My (running) Life in Medals - 2011 River Cities Triathlon

When I registered for this race, I was living in Dallas.  I'd just moved out of my beloved NYC after 5+ years and was living apart from my girlfriend, who was still up north.  I registered for the race mostly out of peer pressure, as there was a group of people from a health and fitness forum I post on that were going.  I knew a couple of the guys, but mostly, I was going to compete/race with a bunch of internet friends.

By the time the race rolled around, I was living in Austin and I had been reunited with my wonderful girlfriend. I also had no job.  I also had only been on my bike twice in two months.  And to top things off, I'd only been in the pool a handful of times in a couple months.  But I'd been running....a lot.  I knew I had overall fitness, but I had no clue how the race would go.

My friend Dave and I decided to carpool to the race.  Consequently, Dave and I ran cross country together when we were in high school but had only seen each other once since, and that meeting was about two months prior.  We had successfully found some space in a hotel room with one of the other racers.

On race day, the water temperature was in the low 90s.  As I swam, I could feel my body heating up and I was sweating buckets.  Roughly after the halfway point, I could feel the fatigue from lack of swimming kick in and my upper body began to tire.  With each stroke, I prayed for the shore to move closer.  Once into T1, I saw Dave and we sort of joked about the swim.

Dave left transition before I did, so I didn't expect to see him again until the run.  Dave is a cyclist first and had just come off a ridiculous week of mileage at RAGBRAI.  I hadn't been on a bike more than twice in two months.  The bike was only 18.2 miles, which I knew I could fake.   I figured if I could knock it out in under and hour, I'd be doing good.  At about mile 11, I caught up to and caught Dave, which surprised me.  I was finding extended sections of the bike course that I could sustain 27-30+ miles an hour.  Once I hit mile 16, I was pedaling into a headwind and my legs started feeling fatigued, but it wasn't hard to push through the last bit of the bike.

I came off the bike and headed out on the run.  The temperature was into the mid-90s and I was overheating. I couldn't keep a decent pace for anything.  I suffered through the run, but finished just ahead of Dave.  After reviewing the times, we both laughed.  I beat Dave at his strong suit, and he beat me at mine.  That should never happen.  I guess strange things happen in Louisiana.

My (running) Life in Medals - Capt'n Karl's 60K...er 30K...um 45K?

I've still got a lot of medals to go through to finish off this series, so I figured why not start back in with the most recent medal acquired.  This one will be more or less a race report.  If you ask me, this is the medal I didn't earn...

I'm currently in the process of training for the Cactus Rose 100, so I signed up for the Capt'n Karl's 60K out at Mule Shoe Bend.  I figured it would be great practice to get some time on trails in the dark in a race setting.    I had no plans of really racing, I just wanted to get in a long training run.  However, a nice time is always appreciated.

Katie and I made the drive out.  When we left north Austin, the heat was still blazing.  In our hurry to leave, I forgot to eat dinner.  You'd think that would be important since I was set to run 37+ miles, but I got thrown off a little by the evening start.  I didn't have my usual morning routine to remind me that I need to eat.  Anyway, we ended up stopping along the way and I picked up some snacks as it was too close to race time to eat a proper meal.

We arrived and I checked in while Katie registered for the 10K (which she subsequently won).  We set up and I took care of my last minute preparations.  Before I knew it, I was lined up and the race began.  I forgot there was and out-and-back before the loops started, so when I came back through the start/finish, I waved to Katie and gave her a quick kiss before heading off into the trails.

Initially, I was moving a little faster than I needed to, but I wasn't anywhere near a race pace.  Eventually I settled in to a nice pace.  I skipped the first water stop, as I still had plenty in my water bottle but vowed to drink more water between aid stations to keep from dehydrating.  As I navigated the trails, I found that they were much more runnable than I had expected.  Although there were a few sections of pretty gnarly rock, there were extended sections of nice, smooth trail that enabled me to pick the pace up and stretch the legs.

When I hit the section aid station, I downed a gel, refilled water, and took off again.  Shortly after I left the aid station behind, I felt the washing machine in my abdomen.  Based on how I felt prior to the race start, I knew it was going to hit me, so I had stashed some toilet paper in the pocket of my water bottle strap.  Problem was, there was absolutely no cover on the course to seek.  Additionally, I had elected to wear a neon yellow shirt, so I'd essentially turned myself into a beacon in the woods if I'd decided to answer the call of nature.

