2015 Summer/Fall Race Plans

Recovery time is over, it's time to race again!  Actually I've already done a few shorter races, both on trail and roads this spring, plus ongoing through the summer is the Summer Trail Running Series, 4 races between 5K and 5M at various venues.  It's fun to open it up once in awhile, and good practice to run trails faster than I do in an ultra.

Next up for the longer races is Highland Sky, a tough 40 mile race in the Dolly Sods wilderness in West Virginia on June 20.  I've run survived this once before, and wrote this race report.  I really haven't been too motivated to train since Umstead so I'm just in this to have fun and finish and hang out with a bunch of other friends who will run this too.

The heat of August means it's time for the Jarmans Invitational Marathon.  Everything about this race sucks.  That's not just my opinion, it's the tagline for the race.  5 times up and down a pretty steep gravel road, 7600' of gain/loss.  This "marathon" is 29 miles, that's how much it sucks.  Invitational?  More like a court summons.  You need to check out the vids for it on the facebook link above.  Last year was actually fairly cool and overcast and it didn't suck at all.  I'm expecting payback this year.

I'm trying to build a vacation around a race each year.  Last year I ran a marathon in Ireland.  This year I'm heading to Bend, Oregon for the Flagline Trailfest 50k on Sept 20.  Mostly it's just an excuse to see an area I've been wanting to check out for awhile.  I fly into Portland and I'll spend a day and a half along the Columbia Gorge, doing a few sightseeing hikes and runs on the trails there.  Lots of waterfalls.  My drive to Bend takes me past Mount Hood where I'll check out another trail or two.  Bend has some great looking trails in and around town, along with some brewpubs.  The race itself is just outside Bend with start/finish at Mount Bachelor.  I'll wrap up the trip with a stop at the McKenzie River trail, and a night in Eugene/Springfield with a pilgrimage to Hayward Field and/or Pre's Trail before ending up back in Portland.  The more I'm planning this, the more I'm looking forward to it.  It will definitely be a relaxed race so that I'm able to do all the other trails I'd like to see.

My fall goal race is Peak to Creek, formerly known as Ridge to Bridge, near Morganton, NC in October.  It's a downhill marathon on mostly unpaved roads, 2800 ft net drop with almost no climbing and no steep drops.  My goal is to safely qualify for Boston for 2017 (2016 qualifying ends in September).  I've run Boston twice, 2011 and 2013.  For 2015 I was fast enough to register but since they went over the limit I didn't make the updated cut-off.  My try for 2016 was a crash-and-burn at Steamtown last fall.  For 2017 I get 10 extra minutes, since I'll be 55 by that race and my qualifying time is 3:40.

Peak to Creek course profile

 I'll probably wrap the year up with the Richmond marathon.  It's a good fall back in case something goes wrong at Peak to Creek, and it's a well organized race.

This would put me at 8 marathons/ultras for the year, one more than I've ever done in a year, and 47 total.  8 seems like a lot (for some people, not to others), but I'm really only racing 2 of them hard.

One Month Later--A Look Back

Now that a month has passed since finishing the Umstead 100 I thought I'd look back at what stands out from my experience, and where I go from here.  Rather than the usual "did this right, did this wrong, learned this", I'll stick to things that have left a strong impression on me.

The Start:  I'm usually pretty relaxed right before a race.  This one wasn't much different in the hour leading up to the race.  Right until we started moving, then it became real and I almost had a panic attack:  OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO BE RUNNING ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT AND MAYBE LONGER!  WHAT DID I GET MYSELF INTO!  WHAT IF I CAN'T DO THIS?!?  I'M VERY AFRAID! 100 MILES!  I DON'T EVEN LIKE TO DRIVE THAT FAR!  (heh, we've all heard that, haven't we?  No, I didn't really think that last one.) And then a feeling of relief came over me that after nearly 7 months since I got into Umstead and have trained, planned, worried and generally let it consume my life, it was finally here and it would either happen or it wouldn't.  No more wondering, it was Go time.  After that I focused on running a very easy pace and not get sucked into anyone else's speed.  The enormity of trying to swallow 100 miles whole faded as I broke the race into bite sized pieces.  Run a mile between 10 and 11 minutes.  Repeat.  Eat something.  Walk the uphills.  Get to the aid station.  Finish the loop and refuel.  Repeat.  This is what I do.  I'm a runner.  A long distance runner.  A freaking ultra long distance runner.  And I will do this.

