tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74515662649333146462024-03-12T20:30:46.888-07:00Everyday I'm Shufflin'...Running Blog for and Personal Musings of Joe Uhan-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-66861309543722973432021-10-17T15:43:00.020-07:002022-02-03T06:55:44.292-08:00Solo Fast III - Keep it Warm<div><span style="font-family: inherit;">During my </span><a href="https://instituteofphysicalart.com/residency-and-fellowship/" style="font-family: inherit;">Fellowship Training sabbatical</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> in Steamboat Springs, I'm privileged to take weekend trips back to Eugene to treat a small number of clients each month. As autumn began to descend upon the Pacific Northwest, memories of my favorite "Fall in Oregon" activities came bursting back into my memory.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">The memory that struck hardest: <a href="https://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/10/learning-my-lessons-solo-fast-2012.html">The Solo Fast</a>.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">From my 2012 experience,</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"The idea behind a solo fast – truly, sitting alone in a remote area of the wilderness, no work, no communication, no technology, no food, and – if you’re die-hard – no fire – is equal parts mediation and strength through deprivation. I like both those things about running, so why not try it? Moreover, unlike running, you can’t out-run your “issues”: if there’s something going on in your life, chances are good you’ll be mulling it over, given 40+ hours. <b>There’s nowhere to hide from yourself.</b>"</i></span></div></blockquote><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've done two, but not since 2013. For reasons both palpable and not, I <i>yearned</i> for another go, this time amidst the brilliant Aspen Yellows of Northern Colorado. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://conductthejuices.com/">Craig Thornley</a>, a key running mentor and teacher of the Solo Fast, told me in my first year, that one (or more) of three things may happen after a Solo Fast:</span></div><div><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you’re running from something, you won’t be able to hide from it out there.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Whatever you “crave” when you’re out there is what you’re looking for in normal life.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Every time he’s done a long solo, something big has happened in his life.</span></li></ol></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was time for another go. Thankfully (or trepidatiously) my wife Callie decided to also take part. While initially concerned for her safety, I realized this worry was selfish (and, based on her inherent strength, largely unfounded), and that this could be an equally powerful experience for her, too.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, on the third weekend of October, only 48 hours removed from a significant early-season snowstorm that still blanketed much of the Routt National Forest area, we embarked with full packs, empty food rations, and a lot of excitement (and/or dread) of what lay ahead of us.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R8QJ6Ijbo8Y/YWyjnk7ocXI/AAAAAAAAYGQ/73qIt3IaTsgeqdX7t8nmS4IKA6cakX2JACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3530.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R8QJ6Ijbo8Y/YWyjnk7ocXI/AAAAAAAAYGQ/73qIt3IaTsgeqdX7t8nmS4IKA6cakX2JACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG-3530.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Friday Night Hike-In. Lots of fresh snow.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Below are the peak thoughts, feeling and emotions that bubbled up over that 40+ hours of fasted, alone time in the woods: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Exhaustion</i></b>. There's an inherent fatigue to the solo fast experience. Sleeping, then hanging out, for multiple days outside, most of the time in the cold, wears on you. But the lack of food (even if you're an experienced faster) magnifies it. By mid-day Saturday, about a day into the fast, there's not much energy to do anything. </span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Moreover, the spirit of the solo fast is to "do nothing": no distracting activity, physical or mental. This lack of activity, ironically, increases that perceived fatigue. You sit. Then you get tired, so you lay down. And fall asleep.</span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">This forced inertia is actually a tremendous side benefit to the solo fast: <u>rest</u>. To finally drop everything, and turn everything off. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />This year? It was quite a crash. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've been <i>exhausted</i>. It's been a long year (or two). I haven't slept well in a long time. And now, in Fellowship, I'm working longer and harder than ever. I longed for a Solo Fast just for the sleep!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">And that's what I got.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Callie and I left the trailhead a few miles north of town not long before sunset. I dropped her off a mile up the trail, then forged onward to find my own camp, a mile farther. After some scouting, I found a nice, secluded spot above the trail and near a high point on the ridge overlooking the Yampa Valley: a little spot I nicknamed "Tres Aspens", where I pitched my tent meticulously in the six inches of fresh snow. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9G8k_WBgAA/YWykBF_8vjI/AAAAAAAAYHE/I_xnVpcfOn4ax-SR1fUvczPf5gL4ahqSACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3538.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9G8k_WBgAA/YWykBF_8vjI/AAAAAAAAYHE/I_xnVpcfOn4ax-SR1fUvczPf5gL4ahqSACLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG-3538.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>My wintry home at "Tres Aspens", overlooking the Yampa Valley.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i>(Side note: here are some keys for selecting a primo spot for Solo Fast, which is very important since you spend literally all day and night there:</i></span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Solitude, but relatively close to a trail and trailhead</i></span></li><li><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>South-facing: to get as much heat as possible during the morning and evening (for cool-weather outings)</i></span></li><li><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Above the trail (more solitude and privacy)</i></span></li><li><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Affording some cover from wind</i></span></li><li><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Near a forested area (for firewood))</i></span></li></ul></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">The temperature took a nose-dive after sunset. I lit a warming fire and hung out for bit, which allowed me to enjoy the last slivers of orange over the west horizon. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I crawled into the tent and bundled in the zero-degree bag at 8:30...and remained there until 6:30 the next morning. I awoke several times, mostly due to freezing parts of my face, as the temps likely dipped into the low-teens. The performance blanket I brought served as a clutch face shield (that froze solid with my breath vapor by morning).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I awoke, lit another fire, boiled some water for instant decaf, and sat - on my Amazon cardboard box for a "chair mat" - and thoroughly enjoyed the sunrise over the Yampa Valley. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cb6LU_-IUUM/YWylEjkhl2I/AAAAAAAAYHU/n_u2xE7r4JItEJJzLjc1HDkfUdUXe8D6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3537.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cb6LU_-IUUM/YWylEjkhl2I/AAAAAAAAYHU/n_u2xE7r4JItEJJzLjc1HDkfUdUXe8D6ACLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG-3537.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Saturday morning sunrise fire and coffee at Tres Aspens.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">After a couple hours of sipping coffee and feeding conifer branches to stoke the flames, I let the fire die down. I sat there, staring at the coals as they turned to ash, while the bright sun rose overhead. After that, I puttered around <i>Tres Aspens</i>, assembling some firewood for the evening fire ("You can never have too much!").</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, I got tired.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I napped. Inside the (now solar-heated) tent, I snoozed for over two hours, 'til past noon.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">By then, it was downright warm in the clear sky and calm air. Time for another tradition: solo-fast sunbathing! I took my air mattress outside and laid in on the melting snow and...well, laid around. I didn't completely fall asleep, but I dozed in and out of thought and semi-coherent dreaming, rotisserie-ing enough to avoid a serious burn.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, more firewood collecting.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mid-afternoon, it was back to the mattress in the sun. I crashed out for another two (or was it three?) hours.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Six-plus hours of daytime napping (after a ten-hour sleep). I was wiped out.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"Achiever fatigue"</i> is championed as the badge of honor for the high-achiever class; you're doing it wrong - or clearly not enough - if you <i>aren't </i>relentlessly on the go, or<i> don't </i>present with a constant, low (or medium-plus) level of working fatigue. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">While I agree that periods of heavy fatigue mark the "periodization" of personal and professional development: college, grad school, raising a newborn... training for a hundred-miler, I'm wholly against the idea that high achievement requires a <i>lifestyle</i> that features <i>constant fatigue. </i>In fact, my metric for wealth is "money-per-unit free time", which for me was very high, pre-Fellowship, in my private practice. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Too often, the real source of fatigue - and impending exhaustion - is carrying a burden that is too heavy, and/or for too long. If you're carrying something, or ignoring a pain, or a void in your life, it begins to weigh on you. And often, that burden grows like a snowball in sticky-powder day.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt a bit of that going into this weekend. And, wow, did it feel great to put it down - and simply take a goddamn nap (or two) - for a while!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fatigue is the brain's way of telling you something is up; it's intent is to implore you to slow down, that <i>something</i> needs to change. True exhaustion means you need to <i>stop</i>.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">It was great to have <i>true rest</i>. </span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Nausea</i></b>. Interestingly, I got a bit nauseous on Saturday evening. I'm not sure why (it could've been from the decaf coffee, or the half-allergy med I took - but those are typical for me). Given how my gut behaved thereafter - in the absence of any food (or tainted water!) - I suspect I might've experienced a minor <a href="https://gutpowerdrinks.com/blogs/blog/sibo-die-off-symptoms">"die-off" in my gut</a>. I've experienced these before and - given that I'd eaten zero food for a day, this seemed most plausible. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I like the idea of <i>The Die-Off</i>: to kill something, you simply starve it. Quit feeding its (negative) power. And it dies. Let it go, and its gone. It's easier said than done. But that's part of the beauty of the solo fast: it's a forced letting-go. Whatever negative things were in my system (digestive or otherwise), I take solace in the idea that the solo fast helps dispose of them. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Restlessness</i></b>. It happens every time: you sleep long on Friday night, then Saturday, drift in and out of sleep, literally all day. Come Saturday night? Sleep is a little tougher to come by!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtyhRWCtSKo/YWylozS9FcI/AAAAAAAAYHc/obvR4xZh7p0IFCULtan4C6QHKel2vDOgQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3554.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PtyhRWCtSKo/YWylozS9FcI/AAAAAAAAYHc/obvR4xZh7p0IFCULtan4C6QHKel2vDOgQCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG-3554.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Saturday night twilight fire. Lots of stars, early. </i></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Even with the nighttime conditions generously dispensing an extra ten degrees, it was tough sleeping Saturday night. It didn't help that one or more of the moose friends that stopped by at dusk, returned (them, or different one) around midnight, snorting and moaning maybe ten yards from my tent. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />After that, sleep came in 20-30 minute bits, punctuated by bizarre dreams and semi-coherent thoughts resembling a series of bewildering sitcom pilots. In between, a great deal of <i>restlessness</i>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Restless literally means, "unable to relax or rest due to anxiety or boredom". But another component is an inherent dissatisfaction. A missing element. A <i>void</i>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">For me, that night, a few degrees centigrade (or some sort of nasal-specific warming patch), and more than two inches of pressurized mat between my backside and the snow, were logistical deficits, no doubt. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I've had a sense of restlessness for a while now; it's what brought me to Steamboat, but in a cruel twist of irony, that sensation seems to be growing. As I mulled over this sensation, it became clear to me that one aspect of restlessness is the frustrating combination of energy - motivation - coupled (or really, stymied) by <i>an inability to act</i>: a <i>barrier</i>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Those energies and barriers are in abundant supply in our lives. Some are external, but more often than not, those barriers are internal: a deep-seeded fear, stopping us in our tracks, preventing a forward movement toward "satisfaction" (which, to me, seems more like a mythical mirage than a real destination). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">But what I know for sure: <b>Passion + Energy + Action = Joy</b>. And while some restlessness may be a good thing - a damming up of energy that, like water toward an earthen obstruction, magnifies its force - <i>relentless restlessness</i> is the souring of joy. A lost opportunity. A wasted life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">As someone who has experienced acute loss from a young age, I experience this cruel duality of "fear of missing out", while at other times, being frozen in inaction: being unable to act when I see something I want, or <i>feel something is missing</i>, out of fear (of failure, rejection or otherwise), or shame, or some other concocted internal barrier. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Restlessness, like fatigue, is a normal and acceptable sensation, but only if <i>transient</i>. <i>Relentless restlessness?</i> Something needs to change.</span></div><div><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Warmth</i>: Passion + "Bringing Your Talents"</b>. The first year of solo fast, I did not intend on making a campfire. According to Thornley, in its purest form fires aren't allowed in Solo Fasts because they represent a <i>distraction</i> (and, dare I say, a "luxury"). That year it meant that, whenever it was cold (which, in October anywhere in the northwest, was all but a few hours), I had to retreat inside my tent. <br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">By Saturday night, shut inside my tent and swaddled deep beneath a sleeping bag, semi-conscious, I was going stir-crazy. I lit a fire. Those flames - that heat, <i>the warmth</i> - made a tremendous difference. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fires have been a central part of my solo fast experience ever since. In fact, most of my (waking) hours were spent around a fire. Was I distracted? Maybe, but it also became a focal point for my thoughts. And as I dwelled upon the importance of the fire, the first thought that came to mind was, <i>"This prevents me from slinking away"</i> - into that tent and bag, alone. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />The campfire is an amazing game-changer, but it doesn't come without a price: it takes a lot of time and energy to build and maintain, and - occasionally - you get burned. At the time of this writing I sport a small blister on my index finger, presumably from getting too close to the flames, or handling dangerously hot coals (as I often do). My favorite sweats now have a couple more holes, thanks to the many exploding embers discharged from the burning conifer branches.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">But are those little wounds worth the warmth? Hell yes, they are. On solo fast, that warmth, the aliveness of a dancing fire, is the sole difference-maker between joy and peace, and cold misery. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">This Fellowship training, this move to Steamboat, has been a tremendous education on the power of warmth: the end result of the assembling of a group of passionate, energetic, positive people united under the same values and goals. Apart, singular dry sticks we might be, but coming together, in this "ring", and adding our energies under "sparks"? Magical things happen.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Before the Fellowship, and <a href="https://my.instituteofphysicalart.com/index.php/certification/cfmt.html">CFMT</a>, I constantly felt like "a man without a country": working in conventional practices, or with coworkers (usually bosses) who - at best - tolerated how I practiced and at worst, criticized it. So to be working with a group of people that - while still unique - share the same values, commitment to excellence, an open mind to learn new (if not weird or crazy) things, and - best of all - bring tremendous <i>passion</i> to everyone in the clinic, each day? What a gift it is that warms me!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">And it stokes my passions! Like flames to adjacent tinder, you can't help but express your passion, as well. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">(And the students! Talented, and <i>so hungry, positive, committed, and passionate!</i> How they've motivated me and stoked my own passions proves that you needn't be a seasoned clinician to "bring it"!)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Conversely? Before the fellowship, I certainly had a lot of freedom and (money/time) wealth: I worked a lot less, made a lot more money, and had a lot of free time. But was I living passionately? Putting in the hours, alone, then otherwise laying low, "relaxing" in the comforts of home? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It reminds me of a story I've shared with my former high school athletes, that I first gleaned from <a href="http://www.jeffreymarx.org/books/season-of-life"><b><i>"Season of Life"</i></b></a>: a biblical story from <b><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parable_of_the_talents_or_minas#:~:text=The%20%22Parable%20of%20the%20Talents,his%20property%20to%20his%20servants.&text=Take%20therefore%20the%20talent%20from,him%20which%20hath%20ten%20talents.">"The Parable of the Talents"</a></i></b>, (in Matthew 25:14–30 of the Bible:)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">"...tells of a master who was leaving his house to travel, and, before leaving, entrusted his property to his servants. According to the abilities of each man, one servant received <i>five talents</i>, the second had received <i>two</i>, and the third received <i>only one</i>. [...where a <i>talent</i> was a significant amount of money.]</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Upon returning home, after a long absence, the master asks his three servants for an account of the talents he entrusted to them. The first and the second servants explain that they each put their talents to work, and have doubled the value of the property with which they were entrusted; each servant was rewarded:</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />'His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.'<br /><br />The third servant, however, <b><i>had merely hidden his talent, burying it in the ground</i></b>, and was punished by his master".</span></blockquote></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">The take-home: <b><i>bring your talents</i></b>. Work them, <i>invest them, give them away</i>: even if you risk losing them. The only way to grow them is to <i>do something with them</i>. To bury them in the ground, however, is a tragic waste of ability. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bringing your talents - <i>your passion</i> (however bountiful or scant they may be from day-to-day) - fuels your investment, but - akin to a community bank - also bolsters and supports others. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I feel like, for years, I've been burying my talents: hiding away in the corner of a cold house (or tent, if you will), rather than taking the bit of effort - and risk - to give them and grow them. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">Was I afraid of <i>getting burned?</i> Of rejection? Or simply frustrated from getting nothing back? I'm not for sure, but I know that I'd been holding them back. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">This fellowship - and my time thus far in Steamboat - as proven the tremendous power of Bringing Your Talents, wearing your passion on your sleeve, and how warming, energizing, life-giving, and life-changing that can be. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's informed me of how I want my future to look. As did this weekend: </span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Occasional (productive, nurturing, collaborative) <i>fatigue - counter-balanced by restoration.</i></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Occasional (self-cleansing) <i>nausea - counter-balanced by nourishment</i></span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Limited (and only productive) <i>restlessness - counter-balanced by more action</i>, trusting my gut and following my heart</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">All the <i>warmth, passion and joy! (Bringing my talents </i>every day)</span></li></ul></div><div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I pushed-off the emergence from the tent until 5AM (squeezing in a few additional "sitcoms", fitfully, in those pre-dawn hours). I began to pack up after igniting one more fire, heating one more coffee, and enjoying one more sunrise. The fire - and the coffee - warmed me as I took down the tent, deflated the pad, stuffed the sleeping bag in its sack, and jammed things into the packs. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was grateful for the rest, the reflection and the true gift such time can truly be! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">When can I do it again? </span></div></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jnle_Ue6wuU/YWymTrbmsvI/AAAAAAAAYHo/CbJCWwfEVCU0aZkaWtuKn4GaIKurOByMwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3560.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jnle_Ue6wuU/YWymTrbmsvI/AAAAAAAAYHo/CbJCWwfEVCU0aZkaWtuKn4GaIKurOByMwCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG-3560.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sunday sunrise over the eastern slope. </i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuNUs6NgRvQ/YWymTjh1L-I/AAAAAAAAYHk/8kWG1ERcZ34LcTdC0TU7GzCRvQVL0hR3ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3572.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuNUs6NgRvQ/YWymTjh1L-I/AAAAAAAAYHk/8kWG1ERcZ34LcTdC0TU7GzCRvQVL0hR3ACLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG-3572.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The traditional "Break-Fast" of the Solo Fast: Espresso Stout!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t9DK6hJbh6U/YWymUH8bQ8I/AAAAAAAAYHs/sCha7xdrbvw0bQtaCFb_Nnfgl4-kcfHgQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3573.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t9DK6hJbh6U/YWymUH8bQ8I/AAAAAAAAYHs/sCha7xdrbvw0bQtaCFb_Nnfgl4-kcfHgQCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG-3573.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Round 2!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3nvLMP0ZMjI/YWymUffeLeI/AAAAAAAAYHw/EGuN2lPfjIMtwyxxJn1lVppW0S8aizjyACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG-3574.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3nvLMP0ZMjI/YWymUffeLeI/AAAAAAAAYHw/EGuN2lPfjIMtwyxxJn1lVppW0S8aizjyACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG-3574.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Round 3!</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-58460283358134443922019-12-14T05:00:00.000-08:002020-01-22T20:07:46.591-08:00Western States Has A Problem – Part III: A Non-Weighted, Stratified Lottery Proposal<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Previous posts in this series:</span></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><a href="https://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2019/12/the-western-states-100-has-problem-part.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: blue; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Part I: Introduction</span></span></a></li>
<li><a href="https://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2019/12/western-states-100-has-problem-part-ii.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: blue; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Part II: The Non-Problem?</span></span></a></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;"><u>The Proposal</u>:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eliminate </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">any</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> weighted lottery system. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Abolish compounding tickets: one ticket per entrant, per year.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Create a stratified, multiple sub-lottery system comprised of four groups: Never-Starters, Veterans, Super-Masters, Everyone Else. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lottery odds are based on number of times a runner has </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">run</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the event, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> number of tickets.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">*****</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Background</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This proposed lottery alternative is based on two pre-existing systems: the original (basic) Western States lottery, and components of the </span><a href="https://hardrock100.com/hardrock-lottery.php" style="font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: blue; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">stratified lottery system</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> current employed by </span><a href="https://hardrock100.com/" style="font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: blue; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Hardrock Hundred Endurance Run</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (HR100).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; text-indent: 36pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The former - a simple, "one year, one ticket" basic lottery - was the original lottery strategy of Western States from 1981 until 2011, when then first weighted system, "n+1", was instituted. This system, while blind to both experience, previous runs, and previous lottery attempts, also eliminates any incentives for entering prematurely, or continuing to enter in order to “keep my tickets”.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">The latter is a lottery system developed by The Hardrock 100: a stratified lottery system consisting of three separate lotteries, one each for:</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">First-Timers</span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Veterans (5 or more finishes)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Everyone Else</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">In this system, three separate lotteries (and the same number of waitlists) are held, each with a set number of entries. Prospective entrants fit into one of three groups, but transition over time, depending on entry and race experience. A stratified system allows the race to pre-determine the desired race composition, balancing new runners and veterans.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Details</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Here is a detailed explanation of the proposed alternative:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Eliminate any Weighted Lottery System</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">De-incentivize premature entry by abolishing the compounding ticket system, entirely. This includes both the current "2</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="vertical-align: super;">n-1</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">", as well as the preceding "n+1" system.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The only way to curb the trend of premature entry is to </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">eliminate </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a geometric entry system that </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">rewards it</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. With entrant numbers skyrocketing and all entry odds plummeting, runners know fully well this reality: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"If I want to </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ever</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> run Western States I have to enter </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">now</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Below are some interesting data:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 388px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="388" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/JsVxdsa2RQ6g9H4HeH_HastOrdkSF2tkpRYf0-gI5qwMyBfw-4ZJHMY2T54y8moNjz3RMURKLpX_s2OkNgQgsYWyjK46uKzjR3o8rEok_HJMhuNdopnaetNXgxg0CQ" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">This is the overall growth of lottery entrant per year, dating back to 2000. Two important milestones are worth noting:</span></span></div>
