09-29 Mar

09 MAR -- 12:45 -- 1.00 mile -- 350 elevation gain
10 MAR -- 13:30 -- 1.00 miles -- 485 elevation gain
               -- 32:00 -- 2.50 miles -- 1150 elevation gain
               -- stationary bike 4 miles -- upper body weightlifting
11 MAR -- 9:30 -- 1.00 miles -- 245 elevation gain
12 MAR -- upper body weightlifting
13 MAR -- off -- rest
14 MAR -- 8:04:44 -- 42.93 miles -- 3038 elevation gain
15 MAR -- off

TOTAL -- 9:12:29 -- 48.43 miles -- 5268 elevation gain

Boring week leading up to the TJ 100k on Saturday.  Another DNF.  Weird foot pain started at mile 10 and lasted until I dropped at mile 43-ish.  The top of my foot was mushy and purplish/greenish the day after.  Strangely enough, the pain was intense during the race and the day after, enough to cause me to limp, but the pain was gone by Thursday the next week.  Figured out that I probably had my gaiters on way too tight because I went for a jog later the next week and both feet hurt in the same place - on top of my foot where the gaiter stretched over the shoe laces.  Lesson learned...just when I thought I had it all figured out...  Even though I might be considered somewhat of a "veteran" with nearly 30 ultras to my name, I'm still a juvenile in the sport and learn something knew with every run.




16 MAR -- off -- travelled to NC -- but we played racquetball when we got there!
17 MAR -- 11:15 -- 1.00 miles -- 0 elevation gain
18 MAR -- 18:40 -- 2.00 miles -- 105 elevation gain
19 MAR -- upper body weightlifting -- 100 push ups -- 50 pulls ups
               -- 45:00 -- 5.00 miles -- 485 elevation gain
20 MAR -- upper body weightlifting -- 100 squats -- 100 pull ups
21 MAR -- 1:30:00 -- 3.00 miles -- 205 elevation gain (walk with Kari and Eli)
22 MAR -- 44:47 -- 5.91 miles -- 240 elevation gain

TOTAL -- 3:29:42 -- 16.91 miles -- 1035 elevation gain

Slow week after the TJ almost 100k the weekend before.  My foot pain lasted until nearly the next weekend but finally subsided and the bruise went away.  I spent most of the week on a treadmill or on a track, trying to rehab.




23 MAR -- 25:03 -- 3.78 miles -- 128 elevation gain (after arriving in Georgia)
24 MAR -- stationary bike 4 miles -- 45 pull ups (morning)
               -- 26:07 -- 3.36 miles -- 187 elevation gain (also in the morning)
               -- 48:30 -- 6.35 miles -- 203 elevation gain (afternoon)
25 MAR -- upper body weightlifting -- 65 pull ups (morning)
               -- 40:52 -- 5.67 miles -- 180 elevation gain (afternoon)
26 MAR -- 30:45 -- 3.84 miles -- 220 elevation gain (morning)
               -- 23:25 -- 3.40 miles -- 108 elevation gain (afternoon, after arriving in FL)
27 MAR -- off -- travel day from FL back to VA
28 MAR -- off -- but I did an Insanity workout with my photographer -- and 100 pull ups
29 MAR -- 2:32:17 -- 17.44 miles -- 1233 elevation gain

TOTAL -- 5:46:59 -- 43.84 miles -- 2259 elevation gain

I finally got in a good run today (29 March), my first long run since the TJ almost 100k.  Bull Run 50 is 2 weeks away so I need to get in some good runs this upcoming week as well.  After Bull Run, I need to hit the hills hard for MMT 100 in May.  But, I've truly been considering running the 72 hour event at 3 Days at the Fair this year instead of MMT 100...I did MMT in 2013 and it was awesome!  My first 100.  But something about 3 Days at the Fair makes me want to go back.  The 1-mile loop was dreadfully boring after rounding it 120 times, 10 of which I was intoxicated.  I can't explain what makes me want to go back.  The food didn't compare to VHTRC events, especially MMT 100 where the food is restaurant quality.  The other runners, except for Bill Gentry, weren't all that friendly.  For example, Joe Fejes is amazing and I tried talking to him about 7 times but got shut down about, oh, 7 times.  I think I subconsciously enjoy a race with no finish line, one where you create your own finish at the point where you can no longer endure the pain or boredom.  And that point will be somewhere between mile 0 and mile 1, essentially, if you want to look at it that way.  We'll see...  I want to spend my final days in Virginia with the club at MMT 100, but I'm not sure I'll be satisfied with that decision knowing I could be so much more miserable for 72 hours in NJ that same weekend.......

On a side note, I've started a decent post about the 10,000 hours theory and I've done a decent amount of research for that post.  It seems the 10,000 hour rule has been written about and applied to many different trades, hobbies, sports, etc., but never to ultrarunning.  There also exists numerous counterarguments to this theory, which I have also been exploring to feed the beast.  It might take me another week or two before I have a finished product for you to read, but I hope that my time and effort spent on this "paper" will be worthwhile and contribute to the ultrarunning community.  And if not, oh well, I'm having fun writing it, if anything simply to increase my own awareness of the sport, Gladwell's 10,000 hour premise, and in general the limitations placed on the human body due to natural forces such as time, sleep, recovery, nutrition, yada yada...  It'll be interesting, anyway.  Maybe not studious or worthy of publication in a journal, but then again I don't have a sponsor to appease via blog posts either...

