She also saw several competitors get pulled out of the water onto the nearby rescue boat, ending their races way too early. At least I was not the only one dealing with some level of panic.

My mind raced with rapid-fire doubts, nipping away at my confidence, and there were some adult words thrown around as I chattered to myself, but by-and-large I did continue forward progress. When I managed a peek at my watch, it showed that my pace, although slower than it should have been, wasn’t too far off. I also had presence of mind to sight the course buoys to ensure I was on-course and swimming pretty straight and on-course. I also took advantage of the unplanned time with my head above water to look around to see if I was dead-last and if the rescue boat was coming for me, because surely I looked like I was about to drown. The good news that the rescue boat was occupied elsewhere and that I was miraculously still in the lead third of the competitors, helped me get through these crazy first 20 minutes.

Eventually, I found that I was able to maintain my freestyle stroke and establish my breathing rhythm. At the halfway point at 1.2 miles, the half distance competitors exit the water and those of us in the full distance race, step out of the water, touch a big yellow buoy and re-enter the water to begin our second lap of the course. 

Halfway - Time to touch the big yellow buoy

Last time I did this race, I completed the swim in 1hr 18min. When I glanced at my watch this time at the halfway point, 33 minutes had elapsed. Holy crap, I was ahead of schedule! This truly was a turnaround moment. The second lap was smooth sailing. I started out pretty much by myself as I reentered the water, with fewer people in the water and a group of 6 or so competitors maybe 50 yards ahead of me. I used this as incentive to not let the distance to that group grow. Soon enough I observed that distance actually shrinking and I actually got into a competitive race state of mind. In 2014, my primary goal was finishing. Today, I started out with a goal of improving my time, but now, just 35 minutes in, I was gaining on the leaders and was having fun racing. On the final 50 yards to shore, I had passed several in the group that was ahead of me and exited the water in the middle of that group. I had the 4^th fastest swim time of just under 1hr 6min. Twelve minutes in the bag, ahead of last time. I couldn’t believe it!

In the pre-race meeting the organizers had promised that there would be strippers to help us peel off our wetsuits when we exited the water. As I exited the water, all I came across was a guy in shorts and a bright yellow shirt. Mildly disappointed, I took a pass and started getting out of my wetsuit on my own as I ran to the transition area to get ready for the bike. Bygones...

Self-service wetsuit removal

The Bike

I guess I took my time a bit in T1, exiting in 6min 51sec, but I was also consciously focusing on not rushing, but rather being methodical and taking care of my essentials in the transitions. I had a Red Bull and a packet of Justin's nut butter, which does take a little time to get down. Jennifer was smart, encouraging and purposefully brief in her words to me as I drank, ate and dressed for the bike. She saw and understood what I'd gone through in the swim, but I needed to tell her about it anyway.

Transition 1 (T1)

I've learned that the bike segment is where strategy and experience really come into play. It's long, arduous and mostly boring, but unlike the swim and run, rarely a point where people drop out. What you do in terms of exertion and fueling over the course of the next 5-7 hours can, however, set you up for success or failure on the run. The strategy was to maximize fueling and hydration on the bike, and this time with all solid food. No gels this time, which I believe contributed to stomach upset last time. So off I went with the goal of consuming all the candy, Jenn's homemade energy bars, energy chomps and Fritos I had stuffed in packs on my bike and in my shirt pockets. I also took a salt capsule every hour to maintain my electrolytes to aid cell hydration.

Some of the Food I Carried

Coming out of the craziness of the swim, the early part of the bike is a time to collect thoughts and hopefully settle in to a rhythm that will bring you through the next 6+ hours. The latter parts of the bike segment are marked by a painful saddle, neck and shoulders, weariness of the monotony of hours of looking at your feet and the ground and a general longing for it to be over.

The course is a 56 mile kind of west-facing “Y” with two lonely out and backs on the top portions of the “Y”. The full distance competitors will do the entire course twice. Winds out of the SSE ad SSW were brutal, as forecasted.

NO Escape from the Winds

I was surprised how many half distance competitors I passed early on, and even though I knew it didn’t count for anything, gave me the feeling that I was riding a good pace. The out and backs help give an idea of where you are in the pack because you get to see those who are ahead of you as they come back toward you after they hit a turn around that you are heading to. You can also see how far other competitors are behind you after you make the turn. On one of the long uphills, I was surprised and ticked off to get passed. It did give me motivation and a target though, and I regained my position by re-passing him on the long downhill, when he was coasting.

