This past weekend I competed in the Boulder Field 100K, an ultramarathon held at Hickory Run State Park in Carbon County, Pennsylvania. The race was my “B” race for the year, with another 100K, World’s End 100K, having been my “A” race earlier this year. Both were challenging.
Running both of these races were a step up for me in my ultra running. My longest event prior was a 12 hour race that I’ve done 3 times, reaching distances of 50-55 miles in each of those.
The step up to 100K distance served a greater purpose. While a lofty goal in itself, the 100K was let me see where I stand in relationship to my ultimate running goal, and whether I think I have it within me to truly pursue that that ultimate goal. The ultimate goal, something that has intrigued me ever since the day I learn about them… is a 100 miler.
I remember first hearing of a 100 miler, something I had no idea existed, and while sounding so incredibly insane and intimidating, for whatever reason stuck with me and sounded so wild and I could only imagine what it would take to do one. At this time I had been built up to half marathon distance or so and only begun to head off road and start explore this new (to me) world of trail running. I liked the feeling of being out in the woods and nature and how trails were constantly up and down and weaving around. It was so different from the same footfalls of road running.
I researched these 100 milers and learned there were many, and that they were incredibly difficult. But somehow the fascination of what it would be like to say you attempted (or hopefully completed one) stuck with me. The intriguing aspect of this type of event never went away. It was like a spark was lit inside of me. I knew next to nothing about these 100’s, and by all means was nowhere near ready to even think about trying something half that long, but the thought of “well, maybe some day” was in me.
I did get my running built up and meet my goal of running a marathon… 3 in fact in total. I still wasn’t ready for the ultra thing though. The long distance running was still new to me and while I could handle it, pushing even farther was not in me yet as I didn’t feel I could tolerate the increased training load.
A change of careers and going back to school derailed my running for a period of 2 years or so. During this time I just kept a base really, with anything over five miles almost seeming like a bonus of some sorts. Keeping my base was my only goal while returning to school. This way I wouldn’t have to start from zero since the same goal, even now more distant in achieving, was still in my head.
Upon graduating, a few months later I did a trail 25K. I considered that my re-entry and start point for building things back up. It went well and I loved it. The following year I got brave enough to try my first ultra, and doing 2 overall just 3 weeks apart that first year. The following year, I did 4 ultras, and then 3 more the next year. I had sort of stagnated I guess, doing ultra but not increasing distance too terribly much.
That’s where this year comes into play. I decided I needed to test myself and start to really push myself. I had my eye on a few 100K’s and decided I needed to do these or I’ll never advance toward that ultimate goal.
With successful completion of two 100K’s, which you can read about at this link (World’s End 100K) and at this link (Boulder Field 100K), my confidence has grown. I am now pondering if it’s time to pursue the ultimate goal. There are several reasons why.
Had I failed at those races, then I’d know I wasn’t ready. Granted neither were easy and both were challenging, but being I did complete them, then I feel I have some legitimate times were I felt the challenge of what I could face in a 100 miler. I also now with both the 100K’s know the experience of having to drive a good distance to the race and camp the night—essentially being out of one’s comfort zone. With the 100K’s I also gained experience with running in the dark since both started at 5 AM and I finished my first 100K in the dark too. That is something I definitely will need practice with.
Being that I’m in my mid 40’s, I know I’m not getting any younger. Each year older I get it will be just a bit tougher to push myself to my max.
I feel kinda at a crossroads now though. I know there’s several reasons why I should probably go after the goal, but several that still cast doubt. Each of the 100K were tough! When you tire to this degree, I find it daunting to go for another 40 miles and, depending on difficulty, be out there another on the trails another 10-20 hours.
I know probably every ultra runner debates this in a pursuit of 100 miles. I guess I’m just bugged by the fact I don’t know if I’m ready. I like to know if I’m ready or not, and right now I’m unsure.
In conclusion, I know I have to weigh many items and do some soul searching. We’ll see. The other point sticking with me is I’ll likely have regret if I never at least attempt a 100 miler, and I think that is what weighs on me the most.
If anyone reading this has any advice, feel free to share. Thanks as always for reading!
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
Thursday, June 6, 2019
2019 Worlds End 100K Race Report
It has been too long since I’ve written a post here on my blog, so I figured a race report on my first ever 100K was as good of topic as any to get back at it. This past weekend I participated (and finished!) in Worlds End 100K ultramarathon (WEU) at Worlds End State Park and the surrounding Loyalsock State Forest in Sullivan County, Pennsylvania.
The race website describes it as one of the premier ultras on the east coast. I haven’t run any races or ultras outside of PA so I can’t attest to that statement, but I would say it is difficult and going into the race I was feeling nervous about my ability to finish the race within the 19 hour cutoff.
I felt more nervous the day before the race, but luckily come race morning when I woke up nerves were minimal and I felt ready to tackle it as I had my pack set to go and even slept in the clothes I was going to wear to run to avoid one other task to have to tackle race morning.
Now I am not a newbie when it comes to ultras. This was my 11th ultra, three of which were 12 hour events (all Labor Pain 12 hour in Reading, PA) and I had covered distances of 50, 50, and 55 miles respectively in those events. While WEU would be another 8.8 miles further, it was not the distance aspect of the race that concerned me. It was elevation profile that lead to doubts I had. WEU has ~24,790 ft of net elevation change whereas the 55 miles I did at Labor Pain was only ~13,000 ft. That’s a big difference and being my quads and hip flexors got very fatigued on prolonged climbs at a 50K tuneup race 6 wks prior to WEU, I was worried about the same on the hills for this race.
This got me to thinking though and I laid out a couple "rules” for myself and got them in my head the week or so leading up to the race. What I did was look at the race as just getting from aid station to aid station. While I knew to carry fluids and nutrition with me for in between aid stations, it was just breaking the race down to a series of small ones that made it so much simpler. Can I run 4.3 miles? Yep! Now how about 6.0… and 5.6… and 3.4? Yep. Yep. And yep again. It seemed like a good plan going in and it worked race day. Breaking down race into segments was just easier for my mind.
I started out at the start line somewhere in the second half of it. I did speed up some on the road section at the beginning but didn’t want to get too caught up in things. About a half mile into it, the course turns to the trail and uphill right of way. I slowed down to a fast(er) hike like everyone else and up we went. There were two really rocky and technical sections early where you were essentially standing and waiting until those ahead got moving. I just took it in stride, letting my heart rate lower. Overall there was a lot of climbing to get to that first aid station at mile 4.3.
I always let the terrain dictate my pace (another rule I had) and I feel I managed this well too. If it was an uphill then I slowed so as not to push myself too much (especially early in the race) and I would use downhills to my advantage when I could. I say this for two reasons. Some downhills were very steep or technical and then late in the race my quads were feeling fatigued and I had a more difficult time tackling downhill running.
There wasn’t big sections of fairly flat running but one of them did come between aid stations 1 & 2. This was a nice break from the long uphill to aid station 1. The problem however was how wet it was! This was any overwhelming theme throughout the entire race—mud, muck, standing water. Some spots I felt like I was traversing a bog or marsh. Many spots were ankle deep at least. It dried out some approaching aid station 2 and it was fun hearing the noise and cheers ahead as I approached the aid station. It was much more action and bustling than aid station one. Things went smooth and going out of it there was a dirt road section that eventually lead to going over a neat old one lane bridge and from there runners turned right and ran a trial along the Loyalsock Creek. Personally I really enjoyed this section. It wasn’t overly technical but did go up and down to break any monotony.
After crossing the road running parallel to the creek, it was uphill to aid station 3. I started to feel fatigue in my legs during this long climb. I actually felt a little just after crossing that bridge. I slowed at tried to do an assessment of how I was feeling because I was only 3+ hrs and less than 15 miles into this race. I had a lot more to go!
I got to aid station 3 okay and felt better. I made sure to drink at every aid station as well as fill up my main bottle while grabbing something to eat and headed out. My philosophy for aid stations at this event was as follows: get what need, maybe take just a little minute break or so to stretch, but then get going. I didn’t want to linger and lose time. As long as I got my hydration and nutrition, I was good. I carried some of own food with me so I felt confident even if I didn’t grab too much.
Two of my other rules by the way were “drink before you’re thirsty” and “eat before you’re hungry”—in that order!
One aid station worker said while leaving “it’s downhill now to the next aid station.” It wasn’t. There was still a fair amount of uphill to go. Their form of amusement I guess. It was too bad though and eventually it was all downhill and sections I was familiar with from prior times hiking in that area. Runners made there way back to the river and came out at the Park Office and we crossed the road to aid station 4. A fair amount of people were there cheering—and this definitely helps!
I grabbed a ham and cheese wrap and boy did that hit the spot! That was the best aid station food I’d found yet! I ate a little bit of other stuff while getting my bottle filled as usually and knew what was ahead—uphill!
The course got steep quickly at this point and lead up to a vista that looks back down on the creek and beach. What was most interesting on this section was seeing the downed trees from a tornado in April. Lots of destruction took place and quick minor re-route due to damage. It was just mostly unrelenting uphill—a few downhill sections with niceties like water cascading over rocks—that made up this short segment to aid station 5 at the beautiful Canyon Vista!
Canyon Vista is one of nicest spots on the course in my opinion. I just like the lookout—seeing the hills gentle grade to the valley, some from the left and some from the right. I ate only a little at this aid station. I did get patched up a some as I had slipped at one spot and had two superficial scrapes on right leg and when I asked an aid station worker about having something to clean it off she had me sit down and helped to clean and bandage it.
I rolled out of there and headed for more. To be honest I don’t remember much about the section between aid station 5 and 6. I recall it being mostly flat with minimal ups and downs and that weaved around quite a bit but nothing really stands out. What I was focused on is still taking things easy and remembering to properly refuel at the next aid station. This would be important because from aid station 6 to 7 was the longest stretch between aid stations—8.1 miles. I knew, especially if it was hot, I’d being drinking a lot and there was climbing involved in that section too so I figured I’d take at least 2 hrs for that section.
Aid station 6 was rockin’! Ahead of it were 3 guys yelling and using a safety cone as amplifier that you hear probably 10 minutes before even reaching them! It had a festive atmosphere for being out in the middle of nowhere. I drank a little more than usual because of the aforementioned long stretch ahead ate some food. I had freezy pop which tasted sooo cold and delicious! That really hit the spot as by now the temperature was starting to rise and it was getting hot!
The section between aid station 6 & 7 did take a long time. There was climbing and descending involved and more mud and muck. The temps didn’t ease either. It was getting hot. Quite a bit of hiking took place in this section. In reality the whole course involved a lot of hiking but by now for sure.
Upon getting to the top of High Knob us runners were now past half way and coming up on the first aid station with a cutoff. Cutoff time was 5:00. I hit that aid station just minutes past 3:00. I felt good knowing I was hitting this early. In studying the aid station planner document on the race website I saying that if you just hit the cutoffs you will have to speed up the rest of way and each time it only got harder as the pace decreased each time. I used the bathroom at this aid station for the first time did some true stretching to try and loosen up the muscles a bit as I was now out here for 10 hrs with many more to go. I left the aid station at 3:14.
I was warned by another runner that the section coming up had a long down hill and then one of most brutal climbs. She was right! I had to take the downhill cautiously as my quads were starting to feel it. The downhill wasn’t technical or steep but just enough to let you know it took muscle control to avoid go too fast. After reaching the bottom was stream crossing and this felt very good on the legs, cooling them down. It was one the widest stream crossings (maybe 40ft???) and no stone to tip toe across—just trudge through it. Like I said it felt good.
Now for the climb! Yes it was steep and long and unrelenting. Then toward the top it was more of the mud and muck again—all while trying to now go uphill in it. Traction was poor and it made you feel like you would loose most of your power. Luckily I had my trekking poles along for the race and it really helped for this climb as I passed a few other runners on the climb which made me feel good. I reached the summit and then there was a downhill to aid station 8 with another stream crossing directly before the aid station. I made it through without slipping—it was deeper and on an angle—and as soon as I did the people gathered there started cheering for me. It was much appreciated and a boost.