My pace slowed as I pleaded for my body to hold off.  "Just hold off until I can get back to the start."  I was in dire straits, yet there was still nowhere to duck off the course.  The only positive was that it was starting to get dark outside, so that would eventually provide some extra cover.  However, there was a negative too.  I'd been told that I wouldn't need my headlamp until after the first loops, so it was hanging prettily from the handle of my cooler--at the start/finish.  As darkness encroached, the urgency in my bowels came and went, eventually subsiding enough that I was able to run almost normal again.  However, there was little light remaining, so I was essentially running blind on the course.  I could make out the trail, but I had no clue what was underfoot.  One wrong step and my day was over.  I slowed my pace to be more careful until a pair of runners with lights passed.  I tried to ride their coattails, but eventually they left me behind.

Finally I got back to the start/finish in just under 1:40.  Not bad for taking it easy, slowing to keep from crapping myself, and not being able to see anything.  It was just in time too, as my insides felt like they were going to explode.  I ran to the bathroom, but of course there was no toilet paper.  I ran back to my stuff, grabbed my stash and returned to the port-o-potties.  After, I went back down, crossed the timing mat, and refilled water.  I grabbed a few M&M's and learned of Katie's victory.  I gave her a quick kiss and headed back out for loop 2.  In the excitement, I forgot to grab nutrition for the second loop.

I made it through the first aid station with no issues, but shortly after I started feeling a slight pain on the right side of my foot.  Nothing serious but noticeable.  As I inched toward the second aid station, I could feel the lack of calories catching up to me.  I didn't eat as much as I should have prior to the race, and I'd only had a single gel.  It was over 2.5 hours into the race.  At every turn, I hoped to see the aid station, but it eluded me. I was hoping, wishing for the aid station to come soon.

Once I finally made it to the full service aid station, I loaded up on a water/gatorade mix and ate a few cookies to get some quick calories.  Almost immediately I started feeling the pick-me-up.  My pace quickened and I flew through the last third of the loop.   I came back in feeling pretty good.

Katie once again greeted me and handed me nutrition I requested.  Since I wasn't racing, I took my time and made sure I took endurolytes, refilled on gatorate, and drank about half a Mt. Dew.  Katie told me about her first place prize and then I grabbed some fruit snacks to eat once I reached the first aid station.  I set out on my third loop knowing I was already halfway done.

I was starting to feel a little fatigued, but my foot was what was worrying me.  The pain had increased and I also noticed both of my achilles were very tight.  Walking became more common.  When I ran, my gait was very awkward, almost like a limping shuffle.  I'd been through worse in other races, so I knew I could finish.  After the first aid station, things worsened.  My achilles seemed to be seizing and the spot on my right foot was getting more intense.  When I walked, things didn't hurt so much.

I made deals with myself.  "Run to that tree, then you can walk for a few seconds."  I started thinking about how I would kill for a couple ibuprofen.  There were a few beers in the cooler that were for post-race.  I even thought about drinking one of those after the lap to try to numb the pain.  This was pain due to fatigue.  No, I could and have fought through that many times.  This was something wrong with my body.

Doubt started creeping in.  Not in my ability to finish, but doubt in it being smart to continue.  I started to contemplate dropping out.  A DNF?  No way.  I argued with myself, both in my head and out loud.  In the back of my mind I think I knew I needed to drop, but I couldn't convince myself.  I finally hobbled into the second aid station and took care of my nutrition.  I triumphantly ran out of the station only to find myself once again hobbling only mere yards from the station.  Other runners passed by and offered words of encouragement, but it did little to ease the issue at hand.

I soon found myself alone on the trail once again arguing with myself.  Finally, I pseudo-accepted dropping out and called out in the darkness, "REALLY?  REALLY?  Are you really going to do this?  You're going to DNF?"  I tried running again, but could only manage a hobble and a muffled gasp.  As I tried to put the thought of a DNF out of my mind long enough to finish the lap, I heard the excruciating sound of someone retching violently somewhere in the distance.  The sound echoed and the poor soul continue to heave over and over.  I envied him.  I really did.  Vomiting is temporary; I had no clue what was going on with my foot and my achilles.  I could be looking at the end of running for a long time.