Thomas Jefferson 100k Live Tracking

AJW has set up the race this weekend to be tracked live via ultralive.net.  Here is the link: http://www.ultralive.net/tj100k/webcast.php

Weather is looking fun - rainy and in the 40's and 50's.  With the snow melt and rain earlier in the week, the course will likely be a muddy mess.  I'll have two pairs of gaiters on standby.

Red Eye 50k Race Report

Gary, the Race Director for the Red Eye 50k last week, posted a short blurb on the VHTRC website about the race.  Here is the link: http://www.vhtrc.org/news/node/1213

Enjoy.

03-09 Nov

03 NOV -- 1:00:03 -- 7.08 miles -- 426 elevation gain
               -- upper body weightlifting
04 NOV -- 29:33 -- 3.94 miles -- 814 elevation gain (hill sprints)
               -- stationary bike 11 miles
05 NOV -- 41:26 -- 4.73 miles -- 759 elevation gain
06 NOV -- 1:20:20 -- 9.33 miles -- 745 elevation gain
               -- upper body weightlifting
07 NOV -- 29:00 -- 2.41 miles -- 8 elevation gain (track workout, combat soccer)
08 NOV -- 4:00:55 -- 29.35 miles -- 1750 elevation gain (Rosaryville 50k, 4th overall)
09 NOV -- off -- rest

TOTAL -- 8:01:17 -- 56.84 miles -- 4502 elevation gain

Fun week!  The combination of weightlifting, hills, sprints, combat soccer, biking, and racing a 50k made this week really great.  I'm not sore and I feel awesome!  Two weeks of training remain until the JFK 50 Mile race.

The Rosaryville 50k couldn't have gone any better.   The weather was perfect - mid-40's at the start, mid-50's at the finish, clear skies.  The trails were in great shape with only a few small dodge-able puddles from Thursday's rain.  The chow afterwards was really good (beans, rice, salsa, and tortilla chips).  Rob joined me again for this race and also ran well (5:05).  I ran a few miles with the female winner (4:20), my buddy James I met at the PB&J 50k a few weeks ago (4:10, 6th overall), and most of the last loop with Karsten (3:58) until he smoked me in the final two miles.  I finished in 4 hours flat, good for 4th overall and the coveted First Military Finisher: 

Sorry, I have only this single picture I took with my phone to send to my photographer.  LittleManCillo is still in the womb so Kar didn't participate in the 0500 wake up and subsequent 75 mile drive to the race.

Recount #12: PB&J 50k

The inaugural PB&J 50k (aka, the Fat Lip Fun Run): a 16-mile loop in Prince William Forest Park, done twice, with aid stations at miles 6.7, 12.5, 15.5 at the turn around, 22.2, 28, and 31 at the finish.  Weather was perfect: in the mid-50's at the start, high of about 72 in the afternoon, dry trails, VHTRC atmosphere, clear skies and sunshine.



Kari and I picked up our friend Rob in the morning - this race would be his first ultra.  We arrived around 0715 for the 0800 start.  My friend Brandon also met us in the park for one loop of fun since he wasn't registered for the race.  Many other friends were there as well, either running or volunteering: Dan, Snipes, Gary (the RD), Irawan, Q, Stephanie, Jo (she made the trip from FL!), Jack, Bernard, Keith, Tom, and many other VHTRC-ers.  Here are some photos before the race:

Me and Snipes
 

Rob, me, and Brandon
 

My photographer and me
 

Irawan and me

 

Today, we celebrated a new VHTRC race with Jo (and Toni, who arrived later in the afternoon with delicious bread pudding.  I ate a pound of that stuff.)  During the pre-race brief we sang happy birthday to some folks while Q held the birthday cake.  This has become somewhat of a tradition for VHTRC races.  Well, Gary's races, anyway.  Afterwards, Gary passed some word, obviously vital to the day's activities.  Then, we hung around and drank coffee, water, or monster for another few minutes before we made our way to the start line.

 

 

 

It wasn't long before we started the race and took off down the road to the trail. 

 

Me, with Snipes close behind and already in visible pain?

 

 



Reaching for Kari's belly to say bye to Little Man Cillo

 

The start/finish aid station, commanded by the Commander of all troops, Kari Cillo (and Little Man)

 

I ran with some folks for the first few miles until the first aid station at mile 6.7.  Then, as always, I ended up alone in 2nd place until the turn around at mile 15.5 when I caught up with Evan.  Evan and I ran together until the next AS at mile 22.8.  After that, for some reason, my hamstrings started cramping up real bad.  I took a salt cap but 10 minutes later I started cramping again.  So, I took another one, and 10 minutes later I cramped yet again.  This continued all the way to the finish.  I think I simply got behind in my salt consumption throughout the first loop and it caught up to me on the second loop when it warmed up.  Thankfully, the trails in Prince William aren't too technical and it was only a 50k, so I didn't have too much trouble fighting through the pain.  I finished 2nd in 4:33:00.  More photos:

 

Me, breaking the imaginary tape

 



Happy to be able to run (and work on my tan)

 

Podium finishers - James (3rd), Evan (1st), me (2nd)

 

The man, the myth, the legend, Dave Snipes, finishing in prideful fashion

 



Gary hung out at the AS at mile 12.5/28 during the race where he was stung in his lower lip by a bee who tried stealing a swig of his Jim Bea...I mean, Magic Elixir.  Apparently, his lip was huge, but we didn't see him until after the race and after the swelling had subsided.  As Gary told us the story he explained, "My lip's been shrinking, like everything else on my body..."  That's the Gary we all know and love.

