XTERRA Marathon of Trails 13.1

Well, as I’m sure all of you, my loyal, doting worshippers fans have noticed, the supposed Breck Crest 13.1 that I mentioned at the end of my last post…yeah, that didn’t happen. The week after the Pike’s Peak Ascent was an overnight school field trip, and because kids are just festering harbingers of death and disease, I found myself sick for the first time in forever. I definitely have no regrets DNSing this one, but I’m still curious how racing up in Breckenridge will be, so next year fersher.

The reason I’m updating this blog though, is because yours truly tore it up (literally…ha, I’ll get to that) this past weekend at the XTERRA Marathon of Trails over at the Cheyenne Mountain State Park. However, before I delve into my embarrassingly dismal performance, there’s a good 7 weeks that I need to update y’all with!

For a bunch of really good reasons (read: pitiful excuses), my training this Fall has wavered between nonexistent and weekend-warrior-hobby-jogger. But Lucky Charms, (for cereal) (seriously) being a first year high school teacher, on top of coaching middle school cross country, leaves approximately negative time for things like having a social life, sleeping, and doing laundry. (Tee bee aych, I wouldn’t do that last one if I had all the time in the world.) But running now ranks (arbitrarily) 14^th in things-I-must-do-to-survive-on-a-daily-basis, right after eating and just before beating the Elite Four in Pokemon Yellow. So, while I’m working 12 hours a day during the week, my lack of social life provides me with ample time to run on the weekends, where I attempt to cram in 20-30 miles over the span of two days.

This has (surprisingly) yielded some pretty good training runs, including some lung-burning jaunts over on Barr Trail, Red Rocks Open Space, and Columbine Trail. Unfortunately, following these runs with 5 days of grading papers and Pumpkin Spice Oreos effectively brings me back to ground zero each week. So why I decided to race a half marathon over on Cheyenne Mountain 5 days before the race is beyond me. I guess, with the Moab Trail Marathon now less than four weeks away, I figured I needed to bust some rust, and what better way than forcing yourself into a race that you have no right running in?

I managed a disturbingly tough 40-minute jog the Saturday before the race, sapping any ounce of confidence I had going into this race. At the time, I couldn’t figure out why I was so out of breath within no more than 3 minutes of running. Now, I realize that was because I’m ridiculously out of shape.

~

Race morning had me up at 6:30 am, with a conservative 8 am start at Cheyenne Mountain State Park, luckily less than a 15 minute drive from my place. A brisk 45 degrees, I was downright frigid driving over to the start, where I picked up bib, then sat shivering in my car for the next hour, Snapchatting away my woes. I managed a 5-minute warm-up, which was a fantastic way of confirming how much this race was going to suck, and before I knew it, we were off. Like an idiot, I was “that guy” jockeying for position within the first 400 yards, watching a couple studs fly off into the distance and finding myself, uncomfortably, in about 8^th.

For some reason, I still had delusions of magically throwing down the hammer and proving the running world wrong. I CAN race a new trail 13.1 PR off of exactly zero training! You don’t need to actually run to run well! This was not the case. Within a mile (quick at that, too) of mostly uphill, I found myself sucking wind, hard. Like, way too hard for a race that included 12 more miles. I let (ha! As if I had the choice) three runners pass me, finding someone in orange (let’s call him orangey) to trail behind. Again, for whatever reason, I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling so bad (IT’S BECAUSE YOU HAVEN’T BEEN TRAINING IDIOT), but I found myself trailing behind orangey for miles 2 and 3, where he slowly slipped away. However, mile 4 finally afforded me some downhill, and like magic, I found myself, for the first time all race, feeling good. I hammered the downhills, opening my stride and attempting to close that gap back to orangey.

It was probably around mile 5.5 that my mind started to wander, and BAM! Found myself face-first in the dirt, busting up my knee and chin in the process. Feeling like a doofus, I frantically picked up the pace, and soon caught Redshirt, who was recently passed by orangey (who was probably 15 seconds ahead). Running easily my fastest miles (you can check my Strava run here: http://www.strava.com/activities/206635731), I inched my way closer to orangey, wondering to myself how I could all of a sudden be feeling so good (IT’S ALL DOWNHILL STUPID).

