Ginkwunk Log

Friends: Breakheart Dan Trail Pixie Trespas Kevin kZ Trailgrrl Michelle RunninRob Cookie Monster Steve Latour Pictures: Album Running Data: 2010 2009 2008

Fri, 23 Jul 2010 100 Miles in 29 Hours Sorry, this post is incredibly long, but so is the race it describes. For months I had been hoping to run the Vermont 100 Endurance Run this past weekend. Having done better than I expected at the Stone Cat 50 Mile Trail Race in November on very low training mileage, I had been thinking that low training miles might work for me in a 100 mile race. After all, we don't run better from training, we run better from recovering from training. I ran only a few long runs, none was over 22 miles. I added a little speed work and way too little hill running. Vermont is all about hills. The total elevation gained and lost is about 14,000 feet, greater than that from Met. Everest Base Camp to the summit and back. My mountaineering friends will, of course, insist that this is misleading because it does not take into account absolute altitude, weather, technical difficulty etc. To which I reply, 'Sh! I'm trying to be misleading here.' I packed light: tent, sleeping pad, and one 3000 cubic inch backpack with a homemade camp stove, denatured alcohol, coffee, oatmeal, 2 pairs of running shoes, 4 water bottles, a change of clothes, hydration pack, and various other bits an pieces. As it turned out this was on the extremely low side as far as gear goes for a 100 mile race. Most 100 mile runners had a crew that drove between the aid stations to assist with gear, hydration and food as well as a pacer to run with through the night after the second time through the Camp 10 Bear aid station at mile 70. I planned to do without pacer or crew. This may have been a mistake. I was planning to run with friends, Steve Latour and Kevin Zelechoski, as well as Julie O'Mara, who ran in the same circle of friends but who I did not yet know. They all came with significant crew. Julie was supported by her husband and children at the aid stations while another runner I did not know planned to pace her from Camp 10 Bear at mile 70. Steve was supported by Chris Martin and Christine Matthieu, who I met on Friday. Chris ran with Steve the last 30 miles from Camp 10 Bear. Kevin would be paced by our friends Michelle Roy and Emily Trespas from Camp 10 Bear and Bill's (mile 88) respectively. Kevin was also accompanied by his excellent friends, Bill Howard and Kim who I met at the race. Bill was kind enough to offer me a ride from Chelsea on his way to pick up Kevin in Boston. My small pile of gear turned out to be fortunate since Kevin's pretty much filled the car. Bill drove us up to the starting area at Silver Hill Meadow in Brownsville, Vermont, and we pitched tents in a hurry. The forecast was for rain that afternoon and then clearing for the 4 am start, with maximum temperatures around 86 and scattered afternoon thunderstorms during the race. Fortunately the storms never came, and we enjoyed a comfortable registration, weigh-in, pre-race briefing, dinner, and sleep. This is the first race I have ever entered that required a weigh-in as protection from dehydration. It is common in 100 mile races for medical personnel to withdraw runners who lose 7% of their body weight during a race. We were weighed again at miles 47, 70, and 88. I got to meet Chris, Christine and Julie Friday night and we all chatted outside the tents for a few hours along with members of the Trail Animals Running Club as the sun went down over the hills. I knew I needed all the sleep I could get and was the first to head off to bed. I was up at 2 am making espresso and oatmeal on the homemade stove, which I understand annoyed Sherpa John Lacroix who was trying to sleep nearby. At 3 the music fom 'Chariots of Fire' began to drift up from the registration tent. The music grew louder as the 4 am start approached. Runners drifted down from the tents for a final check-in and massed under the starting banner. At 4 we were off; around 260 runners reduced to bobbing headlamps and jostling feet. Although the four of us had planned to run together, Julie and Kevin were off at a faster pace than Steve and I wanted to start. We would not see them again for hours. Steve and I had not seen much of each other for a while and chatted happily for the next few hours intermittently drawing Terry from North Carolina into our conversation for the first 10 miles or so. We ran into Terry the next day and heard that like 45% of the starters he had dropped at some point along the way. It was a pleasure running with you, Terry. Like many 100 mile races, the Vermont 100 began as a horse endurance race. Unlike most, it still has a horse category. Since my daughter is such an avid horsewoman, I spent some of Friday night talking to riders about what endurance riding is all about. Like us, they don't run all out all the way through. They 'trot when we can, walk when we have to, and canter when the horse is willing.' It was a huge pleasure to get a glimpse into this world. The horses start at 5 am, an hour after the runners. Within about an hour the leaders among the horses are passing the main pack of runners. We were passed at a canter by almost all riders within the first 15 miles. At the first aid station accessible to handlers (Pretty House), Steve and I stopped for a minute