Race Report: Moab Trail Half Marathon (National Championships)

Last year I had thought to do the full marathon version of this race, since it was the national championship that year. I ended up going to Santa Fe for a relaxing weekend instead, and do not regret it. This year, the half marathon was the national championship. Since my fiancée and I had planned to head back to Moab in any case, I decided to make this my fall race.

After the numerous injuries of August and September, my training had finally picked up again and I was feeling about as well prepared as could be expected. However, a little under two weeks before race day, I caught a cold the same day as my peak workout: a double of North Table Mountain in Golden, negative splitting and setting several PRs during the second loop. That cold lingered, and still does.

Nevertheless, I felt pretty good race morning, minus the lingering cough, and figured a no-excuses route was the best way to go. I saw several big names on the start line, notably Sage Canaday and Mike Foote, who were fortunately in the marathon and would go 1-2 in that race. For the women, Stevie Kremer and Melody Fairchild both showed up, and would go 1-2. I did not recognize any of the men contesting the half, but then since I tend to follow ultras more than shorter distances, that didn’t surprise me very much.

After an interesting safety announcement, where we were duly informed that we were likely to pass out from dehydration if we didn’t trip over a cactus and fall off a cliff first, a band gave a funked-out version of the national anthem, and we were off.

The first four miles of the course climbed about 1000 feet up a Jeep road, sometimes rocky, often sandy, and occasionally steep both uphill and down. During this section, I consciously kept the pace fairly conservative but still up tempo, not wanting to waste myself in the first third of the course. Because of this, I actually found myself running almost toe-to-toe with my friend and coworker, who would eventually come in 6^th woman.

It was also during this portion that I noticed something interesting: while I was competitive and keeping pace on the non-technical sections (up, down, or flat), I quickly picked people off on the technical ascents and descents. Any point with any scrambling whatsoever, I pulled ahead of several people, often to have them catch up a bit later. This was new for me, as I have in the past often been less capable at the technical sections. It seems that my subsequent focus on technical trails, combined with my recent foray into Parkour, has yielded results. Later this race would teach me that, though it’s important to keep the technical skills up, I need to focus a bit more on speed training as well. 

Four or so miles in, we topped out the first climb after a short, sharp technical section. On the other side, the Jeep track quickly dropped down a fairly technical ascent, where I picked off at least six to eight people in quick succession. The course then flattened out into a smooth, sandy track where I could just cruise the mile or so into the first of three aid stations at 5.7 miles. (As a side note, why do half marathons always seem to have an aid station at mile 12?)

I moved quickly through the aid station, taking a quick cup of water on the run, and the course took a rolling turn. For the next two miles or so, we remained on rolling Jeep trails, where you could often see the runners up to a couple minutes ahead of you, and likewise behind. I lost a bit a ground on this section, most likely because I have not trained much on rollers lately, and I was beginning to feel the effects of the race, now halfway gone. However, I don’t think I let more than three people pass me here, and would rectify that soon enough.

The next section was easily my favorite of the race. After another decent climb, we hit the Pritchard Canyon section of the course, where it changes to technical singletrack along the edge of a rather deep canyon. One woman, wearing a black top, had passed me in the previous section and now led me onto the single track, and here I made my first mistake of the course. She was clearly uncomfortable with the combination of technicality of the course and the precipitous drop off to our left. I was in my element. Rather than ask to pass immediately, though, I gave it a couple minutes, and so lost some time.

I finally did pass her on a section where the trail ran down between a few boulders. Rather than wind between them, I hopped on top and boulder-hopped my way down, using my newly acquired Parkour skills to vault a particularly large rock. I quickly left the woman in black behind and danced down the trail, letting out the occasional whoop as I weaved, jumped, and skipped down the trail.

Soon enough, the trail began to drop down the side of the canyon wall in a series of semi-technical, nearly scramble-worth drops. I caught up to two more guys on this section, and again, rather than asking to pass them immediately, tagged behind them for a brief period. That was my second mistake of the race.

I eventually did pass them, sacrificing a bit of skin on my arms to a few particularly thorny bushes to do so, and dropped down the remaining single track into the second aid station at 9.7 miles. I again took a quick drink of water and continued on through to where the half marathon course took a right on the road while the marathon took a left.

This led to the second, and final, major climb of the course. I was a little surprised by this one since I had thought the second major climb came before the second aid station. This climb consisted of a mile or so up a dirt road. I kept the cadence as high as I could up this climb, consciously pushing my legs knowing that the rest of the race was (almost) all-downhill. I did not pass anybody on the road, but I made up some ground on those both ahead of me and behind me.

The subsequent downhill saw a first for me: my right calf was threatening to cramp up. If I attempted to keep up a forefoot strike, my calf tightened, so I lifted my toes heel-struck my way downhill, keeping my pace up. The course eventually turned off the road and down a mountain bike trail, which promptly dropped us into a creek. I had heard about this from my friend who ran the course last year, but was not prepared for the sheer amount of water in the creek, or how cold that water was.

Nevertheless I caught two people almost immediately, both of whom were a bit more tentative than I was about crashing through the creek. Perhaps I should have been more tentative as well, for at about the 4^th of a dozen creek crossings, I jumped into what I thought was a shortcut, only to find myself chest deep in water and unable to breathe from the cold. That didn’t slow me for long, though, and I quickly climbed out, and slogged through the remainder of the creek to climb out at mile marker 12.

The race directors here must be slightly sadistic. The last mile starts fast down a dirt road, straight towards the finish, but just when you glimpse the line it turns you around, and dumps you down into the creek again, where I promptly took a wrong turn. This cost me about 20 seconds, and nearly cost me beating my coworker, who was fast coming up from behind. Another short singletrack section, a creek crossing, and a short, sharp climb up a muddy slope, and I crossed the line in 1:45:40, for 42^nd place over all, and 9^th in my age group.

I turned around in time to see L crossing the line and give her a high five.

Over all I feel pretty good about this race. I pushed hard with everything I had, but managed to not go out to fast and still have a good amount of push left during the last three miles of the race. I had a solid month’s training, after a brief mileage ramp-up, and focused more on quality workouts than I have in the past. My Parkour training and focus on technical trails paid dividends in the more difficult, technical sections. Had there been more of these, I might have placed even better.

Of course there are always improvements to be made. Primarily, I need to be more sure of myself. I have evidently vastly improved my technical abilities over the past year, particularly when tired. I should realize this for my next race and play to my newfound strengths. I also need to work on my turnover, adding interval and hill workouts (more than just running up a mountain) to help this along.

With my impending move, my running will likely be shaken up for a little while as I adjust to being back in Minnesota. However, I anticipate having significantly more time available to run, as I will not be commuting at all. And if a few schemes I have in the works work out the way I hope, I might be in a better running position than I have ever been.