Busted knee, made me look pretty BA or like a n00b

It was around mile 9 where we hit the uphills again, and surprise-surprise! I started dying, hard. The uphill became really technical in this part as well, and I found myself walking over the rockier parts. The minute we hit these uphills, orangey took off, and by mile 10, redshirt soundly passed me, out of sight within a minute. Totally alone miles 10 and 11, I know I could’ve/should’ve pushed this section harder, but soon, around 11.5, I ran into the inevitable downhills, and I was able to open up my stride again.

Just wanting to finish, I recklessly flew down the next half mile, soon catching sight of redshirt. Without orangey in sight, I made beating redshirt my new goal, and by mile 12, quickly passed him, and pressed on the gas. It was difficult finding a good rhythm, as we had switchbacks every 50 feet, and my long stride afforded me (maybe) 3 strides before a clumsy 180 degree turn. However, I made sure to make it hurt, sprinting the final straightaway to finish in 1:41:29, good enough for a 6^th place finish.

I managed first in my age group (somehow 25-29? Still don’t understand that), but more than 7 minutes behind first place (results: http://marathonmajic.com/xterraCMSP2014octHalf.html). I was actually pretty embarrassed by how quickly I sprinted in the finish; clearly, it’s these uphills that are giving me trouble, and something I REALLY need to work on before my marathon next month. It’s also time I get some real trail shoes, as my Newton Gravitys, a most-definitely road shoe, are looking pretty torn up after all these trails. With coaching cross country over, I’m hoping to use this extra 2 hours per day to log some mileage. Be on the lookout for next month’s suicide suckfest race!

Pike's Peak Ascent

I can’t think of a more fitting event for my first race as a Colorado resident. Dubbed “America’s Ultimate Challenge,” the race was a 10-minute drive from my place, sent us up some of the most scenic trails I’ve ever had the opportunity to barf on, and allowed me to experience my first 14-er firsthand.

The morning of, I rolled out of bed, downed way too much coffee, and somehow managed to drive myself over to Manitou Springs by 6 am. With a 7 o’clock start time, I had the luxury of hogging a Port-o-Pottie for an unreasonable amount of time, getting lost trying to find my bib, and just generally freaking out for a full hour.

With about 10 minutes to go and a defeated acceptance of impending doom, I happened to walk past both Zach Miller and Sage Canaday. For those of you who aren’t embarrassingly-obsessed with the pro trail running scene, these two are the best of the best – and I was literally racing against them (ha, yeah right). I miraculously stifled a bunch of girlish squeals and instead wished both of them luck, heading to the starting line starry-eyed and maybe drooling a bit? Within minutes though, there was the bang from the starting gun, and we were off!

(See the tallest point of that mountain? That's where we're running!)

I started pretty far back, a tad apprehensive about how this whole ‘altitude’ thing would play out, much less racing after my 6-week hiatus. I focused on staying relaxed as I slowly passed people on the streets of Manitou Springs, heading up to Barr Trail, about a mile into the race. It was the trail where the uphill definitely notched up, and I quickly locked onto the back of a female Scottish pro. I stuck behind her as we both passed people for the next 2 miles, until, at mile 4, I leapfrogged her, using a short downhill to my advantage.

There were a bunch of random hikers on the trail (kinda sucks for them, because they were basically stranded where they stood until all the runners passed them), and a couple even gave me a heads up, letting me know that the next mile would be the easiest (least uphill) in the race. I was quickly noticing that, surprisingly, my strength was the steep uphill, and this flatter section was the first place where I was passed. I’d say 5-6 passed me in this next mile (I caught maybe 4 of them later on), and it was probably mile 6 where found myself running side-by-side with a runner decked out in orange. Like, orange shoes, shirt, watch, even hair. I commented this to him, who kind of grunted. Not sure if he heard me, I kind of repeated it – he didn’t say a thing (HAHA Sam you’re so funny. Idiot).

About a minute later though, he (post-race we chatted, his name’s Zach) let me in on his strategy: to take the race as evenly-paced as possible. Feeling like a total jerkface for trying to get him to talk mid-race, I stuck behind him for the next two miles as we picked off people. I’d been running the race with my small 10-ounce handheld water bottle, and up until this point, hadn’t even taken a sip. It’d been warm, but as we climbed higher and higher, the temps became more and more forgiving. Zach decided to stop at an aid station, and because I still can’t manage to stomach anything mid-race, I continued on.

