Lost in the Woods 50k: DNF

Despite being my first DNF at a race longer than 5k, I would consider this race a success. 

I went into it with the mentality of using this as a test event. I wanted to try out fuels, pacing, and strategies I might use on my hoped-for run on the Border Route Trail later this year. I also wanted to see how well my training was going. And to truly do all of that, I needed a bit of a unique event. 

This “race” is formatted much like the Barkley Marathons, though it is much less intense on the whole. It consists of three approximately 10-mile laps in Seven Mile Creek park in Mankato, Minnesota. Each lap, there are 11 books you have to find and take a page from, and one hole punch, to prove you went in the proper order. There was an aid station at the start and finish, and one in the middle of each lap. All told, a very intriguing format, and something I was very much looking forward to. 

First Campfire of the Year

I headed down to Mankato the night before, planning to stay the night in Minneopa State Park. 

I learned quickly that my idea of camping is different than many other people’s. As far as I could tell, there was exactly one other tent in the campground, the rest being approximately a third full of RVs of various stages of ridiculousness The nearest to me, unfortunately, was running a generator Nonetheless, I set my tent up for the first time this year, got a fire going, and after some ukulele in front of said campfire, turned in at around 9:45. 

The generator droned on. 

Alpine Start: Complete with red headlamp

Despite myself, I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke up only twice in the night, before my alarm went off at the (you must be joking) hour of 4:15. 

With a true Alpine start, I had my coffee brewed, tent stowed, and running gear on by 4:45 and, with a quick stop by the vault toilet (the restrooms, despite what the website had claimed, were not yet open for the season) I was off and out of the campground. 

Race Start:

Being me, I was the first one to the race start. Granted, there were only 25 people in the race all told, but still. 

Scott, the local Doctor who puts the race on, met me with his wife Rita in his garage. Turns out, he has officially registered the race with the USATF in order to get insurance for the race. That made me much more comfortable with the ordeal, as it was clear he had gone about things the right way, and was not just throwing a race out of his garage (even though he technically was). 

The Bell

I got the race map, and description (insert picture below), and a written description of the course. I quickly realized that I was not likely to gain much from studying it, but would have to learn as I went. The added fact that the course was flagged (for the most part) helped that decision. 

The Start in the Garage

So, until the race started, I drank my coffee, chatted with Scott and Rita, and made friends with the other victims, or runners. Whichever you prefer. The race wasn’t slated to start until 7:00 so I had plenty of time to arrange, and rearrange, my vest and my drop bag. 

Lap 1:

The race started promptly at 7:00, and the 25 or so runners who had shown up and paid the fee took off down the road together. I found myself running with the front group rather quickly. This was fortunate, as several in the group knew the park significantly better than I did (which is to say at all). About a mile on gravel roads and trails, and then we saw the first pink flag and trekked off up the hill into the woods. 

Off the trail, to the books. 

As you might be able to see from the map above, most books were at the top of a hill, off the trail and into the woods a ways. Most were semi out-and-back sections on deer trails, though some were on marked “trails,” often little more than game trails themselves. 

I ran and trekked well within myself in these sections, trying at the same time to conserve my energy, get a mental image of the course for the remainder of the race, and talk with the runners around me. For the moment, I was more than content to just sit with a group of five men, including myself, who were rapidly separating themselves from the rest of the field. We would remain more or less together for lap one and part of lap two. 

Halfway through each lap, we hit an aid station, where we had to do a short loop down into a gully, then climb out and check back in with the folks manning the aid station. They were incredibly friendly and generous, to be sitting out there on a Saturday in their own backyard letting a bunch of, let’s face it, wackos wander through and eat food. 

First lap, I took a few cookies and some gummi bears. I had filled my reservoir, the way it would be on the BRT trip, so didn’t need to refill until after lap two. This let me jump ahead with the leader, John, and follow him on the aid station loop. 

Fortunately, the only muddy spot on the course. 

We found out quickly on loop two, at book 6, that some had missed the aid station loop and gone right back on course. I believe that was corrected on loop two, by doing two aid station loops instead of one. The remainder of loop one went well, the five of us working together, in general, to find the books as we could.

