Even a bad day can be a great day.

Lead up to race day was amazing! Whistler is one hell of a place to throw a race party. We got up to town on Thursday and of course zip-lined about 2 hours after arrival. Thought, better do it sooner, than later. I’m a touch scared of heights, so why the hell not. Let the adventures begin!

OH Crap, no turning back now!

Zip lining was crazy fun by the way. Only had a death grip on one gate that was hanging about 150ft from the forest floor. A bit hard to let go : )

I was calm and never really nervous the days leading up. Maybe it was because it was my 3^rd one or maybe because I still didn’t think I was actually going to be doing another IM.

Hmmm, either way.

My left shoulder got damaged a few weeks before, so I knew the swim was going to be a big question mark. And for some reason I was ok with that. The bike was the bike and I was worried about the flat out and back in the middle of the course, but I figured it would work out. And the run, I was ready for the run, wanted the run, couldn’t wait for the run.

I couldn’t get over the feeling of happiness when I got around friends. Alley and I  rode up with Nick, Matt and Tif and had a great time. Felt way more like vacation than heading to a race. When I saw Josh, Joey, Ryan, Aimee, or anyone from the team I’d feel like it was Christmas morning and everyone had new toys to play with.

Race Morning...

Woke up about 2 minutes before the alarm went off, this is going to be a long day. Up, dressed, eat, out the door. Alley and Tif dropped Matt and I at the buses and the nerves were still at bay. 

There’s nothing like the morning light on a swim start. Snow peak mountains all around, amazing.

Race Start –

Swim was brutal, no need to sugar coat or over dramatize it. Should of given boxing gloves to everyone before. Shoulder started hurting with about a mile to go. Got out of the water and felt like I’d put in as little effort as possible, but my shoulder ached  more than I had anticipated. Felt like I spent an hour in T1, but it was only about 7 minutes.

Whistler was an amazing arena for an IM. The town/city absorbed the race and even had areas that didn’t even know the race was going on. There is everything to do that you could imagine.

The course, especially the bike is phenomenal, a true test for a well-rounded bike rider.  I had my moments on the bike, and man were they sweet. I love climbing and this course had plenty. The pain in my shoulder never went away and ached everytime I went into areo postion. 

I cracked after the last climb to Green Lake at about 105 miles in.

The heat finally had its way with me and my head  was swimming for the last 6 miles. I couldn’t lose any heat and finally the stomach and the head went south right when I first saw the lake heading back into town. I was out of water and my sports drink was hot, hot, hot. 

My Bear Crew

I remember looking at my tires over and over again, thinking that I had flatted both and that's why I was moving so slow. I had one rider about 50 yards in front of me and none behind and kept thinking – I’m the last one on course, how long have I been out here. How did this happen? This kept repeating over and over in my head.

T2 was a bit of a blur. I had lost a contact so needed to drop in another one and that was the last thing I remember until mile 4ish. 

(After the race Alley showed me pics of stopping and posing with her right after T2 and I still don’t remember any of that.)

Dazed and confused

 I was hot and couldn’t get rid of the heat. I kept telling myself don’t talk to anyone you don’t make any sense. You’ll get pulled from the race. 1st aid station was 8 cups over the head, ice down the shorts and one water in the body. Still couldn’t talk and could only walk. At mile 3 (one hour in) I gave up was crying and was starting to looking for someone to give my bib to, I thought if I could just get my bib off and hand it to someone I could get out of the heat. My head was on fire, but my shoulders and legs were freezing. I knew that was far from good, and just over the line from just having a bad day.

Alley really appeared out of nowhere and I could see the concern on her face. I wasn’t aware of much, but seeing her face I think scared me the most. I quickly remembered Teresa saying when you see your support crew out there you DO NOT show them your distress! They have 1 maybe 2 seconds to see you after standing for hours to see you.

I wanted to drop, but in an instant you remember all the nights in the basement, early swim starts, time and sacrifices both you and your loved one has made over the last year. Hearing myself reassure Alley that I was going to be ok, I quickly believed I wasn’t lying. The head and the stomach were gone, but the legs could go.

New game plan….Walk as much of the 1^st lap as possible, then run and depend on your legs for the 2nd lap. 

I told Alley after I couldn't comprehend that the laps were 13 miles each. Just that the 2nd lap would be shorter, because I'd be running more. Hopefully.

Photo by Bri Leahy

2nd lap started and everything started to turn. 

Lack of nutrition was catching up, but the legs and stomach actually felt like running. 

3x's I had other runners tell me to stay on them. Just move your legs and follow my numbers. Stay on my hip and ignore everything else. Amazing how everyone looks out for each other.

My nutrition for the run:

30+ cups of water

8 cups of coke = to about one coke can

1 Ruffle potato chip

1 Gu – which took a mile to suck down

Going into this Ironman I felt like it was my last one and I soaked it all in. The training is long hard hours away from family and friends. It’s never about the day, it’s about the 8 months leading up to the day. 

The day, there is nothing like the day of. 

