My Tennessee Adventure

I'm planning an attempt of a variation of Greg Armstrong's FKT listing "Trans-Tennessee (TN)" starting on July 16, 2023.  Plan is to pretty much follow the original Great Virtual Run Across Tennessee (2020 GVRAT) course by Gary Cantrell with some adjustments suggested by Gary for better sightseeing and safety on some roads. However the general plan is the same: from "tip to tip"!

I am going to try to start in Arkansas on the levee as close to the tip as possible as the GVRAT did by adding 20 miles or so and finish off of the Virginia Creeper Trail to avoid the private property on the TN side of the "tip".

Live Tracking here: share.garmin.com/MyTennesseeAdventure

Planned Route: https://www.google.com/maps/d/viewer?mid=1isw5UHLEXtkk9X9KwRIMVBvNvp4tGEg&ll=35.84332298767623%2C-85.982055&z=7

Indiana Trail 100

Well, I've got to the point where I really dread writing up a race report.  I think it's because I tend to only write them for major events (e.g. 100s) and when I finish with one, my life is in such disarray from preparing for it that I never seem to have the time.   I really intended on writing up one for Pinhoti 100 last fall but... life took over.  Oh well,  I ended up with a 12 hour flight to Spokane this time around so I got a chance to put a few of my ramblings down.   Bottom line on this race:  I was only in it for the qualifier, but the course was runnable so my head got big, I blew up, but finished respectable.   Now for the rest...

The Why:

Western States is probably one of the hardest races to get in to.  It's been compared to the "Boston of 100 mile runs" as it was the first and everyone wants to do it. The difference is that they only accept about 350 runners and about 100 of them are already guaranteed spots. With over 3000 people applying that makes your odds pretty low.
Like Boston you also have to qualify. Qualifying used to be as simple as running a verifiable 50 mile or 100 mile run within that races cutoff time  Not the easiest of tasks but there were enough around you could find a race pretty easy.
Then last year came and they decided that with so many people trying to get in, they needed to up the anti a bit.  Rules changed such that now there are only certain "named" races you can run to qualify and they eliminated the 50 mile option and replaced it with a 100k option. 100k is not that much more but they are not nearly as popular in North America so as it turns out there are only about 5 in North America that are on the list.  When you further inspect the list, the vast majority are races "out west". So for us poor souls in the southeast there are not a large number of options without making it a major endeavor, particularly "easier" options (more on that later).
Of note, Western allows you to increase your odds of getting in by showing you're serious about the event.  They do this by allowing you to keep your "name in the hat" for the lottery from previous years, however only for consecutive years you apply. This means you have to reapply, and re-qualify every year to increase your odds.  If you miss a year, you lose all previous "names in the hat" and start the whole process over again. These days it seems it takes on average submitting 3 consecutive years before you get in and I suspect that will only get worse as the sport gets more popular.

So after pacing Rob Youngren a bit at Hardrock last year,  I decided it was time to chase another one of my goals and start the process of qualifying for that race as well.   Hardrock is much more difficult, running up over multiple 13k' passes and summiting a 14er during the race in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado.  Qualifying for that race takes a finish of a much harder 100 mile run. These days there are only one or two of these runs east of the Mississippi that will allow you to qualify. I have chosen to run a race in October (Grindstone) to test myself and see if I can qualify.  The good news is that this race is also a qualifier for Western.  The bad news however is that with it being so difficult, I suspect there is a possibility that I will not finish.  That would be bad.   As that race is in early October and the "time to qualify" for Western starts/finishes in early November, if I do fail, I will not have time to try again.  I will lose all my previous "names in the hat"!
All that long winded description to say... I needed a backup plan. (And being the cheap bastard I am, I really don't want to have to go to some "destination race" far out west and burn vacation I don't have, just to do it)
I had reviewed the list of races of Western qualifiers many times looking for something reasonable in the southeast, or east, or midwest etc but found myself browsing again and happened to notice this race, the Indiana Trail 100. Indiana's not that far, perhaps that might be an option.  Doing a bit more research, I learn that it is a relatively flat course of 16.7mile loops. And it is only a second year event and has plenty of open slots still available.  This could work!  But... It's March 1st and the race is April 26th.  That's exactly 8 weeks until race day and I haven't really been training for anything lately.  With a 2 week taper (I usually do 3 for 100) that leaves 6 weeks to ramp up. This could be interesting.   But hey, It has plenty of space, I don't have to commit yet. I'll start training and see how it goes and sign up last minute.  Let the fun begin.
Training goes fairly well at the start, then a setback.  I decide to be a good citizen and help out the SORBA group build a new trail on MS. Well swinging a sledge hammer and pulling on a pry-bar to dig up rocks not only ends me up with a puncture wound in my shin, but a few days later the dreaded lower back pain sets in.  Lesson learned, don't do things out of the ordinary when your cramming in training. Lost a week of training, but it's OK. Still pressing forward. I build up to my short term goal of 75 mile week and things are looking good. Got in a back to back 30/20 mile weekend and planned to repeat that the following week.  Then, another setback. Halfway through the week I start sniffling pretty bad, then coughing.  Still get my miles in through Thursday but by Saturday morning. I'm feeling rough.  Can barely get out of bed.  Take off the weekend from running, go to the doc on Monday and confirmed , ear infection and bronchitis are setting in.  I take my meds and am back to running by the next weekend but still wheezing and coughing.  And, by now I'm into taper and have blown my chance at another big mile week. Time to think...  after much serious consideration, I make the commitment and sign up for the race.  Only thing left to do is hang on for the ride.

The How
OK. Race weekend...  I drive up with my crew of one, Olivia, on Thursday afternoon and get about half way (in total it's an 8 hr drive up past Ft Wayne, IN) and then finish up Friday.  I wanted to get to the pre-race briefing and packet pick up at 3pm (these usually are required but seems this one was not). Also wanted to get up there with plenty of daylight to set up tent.  Major plus for the race is the ability to group camp right at the start /finish.  To be honest, I've never camped before a major race, always opting for the promise of good rest in a nice quality bed. But, I'm trying to do this on the cheap and you can't beat waking up right at the start line.

Gun goes off at 6am
My "A" goal is to run each loop, 16.7 miles, in 3 hours. That would give me a huge PR at 18 hours and from what I read, the course is flat and easy. That's 10:46/mile. Should be no big deal and even when I do a standard slow down at the end I can get a solid sub 20 hr finish.  B goal is to just keep it respectable with a sub 24 and C goal, just finish under the cutoff of 30 hrs.  By far, the only real goal is finish and get that qualifier.



Lap 1:
I start just off the lead pack to just try and establish a position.  Hard to know who's who as it is dark and  more than half of these people are only running the 50 mile option.  The early parts of the loop are easy, short cut grass trails through meadows with a few rollers but fairly flat as promised. As I hang right behind what I figure is the lead female for the 50 mile from around Boulder, CO (Heather Pietrykowski?), I note that I'm going too fast (9 min miles) but it's early and I feel decent. Just running natural, so I continue on. After the first aid station at 4.3 miles we go a bit longer (4.7) to the next.  This drags on a bit but I find myself establishing my position without many around me.  I guess there are probably about 20 people ahead of me with most of them being 50 milers. The trail continues to be similar (grassy) but with more trees around and a few muddy sections.  It rolls a bit more than earlier and has some grassy off camber sections that a bit annoying but still not bad.
As you get close to the next aid station you spend about a half mile on road/dirt road into a campground. To this point I'm sticking with my general nutrition plan but not too strictly.  Just trying to get a GU or block every hour and to keep drinking.
Coming out of the next aid the trail becomes pretty different.  Twisty turny, tight single track.  Obviously a fairly new trail too as it is not heavily traveled. Rollers are still there but tighter at times making it harder to run. After about a mile you drop down at a boat ramp and a gravel road between two lakes. (Side note... I see 2 large white objects on the far side of the lake that catch my eye.  Not sure what they are and can't tell if they are moving) follow the road up a hill (became a designated walk break every lap) as a couple other 100 mile runners catch me, Todd and Craig. I camped next to Craig and we started talking.  Up to this point the pace was still too fast.  Never seeing 10min pace on my watch and occasionally seeing 8:30. Running with these two keeps my pace up but we're talking and I don't notice much.  Craig is from north Kentucky, outside Cincinnati and seems to have a fairly similar (but longer) history of hundreds and times.  He knows David Riddle and was also out there running Western the year I quit at 30 and David came in 11th. (Was nice to hear someone else say how the cold wasn't all good that year). Todd is from Chicago area and hasn't done a 100 in a few years. I notice he is wearing the Skechers GRUs and we talk a bit about Rob Youngren and Meb and the Skechers/Nike saga.  Towards the end of this first lap, I notice I'm getting a bit tired and tell myself to let these guys go ahead at the turn but it was nice to pass the time.   When we come back to finish lap one I note the time, 2:36. Ouch. That's gonna hurt later.  I make a fairly quick turn, just dropping off my long sleeve and restocking and head out deliberately walking for a bit.  During the turn I dumped my current bottle before grabbing the replacement and noticed a couple spots of mold inside. Swear I cleaned that well and inspected it before leaving home.  No bother though the new bottle is clean and I'll just reuse it.

