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.
Showing posts with label San Juan Solstice 50. Show all posts
Showing posts with label San Juan Solstice 50. Show all posts
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
San Juan Solstice 50 Race Report
As I marched in the early morning darkness down Highway 149 from our rental house to the start line of the 2011 San Juan Solstice 50, I had no bounce in my step. It was 4:15 a.m. I wasn't injured or tired, just uninspired. I had a race to run and just wanted to get it over with.
Running has been like that for me over the last month or so. Training has been a chore, something squeezed in (or not) between way too many other commitments. I ran twice the two weeks before this race, once for 3.5 miles in San Diego and once for about the same in Washington, D.C.
My running mojo was nowhere in sight and I was standing at the start of arguably the hardest 50-mile trail race in the country.
This year's race, as most know by now, would not be run on the standard course. There still was too much snow up on the Continental Divide and the run-off from the rapidly melting remnants of this year's epic snowpack was creating unsafe river and creek crossings. Thus, the RD and his race committee came up with a challenging alternative course that kept runners off the snow and out of the water.
Start to Vickers Ranch
As the clocked ticked down to 5 a.m., a long line of runners took up position on Silver Street, across from Lake City's town park. In no time, we were off, wheedling our way through town, past darkened houses on empty streets headed toward the Water Dog Trail for the climb to the top of Vickers' Ranch.
A lead group was off the front as we hit the singletrack and I fell in with a conga line of runners alternating between running and speed hiking. Despite my angst, my legs were feeling good and the modest pace up Water Dog proved frustrating. Finally out of the initial rocky switchbacks, the trail opened up a bit and I was able to motor past a few slower runners.
Vickers Ranch to Silver Coin
The Vickers' Aid Station at about mile four seemed to appear quickly. I ran through it without stopping, picking up the pace through the undulating terrain of meadows, aspen groves and spruce/lodgepole forests. Finally, we hit the highpoint on Vickers and ran along a ridgeline with a vast meadow spread out below us, the meadow I remembered hiking up at about mile 42 last year.
About 100 yards past the place last year's climb joined the trail I now was on, I noticed a good-sized group of runners running toward me. Turned out, this was the lead group of runners. They had gone off-course and had backtracked to get back to the proper trail.
Soon, everyone had reformed and were cruising down through the meadow back toward the marked course. Once through the meadow, the now serpentine trail wound its way in and out of aspen trees, then back into a coniferous forest before dumping us out on Highway 149, a mile or so below the Slumgullion Aid station, which we would see 30+ miles later.
Once on the highway, the new course took us uphill about 50 meters to some pink flagging on the right. Here, Chris D. from Gunnison and I quickly found ourselves off-course. Next to the flagging was an obvious two-track, which we followed. Mistake. We were supposed to drop down about 10 meters before the two-track. We spent about five minutes poking around trying to find the trail before I finally located it.
Now back on track, we were cruising down some cushion-y ATV roads headed toward the Silver Coin Aid Station. At least we were until we went off course again. Somewhere we just missed a turn (my bad...I was leading). There were four of us running together now...lost. Three of us decided to head cross-country, generally downhill in hopes of picking up the course again. After a good five minutes of wondering if we were digging ourselves into too big of a hole, we spotted the trail ahead.
Sliver Coin to Silver Coin
Soon, we were entering into the Silver Coin Aid Station. After a quick re-fill, I grabbed my Ziploc bag o' gels from my drop bag and began the climb up Roundtop Mountain. This was the second climb of the day, and it was hard. This was one of those roads that makes you wonder what its builders were thinking...."hey guys, do you dare me to try and build a road up this mountain!?" It was ridiculously steep in places and rocky the whole way.
I pulled out my iPod, inserted the ear buds and disappeared into my head.
As I marched up the road, I was still feeling apathetic. "Let's just get this done," was running through my head. I didn't care where I was in the standings. No matter that someone had just out-hiked me.
After a particularly steep pitch, where it almost made sense to climb it with all four limbs touching the ground, the top of Roundtop Mountain was in sight. Downhill running awaited. But first, I went yet again off-course for a bit. After a quick fix, I was back on course and running down a decent-quality road.
Just then, something changed in my head. I wanted to run...and run hard. "F*** the quads, let's see what happens," I told myself as I started running hard downhill. I was flying, easily at a sub-6 pace, just feeling great. No pain. No discomfort. Running free...with abandon.
In no time, I was back at the Silver Coin Aid Station, grabbing another Ziploc of gels and refilling my hydration pack (and knocking over a toddler on my way out...sorry!).
Silver Coin to Camp Trailhead
Next up were several hot miles on a dirt road along the banks of Lake San Cristobal. I ran steady, but not too fast along this stretch. About two miles out of the Camp Trailhead water stop, JP, jP and CP pulled alongside in the truck. Seeing them put some bounce in my step.
Just past the Williams Creek Campground, the course went left up the Camp Trail and back onto singletrack...at last! JP let me know I was in 16th place...oops 15th, as I passed a runner just before the trailhead. After dumping a couple cups of water on my head, I waved goodbye and jogged up the trail into the woods.
The jogging didn't last long as the trail turned up and the slog up to the Divide began. I had some real rough patches through here. The runner I passed just before the water stop was right on my heels, and another was about 100 feet ahead. A few miles in, I pulled over and let my shadow pass me. I was hurting.
Near the top, I started hearing whoops from above. I wondered if the Divide Aid Station was close. Turned out, it was Scott Jurek, running with Dakota Jones, letting out his trademark hollers. As they bounded past, I realized we were close to the top.
Divide to Slumgullion
At last, the Divide Yurt appeared, right around mile 31. Now we were back on the original course. With sublime views of vast meadows and distant peaks around, I continued marching up the trail to a high point on the Divide, still not feeling very good. Downhill ahead, however.
After crossing the highpoint, I began running again down a long doubletrack that seemed to go on forever, as I looked at the route ahead. After rounding a bend a few miles down, I saw the awnings that had to be the Divide Aid Station, which had been moved several miles down at the edge of Rambouillet Park due to muddy conditions.
After a quick refill, I was off running through Rambouillet Park toward the big descent down to the Slumgullion Aid Station at mile 40. I picked off a couple runners through this section. Soon, I was picking my way through the very rocky beginning of the descent down to Slum. Once through that section, I let things fly again. My quads were hurting, to be sure, but I still had the "f*** the quads" mindset, so I kept up a solid pace.
About a mile outside of Slum, a hiker told me and the runner just ahead that we were in the top 10. That didn't feel right, but it added some additional motivation to run hard. A little bit later, RD Jerry Gray appeared in a truck asking if I'd seen the mountain lion. I hadn't, but I sure wanted to.
The Slumgullion Aid Station appeared much quicker this year than last. JP, jP and CP were there to greet me. I cruised into the aid station and was hustled quickly out of there by Jurek and Jones...one couldn't ask for a better pair of aid station crew members. Both of them had such great energy and had me out of there with an efficiency that would make any NASCAR pit crew proud.
