2016 running wrap-up

I have been and always will be a nerd so not showing the numbers from 2016 would be a crime.

I can honestly say that I'm super-happy with the way things went this year. I was able to get in a number of great races, remain injury-free and have some great experiences in the meantime.

In the clouds of Montblanc near Chamonix

My races for the year included:

• San Tan Scramble 50k
• Black Canyon 100k
• Old Pueblo 50 (PR)
• Hom 100 (charity) - raised $20,500 for ALS
• Tahoe Rim Trail 100
• McDowell Mt. Frenzy 25k

In hindsight, the best thing about running in 2016 had nothing to do with my personal accomplishments as a runner but as a coach, mentor and leader of the trail running community here in the East Valley.

I have come to enjoy the social element of running much more than the actual pursuit of buckles or medals. There is a part of me that wants to continue and train and be fit but the part that's taken over this year was finding ways to bring people together - whether it's for trail work, group runs or Christmas parties. I'm extremely proud of what I've helped others accomplish this year.

May 2016 crew cleaning up San Tan

I'm not sure what 2017 holds for races - the calendar is largely blank. I would like to pursue my coaching certificate and help others achieve their running goals for the year.

Tahoe Rim Trail 100 awesomeness!

I hope the San Tan Trail Runners group continues to grow. I hope new friendships emerge. I hope others are inspired to set new goals for themselves in the coming year.

Happy 2016 to you all.

Got to Live by Jay Danek

"You [have] to love running, or you [won’t] live to love anything else"

 ~Christopher McDougall, Born to Run

If you’re a runner that’s lived in the Phoenix area for the last 5 years, ‘the streak’ has been like Saturday morning cartoons or summer vacations – it’s just something we've grown up with. The iconic yellow shirt has become synonymous with dedication, hard work and occasionally taking a wrong turn during races J Jay was the first ultra-runner I happened to meet. My research of ultras brought me to his website (www.mcdowellmountainman.com) and I was immediately captured by his story, his already successful string of races and of course and his commitment to run 923 days in memory of his late father.

When you share a common thread with someone like Jay – an endurance athlete, a successful professional and a father – it’s virtually impossible not to feel a connection to the various trials and tribulations he experiences as part of his youth and the deep respect and admiration he has for his father. As boys, we spend much of our time looking up to our fathers for stability, strength and validation. But how would you react if that was suddenly ripped from your world?

Jay directing runners on Day 923

What can only be described as a lesson of pure humanity, Jay opens the door to his soul as he deals with a jumbled bag of raw emotions. Helplessness. Fear. Guilt. Remorse.

I felt his pain.

I empathized with his feelings of defeat.

I personally wish I could have met 'T' and shaken his hand.

But about the time you find yourself at the bottom of Jay's downward spiral, I remember thinking to myself “Damn, what would I have done?” Eventually Jay's family lights a spark. Out of love they continue to gently fan it until it becomes a roaring fire. What starts as a lifestyle adjustment slowly turns into a release…a passion…a new-found connection to ‘T’ that changes his attitude and the quality of life for him and his family. So while you can’t help but be moved by the profound meaning of ‘the streak’, the journey Jay undergoes both physically and mentally is incredibly inspiring and uplifting.

Though simple in delivery, I found the message of “Got To Live” to be more profound than I expected. Everyone goes through hard times. And though the magnitude is often times in the eye of the beholder, what really matters is how we confront our fears and challenge our mental strength.

Are you existing, or are you living?

In Jay’s case, he has turned his tragedy into something that transcends running. He has cemented himself as a pillar of strength, hard work and dedication not only for his family but for an entire community of runners who, more than anything, respect him and his “Got To Live” attitude. Jay’s evolution into the McDowell Mountain Man is something anyone can appreciate whether you’re a runner or not. He may be a pretty good endurance runner, but he’s human too…

Pity, party of one (or Adrenaline 65k race report)

The idea of running 40 miles only 2 weeks after running the Hom100 was always a questionable endeavor, but I knew that it would likely be the last time I got to have this much quality time on my feet before the Black Hills 100 on June 29. If nothing else, the heat would be good for me :)

As with most races, adrenaline (no pun intended) and excitement often gets you fired up at the start of the race. Because the first 4 miles of the course is pretty smooth, it makes for some good single-track running...