Support crews, yours and others. Athletes, teammates, pushing you on to have your best day while they fight their our battles. It’s a long long day and too many things happen to remember. I felt like I was fortunate to turn the day around after pretty much a full blown meltdown. 

At one point on the 2^nd lap I sat down on a water cooler and had this conversation with myself after getting started again: Just four more miles. Four more miles and we’re done. We’re not an endurance athlete we just have to quit thinking we are. After these four we’ll never do this again….but I can run, no one else is running, I can run. I love this.

Would never have finished this one without my Girl.

I don’t know if I need to go back to Whistler for the Ironman again, but I also know I don’t have to say now or ever that I won’t ever again.  On Wednesday after the race Alley asked if it was too soon to start thinking about how I might have done if I’d had “my” day out there. I laughed and we talked about how just 15 minutes too long on the bike cooked the rest of the day. And “How next time” slipped into the conversation several times without either of us questioning it : ) 

Just because you knock a man down dosen't mean you got him beat - Ray L.

Getting your ass handed to you and other wonderful sights.

Orcas Island 25k, 4480ish ft of elevation in under 16 miles.

OK, sign me up.

A few months ago we signed up and I figured, sure, I won’t be in great shape, but it’ll be fun and we’ve never been to Orcas Island. So what the hell.

Training was ok but I was really feeling a left foot injury that I needed to take care sooner rather than later so my trail miles were down to maybe just 30% of my weekly mileage.  And my weekly mileage was way down to around 18 miles a week.  Also, there hasn’t been any serious hill trailing work in the last 3 months, ugh. Really only had a quick 14 mile loop  at Grand Ridge last weekend with Alley.

Before I get into the rest. What an amazing weekend. I still can’t get the 2^nd downhill out of my mind. Good friends, sunny, otters, eagles, and a well-organized race.

Looking at the course profile the first real climb started at roughly 5.6 miles in.

 

Which meant no racing the early miles and keeping the running easy  and light. That held for the most part, but some of that part was so damn fun, you couldn’t help but go a little overboard. Everything felt great heading into the first aid station. I rushed by only grabbing a GU just in case. I was running with a Camelback on and had fluids, Bloks and Gu onboard. I really dislike stopping at aid stations. Always feel like they stop any momentum. 

 

Right after the AS the Power Line climb started. From the profile I was thinking it would be like Cleator Rd. on the Chuckanut course. Just find a rhythm, settle in and climb steadily. It was more like Chin Scaper 3x. Straight up, relentless, and unforgiving. I was moving as slow as I could without going backwards. Finally at the top it felt really good to run again.

The downhill – part one

Held steady with a group of 7 that I caught up with and fell in behind. I felt the pace was a little too easy, but also knew the next climb was in about 2.5 miles down the trail. I picked my places to past a few people still running easy, about 8:45 pace. We rounded an amazing outcropping of stone and saw that the trail fell away then zigzagged back to the right. NOW

Photo by  Glenn Tachiyama Photography, LLC

I gave one “on your left” and bolted to the front, my buddy Michael yelled out “Go get it” within about 10 second I was running alone and flying. Pace at 6:45, that I slowed to 7 because there was still a climb to come.

I love this part. I can climb all day if I know there’s a chance to fly from the top.  It’s like snowboarding. Everything goes quiet, the focus amplifies, and speed and momentum are used with what feels like unlimited effort. Through my head I say, avoid by jumping over, some of the most rock and root filled sections I never step foot down. I jump, launch, my quiet steady voice in my head screams, “Over”, calmly.

I hit the climb and was up the switchbacks 3 minutes before the group behind me hit the base of the climb.

You know that sinking feeling when you know the day is starting to turn. About 2/3’s the way up the switchbacks I felt ice cold, the last drink and Gu I took still sitting at the top of my throat. I knew I didn’t have the endurance for the whole climb so I was trying to go as slow as I could, but I was done when I got to the top. I ran across the summit  to the aid station and grabbed a drink and just kept walking.

Photo by  Glenn Tachiyama Photography, LLC

My hip had frozen up from too much climbing and I couldn’t really run. Everything felt hard, and my feet were killing me. I hit the downhill and kept saying, “I’m taking these too pedestrian” pace was at 10. Ugh. But it was something.

The same thing happened at Chuckanut 30K last year, after some great running my hip froze up and keeping even 10 min. pace on the downs was painful. So I had a little pity party, then looked around and soaked it up. Then my right inner thigh pulled, which I was expecting. When you’re breaking with every step going down you flex your inner thighs more than you should and whammo. Ouchiness happens.

PB  Glenn Tachiyama Photography, LLC

SO that’s when I decided to just sit down. I made myself sit for 2 full minutes, calm down, breathe deeply, let a few people pass, then started a walk, then got back to an easy jog, then rounded a corner and the switch flipped and I was running back at pace on the downs again. ???

I kept hearing as I ran by people, “isn’t that the guy that was sitting back there?” Not sure what the deal is with that, but as long as it comes back??? I guess it’s just something I  just have to work with.  The course was amazing after that again. Hitting the lake for the last time, I wasn’t sure how close the finish was as I knew my Garmin was off by at least a half mile.

