Andy over here at Pb Runner crunched some Leadville 100 data and provide me with my place numbers at each aid station. There's no hiding my meltdown from Twin Lakes to Winfield.
MQ: 136th
Fish: 100th
Half Pipe: 88th
Twin: 90th
Hope: 148th
Winfield: 150th
Hope: 179th
Twin: 149th
Half Pipe: 144th
Fish: 140th
MQ: 119th
Finish: 102nd
As Andy noted when he posted this info, there's some minor discrepancies in the data (I actually finished in 104th place).
Using just this data, it appears I was holding my own up to Twin Lakes, getting there in 90th place. Then the super bonk happened on the climb up to Hopeless (I then laid down in the soft grass at Hopeless for a good bit). I lost a whopping 58 places, then two more on the descent down to Winfield. I then proceeded to sit in a chair (whining) for 45 minutes, losing another 25+ places.
I picked up a bunch of places on the jog back to Twin Lakes from Hopeless, but it was between Fish Hatchery and the finish where I started to claw back some places...from 140th to 102nd.
Thanks, Andy!
Showing posts with label Leadville 100. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Leadville 100. Show all posts
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Saturday, September 1, 2012
A Few More (inevitable) Leadville Thoughts
I've been noodling a bit on the whole Leadville 100 experience (probably a rookie thing). A few additional thoughts have been popping up now and then, so I thought I'd document 'em here.
1. Over the 100+ miles of the course and 26+ hours, I never fell down. I saw a bunch of guys and gals with bloody legs. I guess that's a benefit of moving relatively slowly.
2. I ran the whole race wearing the same pair of Hoka Stinson Evos. I stayed far away from these shoes for months and months, but finally decided to give them a try when I found a great deal. The shoes aren't perfect for me. They are a bit wide, but their plush ride was what sold me.
For a couple years, I've dealt with chronic plantar pain in my right heel. After that long run at Leadville, I had no pain. None. That's amazing given my past experience. My heel typically hurts after an easy six-mile run in my usual shoes (whatever pair they are).
During the race, the shoes felt fine. Never felt like I wished I had something else on.
That said, I had two problems. First, I did get four blisters, three on different toes and one on my right forefoot. I distinctly remember feeling a couple of them pop during the race. Second, I still think they are incredibly dorky looking, especially on those of us blessed with skinny-ass legs.
Post-race, I'm back running in a pair of Saucony Peregrines. Haven't put the Hokas back on, but I will at some point soon.
3. Next time I run this race, I think I'll change socks after the water crossing just beyond Twin Lakes outbound and definitely change shoes after Twin Lakes in bound. I didn't make any shoe or sock changes this year. My feet suffered for it, at least I think that was the problem. No doubt the Hokas caused some issues, but the bottoms of my feet were pretty wrinkled and tender. Pretty sure that's due to running with wet feet.
4. Pacers are valuable. Leadville was my first experience using a pacer. I said a bunch in the race report about how important my two pacers were to me during the race. One thing I didn't mention is how valuable I think pacers are for safety reasons. I was thinking about that when Dave and I were ascending Powerline in the late night darkness.
Not too far from the top, we came across a woman without a pacer. She was struggling...moving slow and not looking too well. We walked with her for a bit, asked after her and encouraged her to move with us. She waved us on, but I was anxious for her. There wasn't much we could do for her at the time. She was plodding forward and probably doing just fine, but it was a reminder of how important a pacer can be to us novices (or anyone, really) should one get into trouble, especially in the wee hours of the night out there in the middle of nowhere.
4. Other runners can be annoying...way annoying. An hour or so after Steve and I broke out headlamps, somewhere on the Colorado Trail between the Mt. Elbert water stop and Treeline, we came across a woman pacing a male runner. The woman was counting out at the top of her lungs 20 running steps, then 15 walking steps for the guy...over and over. I was in powerhike mode, so they would move on ahead on the 20 running steps, but come back to us on the 15 walking steps.
So, there we were on a beautiful night, on a great trail moving from glow stick to glow stick, catching occasional glimpses of an amazing star-filled night sky, all to the soundtrack of this woman yelling out the numbers 1-20, then 1-15. It drove me crazy.
The good thing, though, is that it finally got bad enough that it got me running. I had to get away from that cacophony and back to some nighttime peace and quiet.
Sometimes its better to suffer in silence.
1. Over the 100+ miles of the course and 26+ hours, I never fell down. I saw a bunch of guys and gals with bloody legs. I guess that's a benefit of moving relatively slowly.
