Free To Run Trail Marathon Race Report

I signed up for this race the week after I finished my 100 miler in August.   The goal of running this 26.2 was as my last “long” training run in between my 100 miler on August 13 and my CanLakes 50 miler on October 8.  Although generally I’m pretty comfortable doing long runs solo, I have found it adds interest and comraderie to throw in some races as training runs.  I picked this race because I saw it was going to be held in the Pittsfield state forest, where I had a really good experience running the Vegan Power 50K back in June, training for my 100.  (I’m not a vegan but they let me in anyway).  The venue for that race was stunningly beautiful and the terrain was all runnable – not much elevation and not horribly technical – though relatively rooty.  It wasn’t until after I signed up for “Free to Run” that I saw that, even though the race was in the same park (Pittsfield State Forest), it was NOT the same trail.  THIS race had 3000 feet of elevation per 12.5 mile loop and the race was billed as “very challenging”.  Furthermore, in order to race well, you need to train on the terrain you will be racing on.  And, unfortunately, I’ve not spent much time on trails since I ran the 50K in June.    I did manage to get in 2 5-mile training runs in the 3 weeks before Free To Run – but I had a spill on my first trail training run and suffered a nasty hamstring pull that had made sitting excruciating for the past several weeks and which was only just now recovering. 

My Ragnar buddy Ed Rudman had seen me thinking out this race online, so we signed up together.  After we signed up, he shared info about the race with some other Ragnar teammates including my cousin and best friend Rebecca Makas, and Rebecca and our friend Deb Ross decided to come up and do the half.  So – rather than a solo training run, I had an opportunity for a long training run with a friend, as well as a chance to run a chunk of it with other buddies too.  This for me is special as I spend lots and lots of time running alone.

Problem was, as the race was approaching, I was not looking forward to it.  Rather, I was facing it with dread and trepidation.  As in “what have I done?”  Primarily I think the issue was fear of injuring myself further, after my spill from 2 weeks ago.  I have been getting so much joy out of running big miles – almost all of them on roads, and I had this sick feeling in the back of my mind that I was putting that ability in jeopardy by throwing myself into a race I really wasn’t all that prepared for.  Distance?  Yes.  Terrain… not so much.

One of the nice things about the race was the start time – with a 9:00 start for the half and full marathoners, I was able to get out and back in the same day rather than drop money on lodging.  I woke up only about 5 minutes earlier than my usual 4:30 and was in the car by 5 to head out to the forest.   Unlike many previous drives to races where I start to enjoy a sense of anticipation, I continued to feel nervousness and a bit of dread.  The only bright spot in the drive was looking forward to seeing people I love and spending the day in a beautiful place with them.

Breakfast consisted of a bacon, egg and cheese bagel from the Dunkin’ Donuts next to a Love’s travel stop near Pittsfield.  I was wearing my Vegan Power 50K race shirt (which I love!  It’s bright red and totally badass), and the clerk at Dunkin’ looked startled as I gave her the order.  “Did you say… bacon?”. 

“Damn skippy.”

“But…  your shirt….”

“Oh.  It was a race – it was a Vegan support event but they let me in anyway.”

I got to the forest with plenty of time to spare, and before Ed, Rebecca and Deb arrived.  I picked up my bib and just drank coffee until they showed up a few minutes later. 

Rebecca and Ed - pre Race

Deb, Amy, Rebecca and Ed Pre race

The trail loops were each 12.5 miles, so in order for each respective race to hit the required distance, an extra stretch was added on to the beginning of the race.  The half marathoners added on .6 miles, while the marathoners added on 1.2.  This meant that Ed and I started out the race more than ½ mile before Rebecca and Deb – which sort of threw our plan to run together into disarray.  Becca and Deb said they’d “meet us at the top of the hill”, and I think we all assumed we’d see them shortly.

Rocky Terrain - new to me!

