Boulder Distance Classic: Race Report

The promised race report:

Before pulling out of my apartment complex, I double-checked the weather, and saw that it was 35 at 7:15, and was forecast to be around 40 and dry at the start time of 8:30. Duly prepared for the weather (or so I thought) I drove up to Boulder only to find, as I turned into the Reservoir, that it was snowing.

I parked my car at 7:45, thinking that I might be pushing it just a little, but still probably had plenty of time to get my number and chip, change into my shoes and long-sleeve shirt, stop by the Porta-Potty, and make it to the start line in time for the 15k start time of 8:30. 35 minutes later, at 8:20, I finally got my timing chip, and sprinted a “warmup” over to my car to put on my shoes, sprinting from their to the line for the toilets. At about the same time the gun went off, I made it to the front of the line, knowing that if I did not take care of business now, there was no possibility of running the race I had intended.

A minute later, feeling significantly lighter, I tore straight out of the toilet, up the bank to the starting line, crossed the timing mat, and started my race a minute-thirty after the official start. I realized then that, having no warm up, starting late, and with 200 or so people to pass to get to my pace group in the race, I had every excuse to lay back and either not race the way I planned to or drop out entirely.

I didn’t take the excuse. Late or no, I opted to run exactly the way I planned: even splits, sub-7 minute pace. And I duly started picking off the runners who started in front of me. For the first 3 miles or so of the race, I picked off hordes of runners, sometimes stretched 6 or 7 abreast on the narrow race course (running off into the ditch on the side at times to slip by without disrupting their races: after all, they didn’t miss the start, so why should they have to get out of my way?).

For these few miles, I concentrated on picking my own pace, and not getting over-enthusiastic passing others. After the three-mile mark, I started overheating, not realizing that, in my rush to the starting line, I had completely forgotten to take off my hat (a heavy-duty stocking cap with the Colorado Avalanche “A” on the front: a gift from my girlfriend). I dropped the hat off at the next aid station, and took off down Monarch road.

I took my first split at the 5-mile marker: 34:58, just under 7-minute pace. My legs still felt fairly fresh, but I decided not to press too hard. This was, after all, my first race in over two years.

I was fortunate in this race in that I knew nearly every inch of the course. Back when I was running regularly with the Bolder Boulder Training Club, now Boldrunning, our weekly long runs were regularly held at the reservoir, so I came to be very familiar with the area. In this race, that familiarity allowed me to perfectly parcel out my effort, so that I could run at a 7-min pace with the minimal effort.

The next three miles passed in 6:50, 6:55, and 7:03, respectively. Coming into the last 1.3 miles, I started to (finally) feel the pace, and the fact that this was the longest and fastest I had run in well over two years. My right hamstring started to twinge a bit, and I decided that, rather than make a significant surge, I would coast into the finish in a relatively leisurely 8:53.

Place wise, even starting a minute-thirty back, I came in 4^th in my age group and around 44^th overall. The winner and second-place finisher both came in under 50 minutes (I know where I stand in the relative rankings). The most important takeaways from this race are that my pacing at this time is excellent, my fitness is better than I could have hoped and, given the complete lack of speedwork or any sort of taper for this race, I ran a respectable race.

Race

I ran my first race in over two years (since the Summit for Life, December 2008, I believe) today: the 15k at the Boulder Distance Classic. It went well. More to come later.

Up Shadow, Down Fern

Looking out the window of my apartment, towards where Longs Peak would rise if it could be seen, and seeing the inch or so of snow on the ground, I find it hard to believe that I ran my long run this morning in shorts and a t-shirt. Not only that, the run topped out at 8549'.

I was inspired by reading Anton Krupicka's blog to run up Shadow Canyon, starting at the South Mesa Trailhead again, top out South Boulder, and then hop over to Bear Peak and from there down Fern Canyon. Why I was inspired to run a route that even that paragon of fitness described as both "gnarly" and, paraphrasing somewhat, a hellacious climb I would rather not think about. However, I made the plan, and duly left the house, somewhat late, at 8:30 this morning to do just that.