Slumgullion to Vickers Ranch
Jurek escorted me across Highway 149 and I sped down to the mining slag heap one must cross. I was feeling great...good energy...solid speed. I started getting some calf cramps right about here, though. At one point, I had to stop as my left calf severely locked up. I looked down at it and it seemed to be permanently flexed...locked. Finally, it let go and I started running again, afraid that if I stopped, the cramping would start up again.
Next up was the climb back up Vickers Ranch. This 1,600 foot climb really was no problem, just steady hiking. There were several runners in sight behind and in front of me, just close enough behind me to keep me from slacking and just close enough in front to pull me along at a steady clip.
Once at the top of Vickers it was back to running. Everything definitely was hurting now. The legs were tired and on the verge of cramping, but I was quickly learning that one can still run fast when sore and tired. So, on I went running pretty much everything from the top of Vickers to the Vickers Ranch Aid Station.
Vickers Ranch to Finish
Once again, I refilled and resumed running. I had to stop a few times on some of the steepest stretches to give the quads a brief break. On one particularly steep stretch, I pulled over to rest and pee and was passed by Chris D. I quickly finished up and gave chase.
He was moving very, very well and it was all I could do to keep him in sight.
At last, we hit the final switchbacks on the Water Dog Trail. With views of Lake City below, I knew the descent was almost over, so I gave it all I had. Chris now had over a hundred meters on me.
Right at the end of the singletrack, I passed a runner and kept motoring, wondering if I had any hope of catching Chris. As we ran down a long stretch of straight, mostly flat dirt road I focused on running steady and catching Chris. I was slowly reeling him in. The 100 meters were now 50 meters as we hit the path along the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River, then crossed the river on a pedestrian bridge.
Soon, we were running down Silver Street. He was now 25 meters or so ahead, but I wasn't gaining any more. I did a quick check of all the body systems and realized I didn't have enough strength or real estate left to run him down. I did my best to keep it close as the finish line drew closer and closer.
He beat me by 10 seconds.
I ended up finishing 14th overall in 10:15:10, running across the finish line with CP and jP who were waiting for me as I ran up Silver Street (such an awesome feeling!). Ended up as the third masters, behind Karl Metzler and Chris D (and third in the 40-44 age group).
Full results here.
Post-race
After a quick round of hugs from the family, I laid down on the ground...er, collapsed...and didn't move for 15 minutes. I was wasted. My calves, hamstrings and lower back all were cramping.
After pounding water and Heed for a good while, I managed to crawl over to a massage table where a woman from Creede was offering free work. Before I knew it, the shivering started and she ordered me off the table and into the most comfortable lawn chair on the planet. She gave me a bottle of water filled with electrolyte powder and ordered me to drink. CP brought me soup from the finish area food table.
Thirty minutes later, I was vastly improved and back on the table seeking some relief.
The body work was great, but didn't do much to ease the intense discomfort I was experiencing in the lower half of my body. I had, indeed, managed to f*** my quads! I could hardly walk.
We hung out for a while, cheering on runners as they finished and catching up with old friends and new, including Woody A. and Brendan T.
I think I found my running mojo at the top of Roundtop Mountain. Here's to hoping I can hold onto it for a while. I have a date with a mountain down south in another few weeks.
Running has been like that for me over the last month or so. Training has been a chore, something squeezed in (or not) between way too many other commitments. I ran twice the two weeks before this race, once for 3.5 miles in San Diego and once for about the same in Washington, D.C.
My running mojo was nowhere in sight and I was standing at the start of arguably the hardest 50-mile trail race in the country.
This year's race, as most know by now, would not be run on the standard course. There still was too much snow up on the Continental Divide and the run-off from the rapidly melting remnants of this year's epic snowpack was creating unsafe river and creek crossings. Thus, the RD and his race committee came up with a challenging alternative course that kept runners off the snow and out of the water.
 |
| 2011 San Juan Solstice 50 course profile - 12,799 feet of elevation gain |
As the clocked ticked down to 5 a.m., a long line of runners took up position on Silver Street, across from Lake City's town park. In no time, we were off, wheedling our way through town, past darkened houses on empty streets headed toward the Water Dog Trail for the climb to the top of Vickers' Ranch.
A lead group was off the front as we hit the singletrack and I fell in with a conga line of runners alternating between running and speed hiking. Despite my angst, my legs were feeling good and the modest pace up Water Dog proved frustrating. Finally out of the initial rocky switchbacks, the trail opened up a bit and I was able to motor past a few slower runners.
 |
| Sunrise from Vickers Ranch. Photo: Woody A. |
The Vickers' Aid Station at about mile four seemed to appear quickly. I ran through it without stopping, picking up the pace through the undulating terrain of meadows, aspen groves and spruce/lodgepole forests. Finally, we hit the highpoint on Vickers and ran along a ridgeline with a vast meadow spread out below us, the meadow I remembered hiking up at about mile 42 last year.
About 100 yards past the place last year's climb joined the trail I now was on, I noticed a good-sized group of runners running toward me. Turned out, this was the lead group of runners. They had gone off-course and had backtracked to get back to the proper trail.
 |
| Heading down Vickers Ranch - me in the black gloves on left. Photo: Shane T. |
Once on the highway, the new course took us uphill about 50 meters to some pink flagging on the right. Here, Chris D. from Gunnison and I quickly found ourselves off-course. Next to the flagging was an obvious two-track, which we followed. Mistake. We were supposed to drop down about 10 meters before the two-track. We spent about five minutes poking around trying to find the trail before I finally located it.
Now back on track, we were cruising down some cushion-y ATV roads headed toward the Silver Coin Aid Station. At least we were until we went off course again. Somewhere we just missed a turn (my bad...I was leading). There were four of us running together now...lost. Three of us decided to head cross-country, generally downhill in hopes of picking up the course again. After a good five minutes of wondering if we were digging ourselves into too big of a hole, we spotted the trail ahead.
Sliver Coin to Silver Coin
Soon, we were entering into the Silver Coin Aid Station. After a quick re-fill, I grabbed my Ziploc bag o' gels from my drop bag and began the climb up Roundtop Mountain. This was the second climb of the day, and it was hard. This was one of those roads that makes you wonder what its builders were thinking...."hey guys, do you dare me to try and build a road up this mountain!?" It was ridiculously steep in places and rocky the whole way.
 |
| A section of the climb up Roundtop Mountain. Photo: Shane T. |
As I marched up the road, I was still feeling apathetic. "Let's just get this done," was running through my head. I didn't care where I was in the standings. No matter that someone had just out-hiked me.
After a particularly steep pitch, where it almost made sense to climb it with all four limbs touching the ground, the top of Roundtop Mountain was in sight. Downhill running awaited. But first, I went yet again off-course for a bit. After a quick fix, I was back on course and running down a decent-quality road.
 |
| The view from the top of Roundtop Mountain. Uncompahgre Peak in the center. Photo: Woody A. |
In no time, I was back at the Silver Coin Aid Station, grabbing another Ziploc of gels and refilling my hydration pack (and knocking over a toddler on my way out...sorry!).