I went out pretty fast on the first loop and was probably expending more energy just trying to stay hydrated and cool - which wasn't easy. I went through 1.5 L of (tepid) water in the 4 miles prior to the first aid station! Though I had taken headlamp as well, I somehow got this crazy idea that I could finish the first loop by the time it got dark...why?! I have no idea. After stumbling on one of the many rocky section on the back half of the course, it didn't take much convincing to turn on my light.

First lap done (way too fast I might add)

Starting the second lap was not an issue. I felt really good and it didn't take much convincing to keep me going. I distinctly remember starting off the second loop without my headlamp on just absorbing the night and the stars. I also distinctly remember holding my arms out to the side - flying through the night - saying, "I love running at night".

Oh, how my tuned had changed by mile 15.

Mental abyss #1

Reduced to a slow walk with my head hung low, I had clearly demanded too much of myself in the oppressive heat. Though I was hydrating fine (fine = I peed), I had already fallen into a deep mental abyss. I walked a good portion of mile 16 trying to come up with a rational excuse to drop out when I reached the finish line.

"That cactus looked at me funny"

"I don't like the color of this dirt"

"My bib number isn't pinned on straight"

Seriously. Anything to make it end...

Pity party for one

The look on my face above says it all. Dejected. Low. Pissed off. Not happy with how I was feeling, I shuffled over to my drop bag and sat on my cooler for about 15 minutes still contemplating why (if) I should keep going. Staring at the clock though, I began to get outraged with the idea that the clock was still ticking and physically I felt fine, yet was unable to make a decision one way or the other.

After weighing my options for a while (and confirming my race bib was on straight), I decided that I would wander over to the aid station to at least get some fresh water and cold soda. One of the great things about volunteers (at Aravaipa events) is that they're not just anyone off the street...these are runners who know what you're going through. After a bit of self-loathing, empathy and chit-chat, I was feeling a little better mentally and decided to fill up my bottles with Tailwind again. I set out into the night for my third loop.

Night miles are long(er) miles but I was constantly reminding myself to just take the course 4 miles at a time - aid station to aid station. Do the time and the miles would follow.

After leaving the remote aid station, I started getting pissed off at my relative clumsiness while trying to navigate some of the rocky sections of the trail. Twisting ankles, sharp rocks on already blistered areas and stubbed toes were hurdling me into another dark place as midnight started to approach.

I made it back to the start/finish line shortly after midnight and again, was not in the mood to discuss anything except ending my misery and writing it off as a sub-40-mile training run. I parked my sweaty ass on the cooler again and tried once more to persuade myself that I would feel better driving home while stewing in my own wretched body odor, sweat and caked-on dirt.

And yet again, for every reason I tried to conjure up to end the madness, I couldn't bring myself to give into the course or my own lack of confidence. It was a rare instance in which my body was the one forcing my mind to get its shit together. So I kept going.

Loop 4 proved to be better. Perhaps it was the relative temperatures dropping that were made everything less labored or that I had my don't-give-a-shit-blinders securely on...either way, I ran through the night. Up, down and everything in between. Aside from my feet, I felt physically strong.

This time, there was no internal monologue or discussion as I approached the start/finish line to end loop 4 and begin the last 8 miles. I did sit down to rest my feet and stretch a bit. Jay Danek stopped over to see how I was doing and to help me refill my pack...he relayed how his night went and we had some laughs catching up. It was a good comedic interlude and definitely helped lift my spirits.

Nothing spectacular about the last 8 miles other than I just ran. I ran what felt like 8-minutes miles the entire way (they were actually more like 11-12 minute miles!) The only thing motivating me was the idea of coming in under 9 hours. Which I did...