Two hours had passed since I had last been at the start/finish.  Then two and a quarter.  I hobbled on.  More runners passed offering encouragement.  Each time I would try to run, only to end in defeat.  Two and a half hours passed, and I still had not returned to see my girlfriend's smiling face.  I knew if I were to continue, it would likely take me over three hours to complete the final 9 miles and I would risk potential injury, possibly something serious.  I cast the thought out of my mind as I finally came in to the finish of the loop.

Katie immediately knew something was wrong when I came through.  She could tell just by the way I was running.  I went over the timing mat and walked straight to her.  I told her what was going on.  She could see the reluctance, both to continue and to stop.  I sat down in the chair and debated as I watch the seconds, and then minutes, tick by on my watch.

I sat for 10 minutes and debated.  I had come out for a long training run.  I'd already put in six hours, so my goal had been accomplished.  Continuing was only creating opportunity to do damage and possibly endanger my ultimate goal of running Cactus Rose.  Even still, it was hard to actually pull the trigger and drop out.  I placed my fingers on the velcro strap of my timing chip and paused.  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and pulled.  The tearing sound of the velcro releasing its grip from my leg signaled the end of my night.

Where the timing chip strap once was, there was left a clean line amid the dirt caked to my leg.  I looked at it as a badge of defeat as I hobbled over to the finish area with Katie.  I turned in my chip and admitted defeat.  I was told that I'd be dropped down to the 30K, and I was asked if I wanted the finisher's medal for the shorter race.  I said, "sure, I guess" and reluctantly took the medal.

In retrospect, I  shouldn't have taken the medal.  I didn't earn it.  That wasn't my race.  Sure, I ran farther than 30K, but I wasn't in that race.  In the end, I accepted that my day was successful as a long training run.  You don't get medals for training runs.  I didn't and don't deserve the 30K medal.  I didn't earn it.

Although I didn't earn the medal, what I did earn was the opportunity to continue preparing myself for the ultimate goal of Cactus Rose.  I made a smart decision to call it a night and live to run another day.  It's a decision that's not easy to make, and I'm proud of myself for making it.

Starting Ultra Training: Tips

You've found your race, so now its time to start training.  If you've been doing marathons, you already know there are a plethora of training plans out there.  Every marathon plan is slightly different, but almost all good plans are structured in a very similar manner.  You'll find more targeted speed work, higher/lower mileage, etc, but almost all of them will be 16-18 weeks and will top out at around 20-22 miles.  If you've done a google search looking for ultra training plans, you've probably realized by now that there aren't many out there.

Ask 5 ultra runners how to train for a race, and you'll likely get 5 different responses.  There doesn't seem to be a standard plan, as everyone's body tends to react differently to extending the distance beyond the marathon.  Add in the family time, jobs, personal life, etc and it results in people balancing the training load quite differently.  There are, however, some common denominators in ultra training.  I'll touch on some of those and talk about some of my preferences in ultra training.

The first thing to consider is mileage vs time on your feet (TOYF).  I tend to prefer the time on your feet method over running mileage.  Its completely a personal preference, but I find it easier to just zone out and run, not worrying about my route.  When I run a set mileage, I find myself poring over every mile, and the run seems to take forever.  Another positive I find in TOYF is that regardless of how I'm feeling, I'm out for the same amount of time.  If I'm feeling great and I have a 4 hour run,  I get in a few more miles.  However, if you feel bad and you have 30 miles scheduled, you might be out for a lot longer than you were expecting. Again, its all personal preference.  For some, seeing a 5 hour run on your schedule seem much more daunting to some that seeing 33 miles.  Try it both ways and see what works best for you.

I feel like one of the key contributors to my success in ultra training is the back-to-back long run, regardless of your choice in training method.  Doing a second long run in a weekend really helps to give practice running not only on tired legs, but in a fatigued state.  The first few times you try it, that second day is not easy. Eventually, you will notice your recovery time shorten and that second long run will come much easier.  I usually do my two long runs at different distances, and I usually prefer to do my longer of the two long runs on the first day.  The easiest way I've found to transition to this is to actually start with the short run on the first day and then slowly adjust.

