Going to California

I'll be heading to San Francisco as Race Director for Pacific Coast Trail Runs www.pctrailruns.com

Brownie (JT) wins the McDavid calf sleeves (and some other McDavid goodies) for his accurate guess on where I'm moving.

To say I'm excited to be joining Sarah Spelt (Owner/President) of PCTR is a huge understatement.  I've been involved in race directing in one form or another for the last 8 years and love every aspect of it from handing out awards to cleaning up trails afterwards.  PCTR is THE major player in event management in California and I'm eager to be a part of the commitment to excellence and growth of the business while learning a lot from Sarah who's been driving PCTR since 2000.

I'll be in CA for good starting on November 7th and look forward to this exciting new journey.  I'm not made to sit and work under florescent lighting and am thankful my desk, for the most part, will now be on the trails again.

Gathering No Moss

On the move again.  Get out the map and the darts.  Just kidding.  Well, about the darts and map anyway.  I'll be relocating soon and doing what I love doing for work (no, drinking beer and writing obnoxious commentary isn't a paying occupation…yet).  Heck, and I was just getting used to sister wives, red cliffs, and having the streets to myself on Sundays here in Utah.

Pony Express 100 Race Report: 8 Miles is a Long Way

When it's 1:45am
When it's 35 degrees
When you're alone
When you can't walk
And especially when you don't care

About 45 miles into race.  Photo Jill

92 miles in 18:45 and I was done.  I've never imagined how anyone could stop so close to the finish.  Now I know the main reason for me is when I don't care.  Had this been Hardrock, I would've crawled to the finish (hell, I did do that in July).  But this was the Pony Express 100 and I just decided to run it six days before the start.  My season has been like an all you can eat buffet with abundant and varied food.  Pony Express was like that last grape on your plate that you pop in your mouth before waddling out the exit.  It didn't matter to me enough and I finally found that edge where I could stop and not regret it.  At all.

I was fiddling around still getting ready when the race started, so I got underway a few minutes after everyone else.  I still took it easy and relaxed running down the dark dirt road alone, finally passing slower runners after about 3-4 miles.  I felt good through the first 30 miles but then my IT band started acting up.  I didn't stress too much about this because I knew it would pass (or just get numb) after a while.  It was bad enough to alter my gait and even cause me to walk for a few minutes during miles 30-40.  It was getting hot, so I told my crew (Jen and Jill) to stop for me every 5 miles (instead of 6-7).  I only had a 20oz bottle and was going through about 40oz per hour during the hotter hours.

My crew: Jen (red) and Jill (blue).  Photo obvious (I'd buy it but I don't buy race photos - it's not 1995 anymore)

Earlier and still chilly

Later, hot and this is a nice little climb up Dugway Pass (those are my excuses for walking anyway)

On the remote Pony Express Trail

We reached the 50 mile finish (50 milers did a point to point run).  This is the only "aid station" in the entire 100 miles.  I hit 50 miles in about 8:55-9:00.  I reached the turn around at mile 58 and felt ok (the 100 mile course is strange in that it runs out 58 miles and comes back to finish 16 miles short of the start line).  It was cooling down a bit and I'd found a nice stride at about 12 min miles.  I held that pace until about 70 miles where my knee, that had been hurting off and on, began aching in ernest and I'd have to stop and rub it to provide short-lived comfort.  I'm not sure what it was and have felt it before in 100s but not like this.  It's sort of on the inside (where the knees touch together) and towards the back.

15 miles in.  Photo Jill

It was so painful by 79 miles that it made me nauseous and I had long stopped eating and drinking.  I was at 79 miles (a check point at the top of a pass) at 10:15pm (15:15 into the race) and it was getting chilly, so I put on all my night clothes, which consisted of a long sleeve shirt, wind jacket and gloves.  I was now reduced to just better than 15 min miles and told my crew to go 6 miles and wait for me (mile 85).  I reached them in 90 mins.  I didn't need anything since I hadn't consumed any water or food in my bottle, so I told them to go out another 7 miles (mile 92).  This was a big mistake.  My knee locked up from the pain just 10 minutes after they drove off.  I could only walk and only with my left foot turned in (pigeon toed) to change where the inflamed tendon (or whatever it was) rubbed my knee.  That tactic lost its relieving effect and left me in sort of a quasimodo shuffle-hop.  I decided to stop at mile 87 but had to keep moving to get to my crew.  I was freezing.  It would've been fine had I been able to move faster but I wasn't generating enough heat and hadn't eaten in 5 hours, so the 35 degrees soaked right down to my bones.  Finally, a car came up from behind and I flagged him down to give me a ride to my crew, which was about .5-.7 miles but I was thankful nonetheless.