2. I ran the whole race wearing the same pair of Hoka Stinson Evos. I stayed far away from these shoes for months and months, but finally decided to give them a try when I found a great deal. The shoes aren't perfect for me. They are a bit wide, but their plush ride was what sold me.
For a couple years, I've dealt with chronic plantar pain in my right heel. After that long run at Leadville, I had no pain. None. That's amazing given my past experience. My heel typically hurts after an easy six-mile run in my usual shoes (whatever pair they are).
During the race, the shoes felt fine. Never felt like I wished I had something else on.
That said, I had two problems. First, I did get four blisters, three on different toes and one on my right forefoot. I distinctly remember feeling a couple of them pop during the race. Second, I still think they are incredibly dorky looking, especially on those of us blessed with skinny-ass legs.
Post-race, I'm back running in a pair of Saucony Peregrines. Haven't put the Hokas back on, but I will at some point soon.
3. Next time I run this race, I think I'll change socks after the water crossing just beyond Twin Lakes outbound and definitely change shoes after Twin Lakes in bound. I didn't make any shoe or sock changes this year. My feet suffered for it, at least I think that was the problem. No doubt the Hokas caused some issues, but the bottoms of my feet were pretty wrinkled and tender. Pretty sure that's due to running with wet feet.
4. Pacers are valuable. Leadville was my first experience using a pacer. I said a bunch in the race report about how important my two pacers were to me during the race. One thing I didn't mention is how valuable I think pacers are for safety reasons. I was thinking about that when Dave and I were ascending Powerline in the late night darkness.
Not too far from the top, we came across a woman without a pacer. She was struggling...moving slow and not looking too well. We walked with her for a bit, asked after her and encouraged her to move with us. She waved us on, but I was anxious for her. There wasn't much we could do for her at the time. She was plodding forward and probably doing just fine, but it was a reminder of how important a pacer can be to us novices (or anyone, really) should one get into trouble, especially in the wee hours of the night out there in the middle of nowhere.
4. Other runners can be annoying...way annoying. An hour or so after Steve and I broke out headlamps, somewhere on the Colorado Trail between the Mt. Elbert water stop and Treeline, we came across a woman pacing a male runner. The woman was counting out at the top of her lungs 20 running steps, then 15 walking steps for the guy...over and over. I was in powerhike mode, so they would move on ahead on the 20 running steps, but come back to us on the 15 walking steps.
So, there we were on a beautiful night, on a great trail moving from glow stick to glow stick, catching occasional glimpses of an amazing star-filled night sky, all to the soundtrack of this woman yelling out the numbers 1-20, then 1-15. It drove me crazy.
The good thing, though, is that it finally got bad enough that it got me running. I had to get away from that cacophony and back to some nighttime peace and quiet.
Sometimes its better to suffer in silence.
Monday, August 27, 2012
2012 Leadville 100 Race Report
"100s are teachers," said a text last week from endurance runner extraordinaire Scott Jurek. After my first go at that distance, I can attest that 100s are, indeed, teachers. But, am I an apt pupil?
So, what does it take to finish a 100-mile race? Prior to last weekend, I really didn't know. After experiencing the 2012 Leadville 100, I think I figured it out. It takes:
So, what does it take to finish a 100-mile race? Prior to last weekend, I really didn't know. After experiencing the 2012 Leadville 100, I think I figured it out. It takes:
- Some well-timed and poignant words from one's wife.
- Just the right amount of encouragement and prodding from one's pacers and crew.
- Noodles.
The race for me began with a bit of a panic. As the national anthem was playing and 800 or so runners were lined up on 6th Avenue in Leadville, I was among a small group of runners frantically trying to figure out how to get into the start corral.
About the time we got to the part where "...the flag was still there," I was finally there in the crowd waiting for the 4 a.m. shotgun blast to set us off.
I had a very detailed race plan, which pretty much entailed running easy and eating a lot. I'm sure there could be more to a race plan, but that's all I could come up with. I had given my crew splits for a 24:30 finish, just to give them something to plan with, but I really had no idea what to expect.
 |
| And so it began... |
I came into the race feeling under-prepared. Work and work travel, family obligations and an uninspired training regime all contributed to that feeling. In the six months leading up to the race, I had two runs longer than 25 miles, including the June 30 Safaricom Marathon in Kenya and an eight-hour slog in May climbing over downed trees in the Mt. Evans Wilderness. Since the race took place at an elevation that averaged more than 10,000 feet, I prepared for that by running above 10,000 feet exactly twice, including that May run in the Mt. Evans Wilderness and an early August run with Todd G. off Kenosha Pass.
So, with those complex race plans in my head and focused training in my legs, we were off.
