The morning after seeing String Cheese Incident play up in Deer Valley, I decided the best way to return to Salt Lake would be via the trails . . . so after shaking out the cobwebs and attempting to rehydrate from a night of dancing, I made my way into the mountains.
I slowly worked my way through the ski area in search of a trail/service road that would connect me to the Mid-mountain trail that traverses pretty much the entirety of the Park City side of the Wasatch. My basic plan/idea was to run along the MMT until crossing over to either the Wasatch Crest or one of a couple of trails that seem to do a decent job of connecting upper Millcreek to the Canyons (no need to build any more chairlifts). About 6 or 7 miles into the MMT I came across a sign pointing me in the direction of the Wasatch Crest and was able to climb on a fairly mellow trail all the way to a point just beyond Scott's Pass. I hadn't been on this section of trail before, and think it would be a great way to work out some solid loops combining a decent chunk of the Wasatch 100 course with the Park City trail system . . . anyhow once I got on top of the crest it was pretty self explanatory running the rest of the way to Millcreek.
I ended up coming down via Baker Springs and into the Terraces picnic site in Millcreek -- this was basically a water-need determined decision so I could fill up at the spring after going a decent chunk of the way dry -- and found a pretty quick hitch-ride into town. In total I went just over 30 miles and was able to kind of plan out/scout a more demanding route for the future. Anyhow, this was a fun way to turn a concert into a bit of an adventure . . .
Friday, July 13, 2012
Rejuvenation in the mountains of British Columbia
Spent about a week in northern Idaho and southern British Columbia running trails -- loads of vertical and new sights . . . this is what running is all about . . .
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Black Hills
the long and the short of it is that I had my second DNF at the 100 mile distance in a row - this makes 3 total (each one different, but each one a bummer) meaning that I am now 4 for 7 in finishing at this distance . . .
i suspect that the reason I run the 100 is that there is no guarantee on race day as to what will happen, but I need to get this distance figured out. I will be honest, I went through a couple of days of melodramatic depression about dropping out and even threw down a temporary retirement - as my wife would say, I have a tendency to be a drama queen . . . anyhow here is the report . . .
HOT, HOT, HOT! Temperatures were in the 90s and the humidity was higher than I have run in for a long time (I am sure by non-Utah standards the humidity was just fine) . . . but I felt like I handled the heat well. I drank early and often (half water and half elixir water), I grabbed ice whenever possible, dipped bananas in salt, slowed the pace and really didn't think the heat was causing me too much undo stress . . . I wonder . . .
The first section of the race went by without too much pace as I simply tried to keep myself moving at a slow enough pace to focus on a strong backside to the race (the only time the pace felt too fast was in the first 10 miles when everyone seemed to be in race mode already, but I purposely dropped off this pace as soon as I realized what was happening). During the first 30 miles I felt like I was climbing well, but without any hurry, and was doing well on both the flats and the downhills (too many of these miles were runnable and if I had been running the 50 mile race I would have probably run just about everything). I was trying my best to eat and drink -- I can't quite figure out what happened in terms of gels but I was putting them away and in reflection think I was eating too much (2 an hour plus other random stuff at aid stations).
As an example of how patient I was trying to be, I remember on two or three different occasions between miles 15 and 35 slowing my pace down despite having company and being able to keep up relatively comfortably with the people around me - the pace just seemed a little too aggressive given my main goal for the day (finishing) and the heat. Besides at least one or two people at aid stations told me I had already worked my way into the top 10 or thereabouts - this was a small race and a lot of people had already slowed to full on survival by mile 30.
The first issues I can remember having came as I moved toward the mile 38 aid station - I can remember feeling a little fatigued (nothing too weird for this point in the race though), but more importantly I remember having a stitch in my side. I can't remember the last time I had an actual stitch or cramp in my side when doing any kind of long run and I did think it was odd but just tried to run/work through it. I even slowed the pace down a bit more to make sure I was keeping things conservative enough for the day.
But all of the sudden, in the next couple of miles, everything went to complete nonsense: the stitch in my side returned more aggressively and with almost no warning I found myself throwing up what seemed like a gallon of water all at once. At first I thought this was going to be a quick one time event and felt relieved when the stitch in my side disappeared after throwing up. But I had lost a lot of water. I don't know if the water I had been drinking ever got into my system or had simply been hanging out in my stomach waiting for this moment, but in either case I found my race going downhill in a hurry. I would guess, I had lost over an hour or possibly even two hours worth of drinking water in this singular moment, which obviously on such a hot day wasn't the best possible result and tried to focus on rehydrating. I was able to start drinking again pretty easily and even ate another gel, but in time I ended up throwing up a couple more times and was never going to catch up in terms of hydration.
