100 miles of love - Summer Beast of Burden 2016

Ever since about the day after I successfully completed my first 50-miler last October, the idea of attempt 100 miles has been in the back of my mind.  I pretty much knew that would be my “A” goal for 2016, and when I ran the Winter Beast of Burden 25 miler option in January, I decided that would be the venue for my first 100 during the summer. 

I followed the Ultraladies 100 miler training plan which basically brought me up to several back to back weekends of 30 miles on Saturday and 20 on Sunday.  I bolstered the plan with a number of races thrown in, just for the comraderie and training value, including the Cowtown Ultramarathon 50K (road) in Dallas in February, my first trail 50K at NJ Ultrafest on April 2, my first 6 hour race at the end of April at the Buffalo Distance Classic (BPAC) where I got in a total of 36 training miles (although only 34 of them counted towards my race time), Ragnar Cape Cod in May, and the Cooperstown marathon and Vegan Power 50K in June (I’m not a Vegan but they let me in anyway!).  My final training race was Gil Egils’ wonderful inauguration of the Candlelight 12 hour 3 weeks prior to the race, where I got in 42 miles.  And, of course, there was my fabulous week of Boat Running on our European cruise – where I was afraid I’d not be able to hit my training plan but in fact ended up exceeding it, getting in a total of 80 miles that week on the boat track.  I had managed to avoid injury and burnout, and felt as ready for the race as I could possibly be.

The week prior to the race, the weather forecast started coming in.  The closer the race got, the more alarming the forecast became.  It started out with a low in the 60’s and a high in the low to mid-80’s with a chance of showers.  By Thursday when the 48 hour forecast was available, it was up to a high of 87, lots of humidity, and likelihood of thunderstorms (some “severe”) pretty much for the entire timeline of the race.  I wasn’t worried about running in the rain – I had some significant practice running up to 30 miles in solid rain during training – but it did add some logistical challenges for packing.  Being worried about potential blisters running in wet shoes and socks, I packed 4 pairs of shoes and 3 pairs of inserts.  Also, as chafing has been pretty much my most troublesome race injury, particularly in hot humid and rainy weather, I needed to pack race tops that were cool enough for a hot race in the high 80’s (read sleeveless), that were tight enough to avoid chafing, and that covered the portion of my back that would have my race pack (the one time I ran in a “racer-back” top in rain, my pack rubbed my back raw).  There were only a few options that fit the bill, with my final decision for “primary” outfit being one of my triathlon suits – which had the advantage of being skin tight, sleeveless and well suited to wet conditions since they are made to swim in.  However, again, with the likelihood of rain for almost all of the race, I packed enough outfits that I could change multiple times, if necessary. 

Main aid station supplies

12.5 Mile drop bag stash

I was thrilled that my parents and daughter were willing to go out to the race with me.  I pretty much never have support at shorter events, but as this was my first 100 miler, it was a big deal emotionally.  I left work at noon on Friday and we headed out to Buffalo, found a fabulous restaurant via Trip Advisor reviews, and settled in for the night.

Dinner the night before

I had foolishly booked a hotel via Expedia and had not looked closely enough at the map.  I was a bit dismayed to find out that the hotel I picked when I searched for hotels “in or near” Lockport ended up being 35-40 minutes away.  This wasn’t so much of a problem for me, since once I got to the race I wouldn’t be going back to the hotel – but I felt badly for my family and for my pacer Sen and his wife, who were booked at the same hotel, who would not actually be able to easily pop back and forth from the race venue to the hotel if they needed anything.

As usual, I did not sleep particularly well.  I wasn’t nervous per se… but I’d say I was on edge.  For the week before the race, I’d pretty much just wanted to get this thing started – and taper didn’t help that feeling at all! 

When I woke up Saturday morning, I turned on the news and weather report and saw that the nighttime “low” had been “historically” high – so it was already 78 degrees at 5:30 a.m.  Game on.

Breakfast was the complimentary hot breakfast provided by the hotel.  Since race start wasn’t until 10am, we had plenty of time for coffee, food and set-up.  I didn’t want to be too full – but also wanted to eat enough to carry me through for a while.  I ended up eating an egg and 2 Belgian waffles.  It turned out it was really good I went for that second waffle…

Getting to the race start was a little less than smooth, as I had used the wrong address from the race web page and we found ourselves in the middle of a neighborhood that was clearly not the race start.  Thank goodness for smartphones – we looked up the correct address and got there minutes later with plenty of time to spare.  I registered, picked up my stuff, and helped my dad set up “The Race Palace” – a new tent/screenhouse I had bought so my family would avoid both sweltering and getting drenched. 

The race palace and my family

There were a number of folks I was on the lookout for.  My new amazing friend Mary Skelton DeSilva who was running the 25, and Katherine Fleming…  I had met both Sarah Smith Hardy and Sofia Kim online – both running their first 50.  I managed to find all of them before the race start. 

Me before the race

A few minutes before the start, the music started playing loudly – AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells – doing great things to get me all pumped up to run.  And then, JUST before the race started, of course, they put on the Stone’s Beast of Burden – and off we went.