As ever, we shall see. But the future looks interesting!

September Running

Once again I have neglected to update this for a month or so. While this hasn’t been my heaviest running month of the year so far, quite a bit has happened that bears talking about.

I ran a bit over 100 miles in September. Not my best moth, but there have been some interesting goings-on lately. I am speaking, naturally, about the flooding that happened in Boulder recently. It is my good fortune to live in an area of the front range that was relatively unaffected by flooding. We received about a quarter of the rainfall that fell on Boulder, and were pretty well safe as long as a giant dam did not burst and send a wall of water cascading down on us.

Suffice to say that did not happen.

While we were not immediately affected by the flooding, we have many friends who have been. My sister’s basement flooded, destroying most of the downstairs electrical equipment. I have friends in Lyons who are looking at a two- to six-month extended stay away from their house. And of course for several days every single trail in Boulder County was closed. I got a taste of road running again for a few days, and was quickly reminded why I prefer trails.

The first several days after the flood, I ran around Boulder on the raods, and the power of the flood was evident all over the town.

There's a tennis court under there somewhere

Boulder Creek under Broadway. That is normally a bike underpass. It took them a couple weeks to dig that out.

Chautauqua.

In the past several weeks, they have begun opening the trails once again, and we have been able to see first hand that, though they were minimally damaged, the open trails were still affected by the flooding. Deep erosion ruts are evident on most trails. Rockslides cover the Sanitas Valley, and most of Mesa and all of Flagstaff are still closed. I have not even been able to get a glimpse of the trails up Green Mountain, but from some imigase I saw online, it appeared that at least part of the Saddle Rock Trail is a new canyon.

As for training, after a sprained ankle (again from Parkour) and the brief road running malaise, I have plunged back into it. I continue to do Parkour twice a week (Wednesday and Saturday) and this has vastly increased my strength and speed, as well as my confidence on difficult descents.

However it has not helped my endurance at all. And if I’m to run the trail half national championships in Moab on November 2, I definitely need to work on my mileage. The next two or three weeks I intend to get some much longer runs in than I have been lately (8 or so miles has been my longest), the general goal being that, when I tackle the half marathon, it should feel rather short and easy in comparison.

As ever, we’ll see how it goes. 

Race Report: CDTR

The Continental Divide Trail Race, or CDTR, takes place in Steamboat Springs, CO. It had been recommended to me by two friends from work as 1)  cheap (with a  $40 entry fee) and 2) a fun and beautiful race. They may also have called it “brutal” and “difficult,” but those are the races I tend to pursue in any case, so no surprise there.

Short version: the race heads from the Fish Creek Falls parking area, uphill for 6 miles to Long Lake, from whence it takes a forested ridgeline to the top of Mt Werner. From Mt Werner it takes a 3 mile drop down a service road to the finish line at the top of the Gondola.

My fiancée and I decided to drive up the night before, and take the nearly unprecedented step of staying in a hotel for the night. By sure chance, and luck, I managed to secure a hotel room in a place that was near both the pickup point for the shuttles to the start line, and the Gondola that would take G to the finish. Staying in a hotel turned out to be both relaxing, and relatively economical during the off(ish) season at Steamboat.

I had very low expectations for my own performance in this race. Naturally, I always want to do well in races. But with about a week of solid post-abdominal sprain training under my belt, my expectations hovered somewhere around “finishing.” Nevertheless, even with a mile or so added to the course this year, allowing a second aid station to be placed at Long Lake (there had previously only been one aid at Mt Werner, where with a 3 mile drop to the finish very few people would take aid in any case), I thought a 2:30 finishing time was within the realm of possibility.

The race started as most trail races seem to: with a mad dash out of a parking lot, onto a brief double-track portion that quickly condenses into single track. As usual, the lead group of 15 or so, including myself, jockeyed for position before settling into the 5 mile, 2000+ foot climb to the lake.

At the start line, a fellow Boulder runner had described this section as “Gregory Canyon times 2.” And that about sums it up. There were switchbacky, buffed out sections as well as bare rock portions. The grade was entirely runnable, but occasionally the technicality would be such that most people dropped to a swift hiking cadence. After several miles, the climb flattened out significantly, and the trail entered what I would describe as “moose territory:” a broad, flat, marshy section where the creek meandered through an alpine meadow.

I had settled in behind the three lead women early on, but found my lack of general training quickly catching up to me and watched two of the three recede into the distance. Normally this would bother me and I would not let competitors get away, but I knew that if I was going to finish this race, I’d have to pick my pace, and theirs was too quick for me this time.

I came into the first aid station at Long Lake in about 1:07, a little slower than I would have liked, but still not too terrible. I grabbed some water and, not stopping at all, turned around and followed the third woman (Hannah, as I found out) back on to the course. Slightly behind me was a guy in a black shirt.

A quick aside: I discovered some time ago that what music I have stuck in my head can definitely affect my running cadence and general emotional state. Last year on Longs,  I discovered that Churchill’s “Change” could really motivate me on a long climb. This summer, I discovered that “I’ll Fly Away,” of all things, helped me feel lighter on my feet and helped me ease through rolling, semi-technical trail. With that in mind, I put “Change” on repeat in my head during the climb and “I’ll Fly Way” in my head during the middle portion. “I Feel Good” remains my go-to, sing-out-loud song for the downhills.

With “I’ll Fly Away” floating through my head, I set my sights on the runner in front of me and settled in for the ridge run. The initial climb had left me with little in the way of extra energy, and my legs felt like dead weight already. But for me, there was never any question that I would finish. I focused on two things: staying with the runner in front and keeping a positive outlook.

Somewhere around mile 3.5 of this middle stretch (just an estimate) the runner in front pulled away. Fortunately, or otherwise as the case may be, I was also caught by a runner from behind at this time. Ian, I would later learn. I had beat this particular runner many times before, though during the race I didn’t know that. We paced each other through the next  mile and a bit, until, sadly, he dropped me on one of the final climbs to Mt Werner. I was a little mad that I let him get away, as I think with just a touch more effort I could have kept up with him through the climb and the subsequent downhill.

The downhill was a bomb. I came through the aid station at 2:09, slower than I would have liked had I been at full fitness but good enough in my state. I knew that my 2:30 goal was easily within reach as long as I could press the downhill.

And press I did. Within 400 meters I was passing the Boulderite I mentioned before (turns out he works less than a block from me and we run many of the same routes). He’d had a tough race, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy passing him.  Save for a minor encounter with a construction worker (the course marking were the same color as the markings for the no trespassing zone around the construction site) I kept the cadence high and my feet under me on the descent, and made it to the finish in just under 16 minutes even with the slight uphill at the end. 

August Update

The first three weeks of August.

I left off the last post with a bit of a cliffhanger. I had done something to my abdomen, and did not yet know what it was, and was heading to the doctor the next day.

