27 APR -- 1:30:00 -- 3.00 miles -- 214 elevation gain
28 APR -- stationary bike 4 miles (morning)
-- upper body weightlifting (afternoon)
29 APR -- stationary bike 10 miles
-- 30:00 -- 1.50 miles -- 110 elevation gain
30 APR -- swim 1200 meters (morning)
-- 10:15 -- 1.00 miles -- 85 elevation gain (afternoon)
-- stationary bike 4 miles -- upper body weightlifting (also afternoon)
01 MAY -- off
02 MAY -- 52:21 -- 5.86 miles -- 726 elevation gain (24-hour ATR team relay race)
-- 54:07 -- 6.01 miles -- 729 elevation gain
-- 52:57 -- 5.81 miles -- 747 elevation gain
-- 56:01 -- 6.02 miles -- 778 elevation gain
03 MAY -- 1:44:15 -- 6.10 miles -- 793 elevation gain (sweeping the 24-hour ATR course)
-- 40:00 -- 2.00 miles -- 190 elevation gain (family walk)
TOTAL -- 7:39:56 -- 35.80 miles -- 4262 elevation gain
Heck of a week. Did a little swimming, biking, and running. The 24-hour Adventure Trail Run was fun and served as a great final race before moving to NC. I got some bro time with Alex, Scott, Dave, Jack, and Snipes. Kari and Eli even made an appearance and made some PB&J sandwiches in the kitchen. When I wasn't running I tried to make myself useful wherever needed - timing, the aid station, or eating as much as I could (which isn't really useful to anyone other than me). It was a great race with a positive and motivating environment, as always is present at Athletic Equation events.
04 MAY -- 42:05 -- 3.84 miles -- 604 elevation gain
-- 40 pull ups -- 150 ammo can presses -- upper body weightlifting
05 MAY -- stationary bike 9 miles (morning)
-- 29:24 -- 2.88 miles -- 363 elevation gain (afternoon)
06 MAY -- 47:01 -- 6.02 miles -- 400 elevation gain
07 MAY -- stationary bike 3 miles -- upper body weightlifting (morning)
-- 1:30:00 -- 3.00 miles -- 174 elevation gain (mowing the grass in the afternoon)
08 MAY -- stationary bike 10 miles
-- 9:35 -- 1.00 miles -- 55 elevation gain
09 MAY -- 1:00:22 -- 8.40 miles -- 292 elevation gain
10 MAY -- 41:58 -- 5.77 miles -- 372 elevation gain
TOTAL -- 5:20:25 -- 30.91 miles -- 2260 elevation gain
Did some more biking and some running here and there. This was my last week at Expeditionary Warfare School, so now I am on vacation until 7 Jun. I hope to get in some decent longer runs during my break, but we also need to pack the house and move to NC. I've been spending every second I can with Eli over the past 4 days and it's been too fun. I've already shortened a run so I could get home by the time he woke up from his nap so we could hang out. It's hard to willingly be absent from home to go running, but I'll need to get in a few longer training runs to stay in shape.
Showing posts with label Athletic Equation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Athletic Equation. Show all posts
Monday, May 11, 2015
Friday, May 2, 2014
Quick Thoughts
After a solid winter, which paid off during multiple spring races with good times and new PRs, I am ready for the 48-hour adventure with Tristin in two weeks. Currently, I feel great – my legs have recovered from the Promise Land 50k last weekend, my mind is right, my family is doing well, my friends are doing well, and work is somewhat slow until the end of May. In June, I will be at work 24/7 for six solid weeks. Until then, however, I have plenty of time to train and squeeze in some really long runs on the weekends. With a baby on the way, a very busy summer work schedule, and a new job come July, I should feel more stress than I do. I credit my parents, my wife, and my time as a Marine for my calm nerves, positive attitude, and hard work ethic. The nearest alligator to the boat, though, is the 24-hour Adventure Trail Run this weekend – Alex P. is the race director and Kari and I volunteered to help out. It is going to be a blast! Alex’s races are always fun and promote a relaxed yet motivating atmosphere. We are eager to spend time in the woods with friends, away from the DC hustle and bustle. Camping…food…running…story-telling…beer…what could be better?
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Recount #9: Mount Tammany 10
Saturday, 22 March
When I signed up for this race, I knew the course was tough and that it had an appropriate reputation. A mountain with 1,200 feet of climbing, literal climbing – on hands and knees in some places. Then, a nasty downhill section, as technical as it gets with plenty of rocks and switchbacks. This year, a few inches of snow and ice made the downhill section even more technical. I don’t own a pair of Yak Trax or the like, so I tried to counter that with some sheet metal screws. Terrible idea. Here’s how it all went down…
My photographer’s parents live about an hour from Mount
Tammany in New Jersey, so we drove up the night before the race and crashed at
their place. After dinner at her
sister’s house we arrived at her parent’s place around 2100. We showered, hung out and chatted for an hour
or so, then hit the rack for our 0430 wake up.