I started the race running with Sofia – my new pal up from NY, running her first 50.  We started at a super easy pace – checking my watch, we were doing about 11 minute miles, consistently, for the first 4 or 5 miles.  Somewhere around the 45 minute mark, we separated so we could each better run our comfortable pace.  It was hot out – but to me it didn’t feel uncomfortably hot.  Yet.  There was a bit of a breeze and a bit of cloud cover.  What I wasn’t so happy about, though, was how my feet and right hip felt early on.  Which is to say, both started to hurt early.  And, even though it didn’t feel hot per se, it didn’t feel exactly good either.   My first 10 miles felt pretty strong and good.  And then things started to deteriorate.

Sucking down liquid at 12.5 miles

What I was noticing in a big way was just how different this run felt than a lot of my 30 mile training runs.  I had pretty regularly been hitting the 25 mile mark at about 4:25-4:30 and that was running at a pace I felt was pretty easy.   This run so far was feeling like I was running through deep water.  What's more, my gut was acting up and I wasn't able to really eat much of anything except Coke and Ginger Ale.  The last 3 miles of this 25 I’d say I really had to fight for.  I had started to build in 1 minute walk breaks early on in the race, at the advice of another ultra running who suggested that for a flat 100, I should do so sort of mechanically – just because there wouldn’t be hills to tell me when to walk.  I was doing the walk breaks perhaps every 20 minutes or so at first, which felt fine.  But the last 3 miles of the 25, less and less time elapsed between each walk break and I truly didn’t know whether I’d be able to continue the race.  I felt pretty much like I had been hit by a Mack truck.  I hit 25 miles at the 5 hour mark, which was pretty much 30 minutes slower than I would have predicted, and I hit it feeling pretty bad.  I found out later that the temperature had hit 93 degrees as I was passing through the Gasport Aid station. 

My normal aid station strategy is to move through it as quickly as possible – but I knew at this point I needed to get myself back in shape.  My parents and my daughter Patty were hovering closely, trying to figure out what I needed.  I was feeling pretty fuzzy but managed to tell them to get me gingerale and then more gingerale.  I changed my shoes because my feet were definitely bothering me a bit, and lay down on my back with my feet up while my mom poured water over my face.  After a minute or so I was able to get back up and figured I really needed to get back on the course.

Back out for my second 25, I started a slow run, and decided that my best strategy was to avoid walk breaks for as long as I could – because mentally, when I took the breaks, it was hard each time to get started again.  It was a good strategy.  It was 3:10 in the afternoon, so even though it was still hot, I knew it was going to cool down pretty soon.  And once I was running again, I managed to keep a run for miles before I took another walk break.  I’d say that was sort of mentally the turnaround point in the race where I felt like I was feeling better and would be able to keep going.  Nonetheless, there was still a lot of heat to beat - even though evening was approaching.  I continued to take more time at the aid stations than I normally would have just trying to cool off.  The volunteers were incredible - they would fill my hat up with ice, which I then proceeded to dunk my face and head into, and ultimately put down my suit just to get my temp down.  Still, I couldn't eat much of anything.  A couple of grapes, an orange slice, and 2 or 3 Pringles was about all I could choke down.  It seemed like anything I ate just caused my gut to clench up in a knot.

I was due to meet my first pacer, Allison Ossipovitch, at the aid station in Middleport – the 37.5 mile mark.  Just a couple hundred feet before the aid station, on the side of the path I could see Allison waving.  With her were my parents, my daughter Patty, and pacer #3 – Sen, and his wife (whom I had never met).  I had a crew waiting for me!

Allison took such wonderful care of me at the aid station.  Even though I was feeling much better than I had a 25, I think my family was still worried – but Allison knew what to do.  She took my pack off and filled it with ice and water.  I handed my iPod to Patty, figuring I didn’t need music anymore now that I had company.  And off we went. 

Starting off with Allison

I was getting pretty thirsty, and with my gut issues was having a really hard time drinking much water – so getting enough liquid outside of the aid stations was tricky.  My folks had gotten me Coconut water, which was perfect – but was, by now, also gone.  Allison got in touch with my parents who met us 3 miles before the 50 mile mark to get me more coconut water.  Somewhere in there it had gotten dark, so we were now wearing our headlamps.  Throughout that 12.5 miles, Allison just kept checking in, asking how my stomach was, mothering me and keeping me on task.

Finishing the 50 with Allison

Coming in to 50, I saw pacer #2 – Russell Muff, along with his wife and kids who had come to see him off.  So – this is how amazing runners are.  I have met Russ exactly once before in my life, at the CanLakes 50 race.  We were Facebook friends because of CanLakes, and had one extra bond which was that we had both raised money for the same team (NF Endurance) in racing an Ironman – AND, we had both done the same Mont Tremblant ironman (his was one year after mine).  At CanLakes, we had run together for maybe a mile before he took off at his own pace, and then I saw him at the end of that race for about 10 minutes as we were both recovering from our first 50 miler.  So, before he offered to pace me, Russ and I had spent approximately 20 minutes together - ever.  And he rearranged his work schedule and came to run with me for 25 miles at night.  Oh.  My.  God.  How amazing.  And his beautiful family came too.

Russ and his kids

My daughter had wondered whether I would find it uncomfortable running with someone I really didn’t know.  And it wasn’t remotely.  Russ took great care of me too.  If he were running this 25 miles on his own, I’m betting his normal pace would have been somewhere in the 8-9 minute mile range.  And the amazing thing to me was, Russ pushed me to keep the pace that I could realistically keep at that point in time – which was about 14-15 minute miles. 