Ed posting on the trail

The add-on stretch was pavement, but shortly thereafter we hit the trails and started climbing.  As the elevation map had indicated it would be, the first stretch of the first loop was pretty much all climb.  Although the “hiking” portion of ultra running had surprised me on my first trail “run”, after seeing the elevation map I had pretty much been mentally prepared that I’d be doing a bit of hiking early on.  Still – running is my thing.  So whenever we hit portions of the trail that appeared more runnable, we started trotting.  I have to say I felt pretty good about the first 3-4 miles of the race.  I was pleased with our pace, and pleased with the sections of trail that I found “runnable” – especially given the rocky terrain, which I was not at all familiar with.  Ed and I kept thinking we’d run into Deb and Rebecca any minute – but in fact we didn’t see them until we hit the first aid station which I believe was somewhere between 3 and 4 miles into the course.  Rebecca was easily identifiable by her bright orange compression socks.

We took advantage of the aid station goodies and soda, and then started on our way as a group of 4.  One of the other racers informed us that the hill right out of the aid station was known as the “Thrasher”.  There are some writings on the race website about where that name came from, but all we knew is that it was STEEP. 

I was actually OK with this – I’m a pretty strong climber when it comes to hiking, and I can power my way up most hills without too much huffing and puffing.  That is to say, the non-technical uphills are the piece of trail running I do well.  I was a bit ahead of my buddies on this part of the trail. 

One of the best and most delightful parts of this race were the stream of obscenities pouring from Deb’s mouth.  Deb is, simply, amazing.  She is witty, crass, astoundingly funny and shockingly obscene when she chooses to be – and she was choosing to be.  She kept us in stitches for the rest of the half marathon.  Going up the hill:  “Whose F@#ING idea was this anyway.  F@*ING AMY.  DAMN her! “  Funnier still was when we got to the aid station where I got stung by a wasp and without even thinking, I swore loudly.  Deb said gently “Amy – don’t swear.  Swearing offends me.”  She then apologized on my behalf to the aid station worker for my mouth.   It was Deb’s birthday and she was waiting for the exact moment when she turned 48 (1:00) so we could take a birthday selfie.

After we conquered the Thrasher we hid a much more level and rolling section of trail – and even though Deb swore every time we hit another “up” (there were plenty), in fact this section was pretty enjoyable.  It kept looking like we would break through and be on the top of the mountain soon, and every few minutes, Rebecca would state “Where’s my lookout?  They promised us a lookout damnit!”    I was thoroughly enjoying this and feeling pretty happy that I hadn’t fallen. 

And then.  Running along in a nice stretch of woods – and my left foot gets caught on a sneaky root and stays hooked there while my butt separates just a little bit from my leg and I can feel my hamstring pull EXACTLY where it had on my fall a few weeks ago.  And then I swore just like Deb, “F@#K!!”,  terrified that I had ruined myself for my upcoming 50 miler.

That pretty much blew my confidence for the rest of the race.  I gingerly started running again, the hammie yelling at me for my clumsiness.  Forutnately after a mile or 2, the hamstring pain started to subside significantly. 

We finally hit the overlook and it was as incredible as promised.  We spent WAY more time there than I would normally spend at an aid station at a race – which was fine, because this was all about running in a beautiful place with friends.  There were other runners up there, including Ana Wolf – who I had met briefly as the Race Director extraordinaire of the (much more runnable!) Vegan Power 50K, and with whom I have been Facebook Friends ever since.  It is always great to spend time with my runner friends in person.

Deb, Rebecca, Amy and Ed

Meeting my friend Ana on top of the world

It was also up on the ridge where I got stung by the wasp.  Didn’t even see it coming but all of a sudden my arm was on fire.  Made sense that it was a yellow jacket – the aid station workers said they were hanging all around the food table all day.  I swore loudly (chastised gently by Deb), and hoped that today wouldn’t be the day I’d develop any sort of sting allergy.

Fortunately there was no need for epi-pens as we progressed down along our way.  After our highly enjoyable vista stop, we headed back into the woods for the last 5 miles for Deb and Rebecca, and that last 18 for Ed and I.  The next 3 miles was unremarkable.  There was one more aid station after the vista, where the aid station volunteers said “the rest is easy!  There is just one more little up hill, and then no more single track – just downhill the rest of the way.”