For those thinking of doing the Pony Express 100, I'll be honest about my take on it.  Davy Crockett does a superb job.  He sets accurate expectations of what to expect.  With the mandate of a car-mobile-roving crew for each runner, it can be made into a beginner friendly race (have your crew stop every two miles) or a veteran race (have them stop less frequently).  The course doesn't suit me.  It's an out and back on a dirt road with cars, most race affiliated and some obnoxious hunters, so there is A LOT of dust to breath in and deal with for most of the run, not to mention the constant zig-zagging back and forth to each side of the road.  The course isn't flat but there also aren't any real hills.  The scenery is beautiful and it's so remote that there's not much light pollution, so star gazing is perfect (if you can enjoy such endeavors after running 80 miles).  The race answered questions for me:  1. I don't like flat(ter) courses.  2. I can't hop into a 100 miler without some deep urge or desire to do it and finish.  3. I'll never underestimate warmer clothing.  I've been "burned" by this mistake three times this year and will opt to carry a bit more with me for night/cold running even if I end up not wearing it.  4.  I'll probably not use a crew again in any race.  It can save time but I end up worrying about them not enjoying it, getting angry with me, spending too much time chatting with them at stops, having to be polite when I feel like absolute shit, and generally uses up a lot of mental energy for me.  I seem to move much faster and am more relaxed when doing these things solo and unsupported.  I feel badly that Jen and Jill came all the way out there only to have their runner stop just 8 miles short of the finish.  Could I have gone on to finish?  Probably, but it would've taken me about 4 hours and I would've had to borrow clothing from the girls because I couldn't have gone on that slowly without it.  Fundamentally, I didn't care whether I finished or not.  I've done enough this year, seen so much diverse beauty, been through so much suffering and elation, met so many unique and amazing people that this last grape at the buffet didn't matter enough to me to choke it down.

A giant and enduring THANK YOU to Jennifer and Jill.  It was a great comfort seeing the van and then their smiling faces (and for the delicious case of good beer they smuggled into this 1930s-minded state for me).  Thanks to McDavid for all they've done for me this year.  They are the sole reason I was able to complete so many races in such diverse venues both in terms of their compression clothing and logistical support.  They are an amazing company both in terms of high quality product and devoted people.  I'm humbled and honored to have them consider me a McDavid Athlete.

Here's Jennifer's blog post about her trip to UT and crewing for me.
Here's my comment to her, which explains a little more my feelings about the race.

"Sorry for the delayed comment.  First, thanks again for coming out there so far to be there for me.  I was a bit relieved when I saw you guys had made it into a nice trip, visiting your sister, exploring, etc. and not just driving 10 hours to watch me run down a dust encased road for 19 hours.

Regarding the end and what you could've done to change the outcome, nothing is the answer.  I can push though anything in these races and have done it several times (San Diego, Grand Mesa, Hardrock come to mind).  This was a unique situation where I was on the verge of doing serious damage by continuing.  I obviously could've dragged myself to the finish but it didn't really matter to me.  As tough as this run was (dust, exposure, flatness) it wasn't an "accomplishment".  The flatness of the course lead me to disinterest and apathy.  There were not mountains, no technical trail, nothing really difficult, just plodding along.  After the substantial events I had run throughout the year, very satisfying and humbling, this race offered little to me mentally.