I didn’t really see much I liked at this aid station but I did eat half a grilled cheese sandwich and maybe something else but I didn’t spend much time here and moved on. The next aid station (#9) was water only that was 4 miles away and then the next true aid station (#10) another 4 miles after that. I just chugged along, hitting the climb out of there and moving on down the line. This was another section I don’t remember much about. I passed a guy soon after aid station 8 and then saw no one for miles until coming up on a couple. I was glad to see someone again. It does feel lonely at times if no one is around you out in these long races. I caught up to them at the water stop but they left before me as I ate some of my own food. After going through more mud, etc I eventually caught up to them and they let me pass them as the female told me I looked faster than them. In reality I did like passing them as the next aid station had another cutoff and I wanted to get to it as quickly as I could since it was a gentle downhill to it. The cutoff was 9:00 and I wanted to hit it by 7:30 to give me extra time for finishing the rest. That aid station would be mile 50 and I know it would not get any easier so the earlier I could hit it the better.
Things were starting to go downhill though—and I mean more than just the terrain. Gone was sun and I could hear thunder in the distance. I also had a stomach that was starting to feel not so good—something that I’m not used to and isn’t normal.
I hit the aid station when I wanted to. Coming up on it I saw a porta-john and that was my first stop after checking in. Having taken care of things I felt mildly better. I’m not sure what happen really—perhaps I was not eating enough. It didn’t help when I saw minimal at this stop too that I liked. I had some watermelon (something I ate at many of the aid stations) and filled up my water bottle.
I didn’t screw around much because the thunder was more frequent. I left this aid station feeling defeated. Although ahead of cutoff I didn’t feel good, a climb was ahead, and the sky didn’t look good. For the first time in the race I felt like I wasn’t going to finish. I felt like I could cry really. 50 miles of good racing just to see things slip away. Things were going to get tough now until the next true aid station. The next actual aid station was water only and 8 miles to the true aid station. Darkness would also set in, slowing things down as one can no longer see as well for each step you’d take.
Heading out a guy told me “You got this.” My reply was “I sure as hell hope so!” He responded with another, “Come on, you got this! I finished my piece of banana and set out not knowing what lies in store.
Things did turn worse—and it didn’t take long. Upon the climb up from there it started to rain. I stopped to get my headlamp out of my pack (something I should have done at the aid station) because it was getting dark quickly. It didn’t take long before the rain turned to a heavy rain. It was narrow section of trail and it was difficult to see with the rain coming down. It was mostly a game of staying in the middle of trail. Upon getting to the top there was some mild confusion. There was a flag at the corner of a fenced in area and that was it. I didn’t know which way to go. I turned right to follow the fence only to quickly see a headlamp coming my way. That runner said no that’s not the way. We backtracked and together saw another flag on a gate at the fence. We both were puzzled but as soon as he opened the gate I saw a flag inside. Seemed very weird but we went inside and soon saw another flag assuring us we were indeed on course. By now it was a complete downpour. There was more slop to run through and this were just downright nasty. Every square inch of me was soaked. What concerned me the most was how cold the rain was—I was concerned I might even get hypothermic if for some reason I had to slow too much. Soon there was a loud crack of thunder. We were both running fast through here as it was an open area with no cover. We made it to the far gate and kept going after getting through it, and soon came up on some other runners.
That runner sped up and I settled in with the new runners as I was slipping a lot and could speed up safely. The rain was still heavy but not quite as bad. It was nothing but weaving and winding and a slick mess. A lot became a blur at this point. Again I had doubts I would make it. I knew an uphill section was coming and my pace would slow. How tired would I be? Would I get cold? Honestly it was an emotional roller coaster. This weather (the storm) was making already bad course conditions even worse.
There was nothing else to do though than plow on. The rain was starting to slow and I never did get cold for any extended period so mentally I felt better—just a little anyway. I just kept on going, know I had to get to that final aid station 12 ahead of schedule to have any chance of finishing.
I was at the back of a group of runners and just trying to keep them in sight, which I did. Then came yet another stream crossing. While only 10-12 ft wide it was moving rapidly and almost knee deep. I took this cautiously while hoping the others didn’t gain much on me. I definitely didn’t want to slip crossing this stream. I made it across with success! Upon catching up to the others it was only 2 of them. In awhile the guy in front of me said something and I asked him to repeat it. He said this was the last long climb. This was music to my ears. I felt if my legs can just hold out for this then maybe there's a chance I can get to the finish. At one point on the climb the lead guy stopped and the other waved me on saying I looked stronger. The lead guy was another 100K rookie like me but the other guy had done it before. I guess he was sticking with him. I went on and actually gained ground on them.
Luckily the rain total stopped by this time. Another good sign I thought to myself. One less thing to deal with. It was not easy though. It was just more slop and mess to trudge through. I didn’t even care at that point. Everyone had a hard time seeing where they're stepping as it was truly dark now and your feet were already wet. The climbing hadn’t stopped either but it did greatly even out. I eventually was catching up to 2 other runners, a husband and wife, right around the water only aid stop. I didn’t even stop. A guy sitting in a truck was jotting down racers numbers. I yelled out “77” and just kept moving.
Right at a road section I caught up to the other 2 runners for good. I asked if they minded if I stuck with them and they didn’t care. They were very friendly and we navigated the short flatter section together to aid station 12, again wet and sloppy. Upon come to the end of that trail we saw strings of light—the final aid station! A few other runners were catching up to us too. Almost at the end of the trail we heard clapping and cheering. They likely saw our headlamps the wife said.
It was already 10:15, only a half hour before final cutoff! This was going to be tough! As in really speed up tough. No major climbs anymore but still some ups and downs. I grabbed my final piece of watermelon for the race and while eating it a volunteer asked me what I needed. I told him nothing. “How about water?” he asked. I told him have enough water and that I didn’t need anything more.
He said “I’d get leaving in the next 3-4 minutes if you want to finish this.” I didn’t plan on staying long anyway but something about that statement ignited me. I told him “Just show me where to go!” I got turned around at the aid station and was sure which direction to go. He quickly pointed me in the right direction along the cars and turn left to get back on the trail.
I took off. This was it. Now or never. Do or die (so to speak.) I was going to have to speed up and work hard to get to the finish before the cutoff but I had a lot of determination in me at this point. I might have been out there for over 17 hrs but no way was I going to give up. This section wasn’t too bad at first. The course was on a dirt road then for awhile and made for picking up the pace easier. It then headed back in the woods and the course became tougher again, more technical with it seeming like the reflective flagging becoming farther away and wondering am I on course. The technical section didn’t last long but it didn’t get any easier. The course followed something resembling a fire road I guess (unpaved obviously) and that was a mess. My poles definitely came in handy helping propelling me forward as with every step your foot slid and slipped and lost traction. My legs were tiring fast with every slip. And it seemed to just go on and on. I didn’t study this section of course map much and in my head I kept thinking the course map was different. I felt disoriented and unsure of how far I had to go yet. I thought I was moving fast but my watch was just ticking away..11:00… 11:10… 11:20.
Now doubt crept in again. Here I was 40 minutes before final cutoff and I didn’t know how far I had to go yet. My GPS watch died at the 12 hr mark and I was now just relying on a digital watch and math in my head. I figured if I could average ~16 minute miles for the 5.9 miles to the finish from that aid station 12 I’d have just a few minutes extra which I would need for the technical descent right at the end. At this time I came up on 2 more runners with one more coming up on me too. The two ahead of me were looking to see where the next turn was, which I had no idea. All I know is we weren’t to it yet.
Within minutes a great sound came out of nowhere! I could hear the Creek! Loyalsock Creek that runs by the Start/Finish area! Almost immediately, we came up where the trail bears left to descend. I looked at my watch—11:34. 26 minutes to make the descent and the a quick run through the park area to the finish! I had little doubt the descent would take that long and I felt like finishing was within grasp.
Again it wasn’t easy though. I slipped once making a turn on just a mild descent and went to my knees. That was a wakeup call not to get out of control for the steep part of the descent. I took the rest of the descent cautiously, twice letting to other runners pass. I didn’t want slip and get hurt just a half mile or less from the finish. I made it through the tough part, legs holding out and got down to where it flattens out. I saw I had about 12 minutes left and it felt great. One minor descent then under the bridge and through the parking lot. Finally I could see the string of lights on the ground they had laid out and all the lights at the finish line. I just kept running strong right up to the finish line and I did it!
A quick glance at the clock and I saw 18:51 something. I didn’t care what the seconds were—I just finished a 100K!!! Of course everyone was cheering. A few others finished before the cutoff and I cheered them on, knowing just minutes before how good it felt!
It felt so awesome to finish it! It felt like a battle. A battle with the elements. The mud, the muck, the slop, the heat, the rain, the hills, the dark. I probably looked like a mess and was very tired but I indeed did finish this beast called Worlds End 100K!
My official finish time was 18:51:34. I know that isn’t impressive, but I will definitely take it! I was 92nd out of 97 finishers, next to last male finisher, and last in my age group.
You know what though? As tough as it was I loved it. I had doubts I could pull this off, but with determination, I was successful. I managed things as well I could and ran my own race. I did the best I could on that day and that all anyone can ask for.
I really owe a lot to my trekking poles with this event/course. I know for a fact I would not have finished had I not used them the entire race. They helped me tremendously with climbing, aided in balance many, many times and eased downhills late in the race. Most of all they really helped me power through that last stretch to the finish were I was using them on all grades as I was in such a hurry to try reach the finish before the clock ran out.
Overall, while I got tired, I was surprised that at no time did it seem overwhelming. That saying a lot considering I was out there for 8 hrs more than what I ever have been before in a race.
So I guess the ultimate question is: would I do this again? I can say without a doubt—YES!!! While exceptionally challenging, I really did have fun do this race. Many of my ultras so far have been a multiple loop course, so I think a race like this with a single loop—and such beautiful scenery throughout—made for an experience where there was no monotony.
I also like pushing myself to see just how far I can go and what I capable of. I have another 100K in mind... I have a feeling it just a matter of time before I sign up!
The race website describes it as one of the premier ultras on the east coast. I haven’t run any races or ultras outside of PA so I can’t attest to that statement, but I would say it is difficult and going into the race I was feeling nervous about my ability to finish the race within the 19 hour cutoff.
I felt more nervous the day before the race, but luckily come race morning when I woke up nerves were minimal and I felt ready to tackle it as I had my pack set to go and even slept in the clothes I was going to wear to run to avoid one other task to have to tackle race morning.
Now I am not a newbie when it comes to ultras. This was my 11th ultra, three of which were 12 hour events (all Labor Pain 12 hour in Reading, PA) and I had covered distances of 50, 50, and 55 miles respectively in those events. While WEU would be another 8.8 miles further, it was not the distance aspect of the race that concerned me. It was elevation profile that lead to doubts I had. WEU has ~24,790 ft of net elevation change whereas the 55 miles I did at Labor Pain was only ~13,000 ft. That’s a big difference and being my quads and hip flexors got very fatigued on prolonged climbs at a 50K tuneup race 6 wks prior to WEU, I was worried about the same on the hills for this race.
This got me to thinking though and I laid out a couple "rules” for myself and got them in my head the week or so leading up to the race. What I did was look at the race as just getting from aid station to aid station. While I knew to carry fluids and nutrition with me for in between aid stations, it was just breaking the race down to a series of small ones that made it so much simpler. Can I run 4.3 miles? Yep! Now how about 6.0… and 5.6… and 3.4? Yep. Yep. And yep again. It seemed like a good plan going in and it worked race day. Breaking down race into segments was just easier for my mind.
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| Photo of the Start/Finish area taken the day prior to the race. |
I started out at the start line somewhere in the second half of it. I did speed up some on the road section at the beginning but didn’t want to get too caught up in things. About a half mile into it, the course turns to the trail and uphill right of way. I slowed down to a fast(er) hike like everyone else and up we went. There were two really rocky and technical sections early where you were essentially standing and waiting until those ahead got moving. I just took it in stride, letting my heart rate lower. Overall there was a lot of climbing to get to that first aid station at mile 4.3.
I always let the terrain dictate my pace (another rule I had) and I feel I managed this well too. If it was an uphill then I slowed so as not to push myself too much (especially early in the race) and I would use downhills to my advantage when I could. I say this for two reasons. Some downhills were very steep or technical and then late in the race my quads were feeling fatigued and I had a more difficult time tackling downhill running.