Silver Coin to Camp Trailhead
Next up were several hot miles on a dirt road along the banks of Lake San Cristobal. I ran steady, but not too fast along this stretch. About two miles out of the Camp Trailhead water stop, JP, jP and CP pulled alongside in the truck. Seeing them put some bounce in my step.
Just past the Williams Creek Campground, the course went left up the Camp Trail and back onto singletrack...at last! JP let me know I was in 16th place...oops 15th, as I passed a runner just before the trailhead. After dumping a couple cups of water on my head, I waved goodbye and jogged up the trail into the woods.
The jogging didn't last long as the trail turned up and the slog up to the Divide began. I had some real rough patches through here. The runner I passed just before the water stop was right on my heels, and another was about 100 feet ahead. A few miles in, I pulled over and let my shadow pass me. I was hurting.
Near the top, I started hearing whoops from above. I wondered if the Divide Aid Station was close. Turned out, it was Scott Jurek, running with Dakota Jones, letting out his trademark hollers. As they bounded past, I realized we were close to the top.
Divide to Slumgullion
At last, the Divide Yurt appeared, right around mile 31. Now we were back on the original course. With sublime views of vast meadows and distant peaks around, I continued marching up the trail to a high point on the Divide, still not feeling very good. Downhill ahead, however.
After crossing the highpoint, I began running again down a long doubletrack that seemed to go on forever, as I looked at the route ahead. After rounding a bend a few miles down, I saw the awnings that had to be the Divide Aid Station, which had been moved several miles down at the edge of Rambouillet Park due to muddy conditions.
After a quick refill, I was off running through Rambouillet Park toward the big descent down to the Slumgullion Aid Station at mile 40. I picked off a couple runners through this section. Soon, I was picking my way through the very rocky beginning of the descent down to Slum. Once through that section, I let things fly again. My quads were hurting, to be sure, but I still had the "f*** the quads" mindset, so I kept up a solid pace.
About a mile outside of Slum, a hiker told me and the runner just ahead that we were in the top 10. That didn't feel right, but it added some additional motivation to run hard. A little bit later, RD Jerry Gray appeared in a truck asking if I'd seen the mountain lion. I hadn't, but I sure wanted to.
The Slumgullion Aid Station appeared much quicker this year than last. JP, jP and CP were there to greet me. I cruised into the aid station and was hustled quickly out of there by Jurek and Jones...one couldn't ask for a better pair of aid station crew members. Both of them had such great energy and had me out of there with an efficiency that would make any NASCAR pit crew proud.
 |
| Slumgullion Aid Station with CP. Photo: Tanya A. |
 |
| Crew support from CP and Dakota Jones (accepting a lovely collection of sticky, empty gel packets). Photo: Tanya A. |
Jurek escorted me across Highway 149 and I sped down to the mining slag heap one must cross. I was feeling great...good energy...solid speed. I started getting some calf cramps right about here, though. At one point, I had to stop as my left calf severely locked up. I looked down at it and it seemed to be permanently flexed...locked. Finally, it let go and I started running again, afraid that if I stopped, the cramping would start up again.
Next up was the climb back up Vickers Ranch. This 1,600 foot climb really was no problem, just steady hiking. There were several runners in sight behind and in front of me, just close enough behind me to keep me from slacking and just close enough in front to pull me along at a steady clip.
Once at the top of Vickers it was back to running. Everything definitely was hurting now. The legs were tired and on the verge of cramping, but I was quickly learning that one can still run fast when sore and tired. So, on I went running pretty much everything from the top of Vickers to the Vickers Ranch Aid Station.
Vickers Ranch to Finish
Once again, I refilled and resumed running. I had to stop a few times on some of the steepest stretches to give the quads a brief break. On one particularly steep stretch, I pulled over to rest and pee and was passed by Chris D. I quickly finished up and gave chase.
He was moving very, very well and it was all I could do to keep him in sight.
At last, we hit the final switchbacks on the Water Dog Trail. With views of Lake City below, I knew the descent was almost over, so I gave it all I had. Chris now had over a hundred meters on me.
Right at the end of the singletrack, I passed a runner and kept motoring, wondering if I had any hope of catching Chris. As we ran down a long stretch of straight, mostly flat dirt road I focused on running steady and catching Chris. I was slowly reeling him in. The 100 meters were now 50 meters as we hit the path along the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River, then crossed the river on a pedestrian bridge.
Soon, we were running down Silver Street. He was now 25 meters or so ahead, but I wasn't gaining any more. I did a quick check of all the body systems and realized I didn't have enough strength or real estate left to run him down. I did my best to keep it close as the finish line drew closer and closer.
He beat me by 10 seconds.
 |
| Approaching the finish line with CP and jP. (Click for a better view.) |
 |
| Ouch. |
Full results here.
Post-race
After a quick round of hugs from the family, I laid down on the ground...er, collapsed...and didn't move for 15 minutes. I was wasted. My calves, hamstrings and lower back all were cramping.
After pounding water and Heed for a good while, I managed to crawl over to a massage table where a woman from Creede was offering free work. Before I knew it, the shivering started and she ordered me off the table and into the most comfortable lawn chair on the planet. She gave me a bottle of water filled with electrolyte powder and ordered me to drink. CP brought me soup from the finish area food table.
Thirty minutes later, I was vastly improved and back on the table seeking some relief.
 |
| Any relief is good relief. |
We hung out for a while, cheering on runners as they finished and catching up with old friends and new, including Woody A. and Brendan T.
I think I found my running mojo at the top of Roundtop Mountain. Here's to hoping I can hold onto it for a while. I have a date with a mountain down south in another few weeks.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Elk Meadow - Painter's Pause - Founders Loop
Time: 59 minutes
Distance: 2.8 miles
Effort: Easy
Body: Poor
Weather: Sunny and warm
Very easy evening hike on Elk Meadow's most moderate trails. CP joined me, she riding her mountain bike. As expected post-San Juan Solstice 50, the legs were trashed. Any step-downs hurt like heck. That said, it felt good to be out and moving, even at today's snail pace. And, it was a lot of fun hanging with CP on Father's Day. We went out for pizza together afterwards. A perfect evening.
Distance: 2.8 miles
Effort: Easy
Body: Poor
Weather: Sunny and warm
Very easy evening hike on Elk Meadow's most moderate trails. CP joined me, she riding her mountain bike. As expected post-San Juan Solstice 50, the legs were trashed. Any step-downs hurt like heck. That said, it felt good to be out and moving, even at today's snail pace. And, it was a lot of fun hanging with CP on Father's Day. We went out for pizza together afterwards. A perfect evening.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
San Juan Solstice 50 - Race Report
Time: 10:41
Distance: 50 miles
Effort: Hard!
Body: Good
Weather: Sunny and warm
Synopsis: I learned a lot. Ran a good race. Made no major mistakes. Finished strong. Exceeded my goals. Had a lot of fun.
The (very) long version: About four days out from Saturday's San Juan Solstice 50, I started feeling anxious about the race. A poorly-timed 10-day family/business trip to the East Coast had thrown a wrench into a very solid block of training leading up to my first-ever 50-mile race. For what felt like a crucial week and a half, I was living and training low...sea level low. This just didn't feel like a good race strategy.
