I'm a day under 2 months from the Arkansas Traveller 100 (yes, there are two L's). Its taken me a while to get to the point of wanting to attempt another 100 miler, and this one is a qualifier that will keep me in the Western States lottery, assuming I don't DNF. I feel like I have a long way to go in training, yet I feel like I'm way ahead of my previous training for Rocky Raccoon 100. I admittedly went into that race under-trained. I logged the miles (did both a 50 miler and a 50K in training), but I didn't do any back-to-back long runs, and I missed a lot of weekday (and some weekend) runs. This past weekend, I cranked out a 16 miler on Saturday, and followed that with at 3:05 trail run. While I still need to get the mileage up quite a bit, I'm feeling good on my runs.
This weekend will go a long way to giving me a good idea of my fitness, as I'm running the Capt'n Karl's 60K out at Colorado Bend State Park. I have no delusions of going out and crushing this race, but instead, I'm looking for a consistent effort. I just want to feel good the whole race and not allow the race to turn into a death march. I've run the 30K on this course before, but I can't really remember too much about the course. I don't remember it being overly technical, but Katie thinks it is. I guess we'll see.
I still have about 15 pounds I need to drop to get down to my ideal race weight, though I'm only about 5 pounds over my RR100 race weight. I'll get there eventually if I keep throwing down the mileage. I'm running a lot of hills, and also doing TRX for core and leg strength. I'm hoping that extra strength will help me late in the race when historically my legs and core have been shot.
We will see how it goes, but I'm feeling pretty positive about this 100 miler.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Oh Sh#t!!!!
One of the first questions I always seem to get asked when I reveal that I run ultras is, "what do you do if you have to go to the bathroom?" Of course I laugh, then reveal that I rarely head out on a long run without toilet paper.
If you've done any sort of long distance running, you've been there. You know it all too well. You are running along and all of a sudden you feel a slight shift under the skin right below your stomach. "Uh, oh." The next thing you know, you are penguin walking with your cheeks squeezed tightly together. If you are lucky, there's a rumble in your gut and the immediate danger is temporarily over. At that point, you start running again and shift into bargaining mode with your body. "PLEASE just let me make it home. I promise you, its only five more minutes." If you are really lucky, you make it home and get to relieve yourself in the comfortable confines of your own bathroom, but we all know that doesn't always happen.
If you can't make it home, perhaps you are lucky enough to waddle upon a Starbucks or a McDonald's. You quickly dart toward the bathroom, but the door is locked. You stand outside the door, cheeks squeezed tight enough to turn coal into diamonds muttering, "come on, come on." The door finally opens and out walks a disheveled six year old. You try not to knock him out of the way as you scramble through the the door and lock it behind you. Your peril should be over, but you peer down at the toilet seat that is covered in wet toilet paper and puddles of fresh urine. You'd try to squat but you've just run sixteen miles at marathon goal pace, so you have no confidence in your legs holding you up. You grunt and frantically dance around trying not to soil yourself while trying to clean off the disgusting toilet seat and cover the seat with a couple inadequate layers of toilet paper.
At the last possible moment, you sit down and...RELIEF. Dripping sweat in the stagnant air due to the lack of air conditioning in the bathroom, you clean up and get ready to finish your run. You open the door and waiting outside the door is an attractive member of the opposite sex who is first stunned, then appalled by the smell wafting out of the door. That's all completely hypothetical, of course. It never happened to me.
No one outside of ultra runners want to talk about it, but I will. Why? Because, let's face it...it's really kind of funny when you think about it. Maybe not at the time, but it is funny. You can sympathize when you run by someone pinching the cheeks, but you laugh. You laugh because you can relate.
When you gotta go, you gotta go. I know someone who was in such dire straits that he had to pop a squat between cars in mid-town Manhattan. I've had friends come back from a run with one less sock or glove, heck even I've done it, although I'll look for leaves, newspaper, or pretty much anything to keep from sacrificing a $10 sock.