The thing about that 3^rd lap was, that every step was new.  The longest I’d ever run before was 50 miles, so everything beyond that was an unknown.  Knowing how completely spent I had been after my first 50 miler, feeling like I couldn’t go another step, I thought it was entirely possible I’d have to walk the last 50 miles of my race.  In fact, I felt completely spent after THIS 50 miles - pretty much exactly the same as I felt after my first 50 in October.  Maybe worse.  So on this 3rd lap, I was thrilled to find that the majority of time I was actually able to run, even though starting the loop, it didn't feel like anything I could possibly do.  I ran slowly, but I ran.  And, because it was now dark and getting cooler, I started feeling significantly better.  Russ noted that as we moved along from 50-75 I was actually starting to run stronger again.

I was excited each time I hit a new milestone.  62 miles was a big deal because it was 100K.  70 miles put me into a new decade.  And then we were at 75, where Russ handed me off to Sen.

Sen is a Ragnar Relay teammate from my Cape Cod Ragnar team – the Lactic Acid Droppers.  (LADS).  Most of the LADS live in the West Hartford, CT area – I met them for the first time when I had joined that team with my West Hartford cousin, who knew a couple of those runners.  As happens at Ragnar, the team got really close.  One, Ed, even got the team name tattooed on his forearm.  Most of the LADs go for lots of regular runs together, and I’m jealous of that because I live 3 hours away.  But Sen and his wife drove 7 hours from Connecticut so that he could run my last 25 miles with me.

I was figuring on 8 hours for my last 25 miles.  This was from a mental calculation that if we walked just a little under 20 minute miles for the whole 25, we could finish it in 8.  I really wasn’t thinking I had too much run left in me at that point.

Surprise!  So, even though I was done running, about a mile after Sen and I took off at a walk, I said I’d try some running.  It turned out I had a bit of run left in me after all. 

We experimented a bit with ratios.  First I’d try running for a couple of minutes and then walking for a couple of minutes.  That was hard.   My next idea was to run for 1 minute, walk for 3.  That was not a good idea.  I had thought it would be better mentally to know I was only running for 1 minute, but in fact the 2 bad things about it were:  1) With 1 minute run stretches, I wasn’t running long enough to get in a groove and get to a more optimal run speed (which by then was somewhere between 12 and 13!), so our overall mile pace got slower, and 2) mentally during a 1 mile stretch, I had to make the transition from running to walking 3 times rather than 1 so it was actually mentally harder.  What we ended up settling on was a strategy whereby I’d commit to running 3 tenths of a mile and then walking – but in fact a number of times I pushed it to 4 tenths or longer, and that worked pretty consistently well.  I was still running when we hit the 87.5 aid station – one of the last milestones of the race.  And, each mile, we were consistently going several minutes per mile than my estimated 3 mph. 

Dark running with Sen

Several major things had happened at 87.5.  Somewhere around mile 82 (the previous aid station), my gut started to ease up and I could start taking in a bit more solid food.  I think that did wonders for my overall well being.  Running through the cooler portion of the night was invigorating – and having the sun come up and having it be morning was a big deal mentally too.  And, well, we were at the last turnaround point.  12.5 miles to go!  The picture below is one of my favorites from the whole race.  I had this great big happy grin on my face – and I really WAS that happy.  I was going strong – slow, but strong – and I was almost there.

Mile 87.5

There was no question in my mind that I was going to finish this thing – the only question was how strong.  Would we be able to maintain at least 20 minute miles for the last 12.5?

Yes.  Yes we were.  In fact, EVERY mile was less than 20 minutes – generally around 17, and one of those INCLUDED an aid station stop. 

Mile 90 or so

When we had 5 miles to go, I turned around and saw to my horror that there was a racer not too far behind me.  Where did HE come from?  I did NOT want him to pass me.  I knew from a volunteer that I was within the top 10 race finishers and I wanted to keep whatever place I had.  Sen pointed out that this runner had actually been in front of us for a while, but we had apparently passed him at the last aid station.  We tried a run, but at that point in time running had become counterproductive:  recovery from the brief forays into runs resulted in much slower post-run walking, decreasing the overall pace per mile.  So Sen took me on a powerwalk.  He was my pacer, and he paced me.  We pushed it up from 17.5 to 16 minute walking miles, and did that for the last 4 miles of the race – each mile putting us just a little bit further in front of the competition. 

I had told anyone who asked that I expected to finish the race in between 24-27 hours, and that my most realistic guess was 25 hours.  Of course, my wish was sub-24.   After my first challenging 25 miles, I knew that the sub 24 was way out of the question and I was thinking 26-27 was much more likely.  My finish time ended up being 25 hours and 23 minutes – which was almost 40 minutes faster than I was figuring when I started that last lap.  So – even with the debilitating heat, in a race in which 65 people signed up, 10 didn’t start, and 35 dropped out along the way, I managed to come in only 23 minutes behind my “realistic” goal time, and 6^th overall in the race, 3^rd woman in. 

It was a good day.

Coming into the finish

My first buckle!