I sensed I was at least in the top 10 as I completed the first lap in a disappointing 3hrs 13min. I had been pushing consistently hard and was tucked on my aero bars as much as I could, but was basically on pace to match my time from 2014. 

Trying to Hide From the Wind

Not long out of the turnaround I was passed like I was standing still heading into the wind by two riders in rapid succession. I tried to keep them in view, but they were just too fast on their aerodynamic triathlon bikes. For the rest of the ride, I was pretty much by myself. Every once in a while, I’d peek back to see if anyone was creeping up and a few times I saw the bright green helmet of the guy who passed on the first lap uphill, so I pressed harder for a while to increase separation and also to not give him any encouragement that he could catch me.

In the end, I completed the bike in a mediocre 6hrs 43min, which was 8^th fastest, but the leaders were all coming in at 5 1/2 hrs or less, so I was way off their pace. 

The Run

Disappointed, but not terribly surprised by my bike time, I had a decent T2 of 3min 38sec, downed another Red Bull and Justin's nut butter and headed out for the marathon feeling strong. The run course had been modified from 2 out and backs to 4 shorter out and backs. When this was announced at the pre-race meeting the previous afternoon, people groaned because they knew it meant that the hills early in the course would be repeated not twice, but four times, almost doubling the total ascent of the original course. Jennifer and I looked at each other happily knowing that this should play to my strength on hills. It’s what I train for. We also knew it would be especially devastating to those who would run out of gas and bonk on the run due to the cumulative exhaustion, inadequate fueling/hydration and mid-afternoon heat. A final benefit is that it would enable me to see Jennifer at the start of each 6.5 mile / 10 km lap, hopefully about once an hour if I kept on my goal pace of somewhere around 4+ hours. 

Exiting T2 to Begin the Marathon

On this run, all things indeed played out in my favor, as I’d hoped. Jennifer figured that I started the run in 10^th place. My objective was to run the whole thing, no walking, keep pressing until the end. Even a slow running pace is generally faster than walking. Plus, I wanted to win the mental game by outwardly displaying strength during this segment to other competitors in front of me whose confidence might be waning. After my first bathroom pit stop of the day, I was off, feeling strong on my feet and enjoying not being on the bike and taking in the beautiful scenery of the Grand Valley. I carried a small handheld water bottle that was key in efficiently maintaining my hydration. I would sip on it between the aid stations that were about 1.5-2 miles apart and do a quick refill at each station.

By the second lap, I knew I was gaining on people who had come in ahead of me on the bike. I had one young guy who passed me like I was standing still on the bike as a target, and with the turnarounds, I sensed I was closing the gap on him. He was my rabbit and by the third lap, I saw him walking periodically up ahead. I kept going at my steady pace, averaging ~10 minute miles moving and 10:30 overall, including my aid station stops. At the halfway point of the 3^rd lap, I passed him and another guy at the same time. I thought this had gotten me up to 6^th place, but I couldn’t be sure. 

Throughout the run, I made a conscious effort to look around, enjoy the day, be thankful for this experience and encourage and joke with the other runners. It kept my spirits high and I think kept them wondering about what the heck was up with this guy, still apparently having fun at this stage when every single one of them was profoundly suffering. I was able to do this because I ate, ate, ate and ate some more on the bike, I had put in the hard training over the months leading up to the race and I had the huge benefit of Jennifer meeting me four times at the beginning of each lap to make sure I put down just a bit more high potency food at each turnaround to keep me strong through the run. I also had the experience to know that I could push for longer than I thought I could last time I did this race.

I ended up with 4hr 35min run, was good for the second fastest run time, just 13 minutes behind the overall winner’s run. As I crossed the finish, Jennifer told me I came in 5^th overall in 12 hrs 35 minutes. Starting the run in 10^th and finishing 5^th was a happy surprise, as you can see by the look on my face.

Happy at the Finish!

Post Mortem

I've always been impressed with racers who have the discipline to smartly manage their race such that they hang tough most of the way, but excel in the later stages, when most are faltering. For the past few years that I’ve been doing endurance racing, I’ve strived to achieve this type of outcome and this was the first time I feel that I did it. I’m very proud of this and the memories of it are still sinking in. I’m also supremely proud of and thankful for the teamwork that Jennifer and I have, especially on race day, when she's out on the course clanging a cowbell every time I go past, blasting high energy music from the Jeep riding alongside me, posting updates for friends and family via text and Facebook all day long, making sure I'm executing my race plan and ensuring I have all my bits and pieces when I transition to the next race segment. This was not the first time more than one person came up to her amazed at what she does for me and asking about what she’s feeding me out of that little cooler she was carrying around. They didn't know that what they saw was just a small glimpse of the support Jennifer gives me to do these things on race-day, the months before and after. 