 





Snipes presented Gary with a small token of appreciation for...I don't know, for something though.  It was a coin from Silverton, Colorado that said Good For One Screw. 

 

Gary, Dan, Tom, and Snipes, laughing about the ridiculousness of the coin 

 Today was awesome.  Today, I'm grateful to be able to run!  I'm grateful for good friends and good company.  I'm grateful that my photographer, who is 9 months pregnant, is happy and healthy.  And, lastly, I'm grateful for the weekend!

 

 End of recount...

 

 

 

 

 





Recount #11: Grindstone 100

I debated whether or not I would write a recount about this race.  In the end, obviously, I decided I would.  I must admit, though, I didn’t make the decision on my own merit.  My photographer (aka my wife, for those new to this blog) caught me in a completely selfish moment and called me out on it.  If you haven’t checked the race results and haven’t read into my subtle hints thus far…I didn’t finish…  The conversation went something like this:

AJ: “Do I want to write a report for this race?  I really think I don’t.”

Kari: “Why not?”

AJ: “Well, what for?  Nobody reads it.  Plus, I didn’t finish.”

Kari: “Now, wait a second.  When you started your blog, your goal was to tell people your stories - especially your family.  And, you said ‘If I can help just one person train or plan for this race next year then I’ve succeeded.’”

AJ: “You know what – you’re right.  But that means I need to admit that I’m not Superman.”

Kari: “Yup.”

AJ: “Well, then, what am I supposed to do with my Superman underwear?”

Kari: “Throw them away, I guess.”

So, I’ve decided to put myself out there in an attempt to contribute to the ultrarunning community writ large.  It has also been brought to my attention that people do, in fact, read my stories.  I’ll get to that point later.  Although I’m deeply disappointed with myself and embarrassed that I failed, I see the importance in sharing my experience with all of you.  Likewise, I have a rather slow work week ahead of me that will provide me with plenty of time for reflection.  I’ll dive right in...

 

To start, my pacer and best friend, Tristin, who you all know from Massanutten last year, was expected to arrive Friday evening with Ryan (also came to Massanutten 2013) and Barb to crew/pace and hang out with Kari.  Well, things changed when he was struck by a vehicle while on a run back home in Pennsylvania.  He broke a few ribs and jacked up his back.  He was in a crosswalk!  Needless to say, he didn't make it, and Ryan and Barb stayed back to get him better.  Tristin is still tough as nails.  One time, I witnessed his defeat of a rabid goldfish with his bare hands.

Like most races, my photographer and I met up with Danny and Snipes beforehand for chow and story-telling.  Helen and Adam joined us for pizza and tuna sandwiches as well.  Clark gave the pre-race brief and tossed out prizes for about an hour while we watched in awe.  Helen won a pair of socks.  I didn’t win anything – looks like I didn’t get my grandfather’s lucky genes.  That guy used to win the 50-50 at every baseball game, every summer, every year.  Around 1400 the race brief ended and we parted ways until 1800, when we would convene together again behind the starting line.

Typically, races start early Saturday morning after a good night of sleep, so from 1400-1800 I really didn’t know what to do with myself.  At first, Kari and I moped around the field outside the kitchen.  Then, we walked over to Snipes’ tent and made fun of him and his 28 drop bags.  After that, I tried to take a nap on the ground next to the car.  I tossed and turned for only about 20 minutes before I was awakened by rain in the face (not to be mistaken by the Indian, ole Rain-in-the-Face). 

We weren’t camping this trip since my photographer is 8 months pregnant, so we just sat in the car and listened to music.  That lasted for about an hour until we got really bored.  If I attempt this race again I’ll need to account for the boredom factor on Friday afternoon.  Let’s fast forward to the good parts of this story…but first, a belly:

 

Eventually, I got too bored and started getting ready for the race around 1630:

 

 (all photos taken by Kari Cillo, www.kcillophotography.com)

Around 1730 Kari and I made our way towards the starting line.  Sure enough, we met up with Danny as he galloped towards us, trekking poles in hand.  We found a third friend, Ryan, and took some photos:

 

Me and Danny 

 

Ryan, me, and Danny

 

Finally, we shuffled towards the starting line.  Excitement was in the air.  So much excitement that the back half of the field didn’t hear Clark’s request for a minute of silence to remember fellow ultrarunner Maj Mike Donahue who recently died in Afghanistan.  Snipes brought some red, white, and blue parachute cord for everyone to wear during the race in his honor:

 

Cord on my pack, which I plan to keep in this location

Kari also wore some throughout the race 

My race bib

 

Ok…hat back on, shoes tightened, pack tightened, GPS calculating…3…2…1…Go!

 

 

 

After the race started Kari headed back to the hotel for dinner and some decent sleep.  I wouldn't see her again until the next morning.  I knew it would be a long and miserable night.  Yes!  It was already raining on and off and the temperature was going to start dropping around midnight.  Kari took this picture just after the race started and the torrential rains came upon us:

Here, I need to point out that I had never been on the Grindstone course until the race.  All I had was an elevation chart and a turn sheet.  The rule “if you can’t see the top of the hill then walk” was definitely in play for this one. 