It was probably in between miles 9-10 that I started throwing in some bouts of walking. Definitely over 10,000 feet of elevation at this point, I realized that it was my breathing that was slowing me down, not my legs. This run/walk method worked for the next mile, as I passed a couple more runners, and soon found myself above the tree line. The dirt path soon became loose scree, not unlike running through sand at some points, and without the tree cover, you could see for miles. This was the first time I afforded myself the chance to take in the view, and it was literally breathtaking. I commented to a runner up ahead “Man, I wish I had my camera” to which I got a cold, exasperated look (SHUT UP SAM).

I continued the run/walk strategy from miles 10-11, simply running when I felt good. I kept surprising myself with how good I felt – I continually told myself to leave nothing left at the finish, and perhaps took a few too many run bursts on mile 11. This is because, almost exactly as I passed mile twelve, I hit a (figurative) wall. Not only was my breathing becoming out of control, but this whole altitude thing started taking its toll, and I was becoming alarmingly dizzy and uncoordinated.

This last mile was pretty interminable – I noticed at mile 12 that I was at around 2:30 for total time, meaning I could potentially break 3 hours, my lofty goal going into this race. But as runner by runner passed me, something happened to me that’s never happened in my racing or training before. Both quads totally locked up – they had me yelping in pain, and I was forced to waddle (‘Did that kid poop his pants?’) for at least a minute, hardly moving forward at all. Scared and so close to the finish, I remember reading something online about how just having the taste of salt is enough to stave off cramping. Sucking on my upper lip and arm like a masochistic vampire, I regained functioning of my legs, and actually found it easier to “run” than to walk. I put run in quotes here because at this point, no one is actually running, just mimicking the motion.

Finally, with the end in sight, I threw in one last burst, scrambling over scree and boulders for the most unique finishing chutes I’ve ever seen. Delerious and wobbly, I stumbled over to flat ground, slowly letting the elation wash over me. Not only had I, 1. Survived, but 2: finished, and 3: finished with a time of 3:00:52, soooo close to my lofty goal of sub-3 but nearly a half hour faster than my “projected” time of 3:30. After about 10 minutes of feeling like death, I discovered the post-race food and proceded to devour an obscene amount of jelly beans and Goldfish.

(Not a bad view post-race)

Because the race is a point-to-point, we had about an hour to kill before the first vans would arrive to bring us back to ‘ground’ level. I chatted with Zach and his friend Jeff, another Chicago runner, and was even interviewed by the local news! She must’ve seen how loopy and delerious I was, because I remember nothing from it, and 5 minutes after the interview, I was comatose, convenient enough for the hour-long transport back to Manitou Springs.

All in all, the race couldn’t have gone any better. With my minimal amount of training and recent move to elevation, I’m quite stoked with my performance, and never did I think I’d say I was happy with a 13:30/mile pace. I finished 98^th overall, 8^th in the 20-24 age group; the 25-29 age group is arguably the toughest, so next year will definitely necessitate some more training. That Sage guy I wished luck to at the beginning? He won the whole race in 2:10, most likely thanks to me.

And, high off the endorfins of a fun and painful race, I’ve already signed up for another! In two weeks, I’ll be racing the Breck Crest 13.1, a trail half-marathon over in Breckenridge on August 31^st. If you want to see my short interview (as well as some good coverage of the rest of the race), I’ve put a link to the video below. Enjoy!

http://www.koaa.com/news/runners-race-to-the-top-of-pikes-peak/

Colorado Springs

So for those of you who don’t know, last week I officially moved to Colorado. What had always been a dream of mine became reality when I was offered a position to teach high school French in Colorado Springs (also, just found out that I’ll also be the middle school cross country coach!? Now I have TWO chances to screw up today’s youth). The transition from 6 feet of elevation to 6,000 has been a tad disheartening, but my ability to run again totally makes up for that. You read that right – I’ve eased back into running, replacing the pancake-flat pavement of the Chicago suburbs for the awe-inspiring landscapes of the Rockies.