There was one small navigation error on loop two, where, having gotten split up, three of us ran right past the cutoff for book eight. 

Around book eight, I started to notice a theme to the books. Getting separated from the other leaders, I started looking at the covers of the books we were tearing pages from and noticed their titles: “Desolation,” “Black and Blue,” “Too Far to Go,” and other cheery thoughts. 

Our race director, it seemed, has a sense of humor. 

Somehow, despite the separation that occurred in this lap, we still entered the aid station at the start and finish of the race a group of four. 

Lap 2:

We left a group of four as well, along with one “fun runner,” who basically just showed up and realized what was going on and decided to tag along for a while. Lap two was run in the opposite direction, so we started with book 11 and worked our way back to book one. 

As happens, the group of four split up quickly. I stopped to answer the call of nature briefly (when we had passed all the runners still on their first loop. I have some modesty still.), and the other three quickly gapped me. I caught up to another, John, after book 9, who said the two leaders had “been shot out of a cannon” down the hill and we likely wouldn’t see them again. 

That proved half true. We caught up to Austin, a senior in college who’s off to Colorado for the summer, shortly before the aid station. TJ, the race leader, was nowhere to be seen. That was even more remarkable since he had left his map and course description at the start/finish, and was running the course from memory. Given my two small navigational errors, I was quite impressed by him. 

At the aid station, I once again needed very little, as I was still good for water. I took some more gummy bears, and decided to make a move for second place. I left the aid station alone, took off down the hill, and pushed it on a long trail section that led to the turnoff for book five. 

I must have gained time quickly here, as by the end of the loop they were a good two minutes back, and I was not pushing myself hard on the off-trail portions. I later found out from my GPS data, that I was, relatively easily, hitting sub-7 minute pace on this trail section. 

Unfortunately, I also started to notice something creeping up on me: on the off trail, off camber downhill from each book in this section, my left knee started giving me trouble. It felt like a tendon right at the tibia-fibula-femur junction was irritated. It only got more so as the loop went on, and by the aid station, I was worried enough that I grabbed my trekking poles to see if I could ease the stress on it. 

Lap 3:

Trekking poles in hand, I started off on my third loop in second place. 

I knocked off book one quickly, but on the descent, despite the poles, my knee was still bothering me. I tried book two as well, but the descent made me realize that I could not keep going. Muscle issues I can run through. Joint pains are another matter, and I chose to stop rather than risk further injury. 

Turns out, something around 50% of the participants dropped, so I can’t feel too badly about it. And the DNF allowed me to get back to my friend’s novel launch party in the Twin Cities. 

That’s it for the race. I learned a lot. But I will put that in another post. 

Times

Lap 1: 2:12:17

Break 1: 6:16

Lap 2: 2:13:07

Break 2: 6:37

Partial Lap 3: 40:46

Total time: 5:18:58

Total distance:23.5

A Surprisingly Zen Run

To be honest, when I woke up yesterday, I did not feel like running. I creaked out of bed, and found out just how tight my calves were as I walked to the bathroom. I found out how sore my hamstrings were on the way up and down the stairs of my three story one bedroom apartment. 

Sometimes I love my apartment. Sometimes not so much. 

But, I had a 15 mile run on the docket for the day, and if I want to be ready for a 50k in three weeks, this was my real shot at a longer run. I downed one cup of coffee while eating my breakfast (Ezekiel 4:9 toast with peanut butter and avocado), made another cup to drink while prepping, and changed into my running clothes that I had, for a wonder, laid out the night before. 

On the drive out, I thought about my approach for the day. For this particular run, a Twin Cities Classic out at Afton State Park, I usually have a point where I try to pick up the pace a little. Often that’s either the uphills or the flat sections, but sometimes I up the pace and effort level at the end as well. Feeling as I did this day, though, I knew that was a recipe for a slow time and even more soreness the next day. 

I decided on three rules: 

1. No looking at the pace on my watch (a bad habit I have).
2. No pushing the pace, but no letting up either. 
3. Take whatever the trail gives me. 

As I thought about it, this fit with a book I have: “Zen and the Art of Running.” I have never read it through, but there are a lot of little pieces of advice in there (such as taking what comes without judgment). 

