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.

Updates since February 24.

I honestly did not realize that It had been so long since I'd written a normal "Weekly Update" post.

The last month and a half have led to somewhat sporadic training and posting on my part. In the two weeks following my update to February 24, I ran 85 miles and climbed a bit over 10000 feet. Then I headed off to England for a week and a half.

I didn't run a step in England (purposefully). I decided before I left that, rather than worry overly much about running as a workout. Rather, I would only run if I felt it would add to the experience rather than taking away from it. I had hoped to run a fell race the day after I got there, but was far too jet-lagged to even think about it. Through the remainder of the trip, I was walking around and touring enough that I didn't feel the need to run at all. The only running I did the whole trip was sprinting through the Heathrow Airport after almost getting bumped off our transatlantic flight.

Really, how exactly is it legal to overbook a flight across the Atlantic?

In any case, I probably walked 20+ miles that week, so I don't feel like I destroyed my fitness by not running while I was over there.

It's the weeks since that I feel have messed me up. I haven't been able to run much more than 30 miles in a week since I got back. The first week I was back I hit 29 miles and 5600 feet during the 5 weekdays, but then didn't manage a long run on Easter Sunday. The next week I similarly hit 30+ miles on the first 5 days and 6000+ feet of elevation.

The 6000 feet that week came from 4 trips up Mt Sanitas here in Boulder. Early in the week, I had planned to run it 5 times that week. I ended up deciding instead to head to the BRC Wednesday night run that week.

The next week I spent in Massachusetts for work. The hotels I stayed in were not precisely conducive to running outside, in general. However, I did manage to get one good trail run in on the first Tuesday I was out there. I will write that one up over on the 13 project under new run #4. That Sunday I ran 15 miles on the roads around Fall River and Westport. I shocked myself by running 7:15 pace for the full time, with a few sub-7s thrown in for good measure, on an easy run.

Despite my inconsistent training, it seems that I must be doing something correctly in my training for 15 miles to feel that easy.

Monday, April 15, 2013 we will all no doubt be remembering for a very long time. I wrote about it already, but I have no desire to write further on it at the moment.

I got home late Tuesday night. Wednesday I went on the Run for Boston put on by the BRC, and on Friday ran Sanitas again.

Today I felt solid, so I headed out on the Mesa trail for a double crossing.

I had forgotten, though, that it had snowed 2 1/2 feet in the past two weeks, followed by several days of sunny, breezy, warm weather. Simply put: Mesa was a mud trap. I felt good enough at the start that I thought I might be able to pull out a PR, but with the slop and mud, that was not to be. I still managed to hit a PR on Strava, and ran into my friend Chris in the meantime.

While I have not been able to really train like I would prefer, I'm feeling fast. My real concern, though, is that I have not been able to get the mileage in that I really want to. I have had no long runs over 16 miles or so yet this year, and I don't know that I have enough endurance to pull off my first 50k in a matter of weeks.

I hope to get a bit of extra speed work in on May 5th by running the Louisville Half Marathon (assuming of course I recover from my current cold soon enough), and will try to train through it by running the 11 mile Flagstaff loop the following day. Whether or not that works, I'll try and run a 20+ mile run the next weekend. If I can do that, I'll feel significantly more confident about my 50k. If not, well, I'll get through the 50k and treat it as a fun, long, supported training run.

Thoughts from Boston

After the events of yesterday, I feel the need to capture a glimpse of what is going through my mind.

As I write this, I am sitting in Boston Logan Airport. 23 hours and 48 minutes after the bombings at the Boston Marathon finish line. All around me, I see the blue and yellow jackets and shirts of Boston finishers, occasionally punctuated by the flash of a finisher’s medal catching the light.

I have never seen so many runners in one place outside of an actual race course. And I have never seen such a forlorn, subdued group of race finishers.

The blue and yellow of the runners is counterpointed by the blue and black of the TSA officers, and the darker blue of air marshals, who are out in force today. Despite this, the security line was nonexistent and, aside from checking to make sure my tools were less than 6 inches long (what does that do, exactly?), I flew through the tightened security in a matter of seconds.

Before I get any further, let me say that I did not run the marathon yesterday. I am in Massachusetts for work, and just so happened to be in Boston yesterday on Boston Monday. I had tried several times to arrange a way to be at the finish line and watch the runners come in. Frustratingly, at the time, that was not possible: there was too much work to do and we had to go by our customers’ schedule.

So it happened that, at three o’clock yesterday afternoon, just under 24 hours ago now, my coworker and I walked into a bar in Dorchester and sat down for a late lunch. Almost the second we sat down, the TV screens lit up with news of two explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon, just a few miles away.

I would say it didn’t register at first, but it did. It registered that something horrible had happened. It registered immediately that the sport I love, something I have always seen bringing people together peacefully, had been attacked. It registered that I should be worried, and was terribly worried, about the numerous people I knew running and watching the race that day. I registered the sirens of emergency vehicles that were lighting up the city.