I finally got home to Colorado late on the Tuesday before the race. After 10 days of dashing from one air conditioned building to another, I felt off -- a little abnormally fatigued, like I was on the verge of coming down with something. Before I knew it, it was Thursday and I realized that I'd been so caught up in getting caught up at work, that I'd failed to give much thought to race gear and logistics. I was feeling anxious. Am I ready? Am going to get sick? What shoes should I wear? What's my race plan? What should I pack to eat on the run?
After a very late Thursday night of swirl and anxiety -- something very uncommon for me -- I finally returned to form and decided I'd just let it come...I'd find some flow and just rely on commonsense. There was still some anxiousness about the race, though. I was confident that I could finish the race. No doubt. The question was how much I would suffer.
Just after I signed up for the race back in January, I arbitrarily decided my goal was to finish in the top 25 percent. I don't think I ever told anyone about the goal, other than AJW who, in exchange for some yet-to-be-delivered beer, offered to provide some guidance on training. In fact, most of my friends and co-workers had no idea I was training to run a 50-mile race.
Fast forward to last Friday afternoon. JP, jP, CP and I are driving to Lake City. Just as we pulled into Gunninson I glanced at my mobile phone and saw that I'd started getting a whole bunch of e-mail messages from co-workers sending "good luck" wishes. Uh-oh, someone leaked my race plans. Turned out my boss was the culprit. She sent out a mass e-mail. Now I had a dozen colleagues marveling at my yet-to-be-proven ultrarunner prowess. My flow was getting a little turbulent.
By the time we rolled into Lake City and unloaded our gear into our rental cabin, the flow was back. Knowing all my co-workers were pulling for me was an incentive...another reason to persevere and leave everything on the trail. Feeling more relaxed, I finally started getting serious about drop bags and gear. After days of vacillating, I decided to run with the Nathan hydration pack, wear the La Sportiva Crosslites shoes and rely on a hell of a lot of PowerBar gels for fuel. My plan was to consume a gel (Strawberry-Banana) every 30 minutes and regularly pop S-Caps to stay on top of electrolytes.
Soon, the drop bags were finally packed, I had my race number and we were at the race dinner, catching up with Brandon, Todd G. and their families. I never heard the pre-race briefing, but got some sage advice from Todd, which essentially boiled down to "don't blow it in the first 25 miles because you can run the last 25 miles." At last...a race strategy.
Race Day
The alarm went off at 3:45 a.m. I crept quietly around the cabin going about the morning routine while trying not to wake up JP and the kids. Once I was dressed in race gear and had a plate of food and drinks, I snuck outside and sat in the truck and ate, drank and tried not to think about how little sleep I got.
By 4:45 a.m. I was checked in at the race HQ and chatting with Brandon and Todd in between last minute dashes to the bathroom. Finally word came...it was time to line up for the start. Everyone slowly shuffled out of the warm confines of the Lake City armory and over to the main street downtown for the start. Before I knew it, we were off.
Despite the darkness, the early hour and the long day ahead, the pack took off at a relatively quick pace, After a few blocks in town, we hung a right and were cruising up Engineer Pass road. I was feeling good here. The altitude was not a factor, My legs felt fresh. No sign of the "off" feeling I'd had all week, including the day before. I felt solid, like it was going to be a good day.
After 2.7 miles of flat and a bit of a gentle grade here and there, we were directed left off the road and onto singletrack which would lead us up Alpine Gulch to the first aid station. The lower half of Alpine Gulch was no problem - mostly rolling with multiple stream crossings - all of which I managed without so much as getting my feet wet. Through this section I was running with Todd G. and just behind Helen Cospolich. The trail soon turned up and Todd and Helen disappeared as I switched to power hiking.
About a quarter mile from the Alpine aid station, I started hearing whoops and hollers ahead. After cresting a small rise, there was the aid station, which really was just an opportunity to refill water bottles. I had plenty of Cytomax left, so I hit the split button on my watch (1:36 to Alpine) and jogged straight through the aid station and immediately fell in behind Brandon, whom I hadn't seen -- other than quick glimpses through the trees headed up Alpine -- since he passed me on Engineer Pass Road.
Alpine to Williams Creek Campground
Brandon explained he'd stepped off trail for a bio break and off we went covering the last few switchbacks before gaining the ridge which we would traverse west before beginning the big descent into the Williams Creek Campground aid station.
After hopping onto a frozen snowbank to momentarily escape the uneven, rock-strewn footing of the ridge line, I found a groove and headed off solo, passing a couple of guys on the way to the saddle far above Williams Creek.
By the time I hit the saddle, it was time for my own bio break. Unfortunately, treeline and the privacy it promised seemed to be an eternity away. Somehow I made it to the trees, took care of business and resumed the descent down to Williams campground. This section was totally runnable, with a forgiving dirt surface and not too many rocks. So, of course, this is the place to trip and fall,
I'm not sure how it happened. One second I was speeding down a short steep section of dirt, the next second I was hurtling through the air. Fortunately, I had the right combination of speed, incline and surface, all of which led to me going airborne, tucking my right shoulder, hitting the ground and rolling up onto my feet and not losing stride. As I ran, I took stock...a little dirty, a little blood on the right elbow, nothing serious. After a few stretches through some gorgeous meadows and a little position jockeying with a guy and a woman, I arrived at the aid station and hit the split at 1:34; 3:10.
The aid station was run like a NASCAR pitstop. I showed up at the food/drink table, someone handed me my drop bag and someone else asked for my hydration pack and took my beverage order, In just two minutes or so, I had a full hydration pack, the new collection of gels from my drop bag and a mouth full of pretzels. I was now 15.7 miles into the race.
Williams Creek to Carson
After the whirlwind of the aid station, I took a right out of the campground and began running the two flatish miles to Wager Creek jeep road that would takes us up to the Carson aid station. As I ran, I packed my new stash of gels into my race vest pockets. The climb was only 3.6 miles, but it was steep. I power hiked most of climb, running the gentle portions. I could see two guys up ahead, but they seemed to be slowly pulling away, although I managed to keep them in sight.
I resisted the desire to run, opting to stick with the conservative first half race strategy. I just focused on keeping up a fast walking pace and remembering to down my prescribed gel every 30 minutes.
Shortly after being passed by a trio of dusty, smelly motorcycles I pulled into the Carson aid station. Split time was 1:28; 4:38. Once again, I handed over my race vest/hydration pack, grabbed my drop bag and stuffed my face with Coke and pretzels. I sat down (the only time I sat at an aid station), pawed through my drop bag, exhumed my iPod and was soon headed out of the aid station with a freshly-filled pack on my back and an episode of Endurance Planet filling my ears.
Twenty-two miles down.
Carson to Divide
From Carson, we climbed a bunch more until we intersected with the Colorado Trail. Here I could see a handful of runners ascending a series of switchbacks headed up toward a high ridge. Through this section, I was still power hiking, but managed to pick off a couple of runners.