The Scintillating Meat of the Race Report
The Scintillating Meat of the Race Report
The run to the Mayqueen aid station at mile 13.5 was easy and uneventful. Just an easy jog in a conga line around Turquoise Lake. Steve Y., who had agreed to serve as pacer and early-morning crew hoss, called me out of the crowd and took my headlamp and extra shirt and off I went without stopping. The Colorado Trail stretch up to Hagerman Pass Road went by quickly and uneventfully.
The pace continued to be easy, but steady as I ran up Sugarloaf to the top of the Powerline descent. I jogged down Powerline into Fish Hatchery and was met by Steve and David W., who would handle crew hoss duties into the night. I swapped hydration packs, dropped a layer and headed out onto the pavement.
By the time I got to Treeline, I was cursing the course. It's too damn runnable. My legs were feeling a bit tired. I was ready for a change of pace and some hiking, but the grades just didn't require it, and I wasn't smart enough to walk anyway. So, I kept running, er, jogging.
By the time I rolled through the Colorado Trail section and down into Twin Lakes, I was really starting to feel it. I began to think I might be in trouble. This 100-mile thing is hard! It ain't a 50-mile run where you can beat the crap out of yourself the last 10 miles and survive. I was feeling like crap and still had 60 miles to go.
The maltodextrin/water mix in my hydration pack was not sitting well, nor was the watermelon I crammed into my mouth at the aid station. My stomach was in near-revolt.
Steve Y. and Nick P., who was there supporting Brandon F., advised me to eat, eat and eat. After a few minutes sitting and eating and drinking, I left Twin Lakes with a sandwich bag of chews, Fig Newtons and M&Ms, headed out through the meadow, crossed the river and made my way over to the start of the climb up Hope Pass. I had jettisoned my hydration pack in exchange for two handhelds of just water. I couldn't stomach any more maltodextrin.
Houston, We Have a Problem
Houston, We Have a Problem
The climb up Hope was my un-doing. About half-way up, the wheels really came off. I bonked, and bonked hard...harder than I ever have before. Ever. The higher I went, the less steady I became. The pace slowed. I started to feel light-headed and out-of-it. I was on the razor edge of puking...and often wanted to upchuck just in hopes of feeling better. I had to sit down 3-5 times to get my wits about me. A steady stream of runners passed me, nearly all asking if I was OK. "Yep. OK. Just tired," I would reply.
Each time, I finally got up and moved a bit further up the trail. At the Hopeless Aid station, I refilled my handhelds, grabbed a cup of Coke and lay down in the grass. I must have lain there for 15 minutes. I watched Tony K. and his pacer Dakota Jones come down from the pass and through the aid station.
I made my way up the pass just as the other lead runners were coming over. I staggered down the backside of Hope. On the hike/jog down, I started thinking about ending my misery. Soon, I had a good set of excuses why I would quit at Winfield.
By the time I got to Winfield, my excuses had solidified into really awesome reasons why quitting was the right thing to do.
- The reoccurring problem with my right IT band was back and hurting.
- My stomach was in knots.
- I can't haul myself back over Hope Pass. I just don't have it in me.
- I didn't train for 100 miles.
- I didn't want it enough.
I walked through the check in area and made my way to my crew. My wife, Jeanine, and son, Jack, and friends Trevor and Nicky had joined Steve and David. I plopped down in the way-comfy camp chair they had set up and proclaimed myself finished. Time to cut the wristband.
I laid out my excuses. Everyone offered gentle urgings to not be rash, not give up. I told them I had thought about it a lot. I sat there. It was hot. It felt good to be done. I didn't care.
 |
| I'm so happy. |
Steve brought me some noodles and potato soup, and fed me a bottle of Ensure. David opened a Coke for me. Jeanine looked me in the eyes and said, "I know you have the mental strength to get this done."
Jack asked me if I wanted to play Frisbee.
Steve, dressed in running gear and set to start his pacing duties, told me he could get me to the finish. He then looked at his watch and said, "You know, you can walk this thing and still finish by the cut-off."
Jeanine then threw out the Big One. "Think about Caroline." She was referring to our 11-year-old daughter who eight days prior had crashed on her mountain bike riding down a steep Forest Service road and suffered a compound fracture of the two bones in her right forearm. For those who skipped first aid class, a compound fracture means a broken bone is poking through the skin.
 |
| Ouch |
When the accident happened, we were six rough miles from pavement and over 25 miles from Lake City. Needless to say, it was a scary accident. Fortunately, 911 was able to get a doc over to the closed Lake City clinic. He cleaned things up, put on a splint, surrounded the break with ice and loaded her into an ambulance for the 55-mile drive to Gunnison. Fast forward a couple hours and she's in surgery getting her bones re-set, three pins inserted and a cast up to her bicep put in place. (Big shout out to Dr. Rhett Griggs of Alpine Orthopedics in Gunnison.)