Once, while on a run in Brooklyn, the feeling hit right about the top of the Williamsburg Bridge. As I frantically tried to get home, I was checking every street for a nook or cranny. I knew I was getting to the critical point. Businesses in Brooklyn don't exactly let people stroll in and use their restrooms, and the area I was in didn't have any fast food joints. Luckily, I made it home just in the nick of time. I tore the front door open and made a bee line for the bathroom, but the door was shut. My roommate was showering. I stood in the kitchen, cheeks clinched, dancing around, trying to decide what to do. My options were limited. Risk disaster and wait it out, or open the window (the only way into our backyard...hey, its Brooklyn) and use the back yard. Time was running extremely short. I was on borrowed time. Just as I made the decision to head into the back yard, the bathroom door opened. I shoved my roommate out of the way, and shut the door. Close call.
For the two years I lived in Brooklyn, there was a Burger King at the base of the Williamsburg Bridge that was my savior. I can't even tell you how many times the BK saved me. Enough that a few of the workers there recognized me when I came in. In NYC, I knew every Starbucks location, not for coffee, but for restrooms. Of course, you always ran the risk of sharing the restroom with a homeless person bathing in the sink, but that was better than the alternative.
My girlfriend ran the Boston Marathon a couple years back. For those that don't know, the Boston Marathon shuttles runners from Boston Common out to the start in Hopkinton. Runners typically sleep, chat nervously, or go through their race prep on the ride out. This particular year, as Katie's bus was traveling to the start, a guy quickly made his way to the front of the bus and had a quick discussion with the bus driver. The bus pulled over to the side of the road and the gentleman darted out the door and toward the trees. He immediately dropped his pants and took care of business, in view of a busload of other runners. My guess is that he got back on that bus, head held high, and was greeted with nods of understanding. Maybe not, but I bet almost everyone on that bus understood.
Speaking of the Boston marathon, the year I ran, we came upon a guy at mile 18 that had suspicious streaks running the length of the back of his legs. He was running with a strange gait, and as we closed in, we confirmed that he'd soiled himself at some point miles back. I have to applaud his dedication, though I'm not sure I'd continue at that point. I have pictures of the guy, and no, you don't want to see them.
My first unfortunate experience with all of this came when I was in college and training for my second marathon. I had the rumbles hit me somewhere around mile 14 or so on a Saturday morning training run. The route went out by the airport in College Station, and at the time there was little to nothing out that way. I looked everywhere for a dark clump of trees, a big ditch, anything. I couldn't see anywhere that wasn't in site of both the road and other runners. My only option was to gamble and try to get to the airport. I won't go into details, but I lost that gamble. I didn't lose bad enough to look like the guy I saw in Boston, but it was bad enough to cause some chafing. When I got to the airport, I went straight into the restroom and cleaned up. The remaining problem was that I still had to run back to campus. When I saw the coach drive by, I start limping and faked an injury to get a ride back.
Over the years, I've learned to prepare for the worst, but I've also learned to take an inventory of my surroundings before popping a squat. Unfortunately for a cyclist, and myself, he either forgot to look around or was in such a bad spot, that he didn't survey first. I was on a trail run in the greenbelt in Austin a couple years ago, when I popped out on the road for a short out-and-back before returning to the trails. As I ran onto the road, I noticed a cyclist drop his bike and head onto the trail. When I returned to the trail, I rounded a corner and looked up on a small rise to see a bare butt. And yes, he was in the middle of the deed. He apparently didn't realize that he rounded a corner and though he was concealed from the area of trail he came off, he was exposed to the trail he'd come in on. I continued running and didn't say a word as I passed his position.
The stories are pretty much endless, but as some point I have to wrap this up. Most of you who are reading probably relate to at least one of the stories, but if if none of this sounded familiar to you...just keep running, and eventually, it will.
If you've done any sort of long distance running, you've been there. You know it all too well. You are running along and all of a sudden you feel a slight shift under the skin right below your stomach. "Uh, oh." The next thing you know, you are penguin walking with your cheeks squeezed tightly together. If you are lucky, there's a rumble in your gut and the immediate danger is temporarily over. At that point, you start running again and shift into bargaining mode with your body. "PLEASE just let me make it home. I promise you, its only five more minutes." If you are really lucky, you make it home and get to relieve yourself in the comfortable confines of your own bathroom, but we all know that doesn't always happen.
