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.

 

The nearly perfect run

I generally know if a run is going to be good within about a minute of starting out.  This morning’s plan was Murphy Hill.  I didn’t do a specific speed workout yesterday for my short 5 miler, so I thought getting a brutal hill in would be this week’s speed focus.  I also had this feel that today might be my best ever Murphy Hill climb.

The temperature was perfect.  Truly perfect – low 50’s, gentle breeze, sun not up enough to be hot – just up enough to turn the sky into a sunrise portrait of pale blues, purples and wispy clouds, with some haze here and there.  I have been waiting all year for running weather like this, putting in my dues during those 5 degree dark days.   I was wearing my relatively new shoes, and it was the second time I’ve used my newest insert experiment (Berry Superfeet) in them, and I was pleased that the feet felt supported, cushioned and that nothing hurt. 

In fact, nothing hurt anywhere.  This has actually been happening more and more often as I continue to improve my base.  When I just go out there and put in the miles at the pace my body wants to go (rather than the pace my brain wants to go), often everything feels good, easy, smooth and natural.

I am starting to accept (or trying to accept) that if I go at the pace my body wants to go, I will almost invariably be disappointed with the time it takes to do my first mile.  That first mile is a bit hilly, and although at one point in time when I tried to do every run as fast as I could take it, I would manage it in 9:30, it pretty typically takes me 10+ these days, as I allow that first mile to be a warmup.  Today was 10:25.  Tiny little voice in my brain whispering disappointment but I waved it away, happy with how limber and strong my legs felt, and reveling in the astounding beauty of the morning.

The next mile was 9:52, which eased the voices in my brain a bit.  Still feeling good.  Mile 3 was 10:10 – that one is a bit hilly too, so all in all, the voices were not overly loud about pace, and they let me focus on feel. 

Murphy Hill starts right after mile 3 – it is a 600 foot (or so) climb, in the space of 1.6 miles.  Sort of a series of steep rollers.  It is my favorite “go to” hill.  The first mile of the climb has been known to take me 13 minutes.  The way I’ve been approaching hills has been “take the hill at the same effort as the rest of your run – not the same pace”.  Lately this has been just a constant focus on “how does my body feel RIGHT NOW, and what adjustment do I need to make”?  Generally by doing that I have a strong climb. 

Today’s climb was perfect.  Every step felt right, and, more importantly, every step felt strong.  I could feel my glutes, which I’ve been working on, propelling me up the hill.  I was thrilled when I saw that first Murphy Hill mile took me 11:18.  Killing it, and feeling great.  One of the best things about today’s climb is that it was strong and steady and it felt awesome.  Sometimes it is just killer hard – my breathing is rough, and it requires extraordinary mental fortitude to just keep taking the little steps up the hill.  That’s good training in itself – but I love it when I feel fantastic. 

The last section of the hill gets pretty steep and just requires little quick steps, as slow as necessary to get to the top.  That section usually feels pretty rough.  Today – well, today it felt just fine!

I got to the top and stopped for just a moment to let cars pass and to enjoy the view.  And started on the down.

Although it would seem that the down would usually be great, that isn’t always the case.  I’m not a strong downhill runner – I think I tend to brake a bit, and I’m never quite sure what my stride should be.  My approach lately has been to try to lengthen my stride, relax, and let gravity do its thing without me getting in the way.  Today it felt kind of like flying.  My first full downhill mile clocked in a 9:17 and my next one was pretty close to that.  As I concluded the real downhill portion, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye of brown.  I quickly registered it as a doe and her very very new, tiny, spotted fawn, nestled down beside her, to the left of me in a meadow.  I stopped and reached for my phone to take a picture – but alas, the fawn was gone and the doe started wander away.  Damn.  I really would have liked that picture.  But at least I had the gift of seeing that perfect moment.

As I started to run again, I was thinking to myself “there is nothing about this run that isn’t perfect”.  About a mile later, I spotted another doe and fawn together in a meadow and realized again how grateful I was for this perfect run.

It wasn’t until I was about 3/10 of a mile away from home that anything happened to mar the beauty.  There, off to the side of the road, I saw another beautiful spring animal baby – a fox – lying lifeless, killed by one of those awful road monsters who so often seem like they are aiming their headlights and tires at me.  My heart broke just a little bit, and I finished the run on a more somber note.