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<ol>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">the n+1 lottery began in 2011 </span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">the geometric system began 2012</span></span></li>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">A less important, but also interesting milestone: 50-mile qualifiers were eliminated, with only a limited number of 100K qualifiers allowed, starting in ~2013. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next, take a look at this graph:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 383px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="383" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/svJK5iBsTgQoLuNE1auvWCy0nOUx8Vo9G2CYWYr6C6ETdhBMAOFz2Sij5HDgZNsvwFCUF5GS3X_JZLSuA0d1DEgNlYEA8Pj8yM0450kfyI5wrFlw9cdFTWmVOV39dQ" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">This represents the growth of one’s ticket cache, for each consecutive year of entry.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s impossible to prove that a geometric system can definitively </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">cause </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the geometric growth currently observed in the lottery.</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, basic economics tells us: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a geometric incentive will create a geometric demand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Returning to the Western States entry data: when superimposing the historic changes to the lottery, the correlation between those changes and the resultant entry numbers becomes more compelling:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 385px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="385" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Ha8eIQa8Mw0g_hB3t2Gu_pbZaFLDMX7jVEaOPVL8l8d38TSnDBYCwCuOfjKwABkk7VzwilLF028ytpjvYwPc-XyTSUAOnluQFgyycPzPx4314KiUDV9_yDB4pdkgMA" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This hybrid chart superimposes the history of the lottery: what changes were made, when, and the correlated changes in applicants. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Note three fairly distinctive slopes in the history of the Western States lottery: the basic lottery era, the “n+1” years, and the geometric system. (Also note the small plateau that occcured in 2014 after the tightening of qualifier races). </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Looking closer at each period:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 373px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="373" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/GiyNXuHribMMMx6uk9tTe2F6vML_nz7ADXBWgKIzdFqi4B7w-CHUTnob2DcMSXFJpyeJTK7V3NADcNPqMT52Sl6PbWjhYKgIwm70HIpIMGdSH5zpxm1qGLU-MjTU9A" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">From 2000 to 2010, a basic lottery was held that also included the Two-Time-Loser clause: if you entered twice before and we're not picked, you would automatically enter.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Growth was relatively steady until the end of the decade. Growth was modest early on (+50-100 added applicants per year).</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">During this time of 500 or less applicants, the "Two-Time Loser" functioned well. But once interested piqued in the late 2000s, this initial incentive was quickly overwhelmed.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">(Note: a reader might think that the Two-Time-Loser was a major incentive. It wasn't. If anything, it was a dis-incentive to prematurely apply because it guaranteed entry. Why rush to something you're guaranteed to get? Additionally: at this time with the basic lottery, odds were still holding at 50% for all applicants).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As total applicants began to triple and even quadruple the maximum allowable field size, it became clear that in a basic, indiscriminate lottery, eventual selection could take inordinately long. Moreover, a guaranteed entry after two "losses" became impossible. Thus, the Two-Time Loser clause had to be abandoned and the “n+1” system was conceived and implemented for the 2011 race:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 373px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="373" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/vxxaxbksV-SiCFfy4f0n4HU8nVn-SFy_Abj5ufTwklyjdukOQhH4tIj0smPRd1hwLWCfVLqUgLwc44hcnkdzzJcDRY7rVOOJ5F24tl-ukFXMJHI_xPykv6PcfBlYOw" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Correlating </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">with the implementation of “n+1”, we see a growth increase of upwards of 400 applicants per year from 2011 to 2013.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Somewhere along the line, the Race got </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">even more concerned</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and felt that additional protections be put into place to allow for a more expedient and “guaranteed” entry for committed runners. The 2</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="vertical-align: super;">n-1</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> system was implemented in 2013 (of note: tickets were </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">retroactively compounded</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for 2nd and 3rd-year applicants from the previous n+1 system):</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 453px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="453" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/2nsMTYdt4Wp_WNqd_2TmDwKW3rY15z1Zu-xGfIBb3F3KEgXYHt_u8oEk8zxqmn-N4FEYXnX6n9Nc1FGNSFnI6VpgbVqyBf6iw-VD7ZhN2snoo61hBxmd6AHLLC9H2Q" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From 2014 through the 2020 lottery, growth began in this period at 400 applicants per year and has progressively increased to a current </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">annual growth rate of 800-1000 applicants per year. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The race now </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">increases </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">in applicants per year, more than double the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">total </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">applicant numbers (~500) from 20 years ago. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While correlation does not equal causation, the changes made to the lottery do, in fact, act like </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">independent (input) variables</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> with a dependent variable (applicants) result: an adjustment “X” yields in a change of “Y”. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">But indeed, it is just a correlation that is impossible to prove. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Additionally, one could argue that growth in Western States </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">also </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">correlates to overall growth ultrarunning. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here is that data comparing Western States applicants and the total number of hundred-mile finishers in North America. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 469px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="469" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/jgBiNQKEZtCZH86iviEuquoBe5rv-ffw2YXrw2NBHv4zcTFja2QF6I0cBRrrPjZe6hQKVBMQEVu1kRRbpR6646DcdxNYp7oXfHEzrW1J5qUU770Tl6P-6jwvLTwZUA" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">A cursory look would say that the Western States applicants fairly neatly correlate with overall growth in 100-mile finishes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They do, early on: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">before the weighted lotteries began</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">But looking closely, at 2015 and beyond - when the geometric lottery system really took hold at Western States:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 428px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="428" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/EYKnTfMElTYc8XLAauDVwiRgQ_7Nl9640lXKroEg_L2ytrk3C1Z-0i4OAJH-7wJlVLRkZ1nQmChvl6w2s261ST4IQmigjQrwrqc4FVUdVQcSJC5RMKzEDH7Lw39vbQ" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And what you’ll see is that, despite an ever-increasing number of new hundred-miler races in North America (not all of which are Western States qualifiers -- thus this group can grow, independently), Western States lottery applicants have grown at nearly </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">double the rate</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">of the rest of the 100-milers on the continent.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something else is driving that additional growth</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Has Western States gotten </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that much cooler</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> since 2015? </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One could argue that the modern “documentary era” - from films such as </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unbreakable</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (2011) - can spike interest in Western States more than the rest of the sport. However, two counter-points:</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Other (and equally compelling) documentaries for other races abound</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Western States has </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">always </span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">had (and initially cornered the market in) </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5Sh7S7YKS8" style="text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre;"><span style="color: #1155cc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">cool</span></a><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="color: #1155cc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29Ie17DxiVM&t=1166s" style="text-decoration-line: none; white-space: pre;">documentaries</a></span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It is unlikely that media exposure explains the growth disparity. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Have any other changes to the race occurred in the last five-plus years to account for the growth?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">The biggest change: an incentivized lottery system. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One compelling experiment: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">abolish the weighted system</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and track the next five years of applicant data. I predict applicants would drop precipitously - by jettisoning the premature entries - and once again align with the overall growth trend in 100-mile finishes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Returning to the geometric data and the frightening right side of the chart:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 451px; overflow: hidden; width: 624px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="451" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/2qPDBv7d8jxMffSA5jQs08LHhJ85DCcMkyNi27X8txQHtIXDSpkNXAACB1ZIoRdIsX-5y9mTHrDr1ftCg_ZsanRc8PX5j5tVfnY-Y461zNoLGn-g0LCPlEOjGj1xgg" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If this growth continues at the same rate - far exceeding the growth of all other hundred-milers - we may see this year’s record number of applicants </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">double in four years</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s worth considering if the very system devised to handle growth, is in fact, the overt cause. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">I hope I’m wrong. But if I’m not: </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">*****</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eliminating a weighted system would potentially decrease the rapid growth in lottery applicants by all-but-eliminating two substantial cohorts of "premature runners":</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A. First-Timers “Getting in Line”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. After running his/her first qualifying race, current prospective first-time Western States runners face a dilemma:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">enter the lottery now, regardless of readiness or willingness to run </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this year</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-or-</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">wait, </span><span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">and face worsening first-year ticket odds with each passing year</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That is the reality, as </span><a href="https://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2019/12/western-states-100-has-problem-part-ii.html" style="font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: blue; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">single-ticket odds have plummeted in the past five years</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: on average, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shrinking in half with each passing year</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In fact, for today’s new entrants, the geometric lottery has become a version of </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Queen%27s_race" style="font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Red Queen’s Race</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">The second group of "premature" entrants: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">B. “Fatigued but Compulsive” Multi-Year Applicants</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Even if a prospective runner is fully prepared and hungry to race when entering the lottery their </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>first year</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, life happens.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">As you can see in the data, there is always a drop off from year one to year two of entrants (that cannot be solely accounted for by being selected). But in those early years, the ticket growth is rather linear:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Year 1: 1 ticket</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Year 2: 2 tickets</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">For runners who have applied in three consecutive years, the incentive to continue applying becomes more palpable:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Year 3: 4 tickets</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Year 4: 8 tickets</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">But preparation and desire to run is neither linear, nor geometric. Sometimes it goes down: for various reasons, after several years of commitment, an entrant might lose either the physical or mental ability or willingness to enter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yet the geometric ticket doubling continues, gaining real steam:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Year 5: 16 tickets</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But life goes on, too: kids, family, work, injury illness. The new </span><a href="https://www.wser.org/lottery/one-time-lottery-bye/" style="font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: blue; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">once-in-a-lifetime Lottery Bye</span></a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> provides a one-time year of respite from the grind of qualifying.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But once used up, multi-year applicants get stuck in a position of </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"accrue it or lose it"</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: either continue to apply, year after year, or "crap out" and lose </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of your "ticket earnings".</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fear of ticket bankruptcy</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> creates another cohort of "premature entry": veteran lottery losers who are compelled to </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">qualify, apply and accrue</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (often in very large, high-end geometric volume) during years in which they may not be willing or able to run. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some examples include top Masters runner (and friend) Bob Hearn:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FiYAWUOKuL0/XfR533PkRjI/AAAAAAAAQIM/0TscdWx4WBE125ogBg8jKmM11LPWIYhnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/BobHearnPost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="654" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FiYAWUOKuL0/XfR533PkRjI/AAAAAAAAQIM/0TscdWx4WBE125ogBg8jKmM11LPWIYhnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/BobHearnPost.jpg" width="436" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #222222; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">WS veteran and timed-run national team member, Bob Hearn, upon entering the 2020 lottery: <i>“I do not want to run it next year! But the lottery forces me to apply anyway”</i></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #222222; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t fault Bob. He’s an accomplished runner with a lot of other goals and priorities. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But his hand is forced</span><span style="color: #222222; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: he either keeps applying (with hopes he “won’t get picked” this year, but maybe next), or give up and lose everything.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Preparation and desire are not linear. Besides injuries, illness, and the rest of Life, sometimes "qualification fatigue" -- the drain of having to plan for, gain entry to, and finish a Western States qualifier -- is too much and folks want a break:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="179" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/C-mG-4uMcC-impHOQWAEHe9FRgG2pY4-jvLNFCSePpLQuOglFCE9fkLbRAsj24-76hTk3QnDnLSCryZVaFxiZAAXLGe4Hkh070Ls9QZ3GwUn9a3mp1p0xBj0vEAOxA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">A common refrain from first-timers, compelled to enter before they truly want to run: “Please don’t pick me”, followed a few years later by “qualifier-fatigue”</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><img height="164" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/QiQyX5c_4eEAp0CKPzwxYXkNjtitRGYrrGkJ27A-GPzo5CqhCDVcAWuZidY--Aev4XKi0p1CBVebqdD2GzZQtwTh0ojZw3jTLp2LBi6Le9GZpr-DPKg6u6WRpUMZsg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px;" width="624" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">“Stopped caring”, but has to keep applying, anyway.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But should they give up, and give it all away? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With no recourse other than to continue to apply until they either “win or bust”, “qualifer-fatigued” runners are compelled to trudge onward, even if his/her will or readiness to run has waned. It’s better to continue than to unceremoniously lose all the tickets you’ve worked to “earn”. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Or, a runner incurs multiple illness or injury. Or multiple children. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Or, the finite list of qualifiers – and their restrictive lotteries – shuts them out. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">After that Bye is used up, runners must let it ride each year and hope for the best. Or give up and lose it all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">What becomes of the runners who finally “crap out”? This is another elusive data set. Who is talking to them?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coaches like me are. The nearly decade long “win or bust” of the Western States lottery has soured a lot of runners on Western States. Having never experienced the race, they’ve given up. At best, they’ve simply let it go. At worst, they’re jaded and bitter. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Precisely the opposite of what the race was intending to prevent. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(It’s worth noting that HR100 has </span><a href="https://hardrock100.com/hardrock-lottery.php" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">unlimited lottery byes</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. This allows muti-time losers to take respite in any given year without losing tickets. But more importantly, it allows them to defer from a lottery when they don’t truly want to run that given year)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*****</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Purest Kind of Persistence is Un-Incentivized</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. A weighted system was intended to reward commitment and persistence to the effort of qualification and entry. And The Race has stated they wish to “reward persistence”: a characteristic worth reinforcing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But which type of behavior is more admirable?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">A runner who applies year after year, incentivized with a “reward” of more (and more) tickets?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">- or -</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A runner who applies each year, with </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">zero added incentive</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> for repeat entry, motivated simply by the love of the race?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In a system stripped of artificial incentive, runners enter only when they’re all-in to</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> run </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that year</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, knowing this year’s entry has no bearing on the next (or any subsequent) race year. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">One ticket, one year. No incentive, no reward, no punishment. Just be ready to race, that year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. Create a stratified, multi-lottery system.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">According to the mission of the race, WSER wishes to create a quality event that caters to a wide variety of runners, ranging from first-time hundred milers, to elite international runners, to veteran multi-time (10-Year Buckle) finishers. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">A stratified lottery consisting of various sub-categories could distribute entries to these desired groups, without distortion from an incentivized, geometric system. Like other races (including HR100), WSER could adopt the following sub-categories of prospective entrants: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></b>
</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Never-Started</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. No WSER starts</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. (This is a notable distinction -- as opposed to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">finishes</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. See below). </span></span></blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Why</i>: of course, the event wants to include first-time runners - whose energy and excitement provide the fuel for a special day. That said, the race also does not want to be flooded by the sheer volume of first-time applicants. </span></span></span></blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Veterans</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Runners who have finished Western States multiple times</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. This could be five or more (as in the HR100 system), or, perhaps as many as eight finishes. </span></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span></span></span></blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>Why</i>: Valuing veteran finishers is an implicit mission of the race. Who, exactly, they value and encourage to continue running is up for debate, and at the discretion of the Board. Under the current geometric plan, a notable and venerated group, the "Ten Year Bucklers" will become extinct. Unless you're an elite runner (gaining entry via a "Golden Ticket" qualifier, or previous Top Ten finish), or gain entry through repetitive sponsor, volunteer, or other Special Consideration entries, it will become exceedingly difficult to win the lottery enough times to gain ten starts. </span></span></blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Super-Masters</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Over the age of 50. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(No starts, or less finishes than a Veteran)</span></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span></span></span></blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Why</i>: This category recognizes that Super-Masters runners can run strong and compete well. This senior cohort also adds a degree of intrigue and magic to Western States. It also acknowledges that 50-plus year old runners simply cannot wait the five-to-ten years the current system demands. </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everyone Else</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This group has run the race at least once, but less than Veterans (and is younger than Super-Masters). </span></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span></blockquote>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Why</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: This cohort comprises all runners that have previously </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">started</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Western States, yet does not have enough finishes to be considered a Veteran. </span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Benefits of a stratified System</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Consistent and pre-determined race diversity.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the earliest concerns that prompted the new weighted lottery system was that new, first-time runners would overwhelm the lottery and crowd out the veteran runners.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unlike a weighted system, where even multi-year entrants are drowned out by the glut of extreme ticket volumes, a stratified system protects the various cohorts of runners: race composition can be set by race leadership. Like Hardrock, Western States could appropriate a set number of entries per category, and run separate "mini-lotteries" from these groups. Doing so would allow each year's event to have a desired distribution of runners. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Moreover, this composition could be dynamic and based on the unique composition of the entrant pool from year to year. For example, if there happen to be very few Super-Masters entrants, those entries could be shifted to a different sub-lottery. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Such a system could also be employed to keep lottery odds consistent: entries could possibly shift from one cohort (say, Veterans) to another (Never-Starters) should demand in the latter increase far more than the former. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Values runners’ Experience instead of “Tickets”.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> In a situation with such extremes of supply-and-demand, more thought should go into what types of runners should be prioritized for such limited entries. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">The current system is based solely on “tickets”: based solely on the number of years a runner has applied since his/her last race. And in this system, a single-ticket Never Starter entrant is on equal footing as a single-ticket runner with, say, three starts (but not quite a “veteran”, by number or character). </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The entry system for Western States would be far more equitable in a stratified lottery system based on both number of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">runs</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">age</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, versus an arbitrary ticket count.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is possible in a stratified system </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">without</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> making the overall entry standards – either by qualifier options, distances, or speed – increasingly stringent. Separate sub-lotteries preserve opportunities for these different groups. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Indeed: it's impossible to award </span><span style="color: black; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">every</span><span style="color: black; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> interested runner an entry to Western States. </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">However, the Board must decide the type of entrant it wishes to prioritize: First-Timers, or runners on their third or fourth run? Having already experienced Western States, why place a runner with several finishes equally amongst the Never Starter? This applies to any situation where a (1-to-4-start) “veteran” runner has the same number of tickets as a first-timer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That's for the Board to decide, but it would seem to me, if the goal of Western States is to capitalize on the energy of new runners and their fans, while retaining the wisdom and magic of the veterans, the Board should adopt a "Barbell Strategy" that prioritizes the extremes: </span></span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Never Started (0 starts)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Veterans (at least X finishes)</span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Super-Masters</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">while giving relatively less priority to Everyone Else (1-X finishes, but at least one start). </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Premature starts (& DNFs) become more costly</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> An interesting facet of a stratified system is it allows the race to differentiate from a </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Never-Starter</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and Everyone Else. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the current system, there is no differentiation between tickets and experience. That also includes number of </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">starts</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> versus number of actual </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">finishes</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. (While some websites such as ultrasignup.com track Did-Not-Finishes, I don’t’ believe Western States compiles this data in their lottery repository)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Note the distinction between “Never-Starter” (never run the race) versus “Never Finisher (X number of starts, but a possible DNF): A first-time runner who races, but fails to finish, would now transition to the Everyone Else cohort. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">*****</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why This Plan</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is simple.</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It reverts to a basic lottery format.</span></span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is discerning</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. A stratified system allows a diverse, balanced entry field based on experience (not consecutive qualification) that guarantees no single cohort of runners will overrun race entries. First-timers, veterans, and - for the first time, older runners - will be prioritized and protected groups under this plan. </span></span></li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It removes complexity and second-order effects.</span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> This system eliminates premature entry and in doing so, should significantly decrease the number of annual lottery applicants. Community wide, it frees runners from the bondage of perennial qualification, and takes tremendous second-order strain off qualifying races. A runner enters the lottery only when s/he is most interested. This is the way it should be.