5th Place Team

I also want thank my "medical team" who helped me get through an issue I had with my hamstring in the 2 weeks leading up to the race. When I felt some tightness in my hamstring, I got a little panicked and sought the advice of several experts that I trust and no fewer than 3 local physical therapists. My first call was to Canada to consult with my friend Dr. Rob Casserley, who diaganosed my issue as a facial tear in the shealthing of one of the hamstring muscles. In the end, he nailed it. I cannot thank Cybil Kendrick enough for taking me on mutiple appointments outside of her normal working hours, one at her home, working around my trips to Denver airport. Her expertise in both western sports therapy and Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) is rare and I trust her implicitly. Her accupuncture and massage treatments set me back on track and I had no discomfort during the race or since. Also, Ami at Axis Sports Medicine in Silverthorne, who helped me out with thoutful diagnosis of the facial tear, physical manipulation and a colorful k-tape of the hamstring area that lasted though the race. Post-race, I got to see Matthew Copper, who specializes in rolfing, which is a therapeutic discipline focusing on fascia tissue and his expert opinion is that it is indeed a partial tear of the fascia.

Finally, thanks to everyone who cheered me on from afar via text and social media. As a small event, there are no cheering crowds, other than Jennifer with her cowbell, so this would be an all guts, no glory event without your cheering and humor.

For You Pop. RIP

Next up, the Bighorn 100 Trail Run on June 17 in northern Wyoming. So after a week of recovery, it's back out to the trails to get some hillwork in in the next couple of weeks. It'll be my first attempt at a 100 miler. Wish me luck!

Juniper Fund Update - One Year Later

April 25, marked the one-year anniversary of the first devastating earthquake in Nepal that we were so fotunate to miss by a matter of days.

For those of you who supported our fundraising through The Juniper Fund in support of three Sherpa famlies who lost their fathers/husbands at Everest Basecamp, we thought you would be interested in this update from the organization about some new initiatives they are incorporating into their support and rehabilitation services.

Once again, thank you for your support of our efforts to help the people of Nepal who were affected by the natural disaster last year and please keep The Juniper Fund in your thoughts when considering where to contribute future charitable donations. There is still a lot of work to be done.

Sincerely,
Jennifer & John

Hashing Out A Plan for 2016

Following-up on my previous post Why Run 100 Miles?, the next question naturally becomes, "So you want to run 100 miles, eh? OK, which one?"

Winters are when my mind starts working on the "what do I want do next season" question. By the time the snow begins to fly, I've had at least a few months since the fatigue of many months of balancing hard training with personal/work/travel commitments, the soreness of my last race has long since faded and I've had some time to reflect. I tend to start looking forward and contemplate the inevitable reality that I won't have my health forever, so my thinking drifts to what I want to do while I still have the capacity. December and January are also the months that many of races open for signing up, or for entering their lottery selections. Believe it or not, there are enough people that do these things these days, that there are now lotteries for those vying for entry to compete in these self-imposed torture tests! 

I have said that our Colorado experience had changed Jennifer's and my life perspective. Probably the most profound change has been--and I mean this in the most positive sense--to impart a clear sense of our mortality into our daily lives…to live consciously and with some urgency. My brother, Pete, often sends me links to extreme sport videos, like wingsuit jumps, and such, and suggests that they are things that Jenn and I will do next. Although I love watching other people do these things and understand the motivation at some level, I’m not searching for the most dangerous things to do, but rather the things that are challenging and fulfilling and that I would possibly regret not at least attempting when I no longer have the ability. Minimize regrets and seize the day is an underlying motivation.

The agenda for 2016 is what was on my mind over the holidays, while relaxing with Jennifer on the fine white sand beach on the Gulf of Mexico at my brother-in-law's. 

A Great Place to Think

Since running my fist 50 mile trail race, I'd been comfortable with the feeling that I'm not interested in attempting a 100 miler. In fact, immediately after completing the San Juan Solstice 50 miler last June, I wasn't so sure if I'd want to do any more ultras. It seriously kicked my ass. However, once recuperated and after pacing Tom Schnitizius in the Leadville 100 in August for the second time, I started contemplating and soon verbalized my consideration to Jennifer. She knows that these thought processes usually take months to firm up or fizzle out with me, but as December came, I was still considering it. On the beach, I concluded that I had to give a 100 miler a shot at least once. I can't just leave it on the table. Minimize regrets.