8 hours and 52 minutes. Good enough to finish 11th out of 20 finishers...

I'm glad I stuck with it. I've learned quite a bit about my mental fortitude lately and it will go a long way in helping me get through the Black Hills 100 here in a couple weeks.

At least in South Dakota, there won't be any cacti taunting me...

Weekly jib jab

Nothing of real significance going on recently...just trying to ramp my training back up after losing 2 weeks to shingles. I really hate that fitness endurance is so easily lost and yet takes so much work to get back.

What else?

I'm testing a new endurance drink called Tailwind Nutrition. They're a mom and  pop shop based out of Colorado (seriously, how often do you get a hand-written thank you note with your order and personalized bags!). I've read several reviews from other runners and it seems to be the real deal. They say you can ditch the gels, chews and other food while using Tailwind...They're so confident however that they'll refund you the cost of your next race if it doesn't meet your expectations. I've only used it on a couple runs between 10 and 17 miles but I have to say, it kept me going over the course of those multi-hour runs with no problems at all. It tastes great and seems to have everything I need.

Of course, a more thorough review is forthcoming in the future weeks.

The biggest thing on my mind these days is the upcoming Hom 100. I created this run to raise money for my buddy Tony who was recently diagnosed with ALS. It's on May 25/26 and I'm still wondering if I have the mojo to make it all 100 miles.

Whether I make it or not is relatively unimportant. What is important is that we're raising over $2,600 (so far)!

SERIOUSLY!

If you'd like to donate please click here...there's still time.

I also signed up for the Adrenaline night run on June 8 out in the McDowell Mountains. It should be a good time and a good preview for pacing the Javelin Jundred in October.

Confessions of a Javelina pacer - Part II

...continued from Part I

Loop 5

With a new found determination and some calories in her belly, Liz was making some good time back toward the Coyote aid station.

"Screw these rocks", she said as we climbed. Though we walked the rough rocky spots, we were running everything else...uphill.

There was a huge cheer as we pulled into the Coyote aid station. Several of the crew recognized Liz and were applying high-5's all the way around. I got the sense that they too were not expecting to see us back again after our prolonged stay only an hour earlier. The station manager catered to our every need and duplicated my efforts to ensure Liz was eating something. Watermelon, salted potatoes and ginger ale were the only things that sounded less-disgusting. Bathroom break, more water and Gatorade and we were off again to tackle that ominous Jackass Junction segment...that grueling 6.4 miles.

As I mentioned before, night miles are the longest EVER. I did my best to continually be honest with Liz about the mileage. I may have rounded up a few times when she asked me how far we'd gone...you know, like "1 mile" when it had actually be only 0.75 miles. Or said "4.5 miles to the next aid station" when it was actually closer to 5. Given GPS accuracy in the desert isn't really all that good, it was a tolerance I could live with so long as it didn't completely destroy her motivation and mental stability.

The red rectangle is Loop 5 from Coyote to Jackass Junction.

The Jackass station did seem to take a while even by my standards. Lights in the distance?! Nope, just a couple of runners. "God hates me right now", she said on more than one occasion. I'm fairly certain that wasn't the case but in her mind, the ups and downs along with the rocks were the equivalent of being trapped in one of Dante's special circles made specially for ultra-runners.

Eventually the lights of the aid station came into view like that cartoon oasis from on the Bugs Bunny show. You shake your head and rub your eyes just to make sure it's real. With a huge sigh (well, more like a whimpering groan), Liz made her customary pit stops while I filled her bottles. Upon returning, she plopped down next to her drop bag to change her socks. Up to this point she had not once complained about blisters, but now that the socks were off...holy crap, they were a mess.

She had at least 3 blisters on her right foot and 2 on the left that needed to be lanced. All inquiries to the volunteers at the station failed to produce a single sharp object that would help lance these so they could be bandaged up. What does Liz do? Lathers up with sanitizer and uses her fingernails...