Celebrating with my lovely daughter

Night Running - Candlelight 12 hour Race Report

So I ran the Candlelight 12 hour overnight race last Saturday.  This was a brand new race which sounded unique and interesting – a race which started at 7pm, and ended at 7am the next morning.  It was not too far away (3 hours), and I knew several people who planned to run it, so I signed up.  As this race was only 3 weeks before my first attempt at a 100 miler at Summer Beast of Burden on August 13^th, my plan was to just run my planned training distance and then stop and volunteer for the rest of the night.  My training plan called for a 30 miler on Saturday and 20 miles on Sunday, so I decided ahead of time that rather than try to run a BTB for my last training weekend (no way was I going to run 20 miles Sunday after an overnight 30 on Saturday), I’d incorporate 15 of the planned Sunday 20 into my running week leading up to the race, and then aim for 35 at the race, making it both a bit more of a push, but also allowing the rest of Sunday after the race to just be a sleepy day.

Saturday morning felt really strange – since the run didn’t start until 7pm, I could sleep as late as I wanted too.  This was truly a novelty, since I’ve been getting up at 4:30 every Saturday for months and months to get in my long runs.  I slept until 7:11 which felt completely luxurious, and had a leisurely breakfast with my family.  I even managed to get the house cleaning done by 11. 

My plan was to meet Pat McHenry, Alan Barnes and Todd Baum in Syracuse and drive to close to the race site with them, where we planned to meet Allison Ospovitch and Tim Hardy for an early meal prior to the race.  I was in the car and a couple of miles from my house when I had the feeling that I had not, in fact, packed the shirt I planned to wear for the race.  I flew back to the house and indeed, my sleeveless running top was neatly folded in my workout room – NOT in my bag.   Not having this shirt would have been a bit of an issue since the race start was supposed to be hot hot hot.  I jumped back into the car and, now a bit short on time, pushed the pace a little to get to our meeting place on time.

I made it to our meeting place on time, and we all piled into Alan’s car, setting the route for the Olive Garden.  Allison ended up not being able to join us, so it was just me and the 4 manfolk.   When the food came, there were a few remarks about how much food it was before a race.  I felt a little bit self conscious since the meal was my idea – but figured that the other racers would do whatever they needed to do in order to be respectful of what their bodies needed.  For me, that meant putting a strict limit on how much of my dinner I actually ate, and regretfully watching as the waiter took away at least half of my delicious entrée after the meal.  Having had the experiencing of running on a completely overly full belly during my boat running stint (10 miles about 45 minutes after an extravagant 4 course cruise dinner), I knew I wanted to go into the race not hungry, but not in any way where my stomach would be talking to me either.

We arrived at the race venue at pretty much a perfect time – about 40 minutes prior to race start.  The day was still hot – at least mid 80-‘s, but the humidity wasn’t awful, and without the sun being overhead, I was optimistic that the temperature would be fine.  People were setting up tents and personal aid stations, and I said hello to a couple of folks I’ve met over the past year.  I was happy to see Dave Farrands, who has given me much shoe advice over the past year, as well as Mary Skelton DeSilva who I met at BOB and have been following on Facebook.  I was envious of Mary’s race outfit – a fabulous get-up with lots of bright colors, an adorable race skirt and a reflective skeleton on the back of her shirt. 

Todd Baum getting ready

My pal Pat

Me - just prior to race start

 

I didn’t have too many preparations, as there was going to be an aid station every mile or so, so pre-race was pretty stress free.  We lined up at the start a couple of minutes before the race, and just like that, the race started.

The one thing I had been a bit concerned about ahead of time was the terrain.  I’m generally a road runner, who has only recently ventured into trails.  This was a mostly grassy course on the grounds of an Equestrian center, with about ¼ mile total of actual pavement, along with several gravel sections.  The grass definitely slowed things down a bit, but I was pleased with my early pace of between 10:30 and 11 minute miles.  Since this was a training run anyway, I really didn’t need to worry about pace – but there is always a competitor lurking in the back of my mind. 

I learned quickly during the first couple of loops the sections of the approximately 1 mile loop to be wary of.  There was a section that hat a few lurking ruts which had some ankle roll potential.  Also, probably about mile .75 or .8 of the loop was an obvious hill which had a little steep section at the top. 

This hill was a bit of a bitch

Even though there were a number of runners I knew, I ran at my own pace.  On occasion I’d find myself running close enough to someone to chat for a bit, but even when I ran with people I already knew, like Pat or Allison, we only ran together  for as long as that pace worked for both – I’d either let them go ahead because they were running faster or I’d pull ahead and go at my own pace.  I learned some time ago that I run my best races running at my own pace – and even if my “average” pace is almost exactly the same as another runner, that does NOT mean we run the same sections at the same pace.  I might be stronger on hills and they might be stronger on flats, and if we try to stay together, someone ends up struggling or going too easy.

It was astounding to me how quickly the time went by.  I’ve been putting in lots of really big mileage lately – the last couple of months featuring 45-50 mile weekends with combos of 28/15, 30/15, 30/20.  The end result of that training is not only that 30 miles is easier physically, but that it doesn’t seem as long mentally.  I had created a new running playlist, and just find myself in a perfect spiritual zone.  My music was perfect for the event; the evening was stunningly beautiful.  It was somehow magical as the sun started to go down and you started to encounter pockets of coolness on the previously warm course…    I think I was one of the earlier runners to grab my headlamp to have at the ready, and I turned it on essentially as soon as I felt I couldn’t reliably scan the ground surface for the various obstacles I knew were there.  Within 30 minutes most of the runners had their lights going – some with red or blinking lights on the back as well.  On the dark looped course, the runners looked like fireflies.  It was beautiful.