I got out of the car to a near-perfect running day: cloudy, with a bit of rain in the forecast, and temperatures running around 55-60 degrees. Counting on it being at least somewhat colder 3000 feet further up the mountains, I wore my somewhat thicker t-shirt thinking that would probably suffice for the short time I would be at the summit. Properly equipped, or so I thought, I took off up the road-like Mesa Trail to Shadow Canyon Trail.

To my surprise, given their lackluster performance yesterday and despite the long week I put in, my legs felt quite good on the first stretch, and I made it up to the Shadow Canyon cutoff two full minutes faster than I finished the same stretch last week. As I took the cutoff up the canyon, I was thinking that the trail seemed quite wide and easy, much to my surprise. A second surprise came when I saw a shape dart across the trail in front of me, and I realized that it was a squirrel without a tail. Something about that just seemed rather sad to me. The trail changed a little over half a mile farther on, where the trail passes an old hut and immediately switches to a rocky, steep singletrack reminiscent of Royal Arch.

The trail continues in this way another 1.2 miles up to the saddle between South Boulder and Bear. Through this section I surprised myself again by being able to keep up a running cadence far more than I had expected. From the descriptions I had read, I expected to have to power hike the majority of this section, but ended up running about 75% of the time, urged on by the sometimes disbelieving, but always encouraging shouts of the hikers I passed.

This climb seemed to last far longer than the time it actually took (I won't tell you how long, it was almost embarrassing to me), but eventually, with a husky running by my side for the last stretch, I made it up to the saddle. I took a moment to rest, and wait for the husky's human companion to make it up to the saddle, then took off up the trail to South Boulder.

It was here that I encountered the first patches of trampled snow still lingering from the mild winter we had this year. In my road flats, I opted to pick my way carefully up these, and soon came to the boulder pile that marks the top of South Boulder. Here I was rewarded with a fantastic view of the continental divide, and found myself wishing I had not gone minimalist today and had brought my camera. The wind was pushing the mist up through the saddle between South Boulder and a smaller neighbor, and it reminded me of Muir Woods in California, with much smaller trees.

As I stood at the top of my first "summit" for the day, the first flakes of snow began to drift down from the clouds, seemingly only a hundred feet above me. I decided to hightail it over to Bear, top it out, and head down before it got any worse. Unfortunately it got worse as I was heading over to Bear, and by the time I got near the summit, it was windy and snowy enough that I decided to skip scrambling up the boulders to the actual summit, and head down Fern Canyon.

I had forgotten how steep and rocky the first section down the north side of Bear Peak was. There were a few times I almost lost it, but I managed to keep my feet down to Fern Canyon, where the trail heads down towards Mesa through a pine forest. I have always loved this section, particularly heading down it, since the prevalence of pine covering the trail means it is both sheltered from the elements and soft and springy: easy on the legs going down relative to other trails.

Soon enough, I took Shanahan down to the Mesa trail and turned towards the car. I surprised myself again on this section by having far more left than I expected, and practically flying the flats and the slight uphills, although the downhills seemed harder than usual. When I broke through the trees and out to the last, long, curving stretch of the wind and rain, now mixed with snow even at the lower elevations, hit me full in the face, soaking and chilling me instantly.

At this point I decided to book it. I took off, far faster than I thought I'd be able to even on the downhill. I apologize to anybody who may have gotten some gravel kicked towards them, but I fairly flew down the last mile+ of trail to the car, where I promptly turned the heat up full blast, stripped off my wet shoes and shirt, and drove home to fill the rest of my day with spring cleaning, a little laundry, and possibly more than a little Mario Kart Wii.

As I glanced at my watch when I got to the car I realized several things: first, I had run a full hour longer than my long run last week, yet felt almost the same as far as fatigue goes despite the fact that I put in more mileage this week. Second, that meant I am in much better shape than I had previously thought. Third, I had run the section from North Shanahan back to the car a full 6 minutes faster than last week. And fourth, I am going to be very sore tomorrow.