The first mile was rough.  We took a dirt road around a small lake by the camp which funneled us into a tight corner to get onto the trail.  The bottleneck backed us up for a minute or so as the front-runners made their way through the small gap.  I was towards the middle with Danny, both of us complaining about putting our jackets on before the race started.  Once on the trail we each struggled with our packs and bottles to get our jackets off and stuffed away for later.  About 1.5 miles into the race we circled back around behind the camp where crews and families were cheering us on.  After that, the course turned dark and depressing for the next 12 hours.

I stayed with Dan until mile 2, but we were running different paces so I pushed ahead as we bid each other the best of luck.  He would finish in 25 hours and some change - congratulations, brother!

Around mile 3 it REALLY started to rain - it was then that I realized my feet wouldn't stay dry for long.  In fact, around mile 3.5 my left foot slipped on a rock going over a small stream and got wet from heel to toe.  So, to even things out, I ran through the next one and got my right foot wet too.

The strangest thing occurred around mile 4.  I mean, very weird.  I was running along the trail, looking at the ground and minding my own business, trying to get into a groove and mentally prepare myself for the awesome night ahead of me.  Usually, it doesn't require my complete attention to follow pink streamers in the trees in order to stay on course.  If a turn is coming up, it usually jumps out and bites me, especially when the trail is well-defined and the only linear feature through the woods.  So, when a reinforced squad of 25 people was suddenly running directly at me I was thrown through a loop.  I'm going to call this event the Epic Blunder of Grindstone 2014.  Chronologically, it went like this.

 

1.  A bunch of people come running at me

2.  I ask, "Where are y'all going?"

3.  They proclaim that they missed a turn and haven't seen a streamer in over a half mile

4.  All but 2 of the runners in that group start running backwards on the course to look for a streamer

5.  About another 50 runners behind us all stop in the middle of the trail and assume they are also lost

6.  There are now about 100 people standing in the middle of the trail, apparently lost

7.  Someone sends a runner backwards on the course to look for a streamer

8.  Meanwhile, I stand in one spot and stare in amazement for about 15 seconds

9.  After 15 seconds, I realize there was no way that 100 of us missed a turn, so I continue running

10.  Just then, someone behind me yells, "We found it!" and everyone starts back down the trail

11.  About 4 people scurry to get back in front of me, so I move over and let them pass

12.  Everyone is now running in the same direction, towards the finish, as a group of 100

 

It was surreal and I've never experienced anything like it.  Hilarious!  The first aid station was at mile 5-ish and I ran through it in 22nd place.  I quickly calculated that I somehow got in front of about 50-ish people as a result of the Epic Blunder of Grindstone 2014.  Unreal.

Around mile 4.5 I found myself running alone with someone I didn't know.  After a few minutes I broke the silence:

 

Me: "So, what's your name?"

Megan: "Megan.  What's yours?"

Me: "AJ.  Nice to meet ya."

Megan: "Are you the AJ that ultra-writes?"

 

I had never heard the term "ultra-write" before, and it caught me by surprise, so I didn't know what to say other than...

 

Me: "......Huh?" 

Great first impression, bimbo...

Megan: "Do you write about your races online?"

Me: "Ohhhh.  Yes, I do that..."

nervous and embarrassing laughter

Megan: "Cool.  I follow your blog."

Me: "Really?  Wow!  You're the first person I've met, other than family or friends, that actually reads it.  Thank you!" 

 

 

Holy smokes - people DO read my blog!  I suddenly felt relieved knowing that other ultrarunners read my stories.  Once I launch a race recount on here I don't really follow up on the number of hits, where it was posted, who left comments, etc.  But I secretly think it's really cool that accomplished runners like Megan, who has been victorious at all distances including 100 miles, take the time to read what little AJ has to say.  Megan finished 2nd female overall in this race - congrats, Megan!  And thanks, everyone!  I will continue writing recounts of my trail experiences.

Megan and I ran together through the first aid station and up a portion of the hill that followed.  At some point, I don't remember where or when, I got ahead of her and found myself walking the mountain alone.  Unfortunately, I would be alone the remainder of the night until the sun came up on Saturday when I raised the white flag.

Miles 6-10 were difficult.  The course winded up a mountain for about 3,000 feet during those couple of miles.  Although I had never been on the course, I picked the brain of the great Dave Snipes to determine where/when to walk and where/when to knock out 10:00 minute miles.  Thus, I knew I would be walking this portion of the course.  What made things difficult, however, was the fog.  Oh, the fog.  Words can't explain how bad it was on the ridgeline.  In fact, the fog deserves its own paragraph in this recount.