All went well, and we arrived at the start/finish around 0545. After I checked in we met a few people, said
hello to Alex P. and Dennis, then I started getting ready. Around 0600 Jack pulled into the parking spot
next to us and knocked on my window…
“Hey AJ, what shoes are you wearing today?”
“I’ve got some Salomons and a pair of Hokas. I think I’ll wear my Salomons, though.”
“Do you have any spikes or Yak Trax or anything?”
“That’s a negative. I
anticipate spending a lot of time on my ass today.”
“Well, I’ve got a drill and some sheet metal screws. Wanna give it a shot?”
“Some sheet metal what?!"
I had never heard of this.
Apparently, after I asked some people and did some quick research, it is
a fairly common thing to insert sheet metal screws into the bottoms of your
shoes for traction on icy courses. Makes
sense. It was around 0605 when I learned
of this and I didn’t think I would have enough time to prepare everything
before the 0630 start. I did it anyway. I quickly screwed about 12 of these things
into the bottom of each shoe.
Going to town on my Salomons with Jack's drill
Afterwards
I did a quick lap around the parking lot.
I could feel them under my feet but it wasn’t irritating or anything, so
I went with it. Then, I filled my pack
with water, clipped on my bib, and we started promptly at 0630.
The first half-mile was on asphalt leading to the
trailhead. No issues with the screws, other
than the fact that they were noisy on asphalt.
During the first climb up the mountain I was slipping and sliding on the
rocks, but I was tearing up the icy sections while others around me took two
steps forward and slid one step back. At
that time, the benefits of having screws protruding from my feet far outweighed
the risks. The ridge section on the top
was only about a half-mile – again, no issues since most of it was dry and
grassy. Then came the downhill section…
First, it is important to point out that I didn’t send the
screws all the way into my shoes because the tread isn’t all that thick on my
Salomons. I put ¾” screws in the heels
and ¼” screws into the midfoot and soles.
After tip-toeing over a short section of large boulders, I
took off down the trail. I was in 5th
place but could still see Jack and Kevin at the front. I was bombing the downhill despite the fact
that I had 9 more loops ahead of me.
That didn’t last very long, though, because the impact and pounding down
on the rocks slowly put more and more pressure on the screws until every one of
them poked right through my shoe inserts and into the bottoms of my feet.
The first time it happened was in my left heel, which sent a
jolt of pain from my foot up through my leg to my hip. Holy smokes!
Ok, now I know I need to baby these downhills! Besides, the icy sections were slow going and
required walking anyway. But then, as my
body weight carried me down the hill from rock to rock to avoid the ice and
snow, another one went into my right heel.
Again, I pulled up and winced in pain.
Shit. This sucks. Ok, this will be a long day if this keeps
happening. Sure enough, another one
under my right big toe went through.
Then my left big toe. Then one
through the mid-foot section of each shoe.
Now, I need to explain a little about the course. It was a loop course. Each loop was just short of 4 miles, repeated
10 times. After the 2nd, 4th, 6th, and
8th loops we had to return to the start/finish to check in and log our loops. Obviously, after the 10th loop we would head
back to finish the race. Each return to
the start/finish would take about 10 minutes of run time, not including the
time you spent in the aid station or fiddling with gear. After the first loop I knew I had to change
shoes. Armed with all that information,
I had to decide whether or not to return to the aid station after the first
loop or tough it out for another 4 miles up and down the mountain.
Well, my feet were banged up pretty bad. I knew that if I returned to the aid station
after only one loop I would waste about 15 minutes and lose any chance of
winning the race. However, the pain from
pointed screws jabbing deep into my feet was enough to warrant the extra
trip. So, I headed back to the car after
the first loop as I watched Jack and Kevin start the climb for loop 2. By then, every step I took caused more and
more pain to jolt up my legs. I could
feel that nearly every screw had punctured through every piece of rubber…and
skin. It was enough to drive me crazy
and I knew that another 4 miles would certainly have resulted in a DNF. So, I accepted the fact that I was an idiot
and would have to make up 15 minutes throughout the day.
When I got back to the car it was locked. Great, another hold up. Alex was yelling at me from the pavilion.
“AJ, what are you doing back here? You don’t have to be back until you do two
loops!”
“I know, but I’m having issues.”
“What happened?”
“Those sheet metal screws are literally inside my feet right
now!”
“Oh, crap.”
“Where is Kari? The
car is locked!”