So, not a perfect run after all. 

 

The first step is admitting you have a problem...

My husband informed me that the closest thing to exercise addiction is opiate addiction.

He should know.  He is a pharmacist.

So here is this thing about running.  It has gotten under my skin in a way that no other endurance efforts have.  I’ve been training for, well, probably about 8 years now – ever since the Army 10-miler in October of 2008.  It started out with just running.  A couple of years into running, I started to bike with some friends, and a future triathlete was born.  I did my first triathlon – NYC – in 2012… and promptly signed up for another one 2 weeks later.  Signed up for my first 70.3 (half Ironman distance) in 2013 – training all winter and flying out to the West Coast for that one, throwing in a few shorter ones in the mix that year.  2014 was Ironman year.  I got used to training a LOT.  Up to something like 16-20 hour per week at the culmination of that training.   I always assumed that I’d just keep trying to better myself as a triathlete, perhaps another Ironman where I could improve my somewhat dismal run performance.  But then, last year, in 2015, after spending all winter training for and doing pretty well at Florida 70.3, I set my sights on a 50 mile ultramarathon.  And, somewhere in the journey, I stopped being a triathlete and started becoming a runner.

I’ve been trying to analyze what has been so compelling for me about running versus a more balanced training program like triathlon.  Also, I wanted to explore, here, that delicate balance between a positive addiction and a negative addiction.  It is all intertwined.

So it is a fact that I am addicted to exercise – running, at the moment.  Addicted in the true sense of the word.  I know this because, well, I get addicted to things.  Smoking – I was a 2 pack a day smoker from age 16 when I started until age 30 when I tearfully quit.  Drinking – that career was shorter but more eventful.  Drank – lots – from age 16 until 22.  Eating?  Well, there are some weird relationships with food is all I have to say about that one.  In this post, anyway.  Enter exercise.

So – in many, many ways, exercise (running) saves me and gives me tremendous joy.  It has certainly carried me through one of the saddest and most difficult periods of my life.  I have met wonderful people.  I have experienced stunningly beautiful race venues.  I have learned that I have a competitive streak I never knew I had.  I have transitioned from being a reluctant, back of the pack athlete who only took up running so as to avoid a huge weight gain when I quit smoking, to a motivated racer with a vigilant training schedule.  To someone who now will often place in the top third of racers – sometimes top quarter (heck, last 2 ultra races, 3^rd woman and 2^nd woman in respectively). 

So what’s the issue?

Well – going back to “the first step is admitting you have a problem” – the issue is maintaining balance.  When do addictions become problematic?  When they start controlling YOU – rather than you controlling them.  When they negatively affect your relationships.  When you feel like you are at their mercy.  When it stops being fun, and starts being something else entirely – like a job you didn’t even realize you ever applied for. 

So – me, and running.  It is a constant quest for balance - to try to achieve the positive benefits of the running community, of pushing myself and seeing what I’m capable of – of achieving that perfect Zen of being absolutely at one with my body, in touch with every aspect of how I’m feeling as I hit mile 35 feeling GREAT…  but not sinking down into being a slave to something that is supposed to be fun and bring me joy.

It’s a tough balance – because in order to be successful as an endurance athlete, there is a constant component of pushing yourself when sometimes you don’t want to.  Your brain will, with some regularity, need to push you to do things outside of what you might “feel like” at the moment.  Call it will power – but without that, there is truly no way to maintain the kind of training schedule one needs to maintain to train for a 50 or 100 miler – or Ironman.  So what does it mean to not be a slave?

For me, lately, it’s mean really looking at my goals and identifying where I TRULY want to spend my training time.  For example, ever since last spring, when I essentially stopped being a triathlete and started running 5 days a week, I’ve tried to maintain at least 1 swim and 1 bike workout (in addition to the 50-75 miles of running) just for when I decided to go back to triathlon.  In order to keep at least 1 rest day in the mix, this invariably meant at least 1 evening workout (run in the morning, come home and bike).   And the number of times I did NOT want to come home and hop on that bike was, well, about every week.  And yet I keep doing it. 

Strength training.  Somewhere last fall I started trying to do this 3 times a week instead of 1.  I definitely saw the benefits to how I felt and performed.  But, the stress of trying to get to the gym a couple of times a week… well, that started adding to the feeling of this all being a job instead of a hobby I love.