Caroline, who was incredibly brave, endured everything up to the surgery without any pain killers, and a very calm attitude. (Update: she's doing great now. Everything is healing up fine.)
After calling a "unnecessary roughness" penalty on Jeanine for tossing out the "think about Caroline" line, I got up and walked around a bit. I realized my legs were feeling better. Moving felt OK.
So, I walked back over to Steve and said, "Alright Steve, let's go for a walk." Before I could change my mind, I picked up my bottles and started walking and told Steve to catch up to me.
Redemption
 |
| Jim: "Mmmmm, soup." Steve: "I wonder if there's anyone else that needs a pacer." |
Redemption
By the time we got onto the new trail section above Winfield, I was feeling much better. Steve took my bottles and we started running. We soon had worked out a system. I moved. Steve offered encouragement and regular reminders to eat and drink.
The hike up Hope Pass was hard (man, there are some steep sections on that ascent!), but we marched up it without stopping. We had a nice long pause for oranges, noodle soup and Coke at Hopeless aid station, just over the top of the pass.
The descent, while far from speedy, went quickly. Before I knew it, we were in the flats headed to the river crossing outside Twin Lakes.
Much to Jeanine and David's surprise, I came into the Twin Lakes aid station with a big smile on my face. I was back from the dead. Feeling good, or at least as good as I could expect to feel with 60 or so miles in my legs.
After a quick re-fueling in the increasingly awesome camp chair, Steve and I headed out, power-hiking up the climb to the Colorado Trail. I felt really good on this climb and set a strong hiking pace. Once on the Colorado Trail, we alternated with some jogging and a lot of power-hiking. Just past the Mt. Elbert water stop, the headlights came out and the march through the night was officially on.
Thanks to Steve's incredible (truly) support and encouragement on the trail, I had long banished thoughts of quitting or not finishing. Completing the 100-mile run was now a certainty. The question was how long would it take, and how much would it hurt.
Through the night, we motored on, jogging what I could, power-hiking everything else.
We cruised (high-school-slowly-through-a-parking-lot-type cruising) through Treeline, ran the double-track down to the pavement and played the "run-to-the-next-light," "run-three, no-five, no-seven- telephone-poles" game all the way into Fish Hatchery.
Headed for the Finish Line
Dave and Jeanine were again there at Fish waiting for us. They were joined by some friends -- Brooks, Eddy and Thad -- from Denver that had come out to experience the carnage and spectacle that is an ultrarunning trail race. I got a real boost from seeing these guys. We were laughing and carrying on as I refueled and prepared to head out.
I bid adieu to wonder-pacer Steve as David took over pacing duties and we set off for the climb up Powerline that I knew awaiting. David picked up the pacing routine right were Steve left off. "Drink, Jim. "Eat, Jim."
We marched steadily up Powerline, passing a bunch of people along the way. We continued passing folks on the gentle descent down Sugarloaf, jogging what I could and power-hiking the rest (a now-familiar theme). We ran pretty much all of Hagerman Pass road, marveling at the falling stars and the quiet beauty of the night in the mountains.
Back on the Colorado Trail headed into Mayqueen, we came across Brandon F. and pacer JT. We exchanged greetings and kept pressing on.
After checking in at Mayqueen, gulping down more noodle and potato soup and finding Jeanine and the comfy camp chair, I quickly got moving again telling David to catch up to me (not a demanding feat given my early morning pedestrian pace).
Next up was the endless lake-side trail around Turquoise Lake, which easily is my least favorite part of the course. (I'll have to check it out in the daytime some day.) It was in here that we finally were passed by a runner and his pacer, the first time we'd been passed since Fish Hatchery.
From there, we just kept moving, and moving, and moving. Endless.
Finally, we emerged from the trail, stumbled down the mini-powerline section (oh, my poor quads) and onto the dirt road (ran it), the paved road, then the railroad section (ran most of that) and, finally, the Boulevard (steady march).
At long last, we passed the big school, took a left onto a paved road, then a right onto 6th Avenue. A woman there told us, "You're there. This is the last turn in the race."
After a short final climb, and a half-jog past some houses, David called ahead to let Jeanine know we were close. Damn close.
From the top of the 6th Avenue hill, we could see right down to town. The finish line. I was flooded with emotion. Over a day of constant motion. Back from the dead. Surrounded by friends. Whooped.
We soon were a block from the finish. Jack jumped off the sidewalk and joined David and I as we approached the red carpet. What a great feeling. Gratifying. Satisfying. Sublime.
