Winter Series #2

So, I’ve got a secret.

It’s really only a secret because I haven’t told anyone yet, but I figured if I tell you, my thousands of doting fans (or maybe it’s just my mom who reads this), I can be accountable. Y’see, I’ve got a very black-or-white personality – I’m either running hill reps and eating kale, or playing Pokemon at 3 am fueled by Nutterbutters. Since moving out to Colorado Springs, I’ve found it too easy to make excuses – granted, I’m a first-year high school teacher with absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but that doesn’t mean I can devolve into a nocturnal neckbeard.

No offense to this guy.

So, on New Year’s day, I thought it’d be cool to go for a run. And then, because I enjoyed it, I went on one the next day. And then the next. And I started getting into better shape, so I kept running to keep getting in better shape. Then I thought: I miss those Nutterbutters. And then I thought: what if I ran everyday this year? Like, 365/365, not missing a single day. Because God knows I can quit binge-watching Friends for 30 friggin’ minutes of running every day.

So, I’m 24 days in. To somewhat resemble a competent adult / teacher / human, I’m at school by 6:30am, which means I’ve been fitting in my runs each morning at 5am. To be honest, at first, this sucked hard. Sunrise isn’t until 7am, it’s colder than the devil’s butthole, and the number of hobos who lurk on the nearby running path is quite alarming (one was named Dirty Mike and he invited me to join him in a Prius for something called a soup kitchen?).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYfwRtS9Rmc

But, when I finish…I feel great. Wonderful. Fantabulous. I actually kind of feel like one of those guys – ya know, a functioning member of society. I’ve even thrown in doubles, running after school as well, and logging all my runs on Strava (I even went skiing last weekend and managed to fit in some pathetically-slow yogs at 10,000 feet elevation).

P.S. Follow me here! http://www.strava.com/athletes/3551024?utm_source=top-nav

The reason I’m telling you this, though, is because I think it’s actually making a difference. It turns out, running regularly can actually make you (gasp!) better at running (waiting for my Nobel prize). So when I raced Saturday at the second Winter Series race over at Bear Creek, don’t be too surprised when I tell you I didn’t suck too bad.

~

Because the start of Saturday’s 8-miler was about a mile from my place, I was able to sleep in, then do an easy jog to the race as my warmup. With temps in the low-40s and partly cloudy, I opted to wear clothing this time around, racing in my Newton BOCO Sols due to the significant amount of ice and snow on the ground. With more than 500 people at the race itself, I was initially a bit nervous – unlike myself, most runners don’t dress like crazed nudists, and the competition looked fast (plus, there was an obscene number of pretty girls, and I really wanted to impress them¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ).

But then I saw Dan Vega, then Alex Nichols and Peter Maksimow, and they said hi to me. And after quietly letting the fangirl-squeals pass, I felt…confident? I’m not sure, as I’ve never felt like that in my entire life, but it was essentially the opposite of my everyday awkward and anxious self.

And like that, the race was off! I reminded myself to relax and start slow, falling into 5^th place right from the gun. The course was 99% snow, so footing was a bit slippery, but the fact that everyone had to deal with this was comforting, and I ran relaxed, soon catching 4^th place (a runner whom I’d soundly beat in the first Winter Series race) by the first mile. Alex and another runner had shot to the front from the gun, and after cresting the largest hill, I’d lost total sight of the two. But, there was a runner within relative reach – probably no more than a minute ahead, and I started to slowly attempt to reel him in.

The first 2.5 miles were on snowy and hilly trail, so I was surprised when I found myself averaging sub-6 pace coming into the road section, but I kept rolling with it. Seeing that lone 3^rd place runner on long straightaways, I kept reminding myself to relax, but over the course of the next 2 miles, it seemed like we were running the same pace.

Soon, I saw Alex and the 2^nd place runner flying towards me, and after briefly cheering on Alex (more like some unintelligible gasping), I see the 3^rd place runner I was trying to catch. Then, 50 meters later, the 180 turnaround! Knowing how close I was to him, gave me a brief confidence boost, and I was then able to see who was coming up behind me. I had about a minute lead on 5^th and 6^th, both of whom had beaten me last race (add one more point to my confidence). Running by all these other runners, both of us cheering each other on, was a pretty awesome experience, but despite really pushing that mile, I couldn’t seem to get any closer to 3^rd.

