It has taken me a while to get back into what I would consider real training for Wasatch; however, I feel like I am on pace to be where I need to be when I need to be there. My legs have gradually come back and my mind seems to be fairly fresh and the running pretty good. I took basically a week off from training, then a healing week at 60 miles, and finally last week was back up to about 80 miles . . . the next couple of weeks should be fairly mileage intensive weeks as I will try to build up to 100 miles per week by the end of this month. Enough with mileage . . . though I have noticed that my legs are doing proportionally better with short to medium distance runs right now and then seem less interested/motivated in functioning during runs at the 25 to 30 mile point . . .
One of the things I am trying to do this summer is run at least one new peak a week and have found this both physically and mentally enjoyable as well as challenging -- I think being on new terrain is making the vertical more honest vertical. I am not sure if it is simply an illusion of my mind or not, but I sometimes worry that running the same climbs over and over almost becomes like cheating because I know what to expect. Anyhow one of the cooler aspects of this has been seeing new parts of Utah's mountains and trails that I wouldn't ordinarily head out to for something as quick as a one day run -- I am not sure if I will really summit a new peak this week because of a couple days planned for running and camping at Alta, which isn't my everyday running grounds but I tend to make it up there a few times every summer as well as a non-running trip planned for later in the week . . . my basic point of this ramble is that by running fresher terrain so far this summer, I seem to be approaching my training in a relatively sane and fun manner.
Race plans for this month involve Speedgoat, which I hope to do as the second day of back-to-back 30 mile runs. I won't really be worrying as much about speed or competitive performance as much as simply handling loads of vertical while exhausted!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
BigHorn 100
Good Times! What a beautiful and challenging course! I ended up finishing in 24:39 and taking 14th place. The account here is a general summary of what went right/wrong at different points along the way.
During the earliest miles (until the climb really starts around mile 4 or 5) I ran quite conservatively and simply worked my way comfortably through the line with Naoki (an old friend who flew in from Japan to run Big Horn) -- this started a process that lasted most of the early miles where I simply judged my pace on breathing levels and kept from passing people whenever in doubt about my pace. As the course became steeper and worked its way through the first real climb I settled into a nice groove and was able to do enough mental/physical self-checking to realize that at least my body was in working order for the day. After the first real summit, I found myself starting to fall in with a small group of strong runners and was able to take advantage of a positive group-think running for a large chunk of the early miles. At the first drop bag aid station, I saw my wife and the rest of my crew for the first time and was happy to let them know that despite the race only having started I was having a pretty good time. One of my favorite sections of the race started here at mile 13.5 and lasted all the way until mile 30. I ran within myself, socialized when possible, made a couple new friends, and tried to soak in the amazing scenery. Almost the entire middle section of this out-back was runnable in this direction and allowed me to take advantage of a rising theory of mine that it is almost more restful to run at a slow pace than walk at a fast pace. I ran into Naoki again at the Footbridge aid station (mile 30) and we started the long climb to Porcupine running together again despite the fact that his pace was going to be faster than mine as the climb went on. The first real stress of the race hit me during the early parts of the climb up from Footbridge and I would have maybe been better off purposely holding myself in check here (I kept struggling with effort/pace wisdom during the miles from about 33 to 45 and probably wasted both some mental and physical energy trying to focus on the climb) . . . Around mile 40 my stomach pretty much told me that it was tired of ingesting Clif Shots and the like -- I am trying to figure out what exactly went wrong in terms of my stomach but am suspicous that my body/mind simply starts to reject the sugar overload of sports-energy foods around the 8 hour mark. Despite my stomach turning, I tried to keep getting calories in me whenever possible and probably wasted too much mental anxiety on the issue and should have just kept taking advantage of the aid stations and not stressed so much about eating more shots. The two things that seemed to work the best in terms of eating during this period were liquids (soda, heed, whatever) and high sugar fruits. At one aid station I was able to get some peaches in syrup which totally rocked. I am not sure when or where, but I remember seeing Mike Wolf fly downhill on his way to the course record as if the rest of us were standing still . . . finally I made it to Porcupine right at the limit of what might count for 24 hour pace and was once again revived by my crew. Cara had prepared some vegan Ramen for me, which was an awesome surprise and one of the best meals I have ever had midway through a race. Calories! Calories! Calories!