26:33; 104th overall.
I missed my time goal by 1:34, but I didn't really care. I was thrilled to have completed the race. I ran 100 miles. That felt good, all by itself. So did being surrounded by good friends and family, especially with emotions so raw and body so knackered.
After a quick weigh-in (162 pounds, just a hair over what I started with), I headed over to a the medical tent for the grand unveiling of what I expected to be shredded feet. I knew I had some blisters and the bottom of my feet felt like hamburger (no shoe or sock changes during the race). The medical guy did a quick examination, pointed out a few blisters, said something about "trench foot" and sent me on my way with instructions to clean up, dry off and elevate. (Turns out that other than a few blisters on the end of a couple toes and in the middle of my right forefoot, all was well.)
After a final series of smiles and hugs, we all went our separate ways. Jeanine, Jack and I went over to a friend's place just of Harrison Street for some well-earned sitting and rest. Steve, Tiffany, David and our Denver friends all headed off back to the Front Range and bed. Sorta anti-climatic, but appropriate given everyone's lack of sleep.
The Big Wrap-Up
Without question, the 2012 Leadville 100-Mile Trail Race was an incredible experience. This 100 was, indeed, a teacher. The most enduring lesson, for me, was one of selflessness. I didn't run Leadville alone, ever.
I never would have gotten there without Jeanine and her encouragement, patience and understanding.
I wouldn't have gotten out of that chair at Winfield and rallied so well without the experienced, watchful and masterful help of Steve Young. Since I've never run a 100-mile race before, I never had cause for a pacer or a crew. With that caveat, let me say that I can't imagine a better guy to have at your side than SY. He's experienced, smart, good-humored, patient and has pacing and crewing down to art forms. I learned a ton from this guy. Thank you, Steve. I owe you...big time.
I was reluctant to ask anyone to provide crew support. It's such a big ask. Battle crowded, dusty roads. Sit around for hours. Worry about where I am, and whether you're in the right place. Stay up all night. Deal with the emotional ups and downs of a runner pushing well into new endurance territory. Still, when it came down to the ask, one guy came to mind. David W. David is organized, patient and always up for new experiences. He signed up without missing a beat. And, as it turns out, he too is a pacer-extraordinaire. I couldn't have asked for a better partner in this thing. Thank you, Dave!
Finally, a big shout-out to Brandon F. for the pre-race lodging, encouragement and willingness to share his knowledge of the race. And, a special thanks to Steve and Kathi G. for opening up their Leadville home for a pre-race dinner and post-race napping and recuperation.
So, the next question always seems to be: "Will you do it again?" I have to say that, yes, I think I will. I learned so much, it would be a shame not to put that knowledge to use...wouldn't it? Plus, there's that thing about finishing in under 25-hours.
The descent, while far from speedy, went quickly. Before I knew it, we were in the flats headed to the river crossing outside Twin Lakes.
Much to Jeanine and David's surprise, I came into the Twin Lakes aid station with a big smile on my face. I was back from the dead. Feeling good, or at least as good as I could expect to feel with 60 or so miles in my legs.
After a quick re-fueling in the increasingly awesome camp chair, Steve and I headed out, power-hiking up the climb to the Colorado Trail. I felt really good on this climb and set a strong hiking pace. Once on the Colorado Trail, we alternated with some jogging and a lot of power-hiking. Just past the Mt. Elbert water stop, the headlights came out and the march through the night was officially on.
Thanks to Steve's incredible (truly) support and encouragement on the trail, I had long banished thoughts of quitting or not finishing. Completing the 100-mile run was now a certainty. The question was how long would it take, and how much would it hurt.
Through the night, we motored on, jogging what I could, power-hiking everything else.
We cruised (high-school-slowly-through-a-parking-lot-type cruising) through Treeline, ran the double-track down to the pavement and played the "run-to-the-next-light," "run-three, no-five, no-seven- telephone-poles" game all the way into Fish Hatchery.
Headed for the Finish Line
Dave and Jeanine were again there at Fish waiting for us. They were joined by some friends -- Brooks, Eddy and Thad -- from Denver that had come out to experience the carnage and spectacle that is an ultrarunning trail race. I got a real boost from seeing these guys. We were laughing and carrying on as I refueled and prepared to head out.
I bid adieu to wonder-pacer Steve as David took over pacing duties and we set off for the climb up Powerline that I knew awaiting. David picked up the pacing routine right were Steve left off. "Drink, Jim. "Eat, Jim."