</span></span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">With this system, future Western States races regain an intangible quality characteristic of the first three decades of its history: a totality of qualified entrants who are </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">unquestionably ready and passionate to run that year.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><u>Why Other Ideas Won’t Work (or Won’t Be Heard)</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Over the past several years, I’ve heard a lot of different ideas about reforms to the Western States entry system. The vast majority of these ideas can be categorized in the following groups, and rather summarily dismissed:</span><br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Linear Solutions to a Geometric Problem</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. These ideas try to apply a “linear solution” - only a small number of increased entries - to a problem driven by a large (and geometrically-growing) demand. </span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. Cultural/Philosophical Changes</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. These ideas would potentially result in a substantial and pervasive cultural/philosophical shift away from the current, historic, Western States as we know it.</span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. Exclusivity/Anti-Egalitarian</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Similar to the cultural changes, these proposals invariably increase exclusivity and strip away egalitarianism, a core value of the race.</span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4. Increased Complexity</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. These ideas add even more complexity to an already over-complex system. The more complexity, the harder it is to control, let alone anticipate unintended consequences. Thus any such idea will only make things worse. </span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Examples include:</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Argument: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Make the race bigger [somehow]” / “Have [multiple] races”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Category: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Linear Solution, Cultural/Philosophical, Exclusivity/Anti-Egalitarian, Increased Complexity</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is the most often-cited - but extremely low-probability - solution. Most who make this argument fail to realize </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_Wilderness_Act_of_1984" style="font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the origins of the 369 entrant limit.</span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Accepting that, the second-most common suggestion it to have multiple editions of the race: one for elite runners and one for everyone else. Assuming permits could actually be obtained for two races (highly unlikely), sequestering elite athletes from the every-day runners would be a tremendous cultural sea change: increasing exclusivity and losing the egalitarian purity and powerful magic that is “Everyone from Squaw to Auburn” on </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the same day</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Such drastic change is one of the least likely to </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ever </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">occur. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lastly, even if the race could expand, it would need to expand at least one order of magnitude to make a palpable dent in current demand (“Linear Solution”). And if it did? Said “magic” hardly </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ever </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">scales. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Argument: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We need to do away with [insert non-lottery entrant group: sponsors, aid stations, elites, Special Consideration, international]”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Category: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Linear Solution, Cultural/Philosophical</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">For one, the race now has over 6600 interested and qualified applicants. While the non-lottery entries number close to a hundred, a mere hundred entries is spitting into the wind when talking about 6600 entrants, and growing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Secondly, the race values the diversity that different entry methods bring. Separate arguments can (and should) be made for each of these non-lottery entrant groups, but I will refrain from doing so, here. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Argument:</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We need to make it harder to enter by [insert more challenging entry standard: race distance, time qualification, entry fee]”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Category: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Linear Solution, Cultural/Philosophical, Exclusivity/Anti-Egalitarian</span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Simply making it tougher to qualify or otherwise enter won’t stem the demand. It may create a temporary dent (as did tightening qualifiers in 2013-2014), but it would do very little to sustainably curb the demand that a geometric system generates unless taken to an </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">extreme</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">If taken to an extreme, it would create a powerful - and likely negative - cultural and anti-egalitarian impact (Charge $5000? Only sub-24 runners?). In doing so, you risk decreasing relevance of the race, and increasing negativity and bitterness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Runners of all abilities running from Squaw to Auburn is a big part of the Western States magic. Any “make it harder” strategy decreases race diversity and detracts from that magic. </span></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Argument</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How about two-to-the [insert even bigger number]?” The “Even More Tickets Argument”</span><br />
<b style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Category: </b><span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Increased Complexity.</span><b style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Too many tickets - and the complex second-order effects that came with them - is what got us here. More tickets won’t make it better; only worse. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">*****</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Transition Plan.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s no easy way to transition out of the weighted system. But the potentially least-painful way would include:</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Immediate cessation of all ticket compounding</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. While no more tickets could be accrued, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all runners who had previously accrued more than one ticket would retain them</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> until: </span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">they are selected, or </span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">they fail to re-qualify (having already used the Lottery Bye). </span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In essence, in order to be fair and minimally painful, the old ticket and qualifying system - including the requirement for consecutive qualification - would have to continue until all the multiple-ticket applicants are processed through.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">For example:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">A runner with 64 tickets and no Western States starts would retain his/her 64 tickets and enter the “Never Started” sub-lottery.</span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">A runner with 4 tickets and one Western States finish would retain his/her 4 tickets and enter the “Everyone Else” sub-lottery</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Of note: previous circumventions employed for lingering high-ticket entrants - such as giving away (in-person lottery or raffle) entries, or adding them to the top of a waitlist - will no longer occur. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. Immediate implementation of the stratified system</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Regardless of ticket numbers, runners would be sequestered into their applicable cohorts. Thus, a 64-ticket “Never-Starter” is no longer competing against an “Everyone Else” with the same ticket quantity. This immediately improves equity, as the preferred cohorts will have relatively better (pre-set) odds, while “Everyone Else” will have similarly worse odds. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. All new applicants receive only one ticket</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. In this transition plan, the new applicants will unfortunately bear the brunt of absorbing the impact of the multi-ticket applicants. In year one, there will be no difference (as in the current system, first-time applicants get only one ticket). Second- and third-year applicants will no longer receive the weighted “benefit” of additional tickets.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">*****</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Conclusions.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is no perfect solution, including this proposed alternative. Pure equity and fairness cannot exist in a situation with such a stark difference between supply and demand, and so many competing notions of who is most deserving for inclusion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first step toward the most coherent solution is a community-wide acknowledgement and acceptance of the following points:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">1. Not every interested runner will be able to run the Western States 100, even once. Many will never get a chance to run.</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">2. “Deserving runners” will be left out, and “less-deserving” runners may get to run (multiple times).</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Once accepted, we can arrive at a solution that - while not necessarily “fair” (by the standards above) - is still simple, coherent, and - most importantly - free of far-reaching consequences and unintended side-effects. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">As such, a third point must also be acknowledged:</span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3. “Persistence” - measured through </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">consecutive </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">application to the race </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">lottery - cannot be incentivized </span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Persistence is still rewarded, but without incentive to continue, nor punishment for stopping. In its place is increased optionality and freedom: runners can apply as many times as they want, as consecutively as they want, without invoking complex second-order effects that ripple throughout the ultrarunning community. Over time, as with the first three decades of the lottery, persistence will eventually reward them with entry, over time. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It seems pretty simple, but - </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">finally </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">- a runner can simply run a race because they truly want to run </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that race</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Including Western States. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dance with the one that brung you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lastly:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">In this proposal, a first-time runner - prioritized in the Never-Started cohort, in a lottery not over-run by premature entries - has the best chance to quickly run his/her first Western States. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But after that, compared to the current system, will get </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">much more difficult </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to get back in. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One-and-done</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> will be the most common thread connecting Western States runners. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But that gives that one-timer - hopefully armed with a shiny buckle - an opportunity to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">give back</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">: to spread that love and Western States magic and experience the race from all facets as volunteer, crew or pacer. Perhaps through those other avenues - volunteering, sponsors, or even elite performance - they earn enough finishes to be a Veteran. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Best of all, it accomplishes the three-pronged objectives that motivated the original lottery idea:</span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">to expose fresh blood to this iconic event</span></span></li>
<li><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">to reward and recognize veteran runners for what they have to offer</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But above all, most importantly:</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to create generation after generation of people - not just runners, but his/her friends and family - that are </span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">positively engaged with the race</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and thus become, in perpetuity, part of the Western States Family</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Thank you for reading, and I look forward to any ongoing discourse that promotes the perpetual growth and improvement of this truly special event.</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-80913444581151950322019-12-10T11:39:00.000-08:002019-12-16T17:12:22.840-08:00Western States 100 Has a Problem - Part II: The Non-Problem?<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before we begin, an important note:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A good friend of mine has told me,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">"You have a solution to a non-problem."</span></i></b></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He wasn't been contrarian, but facetious. And factual.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">His point was that the race leadership <i>does not believe it has a problem.</i> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And he is correct. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They do not think they have a problem. And here is why:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">They believe that interest in the Western States 100 - and the radical increase in total lottery applicants - is truly organic. </span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I disagree, and so do the numbers. Since 2010:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">the number of ultrarunning finishes has grown <b style="background-color: #fce5cd;">240%</b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">the number of <a href="http://www.wser.org/lottery/" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">Western States lottery applicants</span></a> - since the race implemented a weighted system - has grown <b style="background-color: #fce5cd;">390%</b></span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This means the growth in Western States entry is closing in on <i>double the overall growth in the sport </i>(which, <a href="https://calendar.ultrarunning.com/stats/ultrarunning-finishes" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">when broken down, is largely driven by shorter-ultra finishes</span></a>, not 100-milers).</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Is Western States truly increased in popularity and general appeal, versus the sport at large?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Or could there be something else (artificially) driving up those entries?</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<b><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: inherit;">They believe that premature entry is an anecdotal problem: "several people" applying "just to pile up tickets", but not a pervaise issue.</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I disagree. There are potentially hundreds - if not <i>thousands </i>- of Western States lottery entrants - namely the first-year/single-ticket runners - that are getting in line, but don't really want to run this year.'</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />And why wouldn't they?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br /></span>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A geometric system <i>rewards </i>premature entry</span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A geometric system, filled with premature entrants, "piling tickets", <i>punishes patience</i>: waiting until you're truly interested and ready</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Below are the single-ticket odds by (race) year:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2014: 5.6%</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2015: 4.7</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2016: 4.5</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2017: 2.5</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2018: 2.3</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2019: 1.7</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2020: 1.3</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Why would </span><i>anyone </i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">chose patience, when the odds of entry continue to drop like a stone? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Premature entry is driving down the first year odds.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dwindling first (and all)-year odds is driving <i>more </i>premature entry.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We're caught in a vortex.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's like <a href="https://youtu.be/EOzMdEwYmDU?t=22" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">a bank panic</span></a>: if you want any chance, you better get in line <i>right now</i>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">True, posts like these are anecdotal:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LZtcXjphiZo/Xe_nYObKUiI/AAAAAAAAQHA/kVch-9H0gLYa9OtSTL_7uEpxB3pjAmEUACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/FBcomment.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="733" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LZtcXjphiZo/Xe_nYObKUiI/AAAAAAAAQHA/kVch-9H0gLYa9OtSTL_7uEpxB3pjAmEUACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/FBcomment.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But this?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kHK_hQVVdYo/Xe_neYGYkZI/AAAAAAAAQHE/JIp4eWCU4aAhYQYFLRMZcTVTPUvqc_4YACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Poll%2BWSER%2Bready%2Bvs%2Btickets.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="818" height="456" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kHK_hQVVdYo/Xe_neYGYkZI/AAAAAAAAQHE/JIp4eWCU4aAhYQYFLRMZcTVTPUvqc_4YACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Poll%2BWSER%2Bready%2Bvs%2Btickets.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">103 Respondents! And 47% percent don't really want to run this year! </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I acknowledge this is not a scientific poll (not perfectly selecting from verified entrants, as my Twitter followers are more likely to rouse rabble than the general applicant pool).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But <b><i>forty-seven percent,</i></b> 48 of 103 respondents, don't <i>really </i>want to run this year?<br /><br />What is the acceptable percentage of lottery entrants that<b><i> don't really want to run <u>this</u> year?</i></b> Surely it is under 47%, or even 17%. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: #fce5cd;">The counter argument:</b> while begrudingly acknowledging that this is a legitimate concern, the Board wishes to point out data like this:</span></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">single-ticket lottery winners finish at a higher rate than the overall finishing rate (76% vs 67%, in 2016, for example).</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But this answer is a substitution for another question, which is:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you're offered an entry in the race (regardless of ability and interest), will you finish it? </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The numbers indicate they will. But that doesn't mean they were fully commited and prepared, compared to the rest of the 90%+ lottery losers. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's like being offered a free dessert - a highly coveted, rare treat - and still eating (and finishing it), regardless of hunger. Will you turn down something that you might never get again?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Lastly:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">The race leadership does not seem to acknowledge the negative second-order effects on the rest of the sport.</span> </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b>A corrollary: they do <i>"make a conscious decision to reward persistence"</i>. But on whose backs does the weight of that persistence fall? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Qualifying standards have become tougher; races decreased (since the 50-mile qualifier was abolished). Most qualifying races, themselves, now have lotteries. And many runners chose to enter events for the sole purpose of "getting a qualifier". </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Per my letter to the Board:</span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The WSER qualifiers face mounting pressure (in both quantity and fervor) from runners regarding, among other things, entry into the qualifier race and finishing in the prescribed standard. Failure to do either places enormous (and increasing) strain on RDs and events, who must service a runner who's sole desire is to "run another race [WSER] other than this one". </i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It also has palpable - and pervaise - effects on the yearly planning (and career trajectory) of runners, their coaches, and their friends and families:</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Quite simply, people are forced, because of lottery strain, to base his/her entire yearly race schedule on "getting a qualifier". As opposed to running events organically, for their own sake -- because they're unique and desirable in their own right -- great pressure is put on runners, their coaches (and family), and race events to cater to this geometrically increasing need to finish a WSER lottery qualifying race. Indeed, the more "tickets" - and the older the runner - the higher pressure there is to register for and finish a qualifier. </i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>This is against the spirit of ultrarunning. Runners should enter, run and finish races, in order to </i>run that race<i> - </i>not <i>simply for the opportunity to run </i>another <i>race. "Dance with the one that brung you" -- don't abuse one event, simply to climb a rung closer to another. </i></span></blockquote>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*****</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In writing these posts, I've been criticized of (among many things) "sour grapes" - attacking the thing that I can no longer have (or, it seems, run fast enough, or finish frequently enough, to qualify to make any critique). Moreover, I've been accused of lobbing incendiary complaints into the race community without offering a solution.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And that's OK. I accept counter-criticism, and questioning of motives.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>But a solution is worthless without accepting there is a problem.</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This was the intent of Parts I and II: to help identify that, indeed, <u>there is a problem</u>. And it's only getting worse.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And it really isn't just a "numbers problem". It is an <b><i style="background-color: #fce5cd;">Existential Crisis</i></b>:</span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;">Any sized cohort of entrants who "really don't want to run it, <i>this year</i>" is poisonous for the spirit of the race: </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">like showing up to a bountiful meal, with bellies already full. (While starving folks stand, outside-looking-in)</span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I could go on - and will - about the issues and implications, but I will now turn the attention toward a solution:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i style="background-color: #fce5cd;">a non-<u>weighted</u>, stratified lottery system.</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The weighted system must go.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thanks for reading and discussing, and please stay tuned. </span></span></div>