So lately – I’ve been letting some of that go.  Saying “I’m going to go home from work and do whatever the hell I want.  Screw biking”.  Or, rather than go to the gym (which is really the stressful part – adding in that extra time commitment – not the training itself), try to do some strength exercises at home in between other activities. 

Letting these extra things go has freed me up to enjoy the running part more.  From a balance perspective, having a hobby where I can do all of my training in the morning works better than one where I’m regularly coming home and telling my husband “I’ll see you in an hour – I’m hopping on my bike”.  And then spending a not very enjoyable hour on my bike.

So – those hours out there in the morning before work, running along in the dark (and now the light) – those are mine.  I’m doing them (generally) because I want to. 

So what has running given me that biking and swimming do not?  It has put me more in touch with my body.  With running, I know EXACTLY how I’m feeling at every point of the journey.  And as I’ve extended my weekly mileage, I’ve also regularly started running at a pace that makes me feel good rather than one where I’m always laboring.  There is a rhythm and spirituality to a great run.  There is me, moving through my environment, through rain, snow, cold, heat, hills, flats, trails, roots, rocks.  There is, too, a chemical component.  The feeling of euphoria after a really tough speed workout where I just push myself to the max is like a jolt of drug straight to the brain.  It’s a high worth chasing after.  Or the feeling after a 26.2, 31, 36, 50 mile race.  Or a 50 mile slow run training weekend.  Somehow after those efforts, despite any lingering stiffness or achiness, there is contentment unlike anything else.

The first step is admitting you have a problem.  But oh, what a problem to have!!!

Ultra #4 - BPAC 6 hour Race Report

Ultra #4 - BPAC 6 Hour Endurance Challenge

So I completed my 4^th Ultramarathon yesterday at the BPAC 6 Hour Endurance Challenge.  Rather than run a fixed distance, this race was about seeing how much mileage you could complete in a fixed 6 hour time period.  It was located in Buffalo – 4 hours away from Cooperstown.  I signed up on a whim just a couple of weeks ago, thinking it would be a good way to get in a long (30+) supported run as part of my 100 mile training, and also just interested to see what I could do in 6 hours.  Of course, I signed up just off of my last Ultra – NJ Ultrafest trail 50K, where I did really well – so was still riding that high as I pressed the registration button.

So – on 4/2 I ran 50K of trails.  Did a 22 mile road run the following Saturday, followed by a 23 mile trail run the following Saturday with Pat McHenry and Luana Pesco-Koplowitz.  Normally I’d do 3 hard weeks, 1 easy in terms of long runs – but because of race timing, I was looking at 4 long weeks in a row, culminating with the 30+ run at BPAC. 

Somewhere in the middle of last week my daughter informed me she was coming home on Saturday – the day I was supposed to head out for Buffalo.  Because of my race, I’d miss her.  I also started feeling self conscious about how many weekend days I’ve been spending time away, running or racing – and so found myself really waffling heavily about whether or not to go through with this race.  Even as late as Friday night, the night before I was supposed to head out, I still had thoughts of cancelling – and not just cancelling the race, but scaling back to maybe a 10-miler – just because it felt like mentally I was a little bit burnt out on long runs. 

Saturday morning came.  Because of my race on Sunday, instead of a “back to back” (long run Saturday, shorter long-ish run on Sunday), I decided to just get in 6 easy miles before I headed out to Buffalo.  I think that run clinched it that I was going to proceed – everything felt good and strong and I just wanted to keep running.  So – despite the fact that I’d miss Patty’s visit, and despite the fact that I was feeling kind of bad about abandoning Matthew for an overnight and all day Sunday, I headed out mid-day on Saturday to Buffalo. 

Have actually decided to go, I was in a good mood driving out to Buffalo.  The sun was bright, and I made good time – enjoying travelling, once it was in progress.  I checked into my Red Roof Inn (Plus) and headed out for some solo sightseeing at Niagara Falls – always impressive.

Of bad food choices...