The definition of fog is ,"a cloudlike mass or layer of minute water droplets or ice crystals near the surface of the earth, appreciably reducing visibility" (Dictionary.com, search parameters "fog", retrieved October 12, 2014 from http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/fog?s=t).  If Grindstone could define fog it would probably be, "a wall of white clouds, exceptional at nullifying headlamps and flashlights during periods of darkness, efficient at concealing navigational streamers and trailways" (My brain, search parameters "the gosh darn fog", retrieved October 12, 2014 from mybrain.crappyraces.fail).  The fog worsened as we climbed higher and higher.  Around mile 7 the trail dumped us onto a service road for the next 2 miles to the top.  I didn't think it could get any worse, but sure enough the fog steadily thickened more and more from miles 7-9.  Just below the summit, I legitimately walked right off the service road multiple times.  I couldn't even see my feet at one point.  I tried dimming my head lamp, brightening my head lamp, walking in the dark, taking my head lamp off and holding it by my feet...nothing worked.  Clearly, if I couldn't see my feet then I couldn't see pink streamers in the trees anymore.  Luckily, there was only one turn off the road and it was well-marked.  Finally, I reached the top, punched my bib with the stamp to prove I was there, then ran away real fast.  I don't have any good pictures of the fog that night, but it would probably look something like this:

 

Courtesy of google, pretty sure it's the Golden Gate Bridge

 

The course took us down the backside of the mountain from miles 10-14, so I was able to gain some time back from the 17:00 minute miles climbing the front side.  I kept thinking, "what goes up, must go back down."  I tell myself this all the time during out-and-back ultras - it helps me come to peace with monster climbs knowing that I get to run back down on the way back.

I linked up with a guy named Ryan for a mile or so during this stretch.  He had long hair, dreadlocks.  I've always liked dreadlocks.  If I could, I would grow dreadlocks.  The Marine Corps should permit dreadlocks.  We griped and moaned about the rain, fog, and the hills.  He stopped to tie his shoe and I kept running.  I didn't catch his last name but I checked the results and every guy named Ryan finished the race.  So, congratulations Ryan!

I ran into the aid station at mile 14 by myself.  There were two other guys eating some chow and filling their bottles when I got there.  This AS was operated by Clark's students - about 6 of them.  I shoved a few pieces of PB&J into my mouth, grabbed a few for the road, and headed off leaving the other two runners behind.

Right after I left the AS I turned on my music for the first time.  I wanted to wait until the field spread out - I don't ever want to be that guy, the guy who doesn't move over for someone to pass because his music is too loud.  There were some hills over the next 8 miles - some went up and some went down.  Overall, there was about 2,000 feet of elevation gain until mile 22. Again, I was alone this entire section, so I was able to get into a groove and zone out with the music.  Lots of Michael Franti who, ironically, has dreadlocks.  Some older songs from the Goo Goo Dolls, Ludacris, Juvenile, Green Day and Blink 182.  I saw Green Day and Blink 182 in a concert at Hershey Park in 2002 - insane!  And, of course, "Love Shack" was placed on repeat for a few miles during times of heavy rain and high winds (which I'll speak to shortly, well, right now I suppose).

From miles 14-22 the wind started to pick up but the rain subsided at times.  As the weatherman might put it: tonight you can expect periods of rain with winds 10-15 mph coming out of the west, heavy fog at times so watch out for those deer, humidity will hover near 80% until temperatures start to dip into the lower 50's around 3am, by sunrise expect the rain and fog to clear up and temps in the upper 40's.  It was chilly along the ridge, but my jacket remained in my pack until later on.  This stretch went by pretty quick and I was alone the entire time.  I strolled into the AS at mile 22 where I found a ton of people!  Since I didn't have a crew until the next morning when Kari would meet me at mile 65.65, I didn't pay much attention to aid stations prior to that.  Families and crews lined the service road into this AS for about 100 yards.  Like the last AS, I ran by a few runners with their crews as I headed into the tent to get some chow and refill my pack with cold water.  Just as I shoved a PB&J into my mouth, my friend Megan McGrath came up and gave me a good luck hug in the absence of my photographer.  She was crewing/pacing another friend and was waiting for him to arrive.  She asked how I was doing, ensured I was keeping up with my salt, then sent me on my way.  It was refreshing to see someone I knew after running alone for so long. 

Miles 22-30 were interesting and fun.  I left the AS at mile 22 and started walking up a mountain.  There were about 10 of us, all equally spread out.  I could see headlamps both in front of and behind me in a Congo line.  We all jostled for position over the next 8 miles.  One guy, Matt, stopped on the side of the trail to rearrange some gear, so 3 of us passed him.  Not 10 minutes later he came roaring down the trail behind us, "Passing on the left.  Passing on the left.  Passing on the left." as he knocked us off one-by-one.  Sure enough, about 20 minutes later, I passed him again.  We all did this for 8 miles.  In the end, I somehow rolled into the AS at mile 30 by myself again, but ahead of that pack of runners.

The AS there lit up the entire treeline.  Not very tactical, but they had pickles!  As I shoved a few into my mouth I explained to the AS crew that my wife had been stocking the refrigerator at home with pickles for the past 3 months (ya know, cravings).  I took a quick shot of Coca-Cola and headed off into the darkness for the next 6-mile stretch to mile 36.  As I walked away I blurted out, "Real quick - do y'all know how many are in front of me?"  Some guy yelled back, "Seventeen!"  "Sweet, thank you guys.  Thanks for being out here in the cold and rain all night!"  Wow - I was in 18th.  I mumbled to myself, "I might be going too fast."  Like most races, I wasn't keeping tabs on what place I was in, but it's always good to have a reference point to work with.  I was averaging 12:00 minute miles and felt like I was holding back, so I didn't make any drastic changes to my pace and simply kept on pushing.