It's all smiles after lap 1

Lap 2:

Lap 2 coming into the first aid station

Not a whole lot to say. After walking for a little while I got tired of that and started running again. Deliberately trying to keep it around 10 min miles this time.  I was much more tired that I should have been only 20 miles into the race and was still hoping to recover some.
Unfortunately my plan to recover didn't seem to work. By the 2nd aid station (halfway through the loop) my stomach had gone sour.  I tried to keep moving but the 2nd half of this loop was tough.  I was doing everything I could to eat salt but it was a struggle.  I do recall seeing the 2 large white things in the lake again and was sure they had moved some. My mind started telling me they could be swans. They were on the far side of the lake but they looked huge.
Anyway. Continued to suffer through the 2nd lap, just moving forward and came in around 3:09 Actually not that bad but I was feeling rough.  It had got hot and my stomach was toast.
When I got back to the start/finish I sat down and tried to eat something. Nothing much was working.  After sitting for at least a half hour I asked for some ice in my hat and got up and started moving again.

Lap 3:

Suffering!

It was a miserable time as the stomach still wasn't settled and I don't recall much at all.  I wasn't eating outside of a little broth here or there.  Just trying to keep moving forward.  Running slowly whenever possible and walking when I couldn't.    Spent lots of time at aid stations just staring at the table trying find something that I think I could eat, but just refill my bottle and take a pinch of salt or a couple pills.  At the 1/2 way point they had some decent ramen noodle soup and I was able to get some down.  That seemed to help a bit but in general I was still miserable and still moving slow. I had come to hate the next 5 miles to the 4th aid station.  Lots of rocks, roots and modest hills as the trail meandered around the chain of lakes that the park is named after.  At one point you can see the finish across the lake and your hopes rise only to realize that it's still another 5 miles to get back to that point.  As I passed the lake with the large white "things" I notice they are gone...  I'm convinced they must have been swans and to my delight I see them plain as day a mile or so down the path in one of the other lakes.  It could be hallucinations but I sure don't think so. At least it brings a smile to my face for a brief moment.   Around this point, I also notice that my left ankle is rubbing on the top against the shoe tongue.  I try to adjust but it still irritates.  Slowly I go on.  Finish the lap in 4:07 Ouch

Lap 4:
At this point, I'm definitely not on "A" goal pace and Olivia decides she is going with me.  Even though I figure I'd rather have her later in the race, I'm obviously in no shape to complain and just go with it.  She is not a trail runner and really doesn't want to run over those roots etc in the dark, so we head out. More of the same, jogging, walking, walking some more. It was good to have someone along to talk with though and I end up describing upcoming sections as we go.  More soup at the half way point and I notice I'm feeling a bit better but we still don't move too fast.  My foot is still hurting on the top so we stop at a bench and do some doctoring.  I notice nothing but undo the top lace and loosen things up. It does help a bit though and soon I notice that we are running the crappy 5 mile section more than I have since the first lap.   We finish up the lap just as the sun is nearing the horizon.  Finish in 4:35.  Double ouch! but I hardly even notice at the time.

Lap 5:
It's now starting to get dark.  As I'm prone to do, I leave my headlamp off as long as possible and run in the twilight.  (I'm not a fan of the tunnel vision you get with the headlamp.)  When I finally do turn it on, I leave it on the dim wide setting for as long as I can. I recall coming into the first aid station and a worker asking me if he can get me some new batteries. Oh well works for me.  Eventually I will turn on the bright beam.   At the first aid station I start eating.  Soup and orange slices go down in fairly large quantities as I'm hungry but I still try to restrain some as I know it can turn again at a moments notice.  One thing of note is that at the start of this loop I decide to turn off the GPS.  I only had one low battery notice and know it will still last for a while but I'm not sure it will last the whole run so I figure I'll just run based on time of day. Better to have that than nothing.
So I can't remember the details but I note how long it took me to the first aid station and start calculating when I should expect to be at the next aid. Something like 55 mins for 4.3 miles, an even hour for 4.7 and 1:10 for the dreaded five mile section. This seems to work pretty well and I find myself running almost the entire loop.  The good news, I'm rebounding and running,  the bad news. I'm 65 miles into it and I'm tired.  So I run as fast as I can reasonably but it is not that fast.  Once I make the halfway aid station I'm smelling the barn a bit and moving pretty well.  Finish up the lap in 4:07

Lap 6:
Super quick turn and back at it.  Trying to keep the momentum I had in the last lap. Goes fairly well but it's 3 in the morning and I am tired.  Just keep going. Nutrition has been out the window since the first lap but I'm still pounding soup and orange slices.  Now that it is cool an I'm feeling better I'm off the salt completely (for the past couple loops). I'm still doing my time of day math and doing fairly well.  When I get to the 1/2 way aid there's a little crowd of suffering runners hanging around the heater. It is cold now and if your not moving you're feeling it.  Fortunately, I don't get tempted and after more food move on. The aid station worker is telling me I may make sub 24 if I keep moving. I do the quick math and tell him I'm planning to hit 23.  He chuckles and tells me good luck. Well my legs are trashed at this point but I use the cold to get me moving and warm up.  With the smell of the barn at only 8 miles to go I just do what I can.  Finally I hit the beach leading to the Finish and start to hammer it.  Legs are turning over like a 5k as you mind detaches from your body and I hit the finish in 22:40 (4:04 for the lap) and stagger over to get my buckle.  Knowing that all that adrenaline and burst of energy will be vanishing soon I grab what food I can (cold pizza never tasted so good) and shove it in. Then I proceed to curl into the fetal position on a hay bale shivering from the cold I have ignored for hours.  Mission accomplished

Lessons learned:
1. Respect your training. I was woefully under-trained for this event and allowed my head to get big based on past performances while ignoring the fact that I hadn't trained like past performances
2. Don't go out too fast.  Related to #1 but even so, this is a well known problem I have. It's a long day. Be conservative
3. Sunscreen. I didn't even know it until 2 days later but I got burnt. I'm certain that had some affect on my stomach and general blowup.  I whine about greasy sunscreen but just have to suck it up and do what ya gotta do.
4. Figure out the nutrition. I'm not sure what I learned here other than I need to figure it out.  It's not working the way it is.
5. Think about injuries.  Not really sure what I should have done here, if anything different at all, but my ankle was injured around 50 miles and I kept running on it for another 50.  Seems to be a repetitive motion type injury (go figure), similar to carpel tunnel in the wrist.  Anyway, it seems stretching of the shins and looser laces is part of the solution.
6. Clean your frikken bottles!  I swear I did, but obviously I didn't.  Can't ignore that little bit of the back of my brain saying that a little mold can make your stomach turn... who knows.
7. You can fake 100!  Well not really. I had experience and "enough training" but Kathy and Rob always told me "you can fake a 50 but a 100 is different". I definitely thought to myself more than once while running how I was somehow cheating on this race.

That's about it. 

I can't fake a 50

I went into this race with very little training and a mindset that I’ve run 2 official 50 milers at 8:00 (Delano/flat and easy) and 9:30 (Masochist, mountainous and hard) so how hard could it be to jog an 11 hour run. Unfortunately, after I signed up I started hearing rumors about how hard the course was…

I drove down to Pine Mountain, GA leaving just before 1:00 and arriving at 6:00pm (lost an hour due to TZ).  Packet pickup ended at 6:30.  Sat through the pre-race briefing which was mainly running advice from North Face runners, Hal Koerner, Dean Karnazes and Nikki Kimball.  (2 current studs of the sport and 1 ultramarathon marketing machine).