Easy my ass.  (My sore, pulled, ACHING ass!)  The one thing they were right about was the downhill part.  Oh boy was it downhill.  Leaf slippery, rock slidingly, impossible footingly downhill.  Not too far from where we started our descent, I went down.  My goal going into this race was to stay upright and not get injured.  This fall was pretty disheartening – again because I had gone into this as a training run for a 50-mile road race – and what good is a training run if you come out of it unable to run?  After I got up from my tumble, I was much more cautious on the remaining downhill.  Deb and Rebecca hopped down it like billy goats, while Ed was a bit more cautious.  I brought up the rear.   Some minutes later, we saw a clearing up ahead, and there we were – Deb and Rebecca done with their race, and Ed and I at the halfway mark.  It was also pretty cool that our friend Sharon – another Ragnar teammate, had come to watch Deb and Becca finish and to cheer Ed and I on!

Again we spent a bit more time at the aid station than I would normally do – and we headed out on lap 2 – with Ana and Marie right behind us.

It was pretty clear on lap 2 that most of our productive “running” was done.  The uphill seemed “uppier”, and EVERYTHING seemed rockier and rootier again.  At this point I had 2 remaining goals – not to fall again, and not to DNF – and a not very strong but still present goal of trying to finish in less than 8 hours. 

Whereas on our first loop we had plenty of miles that were anywhere from 13-17 minute miles, on the second loop we were happy with anything under 20.  And believe it or not, in those sections where we were hitting 18 – we were actually doing a bit of running.

So here is the thing that gets me about trails.  Deb said it just right as we were hiking up the Thrasher.  She said “I like to RUN trails.  I don’t like to hike to get to my run.  If running is your drug, then this part doesn’t do it”.  Yes – that.  I’m into this thing for the run.  So on the parts where, for whatever reason, I can’t comfortably run – it feels like I’m either cheating, or failing.  Despite the fact that I KNOW that except for the top runners in these races, pretty much everyone is doing a bit of hiking.  Some more than others.

But running is my drug – and, well, I was not doing that much of it on loop 2.  But neither was I falling.  What WAS happening was my quads were getting more and more angry. 

Although it had seemed like a second loop would be take forever, in fact the time flew by – as it often does on these things.  Ed and I talked about anything and everything – and he jazzed things up a bit by singing a bit of Bruce (he’d just been to a concert).  At one point we were merrily belting out the song they sing in the Stripes marching scene – “There she was just a walkin’ down the street, singing Doowa Diddie Diddie Dum Diddie Do…”

I channeled my inner Deb when we got to the last aid station – my recollection had been that it was just a bit over a mile to the finish from there (which was what my GPS was telling me), but when the aid station volunteers indicted it was 2 hours – F#@K came flying out.  I just wanted to be done and go home and lick my wounds.

Down the rocky, leafy descent we went.  On this last section, there was pretty much no running this time around.  Well, until we were maybe a half a mile before the end, when a couple that had been a ways behind us appeared to be catching up.  I knew I wasn’t doing well in this race, but I wanted to at least keep any lead I had.  So – rocks be damned – I was running the rest, with Ed right along beside me.  We managed to run in approximately 30 seconds to a minute in front of the 2 folks behind us – which put me 22 out of 30 finishers with a finish time of 8:03.  Almost twice as long as my best marathon, and only 7 minutes faster than my first 50K trail – which was ALSO a tough course, with about as much elevation as this one, where I was the 2^nd woman in.

Finished!

Well damn.  What just happened?

And here is where the Monday morning quarterbacking comes in.  My buddy Rich tells me “ya gotta learn to not be so hard on yourself”.  But still – I’ve worked pretty hard at this ultra-running thing in the past year – and so a finish time of 8:03 at the very least makes me think “how could I have done better”?

So number 1:  Train for the terrain, dumbass. 