There wasn’t big sections of fairly flat running but one of them did come between aid stations 1 & 2. This was a nice break from the long uphill to aid station 1. The problem however was how wet it was! This was any overwhelming theme throughout the entire race—mud, muck, standing water. Some spots I felt like I was traversing a bog or marsh. Many spots were ankle deep at least. It dried out some approaching aid station 2 and it was fun hearing the noise and cheers ahead as I approached the aid station. It was much more action and bustling than aid station one. Things went smooth and going out of it there was a dirt road section that eventually lead to going over a neat old one lane bridge and from there runners turned right and ran a trial along the Loyalsock Creek. Personally I really enjoyed this section. It wasn’t overly technical but did go up and down to break any monotony.
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| The iron bridge after aid station 2 (crossing over Loyalsock Creek) |
After crossing the road running parallel to the creek, it was uphill to aid station 3. I started to feel fatigue in my legs during this long climb. I actually felt a little just after crossing that bridge. I slowed at tried to do an assessment of how I was feeling because I was only 3+ hrs and less than 15 miles into this race. I had a lot more to go!
I got to aid station 3 okay and felt better. I made sure to drink at every aid station as well as fill up my main bottle while grabbing something to eat and headed out. My philosophy for aid stations at this event was as follows: get what need, maybe take just a little minute break or so to stretch, but then get going. I didn’t want to linger and lose time. As long as I got my hydration and nutrition, I was good. I carried some of own food with me so I felt confident even if I didn’t grab too much.
Two of my other rules by the way were “drink before you’re thirsty” and “eat before you’re hungry”—in that order!
One aid station worker said while leaving “it’s downhill now to the next aid station.” It wasn’t. There was still a fair amount of uphill to go. Their form of amusement I guess. It was too bad though and eventually it was all downhill and sections I was familiar with from prior times hiking in that area. Runners made there way back to the river and came out at the Park Office and we crossed the road to aid station 4. A fair amount of people were there cheering—and this definitely helps!
I grabbed a ham and cheese wrap and boy did that hit the spot! That was the best aid station food I’d found yet! I ate a little bit of other stuff while getting my bottle filled as usually and knew what was ahead—uphill!
The course got steep quickly at this point and lead up to a vista that looks back down on the creek and beach. What was most interesting on this section was seeing the downed trees from a tornado in April. Lots of destruction took place and quick minor re-route due to damage. It was just mostly unrelenting uphill—a few downhill sections with niceties like water cascading over rocks—that made up this short segment to aid station 5 at the beautiful Canyon Vista!
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| Canyon Vista! So beautiful! |
Canyon Vista is one of nicest spots on the course in my opinion. I just like the lookout—seeing the hills gentle grade to the valley, some from the left and some from the right. I ate only a little at this aid station. I did get patched up a some as I had slipped at one spot and had two superficial scrapes on right leg and when I asked an aid station worker about having something to clean it off she had me sit down and helped to clean and bandage it.
I rolled out of there and headed for more. To be honest I don’t remember much about the section between aid station 5 and 6. I recall it being mostly flat with minimal ups and downs and that weaved around quite a bit but nothing really stands out. What I was focused on is still taking things easy and remembering to properly refuel at the next aid station. This would be important because from aid station 6 to 7 was the longest stretch between aid stations—8.1 miles. I knew, especially if it was hot, I’d being drinking a lot and there was climbing involved in that section too so I figured I’d take at least 2 hrs for that section.
Aid station 6 was rockin’! Ahead of it were 3 guys yelling and using a safety cone as amplifier that you hear probably 10 minutes before even reaching them! It had a festive atmosphere for being out in the middle of nowhere. I drank a little more than usual because of the aforementioned long stretch ahead ate some food. I had freezy pop which tasted sooo cold and delicious! That really hit the spot as by now the temperature was starting to rise and it was getting hot!
The section between aid station 6 & 7 did take a long time. There was climbing and descending involved and more mud and muck. The temps didn’t ease either. It was getting hot. Quite a bit of hiking took place in this section. In reality the whole course involved a lot of hiking but by now for sure.
Upon getting to the top of High Knob us runners were now past half way and coming up on the first aid station with a cutoff. Cutoff time was 5:00. I hit that aid station just minutes past 3:00. I felt good knowing I was hitting this early. In studying the aid station planner document on the race website I saying that if you just hit the cutoffs you will have to speed up the rest of way and each time it only got harder as the pace decreased each time. I used the bathroom at this aid station for the first time did some true stretching to try and loosen up the muscles a bit as I was now out here for 10 hrs with many more to go. I left the aid station at 3:14.
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| View from aid station 7 (High Knob) the day after the race |
I was warned by another runner that the section coming up had a long down hill and then one of most brutal climbs. She was right! I had to take the downhill cautiously as my quads were starting to feel it. The downhill wasn’t technical or steep but just enough to let you know it took muscle control to avoid go too fast. After reaching the bottom was stream crossing and this felt very good on the legs, cooling them down. It was one the widest stream crossings (maybe 40ft???) and no stone to tip toe across—just trudge through it. Like I said it felt good.
Now for the climb! Yes it was steep and long and unrelenting. Then toward the top it was more of the mud and muck again—all while trying to now go uphill in it. Traction was poor and it made you feel like you would loose most of your power. Luckily I had my trekking poles along for the race and it really helped for this climb as I passed a few other runners on the climb which made me feel good. I reached the summit and then there was a downhill to aid station 8 with another stream crossing directly before the aid station. I made it through without slipping—it was deeper and on an angle—and as soon as I did the people gathered there started cheering for me. It was much appreciated and a boost.
I didn’t really see much I liked at this aid station but I did eat half a grilled cheese sandwich and maybe something else but I didn’t spend much time here and moved on. The next aid station (#9) was water only that was 4 miles away and then the next true aid station (#10) another 4 miles after that. I just chugged along, hitting the climb out of there and moving on down the line. This was another section I don’t remember much about. I passed a guy soon after aid station 8 and then saw no one for miles until coming up on a couple. I was glad to see someone again. It does feel lonely at times if no one is around you out in these long races. I caught up to them at the water stop but they left before me as I ate some of my own food. After going through more mud, etc I eventually caught up to them and they let me pass them as the female told me I looked faster than them. In reality I did like passing them as the next aid station had another cutoff and I wanted to get to it as quickly as I could since it was a gentle downhill to it. The cutoff was 9:00 and I wanted to hit it by 7:30 to give me extra time for finishing the rest. That aid station would be mile 50 and I know it would not get any easier so the earlier I could hit it the better.
Things were starting to go downhill though—and I mean more than just the terrain. Gone was sun and I could hear thunder in the distance. I also had a stomach that was starting to feel not so good—something that I’m not used to and isn’t normal.
I hit the aid station when I wanted to. Coming up on it I saw a porta-john and that was my first stop after checking in. Having taken care of things I felt mildly better. I’m not sure what happen really—perhaps I was not eating enough. It didn’t help when I saw minimal at this stop too that I liked. I had some watermelon (something I ate at many of the aid stations) and filled up my water bottle.
I didn’t screw around much because the thunder was more frequent. I left this aid station feeling defeated. Although ahead of cutoff I didn’t feel good, a climb was ahead, and the sky didn’t look good. For the first time in the race I felt like I wasn’t going to finish. I felt like I could cry really. 50 miles of good racing just to see things slip away. Things were going to get tough now until the next true aid station. The next actual aid station was water only and 8 miles to the true aid station. Darkness would also set in, slowing things down as one can no longer see as well for each step you’d take.
Heading out a guy told me “You got this.” My reply was “I sure as hell hope so!” He responded with another, “Come on, you got this! I finished my piece of banana and set out not knowing what lies in store.
Things did turn worse—and it didn’t take long. Upon the climb up from there it started to rain. I stopped to get my headlamp out of my pack (something I should have done at the aid station) because it was getting dark quickly. It didn’t take long before the rain turned to a heavy rain. It was narrow section of trail and it was difficult to see with the rain coming down. It was mostly a game of staying in the middle of trail. Upon getting to the top there was some mild confusion. There was a flag at the corner of a fenced in area and that was it. I didn’t know which way to go. I turned right to follow the fence only to quickly see a headlamp coming my way. That runner said no that’s not the way. We backtracked and together saw another flag on a gate at the fence. We both were puzzled but as soon as he opened the gate I saw a flag inside. Seemed very weird but we went inside and soon saw another flag assuring us we were indeed on course. By now it was a complete downpour. There was more slop to run through and this were just downright nasty. Every square inch of me was soaked. What concerned me the most was how cold the rain was—I was concerned I might even get hypothermic if for some reason I had to slow too much. Soon there was a loud crack of thunder. We were both running fast through here as it was an open area with no cover. We made it to the far gate and kept going after getting through it, and soon came up on some other runners.
That runner sped up and I settled in with the new runners as I was slipping a lot and could speed up safely. The rain was still heavy but not quite as bad. It was nothing but weaving and winding and a slick mess. A lot became a blur at this point. Again I had doubts I would make it. I knew an uphill section was coming and my pace would slow. How tired would I be? Would I get cold? Honestly it was an emotional roller coaster. This weather (the storm) was making already bad course conditions even worse.
There was nothing else to do though than plow on. The rain was starting to slow and I never did get cold for any extended period so mentally I felt better—just a little anyway. I just kept on going, know I had to get to that final aid station 12 ahead of schedule to have any chance of finishing.
I was at the back of a group of runners and just trying to keep them in sight, which I did. Then came yet another stream crossing. While only 10-12 ft wide it was moving rapidly and almost knee deep. I took this cautiously while hoping the others didn’t gain much on me. I definitely didn’t want to slip crossing this stream. I made it across with success! Upon catching up to the others it was only 2 of them. In awhile the guy in front of me said something and I asked him to repeat it. He said this was the last long climb. This was music to my ears. I felt if my legs can just hold out for this then maybe there's a chance I can get to the finish. At one point on the climb the lead guy stopped and the other waved me on saying I looked stronger. The lead guy was another 100K rookie like me but the other guy had done it before. I guess he was sticking with him. I went on and actually gained ground on them.
Luckily the rain total stopped by this time. Another good sign I thought to myself. One less thing to deal with. It was not easy though. It was just more slop and mess to trudge through. I didn’t even care at that point. Everyone had a hard time seeing where they're stepping as it was truly dark now and your feet were already wet. The climbing hadn’t stopped either but it did greatly even out. I eventually was catching up to 2 other runners, a husband and wife, right around the water only aid stop. I didn’t even stop. A guy sitting in a truck was jotting down racers numbers. I yelled out “77” and just kept moving.
Right at a road section I caught up to the other 2 runners for good. I asked if they minded if I stuck with them and they didn’t care. They were very friendly and we navigated the short flatter section together to aid station 12, again wet and sloppy. Upon come to the end of that trail we saw strings of light—the final aid station! A few other runners were catching up to us too. Almost at the end of the trail we heard clapping and cheering. They likely saw our headlamps the wife said.
It was already 10:15, only a half hour before final cutoff! This was going to be tough! As in really speed up tough. No major climbs anymore but still some ups and downs. I grabbed my final piece of watermelon for the race and while eating it a volunteer asked me what I needed. I told him nothing. “How about water?” he asked. I told him have enough water and that I didn’t need anything more.
He said “I’d get leaving in the next 3-4 minutes if you want to finish this.” I didn’t plan on staying long anyway but something about that statement ignited me. I told him “Just show me where to go!” I got turned around at the aid station and was sure which direction to go. He quickly pointed me in the right direction along the cars and turn left to get back on the trail.
I took off. This was it. Now or never. Do or die (so to speak.) I was going to have to speed up and work hard to get to the finish before the cutoff but I had a lot of determination in me at this point. I might have been out there for over 17 hrs but no way was I going to give up. This section wasn’t too bad at first. The course was on a dirt road then for awhile and made for picking up the pace easier. It then headed back in the woods and the course became tougher again, more technical with it seeming like the reflective flagging becoming farther away and wondering am I on course. The technical section didn’t last long but it didn’t get any easier. The course followed something resembling a fire road I guess (unpaved obviously) and that was a mess. My poles definitely came in handy helping propelling me forward as with every step your foot slid and slipped and lost traction. My legs were tiring fast with every slip. And it seemed to just go on and on. I didn’t study this section of course map much and in my head I kept thinking the course map was different. I felt disoriented and unsure of how far I had to go yet. I thought I was moving fast but my watch was just ticking away..11:00… 11:10… 11:20.
Now doubt crept in again. Here I was 40 minutes before final cutoff and I didn’t know how far I had to go yet. My GPS watch died at the 12 hr mark and I was now just relying on a digital watch and math in my head. I figured if I could average ~16 minute miles for the 5.9 miles to the finish from that aid station 12 I’d have just a few minutes extra which I would need for the technical descent right at the end. At this time I came up on 2 more runners with one more coming up on me too. The two ahead of me were looking to see where the next turn was, which I had no idea. All I know is we weren’t to it yet.