Pretty sure Chuck Norris never popped blisters with his hands.

Pacer initiation = over. When you find yourself squeezing someone else's blisters at 4 in the morning, it's for real.

With socks and shoes back on, we made our way into the aid station tent to get some food and warm up.

"Well, that hurts considerable more", she commented in the most deadpan tone.

I laughed awkwardly knowing that blistered feet suck most any time - particularly when you have 32 miles left to run.

There were plenty of other runners resting in the tent - some were laying on the cots, but most were huddled around the heat lamps chit-chatting and making grimacing faces as they all dealt with either intestinal and/or muscular issues. Eventually the talk turned to the time...and how late it was...and when the first cut-off was.

Between small bits of banana, some hot chocolate and ginger ale you could see the sense of urgency growing on Liz's face. "We're going to make the cut-off, right?" she asked. Myself and several others reassured her that it was definitely possible...but certainly going to be close. We needed to cover 7 more miles in an hour and thirty minutes. Definitely possible on any other day...a bit harder when you've got 70 miles under your belt.

But again, Liz rose to the occasion. She tossed the hot chocolate at me and took off running ("It was good hot chocolate though", she said). We didn't stop until we reached the Rattlesnake Ranch aid station. 4 miles, gone just like that in 50 minutes. I think both of us were encouraged by her vigor and spirit that we strolled right by the aid station and kept plowing forward. At this point, it was about 4:50 am and we openly discussed that it would require essential the same 10/11-minute pace to make the check-in at Jeadquarters.

Leaving Rattlesnake, we were off to good start. Somewhere after the first 3/4 of a mile however, things began to slow down. The last 2 1/4 miles is one of the smoother parts of the trail but still has some small rollers scattered throughout. My gut is that the rollers were just enough discouragement...the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back. After all, the smallest rise after running 75 miles can seem enormous.

"I need you to keep running Liz", I said.

"How much farther?" she asked while wincing.

"We have 2.25 miles to go. But we need to go..."

Finishing Loop 5

"We haven't even gone a mile?", she asked with disbelief laced with anger.

"You can do this Liz but you have to focus on running", I said.

As a pacer, you walk a fine line between encouraging without telling and supporting without forcing...all while trying to keep a positive attitude.

Whether it was a sign or not, this was about the time my Garmin died. Half-heartedly, Liz managed a run-walk for the next mile or so until it was pretty obvious that a heavy shroud of defeat (and/or fatigue) had descended over her. We walked side-by-side...my arm around her attempting to offer encouraging words of congratulations as the reality of missing the cut-off began to take hold. In all honesty, I was just trying to distract her from my failure to see her to the end of her 100-mile journey.

Nonetheless, I was very proud to walk her through the finish line. An accomplishment in it's own right, but just a little short of her overall goal. Liz Braun ran 77 miles and received a 100K buckle at the 2012 Javelina Jundred.

We would miss the cut-off by 12 minutes and 21 seconds.

A Pacer's Remorse

I will tell you that the competitive person in me feels like a failure. The single most important reason for supporting Liz was to finish...and I failed. Which sucks big time.

Liz and her 100K finisher buckle

I have experienced enough of my own races however to know that there is seldom just one thing that contributes to a DNF (unless it's an injury). I know personally that I did the best I could but I am not ignorant of the fact that I still have things to learn.

There are plenty of things I will do differently and many things that I will do the same.

So what did I learn as a pacer? Here are my top 5:

5. Be honest with your runner about distances and set their expectations on things that must happen at each aid station.

4. Never tell your runner that they should drop out. If I had, I'm fairly certain Liz's race would have been over at mile 62.5. Instead, she proved just how much more she could do.

3. Discover your marketing hat. Always find small ways to improve the situation. Turn the terrain, the distance or feelings of fatigue, pain and/or nutrition into something positive. Negative thoughts breed doubt - doubt leads to failure.