Hitting my goal times for 5 loops:  I had a plan for running a 24 hour race which I detailed in my previous posts.  The reality was that I could only hope to have the patience to hold myself back early, and the strength to only fall off 10 minutes per loop later.  I was pleased when my first loop came in a mere 19 seconds off my goal.  I was smiling as loop 2 was just 36 seconds off.  Loop 3 went well and I'm laughing as I came in a whopping 2:25 early, and thinking about what anyone who paid attention to my plan and is following me online must be thinking, that I am running hard and then standing 1/4 mile from the turnaround to nail my splits.  But I'm not.  I'm running by feel and glancing at my cheap Casio watch maybe 3 or 4 times per loop.  Loop 4 I'm a minute 49 seconds fast and my shoulder is hurting from patting myself on the back.  Loop 5 I'm just a few more minutes ahead and as I come past all the crew stations into the start/finish turnaround I just want to scream "LOOK AT ME, I'M STILL RIGHT ON PACE!" Of course it all fell apart during loop 6 but it was so much fun to have 100K of the race go so perfectly on plan, even if it wasn't the full 100M.

The C-c-c-old:  The forecast was all over the place in the week leading up to the race, but ultimately called for cold.  The day time temps never got out of the low 40s, cooler than expected, but that made for very comfortable running.  Night time temps hit the low 20s as forecast.  I was feeling pretty comfortable as the sun went down, right up until I threw up.  Then I immediately got terrible chills.  It was like a bucket of cold water was thrown on me.  I guess I just ran out of fuel and it all caught up to me but I was almost paralyzed with chills, even though it was still above freezing.  I survived until I got into the lodge to warm up, and even though it probably was below freezing when I left the lodge, I was stabilized and felt fine the rest of the night and early morning to the finish.  But I will never forget how cold I felt in the middle of loop 6.

Mayhem at the Lodge:  As darkness fell during loop 6, the course got peaceful.  No more hikers and bikers sharing the trail.  The 50 mile runners were mostly finished, plus some runners had dropped.  The field was spread out.  The woods were dark, and quiet.  It was almost eerie.  At the end of the loop, having made the decision that I had to sit to refuel in the warm lodge or my race was probably finished, I walked into the lodge.  It was like a being dropped into Times Square, or maybe a battlefield hospital.  I had visions of hunkering down by the fireplace, sipping soup by the dim light of the fire and talking in subdued tones.  Instead, there were florescent lights blazing, a loud din of people talking over each other, and the fireplace totally blocked by cots full of blanketed casualties.  Total sensory overload!  I suppose it was good, because I never got too close to the fire nor did I ever get very comfortable in there.  As bad of shape as I was in, I was actually thinking that I belonged out in the cold, quiet, dark woods rather than inside in the mayhem. 

The Finish:  A bit anti-climactic, actually.  Since I walked every step of the final 25 miles save for the last 50 yards, I wasn't as spent as I've been for most races I've done.  I didn't know how emotional I would be coming into the finish, but I held it together.  Finishing up the loop I was still a bit apologetic for walking so much and finishing 2.5 hours slower than my goal, but as I finished I pumped my arms, and then it hit me that I had finished 100 FREAKING MILES, which I had serious doubts that I could ever do.  I pumped my arms at least 3 more times and again hurt my shoulder patting myself.  Great feeling.  Part of the reason I did this race was to test my limits.  I hit a really rough patch where I think everybody pretty much figured I was done, and I got my butt back on the trail and finished it.  Ugly as sin, but a finish nonetheless.  Maybe I never really hit the darkness in this race, but I was really worried going in that if things got tough I might fold, and I never got close.

Disappointment:  It's not fair.  Dammit, I had it.  I was absolutely dialed in for a 24 hour finish.  I did everything right.  I just had bad luck with my stomach.  Nope.  That's just part of endurance running.  It's no different than if I'd have gotten lost, injured, or if my legs had just given out.  Whatever your weakness is, that's what's most likely to get you, though it could be anything.  With me, it's nutrition.  I didn't get it right, and it kept me from hitting 24 hours.  I get it.  It is fair. 