to grab a drink and a bite to eat. I was roundly berated by an aid station volunteer for not drinking enough fluid. We waited while she watched me down two cups of water. Somewhere between mile 23 and mile 25 Steve's illiotibial band, a long piece of connective tissue between the pelvis and knee that is critical for maintaining a standing position began to give Steve problems, particularly on the downhills. After leapfrogging with Steve a few times, it was clear that he needed help from his handlers, who he would see at mile 30. I continued alone. At mile 25 an unmanned aid station had run out of water. I filled up with Heed and pressed on. Soon I caught up with Kevin and Julie. They were suffering from lack of water, and were drinking from a spring and joking about giardia and antibiotics. I kept going. I later heard (at mile 88) that Julie had dropped; at the finish line I got the troubling news that she had gone to the hospital. By the post-race barbeque she was up and about, and now a week later she is feling better. At mile 30 I reached the Stage Road aid station. I filled in Kevin and Steve's crews about what was going on with their runners, and bless them, they treated me as their own. Christine filled my water bottles; she even added ice. I was feeling good and was on a pace to finish in under 24 hours. The hottest part of the day was coming, and the temperature eventually reached 91 degrees. I had taken off my shirt to stay cool and was beginning to pass other runners. When I came into Camp 10 Bear at mile 47, my weight was down 3% of my starting body weight, and this earned my a stern warning from the medical personnel about dehydration. I drank up, grabbed a bite and headed out. I had planned to change shoes here, but my feet felt fine. This was the first aid station where I saw cots. Many were occupied. I still felt great so I plowed ahead. I began to see runners on the ground at the side of the road waiting to be picked up by emergency vehicles. The heat was brutal. Around mile 50 I began running with Adam from Lebanon New Hampshire, but formerly of Johnson City, Tennessee, right next to my family's ancestral home, Elizabethton. We talked about hikes in the White Mountains and unsanitary aid stations ('You spread Vaseline all over your balls and ass with your hand and then dip right into the M&M's' -- for the record, I didn't use the Vaseline) while driving up a brutal single track climb. I felt ready to run the next downhill and left Adam until he caught up with me in the middle of the night. View Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Run (First Half), July 17-18, 2010 in a larger map I descended into the Tracer Brook aid station at mile 56 feeling like the king of the world. I was on pace to finish in 24 hours; my body felt great; and I was more than half way done. The race director for the Stone Cat Trail Races (Gill, I think) was volunteering at Tracer Brook, and was really excited to see me changing into a shirt from his race, my only other ultramarathon thus far. He asked me where I was from, and at his instigation a cheer went up for Chelsea. For the rest of the race as he drove from station to station he always cheered me on calling me 'Stone Cat.' Although I was ahead of schedule, I had my nighttime gear on now and had a phone. I texted my wife and daughter that I was doing well. Their messages the next morning were a great comfort. Leaving Tracer Book, the course climbed yet another brutal hill. The battery on my GPS died. The map above reflects the race up to this point. Click 'terrain' to see the hills. I now found that I 'had no legs,' in other words my legs were largely refusing to run. I stopped at a stream in a small hollow. I stretched. Two runners passed me. I had not been passed for hours. I realized that in the condition my legs were in, I had lost my time goal of finishing in 24 hours. It would now be a matter of struggling to reach the finish within the 30 hour cutoff. I pushed ahead slowly. Eventually I fell in with Tony from New Jersey running his 3rd 100 mile race. Tony was having a tough time, too. He had thrown up a few miles before and was dehydrated. Having ended his last 100 mile attempt dehydrated and on IV fluids, he was bent on finishing in good time. We each tried to run occasionally, but mostly walked as briskly as we could. Tony peed by the side of the road and grew concerned that he might have blood in his urine. Tony asked me for a second opinion. I know of no other environment where a total stranger is likely to ask you to examine their urine for blood. I came to the conclusion that he was merely very dehydrated. Eventually I was able to run along a bit, and did not see Tony again until the middle of the night. At almost exacly 9 pm I reached Camp 10 Bear for the second time (mile 70). I weighed in at 186, just about right, changed shoes and socks, and moved out. This is the point where most runners pick up pacers. The sun was now down; I turned on my lights and found myself very much alone. I pushed along as best I could following the green glow sticks that marked the course at night. At some point along here I found an unmanned aid station. My hamstrings were sore so I laid down and put my feet on the table. Another runner and his pacer came through and examined the aid station fare: water, Heed, M&M's, and