I duly went to my doctor appointment, and after a few minutes’ poking and prodding my abdomen and asking pointed questions about the pain, which was still acute at that point, he announced that I had pulled a muscle in my abdomen.

At last! As a mathematician such as myself might say, I had reduced it to a previously-solved problem. I knew how to deal with a pulled muscle: rest, a little ice, and maybe some heat. I was even cleared to run as much as my stomach allowed, though I knew it would probably be at least a month until I could try parkour again.

I took a few more days off before slowly starting to run again. That first week, I didn’t run more than 4 1/2 miles on any given day. By the end of the week, I was feeling pretty solid on my feet again, and decided to push it a little bit harder over the weekend.

Sunday, I headed up I-70 towards the tunnels, and took a run out of Herman Gulch trailhead. I had read in a guidebook about a rock formation called The Citadel, accessible from Herman Lake, which seemed like a good target. I only had a few hours to get my run in, though, and that proved to be too short to make the off-trail hike/run up from the lake. After a few minutes of traversing a steep, grassy slope, I realized there was no way I was going to make the whole distance and still get home at a reasonable time, and so I bailed.

The Citadel.

The route ahead. You can see the trail heading up into the saddle.

The slope I was traversing after the trail ended.

The next week was the best week of training I’d had in a month or more.

Monday: 5.5 miles, 700 feet. Ran easy up Sunshine Canyon.

Tuesday: 6 miles, 1500 feet. Tempoed up Sanitas in just under 21 minutes. I ran into my friend Chris on the way to the trailhead, and my friend Tony (not Tony Krupicka, a different Tony) at the top. Both were preparing for the Pikes Peak Ascent, and both turned in times under 3 hours.

Wednesday AM: 3.5 miles, 500 feet. Scrumbled a bit around Red Rocks Park in Boulder.

Wednesday PM: 5.5 miles, no gain. Boulder Running Company fun run. Took it easy on this one for once, relatively speaking.

Thursday: Off

Friday: 3.5 miles, 500 feet.  Scrumbling around Red Rocks again.

Saturday AM: 5 miles, 300 feet. Ran to pick up my car at the Park’n’Ride after leaving it there the night before. Hit 5 miles in 32:40 for a good effort. I was really surprised by how easy this pace felt, especially given the way the BRC run felt on Wednesday.

Saturday PM: 4 miles, 500 or so feet. Hiked around Paint Mines Park with my fiancée. Words can’t really do this park justice, so I’ll leave this to the pictures.

Sunday: 8 miles, 3500 feet. Ran from the St Mary’s Glacier trailhead up (almost) to the top of James Peak and back. Suffice to say I loved this run. After the half-mile trek up the snowfield, the way opens up into, of all things, a broad, relatively flat tundra stretching over a mile to the base of James Peak.  This expanse is in turn crossed by a 4WD road, which every so often throughout the course of the run would produce a Jeep or similar truck, crawling across the tundra at little better than a walking pace.

The trail I was following was lost when I crossed the dirt road. After following the road for a few hundred yards, I gave up on finding another trail and headed west across the tundra. I could see a trail winding up the side of James Peak from where I was running, and rather than poke around any longer for an official trail, I went bushwhacking.

After a mile or so of this, I hit the trail 200 or so feet up the face of the mountain, only to decide once again that I would head straight up the talus field that makes up much of the east face of James Peak. I often find this method to be much faster than following a, to me, arbitrarily switchbacking trail that takes the gentlest possible route to the summit. Simply put, I don’t have the patience for that, and I am going to do relatively little damage to the rocks I traverse this way.

I did not end up making it to the top of the peak. I hit the false summit on the east side, and decided that, given my time constraints, I would head back down. I probably only had 400’ and less than 10 minutes of climbing left, but nevertheless I turned around to head down the grassy southeast slopes rather than the rocky east slopes.

Looking South at Grays and Torreys in the background. Bancroft in the foreground.

My second time across the tundra was something close to transcendent. Something in my body clicked, and I ended up bounding across the tundra, off trail, at what felt to me like sub 6-minute pace, but was likely closer to 7. Simply put, I have never felt that much joy in simply running. It felt like I couldn’t put a foot wrong, like every step was as efficient and smooth as it could be. My whole awareness was bent on the task of traversing ground as quickly as possible. Moments like that are why I’m a runner.

Looking North towards Indian Peaks

I think I startled some other hikers when I popped back out onto the road. I know I startled the people in the FJ Cruiser when I emerged right next to their car, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

The rest of the run was pretty standard. I dropped back down onto the snowfield, passing a number of people who where either too nervous to climb and descend the snow, or didn’t realize how much faster that is than picking your way among the rocks to either side. Back down the 4WD road to the trailhead, I skipped along the top of boulders rather than weave around them, to the point where I’m quite sure people thought I was showing off. I’ll admit to a little showboating, but mostly that was more fun to me than avoiding the boulders.

Over all, this was easily my favorite run of the summer, despite not making the summit.

After a rather long, hard week, relative to those preceding it, I was tired and ready for my taper. The next week I took very easy, never pushing beyond 6 miles and a few hundred feet of vertical in preparation for my race on Saturday.

And that is where I’ll stop for today. 

Two Week Summary, July 8-21

Monday, July 8: Off.

Tuesday, July 9: 5 miles, 500 feet. Ran up Dakota ridge taking it really easy. My legs were still feeling the weekend a little bit.

Wednesday, July 10: 13 miles, 2200 feet. I decided to join the Boulder Track Club’s Mountain Ultra Trail team for one of their Wednesday long runs to get a little extra mileage in for the week. More on this run in my other blog.

Thursday, July 11: 5.5 miles, 600 feet. Took an easy run up Sunshine Canyon. My legs felt pretty solid despite the long run the day before, which significantly upped my overall confidence level.

Friday, July 12: 4.5 miles, 200 or so feet. Took it really easy on the Boulder Creek Path. Nevertheless, I felt pretty good, and grabbed a bit of a scramble at what is apparently called lovers’ rock. Who knew?

Saturday, July 13: Off.

Sunday, July 14: 12 miles, 2800 feet. Headed over to White Ranch Open Space for a longish run.  More on this in the 13 Project.

Monday, July 15: Off.

Tuesday, July 16: 5.5 miles, 600 feet. Another easy day up Sunshine. The legs felt good, and I planned an adventure for the next day.

Wednesday, July 17: 8 miles, 4000 feet. Easily one of my best runs this year. I decided to head out early, drive up to Loveland Pass, and run over and up to Grizzly Peak. I saw nobody the 3 or so miles over to Grizzly, save for a couple mountain goats that, amazingly, led me directly up the trail. I felt really strong in the high altitude and nailed the final ascent up to Grizzly itself (hitting 1000 feet or so in about 15 minutes at 12000+ feet).