The first half of the race had found me running in a position where I was almost always in contact with people I knew either from this race itself or from other races run over the past few years, but the miles from 48 to 82 would find me alone on the trail for long sections and would allow me to discover how well I could manage my running in the night hours on relatively unfamiliar terrain. One nice thing about the out and back format of races like Big Horn and Leadville is that you see everyone else on the course at some point, which in my opinion provides a feeling of community and helped motivate me to run without a pacer for the night section because I knew that I would be on the course with lots of people moving along the trail. The miles from 48 to about mile 60 found me descending through the crowd of runners climbing uphill to Porcupine and I was able to both give and receive a lot of positive feedback. I was happy to recognize Brian Kamm during this section despite the fact that we were basically headlamps blinding one another in the dark. During the run back to Footbridge I was able to keep getting calories in and for the most part my stomach seemed to settle down a little. The biggest concern I had was that my pacing seemed to fall apart in the dark and I let myself slow too much -- in retrospect I wish that I had been mentally stronger through this part of the race and need to work more on pushing hard during the sometimes difficult hours of the night. Despite running this section relatively poorly I think I was only passed by one runner (who I passed back at Footbridge) and probably passed two or three in my own right; however, there is no question that I lost any real shot at running sub-24 during the descent from mile 48 to 66. As goofballish as it sounds, I really preferred the return climb out of Footbridge more than any section I had since going through Footbridge the first time. I got back into a pretty positive groove of running and climbing during the last third of the race and had some of my best mental periods during the pre-dawn hours leading to Cow Camp (about mile 75?!). Ironically, despite some pretty good running during this part of the race, I threw up shortly after the Cow Camp aid station which may have simply been a product of overeating (again in my mental stress about getting enough calories). Again the miles before and after Cow Camp were some of the most enjoyable of the race especially in terms of terrain and overall experience.
The last section of the race was from Dry Fork to the finish . . . thankfully Cara came down and met me about a half mile out of the Dry Fork aid station and paced me into the station and got me back into the positive realization that I was indeed going to finish. It was cool at Dry Fork when all the runners standing around there were giving me some pretty positive support and even cheering me on by name, the only problem was that in my mental state I figured these people must all be waiting around to pace their runners into the finish and I was wondering how in the hell I was going to keep from being overwhelmed by so many racers. (Turned out the runners at the station were in fact waiting for the start of the 50km race, which made a whole lot more sense once my brain was able to process it all a little). I was glad to have Cara with me leaving the aid station, especially since I felt strong enough to run a lot of the remaining uphills and needed somebody there to make sure I didn't start slacking. One of the hardest parts of the race for me in terms of physical pain was the long and relatively steep descent going from mile 88 to 96. I was simply tired of the pounding and was so glad when the descent mellowed out around mile 93 so I could run without pain again. The section of dirt road from the original start of the race to the finish line (the 4 miles that make the course 100 miles and bring runners into the awesome finish area at the park in Dayton, Wyoming) was simply a footrace with Cara running besides me the whole time. I wimped out a little at the final aid station (mile 98.5) and turned down the somewhat twisted somewhat kind offer of wine -- I am after all a beer drinker -- and simply kept on running toward the finish and the promise of rest . . .
Like I said: GOOD TIMES. I am glad to be getting in a week long break from training and hope to start refocusing on a return to Wasatch in September where hopefully I can redeem myself a little after last year's collapse there.