Within minutes a great sound came out of nowhere! I could hear the Creek! Loyalsock Creek that runs by the Start/Finish area! Almost immediately, we came up where the trail bears left to descend. I looked at my watch—11:34. 26 minutes to make the descent and the a quick run through the park area to the finish! I had little doubt the descent would take that long and I felt like finishing was within grasp.
Again it wasn’t easy though. I slipped once making a turn on just a mild descent and went to my knees. That was a wakeup call not to get out of control for the steep part of the descent. I took the rest of the descent cautiously, twice letting to other runners pass. I didn’t want slip and get hurt just a half mile or less from the finish. I made it through the tough part, legs holding out and got down to where it flattens out. I saw I had about 12 minutes left and it felt great. One minor descent then under the bridge and through the parking lot. Finally I could see the string of lights on the ground they had laid out and all the lights at the finish line. I just kept running strong right up to the finish line and I did it!
A quick glance at the clock and I saw 18:51 something. I didn’t care what the seconds were—I just finished a 100K!!! Of course everyone was cheering. A few others finished before the cutoff and I cheered them on, knowing just minutes before how good it felt!
It felt so awesome to finish it! It felt like a battle. A battle with the elements. The mud, the muck, the slop, the heat, the rain, the hills, the dark. I probably looked like a mess and was very tired but I indeed did finish this beast called Worlds End 100K!
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| Belt buckle finisher medal |
My official finish time was 18:51:34. I know that isn’t impressive, but I will definitely take it! I was 92nd out of 97 finishers, next to last male finisher, and last in my age group.
You know what though? As tough as it was I loved it. I had doubts I could pull this off, but with determination, I was successful. I managed things as well I could and ran my own race. I did the best I could on that day and that all anyone can ask for.
I really owe a lot to my trekking poles with this event/course. I know for a fact I would not have finished had I not used them the entire race. They helped me tremendously with climbing, aided in balance many, many times and eased downhills late in the race. Most of all they really helped me power through that last stretch to the finish were I was using them on all grades as I was in such a hurry to try reach the finish before the clock ran out.
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| Here's what the shoes looked like post race. |
So I guess the ultimate question is: would I do this again? I can say without a doubt—YES!!! While exceptionally challenging, I really did have fun do this race. Many of my ultras so far have been a multiple loop course, so I think a race like this with a single loop—and such beautiful scenery throughout—made for an experience where there was no monotony.
I also like pushing myself to see just how far I can go and what I capable of. I have another 100K in mind... I have a feeling it just a matter of time before I sign up!
Sunday, September 9, 2018
“It’s not about how you feel, it’s how you feel about how you feel.”
“It’s not about how you feel, it’s how you feel about how you feel.”
I heard this saying in a podcast I was listening to within the past year, and I can honestly say that it really intrigued me from the first time I heard it. I scrolled back and listened to it several times actually. It stuck in my head, very much so in fact.
The saying was in reference to endurance sports but in thinking about the meaning I realized it applies so much so in life as well.
On the surface it sounds confusing, but in reality upon analyzing it, it makes all the sense in the world. The premise is simply you choose your own destiny.
In endurance sports you will most likely get to a point where things are not only physical, but also mental. Fatigue, GI distress, aching muscles, a sore this or that—surely if you’ve run long distances you’ve encountered one, if not several, of these items. These items are how you feel—the first part of the saying. If you want to push onward though, how do you respond to these issues? Do you ignore the issue, do you adapt and change something to address things, or do you simply give up? That is the second part of the saying—how do you FEEL (respond) about how you feel (what you are experiencing?)
Now does the saying make sense?
Endurance running is definitely about the physical, whether it’s 26.2 miles, 50K, 50 miles, 100K or 100 miles, there’s no doubting you have to be in good physical shape to cover such long distances.
It is those aforementioned issues though… or more specifically how you respond to them that largely impacts how successful you are and whether you meet your goals.
I have experienced this for sure. As of one week prior to this posting, I competed in my latest ultramarathon, the Labor Pain 12 Hour Endurance Trail Run. It was a very humid day and once the sun came out midday the temperature rose too. The course was a muddy mess at two spots that required running through 2-4 inches of wet slop. Granted it could have been a lot worse than this but it made the day more difficult.
My main goal was to complete more miles than I ever had before. My previous best was 50 miles the past two years, so this year would have required doing 55 miles, as the course is a 5 mile loop course. I really was shooting for 60 miles—and in a perfect world 62 miles to hit 100K, but 55 miles was my first goal.
I was fine the first 25 miles or so despite having gone out too fast on the first lap (and after reviewing splits my second lap too) but I slowly was not feeling as good as the early miles. It was not so much sore muscles or tightness or anything like that, but instead mental boredom. I began to feel like the second twenty miles was much more monotonous than the first twenty. My mind started to wander, all that came to me was how many more times I have to run through that slop, slog up the ensuing hill, and weave through the meandering turns after the aid station. It felt like a chore. Like boredom. Somewhat of a punishment almost.
The thoughts were turning negative. Fatigue starting compounding the thoughts. Then add in that dose of heat and humidity with some scorching sun. I wanted to quit basically.
But there was still a part of me that remembered—you came here to do this. You wanted to push yourself and see if you could run past 50 miles. You wanted to use this distance event as a primer of sorts to see if you wanted to tackle even longer races.
My watch showed me that I had plenty of time. I was ticking off 5 mile loops in just around one hour every loop. Despite conditions, you were executing your game plan and achieving things so far.
This is where the mental aspect comes in. I could have chose to quit or slow down since it was hot and I was tired but I chose to press onward. And that’s again what I mean by “it’s how you feel about how you feel.” It really is how do you respond to what you are experiencing! Are you comfortable with being uncomfortable? Or does be uncomfortable make you feel uneasy and unsure of yourself?
You don’t have to be in a race to experience this. I’m sure life has dealt you these cards at least once in life.
Regarding the running, I had trained on hills since I knew I’d be facing a prolonged incline every hour or so depending how fast I ran. I had even specifically ran in the heat of the day to get used to running when it was really hot and knowing how I would respond and learning how much and how often to drink.
To quit early in the race when I was feeling down would have meant that training was a waste. I didn’t want to do that. I knew I could pull through it. I knew the discomfort was temporary, but the accomplishment would be permanent!
I pressed onward and made it to 55 miles. I met my goal of setting a new distance record despite some adverse conditions. While it was definitely challenging I’m glad I was able to see my goal I had in mind and fight through the fatigue and boredom.
What I didn’t fight through was the risk of injury. I had my left hip adductor muscles sporadically cramp on me during the 10th and 11th laps and I did bow out before the clock ran out on me. The race official said I still was able to go out for another lap if I wanted to. I had thought about this during the 11th lap but I didn’t feel like the risk of continued cramping and possible injury was a smart move. I called it quits at 55 miles. I have another ultramarathon coming up I want to do and did not want to risk not being able to do it at all just to get in 5 more miles at this race. It was a tough decision but I feel for the long term it was the right one.
I hope that if you desire to push your limits you start practicing a positive mindset. Realize what you are feeling and use past experience to learn how to get through a tough time. Learn to train your mental game. Endurance running is not just physical! Remember, It’s not about how you feel, it’s how you FEEL about how you feel!
I heard this saying in a podcast I was listening to within the past year, and I can honestly say that it really intrigued me from the first time I heard it. I scrolled back and listened to it several times actually. It stuck in my head, very much so in fact.
The saying was in reference to endurance sports but in thinking about the meaning I realized it applies so much so in life as well.
On the surface it sounds confusing, but in reality upon analyzing it, it makes all the sense in the world. The premise is simply you choose your own destiny.
In endurance sports you will most likely get to a point where things are not only physical, but also mental. Fatigue, GI distress, aching muscles, a sore this or that—surely if you’ve run long distances you’ve encountered one, if not several, of these items. These items are how you feel—the first part of the saying. If you want to push onward though, how do you respond to these issues? Do you ignore the issue, do you adapt and change something to address things, or do you simply give up? That is the second part of the saying—how do you FEEL (respond) about how you feel (what you are experiencing?)
Now does the saying make sense?
Endurance running is definitely about the physical, whether it’s 26.2 miles, 50K, 50 miles, 100K or 100 miles, there’s no doubting you have to be in good physical shape to cover such long distances.
It is those aforementioned issues though… or more specifically how you respond to them that largely impacts how successful you are and whether you meet your goals.
I have experienced this for sure. As of one week prior to this posting, I competed in my latest ultramarathon, the Labor Pain 12 Hour Endurance Trail Run. It was a very humid day and once the sun came out midday the temperature rose too. The course was a muddy mess at two spots that required running through 2-4 inches of wet slop. Granted it could have been a lot worse than this but it made the day more difficult.
My main goal was to complete more miles than I ever had before. My previous best was 50 miles the past two years, so this year would have required doing 55 miles, as the course is a 5 mile loop course. I really was shooting for 60 miles—and in a perfect world 62 miles to hit 100K, but 55 miles was my first goal.
I was fine the first 25 miles or so despite having gone out too fast on the first lap (and after reviewing splits my second lap too) but I slowly was not feeling as good as the early miles. It was not so much sore muscles or tightness or anything like that, but instead mental boredom. I began to feel like the second twenty miles was much more monotonous than the first twenty. My mind started to wander, all that came to me was how many more times I have to run through that slop, slog up the ensuing hill, and weave through the meandering turns after the aid station. It felt like a chore. Like boredom. Somewhat of a punishment almost.
The thoughts were turning negative. Fatigue starting compounding the thoughts. Then add in that dose of heat and humidity with some scorching sun. I wanted to quit basically.
But there was still a part of me that remembered—you came here to do this. You wanted to push yourself and see if you could run past 50 miles. You wanted to use this distance event as a primer of sorts to see if you wanted to tackle even longer races.
My watch showed me that I had plenty of time. I was ticking off 5 mile loops in just around one hour every loop. Despite conditions, you were executing your game plan and achieving things so far.
This is where the mental aspect comes in. I could have chose to quit or slow down since it was hot and I was tired but I chose to press onward. And that’s again what I mean by “it’s how you feel about how you feel.” It really is how do you respond to what you are experiencing! Are you comfortable with being uncomfortable? Or does be uncomfortable make you feel uneasy and unsure of yourself?
You don’t have to be in a race to experience this. I’m sure life has dealt you these cards at least once in life.
Regarding the running, I had trained on hills since I knew I’d be facing a prolonged incline every hour or so depending how fast I ran. I had even specifically ran in the heat of the day to get used to running when it was really hot and knowing how I would respond and learning how much and how often to drink.
To quit early in the race when I was feeling down would have meant that training was a waste. I didn’t want to do that. I knew I could pull through it. I knew the discomfort was temporary, but the accomplishment would be permanent!
I pressed onward and made it to 55 miles. I met my goal of setting a new distance record despite some adverse conditions. While it was definitely challenging I’m glad I was able to see my goal I had in mind and fight through the fatigue and boredom.
What I didn’t fight through was the risk of injury. I had my left hip adductor muscles sporadically cramp on me during the 10th and 11th laps and I did bow out before the clock ran out on me. The race official said I still was able to go out for another lap if I wanted to. I had thought about this during the 11th lap but I didn’t feel like the risk of continued cramping and possible injury was a smart move. I called it quits at 55 miles. I have another ultramarathon coming up I want to do and did not want to risk not being able to do it at all just to get in 5 more miles at this race. It was a tough decision but I feel for the long term it was the right one.
I hope that if you desire to push your limits you start practicing a positive mindset. Realize what you are feeling and use past experience to learn how to get through a tough time. Learn to train your mental game. Endurance running is not just physical! Remember, It’s not about how you feel, it’s how you FEEL about how you feel!
Sunday, July 1, 2018
The First 10,000 Miles
What does 10,000 miles mean to you? It’s all in what perspective you’re talking about, right? 10,000 miles of flying in an airplane isn’t that far. 10,000 miles of driving in a car is basically one year, and in terms of the car it is just breaking it in.