At the top of Grizzly, I ran into a group of summer campers summiting from the other side of the mountain, and chose not to linger, but turned and went back the way I came. I had considered pushing on to Torreys from Grizzly, but opted out, as I still had to get to work at some point that day.

The route back went more smoothly than the route out had, even with many people now on the trail. I chose at the last minute to run over and tag Snikatu, another 13er (my 4^th 13000’ summit of the day, counting two summits of Mt Cupid). This only took an additional 15 minutes, much to the annoyance of the hikers struggling their way to the top.

All in all, an excellent morning up in the mountains. After dropping back down to Loveland Pass, I drove back up to Boulder, and was at my desk and working before 11AM.

Thursday, July 18: 4.5 miles, 200 feet. Boulder Canyon run. I opted for an easy shakedown after the significant vertical the day before.

Friday, July 19: 5.5 miles, 1000 feet. Tempoed up Anemone in 13:46. I can’t remember if this is a PR, or just shy of a PR, but a solid effort.

Saturday, July 20: 4.5 miles, no appreciable elevation. Easy jaunt around the neighborhood in Westminster.

Sunday, July 21: 7.5 miles, 1300 feet. Took it easy on North Table Mountain.

This was the end of a solid three week training block. I’ll grant you that the last week was quite a bit shorter than the first two, which is opposite the normal pattern, but I got a good amount of climbing in there as well.

Unfortunately, it’s looking more and more like this will be my last good training block for a bit. The Thursday after this training block, I ended up in the ER for a fun evening of tests. With a sharp pain in my lower right abdomen, the doctors were all seemingly convinced that I had appendicitis (as was I). Fortunately, that turned out not to be the case. Unfortunately, we don’t actually know what happened. Almost a week later, now, I still am having significant pain in my abdomen, and have a doctors appointment tomorrow that will hopefully clear things out.

To make a longer story short, I have dropped out of the Wild West Relay at this point, and cannot for the immediate future see myself running, hiking, or doing parkour in any significant manner. I am grappling with the disappointment this has caused, and with not being able to be out in the Colorado summer, for which I still had such great plans.

I just hope that the appointment tomorrow clears some things up. 

Left to right, Grays, Grizzly, Cupid in the foreground.

Loveland Pass.

Saw a bunch of goats, leading me up the trail.

2-week Summary: June 24 – July 7

Monday, June 24: Off.

Tuesday, June 25. 6 miles, 600 feet. Ran up Sunshine Canyon for a shakeout run.

Wednesday, June 26: Biking for 25+ miles. Boulder’s annual Bike to Work day saw me ride to work from Westminster to Boulder. From my house, there is not any easy way to get to Boulder on a bike. I decided to skirt Stanley Lake, take Simms Street as far as it went, somehow connect over to the Coalton Trailhead, take the Mayhoffer-Singletree over to Marshall Drive, and head to Boulder from there.

It went well, mostly. I lost my way a bit between Simms and Coalton, where I messed around on singletrack for a while before heading through suburbia, a maze I usually try to avoid whether I am running or biking.

The full route ended up at 22 and a bit miles, according to Strava, and took 1 hour and 38 minutes. If I live in this same house for a while and decide to take this route at all more often, I will invest in a solid cross bike rather than my 29er. It might be a bit harder on the short singletrack sections, but it would make the road sections much easier. 

The remainder of the mileage consisted of bike path from the bus stop to my house at the end of the day.

Note to self: the 29er will not fit on the front of a bus.

Thursday, June 27: 5 miles, minimal elevation. I took the morning off, and ran a fartlek around my neighborhood when I got home. Solid effort.

Friday, June 28: 7 miles, 1000 feet. Took it fairly easy up Anemone in 15:49. After running across the top section, I attempted to take the back route down, but promptly lost the trail and ended up bushwhacking my way back up to the official trail.

Saturday, June 29. 4.5 miles, minimal elevation change. Ran out from the house early in the morning.

Sunday, June 30 Actually took this day off.

This was clearly an easy week for me. I only ran a total of 22 miles, and negligible vertical, after my 37 miles and 10000’ the week before. I had ramped up my training again following the Dirty Thirty for three solid weeks, and thought an easy week might be in order.

That said, I felt I had done plenty during the week, between the running, biking and Parkour. I certainly did not feel that I lost any fitness, but rather gave my body a chance to recover from the punishing week preceding.

Monday, July 1: 7 miles, 500 feet. Ran easy up the Boulder Creek Path to Four Mile and back.

Tuesday, July 2: 6 miles, 600 feet. Ran a Fartlek up Sunshine Canyon, and a Tempo section all the way back to work.

Wednesday, July 3: 4+ miles, 700+’ hiking. I messed around up in the Brainerd lakes area with my fiancée and my brother, who was in town for the week from San Francisco. His lungs were understandably not ready for a lot of exertion up above 10,000’, so we kept it easy and fun on the Mitchell and Blue Lakes Trail.

Impressively, there was still a good amount of snow below treeline.

Audubon

My brother and my fiancee being goofy

Just my brother being goofy. Snow Angel!!

Thursday, July 4: Off. Birthday celebrations for my fiancée and ‘Merica. We slept in, grabbed an excellent brunch at the Huckleberry (PIE!!!), and took the hop down to Denver for the Rockies game. This is the first time we haven’t gone to the Rapids game. I still prefer Soccer to Baseball, but I guess Baseball is the national pastime, and probably more appropriate for the 4^th.

Friday, July 5: 7 miles, 700’. An easy jaunt up over Red Rocks and on up Dakota Ridge from there. I find it amazing how much I love even the brief bit of more engaging terrain that the route over Red Rocks can provide. Anton might just be on to something.

Saturday, July 6: 3 miles, no vert. The legs felt inexplicably tired, given the relatively light week so far, so I headed out for a lackadaisical 3 miler around the neighborhood.

Sunday, July 7: 14+ miles, ~900’.  I decided to head back to the Dirty Bismarck loop. This now-complete loop is near my house, relatively long, with a mix of dirt road, dirt bike path, double track, and single track that provides for good variety, as well as incredible views of Longs and the Indian Peaks. I have also run it on several occasions in a variety of conditions, so it’s a good touch point for my middle-distance fitness.

This day, I decided two things: first, I would never stop the clock (which I have done in the past). Second, I would take the first 11 or so miles at just over conversational pace, and punch it for the last 5k.

My legs were reasonably compliant. I felt solid the whole way, with just a tiny bit of fatigue hitting at the end. Nonetheless, I hit the last 5k in just over 20 minutes, for a solid end-of-run effort. I came it at 1:51 for the loop, which is a fair but not exhausting effort. I also believe it was a PR for me on this loop.