If you can't make it home, perhaps you are lucky enough to waddle upon a Starbucks or a McDonald's. You quickly dart toward the bathroom, but the door is locked. You stand outside the door, cheeks squeezed tight enough to turn coal into diamonds muttering, "come on, come on." The door finally opens and out walks a disheveled six year old. You try not to knock him out of the way as you scramble through the the door and lock it behind you. Your peril should be over, but you peer down at the toilet seat that is covered in wet toilet paper and puddles of fresh urine. You'd try to squat but you've just run sixteen miles at marathon goal pace, so you have no confidence in your legs holding you up. You grunt and frantically dance around trying not to soil yourself while trying to clean off the disgusting toilet seat and cover the seat with a couple inadequate layers of toilet paper.
At the last possible moment, you sit down and...RELIEF. Dripping sweat in the stagnant air due to the lack of air conditioning in the bathroom, you clean up and get ready to finish your run. You open the door and waiting outside the door is an attractive member of the opposite sex who is first stunned, then appalled by the smell wafting out of the door. That's all completely hypothetical, of course. It never happened to me.
No one outside of ultra runners want to talk about it, but I will. Why? Because, let's face it...it's really kind of funny when you think about it. Maybe not at the time, but it is funny. You can sympathize when you run by someone pinching the cheeks, but you laugh. You laugh because you can relate.
When you gotta go, you gotta go. I know someone who was in such dire straits that he had to pop a squat between cars in mid-town Manhattan. I've had friends come back from a run with one less sock or glove, heck even I've done it, although I'll look for leaves, newspaper, or pretty much anything to keep from sacrificing a $10 sock.
Once, while on a run in Brooklyn, the feeling hit right about the top of the Williamsburg Bridge. As I frantically tried to get home, I was checking every street for a nook or cranny. I knew I was getting to the critical point. Businesses in Brooklyn don't exactly let people stroll in and use their restrooms, and the area I was in didn't have any fast food joints. Luckily, I made it home just in the nick of time. I tore the front door open and made a bee line for the bathroom, but the door was shut. My roommate was showering. I stood in the kitchen, cheeks clinched, dancing around, trying to decide what to do. My options were limited. Risk disaster and wait it out, or open the window (the only way into our backyard...hey, its Brooklyn) and use the back yard. Time was running extremely short. I was on borrowed time. Just as I made the decision to head into the back yard, the bathroom door opened. I shoved my roommate out of the way, and shut the door. Close call.
For the two years I lived in Brooklyn, there was a Burger King at the base of the Williamsburg Bridge that was my savior. I can't even tell you how many times the BK saved me. Enough that a few of the workers there recognized me when I came in. In NYC, I knew every Starbucks location, not for coffee, but for restrooms. Of course, you always ran the risk of sharing the restroom with a homeless person bathing in the sink, but that was better than the alternative.
My girlfriend ran the Boston Marathon a couple years back. For those that don't know, the Boston Marathon shuttles runners from Boston Common out to the start in Hopkinton. Runners typically sleep, chat nervously, or go through their race prep on the ride out. This particular year, as Katie's bus was traveling to the start, a guy quickly made his way to the front of the bus and had a quick discussion with the bus driver. The bus pulled over to the side of the road and the gentleman darted out the door and toward the trees. He immediately dropped his pants and took care of business, in view of a busload of other runners. My guess is that he got back on that bus, head held high, and was greeted with nods of understanding. Maybe not, but I bet almost everyone on that bus understood.
Speaking of the Boston marathon, the year I ran, we came upon a guy at mile 18 that had suspicious streaks running the length of the back of his legs. He was running with a strange gait, and as we closed in, we confirmed that he'd soiled himself at some point miles back. I have to applaud his dedication, though I'm not sure I'd continue at that point. I have pictures of the guy, and no, you don't want to see them.