Now, my training is nowhere near the volume that it was back in May/June, but I can honestly say that I’ve climbed more in one run here than those two months in Illinois combined. My new go-to workout (which I’ve completed three times now) is something called The Incline, about a 10-minute drive from me over in Manitou Springs. It doesn’t actually include much running, but instead consists of roughly 2,000 feet of elevation gain over the course of a little more than a mile, all up some crudely-made steps. I was told a good athlete could expect to make it up in about 30 minutes (my first time was 29:55…yeesh), and I’ve since brought it down to 25:58. You then run down a winding trail ~4 miles back down to “ground” level; the round trip usually takes about an hour, and typically leaves me craving copious numbers of donuts (so you know it’s a good workout).

It was during my most recent climb that I noticed banners announcing the Pike’s Peak Ascent, a ridiculous race that climbs the same trail I’d run down (and then some). While I’d heard of the race before, I did a little research and discovered that the course starts at 6,300’ and is a 13.3 mile climb to the top of Pike’s Peak, more than 14,000’ above sea level. There’s both a half-marathon (just to the top) and a full marathon (up and back down), and both are in about a week (August 16-17^th). Obviously, having just moved to Colorado, I’m nowhere near ready to climb a 14-er, on top of the fact that I haven’t run in more than 6 weeks. But, because I’m an idiot, I decided to sign up!

Thankfully, the full marathon was already sold-out (good excuse), but there were still a few spots open for Wave 1 of the Ascent. Because it’s such an epic and difficult race, you need to have a run a qualifying marathon time in the past two years to register; fortunately, my last race at the Yankee Springs Trail Marathon was fast enough for me to qualify for the faster wave.

While registering, the website asks you to make a prediction as to what your finishing time will be, and because my half-marathon time is right around 80 minutes, I figured it’d take maybe 90 to make it to the top. Uhhh, not quite – the website recommended you add 30 minute to your best marathon time. Whoa. If you want to read about the race, its crazy amount of elevation gain and partial pressure of oxygen, click the link here: http://www.pikespeakmarathon.org/course.htm#Course.

Because my teaching will start this Wednesday, I’m not going to have much time to train this next week, making this race extra…interesting. Check back next week, as I’ll be sure to write up a recount of this brutal suckfest!

Update (It's A Big One!)

So it’s been more than a month since my last blog post, and you all, my loyal, doting fans, are probably wondering how my training’s been going. And I’m sorry to disappoint, but simply put, it hasn’t. I’m on my 6^th (!!) week of no running whatsoever, easily the longest I’ve ever gone since I’ve picked up running.

Motivated after a great race up in Yankee Springs, where I ran my first ever 1^st overall win, I jumped headfirst back into training. Despite not having any races within the next 2 months, I was spurred on by my recent success and ran 78 miles the week after the Yankee Springs Trail Marathon, the most mileage I’d logged in who knows how long. This included a 15-miler where I broke my official 13.1 PR, and 19-mile long run, followed by hill repeats, a la Ryan Hall. And in retrospect: I’m an idiot.

I decided to rest the day after that 19-miler, feeling pretty beat up the morning after. The day after that though, I struggled to complete an easy 40-minute run. The day after that was 30 minutes, and the day after that, I made it 15 minutes into a hill workout before calling it quits. Not only did I feel like butt, but my heel/arch had been acting up, swollen and painful to the touch, let alone running on it.

That’s when I got scared. I’d heard of plantar fasciitis, but never thought it could happen to me, a sprightly 20-something with healthy arches and an efficient gait. But after researching some of the symptoms, it hit me. Pain in the heel, radiating up to the arch? Check. Sore and tight calf muscles? Check. Increase in mileage and hill running? Check. Soreness upon waking? Check, and something that I’d been noticing for more than a month now. I had attributed it to lots of running / minimal shoes, but now that I’d thought about it, it made perfect sense.

So I quickly Googled the known treatments for plantar fasciitis, and found the number one form of treatment: not running. Woof. Fortunately, my training buddy Jordan had just returned to Glencoe with his own running injury, so we ramped up the biking hours together. While biking in no way compares to running, I’ve found that it can satisfy that itch that running provides, although requiring significantly more time. Averaging 12-14 hours per week on the bike this last month, I’ve discovered some new bike paths, experimented with some brutal workouts, and can definitely say that I’m in the best biking shape of my life. Now, whether any of that will translate to running potential, we’ll have to wait and see.