a pair of feet!? They asked me if I wanted them to send someone back for me. I told them I was fine, got up and staggered along. I dragged my weary body into the Westwinds aid station at mile 77. I laid down again and talked to Terry from Corning, New York. I thought wistfully of the joys of glass blowing. Terry had run Wasatch before, but was having a tough time. We agreed to stagger on together. He waited briefly for his friend to bring a shirt. While waiting he decided to drop, and I continued along alone. Son after this Adam and Tony caught me again. Tony passed me, but Adam eventually dropped. I stumbled on alone. I was exhausted and began to hallucinate. I saw all kinds of wonderful creatures in the light of my headlamp, the most spectacular being a 30 foot albino peacock. I was in pain, and for every ten steps I took forward, I weaved five or six steps sideways. I determined to stagger along to Bill's aid station and sleep 20 minutes there, get a cup of coffee; and if that did not help, I would drop. Around 4 am a runner and his pacer passed me. I greeted them and said I thought we were close to Bill's. The pacer said I was wrong by about 2.5 miles, a totally demoralizing idea. The next thing I knew, a volunteer was directing us to Bill's. Fucking Tool Pacer! At Stone Cat Emily had recognized me fom the bob my gait gave to my headlamp. This time I was ten feet from her when she saw who I was and asked, "What do you need?" "20 minutes' sleep and a cup of coffee." She directed me to a cot and covered my eyes with a stuff sack. Bill and Christine were also at Bill's aid station. Emily woke me up at dawn, Christine gave me a cup full of potato salad, and the race director from Stone Cat barked, "Stone Cat, get going!" and I staggered to my feet. The brief sleep, new sunlight, and potatoes worked their wonders, and I was ready to move again. The last 12 miles, while technically easy, took me forever (nearly 4 hours) in my Dead Man Walking state. By now I knew I would finish within the cutoff, and the race became a simple matter of tolerating pain. I was passed by a few runners still capable of actually running, but I didn't care. As I reached the finish line a cheer went up. Emily, Bill and Kim were there, meaning that Kevin and Steve were close behind me. They found me a chair where I sat dazed with a finisher's medal around my neck. Soon Steve and then Kevin finished. I got up to find a place where I would have reception to text my family, but the severe head spin that followed sent Emily, Bill, and Kim into action to bring a chair into my collapsing range. Sadly this did not work out, and I slid alongside the chair onto the ground. Emily, and either Bill or Kim (I'm quite hazy on this) helped me to a Red Cross cot where I rested for a few minutes while other people discussed IV fluids. Within a half hour I was able to pack up my tent and backpack and put them in Bill's car. He had also had very little sleep the night before. After the awards ceremony and barbeque, Bill stopped for coffee in Lebanon, New Hampshire. I stayed in the car with the windows rolled down like a dog. I must have fallen asleep, because I don't remember Bill returning. The next thing I knew he was waking me up in front of my house in Chelsea, and my wife and daughter were unloading my stuff as I tried to bend my knees. 45% of this years runners dropped in the high heat and humidity. These included my friends and companions Julie, Terry, and Adam along with many others. Tony ended up beating me by 24 minutes dehydration and all. Steve not only ran with ITB problems, he developed blisters that Christine treated in a delicate trailside surgery involving duct tape at mile 88 while Steve slept soon after she handed me my potatoes. These blisters later resulted in an emergency room visit. Kevin, too struggled through his own Odyssey to reach the finish. [/streph] permanent link Sun, 13 Jun 2010 An Idea so Bad It's Brilliant Last month I floated the idea of training for the hardest midnight stretch of the Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Run by undertaking an all-night speed hike in the Middlesex Fells. Last night, in the rain, from 8pm to 5am kZ and I were in the Fells covering ground on the Skyline Trail at a swift walk. The weather forecast was for showers turning to thunderstorms and a low of 50 degrees. Kevin and I conferred one last time about canceling: 'It could suck, or it could be great training for Vermont.' 'It'll probably be both. Let's do it.' I drank a triple espresso with a bit of coconut milk; packed the trunk with a homemade sports drink including electrolytes and maltodextrine, a change of clothes and shoes, a hydration pack with a minimal first aid kit (with a hypothermia focus); and headed out to pick up Kevin at the Oak Grove T station. He arrived with two large bags looking like he had packed for a week in Europe. He assured me that it was mostly liquid. Kevin awes me with his preparation. I have a recent tentative offer from Trail Pixie Emily to pace me the last 11 miles at Vermont, but as for gear supply, I was planning to just bring drop bags to leave at the aid stations; Kevin has a handler and pacer. Perhaps I should try to recruit a crew. Perhaps I just have crew envy. Since the Fells formally close at dusk, and we did not want to attract police attention, we