But 10,000 miles on foot is a little different, and I recently achieved this distance in running regarding lifetime miles. When I started out running 12 years ago, I never really had any goals in mind other than to just be more healthy. I never thought it would lead me to races and reading and listening to podcasts on the subject. I never thought it would lead me to double digits in distance and then marathon distance and eventually ultramarathons too. I never dreamed I would learn so much about myself through running and become a different person
10,000 miles has taken me to new levels of exploration—to new races, parks, and towns; to new trails, roads, and paths I never knew existed; and mostly—to new exploration of myself.
I have learned so much about myself through running. I’ve experienced thoughts, feelings, and emotions I never knew existed within me. And I have grown from experiencing all of these.
I’ve learned that I have more abilities in me than what I thought I had prior to running. I’ve learned that I have more of a love of nature and the outdoors than I realized. Because of that love of nature I’ve learned I have a growing interest in photography as well.
I’ve learned that I can get through tough situations in life by breaking them down and relating them to running. Here is one prime example of that.
Upon deciding to go back to college to learn a new career, in many aspects, it was putting things in a running perspective that got through the tough times of only working part time (and having bills and owning a house) while also being a full time student. I had already run a marathon at that point, three actually, and viewed schooling as a marathon. Starting out by taking my general education classes at a community college to start earning my credits was like the first 10 miles or so of a marathon. Easing into things and getting a feel for how this will all go. The core classes for the PTA (Physical Therapist Assistant) program I was enrolled in was the meat and potatoes, so to speak, of miles 10–20. Then after all of the classes there was clinicals. I viewed this as miles 20–25 of the marathon—that’s where you really have to put everything together and apply what you learned previously to get you through and believe you actually have what it takes. Finally studying for the State Board Exam to earn my practicing license was like the last 1.2 miles where you’re still not at the finish line yet and you just have to gut it out until you have actually finished and you get to say you did it!
I love the way running can make me feel. That is especially true when it comes to trail running. That aforementioned love of outdoors is evident with trail running. I never know what is up around the bend in the trail—perhaps a lookout, the sunlight shimmering across a lake, the beautiful butterfly, patch of flowers, or some woodland dwelling critter. When I’m out running on the trails I seem to forget about every thing else. My worries and cares and fears seem to go away. It is calming, peaceful, and meditative all at once. In large part, it has become my escape. I don’t feel invincible in the real world but out on the trails everything just seems to flow and I feel like most anything is possible.
I guess most of all I just like the enjoyment I get from everything running related. I like the challenge of creating a training plan to run an ultra. I enjoy reading on what others are doing and how it inspires me to push myself. I like hearing from time to time that I have inspired someone else. That is something I never ever thought would come from running. Not in wildest dreams did I imagine someone else would look at what I’m doing or did in the past and tell me they wish they could do the same or find it within themselves just to attempt it. In part, that fuels me for the days I don’t feel like running—because yes I do have those days. Eventually I miss it or know it’s time to head out and explore and progress.
The journey has been interesting in those 10,000 miles. Going from mostly a complete novice to a seasoned runner I’ve learned how to make gains in running by how to train, how to dress, how to eat, how to drink, how to have the right mindset—and how to put them all together to become a better runner.
Upon starting to run I never knew I eventually start doing races. It was in fact finishing the very first 5K I ever did that truly made me start thinking of myself as a runner. I had put a lot into training for that once difficult distance and laid the groundwork for being a consistent runner. After finishing the race and driving home, I asked myself “now what?” I liked the race. I liked the challenge of working to achieve it. I like how I felt during and after the race. After eating lunch I went to the computer and start looking for another race. I haven’t really looked back since that first race. Something has been inside of ever since that day. I hope it never leaves.
One thing through the years I’ve also learned is do what works for you. Become a runner, and every other runners seems to tell you to try this or that for virtually everything. But you have to find what works best for you.
I have run all 10,000 miles without ever having earbuds in my ear or headphones on my head. Listening to music/audiobooks/podcasts while running just isn’t my thing. I don’t consider it safe to do that when running on the roads and when I’m on the trails I prefer the songs of birds or water over the rocks in the stream.
I have run all 10,000 miles outside. I’ve never had a gym membership and just haven’t looked into getting a treadmill—even though one would be nice in some of the cold Pennsylvania winters. I don’t know how many others can say they’ve run every single mile outdoors but I consider myself slightly lucky as I have gone over 9 years without ever missing a calendar week of running, so Mother Nature must be on my side.
I also know that I will continue to learn. I don’t feel you ever know it all with running. I still feel like I don’t do well with hydration and that in particular is one area I want to improve and learn more.
Moving forward, I don’t know where the next 10,000 miles will lead—or if there will even be another 10,000 miles. I sure hope so and can’t right now imagine life without at least some degree of running, but perhaps other interests, experiences, and opportunities will present themselves and just like I didn’t set out to become a runner I will learn to grow with those opportunities as I did with running. Perhaps eventually my body will start to give out on me and running frequency will slow. Again, I hope doesn’t but we never know what lies in store for us.
Much of what I’ve accomplished in running so far I never knew was in store for me. But it has been for the positive. I just hope to progress. My ultimate goal, though I know will challenge me in all aspects of not just my running but also in overall general sense of me, is to complete a 100 mile race someday. I hope to write that in my words about the first 20,000 miles. Wish me luck!… and good luck to you! Now get out there and explore!
But 10,000 miles on foot is a little different, and I recently achieved this distance in running regarding lifetime miles. When I started out running 12 years ago, I never really had any goals in mind other than to just be more healthy. I never thought it would lead me to races and reading and listening to podcasts on the subject. I never thought it would lead me to double digits in distance and then marathon distance and eventually ultramarathons too. I never dreamed I would learn so much about myself through running and become a different person
10,000 miles has taken me to new levels of exploration—to new races, parks, and towns; to new trails, roads, and paths I never knew existed; and mostly—to new exploration of myself.
I have learned so much about myself through running. I’ve experienced thoughts, feelings, and emotions I never knew existed within me. And I have grown from experiencing all of these.
I’ve learned that I have more abilities in me than what I thought I had prior to running. I’ve learned that I have more of a love of nature and the outdoors than I realized. Because of that love of nature I’ve learned I have a growing interest in photography as well.
I’ve learned that I can get through tough situations in life by breaking them down and relating them to running. Here is one prime example of that.
Upon deciding to go back to college to learn a new career, in many aspects, it was putting things in a running perspective that got through the tough times of only working part time (and having bills and owning a house) while also being a full time student. I had already run a marathon at that point, three actually, and viewed schooling as a marathon. Starting out by taking my general education classes at a community college to start earning my credits was like the first 10 miles or so of a marathon. Easing into things and getting a feel for how this will all go. The core classes for the PTA (Physical Therapist Assistant) program I was enrolled in was the meat and potatoes, so to speak, of miles 10–20. Then after all of the classes there was clinicals. I viewed this as miles 20–25 of the marathon—that’s where you really have to put everything together and apply what you learned previously to get you through and believe you actually have what it takes. Finally studying for the State Board Exam to earn my practicing license was like the last 1.2 miles where you’re still not at the finish line yet and you just have to gut it out until you have actually finished and you get to say you did it!
I love the way running can make me feel. That is especially true when it comes to trail running. That aforementioned love of outdoors is evident with trail running. I never know what is up around the bend in the trail—perhaps a lookout, the sunlight shimmering across a lake, the beautiful butterfly, patch of flowers, or some woodland dwelling critter. When I’m out running on the trails I seem to forget about every thing else. My worries and cares and fears seem to go away. It is calming, peaceful, and meditative all at once. In large part, it has become my escape. I don’t feel invincible in the real world but out on the trails everything just seems to flow and I feel like most anything is possible.
I guess most of all I just like the enjoyment I get from everything running related. I like the challenge of creating a training plan to run an ultra. I enjoy reading on what others are doing and how it inspires me to push myself. I like hearing from time to time that I have inspired someone else. That is something I never ever thought would come from running. Not in wildest dreams did I imagine someone else would look at what I’m doing or did in the past and tell me they wish they could do the same or find it within themselves just to attempt it. In part, that fuels me for the days I don’t feel like running—because yes I do have those days. Eventually I miss it or know it’s time to head out and explore and progress.
The journey has been interesting in those 10,000 miles. Going from mostly a complete novice to a seasoned runner I’ve learned how to make gains in running by how to train, how to dress, how to eat, how to drink, how to have the right mindset—and how to put them all together to become a better runner.
Upon starting to run I never knew I eventually start doing races. It was in fact finishing the very first 5K I ever did that truly made me start thinking of myself as a runner. I had put a lot into training for that once difficult distance and laid the groundwork for being a consistent runner. After finishing the race and driving home, I asked myself “now what?” I liked the race. I liked the challenge of working to achieve it. I like how I felt during and after the race. After eating lunch I went to the computer and start looking for another race. I haven’t really looked back since that first race. Something has been inside of ever since that day. I hope it never leaves.
One thing through the years I’ve also learned is do what works for you. Become a runner, and every other runners seems to tell you to try this or that for virtually everything. But you have to find what works best for you.
I have run all 10,000 miles without ever having earbuds in my ear or headphones on my head. Listening to music/audiobooks/podcasts while running just isn’t my thing. I don’t consider it safe to do that when running on the roads and when I’m on the trails I prefer the songs of birds or water over the rocks in the stream.
I have run all 10,000 miles outside. I’ve never had a gym membership and just haven’t looked into getting a treadmill—even though one would be nice in some of the cold Pennsylvania winters. I don’t know how many others can say they’ve run every single mile outdoors but I consider myself slightly lucky as I have gone over 9 years without ever missing a calendar week of running, so Mother Nature must be on my side.
I also know that I will continue to learn. I don’t feel you ever know it all with running. I still feel like I don’t do well with hydration and that in particular is one area I want to improve and learn more.
Moving forward, I don’t know where the next 10,000 miles will lead—or if there will even be another 10,000 miles. I sure hope so and can’t right now imagine life without at least some degree of running, but perhaps other interests, experiences, and opportunities will present themselves and just like I didn’t set out to become a runner I will learn to grow with those opportunities as I did with running. Perhaps eventually my body will start to give out on me and running frequency will slow. Again, I hope doesn’t but we never know what lies in store for us.
Much of what I’ve accomplished in running so far I never knew was in store for me. But it has been for the positive. I just hope to progress. My ultimate goal, though I know will challenge me in all aspects of not just my running but also in overall general sense of me, is to complete a 100 mile race someday. I hope to write that in my words about the first 20,000 miles. Wish me luck!… and good luck to you! Now get out there and explore!
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Managing Self Imposed Expectations
I think it’s safe to say a lot of runners are goal oriented. Sometimes those goals are more external, influenced by either an individual or group, but I’m willing to guess that most of our goals are the product of internal factors. I’d also venture to say that we runners put a fair amount of pressure on ourselves to reach our goals.
I’d like to discuss that pressure, or expectation, we impose on ourselves, for personally, I am experiencing that right now.
For me, 2018 is so far turning out to be a year that is not what I envisioned in regards to running. I was hoping to increase the distance of my ultramarathon races this year to work toward my ultimate goal of a 100 mile race. The idea I had was to try something of the following: 100K, 12 hr, or 24 hr event—or several of them. I did sign up for a 100K race (my first of that distance) and was considering some of the same ultras I had done in prior years, but also wanted to try a few different ones too, again with the focus on distances at or beyond the 50 mile distance.
One reason things haven’t gone as planned is the changing of race events. I was looking at a fairly local event that had a 12 and 24 hour option but found out from the race website that due to low participation the prior year they are no longer holding the race again in 2018, so that option was a no go. Another event with 12 and 24 hour options changed the date to a week or two after a 50K that I planned to run, and I felt there was not enough recovery time for me to compete well in both events. So I eliminated that event from my potential races as well.
In this instance, my expectations were derailed by external factors that I had no control over so it was just something I had to deal with and find a similar substitute regarding my events/races. There was nothing I could do to change those circumstances so accepting them and finding a workaround was fairly easy—it was the only choice. Right now I am looking at finding some new races that are either in the summer or fall timeframe.
Finding races later in the year leads me to my next point about managing expectations, and the one I really wanted to write about.
Again what I’ll talk about is a topic out of my control (largely), but for whatever reason has been one I’m finding much more difficult to deal with and accept.