Let's pretend you already have a pretty good mileage base and you can do a long run of three hours.  Start with doing an hour on Saturday and then doing your three hour long run on Sunday.  Then move to doing an hour and a half on Saturday and 2.5 hours on Sunday.  Then split the weekend with two, two hour runs.  Then move to a three hour on Saturday followed by a 1 hour on Sunday.  Once you can do that, you can start adding more mileage to the Sunday run and even bringing the first day mileage up, depending on what distance you are training for.

As with everything there are some drawbacks to the above approach, but I feel like its worth the effort.  The biggest complaint is that you kill a chunk of both of your weekend days with back-to-backs.  This is true, however, this approach also shortens the time commitment each day, while increasing the overall mileage/time on the weekend.  You don't have to do back-to-backs every weekend.  Try it once a month or every other week.

As you are building up your endurance, don't feel bad if you need to walk, especially if you are running hilly courses/trails.  Almost everyone walks at some point in the actual race.  Yes, even the people up front. If you need to walk during training, go for it.  Just keep moving forward.  You'll find that as you build your endurance, you'll walk less.  Maybe on race day you'll even be able to push through the entire race, although as your distance increases, the likelihood of walking increases.

So what should your week look like?  There are many factors that will dictate your training schedule, but here's what I like to do.  I go easy on Monday to recover from the weekend.  I'll usually do double, or a little more, of my Monday distance/time on Tuesday.  On Wednesday I'll typically do a longer run (roughly 1/2 the distance/time of the shorter of my two weekend runs), then Thursday I'll usually repeat my Tuesday run.  And lastly, I take Friday off.  I obviously tweak it depending on what I have going on in my work/personal life, but that's typically the structure I use.

In the end, the biggest thing to remember is that training for an ultra is as much training your mind as it is training your body.  If you don't train your mind, you'll fail when your body fatigues and says "no."  You can only train your body so much, after that its your mental toughness that allows you to persevere.

So You Want to Run an Ultra Marathon: how to choose a race

I've had a number of people ask me ultra-related questions recently, so I figured I'd put together a small series of blog posts addressing some of the questions.  I'm by no means the supreme authority on ultra running.  However, these are based on my experience.

Choosing which race to do for your first ultra can be an important step in your ultimate success on race day and having a positive experience.  There's no standard distance for ultras, so deciding a distance is the first step, as there are races of almost any distance you can possible imagine.  There are even ultras that are timed events where every participant will run a different distance.

DISTANCE. If its available to you, I'd suggest starting with a 50K or a 60K.  I'm assuming if you are eyeing an ultra, you've hopefully run several marathons, so these two distances (31 miles and 37.2 miles) aren't a crazy stretch from the marathon distance.  You can essentially take a marathon training program (drop the speed/tempo work if you want), substitute a 26ish mile training run for "race day," and then tack on a two week taper.  You've got a training program.  Its not quite that simple but almost.

FORMAT. Another thing to consider that might not be obvious is the course.  I'm not referring to terrain and elevation gain/loss, what I'm getting at here is how the course is structured.  Is it a one loop course? Seven loops? Out-and-back? Point-to-point?  Typically, I like single loops or point-to-points because the scenery is always new and it helps keep me distracted to see new things.  I also like out-and-backs because I can play the mind game that I just have to reach the turnaround and then just run back to where I started.  However, for a first ultra I really recommend finding a course that has a bunch of loops.  I know, I know, its mind-numbing.  I always hated running on a track too.  But bear with me here.

When I tackle a new distance, I like the multiple loop format for one main reason: it allows me to forget about mileage and break the race down in a more manageable way.  My first ultra was the Knickerbocker 60K in Central Park.  The course consisted of a short out-and-back, followed by nine 3.98 mile loops.  Instead of thinking about the 37.2 mile race mile-by-mile, I broke it down in loops.  In my mind, I threw out the short out-and-back.  After that, it was just nine loops.  Nine is easier to wrap my head around than 37.  After three loops I was already 1/3 of the way done.  If I thought about it in miles, after three loops I'd still be looking at 24 miles.  After 6 loops, I was already 2/3 of the way done.  I play mind games with myself when I run ultras, and so do most other ultra runners I know.