The Lack of Suck:  One reason I had avoided a 100 miler is that I figured at least half of it would just suck.  I would hate life and swear I'd never run again.  Why should I do something that will make me feel so, so miserable?  Instead, I really only had about 3 hours out of 26+ that really stunk, and even then I still had the mindset to get through it.  Most of my 50 miles have had longer times of suckitude than that.  This 100 miler went better than any of my 5 (4 finished) 50 milers.

I'm Awake.  Really:  Never once felt sleepy.  I figured sleep wouldn't be much of an issue for me, but it went even better than I thought.  I don't even remember yawning, and never had the urge to stop and take a nap even as I passed right by my car loop after loop.  I was more worried about my last pacer falling asleep on me.  In fact, I only dozed a bit on the 3 hour car ride home, and when I got home I stayed up until about 10pm and only slept about 8-9 hours.

Post-Race Agony--Not:  I had been warned that I would be stiff and sore and barely able to walk the couple days after the race.  Most likely due to walking the final 25-30 miles, I actually felt pretty darned good.  I woke up the next morning with very little stiffness, though I was walking badly due to huge blisters that popped up on the last loop.  I was ready to run the following weekend.  I tried a hilly 12 miler 2 weeks after and paid for it with sore quads, but shorter runs have been mostly fine. 

I'll Never Ever Have to Do This Again...But I Might!:  My mantra to get through this was to finish, so that I would never have to do it again.  I knew if I failed I'd be compelled to try again.  But if I finished...I was a 100 mile runner and I wouldn't have to prove it to myself or anyone else again.  Funny thing though.  I left something on the course.  I could've done better.  24 hours was not in the cards that day, but I can do it.  And I know my strengths, that I can stay awake and alert.  Maybe a mountain 100 is my forte, like Grindstone.  But hills eat up my legs, so maybe not.  Maybe another shot at sub-24.  Tunnel Hill in Illinois looks like a flat, non-technical 100.  2016 maybe?  Thinking about it.  Not committed.  We'll see.  Not really sure I want to focus on a 100 rather than running more 50Ks and marathons.  This fall is dedicated to getting a safe Boston marathon qualifier for 2017, when I get 10 extra minutes for turning 55.  The important thing is, I finished a 100 and still want to keep running.

OK, Congrats, But Get Over Yourself:  Got it.  I ran 100 miles.  So have a lot of my friends.  The world didn't change.  Earthquakes killed thousands in Nepal.  Chaos in Baltimore.  California is still in serious drought.  The Cubs probably still won't win the World Series.  Don't be That Guy who expects everyone to recognize him as The One Who Ran 100 Miles.  Somebody tell me when I forget this.  But give me just one more time:  I ran 100 miles!

The Umstead 100 Story: Playing with fire for the win!

Pre-race with Marc and Christian

My 2015 Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run has two stories--68 miles of executing my plan for a 24 hour finish almost to the letter, and then breaking a cardinal rule when things turned ugly to get my finish.  Yes, I went into the lodge and sat by the fire.  And then I went back out to finish my race.  Of course I didn't win the race, but finishing was a personal victory.

As I've previously outlined in this blog, my Umstead plan was to run the first of 8 12.5 mile loops in 2:25 (as long as it came easy), and every loop after that 10 minutes slower to account for fatigue and more time required at aid stations for maintenance and to address minor problems.  This would put me right at 24 hours.  Major problems that might come up would take more time and if that happened I'd reset my goal to finishing in the allotted 30 hours.

One loop down

Right from the start I saw I was on correct pace, letting many others drift ahead of me.  Amazingly, and without artificially altering my pace to meet the goal, I came in at 2:25:19.  And it continued as loop 2 (2:35 goal) came in at 2:35:17, loop 3 (2:45 goal) at 2:41:59, loop 4 (2:55) at 2:55:36, and loop 5 (3:05) a bit fast at 2:58:39, even with a 10 minute blister-fixing aid stop.  Not only was I banging out these laps like clockwork, but after getting over some minor nausea early in the race from over eating, I felt fantastic.  That 5th loop with pacer Christian Dahlhausen was fun as I ventured longer than I'd ever run before.  I stayed focused on a bite sized 12.5 mile loop at a time, but a couple times I couldn't help thinking about how on track I was to break 24 hours.