Just then Kari knocked on the window from the inside – she
was napping.
“Open the damn door!”
Finally, the doors unlocked.
I immediately went to the trunk and snatched my Hokas. When I took my Salomons off, I chucked them
at the ground in frustration. It was
then that I noticed the puddles of blood in the bottom of each shoe. Shoot, what was I thinking this morning? I explained it all to Kari, who simply thought
I was lightning fast and did two loops in less than an hour. She saw how utterly ticked off I was, so she
just watched in disbelief. I also had to
change my socks because they were bloody and had holes from the screws. I elected not to apply any sort of
antibiotic, cream, or jelly, and just slapped on the Hokas and took off for
loop 2.
At that point I wasn’t too worried about what place I was in,
or whether I would even be able to catch the front pack. I was concerned only with finishing the race
on feet that looked like Swiss cheese.
As I rounded the trailhead and started the ascent for loop 2, I felt
pretty lousy. My feet were torn up and I
was still babying them, tip-toeing over rocks and sticks. I ended up rolling my ankles a few times
during loops 2 and 3 because I was still treading lightly and trying to avoid
the rocks. Although I was slipping and
sliding a little extra, my feet were protected from anything sharp…including
screws. Hokas are awesome!
My strength has always been climbing hills. I’m not the greatest downhill runner, and my
marathon PR on flat asphalt is only 3:09.
But hills are where I make my money.
In fact, I made it back to the aid station after the second loop only 10
minutes behind Jack and Kevin (who would run together through the first 7
loops). I did, however, spend a little
extra time in the aid station because I wanted to make sure I had my stuff
together. I was wearing a hydration pack
so I didn’t need water, but I was still flustered and angry with myself and
wanted to make sure I had enough endurolytes, gels, and chow. After a few minutes of re-packing and
conversation with Alex and Dennis about my stupidity, I left for loops 3 and
4.
By then, I was over the fact that my feet were falling apart. I had also accepted that I had blown any
chance of winning the race. Oh
well. The new goal was just to have fun
and enjoy the view from the top of the mountain another 8 times. While going up Tammany on the 3rd loop I had
a sudden urge to talk to people. It was
around 0830 by then and people were flooding onto the trail. I started having quick conversations with
hikers as I passed them on my way to the top.
“Just a little climb, ya know? Another two minutes and you’ll be at the
top.”
“Really? Wow, I
thought it was bigger.”
“Yeahhhh…I was just kidding…it’s actually about 10 minutes.”
“Really?”
“Yeahhhh…just kidding again…it’s really about 30 minutes.”
I’m certain that I confused the virgin hikers on the
mountain as to the actual distance and time to the top, but they didn’t hold it
against me. I saw many of them 2, 3, 4,
and even 5 times as I literally ran circles around them as they moseyed up and
over the mountain, enjoyed lunch at the top, and slid down the mountain on
their backsides. One group of guys had a
dog with them. They were so happy and
collectively had a great sense of humor.
I walked with them for a minute or two up the hill on loop 4.
“Hey guys, how far ahead of me are they?”
“I don’t know, but if I had to guess I’d say at least 3
days.”
“Sheesh. I’ve got
some work to do.”
“Nah, you’ll never catch them. Stick with us – we have whiskey and bologna sandwiches.”
“Well, that’s an offer I can’t turn down. Is it better than the whiskey at the aid
station back there? If I can drink yours
then that would save me some time.”
“Sure! But you’ll
have to fight us to the death at the top for it.”
“Shoooot…I’ll meet you there. I’ll be the guy swinging from the tree, spear
in hand!”
“HAH! We’ll be the
drunk ones, cresting the hill with this old mutt.”
Loops 4 through 7 ticked by pretty quickly. I was getting a bit tired during the uphill
climbs around loop 6, but was still able to keep a good pace. My first couple trips up the mountain took
about 25 minutes each, but loops 6-10 took closer to 30 minutes each – my quads
were tiring. Also, there were probably
150 or so people on the mountain in the afternoon, so it was getting
crowded. I had to constantly move to the
side for unobservant hikers who didn’t like to share the single-track. The nicer folks would stop and move off the
trail for us, which I’m sure had to get annoying for them throughout the
day. Each loop, some of them would check
my progress and ask what loop I was on, how I was feeling, and how many more
loops I had left. I would check on them
to make sure there knew where they were going, had enough water, and were
prepared for icy conditions. It became
somewhat of a game – just make it to the top, talk to as many people along the
way as possible to pass the time, listen to tunes on the way down, and try not
to fall. Lather, rinse, and repeat.
At one point I came across a guy wearing a pink cut-off
t-shirt. He was hiking with who I assume
were his parents. He looked to be around
16 or 17 years old and had no water, but he carried a walking stick with
pride. I can’t remember the last time I
saw a man boy/man/guy wearing pink.