We marched steadily up Powerline, passing a bunch of people along the way. We continued passing folks on the gentle descent down Sugarloaf, jogging what I could and power-hiking the rest (a now-familiar theme). We ran pretty much all of Hagerman Pass road, marveling at the falling stars and the quiet beauty of the night in the mountains.
Back on the Colorado Trail headed into Mayqueen, we came across Brandon F. and pacer JT. We exchanged greetings and kept pressing on.
After checking in at Mayqueen, gulping down more noodle and potato soup and finding Jeanine and the comfy camp chair, I quickly got moving again telling David to catch up to me (not a demanding feat given my early morning pedestrian pace).
Next up was the endless lake-side trail around Turquoise Lake, which easily is my least favorite part of the course. (I'll have to check it out in the daytime some day.) It was in here that we finally were passed by a runner and his pacer, the first time we'd been passed since Fish Hatchery.
From there, we just kept moving, and moving, and moving. Endless.
Finally, we emerged from the trail, stumbled down the mini-powerline section (oh, my poor quads) and onto the dirt road (ran it), the paved road, then the railroad section (ran most of that) and, finally, the Boulevard (steady march).
At long last, we passed the big school, took a left onto a paved road, then a right onto 6th Avenue. A woman there told us, "You're there. This is the last turn in the race."
After a short final climb, and a half-jog past some houses, David called ahead to let Jeanine know we were close. Damn close.
From the top of the 6th Avenue hill, we could see right down to town. The finish line. I was flooded with emotion. Over a day of constant motion. Back from the dead. Surrounded by friends. Whooped.
We soon were a block from the finish. Jack jumped off the sidewalk and joined David and I as we approached the red carpet. What a great feeling. Gratifying. Satisfying. Sublime.
 |
| Thanks goodness for rapid shutter speeds. The big sprint finish! |
 |
| Done. With Jack and David. |
 |
| That's what it's all about. Jack and Jeanine. Awesome! |
26:33; 104th overall.
I missed my time goal by 1:34, but I didn't really care. I was thrilled to have completed the race. I ran 100 miles. That felt good, all by itself. So did being surrounded by good friends and family, especially with emotions so raw and body so knackered.
After a quick weigh-in (162 pounds, just a hair over what I started with), I headed over to a the medical tent for the grand unveiling of what I expected to be shredded feet. I knew I had some blisters and the bottom of my feet felt like hamburger (no shoe or sock changes during the race). The medical guy did a quick examination, pointed out a few blisters, said something about "trench foot" and sent me on my way with instructions to clean up, dry off and elevate. (Turns out that other than a few blisters on the end of a couple toes and in the middle of my right forefoot, all was well.)
 |
| Trying to stay warm post-run on Leadville's main street |
The Big Wrap-Up
Without question, the 2012 Leadville 100-Mile Trail Race was an incredible experience. This 100 was, indeed, a teacher. The most enduring lesson, for me, was one of selflessness. I didn't run Leadville alone, ever.
I never would have gotten there without Jeanine and her encouragement, patience and understanding.
I wouldn't have gotten out of that chair at Winfield and rallied so well without the experienced, watchful and masterful help of Steve Young. Since I've never run a 100-mile race before, I never had cause for a pacer or a crew. With that caveat, let me say that I can't imagine a better guy to have at your side than SY. He's experienced, smart, good-humored, patient and has pacing and crewing down to art forms. I learned a ton from this guy. Thank you, Steve. I owe you...big time.
I was reluctant to ask anyone to provide crew support. It's such a big ask. Battle crowded, dusty roads. Sit around for hours. Worry about where I am, and whether you're in the right place. Stay up all night. Deal with the emotional ups and downs of a runner pushing well into new endurance territory. Still, when it came down to the ask, one guy came to mind. David W. David is organized, patient and always up for new experiences. He signed up without missing a beat. And, as it turns out, he too is a pacer-extraordinaire. I couldn't have asked for a better partner in this thing. Thank you, Dave!
Finally, a big shout-out to Brandon F. for the pre-race lodging, encouragement and willingness to share his knowledge of the race. And, a special thanks to Steve and Kathi G. for opening up their Leadville home for a pre-race dinner and post-race napping and recuperation.
So, the next question always seems to be: "Will you do it again?" I have to say that, yes, I think I will. I learned so much, it would be a shame not to put that knowledge to use...wouldn't it? Plus, there's that thing about finishing in under 25-hours.
 |
| Sub-30-hour finishers' belt buckle. |
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Knowing Your Limits...or Not
So, yesterday I posted that signing up for the Leadville 100 trail run scared me. It isn't Leadville, per se, that scares me. I'd likely feel much the same had I signed up for any other 100. And, it's not the distance that scares me, although I certainly have a healthy dose of respect for it.