Following my brief stop at one of America’s most visited tourist spots, I set my sights on dinner.  Checking out Trip Advisor, I saw that there was a highly ranked German Restaurant near my hotel.  Hmmm.  My brain said no – but my stomach said yes yes yes.  Now – anyone who knows me well at all knows that I am VERY food motivated.  And, although I like pretty much any kind of food, I really like to take advantage of foods I can’t get in Cooperstown.  Which is really – well, anything that’s not American, Chinese or Italian.

I had made this type of bad-food decision before my 50 mile race as well – my lunch the day before consisted of nachos and fried pickles.  One could see where that could go very bad – and it did – but fortunately it went bad for an hour in the bathroom BEFORE I started my 50 miler – so caused me no issues on that particular race.

So German food.  And I have to say, it was pretty much the best schnitzel and spaetzel I’ve ever had in my life.  I ate with gusto and, alas, cleaned my plate, knowing as I did so that it was probably a bad idea.

The rest of the night was smooth sailing – my bed and room were comfortable, and though I had some minor heartburn, by and large I got a good night’s sleep without too much fretting about the next day’s race.

Race Day

Set my alarm for 5:30 a.m, in order to be at the start line by 7-ish.  I didn’t really HAVE to get up that early – but given my experience with the CanLakes pre-race digestion,  I wanted to allow enough time for lots of coffee drinking, breakfast, and, please oh please, some quality bathroom time so I could approach the race start comfortably.  I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of eating my cold mini bagels, so I went out in search of a McDonalds for an Eggamuffin breakfast special (hash browns and OJ included – of course).  Breakfast was yummy – but I was pretty dismayed with just how sloshy and bloated my abdomen still was after the previous night’s dinner and that morning’s breakfast.  Clearly I had overdone it a bit at dinner – and the Potty Gods were not being good to me. 

Everything else was in order, though, and the temperature was warmer than expected.  I headed over to the race start and got settled.  Was happy to see Katherine, a runner acquaintance I had met at Winter BOB, and one whom I had connected with a little bit on Facebook.  And the race began…

The starting pack was relatively large – and, I was relieved to see, mostly starting out at what I felt was a comfortable pace.  I wasn’t feeling like I had to bolt like a rabbit in order to not be at the back of the pack.  My goal pace for the race itself was about 10:30 – but if I could exceed that, I would.  My first couple of miles I was pretty much in the 10 minute mile range.  It felt good and comfortable, so I tried to push the pace a bit on mile 4.  Bumped it up to a 9:25 minute mile for that one mile – and paid for it.  My next mile after that pushed out to 10:15 – as did the next couple.  Which just goes to show I really should NEVER push the pace early on. 

I was still pretty happy with 10:15’s, though, and was absolutely amazed at how the first 8 or so miles just flew by.  It really felt like I had just started.  I’d say this fresh feeling continued pretty much until almost hour 3.  Which was really a gift.

The course was a 3.25 mile paved loop in a park.  It was really easy running, and pretty scenic – the sun was shining, and the air felt like spring.  Things were just starting to green up a bit – and there was just nothing to complain about with regard to this venue. 

So – probably about 11 miles in, when I was just about as far away from the aid station as you could be on the 3.25 mile loop, my gut suddenly complained.  Sharply and insistently.  “Now”, it said.  “Find a bathroom RIGHT NOW.” 

Damn it.  So the next 1.5 miles were going to be THOSE kind of miles.

Although for most of my running life I could run for hours without needing a restroom, this had changed suddenly and, I expect, forever, after a bout of travel induced IBS after a trip to Belize a year and a half ago.  Since that time, I have, on more occasions than I’d prefer to report, had some pretty uncomfortable moments on my runs – until I stagger into the nearest bathroom.   I’m a firm believer that there out to be a whole lot more porto-potties out there regularly spaced out on country roads, just for me.  But I digress…

So.  1.5 miles.  There was a thread on the Trail and Ultra Running facebook page about this very issue, which spoke of finding your perfect pace at moments like these – which is, fast enough to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible without going so fast that your gut just completely rebels on you.  I slowed down.  And prayed.  And found myself in the altogether too familiar position of checking out the scrubby trees on either side, wondering just how much cover they would grant in the case of a true emergency. 

The most excellent news is that I made it to the aid station without embarrassing myself, although it was an incredibly uncomfortable 15 minutes.  Jogged over the timing mat and right into the blessed blue box.  Where I only lost about 2 ½ minutes.  This time. 