OK – yeah.  So why in hell would I expect to do at all well when this wasn’t what I trained for?  Isn’t what I AM CURRENTLY training for?  Is, in fact, an almost entirely new thing for me?  This was my 4^th trail “race”, and even for my other ones I didn’t have THAT much more trail running under my belt – but at the very least, before my 50K, I’d gotten in 3 or 4 solid 8-10 mile trail runs.  This one – next to nothing.  And, although I’d gotten some root practice on both training runs and previous races, really NOTHING in my past running career prepared me for the kind of rocky terrain that was everpresent on this course. 

Number 2.  I was overly cautious. 

On previous races – despite trips and falls (I’ve had at least 1 on every trail race – hell, almost every trail RUN I’ve done..), I managed to get back up and get in the groove again.  But because of my fall weeks earlier that had ended up giving me pain for weeks, I was so worried about injuring myself that I didn’t allow myself to get back going again.

Number 3 – This wasn’t “THE” race.

So yeah – it definitely makes a difference in motivation level if you are deliberately going into a race as a training run rather than to “race” it. 

Number 4- Probably 10-15 minutes lost at aid stations.

I guess those are mostly the things that could have been opportunities for improvement. 

Still – it was humbling.  When I finished that second loop, my legs were literally shaking.  They were jelly.  And that was after HIKING most of the second loop – not much running in that go-round at all.  I was used to being able to finish 26 miles before breakfast and then spending the rest of the day cleaning my house.  This 8 hour jelly-leg crap was a whole new humbling gig for me.  I couldn’t fathom how anyone had done 4 loops on that course.  (And the lead person only took an hour more for the 50 that I took for my marathon!!   HE wasn’t hiking up those hills, for sure.  He was running them!).

Clearly, IF I want to improve at this particular type of race, there needs to be some lots of trail specific training thrown in.

Although I spent my drive home and most of the rest of the afternoon and evening growling at the whole concept of trails, by the next day I was feeling a bit more like I might consider getting back out there and trying to conquer them.  There were plenty of moments in the race that were in fact pure perfection.  Particularly in the first loop, before pulling my hamstring,  running smoothly and comfortably over the gentle hill portion of the course, my buddies behind me on an incredibly beautiful day in a stunning venue – well, it just can’t get any better than that.  And the view from the top?  Priceless.

But I think I’ll wait for after my 50….

After the Race… my post 100-mile journey

Immediate Post Race

I finished my race at 11:23 am on Sunday morning.  My biggest (and only real) race injury was chafing – the worst was something that really isn’t fit for print – which I became acutely aware of at a pee-break around mile 83.  (Sen may have heard my agonized cry from the porto-potty)  Dear lord it was so bad I almost passed out.  Second worst chafing was belly button (I get this a lot – the drawstrings from my shorts rub across my tummy and apparently are really irritating), and some spots on my back rubbed pretty raw from my hydration pack.  And, I had this super weird nasty and painful raised bright red welt on my right wrist that I had felt forming for the first 16 hours of the race when I wore Maria’s loaned GPS as a spare on my RIGHT wrist (not used to wearing a GPS watch), while waiting for my primary GPS on my left wrist to run out of battery.  The watch kept kind of banging around and rubbing against the bone, and at the end of the race it was this huge angry big red welt. 

Most of these injuries were alleviated pretty quickly by post-race shower and application of Aquaphor.  The drive home was manageable –  it was so amazing that my parents and Patty had come to support me – and an added benefit was that I got to just melt into the front seat, nibble tiredly at my Pop Tart (thanks Patty!), and just keep stretching.  Sitting after a race is, ironically, hugely uncomfortable as I get this awful sciatica sort of like a toothache in my ass.  We stopped for food at an Arby’s about an hour into the ride.  As is often the case, and also ironically, I still wasn’t even very hungry at that point and not much sounded good.  I ended up with a vanilla milkshake and 4 mozzarella sticks.  Which was pretty much perfect. 