My first unfortunate experience with all of this came when I was in college and training for my second marathon. I had the rumbles hit me somewhere around mile 14 or so on a Saturday morning training run. The route went out by the airport in College Station, and at the time there was little to nothing out that way. I looked everywhere for a dark clump of trees, a big ditch, anything. I couldn't see anywhere that wasn't in site of both the road and other runners. My only option was to gamble and try to get to the airport. I won't go into details, but I lost that gamble. I didn't lose bad enough to look like the guy I saw in Boston, but it was bad enough to cause some chafing. When I got to the airport, I went straight into the restroom and cleaned up. The remaining problem was that I still had to run back to campus. When I saw the coach drive by, I start limping and faked an injury to get a ride back.
Over the years, I've learned to prepare for the worst, but I've also learned to take an inventory of my surroundings before popping a squat. Unfortunately for a cyclist, and myself, he either forgot to look around or was in such a bad spot, that he didn't survey first. I was on a trail run in the greenbelt in Austin a couple years ago, when I popped out on the road for a short out-and-back before returning to the trails. As I ran onto the road, I noticed a cyclist drop his bike and head onto the trail. When I returned to the trail, I rounded a corner and looked up on a small rise to see a bare butt. And yes, he was in the middle of the deed. He apparently didn't realize that he rounded a corner and though he was concealed from the area of trail he came off, he was exposed to the trail he'd come in on. I continued running and didn't say a word as I passed his position.
The stories are pretty much endless, but as some point I have to wrap this up. Most of you who are reading probably relate to at least one of the stories, but if if none of this sounded familiar to you...just keep running, and eventually, it will.
Boundless
I recently discovered this show on Esquire. Its about a couple guys who travel the world and do an assortment of endurance races, anything from 50 milers to multi-day adventure races. We've watched about 4 episodes so far, and while the show isn't anything that will completely blow you away, I've found it quite entertaining.
Episodes are available online as well on the Esquire website.
Episodes are available online as well on the Esquire website.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Another complaint about the heat
Yep, I'm doing it. Just got in from a tempo run in 95 degree heat. Brutal.
However, the tempo miles were 7:38, 7:15, and 7:11. I'd like to see those a minute faster or more, but in the heat, I can't complain too much. I'll consider those encouraging, especially since I'm only in week 3 of training and I have some weight to drop. It sure will be nice to log some cooler miles in Wisconsin in August to see what my fitness is really looking like.
However, the tempo miles were 7:38, 7:15, and 7:11. I'd like to see those a minute faster or more, but in the heat, I can't complain too much. I'll consider those encouraging, especially since I'm only in week 3 of training and I have some weight to drop. It sure will be nice to log some cooler miles in Wisconsin in August to see what my fitness is really looking like.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
2nd Place AG
I did the inaugural Granger Lake Sprint Triathlon today. Although I'm not in prime triathlon shape, and it was FAR from my finest performance, I notched 2nd place in my AG and 12th OA. The conditions were absolutely brutal. With the wind coming across the lake, almost the entire swim was in whitecap conditions, which resulted in almost 5 minutes over my projected swim time. On the bike, it felt like we were riding into a headwind almost the entire route. The only portion we had a true tailwind was on some gnarly chip seal. The run was no better. It was getting hot, so when the wind was at my back, I was overheating, and when it was blowing in my face to cool me...well, the wind was blowing in my face.
All things considered, everyone raced in the same conditions, so I can't complain too much. Especially going into the race not completely prepared.
All things considered, everyone raced in the same conditions, so I can't complain too much. Especially going into the race not completely prepared.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Texas Heat
I've been back in Texas for over three years now, but I've not really concentrated much on speed since I've been back.
Speed + Heat + Humidity = Slow
I forgot just how much the heat affects an attempt to increase pace. Distance isn't an issue for the most part, but trying to do speed/tempo work proves incredibly difficult. I just have to remember that if I put in the work, it will all pay off when the temperatures start to drop in the fall.
Speed + Heat + Humidity = Slow
I forgot just how much the heat affects an attempt to increase pace. Distance isn't an issue for the most part, but trying to do speed/tempo work proves incredibly difficult. I just have to remember that if I put in the work, it will all pay off when the temperatures start to drop in the fall.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Another 100
Today I registered for the Arkansas Traveller 100 miler. Guess its time to start running! October 4th will be here way too soon.