By mile 6, we were back in the snowy trails, and thus, the hills. This part was interesting, as the 8-mile racers began merging with the 4-mile racers, and because my form turns to flailing breakdancing by the end of a race, it was tough passing these runners on the narrow single-track without totally shoving them off the path. Add that to the re-addition of the hills, and mile 7 was easily my slowest mile (by nearly 45 seconds!). I kept seeing glimpses of the 3^rd place runner ahead, intermingled with 4-mile runners, but I could tell that we were still running the same pace.

Fortunately, the last mile had us on wide and flat paths, and I found a second wind, so much so that checking my GPS watch, I was pushing 5:30 pace! The end of the race couldn’t come soon enough, and one last hill before the finish line ensured I’d finish a wheezing slobbering mess. But crossing the line in 49:34, I was pretty pumped. I had managed to average a 6:15 pace on a relatively hilly and snowy course, which was definitely my fastest effort here at elevation, 5,999 feet above Chicago back home.

After the race, I was able to chat with a bunch of the racers, including that 3^rd place runner, who’s apparently a semi-pro triathlete from California training for an upcoming 70.3. I made the slow trek back home, thoroughly exhausted, and proceeded to sleep and grade quizzes the rest of the day. But because the next Winter Series race isn’t for 3 weeks, I decided to sign up for a local 5K next weekend, curious as to how fast I can run in a non-trail race (first in almost 4 years?!).

Props to you if you actually read this mind-numbing wall of text. If you’re a masochist like me, then check back next week for my recap of the Game Day 5K!

Winter Series #1

This past Saturday marked the first race in the 36^th annual Colorado Springs Winters Series, and the first step towards getting back into shape and less fat.

With a Snowday graciously bestowed upon us the day before, all of Colorado Springs was blanketed in a solid layer of ice. The morning of that Snowday, I went out for a quick jaunt: just an easy pre-race 30 minutes to flush out the legs and mentally prepare for Saturday’s 7-miler. However, that short ‘yog’ quickly turned into a horrifying death march on skates. As I glided in and out of traffic, even my “trail” shoes (trying out the Newton BOCO Sol) couldn’t get any grip on the ice (I may have performed my first ever splits, not by choice). Thankfully, I managed to make it back home alive, if a bit scraped up (I’ll spare you the pics, but my tush took a spanking). A couple hours after my run, I received a notification that the El Paso County intelligently decided it was not worth timing Saturday’s race, thereby reducing much of the competitive edge.

This pup knows what's up.

 So, swathed in a wooly cocoon of blankets, I awoke to my alarm Saturday morning, emerging from my Tauntaun of warmth to meet up with Dan Vega, a local runner who was kind enough to carpool with me. I was surprised by how many people were at this race – I’d say there were easily 200 people – but even more surprised when Dan introduced me to Alex Nichols and Peter Maksimow, two local pro runners who I’ve been hardcore stalking since well-before my move out here.

So you can be sure that, when the four of us started running together on our warmup, it took all of my collective willpower to not bust a nut. Thankfully, because I was bringing up the rear of our group, Alex and Peter couldn’t see the massive nerd-boner I had, but holy effing ess, I could’ve broken both my legs and still called that day a success.

After a couple easy miles together, we all went our separate ways in the minutes preceding the start of the race. Dan and Peter were running the Short course (5k), while Alex and I were in the Long course (supposedly 7 miles, but my GPS logged 6.6 miles). With about a minute before the gun would go off, though, it hit me: I was hot. Like, really hot. Boiling. In the past month, I hadn’t felt any temperatures above 40 degrees (I’m poor and refuse to turn the heat on in my place). So my fellow IWU runners wouldn’t be surprised when there I am, next to runners bundled in scarves and tights and gloves, shirtless and in short-shorts.

It was a pretty "chill" race.