Of course it didn’t register that people might be concerned about me. I had lobbied hard to get some time to watch the finish, and as far as many people knew, I was as good as there.  When I finally realized that, after some questions on Facebook to that effect, of course the cell network was swamped, or shut down, depending on who you ask. I tried without success to reach my girlfriend, who was in class in Colorado at the time. I sent texts and email to my family and close friends assuring them I was ok.

Then I jumped back on my phone, looking for updates on my friends.

All the time, I was bombarded by images from the TV. I’m sure by now most of you have seen them: the first blast knocking over a 78 year old runner, who was lifted to his feet by a volunteer; the second blast pouring more smoke and flame into the street, setting of screams as people ran, some away from the blast, but a remarkable number towards the blast. I remember the images of blood pools, not stains, but pools, in the streets of Boston. And I remember the image I can’t unsee, of a man, wheeled away in a wheel chair, clearly in shock, with nothing remaining of his legs below the knee but a fully exposed bone on his left side.

But I remember the other images as well. I remember the incredible number of people who ran, not away, but towards the blast area, tearing through barriers and rendering whatever assistance they could. I remember runners heading straight across the finish line, when most feel they cannot run another step, and running straight on to the hospitals to donate blood. I remember the inquiries of friends making sure everybody they know in the area is ok.

I only had a short time, not enough to begin to process the events, before I had to move on to the next site on our list for the day (a young Vietnamese family, where the mother didn’t look up from texting on her phone other than to help us find a light switch or three). Then it was on to the next site: on Beacon Street, the marathon course: completely empty save for emergency vehicles rushing back and forth.

The weight of events, the emotional nature of the day, only caught up to me late last night, when I finally checked into my hotel. I would get, and still am getting, flashes of pure emotion where I feel like I’m going to sob: something precious to me was attacked in the most vile and cowardly way I can imagine. Something of the innocence of running was lost yesterday, and that hurts me more than I can say.

An 8 year old boy, waiting for his father to cross the finish line, died.

Runners and spectators alike lost life and limb, quite literally. Some will never run again, or at least not on their own two feet.

But I see something else: runners are a community. We are a group of people, the world over, who help each other. When somebody falls during a race, inevitably multiple others will stop, spending precious seconds of a time they’ve worked towards for weeks, months, or years, and offer them whatever assistance they can. At mile 27 of a marathon, a time when they are physically and mentally spent, they will sprint towards danger to help people they don’t know.

Anybody looking on Facebook, or any news channel, today will know how the running community is facing this tragedy. There is no division. There is no sense of giving up. There is no other option but to keep running.

There never is.

Updates coming!

I realize I have not updated in a while. I headed off to England for a week and a half, was back for a couple weeks, and headed back out for work for another week and a half.

I promise I will have updates as soon as I have a chance to catch my breath. Things are happening.

On the Influx of Money to Trail Running.

This post is a response to the Trail Runner Magazine blog symposium question: is the introduction of bigger prize purses to trail races a positive or negative thing overall?

I feel rather unqualified to be speaking on this topic. I am at best a decent trail runner. As such, I am at no risk of winning a large purse. Geoff Roes has written eloquently and passionately on this topic, taking the affirmative position that prize money will help the sport. And I doubt you would find Dakota Jones arguing against large purses, with the $20,000 he took home for the TransVulcania last spring.  That prize allowed him to do his own thing, living out of his truck for the summer.

On the other hand, I saw the comments on the Trail Runner Magazine website responding to this symposium topic. They were resoundingly negative, concluding that the influx of money would destroy the sport, and lead inevitably to illegal drug use, cheating, and would destroy the “pure” nature of the sport.

While that is possible, I believe the opposite. I think that the influx of money will help the sport. Trail running has been growing in popularity in recent years, which has in turn led to more sponsor money, which has led to more exposure and an increase in popularity. This is due in no small part to characters such as Scott Jurek, who I am fortunate enough to call a friend and occasional training partner, and Anton Krupicka, Geoff Roes, Dakota Jones, and Rickey Gates, all of whom also call Colorado home.

The simple fact that so many of the top tier trail runners live and train in the Boulder area means that I have the opportunity to meet and talk with the top tier of the sport. For all of them, the goal remains the same: they love running. They love the trails. They love the mountains. They simply love what they do.

Without the money, without the notoriety, they would still be doing exactly what they are doing to the extent that they could afford to. Indeed, several of them (Scott Jurek, Dave Mackey, Buzz Burrell, and Peter Bakwin, to name just a few) have been around long enough that we can guarantee that they would, since they already have.

Rather than pollute the sport, the influx of prize money gives these athletes the opportunity to perfect their craft, and pursue their dreams in the mountains. Just look at AK’s flurry of FKT’s in the mountains this past summer for evidence, or That Dakota Jones’ summer in his truck, cruising the country and going for epic runs

Far from detracting from the sport, the influx of money allows those elites to make a living doing what they love to do. And not insignificantly, that same money gives us a chance to live vicariously through them via their pictures, their videos, and their writings. Do not think that, without the influx of interest and accompanying money, this would be possible for these athletes without even more extreme self-sacrifice.