I'd grab a banana and half a roast beef sandwich for each loop.  When I saw the camera I did the old banana phone gag.  Everybody should want to run with me, I'm so funny!

The "fun" loop with Christian, half a day into the race

It all came crashing down in the middle of lap 6, as darkness fell.  My stomach was feeling a bit sour as I came into the far side aid station.  As soon as I downed a Pepcid AC pill, I felt the bile rising and I rushed away from the food tables to a railing and deposited the contents of my stomach into Crabtree Creek below.  This didn't faze me, because I'd rather have a reset than trouble staying in my stomach.  I started to head on down the trail but a terrible chill struck me even though at ~38 degrees it was just a few degrees off the high for the day, and I had just put on another layer. I felt like curling up on the ground in a ball but I kept moving to try to warm up. Christian caught up to me after resupplying my bag.  We first tried tucking hand warmers against my upper arms, then he wrapped a space blanket around me.  That stopped the extreme shivering, but I was still cold.  A mile or two later, just when I was about try eating, I started heaving again. Back on the move, but not walking very fast.  As I fell 30 minutes off pace, I knew I had to take time to refuel.  Ultra runners know that you need to stay away from the fire, lest it suck you in for good, but I had to get some hot soup in and sitting out in the now freezing night was not going to work.  Christian and I discussed it, and much as I hated to do it, I had to go to the fire. We agreed that he and Marc Griffin, my other crew/pacer, would try to pull me out after 10 minutes, and at 15 I had to leave.  I slowly finished the loop in a walk and went into the large and crowded lodge at 11:30.

There was carnage by the fire, and the night was still young.  Most of the fireside cots were occupied by blanketed runners.  But I wasn't looking for medical help; I just wanted to sit and eat.  I couldn't get too near the fire, which was good and bad.  I wasn't warming up quickly, but I think back now that the fire really didn't lock on to me.  A med staffer named Pancho (sp?) noticed me shivering and looking pale, and came to see how I was.  He saw my haphazard layering as I had been adding jackets in the cold and got me to put my wind jacket on an outer layer, just under the ski jacket I was about to add.  I had some chicken noodle soup and stumbled around re-layering jackets and pulling warmup pants over my tights.  I staggered toward the door, determined to get back on the course.  I found out later that Marc went back to Pancho and asked him to take another look at me before I could get out the door.  Usually you want your crew to get you in and out as quickly as possible, but even more important is that they look after your well-being. Pancho stopped me and said I really needed to sit longer and get a good amount of food in.  He rationalized that a few more minutes spent here would pay off on the course.  I still had well over 11 hours to do the final 2 loops.  He also felt my pulse and found it strong and not rapid, else he would've mandated I sit and perhaps even pull me from the race.  I took his advice and sat, away from the fire, slurping warm soup, and when I got up again I felt decent. I had nearly an hour downtime but I was back in the game.

Marc was my pacer now, and we agreed to walk for a good while and let the food settle.  I grabbed trekking poles to help. I had been listening to music since the start of loop 3 but decided it might be better to talk so I stowed the headphones. I dreaded the thought of 25 increasingly cold and slow miles, but the idea of dropping and feeling compelled to go through all this again was even worse. I reminded myself to take a section at a time and the dread passed.  My mantra for the race was, "Finish this and you'll never have to do another one" though I rarely had to use it.

If you're going to walk, walk with a purpose

Surprisingly, my walk was brisk.  Marc confided late in the final loop that he had expected me to drag and be fighting the 30 hour cutoff.  In fact, as bad as I looked in the lodge at one point he thought I was done, if I'm recall correctly what he said.  But once we got moving he was all in with me. We talked about running some, but my quads were sore, and eventually I reasoned that I probably couldn't run enough to really impact the time, and the jarring action of running was more likely to upset my stomach again and put the finish in doubt.

Around mile 98. 