Had one more emergency trip to the blue phone booth a bit later in the race – although I’m happy to report that there was considerably less distress involved.  Lost another 2 minutes. 

So, I figure that had I made better food choices and not gorged the night before, there is a good chance I would have gotten in close to another .5 miles in my total distance.  But, if that’s the worst thing that came out of my bad food choices, I suppose I got off lucky.  It could have been a LOT worse.  As we all know, from that horrible race picture that keeps floating around Facebook.

OK – well that was probably TMI for most non-runners.  Most runners, I think, will understand. 

So the thing that was pretty cool for me about this race was – I kept running.  And running.  And running.  With the exception of my two bathroom breaks, and my brief stops to swill down some Coca Cola and refill my water bottles, I really didn’t do any walking at all on the course.  And my pace stayed pretty consistent almost the whole way. 

For most of the race I was pretty sure I’d have a choice to make at the end.  The course was advertised as “as much mileage as you can do in 6 hours” – (person with the most miles wins).  The kicker is this.  It is a 3.25 mile loop – and in order to get any credit for partial mileage, you have to complete the WHOLE loop.  That is, I was predicting I’d finish 32.5 miles (10 loops) in less than 6 hours – and I was equally sure there was no way I’d finish 11 loops in less than 6 hours.  So – did I go out for that last loop, knowing I’d be coming in a bit after the 6 hour mark? 

The answer is…  yes I did.  I hit 32.5 at the 5:44 mark.  My goal mileage was 34 miles in 6 hours, so the only way to achieve that was to go out and do that last loop.  Which amazingly, still felt just fine. 

According to my Garmin, I hit the 34 mark at just prior to 6 hours, earning me the 2nd place female and the 10th runner in the race.   And I came heading down the home stretch with my Garmin reading 36 miles, at 6 hours and 20 minutes.  The advantage of being one of the only runners left on the course is that there were a bunch of runners who had already ended their races who cheered me in.  It felt really great. 

Onward...

So – 4 ultras under my belt.  And I’m doing some reflecting.  My “training plan” (those that know me know I’m a plan gal…) has me continuing to build my mileage from 25/13, to 28/15, to 30/15, to a couple of 30/20’s.  Do-able – but daunting.  More from the overall mental perspective – it’s just a lot of long mileage to look forward to.  And the thing is, I did this 36 miles – and I have a sneaking suspicion that in fact, if I aimed for 100 now, I’m pretty much there in terms of base and long runs.  Which means…  maybe I can get away with only doing a bunch of 20-22 mile long runs with a just a couple of 28-30 thrown in maybe once a month?  Must give this some thought.

 

Ultra running and the Power of Slow

So – I’ve been doing some reflecting on lessons learned since I started ultra training almost a year ago.  Prior to starting to train for my first ultra-marathon, I’d say that I probably ran anywhere from 18-30 hours a week, and that includes times when I was training for either a marathon or an Ironman.  Generally I was doing about 3 runs a week.   I almost NEVER ran 2 days in a row, and I certainly never ran the day after a “long run”.  Long runs were generally not more than 1 every 2 weeks, and they maxed out at 18 miles, with the exception of Ironman training year, where I had 3 weeks in a row with runs going from 18 to 19 to 20.  Most importantly in terms of where I was mentally, I had this idea in my head that every run I did really had to be as fast as I could do it.  Not necessarily race fast, but zippy nonetheless.  I judged the quality of my runs based on how fast I was able to do them.  Even the long runs, I tried to maintain an aggressive pace that was certainly slower than my 10K pace, but was something like I’d hope to achieve in a marathon. 

Enter ultra training and “back to backs”. 

For my first 50-miler ultra, I followed a plan I found in Runner’s World online which essentially called for back to back long runs pretty much every weekend.  There would be usually a 3 week build period, and then a weekend where I would back off on the distance but still go longer than the weekday runs.  My first back to back of any significance (mentally) was the one where I was slated to run 20 miles on Saturday followed by 12 on Sunday.  The thought of this was pretty mind boggling to me.

At that point in time, 20 was a LONG run.  And long runs required (in my mind) a subsequent day of rest.  I really couldn’t fathom of how I was going to do 12 miles the day after 20. 