At last, I gained the high ridge and was able to run again. I switched the iPod over to music and began cruising. I quickly caught a couple more runners just as we were passing a big man-made pile of rocks. Being a rookie on this course, I made a comment about the pile and was informed in a dead-pan way that we were passing the course's high point, the 13,334-foot summit of Coney Peak.
The terrain through here was classic Colorado alpine meadows, with views as far as the eye could see. The course had a few minor re-routes to go around small snow banks, but other than that, there was some good running through this section.
At one particularly wide open and moderately downhill section, I came across Todd G. who was not having a good day. Seeing him gave me a perfect excuse to slow down, walk for a bit and rest my increasingly weary legs. Todd would have none of it though. "What are you doing," he asked incredulously. "You're having a good race. Don't stop running! Go!"
Always one to listen to people smarter than me, I heeded his advice and set off again running down a sweet section of singletrack. The trail slowly dropped back into the trees and soon the course markers directed runners off the trail and up through a wet meadow. At the top of the meadow was the aid station.
I jogged into the aid station just as a runner was leaving. (I failed to hit the split button on my watch at this aid station.) I quickly peeled off my hydration pack, handed it over and began downing Coke and noshing pretzels. In about a minute I was ready to go. One problem, though. I still didn't have my pack back. Turned out, the guy that filled it at the Carson aid station had slid the bladder clasp on incorrectly and it was stuck - really stuck.
After another minute or two of trying to muscle the clasp off, I told the guy to forget it. The bladder still was about half full. Surely that was enough to get me the nine, mostly downhill, miles to the next aid station. So off I went.
Thirty-one miles down.
Divide to Slumgullion
After a short descent back through the upper part of the meadow in front of the aid station, the trail climbed through the trees and emerged again in the type of wide-open grassy park terrain we had run through earlier. The trail climbed steadily and then began undulating for the next three miles. Just before beginning the four mile descent down to Slumgullion, I passed a runner in a red shirt who was alternating between walking and running a jeep road section with a nice mix of ups and downs. I also was switching between walking and running through here, but must have had just a bit more pep.
Soon, the descent into Slumgullion began. By this point, my quads were trashed. The downhills hurt worse than the ups. Much of this jeep road was very steep and rocky, forcing me to walk some downhill stretches and pause now and then to give the quads a short break.
About a mile into the downhill, I was passed by a runner I had last seen somewhere on the Colorado Trail about four miles out of the Carson aid station. He was moving pretty well and soon had a couple hundred yards on me.
After four or so miles of quad-crushing descent, I finally heard the sounds of an approaching aid station. Then, I came around a small curve, picking my way down a particularly steep, rocky section and there was JP, who was soon joined by CP and jP. I gingerly jogged down to them, gave each a hug. As I hugged her, JP said, "Oh, you don't look good." She was referring to the grimace that had been on my face as I was descending to them. Yep, the quads were really hurting.
Seeing the family caused a wave of emotion to wash over me. Felt really good and probably juiced some much-needed endorphins into the system. JP nudged me back onto the jeep road promising to meet me at the aid station, just 20 yards further downhill.
At the aid station, I again handed over the hydration pack. Same problem. No one could get the clasp off. A strong-looking young guy even pulled on it with everything he had, but could not get the damn thing to slide off. Attempts to use a Buck knife to pry the clasp off also failed.
Thankfully, in addition to the requisite cache of gels and S-Caps, I also had stuck a hand bottle in my drop bag, so I pulled it out, had it filled, told the aid station crew to forget about the bladder and hand back to me the pack. Just then, Elaine, an angel of mercy, remembered she had a water bottle. She grabbed it, filled it, promised me she had no open sores and handed it over. Too cool.
Meanwhile, while I spent five minutes messing with my gear, the guy that passed me on the descent had already left and the guy I passed at the top of the descent had entered the aid station and was heading out. I uttered a mild expletive and took off just behind the guy, waving and hollering back to the family.
I forgot to hit the split again here. Forty miles down.
Slumgullion to Vickers
From Slumgullion, red shirt guy and I crossed Highway 149 and made our way through a well-marked, but trail-less section of the course that went through an area hammered by mining. Soon, thankfully, we were jogging across a parking area toward a singletrack trail. The guy in front of me hollered back a question about how high was this ascent. I told him if this was Vickers, it was 1,700 feet up. With that, he kept jogging and soon had a hundred yards on me.
Meanwhile, it was back to power hiking. Up, up, up I went through an endless aspen grove, surrounded on both side by high green grass. After a mile or two, I passed the guy that had passed me on the descent down to Slumgullion. As I approached, he and his pacer (you could pick up pacers at Slumgullion for the final 10 miles.) stepped off the trail and offered some words of encouragement. Before too long, the course entered a wide open, steep meadow. I could see above me a couple of runners, including a Helen Cospolich and the red shirt guy.
I did my best to keep up the steady power hike, but still had to pause once in a while to rest. Near the top of the meadow, I caught Helen. Actually passing her seemed to take 10 minutes. That had to have been the slowest pass I'd ever done.
Soon, the trail leveled out a bit and entered a coniferous forest and began heading downhill. The quads were not happy about this, but I was determined not to be passed by the two runners I'd reeled in over the last couple of miles.
Finally, the Vickers aid station appeared ahead. I ran in and grabbed a handful of pretzels and handed over my water bottles. As they were being filled, red shirt guy took off. I downed a couple cups of Coke, collected my handhelds and was off on the chase.
I did manged to hit the split here - 5:16 from Carson, 9:55 and 46 miles into the race.
Vickers to Finish
Just four more miles and one hard descent to go. I jogged out of the aid station, keeping my head up looking for glimpses of red ahead. In no time, the runner ahead was out of sight. I figured he was gone, so I switched my focus to keeping ahead of the two runners behind me.
The descent down toward town on the Waterdog Trail was vicious. My quads were killing me, but I was learning an invaluable lesson: so much of pain is mental. All of my body's systems were working fine. I had no serious problems...no ligaments damaged, no joints about to break, no torn muscles...just fatigue. Even though the discomfort was severe, I can fight through it.
And fight through it I did.
At last, the town appeared through the pine trees and got closer and closer with every rock-strewn switchback. Finally, the trail dumped us out on a dirt road. After running around a slight curve in the road, I looked down the long, straight road ahead and caught sight of the red-shirted runner. After a quick mental calculation, I decided he was gone.
I turned my attention to finishing, and finishing soon. I wanted to be done. My quads were now officially done. The sooner I finished, then sooner I could stop. So I started running. Then, I looked back over my shoulder and saw the runner and his pacer I passed on the ascent to Vickers. Seeing them sent started the adrenaline flowing and I picked up the pace, a lot. And, at that moment, the wind picked up, blowing hard straight into my face.
Right then, I got tunnel vision. I saw only two things. The two red hand-painted SJS course signs and the runner ahead of me in the distance. I could feel the wind howling and my body aching, but I continued running hard. I was not going to get passed.