Also of note: while I’ve loved my time spent working at Running Away Multisport (and the swag that comes with it), a pretty life-changing opportunity came up that I couldn’t pass up. I’ll be leaving Glencoe, IL on July 29^th for Colorado Springs, CO to pursue a career as a high school French teacher. Living in Colorado has always been a dream of mine (at least, since spending a summer training in Boulder back in 2010), and to have the opportunity to live there while teaching French is a dream come true.

I’m hoping to start running again once I get out there, obviously easing back into training slowly (altitude should help keep that in check). Unfortunately, this also means that my August/September/October races back in Illinois are now going to be DNSs, but I should hopefully be able to find some much more interesting races out West! 

Race Report - Yankee Springs Trail Marathon

Wow, weekends don’t get much better than this.

After May’s Ice Age 50K, where I placed a respectable 3^rd and ran a 10-minute PR, I surprised myself by how well I recovered. After just one day off running (but still logging an hour on the bike), I jumped back into training in full force.

Technically, my marathon PR was 3:30 from a dismal race my senior year of high school (side note: in looking back at my “training” for that, I peaked at a 31-mile week, but tended towards the 15-20 the preceding weeks to that suckfest). Unofficially, I went through mile 26 at Ice Age at around 3:24, so I knew I had a PR in me for my June race, the Yankee Springs Trail Marathon, over in Middleville, Michigan.

With weeks of 45, 63, 65, and 64 miles for the weeks between Ice Age and Yankee Springs, plus an average of 6-10 hours of biking per week, I was confident enough to even start throwing in some more serious workouts. Hill repeats at Tower Rd., 3-on/1-off fartleks, and an impromptu 10-mile tempo all had me in some of the best shape of my life. Perhaps more importantly, though, was that I was mentally hungry for a good race to show off all this hard work.

The Friday before the race, I biked 15 miles up north to run an easy 30 minutes with Keelin, then back home to shower and nom before I met up with my friend Dana. Her family owns a house in Michigan, just an hour from the Yankee Springs trails, and they were gracious enough to let me spend the night with them. After a questionable-yet-delicious dinner at a Chinese Buffet (in retrospect, this was a huge gamble. Wow), we walked down towards the beach for a beautiful sunset, then hit the sack early.

Race morning had us out the door at 5 am – 4am Chicago time (of which I totally didn’t take into account). But with some bumpin’ tunes and a 5-Hour Energy, I was wide awake by the time we arrived at the Yankee Springs trail. After quickly scoping out the competition, I went through my usual pre-race ritual of freaking out and second-guessing myself, but Dana was good at quelling those fears. At the last minute, I opted to run shirtless (but with my little handheld water bottle), then ran up to the front of the starting line, as the RD gave us the final directions. And with that, we’re off!

The course for the Yankee Springs Trail Marathon ran along winding single-track (frequently used for mountain biking) for two 13.1 mile loops. My plan coming into the race was to relax the first loop and to let the others do the work, then race hard the second. However, that plan flew out the window within the first 15 seconds of the race, when I found myself leading along with two other runners, who I’ll call Altra and Pearl Izumi, for obvious reasons (Pearl Izumi is actually a really nice guy named Ryan Smith with whom I chatted with for a good chunk after the race).

Running completely on adrenaline, I had zero idea how fast I was going, but Altra and Pearl Izumi were content to tuck in right behind me. Within the first mile, we wound through beautiful pine trees, crossed a small wooden bridge, and trudged through some momentum-destroying sand. However, right around mile 2, Pearl Izumi took off past me, gaining 30 seconds on me within the next ½ mile, and was soon out of sight. At around the same time, Altra started dropping off too, so by mile 3, I found myself in no man’s land.

Fortunately, I was able to really relax and take in the gorgeous scenery, and with the cool weather, plus my handheld bottle, I didn’t need to stop at the first aid station at mile 4(ish?). Looking for Pearl Izumi up ahead without much luck, I hear footsteps catching up to me (Altra??), which wakes me up, and I kick it into gear, skipping the aid station at mile 6(ish) to drop some sub-7 miles through some windy and hilly sections. This stretch was easily my favorite part, and despite the hills, I was really able to get into a good rhythm.