So, walk I did, and on the final loop of 3:43 I was just 8 minutes off my original plan.  As that loop went on I got over my disappointment that I would fall well off my 24 hour goal and with Marc's help, came to appreciate that I had gotten myself back on the tracks (with help) and would finish strong and positive, even as blisters developed on the bottom of both feet on the final loop. I even managed to run up the short final diabolical hill to a 26:23:57 finish time.  I wondered how my emotions would be to complete a journey 7 months in the making after running all day and all night.  It was all jubilation and I pumped my fists and hugged my pacers and a couple friends who were at the finish.  The next order of business was to find Pancho and thank him, and let him know his advice was spot on.  This could've been a very different story had I stumbled back onto the course too early, though I don't think my pacers were going to let that happen.

Does it get any better than this?

Getting my 100 mile belt buckle

So what happened?  I've always had eating issues in 50 milers, and even with my plan to fully stock my own aid station with food I should be willing and able to eat, it's probably not surprising that I would still have issues.  It really blew up in loop 6 shortly after I had both a gel and a banana while walking up a short hill, and immediately started running after the hill before allowing the food to settle.  That's the most likely cause I've come up with.

More puzzling is why it wasn't a simple purge/reset and instead turned me into a stumbling mess.  My guess is that I over compensated on the early overeating and slowly got myself into a deficit and it accelerated after I got sick.  Once I properly refueled, I was back among the living.

What went well?  I reined myself in early and stuck to my plan amazingly well for 5 loops.  Obviously taking time to recover after the loop 6 debacle was the key to not just finishing, but finishing alert and in good spirits.  Absolutely no death marching, and no sleepiness.  I never once felt like I wanted to just lay down and sleep.  No hallucinations--I feel cheated!  Once I got the clothes right, I didn't get cold again even as temps dropped deep into the 20s.  And as I passed mere feet from my car on every loop, I never once had an inclination to just pack it in as I warned would be a challenge in a mulit-loop race.  Even at my lowest point I never thought of quitting.  Finally, I had great support from my pacers and crew, including Christian's wife Jamie, and Jordan Chang who filled in once when my crew was on a breakfast break, and a quick assist from Rachel Kelly with my gaiters.




A day later, I have more perspective.  I gave myself every chance to hit one of my goals of finishing in under 24 hours, and making it 5 loops solidly on plan and feeling great tells me I was capable of doing it.  When I fell off the tracks, it wasn't because I ran beyond my abilities, but rather that I still don't have nutrition nailed down.  Maybe I never will, and this is what may keep me from trying another hundo.  Once I missed my 24 hour goal, I was able to shift into focusing on my next goal, to finish.  I most likely could have finished earlier by running again once I felt better, but I feel fine with my decision not to derail myself again just to get a little better time.  And a day later, I feel pretty darned good.  If I didn't have giant blisters on the balls of my feet I could walk pretty normally. 

Finally, I have to admit that going into the race, I thought it might be a lot of misery to get through, just to be able to say I've run 100 miles.  Obviously it wasn't all puppies and rainbows, but I really enjoyed a lot of the race.  I will always remember this well.

Race Week!

It's finally getting here!  In 4 days I'll be driving down to Raleigh, and the race starts in 5 days.

Many of my doubts and fears remain, but I'm at least past some of them.  I did pretty well getting the miles and especially the long training runs in.  Was it really enough?  I don't know, but that's behind me now.  I feel good enough about it that I'm still setting 24 hours as a goal, though what I'm even more focused on is to really hold back the first 2 loops, if not the whole first half.  If that puts me behind 24 hour pace, I'm fine with going for a 30 hour finish.

I got through training without injury, other than the freak shoulder dislocations.  I'm still trying to decide whether I should put some KT tape on them to try to support/strengthen them, or if the tape would just annoy me.  They are feeling better but both still hurt in certain positions and 100 miles of swinging my arms seem likely to irritate them at some point.  I'll just have to deal with it and use safe amounts of Tylenol and Aleve to get through it. 

Nutrition is still a worry but I'll stick with my plan to have my own stash of food I should be willing to eat and know I can handle.  I used the long training runs to better see what I seem to be able to handle and what I can't.