2. Listen and learn. The smallest sounds, grunt, whimpers and sighs say just as much as words. As you learn what these mean to your runner, find ways to help take their mind off the struggles going on inside their head (or with their body).

1. Force your runner to take in calories at every aid station, no matter what. Running requires fuel. Calories = fuel. Period.

Results

Being the engineer, I have the tendency to analyze and dissect results from a race like this. Data brings perspective and puts the entire race into focus to see just how hard this distance really is. So if you're already impressed that Liz ran 77 miles, prepare yourself.

• Liz had a 100K time of 18:39:28 - good enough for 132nd place out of 159 (100K) splits
• Her total race time was 23:42:21
• This is 202nd overall for all runners (364 total)
• 75th for all females (out of 123)
• There were 160 total finishers out of 364 (44%)
• 55 out of 123 females finished (44%)
• Only 56 runners finished under 24 hours (15%)

Mind = blown.

For perspective, the 2011 finishing rate was 51% (total of 339 runners). Most every report I've read or person I talked to that morning said that the heat was especially brutal. The heat, dehydration and going out too fast in the early morning desert are easy mistakes to make in a distance like this.

In case you're bi-directional-loop-curious, her splits are below:

	Loop 1	Loop 2	Loop 3	Loop 4	Loop 5
Elapsed Time	4:00:42	8:27:10	12:57:30	18:39:28	23:42:21
Loop Time	4:00:42	4:26:28	4:30:20	5:41:58	5:02:53

Congratulations again Liz. I am very proud of you and I hope that when it's time to seek vengeance on the Javelina Jundred, you'll give me a call so we can both finish what we started.

Confessions of a Javelina pacer - Part I

Liz and I (on the right) at pre-race dinner

I will honestly say that being a first-time pacer is not the frolic-through-the-rose-garden I thought it would be.  

I will follow that up quickly by saying that it is a very rewarding experience and I would gladly do it again. But like anything else, doing it well comes with experience - and even then, it will never be the same experience twice.

I had some level of expectations going into this but I don't think there is much you can do to prepare for the waves of physical and mental emotions someone experiences when pushing their mind and body to the limits. I remember going through them myself at the Leanhorse 100. Like being the runner in the race, you deal with things as they come. You try to make decisions that won't impact the entire race but sometimes, point-in-time decisions are critical just to make sure the next couple miles are a success.

It is impossible to look upon the outcome of this race without the proper perspective however. There are things I would do differently for sure. There are also things I would do again without hesitation...

But here, is the rest of the story.

Pre-pacing Fail?

I thought I made pretty good time to McDowell Park. I was there around 6 but did not anticipate the 20-minute round-trip shuttle to the start/finish line. I was actually in the shuttle and on my way to the Jeadquarters when Liz calls. My heart sank totally expecting the "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!" call while she stood there waiting for her dumb-ass pacer. Talk about the ultimate first-time-pacer-FAIL! Turns out, she had slowed down without a headlamp and was just calling to check in. I was able to make it to the start line, get prepared and wait for Liz to come through the line.

Liz was in good spirits as she came through the line to finish Loop 3. She paused at the aid station, grabbed a slice of pizza and kept moving toward her drop bag. We sat down for a bit and I helped her change her socks. After a bathroom break we headed out to start Loop 4.

Loop 4

Leaving Jeadquarters, there was still a buzz of excitement in the air and the newness of conversation that kept us occupied for quite a bit. There were also coyotes howling in the distance. I think this freaked Liz out enough that her pace picked up for a couple minutes just to make sure we were moving faster than the group behind us :) After that, the 3 miles to Rattlesnake Ranch seemed to melt away as we navigated the Pemberton Trail.

The 7 loops of the Javelina Jundred

But night miles are long miles.

I could tell that things were getting hard for Liz - both mentally and physically. The good news was that we kept talking. An occupied mind is a positive mind. When we arrived at Rattlesnake, we paused for a short bit, hit the bathroom and tried to eat. I don't recall Liz eating anything - if she did, it was pretty low in calories.