But which one?

Leadville was an obvious choice, as I'd familiarized myself with more than half the course with Tom over the past couple years and it's a classic and made even more famous by the book Born to Run by Chris McDougall. But it's not a qualifier for the Hardrock 100, in case I ever wanted to try that in the future. So I started looking at Hardrock and Western States 100 (another classic) qualifying races. In doing so, Jennifer and I also figured it might be neat to follow in Tom's footsteps and target the races that make up the Rocky Mountain Slam. To do “The Slam”, you must complete the Hardrock 100, The Bear and two more, choosing from Bighorn, Leadville and the Wasatch Front 100 in a single summer. Not that I'd be able to do them in a single season without retiring from my career, but rather to experience the courses over several years. An added bonus is that they all are dual qualifiers for Hardrock and Western States, so I'd have the option of trying to get into either of these classics the following year, should I be inclined. So, I had an approach. Now picking which one was next.

Hardrock was out because of the qualification needed and I would not want to try that as my first 100 due to the extreme difficulty. Plus, I'll be pacing Tom this year, so it'll be a great opportunity to dip my toe in the water of that event and check out parts of the course, especially those that we haven’t already hiked. The Wasatch 100 is a lottery, so I wouldn't find out if I got in until February, which would limit my options of getting into other races if I didn't get in. The Bear is in September, which is normally good, but requires me to train hard through the heart of the summer, which is our prime hiking season. That brought me to Bighorn in northern Wyoming. It's in mid-June, which can be difficult because of snow we have in Colorado, which limits the trails I can train on, especially high up in the mountains and makes it a bit stressful to get into proper shape for races such as these that early in the season. However, this year, I am running an Ironman distance triathlon in Grand Junction, CO in mid-May. I have to be in top shape early this season anyway, so I might as well take advantage of it and do Bighorn 4 weeks later in June.

So, Bighorn it is! A 100 mile out-and-back route in the Bighorn National Forest with about 17,500' ascent. I have 30 hours or under as a goal in my mind, but who knows?? You can't get hung up on times in these things. Finishing would be a fantastic accomplishment.

The Race Venue - June 17, 2016

So that's the plan and how it came to be. Thanks for making it with me this far. February was the mental and physical start of my training. I'd like to post periodic updates to share my experiences and progress on this journey. My goals are pretty simple:

• Be in the moment and enjoy my surroundings as much as possible
• Appreciate how fortunate I am to have the freedom and health to do this
• Minimize complaints
• Train smart to avoid injury
• Eat well
• Prioritize quality rest
• Follow my bliss

Why Run 100 Miles?

I'm not (terribly) ashamed to admit that I have wept during a training run. It was about 6 hours in, on a run I had called the Wheeler Pass Triple. I named it because the 46 mile route is three times up and over a 12,300' pass on the Ten Mile Range that separates Breckenridge from Copper, CO. When I reached my wife, Jennifer, at the turnaround point for the final lap of the torture test, the 11,000' of total ascent had broken me down and I had decided that it was no longer fun. But Jennifer had put it in my training plan for an upcoming 100km race in a few months and I'm generally better off taking her advice. In retrospect, this type of breaking down is part of the training process, because in the process of attempting to finish something really big and really hard, at some point, most of us would rather not be doing it anymore. It's part of mental conditioning, so it's all good. I guess a little whining and yes, even a few tears is fine, and getting to that point and persevering through it is part of the process of improving and figuring out how to get through the toughest parts of a race.

If you invest enough time in anything, I guess you’re bound to get philosophical about it. Why do I do these things which are time-consuming, exhausting and sometimes painful? I’ve asked myself and have been asked this question many times since 2011, when I ran my first triathlon. The Olympic length triathlon (Swim: 0.9 mile; Bike 25 miles; Run 6.2 miles) felt so far beyond my abilities when I signed up for it in January 2011, but I found I enjoyed the training process, attaining a high level of fitness and proving that elite physical gifts are not pre-requisites for trying and possibly completing these types of events. After putting in the training, by race day the challenge was actually quite approachable and I felt I should have entered the more challenging Half Ironman distance (double the Olympic), but it was a great introduction to training process and the endurance racing scene. 