One of the things that was a big unknown for me about this race was how my body would react to night-time running.  I am an early morning runner – my body is raring to go at 5:30 am, and by 7pm it is pretty much done and shutting down.  I really don’t tend to like running after work because it feels like everything is tired, and my pace is always much slower.  Also, with my 4:30 am wake-up schedule, I’m an early bird as far as bed-time – so I’m usually in bed between 8:30 and 9.  My one 8pm night run on the boat a few weeks ago was actually good mental training for this race in that it showed me that I could successfully run in COMPLETELY different conditions than those I was comfortable with – so it was very freeing.

And so it was.  The hours slipped by stealthily.  As has happened at my last couple of ultras, the miles just added up, and I was at 5… at 10… in the teens, and then more than halfway to my goal of 35.  And I was in love…  in love with the magic of this race, of being out here in the middle of the night with other amazing people who have discovered the complete zen of the perfect ultra run; with the blinking lights, and the blazing yellow reflections of the eyes of the barn cat that was following us around and around the course.  There is such a thing as perfect happiness, and I was embedded in it.

As with my last looped course at BPAC, I knew that I’d either have to finish short of my goal or go beyond it, since your loop only counts if you do the full loop.  Of course I chose to go beyond it, so I finished my planned run having run 35.6 miles in 7 hours and 2 minutes.  At that point, looking at the leaderboard, I was first in my age group and 4^th for overall mileage in the race, with a field of 80+ runners.  Stopping at that point was tough and I really felt like crying.  I wanted to keep going and to see what I could do – but having trained for the past 6 months for my upcoming 100 miler, was just not willing to risk any possible injury or overuse going into that goal race.  So stop I did – heading into the volunteer tent for my shift.

I wiped myself down with baby wipes and changed into clean dry clothes…  I loved hanging out with Ansis, Doug and Mark in the aid station.  Doug and Mark shared their ultra stories, and Ansis shared his music play list.  My job was coffee.  The other aid station volunteers were skeptical about anyone wanting coffee, but I had brought the pot based on a sense that it might be popular, and indeed as soon as we started letting the runners coming through know that we had coffee, it went pretty steadily.

I had a couple of bad moments shortly after starting my shift when a wave of cold sweat and nausea overcame me and I knew I was close to fainting.  With a bit of rest and a cookie and some coffee, the moment passed and I recovered to enjoy the next 3 hours immensely.  One of the runners I met was a relay runner named Kristen, who informed me that not only was she running the same 100 as I was, but that she had run the full 100 the previous January in the winter.  I subsequently learned that she didn’t just run it – she won the women’s division.  I look forward to running with this superstar in a few weeks!

Watching the runners go by, and seeing that I really wasn’t all that useful in the volunteer tent, I was itching to be back out on the course.  I asked the other volunteers if they’d mind if I threw on my bib to just walk a couple of miles and stretch out my legs while tacking on miles.  None of them minded, so that’s what I did.  There were less than 2 hours left in the race, and although I’d only planned to walk a leisurely mile or 2, I ended up walking briskly for the rest of the race, tacking on another 6 miles and bringing my total mileage for the 12 hours to 41.75 or so.  Which, even with my 3 hours off, brought me in as 2^nd in my age group, and 21 overall in the race. 

I call this blog Running Addiction, and for me it really is.  Days (and nights) like this get under your skin and have you wanting more.  There are some wonderful images burned into my brain from this event.  The glowing skeleton on the back of Mary's shirt.  The effortless, beautiful stride of Todd Baum, winner of the event - who was very clearly mentally in some other wonderful place - every time he passed me and I said "hi", he looked startled, like he was just breaking out of a reverie.  Dave Farrands and his steady, solid pace and encouraging words.  Cheerful and incredibly nice Mike Valone, accompanying his wife Lisa as she attempted her first 26.2  (she made it to 50K!!).  The young woman with the amazing tattoos and even more amazing muscle definition running her first ultra and looking for all the world like she's done this her whole life.  (And may I say I want her muscle definition!).  The blinking headlamps and taillamps; the sun coming up in pink and yellow streaks as I pulled off my final 6.  Pat winning in his age group; Todd winning the race.  Yes - nights like this get under your skin.

 

Morning

Mary and her fabulous outfit

 

Musings on pain, speed, and energy

So – I believe it was in the Laurel Highlands race report that Pat McHenry posted not too long ago that energy and pain were not necessarily related – that is, one could be experiencing discomfort or pain but still have energy and keep running. 

I thought this was a really cool observation, and based on my last couple of runs wanted to throw in another observation – which is, how little speed can sometimes correlate with any or all of the following:  pain, speed, energy, and perceived effort. 

As a shorter distance runner, when I was doing something like 20-30 miles per week, once I started doing lots of races I had the idea that every run had to really maximize effort – with the exception of my long runs, and even those I felt had to be at a certain speed to be considered “good” training runs.  It was only starting last summer when I began seriously increasing my mileage that I started regularly running at the pace my body wanted to run rather than try to make each run as fast as I could make it – with the exception of perhaps 1 workout every week or 2 that was specifically speed focused. 