During the course of the next 4 miles to Jackass Junction, we did a fair amount of walking given the uphill nature of the loop. The conversation was getting thinner but Liz was coherent enough to notice a feeling in her head...somewhat "woozy and annoying", she said. She brushed it aside and I encouraged her to stay focused and keep moving. I could tell that the course was mentally eating away at her with each passing mile (it also doesn't help that your pacer tells you the wrong distance to the next aid station...rookie mistake #2).

It was times like this when clearly, hugs and encouragement from friends and family were needed more than anything. I had arranged videos via her boyfriend and played them for her when times were tough. Below is one of my favorites from Elvis and Lisa Marie Monkey...(a.k.a., Liz's parents)

Jackass Junction was a welcome stop now that night time had fully embraced us. Chris (Liz's boyfriend) was waiting for our arrival at this station and would be a good mental boost for her. I could tell we were reaching a point in the race where she was beginning to question whether she had enough in the tank to keep going. After filling her bottles and throwing down some calories myself, I encouraged her to eat. ANYTHING. Chicken broth was met with a "blech" so I resorted to some ginger ale instead. I was pushing potatoes, watermelon and anything that would stay down. Turns out, there wasn't much of what I was selling that Liz was buying.

Yes, I was concerned that she was in a caloric deficit but at that point, you have 2 choices: (1) Sit and wait until the desire to eat comes around (which could be hours or never) or (2) keep moving.

We left Jackass Junction moving a little more slowly and it was clear that the physical pain was starting to catch up to the mental anguish as Liz started verbally abusing the increasingly larger rocks under our feet. Jackass Junction to Coyote is the longest stretch on the course at 6.4 miles.

The good news - it's downhill.

The bad news - it's rocky.

Liz was not a fan of rocky trails

The wooziness and light-headed feeling continued to grow for Liz and I knew exactly what was going on. The lack of calories over the last 8 miles was catching up to her.

This made it a little treacherous for her to navigate the rocky downhill portion of the trail, even with my help. I stayed either beside or behind her the entire time for fear of her taking a header down the trail. I was honestly worried at this stage that she would faint and not even make it to the next aid station. We took some small breaks here and there but it was questionable whether Liz was going to be able to complete this loop.

As we approached the Coyote aid station, I started doing the math in my head. We did not great make time on Loop 4 despite what she might remember me telling her. I felt bad lying to her but part of my job was to continue to offer hope and encouragement regardless of where we might be at that moment. The only thing that was important at the Coyote station was making sure she consumed calories of any kind. Ginger ale went down well so we stuck with that. We layered on some watermelon and a Nutella sandwich followed by more shots of ginger ale.

Liz was sitting in the tent trying to eat and ignore the waves of nausea that accompanied these calories. You could slowly see the life returning to her eyes but I could also tell that the thought of future miles made her worried and uncertain of whether her body (in it's current state) would make it through the next segment, let alone the 40 miles needed to finish. She laid on the cot for 15 minutes consulting Chris (via phone) and I on whether she should drop out.

"Should I just drop?", she asked me.

Silence.
I would not/could not answer that question.

"It's not my choice Liz", I responded, half-knowing what I think she wanted me to say.

(start internal monologue)
I didn't want to come off as a jerk by not answering - I'm her pacer dammit! The trusted adviser! Oh, ask me any other question but that one Liz! Who am I to tell someone what they can or cannot do? It's a personal decision - a decision that you ultimately have to live with.
(end internal monologue)

Thankfully, I remained silent.

You could see the struggle raging within her. Her body saying one thing but her mind telling her another. I thought for sure she was done. I figured we would walk back to Jeadquarters, get that 100K buckle and call it a night...

Turns out, Liz is a fighter with an amazing resilience (and maybe a little stubborn?). Life and energy had returned. "I didn't come all this way to quit", she said with conviction. With that, Liz was on her feet again and told me, "Let's go". Before I knew it, we were moving toward the conclusion of Loop 4. Her running was strong (the head was a little woozy still) but we made decent time back to Jeadquarters.