Next, things began feeling better. I was moving well, probably running about a 7 minute mile pace, maybe a bit quicker. Man, it hurt, but it also felt good...no great. And, I was gaining on the runner ahead. The howling wind was masking the sound of my approaching footsteps. I don't think the runner knew I was coming. I passed the first SJS course sign, then I passed the runner.
He looked over at me and said "good job." I thanked him and kept churning, not daring to look back to see if he was giving chase. I ran through a cul-de-sac, over a pedestrian bridge over the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River and into town proper.
The course crossed the highway just ahead, and as I approached, a volunteer indicated the road was clear and waved me across. Things were really hurting now, but I was determined to hold pace, but wasn't sure if I could. The big question now was what street was I on? I knew the finish must be at Third Street and Silver. At the intersection of Silver, I saw the street sign - Fifth Street! Only two more blocks.
I kept up the pace down Silver and through downtown to the sound of the race announcer and a smattering of applause.
Right as I stepped off the street into the town park, I saw jP and CP standing there at the entrance to the chute of orange cones that led to the banner-covered scaffolding that was the finish line. They were all smiles, cheering and waving. Smiling back, I told them to run it in with me. The three of us crossed the finish line together in 10:41 and in 19th place.
After handing over the tag off my race number, I hugged JP and immediately sought out a spot to collapse. I was wasted...done....nothing else in the tank. I left everything I had on the trails and roads of the course. I had exceed my goal of finishing in the top 25 percent, ending up just a hair, I think, outside of the top 10 percent.
I laid there in the sun soaking up the post-race atmosphere and being well-cared for by JP and the kids. After a bit, I managed to get up and stagger over to the food table to pick up some snacks. Getting up and walking was not easy.
A short while later, Brandon came through the finish line looking strong and relieved to be done. Read Brandon's excellent race report. I also finally met Jason Poole, a fellow Evergreen runner, who came in ninth overall at just under 10 hours. Nice work, Jason!
There were some damn fast times this year. Young Dakota Jones came within 13 minutes or so of Matt Carpenter's seemingly unassailable 2004 course record. Ryan Burch also put in a remarkable performance for second place.
The rest of the evening was spent relaxing back in the cabin and scarfing down pizza at a local Italian joint where we had the opportunity to spend a good chunk of time chatting with Charles Corfield, a brilliant guy and excellent ultrarunner.
Race results here.
The next morning we returned to the town park for the award ceremony. For purposes of full disclosure, I must admit that we drove the four blocks to the park. I just didn't feel like walking. My quads were really pissed off at me.
After the awards for the overall finishers, the color-coded finishers hats were handed out. I got a blue-brimmed hat for finishing under 11 hours.
As we were leaving the park, I ran into Jaime Yebra, a guy whose blog I follow and who also was running his first 50 mile race. Read Jaime's race report here.
A few other race reports: Jason Halladay, Brett from South Carolina, Stephen Young, Scott Jaime.
It's three days since the race and I'm still smiling about the experience. I definitely learned a lot and hope to run a few more of races of this length (still no interest in 100 mile races!). I've been thinking a lot about lessons learned and how I might tweak my training to account for some deficiencies. But given the Moby Dick length of this race report, I'll save that for a later post.
Distance: 50 miles
Effort: Hard!
Body: Good
Weather: Sunny and warm
Synopsis: I learned a lot. Ran a good race. Made no major mistakes. Finished strong. Exceeded my goals. Had a lot of fun.
The (very) long version: About four days out from Saturday's San Juan Solstice 50, I started feeling anxious about the race. A poorly-timed 10-day family/business trip to the East Coast had thrown a wrench into a very solid block of training leading up to my first-ever 50-mile race. For what felt like a crucial week and a half, I was living and training low...sea level low. This just didn't feel like a good race strategy.
I finally got home to Colorado late on the Tuesday before the race. After 10 days of dashing from one air conditioned building to another, I felt off -- a little abnormally fatigued, like I was on the verge of coming down with something. Before I knew it, it was Thursday and I realized that I'd been so caught up in getting caught up at work, that I'd failed to give much thought to race gear and logistics. I was feeling anxious. Am I ready? Am going to get sick? What shoes should I wear? What's my race plan? What should I pack to eat on the run?
After a very late Thursday night of swirl and anxiety -- something very uncommon for me -- I finally returned to form and decided I'd just let it come...I'd find some flow and just rely on commonsense. There was still some anxiousness about the race, though. I was confident that I could finish the race. No doubt. The question was how much I would suffer.
Just after I signed up for the race back in January, I arbitrarily decided my goal was to finish in the top 25 percent. I don't think I ever told anyone about the goal, other than AJW who, in exchange for some yet-to-be-delivered beer, offered to provide some guidance on training. In fact, most of my friends and co-workers had no idea I was training to run a 50-mile race.
Fast forward to last Friday afternoon. JP, jP, CP and I are driving to Lake City. Just as we pulled into Gunninson I glanced at my mobile phone and saw that I'd started getting a whole bunch of e-mail messages from co-workers sending "good luck" wishes. Uh-oh, someone leaked my race plans. Turned out my boss was the culprit. She sent out a mass e-mail. Now I had a dozen colleagues marveling at my yet-to-be-proven ultrarunner prowess. My flow was getting a little turbulent.
By the time we rolled into Lake City and unloaded our gear into our rental cabin, the flow was back. Knowing all my co-workers were pulling for me was an incentive...another reason to persevere and leave everything on the trail. Feeling more relaxed, I finally started getting serious about drop bags and gear. After days of vacillating, I decided to run with the Nathan hydration pack, wear the La Sportiva Crosslites shoes and rely on a hell of a lot of PowerBar gels for fuel. My plan was to consume a gel (Strawberry-Banana) every 30 minutes and regularly pop S-Caps to stay on top of electrolytes.
Soon, the drop bags were finally packed, I had my race number and we were at the race dinner, catching up with Brandon, Todd G. and their families. I never heard the pre-race briefing, but got some sage advice from Todd, which essentially boiled down to "don't blow it in the first 25 miles because you can run the last 25 miles." At last...a race strategy.
The race course elevation profile...three big climbs
Race Day
The alarm went off at 3:45 a.m. I crept quietly around the cabin going about the morning routine while trying not to wake up JP and the kids. Once I was dressed in race gear and had a plate of food and drinks, I snuck outside and sat in the truck and ate, drank and tried not to think about how little sleep I got.
By 4:45 a.m. I was checked in at the race HQ and chatting with Brandon and Todd in between last minute dashes to the bathroom. Finally word came...it was time to line up for the start. Everyone slowly shuffled out of the warm confines of the Lake City armory and over to the main street downtown for the start. Before I knew it, we were off.
Despite the darkness, the early hour and the long day ahead, the pack took off at a relatively quick pace, After a few blocks in town, we hung a right and were cruising up Engineer Pass road. I was feeling good here. The altitude was not a factor, My legs felt fresh. No sign of the "off" feeling I'd had all week, including the day before. I felt solid, like it was going to be a good day.