Bypassing the next aid station (mile 10ish?), I hear Altra say something to me, only to look back and find Pearl Izumi! Totally bewildered (“Dood wut I’m chasing you???”), Pearl Izumi explains that he took a wrong turn back at mile 3ish. We chat about school, running, and my stint in Martinique, and before I know it, we’re back at the start/finish area at mile 13.1. Initially, my goal for the day was to run sub-3:20 (so 1:40 at the half) – I had yet to check my watch all race, so when we came through the halfway point at 1:34, I was pretty surprised. However, I was feeling pretty good, buffered by the fact that I was in first place (!?), something that’s never happened to me before.

I ran straight through this aid station, noticing that Pearl Izumi was stopping. He quickly caught back up to me, and we set into a nice pace together. Running up to the next aid station (17?), I determined that I still had enough water in my bottle, and continue on, while Pearl Izumi stopped again. I run solo for the next 5 minutes, until Pearl Izumi catches back up, but at this point, I’m thinking how he’s now thrown in 3 fast bursts to catch up to me, while I’ve maintained a steady pace all day.

Confident and still feeling good, we truck on together, until around mile 19(?), when I hear Pearl Izumi stumble behind me. Looking back, I see him on his knees – I call a quick “You okay?” to which he responds in the affirmative. Now, don’t judge me here, but this was a race, and I knew I had to sever his connection, so at this point I threw in my first real surge, trying to gap him as much as possible.

With an empty water bottle at mile 20(?), I decided to stop for the first time, quickly refilling it at the aid station while taking a glance back. Not seeing anyone within 20-30 seconds, I jumped back into my favorite part of the course, throwing down what could’ve been my fastest miles of the race. However, it was towards the end of this section and the last aid station (23?) that the race started to take its toll. I hadn’t taken anything in terms of calories for the day, but really didn’t like the idea of anything besides water, so after a quick refill and a cup thrown on my head, I was off.

This last section was pretty terrible, to be blunt. I was nearly walking the uphills, and the heat was starting to become pretty noticeable (after the race, discovered it would get to be around 85 degrees for the day). Plus, these friggin’ horseflies would not stop trying to land on me (how’s that for the whole 'dead' motif?). To be honest, if I wasn’t in first at this point, I couldn't see myself running nearly as fast as I did, but running scared has its advantages.

Finally, interminably, I saw the finish area, and threw in one last kick to cross the finish line in 3:09:48. Fun fact: professional Montrail runner Max King ran this race last year, setting the course record in 3:03:10 (granted, he also ran the 10k the day before, and the half marathon the day after). Gonna give him a run for his money next year...

Totally spent and feeling like death, I spent the next 5 minutes stumbling around in the shade and hating life. Then, my appetite came back with a vengeance, I proceeded to stuff my facehole with way too much food, enjoying life again. I was able to see Pearl Izumi cross the finish line, a little more than 10 minutes behind me, but apparently someone else snuck in there to nab second in 3:14 (yeah – don’t want to think about what could’ve happened had this been a 50k).

We all spent the next hour lounging in the sun, chatting with Pearl Izumi and Altra about training and racing and general running nerdery. A bunch of people were curious as to my footwear, so shout out to TJ for lending me a pair of Newton BOCO ATs. In fact, they’d been what I had been primarily training in this past month, so I’m convinced these shoes played in a huge part in my success that day. Also, thanks to Dana for letting me spend the night at her place, driving me to and from the race, listening to my eclectic taste in music, and just putting up with me in general.

I then proceeded to borrow Dana’s car and drive 3ish hours home, all without a license or money. That was pretty stupid, and I was VERY thankful there was enough gas in her car to get me home without having to resort to prostitution for money. But really – I have no idea what I would’ve done…

All dem running muskels were pretty trashed the next day, so I hopped on the bike for a couple of easy hours, and by Monday, I was back to running (this time in the Newton Gravity - great shoe). I'm pleased as punch with this new marathon PR - not only was it only some hilly trails, but I was able to even split almost exactly. I'm pretty confident I can race a sub-3 road marathon, but alas, I’m without a July race at the moment, my next being the Lake Michigan Trail Marathon August 31^st. I’m gonna do some research for a road half or full marathon in the next couple weeks, so hopefully I’ll get in another race sooner rather than later!