I don't remember even asking Liz whether we were going to start Loop 5. She disappeared to the restroom for a bit, hovered over the food, grabbed a few things while I refilled her bottles with water and Gatorade. She took a short sit-break next to the photographer (who I personally think had a little crush on her) while eating some fruit. I broke away to get some stuff from my drop bag, changed the batteries in my head lamps (yes, all 3 of them) and came back to Liz on her feet giving that same look my wife always gives me.

"Are you ready yet?" she said.

Giddy'up.

Look out Loop 5, Liz Braun is about to give you hell.

(to be continued)

Damaged goods

To close out the McDowell Mountain race last Saturday, here is how I fared:

Overall: 46 out of 51 runners
Age group: 19 out of 20 runners

I've never pretended I'm super-fast, just durable (though secretly, I'd love to keep improving my 50k times).

This is the first race in a long time that I have almost been incapacitated afterwards. I didn't even feel this bad after the 50 mile Black Hills race. Or IMAZ. While Sunday evening you might not think I'd done anything special, come Sunday however, I was in bad shape. I would have paid a ba-zillion dollars for someone to install one of those motorized chairs going up the stairs. Seriously. That's zillion, with a 'ba' in front...

I was walking on my heels all day Sunday and into Monday - legs locked afraid to put pressure on my quads and therefore reeking havoc on my lower back. Side-stepping down the stairs (unsuccessfully I might add because of the damn garland wrapped around the railing) was only part of the hilarity that ensued in our house that day. Even the kids could have crippled me with a well-placed jab to the thigh. It didn't help that we had to stand in line for about 2 hours to get Santa pictures with the kids either...

Thankfully I had a massage scheduled on Monday morning. I reconsidered after I realized that the massage might actually hurt more than finishing the race on Saturday. And it did. Quinn (AFC Chiropractic) is great and is just doing her job but secretly, I'm sure she loves to make grown men squirm and whimper by just pressing your IT band with her thumb.

Turns out, a massage is just what the body needed.

I am on the mend today and managed to get out for a short recovery run in between the rain storms. There are only a few short weeks of training between my next races (Yes, multiple. Yes, less than 5 days apart) in January. More about that later.

McDowell Mountain Race Report

McDowell Mountain Regional Park is quite a haul from the east valley so I was up at about 4:30 am, had some breakfast and then headed out to the race. That early in the morning, there is zero traffic so I arrived just a little before 6 am - time to check in.

The start was fairly uneventful though I did get the chance to speak with a couple guys whom I learned this was their first 50K. I also think this crowd was a little bit larger than the last race at Pass Mountain. In either case, the gun sounded and we were off.

I'm not sure if it was the week that I'd taken off or the breezy cold (read, 42 F) conditions prior to the race but that first mile (a) felt like a eternity and (b) felt like my quads were going to explode. I'm going to go with the cold and breezy conditions Monty.

The first 5 miles of the course was mostly groomed trail and a lot more undulation terrain than I was expecting. Not that it was bad, but compared to Pass Mountain (which was mostly flat the first 5 miles), this got the blood pumping right away.

I had really checked myself this time...not wanting to blow my legs up too early, I managed to keep my pace down near a 9:30-10 minutes per mile. With the undulating terrain, it wasn't that hard. My legs were starting to warm up but still, I could feel the muscles at the very core of my quads just screaming for relief. Miles 5 through 10 seemed to be this gradual uphill climb that just went on forever...nothing too technical, just a long, shallow grind.

Beyond this, I don't remember much until the descent to the Dixie Mine aid station - which is about 10 miles into the race. It is a decline to be sure but it really didn't seem to be that bad. I remember thinking as I was running back up it - "Is this the worse part of the course?" Certainly if it was, the remainder of the course had to be easier.