Quick stop by Subway for dinner, back to check into hotel, try to lay everything out and go to sleep by 8:30.  No luck whatsoever.  Super tired but probably didn't really fall asleep until around 11.

Alarm at 3:15…  (yes, that’s 2:15 central).  Rush to parking area by 4:00, catch the bus to the start/finish and sit and wait.  Race starts at 5am.  It’s cool but not cold (probably 60).   Start in the 2^nd wave, 3 mins behind the first.

Within 50 yards from the start you enter the Pine Mountain trail.  A single track twisty turny, rocky, hilly, sandy, root filled barrel of fun.  Especially when the first two hours are in the dark.

The trail is marked very heavily with ribbons however they are not visible in the dark.  For the dark hours there are a number of glow sticks but it is still difficult going and the different packs individually take a wrong turn here or there.  Never lost for long but definitely messes with your ability to run.   At one point the pack in front of me takes the wrong path and end up milling around in the dark trying to find the right path.  I see a small trail and take it in my frustration and end up taking the lead of the group.  Here’s where I notice how inadequate my headlamp is.  Trying to negotiate rocks, roots and switchbacks in the dark sends me more than once into the woods off trail.

Finally the sun comes up and I run fairly well for the first 20 miles.   My goal was to run the first 20 around 11 min miles or so and then fall back to 12 min.  Unfortunately, the trail is so difficult (and my fitness is so bad) that I can only manage 12 min miles but I believe this should be OK and will only help me later in the day.  The trail continues to be single track and difficult until the “half way” point at 27 miles.   I take my first serious break as I’m starting to suffer.  I did well with packing calories and salt up until 20 miles but then I start to really struggle with my stomach.

After the turnaround I continue running without knowledge of my pace but thinking I’m doing ok in the 12-13 min range. (I turned off my watch at mile 20 so as to conserve batter power for later in the race as I knew it would only last about 8 hours total)

Around mile 30 I start slowing down as the heat is affecting me.  My stomach continues to be an issue and I cannot even conceive eating a gu.  At one point I try only to spit out the little bit I taste and then decorate the trail with the remainder before I pack the wrapper.  Aid station food is my only option.  Coke seems to help a bit.

Around mile 35 we start to go through some sunny spots where tornado's have cleared the trees and the heat hits me.  Soon the death march starts as I bonk hard with 2 miles left until the next aid station.  Stopping to lean against trees on uphills is not uncommon.  I’m convinced I’m going to drop at the next aid station.

When I finally get to the 37 mile aid station, I sit and do whatever I can to pump calories.   I sit with a group that I have been running in front / behind all day, outspoken locals who are at least entertaining.   One of their group also hasn’t run since Aug 1 and only signed up the previous night on an impulse.  He knows it is only a 1.2 mile walk to the finish area and pulls his bib to quit.   I sit longer, probably 30-40 minutes total.  Unable to make myself DNF, I decide to march forward.

I am feeling better after about a ½ hour rest at the aid station but can still only really walk.  Everytime I try to run I start to feel bad again.  My feet are killing me now as the rocky trail has plenty of sand and grit that has gotten into my socks and is working like sandpaper between my toes and on the bottoms of my feet.   5 miles to the next aid station…

About halfway to the next aid station I start to think about dropping again only to realize that I am now walking away from the finish line.  When I get finally get there, again I just sit.  This time probably only for 20 mins, eating what I can.   There is a young girl there who has hit her head at some point and the DNR cops are a little concerned.  I consider catching a ride back with them but again, I can’t bring myself to do it.  Only 8 miles to go, I start back out, now completely committed to walking.  I try to power walk it and do fairly well, but it is disheartening as this is a repeat on the same stretch of trail where I originally bonked hard.  The next aid is 5.7 miles away and it is a struggle but I make it there.  From there I take a shorter break and head out to finish my walk.  

When I get near the clearing at the edge of the woods, I break into an all out run and sprint to the finish.  I suspect I'm running a blistering 16 min/mile pace.   I collapse on the ground and sleep for about 15 mins, hose myself off, quickly change my clothes, take the bus back to my car and drive home.

Definitely I am out of shape and I really struggled with nutrition.  I couldn’t seem to use any of my nutrition after about mile 25 and just ate what I could stomach at aid stations.  That’s a definite problem.  Time to hang my hat on any significant races for a while and just enjoy running.

Saw Hal on the course on my way out (he won in 7:45),  Saw Dean twice (he only ran the 50k), never saw Nikki.  I'll also note that there were 3 or 4 events going on at once with a 50 mile, 50k, marathon etc. all running the same trails.  Made the markings real confusing.  As mentioned, they did have lots of sentries and markings though... just made it real confusing with so many people on the trail going different directions etc.

12:36:19 - 80th - 210 starters - 136 finishers - 60 DNF's

Planning to Fail

Well, as anticipated, things did not go well.   All in all, this was pretty much a miserable run. I am still suffering from the herniated disk in my neck that has been causing great pain in my right shoulder and arm.  As such, my head was in no shape to start and with the bad weather on top I had one of my worse outings ever.  I knew going in to this run that I would not succeed and in reality I'm not sure that is a good way to start a race for me.  I think I really need that drive, especially in a 100 mile run. Starting out, planning to "fail" really F's with your head. Anyway, here's how it went...  for what part of it went.

The Lead In...

I arrived at Squaw Valley at about 9pm PDT on Thursday night.  This was after leaving my house at 5:30am CDT that morning.  With numerous cancelled flights etc, let's just say it was a very long day. 

Getting to bed that night never really happened.  I tried to go right to bed but the neck/shoulder/arm was hurting pretty bad. Shooting sharp pains would run through my triceps every time I moved slightly. I had taken my pain relievers (loratab) and muscle relaxers but they did not seem to help at all.    As the pain shoots up my arm all I can do is cry in pain and pace around the room.  I had the same issue on Tuesday night earlier in the week and it was so bad (and strange) that I ended up going to the hospital.  My involuntary jerks in pain were scaring the heck out of the kids so I figured I better see what I could do to alleviate things.  This time I had the experience to know that they really couldn't do anything and that I just needed to try and relax somehow.   Not an easy task with these pains. So I tried to distract myself.  Watched Total Recall from 1:30 to 3 or 4 and more who knows what, garbage tv. I may have drifted off a bit from 4-5 but woke up in more pain.   Finally things settled down a bit where I could fall asleep until about 9:30 so maybe 3 hours of sleep total.  All in all a miserable experience, probably one of the worst in my life. 

Strangely enough though, after getting up and about on Friday I felt a bit better.  The downside though was that I had slept late, so I did not have much time to do anything that morning to get ready.  I rushed over to pick up my packet and do my medical check etc.  This actually got me a bit in to race mode and I was feeling half decent.  I had decided that as long as I did not have another murderous night, I would start the next day, but now I had to rush.  Drop bags were due by 11:00 and I had not prepared mine yet.   This just caused extra stress in my head and with my heart not in the race I initially decided to not make any.   After looking at what would be in them, I figured I could carry all of that in my waist pack anyway.   See, I had purchased a 2 bottle waist pack earlier in the week so that I would not have to have anything in my hands or on my shoulders during the run and it was a bit on the big side so I could carry plenty.  But... my parents got involved and pretty much insisted I make some bags and sometimes its just easier to do than to argue, so I ended up making 3 drop bags.  Figuring that would get me perhaps to Michigan Bluff and if I actually made it that far, they could crew me from the car the rest of the way.

So, after dropping off my bags, I headed to the required pre-race briefing.   Nice presentation, introduced the top runners etc. but to be honest, there was not one single thing mentioned in that meeting that was necessary.  Not that I'm really complaining but I did find it interesting that there was no real information in it.   Anyway,  all the prep was completed, now I just had to wait around and rest up for the start.   I suppose the only good thing about no sleep the night before was that when 8:30 came around, I actually was tired enough to fall asleep and got several hours before waking up.

Go Time

So at 4:30 I head to the start, do my pre-race check, get my bib # and chip and huddle in the crowd waiting for the start.   Chad Ayres joins me at the start as we are both far back in the crowd.  When the gun sounds we walk to the starting arch in the massive crowd.  I continue walking for a bit, losing Chad behind me somewhere, but about 50 feet past the start he says something as he jogs on past.   I notice he has left his jacket behind and is sleeveless as he plans on running a bit.  I on the other hand have about 4 layers on  (long sleeve, short sleeve, sleeves and light jacket) as I won't be moving very fast.