parked on a residential street convenient to a trailhead. We were on the Skyline Trail by 8 pm, about a half hour before sunset. While we still had dim sunlight, we ran some of the first three miles, but as night descended and the headlamps and flashlights came on, it was necessary to slow to a vigorous walk. Since we had switched form the planned Reservoir Trail to the more challenging Skyline Trail, we dropped the aim of maintaining the 14:40 pace that would result in a 24-hour finish at Vermont. Skyline is brutal in the daytime. At night it's a real adventure. At night in the rain it verges on dangerous. Within 30 minutes my shoes were soaked. It became painfully obvious on the first loop that my headlamp and flashlight were totally inadequate, and Kevin led essentially all of this part (15 miles). Although we stumbled around a lot, we mercifully never fell. I did tear a nice slice of skin off my right shin on a tree branch. We chatted amiably for most of the first loop, but descended into silence on the second. Kevin, who had run a 50-mile race in each of the last two weekends, needed to rest a sore ankle after the second loop, and took a nap in the passenger seat of our car, while I set off alone on the third loop at about 2 am carrying his flashlight. About three miles into this loop the rain began to come down heavily, and I was drenched again, but there was still no sign of lightning as I climbed up to Wright Tower. The sights and sounds that had been cheerful landmarks: a boulder or stump in the trail and frogs calling to would-be mates began to feel more ominous. Alone and exhausted I was unable to correctly identify the frogs, and began to think I was being followed by a strange old man, before long I was thinking about the Blair Witch Project. Fortunately I had seen enough of Steve Latour's late night trail ultra videos to be able to diagnose my own fatigue. I cheered myself at the thought that I would be able to take off my shoes and let my feet dry out in just three miles. I ran the last nearly flat section to the trailhead and pulled up to the car at around 5 as the birds sang the dawn chorus. Kevin and I talked for a while before I drove him home. I expect he would have gone out for another loop. We left the Fells knowing we could run and walk through the night given Vermont's more reasonable footing and do it with joy. [/streph] permanent link Mon, 31 May 2010 Speed Work - The First to Die of a Heart Attack Loses Damn! I thought I was clever to come up with this idea to do my speed training in hour long runs once or twice a week. The idea was to improve by gradually covering more ground in the limited time. This weekend's runs suggest some benefits of this plan and some flaws. First the benefits: ideally this plan will require me to pay more attention to how my body is handling the stress of running fast, and I'll recalibrate my pace to make it back home at one hour. This encourages a kind of calculation around 25 minutes in. Do I feel tired or sore? I should turn around early and slow down. Could I maintain this pace for another half hour? I should turn around at the 30 minute mark. Could I speed up at the end and empty the tanks? I should turn around after 32 minutes and try to make up the extra distance by running faster. This last option encourages me to run negative splits, a perpetual goal of the distance runner: to run hard but to conserve enough energy to speed up over time. On my early runs under this plan, my mind couldn't keep up with my legs, and I realize now I could have run faster. But it's not all Zen and mind/body cooperation. Saturday was my 43rd birthday, and I was bent on a personal record for an hour long run. I had made 7.4 miles the last time, and I wanted 8. So, disregarding sore legs, heat, humidity, and hangover, I ran out my front door like the police were after me. I started to lose it at mile 4, and had to walk by mile 4.5. Dr. Tim Noakes who writes about medicine for runners, believes that fatigue is a neurological response that functions to protect the heart from extreme exertion. I have rarely felt systemic fatigue, but I did on Saturday. Climbing the Beachmont hill at 4.5 miles in, I had a terrible feeling of exhaustion and despair. In total I made 7.62 in an hour and 12 minutes. Today, running more conservatively, I managed 7.66 miles in 1:03. These both fail to meet the 1 hour time limit, the boundary for the crucial goal of knowing what I can do, but today's run was still reassuring. The downside is, of course, that I feel like I'm racing myself now. The potential result seems to be pushing so hard that I end up hurting myself. I'll try to avoid that. On the upside, I have been seeing two swans, of all things, on Chelsea Creek for about a year now. On Saturday, as I ran past their home, I saw that they had built a nest. A sign nearby refers to them as Gina and Gus. As I passed, Gina sat on the nest and Gus gave his best aggressive bird "Get the hell away from my family." display. Swans raising a family in Chelsea Creek, who would have guessed? [/streph] permanent link Wed, 19 May 2010 No More Junk Miles For a variety of reasons, I've ditched the idea of running miles simply for the purpose of building weekly mileage. First, my running frequently and for a long time is really inconvenient for my family. But it also doesn't serve