So first, why did I board this crazy train (All Aboard…Ha Ha Ha Ha - rock on, Ozzy) in the first place? I am pretty sure I can trace the origin to browsing in a bookstore in Glens Falls, NY one afternoon in 2004. At that time, Jennifer and I had just started getting serious about longer hikes and mountain climbing and I picked up a book about climbing all 46 of the 4,000’ mountains in the nearby Adirondack (ADK) mountains...in Winter, no less. Since we had only climbed a few of the peaks in ideal Summer conditions, at that time, doing them all in Winter seemed like an outrageously impossible feat to achieve. But dozens of people had done it. I mentioned it to Jennifer, without fully thinking through the ramifications, and soon enough, as she does, she started planning out the individual bites needed to consume that elephant. This would continue as a repeating pattern for us. I dreamily mention some not-even-close-to-thought-through idea and Jenn would start planning the details to make it actually happen.

Well, we completed the ADK Winter 46 a few years later -- Jennifer joining an elite group of less than 100 women who had achieved this particular feat at the time -- and soon were looking for the next big challenge...what’s the next adventure that will help remind us to fight the inertia of falling into the trance of everyday life? This brought us to Colorado for a week in 2009 and then again in 2010 for seven months to climb all 58 of the 14,000’+ mountains in the state.

For additional reading, we published this account of that adventure in the ADK Peeks Magazine in 2011.   

Returning to our home in Upstate NY in November 2010 after our Colorado 14er adventure, Jennifer and I were left with profound life perspective changes to process. Just a few years earlier, we thought we had found our "forever home" in Lake George, NY. Now we are envisioning a less traditional and a more nomadic view of our future, endeavoring to see and experience as much as we can, while our good health allows.  Personally, I found myself in search of the "next adventure" that would push my physical and mental limits and provide the sense of personal fulfillment and learning that our mountain climbing challenges has provided. In January 2011, I signed up for the Lake George Olympic Triathlon, which would be run in September, and kept going from there. In 2012, we sold our house in NY and moved to Colorado, full-time. In 2013, I ran the Leadville Trail Marathon and my first ultra-marathon, the Run Rabbit Run 50 mile trail run in Steamboat Springs, CO. In 2014, I completed my first full Ironman distance triathlon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run) and my second ultra-distance trail race, the Ultra Race of Champions (UROC) 100km (62 mile) in Copper, CO. It was in the training for this race that the weeping incident occurred. I think it was not coincidental that it was also the race in which I felt strongest for the longest.

And last year, Jennifer and I hiked in the Khumbu region of Nepal and summited two 20,000' (6000m) peaks near Mt. Everest and I ran the San Juan Solstice 50 mile trail race. For 2016, I have on my calendar a repeat of the Ironman in Grand Junction, CO in May, and in an effort to bring relevance to the title of this post, I will attempt my first 100 mile race in June at the Bighorn 100 Mile Trail Race in Wyoming. More on this in a subsequent post.

In addition to my internal motivations, I am also encouraged by a wife who puts plans behind my ideas, trains me, crews me on long training runs and races, and feeds me what I consider the ultimate high-test, pescatarian diet. I am proud of the team we are in these pursuits. I am also inspired by my parents. The memory of my father who committed to put himself through to an advanced degree in his 40s, while working multiple jobs to support his family and imprinted the fact that "you need to pay your dues" to achieve what you want. My mother, who raised me and passed along her love of nature and who cheered me on through my first Ironman a couple years back. I'm also inspired by the place I've chosen to live, Colorado, in which a supremely active and conscious-living culture resides which nurtures the active lifestyle and love of being outside. I've had the honor of befriending, training with and pacing a local legend in the ultra-racing community, Tom Schnitizius. In our chats, I continue to learn more about what he's done in his 15+ years running ultras, including being one of a very small handful--57 as of 2015--of ultra-elites that have completed the Rocky Mountain Slam, not once, but twice! I've loved being able to experience the famed Leadville 100 twice with him as a pacer and this year I'm excited to pace him in the granddaddy and arguably the hardest of all 100 miles races, the Hardrock 100. It will be Tom's fifth running of Hardrock.

 Ascending Hope Pass in the Leadville 100

Tom Topping out on Hope Pass

Getting out on these beautiful and difficult courses that I've read about is a great experience, but it's spirit of the community of racers (the professional elites, as well as the rest of us), organizers, volunteers and local communities that is a huge draw that brings me back. As much as we are competitive, there is an indelible sense of community out on the trail and helping hands are almost always generously offered. We all are sharing a common and rare experience, understanding that what we are attempting is really, really hard to do and the vast majority of us are not so much competing with the person next to us, but rather with ourselves to finish in the allotted time, which is generally between 30-48 hours, depending on the course. Conscious of it or not, we all are making a huge commitment to ourselves and living out the words of Ken Chlouber, the gritty founder of the Leadville 100 Trail Race, "You're better than you think you are. You can do more than you think you can. Commit not to quit." You don't have to run ultras to incorporate these motivational words into many things in your life. At some point, we all have to decide whether to commit to a goal for the outcome that we want, or give up. Some decisions are self-imposed like succeeding in school or career, practicing to play an instrument well, learning a new language, committing to do more to help others, or overcoming a harmful addiction. Others are imposed on us such as persevering through an illness, loss of employment, relationship problems, or loss of a loved one.