I woke up that Sunday morning feeling apprehensive, and still a bit stiff and achy from the run the day before.  Perhaps the only thing that made this run possible in my head was that I was going to be doing half of it with company.  I’m used to almost all of my runs being solo, so company is a huge motivator.  I was scheduled to meet my cousin Rebecca at the halfway point of my 12-miler – so pick her up after 6.

With a “this is impossible” clanging around in my head, I set out from my house.  I started shuffling along at what felt like a snail’s pace.  I got about a half mile in and realized that 1) I wasn’t (really) hurting, and 2) I was running.  Slow – but I was running.  Kept shuffling along and hit a hill.  Slowed down.  Got to a mile.  Looked at my Garmin and realized that at least for this first post-20 miler mile, my “slow” pace was less than a minute per mile slower than my aggressive pace.  And it sure as hell felt a whole lot more do-able.  Attacked mile 2.  And actually sped up a little.  And mile 3.  And, well, it felt fine.  I couldn’t go fast – I knew that wasn’t in me.  But I didn’t have to.  I just had to go.  And I did.

I met Rebecca at the halfway point where it had started to rain.  I didn’t care – I was having an epiphany.  The key to back-to-back day 2 was to go slow. 

Rebecca and I ran 3 miles out from town, and 3 miles back in what turned into pouring rain.  When we hit mile 11, I said “let’s try to do the last mile just a little bit faster”.  So we picked it up probably by about 30 seconds per mile, and pulled off a 10 minute mile for the last one.  We met the rest of our family at Stagecoach Coffee in town to get on with our family weekend and enjoy a post run breakfast.   My overall pace for that run was about 45 seconds slower per mile than my aggressive pace – which essentially meant a 12 mile run completed in 2 hours and 6 minutes rather than 1 hour and 57 minutes.  And – after the 12 mile slow run, my body felt BETTER than it had before the run.  And continued to feel better for the rest of the day. 

During the remainder of my 50-miler training, I saw my pace get what seemed to be slower and slower.  In retrospect I guess it didn’t slow down THAT much more as my slowest pace I believe was only ever 10:45, but it felt like it.  And the lesson for me was, getting to be ok with that mentally.  Because that 12 mile run wasn’t my only epiphany.  The back to backs got longer and longer – from 20/12 to 20/18 to 23/20 to (OMG!)  23/28.  And on so many weeks, I’d find myself hitting mile 18, 19, 20 of the second day – and still feeling OK – as long as I hadn’t tried to push the pace.  On the other hand, any runs where I started feeling bad about “going slow” where I tried to get more aggressive about my pace early into the run ended up with me feeling more tired and burned out by the end.  There’s a lesson in here somewhere.

So – I did the training, did my 50.  Had accepted the fact that I was slower.

And then, discovered something.

I was getting faster again. 

???

So after my 50 miler, I started throwing back in a little bit of speed work.  I only did it once a week and generally only on my short run.  And the rest of the runs I just ran to build my base.  And I discovered that with a really solid base of about 50 miles a week behind me, when I WANTED to go fast, I could push the pace stronger than I could before my 50.  I pulled off a marathon 6 weeks after CanLakes 50 that was not a PR, but was my second best time ever.  And that was coming off of an injury 2 weeks after my 50.

So now – out of my 5 runs a week, 4 of them I try to do at whatever pace my body is comfortable with that day.  1 day a week I push it.  Sometimes I just push a little bit – sometimes I push a lot.   And the end result?  I did a 22 miler last Saturday and for the rest of the day pretty much felt like I used to feel after running 6.  I’m a stronger, steadier runner with fewer  issues than I used to have with plantar fasciitis, IT Band issue, hip imbalances and other problems I used to experience when every run had to be as fast as I could do it.  And, I think I’m a bit faster too…

 

NJ Ultrafest Race Report

So I ran my first 50K trail race on Saturday.  This was pretty new territory for me.  I have been a road runner for most of my running career, and even my first 50 miler last October was run on roads.  Counting the training runs I did for NJ Ultrafest plus my mini-trail-ultra at Mendon Ponds last November, I had run trails a total of 8 times prior to last Saturday, with the longest mileage run being 13 miles. 