In general, my runs got slower.  But also, in general, my recovery got significantly better, runs were more enjoyable, and when I try for speed, I can often run faster than I previously could before I built up my base.  All good things. 

So – back to the observation.  In prep for my upcoming 100 miler deflowering, I’ve been putting in big mileage.   And lately, it has often been slow mileage.  For my boat running, if the track distance was really what it said it was, I was running 11+ minute miles when my general slow comfy speed is 10:30/10:40.    These days, any runs where my “comfortable” pace is less than 10:15 I feel are pretty damn zippy for me. 

So – the interesting part is this.  Today’s 9 mile run, my perceived effort was perhaps 2 on a scale of 1-10.  That is, I was intentionally going “slow”, as I’m feeling pretty beat up.  Pain level was probably 5-7 as I have this chronic and constant hip tightness that just was nagging and made me uncomfortable for the entire run.  Energy?  I did not feel like I had much at all.  Pace?  Average of 10:05, with a couple of miles where it was in the 9’s. 

Huh?  Low perceived effort, no energy, high pain…  and decent (for me) speed. 

I have alternatively had other runs that just feel great – no pain, lots of energy, which end up being a bit slower.

I just don’t get how they all work together.  Except – maybe all my heavy mileage and recent hill workouts have just made me faster, and perhaps I’ll go out on a day where I DO have energy and pound out a bunch of 9:30’s.

Reminds me of something one of my running pals said – which is, his fastest marathons were not his hardest marathons.  They were the fastest because those runs were easy to run fast.

Curious to hear other’s experience on how these things do and don’t tie together.

100 Mile Training – the race that wasn’t, the race that was, and general update

So – here I am, 54 days out from my 100 miler.  Just started hitting the heavy mileage back to back weekends a couple weeks ago with a couple of 30/15’s.  There are only 2 weeks with heavier mileage, where the day 2 BTB hits 20 instead of 15 – but by and large, I’m just about at peak training.  And (knock wood), nothing is broke, hurt, bent, or otherwise nonfunctional. 

In order to shake things up and add in interest, support, and cool venues, I threw a couple of races into the training plan.  Last weekend (6/11) was the Cooperstown Marathon, and then a couple of days ago was the Vegan 50K in Pittsfield, MA.

The Race That Wasn’t – The Cooperstown Marathon

A couple of days prior to the Cooperstown Marathon, I got a text from my buddy Ed – a friend from my Lactic Acid Droppers Ragnar team.  The first time I met Ed was last year in March – I had gone to Connecticut to meet the team for the first time, and before the team get together that night, I met Ed in the morning for an 18 mile run.  Ed told me that he and Sen, another teammate, were coming to Cooperstown to join me for the race.  Ed was going to run the full, with me, and Sen was going to run the half.  Both Ed and Sen had been at the Burlington marathon a couple of weeks earlier, and Ed, as a full marathoner, had gotten pulled off the course along with most of the other marathoners because of the extreme heat.  So he was looking forward to actually completing a spring marathon, having trained for one.

I was thrilled to hear Ed and Sen were coming – both because they are great company and I wanted them to meet my family and see Cooperstown, and for the chance to actually run 26 miles something other than alone.    Although I’m pretty used to my own company by now, it is nice to have conversation on long runs every once in a while!

Prior to race day the forecast was for clouds in the morning, and then possible thunderstorms in the afternoon.  Looked to be a fine race day. 

Ed and Sen arrived Friday evening and we headed out for a pre-race carbolicious Italian meal.  Got a good night sleep and woke up bright and early to…  a newly rainy forecast.  As opposed to the race-friendly forecast of the day before, the Weather Channel App was now predicting 100% chance of rain by 10 with possible thunderstorms. 

Amy & Sen - pre-race

Ed and Jasper making friends

The Clark Sports Center race directors were extremely accomodating, announcing the chance of inclement weather and offering refunds.  I don’t believe anyone took them up on it.  We said goodbye to Sen, sending him off on his trolley ride to the half marathon start (scheduled for 9), and Ed and I waited around for the race to start.

This was only the 3^rd year of the Cooperstown marathon – I had done the first one when the marathon field was only 39 runners strong.  That race 2 years ago had a special place in my heart, as it was the first marathon where I ran the whole race as opposed to using the Jeff Galloway run walk method I’d cut my teeth on, and by so doing, I cut 21 minutes off of my time and had achieved a 4:20 or so race time along with being the 3^rd woman in.  Probably the last time that will ever happen to me in a marathon!   The first Cooperstown marathon had a number of locals and I knew a good chunk of the runners.  It felt strange this time looking around at the field and seeing almost all unfamiliar faces.

And… we were off.

Although it was tough to run a marathon and not try to “race” it, I knew that for my training I would be best served by not pushing too hard on this effort and just making it a long supported training run.  Our goal pace was 10-10:30 minute miles, which we achieved pretty easily.  Alas, at 8:20, almost 2 hours earlier than predicted, the rains started.  We were prepared, and ran on.  Didn’t start to get concerned until a great big crack of thunder hit, probably about 8:45.  As soon as I heard that crack, I started waiting for the race to end. 