I was sort of chasing this woman out of a little zigzag field that ended at the base of this nasty little hill. She looked over her shoulder then back at the road with a look of “we doin this?” meaning are we going to race this in or not. My legs were dead, I cramped 3x had to sit down once to work that cramp out. I yelled out to her. “There’s no one behind us, not going to risk cramping again this late. Not gonna try and pass you.” She let out a loud “thank GAWD!” and we picked up an easy quick pace to finish it out. About 200 yards from the finish.



Otters playing in the lake

What a day, I sat down after crossing the line watching this dog play. She’d get excited then lose her balance and fall. Had something wrong with her, but as happy as could be. I felt much the same. I was dehydrated, freezing cold, and couldn’t really move, but I was happy.  I could wait to see Alley come across the line and hear how her day went. She’s a freaking rock star on the trails, and she eats up the downhill’s also. Fun fun!

Eagle fly by hiking on the beach

So yeah, I got my ass handed to me, but that was expected, that was OK. Always something to learn, always moving on, always pushing. Plus the next day we hiked with the pups and saw a romp of otters playing in the lake about 2 miles into one of the trails we ran on the day before.

How can you beat that? 





Rest, relax, mend, repeat.

I wrote this 4 weeks ago and forgot to post. Oops...

It’s looking like this years trail season has come to an abrupt end. Nothing broken or twisted just the rise of a few tell tell feelings that I hope to head off before they turn into something I can’t walk or run away from.

Inner thigh – hip  tear from the beginning of the year seems to have set sail again and a nagging left foot problem that has been squawking louder and louder with every other run. Instead of my usual proven plan of “ignor-tion” I thought rest, relax, and mend. And just to make sure I got sick and came down with an ear infection to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid, like sign up for a half at St. Eds or 20 miles at Cougar Mt : /

Recapping this last year

Amazing – this year has opened up SO MUCH in perspective and falling in love with running again. Not just miles on the legs, but miles in the woods, through valleys, up mountains, across ravines, and rivers. Across that field of having to, to wanting to. Excited from the thought of what’s beyond the next ridge or meadow. Laughing out loud on screaming switchback down hills. Run, leap, pivot/swing, full gas, jump tight, bank, back to run…breathe. I love the downs - Peregrine diving towards earth.

Looking back on the races this year…

Squak Mt, first time my back crumpled from climbing, not after the first 1300’ in 2 mile stretch, but on the 2^nd 800 ft mile climb. And the 1^st time I fell trail running. BOOM, then silence. Mostly I remember the screaming downhill, the fog at the top, and thinking I lost the lead group, only to find out after that I was only about 30 seconds behind. Brutal, but can’t wait to dance with it again next year.

Chuckanut 30K – the first time I trained through a race. I had 34 miles on the week before the start which included a hill repeat 2 days before of 1200’ over 8 miles. The beauty of that course, amazing, a playground. Brutal climbs that I focused on like hill repeats. 2 minutes on, 1 minute rest/hike/walk, that lasted for 43 minutes!!! I learned never shelf what you think you can do. Hips tightened up and couldn’t run downhill for about a mile, painful, then it opened back up and I flew for the last 4ish long miles down to the finish. I pushed it so hard, hunting as many as I could find. 14^th overall I think, tough, fun day.

Taylor Mt – I have a love/hate with Taylor Mt. This year the course won, I was hurting like no other race. Dehydration set in and I was out on fumes crossing the line. 

Grand Ridge – I love this race, the half course has it all, steep climbs, steeper downs, rocks, streams, tight tight switch backs roller coasting turns through the trees. FUCK YEAH! By far my best race start to finish. Trust the game plan. Let everyone go at the start, run your own race over the climbs, then full gas engage everything on the twisting 4 mile downhill. Fight back out of there until the last downhill to the finish and everything gets burned to the ground. I crossed the line leaving EVERYDAMNTHING on the field. Good day.

Volcanic 50K, St.Helens, I just laugh thinking back on this one. The website clearly said, “This should not be your 1^st Ultra”. I was ready, but what the hell was I thinking? Have to do again in 2015 : ) 

And fun is what it all was -  and really what it comes down to. That constant mantra all season of – Fu*k this is cool. Gawd look at that. Holy Sh*t, hang on, this is SO –MUCH-FUN! Killing yourself up Si, Tiger, Cut Throat, Sqawk, etc…but damn it was like playing. Like seeing a new 2 story jungle gym on the play ground.

Training runs with the Girlie. New playgrounds just an hour from the house. A new community that’s excited to see others just try. Personal limiters raised, pushed aside, then raised again.

All year I’d say to myself, “It’s hard, that’s why it’s hard.” Running up Mt. Si comes to mind, but what fun. Looking across to Alley after some beast of a training run and knowing, yeah… that was sweet. That kicked the shit out of us, but that was sweet! 

I’d like to thank Seven Hills Running for keeping an ear open for all the questions I had about my 1^st Ultra and trail running in general. Also, his crew at the store that always keeps it real and down to earth, even if they’ve just raced and won some 50k or 50 miler that morning. Great work there Phil!