I know there are loads of trail runners out there who are in love with trails and just don't understand why anyone would run on roads.  But for me, making the transition from road to trail has been rough.  My first trail run I spent just aghast looking at my Garmin and focusing on JUST HOW SLOW I was running, combined with dodging roots and rocks.  After a bit, I found a little bit of stride, however, and there was just a little bit of amazement in this entirely new kind of slow running, where I was focused on the terrain rather than my speed.  And there was something pretty cool about being in the middle of the woods, with no people, cars, or bikes.  (Well, eventually there were people and dogs, but that's another story). 


It's not that I don't enjoy the outdoors - I do, very much.  It's just that as a former triathlete and marathoner, my focus has often been on how fast I can do whatever I'm doing.  It has only been in my ultra journey, which started last June, where I started to learn the power of slow.


The trail I've been practicing on is about 3 miles from my house and is a relatively small loop - I figured out a way to do this figure 8 that gets me about 3 miles, some of which I am running on the same terrain.  In each loop, there is kind of a nasty hill at the beginning that leaves me huffing and puffing, a moderate one in the middle, and 2 iterations of the same really short steep section that is pretty much like going up stairs.  Although I know the trail ultra mantra is "walk the hills", in my training runs I've been trying to run them all, when possible, just to see if I can. 


The first long training trail was rough - both mentally and physically.  The day after the run, my left ankle was so stiff I could barely go down my stairs.  I still managed to get out for a recovery run, which to my great surprise and relief eased up the ankle issue.  Each week in March got easier until I found all of the hill training really improving my road speed and endurance. 


The week before NJ Ultrafest I started receiving e-mails from the race directors that were getting me nervous.  I learned that 1/3 of the course had been cut off due to the property not being available - this was going to result in more, shorter loops - but the loops were the ones with all of the major elevation, so overall the race elevation was going to increase.  I also learned that there were 5 stream crossings per 5.75 mile loop, and so because I was going to have to cover about 5.5 loops, this meant over 25 stream crossings.  The race director indicated it was "possible" to try to keep your feet dry, but noted that it would probably be easier to just plow through the streams.  This thought did not make me happy.  I reached out to my running friends desperate for advice - and got it.  Wool socks.  Phew.  OK - ready.



The race was scheduled to start at 9:45 and was in Hardwick NJ.  One of the decisions I needed to make was whether to go down the night ahead of time and stay overnight in a cabin, or head down morning of.  I ultimately decided that heading down that morning would serve me best by allowing me to sleep in my own bed and get the best night's sleep, and only have to get up about 30 minutes earlier than I'm used to getting up anyway.  I was in my car and on my way by 4:45 and drove through hours of pouring rain to arrive with plenty of time to spare. 



Met some great people even before the race began starting with Mike, who drove the shuttle from the assigned parking lot to the race start, Jeff - first time 50K trail, Andrew and Kevin who all shared my ride over.   Big deliberations about how much to wear...  it was cool (mid 40's) and rainy, and I HATE to be cold - so opted for running pants over my shorts, along with long compression wool socks, short sleeve tech top, arm warmers, and windbreaker.

And the race began...

Not sure if this really happened or if it's just my perception, but it seemed to me that pretty early on I was pretty much toward the rear of the pack.  Eager runners went bounding off ahead of me while I set out at a pace that felt comfortable and that allowed me to not trip over obstacles.   Of which there were many.  There were a couple of other runners in my pack space - I spent a bit of time chatting with Andrew who seemed to have a pretty similar pace as mine, and I'm afraid I don't remember the other runners at that point.  Finding my comfortable pace on a trail is new to me and it took a while to get in a groove where I wasn't out of breath.  I tried to follow other runners' lead in terms of what hills to walk - I knew I should do that regularly and early in order to ensure I had enough gas in the tank for the rest of the race.



Modified course loops

The 5.75 mile loop was really made up of 2 mini-loops:  the first (Woods Loop) was about 3+ miles and was where the lions share of the elevation lay.  On paper it looked significantly more difficult than the second mini-loop (Lake Loop).  And, from an elevation perspective, it was.  Right before the end of the Woods loop there was an incredibly rooty, rocky, streamy section that only the most fleet footed were making any attempt to run.  I was just attempting not to fall down.  We were to hit that section 11 times in the whole race.  At the end of the root mass was the steepest elevation of that loop - essentially a set of steep stairs built into the hillside, with a rope handrail with which you could help pull yourself up.  The handrail was key.  That loop ended in a very short runnable section culminating in another short steep climb before getting to the Aid station right before hitting mini-loop 2 (Lake loop). 