With these three rules/goals in mind, what had promised to be a difficult, mental challenge of a run turned out to be unexpectedly enjoyable. My legs never felt great, but they never felt that bad or that tired. Despite constant temptation, I never looked at the pace (average or current) through the whole run. And taking what the trail and my body gave me turned out to be an enjoyable experience. 

There are downsides. I was so contained within myself that I didn’t take any pictures. I didn’t stop, either, so that would have been a challenge. I may have been less congenial than I often am on the trails. If you saw me, please don’t take offense, I was just inside my own head. 

But in the end, I finished the run in a surprisingly decent time (my third fastest pace for this loop), and as I write this, after a brief run on Sunday, my legs feel solid despite adding four miles to my weekly mileage this past week. 

Now I just have to contemplate the equivalent of four of those loops in a row. 

A Moment of Stillness in a Long Run

Yesterday, with my Achilles again feeling better, I went for my first long run of the year. For me, a long run is anything that lasts longer than 1.5 hours, regardless of distance traveled. This time, I headed down to the Mississippi River Gorge, in the middle of the Twin Cities, to get my dose of wildness for the weekend.

I have avoided the trails for the last two weeks. With the disturbingly warm weather, the trails have been either ice sheets or mud patches, or both. I don't trust my Achilles on ice yet, and I don't like to run in mud because it tears up the trail. So it was with great excitement that I woke to 15 degree weather and frozen dirt trails.

The promised snowpocalypse missed us entirely.

I usually run without pausing on my long runs. That is, after all, the point of the run.

Yesterday, though, I paused. I came to a spot where a small side stream joins the Mississippi, a place where I often see fresh signs that there are beavers living nearby.

Today, with the sudden temperature drop, the stream's mouth was covered in a thin layer of pancake ice.

And it was talking.

As I stopped to look, the ice made cracking, popping noises. Surprisingly, despite being in the middle of a metro area, I couldn't hear anything other than the ice, and a plane passing overhead.

Looking and listening longer, I noticed to my dismay a piece of trash under the ice. But that trash drew my attention to movement under the ice: thousands of minnows were circling in the shallows, their dark, streamlined shapes highlighted by the bright sunlight shining through the ice.

Without the trash, I would not have noticed the life under the ice.

And somehow, after a week of despair about the state of our world, I realized things might just be ok.

Run the Year 2017

A new year, a new, giant challenge for myself.

Somewhat on a whim, I decided to try to run the year: 2017 miles in 2017. Breaking that down, that's around 5.5 miles per day, every day, or 38 miles per week, every week.

Realistically, I'm not going to run every day. Nor am I going to average 38 miles every week. Heck, I hit 30 this past week, and am only hoping for 30-34 this next week. So there is going to be a little bit of long-term planning involved.

At the same time, I can't really think about the whole year, or I get completely overwhelmed. I think I can do this. It's going to take some serious mental focus and more than a little motivation, but I think it's possible.

At the same, I have some other goals for this year. Some I've had before, but I'm approaching with new vigor this year. So here are my goals for 2017:

1. Run 2017 miles. 
2. Run from Lake Superior to Eagle Mountain (I have a route now)
3. Become a certified running coach (RRCA is the plan)
4. "Run" the BRT. 

I think #1 and #4 are the "reach" goals for this year. The others are more in line with past goals and possibilities. 

It should be another good year. 

Winter Running

I think my favorite part about  running in the winter are the picture possibilities.

Turkey Day at the Races.

In what may be at risk of becoming a Thanksgiving tradition, I again ran the 1 mile Tough Turkey race and the 5k Gobble Gallop up in Duluth on Thanksgiving. The difference this year is that I actually intended to run both of them. 

As usual, this is a bit of an off-season time for me, so I’m never quite sure how I will feel or how well the races will go when I sign up for these. I was feeling a bit flat the day before, and had pretty well thrown away any real hope of doing well in either race by the time Thursday morning came around. 

As she did last year, G had signed up for the 5k only, so I took the opportunity provided by staying with my parents and headed down solo to check in and do my mile warm up routine. It was just above freezing this year, with a tiny bit of moisture in the air. Not ideal conditions by any means for a mile race, but better than last year. 