It was pretty funny – there were 2 different people – one on line at Arby’s and another walking into the rest area, that I IMMEDIATELY could tell they had just finished the 100 miler – because the way they were walking looked just like the way I was walking.  We exchanged tired and happy hello’s as we hobbled around Arby’s.  The lunch stop was a great stretching opportunity which kept me from getting too locked up on the drive home – and even when I got home I was moving around moderately comfortably.    The second major recovery aid was the Epsom Salts bath I had before dinner.  Only just recently have I discovered the miraculous healing powers of Epsom Salts.  With regard to post-race recovery, it 1) immediately reduced inflammation and irritation from chafing, 2) allowed my tired muscles to re-absorb magnesium, easing the sort of neuropathic pain that had previously come after long races, and 3) also likely due to magnesium absorption, drastically improved my ability to sleep after a long race (you’d think that would be easy, but after my first 50 miler I couldn’t sleep for 2 days).

Post Race Phase 2 – Recovery

OK – well, I have to admit, I just kind of skipped this phase all together.    On Monday I felt…  fine.  Really almost absolutely fine.  No huge residual stiffness – went on a long walk with Matthew at lunchtime.  No issues going up and down stairs.  I just threw in gentle stretching any time the opportunity presented itself.  Monday is normally a rest day anyway on my training schedule.

Tuesday is not.  Tuesday is a running day.  So I ran.  I wasn’t sure if I SHOULD run – but I knew I was going to give it a try.  I pulled on my beautiful and shockingly pink shoes and I set out.  And oh my god it felt like I was FLYING.  In fact – I was not flying – I was running 12 minute miles – which is 1.5 to 2 minutes slower than my normal training pace.  But it FELT like flying.  (My last miles on my hundred had been 16-17 minutes).  More importantly – everything felt good.  No aches, no pains, no stiffness.  I was just running and feeling great.  I stopped at 6 miles.  On Wednesday I went for 9.  Thursday I got in 8.  Friday was a rest day, and then I did a 15/12 back to back between Saturday and Sunday, topping out my first post-100 mile race week with 50 miles of training.  Post race week 2 I got in 60 miles, and post race week 3 I hit 80. 

Huh.  How about that.  I had googled “post-100 mile recovery”, and found some suggestions like taking the first week entirely off, and then not running any more than an hour for something like 6 weeks.  Of course, I didn’t look this up until my 2^nd or 3^rd recovery week, so clearly that ship had sailed.  And was not going to be happening in any case.

Which is not to say I was not respecting my body’s needs…  The big thing about my post race early weeks – up to and including now – is that for almost every run except my weekly tempo run, I ran at whatever pace my body wanted to go.  That, essentially was my recovery.  Letting myself run 11’s or 11:30’s that first couple of weeks, because that was what was comfortable.  Letting myself run how my body wanted to run, rather than how my head wanted to run.

How very freeing, and intoxicating!  Running, in a way that just felt joyful and amazing – with no competitive pressure from my brain. 

I had held off on signing up for any more races until after I finished my 100 – mostly because I wasn’t sure how I’d like that distance and I figured completing it would affect what I wanted to do next.  It was probably only 1 or 2 days after the race that I knew I needed an immediate new goal, and I pressed the button to do CanLakes 50 miler again in October. 

With a 50 miler on the horizon (about 7 weeks out from my 100), I essentially wanted to be able to ramp back up to get in a couple of heavier mileage weeks in before having to taper again 2-3 weeks out.    I also ended up signing up for a trail marathon (tomorrow! – 9/17) as a training run.  Which meant I needed to get in some trail miles.  (The cool thing about tomorrow is that I will have running friends there - my Ragnar teammate Ed will be running the full with me, and teammate Deb and cousin Rebecca are running the half.  I almost NEVER have anyone to run (hike) with!

A short note on trails

So me and trails.  Still an evolving relationship.  On my first evening trail run, I was jogging along having a fabulous time when at mile 4 (out of 5), I caught my foot on a root and went sprawling.  Prior to hitting the ground, I felt something  bad happen where my left hamstring connected to my left glute.  Bad enough that I cried out as I went down.  Well – unless something is broken, when you go down, the only thing to do is to get back up and run.  On all previous falls (I’ve had a few on trails by now), I’ve been able to run out any residual soreness pretty quickly.  Although the intensity of the pain went away and I could finish my run, it was clear by the end of the run that something had been pulled.   This was verified when I went to bed that night and just could not, for the life of me, find a position that was comfortable for my hip.