The next 6 miles were fun and offered lots of downhill running.  Typically, I start to feel really good after mile 30, which held true for this race as well.  This section was fairly technical, though, and I knew there was lots of running to go.  So, I continued to walk up the hills, but I started crushing the downhill sections hard.  I also knew there was a killer climb from miles 36-43 and that I would be walking nearly all of it, along with everyone else, so I didn't hold back on the downhill sections here.  In fact, I knocked off a few 10:00 minute miles and even passed a few runners.  I linked up with Keith K. just before the AS and ran in the last half-mile with him.  We entered the AS in 11th and 12th places, respectively.  ("Sweeeeeeeeeet! Level twoooooooo!")  We took turns on the scale and grabbed some eats for the road.  At the start, I weighed in at 146 pounds.  Here, 144 pounds.  Only down two pounds - not bad after 36 miles.  The clementines were exceptionally tasty at this AS, so I ate a few and took a few for the climb.  I also helped myself to two pierogies - mmm mmm good!  I quickly headed to my drop bag, replenished my Gu gels and Honey Stinger chews, and started hiking.  The next 7 miles were straight uphill - literally, straight uphill, 3,200 feet uphill.

Keith and I were walking together initially, but he was saving energy for later so I pressed ahead.  Again, I was alone...again...the entire climb....which felt like it would never end.  It was at this point that I realized Grindstone isn't necessarily difficult - it's dark with lots of hills, but it isn't too technical and most of the course is what we call runnable.  However, the section from miles 36-44 and, subsequently, miles 57-65.65, is VERY difficult.  Climbing that mountain temporarily broke me.  About 95% of those miles were uphill.  Only a few short sections were runnable, but I walked most of those anyway to give my quads a break.  By the time I reached the top I was broken and depressed.  I had averaged only 16:00 minute miles climbing that dang mountain, with my slowest at 20:17 and my fastest at 10:52.  What made it worse was that I thought the AS was at the top, but I had to run another mile and a half down a service road and through a couple fields to get to it.  And, as if things were bad enough, the fog had returned and was thicker than ever along the ridgeline.  And, even worse yet, the wind was howling and my jacket still resided in my pack.  And, just when things couldn't go any wronger, yes wronger, my headlamp ran out of juice.  I was in a bad place. 

Finally, after a miserable section, I reached the AS at mile 44.  I managed to stretch out the life of my headlamp until the AS by dumb luck - I was walking and taking off my pack to scrounge together some batteries as I saw the lights ahead of me.  Thankfully, one of the volunteers at the AS offered to change the batteries for me while I ate more pierogies.  But not so thankfully, it took him 5 minutes to do so.  This is where things went south in a hurry and I had my first scare of the race.  It was raining all night and I hadn't put my jacket on yet, so I was soaked.  The wind was howling.  Wet is ok, wind is ok, but wet and wind together is not ok.  I started shivering bad - teeth chattering, knees shaking, brrrrrrrr.  Then, my hip flexors starting cramping up.  And then my hamstrings got achy.  I jammed two salt tabs down my throat with some water.  Then, I elected to finally put on my jacket just as he finished assembling my headlamp.  That $5 Nike Golf jacket from TJ Maxx, which I introduced to you all during my JFK 50 Mile race recount from last year, is what saved my race.  Well, saved me from dropping at mile 44, at least.  I zipped it all the way to my neck and took off in a sprint to get my body warmed up again. 

The next 5 miles were along the ridgeline on service roads - a nice break from walking up steep inclines.  I started feeling better once I got moving and got blood flowing through my body again.  I kept my pace between 11:00 and 12:00 minute miles through this section.  Around mile 47 the lead runners started passing me in the other direction, about 7 miles ahead of me.  First was Jeff Browning, running solo.  Man, he's hard.  Next was Brian Rusiecki, about 10 minutes behind, just as I rolled into the AS at mile 49.  Here, we had to make a quick detour to the summit of the nearby mountain - only half a mile up, punch our bibs with the stamp, then half a mile back down to the AS, all on concrete.  I ran right through it on the way up to the lookout, but on the way back down I stopped for some chow - dark chocolate, PB&J, and some ginger ale.  It was only 2 miles to the turn-around at mile 51, also on concrete.  I grabbed half a S'mores Pop-Tart and headed off down the road.

Immediately, 5 or 6 runners passed me in the other direction, which meant they were about 4 miles ahead of me.  I kept to myself with my head down and pushed on.  It was mostly downhill until the turn around and I kept my pace around 10:00 minute miles all the way there.  Strangely, the AS at mile 51 was the first one with oranges.  I ate probably 3 full oranges while the volunteers filled my pack with water.  Nearby, a group of 4-5 kids, probably 12 years old or so, were sitting in lawn chairs by a fire roasting marshmallows.  I was about 10 hours and 30 minutes into the race, so it was 0430-ish in the morning.  I asked why they weren't making S'mores and they told me they ran out of chocolate, which was probably the reason they were still awake!  I stood by the fire and joked with them until my pack was full.  I grabbed a few pickles and some more oranges, thanked the volunteers, and started the journey backwards...

"What goes up, must go back down."  Also, "what goes down, must go back up."

Those downhills miles were nice from 49-51, but going back up was uncomfortable.  I shuffled most of it but there were some places steep enough to warrant walking, so I gave in and walked.  My splits were in the mid-13:00 minutes, which I was fine with.  One runner passed me heading towards the turn around and say "Good job, man!"  Sometimes I forget where I am, and for some reason I blurted "Errah!" as if acting obnoxiously amongst fellow Marines.  Oops.  Well, maybe that motivated him.  I'll never know. 