Weather is always on the mind and while there's nothing I can do about the weather itself, I can prepare to deal with it.  The forecast has been bouncing around with high 70s possible during the day and snow flurries possible in the early morning start.  Right now it's looking cooler, with 30s and perhaps rain at the start, low 50s during the day, and near freezing overnight.  So I have to worry about staying dry early, and warm for the final few laps, but day time looks ideal.  But Thursday will be high 70s so if the cold front doesn't move in I'll have to deal with heat.  Luckily since I'm driving and it's a multi-loop course, I can take a lot of different clothes for all weather and be able to change as needed.  In case I'm reduced to walking the last loop or two in the cold, I'll even have my ski jacket along.

Other than that, I'll try to get full nights of sleep all week and eat well, and make sure I pack everything on my list.  There's a lot that could go wrong in the race, but at this point I've already prepared for everything I can think of, and there's no need to put negative thoughts out there anymore.  If and when problems come up, I'll either fix them or cope with them.  I've got a great crew (Marc and Christian) coming to help me through them.

Injuries

Hard to believe, but I've somehow managed to dislocate not just one, but both shoulders in the last week.  I've avoided all overuse injuries and had no trail falls or anything like that, but two freak accidents are affecting my final training.

Incident #1 was from a fall off my treadmill at home.  There was a major snowstorm last Saturday so I decided to run inside.  I guess I missed the tread and went flying, landing hard on my right shoulder, in lots of pain.  It took a few minutes to be able to get myself up.  Magically, a few minutes later it slid back into place on its own.  If there's a painful injury that has quicker relief when fixed, I don't know what it is.  A dislocation feels like you've been stuck with a knife, and every time you try to move it at all it's like the knife has twisted.  But pop it back in place, and it's almost like it never happened.  Road conditions were miserable, so I decided not to go see a doctor, and since it was just a bit sore the next day, I let it go.  I even went on an 18 mile run the next day, followed by a 9 and 10 early the next week, and resumed skiing as normal, knowing I had to be more careful since ligaments are stretched and the shoulder can pop out easily in the days after injury.  I hadn't fallen all year, so why worry?

Then came Thursday.  A couple inches of powder made for nice skiing in the morning, but by noon it was clumpy and inconsistent.  I slowed down, but not enough.  I hit a bad patch and lost control, along with a ski.  Had I been in the middle of the slope it would've been an uneventful fall, but I was near the edge of the steepest slope at Wintergreen, and went off the edge.  I was sure I was going to smack a tree or rock and it might hurt bad, but miraculously I missed everything and came to a stop, on my left shoulder, in pain, and unable to get up.  I'd seen that movie before, so I knew it was dislocated too.  Ski patrol helped me slide on my butt to a flatter spot where I could be snowmobiled out.  They wouldn't try to relocate it and it wouldn't go back in on its own, so I had to go to the ER this time.  They took x-rays and said it might not be easy, so they prepped me for the forgetting drugs so they could pop it back in, but then the doc came in and said it probably wasn't needed, and in about 5 seconds he had it back in.  Ahh, sweet relief, after over 4 hours of sharp pain.

Still trying to get the miles in, so I tried to do 32 today (two days later), but at 24 the dull ache turned to pain and I figured it was a sign to stop.  Oddly, my right shoulder (the "old" injury) was the one with the pain, though both ached throughout the run.  Otherwise I felt great.  I'm ready.  I'll keep running, but stop with pain.  I need to heal more than I need the miles. Skiing?  Well, yeah, maybe, but only in ideal conditions.  And March isn't known for good Virginia skiing, so the season may be over for me.

Four weeks til race day.

Training Races and Long Runs

6 weeks til Umstead.  I've been sticking with the training plan pretty well.  I'm a bit tired but that's fine, a taper at the end should snap me out of that.  The main thing is that I've been getting in the miles without injury.

I've had two tune-up 50K races to break up the training.  My goal for these was to run at a comfortable enough pace so that I wouldn't have to miss any training runs to recover, and try out some new things for nutrition to better learn what works and what doesn't.