In 2018 I’ve found it to be difficult to stay healthy for any extended time. It’s not something major or significant regarding health, but instead several episodes of the nagging, annoying, something that you just get sick of being sick type of unhealthiness. Starting at the first of the year, I had a head cold for a week or two having congestion, stuffiness, coughing, and fatigue. Then a week of a stomach bug cropped up which really draining my energy. Upon getting rid of that, another head cold that hung on for several weeks got me again. By the time that disappeared, so had the month of February essentially!
Having exceptionally cold temperatures in January made motivation for getting out to run difficult as well during my bout with having a cold. Upon looking back I wonder if running in very cold temperatures led to the head colds hanging around for so long. I have no way of knowing, I guess just looking back I wonder what I could have done differently.
I had been running the entire time with these ailments but at a decreased intensity and not really building up my mileage that much either. By the time I built up my mileage again to build toward my long-term goals, I again developed another head cold. I finally decided to see a physician to get cleared up and while I have been able to stay healthy overall since that I still don’t feel 100% yet.
This has lead to a few things. While I have been able to build up my mileage, I notice myself tiring quicker and thus I haven’t pushed myself as hard knowing I’ll increase my likelihood of developing a running injury from the jump in mileage to soon. To compensate I’ve been running as far as I feel I safely can and immediately follow it with hiking so that I can extend the time on my feet without wearing myself out too much. This slower paced hiking is good for training anyway as I will have spots that require hiking in my eventual ultras.
I also fear pushing myself too far will compromise my immunity and I’ll get sick again. I’ve been more diligent with dressing so I don’t overheat and subsequently sweat too much as I’ll often then get chilly quickly. I just find it very hard mentally and psychologically to push myself at my true limits fearing it will bring about another round of sickness.
All of this has lead me to rethink and adjust my ultramarathon goals for 2018.
I have a 50K coming up in one week and to date my longest long run has been 16 miles. If I include my hiking I’ve got up to 20 miles but that is by no means where I feel I should be for a 50K. For that event, I’ve come to the conclusion that I won’t set a PR and will have to “settle” for just getting it done. While I feel I can do it, I know I will be slow and the distance will more than likely feel very tough. I’ll and take pride in knowing that I can enjoy some of the views and scenery instead as when I’m racing I don’t notice the surroundings near as much.
Regarding my 100K I had signed up for, I will be contacting the race officials and withdrawal from the race, letting a more ready and deserving candidate enter. That 100K was six weeks after my 50K and I know there’s no way I’d be reading to double my distance and feel anywhere near ready for it. I will shoot for the same race next year. There’s always next year I tell myself.
While I don’t like what hand I’ve been dealt, I realize it’s fairly minor in the grand scheme of things. My running is essentially, an albeit important, hobby to me and waiting another year to run a race I really wanted to attempt will not kill me. I want to keep running a long time so if slowing down in the short term with aid me in staying healthy for the long term then that is what I need to do and how I’m approaching things going forward.
Overall, I’m trying to take a step back and look at things from a broader perspective. Some of my aspirations, even within running, yet alone my entire life, are evolving and changing, so I’m taking this one piece of my life and looking at how if fits into a bigger puzzle.
If health will allow I’ll progress beyond what I done in the past but for right now I need to just put myself in the position to attempt a greater goal. Sometimes that’s just what needs done.
I’d like to discuss that pressure, or expectation, we impose on ourselves, for personally, I am experiencing that right now.
For me, 2018 is so far turning out to be a year that is not what I envisioned in regards to running. I was hoping to increase the distance of my ultramarathon races this year to work toward my ultimate goal of a 100 mile race. The idea I had was to try something of the following: 100K, 12 hr, or 24 hr event—or several of them. I did sign up for a 100K race (my first of that distance) and was considering some of the same ultras I had done in prior years, but also wanted to try a few different ones too, again with the focus on distances at or beyond the 50 mile distance.
One reason things haven’t gone as planned is the changing of race events. I was looking at a fairly local event that had a 12 and 24 hour option but found out from the race website that due to low participation the prior year they are no longer holding the race again in 2018, so that option was a no go. Another event with 12 and 24 hour options changed the date to a week or two after a 50K that I planned to run, and I felt there was not enough recovery time for me to compete well in both events. So I eliminated that event from my potential races as well.
In this instance, my expectations were derailed by external factors that I had no control over so it was just something I had to deal with and find a similar substitute regarding my events/races. There was nothing I could do to change those circumstances so accepting them and finding a workaround was fairly easy—it was the only choice. Right now I am looking at finding some new races that are either in the summer or fall timeframe.
Finding races later in the year leads me to my next point about managing expectations, and the one I really wanted to write about.
Again what I’ll talk about is a topic out of my control (largely), but for whatever reason has been one I’m finding much more difficult to deal with and accept.
In 2018 I’ve found it to be difficult to stay healthy for any extended time. It’s not something major or significant regarding health, but instead several episodes of the nagging, annoying, something that you just get sick of being sick type of unhealthiness. Starting at the first of the year, I had a head cold for a week or two having congestion, stuffiness, coughing, and fatigue. Then a week of a stomach bug cropped up which really draining my energy. Upon getting rid of that, another head cold that hung on for several weeks got me again. By the time that disappeared, so had the month of February essentially!
Having exceptionally cold temperatures in January made motivation for getting out to run difficult as well during my bout with having a cold. Upon looking back I wonder if running in very cold temperatures led to the head colds hanging around for so long. I have no way of knowing, I guess just looking back I wonder what I could have done differently.
I had been running the entire time with these ailments but at a decreased intensity and not really building up my mileage that much either. By the time I built up my mileage again to build toward my long-term goals, I again developed another head cold. I finally decided to see a physician to get cleared up and while I have been able to stay healthy overall since that I still don’t feel 100% yet.
This has lead to a few things. While I have been able to build up my mileage, I notice myself tiring quicker and thus I haven’t pushed myself as hard knowing I’ll increase my likelihood of developing a running injury from the jump in mileage to soon. To compensate I’ve been running as far as I feel I safely can and immediately follow it with hiking so that I can extend the time on my feet without wearing myself out too much. This slower paced hiking is good for training anyway as I will have spots that require hiking in my eventual ultras.
I also fear pushing myself too far will compromise my immunity and I’ll get sick again. I’ve been more diligent with dressing so I don’t overheat and subsequently sweat too much as I’ll often then get chilly quickly. I just find it very hard mentally and psychologically to push myself at my true limits fearing it will bring about another round of sickness.
All of this has lead me to rethink and adjust my ultramarathon goals for 2018.
I have a 50K coming up in one week and to date my longest long run has been 16 miles. If I include my hiking I’ve got up to 20 miles but that is by no means where I feel I should be for a 50K. For that event, I’ve come to the conclusion that I won’t set a PR and will have to “settle” for just getting it done. While I feel I can do it, I know I will be slow and the distance will more than likely feel very tough. I’ll and take pride in knowing that I can enjoy some of the views and scenery instead as when I’m racing I don’t notice the surroundings near as much.
Regarding my 100K I had signed up for, I will be contacting the race officials and withdrawal from the race, letting a more ready and deserving candidate enter. That 100K was six weeks after my 50K and I know there’s no way I’d be reading to double my distance and feel anywhere near ready for it. I will shoot for the same race next year. There’s always next year I tell myself.
While I don’t like what hand I’ve been dealt, I realize it’s fairly minor in the grand scheme of things. My running is essentially, an albeit important, hobby to me and waiting another year to run a race I really wanted to attempt will not kill me. I want to keep running a long time so if slowing down in the short term with aid me in staying healthy for the long term then that is what I need to do and how I’m approaching things going forward.
Overall, I’m trying to take a step back and look at things from a broader perspective. Some of my aspirations, even within running, yet alone my entire life, are evolving and changing, so I’m taking this one piece of my life and looking at how if fits into a bigger puzzle.
If health will allow I’ll progress beyond what I done in the past but for right now I need to just put myself in the position to attempt a greater goal. Sometimes that’s just what needs done.
Monday, November 20, 2017
2017 Hex Hollow Half Race Report
For my last semi-long running event this year, I decided to get in one more that was out on the trails. One last race to test myself out in the environment I like most and get in miles toward my yearly mileage goal.
That event was the Hex Hollow Half, and the following is a race report for it.
Event Overview:
This was just the second year for this event. Both years there have been two options for running: a one-loop 6.66 mile event and a two-loop 13.13 mile that of course equals a half-marathon. It is held at Spring Valley Park in southern York County PA not too far from the town of Glen Rock.
This event is still rather small but fairly well known around the local trail running community. I can see this event growing in the coming years as more people learn of it.
If you are wondering about the name of this event and 6.66 mile distance—there’s a reason for it. The park is very close to the location of a famous local story from many, many years ago which involved witchcraft and a murder. If you want to read more about it you can here at Wikipedia or do a search for Rehmeyer’s hollow.
The Course:
The Hex Hollow Half events consist of a lot of single track but in the beginning of the race the course is open for runners to sort themselves out mimicking a cross-country feel to the course. There are several double track areas on the course too and just a few spot where you’re running on an unpaved road. Regardless of the width of the course though you should expect to go up and down the entire time. About the only flat sections are the unpaved roads.
This was the first year I ran this event. I was not running trail races last year at this time due to a non-running injury. Both years have had windy conditions for the race but with temperatures at the mid-40’s it was warmer than last year from what I heard from other runners. It was nice day for running other than the high winds.
It had rained about an inch the day before the race so there were many muddy sections on the course. Honestly I thought it would be worse. You still had to watch your footing though considering how the trail wound around with so many twists and turns.
According to ultrasignup.com, there was about 1085ft of climbing/descent per loop. For two loops that would be 2170 ft, with my Garmin VivoActive HR recording ~2370ft of total elevation gain and loss. My legs (quads mostly) feel like either amount really. It’s just tough—plain and simple!
The course starts off downhill and flattens briefly before continuing downhill some more then finally just rolling little hills for awhile. After reaching the first unpaved road, runners face a steady climb before heading down the other side of the ridge to a small water crossing. From there, it’s just more up and down—as the entire course was. The biggest climb was roughly about mile 5. This one reduced me to power hiking most of it to keep my heart rate lower. After that, it was gradual downhill to a quick road section and then back up again only to go downhill yet again, With a quarter mile of finish is the steepest hill of the course. It is rather daunting this late in the course and both laps I switched to sidestepping for part of my journey up the hill as my quads were tiring quickly.
The course was very well marked with ribbon and directional arrows both painted on the ground and signs attached to trees. I heard of only one runner making a wrong turn and not following the course. Me personally, I think that person was just not paying attention!
Since I did not carry water, I was glad for the aid stations on the course (three in total for the half-marathon, one for the 6.66 mile event), even though water was the only item they had.
A big (and often overlooked) aspect was having volunteers at just about every of the road sections that we used in the park. I tried to remember to thank them as I passed by for even though these roads are not used much (at least I think), it was nice to know us runners would be safe by having volunteers attend to any traffic on these roads.
Other Items About The Event:
The cost for signup was $35 (for the half-marathon) and included a race t-shirt. I believe the 6.66 mile event was $25 to sign up. I thought this price was reasonable.
There was plenty of parking at the park. The are multiple porta-johns at the parking area so there was very little wait which was nice.
One of the best parts about this event was the post race food! To drink, there was water and chocolate milk from Perrydell Farms, which is known locally for making some delicious products! Food included baked potatoes, pizza, slices of subs, candy, and cookies—all of which tasted so good after a hard race like this one! Most people eating after the race were huddled around the heaters that were under the pavilion with the food.
My Finish:
Overall, my official finish time was 2:08:34. That was 13th overall of 47 finishers and 5th in my age group. I was hoping to finish a bit higher, perhaps top 10, but I’m still satisfied with my result. This is a difficult course with lots of elevation gain/loss and the muddy conditions made for slowing at spots to assure of good footing. I think I went out a little too strong on the first lap too. Although the second lap didn’t go badly, I definitely felt it was hard and did a bit more power hiking up the hills. I was tired by the end of this race and my quads were fatigued in the evening.
Wrapping things up:
This is a fun course, there’s a good mix of trail types so it isn’t really boring at any point. I especially like how the course would wind through the woods having just one turn after another after another. Just don’t go to this race trying to set a PR. I like hills and after climbing the very steep hill near the end and heading up the gradual uphill to the finish line, I was ready to be done. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time challenging myself but I was more tired than usual after the race.
If you like a challenge, consider adding this to your list of races next year. Get out there and get to know some of the trail running community—there are some talented local runners showing up to these trail events.
