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.

Redemption at Old Pueblo

It's a fair statement to say that I've had Old Pueblo on the brain for the greater portion of 3 years now. After a DNF in 2014 (yes, the year of epic flooding), I would have raced in 2015 but sat sidelined with an injury. Fortunately, I was allowed to roll my registration over to this year and the time had come to dance with the devil that had dented my spirit.

First, let me just say that I wasn't thrilled with the course changes. I caught wind that one of the mining companies had reactivated their claim along the course and rendered the roads/trails as private property.  Sometimes these things are inevitable so there's no use crying over it - but the idea of running 2 loops of the same course for 50 miles didn't really get me excited. I decided to let it slide knowing that the weather conditions were expected to be awesome (e.g., warm and no rain!).

Course location

Loop 1

What started as an unusually warm morning at Kentucky Camp (high 40's?) would make for ideal running conditions for this first loop. The sun crested the mountains of Coronado National Forest at about 7 am highlighting the faint dusting of snow still present on Mt. Wrightson off in the distance. A reminder of how awkward the temperatures and weather can be in this part of Arizona.

Without much fanfare, we would follow the jeep roads for a fair portion of the first loop. Granted, there were sections of the course that hopped onto the Arizona Trail but in summary, I'd venture to say that the course is 3/4 Forest Service roads and 1/4 Arizona Trail. Here's some pros and cons I contemplated during my time out on the course:

Forest Service Roads

1. Easy to follow, minimal marking required
2. Very smooth in quite a few places
3. Very rocky in quite a few places
4. Easy to get into a rhythm on long stretches
5. Minor ATV traffic, some campers in case you get into trouble

Arizona Trail

1. Best views of the course (especially after Melendrez Pass)
2. 95% of it is pristine, runnable single track
3. Remote sections were overgrown with grass and cat's-claw (ouch!)

Course profile with aid station locations (approximate)

In summary, my first loop felt great as the temperatures started to rise. Soaking in the newness of the course, I was being somewhat aggressive with the climbs and taking advantage of ALL the downhill and/or flat sections of the course. I found myself running A LOT! There were a couple climbs that gave me pause but for the most part, they're short-lived and immediately provide a welcome downhill or flat stretch to regain your composure.

If memory serves, I would return back to Kentucky Camp just after 11 am to replenish my pack, get spritzed with sunblock (again) and head out for my second lap.

Loop 2

All morning I had been plagued with what I can only describe as an elevation headache. It wasn't bad nor was it debilitating but it was there...a dull pressure at my left temple. Just annoying enough to make me doubt my stamina and whether I could keep going. It's a looong 9 miles to the first aid station leaving Kentucky Camp - especially after a marathon. I would fill my pack with ice and water to make sure I could arrive at Melendrez Pass in one piece.

In case you're wondering, a pack full of ice and water at elevation after 25 miles on a 2% incline feels like it weighs 50 pounds. I might have been wheezing for a while but eventually, I got used to the additional weight and started to get into a solid rhythm.

Now I'm not going to lie - it was warm out. Was it blistering hot? No...but warm enough that hydration was an issue for some folks. For perspective, I was going through 2 liters of water every 6 miles...and went pee once.

It wasn't until I got to the Gardner Canyon aid station did I realize that I would be close to finishing around the 11-hour mark. Right as I was leaving this aid station, a volunteer mentioned I was in 8th place...and the 7th place runner was about 2-3 minutes ahead of me. Anyone that knows me will tell you that yes, I'm naturally competitive - more with myself than anything (or anyone). I left that final aid station with the notion that finishing around 11 hours would be a great goal.

So I ran.

I ignored my blisters.

I downed one last gel.

I focused on the finish line.

Eventually, that 7th place runner would come into sight. I felt like I was gliding over the final stretch of jeep trail leading down to the final turn onto the Arizona Trail that would deliver me home to Kentucky Camp. Words of encouragement were exchanged as I passed him - not a primary goal, but a welcome boost of satisfaction. Looking at my watch, it would still be very close if I wanted to finish under 11 hours (notice how that goal changed!).

Turning on the Arizona Trail, it was everything I could do to quell my anticipation and the need to see those Kentucky Camp buildings. A comfortable run turned into a full 10-minute-per-mile-sprint :) Crew started to dot the side of the trail and I knew I was getting closer. Applause and cow-bells rang out as I closed in on the final 1/4 mile. Of course it's rocky and uphill but I didn't let that deter me. Still sprinting and pumping my arms, I shouted and rejoiced as I glimpsed the race clock - 10:59:19.

Had I fiddled with a gate or stopped to tie my shoe, those precious seconds and a sub-11 time would have passed me by. Funny how those things work...

Catching my breath...

Teen angst

Happy to be done!