Then, on the downhill of that same loop, I saw another guy wearing a
pink t-shirt. He was walking with who I
assume was his wife or girlfriend. Did I
miss something? When did pink for guys come
into style? I haven’t seen a guy in
pink, especially in my line of work, in a very long time. Then, all of a sudden I see two guys, in one
day, in the middle of nowhere, wearing pink!
It was surreal and I had to laugh.
In fact, I think I laughed out loud.
Lol. Is “lol” in style
anymore? I don’t learn the latest cool
trends unless I see a commercial during Jeopardy…
Even with 20 runners and so many people on the trail, I
somehow separated myself from everyone.
That seems to always happen to me during races. I ran loops 6 through 8 alone, only passing
the occasional hiker. There were two
points – one on the eastern side of the mountain at a lookout point, and one at
the very top at another lookout point to the north – where I saw the majority
of the hikers hanging out and picnicking.
Other than that, I started to see less and less people as the afternoon
went on. During loops 7 and 8 I began
thinking that maybe Alex called the race, closed up shop, and sent everyone
home. Finally, towards the bottom of the
hill on loop 8, I finally passed two guys that were near each other. I had a feeling of relief. At least I knew that others were still racing
and I wasn’t left alone on the side of the dang mountain! That was the second time I had passed one of
them, but the other guy was Kevin. Holy
smokes – even after my added 15-minute pit stop to change shoes, I had made it
all the way up to second place. I didn’t
recognize Kevin at the time, though, because I was flying down the hill. Therefore, I didn’t know I was in second
place. I had just turned my MP3 player
to “Love Shack” and I didn’t want to waste the giddy up from the tunes, so I
pumped out an 8-minute mile as I entered the aid station. As a matter of fact, I ran by Kevin so fast
that I could only give him a thumbs up behind my head because I had to keep my
eyes on the ground.
When I rolled into the aid station Alex broke the news to
me.
“Hey man, did you pass someone on loop 8?”
“Yeah, I’ve been passing people all day. Why?”
“Because you’re in second place. Didn’t you see Kevin?”
“Nah man, I didn’t even realize it.”
“Well get going dude, don’t waste any time.”
I took a few bites of a PB&J and drank some
Gatorade. My intention was to get out of
the aid station as quick as possible and pass Kevin going the other direction
as I headed out for my final two loops.
I had hoped that would suck the motivation out of him and secure at
least a second place finish for me. But,
just when I turned to head out, he entered the aid station. His leg was jacked up from a nasty fall on
the ridge at the top of the mountain, and he was moving slow. He was considering dropping. I couldn’t leave – I had to help him get back
out there. That’s what we do in
ultrarunning – we help each other, pick each other up, and get each other to
the finish line.
“Man, my leg is hurting bad, I had to baby it all the way
down the hill.”
“Well, get some chow and some water and let’s go! I’ll stick with you for these last two
loops. We can chase down Jack together.”
“I don’t know, man.”
“Yes! Let’s go! You can roll with me.”
“Alright, let me get some chow quick.”
We left the aid station together about 20 minutes behind
Jack. Essentially, we knew we couldn’t catch
him, but the thought of trying motivated us to get moving. As we headed down the road we ran by Kari's parents, who had come to hang out with Kari and experience an ultramarathon. We waved at each other and smiled. When Kevin and I got to the trailhead I stopped to
adjust my gear and take a salt tab. As I
did, he kept going up the mountain. “Don’t
let me slow you down, man” I said to him as he kept walking. I assumed I would catch up to him shortly
anyway. Well, after a few short moments I
started moving again and he was out of sight.
He had mentioned that he was doing well on the uphills but that he had
to baby the downhills. He meant it – I wouldn’t
see him again, and he would finish in second place.
The last two loops were rather painful, especially the last
one. The wind and rain had calmed down a
bit and it was getting warm. Loop 9 went
off without a hitch. As I approached the trailhead for the start of loop 10 I saw Kari and her parents - they had walked about half a mile from the start/finish out to the trailhead to see me off for the final loop. As always, the camera was out.
Me, finishing loop 9
Talking with Kari and drinking some of her Gatorade. By this point, I had accepted my fate as the 3rd place finisher, so I killed some time and visited with her and her parents. I like this picture because it looks like I actually have pectoral muscles...
As I started the climb on loop 10, I passed a hiker going
the other direction. An older gentlemen,
maybe in his 60’s, with a pack and a walking stick.
“Is there a race or something today?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“How many miles?”
“40 miles. We are
climbing this mountain 10 times.”
“Oh my God! What
number are you on?”