At mile 43 aid I took a few minutes to sit down, drink some coke, and try to get my head back in the game. I would have stayed here longer, but the guy sitting next to me was on an obvious tailspin toward dropping out and I felt uncomfortable sitting there so I left -- this was probably my first real mistake of the day. The next mistake came about 2 minutes later when I threw up again and started having abdominal and back spasms to the point of needing to sit on the side of the trail for a couple of minutes - I should have returned to the previous aid station right then and waited as long as it took to feel normal (well ultra marathon normal again) but was afraid that it would mean I was disqualified. I know some races disqualify you, if you return back to an aid station you have already left (others don't) and my guess in retrospect is that if I had been thinking clearly I would have simply asked before checking back in to the aid station. In either case, I hate going backwards. After regrouping a little bit, I decided I would simply walk (flat, down, up, whatever) until I felt better. Or until somebody caught up to me . . . I was shocked nobody caught me. And shocked nobody ever came at me from the opposite direction. I just kept walking. Unfortunately, it was a real struggle at this point to even drink water and my mind went into a tailspin. Obviously, I need to become mentally stronger. At one point, I started to wonder if the race had been cancelled and I was simply caught between aid stations with nobody else out on the trails . . . yeah, I was not functioning very well. Case in point, I had this moment of doubt about the trail - I hadn't seen a marker in a while but just kept going reminding myself that the course directions said there weren't "comfort" flags.
I am guessing I went off course by as much as a mile, although it was probably much less -- maybe only a half mile one-way. When I came to a road - definitely not part of the course - I considered hitching to the 50 mile turnaround where I could DQ myself. However, another runner made the same mistake a few minutes after me and we were able to walk back to where we had gone off course. I guess, part of me was still game for the fight. Part of me. I had some really strange moments on the trail between here and my eventual finish at the turnaround -- these moments lay somewhere between delirious and simply foolish. In either case, at mile fifty I sat down and started sipping liquids. I got sick again while sitting, but in retrospect think I should have been able to fight this down with a bit more sturdiness. I don't know how long I should have sat there trying to nurse myself back to health. I was worried about myself at this point. It scared me that water still wasn't settling without a fight and even soda didn't seem secure . . . I hadn't gone to the bathroom in a long time, maybe 4/5 hours (but I had gone a couple of times on the day) . . . anyhow I sat there for a while trying to regroup, but was unable to ever really start rehydrating.
When I got to the hotel, maybe 2 hours after officially leaving the race, I was finally able to start really getting liquids down -- orange juice seemed to do the trick -- and a while later I even ate some noodles and broth. Most importantly, I eventually went to the bathroom again and aside from spitting up some of the juice my stomach gradually returned to sanity.
Finally, the night was an adventure in cramping as my legs and feet kept freaking out to the point of sheer weirdness . . . ah, to fight another day.
In conclusion, I am still unsure what went wrong - I understand that I got dehydrated but this didn't seem to happen until my stomach blew up on me. I'm not sure why my stomach once again went on me, but wondering if it had to do with eating too much given the generally weak state of my stomach especially in the heat. And I still haven't figured out if I should have kept running or if I would have gotten into real trouble eventually . . .
i suspect that the reason I run the 100 is that there is no guarantee on race day as to what will happen, but I need to get this distance figured out. I will be honest, I went through a couple of days of melodramatic depression about dropping out and even threw down a temporary retirement - as my wife would say, I have a tendency to be a drama queen . . . anyhow here is the report . . .
HOT, HOT, HOT! Temperatures were in the 90s and the humidity was higher than I have run in for a long time (I am sure by non-Utah standards the humidity was just fine) . . . but I felt like I handled the heat well. I drank early and often (half water and half elixir water), I grabbed ice whenever possible, dipped bananas in salt, slowed the pace and really didn't think the heat was causing me too much undo stress . . . I wonder . . .
The first section of the race went by without too much pace as I simply tried to keep myself moving at a slow enough pace to focus on a strong backside to the race (the only time the pace felt too fast was in the first 10 miles when everyone seemed to be in race mode already, but I purposely dropped off this pace as soon as I realized what was happening). During the first 30 miles I felt like I was climbing well, but without any hurry, and was doing well on both the flats and the downhills (too many of these miles were runnable and if I had been running the 50 mile race I would have probably run just about everything). I was trying my best to eat and drink -- I can't quite figure out what happened in terms of gels but I was putting them away and in reflection think I was eating too much (2 an hour plus other random stuff at aid stations).