I start off with my plan of power walking.   I had hoped that I could power walk an average of about 18 min miles, knowing that I can usually walk about 15 min miles if I push it and 20 min miles if I take it casually.  Anyway, I push along with the slow folks.  I pass Cow Man early, and hang right behind the bald guy in the pink tutu.   The hill climb is pretty stout and will last for about 4 miles.  It's cold out and the wind is howling a bit but so far so good.   Then half way up the climb I see the first traces of rain drops on the ground.  This soon turns to sleet, or hail or some frozen nastiness that is whipping around in the wind.  I pull the brim of my hat down and press on.

The weather doesn't get much better and is really whipping around when I get to the first aid station.  From there comes my first minor challenge.  The trail goes straight up a bit of a hand climb for 50 yards or so.  I try to just lean into it and use my legs, trying to avoid reaching out my arm but start to lose my balance immediately and catch myself reaching for the rocks in front of my to stabilize.  This quick reach really hurts the arm and I'm reminded to take it easy.

The Trail

Well, once I got over the top and started heading down the other side, things started to look a bit nicer at least for the moment.  On the way up it was all amongst ski slopes so it was pretty barren, but over the top it turned into an alpine landscape across a scrub field or two and into some large pine trees.   The trail will remain essentially like this for the remainder of the portion I ran.  Sometimes in single track through the woods, sometimes on a fire road but always with the large pine trees and rolling landscape.   The change that comes however is the weather.   The rain/sleet/snow I thought I had left on the other side of the ridge soon returns and then comes and goes for the remainder of my run.   I find myself jogging down the downhills just to try and not be in other peoples way as it is single track and early in the race so even the slow folks I'm around want to keep moving.   I learn to jog with my right arm fairly immobilized and it doesn't seem to bother me too much.  Unfortunately, the hills and the weather does.   With my moving slow, I am continually moving to the side to let people pass and I just seem to be getting colder and colder as time goes on.   The trail itself is very soft, fine California dirt that kicks up when it is dry and turns into a loose nasty mud when it is wet.   Needless to say my feet are struggling a bit slopping through the mud and getting garbage in my shoes.   I curse myself for once again, not looking hard enough for a pair of gaiters for my feet.

Somewhere along the line I pass through Lyons Ridge aid station (10.5) but I really have no real recollection of it.  I believe it was shortly after a stretch where they actually had us narrow down to single file on a fire road for a "photograph station".   There were 2 guys there manning a camera on a tripod under a tarp next to a small chute to narrow us down.  I'm not sure if this was just to keep track of runners on the course or what but I just smiled and ran on through.   The next section to Red Star Ridge (16) was fairly exposed on the top of a ridge for quite a bit and it definitely got cold there.  Between the cold, fatigue and crap in my shoes, I was starting to really hate life at this point and on top of all that, the clouds in the sky were making it impossible to see more than about 50 ft or so into he woods so I wasn't even getting the beautiful views to lift my spirits.  I decided that I was not having fun, knew I would not finish the race so why was I suffering through this?  Unfortunately, my first spot to really drop with a crew was not until Duncan Canyon at mile 23.8 so onward I pressed.

One thing I started to note around this point was that I wasn't really fueling very well.  I had only had probably one serving of cliff blocks (3) at this point and half a bottle of water.   I try to put a bit more fuel in me but the mind easily decides that you don't need things when you're not on your game.  I figure I'm moving so slow I don't need much fuel and with the weather I don't need much fluid so I continue to under nourish myself.   When I get to the actual Red Star Ridge aid station, I am greeted with some nice warm broth to help me out.  I take couple cups of that, and graze over the food table but move on quickly, knowing that I must make it to the next aid station so I can drop out.   The next stretch is the longest between aid stations (7.8) of the whole course and I go in knowing this, just hoping I can survive through it.  I suppose this helps me cover the distance but I must admit, I don't remember much of that section.   I do remember at one point starting to run, and run fairly hard.  I figured that I knew I was going to drop at the next station, why not push it as I have no reason to save anything up for later and perhaps I'll warm up a bit.   Well, I can only run so hard with my shoulder as it is and it doesn't really help much but I suppose it breaks up the time.  Unfortunately, I eventually tire and my mind drifts to thinking, "why don't I just walk because I'm not going to finish and time doesn't matter" so I slow waaaay down.   Then I get real cold again. and then I feel a twig or something in my shoe that feels like it is poking deep into one of my toes on ever step.   I try to stop and pull my shoe off but my hands are so cold I can't work my fingers to get the laces untied.   I press on with kind of a limp, trying to wiggle my foot this way and that within the shoe and alleviate the pain.  I suspect this goes on for another 2 or 3 miles when I finally hear the next aid station.   I stumble into the station and take the workers hand.  She asks what I need, my first answer, "Is my crew here, because if they are I want to drop"  She points out my Mom and Dad, who immediately break the rules and come past the tape to my side.  I let them know I want to drop. They completely understand.

What happens next is very surreal to me.   I mean I get it, but I don't at the same time.

By chance, I talk to the aid station captain and ask who I need to speak to to drop out, she says it is her and she just needs my chip and my pull tab but to hang on to it a bit and let her know.   So I graze at the table for a bit.   Then, one by one, it seems all the "experienced" (aka, previous buckle achievers) crew people seem to be directed to me to discuss my decision.  Every last one of them, OK, there were only 4, but all of them individually insist that I should not drop even though I explain my herniated disk situation.   A couple of these were even medical crew but they just nodded when I explained my situation.  Then, another one takes the lead and starts barking orders for me to drink more broth,  force down this food or that, sit in a chair while they change my socks, shoves about 5 Roctane gu's in my jacket pocket and insists that I finish them all by the time I get to the next aid station.  It's only 5.5 miles and a good spot to feel better he insists.   Somehow I find myself going on to the next aid station.

Well, I must admit he was right.  And in hindsight, I'm sure I was under nourished. The next section is Duncan Canyon so you run down a couple miles to a creek, cross it, then hike back up about 3 miles.  I find myself jogging down the first section, just because it is there and I don't feel like walking.  About 1/2 way down I pass 3 people standing in the trail, stretching and talking but I want to keep moving so I push on by without a word.  When I get to the creek, I can hear them behind me, just out of sight.  They seem to stay there for at least another mile as I start my climb back out when all of a sudden they catch up and ask how I'm doing.   It is at this point that I realize they are the 2 medical guys from the last aid station and have been watching me from a far to make sure I was OK.   I learn that they are a physical therapist and an orthopedic surgeon so I shouldn't worry if my back goes out.   I do find it strange thought that both of them do seem to have any concern over me running with my condition.  Runners I suppose, we're all the same psycho driven people.   Anyway, on the climb back up from the river, I push my walking pace thinking I'll run a little experiment.   I actually am feeling much better at this point as the weather is a bit better down in the canyon and thoughts of finishing are actually in my head.   I figure if I can finish this section at a decent pace, perhaps I can keep up that 18 min / mile pace and get all the way to the finish line.   So I power hike up the trail dropping the medical guys and passing several other runners on the way.   I do recall one older guy hiking up with a lady who was grumbling about the climb.  As I cruise on past, in no great mood myself, I remind her that we paid to do this.  She laughs and I press on.

When I get to the top, I see my brother and his friend Jim waiting there with my Mom and Dad.  I continue in to the medical check, get weighed and then stop to think about the last section.   After a brief calculation I conclude that I finished the last section in exactly 18 min/mile pace.  While that is fine, there is no way I'll be able to keep that up consistently for the remainder of the race so my decision is made.  When I let the captain know, he is understanding.  Even the aid station worker from the last aid station who pushed me out accepts my decision (how did they all get here so fast!?)  although not without a departing "you'll regret it tomorrow" comment.  Finally the sound of 3 blasts on the horn to indicate 30 minutes to the cutoff humbles me to the point of pulling off my chip.  I hope I don't insult anyone but there's no way I could continue at that point in the pack... it's just not me. 