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-63917167890145101962019-12-07T23:04:00.000-08:002019-12-16T17:13:01.883-08:00The Western States 100 Has a Problem: Part I - Introduction<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Introduction</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.wser.org/" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">The Western States Enduance Run</span></a> has a problem. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It has nothing to do with the course, the weather, the aid stations, the volunteers, the runners, or the leadership.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It has <i>a math problem</i>.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And it's slowly sinking in it. And we're <i>all </i>sinking with it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The weighted lottery system </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">- designed and intended to reward <i>committed </i>serial entrants with a faster and (seemingly) <i>guaranteed</i> entry - has not only failed to deliver on that intention, but it has unwittingly <i>accelerated </i>the already steep demand, and thus made it exceedingly more difficult to obtain that precious commodity: the Western States entry. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Brief Background</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The compounding system, first implemented decades ago, was a well-intended system intended to reward runners who, failing to gain entry in their first year, would be guaranteed an entry the second year. The "Two-Time Loser" system rewarded the persistence of consecutive entry and functioned for many years without issue.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But that was a different time: before the proliferation of trail racing and, more notably, before the internet (and all modern technology, including online news, websites, blogs and documentary videos) "virally" spread worldwide the magic dust of what Western States was all about. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thus, by around 2010, the Two-Time-Loser system was inundated with so many runners that it could no longer guarantee an entry, even two years on. Something had to change. In 2011, a linear, compounding system was adopted: giving runners an additional "ticket" for each consecutive year of entry. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This "<b>n+1</b>" system* </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> was promising, but the race entries grew even faster, and diluted the lottery even more. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(where, in this case, n = number of years of entering the lottery and not being selected)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At some point, elements of race leadership realized that this was a problem. Based on my personal discussions with various board members and race administration, those concerns were two-fold:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">One, they wanted to afford <i>any </i>interested runner the opportunity to run the race, <i>someday</i>.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Two, they did not want members of the ultrarunning community, frustrated with repeated failure, to become embittered and develop a negative attitude about the event.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thus, to address those concerns, and reward due diligence and commitment to multiple years of serial application, along came the Geometric System. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In 2012 or so, the geometric system was implemented. The equation, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>2</b></span><sup><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>n-1</b></span> </sup><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">was used to more quickly - geometrically - grow ticket counts. While in the previous system, a five-year entrant would only have five tickets, in this new geometric system, that person would have 16 tickets. Thus, compared to a first-year entrant, this five-year lottery veteran has far better odds, and those committed runners would all eventually get selected.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Right?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">A Geometric Solution Becomes a Geometric Problem</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The eventual mathematical reality of a geometric system was somewhat difficult to anticipate when it was first implemented eight years ago. (And admittedly - it just might take a math degree to realize that, no matter how many years one applies, the odds will never, <u><i>ever</i></u>, reach 100%: the literal definition of an asymptote). </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But eight years on? People across the sport are beginning to realize a few things:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: #fce5cd;">First, a weighted system does <u>not</u> "clear" runners</b>. It only partially increases some odds, while diluting others. And no matter how high the odds, there will never be a "sure-thing" entry, whether a runner qualifies ten years in a row, or a hundred.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: #fce5cd;">Second, the weighted system forces runners to enter <i>before </i>they're <i>truly willing </i>(let alone ready) to race</b>. With each passing year, an increasing proportion of runners enter because they <i>"want to run Western States <u>someday</u>, but <u>not really this year</u>"</i>. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Why? Because with each passing year, the single-ticket (first-year) odds get lower and lower. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">Third, the converse: a weighted system punishes patience</span>.</b> Runners who would rather wait a year (or two, or five) to run Western States feel compelled to enter <i><u>now</u></i>, knowing that it may take three, five or even eight-plus years to get an entry. If then! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Why? Because such a rewarding system is <i>artificially</i> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">increasing applicant growth - at this point, far out-stripping the overall growth in ultrarunning and 100+-miler participation. So with each passing year, the geometric growth of the ticket pool drowns out that measily single ticket. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You're a fool to not enter "early and often", as they say. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">But these realizations are just the beginning. There are deeper effects that ripple across the landscape of the sport of ultrarunning: how we chose to train and race, how we choose to approach different race events, and indeed the sort of personal - familial and even medical - decisions runners must make to keep The Dream alive. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><i>But it doesn't have to be this way.</i> </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But to fix it will take a leap of faith. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We'll all have to take our turn. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Settle down. Chill out. BE PATIENT. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And enter the lottery only when we are <u><i>truly willing and ready</i></u> to race from Squaw Valley to Auburn. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*****</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the coming days, I intend to outline the various issues with the current lottery system, the consequences (many of them both negative and unintended) and impacts across the landscape of ultrarunning, and some personal anecdotes from me: a runner, a coach, a medical professional, and - more than anything - a true lover of this event, its people, and everything it stands for. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b>Part I: Diving In</b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>(The following was an analysis I prepared for and presented to several members of the Western States Board of Directors in the fall of 2017. </i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Somewhere around that time it finally dawned on me the true and pervaisive consequenses of the weighted lottery. As both a runner and coach, I was worried. But as someone who's lived and breathed Western States for going on a decade, I was deeply concerned. </i></span><i>So I gathered my thoughts and presented them to The Board in October 2017. </i></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The following text is verbatim from that message. Any additions are indented and [bracketed] for enhanced clarity:)</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Introduction</b>. This analysis and proposal is based on the current, incentivized geometric lottery model for Western States. At first glance, such a method was devised to "add fairness" to a lottery system where an increasing number of interested runners enter, for a frustratingly (and stangantly) small number of entries.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">However, such a incentivized lottery has only made the situation worse. It's created it's own geometric rise in lottery entrants, based on the fact that entering prematurely is rewarded, while patience - waiting only until the year in which one is ready to race - is punshed, with ever-dwindling first-year ("one ticket") odds. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Below is my analysis, followed by proposal for lottery reform. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: white;">Problems with the current lottery system.</b><span style="background-color: white;"> Right now there are at least three problems with the WSER geometric (</span></span><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">n-1</span> </sup></b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"> "ticket"/year) lottery system: </span></span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>1. Incentivizes premature entry & punishes patience</b>. This is the #1 worst problem of the WSER lottery: it gives incentive to people to prematurely enter the lottery. This mindset is pervaisive: <i>"I need to start now...".</i> A very large (too large, <i>tragically </i>large) proportion of lotto entrants -- and thus selected runners -- enter, knowing full well they <i>do not wish (or are not fully prepared) to race this upcoming year</i>. However, not only are they incentivized to enter -- more years, more tickets -- but they are <i>punished for patience</i>. This is based on the data that suggests that with each passing year, odds for those with a single ticket (first-year applicants) <i>decrease</i>. This is punishment for waiting. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>2. Second-order effects</b>. There are powerful, and <i>overwhelmingly negative</i>, second-order effects of the WSER lottery on the entire sport of ultrarunning. These include:</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Increasing pressure on qualifier races</i>. </b>The WSER qualifiers face mounting pressure (in both quantity and fervor) from runners regarding, among other things, entry into the qualifier race and finishing in the prescribed standard. Failure to do either places enormous (and increasing) strain on RDs and events, who must service a runner who's sole desire is to "run another race [WSER] other than this one". </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>Altering the annual landscape of ultramarathon participation.</i> </b>Quite simply, people are forced, because of lottery strain, to base his/her <i>entire yearly race schedule</i> on "getting a qualifier". As opposed to running events organically, for their own sake -- because they're unique and desirable in their own right -- great pressure is put on runners, their coaches (and family), and race events to cater to this geometrically increasing need to finish a <i>WSER lottery qualifying race</i>. Indeed, the more "tickets" - and the older the runner - the higher pressure there is to register for and finish a qualifier. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is against the spirit of ultrarunning. Runners should enter, run and finish races, in order to <i>run that race </i>- not simply for the opportunity to <i>run another race.</i> <i>"Dance with the one that brung you"</i> -- don't abuse one event, simply to climb a rung closer to another. </span></div>
<div style="background-color: white;">
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>3. Mathematics of Critical Mass.</b> I recall RD Craig Thornley say, repeatedly, at last year's [2016] lottery at Placer High School say, <i>"Just keep qualifying, and you'll get in!" </i> The problem with that statement is, eventually, it is <u>false</u>.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Without delving into the complexities of geometric math, if the race continues to grow in both individual entrants (which it has) and consecutive entry lottery tickets (1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 64, 128....ad nauseum), the numbers of people with higher-and-higher-ticket counts will grow to the point where a runner - even with, say, 128 tickets - will simply<i> not get picked. </i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In 2016, we faced that situation for the first time and barely escaped: </span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2 runners had 64-tickets (7 years of entry). Both runners gained entry: one was selected, and the other was "given" one of the five remaining "in-person" lottery spots. (While generous, this is obviously an unsustainable strategy)</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">However, </span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">31 runners had 32 tickets (6 years of entry). <i>Only 18 gained entry</i>, and in order to "clear them" from the system, the remaining 13 had to be placed on the Waiting List -- a new (and also incentivizing) feature of this year's race. To my knowledge, most were picked (or otherwise waived their entry for this year). </span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Great. But soon (within perhaps 1-2 years), those "long-waiting" applicants: >6 years or more, <i>will completely fill the waitlist. </i>Then what? Reserve it only for 7 year-losers? 8 years? 10 years? How long is the acceptable wait time? What degree of frustration and resentment is WSER OK with? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>[Of note, there were 9 eight-year applicants in the 2019 lottery, and all but one were selected. The Ninth was added atop the waitlist. This represents a mathetmatical cheat that, as I will discuss later, is both unfair and unsustainable.</i></span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>[Another note: 38 of 54 seven-year entrants and 88 of 126 six-year entrants were <u>not selected</u> this year. Within two years, the race will have surpassed a ten-year wait. WIth no end in sight]</i></span></blockquote>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you're interested in some (nauseating) math, here is <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.wser.org/wp-content/uploads/stats/WesternStatesLotteryAnalysis.pdf&source=gmail&ust=1575868565678000&usg=AFQjCNGcX4Nk121IKHYVAhvDy0DRI3uEPg" href="http://www.wser.org/wp-content/uploads/stats/WesternStatesLotteryAnalysis.pdf" target="_blank">a fantastic analysis by Ryan Witko on the issues and challenges of the WSER lottery</a>. I have my doubts that most WSER board members have read and understood this analysis (I have 3.5 college degrees and have taken both upper level calculus, statistics and even quantum mechanics, yet have a hard time fully absorbing it!). But the conclusions are thus:</span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">both entrants and ticket counts are increasing geometrically</span></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">the lottery cannot "clear" all of the runners from the system <i>before they they fail to re-qualify</i> (either due to physical incapacitation, or - even worse - failure to gain entry to a qualifying race!).</span></li>
<ul>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An increasing number runners -- many of whom that have "queued patiently" -- qualifying and entering the lottery, year after year, per Mr. Thornley's recommendation -- will not ever be selected. </span></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is <i><u>the worst-case PR scenario for the race:</u></i> runners "guaranteed" to eventually get in by the system, only to slip up one time (after, say 8-10 years of consecutive entry).</span></li>
</ul>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In short, per My Witko's analysis: "Assuming recent trends continue, we will soon reach a point where most applicants in the lottery will <i>never </i>actually be selected." </span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In conclusion, the geometric rise in both runners and tickets are on a collision course for failure. However, that's only the half of it. That a large proportion of runners in a given year <i>actually do not want to (or are otherwise not ready) </i>takes a bad situation and makes it tragic, and utterly frustrating for those who are. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Recommendations</b>. There are only three factors that can impact the demand to run Western States:</span></div>
<div>
<ol>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Field size</i>. Permitting mandates a finite size. It's generally understood that the Board is working to somehow expand this. But even if the field grew to 2,000 -- that is still a very small, non-geometric increase, relative to the following two factors</span></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Lottery entrants</i>. The total number of people interested in entering the lottery in a given year. </span></li>
<li style="margin-left: 15px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Lottery tickets</i>. The total number of tickets in a yearly lottery hopper. The current 2^n-1 formula creates a geometric growth pattern of total lottery tickets.</span></li>
</ol>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">#1 is currently a rigid figure. For #2 and 3, there are but two options:</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A. <i>Decrease demand</i> for individual runners to [prematurely] enter.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">B. D<i>ecrease the number of tickets</i> (in order to increase the value of a single ticket)</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*****</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />That is all for Part I. Subsequent parts - including a <b>proposed</b> <b>alternative to the current system</b> - are forthcoming.<br /><br />Stay tuned, and thanks for reading. </span></div>
</div>
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-25866804061749111162017-12-06T15:27:00.002-08:002017-12-07T10:50:44.298-08:00Rio del Lago 100-Mile Race Report<i><b>Author's Note</b>: I haven't published a formal race report in close to three years. Why? Maybe the "ultra blog" is dead; or, the demand (/attention span) of the public no longer values them.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>But a funny thing happened. When I was officially <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BbQPbFKAPY0/?taken-by=uhan_performance" target="_blank">granted a sponsor spot for the 2018 Western States</a>, the first thing I did was read my 2013 race report. I wanted to learn from my mistakes (and what I did right), that year. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>As such, the true value of a race report is self-reflection, and historical archive. Thus, the race report (for now) is back.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U6nEVXQMC7k/WicgEtP7NlI/AAAAAAAAL7s/ENT57DJ2-PY_5FfYjRCna89Wskvf5JLRACLcBGAs/s1600/OOJRdLwalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U6nEVXQMC7k/WicgEtP7NlI/AAAAAAAAL7s/ENT57DJ2-PY_5FfYjRCna89Wskvf5JLRACLcBGAs/s640/OOJRdLwalk.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walk of Shame to a frigid, foggy, surreal ALT. Picture: Callie Alice. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Pre-Race</b>. My goals for Rio del Lago were simple,
straightforward, and process-oriented:<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
<ul>
<li>A strong, even effort</li>
<li>Form-focused and efficient</li>
<li>A positive experience</li>
<li>Lay down “good memories” in an area that already has a
lot of positive vibes</li>
</ul>
Training leading up to RdL was pretty <u>great</u>:<o:p></o:p><br />
<ul>
<li>Mileage was strong but moderate: I hit 100 miles a couple
times, but otherwise moderated with legitimate rest weeks</li>
<li>Workouts were quality, including a series of
“ultra-grind” efforts, akin to marathon pace/effort work. In a six week span
between early September and early October, I notched f<b>ive runs ranging from 20
to 26 miles, where at least 50% (and in one case, 100%) of that mileage was at
threshold or race-pace speed and effort.</b> This, indeed, is the “lost gear” that
– while risky and requiring disciplined execution – is absolutely crucial for
peak performance at any ultra-distance</li>
<li>Lastly, I had a strong but moderate “marathon event”,
four weeks out from the race. Running on my own (with light crew support from
Callie Alice), <i><b>I ran 2:51 over 26.2 rolling miles (1500' gain!) on a self-selected Oregon
Coast road route.</b> </i>It was difficult but by no means full effort. While I was
tired, I felt it was an optimal stimulus going into RdL</li>
</ul>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Overall health was solid, save for a few minor (but
substantial) issues:</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<ul>
<li>I had some bilateral <b>foot
and ankle pain</b> – namely my right ankle – due to some stride inefficiencies
over the summer, but that improved a great deal before race day.</li>
<li>I contracted <b>giardia</b>
in January. It was successfully treated, only to return (in some form) in
August. A subsequent aggressive treatment (9x the original
anti-protozoan/antibiotic), while effective in eradicating the flare-up, it
also was a major gut-bomb to the healthy flora of my GI system. As such, I had
a handful of sleepless periods, as – to my great surprise & dismay – I
became “utterly” (get it?) <b>diary
intolerant</b>. In retrospect, this also happened in the spring, though I never
put it together. In short, when I digest dairy I get a histamine response
(asthma, fatigue, head fog), and later on (and more severely, this fall), I
will have substantial lower GI pain and distress. No fun.</li>
<li>It was a tough late summer and fall to be an Oregonian:
first, it was wildfire <b>smoke</b>. Not
only does the smoke impact training capacity, but it has systemic effects in
every day lift, including mild (but sustained) histamine responses and impaired
sleep overnight, even when indoors. Then, it was “burn pile season”, where
rural residents are allowed to burn piles of wood and leaves on their property.
This smoke gets trapped in the South Willamette valley and causes the same
symptoms as wildfire smoke. It’s extremely frustrating.</li>
<li><b>Fall illness</b>
began to roll into my office. I was in contact with one coaching client, and at
least one PT client who were ill in the week leading up to the race. This would
loom large over the day.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Pre-race</b>. Callie and I headed south on Thursday night for our
“NorCal Race Routine”: overnight in Ashland, then run the Lithia Park trails on
Friday morning. Thursday night usually includes a stop at Creekside Pizza,
which I obliged, and although I had to get a cheese-less pizza and salad, it
was still great. We slept well, got up early, and had a rather enjoyable rainy
and cool run at sunrise on the ‘chips along the creek, up and down stream. I
felt OK, but a little heavy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But after breakfast, <b>I felt “off”.</b> Like, super tired. I
thought it was allergies (it’s always, all the allergies, right?), so I popped
an Allegra at breakfast and seemingly felt better. Callie and I split driving
down to Sacramento and got into town, late-afternoon. I did a bit of PT
multi-tasking, then met up with The BGD for dinner before returning to his
house for the night. I felt really tired, but I thought that was a good thing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sleep was fitful; I was more anxious than I thought I’d
be, but I finally got some sleep. At 3:45 we were up and the pre-race prep:
gear, stretching/strength, “breakfast” and loading up was as effortless as many
ever! By 4:30 we were at Beal’s Point. It was warm and breezy…and, at 5AM, that
might’ve been the warmest it’d be all day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Mom and Tammy (one of my coaching clients, and a friend
from elementary school in Northern MN that I’ve known for 35 years!) were there
and we huddled together ‘til the start. Hugs and kisses later (the latter to
Callie Alice, only!) and it was time. I felt fine, and ready to “run all day”.