I hope you liked this race report—again, consider it if you like trail running and don’t care about a PR. Please feel free to comment if you have any questions or thoughts regarding my blog and thank you for reading!
That event was the Hex Hollow Half, and the following is a race report for it.
Event Overview:
This was just the second year for this event. Both years there have been two options for running: a one-loop 6.66 mile event and a two-loop 13.13 mile that of course equals a half-marathon. It is held at Spring Valley Park in southern York County PA not too far from the town of Glen Rock.
This event is still rather small but fairly well known around the local trail running community. I can see this event growing in the coming years as more people learn of it.
If you are wondering about the name of this event and 6.66 mile distance—there’s a reason for it. The park is very close to the location of a famous local story from many, many years ago which involved witchcraft and a murder. If you want to read more about it you can here at Wikipedia or do a search for Rehmeyer’s hollow.
 |
| A view from near the start/finish area of the race. |
The Course:
The Hex Hollow Half events consist of a lot of single track but in the beginning of the race the course is open for runners to sort themselves out mimicking a cross-country feel to the course. There are several double track areas on the course too and just a few spot where you’re running on an unpaved road. Regardless of the width of the course though you should expect to go up and down the entire time. About the only flat sections are the unpaved roads.
This was the first year I ran this event. I was not running trail races last year at this time due to a non-running injury. Both years have had windy conditions for the race but with temperatures at the mid-40’s it was warmer than last year from what I heard from other runners. It was nice day for running other than the high winds.
It had rained about an inch the day before the race so there were many muddy sections on the course. Honestly I thought it would be worse. You still had to watch your footing though considering how the trail wound around with so many twists and turns.
According to ultrasignup.com, there was about 1085ft of climbing/descent per loop. For two loops that would be 2170 ft, with my Garmin VivoActive HR recording ~2370ft of total elevation gain and loss. My legs (quads mostly) feel like either amount really. It’s just tough—plain and simple!
The course starts off downhill and flattens briefly before continuing downhill some more then finally just rolling little hills for awhile. After reaching the first unpaved road, runners face a steady climb before heading down the other side of the ridge to a small water crossing. From there, it’s just more up and down—as the entire course was. The biggest climb was roughly about mile 5. This one reduced me to power hiking most of it to keep my heart rate lower. After that, it was gradual downhill to a quick road section and then back up again only to go downhill yet again, With a quarter mile of finish is the steepest hill of the course. It is rather daunting this late in the course and both laps I switched to sidestepping for part of my journey up the hill as my quads were tiring quickly.
The course was very well marked with ribbon and directional arrows both painted on the ground and signs attached to trees. I heard of only one runner making a wrong turn and not following the course. Me personally, I think that person was just not paying attention!
Since I did not carry water, I was glad for the aid stations on the course (three in total for the half-marathon, one for the 6.66 mile event), even though water was the only item they had.
A big (and often overlooked) aspect was having volunteers at just about every of the road sections that we used in the park. I tried to remember to thank them as I passed by for even though these roads are not used much (at least I think), it was nice to know us runners would be safe by having volunteers attend to any traffic on these roads.
Other Items About The Event:
The cost for signup was $35 (for the half-marathon) and included a race t-shirt. I believe the 6.66 mile event was $25 to sign up. I thought this price was reasonable.
There was plenty of parking at the park. The are multiple porta-johns at the parking area so there was very little wait which was nice.
One of the best parts about this event was the post race food! To drink, there was water and chocolate milk from Perrydell Farms, which is known locally for making some delicious products! Food included baked potatoes, pizza, slices of subs, candy, and cookies—all of which tasted so good after a hard race like this one! Most people eating after the race were huddled around the heaters that were under the pavilion with the food.
My Finish:
Overall, my official finish time was 2:08:34. That was 13th overall of 47 finishers and 5th in my age group. I was hoping to finish a bit higher, perhaps top 10, but I’m still satisfied with my result. This is a difficult course with lots of elevation gain/loss and the muddy conditions made for slowing at spots to assure of good footing. I think I went out a little too strong on the first lap too. Although the second lap didn’t go badly, I definitely felt it was hard and did a bit more power hiking up the hills. I was tired by the end of this race and my quads were fatigued in the evening.
Wrapping things up:
This is a fun course, there’s a good mix of trail types so it isn’t really boring at any point. I especially like how the course would wind through the woods having just one turn after another after another. Just don’t go to this race trying to set a PR. I like hills and after climbing the very steep hill near the end and heading up the gradual uphill to the finish line, I was ready to be done. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time challenging myself but I was more tired than usual after the race.
If you like a challenge, consider adding this to your list of races next year. Get out there and get to know some of the trail running community—there are some talented local runners showing up to these trail events.
I hope you liked this race report—again, consider it if you like trail running and don’t care about a PR. Please feel free to comment if you have any questions or thoughts regarding my blog and thank you for reading!
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
The Magic of the Race Bib
What does pinning on a race bib mean to you?
Well it means you made some level of commitment, right? You just didn’t randomly go to the park and someone handed you this piece of paper with a number on it. You paid your race entry fee with your hard earned money, possibly bought a new piece of attire or gear for the race, and in most cases, put in some level of training so you finish without looking like a train wreck. It also means regardless of where you finish in the event you will for sure finish ahead of all of those who did not have the courage to sign up. It means I’m going to give this my best shot!
To the race organizers and volunteers, it is a way of identify you, either by way of a chip attached to the bib which is becoming more common or the old fashioned way of just visually reading your bib number. It’s a way to show support for those we don’t know—“looking good on those hills Number 89!” Surely all of us have heard something to that effect from a race supporter or volunteer at some point.
But there’s something else about the bib that has become more and more evident to me in the past year or two, and it’s what this post is the subject of. I’m borrowing the term “magic”, and I suppose I could have chosen some other more appropriate word, but magic is just what came to me and I am sticking with it because I truly feel that is what it can bring.
What I’m finding from this magic of the bib is the ability to perform beyond what I thought was possible. Right now I am focusing my running on the ultramarathon distance. Since hearing years ago of these races traveling long distances, I became intrigued by them and thought it would be so cool to say I completed one—to someday sit back and reflect on it when I’m much older and wonder how I ever did such a thing. I also liked the fact that many ultramarathons are run out on trails in the woods, which really appeals to my love of nature and the outdoors. I knew it would take quite awhile to get to the point of running beyond a marathon but that it would be worth it. Yes, it did take years to (safely) get my mileage built up and enter one of these events but I did it. It was mostly due to scheduling, but my first ultra that I entered was a 12 hour race—something I wouldn’t necessarily recommend but I felt it was just what would work for me. It was upon reflecting back on this event that I first felt this magic.
In that first ultra, my main goal was just to get in the 31 miles it would take to finally call myself an ultramarathoner. Since I had roughly covered that distance in my training and did it in less than 12 hours, I figured that 40 miles was likely possible since I know I can always do better in a race than on my own in training. It is that point though that is basically what this whole post is about—how you can do more in a race than in training, especially if your training is solo like most of mine is.
So I guess knowing that in races I tend to do better than training, the magic was already there but I just never gave it a lot of thought or paid much attention to it. But with the ultra, it started to become evident. My wild goal for that race, if everything went just right—my physical training, my stress level, the weather, my hydration, nutrition, was 50 miles. I felt that every single thing would have to be dialed in just perfect for me to achieve this and I’d probably finish it just under the 12 hour cutoff too.
It was an ambitious goal because my prior longest distance race was a marathon, so going nearly twice that distance, on trails nonetheless, would be no easy task.
The race went well. I actually had to tell myself to slow down early as I was completing loops of the course in times I didn’t feel like I should have been able to. But 31 miles came up on me somewhat quick and I remember thinking how at the end of my 7th five-mile loop, I finally get to say I did an ultra. But I kept going and I completed my next goal of 40 miles. What was intriguing though was the fact there was still plenty of hours left in the race. I kept going. Another lap and I was at 45 miles. When I completed that lap I told the race official I was heading back out again. I was tired and the sun was getting lower in the sky but I here I was with a chance to finish my ultimate goal of 50 miles—and perhaps even exceed it! Well I completed that 10th lap and when I crossed the start/finish line the lady asked me if I was going back out again. I had wrestled with this thought while completing my 10th lap what I would do should I make it back in time to head out again. I told her no, I was done. The clock read just a hair under 10 hours 45 minutes. I couldn’t believe it! Here I was at my very first ultra and I completed my ultimate goal with over an hour to spare.
That’s what I mean about the magic of the bib. I know there’s no way I could have ever done that on my own in some training run. I was sure everything had to just perfect for me to pull off 50 miles. For the most part a lot of things did go my way, the weather was nice, I felt stress free somehow, I felt I did as much as I could from a training perspective without overtraining. But I had some bumps in the road too. I went out a little to fast and my quads were hurt already about mile 20. Having a talk with myself and adjusting my running strategy helped to alleviate that issue. I also had my (older) Garmin GPS watch decide it didn’t want to turn on that day too—so I couldn’t monitor my pacing as closely as I like or monitor my heart rate either. I’m not used to that and was a quick adjustment I had to make.
But somehow I believe the magic started that day. When I got done with the race and it started to sink in that I just did 50 miles—I had the urge to cry. I didn’t understand how I met this goal relatively easily where I thought it would take perfection—and do it with time to spare! Part of me regretted not going for another lap, but in the moment I was content with having achieved my ultimate 50 mile goal when I told the lady I’m done. I felt like I was on top of the world.
I guess in variable degrees, it is part determination, accountability, the result of training, camaraderie, and the power in numbers—along with various other things that combine to form this magic. And never are there equal parts of these items, or the same balance from event to event. But what I have found is that they are there, in some form or another at most every event I do.
While I really can’t explain it, more and more I feel the magic is influenced by the aforementioned camaraderie and power in numbers. It just seems like being around like-minded people and all fighting individual battles to achieve the same goal propels you to something you would not have done on your own.
During this year, my second year of ultrarunning, I felt the magic again. I felt a stronger sense of it as well. I did my first official 50K race. About two months later I did my second 50K race and even though the course was probably just as hard or even harder, coupled with a hotter and more humid day, I knocked 22 minutes off my finishing time. The magic of the bib?
I did that same 12 hour ultra again this year too. My main goal was to equal the 50 miles I did last year (hopefully faster) with my ultimate goal being either 60 or 62 miles (100K).
This year having trouble with my truck on the way to the race forced me to actually park and run 1.5 miles to the race. I was debating if I should even run it but since I was so close to it and upon calling a good friend and having rough plans on how to get back home and deal with my truck, I decided to give it a shot.
I was very stressed at the start, having run to the race and only getting there 10 minutes before the start. I had a broken-down truck and was unsure what to do about it or how to get it back home. The weather was so-so at best. The course was going to be sloppy from rain the day prior. I didn’t feel like much was going to happen in this race. I wasn’t even sure how long to run, or again if I should even be running and instead tending to the truck. I started the race figuring I could drop out at any time. I had some low points early and as I settled in, my plan on what to do with the truck and how to get both me and it back home, I started feeling like actually turning this day and this event into a race again. My friend would not be coming for awhile so I figured I’d get in at least 20 miles. Well each of those laps were fast again. From mile 20, I felt like why not get in at least 31 to call it a true ultra? Again the laps were really consistent regarding pace. From 31 it became 40. My laps were still consistent. I was doing each lap right under an hour. So at that lap time I would be on pace to hit my 60 mile ultimate goal. My main thought was “how the hell was this possible?” Here I was in general terms in the middle of bad day running a great race. I decided to go for the 50 mile distance to at least equal what I did last year. I succeeded. I got in the 50 miles—a full 55 minutes faster than last year!
But had to call it quits. My friend was already at the race and I wanted some daylight hours for him and I to see if I could get my truck running again. Ultimately with a lot of work we did just that so that I could drive it home.
I’m almost surely convinced there was some magic in my race bib that day. I honestly have no idea how being as stressed as I was that day, I managed to get in 50 miles and set a PR by almost an hour. What makes me mad is the fact that without having to deal with my truck I was on pace to again get in my ultimate goal! I was running sub one hour laps and had two hours and 15 minutes left to finish two more loops to get to 60 miles. While those 2 laps would have been hard to mentally and physically push through, I know in my head and I know in my heart I would have been able to complete them with the time that was left on the clock.
There felt like some kind of magic at work that day.