So there I sit at Robinson Flat in the freezing cold shutting down my race.   Was it the right decision?  It doesn't matter, the decision was made and it is what it is.  From there we hop in the car and head to Michigan Bluff to find Dink Taylor and watch some of the leaders come through while he waits on David Riddle.   The rest of the day is spent eating and watching the leaders pop through aid stations and into the finish.   I'm excited I got to be there as the record was broken by Tim Olsen (and Elle Greenwood) and I got to see David scream on past the runner in front of him on the track 200m from the finish.   Congratulations to David on a stellar performance and also to Chad Ayres who finished strong and got his silver buckle.  My only regret is that I did not get a chance to see Rucky Chucky.  But I'll be back.  I'm confidant of that.

Post Thoughts

So, did I really make the right decision?   Who knows, but in hindsight after 2 days of sore quads from only 30 miles I will say that, had I actually finished,  I would be in a world of hurt.   Not necessarily permanently etc. but after 100 miles every muscle in your body is tired and I know that the muscles in my back would have been worn out to the point where my neck would have had little to no support for at least a couple days.   I have no idea what that would do to things, but I know it would have hurt bad for at least those couple days.  So I'm glad that I quit.  I hate that my goal for the year was not accomplished but that's OK.  There's always a next time.

Pain in the neck

It's 12:30am on Monday morning 6/18/2012, just about 5 days before the start of the Western States 100 trail run that I've trained since Mountain Mist (5 months) for.  What am I doing up.  Well I'm in too much pain to sleep.  Seems a bit over a week ago, deep into my 3 week taper, I tripped and fell on a little 4 mile jog on the White Loop, fell hard and subsequently have acquired a Herniated Disk in my neck.  Disk C5-6 to be exact.  This has been a disaster of a week, running from Dr. to Dr. and therapist to therapist trying anything I can to get myself back in the game for my goal race.  Bottom line...  Take some heavy anti inflammatorys and wait.  See what happens.  Well, I'm over halfway through my prescription now and I'm not optimistic.  The pain is horrible tonight and even the narcotic pain killers I got on Friday are not helping.  Devastating...
My goals have all been adjusted, if I actually take the start, I'm now gunning for a 30 hour finish at best.  The risk of additional damage is just too scary to go run 100 miles, I'm going to see how far I can walk it.  Well, I may jog a bit here and there, but if this pain doesn't settle down I may just be standing in pain cheering on David Riddle and Chad Ayres the other two local runners going (well, David is no longer local but close enough).   Anyway, this will definitely be interesting.   At the rate of blog posts I write, you may never hear how it went (ha!) but I'll do my best to put something down.

Rainy days and mondays

Well.  I had intended to try and put a short something in here every day but.... right off the bat I'm skipping days.   That figures as I've been skipping days running too.   No worries though.  Today was my first day back after the Marathon, just trying to shake the cobwebs out.  Been a bit longer than it should have been but I am happy I took the extra couple days as my head seems to be cool with running again.   That's a good thing.
The legs were a bit achy but it seemed to be all just regular aches and pains after the marathon, not the hip pain etc. I was having earlier.  Gonna run some on the mountain this weekend and try and get back on schedule next week for real.
Today was a double - Slow lunch run for 5 miles and faster run tonight at Fleet Feet for 4.5ish

Going to the Big Dance

OK.  So I've been the worst blogger in history over the past year or so.  Not a single post.   Well, yesterday I received word that I've been selected by the lottery to go to Western States 100 so I figure that's a significant event in my life where I might want to document some of it.   Western States, for those of you that may not know, is the "Boston" of 100's.  Meaning it is the first, the granddaddy, the one that everyone wants to run (for whatever reason) of it's type.  And like Boston, it has a tendency to pull the best of the best.   Not in the same way as Boston at all, where Boston goes to great lengths (some of which have pissed me off this past year, but that's another story) to try and skim the cream off the top and only bring in the best runners (but then fails miserably at this by allowing anyone willing to cough up enough money get in... OK.. sorry I'll get off that horse I swear).  Western lets anyone in who has met the modest qualifying requirements (which are more for safety sake  than to get better runners.  They don't want people dying out there on the course) enter the lottery and get in the race.

The Lottery
So the lottery gets much discussion.  I obviously have some good luck as I got in on only my second attempt.  A few years back, you were guaranteed to get in if you tried 3 times in a row.  Now there are just too many people trying to get in so there are no guarantees, however each year you try (in a row) they will increase your odds a bit.   Basically they put everyone's name in a hat that signs up, then those that didn't get in the previous year get their name put in again, and they continue this for all the previous years.  So if you have tried 10 years in a row and never gotten in, you would get your name in the hat 10 times.  (but boy, you must really be unlucky after 10 years!)   Anyway,   I got in with my name in twice.  They had over 3000 names in that hat (before doubling, tripling etc up) and only about 300 or so spots.  That means your odds are 1 in 1000 of getting picked for a first year,  1 in 500 for a second (me!)  1 in 250 for 3 etc.   (at least that's how I understand it.  I'm no statistician)

So... I got in!   Yeah for me!   I am really excited, but now I've got to get healthy and train.   So, thus starts my (I hope) new efforts to blog.   I'm going to try and keep these short and sweet and just talk about my training.  Hopefully I'll get on here at least once a week.  Maybe once a day.   Just not sure.  Anyway,  I'm hoping this may help me move along in my training.  We'll see.....

(oh... and one last note.  I do have a fair amount written about my OD100 run this past year.  May eventually get that out here too someday :) )

Gearing up for the Old Dominion 100

Finally on the plane headed to my race and have a minute to reflect,   I'm worried...

After a brutal week at work, temperatures on a continual rise towards triple digits and an arm that's all jacked up with no relief in sight, I must say I have my concerns about this weekends attempt at the Old Dominion 100. Time to put my faith back into the past 18 weeks of training and hope for the best.

But wait...  the plane's #1 engine is failing... Looks like I've got one more thing to worry about. (Fortunately I'm still on the ground at this point)

This is all pretty normal I suppose. If I didn't have things to worry about before the race I'd probably be really stressed out!  Oh well. It is what it is I suppose.

So, why Old Dominion one might ask.  Well the bottom line is, because its the one where my friends were going.  Not that I just follow along like a puppy, but there is definitely something to be said about the support of friends nearby, even if you don't expect to see them for the entire race.  Someone to travel with, commiserate with and probably most importantly someone to train with.  It takes an awful lot to train for a 100 mile race and having someone to work through that with is well worth it.   Plus, its not to far from where I grew up.  (Family used to take weekend camping trips to the Shanendoah mountains.)  And I also went to school at Virginia Tech just down the road a bit.  And it's the Old Dominion!  the oldest 100 east of California (only second to Western States). Been running this race since 1979!
And on a more personal note, my first 100 was admittedly a bit of a "cupcake" of a 100 (if there is such a thing) as it was all Rails-to-Trails and not that much elevation.   OD is a classic, has 14000 feet of climb and will challenge me a bit more without the full step up to a mountain course out west.   So all in all it just seemed to be a good choice.

Now there is nothing to do but get it done.  One thing to note is that this race believes in tradition.  It's motto is "100 miles in One Day" and it means it.  There are no "copper buckles" or whatever for those that finish over 24 hrs.  If you don't do it, no buckle.

I brought a pair of pants to wear after the race that are 2 sizes too big for me and I brought a belt. But the belt has no buckle. If you see me on Sunday holding my pants up, please take it easy on me.

Lean Horse Hundred

First an apology... this is painfully long, but I'm not really a writer and hey, 100 miles is a long way...


History

About 5 years ago a friend of mine told me he ran a local race here in Huntsville that was a 50K.  At the time I had only run a 10K or two and was completely dumbfounded at such a thought.  Why would anyone in their right mind do such a thing.  Well, it was only a bit more than a year later and I followed suit and ran that same race (Mountain Mist, great race BTW).   What a great way to spend a day, just running through the woods.  I was hooked.  So as the years progress I ran more and more 50K races, but then early last year I started thinking I’d like to do something more.  Well fast forward a year and a half and here I stand.  6:00am in Hot Springs, SD in the dim light of dawn about to go for the run of my life (so far).  Here’s how I spent my day…

The plan

Well, in all the hours of training on the road with different friends, one thing stuck out in my mind when planning this thing.   A comment from local running legend Dink Taylor, implied the possibly there may be some correlation between your 5k PR and your 100 mile PR.   I know, this follows no real logic, but I did a bit of research (e.g. asking friends) and like the infamous Yasso 800's rule, it seems to work more often than not.  So with this silly logic in my head, I take my recently achieved goal to break the 20 min 5k barrier and immediately extend this to set my A goal to break the 20 hour mark. So, 19:54 is set as my A goal.  My B goal I set at 23:30 because, I deep down I really want that sub 24 hour buckle and the C goal, well it's obviously anything less than 30 hours.  Gotta finish!   So I take this and add in the experience of my friend Rob Youngren who implies that the second 50 miles should be about 1:30 to 2 hours slower than the first 50 and come up with a pacing plan that should possibly get me through this thing. So for my A plan, my first 50 should be in 9:10 and the second 50 in 10:45.  That's 11 min/mile for the first half and just under 13 min/mile for the second.  Should be a piece of cake right... yeah right.