The vibe of the race was different this year. RD Bob Bachini has raised the bar and made some impressive changes. While I initially poo-poo'ed the 2-loop course, it is logistically safer and pretty darn predictable for everyone. The swag was way too generous (2 pint glasses and 2 t-shirts?!) and the aid stations/volunteers were top-notch. Thank you to all who made this a successful race.

"That's what I'm talking about!"
7th overall, 3rd AG

Thanks for everyone who supported me along the way and my wife who let's me spend the entire day traipsing about in the mountains...for fun :)

Don't over-think your race

Folks like me are rarely in the position to take podium spots. Sure, winning is a lofty goal but honestly, most of us just want to feel like we did our best and want to cross that finish line with our head held high.

I know my limits as a mid-packer and (A) Don't have the time to obsess over race details and (B) Want to race/run consistently based on how I've trained regardless of the course.

Now you might say, "Trev, that's BS dude. Being prepared and planning your race is super-important. You can't get through a race without some planning!"

I would agree with you that some planning is important, but there are things you just shouldn't obsess about. Let's chat about some of them.

If you have to obsess about a few things...

• Oh, the places you'll go! There's nothing worse than missing the start of the race or being stranded once you've finished. I'll take a DNF any day over a DNS (did not start). If you couldn't get to the start line because of poor planning, that's just plain embarrassing! Make sure you are clear on the transportation options to and from the race. Also make sure your crew is clear on where they can or can't park on the course. Crew violations can often result in runner disqualification!
• Aid stations can mean the difference between finishing or taking up residence in the medical tent. If you don't have a spreadsheet that captures the aid stations, mileage and crew/drop bag availability...THEN YOU SHOULD! If the RD has shared elevation information between aid stations, this can also help you determine the time it will take you to get to-and-from each location. Carefully planning your gear, nutrition and hydration strategies around aid stations is super-important and well worth the time to figure out.

What NOT to lose sleep over...

• You're not Al Roker, so stop checking the forecast every 15 minutes. If there is rain in the forecast...take rain gear. If it's going to be hot, bring your pack or extra bottles. If you're not limited by space or weight, put things in your drop bag that will accommodate both hot and cold weather.
• Some would say that the distances provided in ultra-marathons are 'guidelines', not actual numbers. The likelihood that your Garmin is going to be the exact distance provided by the RD is super-low. Remember, unless you're off course just keep going until you run into the aid station. Having a cow that the distance wasn't exact isn't going to get you to the finish any faster.

I'm personally heading into a busy couple (race) months...Black Canyon 100k (WS100 qualifier), the Hom 100 (charity run) and Old Pueblo 50 all within 5 weeks of each other. While I wrote this as a reminder for myself it's also good to keep in mind as you train/think about YOUR upcoming races as well.

Don't get lost in the minutia of planning your race. Plan well enough to get there, have fun and finish...

Oh, and stay safe out there!

Let the healing begin

3 weeks in a cast was an eternity. And boy, am I glad to be out of that thing...the only good thing to come out of the whole experience was the de-dazzling job the neighbor kids bestowed on my hardware.

The bad news is that those jewels come off...in your bed. I won't tell you all the places I found them in the morning.

But now that the cast is off, the walking boot is on for another 3 weeks according to the doc. There was a time when I hated the walking boot...but just like so many things in life, it's all relative. And compared to the cast, I'll take the walking boot ANY DAY!

I can actually go up stairs using both feet.
I no longer have to get dropped off in front every store.

I don't get the same sympathy points as being the cast but still there are some pretty sweet perks about being in a walking boot.

For starters, I get to drive. FREEDOM! I don't have to bum rides from my wife any more...I know for a fact she was tired of dragging my cripple ass around town to all my appointments. I guess the only other one is that I get to wear matching socks again. OK, maybe the perks aren't that great.

At least they match...

I thought it would be a lot easier to hop out of the cast and just start walking around but boy, was I wrong! Pressure, weight and stress are all things that ankle hasn't dealt with for a long time and it took 3-4 days before it felt 'normal' to walk on. Take a look at this side-by-side of the atrophy that occurred in my right calf. Pretty sad.

But look on the bright side...no more cankles!!!

The other bad news is that I probably won't be able to run Old Pueblo in early March. I'll be lucky if the doctor let's me start running in mid-February. Even then, preparing for Zane Grey in April will be a stretch as well...sigh.

But here's the deal - I'm actually following my doctor's orders. As much as it sucks, I'm doing what I'm told. Following orders. Making sure it's done right this time.

I miss spending time on Strava and wasting hours trying to synch my Garmin...but I'll be back. Healthy and ready to take back some course records. Watch out!

Race Report: Old Pueblo 50

I consider myself a pretty level-headed guy. I'm not chicken, nor am I stupid enough to take risks that aren't calculated or educated...