During the earliest miles (until the climb really starts around mile 4 or 5) I ran quite conservatively and simply worked my way comfortably through the line with Naoki (an old friend who flew in from Japan to run Big Horn) -- this started a process that lasted most of the early miles where I simply judged my pace on breathing levels and kept from passing people whenever in doubt about my pace. As the course became steeper and worked its way through the first real climb I settled into a nice groove and was able to do enough mental/physical self-checking to realize that at least my body was in working order for the day. After the first real summit, I found myself starting to fall in with a small group of strong runners and was able to take advantage of a positive group-think running for a large chunk of the early miles. At the first drop bag aid station, I saw my wife and the rest of my crew for the first time and was happy to let them know that despite the race only having started I was having a pretty good time. One of my favorite sections of the race started here at mile 13.5 and lasted all the way until mile 30. I ran within myself, socialized when possible, made a couple new friends, and tried to soak in the amazing scenery. Almost the entire middle section of this out-back was runnable in this direction and allowed me to take advantage of a rising theory of mine that it is almost more restful to run at a slow pace than walk at a fast pace. I ran into Naoki again at the Footbridge aid station (mile 30) and we started the long climb to Porcupine running together again despite the fact that his pace was going to be faster than mine as the climb went on. The first real stress of the race hit me during the early parts of the climb up from Footbridge and I would have maybe been better off purposely holding myself in check here (I kept struggling with effort/pace wisdom during the miles from about 33 to 45 and probably wasted both some mental and physical energy trying to focus on the climb) . . . Around mile 40 my stomach pretty much told me that it was tired of ingesting Clif Shots and the like -- I am trying to figure out what exactly went wrong in terms of my stomach but am suspicous that my body/mind simply starts to reject the sugar overload of sports-energy foods around the 8 hour mark. Despite my stomach turning, I tried to keep getting calories in me whenever possible and probably wasted too much mental anxiety on the issue and should have just kept taking advantage of the aid stations and not stressed so much about eating more shots. The two things that seemed to work the best in terms of eating during this period were liquids (soda, heed, whatever) and high sugar fruits. At one aid station I was able to get some peaches in syrup which totally rocked. I am not sure when or where, but I remember seeing Mike Wolf fly downhill on his way to the course record as if the rest of us were standing still . . . finally I made it to Porcupine right at the limit of what might count for 24 hour pace and was once again revived by my crew. Cara had prepared some vegan Ramen for me, which was an awesome surprise and one of the best meals I have ever had midway through a race. Calories! Calories! Calories!
The first half of the race had found me running in a position where I was almost always in contact with people I knew either from this race itself or from other races run over the past few years, but the miles from 48 to 82 would find me alone on the trail for long sections and would allow me to discover how well I could manage my running in the night hours on relatively unfamiliar terrain. One nice thing about the out and back format of races like Big Horn and Leadville is that you see everyone else on the course at some point, which in my opinion provides a feeling of community and helped motivate me to run without a pacer for the night section because I knew that I would be on the course with lots of people moving along the trail. The miles from 48 to about mile 60 found me descending through the crowd of runners climbing uphill to Porcupine and I was able to both give and receive a lot of positive feedback. I was happy to recognize Brian Kamm during this section despite the fact that we were basically headlamps blinding one another in the dark. During the run back to Footbridge I was able to keep getting calories in and for the most part my stomach seemed to settle down a little. The biggest concern I had was that my pacing seemed to fall apart in the dark and I let myself slow too much -- in retrospect I wish that I had been mentally stronger through this part of the race and need to work more on pushing hard during the sometimes difficult hours of the night. Despite running this section relatively poorly I think I was only passed by one runner (who I passed back at Footbridge) and probably passed two or three in my own right; however, there is no question that I lost any real shot at running sub-24 during the descent from mile 48 to 66. As goofballish as it sounds, I really preferred the return climb out of Footbridge more than any section I had since going through Footbridge the first time. I got back into a pretty positive groove of running and climbing during the last third of the race and had some of my best mental periods during the pre-dawn hours leading to Cow Camp (about mile 75?!). Ironically, despite some pretty good running during this part of the race, I threw up shortly after the Cow Camp aid station which may have simply been a product of overeating (again in my mental stress about getting enough calories). Again the miles before and after Cow Camp were some of the most enjoyable of the race especially in terms of terrain and overall experience.