We actually managed to get to mile 9.5, through a bunch of rain and an hour of electric storm before the end actually came.  The Cooperstown trolley, normally the transportation for tourists getting to town from the distant parking lots, pulled up in front of our group of runners and the sports center staff rustled us onto the bus, indicating the race was over because of the storm.

Met some cool people on the bus - Maria, who I will see again at Beast of Burden, and Andrew.  Once we stopped running, I started getting cold, and by the time we got to my car I was shivering uncontrollably.  The half marathoners hadn’t gotten any run in at all, so poor Sen had come all the way to Cooperstown and hadn’t gotten to race.    Another thing that was weighing on my mind was the fact that this was supposed to be a heavy training weekend – 28 miles Saturday, 15 on Sunday.  I had only gotten in 9.5.  Solution?  Get in another 5.5 with Sen, so he could get a run in, and then do the long run on Sunday.  A little bit mentally tough, since I’d already given up half a Saturday for the marathon, and now would be giving up half of a Sunday too, but really the only solution. 

The run with Sen was great – one of the things about Ragnar is that although you ride around in a van with a lot of cool people, you do your runs solo.  So it was really a treat to do the 9.5 with Ed, and then another 5.5 with Sen.  The other thing about the Sen run is – since we weren’t focused on going long anymore, we got in a couple of tempo miles.  So, ended the Saturday with 15.

Sunday came and I decided to essentially do the “Race the Lake” marathon loop from my house.  The coolest thing about Sunday’s run was how I felt at mile 28 – which was, good enough to push for 30. 

And just like that, another long training weekend was done.

Vegan 50K – the Race that Was

Originally I was supposed to be doing a 70.3 (Half Ironman distance) triathlon in Syracuse on June 19.  A few months ago, I gave myself permission to let go of the idea for training for both that race and the 100 mile ultra, although I had still pondered doing the race as I was supposed to have company coming up to do it with me.  When the company decided they weren’t doing it either, I completely bailed on Syracuse and went and signed up for my second 50K Trail – the Vegan 50K in Pittsfield, Massachusetts on June 18.    I’m not a Vegan, but the race was open to carnivores as well and it got great reviews.  This was going to be my last 30 mile run before I headed off to a European vacation for 10 days.

I headed out to Pittsfield on Friday night and got myself checked into my EconoLodge.  A bit dismayed to find I had accidentally booked myself into a smoking room although it turned out to not be as bad as I feared.  (I’m a former 2 pack a day smoker so I was, kind of disgustingly, a little bit nostalgic at the smell of stale smoke.)  I then drove over and spent a bit of time trying to find the actual entrance to Pittsfield State Forest where the race was scheduled to start.  After a few false starts, I found the entrance – and knew I was in the right place when Ana, one of the race directors, pulled up behind me and confirmed.  She was so welcoming and friendly I found myself again grateful to be a part of this running community.

As I drove around, I was stunned by the beauty of the place.  Having gone to school in Williamstown, also in the Berkshires, and having spent many childhood weekends at my grandmother’s house in North Adams, you’d think the beauty of the area would have already been known to me.  However, this appears to be something I took for granted and never even saw growing up.  It reminded me of the first time I went to Seattle as an adult, and even though I’d be there many times as a kid, it wasn’t until the adult trip that I became aware of just how remarkable the landscape was. 

This was like that.  Just driving through this beauty brought a sense of contentment and happiness that made me incredibly glad I’d come out to do this race.

As anyone who is following my blog knows, this was not an “A” race for me – rather, it was just a chance for a long supported training run in a beautiful place.  Since I’ve done a bunch of 28 and 30’s already, the distance didn’t phase me, and having already done a couple of trail races, I wasn’t super nervous about the terrain.  As a result, I slept fine without any pre-race jitters, and was just looking forward to the day.

Race Check-in on Saturday morning was non-eventful; I did actually get to see Rudy Shepherd, who is an ultra runner I met at the tail end of the NJ Ultrafest.  I’d known from Facebook he would be volunteering.  He is also training for a 100-miler, so even though he may not be aware, I have a sense of kinship with him as I see his training posts on Facebook.  There were no other runners I recognized, although there was a woman with a fantastic crocheting tattoo (cool ball of yarn) on her calf. 

I debated strongly about whether to bring my phone/music.  I didn’t see many other runners with headphones or iPods, and I ddidn’t want dirty looks – I know there are strong feelings out there about using music on trails.  However, 50K is a long time to be alone in your head, so ultimately I strapped my phone on my arm and just didn’t put the earbuds in my ear, holding on to them with my left hand. (I never did end up listening to the music and ultimately put the headphones in my pack.)  With just a few pre-race announcements, we were off.

Ironically, the only real hill in the entire race that was substantial was at the very beginning of the race – mostly on pavement.  I’d say the first 1/8 to 1/4 of a mile was pure climb.  As we started out, everyone ran it.  I took my usual hill approach, which has become short quick steps.  This first round was the ONLY round I saw anyone running that hill, and in future go-rounds it became the place to walk and re-fuel.

What can I say about the course aside from the beauty of the forest?  Without a lot of trail running under my belt, I don’t have a lot to compare it to… only Mendon Ponds (completely non-technical and my first 20K trail race), my local 3 mile trail loop (moderately rooty and with a couple of little nasty climbs) and NJ Ultra Fest (a course that I felt was pretty much out to kill me with pointy rocks, loads of elevation, roots and many many water crossings).   