I lined up next to Dominic Layfield near the front just before 5.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>The Start to Beal’s (0-18 miles)</b>. When the horn sounded, the start was extremely easy. By
pace, it was nearly as slow as the first 100m up Squaw Valley, only this was a
3% bike path grade! It was so easy, I actually slowed down so I wouldn’t lead.
Among the field that’d be mixing it up were Layfield, Chikara Omine (a
multi-time World 100K team member), Nathan Yanko, Van, and perhaps one other
guy. But within the first mile, as we drew out of Beals and headed toward
Folsom, most of those guys quickly – inexplicably – tailed off, leaving just me
and Dom.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I didn’t wear a GPS watch. I wasn’t going to monitor HR,
and I didn’t care about pacing or distance. I had a regular Timex with a
repeating timer – something I use for hydration consistency. While it’s not
universally advised to “drink to a schedule”, I’ve learned what my body needs
at a moderate effort in these conditions, and a little sip of water every
seven-and-a-half-minutes is a perfect way to titrate that hydration. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Without a watch, I literally hadn’t the slightest idea
how fast we were going. But I knew it was EEEEE-ZZZZY! SO easy. One sub-goal I
had was not to race – or otherwise “micro—manage” this opening 18-mile river
path loop that would take us downriver, then back to Beal’s. Rather, one goal I
had was to “sleep until Beal’s” – or be so relaxed that those miles would
simply fly by. As such< I floated well behind Dom, allowing him to lead, and
allowing me to be in my own thoughts and avoid any pre-dawn chatter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So Dom lead, a good 30-50m in front most of the time. We
were running so easy that at times, , I’d nearly stop and walk a light paved
uphill to keep that buffer. We cruised downhill and I did my best to hone an
efficient flat (and downhill) stride. It didn’t feel great, but fine enough.
But above all, it felt utterly effortless, which was perfect.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The route crossed to the south side of the American River
about 3 miles in. These crossings have a tendency to be clover turns, which can
be confusing, but early on some volunteers helped guide the way. The course
was…well, “lightly marked”. It had ribbons, but they weren’t reflective. So
they required both a strong lamp and vigilance to see them. I benefitted from
having Dom up front, doubly so since he’s run the race before. This experience
would prove to be an invaluable partnership as the day progressed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We hit the aid station (mile x) in 50:xx. I had no idea
what mile it was at the time, and neither did the runner kids manning that
first aid station. I got a water fill and left). From there, we got on the Natoma loop – a run
Jake and I did in September. Familiarity such as this – and previous runs at
the American River 50 – would prove to be a double-edge sword: on one hand, you
“know” those loops; but on the other, you could never assume you’d be following
that same, precise route. That’d be a major mistake repeated by a lot of folks,
throughout the day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That first case occurred as we got to Hazel Bridge. To
run a typical Natoma loop, you’d simply get onto the bridge and cross. RdL had
you run under the bridge, then clover-loop back on the other side to cross. The
issue – here, and time and again – was that this crucial area was lightly-,
poorly-, or otherwise unmarked. This was the first of many stagger-or-stops,
where we had to look sharply, or sometimes simply guess the route, and when Dom
and I began to run together. We eventually found the route to go over the
bridge, back to the north, then on our way back upstream. After I saved the day
by finding the bridge on-ramp, Dom quickly repaid the favor by pointing out a
steep trail uphill I’d missed (as my brain wanted to stay on the bike path). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
From there until a mile out from Beal’s, we stuck
together: Dom graciously led, while I ran in his shadow. The course ran on some
convoluted mountain bike singletrack that teasingly paralleled the (much
easier) bike path, and besides the convolution, that, too, wasn’t precisely
marked. It had a myriad of side trails that could’ve been “flour-marked off” –
or blocked with a simple flour line across them. Such a temporary mark would
have been extremely useful for the precise amount of time needed (2-4 hours),
then easily eradicated by either foot prints or the rain – the latter, which
began, just before sunrise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
During those miles, as we both woke up, Dom and I chatted
a bit. I met him back in 2014 as we both helped pace Ford Smith at Western
States that summer. He’s just a solid guy, and a very strong runner. But, like
myself, he wasn’t feeling super-strong, early, so we both moderated our
efforts. Despite that, there wasn’t even a hint of anyone behind us. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
After an hour of undulating dirt, the course spat back onto
the bike path in Folsom, leading to the mild upgrade back to Beal’s. I wasn’t
feeling great. In fact, my legs had this strange heaviness to them; yet, at the
same time, the effort still felt extremely easy. So I let my form take over
and, without any additional effort, I began to pull away from Dom. Without any
hurry, I gradually make my way up the hill, back toward civilization and into
the dawn. I rolled into Beal’s Point, mile 18.5, happy to have that road
section behind me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My split of 2:3x was neither impressive, dangerous, or
surprising at all. That 8:xx pace was exactly how it felt: super-easy and
conservative. Yet, I just felt…off. When I hit the aid station, my mom, Callie
and a couple other elementary school friends – who happen to live in Sacramento,
and there to support Tammy – where waiting. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“The effort feels super-easy, it’s like I’m not even
trying”, I told them, as I guzzled some kombucha and reloaded fuel, “but my
legs feel achy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
And that was it. It felt easy, but it didn’t feel good. The effort was like
nothing, yet it felt like the legs couldn’t (or wouldn’t do much more). Because
it was early, I was fine with that, and went about my business, executing the
race plan: hydration and fuel consistency (titrating both), stride efficiency,
and moderate, even, “all-day effort”. After maybe a minute in the aid, I
departed, up and over the hill, and along the levy toward Folsom Lake. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Beals to the Overlook (18-40ish miles)</b>. This section was definitely reminiscent of American River
50, which features this transition from river path to horse trail, en route to
Auburn. Yet it was unfamiliar enough – and opaquely marked – to raise some
doubts about the course. Those doubts were realized when, about a mile out the
aid station, I realized I’d gone off course. It was mostly my fault; there were
a couple runners ahead on the trail
(non-racers) and, I’d see a flag in the direction they were going, a
left fork. I followed, running a good kilo at least, ‘til the trail led to some
sort of school park. Shit. I doubled back, annoyed, This was at least the
fourth time I’d lost the course, but the first time I’d gone severely off
course – ever, in an ultra. I doubled back, then, once I found the orange
flagging, actually started going backwards on the course, ‘til I came across
another runner. I cursed a bit, then, when I about-faced and found the
junction, I angrily transferred the offending, aberrant ribbon to the appropriate
side of the trail. While it might seem to be common sense that, if the trail is
going right, said marks would only be on the right, that was not the case here.
I tore off the ribbon and took the time to re-tie it with its brethren.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I was now in at least second place, but there was nothing
to do. I just chugged along. Second place guy (??) pulled ahead as he (as would
several guys that morning) would grind the piss out of uphills, then float the
downs. I tended to do the opposite, and shuffle-float the ups and gobble the
downs. I stayed close by, as we negotiated the tedious jeep road rollers (where
I first met Jake, over six years ago) that led to the singletrack. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
While I still felt heavy, after I got over the lost time
and added distance, I felt better. Fuel seemed to give me a bump, and things
were stabilizing. A mile or two out, the course markings were noticeably better
(The theme of the day; as markings were typically done by as many as two dozen
people, within a radius of an aid station), and we had no trouble rolling into
Granite Beach AS (mile 23.x), Callie was there, worried, as Dom had come
through a few minutes earlier. I asked for my first soda of the day, but they
didn’t have it out yet, so I went to the van for more kombucha, until an aid
station worker brought me a can of Coke. I was mildly annoyed, but more
concerned about my heavy, aching legs. Again, the effort didn’t feel good, but
felt like I was going as easy as possible without overtly walking. A quick in
and out and we were off. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
This was the “meat grinder section”, which marked Granite
Beach to Horseshoe Bar. Within a half-mile of leaving the AS, another, new
runner rolled up behind, who stayed behind me, seemingly uninterested in
passing. I again floated the ups and tried to quick-foot the descents. But my
leg aching was worsening, and I was less agile than usual. Still, we rolled
together until, a couple miles down the trail, we finally reeled in Dom. As the
trail became overtly more rocky and rugged, we had even more visitors, which
included Yanko and Van. We all ran together for a spell, commiserating humorously
about the day thus far, including making Barkley jokes on how “we need to stick
together to help navigate!” While I
stated that in jest, it would, once again, prove to be true. Not long after
that, Yanko and Van peeled off. I drifted behind them, while Dom and xx were
behind me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As we rolled through that rugged, rocky section, I began
to feel better. It was a dreary, Oregon day: thick clouds, and the morning mist
had vacillated between rain and sort of a suspended dew. That’s nothing new to
me, but certainly rare for this area. I took frequently looks out to the barren
lake – surprisingly uninhabited, given that we’re still in a major metro area.
It was peaceful and enjoyable. The two leaders pulled away, but I was patiently
doing my best to “float”. My early Pearl Jam classics shifted toward this Modest
Mouse favorite, in hopes that it would reinforce the goal of this section.
“Float! I’m not working hard!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Horseshoe AS came and went. It nice to see a familiar
face in Eric Tosci, but I didn’t linger. The trail improved as we inched toward
Rattlesnake, but the markings did not. A mile out that aid station, finally,
there was Chikara. Like some sort of video game character, he appeared out of
nowhere, on some sort of turboboost, and simply flew by me. “Wow”, I thought. I
wondered if maybe he was treating this race as a workout: going intentionally
slow, then ramping the pace. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That that point there were three guys in front. A mile
later, I passed a trail junction: one with no markings. “Uh-oh”, I thought. The
left fork stayed on the level plateau; the right fork descended. I took the
latter, but it didn’t feel quite right. A kilometer later, here comes the trio,
running back at me.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Shit.”, I said. “There’s no markings ahead!”, someone
said, as the trio blasted by, westbound. I, too, about-faced, and heavily
shifted momentum back downriver, and up the hill, only to run into Dom, coming
at us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I’m not sure if he said anything to those guys, or if
they didn’t hear them, but I stopped and said, “We can’t find the course”. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well, my watch [on which he loaded the course .gpx file]
says we’re still on it…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
So I followed him. And, for the time being, we were
eastbound again. But we ran along for a good kilo-plus without a single mark.
More descending, too. Finally, we hit a four-way intersection with a double-track
– potentially a major confusion point, but some secondary emotion in me
reminded me of AR50, and I directed us to follow it steeply downhill. Dom
concurred. “The aid station’s at the bottom”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
A half-mile later, finally a ribbon! Huzzah! But it had
to have been a mile-and-a-half of no markings. Really frustrating. In a case
like that, they’ve typically been removed (either innocently, or maliciously,
by non-racing pedestrians or horseriders). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We finally made it to Rattlesnake AS. I notified the aid
station captain of the missing marks, and got more kombucha from Callie, as
well as a few shots of coke and a gel re-stock, before shuffling out again.
“Your stride’s a little shuffly, pick it up!”, Callie said. “I know”, I
replied, annoyingly. Not at her, but at the reality of my situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As we’d entered the aid station, I shared with Dom that I
wasn’t feeling well. At first I thought I might’ve over-done the allergy
medication. I’d taken a half-pill that morning, after a full pill Friday
morning and half-pill before bed. That’s two, 24 hour doses…taken in successive
days: hardly an “overdose”, but it’s been known that when I take such doses, I
can get an upset stomach and drowsiness. I felt that maybe that’s why I felt so
“low”, yet the effort felt easy. The legs, at times, felt like they’d come
around, only to begin to ache more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The section from Rattlesnake to Cardiac? It was just a
tough section. I forgot – or simply blocked out – this section from my AR50
memory. It was tough. At first the trail was pretty smooth and runnable as we
rolled past Avery’s Pond and the last of the upper reaches of the reservoir,
proper. But once we got along the actual river, boy, did it roll. Up and down,
up and down. Making it a dimension more challenging was the rain, which had
picked up, and made the dirt, muddy, and the rocks, wet. It was slow-going. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Dom and I seemed to be having a contest as to who could
go the slowest, yet still run. I apparently took over that “lead” after the
pond, and pulled away just slightly on that singletrack. That section, and the
rollers, seemed endless: up and down, up and down, up and down. I try not to
look at my watch, but when it hit 50:xx and there was no aid in sight, my heart
sunk a bit. But no sooner did I get down than the “Chikara Kart” pulled up
behind, on another turboboost! Letting him past was almost reflexive. HE blew
past us again, and my brief side-step was enough to get Dom back in sight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Finally, <i>finally</i>. Cardiac Aid. More sodas and gels
(“Quesadilla??” “No thanks.”). Chikara took time, but then frantically left and
seemingly thrashed his way up the steep gravel, Cardiac road climb. Dom and I
left about the same time, hiking. “Look at him. But look at how slowly he’s
pulling away”, Dom said. He was right: a lot of thrashing, but Chikara didn’t
gain much. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I hiked the entire gravel section of this climb. Heroic
finishes at AR50, where this encompasses the final 3 miles of the race, involve
a brutal, gut-churning run up this. But not 40% into a hundred. We hiked, and
my pace was enough to pull away from Dom and keep Chikara in sight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I passed a couple camouflaged fisherman hiking up. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How’s
it goin?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Ah, no good, the water’s too low!”, they said. “How far
you going?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“A hundred.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Oh, cool”. They’re Auburn residents, so they were
non-plussed. “Have a good one”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
About a mile up, the gravel cedes to paved road, and a
mercilessly-runnable grade of about 5-8%. I shuffle-ran it. It just felt
better, and, really, was runnable. I ran maybe 12-minute pace. Chikara finally
pulled out of sight. I didn’t care. I simply wanted to get to the Overlook. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Pulling up into Auburn in those conditions – dreary,
foggy, mist-covered hills—was surreal. But finally - finally! - we were there.
Uphills felt good; downs did not. This was weird, but emblematic of the “leg
ache”, that seemed to grow as the day went on. So I shuffle-ran the steep trail
up to Overlook, mile 40.x.</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There was a nice crew up there. Beside my mom and Callie,
both Craig and Laurie Thornley were hanging out, and we chatted a bit. But I was
just…really lethargic. Not bonky, not overly tired, just…drained. I had the
urge to deuce, but it was transient, so when the lone bathroom at the point was
occupied (of course), I kept going. Chikara and Dom, who was right behind me,
got out front as we got onto the proper Western States trail and made our way
to Robie Point.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Things were deteriorating, and I knew it. The ache was
spreading and – in a way that I hadn’t felt in literally years – I was having
trouble descending. The legs felt sooo heavy. This is a true aberration. Even
during the years in which I lacked fitness, when I couldn’t climb for shit, I
could always descend well. Today? It was the opposite. Ups felt…OK, but downs –
and even flats – taxed and added to the progressive ache in my legs: quads,
calves, hamstrings and even glutes joined in. </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Perplexing and frustrating. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I shuffled along, making no efforts to keep up with
anyone, including a spry looking fellow who rolled up behind me. He seemed
about ten times fresher than me, hiking the uphill confidently, then floating
the downs with an effortless, efficient stride. “Wow, that guy looks great, I’m
not keeping up with him”. I was right. He’d go on to win the race.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
At that point, I tried my best to reset: “OK, this is a
new race: the lower river is behind us, it’s time to tackle The Cool Loop” –
named as such, since it encompassed the Lower Quarry Road and Western States
Trail, the mid-section of the race. Like Jurek did in his 2005 Badwater win, I
tried to “start over” in my mind, take this section as a race a new, and simply
execute. The legs felt like ass, but I could still execute, I thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Myriad rollers finally led us to the Robie junction and
the proper WSER course. Whew, it was muddy! It was slow-going down to the
quarry trail and I cursed at myself for dawdling so much. I peed for the first
time in a while, indicating (what I thought) was balanced hydration (not too
little, and certainly not too much). I continued to titrate gels, taking small
“nips of courage’ – perhaps an eighth of a pouch – over the course of a
half-hour. And I took a salt pill (albeit only my second of the day). Execute.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I made It to No Hands. Callie and BGD were there (but
couldn’t crew), I grimaced their direction and made my way out the aid. Seeing
the “Next Aid, 10.5 miles” was a tough pill to swallow. It’d be a long section.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Up to K2, then down to the 49 crossing we went: no
runners in sight. Callie and BGD were there, and Jake ran with me for nearly a
mile down the road. Coincidentally (or not) this might’ve been my lowest point
of the day: I felt so low, so heavy, so achy – accentuated by the utter runnability
of the road. BGD propped me up and even said my stride looked good!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We talked about the plan: Callie was going to “appear” on
the trail before ALT and run with me for a bit. Pacers were allowed after
Overlook 1, but she was banged up and unable to run that whole 30-mile loop;
instead, Jake was going to drive to the ALT area and we’d meet there. I was
really looking forward to sharing that great – and my favorite – section of
that trail with her, and was committed to doing whatever it took to get there
in one piece, feeling OK. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
He finally bid goodbye and turned back. I was alone
again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I shuffled to the rock wall and heard voiced behind. It
was Yanko and his pacer, Galen Burrell. They were super-chatty and in good
spirits and before long, then passed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I did my best to negotiate the rollers from the rock wall
to Browns Bar. “Execute!”, I said aloud: tall, forward, high knees – which was
increasingly difficult for my achy quads and hamstrings – but it kept me going.