I'm actually glad I stopped and wish I would've done so on the pass at mile 80 instead.  It's taken me a week now to recover enough to get out for 30 min jogs.  I usually bounce back after the 100s I've done in three days and by the next weekend am ready for a 3 hour run.  Continuing on for that last 8 miles and 2-3 hours would've probably injured me pretty badly.  So, you guys did everything correctly.  I'm not used to crews, so I wasn't really communicative beforehand.  It's not some giant production (crewing these things or even running them).  It's just a run and you just replace calories and water.  Not much more is needed and people waste a lot of energy with all the excess outside of their own run.
Thanks so much again.  It was great meeting you and Jill.
Tim"

Pony Express 100: Why?

I don't know.

The Trail.  Photo from event website.

Shortly after (like while I was driving away from the campground) the Slickrock fun run a week or so ago, I began thinking about finding another 100 miler to do and the Pony Express 100 made sense.  It's not too far of a drive and seems to be a laid back event.  With just 3,000 ft of reported climb, it's also flat, so I can actually see what it's like to not have 10-14,000 ft mountains standing between me and the finish line.

The course is, well, on the Pony Express Trail starting in Faust, UT.  It's so remote that one of the unique aspects of the race is the requirement of a crew.  No crew, no entry.  That's what Davy Crockett (race director) wrote back to me when I asked him about entering.  Having no friends, I certainly had no crew.  Literally, less than five minutes later, I get another email in which I was cc'd in from Davy.  A female registrant decided, due to injury, to drop and roll her entry to next year.  She also said she may want to drive over (from Denver!) and help or crew for someone.  BINGO.  We exchanged a few emails on details and now I have two lovely ladies, Jennifer and Jill, as my gel, water, and encouraging word angels.

The only unfortunate thing is that I'm feeling about 75% physically ready for this.  I feel a bit heavy and my left hamstring is saying, "Hey, I'm here and I'll pop like an E string on a guitar if you try anything crazy."  General life stress over the last two months has taken its toll as well.  I'm lucky to get more than two hours sleep lately.  Wake up, look over at the clock, 2:00AM, lie there awake, thinking, until 7:00AM, get up feeling hollow.  I'm basically a shell of myself lately physically and mentally.  Frankly, these long races are my oasis from reality.

Yeah, remote oasis.  Photo from event website.

The good thing is that I'm going in with the attitude of taking it easy, no competitive pressure, finish.  Even if I were at 100%, it wouldn't make much difference.  Jay Aldous is fast and hasn't raced since July (where he ran 16hrs, just missing the win at the Burning River 100 miler - the USATF national championship).  He also ran a 15:57 earlier in the year on a course similar to Pony Express, so he'll be miles ahead of me regardless of my running state.

The race starts this Friday at 7AM MST.  If interested, there is "Live" tracking HERE

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I've been working with Tim Smith for about a month now on a brand new custom website for Inside Trail!  Tim S. rocks and the site is mucho sweet.  It should go live tomorrow morning, so swing by and check it out.

Slickrock 50k (65k) Race Report

Short race = short report (wrong).

I never did find anyone to let my dog out of the car while I ran the 100 miler, so I was sort of on the fence about running it when I arrived at Jug Rock (just NW of Moab UT).  There was a large turnout for the Slickrock event and the campground (basically a huge dirt/sand field) was full of runners and their friends and family.  It was chilly, in the 40s with overcast skies.  I checked in and then we had the pre-race meeting where the Race Director, Aaron, advised that the 100 and 50 mile courses were being changed due to washout and quicksand from the recent heavy rains.  I felt bad for him for having to deal with it and know, first hand, how hard it is putting a race on, especially when dealing with circumstances outside your control with a couple hundred people counting on you to do things correctly.

Two things I don't like:
1. 100 mile substantial last minute course changes
2.  Repeated loops of any course (which is what the 100 course was changed to).

There was a hesitation in the description of the course with aid stations changing or disappearing all together (e.g. my only drop bag with lights and night clothes was due to be at an aid station that no longer exists at mile 62).  I was uneasy about the changes but decided I'd give it a go anyway.  I, personally, need to be absorbed in focus to run these 100s.  Unless it's bantering with Brownie telling me to move my ass, I don't even like to talk during 100s.  I was worried about everything except the race, so I didn't feel good about running it but figured I should.  I set up the back of the car and settled in with Pippit and read for a bit before sacking out.