any great training purpose. Training doesn't improve a runner; recovery from training does. So the new centerpiece of my training program is multiple rest days. That's right; I'm going to train to run 100 miles by sleeping and eating a lot. Besides, at 42 or 43 I figure I'm half-way to dead. I don't have so much time left that I can afford to spend it filling log books. It should go without saying that I'm also feeling a little lazy. So my new plan is to run two or three times a week. One will be long and slow on trails or a mix of trails and roads to simulate the Vermont course. I'll practice eating, using lights, moving through aid stations briskly, etc. I'll do this on weekend mornings or nights for four to nine hours at a time. The others will be either speed work: tempo runs or intervals, or alternatively, hills. My tempo run theory is that I can be less disruptive of family life if I run for a fixed time, an hour. Improvement will mean beating my last best distance. This is what I did today. My previous best hour was 7 miles for a pace of 8:37 minutes per mile. Today I covered 7.6 miles in the same hour for an average pace of 7:55 minutes per mile. I know for many of you out there this is not very fast. But or me it's incredible. My 10K split was 48:29. I did not maintain negative splits, slowing slightly but not much, from mile to mile. Strangely, my average heart rate was 177 beats per minute. My tests last year and my age suggest that I should not be able to maintain that heart rate for anywhere near an hour. I feel great; the legs are tired but not sore. And now it's time for a couple of days of serious rest. [/streph] permanent link Sat, 15 May 2010 20 Miles to Re-Learn Some Lessons I'm finally starting to train for the Vermont 100. Six months ago twenty miles would have been no big deal, but having run barely at all during the winter, I came away surprised at how hard 20 could be and wondering what 100 will be like. Every run, good or bad, teaches something, and today I relearned a lot. In order to leave the car with my family I ran on roads to the Middlesex Fells, before starting my loop there. View Fells Run May 15, 2010 in a larger map I started off after a cup of coffee heading toward the Goodyear Ave entrance to the Fells. It was my privilege to run through Gary Matthews' beloved Everett de Janeiro on my way. I had about 70 oz of water (with electrolytes and maltodextrine) and some energy bars as well as a peanut butter and banana sandwich. I planned to start slow and take ultra-style walk breaks every 2 miles, but the first few miles felt too easy so I ran throught the breaks and ran faster than I had intended. The Eastern Fells features an initial steep climb. That was fine until my gluteus medias (a muscle between the butt and lower back) started aching severely. I sat, stretched and walked for a few minutes and was ready to run again soon. My small scrap of map covered only the Western Fells, and I was soon off-course and without a useful map. I promised myself this would never happen when a friend broke her ankle running in the Fells with us in February 2009. But nevertheless, here I was: mildly lost and mapless. It was early enought that I was able to reach the first road by running away from the sun. Following the road South about a quarter mile got me back to the Cross-Fells Trail. This took me over to the Western Fells where I was soon lost in the magic of the location in mid-May. A deer ran across the trail 20 feet ahead of me. I was reminded that in the myths of my ancestors a deer in the woods would often lead a person to the Otherworld. My immediate thought after that was that I should pay more attention to the brush I was running near. Mid-May is peak season for deer tick nymphs, the chief vector for Lyme Disease. I have no desire to spend another summer laid out with that. The result of all of this deer rumination was that I missed a turn and for the next hour sampled all of the trails of the Southwest Fells. Eventually I found the Reservoir Trail and headed to the North, getting lost only one more time. After ten miles I enjoyed my sandwich and pointed myself home. After about 16 miles my quads went into spasm, and I had to stretch and walk for longer periods. When I was finally back on the streets of Everet, I ran into my former student, Rich Buzderewicz who was walking back to Chelsea after coaching a T-ball game. All in all, I was out for 4 and a half hours, covered over 20 miles, and relearned a lot about trail running. Next time I'll try it at night. [/streph] permanent link Wed, 05 May 2010 All-Night Speed Hike? It's looking more and more like I will, in fact, be able to make the starting line, if not the finish line, of the Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Run on July 17. I'm diving back into a last-minute training program having essentially taken months off. Hopefully under-training will work as well for Vermont as it did for Stone Cat. As I consider training options, I keep returning to a dread of running all the way through the night. Many who have gone before refer to a pre-dawn period of despair that seems to accompany most 100 mile attempts. I figure I should train for despair. So here is the proposal: anyone stupid enough to join me some weekend night in the near future can meet me at the Fells at dusk with the