I got back into the AS at mile 53, also mile 49, and grabbed more dark chocolate.  The AS Captain here was wearing camouflage overalls with a camouflage hat.  Righteous.  He offered me a fresh PB&J, and who doesn't want a fresh, soft, delicious PB&J?  I took it for the road.  After one bite I realized the bread was crusty.  It had definitely been sitting out for a few hours.  Maybe he grabbed from the wrong pile.  I tossed it into the woods for the rabbits. 

At this point, runners were passing me going the other direction every minute or so.  I tried to ID each person to see if I knew them, but it's difficult with headlamps because we blind each other in the process.  Therefore, I defaulted to yelling "All right, all right!  Good job!" to each person.  But then, someone ID'd me - it was Danny! 

 

Danny: "Wooooooo!  All right, AJJJJJJJJJJ!  Great job, man!"

Me: "Dannnnnnnnnnyyyyy!  Looking good, mmbannnn...bannn...mannn..."

What the f---?

 

It was then that I realized something was going wrong.  I was around mile 55, heading to the AS at mile 57 before that monster 3,000-foot downhill.  I started thinking what could be happening - was I overheating?  Nah.  Was my face frozen?  Heck no, it was only 50 degrees.  Well, what the heck?  I was confused.  I noticed I started getting tunnel vision a few miles earlier, which is normal after looking through the cone of a headlamp for so many hours.  But it didn't occur to me until I was forced to think and act quickly that I was very tired.  So tired, in fact, that I began to hallucinate after seeing Danny.  My brain was motoring, 100 miles per hour.  Meanwhile, runners kept running towards me, passing me going the other direction at a steady clip of 1 every minute.  Holy smokes - what is going on?  I tried shaking my head side to side - no luck.  I tried slowing down - no change.  I tried dimming my headlamp - I couldn't see the ground anymore, duh.  I tried sprinting - sheesh, too tired for that.  I took an Endurolyte thinking it might help in some medically unfathomable manner - negative.  Below is my attempt to verbally describe what I was experiencing, which lasted all the way to mile 65.65 where I subsequently called it quits:

 

- "Dannnnnnnnnnyyyyy!  Looking good, mmbannnn...bannn...mannn..."

- Woah, something is wrong with my mouth, my lips won't move how I want them to move

- Oh shoot, the ground looks really close, like I can touch it right now

- Ok, more headlamps coming towards me

- Hey, there's a runner right in front of me now, "Hey Matt..."

- That definitely wasn't Matt, he's in Quantico right now, he's not even an ultrarunner

- Oh man, why did I think that was Matt?

- Another runner is coming towards me, "Hey Matt..."

- Shit, that wasn't Matt, he isn't here

- Woahhhhh!!!  Turtles!!!  All over the trail!!!

- I gotta dodge all these turtles, so I'll just hop right over them

- Another runner, "All right, all right!  Good job, man!"

- That was a girl...

- Wait, maybe it was Matt

- Oh yeah, he isn't out here, we just discussed that

- But Matt should be out here!  Yes, he should certainly be out here

- I bet Matt is connected to these turtles somehow

- Matt is like a ninja

- Ohhhh, ok, I get it, these must be ninja turtles

- Gotta keep hopping over these ninja turtles

- Oh, thank goodness, there's the aid station, I'll pick up the pace (laughing out loud, literally, as if I just uncovered a dirty little secret)

- Man, that aid station isn't getting any closer

- Darnit, those were city lights in the distance, not the aid station

- There's another runner, "Hey Matt..."

- Oh shit, I'm just gonna stop talking

- Another runner coming

- Crap, he said "good job" but I didn't say anything back

- It's all good, it was just Matt, I'll see him on Monday and apologize

- Ok, there's a bright light ahead, that has to be the aid station

- Hey, look, there's a sign that says it's the aid station, this must be the aid station

 

That was just from miles 55-57.  That would continue after the AS, all the way down the hill, and into the next AS at mile 65.65.  Along that section of 7-ish miles, I ran across VHTRC Ambassador Gary K., the padre of Keith K., just as the sun came up.  He was climbing the mountain, still at mile 39-ish.  What a stud.  Basically, he's a freak of nature.  He finished the race in 35 hours and 29 minutes after running through the night...both Friday and Saturday nights!  He's also 70 years old.  And a freak.  And a stud.  His legs are made from the horns of 27 unicorns.

After 60 miles and 12,000 feet of elevation gain/loss, it starts to hurt running downhill more than it does uphill.  Dropping 3,000 feet over 7 miles really hurt my quads.  I was able to maintain 13:00-14:00 minute miles, which isn't impressive to anyone, but it was better than 20:00 minute miles.  But I was getting really sleepy - more sleepy than I was even after finishing Massanutten 100 after running for 25 straight hours.  And the hallucinations didn't end when the sun came up.  Shortly after I saw Gary, I stopped and started to lie down on the side of the trail.  I got down on one knee, then the other, then lowered my right hand towards some grass and started leaning my head towards the ground...

 

Thoughts to myself:

 

Wait, huh???  I can't take a flipping nap right here.  Dang, dude, I gotta get to that aid station.  I know I'm close - I remember that rock.