I have focused so far on one primary reason I do not believe money will destroy the essence of trail running: the character of trail runners and the reasons that we run trails. There are, however, two further reasons I think play a role:

The first is a simple fact: there is still far more money in road running than trail running. By their very nature, road races are easier to draw people to than trail races. Road races usually occur in highly-populated areas, increasing visibility and drawing in both runners and spectators. This in turn attracts sponsors and prize money. Trail races, on the other hand, generally occur in remote and/or difficult to access locations, leading to less exposure and less prize money.

If your primary goal is to make money, road and track racing is still the place to look.

The second reason is limited to the United States. We have a very restrictive set of guidelines in the US regarding the protection of wilderness areas and national forests. The United States Forest Service must balance the needs and desires of a variety of groups when deciding what can happen on Federal lands, including but not limited to logging interests, off-road vehicles, hikers and campers, mineral prospectors, hunters and fishers, and of race directors. Just ask Dakota Jones if you want to hear about how difficult it is to get permits when the race crosses between two different national forests.

For this reason, races are often limited to just a few hundred entrants (or even fewer) after an arduous process for the RD. We are unlikely to see a major trail race in the United States on the scale of UTMB for this reason, unless it takes place entirely on Forest Service roads. Fewer athletes means less prize money up for grabs, and so I believe the prize money for most races will reach a firm limit.

So no, I do not believe that the increased size of prize purses in trail running will destroy the sport. There will always be small, local, uncompromising races for those that want to avoid the hoopla of the major races. But the bigger purses for the larger races will continue to let those at the pinnacle of the sport to pursue their dreams, and allow us to share those dreams. And not insignificantly, this money will push the excitement in the sport, and push the competition at the front of the field to ever more impressive and inspiring heights. 

Mountain Dreams

This has been a frustrating week in my training. My legs are there, I am ready to run, but the time has not been. I was facing a major deadline at work all week, and 11+ hours a day at work plus an hour and a half or more of commuting does not leave much time for running. Hopefully I can still get a few good workouts in today and tomorrow and salvage a little training out of these seven days. But if not, I have to remember that I a) am in solid shape for this time of year and b) I still have quite some time before my first planned race of the year.

My first planned race (as opposed to my last minute, "why not?" races) is the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty. This is a 50k race in Golden Gate Canyon State Park, just an hour or so away from my house, taking place on June 1st this year. This will be my longest race to date, and it has approximately the same elevation change as the Pikes Peak Marathon, so it should be a difficult challenge for me. Fortunately, I know several other people also running the 50k, and at least one who is planning to run the 12 mile accompanying race. That means I should have a cheering section.

My second planned race, should it come to pass, is the Telluride Mountain Run on August 10. This is a 55 mile monster in, naturally, Telluride, with a total of 20,000 of elevation gain and, since it's a loop course, loss. Dakota Jones is the RD for the race, so it's bound to be interesting. My goal is simply to finish in under the cutoff (16 hours). As of this writing, the permitting process is still underway, but hopefully that will be taken care of soon. If not, the PPM is my backup.

There may be a couple other races in the summer/fall as well. Some friends at work are putting together a team for the Wild West Relay, which takes place the weekend before T-Rad. I may or may not join them, depending on how I'm feeling at that time. Also, my gf has plans to do a triathlon on June 8th, which I intend to do with her. Fortunately, given my plans for the weekend before this, it's a short tri.

Races aside, I have a large number of fun runs in the mountains I would like to take on this summer. With my experiences on Longs last summer, I feel a great deal more comfortable with my abilities in the high country. If Andy Anderson gives you a compliment on your performance on Longs, you take note. The following is a selection:

Grizzly Peak Traverse: Starting at Loveland Pass, this traverse is entirely above tree line, taking you on a ridgeline up Grizzly Peak (a thirteener) before putting you atop Torreys Peak followed by Grays Peak. If I can find somebody to do it with, I can finish at the Stevens Gulch trailhead, otherwise I get to turn around and head straight back the way I came.

Grand Slam on Longs: This might be a warmup for another traverse (the Glacier Gorge Traverse, which I will decidedly not be doing alone, should I do it at all). Taking the Loft route up to Meeker and Longs, this then traverses over to Pagoda Mountain on the other side of the Keyboard of the Winds, back to the Keyhole, over to Storm King and then Mt Lady Washington before returning to the Longs Peak trailhead. Optionally, I can add Battle Peak and Estes Cone before heading back to the trailhead.

General 14ers: At this point, including the peaks above, I have a list of 20 different 14ers I'd like to climb this year. It seems like a long shot, but I don't see that much issue with it. With the (unfortunate) lack of snowpack this year, I hope to be able to get out early in the season and keep climbing into September and October, should I still be in Colorado. The list at this point includes, but it not limited to:

Mt Elbert
La Plata
Kit Carson
Challenger Point
Crestone Peak/Needle
Bierstadt
Grays and Torreys
Longs
The Shermanator
Blanca

That should about do it for the summer! My gf and I are planning to do a number of these together, but the harder (class 3+) mountains I will likely be on my own for.

It looks to be an interesting summer, and I'm looking forward to it.