All in all, I felt that this was a fair training week. It was not too long, not too heavy on the vert, but I added a couple significant workouts in for good measure. I can definitely tell that I am getting faster and fitter, but the up-tempo workouts I’ve added in over the past month also take more out of my legs, and require easy days and/or days off in order for my legs to feel recovered. I think I will come close to 50 miles this week, depending on what runs I choose in the middle of the week, and will probably try to hover around there, getting more comfortable with the increased distance, while adding in a bit more speed and vert into the equation. 

Weekly Summary June 17-23

Monday: 1.5 hrs of Parkour. Took the day off of running. Previously I have found that if I run and do a full Parkour class on the same day, I end up far too tired to do any sort of workout the following day.

Tuesday: 6 miles, 1500 feet. Ran Sanitas from work. I briefly thought of giving it a time trial effort, but I really wanted to put in a solid effort the next day on Flagstaff, so I kept it as easy as is possible on this route. Set an easy baseline of 22:20 for the ascent. Ran the full loop from work in 56 minutes flat.

Wednesday: 8 miles, 1500 feet. Put in a tempo effort up Flagstaff. I hit the summit at 39:37, and 28:27 from the Viewpoint trailhead. I believe this to be a PR for me on this run. Put in a solid effort on the downhill too, and ended it with an up-tempo run back down the creek path to work (1 1/4 miles in 8:03). Solid effort and a good benchmark for later tempo runs.

Thursday: 5 miles, 500 feet. Shuffled my way up Sunshine Canyon. I was still really sore from the effort on Wednesday, and really didn’t have anything left.

Friday: off.

Saturday: 9 miles, 3650 feet. Ran from South Mesa trailhead up Shadow Canyon to South Boulder Peak. Took the ridge over to Bear Peak. Ran down Fern and back via Mesa.

Saturday was a good solid run in one of my favorite areas. Without pushing unduly hard, I ran a PR to the Shadow Canyon turnoff, and broke my PR to the saddle where Shadowy Canyon Pops out in 55:05. Given the amount of time I had to wait behind hikers, who seemed relatively oblivious this particular day, I think I actually ran this a good 2 minutes faster.

This was the first I had been up Shadow since they opened it a few weeks ago. The lower part is the same as ever: brutally steep and technical. I had forgotten just how hard this trail is. Then, suddenly, you emerge into the burn area from the Flagstaff Fire. The scorched landscape is just familiar enough to be truly eerie. It appears that none of the evergreens, and very few of the aspen, survived the fire. New growth is poking out, but it is still brown and burned to the ground for the most part.

I had to pick my way up South Boulder Peak, because the trail was often hard to pick out from the burned ground.  But the view from the top of South Boulder is as impressive as ever. SoBo is the highest of the Boulder peaks, but is so often hidden behind Bear that it seems people rarely climb it, which is a shame. After taking in the view for a few minutes, I headed over to Bear to tag a second summit, before descending to Fern Canyon.

I had forgotten again how steep the first section off Bear Peak is. It seems as though every time I come down it, it gets a little more rocky and a little more eroded. I took it slowly until the saddle, then threw myself down Fern Canyon with a bit of reckless abandon. Something about Fern makes me want to go fast, and I apologize to any of the hikers I may have startled.

Still feeling good. I pushed it again on the way back down the Mesa trail, and managed a respectable sub-27 minute time on this split.

Sunday: 7 miles, 2850 feet. Hiked Mt Bierstadt with several friends as the first 14er of what promises to be a great year of them For more on this, you’ll have to head over to my other blog: The 13 Project. 

Felt solid all week. The mileage and vertical added up though, and I started the next week pretty tired, deciding to ease off a bit before taking on the next training cycle. 

Back to Basics

After taking a week (mostly) off and another week easy, I jumped back into training this week.

Summer running is now in full stride in Colorado, complete with smoke from the numerous fires burning in the state. I got up into higher country this past weekend with a brief foray into Rocky Mountain National Park with my fiancée.

Oh, did I mention? I got engaged the day after my 50k. There’s a story there, but it will never appear in any of my blogs.

As I said, I took a brief hike up in RMNP last Saturday. We had intended to hike up Flattop Mountain, but a fire burning just west of the Divide convinced us that we should take a different route. We attempted to hike up to some reportedly very pretty falls in the Wild Basin area, but were turned back when there proved to be no parking within two miles of the trailhead. Instead, we parked right near the entrance, and hiked up towards Sandbeach Lake, close to my misadventures on Meeker last year.

Unfortunately, being unused to such things, my fiancée forgot to take off her ring, and we turned around once we reached an elevation where it pinched too tightly around her finger.

We camped with friends that night near Allenspark, and the next morning, while the rest of the group was either still asleep or barely stirring, I took off. I ran down the canyon our campsite was perched on, to the North St Vrain River and back up. Unused as I am to heading downhill first in a run, it felt like a major slog running the 1200’ back up to the canyon rim. Nonetheless, the Bright Trail, perhaps named to resemble the much more famous Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon, is an excellent little run.

Weekend adventures aside, the last two weeks have been more about revisiting my daily training ground and setting, or re-setting, baseline standards for the routes I do most often: Anemone, Sanitas, Flagstaff, and Boulder Canyon being my primary testing grounds, along with Sunshine Canyon, which is fast becoming a favorite for both fartleks and easy runs.

I have turned a corner, becoming more focused on my training after the Dirty 30. I have no long races planned for the rest of the summer. Rather, I plan to focus on training during the week for shorter, half marathon or thereabouts races, and escape as much as possible into the mountains on the weekends.

With that in mind, I’ve started adding more specific workouts into my schedule. I don’t think I plan to do any real interval workouts, unless it consists of hill repeats on a trail. I will focus more on those workouts that a) I enjoy (using that term loosely as I’m always suffering during intense workouts) the most and b) give me the most confidence. These are primarily fartleks, hills, and tempo runs (generally up a mountain).

Adding in hikes and longer, genuine mountain runs most weekends will hopefully get me in the kind of shape I want to be in for the remainder of the year. 

And it should also allow for more pictures.

Dirty 30 Race Report: A tale of two races.

As I mentioned a couple times over the past few weeks, I was none to sure of my training going into my first Ultra: the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty. This is a notoriously tough race, starting at 7500’ of elevation and climbing (and descending) about 8000’ over the course of its 31 miles. Knowing that my 16-mile “long” runs and one training half marathon were probably insufficient training, I told myself I would treat this as a test run, more of a supported long run than an actual race.

Had I actually stuck to that plan, I probably would have been fine, but in the back of my mind I was still thinking that I could squeak my way under the notorious 6-hour barrier. As it turns out, had a certain toe-rock encounter not occurred, I may well have been able to do just that.