Prerace:

Lots of fun getting to South Dakota with friends and then driving down from Rapid City to Hot Springs.  Sights to see like Mt. Rushmore and the beautiful Black Hills.   

We end up driving along a fair amount of the course or at least the roads nearby it.  As we’re driving along, I decide to break out the Garmin and check the elevations, the high point seemed to be right at the Crazy Horse monument around 6000’ and steadily dropped down to the little town of Custer.  We follow the course along the gravel road section and even drive up to the reservoir close to the start.  Nothing looks too difficult (except that reservoir climb) from the car so I’m feeling pretty good.   Check into the hotel, walk over to packet pickup and grab a bite to eat.  Just basically lounge around all evening to try and settle the nerves before the race.  All you really want is for time to fly by so you can just get started.

Lounging by the hotel pool

   
Finally time to go to bed, set out everything for the next morning and all is a go.  The only thing I’m missing is my Garmin as I left it in the car and I don’t want to bother Sarah at this point to get the keys.  No worries, I only used it briefly and it won’t last the whole race anyway.  It was more just to keep me on track for some of the early miles.   Morning comes, and I’m all set to go.  Get the keys to get my Garmin only to find… batteries are low.  So, it looks like I’ll be running blind as far as pace goes. Oh well, I brush it off and we head to the start across the street.

The race:

It all started out pretty well.  I ran with the pack through town, nothing fast, nothing slow.  To be honest, I really wanted to go out a bit fast as that is typically my M.O. and I suppose I did but with no Garmin, it was hard to tell.  I kept Blake, Rob and Kathy in sight (though at a fair distance) through most of the first 5 miles at least so it must have been somewhat fast.  Running through the small town of Hot Springs, SD was adrenaline filled.  So much is on your mind but you can’t really focus on any of it.  You just run.  We run right by the prettiest point in town where a waterfall drops down a cliff on your left and flows across the trail into the stream on your right.  (Completely fabricated IMHO but nice nonetheless) Here there is a photographer taking pictures of us on the path.  I smile and give him a thumbs up... he ignores me and doesn't take my picture.  Hmmm.    Continuing on, we make through the heart of the town and start to leave by some residential streets on our way to the Coldbrook reservoir.

One thing that I realized much later is that even though runners of different races (50K, 50Mile, 100Mile) were wearing different # series of bibs, you don't really notice it as much as you think.   I remember noting that the second female in the 50mile (behind Kathy) was with up the hill to the reservoir but there were numerous other runners around me and it wasn't until much later that I realized they were only running one of the 50 distances.

So, I continued to push it a bit, running some of the uphill to the reservoir but with the terrain the way it was (fair amount of uphill) my pace would definitely not show that I was moving fast.   Anyway, finally we get to the top of the hill and start running down the back side to the campground by the lake.  I remember someone asking me if there were bathrooms at the first aid station.  Having scouted out this part of the route the day before I let him know there were and watched him fly by me only to disappear into one of the bathrooms 5 mins ahead, glad to not have that issue myself.

Just past the campground is the first aid station at around 4 miles.  By this point I have already pretty much drained my bottle so I fill it up. (It was a bit frustrating as I have to do it myself from the spigot of a cooler, but I’ve got all day and they were nice otherwise.)  Leaving, I grabbed a handful of trail mix from the table out of a big bowl and all I can think of is another blogger's comment I heard about in the past referencing "ass lube chips" (yes, that is as disgusting as you think it is)

After the aid station we continue through a field on a grassy road.  (there are some dirt ruts, but it is obviously very infrequently traveled)  It runs between high grass meadows on both sides with a bit of a rocky wall.  Really nice, I think to myself.  Unfortunately, this stretch only lasts about 3/4 of a mile and then we’re dumped on what will forever be remembered as the nightmare that is "Argyle Rd".  This road was nice enough on the surface, but just NOT nice enough to make itself infamous.  It starts with a 2 mile uphill that is completely deceiving.  One of those hills that you keep thinking you’re going to get to the summit only to find that when you get there, it just keeps on going.   I run as much as I can and finally make it to the top.   Along the way I keep getting passed by what I believe are other 100 mile runners.  I also believe that most of their bibs seem to have green stickers (green stickers indicate first time 100 runners).  This both disheartens me as I’m getting passed up but also scares me a bit.  Am I running too slow?  Or are they all really just a bunch of first timers going to fast out of the gate... who knows... I just keep trying to do my thing.

Somewhere around here, Joey Butler catches up to me and we run together.  I was surprised to see him as Joey has had a tendency to start very slow and pace himself very well in all our training, but I'm glad to have the company.  We continue along this nasty rolling gravel road for a few miles enjoying having someone to talk to. Soon though he insists that I'm on the verge of leaving him and that I need to just go ahead.  I felt he was running well but he forces the issue by starting to walk.   Oh well, not too happy to start out on my own again, I lower my head and press on while he takes it easy.

After a while, I finally start to recognize the turns, indicating that we're getting close to the Mickelson Trail and the location of the first drop bags when I notice what I think is Rob Youngren ahead.  I can't really believe it could be him as he is quite a better runner than I.  As I get a bit closer I decide that it really is him so I do what I can to try and catch up to him, hoping for more company.  I run along with him listening to him chat with Stan Ferguson (Race Director for Arkansas Traveller 100) and just wondering to myself why the two of them are running back here with a newbie like me. (it never really crossed my mind to think that they were being a bit smarter about things than I.  Ignorance is bliss I suppose).  Finally we pull in to the Argyle Loop aid station and put the nasty gravel road behind us.  

Up to this point I have been deliberately running a bit fast as I started the day without putting on any sunscreen.  I knew that I put some in my drop bag and although it was still nice out, the sun was up and penetrating.  The sun was my biggest concern going into this race and I knew that if I got sunburned, it was going to be a long painful day.  Well anyway, after rummaging through my bag, I realize that based on my time estimates, I was supposed to arrive at the next drop bag around 10:30 or so and figured I didn't need sunscreen until after 10am.  Disheartened, at no suntan lotion, I just grab my next set of nutrition and get on my way.  Rob and Stan were already out of the station before me but I catch them quickly.  They seem to be having a good old time chatting away so I just run on by a bit stunned that I'm ahead of a couple of  previous Grand Slam finishers.  

The Mickelson Trail is about as cupcake of a trail that you will ever see.   It is a rails to trails project so minimal grades on all hills and those that built it really made a nice trail.  It consists of very small shale type gravel, hard packed into the ground so there is absolutely no chance for tripping anywhere (except for maybe the occasional bridge) This run is going to be a piece of cake right!?  Hmmm.

Well, it takes no time at all on this well manicured trail before I start to really feel the scourge of the day...  rocks in my shoes.   I didn't realize yet how bad I would hate them, but hate them I did.   I decide to take a break on the split rail fence lining the trail and dump out my shoes.  This turns out to be a regular occurrence throughout the run as my feet seem to be a magnet for crud.   Next time I think I really will investigate some gaiters.  At least this section is slightly downhill so the going is easy.

Over the next 4 miles I start thinking about my parents and where they might be, you see they were driving back from California to Maryland and had recently stopped at Yellowstone Nat'l Park.  I had spoken to them a couple days before and they indicated that they may swing by and say hi along the trail, but as soon as we got close to the race's host city, ATT disappeared completely from its usual spotty coverage so I had no real clue what their plans really were.  Anyway, the Mickelson Trail travels very close to the main road on and off, so I started looking around to see if they may be out there. I run through the next aid station, only stopping to refill my bottle and grab whatever is convenient to eat.