What scares me about the 100-mile distance is the mental aspect.
I think I have the mental toughness to grind out 100 miles, mind you. I worry, though, about whether I have the perspective required to know when to quit.
Last year at the San Juan Solstice 50, I out-ran my training and finished better than I should have given the work I'd put in. In the process, I ended up a shaking, shivering, aching mass of skin and bones at the finish line. I could barely move. The woman offering free massages at the finish ordered me off her table into a chair and she practically force-fed me electrolytes. My piss was a lovely earth tone color. Not good.
A few days later, I spent two days in a hotel room bed in D.C. wracked with the worst flu I think I've ever had. A few days after that, I was having an MRI on my cervical spine to try and figure out why I had intense pain that felt like someone had dumped hot lead on my shoulders and let it drip down my arms.
Fast forward to November and I'm still recovering from a gem of an auto-immune-connected brachial plexus neuropathy, which basically means my body turned on itself and started treating nerve cells in a nerve cluster beneath my right collarbone as the enemy. In the process, I chewed up some of my very own (and important) nerve cells, causing all sorts of issues down my right arm...loss of strength and fine motor skills, odd tingling and the long-since-gone pain. Fortunately, the body has slowly been doing its repair work and things are 85 percent or more back to normal.
Did I miss during the run signs that I was doing more than the usual damage? Did I find my limit and kept going? Or, did I simply get a dose of bad post-race luck, picking up a virus thanks to an immune system depressed by the exertion of running 50 miles and hitting the jackpot in terms of the rare auto-immune response to the virus?
No real way to know.
Undoubtedly, though, it's all connected to the race.
So, will I put in the time and effort to get to Leadville in the kind of condition necessary to meet my yet-unstated goals? Will I manage to run to my potential, or better? Will my body endure the torture without another rebellion? Will I have the mental strength to quit if the signs point in that direction?
You know...come to think of it, answering those questions is exactly why I signed up for this race.
Nevermind. I'm not scared, I'm excited!
P.S. 8 miles yesterday late afternoon in Elk Meadow running the Meadow View-Plus route in the mud, slush and snow.
What scares me about the 100-mile distance is the mental aspect.
I think I have the mental toughness to grind out 100 miles, mind you. I worry, though, about whether I have the perspective required to know when to quit.
Last year at the San Juan Solstice 50, I out-ran my training and finished better than I should have given the work I'd put in. In the process, I ended up a shaking, shivering, aching mass of skin and bones at the finish line. I could barely move. The woman offering free massages at the finish ordered me off her table into a chair and she practically force-fed me electrolytes. My piss was a lovely earth tone color. Not good.
A few days later, I spent two days in a hotel room bed in D.C. wracked with the worst flu I think I've ever had. A few days after that, I was having an MRI on my cervical spine to try and figure out why I had intense pain that felt like someone had dumped hot lead on my shoulders and let it drip down my arms.
Fast forward to November and I'm still recovering from a gem of an auto-immune-connected brachial plexus neuropathy, which basically means my body turned on itself and started treating nerve cells in a nerve cluster beneath my right collarbone as the enemy. In the process, I chewed up some of my very own (and important) nerve cells, causing all sorts of issues down my right arm...loss of strength and fine motor skills, odd tingling and the long-since-gone pain. Fortunately, the body has slowly been doing its repair work and things are 85 percent or more back to normal.
Did I miss during the run signs that I was doing more than the usual damage? Did I find my limit and kept going? Or, did I simply get a dose of bad post-race luck, picking up a virus thanks to an immune system depressed by the exertion of running 50 miles and hitting the jackpot in terms of the rare auto-immune response to the virus?
No real way to know.
Undoubtedly, though, it's all connected to the race.
So, will I put in the time and effort to get to Leadville in the kind of condition necessary to meet my yet-unstated goals? Will I manage to run to my potential, or better? Will my body endure the torture without another rebellion? Will I have the mental strength to quit if the signs point in that direction?
You know...come to think of it, answering those questions is exactly why I signed up for this race.
Nevermind. I'm not scared, I'm excited!
P.S. 8 miles yesterday late afternoon in Elk Meadow running the Meadow View-Plus route in the mud, slush and snow.
Friday, November 4, 2011
This scares me.
When my beautiful wife got home tonight, I told her I'd done something that scared me (and it had nothing to do with the $15 "service fee."
More to come.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Consistency
There's little doubt that consistency is a key to running success. I have been incredibly consistent lately when it comes to running.
The problem is that what's been consistent is my inconsistency.