As an example of how patient I was trying to be, I remember on two or three different occasions between miles 15 and 35 slowing my pace down despite having company and being able to keep up relatively comfortably with the people around me - the pace just seemed a little too aggressive given my main goal for the day (finishing) and the heat. Besides at least one or two people at aid stations told me I had already worked my way into the top 10 or thereabouts - this was a small race and a lot of people had already slowed to full on survival by mile 30.
The first issues I can remember having came as I moved toward the mile 38 aid station - I can remember feeling a little fatigued (nothing too weird for this point in the race though), but more importantly I remember having a stitch in my side. I can't remember the last time I had an actual stitch or cramp in my side when doing any kind of long run and I did think it was odd but just tried to run/work through it. I even slowed the pace down a bit more to make sure I was keeping things conservative enough for the day.
But all of the sudden, in the next couple of miles, everything went to complete nonsense: the stitch in my side returned more aggressively and with almost no warning I found myself throwing up what seemed like a gallon of water all at once. At first I thought this was going to be a quick one time event and felt relieved when the stitch in my side disappeared after throwing up. But I had lost a lot of water. I don't know if the water I had been drinking ever got into my system or had simply been hanging out in my stomach waiting for this moment, but in either case I found my race going downhill in a hurry. I would guess, I had lost over an hour or possibly even two hours worth of drinking water in this singular moment, which obviously on such a hot day wasn't the best possible result and tried to focus on rehydrating. I was able to start drinking again pretty easily and even ate another gel, but in time I ended up throwing up a couple more times and was never going to catch up in terms of hydration.
At mile 43 aid I took a few minutes to sit down, drink some coke, and try to get my head back in the game. I would have stayed here longer, but the guy sitting next to me was on an obvious tailspin toward dropping out and I felt uncomfortable sitting there so I left -- this was probably my first real mistake of the day. The next mistake came about 2 minutes later when I threw up again and started having abdominal and back spasms to the point of needing to sit on the side of the trail for a couple of minutes - I should have returned to the previous aid station right then and waited as long as it took to feel normal (well ultra marathon normal again) but was afraid that it would mean I was disqualified. I know some races disqualify you, if you return back to an aid station you have already left (others don't) and my guess in retrospect is that if I had been thinking clearly I would have simply asked before checking back in to the aid station. In either case, I hate going backwards. After regrouping a little bit, I decided I would simply walk (flat, down, up, whatever) until I felt better. Or until somebody caught up to me . . . I was shocked nobody caught me. And shocked nobody ever came at me from the opposite direction. I just kept walking. Unfortunately, it was a real struggle at this point to even drink water and my mind went into a tailspin. Obviously, I need to become mentally stronger. At one point, I started to wonder if the race had been cancelled and I was simply caught between aid stations with nobody else out on the trails . . . yeah, I was not functioning very well. Case in point, I had this moment of doubt about the trail - I hadn't seen a marker in a while but just kept going reminding myself that the course directions said there weren't "comfort" flags.
I am guessing I went off course by as much as a mile, although it was probably much less -- maybe only a half mile one-way. When I came to a road - definitely not part of the course - I considered hitching to the 50 mile turnaround where I could DQ myself. However, another runner made the same mistake a few minutes after me and we were able to walk back to where we had gone off course. I guess, part of me was still game for the fight. Part of me. I had some really strange moments on the trail between here and my eventual finish at the turnaround -- these moments lay somewhere between delirious and simply foolish. In either case, at mile fifty I sat down and started sipping liquids. I got sick again while sitting, but in retrospect think I should have been able to fight this down with a bit more sturdiness. I don't know how long I should have sat there trying to nurse myself back to health. I was worried about myself at this point. It scared me that water still wasn't settling without a fight and even soda didn't seem secure . . . I hadn't gone to the bathroom in a long time, maybe 4/5 hours (but I had gone a couple of times on the day) . . . anyhow I sat there for a while trying to regroup, but was unable to ever really start rehydrating.
When I got to the hotel, maybe 2 hours after officially leaving the race, I was finally able to start really getting liquids down -- orange juice seemed to do the trick -- and a while later I even ate some noodles and broth. Most importantly, I eventually went to the bathroom again and aside from spitting up some of the juice my stomach gradually returned to sanity.
Finally, the night was an adventure in cramping as my legs and feet kept freaking out to the point of sheer weirdness . . . ah, to fight another day.
In conclusion, I am still unsure what went wrong - I understand that I got dehydrated but this didn't seem to happen until my stomach blew up on me. I'm not sure why my stomach once again went on me, but wondering if it had to do with eating too much given the generally weak state of my stomach especially in the heat. And I still haven't figured out if I should have kept running or if I would have gotten into real trouble eventually . . .
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