The next stretch is the first real stretch where you are away from civilization for a while.  It's very nice countryside and I enjoy the peace and quiet.  There are still numerous people in sight but no one real close so I let my mind wander and just cruise along.  In a little while I see Kathy Youngren, cruising along on her way back from the 50mile turnaround.  Her words of encouragement... "What the hell Fritz, you better slow down!".  I laugh and explain that it's my plan to crash and burn (joking of course).

Heading out from Pringle

Coming into the next aid station (Pringle) there is still quite the crowd.  The race is early and both the 50K and 50 Milers are still in the pack and all the fans are clapping for everyone who comes by so you feel a bit like a rock star.  I make my way past the crowd looking to get to my drop bag when all of a sudden I hear "Hello Eric" and there's my Mom smiling at me.  I walked right past her.  Well, even though I was thinking about them earlier, I'm a bit shocked that they actually showed up.   Seems they had been planning on showing up all the time, but not really coming forth with it to try and not disturb my pre-race rituals (e.g. not add to my stress).  It was nice to have them there, my Dad had already found my drop bag and had it ready for me.  As mentioned above, I've been stressing about the sun for a while now and am happy to finally get my suntan lotion put on.  It's even nicer that Mom and Dad can help spray it on my back.  Well, I change my socks, change my shirt (from singlet to short sleeves... more paranoia of the sun), grab a fair amount of food (grapes, chips, ham sandwich) and am on my way again.  Mom and Dad say they'll see me down the road.

At this point I'm about 15 mins ahead of my 'A' goal so I am feeling pretty good.  The next stretch is difficult though, slightly uphill and the sun is blazing.  About 4+ miles in, I see a nice rest area on the side of the road and lots of cars.  Expecting another aid station I down my bottle, only to find out that there is no aid station.  I suffer wondering what the heck is up for at least anther 2 miles but with no water it feels like at least another 4 miles.  Strike two for not having my Garmin with me.  Along this stretch while I'm suffering, I'm passed by a couple of females, whom I assume are the leading females of the 100 mile run, that’s to be expected as I typically run shortly behind the leading females in most races.  Finally, I make it to the next aid station and hang out for a while trying to recover from being dry for a while. No Mom and Dad here as they must have moved on to the next drop bag stop. Shortly after the aid station, I notice that one of the females has turned around for the 50k, Bernita Lovelace from Arkansas.  She is quite excited to get what I believe is her first 'W'.   The other female turns out to be well known ultra runner Anita Fromm and she steadily pulls away from me over the next several miles to where I don't expect to ever see her again.  

I'm struggling at this point as the sun takes its toll on me and the uphill continues.  Finally I get a bit of downhill as we head into the town of Custer and the next major aid station.  Coming in, I see my Dad, camera clicking.  This will become a familiar sight as the day progresses.   Another change of socks as the rocks are taking their toll on my feet (feels great for at least 5 minutes).  More food stuffed in, sandwich, banana etc. But for some reason I can't bring myself to eat one of the many homemade cookies I've seen at all the aid stations.  They look awesome, but just don't seem to be what I want to put in my belly.  I'm 35+ miles in at this point and struggling.  I've gone from 15mins ahead at the last drop bag to 15 mins behind at this one.  I better pick it up if I really want that A goal… 

Walking into Custer with my Mom

This is a fairly major drop bag and one of the prizes inside is my MP3 player.  I put this on and get back on my way.  About 12Gb of my music on shuffle keeps me going through the next section.  The crowd has really thinned out since we passed the 50K finish and I only see a runner or 2 for several miles.  This is a good thing as I sometimes slip into singing out loud and dancing while I run.  (well, not dancing I suppose but some crazy arm motions with the music.  I’m glad I couldn’t see myself)   At one point I realize that the music is too loud as I hear what I think might have been a gun shot.  I'm in another countryside section away from the road and have no clue what may be going on but I immediately yank off the headphones only to find that everything seems fine.  In hindsight, I think it may have been some sort of blip on the mp3 player but it definitely gets my heart racing for a bit.  Onward I go, only to realize that the next section is a long, long uphill climb.  At least I've got my music and the countryside is beautiful here as I approach the Crazy Horse monument and highest point on the course.  

Running by Crazy Horse... very cool

Finally I come into the next aid station and there is Mom and Dad once again.   At the last aid station I asked for some ice and put it both in my bottle and in my cap to try and help with the heat. This really helped a lot and more importantly my Mom took notice.  At each aid station from here on out she is waiting to fill my bottle with ice and water and have an additional cup of ice water waiting.   Sure is nice to have a crew, especially when you weren't expecting one.  Well I move along still behind in pace, still struggling but looming to my right is the massive Crazy Horse monument and just ahead is a downhill stretch so my spirits are good.  

Blowing by Bucharoo aid station on the first pass

Little did I know that my mind would wander on that downhill and start taking a mental toll.  It turns out that about the last 9 miles before the turnaround at 50 is all downhill and some of the most significant grade since Argyle Rd back at the start.  All I can think of for that 9 miles is that I'm going to have to turn around and climb back up.  That along with the general wear and tear on my body has me coming into the turnaround feeling pretty worn out.  But a few miles before I get there I do pass Blake Thompson.  I figure he's about 8 miles ahead of me at that point.  He's looking in great spirits but wants to know where Rob is.  Haven't seen him since 24 miles is all I can say.  My goal for the turnaround was 9:10 and I come in at 9:35.  I feel that there is no way I'm going to make my A goal of sub 20 hours so I start telling myself I can walk the whole way back and still make the B goal of sub 24... we'll see.

The Buckaroo aid station is only a bit less than a mile from the turnaround so I blow straight through it on the way out.  As I touch the fence and turn around I start to walk, thinking I'll walk the whole way back to the aid station for a break.  Unfortunately (or fortunately...) I end up behind a young man on a bike riding very slow and smoking a cigarette.  Well walking is not going to get me away from him and the smoke is the last thing I want to smell right now so eventually I give in and start to run again to get past.

Making the turn (hammy's tight)

At the Buckaroo aid station I sit for a while and rest.  I get my parents to get me extra water as I change my socks once again and wash off my legs and feet.  It's amazing how much crude is on them (including plenty of salt) and it feels great to wash it off.

After my rest I'm back on my way, somehow starting to feel better.  Unfortunately though, 50 miles and that last long downhill have my quads burning.  I continue along in my hundred miler running form and avoid any extended steps.   Shortly I come across Rob running all along.  He seems in good spirits but indicates that the sun took a major toll on him mid day.   I let him know my plan is to walk the rest of the way and do just enough to break 24.  He agrees with my plan and we continue on our opposite ways.  Silently I start to try and do the math in my head of exactly what it will take to make it in under 24 hours but my brain is fried so the next time the road is close I put the task to my Dad.  When he comes back and says it will take 15 minute miles, I know I've got to start actually running.  I can walk 17 min miles when I'm going at a half decent pace and I'm sure I'd slow down more than that with so many miles under my belt.  Soon I come upon Joey Butler.  I haven't seen him in quite some time and he's probably about 8 miles behind me but he seems in fairly good shape.  The afternoon has started to wane a bit with the sun behind clouds and it seems to be helping people out. (myself included)

After I pass Joey, I decide to get my hundred shuffle going and cruise along a nice section by a creek only to come upon a snake skittering across the trail.  Well I wasn't paying attention real well and almost stepped on it, only to leap at the last second.  I miss the snake and it is gone before I know it but my 3 foot leap feels like I pulled several muscles in my legs.  I begin to limp along.   Fortunately it is not nearly as bad as I thought and I can resume my shuffle fairly soon.  I really start to feel much better for some reason (I think it may be the sun hiding on me and the repeated "ice in my hat" treatments) and end up moving pretty well up the 9 mile climb.  I actually run the majority of it (well run is a strong word... it's still the shuffle).  When I enter the small tunnel at the top by Crazy Horse I let out a yell of conquest and enjoy the echo.  On the other side, the trail levels and I see my parents in the distance camera and ice water at the ready.  I hit the next aid station with my spirits really picking up as I realize that I've got a long downhill to get me to about 2/3rds done.  More water, more chips, more grapes etc. and I'm on my way again.   The next stretch is just as beautiful on the way back as it was on the way out.  Deer are starting to show up in every meadow I pass and I see a large number of Turkeys or Pheasants, not sure which but it's nice to see some wildlife beyond the stray squirrel or chipmunk.