At 4:30am it started raining.  I listened to it for an hour, then two hours, all the while thinking that doing the 100 would be foolish.  My mind wasn't into it, I wouldn't be able to leave the windows of the car open for Pippit, and just didn't have the focus I'd need to be sure I'd push through those miserable times that emerge during every 100.  I decided to switch races to the 50k.  Based on the course description, I felt certain a 4 hour finish would be possible and actually felt a rush of relief and eagerness at the prospect of running a short race for a change.  I also figured that, being the undercard event, I'd surely win the thing (if you want to do well in races, run the shorter distances of bigger events).  Of course, I had no way of knowing Bryan and Corey would be running it too.  Both of whom are speedy guys.

We lined up in the slippery mud with rain still lightly falling and were off.  The 50k and 100 milers started together; the 50 milers were now starting somewhere out on the course.  From the start, Ben Hian and Bryan Goding were running a ridiculous pace down the 4 mile dirt road.  I started giving chase, then eased back into a more reasonable 7 min pace and was now alone just 50-75 meters behind the two in front and quite a ways in front of the rest of the group.  In the dim light and misting rain I wasn't certain who was in front and actually assumed it was Hian and Glen Redpath.

We turned out onto the highway where Corey Hansen caught up to me and we ran together to the trailhead.  I slowed to eat on a short, steep climb and Corey pulled away.  I like running alone, so didn't mind.  At this point I assumed Corey was now leading the 50k and I was a close 2nd.  I kept him in view until we got into some tight boulder/slickrock trails.  Eventually, I reached the aid station where I assumed the turn around should be (50k was an out and back design).  I had run over 16 miles in 2:15 but was confused that Corey hadn't come back by me yet on his return trip.

Me:  "Isn't this the turn around?"
Aid station lady:  "No."
Me:  "How much further?"
Her:  "4-5 miles."
Me:  "I've already run at least 16 miles.  Are you sure?"
Her:  "Yeah, 4-5 miles to the turn around."
Me:  "You realize that will make the 50k a 40-41 mile race?"
Her:   [Shrugs her shoulders]

I had a bad feeling and was about to just turn around and take a DQ if I was wrong, but I kept going.  After about 25 mins Bryan Goding and Corey Hansen were trotting towards me.  There was no turn around, or, I should say, it was at the last aid station where the aid lady insisted it wasn't.

I had tagged on over 5 miles in addition to the long 35.4 mi course.  We got back to the real turn around where RD, Aaron was standing.  Of course, the problem of mis-direction was corrected after I had gone through.  Only one guy had just reached the turn around, so we had a 45 minute lead over everyone at the half way point.  Bryan said, "Let's start racing at the top of this climb."  I wasn't in the mood to race and was in a lot of pain, too much for just 22 miles.  The confusion, constant drizzle, cold temps, and general lack of organization (and weak aid stations) was having an effect on my mental state.  I came here prepared to run a 100 miler and was now jogging around in some sort of long fun run that I drove 800 miles to do.  I didn't budge when Bryan and Corey started to pick up the pace.

Corey must have had similar feelings because I kept noticing that he wasn't putting distance on me and I was just trotting along.  At the only other and last aid station with 11 miles to the finish, I caught up to Corey and eased away from him (he clearly wasn't feeling like racing, or even being out there anymore). I started feeling better just by running faster, so I focused on trying to catch the one guy who ran the correct course.  I knew Bryan would be impossible to catch at this point (he's faster than I am at shorter races and was having a good day on top of it).  I didn't see the other guy until I got onto the dirt road with 3 miles to the finish.  I was probably 7 mins behind him but figured I'd run as fast as possible in case he was moving slowly, as happens to many people at these races.  I could only manage to close the gap by about 3 minutes and no more.  I finally backed off when he reached the turn to the finish and I just jogged it in.

Fueling/hydration:
400 cals of clif bloks
300 cals of Hammer gels
100 cals mini clif bar
40 ounces water
No additional salt intake
Had even energy for the most part and probably should've taken in another 20 ounces of water, since I'm guessing the body pain/aches was compounded by a bit of dehydration.