So for a few short weeks I’ll take it a bit easy, but 2014 and all the fun and excitement that that has in store will start to unfold all too soon. Today I even came home with another wall calendar for 2014 and a list that I’ve had with rough scribbles of dates and codes scrawled on it.  Better get started and get that thing loaded up, feel like I’m behind already ; )

See ya out there sometime…

And we danced...Volcanic 50K

And we danced, and we cried. And we laughed and had a really really really good time Take my hand, let's have a blast. And remember this moment for the rest of our lives…. - M&RL

 

This blog post shouldn’t scare you away from this race. It should be a MUST for anyone interested in seeing what’s in our own backyard. An amazing race that puts you in places that make you realize how very very small and lucky we are. Also, involuntarily yelling,  “Holy Sh!t this is SO damn COOL!” over and over again.

Of course the real race ALWAYS starts with the bathroom line. There in the early dark hours with bibs in hand pinning to our shorts with only 20 people ahead of us.  Looking good so far!

A little nervous at the start, but not any different from all the other trail races this year. AK and I were talking on the drive up about our prep for this race: Evergreen Trail Run Series (7 races), Chuckanut 30K, Mt. Si, 3 Summits, too many Grand Ridge runs of 16+ miles, 26.2 at Discovery, and the Cutthroat Classic.

Totally ready! Bring this shit ON!

AK and I have done plenty of races together, but this was the first endurance race that we’ve done together. I’ve done IM and she’s been at the finish, and she’s did an Chuckanut 50K and other marathons and I’ve been at the finish. This was the first time we’d both be in action. I was nervous for her, but knew that she’s a badass and can bring the fight when needed. But still, anything can happen on race day.

My big worry on the day was pulling an I.T. Band again. I feel lucky enough to get by on marathon’s, Chicago it went at mile 24, lucky enough to happen at the end, but still the pain made me want to throw up. And of course there was IMC 2010. I was hoping for a clean run, in the back of my mind I knew I didn’t have that fight in me this day. Some days you have that fire in you to scream F**k You at anything that gets thrown at you, but this morning I needed a clean run cuz I didn’t think I’d make it through if the fight came to me.

AK and I said “I love you, stay safe”



Photo by Alley Kloba

The gun went off, the Garmin was started and the 4 mile, 4000’ climb to the lava fields began.

I kept thinking of the first 4 miles as the swim part of Ironman: Slow, easy, calm. Slow, easy, calm.

Lots of people passed by, most sounded gassed, breathing heavy as we hit the first ridge and saw St. Helens glowing in the morning sunrise for the first time. Amazing

I power walked/hiked, ran some, mostly just kept it easy. Across the first lava field was hard in that you had to keep your eyes down and try to stay on course. I was terrible at this, kept telling people ‘follow at your own risk’. An older woman and I paired up pretty good and leap frogged each other back and forth. We were with a group of about 20 and finished off the lava alone having dropped the rest. And we did a bad job at crossing?!?! I ran with Mosley (her last name) for a while, she totally rocked!
 

Photo by Paul Nelson Photography



Photo by Alley Kloba

After that it was down to the trail running I’d been aching for. Rolling, single track with canyons and foothills just feet away. More mountains as a distant backdrop to that, still in the morning light and quiet. A few hundred feet descent into the first Aid Station (AS), then a 40 ft straight drop to the river crossing below then a rope to help climb/crawl out the other side. Very Bear Grylls-n’shit!



Photo by Alley Kloba

After that was the long long slog to the top for the next climb. I felt the stomach start to go and tried to nurse it a bit. However, with the sun and the constant climbing I could feel the turning of the stomach and couldn’t do much to stop it. At 3 hours in the stomach refused anything. It took 45 minutes to get a single Gu down the hatch. - Not good

Time is a funny thing in endurance races: Top of the hour, side of the hour, bottom of the hour, side of the hour, top of the hour.

I figured I’d try the stomach again and was surprised to see that 2 hours had passed since I stopped putting in any fuel. I don’t remember AS #2, but I was on the hunt for AS #3, I had to get there. Felt weak and head was swimming, the heat was eating into me and the stomach was NOT happy. The urge to dry heave mixed w/ a growling hungry stomach. I climbed into AS #3 and collapsed on the stream that was the only water source for the AS.

20.25 Miles / 6 Hours

photo by Alley Kloba

Just needed some time off the legs and time to regroup. I sat for 8 minutes, pouring water over myself and realizing this may be as far as I go. Then I realized, if I quit here: 5 mile hike down to Johnston Ridge, 40 mile drive to the hwy, 80 miles back to Marble Mt. Snowpark where the car is parked. Even worse, 5 mile hike down and AK, after running, would have to drive 120 miles to come get me….. full on zombie-walked out of the AS and just kept saying ‘walk, walk, walk’ - 4 miles to the next station.

Windy Ridge

Leaving AS #3 you had to reckon with Windy Ridge. If I wasn’t in such a haze I might have thought: How? Too far gone to push over what was ahead. 800 ft in just under 2 miles. No shade, and  most of the trail was only about 8 inches at best for 20-30 yards at a time with a 150-200 ft drop to the left.