The last section of the race was from Dry Fork to the finish . . . thankfully Cara came down and met me about a half mile out of the Dry Fork aid station and paced me into the station and got me back into the positive realization that I was indeed going to finish. It was cool at Dry Fork when all the runners standing around there were giving me some pretty positive support and even cheering me on by name, the only problem was that in my mental state I figured these people must all be waiting around to pace their runners into the finish and I was wondering how in the hell I was going to keep from being overwhelmed by so many racers. (Turned out the runners at the station were in fact waiting for the start of the 50km race, which made a whole lot more sense once my brain was able to process it all a little). I was glad to have Cara with me leaving the aid station, especially since I felt strong enough to run a lot of the remaining uphills and needed somebody there to make sure I didn't start slacking. One of the hardest parts of the race for me in terms of physical pain was the long and relatively steep descent going from mile 88 to 96. I was simply tired of the pounding and was so glad when the descent mellowed out around mile 93 so I could run without pain again. The section of dirt road from the original start of the race to the finish line (the 4 miles that make the course 100 miles and bring runners into the awesome finish area at the park in Dayton, Wyoming) was simply a footrace with Cara running besides me the whole time. I wimped out a little at the final aid station (mile 98.5) and turned down the somewhat twisted somewhat kind offer of wine -- I am after all a beer drinker -- and simply kept on running toward the finish and the promise of rest . . .
Like I said: GOOD TIMES. I am glad to be getting in a week long break from training and hope to start refocusing on a return to Wasatch in September where hopefully I can redeem myself a little after last year's collapse there.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
World Cup
I do not like tapering . . . thank goodness for the World Cup. Work ended for the school year last Friday so the past few days have been 100% about getting ready for my departure to Wyoming tomorrow and my conclusion is that I am starting to get antsy. It is time to hit the trails! I think it is a good sign, but I always worry about over resting and since I have been neither running nor working these past couple of days my mind's only occupation has been watching countless soccer games . . .
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Taper Begins
It has been a long time since my last post; however, I have been busy running. I have been running between 80 and about 95 miles a week the past 2 months and am just now starting my taper for BigHorn, which is in two weeks. I feel good about this last cycle of training . . . here are some of the highlights:
I put in a couple of really good 40 mile mountain runs through the foothills surrounding SLC this spring, which were both in the 8,000 feet of vertical range (I calculate vertical pretty roughly simply looking at major climbs and not worrying much about smaller up-downs). Both of these runs brought me to the top of Little Black Mountain and consisted of some decent amounts of variety in terms of technical terrain. These ended up being my longest runs since Antelope Island -- I had planned on completing another 50 miler at Pocatello last week, but the conditions forced the race to be shut down by the RDs at mile 32.
I have been way impressed with sunrise moments on top of Black Mountain this spring -- on two or three occasions in May, I ended up at this point in my run just as the sun rose above the peaks further east . . . there is something special about this summit since it reaches towards both natural and urban spaces. It is kind of like a summative view of the foothills where so much of my running takes place (especially in the non-summer months).
And there has been some speed work . . . for a while I was actually doing traditional speed work on a track and everything . . . it seems like I generally found myself in a 3 week on 1 week off pattern with speed work of some sort or another happening this spring although that seems to have kind of run down . . . I will try to do a fartlek or tempo intense run one day next week to make sure the cardio intensity doesn't fall too much during my taper. I am once again avoiding the start-stop nature of traditional speed work. Not sure if it is a rational thought or merely one of those coincidence makes evidence things, but I am generally suspicious of traditional speed work and injury . . . besides being on the track is one less run done on trail.
The most important thing in terms of running this spring has been the overall good time I have had. I have not experienced much in the way of mental burnout, which sometimes happens to me as I peak for longer races. My theory has been that a more gradual increase in mileage has allowed not only my body, but also my mind to become accustomed to the stress of training . . .