The first race was Willis River, January 10.  It's 10.5 out and back, then 5 out and back.  I didn't realize we'd be coming all the way back to the start/finish and we could leave a drop bag.  It's a good race but they could give a few more details like this.  Anyway, it was a cold morning, about 17 degrees I think, so there was some guesswork on how much to wear, but I got it right.  Luckily this was a low water year so only one creek crossing was a bit wet, unlike the horror stories I heard from last year.  Lots of fallen leaves covering rocks and roots made me take 4 falls (OK, 3, plus one where I was trying to open a gel wrapper and just flat out missed seeing a fallen trunk that tripped me).  The course is also notorious for getting lost, and I ventured off trail once by myself and another time following a pack, but probably only went an extra 1/2 mile or so.  Outbound on the 10.5 section I saw my speedy friend Nick DiPirro way earlier than expected, well over a mile in the lead for the 35K race.  On the 5 mile section I saw another friend, Martha Wright, with a slight lead over 2 other women in the 50K.  I passed one of the women but didn't know until I finished that Martha did get the win.  As for myself, I felt pretty strong most of the way, and had something left at the end, though I felt a little more tired than I hoped to be.  The next day I did a relaxed 10 miles on the parkway so I was satisfied I hadn't raced myself too hard.

Cold start at Willis River

 In the following weeks I looked for training runs with some hills and not too technical since Umstead is a groomed crushed granite wide course.  The first one wasn't a very good match since it was a Massanutten training run, but I jumped on Sophie Spiedel's alternate run train where we skipped some of the rockiest sections.  It still had 3 1000'+ climbs.  Next up was a double Dick Woods Road from 151 to Miller School (not the Afton climb), 30 miles on a beautiful mostly dirt country road.  Unfortunately an ice storm kept that weekend from being a double.

Dick Woods Road

 Next was a 3x TJ 100 loop, 8.9 miles  (~27 total) in Walnut Creek with some others who are training for AJW and John Andersen's race in mid March (highly recommended if you are looking for an early east coast 100K), followed by a 20 mile loop around Charlottesville on the Rivanna Trail with the CATs.  A great double with a lot of good company all the way, including Jason Farr, who did the same runs (a bit faster).

The Fox Mountain loop is another central VA classic, another mostly dirt 17 mile road run including a section up and down Fox Mountain.  For some reason people were really impressed that I was doing a double, but it just seemed right to me.  I had a few takers for the first loop, and went solo for the second.  33 degrees at the start and 73 at the end, so it was good prep for the range of temps I'm likely to see in Raleigh.  The first loop was a bit faster than I'd have liked but I figured it just simulated the fatigue I'd feel a bit later in the race.  I dragged at points in the 2nd loop but finished pretty strong on the final 3 miles of Clark Rd.  That run was preceded by a hilly 13 miler from high on Wintergreen down to the valley and back the day before.

Yesterday was the Holiday Lake 50K, a fairly flat 2 loop run near Appomattox.  Another cold start in the teens, and it stayed pretty cold nearly all of the race. A lot of CATs were running this race, plus Michelle Andersen was primed for her first 50K.  I ran for awhile with her and a few other friends, and felt good so I pulled ahead for awhile.  Just before the end of the loop we passed right by the cabin I had stayed in so I ducked in to shuck a layer and reload my pack and grab a sandwich and banana.  Once refueled I made up some lost time I had spent in the cabin.  When I caught back up to Michelle she was dragging just a bit though she had been finishing training runs strong so I thought she might catch back up when I left her.  I hit a low mile around 25, but perked up a bit with more food.  With less than 4 miles to go, Michelle came breezing by and I decided to try to hang on.  For awhile I was losing ground but I ran all but one of the hills and caught back up, until she saw a pack of runners to pass.  From then I just tried to hang on and made the mistake of encouraging her to hammer the final 3/4 mile of downhill road, so I couldn't quite catch her.  Looking back, it was good to see I had just 1 bad mile out of 32, and had enough left to run hard the final 3+ miles.  And, I followed it up with a 10 mile treadmill run today, avoiding single digit temps outside.

Nearly eating pavement after tripping over the timing mat at the finish of the Holiday Lake 50K

Some of the mid week runs have been slog fests, but I'm encouraged that the long runs are generally getting better.  I'm feeling strong at the finish of nearly all of them, and really am not having trouble getting out for another double digit run the next day.  A ski friend noted that I was pretty much running a marathon every weekend.  True, but the key is that I'm not racing a marathon every weekend.