Photo by Alley Kloba

This tested my fairly new problem with heights. I’ve always loved being up as high as I could possibly climb or get in a building, but over the last 12 years that has, not so slowly, become a major problem? Causing an involuntary shut down and frozen feeling throughout the body. Just great for a race!

Getting to the top of Windy Ridge, you could look straight into the blast zone and new cone that’s been growing there. I looked back over the massive climb back down to the valley floor and saw someone w/ a pink top starting their way to the climb. ??? Could that be AK?

I laughed out loud and clapped. Seeing what could have been her put wind back in my sails. It was 2 miles of downs and flats to the next and last AS. No shade, but no climbing. I could handle 2 miles. I knew if I could make the AS I’d make the day.


Photo by Alley Kloba

The time cutoff was 4 o’clock for AS #4 –you’d be pulled from the course no questions asked.

Heading into AS #4 I waited until I was under the shade of the tent to finally look at my watch to see what time of day it was: 1:40pm. Safe.

Photo by Alley Kloba

Mile 24.4 / 7 hours

My thought was if I can make it to AS #4 I’d rest as long as I needed and easily make the last 8 mile push. I stayed there for 10 minutes, finally being able to take in some fuel: a cup of Roctane and a handful of Ruffles. The stomach let a little/enough in that I felt I was in good shape. As I left I spotted the same person in pink coming over the ridge about a mile or 2 away.

 I figured the course profile was all downhill after one last little climb of about 300ft and I’d finish up in about 1.5 hours at most.

The reality of the situation clearly opened up after the climb. The down hills were too steep and narrow to safely run on tired legs across sand and boulders that where sharp and loose. The canyons that they warned about that went on forever wasn’t the problem, it was that at max I could only go downhill at 17 min pace. Then climb, crawl, and scramble up at 23 min pace. Too quickly you do the math and figure at BEST you’re going to be out here for another 2.5 hours. That’s if everything goes well.

Photo by Alley Kloba

Finally reaching the forest and running on dirt trails again I was ecstatic to say the least. But only to have the trail dump back into the last lava field just over a mile long. I wasn’t ready for a fight today. 9.25 hours on my legs and I was done. My left I.T Band had that familiar sick ache as I crossed the last lava field that I'd been afraid of all day. I reached 30.5 miles at the end of the lava field FINALLY and a volunteer on course said it’s all open trail and service road to the finish line from here.

I sat on a stone stretching out my I.T. Band for 2 minutes wondering if I was going to see AK crossing the lava field just above me. Then I just decided it’s going to hurt. 16 minutes or 45 minutes. I crossed the last dried stream bed and hit the service road hard. Carried 8:15 minute pace and quickly caught the 3-4 people that went by when I was sitting on the stone. About 5 minutes into it, I.T. pulled, run light and hard don’t stop.

Garmin chirped 31 miles, one more to go.

 Pain is a funny thing, I don’t ever talk about it with friends because it sounds stupid and I always get the same response of “Why didn’t you just stop?” I don’t stop because I didn’t need to. It hurt, things hurt, it wasn’t broken, the damage wasn’t going to be long term and I wasn’t going to let something that I was afraid of win. Not after 32 miles. So you bite down, shed tears and focus on turn over, breathing, pace, being as relaxed as possible and ignore the fact that you feel like a rag doll with wolves tearing at your leg.

I thought, in a few hours AK and I will be sitting on the hotel bed watching tv laughing about what the hell we just did to ourselves. - it's funny, I could ignore the beating I was taking by focusing on the details of what'd we be eating and watching.

Garmin chirped at 33 miles

Nothing but forest ahead. I said out loud, ‘It’s 34 miles, I can’t do that.” – I never knew the exact mileage and had heard 32,33, & 34 miles throughout the day.

I started to try and stop. If you’ve ever run with a blown I.T. Band you have no control over your leg, from about mid-hip to your ankle. You kick the bottom of your leg forward with your thigh sending lightning rods from hip to ankle and across the knee, and hope like hell that your foot lands in a way that you can basically pole vault over to the good leg.

 At 33 miles I knew I couldn’t run one more mile to the finish, then to the right of the trail about 20 yards down I saw a line of parked cars and tents………………PPPPHHHHH AAAAWWWW KKKKK…….

Finish time: 9:58 and change

I crossed the line and was seated and looked after by a great volunteer, who brought me food and water. All I could say was, "Food, water, not cold." The people that were cold were being laid out with IV's behind the chairs. Then she lead me to my car after about 5 minutes.

As I got to the car I turned as people clapped for another finisher and I saw a person in pink cross the line. I told my volunteer, “I think my wife just finished”. She rushed off and sure enough 2 minutes later she brought AK around the corner. I yelled to her, “It WAS you that was behind me!”

This course was beautiful and wounded beyond words: Beautiful Destruction. It’s amazing that over 30 years later anything could grow back there again. I had a GoPro and wanted to use it during, but decided against because I felt I had to show respect to my 1^st ultra-race and focus on finishing. Same thing with taking pictures, I just couldn’t take my phone out and take pictures like at Cutthroat and other races.