After 2.7 miles of flat and a bit of a gentle grade here and there, we were directed left off the road and onto singletrack which would lead us up Alpine Gulch to the first aid station. The lower half of Alpine Gulch was no problem - mostly rolling with multiple stream crossings - all of which I managed without so much as getting my feet wet. Through this section I was running with Todd G. and just behind Helen Cospolich. The trail soon turned up and Todd and Helen disappeared as I switched to power hiking.
About a quarter mile from the Alpine aid station, I started hearing whoops and hollers ahead. After cresting a small rise, there was the aid station, which really was just an opportunity to refill water bottles. I had plenty of Cytomax left, so I hit the split button on my watch (1:36 to Alpine) and jogged straight through the aid station and immediately fell in behind Brandon, whom I hadn't seen -- other than quick glimpses through the trees headed up Alpine -- since he passed me on Engineer Pass Road.
Alpine to Williams Creek Campground
Brandon explained he'd stepped off trail for a bio break and off we went covering the last few switchbacks before gaining the ridge which we would traverse west before beginning the big descent into the Williams Creek Campground aid station.
After hopping onto a frozen snowbank to momentarily escape the uneven, rock-strewn footing of the ridge line, I found a groove and headed off solo, passing a couple of guys on the way to the saddle far above Williams Creek.
By the time I hit the saddle, it was time for my own bio break. Unfortunately, treeline and the privacy it promised seemed to be an eternity away. Somehow I made it to the trees, took care of business and resumed the descent down to Williams campground. This section was totally runnable, with a forgiving dirt surface and not too many rocks. So, of course, this is the place to trip and fall,
I'm not sure how it happened. One second I was speeding down a short steep section of dirt, the next second I was hurtling through the air. Fortunately, I had the right combination of speed, incline and surface, all of which led to me going airborne, tucking my right shoulder, hitting the ground and rolling up onto my feet and not losing stride. As I ran, I took stock...a little dirty, a little blood on the right elbow, nothing serious. After a few stretches through some gorgeous meadows and a little position jockeying with a guy and a woman, I arrived at the aid station and hit the split at 1:34; 3:10.
The aid station was run like a NASCAR pitstop. I showed up at the food/drink table, someone handed me my drop bag and someone else asked for my hydration pack and took my beverage order, In just two minutes or so, I had a full hydration pack, the new collection of gels from my drop bag and a mouth full of pretzels. I was now 15.7 miles into the race.
Williams Creek to Carson
After the whirlwind of the aid station, I took a right out of the campground and began running the two flatish miles to Wager Creek jeep road that would takes us up to the Carson aid station. As I ran, I packed my new stash of gels into my race vest pockets. The climb was only 3.6 miles, but it was steep. I power hiked most of climb, running the gentle portions. I could see two guys up ahead, but they seemed to be slowly pulling away, although I managed to keep them in sight.
I resisted the desire to run, opting to stick with the conservative first half race strategy. I just focused on keeping up a fast walking pace and remembering to down my prescribed gel every 30 minutes.
Shortly after being passed by a trio of dusty, smelly motorcycles I pulled into the Carson aid station. Split time was 1:28; 4:38. Once again, I handed over my race vest/hydration pack, grabbed my drop bag and stuffed my face with Coke and pretzels. I sat down (the only time I sat at an aid station), pawed through my drop bag, exhumed my iPod and was soon headed out of the aid station with a freshly-filled pack on my back and an episode of Endurance Planet filling my ears.
Twenty-two miles down.
Carson to Divide
From Carson, we climbed a bunch more until we intersected with the Colorado Trail. Here I could see a handful of runners ascending a series of switchbacks headed up toward a high ridge. Through this section, I was still power hiking, but managed to pick off a couple of runners.
At last, I gained the high ridge and was able to run again. I switched the iPod over to music and began cruising. I quickly caught a couple more runners just as we were passing a big man-made pile of rocks. Being a rookie on this course, I made a comment about the pile and was informed in a dead-pan way that we were passing the course's high point, the 13,334-foot summit of Coney Peak.
The terrain through here was classic Colorado alpine meadows, with views as far as the eye could see. The course had a few minor re-routes to go around small snow banks, but other than that, there was some good running through this section.
At one particularly wide open and moderately downhill section, I came across Todd G. who was not having a good day. Seeing him gave me a perfect excuse to slow down, walk for a bit and rest my increasingly weary legs. Todd would have none of it though. "What are you doing," he asked incredulously. "You're having a good race. Don't stop running! Go!"
Always one to listen to people smarter than me, I heeded his advice and set off again running down a sweet section of singletrack. The trail slowly dropped back into the trees and soon the course markers directed runners off the trail and up through a wet meadow. At the top of the meadow was the aid station.
I jogged into the aid station just as a runner was leaving. (I failed to hit the split button on my watch at this aid station.) I quickly peeled off my hydration pack, handed it over and began downing Coke and noshing pretzels. In about a minute I was ready to go. One problem, though. I still didn't have my pack back. Turned out, the guy that filled it at the Carson aid station had slid the bladder clasp on incorrectly and it was stuck - really stuck.
After another minute or two of trying to muscle the clasp off, I told the guy to forget it. The bladder still was about half full. Surely that was enough to get me the nine, mostly downhill, miles to the next aid station. So off I went.
Thirty-one miles down.
Divide to Slumgullion
After a short descent back through the upper part of the meadow in front of the aid station, the trail climbed through the trees and emerged again in the type of wide-open grassy park terrain we had run through earlier. The trail climbed steadily and then began undulating for the next three miles. Just before beginning the four mile descent down to Slumgullion, I passed a runner in a red shirt who was alternating between walking and running a jeep road section with a nice mix of ups and downs. I also was switching between walking and running through here, but must have had just a bit more pep.
Soon, the descent into Slumgullion began. By this point, my quads were trashed. The downhills hurt worse than the ups. Much of this jeep road was very steep and rocky, forcing me to walk some downhill stretches and pause now and then to give the quads a short break.
About a mile into the downhill, I was passed by a runner I had last seen somewhere on the Colorado Trail about four miles out of the Carson aid station. He was moving pretty well and soon had a couple hundred yards on me.
After four or so miles of quad-crushing descent, I finally heard the sounds of an approaching aid station. Then, I came around a small curve, picking my way down a particularly steep, rocky section and there was JP, who was soon joined by CP and jP. I gingerly jogged down to them, gave each a hug. As I hugged her, JP said, "Oh, you don't look good." She was referring to the grimace that had been on my face as I was descending to them. Yep, the quads were really hurting.
Seeing the family caused a wave of emotion to wash over me. Felt really good and probably juiced some much-needed endorphins into the system. JP nudged me back onto the jeep road promising to meet me at the aid station, just 20 yards further downhill.
At the aid station, I again handed over the hydration pack. Same problem. No one could get the clasp off. A strong-looking young guy even pulled on it with everything he had, but could not get the damn thing to slide off. Attempts to use a Buck knife to pry the clasp off also failed.