“Lucky number 10!”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Eh…been better, been worse.
But at least I’m almost done!”
“Geez. Well, good
luck…”
I distinctly remember turning around 4 or 5 times over the
next 5 minutes and still seeing him watching me go up the hill. It really freaked me out. I never had a complete stranger worry so much
about me. Did I look half-dead or
something? I mean, I was tired and
probably had salt on my face, but I told the guy I was almost done and that I was
good to go. But, it shows there are still
genuinely good people out there who care about others. I wish everybody else had his attitude...with a little less creepiness...
I crested the mountain the final time with a bittersweet
feeling. The view was awesome and I had
such a fun day of running after I tossed the screw-infested Salomons, and I was sad that it had to end. On the other hand, my quads were aching for a
rest. The downhill wouldn’t help my
situation. But, with some good tunes and
some motivation, I charged down the backside one final time.
Coming into the aid station to finish was such a good feeling after a long day on the trails.
The last few steps of the race, approaching the aid station for the finish in 9:23:46, good enough for third place
Although I was still somewhat disappointed with myself for nonchalantly and inherently turning my feet into hamburger meat with those sheet metal screws, I was totally satisfied with the finish. In fact, just finishing this race was a feat in itself - only 20 were brave enough to take on this race, and only 9 finished within the time limit. Here are some photos taken afterwards.
Shaking Dennis's hand, moments after I finished
Dennis, Alex P., me, my photographer, Mama Reynolds, and Papa Reynolds
From left to right and, ironically, shortest to tallest, the podium finishers: Kevin, me, and Jack
Megan and I, with a little boy practicing his strides in the background. Megan volunteered all day in the cold and rain. Thanks Megan!
Me with my photographer and her parents
On 22 March, 2014, I was grateful for my wife... To be honest, dropping from a race generally crosses my mind at least once. I think it does for everyone. But I shot myself in the foot during this race, almost literally, and thought about dropping plenty of times to preserve my feet for upcoming races. But I couldn't bring myself to do it for her sake. I dropped from three straight races last year, and she hates seeing me banged up and bruised emotionally. In fact, after I had so many issues and DNF'd from Iron Mountain last year, the third of three consecutive DNF's, she actually cried because she felt so bad for me. I hated seeing that disappointment on Kari's face. She comes to all of my races and sacrifices her time for me. She wakes up and travels with me. She waits all damn day for me - in the cold, in the rain, in the snow, in the heat... There was no way I was going to let her down again. So, with trashed-up feet and a somewhat bruised ego, I pressed on to a strong and unforeseen third place finish. Kari was all smiles afterwards. Sometimes I think she is happier and more proud of me than I am myself. On this day, I raised a Heineken to my wife and best friend.
End of recount...
Monday, February 3, 2014
Recount #8: JFK 50 Mile
Way late on this one...my bad
The JFK 50 Mile marked my entrance into the ultrarunning world in 2007. I had no idea what I was doing 6 years ago. I ran the race in basketball shorts because they had pockets for which I could store M&M's. My red, white and blue headband kept my head somewhat warm, along with my fancy cotton t-shirt. I didn't carry water because I thought I'd be good. I didn't leave my Dad with a map or any information about the race.
(God bless my father, by the way...he found every aid station. He probably used his handy Rand McNally trucker's edition atlas to get around. I would imagine he made a lot of new friends as well, since he had to ask where the aid stations were located. I'm sure he got in a nap or two, but he was there every time. Once he found an aid station he would walk backwards on the course to find me. Once I caught up to him, he would run with me to the aid station...in works boots, blue jeans, a Carhartt jacket and a Nascar hat. He never even bitched about how slow I was, how long he was waiting, or how far he had walked just to find my sorry ass. I love you, Pops.)
Back to the crappy story I was telling...In 2007, I sprinted the first 3 miles up the hill to the AT. I managed to stay on my feet along the AT, but I was pretty gassed once I hit the C&O Canal. I was unfamiliar with the route, so I didn't realize I ran past two major battlefields (Harper's Ferry then Antietam). I didn't know I needed food or salt, so I obviously didn't have any of either. I didn't have a jacket. My basketball shoes held up until my knees started aching. Luckily, I ran into a guy named Dave Snipes who "saved my race." After knowing Dave for 6 years now, I've discovered that he "saved someone's race" every race...But that time, to his credit, he actually did save my race. He picked me up on the AT around mile 9 and stuck with me until mile 35-ish when I decided to wait in line at a port-a-jon in the middle of the woods. At some point he handed me a little pill and told me it would make me feel better. I was in a bad place, so I asked no questions as I swallowed it with some of the delicious tea he carried. What kind of idiot carries a bottle of tea all day? Whatever...down the hatch. After I took my turn in the jon, life got better. My quads felt better and I wasn't struggling as much. Naturally, I took off sprinting. After 3 miles I waited in line at another jon, cursing Snipes and his dumb pills aloud to a girl named Summer. She was also struggling and waiting in line for the jon. I would run the last 20 miles with her.