I put in a couple of really good 40 mile mountain runs through the foothills surrounding SLC this spring, which were both in the 8,000 feet of vertical range (I calculate vertical pretty roughly simply looking at major climbs and not worrying much about smaller up-downs). Both of these runs brought me to the top of Little Black Mountain and consisted of some decent amounts of variety in terms of technical terrain. These ended up being my longest runs since Antelope Island -- I had planned on completing another 50 miler at Pocatello last week, but the conditions forced the race to be shut down by the RDs at mile 32.
I have been way impressed with sunrise moments on top of Black Mountain this spring -- on two or three occasions in May, I ended up at this point in my run just as the sun rose above the peaks further east . . . there is something special about this summit since it reaches towards both natural and urban spaces. It is kind of like a summative view of the foothills where so much of my running takes place (especially in the non-summer months).
And there has been some speed work . . . for a while I was actually doing traditional speed work on a track and everything . . . it seems like I generally found myself in a 3 week on 1 week off pattern with speed work of some sort or another happening this spring although that seems to have kind of run down . . . I will try to do a fartlek or tempo intense run one day next week to make sure the cardio intensity doesn't fall too much during my taper. I am once again avoiding the start-stop nature of traditional speed work. Not sure if it is a rational thought or merely one of those coincidence makes evidence things, but I am generally suspicious of traditional speed work and injury . . . besides being on the track is one less run done on trail.
The most important thing in terms of running this spring has been the overall good time I have had. I have not experienced much in the way of mental burnout, which sometimes happens to me as I peak for longer races. My theory has been that a more gradual increase in mileage has allowed not only my body, but also my mind to become accustomed to the stress of training . . .
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Recovery
Ran my first run since the race on Saturday . . . just 4.5 miles of flat trail in the park. The run was basically a body check -- wanted to make sure everything was in working order. I had spent the last 2 days bicycling, but it was good to be back on my feet. Good times! So far this week, I am enjoying my break from training and racing. The rest has been good for both my mind and body. I am glad to see that my legs seem to have come through the first race of the season in pretty solid shape with no injuries or overly exhausted weakness. Can't wait til next week when training starts up for the Big Horn - Pocatello combination.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Antelope Island 50 Miler
GOOD TIMES!
Pure insanity running a 50 mile course that pretty much involved running . . . without there being any real climbs, I found myself running nearly the entire course. Felt like a good place to be for this time of year. Despite a couple of mistakes -- getting lost for an extra half mile or so on the first out and back and miscalculating my pace during the first section of the race -- I felt like I finished a successful race. In fact, I am becoming more and more comfortable with the notion of racing 50 miles as opposed to my general survival strategy for the 100 mile distance.
Spent the night before the race camping out on the island and slept as much as possible . . . kept having dreams/nightmares about the tent blowing away in the post-storm winds that were still whipping off the lake most of the night. I definitely think that camping goes pretty hand-in-hand with trail racing, but in the long run there is something to be said for spending the night in a warm bed instead of a freezing sleeping bag.
As far as the race goes, my mind and body seemed to be in synch for most of the run. I took the first 20 miles relatively conservatively and only struggled a little with some strange twinge pains running up my knee and left quad. The shots of pain didn't necessarily seem to alter my pace or overly effect my race; however, they are the only real after-effects that I am feeling today. The hardest aspect of the race for me was simply committing to run, since I am used to more mountainous courses that generally involve walking the longer climbs . . . anyhow the flat course and the fast trails led to a PR at the 50 mile distance going under 8 hours for the first time.
WILDLIFE REPORT: Bison and antelope aplenty. The high point for me was watching as a small group of antelope ran free and wild across the trail in front of me -- a definite mental boost when I was starting to feel down on the long out-n-back that makes up the Mountain View Trail part of the course.
Pure insanity running a 50 mile course that pretty much involved running . . . without there being any real climbs, I found myself running nearly the entire course. Felt like a good place to be for this time of year. Despite a couple of mistakes -- getting lost for an extra half mile or so on the first out and back and miscalculating my pace during the first section of the race -- I felt like I finished a successful race. In fact, I am becoming more and more comfortable with the notion of racing 50 miles as opposed to my general survival strategy for the 100 mile distance.