In my fourth and final ultra this year I once again felt like I couldn’t explain how well I did. My official 50K PR is 6:07. This fourth ultra was a 40 mile race consisting of five 8 mile loops. So at the end of one’s fourth loop you are ever so slightly past that 50K distance. Upon getting done with the race (all 40 miles), I was talking to both the race director (RD) and the woman doing the timing. I saw they had the splits written down but could only remember one or two of them as I left the park. So I emailed the RD and asked for my splits. It turns out that my 32 mile split was 5:33. So while even though elevation change was not as much, I ran 32 miles a full half an hour faster than what I ever ran 31 miles—all while having the 100% full intention to go another 8 miles. I did really well in this event having finished 3rd overall and was the 2nd male finisher. I knew I was up front of most runners in this small race but by no means did I think I was that far ahead of others. Once again it felt like there was some kind of magic that occurred that day from pinning on that race bib.
Now to be clear on this topic, as I somewhat eluded to before, you should know that by magic I don’t mean in the literal sense like the dictionary would define it. But at the same time, part of what I have accomplished, from 5K to 10K to half-marathon to ultra, I can’t fully explain how I do so well sometimes. I know deep down that the aforementioned training and determination and preparedness are the real reason why I can accomplish these events, but it is the exceeding expectations aspect that I cannot explain and what I’ll stick with calling magic. I know that without the training I did for these events that I would not have come close to completing them in the times I did. It is my determination to finish what I started that helps me along when low points come along. I also feel the camaraderie aspect of running, especially ultra distance events, is a component to this type of success. When you combine all of these factors in a race you are bound to do better than in your training, whether on your own or in a group. I feel like the sum of the parts is greater than the whole essentially.
But kinda like the runner’s high, something most of runners experience at some point but struggle to explain, the magic of race bib brings us to another level of what we think of as possible. Perhaps the magic is a derivative of the runner’s high—I don’t know. All I can tell you is I believe in it.
In part, the purpose of writing on the topic of this post is to encourage you to get out there and not just sign up for a race, but to maybe sign up for something that is beyond what you think is capable or something that is out of your comfort zone. I don’t know if you will see or feel the same thing I do. And admittedly it might take awhile, even a long while before you see or feel what I have learned about the magic of the race bib. But I hope that in time you experience what I do, for I cannot explain how I completed some of what I have. While I don’t blow away the competition, I have accomplished more than what I ever thought possible of myself.
Don’t be surprised, if you haven’t already, that some day you finish a race and you do better than what you ever thought possible. You can call it something other than magic if you want, just know it exists.
Well it means you made some level of commitment, right? You just didn’t randomly go to the park and someone handed you this piece of paper with a number on it. You paid your race entry fee with your hard earned money, possibly bought a new piece of attire or gear for the race, and in most cases, put in some level of training so you finish without looking like a train wreck. It also means regardless of where you finish in the event you will for sure finish ahead of all of those who did not have the courage to sign up. It means I’m going to give this my best shot!
To the race organizers and volunteers, it is a way of identify you, either by way of a chip attached to the bib which is becoming more common or the old fashioned way of just visually reading your bib number. It’s a way to show support for those we don’t know—“looking good on those hills Number 89!” Surely all of us have heard something to that effect from a race supporter or volunteer at some point.
But there’s something else about the bib that has become more and more evident to me in the past year or two, and it’s what this post is the subject of. I’m borrowing the term “magic”, and I suppose I could have chosen some other more appropriate word, but magic is just what came to me and I am sticking with it because I truly feel that is what it can bring.
What I’m finding from this magic of the bib is the ability to perform beyond what I thought was possible. Right now I am focusing my running on the ultramarathon distance. Since hearing years ago of these races traveling long distances, I became intrigued by them and thought it would be so cool to say I completed one—to someday sit back and reflect on it when I’m much older and wonder how I ever did such a thing. I also liked the fact that many ultramarathons are run out on trails in the woods, which really appeals to my love of nature and the outdoors. I knew it would take quite awhile to get to the point of running beyond a marathon but that it would be worth it. Yes, it did take years to (safely) get my mileage built up and enter one of these events but I did it. It was mostly due to scheduling, but my first ultra that I entered was a 12 hour race—something I wouldn’t necessarily recommend but I felt it was just what would work for me. It was upon reflecting back on this event that I first felt this magic.
In that first ultra, my main goal was just to get in the 31 miles it would take to finally call myself an ultramarathoner. Since I had roughly covered that distance in my training and did it in less than 12 hours, I figured that 40 miles was likely possible since I know I can always do better in a race than on my own in training. It is that point though that is basically what this whole post is about—how you can do more in a race than in training, especially if your training is solo like most of mine is.
So I guess knowing that in races I tend to do better than training, the magic was already there but I just never gave it a lot of thought or paid much attention to it. But with the ultra, it started to become evident. My wild goal for that race, if everything went just right—my physical training, my stress level, the weather, my hydration, nutrition, was 50 miles. I felt that every single thing would have to be dialed in just perfect for me to achieve this and I’d probably finish it just under the 12 hour cutoff too.
It was an ambitious goal because my prior longest distance race was a marathon, so going nearly twice that distance, on trails nonetheless, would be no easy task.
The race went well. I actually had to tell myself to slow down early as I was completing loops of the course in times I didn’t feel like I should have been able to. But 31 miles came up on me somewhat quick and I remember thinking how at the end of my 7th five-mile loop, I finally get to say I did an ultra. But I kept going and I completed my next goal of 40 miles. What was intriguing though was the fact there was still plenty of hours left in the race. I kept going. Another lap and I was at 45 miles. When I completed that lap I told the race official I was heading back out again. I was tired and the sun was getting lower in the sky but I here I was with a chance to finish my ultimate goal of 50 miles—and perhaps even exceed it! Well I completed that 10th lap and when I crossed the start/finish line the lady asked me if I was going back out again. I had wrestled with this thought while completing my 10th lap what I would do should I make it back in time to head out again. I told her no, I was done. The clock read just a hair under 10 hours 45 minutes. I couldn’t believe it! Here I was at my very first ultra and I completed my ultimate goal with over an hour to spare.
That’s what I mean about the magic of the bib. I know there’s no way I could have ever done that on my own in some training run. I was sure everything had to just perfect for me to pull off 50 miles. For the most part a lot of things did go my way, the weather was nice, I felt stress free somehow, I felt I did as much as I could from a training perspective without overtraining. But I had some bumps in the road too. I went out a little to fast and my quads were hurt already about mile 20. Having a talk with myself and adjusting my running strategy helped to alleviate that issue. I also had my (older) Garmin GPS watch decide it didn’t want to turn on that day too—so I couldn’t monitor my pacing as closely as I like or monitor my heart rate either. I’m not used to that and was a quick adjustment I had to make.
But somehow I believe the magic started that day. When I got done with the race and it started to sink in that I just did 50 miles—I had the urge to cry. I didn’t understand how I met this goal relatively easily where I thought it would take perfection—and do it with time to spare! Part of me regretted not going for another lap, but in the moment I was content with having achieved my ultimate 50 mile goal when I told the lady I’m done. I felt like I was on top of the world.
I guess in variable degrees, it is part determination, accountability, the result of training, camaraderie, and the power in numbers—along with various other things that combine to form this magic. And never are there equal parts of these items, or the same balance from event to event. But what I have found is that they are there, in some form or another at most every event I do.
While I really can’t explain it, more and more I feel the magic is influenced by the aforementioned camaraderie and power in numbers. It just seems like being around like-minded people and all fighting individual battles to achieve the same goal propels you to something you would not have done on your own.
During this year, my second year of ultrarunning, I felt the magic again. I felt a stronger sense of it as well. I did my first official 50K race. About two months later I did my second 50K race and even though the course was probably just as hard or even harder, coupled with a hotter and more humid day, I knocked 22 minutes off my finishing time. The magic of the bib?
I did that same 12 hour ultra again this year too. My main goal was to equal the 50 miles I did last year (hopefully faster) with my ultimate goal being either 60 or 62 miles (100K).
This year having trouble with my truck on the way to the race forced me to actually park and run 1.5 miles to the race. I was debating if I should even run it but since I was so close to it and upon calling a good friend and having rough plans on how to get back home and deal with my truck, I decided to give it a shot.
I was very stressed at the start, having run to the race and only getting there 10 minutes before the start. I had a broken-down truck and was unsure what to do about it or how to get it back home. The weather was so-so at best. The course was going to be sloppy from rain the day prior. I didn’t feel like much was going to happen in this race. I wasn’t even sure how long to run, or again if I should even be running and instead tending to the truck. I started the race figuring I could drop out at any time. I had some low points early and as I settled in, my plan on what to do with the truck and how to get both me and it back home, I started feeling like actually turning this day and this event into a race again. My friend would not be coming for awhile so I figured I’d get in at least 20 miles. Well each of those laps were fast again. From mile 20, I felt like why not get in at least 31 to call it a true ultra? Again the laps were really consistent regarding pace. From 31 it became 40. My laps were still consistent. I was doing each lap right under an hour. So at that lap time I would be on pace to hit my 60 mile ultimate goal. My main thought was “how the hell was this possible?” Here I was in general terms in the middle of bad day running a great race. I decided to go for the 50 mile distance to at least equal what I did last year. I succeeded. I got in the 50 miles—a full 55 minutes faster than last year!
But had to call it quits. My friend was already at the race and I wanted some daylight hours for him and I to see if I could get my truck running again. Ultimately with a lot of work we did just that so that I could drive it home.
I’m almost surely convinced there was some magic in my race bib that day. I honestly have no idea how being as stressed as I was that day, I managed to get in 50 miles and set a PR by almost an hour. What makes me mad is the fact that without having to deal with my truck I was on pace to again get in my ultimate goal! I was running sub one hour laps and had two hours and 15 minutes left to finish two more loops to get to 60 miles. While those 2 laps would have been hard to mentally and physically push through, I know in my head and I know in my heart I would have been able to complete them with the time that was left on the clock.
There felt like some kind of magic at work that day.
In my fourth and final ultra this year I once again felt like I couldn’t explain how well I did. My official 50K PR is 6:07. This fourth ultra was a 40 mile race consisting of five 8 mile loops. So at the end of one’s fourth loop you are ever so slightly past that 50K distance. Upon getting done with the race (all 40 miles), I was talking to both the race director (RD) and the woman doing the timing. I saw they had the splits written down but could only remember one or two of them as I left the park. So I emailed the RD and asked for my splits. It turns out that my 32 mile split was 5:33. So while even though elevation change was not as much, I ran 32 miles a full half an hour faster than what I ever ran 31 miles—all while having the 100% full intention to go another 8 miles. I did really well in this event having finished 3rd overall and was the 2nd male finisher. I knew I was up front of most runners in this small race but by no means did I think I was that far ahead of others. Once again it felt like there was some kind of magic that occurred that day from pinning on that race bib.
Now to be clear on this topic, as I somewhat eluded to before, you should know that by magic I don’t mean in the literal sense like the dictionary would define it. But at the same time, part of what I have accomplished, from 5K to 10K to half-marathon to ultra, I can’t fully explain how I do so well sometimes. I know deep down that the aforementioned training and determination and preparedness are the real reason why I can accomplish these events, but it is the exceeding expectations aspect that I cannot explain and what I’ll stick with calling magic. I know that without the training I did for these events that I would not have come close to completing them in the times I did. It is my determination to finish what I started that helps me along when low points come along. I also feel the camaraderie aspect of running, especially ultra distance events, is a component to this type of success. When you combine all of these factors in a race you are bound to do better than in your training, whether on your own or in a group. I feel like the sum of the parts is greater than the whole essentially.
But kinda like the runner’s high, something most of runners experience at some point but struggle to explain, the magic of race bib brings us to another level of what we think of as possible. Perhaps the magic is a derivative of the runner’s high—I don’t know. All I can tell you is I believe in it.
In part, the purpose of writing on the topic of this post is to encourage you to get out there and not just sign up for a race, but to maybe sign up for something that is beyond what you think is capable or something that is out of your comfort zone. I don’t know if you will see or feel the same thing I do. And admittedly it might take awhile, even a long while before you see or feel what I have learned about the magic of the race bib. But I hope that in time you experience what I do, for I cannot explain how I completed some of what I have. While I don’t blow away the competition, I have accomplished more than what I ever thought possible of myself.
Don’t be surprised, if you haven’t already, that some day you finish a race and you do better than what you ever thought possible. You can call it something other than magic if you want, just know it exists.
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