Finally, I've found that I enjoy the learning process of how to approach these races. I have found that pushing the body and mind to their extreme limits is a great way to understand how they work. I suppose it's similar to a car crash test…you have to ram it into a wall at high speed to understand what it's capable of, how it operates at its limits and how to improve its performance. Over the years, I've experimented with various training, nutrition and race approaches, and continue to learn what works and what doesn't for me. Early on, I studied proper running technique and altered my stride and approach to ease stress on the body to reduce risk of long-term injury.

I'm comfortable in the water, having been a lifeguard in high school, so thought that the swim part of triathlons would be a strength for me. However, I had to learn techniques for swimming in open water vs. in a pool.

HTS Full Ironman Distance Triathlon Start

Trust me, if you haven't swam distances in open water, it's a whole different ballgame. It's very easy to panic and very hard to swim in a straight line. In my first triathlon, Jennifer was watching the start from shore and counted several swimmers having to be rescued just 100 yards from the start, likely due to panic.

Last year, I made a change to my nutrition strategy. I normally do not run into GI distress during races, but it can be the downfall of many endurance athletes during a race. Through my last triathlon, I had relied predominantly on energy gels and other energy supplements high in glucose and other simple sugars.

May 2014 Triathlon Nutrition Plan

Reading up on nutrition, I switched to primarily fueling with "real" foods during a race, starting with the UROC 100km race in September 2014. I've found success in this and will save details for a future post. And this year, I've been studying up on and training with maximum aerobic heart rate (MAHR) in mind. The objective being to train more often at a lower intensity in order to keep the body in the fat-burn zone. Even lean athletes have many thousands of calories locked up in fat stores, so it makes sense to tap into those stores for long, endurance activities. The body effectively ceases burning fat once you surpass a certain intensity threshold (different for all of us) and get into the "cardio-zone". However, it takes time and training (months) for the body to become an efficient fat-burning machine. We'll see if this has any meaningful effect on my races this year.

So yes, there are reasons beyond just pure insanity that motivate some people to attempt to run 100 miles. Mine are many and some of which I'm probably not consciously aware, but these are some: quest for adventure, the camaraderie of ultra community, testing the limits of body and mind and honestly, one of the biggest joys is The Finish. It just feels amazing to stop at the end of a suffer-fest. I suppose the Yin Yang thing has merit...pleasure and pain are indelible partners. You know the saying, "Why do you keep banging your head against the wall? Because it feels so good to stop!" It definitely applies here.  And finally, Edward Wymper, best known for his first ascent of the Matterhorn in 1865, wrote, "My scrambles amongst the Alps have repaid me, for they have given me two of the best things a man can possess--health and friends." I like that.

Please don't hesitate to drop a comment here. Even if you just think I'm nuts, go for it. I promise there will be no tears.

Stay tuned for future posts on some of the topics I've mentioned here, and training and race reports, as well as other future adventures. If you made it this far, thanks for your interest!

San Juan Solstice 50 Mile Run

A few years ago when we first moved to Colorado and before I started doing ultra marathons, Jennifer and I learned about this race and its reputation as one of the hardest 50 mile races. From that point, it remained in the back of my mind...could I actually do this? Well, I finally had the experience and it WAS hard and it WAS rewarding.

Here's how the day looked from a numbers perspective. Lots of ups and downs in the terrain and in my mojo.

THE START: Alpine Gulch to Williams Aid (Miles 0-15.7)

The first couple miles on the road were uneventful. Only concern was whether I'd made the right decision not to wear a headlamp for the 5am start. Fortunately, I was able to glom enough light from my fellow runners who did use headlamps for the 15 or 20 minutes until natural light took over and the road was in good shape and I didn't twist an ankle.