My mantras throughout the day:

Calm, slow, easy.

Wait for the window to open. Breathe. Don’t Panic.

Walk everything first, run when you can.



10+ years ago on our 1st trip to St. Helens

Not sure if I’d ever do this event again, I’d love to think so. The first time AK and I ever went to St. Helens we were in a constant bliss of ‘what’s around the next trail, what’s over that ridge, how can we make it over to that area’. Sort of a fantasy land of trails and sights. Even after 10 hours on course, I still felt a bit of that, minus the lava fields. So yeah, maybe again sometime.

Chuckanut 30K, or 19 miles of up

 

 

Sunday morning was calm and easy. We had scheduled this race as a supported training run so there was no pre-race nervousness the night before like with most races. Driving there was quick and easy, a friend doing the 12k offered to drive so I knew I just had to make it to the car and I’d be good in the morning.

I had a short run Saturday and the legs felt good, a little tired, but no issues. I had 34 miles for the week already and was determined not to rest for this race as I wanted to truly use it for training. Plus, 19 miles on tired legs is something I should be able to draw on over the next year or so.

Run goal was to not go too deep and run easy. Nothing above 80% effort.

At the start I tucked in the back with Alley because we both didn’t want to get caught up in the early race excitement and end up over doing it too early, with 900ft in the first two miles that would be pretty easy to do. I stayed with my group until mile 1 then slowly paced away from them, I was loosely the last person in the bigger group up ahead breaking away.

I ran easy in the back until we hit the top of mile 2 then wanted to enjoy the downhill within reason. I past about 10 people within the first minute of the down section and started to run easy with lots of speed carrying into the switchbacks. It still surprises me how fast you can gap people on the downhills. I could see 2 people about 10 seconds ahead and was gaining quickly on them. On the switchbacks I could see a guy in an orange shirt gaining on me and I yelled out something stupid like ‘YEAH, WORK THAT SHIT!’ I love running the downs, but I really love watching someone run the downs.

I was staying on 6:10 pace and this guy was full out flying behind me. LOVE IT!

He caught me just as I caught the 2 in front of me and about 3 seconds later we hit the 3 mile climb. Orange guy started the climb aggressively and I never saw him again. I started the climb and did 2 minutes on, one minute off. I kept telling myself it’s just like hill repeats, pace, it’s a training run. I ignored the people around me and just concentrated on my watch. 36 minutes to climb that beast, fukkas! I could of watched an episode of Friends in that time.

I was kind of running with two guys up that thing, but dropped them on the last qtr mile or so before the 1^st aid station. I stayed at a steady strong pace (not race pace) and looked back after 2 minutes and there was no one.

I was happily in no mans land

I didn’t stop at the aid station and started on what turned out to be my favorite part of the course. Rock scrambles, tight single track turns, 2-4 ft drops, bounding from stone to stone. Running on the ridge, to the left the hill fell away pretty quickly through heavy forest, while on the right there was a stone wall about 4-6 ft high. Every once in a while the wall would open up to a large flat stone and I could just catch a glimpse of the view to the right. After the second time seeing an opening I told myself, ‘this is a training run STOP and look!’ So on the 3^rd one I rounded a corner and ran up a 4 foot stone slab to the top to see the view………..HOLY SHIT!

I think I saw a monkey raising a baby lion up over it's head? Could of been the sweat in my eyes!?!

I could see about 3 valleys rolling into one another and a mountain range behind them catching the amazing yellow cast of morning light. This side of the ridge was a cliff wall that just fell straight down. I stood there for about a minute just drinking it all in. Then someone ran by. Oh. That’s right, in the middle of a race, but so glad I stopped.

I caught up with the guy that went by, who was wearing a Lake Stevens 70.3 visor, and followed him until we hit the down and he let me go by. That was the last I saw of him. I still couldn’t believe what a beautiful course we were getting to run on. By the bottom of that hill I could feel my hips starting to tighten up and then after the endless 3^rd climb I couldn’t really get a good rhythm on the downs.

I’ve noticed lately that the Run Gods giveth and taketh, just as easy one way, as the other.

By mile 12-13 my hips were pretty tight and the downhill before the last climb was killing me. I felt like I was being pushed down the hill and just barely had time to get me feet under me before falling forward. This has happened a few times before, comes on so quickly, maybe over the course of 3-4 minutes? It was a wide open easy down that I should have been able to fly down, instead I was painfully scratching out 10 minute miles. Ugh….

Finally I hit the aid station at 14.4, which was the base of the famed “Chinscraper”. *queue claps of thunder and a bwhahahahaha……

I walked (hiked) the whole thing : ) that shit was steep. Reach out in front of you and grab a tree root steep.

On the hike up I stepped up oddly on a root with my right leg and my inner thigh freaked out and spiked with pain. Hmmmm, this could be bad!?! I stopped for a minute and started walking and then started to laugh a bit because I wasn’t moving too much slower than before. So my plan was to ignore it and shuffle along for a bit. By the time I hit the top, 30 minutes later, the leg was fine and I felt oddly rested. Whatever.