If we ever play poker, you should know I will likely fold to play another day rather than take the risk of losing everything. Know when to hold'em, know when to fold'em, the legendary Kenny Rogers once sang...

Part of the Phoenix crew at Kentucky Camp
(photo courtesy of Kristin Steele)

It's that analogy that literally played out this past Saturday for the Old Pueblo 50 down in Sonoita, AZ. Leave it to mother-nature to roll in a storm system of Biblical proportions and reek havoc on both runners and volunteers alike. Though the day started in reasonable shape, it would turn out to one of those days where you wished Moses was your pacer.

Right from the start, I was pacing well and running within my limits. I knew I was in the front third of the race given my splits and relative absence of any other friends (except MarcT). The trail was in great shape and not very technical but the heavy duty winds (easily 40 mph gusts) made the climbing either a bitch or a blessing (depending on which way it was blowing).

I made it to the Granite Mountain A/S (mile 3) under my anticipated split time so I opted to just keep moving. Before long, I was 7 miles in and checking into the California Gulch aid station just about 1:15 into the race. As the first drops of rain materialized, I would leave feeling great and looking forward to making my way to the half-marathon aid station - Wasp Canyon. I had been following a pack of runners for some time but decided it was time for a pit stop. After emerging from the woods, I got back on track and picked up where I left off...only to see that same pack of runners headed right for me. Sh*t. We missed a turn.

Everyone pulled out their maps to figure out how far we were off course. After a short team-building session, the collective group headed backwards, picking up other runners who were also going the wrong way. Thanks to my pit stop, I only added an extra mile to my race as we backtracked to the Wasp Canyon aid station. Honestly, I was a little deflated with the error. Turns out, all the course markings along this stretch had been maliciously taken from the course.

Beautiful Sonoita, AZ at Kentucky Camp
(photo courtesy of Kristin Steele)

Somewhere between mile 13 and 19, it started to rain. And it didn't stop for the remainder of the race. Having spent 10 years in Seattle, I'm accustomed to running in the rain. What I'm not a big fan of is 40-50 mph gusts, sleet and being pelted with mini sand storms with temperatures hovering in the low 40's. This was just adding insult to injury. I endured and made my way to the Box Canyon aid station in a shade under 5 hours.

Leaving Box Canyon, my gloves were useless and everything I owned was wet and  chilled to the core, including my fingers. Luckily, I was able to snag a cheap poncho that would preserve some body heat as I navigated my way back to the Granite Mountain aid stations at mile 33. I was clipping off miles well and following the tracks of other runners despite the heavy rains now falling and the small streams beginning to accumulate on the single track trail. And then, that oh-sh*t-feeling struck again as I saw a group of 4 other runners headed back towards me. Three of them looked fine but one dude was half-hunched over and shivering uncontrollably - clearly on the verge of hypothermia.

The two ladies ran off trying to get to the aid station as soon as they could while myself and another guy stayed with our hypothermia friend. The best we could do was head back the way we came to figure out where we missed the turn. We would backtrack almost 6 miles to where we should have picked up the Arizona Trail headed into the Granite Mountain aid station. At this point, I gave my poncho to our shivering friend and hauled ass myself. I had to start running again or I too took the risk of turning into a trail running Popsicle. I passed several aid station volunteers who were headed out in the rain with blankets and medical to find our friend.

At this point, I was just south of hypothermia myself with no change of clothes until the Cave Canyon aid station at mile 40. The Granite Mountain station felt like a crowded bar. Except everyone was covered in garbage bags, shivering and making love to the propane heater. These volunteers were great and taking care of everything and everyone who came under the tent. By now, the rain was torrential, relentless and creating rivers anywhere the terrain would let it. Hypothermia-man showed up about 45 minutes later, being carried by volunteers and wrapped in about 4 blankets. He and his pacing buddy would get ushered to a 4x4 and shuttled out immediately for medical attention.

This sh*t had just gotten real. I had to honestly weigh the risks of continuing against my personal safety.

Would my legs carry me 7+ more miles to the next aid station? Yes.

Could I assume the course markings were better (or even there)? No.

Would a new change of clothing make a difference given the temperatures and rain? Maybe.

Did I feel safe continuing given all these circumstances? I did not.

"Sir", I said. "Number 32 is dropping" And with that, my race was done.

I will gladly fold to ensure I can race another day.

Over 2/3 of the field dropped that day. About 50 hearty souls managed to endure the rain, cold and swollen streams before the 40 and 46-mile aid stations were closed due to impassable conditions (e.g., cars were stuck and runners were unable to cross the streams). To make matters worse, search and rescue was deployed to look for half a dozen runners who were not accounted for (they were eventually accounted for).

It was a pretty tough day for a lot of folks and I don't regret my decision. Does it piss me off? Yes...investing in a race only to DNF blows. But again, will OP50 be there next year? You bet. Will I run it again next year? Absolutely.