Race morning: I woke at 3:30AM, having gotten a good 51/2 hours of sleep the night before. Knowing that I couldn’t truly compete in this race, I had very few nerves the night before, and so got a much more restful sleep than I often do the night before a race. After a quick breakfast of toast and chocolate peanut butter, as well as a cup of coffee, I left the house at 4AM to meet my carpool at 4:20.

The car consisted of 4 other more experienced ultra runners and me. Despite my relative lack of experience, it was determined that I would likely have the fastest finishing time (by a good bit) and so I got the dubious honor of carrying the car key. This seemingly trivial issue would show up later, so a small amount of annoyance.

We arrived at the race start right on schedule: 5:15 AM for the 6AM start, leaving plenty of time to check in and wander before lining up at the start. I ran into a rather impressive number of friends at the start, and chatted away the minutes before the (delayed) race start. The whole time I repeated to myself that I would not, this time, go out too quickly.

This race fell into two distinct pieces for me, so disparate that they seemed different races.

The first race began at the start line.

There was no gun for this race, just a high-school student singing the national anthem, followed by a classic “Ready, set, go!”

For seemingly the first time in my racing career, I managed to not take it out too quickly. I ran by myself for a few hundred yards before actually stopping and waiting for my friend Matt to catch up. We would run the first 16 miles of the race together, making it feel more like one of our semi-regular weekend long runs than a goal race. Other friends would drop in and out of the group over the course of the race, but Matt and I kept together for a long time.

Again, with the idea of taking it easy for a while, we went out slow. For the first mile or so we were often passed by people charging out of the gate, but almost without fail, we caught them in the next 15 miles.

So began a long period of steadily passing runner after runner as we chattered on. The stretch to the first aid station passes up a creek bed, crossing the creek itself seven times as the trail winds its way up 1000 feet.

We passed the first aid station, at 5 miles, in 52 minutes, right on or a bit ahead of 6-hour pace. I knew it was seven more miles or so to the second aid station, and thought that if we hit it around two hours we’d be doing well. Shortly after the first aid station, Matt took a pit stop, and I slowed to wait for him while I took the opportunity to adjust my pack, move some gels and chews to the front straps of my SJ Ultra Vest, and take off the gloves I had been wearing. I felt that whatever little time I might lose this way was well worth the mental boost of running with a friend.

Still with Matt, we ran and talked steadily through the next climb and the descent into the next aid station, Matt gaining a small amount of ground on a long rutted descent that I easily made up for during the aid station. On our way out, knowing we were in for a long day, we briefly discussed the meaning of life (which I summarized as “find a mate, reproduce, die”) before devolving into crude jokes.

After aid two came both my favorite and least favorite part of the course. The 5 miles separating aids two and three are punctuated by a massive, steep climb that we hiked (passing yet more runners), which culminated in a rocky scrambling section, where we had to keep a little more watch for the trail markers.

As in any loop course, the ascent was quickly followed by a long, rocky, technical descent, and this is where I got into trouble. For the most part, I was hitting the footing well, but for whatever reason, I had trouble with my right toe tagging rock after rock on the descent. I had debated wearing these particular shoes (my Altra Lone Peaks) for this very reason. They are long and beefy, with wide toes. This makes them very comfortable over long distances, but I also find them very clumsy over technical terrain.

Eventually, around mile 16, this fact caught up to me: I tagged my right toe hard on a rock, and hit the dirt. By this point, Matt and I had formed a group with another Matt, and I told them both to go on rather than wait up for me. I picked myself up, dusted off, and gave myself a moment to shake off the fall, which had shattered my mental state.

My second race began here, and was a learning experience.

A few hundred yards after I fell, I stopped again to tie my shoe, and realized that my mental focus was gone. The next 12 or so miles were as difficult as any miles I’ve ever run from a mental perspective. We had figured that, in order to realistically make it under 6 hours, we should hit the third aid station at around 3 hours. My fall and subsequent mental lapse denied me that goal.

As it turned out, I made the turn off for aid station three in just a tiny bit over 3 hours, still on a good track to make my goal, but here I made a tactical error. The third aid station was not actually on the course: it was almost 200 yards downhill from the actual course. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have realized that I had a good amount of water (two bottles that were each just over half full) and more than enough calories to more than make it to the next aid station, just under seven miles away.

Despite this, not trusting myself, I turned down the hill, off the course, and headed down to the aid station.

I had a second chance to change my mind: I ran into Matt on the path to aid station three, and I think that, had I turned around and run with him instead, I could have made a good crack at 6 hours. But again I decided to keep going down to the aid station.

I think it was primarily these two mistakes that cost me my time goal.

However, this brief segue down to the aid station did give me the opportunity to run once again with my friend Justin, who is a far more experienced Ultra runner than I am.  He opted to skip the aid station and just keep running, and I ran into him on my way back up the hill.

I quickly left Justin behind though, and entered the most difficult part of the race for me mentally. Over the next 8-10 miles I was passed by a large number of people. Some I traded places back and forth with a few times. I almost universally spent less time at aid stations than the others, choosing to rely mostly on the fuel and salt tabs I had brought for myself rather than that available at the stations. The only aid I took other than water was one slice of watermelon, one quarter of a PB&J sandwich, and one Hammer Gel. The fuel I had (Vfuel and Honey Stinger Chews) sat well in my stomach and seemed to be doing the job, so I didn’t feel the need for anything else.

There was a very long, steady climb out of the mile 17 aid station. I power hiked much of it, though it was not that steep, but I kept up a running cadence whenever the slope got shallower. By this point, those runners who had started out yet more conservatively than I had, and probably had more experience at this race distance than me, started passing me. I was still in a mental funk, and rather than latch onto one and ride in their wake for a while I let them go.

Ultra-runners are almost universally encouraging to others in the race. Those who passed me encouraged me to keep going, while dealing a minor mental blow with their passing.

At the top of the climb, we hit a fire road that snaked across the top of the hill, and inevitably dropped precipitously into yet another valley.  I passed mile marker 20 and almost precisely 4 hours, and thought that, with a good ascent of Windy Peak I might still be able to reach my 6-hour goal.

It was at 4 hours, finally, that I instituted my run-walk plan. I would run for approximately 9 minutes, unless the slope was too steep, and then take a 1-minute walking break, unless I was cruising a downhill. This made an immediate difference, allowing me to recover somewhat on the go, and I noticed that my running sections were getting considerably faster.

I cruised through aid #4, passing several people who had passed me over the previous 5 miles and continued down the trail with my run/walk tactic working wonders. I was beginning to feel again that I might just be able to make my goal.

Then Windy Peak kicked my ass.

I hit the turnoff for the Windy Peak climb, and found myself unexpectedly descending a rather precipitous slope. This jogged my legs a bit, but also meant that, after the climb up the peak, we’d have to come back and climb that again.

Then the climb started and every other thought went out the window.