This course had elements of all of those.  The thing that it DIDN’T have was either significant climb or water crossings.  However, there were many many roots.  So – elevation wise, there were never any sections I had to walk – however, I was always, ALWAYS looking forward for the next root.  In a way, it was a bit harder (though faster) than New Jersey, because I ran pretty much all of it except the aid stations.  NJ had many built in required walking sections – so I had many chances to rest my running muscles and exercise my walking muscles.  Vegan 50K was all runnable – but all technical. 

At the end of the day, I only took 2 spills where I actually hit the ground.  The first was relatively graceful, with a gentle roll that broke my fall.  The second one was more of a splat – landing kind of face first with my hands in front of me.  I guess there was kind of a third where I went splat onto a downed tree – but the tree broke my fall to the actual ground, so I’m not counting that.  In addition to the actual falls, there were many (10-15??) almost falls – which in a way, were almost worse.  They invariably happened as I had been running along for a while, thinking “OK – now I’ve got the hang of this – this is going smoothly” and then I’d catch my foot on a root (almost always my left foot), and something (hamstring?  Knee?  Glute?  Ankle?)  would pull and feel very bad for a bit and I’d catch myself thinking “that was close”.  There were a couple where I was really amazed I didn’t actually hurt something – and probably at least 4 or 5 where I yelped or otherwise called out in pain.  Comic to watch, I’m sure.

I did catch myself in a bit of a bad mental game – I think sometime at the end of loop 1 or in the middle of loop 2.  It was a feeling a little bit like despair – like “why do I choose to do this to myself”, knowing I had hours of root hopping to go.  I let myself feel a little bit miserable, and feel like I wasn’t enjoying what I was doing.  (At the moment I wasn’t).    I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that I was on a trail – and at the moment, I’m still not very good at it.  Fortunately, that feeling went away, and the feeling of “flow” (recently described very well on an Ultra list thread) came to me where I found my pace, I found my groove, and I just ran.  And ran.  And ran.

The whole competition thing – this was a training run for me – but I also have this feeling of wanting to do well.  I was spoiled at NJ by being the 3^rd woman in.  A complete surprise, but there it was.  I was second woman in at BPAC, so there is a part of me that feels like if I’m not doing really well, I’m failing.

I knew I wasn’t going to be among any of the top finishers when I started seeing some folks lapping me.  There were folks doing their 6^th loop as I was completing my 5.  And – well, this makes sense.  Because at the end of the day, I’m a pretty brand new trail runner.  The pace I can do on a technical trail without much elevation appears to be a good 3-4 minutes slower per mile than I can do on the road.  Which was good enough to get me 7^th woman in.  And run the whole way.  And perhaps learn some more technique.  And this, too – after my first trail ultra, I hurt for DAYS.  It  was almost as bad as my first marathon – I’d bruised both my big toenails, and my quads were just shot.  After this race, I was…  fine.  I went home, slept, and went out the next day for my next training run.  I had some residual wonkiness in my left hip yesterday, but that only lasted for a day.  So my recovery was better.

The last mile of the race seemed pretty long – just because a lot of the trail looked the same to me and I was expecting the end to come sooner that it did.  But it wasn’t bad – just long.  I think I was pretty much doing the same pace at the end of the race as I was at the beginning.  Got to the finish line, got some applause, got myself some tasty Vegan pizza.  And got on the road, after giving myself a thorough baby-wipe shower. 

I feel in some ways like morally, I should like trail running more than I currently do.  The trail runners I know are passionate about trails – they LOVE trails, and hate roads.  Me…  well, I’m working on it.  I love hiking trails.  I love being out in nature.  I am starting to feel better about letting go of road pace and letting the forest guide me.  However, as with all new things, there is a learning curve, and let’s face it – I don’t like not being good at stuff.  And I’m just not as good at this yet as many other trail runners.  Plus, it feels like the chance of injury is just much, much greater.  I can’t just zone out and focus on the run – I have to constantly be vigilant about my next steps – and still, I wrench and bruise and scrape parts of my body that, if I were road running, would be just fine.  I have to say, though, the beauty and the people are both compelling reasons to continue this trail journey.

Training week epilogue – the next day

This weekend was originally supposed to be a Back to Back 30/15.  Because I was concerned about how I’d feel after the long trail, I actually did 9 miles on Friday which was supposed to be a rest day, so I’d only have to do 6 on Sunday to get to my planned training mileage.  It was also giving myself a chance to sleep in.  However, at the end of the day, my OCD training brain (and my body which is a bit hooked on endrophins at this point) wouldn’t let me NOT do a long-ish run on Sunday.  I ended up doing 14 instead of 6, closing out the week at 76 miles.  And, as is often the case, the Sunday run worked out a few of the kinks from the Saturday.

So – that’s the update.  I’m headed off to Europe for a Mediterranean Cruise the day after tomorrow.  Of course my OCD brain is trying to figure out how to mostly keep up with my training on a cruise ship.  I have already dumped the idea of trying to get in a 30, but I think on the 2 “At sea” days I will try to get in 2 20-milers.  I’m sure I will get some funny looks.  When I get back, I’ll have 3 long weekends, and then start to taper. 

This thing is getting real.