In any event (this is a classic phrase my grandfather uses routinely, had to fit it in), Summer and I did the walk/run shuffle and finished around 10 hours.
In 2013, I was a little more experienced. I knew that those pills were called Endurolytes, and that they are key to a successful race. Also, I knew that M&M's provide the wrong type of sugar needed to get through 50 miles of running. Basketball shorts were replaced with a comfortable pair of Adidas running shorts (still, they had a pocket). Basketball shoes don't even exist in my house anymore, so I wore my Hoka One One Mafate 3's. No headband - they serve no purpose. Instead, I wore my trademark "I Like it Dirty" snap-back I picked up at Spencer's as a gag gift to myself. Of course, I had to sport my VHTRC, baby blue, long-sleeved technical shirt to represent! And...my photographer had maps, course information, driving directions, extra water bottles (since I'm an "idiot" and carry those now), and a $4 tote from Wally World full of Endurolytes and gels and such. In 2013, I was ready to set a PR at the 50 mile distance...
We left from home in Fredericksburg around 0430, knowing traffic wouldn't be too bad that early in the day. However, I-95 can never be trusted - we still tapped the breaks once or twice as we neared the nation's capital. We arrived early, though, with plenty of time to check in and get to the start line. I knew check in would be crowded, so I had my photographer park by the exit of the Boonsboro High School parking lot. Most people walk from the school to the start line downtown, but I wanted Kari to be able to stay warm as long as possible, so we drove down after I had my race packet in hand. Front row parking was available 30 minutes before the race, so we took the closest spot and watched everyone else walk through the field and flood the streets.
Staying warm in the car
Downtown Boonsboro
Just waiting...
Apparently, there was a national anthem and a count down, but we never heard either. All we heard was "Go!" followed by cow bells and hoots and hollers. After a kiss and a few selfies my photographer dismissed me for the day:
The race had already started...
It was also during my time with Ian that we saw a full-frontal of a female runner squatting to do a #1 on the side of the trail. Her and I were chatting a bit as we climbed the road to the AT earlier in the race, but I won't disclose her name. It's not like she had a choice anyway - November in Maryland means leafless trees with no concealment to do your business. I didn't even mean to look, but some things just catch your eye, ya know?
My journey down the tow path started out just as I had expected - boring, uneventful, yet fast! I was knocking off 8-minute miles and working towards a strong finishing time. Just after the bridge into Harper's Ferry I ran into Mike Campbell, a seasoned vet in the ultrarunning community and a fellow VHTRC-er. Mike - you need to sport your baby blue next year. After we exchanged pleasantries I pressed on. He would finish strong in 9:36, not bad for 63 years old.
Kari and I planned out the day in the morning, so I knew I wouldn't see her until the Antietam Aqueduct aid station at mile 27. Here is her map, drawn to scale, of course:
Her plan was to tour the two battlefields to take sweet pictures; Harper's Ferry in the morning, Antietam in the afternoon. Here are some pictures she took while I was running:
Dang selfie
Near Bloody Lane
Bloody Lane
Burnside Bridge
The plan went accordingly and she met me at mile 27 with goodies and a kiss, as always.
I thought I wouldn't see her again until mile 38, but she surprised me at the next aid station with another kiss. During the short 4-5 mile stretch between those two aid stations I hit a low patch and started dragging my feet, almost literally. A kiss is expected, but it's always the pat on the butt that increases my morale and gets me moving again.
During the next stretch of boring nothingness along the canal, I chatted with anyone willing to converse with a man wearing a hat that says "I Like it Dirty." Chatting with other runners always takes your mind of running. For a mile or so, when my knees and ankles were screaming, I would walk/run and simply try to keep moving. Eventually, I came upon a gentlemen running his 11th JFK 50 miler. He knees were hurting equally as bad as mine. I asked him why he didn't stop at 10 finishes, and he explained that Mike Spinnler (the race director) makes 10-time finishers attend the race one more time in order to pick up their 10-time finisher award. Really? I mean, that's a good marketing technique to ensure people keep coming back for more canal path torture, but this gentlemen came down from Canada! Maybe he didn't want to run it again...does that mean he wouldn't get his 10-time finisher award? Are FedEx shipping prices that outrageous these days, that he couldn't ship it to the guy? Interesting.