I walked any steep ups and shuffled the rest. It was OK pace, but the
trajectory was clearly downward. At that
point, I didn’t care about that, as much as simply stabilizing, and trying to
figure out how to preserve my legs and stem the tide of the ache. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Approaching Maine Bar is when the wheels truly began to
fall off. The ache spread: now my whole back, from lower neck to low back, just
ached. And my legs were heavy as ever. The climb from Maine Bar, up to American
Canyon Trail, was a merciful break. But once one the ACT, I made myself run
again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Oh, man, do I love this trail. This Lower-Quarry, ACT,
WSER loop is one of my favorites, and a great run that Jake, Callie and I
grinded back in February of 2015. We had a blast on a similarly cool and damp
day. Today, I could barely muster eleven-minute pace on that flat, smooth
singletrack. It was heartbreaking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Finally, another climb, upward along the creek, up toward
the WSER trail, and more merciful hiking, but even that got sluggish. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
At that point, things got fuzzy. My head started to go.
Breathing got labored, and – predictably, as I slowed – a chill set in. I
walked the slightest uphill, as the course made its way to the Western States
trail. Once there, I stopped. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I was done. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was just over. I could barely move. I heard more
voices behind me – another couple guys, happily chatting, as one should, midway
through a hundred. They passed me as a shuffle-walked along. I assured them
that I was “OK” (enough to not hurt myself), but I was clearly in a bad spot.
They passed, but there was no sight of Jake or Callie. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but I knew my
body was shutting down. Running was out of the question because I was now having
difficulty walking. Everything – all my muscles – just ached and ached. I
shuffle-walked down the trail, hands in makeshift pockets in my Houdini
jackets, as my temperature dipped. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Finally, they appeared. Thank goodness. But it was just
so disappointing. I was looking forward all day to this moment, and it was
over. Thank God for them both, because Callie literally gave me the shirt off
her back, replacing my drenched shirt with her long sleeve, as well as a hat
and gloves, while BGD gave me his Waldo puffy. Even with these amazing gifts, I
struggled to stay warm. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Let’s get you to ALT and see what we can do”, Jake and
Callie both seemed to say. In my compromised state, I felt any sort of
resurrection was a longshot, but I agreed to try. So we shuffled along. But I
literally could not walk faster than about 2 miles an hour. I ached and ached.
We chatted a bit to pass the time, and those two did their best to
troubleshoot, but I relayed to them how progressively off I felt all day, and
the uniqueness of this “ache”. I felt truly sick. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Finally, <i>finally</i>, we passed the cougar bench, and made
our way to the aid station. I plopped into a bag chair under a tarp that
mercifully blocked the rain, which was now steady upon us. The fog and rain at
ALT – usually a piping-hot evening aid station at Western States – was truly
surreal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The aid folks, including the medical captain, Sheri Tweed
(with whom I worked at Robinson Flat during this year’s WSER) tried to
encourage me to continue, but with every passing minute, I got colder, even as
I sat, ensconced in jacket, Mylar blanket and a second jacket on my legs, until
I was shivering. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I tried to stay positive. Other runners trickled in and
out of the aid station. They gave a lot of encouragement. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“How you doing, man?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
“Well”, I said, lethargically, collecting my thoughts,
“…I’ve seen better days…”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And I think it was Jake that reflexively added, with his
utmost pop culture database, <b>“<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKxXHEx-XnU" target="_blank">…and the bottom dropped out!</a>”</b> (This would
henceforth be the theme song of the weekend). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I was officially done. Sheri shifted mercifully from cheerleader
to care provision and got me (and Jake) into the medical tent, on to a cot and
under multiple sleeping bags and blankets, which stemmed some of the shivering.
Callie went to get the car. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And that was the day. Over. Done at mile 59. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<u>Aid Station (mile/split mile): Splits</u><br />
Willow Creek (6.5/6.5): 50:05<br />
Negro Bar (14.0/7.5): 67:57<br />
Beals Point (18.5/4.5) 37:33 (2:25:36 Start to Beal's =8:22 pace)<br />
Granite Beach (23/4.5) 42:50 (Lost course - added 1 mile)<br />
Horseshoe Bar (32.5/9.5) 83:31<br />
Rattlesnake Bar (35.5/3.0) 32:18 (Lost Course - added 0.75 mile)<br />
Cardiac (41.0/5.5) 60:47<br />
Overlook (44.5/3.5) 35:32<br />
No Hands (48.5/4.0) 41:44<br />
Auburn Lake Trails (59/10.5) ???</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
*****<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Post-race reflection.</b> Initially, I couldn’t quite understand what happened. Did
I simply have an off day? Was I insufficiently rested from the marathon (or
otherwise over-trained)? Did I over-do the allergy meds, which can cause
malaise and muscle aches? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In retrospect, <b>I’d simply gotten sick</b>. It’s so rare that
I do, but when I do, it’s frequently both subtle and disguised as allergies
(which are far more common). But in the aftermath of the race, while my legs –
which continued to ache for a day or two – bounced back, I had a head cold and
mild fever that I’m just now [as of mid-November] <i>just beginning</i> to get over. I’d simply picked up something and
likely began to feel it on Friday (or even Thursday). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
To blame all the troubles on illness is both liberating
but also a cop-out. I need to both take solace in the notion that – in all my
years of running, and seven years of ultras – I’ve felt such ‘ache” only once,
and that was racing Bandera in 2014, right after having the flu. As such, I’m
confident that illness was the primary factor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
That said, I also need to acknowledge other possible
factors – things in my control – where I may have erred, either contributing to
the off-day, or contracting the illness, including:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Deficits & Issues. </b>Preceding the race:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Poor <b>nutritional </b>discipline, which led to some
sleep-deprived nights and decreased rest</li>
<li>Poor <b>sanitary </b>discipline at work (got sick!)</li>
<li>Deficient race <b>logistical preparation:</b></li>
<ul>
<li>I needed to know the course better to avoid getting lost,
adding distance, or otherwise adding frustration</li>
<li>My headlamp sucked and was uncomfortable</li>
<li>I didn’t know the aid stations and distances well enough</li>
</ul>
<li>Deficient <b>goal-setting</b>: perhaps having “too light” of
goals (“just have a good day”) might have allowed the day to slip away</li>
<li><b>Stubbornness</b>, and failure to take more time to “fix
problems”. Should I have spent more time at aid stations, early on, when my
legs began to ache? Maybe, but I’m not certain how that would have helped or
what I could have done. Experience tells me that such stops only make issues
like that, worse. However, I have yet to learn how to “stop and rest” – and
allow time to fix a downward spiral – before it goes beyond the point of no
return. I’m still not sure how to do that, and that’s a major deficit in my
skill set.</li>
</ul>
That said, I feel good about taking away a lot of
positives from the day, including:<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
</div>
<ul>
<li><b>Excellent nutrition and hydration</b>. Once again, it worked
really well to titrate both calories and water in small doses. Small nips of
both between aid stations worked great and avoided any overloads, while larger
boluses of calories at aid stations would also provide a more substantial
boost. I peed a lot, and had no deuce stops in 59 miles and eight-plus hours of
running.</li>
<li>Race gear:</li>
<ul>
<li>Loved the <b>Pearl Izumi N2 Roads</b>. They had good grip, even
in the mud and slick rock, and were light and comfortable. This could be a
great Western States shoe.</li>
<li>The <b>Sporthill ultra shorts? The BEST shorts I’ve worn in
a long time.</b> They got a little loose (I might need a size smaller, or to use
the draw string) with the bottle in the back, but they were supportive but
soft, breathable and warm. Great shorts!</li>
</ul>
<li>The stride, on the whole, was very solid:</li>
<ul>
<li>Sagittal plane was GOOD. Both Callie and Jake said I was
forward (enough), and arched in my spine.</li>
<li>I could feel like I was using my hips well, both pulling
beneath and pushing behind. Heel recovery (“Salazar stride”) was pretty good</li>
<li>Feet…were OK. </li>
<li>The one stride element that was off: I was a little (but
significantly) <b>"A Leaner":</b> pelvis right/trunk left. As a result, my right ankle got stiff
and left knee and quad were beat up, again. I’d simply neglected to focus on
this much at all.</li>
</ul>
<li><b>Pacing </b>was…good. To start out, I could not have executed
better. I keep thinking, <b>“If Jim Walmsley had raced this, he would’ve run [the
first river loop] in two hours, flat” (I ran 2:35/8:2x pace)</b>. It was <i>so damn easy.</i> And efficient. And
effortless. It couldn’t have been better. Then, when the other guys went
grinding past, I kept my cool.</li>
<li>I kept my head in the race, and fought as valiantly as
possible. I cycled through my goals from A
(win, run fast) to Z (keep moving, simply finish). I did all I possibly
could, and with the maximal positivity. It just wasn’t enough. </li>
</ul>
<b>Post-script notes. </b>As it turns out, there was more to that day. I had
actually planned to propose to Callie, mid-race, while she was pacing me. While
that may have added to the “pressure” of the day, if anything, I felt it
balanced my goals for the day. I was never super-pressured to race fast and
win. Rather, I wanted to have a positive, special day. That it ultimately fell
apart made it even more disappointing.<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br />
But things happen for a reason, and we “got things done”,
two weeks later, on the Oregon Coast!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tx9VLPRHV2o/WicfkruUNhI/AAAAAAAAL7k/vHjG8NzXq7ADTODJ9xoy4AH6obgWLf98wCLcBGAs/s1600/OOJ%2526CAring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tx9VLPRHV2o/WicfkruUNhI/AAAAAAAAL7k/vHjG8NzXq7ADTODJ9xoy4AH6obgWLf98wCLcBGAs/s400/OOJ%2526CAring.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Perpetua Lookout - 11/18/2017 - #teammatesforlife</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
After the race, I got bonafide <i>sick</i> – and <i>stayed sick</i> –
for the <i>entire month of November</i>.
Pretty incredible, but I get it: a virus invades, staging an initial attack;
you go run an ultramarathon (in my case, 59 miles over 9+ hours); the body now
has something new to work on, repairing the race damage, and letting the virus
run roughshod. It took the entire month to finally dispense of it, resulting in
prolonged off-season!</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
Now that the lottery has come and gone, I finally feel
read to prepare for 2018. I hope this turns out to be a good training – and <i>learning
</i>– experience.-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-81519061039033408752016-10-24T14:23:00.003-07:002016-10-24T14:23:42.633-07:00Uhan Performance - Physiotherapy - Running Analysis - Coaching<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Come see us at </span><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage.com/track/click?u%3D33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344%26id%3D87a4f8a5b5%26e%3D6e81c115c4&source=gmail&ust=1477430459613000&usg=AFQjCNHaiWdl3DGOECWsmicLR-yyQZ8CvA" href="http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage.com/track/click?u=33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344&id=87a4f8a5b5&e=6e81c115c4" style="color: #2baadf; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">Uhan Performance</a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On July 1, Joe opened his own private physiotherapy practice in Eugene, Oregon!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 16px;">Located in a quiet, professional building in South Eugene, <em>Uhan Performance </em>was founded to realize our goal of providing excellent, high-quality, collaborative client care in a<em> warm, relaxing, non-hurried atmosphere</em>. We treat a wide variety of orthopedic, spine and sports injuries.<br /><br /><em>Uhan Performance </em>also offers </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 16px;"><a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage2.com/track/click?u%3D33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344%26id%3Dad51169962%26e%3D6e81c115c4&source=gmail&ust=1477430459613000&usg=AFQjCNGHOwJEG1bx0daJS5ya4JEa44t3wg" href="http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage2.com/track/click?u=33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344&id=ad51169962&e=6e81c115c4" style="color: #2baadf;" target="_blank">Coaching</a> and <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage.com/track/click?u%3D33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344%26id%3D3ee731766c%26e%3D6e81c115c4&source=gmail&ust=1477430459613000&usg=AFQjCNFhCFgNGe287ffed_nWVWO0hHF98g" href="http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage.com/track/click?u=33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344&id=3ee731766c&e=6e81c115c4" style="color: #2baadf;" target="_blank">Running Analysis</a> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 16px;">services -- both locally and remotely, for long-distance clientele. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-size: 16px;">For more information, visit our website at <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?hl=en&q=http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage.com/track/click?u%3D33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344%26id%3D87a4f8a5b5%26e%3D6e81c115c4&source=gmail&ust=1477430459613000&usg=AFQjCNHaiWdl3DGOECWsmicLR-yyQZ8CvA" href="http://uhanperformance.us13.list-manage.com/track/click?u=33cee2dad33ccf99f8db7d344&id=87a4f8a5b5&e=6e81c115c4" style="color: #2baadf;" target="_blank">UhanPerformance.com</a>.</span></span>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-639208249776103402015-04-14T15:40:00.000-07:002015-04-14T15:40:08.514-07:00[No] Sugar: 2015 Lake Sonoma 50 Micro-ReportWith all the social media pictures, memes and click-bait out there, who has time to read an entire, content-laden weblog post? A reality in modern fitness and self-help media is that people will read content only if in list-form. That said, I'll do what I can with a bulleted, micro-report:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>As a general rule, the "Couch to 50-Mile Trail Race" Plan should be longer than three weeks: Due to a prolonged Achilles injury, I didn't run the bulk of February or March, only beginning running on March 27. Wishful thinking, and a deep-seeded FOMO drove me to pin on Bib #14 for the 2015 Lake Sonoma 50</li>
<li>My longest run since Bandera 100K in January was 23 miles and three hours. I had not run over 11 miles or 1h40m since early February. </li>
<li>The plan was to run this race truly easy, as a "training race".</li>
<li>The term "training race" should be added to a long list of garbage ultrarunning terms whose current most accurate definition is, <i>"Any race where one decides to not commit 100% of abilities"</i>, or <i>"I'm not in shape, so I'm gonna run really slow and pretend I'm not trying that hard"</i>. This includes, for many, running at 99%. Or, running at 105%, then dropping out. Given that most "race efforts" are always run between 95-100%, anything other than a structured sub-maximal game plan is...well, <i>a race!</i> </li>
<li>I was committed to avoiding these cop-outs and having measurable parameters. My goal was run cruise at a heart rate of 150 bpm for as long as my Achilles would allow. </li>
<li>I missed the start of an ultra for the first time, ever. I was stretching in the parking lot when, unexpectedly, I heard a whistle, then a slow migration of the herd. Oops! Gotta go!</li>
<li>Bullet-form is a great way to cast blame on others, as well as neatly outline a litany of excuses. <i>Blame #1: </i>Why did BGD let me eat mediocre-grade mozzarella cheese sticks the night before the race? He <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2011/12/north-face-endurance-challenge-san.html" target="_blank">knew my history with low-quality imitation-Italian food products, pre-race</a>, dammit! C'mon, coach! </li>
<li><i>Guilt admission #1</i>: I received illegal aid along the course. At 2K. Running along, weaving through the masses, I could already feel gastrointestinal malaise. Thankfully, Callie drove past me and parked to take pictures. This allowed me to stop at the car and fish out some In N Out Burger napkins for future use. </li>
<li><i>Pro-Tip #1</i>: always save the 53 extra napkins you receive with each In N Out Burger order. Put them in your car glove box for future use. Like good karma, they'll be there for clutch utility, such as spilled coffee, allergic ooze, or impending mozzarella cheese stick revolt.</li>
<li>One of my favorite things to do in the early stages of an ultra is to develop new ideas for ultrarunning columns. One of them came quickly in those early miles, <i>"X # of Easy Things Elite Ultrarunners are Doing That You Aren't (and They're Not Running Farther and Faster)" </i>Spoiler alert: one of them is running tangents on a wide, paved course.</li>
<li>Two-and-a-half miles in, I was so excited to see <a href="http://www.billyyangfilms.com/" target="_blank">Billy Yang</a>, I ran completely off course and fertilized some native flora. </li>
<li>Upon collecting myself (and "covering my tracks"), I proceeded back on course. My major focus, besides HR discipline, was mechanical efficiency. Heavy emphasis during Sonoma was quick feet, strong arms and hips: upward drive and downward push (the latter, especially on uphills). I was fantastic at this in '12 and '13, and need to get back to that. </li>
<li>I had the pleasure of meeting a bunch of new folks along the trail. Among them was <b>Jaclyn Greenhill</b> from Marietta, Georgia, running her first West Coast vertical ultra. She seemed to quickly fade back after asking me, "What your best time on this course?" (didn't mean to be @douchebagultra, just being honest). Given that nearly everyone went out way too hard, I'm happy to see she eased off the gas and <a href="http://www.ultralive.net/ls50/webcast.php" target="_blank"><b>finished well</b></a>. </li>
<li>After the multiple stops, the pace improved and I ran well along the lake toward Warm Springs. For the first time, I made some Andy Jones-Wilkins-like micro-splits of that segment for future use. The return segment from Warm Springs (38) to Island View (45) is notoriously brutal and seemingly unending. But here's what I learned: </li>
<ul>
<li>The top of the big clearing - where one climbs away from the lake and crosses a small stream, is <i>"The Four-and-a-Half Mile Creek".</i></li>
<li>From there, there are three more creek crossings: mostly hoppers, but a couple splashers: <i>"Four Mile", "Three Mile", and "Two Mile Creeks". </i></li>
<li>Lastly, there is a random blue bike frame nailed to a tree. That is one-and-a-half miles from Island View cutoff</li>
</ul>
<li>Though unconfirmed, someone mentioned a random bathtub (used for water collection for horses) as being 2-miles to go from the finish. Such micro-splits are extremely useful, mentally, to break up a challenging part of the race.</li>
<ul>
<li>I spent some good quality miles running with <a href="http://breakingexcellent.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Katie DeSplinter</b></a>, and later reeled in <a href="http://www.rainshadowrunning.com/our-staff.html" target="_blank"><b>James Varner</b></a> en route to Warm Springs AS at 11.6. I would later find out we were in about 90th place at that point! Given how "honest" I was running at that point, it was a real shocker, and a mild commentary on how runners - top to bottom - choose to pace themselves at ultras. </li>
</ul>
<li>Because I was running at a low intensity, I chose not to pump myself full of sugar. <i><b>Yes, carbs are key for optimal race performance, but <u>less</u> of them are necessary -- in training and racing -- when you optimize fat metabolism, and they're seldom necessary at all in sub-maximal (namely sub-anaerobic) training and racing.</b></i> That said, I chose to fuel on water and banana chunks, only. I took 2-3 chunks at Warm Springs and hiked along.</li>
<li>That said, I did have some "Sugar" along the run. I had this song in my head for a good 20+miles: </li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/09R8_2nJtjg/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/09R8_2nJtjg?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> "...neeed a little sweetness, innn my liiiife!"</i></div>
<ul>