intention of running and walking until dawn. Really, I just want to finish Vermont, but since a stretch goal is to finish in under 24 hours, I'd like this midnight march to move at an average pace of about 14:24 minutes/mile. Under good conditions I can almost walk that fast. Conditions will not be ideal, so we should probably run flats, walk uphill sections and descend in any manner that will not result in injury. I anticipate an extremely low intensity, but quite long, workout. I suggest the Reservoir Trail. As much as I love the Skyline Trail, it's hazardous enough in the light. Think of this as an opportunity to work out your strategies for nighttime eating on the run, lights, treacherous and invisible footing, wildlife, drunk teenagers, and (since the Fells closes at dusk) possibly police. [/streph] permanent link Fri, 23 Apr 2010 New Seconds Is Coming When I finished Stone Cat last November with a time (barely) fast enough to qualify for Western States and then was not picked in the Western States lottery (Congratulations, again, Michelle.), I immediately registered for the Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Run. I also had aspirations to do some significant ice climbing this winter and finally start leading on rock this summer. But through the winter I barely managed a few half-hearted runs. Most of this was on the road rather than trails. I cancelled on Breakheart Dan's birthday run and withdrew form the Fells Trail Race, which is run on a course that I have come to consider a second home. I could blame work or family or any number of things, but the truth is I have not made my favorite outdoor pursuits a priority. Today I received emails from climbing partners Robert Castro, Shirish Nilekar, and Kevin Pyles. These guys, along with Breakheart Dan, Trail Pixie Emily, trailgrrl Michelle, Steve Latour, Kevin 'kZ' Zelechoski, and Rob MacDonald are people who have had a serious impact on my outdoor life. I was with Shirish and Kevin Pyles last year when Shirish climbed his first Gunks leads. I was with Robert the previous year when we watched our friend Raghu, and four others, get partially burried by an avalanche during a snowstorm on Willey's Slide. The AMC Mountaineering Committe's New Seconds Weekend is coming up in a couple of weeks, and everyone is trying to plan climbing partnerships and routes. I replied that I'd try to make it. I was inspired to head out for the first time in three weeks for a run. I managed 7 miles with significant hills in 1:00:16. My undertrained heart shot through the roof at an average 169 beats per minute, but I feel great. With Vermont just 12 weeks away, I have real doubts that I can get into the shape to haul my weary carcass 100 miles in a day, but today I ran well. [/streph] permanent link Fri, 15 Jan 2010 Sugar Plums Since running the Stone Cat Trail Race in November I've been pretty lazy. Yeah. Sure, I managed the Fells Trail Race 8-mile version. I even showed up before the start this time. I had a great time running with Emily, but since then I have mostly been hanging around at home. One high point came with the delivery of the January/Febuary 2010 issue of Ultrarunning which prominently (page 62) featured a picture of the backs of Breakheart Dan and yours truly illustrating Stone Cat. Another came on the very day of the Fells Trail Race when the Western States Endurance Run held its lottery, and our friend trailgrrl Michelle was chosen to run 100 miles through some of the most spectacular landscape in California this coming June. Since then, while my friends have donned snowshoes to run through the winter, I have been nestled all snug in my bed while visions of sugarplums danced in my head. See the recipe I used for sugarplums here. I made these immediately after watching the Boston Ballet's Nutcracker. They tasted mysteriously like Lara Bars. I love Lara Bars, but I'm inspred to make more of my own trail food. Having rested way too much the last couple of months I decided to try to arrest the inevitable slide of my well-honed conditioning with a short run. I managed just over 7 miles on Monday in about 1:05 for an average pace of a bit over 9 minutes per mile. My heart rate averaged 156 beats per minute. I've registered for the Vermont 100 Mile Endurance Run on July 18 and 19, a week before my daughter's 15th birthday. This race, along with Western States, Leadville, and Wasatch Front, is one of the 4 classic 100 mile races forming the ultrarunning grand slam. It also offers the unique experience of running with horses, as the race is also an endurance riding event. I understand the campsite I've reserved is in the same meadow where the horses are turned out before the race. Deadlastultrarunner Steve is also registered for Vermont, and he's a great guy to run with so I'll have excellent company. We're also planning to convince a couple of other friends to join us. Steve's got an ambitious racing schedule planned for the next few months. I expect I'll join a few of those. I'd also like to make a Presidential Traverse early this summer. We'll see. [/streph] permanent link Tue, 10 Nov 2009 Stone Cat (long post) I'll apologize for the length of this post up front, but I've been working toward this for a while. All this year I had intended the Stone Cat 50 Mile Trail Race to be my goal race for the 2009 season. After bailing