The advantage and disadvantage of racing in your home town, especially when you’re fourth generation in a town of 85,000, is you know a lot of people. There is no hiding in Duluth for me. Prior to the race, I ran into my brother’s best friend and his two kids, as well as his parents and brother (who was also running both races that morning). As I went through my dynamic warm up, I heard an occasional “hi Jamie” from the crowd, not knowing who was saying it. And, of course, I know the RD for this race, so I took a brief second to say hi to him before I finished my warmups. 

G and my parents showed up before race time (I think my dad has been on a bit of a nostalgia trip this year, watching me race for the first time since high school) and in time to watch the 1/4 mile kid’s race at 9AM. This is usually a highlight, as all the kids chase a guy dressed up in a turkey costume down the road, and many of them run with their parents. And since it’s a children’s race, they all get to wear bibs with the number “1” on them. 

The mile went off at 9:10 on the dot. As usual, it was a much smaller field than the 5k, with only 100 or so runners on the start line. The mile usually has a large number of kids and, as they do, they all took off at an almost absurd pace. I let them sprint their hearts out, taking it out in a quick pace (4:45 or so according to my watch). I don’t know that I could have done anything near a 4:45, but I wanted to see if anybody would make a race of it. 

Nobody did, and I eased off to about 5:30 pace or so, and, looking back every hundred meters to make sure nobody was closing, crossed the line in a surprisingly easy 5:40 to win by eight seconds. Unless I am forgetting something, this may be my first overall win since I was a sprinter in high school.  The fact that if I had run the 5k at that pace, I would still have been 3 minutes out of first place diminished the elation not one bit. That was the first time I feel like I’ve executed a solid race strategy in a long time. 

Of course, the start time of 9:30 for the 5k meant that I now had less than 15 minutes before the start of my next race. I had just enough time to catch my breath (while running to my car), swap out my number, and say hi to my parents before the 5k started. I missed seeing G between the races. And due to apparent blindness on my part, I missed seeing her finish the 5k as well. 

As usual, the start of a 5k with 2,200 runners was chaotic. I put myself in the front line, and in the dash from the line got caught heading out a little faster than I intended. This time, though, I quickly sorted myself out and slowed to what I thought would be a sustainable pace. 

I actually felt really good throughout this race, countering my feeling at the beginning of the day. I looked at my watch less often than I sometimes do during races, running more by feel than by the watch, and that seemed to work really well. I found myself running with a group of maybe 5 runners taking a similar pace, which made the whole experience easier. 

When I did check my watch, for the most part I was surprised by how fast I was running. I was consistently between 6:05 and 6:15 pace throughout the race, only slipping lower than that on the uphill from downtown Duluth up to Fitger’s. Despite the faster pace than last year, I ended up with a lot of gas left in the last half mile, and pushed it in a little faster 

I’m actually a little disappointed that I didn’t look at my watch a little more often for the actual time I was running. I finished the race in 19:05 for 27th place over all, and 4th in my age group, but I am quite sure that I could have run a good deal faster if I had pushed a little more. I think in this case I just didn’t have enough faith in my fitness. 

I am quite happy over all with the result of these two races. I finished each race faster than I did last year, and finished 40 second up on my combined 1 mile and 5k times from last year. 

That said, I got left in the dust by G, who improved on her time by a full 10 minutes. She improved so much that I missed her finish, thinking I would have to run back in the pack a ways to see her . . .

Bucket List Race

Well, it happened.

A couple weeks back, I signed up for the lottery to get into the Garry Bjorklund half marathon. I'd tried once before, and didn't make it in, so I'm happy to make it in this time.

I grew up watching this and Grandma's Marathon every year, walking down the hill four blocks from my house to cheer on the runners at the top of the largest "hill" (Lemondrop) on the course. I always figured that if I ever ran a half or a full on roads, this would be the one to choose. I will pass my sister's house at exactly the halfway point, and pass my parents at Lemondrop, and see from there how I can finish.

It will be interesting to see what I can do on a road at sea level. My fastest half to date was run up near Boulder on the trails, so as long as I pace myself reasonably well I can pretty well bank on a PR.

It will be interesting. I hope it's fun as well.