So this was a training run and not a race. My mental rules were as follows:

1.       No racing

2.       No effort above 80% perceived

3.       No going “all in”at any point

4.       Let people pass and go by without contest

5.       AND NO FK’N RACING!

 

However : ) when I hit the start of the 4 mile downhill to the finish (dropping 1440’), the hips were open for business again. I tested a bit then just gave the legs the “free to fly” green light - (Run Gods Giveth)

Breathing was rested, legs were doing little work, heart rate was way down. Light, easy, fun.

I past 4 people in the last 3 mile stretch, but wasn’t trying to catch them. I just kept saying to myself ‘have fun, run easy, enjoy this’

 

Last 4 mile splits: 7:12, 7:02, 7:08, 7:35

Finished in 3:38, 20^th overall

6500’ of elevation gain

 

The course was the middle part of the Chuckanut 50k that Alley ran a few years ago as her first ultra. Running through some of the single track, rock scramble, hand over hand climbing portions of the course ( the best parts) I couldn’t imagine doing it covered in 3’ of snow and frozen mud like she had. I had a huge sense of pride and ultra understanding of what a Badass Alley is. Overall it was a fan-freakin-tastic great day out on the trails. A must run for anyone interested in trail running.

 

And my pre-race goals were met. I never felt like I was racing, I didn’t care who past me or who I past. I was just out for a long run on a great sunny day.

Remember not to panic…

Saturday was the 5th race in the Evergreen Trail Run series and I had trained pretty specific for the 10 mile trail race at Soaring Eagle. I got there with Alley, right on time, about 45 minutes before, parked, made our long way to the start and heard from a friend that the start time had been pushed back to 9:45. Cool, so instead of heading out for my warm up run right away I waited 15 extra minutes and then took off. The last thing I told Alley was “I have my phone on me, text me if you need to”.

 

The warm up run felt great, legs were rested, I hit the 10 minute mark and turned around. I was heading back and decided to add in a sharp hill climb to the right and figured I’d work the legs and would have plenty of time to recover on the mile back to the start. The climb was pretty hard, but short to the top where the road ended at the golf course. I hit the stop sign and then started on the downhill. I’m about 15 seconds into the downhill and I hear a text alarm through my headphones. At the bottom of the hill I read the all caps text – “EARL WAS WRONG!!! THE 10 MILE JUST STARTED!!! – crap….super crap! Crap crap…

 

I had the feeling like I missed the last BART train out of the city, like I slept through my last final in college, like I wasted 3 hard ass weeks of training.

 

I was bolting back to the start when I just said to myself, ‘enough, slow down, don’t panic, it is what it is. Let’s get back and see what the options are.’

 

I finally made it to our car, which meant that I was about .25 mile away, cuz we parked WAY down the road. I rounded up to the parking lot and saw a large group waiting so knew that it was the 5 mile that had been pushed back. I asked when the 10 milers took off and they said about 8 minutes ago. – UGH

 

Then I asked if I could switch from the 10 to the 5 and the woman said, “Sure, you can still race the 10 if you don’t care about your time.” Ugh again, I had to be that a hole that said ‘yes my time matters’. Boo…

 

I was bummed, but didn’t panic I had 4 minutes before the 5 mile started. I had a plan for the 10 mile and had been training at 10 mile pace, with a strategy of when to lay up and when to push the pace. The 5 mile?

 

After the last 5 mile race I knew I didn’t want to do another 5 mile race. Too hard of a pace for what I’d been training for, too hard of a pace to enjoy the race. Too hard of a race not to want to throw up at some point.

 

The course was downhill for the first mile so I knew that lots of people would be running harder than then should be. My plan was to hold a conservative pace until ¾ of a mile then push to get into the first group on the single track, where passing would be really hard to do. As planned, at about the ¾ mark lots of people started to die off the hard pace and I easily pushed to the front before entering the woods. I went from 30^th to 9^th in about 2 minutes.

 

Once in the single track it only took about 2-3 minutes to realize that I was redlining and had to slow down a bit. I let 1 person by, a really sharp 14 year old, I paced with him for the majority of the run through the woods. I was feeling ragged, and felt like I couldn’t get my legs under me to get a decent pace on. However, Soaring Eagle is twisty as hell with lots of roots. The 2 people in front would gap me on the short flats, but I’d get back to about 5 feet of them through all the twists and roots. I kept saying to myself “we’re going” meaning we’re going to redline until we blow up. Don’t loose them. I felt uncomfortable through the majority of the race, WHICH is why I didn’t want to run the 5 mile.

 

We hit the last uphill and by my guess I was somewhere between 9^th and 12^th. I knew if I could focus on one pace I might be able to reel the two up front back in. Within about 2 minutes I pulled one in, but as I did another guy caught us from behind. The 14 year old had gapped us by about 30 yards, but had started to walk, giving us 3 a bit of hope of catching him. I went with the guy that passed as he came around and stayed about 2 feet behind him. Which was tricky with all the mud, but I figured he was going to take the cleanest route so I just better focus on leg turnover. Although, really just wanting to hold on to his shirt so he could pull me up the hill.