Spent the night before the race camping out on the island and slept as much as possible . . . kept having dreams/nightmares about the tent blowing away in the post-storm winds that were still whipping off the lake most of the night. I definitely think that camping goes pretty hand-in-hand with trail racing, but in the long run there is something to be said for spending the night in a warm bed instead of a freezing sleeping bag.
As far as the race goes, my mind and body seemed to be in synch for most of the run. I took the first 20 miles relatively conservatively and only struggled a little with some strange twinge pains running up my knee and left quad. The shots of pain didn't necessarily seem to alter my pace or overly effect my race; however, they are the only real after-effects that I am feeling today. The hardest aspect of the race for me was simply committing to run, since I am used to more mountainous courses that generally involve walking the longer climbs . . . anyhow the flat course and the fast trails led to a PR at the 50 mile distance going under 8 hours for the first time.
WILDLIFE REPORT: Bison and antelope aplenty. The high point for me was watching as a small group of antelope ran free and wild across the trail in front of me -- a definite mental boost when I was starting to feel down on the long out-n-back that makes up the Mountain View Trail part of the course.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Off Day
I am taking today off from running, at least that is the thought as of right now. My wife has already suggested that I run with her later tonight and I may be up for a few miles to loosen my brain; however, I already bailed on running up in the mountains despite this being a beautiful day. I am simply put: TIRED.
I finished off last week with three pretty solid runs in a row: 15, 19, and 24. The easiest of these three runs in terms of milage was probably the best in terms of solid vertical and helped leave me fairly worn out by the time I headed out for my Saturday long run. The kind of running I was doing last week has left me once again pondering the role of terrain in training. I am always curious as to whether or not it's better to run on trails that let you "run" the entire time or if things like scrambles, periods of post-holing, glissading, sliding on your butt, and general mayhem aren't more productive. In terms of race productivity, it probably makes sense to mirror the courses you are planning to race. But in terms of sheer joy, and in terms of becoming mentally stronger, I tend to think that mayhem is a good thing no matter the "race plan".
Last week isn't really what's at issue right now. I am trying to figure out why I can't simply take today off and feel good about my decision. I know that part of my issue is related to a busy week coming up, but shouldn't I be able to take a day's rest without feeling guilt/apprehension regarding the rest. Yesterday was my easy run day, but I skied in the morning and felt pretty winded by the end of the evening's jog. Maybe it's simply the fact that the sun is shining. Why in the world, would I take a day off when spring is practically howling outside? I am almost certain to regret this decision later in the week, when winter decides to hustle back in to the picture for a laugh.
Yeah, I better head out the door at some point . . .
I finished off last week with three pretty solid runs in a row: 15, 19, and 24. The easiest of these three runs in terms of milage was probably the best in terms of solid vertical and helped leave me fairly worn out by the time I headed out for my Saturday long run. The kind of running I was doing last week has left me once again pondering the role of terrain in training. I am always curious as to whether or not it's better to run on trails that let you "run" the entire time or if things like scrambles, periods of post-holing, glissading, sliding on your butt, and general mayhem aren't more productive. In terms of race productivity, it probably makes sense to mirror the courses you are planning to race. But in terms of sheer joy, and in terms of becoming mentally stronger, I tend to think that mayhem is a good thing no matter the "race plan".
Last week isn't really what's at issue right now. I am trying to figure out why I can't simply take today off and feel good about my decision. I know that part of my issue is related to a busy week coming up, but shouldn't I be able to take a day's rest without feeling guilt/apprehension regarding the rest. Yesterday was my easy run day, but I skied in the morning and felt pretty winded by the end of the evening's jog. Maybe it's simply the fact that the sun is shining. Why in the world, would I take a day off when spring is practically howling outside? I am almost certain to regret this decision later in the week, when winter decides to hustle back in to the picture for a laugh.
Yeah, I better head out the door at some point . . .
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