At the end of the tow path I took a right and headed up a hill into a residential area. The first house I came upon featured a dedicated JFK fan. He was chilling in his driveway and had erected a table full of Bud Light. He offered me a pounder and it was so hard to refuse. If it would have been a 12-ouncer I might have been willing to carry the lighter load...
Despite the fact that my Mafate 3's are tough, rugged trail shoes, they held their own during the final miles on the roads. Whether it be trail, asphalt, sand, gravel, grass...it's still like running on little pillows.
I saw my photographer one final time at mile 46:
By then it was roughly 3:00 in the afternoon and the wind was howling. I grabbed my $5 Nike Golf jacket I found on the clearance rack at TJ Maxx a few years ago. Yep, I'm a Maxxinista.
The trifecta of struggles
It did the trick and blocked those cold gusts coming across the corn fields and cow pastures towards the end of the race. Kari drove past me just after the aid station and snapped a quick photo:
Mile 46.5-ish
The last few miles were tough, as they generally are in a 50-mile race. Although my core was staying warm, the cold wind was ripping through my gloves which made holding my water bottle a challenge. The sun was bright and squinting made my head pound. I should have taken that dang Bud Light. Around that time a shorter female runner, about 5-feet tall, blazed right past me at a pace equivalent of Mach 7. At mile 46 you're only racing yourself, but that really ticked me off. I tried to catch her but she was way too fast. I laughed at myself for getting so worked up. A few minutes later I came into the last aid station and the upbeat volunteers allowed me to forgot it ever happened. Those kids couldn't have been any happier. I think they were a local high school cross country team. The music was loud so dancing ensued. I think the song was "Thrift Shop" by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Man...music had never sounded so good. Headphones pretty much constitute jail time at JFK, and singing to yourself only goes so far. These dudes had it going on. Dangit, I wanted to stay and hang out but I knew I only had 2 miles left. Also, I couldn't see anyone behind me, and I wanted to keep it that way. I pressed on.
To my surprise, the final 2 miles went by in a blink. I came across a guy who started @ 5:00 am and I decided to run alongside him for a minute. Again, I won't use names, but this gentleman spilled the beans to me about some personal issues going on in his life. He explained how he recently caught his wife cheating on him and that he was in the middle of filing for divorce. Only ultrarunners experience such emotional highs and lows. This is something marathoners get introduced to if they survive "hitting the wall," but never really understand because they haven't quite left their comfort zone and stretched the limits of their bodies. In any event (there it is again...), he slowed down and I pressed on to a finishing time of 8:38 - a new 50-mile PR by 33 minutes, and 1:30 faster than 6 years ago. Not really lightning speed by any standards, but it feels good to know I've improved. By the time I'm 70 I should be breaking 4 hours on this course...
My photographer and I hung around a little bit and talked to some folks, but we were both getting cold and restless, so we headed to the CRV to get dry and warm. I sat on my camp stool in the trunk and changed my under garments as I watched fellow runners struggle in the cold wind outdoors. Soon enough, I was wrapped in my sweatpants and sweatshirt. We headed home while it was still light out.
After JFK, I am grateful for trail running, plain and simple. JFK is a fun race with great volunteers, but the canal path can bite the big one. It's the ideal course for PR-setting times, but it is very boring. I spent Dec and Jan running in Shenandoah with Alex P. to help him get ready for HURT - which he finished two weeks ago! Congrats, Alex! Also, I am grateful to be a member of the VHTRC, the country's greatest trail running club (who cares what Trail Runner Mag says). Lastly, I am grateful for my photographer/wife/crew/biggest fan. She continues to tag along with me for these things. She even cleans my dirty underwear afterwards.
End of recount...
Photo credits: Kari Cillo, www.kcillophotography.com, facebook.com/kcillophotography
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Recount #1: ICY-8
Everybody has blogs these days, so I figured it was time to start one myself. But no, if everyone jumped off a bridge I would not follow them. I intend to share my experiences on the trail through a series of recounts, listed here, for your lunch-time reading pleasure.
The Icy-8 Hour Adventure Trail Run, 02 February 2013. I don't think it got above 25 degrees all day. A hefty breeze coming off Lake Anna made it even harder to keep my phalanges from turning into this:
We arrived at a small cabin in the middle of the woods, with a group of people we had never met, and in a foreign state park we had never before entered. These strange people were named Alex, Scott, Dennis, and some kid named Morgan, seen here:
To add to my already confused mental state, these people immediately took us next door to another cabin where we were greeted by more strangers (Dave and his wife) holding steaming plates of lasagna. I felt as if I were in some type of concentration camp and was being hoaxed into eating the poison, so that later these people could drag me far into the woods, never to be seen again. We do this with our cat when she needs to take medications - just the poison-filled tasty food, not the whole drag-into-the-woods bit. However, anyone who knows me will tell you that I never turn down any of the following: ice cream, chocolate, spinach dip, or plates of steaming delicious lasagna. We took our Italian cuisine and sat down at the dining room table, only to find even more strangers within the edifice.