The Windy Peak climb was not what I had expected.  From the course description and the elevation profile, I thought it would be steeper: more hands-on-knees climbing and scrambling and less gentle-but-steady slope. I think I could have handled the former just fine, and it might have given me a mental boost with the more engaging terrain, but the latter ground me up and spit me out.

But I made it. Somewhat despairing by the top, I took a second to take in the view around me.  I let the race marshal mark my bib, and took off, deciding that nobody would pass me from there to the finish

Nobody did. I headed down the slope at a good, but not crazy, pace. Most of the Windy Peak section was a loop, but there was a short out-and-back to the peak itself. When I hit the end of the route back, I knew from the volunteer there that it was 3.5 miles to the finish. My watch said 5:40.

On my best day, I might be able to pull that off. If I were rested. And if the course were relatively flat. I knew that this day, that was not in the cards.

Realizing this, a weight slipped off my shoulders, and I decided to cruise in. I still didn’t want anybody to catch me during the rest of my race, but I no longer felt any pressure to finish in any certain time. It made me wonder if, had I not had that goal to begin with, I might have been better equipped to achieve it.

I hit the last aid station and the volunteers there told me it was only 1.5 miles to go. This sounded wrong, as we were at mile 28.5, and it was a 50k. My guess is that the name “Dirty 30” confused them into thinking it was actually a 30-mile race, rather than its true 31-mile distance. So I ignored them and just pressed on.

The short, sharp incline back to the turnoff for Windy Peak was not as difficult as I had imagined. Partly that was because, having missed my time goal, I was no longer interested in pushing as hard.  

The last mile and a half was a simple cruise into the finish. My legs, somewhat surprisingly, were feeling better than they had in 15 miles, and I knew that I would finish the race. I also started thinking that I might recover faster after the race because of my slower pace.

I cruised into the finish as the clock hit 6:16. Not a bad time for this course.  My girlfriend was waiting for me at the finish line, a nice surprise, as she was unsure the night before whether or not to come. I was not about to ask her to come up for the start and wait around 6 hours with nothing to do while I ran.

Even out of it as I undeniably was after the race, I managed to learn that a friend of mine from work had finished almost an hour ahead of me, and was the first female. She ran the second fastest time ever on the course for women, and it is safe to say she had a great Ultra debut!

Matt had come in at about 5:52, to make his goal of breaking 6 hours. Justin came in 6 minutes behind me for a solid time.

The next two hours was a bit of a comedy of errors. Sometimes I want to hang around after a race to watch and cheer the other runners on. This particular day I had little desire to do so, and so embarked on a quest to find the other members of my carpool. With this goal in mind, I wandered from parking lot, to finish line, to food area several times in search of members of my carpool, without success.

Finally, around 2:00, I gave up, and tucked the key under the windshield wiper of the van I’d come to the race in, trusting that the others would end up there eventually. Naturally, as soon as I had done this and hobbled back down to the finish line, the driver ran through the finish chute. I explained to him where the key was, reversed the car back down the single lane road from the finish area, and drove back to Westminster and a much-needed shower.

Suffice to say my first Ultra was a learning experience. I did many things right. I did many things wrong. But I am proud to say that I never once thought about quitting the race.

Things done right:

I carried two water bottles: This let me easily refill one or the other at each aid station, and still have some backup water without overburdening myself.

I followed a steady fuel plan: every 35 minutes on the dot, I fueled up. I alternated between chews and gels, which seemed to agree with me. I supplemented this with a tiny bit of food from two aid stations (watermelon and PB&J). When my stomach grumbled during the second half of the race, I chowed down on some dried mango, which always seems to sit well. Every hour, I took a salt tab. This sat in my stomach better than any electrolyte drink has ever done.

I (eventually) stuck to my run/walk plan. This seemed to give my legs a chance to recover on the run.

I never gave up. As I said before, the thought of dropping out of the race never even crossed my mind. It simply wasn’t an option.

Things done wrong:

Training. Simply put, I did not run long enough in my training. With at least one 25 mile run, I probably would have been better prepared.

I did not implement my run/walk plan soon enough. I should have done this as soon as I fell. I think it would  have given me the chance to recover mentally from my fall more quickly, leading to a faster second half of the race.

I hit every aid station. This is particular to this race. With the placement of aid station 3, I should have assessed the situation, realized I had enough water and fuel to make it to the next station without stopping, and headed on up the trail.

Hopefully, this report didn’t sound too negative.  (See my Pikes Peak report). I am by nature hard on myself, and am very good at pointing out my own flaws. But I really valued this race as a learning experience. I am not sure when I will run another Ultra, but I will know more going into it and be better prepared.

As Kilian Jornet has said (paraphrasing here): “I don’t want to run a perfect race. If you run a perfect race, you don’t learn anything.”

2 week Update, May 5 - 19

Sunday, May 5: 13.1 miles, 200 feet, 1:27:35:  The Louisville Trail Half. I ended up in 5th over all and first place in my age group. This was a PR by five and a half minutes, and a solid run for me.

Monday, May 6: 6 miles, 800 feet: Went partway up Flagstaff after the race the day before, felt remarkably solid, though definitely tired. After, went to Apex Movement for an hour and a half of Parkour class (this still hurts every time). I do, though, think it's going to help my running overall. I can already feel myself getting stronger in my core and upper body, and learning how to land/fall correctly is never going to hurt my trail running.

Tuesday, May 7: Off. Feeling the last two days.

Wednesday, May 8: 5.5 miles, 700 feet: Still feeling the race a bit, but ran up a bit of Flagstaff any way.

Thursday, May 9: 7 miles, 400 feet: Up Boulder Creek Path to 4 mile and back. Still slow, but feeling better.

Friday, May 10: 6.5 miles, 1500 feet: Sanitas. Felt good to get back into it a bit.

Saturday, May 11: Off. 

Sunday, May 12: 12 miles, 3500 feet. Flagstaff and Green from Chautauqua. Found the trails crawling with people enjoying one of the first truly hot days we've had so far. I ran into Matt and Chris on the first stretch up Flagstaff. And stopped to talk a little bit about our mutual feelings of not being prepared for the Golden Gate on June 1.

I had planned to make this a Flag/Green/Bear combo, but on reaching the Green-Bear/Bear Peak West Ridge junction, I realized that I didn't have it that day, and felt that pushing through the fatigue on this particular day would be unwise. Given the way the next five days felt even dropping Bear, I can only assume it was a good idea.

Monday, May 13: 4.5 miles, 200 feet:  BCP partway up the Canyon. Legs were still tired.

Tuesday, May 14: 8 miles, 1500 feet. Flagstaff via Eben G Fine and Viewpoint. This is one of my go-to runs that I hadn't done in a while. My legs, unfortunately, still felt pretty flat, but it felt good to get some climbing in. I still managed to run an average round-trip time for the out and back. I seem to be fairly fit and fast even when tired.