<li>Allergies are a perennial issue at LS50. This day was no different. Though I took an Allegra the night before, the heart rate was still elevated. 15x heart rate didn't get me much between Warm Springs and Madrone. What took 56 minutes in <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2013/04/bridge-burning-2013-lake-sonoma-50.html" target="_blank"><b>2013</b></a> took 71 this year...including another mozzy-stick fertilizer drop-off. </li>
<li>There were tons of friendly folks on the course. Madrone wins as <i>Friendliest Aid Station Award</i>. </li>
<li>Is it me, or does Madrone AS continue to move farther down the hill each
year? Another couple installments, and the AS will be a floating
pontoon aid! More bananas here, and a load of hiking uphill, toward the random spectators at the top of the hill that were great, too.</li>
<li>I ran mostly alone over the top of the Madrone climb, toward the bottom of The Big Hill. This is where I first felt my Achilles - the first real symptoms of any kind in close to three weeks. Uh-oh. Not...not great. The implication of those teeny blips far outweighed the benefit of an 8-hour training run, so I committed to quitting at the halfway point.</li>
<li>Ten-time Western States finisher <a href="http://anewscafe.com/2010/07/02/sl-teacher-returns-to-trail-runnings-grandest-stage/" target="_blank"><b>Luanne Park</b></a> came into view at the base of the hill. We ran along together for a few meters while the first of the men's leaders doubled back on us. </li>
<li>Swear to God, <a href="https://andmilestogobeforeieat.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><b>Alex Varner</b></a> was running faster uphill at us than I was running down it. He was among the few top guys looking real good, but we all know what a poser he is. #winkface</li>
<li>When Jake ran by, in about 15th place, I doubled back and ran with him a good quarter mile, feeding him intel and encouragement (this confused Luanne quiet a bit...). He was looking good, but well back and with "only one gear", he said. </li>
<li>Doubling back, I hiked nearly the entire climb, until the course leveled out in rollers. A lot of folks were struggling, but many looked fantastic, including crafty veteran Topher Gaylord, local Eugene Hunter Lewis Taylor, and the dominating eventual women's winner, Stephanie Howe. </li>
<li>It took me a while, but I gradually caught up to Luanne again, then reeled in a few more folks over the final lollipop, allowing the HR to spike above 160 at points. However, at no point did the effort feel labored.</li>
<li>At No Name AS (mile 25.2), I felt immense guilt about the prospect of dropping, and even lingered around the well-staffed, fan-friendly AS before making the decision. <a href="https://about.me/JimmyDeanFreeman" target="_blank"><b>Jimmy Dean Freeman</b></a> was just leaving, imploring me to run with him. When he finds out that his wife Katie aided and abetted my DNF, he's gonna be pissed!</li>
<li>I tested out my Achilles, and it didn't seem very sore to stretched. But declared my drop to Stan Jensen at the aid, just the same, and called it a day.</li>
<li>Katie Freeman was nice enough to give me a ride back to the start. In all fairness, I technically "helped crew" Jimmy Dean: I think I carried a water bottle of his for about 50 meters back to his car.</li>
</ul>
<b>Post-Race</b> <br />
<ul>
<li>Hanging out, post-race, after an early DNF is weird. Thankfully there were some other quitters about, including Victor Ballesteros and Ian Sharman to spread out the shame...and crack the first Racer 5's. </li>
<li>Once again, Lake Sonoma didn't disappoint on weather. Though breezy, it was balmy and enjoyable, allowing this pale Oregonian to get some sun as we awaited the finishers. </li>
<li>After a long day of crewing, photographing and encouraging, Callie returned, and she and I walked down the course to watch the finishers. Huge congrats to Alex for a tremendous course-record run. Ryan Bak was a couple miles behind, followed by Jared Hazen. </li>
<li>The surprise of the day was <a href="http://www.presidiosportsmgmt.com/jorge-maravilla/" target="_blank"><b>Jorge Maravilla</b></a>'s fourth place - and Western States Ticket-winning performance. Mr Fabulous has yet to cease to amaze me with his speed, versatility and toughness. However, he has some decisions to make in the coming days and weeks: 1. Does he take the ticket?, and 2.) What does he need to do with training and racing between now and <a href="http://www.wser.org/" target="_blank"><b>The Last Saturday in June</b></a> to karate kick across the line in Top Ten, as opposed to shuffling in for a buckle? </li>
</ul>
<b>Analysis</b><br />
<br />
I was really happy with this half-ultra effort, for several reasons: <br />
<ul>
<li>While not severe, my left Achilles ached for the entire rest of the
day. Three days post, it seems back to normal. The right decision was
made. I ran four hours at 155 average heart rate, on what amounted to about 1.3 bananas and water. The effort was measured and without any low points.</li>
<li><i>The stride felt <u>fantastic</u></i>. I felt like my arm swing and trunk stability was the best it's been since Waldo, and I was most sore in the glutes, with minimal other-leg soreness. For the first time in several months, I felt truly fast and - should push had come to shove - capable of throwing down a fast pace. But I'll be saving that for later...</li>
<li>Most remarkable, my <i>right </i>quad was slightly more sore than my left. This wasn't compensatory; in fact, this is the first time in an ultra where I feel I didn't overload my left side - a long-time issue.</li>
<li>I had no toe pain, no blisters, no lost toe nails, and - wait for it - no blown-up ankles. This was because of.... </li>
<li><i>"Elite Feet"</i>: One major focus - and fodder for another column - was a focus on what I'm calling <i>"Elite Feet"</i>. Having to do with foot strike, tempo and power, it was huge in helping keep me efficient and engage my glutes!</li>
<li>Like my 27-mile sub-threshold run at <a href="http://www.bristow24.org/" target="_blank"><b>Elijah Bristow 24</b></a> last year, I feel like this run could be a great launching point for a fit, fast summer and beyond. </li>
<li>What I told everyone over the course of the weekend, is, <i><b>"I need to get back to being a normal runner".</b></i> A normal runner does normal things - easy runs, tempo runs, track sessions, and long runs - and does them efficiently and with minimal pain or discomfort. Often times, ultrarunners get caught up in preparing for "crazy stuff" - long distances, or gnarly terrain that requires "abnormal" preparations: long and steep climbs, punishing descents and everything in between - not necessarily to improve overall fitness, but simply to survive. This is outside the realm of what I call, "normal". Instead the foundation for fast and sustainable running of all types is "being normal". Developing an aerobic base, threshold strength, and VO2Max speed and efficiency, all the while staying mechanically precise, is the foundation for all successful running. Indeed, most runners enter the sport with such a foundation, yet tend to easily lose it when hampered by injury, burnout, or FOMO-driven impatience. I've experienced some of each over the past two years. And now, coming off this injury, the emphasis is on "being normal"</li>
<li>A four-hour, reasonably paced trail long run was a reasonably normal thing to do!</li>
<li><i>I have no plans - none - to race in the next four to five months</i>. I'd like to return to McKenzie River 50K in September, but beyond that, I have no strong racing interests in the summer and fall. </li>
<li>My goal is to "be normal" and develop prolonged, sustainable fitness - interrupted by long-ultra post-race destruction - between now and the end of the year, and come into 2016 with the same fantastic fitness and speed I had in 2013 - only more sustainably.</li>
</ul>
<b>Gratitude</b><br />
<br />
Many thanks to generous folks who spread their love amongst us last weekend:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>to our hosts, <b>Marilyn and John Farnsworth</b>, for the fabulous weekend accommodations in a peaceful valley outside Healdsburg.</li>
<li>to <b>Mary Prchal</b>, for organizing volunteers and runner hosts, and for hosting us for post-race dinner and drinks at her home, Saturday night</li>
<li>to <b>John Medinger and Lisa Henson</b>, who have the uncanny knack to make a world-class, professional, competitive ultramarathon also feel warm, relaxed and effortless. True grace! </li>
<li>to <b>The BGD Family: Karen May, Mike and Tracy Kelly and Sara and Sadie Rydman</b> for being out there, once again to cheer us on, and celebrate another year in the sun. Really love you guys!</li>
<li>to <b>the ultrarunning community</b>, for another warm, welcoming, memorable weekend. There are so many great people and stories out there, and I'm privileged to learn a few more of them, each event. </li>
<li>to Callie Alice, who was the tireless crew / ultra enthusiast and travel companion for the weekend. Little do folks know how much she loves trail running, and how damn good at it she is. But they'll find out soon enough...</li>
</ul>
<b> Assorted Pictures</b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dOd_xrJc0pQ/VS2PTRTgoxI/AAAAAAAAGzc/KjQ-G6LDACw/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dOd_xrJc0pQ/VS2PTRTgoxI/AAAAAAAAGzc/KjQ-G6LDACw/s1600/1.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He actually ordered all this for himself. And nearly ate it all, too. Pre-race meal. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PLCGw5hICu4/VS2PZf_qbHI/AAAAAAAAGz8/LBP-G6p8B50/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PLCGw5hICu4/VS2PZf_qbHI/AAAAAAAAGz8/LBP-G6p8B50/s1600/2.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My precise position, when the starting whistle sounded and the race began. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wv6tXhFg_sQ/VS2Pa4RPUfI/AAAAAAAAG0M/tcNka3H9CkI/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wv6tXhFg_sQ/VS2Pa4RPUfI/AAAAAAAAG0M/tcNka3H9CkI/s1600/3.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AS Garbage Can has a new girlfriend: tall and slender, soft, and eco-conscious.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jc3b4mTddcw/VS2PegSrrpI/AAAAAAAAG0c/OHCYHXpZnqw/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jc3b4mTddcw/VS2PegSrrpI/AAAAAAAAG0c/OHCYHXpZnqw/s1600/4.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"RIIIIIGHT?" Around town Saturday evening with BGD, Sadie and Sara</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ffgU4GBVZEU/VS2PcQz1ZiI/AAAAAAAAG0U/OnUMjIuyfPs/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ffgU4GBVZEU/VS2PcQz1ZiI/AAAAAAAAG0U/OnUMjIuyfPs/s1600/5.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Pezzi Of The King" - Sonoma County, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CCDTYee5bzI/VS2Pg5fqe5I/AAAAAAAAG0k/gcKJqUE4_RA/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CCDTYee5bzI/VS2Pg5fqe5I/AAAAAAAAG0k/gcKJqUE4_RA/s1600/6.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tropical John addresses the wine tasters at the Wilson Family residence. Another beautiful post-race day. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkL8GJVAINE/VS2PiYA9hGI/AAAAAAAAG0w/rEoDzSX3KOk/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QkL8GJVAINE/VS2PiYA9hGI/AAAAAAAAG0w/rEoDzSX3KOk/s1600/8.jpg" height="640" width="428" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa decided to show up, dressed in his offseason attire.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JcBPk5Xpssk/VS2PiU2aBXI/AAAAAAAAG0s/8C5gQhA7zlA/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JcBPk5Xpssk/VS2PiU2aBXI/AAAAAAAAG0s/8C5gQhA7zlA/s1600/9.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She makes me look good.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GQ1j_n-g0LQ/VS2PXD-MYpI/AAAAAAAAGzs/thQq3uzjxT8/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GQ1j_n-g0LQ/VS2PXD-MYpI/AAAAAAAAGzs/thQq3uzjxT8/s1600/10.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big-time day-after-jog. Huge vert! Not sure how you can get 32' of gain and only 8' of loss on a "loop" trail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s7xwGyAEBcw/VS2PVbB0n3I/AAAAAAAAGzk/Itqd0q_DqVs/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s7xwGyAEBcw/VS2PVbB0n3I/AAAAAAAAGzk/Itqd0q_DqVs/s1600/11.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Founder's Tree at Founder's Grove / Avenue of the Giants. 320' tall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZnydcSAzMk/VS2PYOsOHwI/AAAAAAAAGz0/5ukFlYq_3Jc/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZnydcSAzMk/VS2PYOsOHwI/AAAAAAAAGz0/5ukFlYq_3Jc/s1600/12.jpg" height="640" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what happens when Callie doesn't run for two consecutive days.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GnYOAoOPS5g/VS2PZZ66OzI/AAAAAAAAG0E/p_eK8PixGkE/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GnYOAoOPS5g/VS2PZZ66OzI/AAAAAAAAG0E/p_eK8PixGkE/s1600/13.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beach outside of the old HI Redwoods Hostel, just north of Klamath, CA, along the NorCal coast. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-9049214287766390952014-12-03T21:37:00.000-08:002014-12-04T13:24:44.896-08:00Lost & Found: Waldo 100K & The Path to Sustainable Running<i><b>Preface</b></i>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>T</i></span>he running blog is dead. At
least the first-person, military-style report is. No one wants to
read it. Oh, perhaps those who want a dry, course-specific
play-by-play in hopes of aiding their preparation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
People want insights. They want
perspective. They want honesty.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They want a <i>story</i>.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, here's a decent one.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I've held onto this one for a while, my procrastination borne from equal parts demand (the <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/category/columns/stay-the-course">paid</a>
<a href="http://www.ultrarunning.com/">gigs</a> come first), and the
necessity of reflection. But it is necessity – to <i>remember</i>
– that requires I write this “race report”, three months,
post-haste.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's been a long fucking road from the
spring of 2013 – truly the last time I've raced well – to now.
And here's how it all went down.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Burnt to the Ground: Failure,
Burn-out, & the Aerobic Ground Zero</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>E</i></span>ven prior to the 2013 Western States,
I became intrigued by the notion of <i>true sustainability</i>: a
pathway where improvement is a continuous process, borne not from
relentless stress and pushing (or forcing) the body farther and
harder, but from a slow-but-steady flow of fitness, strength, and
intelligence that collects in a vast reservoir.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This model is akin to building a
multi-story, stone-and-brick building sitting atop a foundation of
solid rock. In contrast, I feel a lot of runners in the sport –
myself included – extract performance the opposite way: by
undermining the precious (and finite) minerals of physiological
strength and resilience, then – most haphazardly – throwing
together a hastily-designed structure over the top of the very hole
they continue to mine. It's a recipe for collapse that we see far
too often – if we choose to pay attention.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For me, reading the annuls of some of
the greatest endurance athletes in modern history, the answer seemed
to lie in the notion of <i>true aerobic fitness:</i> the ability to
enhance fat metabolism to the ultimate degree, the solid rock
foundation for peak – and sustainable - performance.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Fat metabolism is the solid rock of
performance for the following reasons:</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
it is an utterly low-stress
metabolic pathway, utilizing lots of fats, lots of oxygen, and with
minimal stress (physical, or chemical)</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
it is a process that creates
maximum fitness gains with the bare minimum of systemic
physiological stress: minimal stress hormones, cytokines and tissue
stress</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
it is a process predicated upon
holistic health: to maximize fat-burning, one MUST maximize rest and
recovery (including sleep), nutrition, and minimize stress outside
running.
</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
it requires periodization, whereby
high-intensity training – while critical to performance – must
be limited – and complete rest utilized – in order for the “slow
drip” of overall fitness gains to continue, unremitting.</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is a system of operation that
requires a degree of personal responsibility to live one's entire
life well – not simply be a runner committed to the numbers game of
training and racing. That this process is so much more than numbers
– and force – that gave the notion its power.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2013/07/bending-map-2013-western-states-100.html">spectacular
flame-out at Western States</a> a few months later only steeled my
resolve to jump feet-first into the fat-vat, my own fountain of
running youth that, just maybe, might save me from another flame-out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Step one was determining where to
start. Noakes' <i><a href="http://www.humankinetics.com/products/all-products/lore-of-running-4th-edition">Lore
of Running</a> </i>and Maffetone's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1616080655?ie=UTF8&tag=philmaffetone-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1616080655"><i>Big
Book</i></a> were the starting points: Noakes analysis of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Iron-War-Scott-Allen-Greatest/dp/1934030937">Mark
Allen's other-worldly performance at the 1989 Ironman Triathlon</a> –
only possible through enhanced fat metabolism – caught my
attention, and Maffetone provided the <a href="http://philmaffetone.com/180-formula">180-Formula</a>
as the concrete target.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As such, I got to work in July of 2013,
dead-set at doing all of my training at the magical “Max Aerobic
Function” (MAF) heart rate.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The only problem was, I got it <i>wrong</i>.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Even after Western States, apparently I
wasn't done lying to myself. Maffetone's Formula for max fat-burning
is, quite simply: 180 minus age.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
With some caveats:</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
minus five for: minor to moderate
injuries, a recent illness, and/or allergies</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
minus ten for: major illness or
injury
</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
plus five for: two years or more
of sustainable, continuous training without injury or any of the
above issues.</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of course, I chose 180 – 35...plus
five (150). But I neglected to accept that, “Oh yeah, I've had
chronic back pain for two years...oh, and allergies...oh, and I've
also had a recent burn-out and various life stresses!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am lucky to have access to my own
metabolic testing equipment, so before Waldo 100K in 2013, I tested
myself and found, well, yes, I do burn some fat at 150 heart rate.
But only about ten percent. Lacking a full understanding of what
“Max Aerobic” meant, I kept running with it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
From July through October, I did
nothing but exercise at 150 heart rate, with occasional cheats into
the mid 150s – but absolutely no true “workouts” - to tempo
runs, track sessions, progression runs or – most notably –
moderately hard hill climbs. I began to see some improvements: where
run paces went from high-7s and low-8s early on, gradually creeping
into the low-7s. But it never felt <i>good</i>. In a strange way,
the runs felt like a grind, and it felt difficult to develop the
volume I felt was necessary to get fit for the 2014 season.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In November, I commenced harder
training, which included modest end-of-long-run hard finishes and
increased vertical work. And while the race season crept closer, so
did a range of issues: minor aches and pains (including a pesky left
“hamstring” issue), and more minor colds that fall than I
remember having in the several years preceding. But I ran a strong
training race in mid-December that I thought would set me up well for
a ticket-punch at Bandera and a return trip to Western.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then I traveled back to the Midwest and
promptly got the illest* I've ever been, a mere ten days before
Bandera. And like that, any shot at an early ticket was, well, <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2014/01/lost-opportunity-2014-bandera-50k-report.html">shot</a>.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In retrospect, that I got so ill, and
so physically drained just days before the race was a convenient
explanation as to why – ultimately – I was completely unprepared
to run at the level required to earn a Montrail Cup ticket.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In reality, my true aerobic fitness was
terrible. A metabolic re-test in mid-February – and a lot more
knowledge later – confirmed that, well goddamn, I'd hardly burned
any fat at all at 150 beats per minute. Not only did I fail to
improve, but my aerobic fitness worsened (down to 6-8% fat burning at
150).