Rooty section.  You don't really see the full depth of the roots and rocks here.

The deceptive elevation map (Woods Loop left, Lake Loop right)

On my first go-round I was relieved at getting to the Lake Loop knowing the elevation was significantly less.  My relief was short lived.  The early part of the lake loop was relatively flat - yes, but just chock full of ground obstacles just waiting to kill me.  Rocks and roots, mostly, and downed trees you had to hop over or climb under.  It was pretty highly technical terrain - with which I have pretty much zero experience.  I experimented with tentative jog hopping around the rocks and roots until I got to sections that were more runnable.  Which, it turned out, were uphill.  On that first loop I was still with Andrew who rejoiced over how runnable that section was and he just dodged forward while I huffed and puffed thinking that I was now going a bit faster than my comfortable pace.

Somehow I lost Andrew at the aid station and started on my own around loop 2.  I had to keep a closer eye on the trail because during loop 1 I had relied on my companions to keep me on the trail.  I almost made a wrong turn once but quickly found my way back to the trail.  I followed advice I've heard from other ultra runners - run when you can - walk when you have to.  And, I'd say, on each loop I'd try to experiment a little bit more with what I "could" run. 



Killer rocks

The Dreaded Stream Crossings. 


So anyone who was following my Facebook posts knew I was pretty nervous about how to handle the stream crossings.  Lots of suggestions for Wool socks, Drymax, etc... - and my online buddy Joseph commented "enjoy it - it will be just like an ice bath".  Have to say Joseph was right.  On the first stream crossing I made I very minor attempt to keep my feet dry by using rocks - realized pretty much immediately that it would be WAY easier to just wade right through, and voila - my feet and shoes were soaked.  Got onto dry ground moments later, shoes sloshed for about a minute, and then feet were just mildly damp and not at all uncomfortable.  One of the stream crossings that was described as ankle deep really wasn't - it was up to my knees at least.  I discovered on later loops that in order to get the ankle deep crossing, you had to aim further over to the right.  But my buddy Joseph was right - there was at least one loop where I actually aimed for the deep part to get all of the benefit of the cool water on my legs that, by that time, were a little bit achey!  End result of stream crossings?  Socks that were pretty awful from a scent perspective (had to wash them twice and still not quite right), but no blisters and no discomfort. 




Shin deep water.  I did see someone trying to use the rope ladder...

 My new friend Amy and some other friends

So - one thing I am learning about ultras, and this is now my third, is that the best part of them are the people you meet on the journey - either online while training, or at the race itself.  Somewhere between mile 10 and mile 13 or so, I met Amy.  Amy is a runner from Staten Island - unlike me, she was signed up for the 50 miler - (her first).  Just like me, she was finding the terrain tougher than anything she had trained on - and she was at the same point in the race in terms of total loops completed as I was.  Amy and I stuck together for close to 10 miles, I think.  It was wonderful.  We ran together, walked together, slogged through streams together, and compared running stories and history.  I briefly got to meet Amy's husband and son who had accompanied her to the race, and thanks to them got the only pictures that actually exist of me out on the course.  I also got to run a bit with Scott, and ran into the finish line with Rudy, who I also shared a ride with back to the car. 




Hiking up the hill right before the aid station

Trails in the woods



Pretty much the only flat runnable section of the course

The End

So - somewhere around mile 22, I left Amy sipping her chicken soup at the aid station while I headed out for my last loop and a half.  I felt strong - and I felt like I was getting a bit more of a handle on how to tackle the different sections of the course.  I became a bit more aggressive in terms of attempt to run on sections I might have been more tentative about earlier with the end result being that I think my fastest Lake Loop was actually the last one.  I climbed up that last hill knowing I was close to the end and still was feeling just find. 

At the finish line I learned to my great delight that I was the 3rd woman in.  Felt pretty good for my first trail 50K.  The race swag is shown below - the jacket is just amazing, and has reflective piping in a couple of spots. 

I'm pretty sure this will not be my last NJ Trail series event.  Many thanks to Rick and Jennifer McNulty for making this happen, and for all of the amazing volunteers.

The amazing race swag - FABULOUS jacket