 

I kept thinking to myself, ‘I feel like shit, this shouldn’t be this hard.’ I thought I was better trained than this! I was finally shoulder to shoulder with the guy as we climbed and grinded up the hill back to the finish. I glanced at my Garmin. “6:50”

 

I laughed out a bit and thought, that’s why you’re hurting, DUMBASS! You’re not under trained, you’re just pushing the shit out of it. We finally got within sight of the finish line and the guy I was trying to stay with bolted, I was just trying to keep pace and stay strong on the uphill finish. I had a real fear of losing 30-45 seconds in the last 30 yards, but it was only about 3 seconds.

 

Not my best feeling race, but I knew I had to go all in on the shorter race in order to stay high in the standings for the series. Not panicking, at the beginning when I showed up late for the 10 mile was key. Telling myself, don’t waste energy worrying about what happened, just get ready for what’s next. Don’t think I would have had that calm sense 3-4 years ago. I probably wouldn’t have run or charged off trying to bridge an 8 minute gap.

 

All in all it was an odd day, but still got to see old friends, meet some new ones, and run down and cheer for Alley racing the 10 miler after I finished. And lesson learned: I’m responsible for getting myself to the start line, not hearing it from someone else. Totally my bad.

Holding on to the tail of a bull

“Steady. Easy. Pace. Breathe.” ***Garmin reads – 10:20 minute miles

In the back of my mind past my mantra I keep saying over and over, don’t blow up, find the easiest route, this will only last a few more minutes. Listen to how quite it is, DON”T RUN UP THIS! - This is the new plan for the up hills.

After hitting the top, the new plan is to recover on the flats, so 8-9 minute pace max. Run relaxed and get your breath back, drink a little and control your breathing. Do not push hard! Relax.

Then the DOWN: It’s gravity. It’s swinging through the switchbacks like water. It’s everything you love about this sport. It’s big glittery presents on Christmas morning. It’s a freaking blast!

From the waist down legs are in a fast turn over, but ready to hesitate in mid-air if needed, ready to leap when needed. Eyes are looking for routes, DO NOT 2^nd guessing just stick with the 1^st choice, keep your arms high for balance and keep those eyes scanning, and DO NOT try to stop tight. Short bursts of hard, hard running. Holding on to the tail of a bull, a very pissed off bull. One that you're daring yourself not to let go of.

Remember you can run up the sides of trails just as well as on the path, key in tight switch backs, running 3ft high around a turn works well, but you can’t hesitate. Grab trees, roots or rocks (anything) to turn on a dime. Use the rollers to lift and jump over the crests of most slopes, roots, mud puddles and any and everything else. Remember you’re traveling at 6:03 pace, if you hit something/someone it’s going to HURT!

And breathe

If you see a long sweeping descent , widen stride to cover as much ground per step, almost breaking into a skip, don’t try and slow down, bound more and try and not slap your feet down. – cuz that bugs the crap out of me. On a descent like this calm down and let your heart rate drop. “I’m not really doing any work” goes through my head at times like this, but make sure you’re maximizing your pace. And keep your feet and eyes moving. And remember, this is fun!

I’ve been really working on pre-race warm ups for the trail races. A solid 2 miles at 10 minute pace, then about 2 minutes of the “grapevine” exercise, I think that’s the name of it. Nutrition during the race is still a moving target that I haven’t been able to nail down. The effort of trail running spikes the guttural efforts way more than my road running does, so I feel hungrier? Weaker? A bit washed out? All the above? Then the body gets moving along just fine after a few miles.

The last race at Dash Point I was dead on my feet at the 2 mile mark, argh! Didn’t go out too fast, was running pretty conservative, but the legs were just so heavy. I just told myself, don’t panic, slow down and enjoy the sun through the tree’s. Let it come back to you. After about 3 minutes the legs felt 100% better and I caught back up with the pack in front of me, moved through, then caught the pack ahead of them that I was running with. Again, sticking to the race plan: Rest on the flats – maintain on the hills – past everyone on the downs : )

I think I rushed the warm-up and didn’t get the full 2 miles in, my bad, I know better.

I’ve had a few great runs over at St. Eds and feel more and more solid on the downs. This last time it felt a bit on the verge of out of control, but staying confident on balance and not 2^nd guessing the route along with giving into the speed seems to be key. The climbs or up hills I just have to make sure I’m not putting too much effort into. Walking vs Hiking vs Running: Whichever keeps the body from blowing up. Also, I’ve been paying close attention to recovery after a big climb and what the legs feel like 10-20-30 minutes after a big effort. Learning not to panic, just breathe and keep moving.

Tomorrow is Squak Mountain 12K, I’m thinking this will be a great test of patience. Rolling at first, then a two mile climb with 1200 ft of gain, ugh. The goal is to make it to the 5.5 mark where we’ll drop 1400ft in 2.2 miles. I’m thinking that’s where the race starts : ) but I have to be able to let people go early and not worry about keeping up with them. Should be a blast nad it might snow : ) fun fun!!