To make a long story short, the lasagna was filled with flavor, the beer went down smooth, the salad was fresh, and these strangers were some of the nicest people I ever met. We shared stories from past races, spoke about "back home" and our day jobs, and we got to know one another. Alex and Scott are the race directors for the ICY-8 and a few other adventure trail runs in the northern VA area. Morgan is Scott's son and is one seriously strange cat. Due to his vast and expansive skills with his iPad, distorted outlook on mostly all of life's everyday occurrences, and intensely sarcastic answers to nearly every one of my questions, I knew we had just become friends. He would run my 9th and final 4.7-mile loop with me during the race the following day.
Race morning was extremely cold. Alex, Scott, Morgan, Dennis, Kari and I all headed for the start/finish area around 0500 to begin setting up - not an easy feat with frozen hands, feet, and facial projections. Later in the day, I would suffer from something known as "Hellgate Eye" for a few seconds until the thin layer of ice over my left eye melted and I regained my 5th and most important sense! A very scary moment. Would the doctor really believe my contact froze to my retina?
After setting up the tents, the check-in table, the aid station, etc etc etc, runners began checking in. Kari is probably the best wife ever. Underneath 37 layers of clothing and wrapped in the Spongebob snuggie I received from my friend Tristin in the mail a few years ago, she froze her little tushie off all day as she handed out bib numbers, recorded times and laps for runners, and tended to her race-day photographer duties for Scott and Alex. All the pictures in this blog are from her camera, some of which will be featured in April's issue of Ultrarunning Magazine thanks to Alex and his connections with the magazine folks. On that note, here are a few snapshots:
Scott and Alex giving the pre-race brief
Moments after the start
Well-stocked aid station, thanks to the RDs and all the volunteers
No caption necessary, I think we all know this gentlemen
I have no idea who she was, but we passed each other on the course about 20 times, each time her smile put me in a great mood and got me through the next loop
The course was frozen solid. Horses had recently been on the trails and left an array of hoof prints everywhere, all of which froze solid in the dirt and almost mimicked rocky terrain. Since the race was held on Groundhog Day, Scott and Alex created a race division knows as the Groundhog Division. Runners who volunteered to run in this division were forced to run either the 4.7-mile loop or the 8.0-mile loop all day, the same direction each loop, and could not deviate - you know, like the movie, the same thing over and over again. (Phil? Hey, Phil? Phil! Phil Connors? Phil Connors, I thought that was you!)
So, excited about this new opportunity, I signed up for it. How bad could it be? Well, let me explain. One loop, awesome! Two loops, still pretty awesome. Three loops, it would be nice to run this backwards or something next time. Four loops, I've seen that chick like 12 times already. Five loops, I could run this loop in the dark without a headlamp. Six loops, maybe some music will help. Seven loops, music didn't help. Eight loops, started shouting random motivational slurs to the runners going the opposite direction, things like "go get 'em" and "looking good" and "where have I seen you before?". Nine loops, Morgan fell flat on his face somewhere in the middle of the loop, made it all worth it.
I was aiming for 10 loops, only made 9, there will surely be bigger tragedies. I finished my 8th loop with about 1:15:00 remaining in the race and knew my legs weren't going to cover another 9.4 miles at roughly 8:00 min/mile pace, so Morgan and I walked/shuffled that last loop. We discussed the birds and the bees, lacrosse, running vs ultrarunning, girls, the foot print on my leg where he kicked me en route to the ground, how cold it was, and what we want to be when we grow up. Thanks to Morgan, my last loop was by far the most enjoyable.
It turns out I won the Groundhog Division with 42.3 miles logged during the race. I know, a surprise to me as well. I was merely hoping to stay on the course the full 8-hours, since this was my first timed race. But better yet I met new friends and, again, was reminded how awesome this sport is. Ultrarunning breeds a certain population of people. People with a better appreciation for the meaning of life. People with an increased resistance to adversity. People you can call friends. A group of nut-jobs who get excited about a Saturday together in the woods with some lube and baby wipes.
Huge thanks to Scott and Alex for putting on this race. Thanks to Dennis and Morgan for cooking Ramen, PB&J tortillas, and hot dogs all day. Thanks to Dave and Snipes for the motivation and for kicking me out of the aid station each loop. Special thanks to Morgan for the 22 self-photos you provided on Kari's phone. Last but not least, thanks to Kari for putting up with me and for sporting that Spongebob snuggie all day.
End of recount...
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