My fellow racers only had a few seconds to bask in my awesome nude beauty, though, when the gun went off, and I found myself racing right up to the front. Alex and another runner took the quick lead, and I trailed ~5 seconds back with two other runners. The raced started downhill on the road, but after 400m soon turned to snowy single-track, forcing everyone into single file. While I felt good, I knew I was probably pushing a bit too hard – the race’s first 2-3 miles were primarily uphill, and I always tend to do best with a slow start. But soon I was passing those two other runners, sneaking into 3^rd place behind Alex and the other runner, who were soon too far ahead to see.

I ran mile 2 in no-man’s land, slipping and sliding in the mud, but quite thankful I opted to go shirtless. I was hot, and with the sun out, temps must’ve been at least 50 degrees. That quick first mile also seemed to catch up to me, and without much downhill, I was sucking wind, hard. On top of the fact that these muddy hills were just like wet cement, I wasn’t surprised when one, then two people passed me. In fifth place now, I focused on keeping the 4^th-place runner in sight, and was able to shadow him for miles 4-5. After an excruciating hill (what turned out to essentially be the last), I lost sight of that 4^th-place runner, but without the constant uphill gradient, I was finally able to open my stride. I bombed the downhills with reckless abandon, finally getting into that groove where things seem to click.

At the same time, I heard another runner start to catch up to me, but with less than 2 miles to go, I started really pushing. In retrospect, my form was pretty atrocious here, but trying to run fast down muddy/snowy single track (no doubt hiding rocks/sticks/etc.), I was doing all I could to stay upright. Finally, with the end in sight, I threw in a final kick from ~600m out, surprising myself with how fast I could go. Kicking mud errywhere, I finished with some awkward cheering for ‘that naked guy’ in 51:08, good for 5th.

Sample of the day's conditions (insert Obama 'Not Bad' meme)

There was a lot to learn from this race. According to Strava (race found here, for those curious: http://www.strava.com/activities/239298688/overview), my GAP (Grade Adjusted Pace) for my first mile was 5:55 – probably a tad too fast for such a hilly and technical course. I definitely need to work on my climbing, and including some hill repeats / hilly fartleks would be of utmost importance. Because this race wasn’t scored for the overall series, January 24^th’s race at Bear Creek (literally two minutes from my house) will be the race’s first real race, and I’ve got a lot to do to prep for it!

Winter Series 2015

With the new year, there’s an inherent sense of rebirth and renewal that makes me all reflective and soul-searchy. I have this blank slate upon which I can make a fresh start, picking up more mature or beneficial habits and dropping the not-so-great ones (looking at you, entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s in one sitting).

Thanks to the dastardly concoction of laziness, cold weather, and video games, I essentially took 2 months off running. After a dismal race at the 13.1 Marathon of Trails in October and a ramp up in school work, I lost all motivation (and free time) to train. Thankfully, the end of the semester meant 2+ weeks off from my all-consuming classroom, and I used that free time to jump back into that thing I missed oh-so dearly. Y’see, perhaps the largest factor for me deciding to take this teaching job in Colorado Springs was the simple fact that it was in Colorado Springs. The mecca of trail running, Colorado offered ample altitude and tremendous trails (and awesome alliteration) that was supposed to take my running to the next level. And then school happened.

Fortunately, I’ve been able to start this new habit of daily running, a devotion that’s been in my life (minus these past 2 months) on a religious level. And so, with this new year and new semester, I’m making it a goal to start training again. Now, don’t get any delusions – I’ve got months until I really get into some serious running slash racing, but I miss that daily struggle, step by step, of trying to physically better myself.

And what better motivation to stick with this resolution than to sign up for the Colorado Springs Winter Series! Consisting of 4 races over the course of the next two months, I’ll be able to race increasing distances with fellow runners, injecting that bit of competition to really keep me motivated. The Series’ first race is a 7-miler this upcoming weekend (January 10^th) at the Cheyenne Mountain State Park, and while I’m not expecting much (heck, finishing without walking would be nice), I’m genuinely excited to get back into this ol’ running thang.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbbSAY7Atac

So, expect some race reports in the near future! The race schedule can be found here: http://www.pprrun.org/events/WinterSeries, and I’ve begun to regularly use Strava (http://www.strava.com/athletes/3551024?utm_source=top-nav) to log all my mileage, if you’re really into stalking me. 

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!