out of the Fells Trail Race in March after only 24 arduous miles; and after losing several months of training to Lyme Disease; I was both determined to run my best at Stone Cat and worried that I had bitten off way too much. Breakheart Dan and I had discussed our concern that neither of us had a training day longer than 23 miles to prepare for this. He was planning to alternate running five minute with walking two. My strategy was to stick with people I knew to keep up my morale. My plan was to keep moving at whatever speed I could manage; to stay on course (walking in the right direction is better than running in the wrong one); and to avoid lingering in the three wonderful aid stations. The course is a 12.5 mile loop through Willowdale State Forest in Ipswich, MA. The terrain is mostly rolling with reasonable footing. It's a mix of carriage roads and singletrack trails. The race is held on the last day possible to qualify for the 2010 Western States Endurance Run. Dan, trailgrrl Michelle, and I have all entered the lottery for a spot in this most prestigious of American Trail Ultramarathons. Michelle had already qualified, but for Dan and I, an 11 hour finish at Stone Cat meant a shot at more serious personal deprivation. View Stone Cat Trail Races, November 7, 2009 in a larger map In order to avoid inconveniencing my family, I spent the night before the race at the Comfort Inn in Danvers along with many others of the 350 entrants in the Marathon and 50 mile races. Early race morning Dan picked me up and drove us to the start, the Doyon School in Ipswich. We parked at a reserved parking spot for teachers in the 'Extended Day Program,' an irony that was not lost on us. I had forgotten gloves, and in the 30 degree weather I was grateful for an extra pair of Dan's. We met Trail Pixie Emily, Michelle, Cookie Monster Steve Latour, and 'kZ Kevin in the school gym. At about 6:20 as the sun began to rise, Race Director Gil launched us onto the course. The marathoners, including Emily, turned a quick left to take in an extra 1.2 miles so as to finish in two course loops at the same finish line the 50-milers would reach after 4 loops. There was a 350 runner bottleneck at the edge of the school soccer field before we entered the woods. After that we were on the trails. Within ten minutes we hit the first climb and slowed to a brisk walk to conserve energy. The lead marathoners passed us on this climb, and other marathoners passed us for the next 25 miles. Michelle and Kev surged ahead while Steve, Dan and I ran in close formation. The three of us stayed together for the next 35 miles. We laughed and joked a great deal on that first loop. Runners we passed and those that passed us smiled. I'd like to think this was in response to our brilliant humor, but it may have been our hubris at even attempting such a run. The three aid stations were staffed by enthusiastic and helpful volunteers who served the usual water and Gatorade but also bacon, grilled cheese sandwiches and hamburgers along with crackers, boiled potatoes, candy and home-baked goods. Fast Fred's Aid Station even had live music in the woods. Dan's pattern of running five minutes and walking two really helped. The two minutes of walking brought heartrates down, and relaxed leg muscles allowing the lactic acid and other waste to clear before we ran again. We ran the second and third loops much more slowly and grimly. We began to curse the alarm on Dan's watch signalling the time to end walk breaks. A high point came when Emily passed us on the second loop on her way to finishing the marathon. By the middle of the third loop, I had stubbed my left big toe badly a few times and was feeling the need to walk more of the singletrack. In order to compensate, I began to run the carriage roads a little faster at mile 30. Toward the end of the third loop Steve fell back a bit but caught up with Dan and me at the starting line aid station. We were late enough that we had to take lights with us on the last loop. We figured we had lost our chance to finish under 11 hours. Steve decided he would run a different pace than Dan and I had taken, and we split at the start of the fourth loop. At Al Cat's Aid Station Dan and I caught up with Michelle who was having a tough time. Kevin was ahead, and she asked us to give him a message at the finish. I can't speak for Dan, but I was concerned about the prospect of running twisting, root-filled, rocky singletrack in the dark. I wanted to be done with the toughest terrain while the sun was still up, so Dan and I started running through walk breaks. At trail intersection 44 we talked to a man who mentioned that he thought of this Southwest corner of the course to be the half-way point of the loop. I had always had a similar impression. Still running, I took out the map and mentioned to Dan that I thought we still had a shot at 11 hours. We picked up the pace. We cleared some of the toughest singletrack before the sun went down. There was still light in the sky when we hit the longest stretch of carriage road on the course. We picked up the pace and ran through walk breaks, slowing to short walks only when my IT Band began to cause problems. We put on lights for the turn onto the last singletrack sections. I began to pull ahead of Dan who soon appeared as a pair of lights about 100 yards behind. We passed