3 weekends left of long runs before I start cutting back.  I'm thinking to keep it to multi-loop less technical runs like Ridge/Decca Rd, Blue Ridge rail trail at Piney River, Coal Rd, or another Dick Woods Rd.  We are going to get socked with up to a foot of snow tomorrow night followed by even more frigid weather so that may dictate where I run.  I'm still skiing nearly every week day.  I don't think it does much for training other than to keep things loose.  My concession to the race is that I'm not going out west this year, and I've been staying out of the trees to limit the chance of injury.

Umstead Race Strategy

I've been thinking about what kind of strategy to use for Umstead, and I'm probably far enough along in my thinking to put it down.

First, my goals for the race.  At a minimum, obviously, I want to finish 100 miles in the 30 hour limit.  If I have to I'll walk or crawl at the end to get there in time.  Hopefully I'll be doing better than that.  I'm going to give myself a shot at 24 hours.  Maybe I shouldn't even think about 24 hours, but I know it'll be in my mind anyway, and I think it'll help keep my pace in check knowing I don't need to run all that fast even to do it in a day.

24 hours is fairly simple math.  3 hours per loop average for 8 loops of 12.5 miles each.  I know that I'll slow down later in the race.  I'm guessing 10 minutes slower each loop, so if I start at 2:25 for the first loop, 2:35 for the second, and so on up to 3:35 for the final loop that brings me in at 24.  That's 11:36 pace for the first loop, increasing 48 seconds per loop and finishing at 17:12 pace, and 10hrs40 first half split, 13:20 second half.  I've heard that if you aren't at 50 by 11 hours at Umstead, you aren't likely to break 24.  If I come in at 2:30 for the first loop I won't be the least bit worried, and if I'm well over 11 hours at the half way point I'll just give up on 24 hours and focus on finishing.  What will worry me more is if I come in under 2:15 in the first loop.  If I'm able to run significantly under 24 hours, it should be because my loop pace doesn't drop (as much) in later loops rather than banking more time early and find out later that it was way too fast.

My thought is to run ~10:00 pace while running, with the extra time coming from walking up hills and aid station and bathroom stops.  It's possible I may talk walk breaks at predetermined time intervals, but I'm feeling like it'd be better to let the terrain dictate.  As the race progresses I expect to do more walking and take a bit longer on the stops, especially if I have to treat blisters or chafing.  I'm not going to wear a Garmin since it won't hold a charge nearly that long anyway.  I have an old Casio watch I'll probably wear just to have an idea of time.

I'm going to have a list and supplies organized for my crew to be able to quickly restock my pack while I'm checking in at the turnaround and also set out the food and drink I want.  I had mentioned in another post that I'm going to rely more on my own food than the aid station.  I want to get what I need here, but also get in and out as quickly as possible.  If I can walk out with a handful or bagful of food rather than burn time standing there, all the better.  Avoid the fire, and don't sit unless I need to do foot repair or change shoes/socks.  At the remote aid station I'll stop to get something to eat out of my drop bag where I'll also have more clothes in case the weather changes, but again I want to limit time there. 

Pacers are allowed starting with loop 5 and I'll take advantage of that, though I'm going to pick up music starting on loop 3.  I've only paced faster runners so they were good runs for me, but my pacers are faster than me so they may be bored hanging back especially if I'm listening to music and not talking, but I'll probably want the company by then, at least some of the time.  In any case it can't hurt to have their experience along.

There's a very real chance that my knees, back or hips will be aching so much that I'll have to mostly walk the later loops, or stomach issues may affect my calorie intake and sap my strength, or any number of other things may derail my race.  I'll be prepared to try to deal with as much as I can predict, but I don't see any reason to allocate extra time for disaster.  I feel like the extra 10 minutes per loop accounts for expected wear and tear.   I feel like this is a reasonable plan for me.  Others may have had success with different plans, but I've got to go with what I believe in.  If it fails, I have myself to blame.  If I follow a plan I don't buy into, I'll be regretting not going with what I believed in.  Of course this plan isn't set in stone and I'm absorbing advice and experiences from others.