The good news is, the pull didn’t impact me at all on my run the next day – or really any subsequent runs.  The bad news is that it pretty much bothered me almost all of the time when I WASN’T running – most specifically when I was sitting.  Which really just felt like I had a constant awful toothache in my ass.    Driving was excruciating.  I was nervous the following week to get back out on the trail and do it again – but that second run went fine (if VERY slow because I was being so cautious), and in fact everything felt better after hopping over roots for 5 miles.

Gradually over the last couple of weeks the injury has improved, just in time for my trail marathon tomorrow.  I had chosen to do that as a training run, but now am really just keeping my fingers crossed that I don’t fall and hurt myself before my true running love – my road ultra in October.

So…  what’s next?

So this journey is all about pushing limits.  I finished my 100 miler which was a huge goal for me, and I finished it strong.  After the initial glow, there is always that post race depression/quandary – OK – so I did this.  What’s next?

I’ve seen someone on Trail and Ultra Running post about continuing to push limits, waiting to be transformed or pushed to the edge - and each time they hit a new goal they found 1) they could do it, and 2) it didn’t transform them in the way they had envisioned.  In some ways the post race depression/adjustment is like that.  You work so long and so hard toward a specific goal – it becomes this great big life changing event in your head.  At least, the new goals and the Epic goals do… (first marathon, first triathlon, first half ironman, first full IM, first 50 miler, first 100).  Each of these was huge for me in terms of working toward something that felt really big.  The problem with completing something big is, if you want a new stretch goal, it has to be…  bigger.

New Goals – BIG mileage, multi-days?

Early on in the calendar year, I had hoped to get in 2000 miles of running this year.  I hit that mark just before the end of August.  It became apparent that 3000 was within the realm of possibility.  I started re-thinking my training.

For pretty much the entire year, I’ve been running 5 days a week.  This was all based on the original training plan I had used for my first 50 miler and then the one I used for my 100 – both plans called for runs Tues, Wed and Thurs, with back to back long runs on Saturday and Sunday, taking Monday and Friday off.  My normal schedule had been to throw in an evening bike ride on my trainer on Tuesday nights (making that the only “double”  workout day), and to swim on Friday mornings, so that only Monday was a true “rest” day where I wasn’t doing anything.  When 3000 became a possibility, I started thinking about ways to get in a little bit more mileage – like swapping out my Tuesday evening bike and my Saturday swims for a run.  This very easily added 10-15 miles per week.  And for the first couple of Tuesdays, I used that to get in a short trail run.

So – here I am, 3 ½ months left in the year, hopefully about to pull off an 85 mile week.  It has come as an astounding discovery to me that I can add on 2 more runs per week and that by doing so, I actually feel stronger.  In the last couple of days, my pace for my morning 10 miler has inched back closer from my 11 minute miles just post 100 to 10 minute miles for many of my training runs.  And these are easy runs – running at the pace my body wants to run – not pushing it all.  This is speaking to me of the benefit of the low heart rate training (i.e., almost all of my training is in zone 2).  Also, I’m throwing in almost a weekly tempo run where I run 3 miles (out of a 5 mile workout) at a pretty aggressive speed for me.  I’ve been really happy with what I’ve been able to achieve with those.  This week’s speed run was actually new territory in that I used my mid-week evening run (where I had already run 10 miles in the morning) as a speed workout.  Both that evening run as well as the 10 miles I threw in the next morning were great.  I’m generally also aiming to get in at least 1 aggressive hill workout per week. 

In terms of other races on the horizon, I’m aiming for a 24 hour in November, possibly a return to Beast of Burden 100 for the winter version in January, and then hopefully take a stab at my first multi-day at 3 Days at the Fair in the spring.

I’m going to have to taper soon because I really do want to go into CanLakes rested.  I know I have the base…  so now I just have to get into the race without hurting myself. 

Tapering, though, that’s going to be routh.

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.