After the turn off the road, we were on single track and very soon negotiating the first of approximately 10 or so stream crossings. Many had ropes to hold onto and some were about mid-thigh deep and running very strong. My feet got numb after 5 or 6, but my biggest challenge was the slippery nature of my orthodics when my shoes get soaked. The orthodics are hard plastic and make for a slick surface for my shoe insoles to ride upon, so my lateral stability gets very shaky. This is a problem for me, as my ankles are typically my weak link to begin with. Other than that, the 4000' climb up Alpine Gulch went pretty well on mostly single-track through the woods. I passed by the first aid station without stopping and continued up to about 12,500' where it opened up on the wide ridge. The views were amazing and more than one runner stopped to take pictures.

There were plenty of snowfields to cross along this section. The snow was generally packed with steps kicked in, but the footing was a bit treacherous, where a careless step would lead to a long and fast descent. Soon enough, the descent to Williams Aid Station began and I looked forward to seeing Jennifer there at mile 15.7. I was already pretty sure that my dream goal of breaking 12 hours was not going to happen, as I arrived at 8:38am, just past my target of 8:30am. I know myself well enough that making up time on an aggressive goal like that on a long and very hard course like this is unlikely. Expectation resetting is a constant in these events for me and I try not get too hung up on them.

Mile 15.7-Entering Williams Aid Station

At Williams Aid, Jennifer immediately sat me down and tended to refilling my water bladder & food, removing layers, getting me into dry socks and insoles, while I downed a can of pineapple, a 5-Hour Energy, Fritos, and grabbed a Pop Tart as I left, feeling pretty decent. It would be almost 7 hours before I'd see her again at mile 40, and 20 of those 25 or so miles would be a struggle.

Leaving Williams Aid with Pop Tart In-Progress

BREAKING DOWN: Carson and The Divide to Slumgullion (miles 15.7-40)

The next section, ran steeply up a Jeep road and I was mostly by myself, occasionally passing people on the long power hike ascent from 9,200' to 13,000'. The wide road was generally rutted and footing wasn't the best with a good deal of loose rocks. At about 10:30, I stopped for a few minutes in the Carson Aid Station (~mile 22) to get my bladder refilled (the volunteers were outstanding, taking care of the entire refill for me, while I ate and drank) and ate half an avocado, some salted boiled potatoes, Coke, a few handfuls of potato chips and a whole cup of ramen noodle soup. After the aid, I continued up probably another 1000' to the Continental Divide, which the course follows for over 10+ rolling miles. As the day was getting warm, the snowfields got softer and there was a significant amount of post-holing up to the knees and even hips that just sucked the energy and pace out of me. I also twisted my already tender left ankle in the depths of one of these cold and wet abysses. Plus, the melt-off created huge wet and muddy sections, which once again soaked my feet and led to instability and tiring of my cranky ankles.

At mile 31, I dragged myself into the Divide Aid, had my bladder refilled, sat down and ate more ramen soup, had some Coke, listened to the thunder claps, as afternoon storms threatened, but thankfully did not fully get their acts together to my great relief, at 12-13,000' and totally exposed along the Divide. At this point, I pretty much accepted that coming in under 13 hours was becoming unlikely and, I was trying to figure out how I was going to finish this course with everything from my chest down (abs, hips, quads, glutes, ankles, feet) hurting. It was still 9 miles to the Slumgullion Aid, where Jennifer would be waiting to crew me. I looked forward to that in a big way, but was wary of getting ahead of myself. It was 5 miles more of high and rolling Continental Divide trail before a 4 mile decent. It was a struggle just to run on the flats and descents, but I did a decent job of keeping the promise to myself that I would do so. Sometimes it feels like running at a very slow pace is slower than a brisk walking pace, but that's generally not the case. Running whenever possible makes much better time over the long run.

I'm somewhere up there

What I did well during this tough stretch was not to get too far ahead of my self, mentally. I didn't lose many places, I managed not to fall down, didn't roll my ankles too badly and kept moving. The decent to Slumgullion finally did end at 3:26pm, 10:26 into the race with 10 miles and 2000' ascent to go. Jennifer sat me down, asked only the necessary questions, got to work on getting my feet dry, shirt & hat changed, and gave me pineapple, Fritos, Pringles, curry cashews, Salt Caps, a 5-Hour Energy and a grape ice pop from the aid station (brilliant!). I sat for maybe 20 minutes and allowed Jennifer to talk me off the ledge of getting too down about how I was feeling. It's a little hard to admit that during that section from 25-40 miles along the Divide, the thought of quitting came into my mind. I never actually considered doing it, but it's the first time it's ever even crossed my mind during a race. Jennifer told me I came into aid in 88th out of 250 place.