Thankfully, in addition to the requisite cache of gels and S-Caps, I also had stuck a hand bottle in my drop bag, so I pulled it out, had it filled, told the aid station crew to forget about the bladder and hand back to me the pack. Just then, Elaine, an angel of mercy, remembered she had a water bottle. She grabbed it, filled it, promised me she had no open sores and handed it over. Too cool.
Meanwhile, while I spent five minutes messing with my gear, the guy that passed me on the descent had already left and the guy I passed at the top of the descent had entered the aid station and was heading out. I uttered a mild expletive and took off just behind the guy, waving and hollering back to the family.
I forgot to hit the split again here. Forty miles down.
Slumgullion to Vickers
From Slumgullion, red shirt guy and I crossed Highway 149 and made our way through a well-marked, but trail-less section of the course that went through an area hammered by mining. Soon, thankfully, we were jogging across a parking area toward a singletrack trail. The guy in front of me hollered back a question about how high was this ascent. I told him if this was Vickers, it was 1,700 feet up. With that, he kept jogging and soon had a hundred yards on me.
Meanwhile, it was back to power hiking. Up, up, up I went through an endless aspen grove, surrounded on both side by high green grass. After a mile or two, I passed the guy that had passed me on the descent down to Slumgullion. As I approached, he and his pacer (you could pick up pacers at Slumgullion for the final 10 miles.) stepped off the trail and offered some words of encouragement. Before too long, the course entered a wide open, steep meadow. I could see above me a couple of runners, including a Helen Cospolich and the red shirt guy.
I did my best to keep up the steady power hike, but still had to pause once in a while to rest. Near the top of the meadow, I caught Helen. Actually passing her seemed to take 10 minutes. That had to have been the slowest pass I'd ever done.
Soon, the trail leveled out a bit and entered a coniferous forest and began heading downhill. The quads were not happy about this, but I was determined not to be passed by the two runners I'd reeled in over the last couple of miles.
Finally, the Vickers aid station appeared ahead. I ran in and grabbed a handful of pretzels and handed over my water bottles. As they were being filled, red shirt guy took off. I downed a couple cups of Coke, collected my handhelds and was off on the chase.
I did manged to hit the split here - 5:16 from Carson, 9:55 and 46 miles into the race.
Vickers to Finish
Just four more miles and one hard descent to go. I jogged out of the aid station, keeping my head up looking for glimpses of red ahead. In no time, the runner ahead was out of sight. I figured he was gone, so I switched my focus to keeping ahead of the two runners behind me.
The descent down toward town on the Waterdog Trail was vicious. My quads were killing me, but I was learning an invaluable lesson: so much of pain is mental. All of my body's systems were working fine. I had no serious problems...no ligaments damaged, no joints about to break, no torn muscles...just fatigue. Even though the discomfort was severe, I can fight through it.
And fight through it I did.
At last, the town appeared through the pine trees and got closer and closer with every rock-strewn switchback. Finally, the trail dumped us out on a dirt road. After running around a slight curve in the road, I looked down the long, straight road ahead and caught sight of the red-shirted runner. After a quick mental calculation, I decided he was gone.
I turned my attention to finishing, and finishing soon. I wanted to be done. My quads were now officially done. The sooner I finished, then sooner I could stop. So I started running. Then, I looked back over my shoulder and saw the runner and his pacer I passed on the ascent to Vickers. Seeing them sent started the adrenaline flowing and I picked up the pace, a lot. And, at that moment, the wind picked up, blowing hard straight into my face.
Right then, I got tunnel vision. I saw only two things. The two red hand-painted SJS course signs and the runner ahead of me in the distance. I could feel the wind howling and my body aching, but I continued running hard. I was not going to get passed.
Next, things began feeling better. I was moving well, probably running about a 7 minute mile pace, maybe a bit quicker. Man, it hurt, but it also felt good...no great. And, I was gaining on the runner ahead. The howling wind was masking the sound of my approaching footsteps. I don't think the runner knew I was coming. I passed the first SJS course sign, then I passed the runner.
He looked over at me and said "good job." I thanked him and kept churning, not daring to look back to see if he was giving chase. I ran through a cul-de-sac, over a pedestrian bridge over the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River and into town proper.
The course crossed the highway just ahead, and as I approached, a volunteer indicated the road was clear and waved me across. Things were really hurting now, but I was determined to hold pace, but wasn't sure if I could. The big question now was what street was I on? I knew the finish must be at Third Street and Silver. At the intersection of Silver, I saw the street sign - Fifth Street! Only two more blocks.
I kept up the pace down Silver and through downtown to the sound of the race announcer and a smattering of applause.
Running down Silver Street approaching the town park and the finish line (Photo: Kim Fuller)
Right as I stepped off the street into the town park, I saw jP and CP standing there at the entrance to the chute of orange cones that led to the banner-covered scaffolding that was the finish line. They were all smiles, cheering and waving. Smiling back, I told them to run it in with me. The three of us crossed the finish line together in 10:41 and in 19th place.
Approaching the finish line with jP and CP
After handing over the tag off my race number, I hugged JP and immediately sought out a spot to collapse. I was wasted...done....nothing else in the tank. I left everything I had on the trails and roads of the course. I had exceed my goal of finishing in the top 25 percent, ending up just a hair, I think, outside of the top 10 percent.
I laid there in the sun soaking up the post-race atmosphere and being well-cared for by JP and the kids. After a bit, I managed to get up and stagger over to the food table to pick up some snacks. Getting up and walking was not easy.
Relaxing post-race with JP
A short while later, Brandon came through the finish line looking strong and relieved to be done. Read Brandon's excellent race report. I also finally met Jason Poole, a fellow Evergreen runner, who came in ninth overall at just under 10 hours. Nice work, Jason!
There were some damn fast times this year. Young Dakota Jones came within 13 minutes or so of Matt Carpenter's seemingly unassailable 2004 course record. Ryan Burch also put in a remarkable performance for second place.
The top five finishers' tags from race numbers.
The rest of the evening was spent relaxing back in the cabin and scarfing down pizza at a local Italian joint where we had the opportunity to spend a good chunk of time chatting with Charles Corfield, a brilliant guy and excellent ultrarunner.
Race results here.
The next morning we returned to the town park for the award ceremony. For purposes of full disclosure, I must admit that we drove the four blocks to the park. I just didn't feel like walking. My quads were really pissed off at me.
After the awards for the overall finishers, the color-coded finishers hats were handed out. I got a blue-brimmed hat for finishing under 11 hours.
As we were leaving the park, I ran into Jaime Yebra, a guy whose blog I follow and who also was running his first 50 mile race. Read Jaime's race report here.
A few other race reports: Jason Halladay, Brett from South Carolina, Stephen Young, Scott Jaime.
It's three days since the race and I'm still smiling about the experience. I definitely learned a lot and hope to run a few more of races of this length (still no interest in 100 mile races!). I've been thinking a lot about lessons learned and how I might tweak my training to account for some deficiencies. But given the Moby Dick length of this race report, I'll save that for a later post.
San Juan Solstice 50 - Quick Update
Hard race. Finished in 10:41. 19th place. Sore. Happy. Race report soon.
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