Wednesday, May 15: 5 miles, 500 feet: Sunshine from work with some work friends. Our company has generously offered to put up the $1300 registration fee to put a team together for the Wild West Relay in August. As training for that, we are putting together a weekly run on Wednesdays. Only a few showed up this time, but hopefully, with time, we can up the numbers.

Thursday, May 16: 6 miles, 1500 feet: Sanitas. Felt slow, but the 85 degree weather may have had something to do with that.

Friday, May 17: 7 miles, 500 feet: BCP up to Four Mile. Legs still felt off. But I slipped into a very efficient shuffle and still managed sub-8 minute pace for the round trip.

Saturday and Sunday: No running at all. I had intended to do a longer run Sunday, as per usual, but found my legs were (and still are) tired despite a day's rest.

At this point, I am concerned that I have not gotten sufficient long runs in prior to my 50k in two weeks. It doesn't particularly matter at this point, since there is nothing I can do about it. I am, however, very worried about crashing and burning in the later stages of the race.

On the other hand, I know I am in fairly decent shape. Even when my legs don't feel like they want to move at all, I can toss out a decent ascent of Sanitas or Flagstaff. And my half marathon two weeks ago speaks to my general fitness level. I am concerned that I have not gotten a run over 3 hours, or over 20 miles, in yet this year.

Because of this, I plan to try something new on race day: I will institute a run/walk schedule for the race. This is not your typical 50k, where you will be able to run the whole way. A typical 50k I would likely be able to run in around 4 hours, maybe a bit less. This one runs well above 8000 feet and has nearly 8000' of climbing and descending in it. I equate it roughly to Pikes, which has the same elevation gain, but 5 fewer miles and peaks at a much higher elevation.

So I will be running 1 minute out of every 10, or maybe more depending on how I feel. A few caveats are in order, though. I will, naturally, always walk if the terrain dictates it. Also, I likely will not walk much downhill. I hope to finish in under 6 hours, so if it starts getting close to that at the end, I will pick up the pace if I can.

The next two weeks, then, I will be focused on sharpening my speed just a bit, and resting and recovering.

Race Report: The Louisville Trail Half

Race Report: Louisville Trail Half.

First, let me impress upon you that this is a trail half only in the most loose sense of the word. While there is some single track, about a mile or so between mile markers 6 and 8, the vast majority of the race occurs on crushed gravel bike paths. In total, they claim 200’ of elevation change, though that seems a little bit low to me. In other words: this is a fast course for me.

Looking around at the start line, I didn’t see that much in the way of competition. There were a couple guys who looked fairly formidable, one of whom would eventually win the race with an impressive sub 1:12 time. But there was none of the sense I often have that I would get, at best, 20th or so. This was likely the result of the concentration of races this particular weekend: The Quad Rock, The Collegiate Peaks Trail Run, and the Greenland Trail Races to name a few.

There was no gun. The RD simply said “3-2-1-GO!”

The race course consists of 2 loops: an initial 5 mile out and back to the west, followed by an 8.1 mile out and back to the east. What little climbing there was all happened in the second half of the race. My strategy was to do my best to take it easy the first half of the race, try to work it up the hill in mile 7, work the singletrack to my best advantage, and push it on the way back.

As often happens, I went out a little too fast. Not horribly so, but a bit. I had chosen not to wear a watch so I have no real idea how quickly the first 5 miles went, but I am fairly sure I came in well under my 35 minute target. But that’s ok, because I was running by feel and I felt like I had hit a fairly sustainable pace.

I took off with the lead pack, quickly realized I was moving faster than I should be, and eased off, letting what I swear was 5 people ahead of me. The 5 mile first loop went easily and quickly, with very little in the way of elevation change to relieve the tedium. Coming into the start/finish area again, my gf and her parents were waiting at the bend to cheer me on. I also made my only wrong turn of the race here, for some reason thinking that we had to go through the start/finish area on our way by. Minor seconds lost, but seconds count.

The next four miles went very well. One woman came up behind me, seemingly easily, and we chatted for a bit as we worked along the crest of the main hill and back down to the creek we had been following the whole race before she pulled slowly ahead. I was beginning to feel the flat, fast nature of the course now: something I have not trained for in the least.

But I was still moving well, and after we cruised down the hill, the course took two dips down into single track along the creek.

Let’s say this: if there’s one thing that I learned yesterday, it’s that my legs like single track. As soon as we hit this section, I could feel my stride quicken, my legs felt lighter, and I sped up. I started regaining ground on the lady who had just passed me. Not enough to pass her back, but enough that I could see my progress against hers.

For the last several miles, we had followed the 10k course. This provided a boost every time we passed a 10k runner saying “good job” or “looking good.” We quickly reached, and then passed, the 10k turnaround and were on our own again.

I reached the turnaround in good order: my form was pretty smooth and still rapid, though I was really beginning to feel the race now at mile 9. Then I turned around.

I realized quickly that I had forgotten one thing: we had been following Coal Creek for the majority of the race, and ever since the 2.5 mile turnaround we had been following it in the downstream direction. It was a very slight downhill, gentle enough that you didn’t even think about it when you were running with the slope. Once you turned up the slope, however, it became very noticeable immediately.

Suddenly I felt every inch of the race acutely, and I knew the race was on. The turnaround gave me a chance to check out the runners nearest to me behind me, and I had at least a 2 minute cushion in my estimation. Again, I didn’t have a watch, so I wasn’t sure, but I knew they would have to run about 30 seconds a mile faster than me over the last 4 miles to catch up to me, and the way they looked at the turnaround I couldn’t see that happening.

Then it became a mental game: just keep my legs moving and form strong for the last 4 miles. At the next aid station, I did something I hadn’t done so far: I slowed down to a walk in order to take in more water. It was probably the best move I could have made, as I almost immediately felt the tension in my right leg ease and picked up the pace again.

The switchbacking hill back up to the high point of the course felt 10 times worse than the larger hill had on the way out, but I still attacked the hill and pushed across the top to the downhill. Then it was just a matter of riding the downhill as long as I could, and letting the sound of the announcer draw me in to the finish.

G and her parents were at the finish cheering me on and came around to meet me as I stumbled to a stop. I think she was a little unsure of what to do with me, as she’s only ever been able to come to one other of my races. But she came over and stood there while I recovered my breath and wits enough to talk, without pushing or making any comments.

I ended up running 1:27:35 (officially) though I saw 1:27:32 on the clock when I finished. That’s another PR for me in the half, in a race I decided to train through. I also came in 5th place over all and won my age group outright.

All in all, I’d say it was a good day, and while I didn’t get my 10 mile run in the next day, I did get a 6 mile run in with about 800 feet of vertical, as well as an hour and a half of parkour in.

I call it a successful day, and am only left wondering what I could do next time.