 

A few minutes later I started running across little wooden bridges.  That's when I knew I was nearly there.  A few minutes later I started hearing people talking.  Then the trail turned and I was looking straight down the barrel of a Cannon 60D:

 

 

 

The AS at mile 65.65 had Clementines!

 

 

 

When I first arrived, I gave Kari and her belly a kiss and made sure she was feeling alright.  She was a little tired and didn't sleep well in a new bed.  Plus, I forced her out of bed around 0600 to come aid me in my quest. 

I fully intended on continuing with the race.  I grabbed the remainder of my Gu Gels from my drop bag and replaced them with empty rappers in my pack.  Kari put some more salt tabs in my Ziploc then put it back in my pack as well.  I asked her if she had any Ensure with her, but she left it in the car.  So, she took off running to the car and I yelled out, "Bring two!"  I helped myself to 3 pierogies, a few Clementines, and some M&Ms while I waited.  When she got back I downed both bottles of Ensure.  I asked if she had more, so she ran back to the car again to get more.  I was feeling ok at that point.  I still hadn't weighed in so I headed over to the scale - 140 pounds, even after the Ensure and chow.  Not good.  Down at least 6 pounds since the start.  I shoved another pierogie in my mouth and started preparing mentally for the next 6-mile stretch.

Just then, my eyes shut.  I was standing up, eating food, talking to my photographer, and my eyes closed.  My knees buckled and I swayed to the side.  Yikes - I just fell asleep standing up.  I've been awake for 3 days straight before during long operations in the desert, and I ran through Massanutten without sitting down even once, so this was a surprise.  Kari looked scared when I opened my eyes.

 

Kari: "Did you just fall asleep???"

Me: "Yeah.  I've been hallucinating for the past 10 miles or so as well."

Kari: "Are you ok?"

Me: "I don't know yet.  I'm seeing stars."

 

I couldn't believe how quickly I went from having one foot out of the aid station and on the trail, to falling asleep standing up and hallucinating again.  Again, Kari tried to ask me if I was doing ok, but I fell asleep again and almost fell over.  We repeated this a few times until she got angry and starting pushing me towards the trail.  I was prepared to keep running, but I wanted to take some chow for the road.  But as I walked over to grab a PB&J I fell asleep walking.  I also thought I saw a jar of pickles on the table but there were no pickles.  I stopped and leaned my head on Kari's shoulder to take a break for a second and, as expected, fell asleep standing up again.

 

Me: "Kar, I don't think I can stay awake right now."

Kari: "You need to.  What do you need before you leave?"

Me: "No, really, I cannot stay awake.  And I keep seeing shit."

Kari: "No.  No.  You're finishing this race."

Me: "Dude, I really can't stay awa........"  (again, sleeping while standing, eyes closed and all)

 

In hindsight, I should have taken a quick nap or found some coffee or something.  I tried jumping around and smacking my legs to wake back up, but every time I stopped moving for even a second I fell asleep standing up.  And then, I started shivering again.  Teeth chattering, legs quivering, brrrrrrr.  Now, I was falling sleep standing up while shivering.  Things were going south quick.  I knew I either needed to get running again, or drop.  Taking a nap wasn't an option at the time, for whatever reason, although it was probably the most sensible plan.  After some more debating with Kari, who was genuinely scared and upset and emotional, I decided to pull myself from the race.  I knew the next 6 miles were mostly uphill with roughly 2,000 feet of climbing, and I kept doubting my ability to remain awake on the run.  I was in a rut like never before.  I had a deeply regretful moment of fear and weakness and told Kari to tell the AS volunteers that I was done.  Certainly, I could have taken a nap for a few hours and still finished the race.  I was on pace to finish in roughly 21 hours and I had plenty of time to waste.  But my head wasn't right and I completely rejected stopping unless I was stopping for good.  During ultras, something always tells me that I cannot take a break.  I take pride in the fact that I have NEVER sat down during a race.  However, dropping from yet another race is painful... 

While Kari grabbed her things I stood by the AS tent with a blanket wrapped around me to stay warm.  Pathetic little weakling...  Apparently, I legitimately fell asleep standing up because a woman tapped me on the shoulder and told me I should sit down in her chair. 

Getting to the car was difficult.  My legs were cramping everywhere because I kept shivering.  I was falling asleep every 5 seconds - at the back of the car, at the front of the car, standing with my shirt off, sitting down in the middle of the road, leaning against the car, everywhere.  I struggled hard to stay coherent enough to change  my shirt and sit down in the front seat.  Once I got there, I zonked out hard until we got to the hotel.  When I woke up, I still wasn't with it and had no idea where I was.  God bless my wife - she dragged me out of the car, got my bags, and got me into the hotel room where I immediately fell asleep sitting on the grungy floor.  These shenanigans continued until 1500 that afternoon.  After a shower and a long nap, I was finally able to hold a conversation with Kari for more than 30 seconds. 

Trying to run Grindstone is tough after a full work week...

Ok, I think I've shamed myself enough.  This blog needs to come to an end eventually, but not before I share some pictures of the awesome food that the small town of Staunton offers:

 

Sulking before getting pizza for dinner

 

 

 

This stuff was legit 

 

 3 scoops for me

 

 2 scoops for my photographer

 

Still angry with myself, but how can I be upset with ice cream in my hand

 

End of recount...