Beyond the Dixie Mine aid station, the time seemed to pass by pretty quickly. The terrain was either flat or slightly downhill (SWEET!) but there were no real climbs to speak of. Between miles 11 and 21, I had found a groove and was keeping a reasonable pace somewhere between 10-11 minute miles.

Mile 22: Wall #1 - The first real signs of pain had arrived. I stopped several times to stretch and loosen up the legs but things were definitely starting to hurt. My nutrition was great and the feet felt good but my quads were aching something horrible.

Mile 26: Wall #2 - The course takes you through the Start/Finish line before heading out for the last 5 miles. I walked up to the aid station here and my legs almost buckled. I was seriously doubting my ability to go out and complete 5 more miles. So I took my time and ate some potatoes, M&M's and a banana, chased it with a few cups of Dew and Coke and resolved to keep it going.

Now at this stage, I'm thinking that I have a shot at PR (personal record). My previous 50K's have been in the neighborhood of 7:58 and 7:43. This was the only thing keeping me going. In my mind, even if I walked the last 5 miles, another 1.5 hours would put me in about 7:30 which would be enough for a PR (eh, a PR is a PR right?!). Of course, walking and succumbing to pain is not how I roll so I sucked it up and ran the flat and downhill stretches during the last 5 miles.

Somewhere in the last 5 miles, I came across this sign.  My  nickname in college was T-Bone.

There was a lot of grimacing during this last stretch. I was doing my best to ignore the pain but dude, the downhill stretches felt like I had knives sticking out of my quads. In most cases, the uphill climbs were actually a welcome relief (did I just say that?!).

Even still, I made it back around and across the finish line - 6 hours and 32 minutes. A new PR (by a lot I was thinking). Comparing this race time to Pass Mountain, I had crushed my previous time by more than an hour! Turns out though, my inaugural 50k race at San Tan Mountain last year would be the bar to beat (6:43).

The not-so-good-news: I did not crush my PR.

The mostly-good-news: I improved massively from Pass Mountain to this race. Different course I know, but the clock doesn't lie.

The all-good-news: I have a new 50k PR. I beat the San Tan time by about 10 minutes.

Yes, I'm already thinking about the next race (Coldwater Rumble, January 21). I mean, look at the profile - how can you NOT be a little concerned about that elevation?!

Pills and Pixi Stix

I could tell on Sunday when I woke up that something wasn't quite right with my throat. I was more tired than usual, had a slight scratch and that 'aloof' feeling in my head and ears that usually signals some sort of illness approaching. It's like those old guys sitting on the porch grabbing their knees..."There's a storm a'comin!"

I went for a run anyway. I figured, if I was getting sick the run really couldn't make it any worse...so what the hell.

Sure enough, I fought back a sore throat yesterday - drinking tea until it was coming from my pores, popping vitamin C tablets and eating Airborne and EmergenC packets like Pixi Stix.

I'm happy to report that I'm feeling better. My throat feels good and the head is not hazy. Which is a good thing because the McDowell Mountain 50K is this weekend. Here's a preview of the upcoming course thanks to Aravaipa Running.

Mileage and sugary-goodness

He's a post to keep my meager group of follows satiated with an update of sorts. There isn't much going on lately. Just running off Thanksgiving still. While the word 'diet' really isn't in my vocabulary, you might say I'm attempting to be on one this week by just watching what I eat.

This means not plunging my face into the bowl of home-made whip cream or eating 3 chocolate-peanut butter cookies after dinner. Damn you sugary-goodness.

I'm working on my mileage this week - actually, consecutive miles. I'm trying to run more consecutive days in a row to ensure I'm building both mileage and endurance. 8 miles on Monday followed by 10 miles on Tuesday. 13 miles on Thursday followed by 15 miles on Friday. This will certainly test your resolve but also your commitment to pain.

While I did fine at Pass Mountain a couple weeks ago, I'd really like to finish far better than 8 hours at McDowell Mountain on December 10th.

Thanks for checking in!