There are also a other positives to keep in mind when about multi-loop courses.  Almost all ultras are small enough that you can leave a drop bag (either officially or unofficially) at or near the start/finish.  Longer races will allow drop bags at different aid stations along the route.  But back to our multi-loop format.  The more loops, the more chances you have to hit your drop bag, which means the less you have to carry.  Race nutrition usually isn't all that heavy, but the longer you run, the more that little bit of weight is compounded.  Just a quick example:  I ran with an ipod on my arm in my first ultra and my shoulder was sore for days afterwards.  

Another great thing about having access to your drop bag is that you can keep a wider range of nutrition available.  During a marathon, you carry your 4-5 gels and maybe some endurolytes.  Being able to get to your drop bag that is tailored specifically to you every 4-5 miles is a huge plus.  you don't have to rely on the race to provide nutrition.  Don't worry, I'll cover drop bags in another post in the near future.

Hopefully you have friends and/or family coming out to support you.  More loops means more times you'll see each other, which can be a huge pick-me-up, especially in the latter miles of the race.  Even if you don't have anyone coming out, other runners do.  All those people at the start/finish and along the course will be cheering for you, despite not knowing you.  Embrace these people's encouragement.

LOCATION. Race location is another thing to consider.  If there's a race in your town or nearby, jump on it.  Familiarity with the course and the terrain will go a long way to ensuring your success on race day.  Even if you aren't able to run the exact course, you'll likely be able to find very similar terrain to run on if the race is in your area.  A local race also allows you to train in the same type of weather conditions you'll most likely encounter on race day.  Additionally, a local race will make it more likely that you can get your fan base to come out.

There are a lot of things to consider when choosing your first ultra.  The above points aren't comprehensive by any means, but should give you a good start for considerations.

Review: New Balance MT101

I had been waiting to do a long run in these before putting together a review, and after today's 4 hour and 15 minute jaunt through rocky trails, I've formed an opinion.  I've done several trail runs in these and taken them out for a spin on paved surfaces as well, and I have to say that they perform well on both accounts.  However, I'll concentrate on the trail end of thing because there are plenty of racing flats I'd rather be in on paved surfaces.

When I first slipped these on and hit the trails, I was immediately struck at how well they performed.  It felt like I was wearing a racing flat with all the benefits of a trail shoe.  I felt lighter on my feet and the RockStop shield in the forefoot did a great job of protecting my feet from rocks.  I could feel the trail under my feet much better, which makes me feel a little more sure-footed on the rocky trails of the Hill Country.

One of the things I always loved about the Cascadia was that it drained water really well.  Last night, I found a fairly deep puddle of water on my run (shocking, in this drought), so I stopped and submerged my feet up to my ankles and then finished my run.  Not surprising, the shoes drained water as well as the Cascadia.  However, after drying overnight, they felt like they had stretched out a bit.

Today, I went out for my first real long run in the shoes.  I'd previously gone 2+ hours in them, but I wanted to see how they'd feel after 3-4 hours.  Amazingly, they didn't feel any less comfortable than the Cascadias I've been running in over the years.  My only complaint is that due to the minimalistic nature of the shoe, the rear foot doesn't have much between your foot and the ground.  Adding to this problem is that some of the foam is exposed on the rear of the shoe, instead of having a layer of outsole over it.  On these really rocky trails around Austin, when you come down on your heel, it tends to feel not so nice.  I realize the goal of minimalist shoes is to put the runner on their forefoot.  I'm a midfoot striker, but on trails its fairly impossible to always come down on your midfoot/forefoot, especially when bombing down a hill with sharp rocks dominating the trail.  My left heel is a little sore after today's run.

Pros:

• Weight - This shoe is light.  Its 7.48 oz (men's size 9).  Its not as light as a racing flat, but it feels like one compared to the Cascadia (10 oz).
• Price - $75.
• Feel - the shoe allows you to feel the trail, but (for the most part) protects you from what's under your feet.
• Breathability - the shoe breathes well, which also translates in draining water as well.

Cons:

• Lack of rear foot protection - not a huge concern, but can definitely result in some soreness.
• No lateral protection - if your foot happens to come down next to something protruding horizontally, the shoe provides little protection again the object.  Again, not a huge concern because this doesn't happen often.
• No toe protection - if you stub your toe on the trail, there's no protection.  This doesn't happen often, but the Cascadia affords a little extra protection up front against this.