Jennifer told me how trashed many people were coming into this aid station, so I knew I wasn't the only one suffering. Many others were probably worse off and there were also 50+ drops along the way. This helped put things in perspective as I got prepared to continue on.

Mile 40-Just trying not to fall coming into Slumgullion Aid

THE PUSH: Vickers' Ranch to The Finish (Miles 40-50)

When it was time to leave, I had to cross a road and a volunteer locked eyes with me just before I re-entered the woods and asked if I was OK. I said "Nope" and continued to try to get my legs moving again. I remember looking up and waving to Jennifer as I descended into the wooded trail and feeling extra determined not to fade in the final section.  Amazingly, I quickly started to feel better and a bit more nimble very soon out of the aid station. I knew I had one more 2000' climb ahead of me and then it was all downhill (which isn't necessarily so easy and isn't my strong suit) after that. Over the next 90 minutes or so on the climb, I passed several people, who I perceived were stronger than I was. At least I still had my climbing mojo! Then when the trail leveled out, I still felt able to move pretty well and I passed several more people before beginning the decent. At this point, I just hoped I had the quads to get me down the long descent.

Fortunately, the trail in this section was generally pretty good, especially on the final 5 miles or so of steep downhill. Going downhill on tired legs isn't my forte, but on this day, I was able to let gravity do its thing and made pretty decent time and passed another 5-6 people. Glancing at my watch in the last 30 minutes, it became clear that a sub-13 hour finish was not going to happen, but it was more important to me that I was finishing strong, which was my #1 goal coming into the race.

Coming off the mountain and into town, I saw no one behind me, so was pretty certain I wasn't going to lose any spots I'd gained and in the final mile or so through the town of Lake City I passed a couple more people. When I had my bearings and knew I was two blocks out, I did the best I could to sprint, but I'm sure it didn't look that way. Knowing my condition at Slumgullion, Jennifer was expecting me to be later and I caught her by surprise, but she did manage to get a picture of me just as I had completed my leap at the blessed Finish Line at 13 hrs 7 minutes, good enough for 93rd of 250 starters. Full results here.

Hallelujah!

POST RACE

It's hard to explain the feeling to finish an event like this. Relief and release are probably the best words. I tend not to put a ton of retrospective thought into rethinking every moment of it, but rather let what's natural flow though my mind. As you can see, it was a beautiful day in a spectacular location, so Jennifer and I grabbed a spot of grass, chatted with some people, finished my post-race Muscle Milk protein drink, had some Pringles, pizza, soup, re-hydrated and watched and cheered other runners as they came in over the next couple hours and just enjoyed the sense of completion and accomplishment.

Gotta Do the Pose

This is a great race. It seems like the entire town of Lake City was involved, it was impeccably well-organized, the volunteers at the aid stations and along the course were always upbeat and tremendously attentive. one could get by without crew support here very nicely, as volunteers refilled hydration bladders and even helped runners with untying and tying shoes. It sounds trivial, but it's far from it when you are in the condition you are during these races. So, thanks to everyone who makes this race happen for doing such a wonderful job.

On Sunday after the race, a great breakfast was put on in the park, awards and raffle gifts were given out and each and every runner (amazing) was announced and applauded. Just a great vibe all around!

Over the winter, I started thinking about how to approach bringing some good to others via these events that I do. Our trip to Nepal in April and the subsequent disaster there brought that objective into clear focus and Jennifer and I have been so very touched by the generosity of everyone who donated to The Juniper Fund at our request! We had set a goal of raising $3000 and to date you all have donated over $3200 and counting! The majority of these funds are going to three Sherpa families who lost their fathers and husbands at Everest Base Camp on April 25 and the remainder will go to support the families of other Sherpa's who have lost their lives helping people climb Mt Everest.

Thank You!

Thank You!

A huge THANKS to all of you who donated to support The Juniper Fund! Together we all raised $3,205 which will support the wives & children of three Sherpa men killed in the earthquake at Everest Basecamp.

I ran the San Juan Solstice race yesterday. As expected, it was a challenge. I ran 50 miles & 13,000 feet ascent in 13:07 finishing 93 out of 250.

Namaste.

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Almost there!

Thanks to generous friends and family we’re at 80% of my fundraising goal for The Juniper Fund. Thanks to everyone who has donated, it is much appreciated, and every bit will help the families.

Tenzing was killed in the earthquake at Everest Base Camp. This is his wife and 2 boys. One of the three families your donation will help support, both for day-to-day living expenses and for the cost of schooling for his children.

 

For details on how you can help, go HERE.

Namaste,

John