Bryan had DQ'd himself for going off-course on the way to the finish, so I ended up 2nd in something like 5:40 for 65k, good enough to win a pair of Salomon shoes and a signed copy of Marshal Ulrich's Running On Empty, which I've read, so I gave it to the 3rd place finisher, Roger from Australia.  I met and chatted with the event photographer, Michael Lebowitz (Long Run Pictures), changed clothes and drove 400 miles home.

It was nice to run fast for a change.  Having not run a 50k since February, I'm not in shape for them.  My body is clearly telling me it needs to recover a bit.  Nothing really stood out like an outright injury but I had sharp aches down to the bone in both legs, my left IT band was humming and locked up a couple times (from the fast bounding over the undulating slickrock) and acute pain that would come and go in different parts of my calves, like someone was jamming a screwdriver into them.  So, the plan now is to run no further than 7 miles for the next four weeks (per run, not over the entire four weeks ;-), get consistent, and then start training hard when I get into Hardrock in the December 1st lottery (faith).

I love racing but am racing at about 75% right now and am just feeling stale.  I wanted to run at least five 100s this year.  Having done that, I'd like to work my speed back up and hit a couple of 50ks and 50 milers competitively.  Of course, all that can change.  I'm not breaking any records, so if running another 100 in a month sounds like fun, then I'll go with "fun".

Drop Bag and Gear Planning for Slickrock 100

What the hell.  Race after race I realize how little it matters and how little I care about drop bags or planning, for that matter.  The only thing I'm dropping is a pair of shoes and night stuff at mile 51 or 65 aid station.  I got a bad blister on my heel from a pair of untested shoes I wore the first 20 miles of Bear last week.  All my shoes are destroyed, so I'll be wearing the same blister shoes again at the start (with tape or something on my heel).  My Hoka Mafates look like they've been boiled then run through a meat grinder; they'll be in my drop bag and will still make the slickrock surface feel like pine needle bedded trail.

Hoka Mafates.  Lost track of the mileage at over 600 a couple months ago.

The less gear, less planning, and less responsibility self-induced, the better the runs are.  Worrying and over thinking these things wears me out more than the physical exertion.  The only thing I'm concerned about is finding someone to watch Pippit.  How can someone resist this little guy?

"Daddy, you're too slow for me to wait indoors all day for you to finish."

Recovery Week and Slickrock 100

From mile 75-100 of last week's Bear 100 I must have blurted out, "No fahking way I'm going to be able to do Slickrock 100 in two weeks!" fifty times to a disinterested Wayne as we marched our sorry asses to the finish line in Fish Haven, Idaho.  The fact that it took me five minutes of grunting and sweating (not the fun grunting and sweating) to just get out of my car in the two days after the race, lead me to believe that running another 100 miles over slickrock and through the desert in 12 days would be impossible.

Well, I took Sun, Mon, Tues off and started back up jogging Wed and by today I actually feel fairly normal again (whatever normal is, since I'm not sure I have a reference base for that assertion).  This recovery week I have 35 miles.  The thing that surprizes me the most after racing so damn much (5 100s in 3 months) is that I'm mentally eager to run and feel fresh.  When I set out on this year's challenge, I figured I'd barf at the sight of running shoes by now.  Nope, still reading, thinking, and practicing running every day.  Anyway, the chance of me getting over to Moab for the race this coming weekend has gradually climbed to about 90%.

I walked over to the finish line of the St. George Marathon this morning before my own run.  The winning time was 2:24, with 2nd in 2:26, then 3, 4, 5, 6 all in the 2:29 minute.  Seems like it'd be a fast course since it drops pretty consistently about 3,000 ft from start to finish.  I snapped a pic of the winner just before he reached the line.  Second place at 2:26 is a guy in his 40s from MA.  Surprized that I didn't recognize his name since I know pretty much all of the 10,000 runners around Boston in some way or another.  Of course, he lives in Hudson, MA, a good hike west of Boston.  The best running community in the country, no contest.

Jonathan Kotter from Provo UT winning in 2:24

And what about the Spartathlon Ultramarathon in Greece?  All the Americans dropped?  Ivan Cudin (Italy) defends his title from last year winning in 22:57 - that's 153 miles in 22:57 folks.

Italian, Ivan Cudin wins Spartathlon in 22:57, shaving 6 mins off his winning time in 2010.