Coming back into Custer, I'm running pretty well and I see two young ladies waking towards me on the trail.  They turn out to be Kathy and Sarah looking out for me.  I'm excited to see them and stop to walk with them for the remaining stretch into the aid station.   There amazed to hear that my parents are here.   After short introductions, I sit down again and Kathy gets me some soup.  Tomato soup seems to be my food of choice for the remainder of the day as nothing, especially all my gels and blocks, looks good to me anymore.   I sit for a bit at a picnic table and rest, I think I change my socks again, but perhaps it is just dumping the rocks out for what seems the 10th time of the day.

Back on the trail after my rest and all of a sudden the rain starts to come.  It's not a heavy rain but a steady drizzle, but it doesn't seem to bother me, my spirits are good and I plod along.   Ever since the turnaround at 50 I've been telling myself that I need to run some now and then and can't just walk.  This seems to keep me moving even though by this point I'm probably past the point where I really could walk it in.  My mind is moving too slow to realize that, so I continue to push myself whenever I can.  With the rain and dusk falling, the longer stretch that was such a killer earlier that afternoon goes by smoothly.  In the distance to the southeast (I'm heading generally due south) a thunderstorm is lighting up the sky in quite the display.  I enjoy the show, but am a bit concerned as to which way the storm is moving.  If it is coming towards me, I'm a lone figure sticking out in the fields and prime target for a bolt of lightning.  Fortunately, after what seems an hour I realize that the storm is not coming any closer and eventually realize it is moving further to the southeast so I rest my mind..  As dusk turns to dark, I continue to run with no headlamp for as long as possible.  There is a recent full moon up in the sky to light things up, but it only shows itself occasionally with the clouds in the way.  Nevertheless I continue to run without my headlamp until I approach the 75 mile mark.  At this point I kick a couple of somewhat large stones (smaller than my fist I'm sure) and decide that it may be wise to light up.  There is a lengthy stretch where the trail is virtually the shoulder of the road but in the dark you would never know it.  I probably only see 2 cars for this stretch that remind me I'm so close to civilization.

I really have little memory of the aid station at Pringle (76) and Lime Kiln Road (80) other than a vague visual of the layout.  I've no idea what I took in there if anything.  I do know that at this point I'm ignoring all drop bags.  I've still got plenty of Gu’s and Clif Shot Block’s still in my pack as my eating has really slowed down.  Skipping my drop bags though turns out to be a bit of a mistake as I forget that I've got Boost in them ready for me to drink, but at the time, I'm none the wiser.   Somewhere around Pringle, I realize that I'm passing Stan.  I don't know Stan that well but know him well enough to know that he's a much better runner than me.  This boosts my spirits and keeps me going.  (ignoring the fact that he recently ran Hard Rock and this is probably a cool down run for him).

Finally I find myself coming into the Argyle Road aid station.   Here I pass Anita Fromm, the lead woman.  I’m not sure if it is the fact that maybe I’m not going to get chicked or just the fact that I’m only 16 miles from the finish but I am excited to be at that point.

Here I walk with my Mom and Dad for a bit and we chat.  Mom is quite amazed that I'm still moving so well.  Unfortunately, the next stretch is brutal as I leave the low grade of the rails to trails and head back on to Argyle Rd and it's rolling hills.  Running has become a real struggle as my quads are burning and my feet feel like I'm running on glass.  One good thing is that although the rain has stopped, it soaked the ground enough that Mom and Dad can ride along the dirt road and keep an eye on me without kicking up any dust.  At one point I'm passed by a couple runners moving at a good clip.  The first one blows on by telling me to keep it up, "let's shoot for sub 20"  I reply back that there’s no way that's going to happen and slow to a walk again.  When the next runner comes by, he explains that he's just the pacer and he’s struggling to keep up with his runner.  I chuckle a bit and let them go.   It's only a few miles down the road and I see the runner limping along.  Seems his knee has given out on him and he's going to walk it in. A bit later I pass another runner grabbing his lower back as he walks it in.  I feel blessed to still be running and only suffering from sore muscles and rocks in my shoes.  

When I finally get to the turn off of Argyle Rd into the meadow, I just yell at my dad that I'll see them at the finish line.  The last aid station is only a 1/2 mile down the trail.   This section is still a very nice section in the middle of the night but I feel my mind fixating on the rocks in my shoes.  I keep telling myself that there is only 4 miles left to go and I should just run through the last aid station, but when I get there I succumb to the pain and sit down only to dump out the rocks one last time.   I continue out of the aid station strong only to begin my walk very shortly as the big climb up from the reservoir looms ahead.

Somehow the climb seems to go fairly quickly and I continue on at the top on the dirt road.  Unfortunately, it looks very different at night and I continually second guess myself that I may have missed a turn.   I continue to move forward, but I'm moving slow as I look at the other roads around me for something familiar.   Finally I see the spillway and realize that I'm on the right path and start to jog again.   When I finally hit the big downhill to town and the dirt road turns to pavement I jump for joy.  Well not literally, but never before have I been so excited to see an asphalt road.  No more chance of small rocks in my shoes, ahhh.

As I continue down the hill and hit the edge of town I see a party rocking, playing volleyball, drinks flowing.   Sure would be nice to stop there but I'm close.  I press on telling myself that I can run in from here, it's only about 2 miles to go… but just a block or so down the road, I decide I'm tired and start to walk.   After a break I pick it up again as I hit the main drag in town, once again my mind says I can run it in, and once again I start to walk shortly after.  This happens one more time on the road into the finish but finally I see the Dairy Queen in the distance and force myself to run all the way in.  

Done!

When I get to the finish, it’s 2:30 in the morning and there is not much going on.  No fanfare, no excitement just a couple of volunteers recording the time.  Well my Mom and Dad are there of course and there is no real need for fanfare, I’m so excited inside that nothing can keep me down.  Except the fact that I just ran 100 miles and I’m beat.  So I sit for a bit, lose my lunch and then decide to take a shower.  After a brief cleanup, it’s straight to bed for me.  You’d like to think I sat there and had great reflections on what a great day it’s been or what a great accomplishment, but no, I’m just beat, tired and worn out and want to pass out in a corner somewhere.  But I did run 100 miles, so I got that going for me.

The nutrition

Well, nutrition plans are something I struggle with in a half marathon, planning one for a 100 really scares me and I ended up changing my plan many times.   As it turns out, I end up with 1 Gu Energy Gel and 1 Clif Shot Block every hour, a Boost Nutritional Drink about every 3 hours, a Nuun tablet in every other bottle of water (using the standard 20oz of water every hour) and one Succeed S!Cap every hour.  Add up all the totals and this gives me 263 calories, 674 grams of sodium and a bit of potassium and carbohydrates thrown in every hour.   The electrolytes look good but the calorie intake will have to be more.  I plan on beefing that up by grazing heavily at aid stations as much as I can.   That's a lot to keep up with for 24 hours but hey, what else do I have to think about right?  One thing to note is that I've been forewarned, and know somewhat from shorter races, that keeping your stomach happy during the run is one of the most difficult things to do.  Plans are nice but 50 miles in your mind starts revolting and nothing looks good, sounds good or otherwise easily goes in your belly.  Hence, the plan started to fade off sometime after 50 miles and really disappeared after about 75.  Fortunately, eating a lot early on seemed to be enough to carry me to the end.

The equipment

As it is a summer race, there is not much in terms of equipment to rely on.  I ran the whole way in my Nike Lunar Glides only taking them off to dump out the rocks (a million times) and change my socks occasionally.   The only other significant equipment was my CWX compression shorts.  I never had any real equipment issues to speak of.

A bit of thanks

I can’t finish this without a serious thank you to several people.  All those that went with me for sure, and particularly my Mom and Dad who stayed up all night to crew me only to get on the road at 7 in the morning and head east.  (guess there’s some endurance in the genes).   But you can’t do 100 miles without some serious training and I really need to thank Rob, Kathy, Blake and Joey for keeping me going through all those long runs.  And Rob and Kathy’s wealth of experience were invaluable to get me through this.   And lastly, I want to thank David Horton who once said,  “Some will say, you’re not a real ultra runner until you’ve run a hundred.”   Well, now I’m a real ultrarunner.