one last runner a couple of miles from the finish. Nearing an abandoned car where we had taken a picture three weeks before, I called back to Dan to see whether he was up for a run in the dark on relatively tough terrain where he had fallen on a previous loop. He was. We pushed ahead reaching the last section of carriage road. Soon I could hear the cheers from the finish line less than a mile away. I ran ahead wildly calling back to Dan that we were reaching landmarks: the turn to the first climb of the course and the Jersey barriers. When I reached the soccer field and the people waiting at the finish line saw my headlamp I heard the call that a runner had entered the field and there was a chorus of cheers. You've got to love a sport where the winners wait in the cold to cheer everyone else. As I neared the finish I heard Emily call my name. She had recognized me from the effect my gait had on the bob of my headlamp. She had been waiting for hours and had donned a 0 degree sleeping bag over her shoulders as a kind of stole that looked quite cozy. Soon the call came that another runner had entered the field: Dan. I yelled ahead that the other runner was Dan Scotina, and cheers erupted at the finish. I crossed the line at 10:53:27 and Dan crossed at 10:54:35. Steve ran the last loop alone, mostly in the dark, a heroic and insane accomplishment as documented by his videos. He finished in 11:45:45; he may have to give up calling himself deadlastultrarunner. Michelle finished in just over 11 hours. Kevin passed through the finish long before the rest of us at 10:33:27. After the race I changed into dry clothes including my spiffy new Stone Cat finisher's jacket, stretched, and checked out my feet. The gaiters Emily had made me had done a spectacular job of keeping the trail out of my shoes. My left big toenail is blue from the multiple stubbings, and I expect I will lose it...again. Other than that, I feel great. Three days later I'm still tired and hungry. But I have a strange glowy satisfaction that wont disappear soon or easily. Thanks to everyone who participated in this adventure with me: friends, race volunteers, and fellow runners. We are a strange community, indeed. [/streph] permanent link Sun, 18 Oct 2009 Return to Willowdale Last week I took a break from running at exactly the wrong time. A month before my first 50 mile run, I just couldn't make the time to get out for my long runs. I did have an excellent weekend with my wife and daugter at Rocking Horse Ranch in New York's Hudson Valley. We've been spending Columbus Day Weekend there for six years now. Connie is a much better rider than either Carol or me. We do enjoy riding, though. The trails at RHR lie in a small valley and on the ridge of the hill that forms one side of the valley. The land is former farmland retaken by birch, oak, hickory, and maple forest. In mid-October the forest is spectacularly colorful. Over the three days we were there, we got 10 one hour long trail rides in. Actually, I was a bit lazy and only managed 9. Connie has been riding for four years and canters easily. Carol and I have traditionally stuck to the intermediate trot ride and early morning walk rides. This time, though, I managed two advanced canter rides. Cantering was huge fun. Gil's Athletic Club, which sponsors the Stone Cat Trail Race, organized a run on the course yesterday for entered runners. I planned to get out early and take in a loop on the course before the 9 am start, but didn't manage to get there until just before 9. Once there I found 'Breakheart' Dan, Kevin 'kZ,' and Steve Latour. I knew Dan and Kevin from earlier runs in the Fells, although I hadn't seen them in months. I knew of Steve from his pictures from the Fells Trail Race, emails that circulate within our little group of runners, and his coverage of the Fells Trail Race in Ultrarunning Magazine. Hearing that 'Trail Pixie' Emily was only a minute away, we let the organized run start without us. Within minute we were joined by a speedy runner named Paul. This group of five ran together for the next 12.5 miles exchanging schemes for entering 100-mile races, animal puns, and other pleasant banter. We got lost a couple of times, but not too badly or too often. After this first loop, I had to scurry home. I'm looking forward to seeing these guys again at the race if not earlier. View Return to Willowdale, October 17, 2009 in a larger map I felt the need to get a much longer running day in than just the 12.5 miles, so after Connie went to bed, I headed out again. I ignored the weather.com warning about coastal flooding and took my standard route in the direction of Deer Island. This route follows Chelsea Creek to Suffolk Downs Ractrack and then over the Beachmont Hill to the beach. The plan was to turn around when the GPS indicated 5.25 miles for a 10.5 mile run and a total of 23 for the day. Along Chelsea Creek, a tidal river, I realized the water was higher than I had ever seen it. Drizzle started about 2 miles in. Arriving at the beach at mile 3.5, I found seaweed strewn over the road. I looked over the seawall to see huge Pacific-Ocean-looking surf. Every now and then a wave would splash over the wall. This made for a wild run, and I got a mouthfull of saltwater more than once. View Coastal Flooding Run, October 17, 2009 in a larger map [/streph] permanent link