Work/family commitments have kept me running in place...kid activities, work projects, board meetings, late nights, early mornings... It all adds up to fewer and fewer places to squeeze in the daily run.
So, I've been trying to make the most out of the times I can run. Most runs, when they happen, fit into the "quality" category - tempo runs, intervals, long runs, etc...
Last week, for example, during a trip to Washington, D.C., I got in a nice 20-mile jog from my hotel up into the upper reaches of Rock Creek Park. Two days later, on Tuesday, I ran did an eight-mile bike path run with 4x800-meter repeats (3:00; 2:50: 2:50; 2:39) in the middle. Got in a couple local jogs, too.
So far this week I managed a 14-mile hilly jog on Sunday and the first treadmill workout since last winter. I actually enjoyed the 'mill yesterday. I did 2 miles@7:30 w/u followed by 1x1 mile at 5:49; 1x1 mile at 6:30; and, 1x2 miles at 7:30; 1x1 mile at 8:30 and wrapped it up with a half-mile speed hike at 14 percent grade. Nice workout, but I could feel effects of the inconsistency and depressed mileage. My plans to do three mile repeats under 6 were scrapped after the first one. My fitness is just too far off. Felt good, though, to sweat. And, the local rec center has new treadmills. The one I used can go up to a 30 percent grade. Very solid, impressive machine, as treadmills go.
I realize I need to make a commitment to getting up and running early in the morning, at least on the day's when JP's and my schedules align and the early mornings are available. Consistency takes commitment...and that's what I need to work on.
Looking Ahead
I've also just begun thinking about what I want to do running-wise next year. I've been mulling over giving the Leadville 100 a shot. I remain interested in tackling a 100-mile race. I'm not excited about the course, but it's local(ish) and logistically much easier to manage. By the time I make a decision, though, I'm sure the race will be filled.
I also might toss my hat again into the Wasatch 100 ring and see if the Lottery Gods like me this year.
Or, I might just stick with the marathon (Pikes Peak) and 50-mile distance (Run Rabbit Run). It's looking like I will not be around in June for a return to the San Juan Solstice. That's a bit of a bummer as I'm keen on trying to break 10 hours on the non-snow course. There's a good chance, though, that I will run the Safaricom Marathon in Northern Kenya at the end of June instead. Fingers crossed on that one.
Time to go for a run.
The problem is that what's been consistent is my inconsistency.
Work/family commitments have kept me running in place...kid activities, work projects, board meetings, late nights, early mornings... It all adds up to fewer and fewer places to squeeze in the daily run.
So, I've been trying to make the most out of the times I can run. Most runs, when they happen, fit into the "quality" category - tempo runs, intervals, long runs, etc...
Last week, for example, during a trip to Washington, D.C., I got in a nice 20-mile jog from my hotel up into the upper reaches of Rock Creek Park. Two days later, on Tuesday, I ran did an eight-mile bike path run with 4x800-meter repeats (3:00; 2:50: 2:50; 2:39) in the middle. Got in a couple local jogs, too.
So far this week I managed a 14-mile hilly jog on Sunday and the first treadmill workout since last winter. I actually enjoyed the 'mill yesterday. I did 2 miles@7:30 w/u followed by 1x1 mile at 5:49; 1x1 mile at 6:30; and, 1x2 miles at 7:30; 1x1 mile at 8:30 and wrapped it up with a half-mile speed hike at 14 percent grade. Nice workout, but I could feel effects of the inconsistency and depressed mileage. My plans to do three mile repeats under 6 were scrapped after the first one. My fitness is just too far off. Felt good, though, to sweat. And, the local rec center has new treadmills. The one I used can go up to a 30 percent grade. Very solid, impressive machine, as treadmills go.
I realize I need to make a commitment to getting up and running early in the morning, at least on the day's when JP's and my schedules align and the early mornings are available. Consistency takes commitment...and that's what I need to work on.
Looking Ahead
I've also just begun thinking about what I want to do running-wise next year. I've been mulling over giving the Leadville 100 a shot. I remain interested in tackling a 100-mile race. I'm not excited about the course, but it's local(ish) and logistically much easier to manage. By the time I make a decision, though, I'm sure the race will be filled.
I also might toss my hat again into the Wasatch 100 ring and see if the Lottery Gods like me this year.
Or, I might just stick with the marathon (Pikes Peak) and 50-mile distance (Run Rabbit Run). It's looking like I will not be around in June for a return to the San Juan Solstice. That's a bit of a bummer as I'm keen on trying to break 10 hours on the non-snow course. There's a good chance, though, that I will run the Safaricom Marathon in Northern Kenya at the end of June instead. Fingers crossed on that one.
Time to go for a run.
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