I'm taking a slightly different approach to training this time around, which I'll post more about later.
I'm taking a slightly different approach to training this time around, which I'll post more about later.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Texas 4000: Thoughts from 10 years later
Ten years ago today, forty of us started pedaling toward Alaska. Much has changed in the past 10 years, but barely a day goes by that I don't reflect on the summer of 2004 in one way or another. As an Aggie who somehow "infiltrated" a Texas student organization, I always suspected there was a bit of initial resentment that I was an outsider from a hated rival that had made it into the group. Though, if that was the case, it was never outwardly apparent to me. No one ever made a comment, it was just purely a feeling I always had. If there truly was any resentment, it definitely melted away with the miles and over the years. Those who I keep in contact with and I see treat me as one of their own.
To me, being a part of a "rival's" organization was somewhat of a representation of the in-discrimination that cancer has. Cancer doesn't care if you are a longhorn or an aggie. Cancer doesn't care if you are black, white, orange, muslim, jewish, or christian. We were all there for the same reason, regardless of our backgrounds. I feel incredibly lucky to have been a part of such a wonderful organization.
Texas 4000 was obviously an personal experience. I got to see and do things that many people will never be afforded. Yet the trip was much more than that. I allowed me to grow as a person and reflect on life in a completely new way. Hopefully, we affected many people along the way in a similar fashion.
The organization has changed and grown leaps and bounds over the past ten years. That was apparent just from joining the Atlas Ride yesterday. The growth and popularity of the organization is a good thing for both those involved and the charity, but its hard for me to imagine setting out on that journey with so much set in stone prior to a single pedal stroke. For me, part of the journey was the unknown.
Regardless of what you think of Lance Armstrong, one thing he said has always stuck with me: Its not about the bike. He's right its not; it's about all the things that surround the bike ride.
To me, being a part of a "rival's" organization was somewhat of a representation of the in-discrimination that cancer has. Cancer doesn't care if you are a longhorn or an aggie. Cancer doesn't care if you are black, white, orange, muslim, jewish, or christian. We were all there for the same reason, regardless of our backgrounds. I feel incredibly lucky to have been a part of such a wonderful organization.
Texas 4000 was obviously an personal experience. I got to see and do things that many people will never be afforded. Yet the trip was much more than that. I allowed me to grow as a person and reflect on life in a completely new way. Hopefully, we affected many people along the way in a similar fashion.
The organization has changed and grown leaps and bounds over the past ten years. That was apparent just from joining the Atlas Ride yesterday. The growth and popularity of the organization is a good thing for both those involved and the charity, but its hard for me to imagine setting out on that journey with so much set in stone prior to a single pedal stroke. For me, part of the journey was the unknown.
Regardless of what you think of Lance Armstrong, one thing he said has always stuck with me: Its not about the bike. He's right its not; it's about all the things that surround the bike ride.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Pandora's Box of Rox
On Saturday, Katie and I went out to Reveille Peak Ranch and ran Pandora's Box of Rox. Since we are still in our building/base training, we both opted for the half marathon option. We've previously run a race out at RPR, so I knew the terrain was challenging. With that in mind, and the rising temperatures, we set out at a manageable pace to keep plenty of gas in the tank for the later miles. For a good chunk of the race, Katie and I sort of leapfrogged each other. I'm definitely feeling stronger on the hills. Although I don't feel faster, my legs are not fatiguing as quickly as before. I'm fully attributed that to taking up TRX a couple times a week, which has also strengthened my core. Eventually I pulled away from Katie and felt like I was moving at a pretty good pace, even as the temperature climbed. I did trip over a rock and hit the ground pretty hard, losing the skin off my knee. After that, I slowed down a bit and tried to be more careful as I picked my way through the trails. Once I hit the 2 hour mark, I felt the tank hit empty. Luckily, I knew I was only about 2 miles from the finish, much of which was downhill. I finished in just over 2:13, which isn't blazing, but was a time I felt good about on a tough course. I finished 25th out of about 140 people, so I couldn't complain too much. I have a long way to go, but each little win is a step in the right direction.
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