Overall, this shoe gets a solid A.  The negatives are there but are far exceeded by the positives.  I have to thank Brooks for changing the Cascadia just enough that I decided to try something new.  The MT101 is definitely my new trail shoe.  Its getting major updates in January, so I hope they don't screw it up.

Volente Loop

I finally went out and did the Volente Loop today.  Its a nice little ride, but there's a monster hill at about 15.5 miles.  Of course, doing it in 100+ degrees didn't make it any easier.  There's a little bit of a shoulder all the way in to Volente.  The traffic dies down after you get past Bullick Hollow Rd and really dies down past Volente.  There are some fun corners and I hit 40+ mph a couple times.  If you are in the area and looking for a 20ish mile ride with some nice climbs, give it a try.

My (running) Life in Medals - 2001 Austin Marathon

"I'll never do this again."

I lied.  After vowing to never run another marathon, on Feb 18, 2001 I lined up and ran the Austin Marathon. After the physical pain of my first marathon faded, I was left with a lingering feeling of the need to run a marathon.  I cheated myself by not training properly.  I cheated myself out of the experiencing the race.  Instead, I had experienced suffering.

In the fall of 2001, I was completing my final semester of undergrad at Texas A&M.  I had applied to grad school, but I was waiting to find out my fate.  The plan  was to stay in College Station for the spring and summer and start grad school in the fall of '01.  During the fall semester of '00 I heard of a marathon training group through the Rec Center, so I went to the informational.  The next thing I know, I was training for the Austin Marathon.*

I developed a knee issue only a few weeks before the race, but since I'm stubborn, I decided to run anyway.  My goal was to break 4 hours and one of the other guys I had been training with had the same goal.  We ran the first 18 miles together, but my knee got so bad that I told him to go on.  I was on pace for sub-4 hours through 18, but as my knee got worse, I was reduced to walking.  Over the next 8 miles, the pain got so bad that there were literally tears rolling down my face.  I ended up finishing in 4:19:xx, but I couldn't run more than a 1/4 mile for the next 2 months due to the pain.  I shouldn't have started, and I sure shouldn't have finished.  Did I mention I was stubborn?

I was happy I'd completed my second marathon and that I'd done a proper training program, but I still felt like I had unfinished business.  I carried that feeling for many years.

*Interesting sidenote: one of the coaches for that program was a Texas A&M Student named Justin.  He had done an Ironman, which intrigued me.  I talked to him about it and he said he didn't really train that much, but just went out to see if he could do it.  Years later, I found out that Justin was Justin Daerr, who is now a professional triathlete.  His "i didn't train much" time was 12:55:03.  He's come a long way.  Check out his website.

My (running) Life in Medals - 1999 Houston Marathon

The 1999 Houston Marathon, my first marathon and an example of everything you shouldn't do.  1999 was before the marathon boom, before the plenitude of marathon training groups, and before I had even an inkling of a clue of what to do.  I was a junior in college who ran a few times a week for 30 minutes or so and had always had "marathon" in the back of my mind but had no clue what that really meant.

My roommate's girlfriend and I entered a "I'll do it if you do it" pact, so I signed up.  I ran, but never exceeded 9 miles in training.  I didn't have a training plan or any concept of long runs or nutrition.  My roommate's girlfriend actually registered  for the race at the expo (further proof of the marathon boom, Houston is now a lottery to get in).  We lined up in our respective starting locations and then met up around mile 1.  We actually ran almost all of the first 13 miles, but the back half of the course was greeted with a lot of walking.  I took in no calories.  I ran in a cotton t-shirt.  I stopped sweating from dehydration.  I SUFFERED a lot.  I put myself in danger, but I was completely ignorant to it at the time.

Despite doing everything wrong, I persevered and crossed the finish line in 4:52:xx.  I told my sister after the race, "I'll never do this again."  I'm glad I was wrong and I'm actually happy that I did everything wrong (but only because no bad came of it), because it adds some validity to my advice when I talk to first-time marathoners.  I've done it the wrong way, and you DO NOT want to experience what I did.  The experience and suffering also serve as a reminder to train and train properly in order to avoid that anguish, not only during, but after the race.  I couldn't walk for over a week.

On January 15, 2012, I will return to Houston and once again run the course.  If things go well, I'll finish in almost 2 hours faster than my original time.