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What a cruel joke this had been. I'd
sacrificed all specificity – hard mountain climbs, grinder-long
runs, and standard “strength speed work” - in hopes of laying a
foundation, and the “rock” was nothing but a shoddy, brittle
Plaster-of-Paris...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's six weeks out from Lake Sonoma 50,
and I'm now in a bigger hole than I was eight months ago.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sonofabitch.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>The Psychology of Desire: “What
are you running from, and what are you running toward?”</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I</i></span>n the hours prior to the thirteen
running of the Waldo 100K, anxiety was at a low simmer. But instead
of the usual, <i>“Gosh, I hope I make it!”</i> – hoping to run
fast, to triumph, to be a Fast Dude – it was replaced with a deeper
worry:<i> “Do I still have it? Will my body be able to respond? Do
I even like doing this?” </i>Those aren't quite the thoughts of a
champion on the eve of a 62-mile race, but after the year-plus of
frustrating rebuilding, that's where I was at.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
With great reluctance and guilt, I
backed out of Gary Robbins' <a href="http://squamish50.ca/">Squamish
50</a> – held in the Vancouver area, the same day as Waldo. I'd
committed to running (and presenting) at his race, but as the race
crept closer, so did reality: I needed a lottery qualfier for
Western. Gone were the delusional thoughts that I could claim a
Montrail spot, and it was time fo face reality. Western States is my
favorite race, and, goddamnit, I want to race it again. Robbins –
a veteran Top Tenner – got that, and graciously released me from my obligation.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
The other motivating factor was my
great friend <a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/">Jacob Rydman</a>
was making the trip to Lane County – the lone visit of his busy
year – to do the same. And quite frankly, I couldn't stomach the
absurdity of him coming up here to relive his 2012 triumph, while I
was out of the country.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Having Jacob in town helped calm the
nerves; so did the large group of Eugene ultra runners, who were
either racing, pacing, or volunteering. It's my home race, and it was
comforting to have that support.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The night before, at the pre-race
meeting, I chatted and joked lightheartedly with <a href="http://ryanghelfi.com/">Ryan
Ghelfi</a> – the latest in a new generation of Ashland-area ultra
speedsters – and <a href="http://ultrasignup.com/results_participant.aspx?fname=Andrew&lname=Miller&age=18">Andrew
Miller</a> – the teenage mountain slayer from Corvallis that,
despite been barely legal to light a cigarette, was already fast
enough to smoke a whole field of adult contemporaries.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Standing there, I thought to myself,
<i>“Well...this is the podium, right here...”</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I</i></span>n the fall of 2013, I came to the
realization that part of the holistic preparation – perhaps the
greatest – was my <i>psyche</i>.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What drove me to train the way I did
for Western States? What caused me so much anxiety that I almost
certainly got no sleep the night before? What drove me to ignore a
heart-rate monitor that was flaming 170 for nearly five consecutive
hours, in a screaming warning siren of demise?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At that point, I began to wonder why I
run? And it drove me to ask the following question:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<i>What
am I running from, and what am I running toward?”</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Properly harnessed, those motivations
and desires could be powerful fuels. Because if either motivations
were too incendiary and uncontrolled, they can no doubt push the body
over the edge. And that's where I went.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I needed help answering that question.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Mandatory Patience – Square
Pegs go in Square Holes</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>A</i></span>t 4AM, I was fully awake, but
strangely serene. I dressed, ate, drank, and geared up amongst dozens
of other excited runners in the Willamette Pass Ski Shelter.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Unlike most pre-race moments, I felt
both relaxed and positive. I wasn't sure I could trust that feeling,
but I was happy to have both. Some great pre-race coffee really put
me in good spirits, and the recognition of gratitude for the chance
to run in the woods all day, in the company and assistance of friends
– was ever-present.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My strategy for the race was,
well...simple: to run relaxed and sustainably, to keep the heart rate absolutely under 170 through first two-thirds, and to otherwise keep
the effort under 160 at all times. All of these things required
great patience, and a disconnect between my own body and the other
competitors.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>P</i></span>atience has always been my hardest
lesson, but 2014 served up a mighty dose, early on.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Retesting at the end of February
revealed that 150 bpm wasn't even close to Max Aerobic. Maffetone's
max aerobic estimates correlated to roughly 25-40+% fat-burning of
those I personally testing in the clinic. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For me? I had to drop nearly 130 to
achieve a mere 25% fat-burning, and an abysmal 110 bpm for the bulky
40%. Running suddenly got much, much slower.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yet this made sense to me: why the runs
felt so sluggish the previous fall, the marked uptick in aches and
pains, and minor head colds and, perhaps, why the influenza virus hit
me so damn hard before Bandera.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, it was truly back to ground zero.
And despite being seven weeks out from Lake Sonoma, it was time for
another lesson in patience.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maffetone's classic five-mile fitness
test – which consists of a warm-up, followed by five continuous
miles at MAF heart rate on a set, outdoor course – seemed too
unwieldy. My first test was in 90 degree conditions; the next in
heavy wind.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This time around, I'd keep it indoors,
and to make the assessment more feasible, I cut the test to three
miles. The treadmill – without wind resistance, with a
fast-spinning belt that forces forward progress – is invariably
faster. But it also allowed a total precision: with a heart-rate
monitor build into the unti, I could watch it like a hawk. At my
first test, after a good warm-up, set out at a heart rate ceiling of
130. I allowed a leeway of up to 135, but anytime it stayed above
133-134 for more than 10-20 seconds, I dropped the speed a tenth of a
mph. It was precise as I could do it, with minimal cheating.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My first tests – on the fast
treadmill – were unimpressive: roughly 7:30 to 7:50 pace for three
miles. Ugh.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I was committed. Yes, Sonoma was
coming up, and yes, I needed specific work, but I was committed to
the long-term: I had to build a true base; without it, there will
only be more fits-and-starts: temporary fast running, followed by
problems.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So there I was: lighly hiking up the
thousand-foot Mount Pisgah and (only moderately) jogging down, doing
everything I could to keep that heart rate in the 130s.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That was the Lake Sonoma preparation.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The final bits of my ultramarathon
delusion were unceremoniously blown away with a <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2014/04/house-of-cards-2014-lake-sonoma-race.html">mediocre
13</a><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2014/04/house-of-cards-2014-lake-sonoma-race.html"><sup>th</sup></a><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2014/04/house-of-cards-2014-lake-sonoma-race.html">
place, 7:24 performance</a>: nearly a minute-per-mile slower than the
year before.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Clearly, I wasn't ready. Yet I hadn't
completely surrendered...</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Keeping Perspective: “Act like
you don't need the shit, and they'll give you the shit for free.”</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>W</i></span>hen the horn sounded for Waldo, we
were off into the pre-dawn darkness, up the ski hill. I was dead-set
on an easy pace, and, much to my surprise, so were the young guys
from up and down I-5. Andrew ran beside me from the get-go, and
while Ghelfi crept a few meters ahead, by the time we began the long,
round-about shoulder summit, he fell back with us.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I chatted lightheartedly with Andrew,
asking about his year, what else he was up to, and otherwise
pretending that running up this hill wasn't all that hard. It was,
but it wasn't nearly as hard as the year before. We shuffled a bit,
hiked a lot, and, in no time, we'd made our way up to the backside of
the ski hill.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On the way down the backside, which
would take us west toward our first true mountain summit of the day,
there was more easy chatter: Andrew and I continued our chatter,
while Ryan chimed in as we talked about the goings on of the
late-summer racing scene. The pace felt effortless but legitimate. I
didn't fret about splits, or “getting out”. I was relaxed and
enjoying myself. Heart rate: 140.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I</i></span>'m not sure I can speak for every
competitive ultrarunner out there, but this is how my mindset as
evolved in the three-plus years of ultrarunning, culminating at
Western States in 2013</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Early 2010: <i>Ultras? Holy shit, they
do this?</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Late 2010: <i>Ultras! Holy shit, I did
that...and did pretty well!</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Early 2011: <i>I wonder if I'm actually
good at this?</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Late 2011: <i>I think I could be GOOD!
</i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Early 2012: <i>Can I be in the same
room as the fastest in the sport?</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Late 2012: <i><span style="text-decoration: none;">Yes!
Now I want to be the fastest!</span></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Early 2013: <i>I HAVE TO be the
fastest!</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Drive and desire can fuel just as much
on delusion as ability. “If you give a mouse a cookie...”. I'd
been feeding myself the cookie – and “drinking my own Kool-Aid”
- that not only could I be the best, but that – in order to have a
place, to be of value in this community – I had to be among the
best.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
That's what I was running toward. I
was filling a void – a past void, filled with failure, shame and
regret of my previous athletic ineptitude – and a present void –
where I felt that the best way to be accepted and loved was the be
The Man atop the podium, or at least among the very top.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There's nothing wrong with desire, or
letting emotions – past and present – drive your running and
training. But that's a dangerous fuel mixture that can lead to poor
decisions, and throw an otherwise healthy, nurturing community
pursuit into an imbalanced, destructive one.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Before and during the 2013 Western
States, I lost perspective. I trained relentlessly and
unsustainably, and my most vivid memory of race day – besides the
outrageous cramping for 26 miles – was of me racing the entire
first fifty miles! Pushing and pushing, forcing it, rather than
going with the flow. It was an unsustainable path that ended with a
thud at Michigan Bluff.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was time for a change.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The irony is, the more you care – the
more you <i>need </i>to run fast – the more problematic and wrought with
problems that end becomes. However, sustainable, balanced running –
when kept in perspective to the Big Picture – tends to wind up
being the fastest!
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
To get back up, I had to let go, and be
okay with falling down.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>A</i></span>s we rolled into Gold Lake AS, I was
utterly relaxed and present. I stopped to drop off my headlamp, now
superfluous at daybreak, and got a bottle fill. Andrew and Ryan
pushed on, and I fell back to third. I didn't care.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Up the trail a ways, the course crosses
Waldo Lake Road, which bisects the course. Several spectators were
there, and Monkey Boy Scott Wolfe acted as course marshall...and
heckler. <br />
<br />
“Did y'all get lost out there?”, he chided, in
his faux-southern Virginia accent he reserves especially for talking
shit.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We were a good five minutes-plus slower
than a typical opening split, but I could care less. We were running
smart.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
I tailed behind Ghelfi and Miller
as wel started the long grind up Fuji, the second of four major
climbs of the day. I kept things well under 160 bpm, but quickly
caught Andrew, who encouraged me to go around. I did. Before long,
I locked into Ghelfi, and along we went.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Finding Joy: With or Without a
Number On</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>A</i></span>n important lesson in perspective from
2013 was the notion that balanced running isn't always about actually
running. To learn that, I had to travel south and spend a little more
time with some real <i>Original Gangtas of Ultrarunning.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In September of last year, I spent two
quality outings with a couple legends of the sport. On a warm
pre-Labor day evening in Davis, California, I shared a burger and a
Pliny pint with Bruce LaBelle – ten-time Silver Buckler, who, at
the young age of, well, “mid-50s”, is still out there, running
long and fast. Two days later, it was a easy canyon run and coffee
with Tim Twietmeyer. I think his driveway is paved in sterling
silver.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Both men have been running
competitively for over thirty years. And both impressed upon me the
values of <i>balance </i>and <i>perspective</i>: that running, while perhaps
central to their being, was only part of it. Logistically, neither
man trained hard, year round. They picked their battles, but prepared
well for each. Moreover, each invested in the running community in
other ways: through race volunteering, trail stewardship, and
mentorship of younger runners.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For every runner, this makes sense.
But for most of us, the sticking point lies deep down: can we
possibly fill ourselves – filling the void of “The Question” -
by giving, rather than taking? Can giving back to a race, to the
community, be as fulfilling as the reward of finishing medals,
buckles, prizes, and accolades?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Indeed, for the up-and-coming ultra
star, this is a tough sell.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But the ironic message – received
loud-and-clear from Bruce and Tim – was that finding that balance –
between taking and giving – was the only way to sustain the
hard-running and its rewards.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But beyond that, the more one gives –
the more helpful it becomes to hard racing. Giving develops
relationships, good memories and connections on and off the trail,
and in all dimensions of the sport. It is sowing seeds that reap even
greater performance benefits come race day.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
How much do you think Tim benefited
from having good friends every five miles along the race course at
Western States? Those were good vibes he earned by giving: working
along those volunteers, all year 'round.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Give – sacrificing your own running
for others – and you shall receive. Ironic, but simple.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">G</span></i>helfi and I floated along toward Fuji.
I hung behind him, perfectly content to glide along behind him. I
felt fantastic. The heart rate, even for this prolonged,
high-altitude climb, hovered in the 140s to 150. I focused on form
and nutrition and bided time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
To keep things light, I asked Ghelfi
about Beer Miling. We chatted about some of his fast Southern Oregon
teammates and their beer mile experience, before the trail pitched a
bit steeper upward. Any conversation that distracted, early, was a
good one. We were ten miles in, but still way too early to get
competitive.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was just happy to be running up
front, and feeling so effortless.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
...until there was a Patagonia Puffy
Jacket up for grabs.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Since the race's inception, there has
been a special preme for the first runner to “Find Waldo” - or
summit Mt. Fuji, the first place for a view of the namesake lake.
With Ghelfi and I solidly out front, I knew I'd have a chance. Then
I realized he hadn't stopped for water, as I had, at Gold Lake, so
when he pulled into Fuji AS outbound, I pushed again, putting on a
legitimate surge to gain some space.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
To my dismay, despite jacking the heart
rate to nearly 180, Ghelfi quickly caught back up. I continue to
pushed at a legitimately hard pace, weaving in and out of the early
starters on this out-and-back summit, to maintain my lead and make
him work really hard to get past. Indeed, he would've had to
aggressively push past me – including likely asking permission to
get by – if he wanted that preme. So I kept pushing. I felt good
and strong, but with my heart rate hitting 180, it was a risky move.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stayed in front and made it to the
top first. I stayed just long enough to catch a few breaths, and
Ghelfi to summit – before heading back down.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Little did I know – and I wouldn't
til the awards - that this year, for the first time in many years,
the preme would not be a puffy Waldo Patagonia jacket (which likely
retails for $200-300), but a <a href="http://highdesertdropbags.com/hddb/content/dirt-bag-drop-bag">High
Desert Drop Bag</a>: a fine product, indeed, but...in retrospect, not
nearly as enticing for such an aggressive effort. The race
directorship had changed the premes the night before, and I hadn't
taken notice. That the “Wet Waldo” runner – the first finisher
to jump in six lakes along the course – would get a puffy jacket
and not the first Fuji summit, would be a significant point of...er,
irksomeness...for weeks to come.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But onward, and upward. Or, downward.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The out-and-back summit was a good
opportunity to survey the field. Andrew wasn't far behind us, but
after that, things thinned out. BGD was holding his own, running a
conservative effort on minimal fitness this time around. Lots of
cheers and fives from the outbound runners as we made our way down,
and I tried to tamp down my heavy heart rate.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A quick stop-off at Fuji AS allowed
Ghelfi to get out front, but I made no efforts to reel him in. I
would gently descend back toward Waldo Lake Road. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Surrender Without Giving Up</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>T</i></span>he section between the top of Fuij (13
miles) and Charlton Lake (30) just may be the toughest part of the
race. On paper, it's easy: downhill, then gradual uphill. But it is a
mental grind: after two tough uphills, one is lulled into a
relaxing-yet-taxing downhill, then forced into a gut-churning,
relentless grind that saps one's will to continue. Many a DNF happens
at Charlton for this reason.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was wary of this, and as such, kept
the effort to a bare minimum as we descended toward the road. This
allowed Andrew – smart beyond his barely-legal years – to catch
up with us. He ran the Fuji climb with utmost patients and now he was
right back in it. Our trio hit the road and Mt. Ray AS (20 miles) in
a pack.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I took a bit of time in the aid,
snacking on a banana, and getting a fill. Both Ghelfi and Miller had
crew, so neither stopped. And like that, I was a minute back.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My energy was good, but something was
amiss. The calves – namely my right – were sore. Tight. Painful.
Pre-cramping.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What the hell?</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>W</i></span>hen you lose perspective, two
painfully dangerous things happen: first, <i>you tend to push too hard</i>,
too soon. Without balance, one invariably forces things. The “I have
to's” take control of the wheel, often with bad consequences.
Second, <i>you tend to not see the big picture</i>. Little issues that pop
up early on are ignored. These inconvenient issues – often red flags
of major problems – are swept aside and denied. But just as often,
they blow up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This is as true in life and
relationships as it is in running.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Little cramps in the thighs and calves
coming out of Duncan Canyon at Western States were ignored.
“Everything else is great, so who cares?”. But twenty six miles
later, on a table at Michigan Bluff, they made me care.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Balanced, sustainable running requires
a present-centered awareness: being tuned into the reality, both good
and bad. Ignoring truths because they're incompatible with your
expectations or vision of ideal is a sure-fire way to get really
lost: on and off the trail.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">R</span></i>unning out of Mt Ray, just seconds out
of the lead, my calves inexplicably panged.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Why? At the time, I wasn't sure. I
slowed, but that didn't seem to help. I could no longer ignore them.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stopped. I stretched and massaged
them, namely the medial right calf, that felt a few strides away from
explosion. It helped. I continued on, just as fourth place (Ryan
Tockstein) approached.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I got a little negative: “Damn. I'm
running great, but these damn calves!” I saw the day slipping away,
as I was clearly now far behind. I ran on, alone, up the relentless
grind to Bobby Lake Trail. The calf stabilized, but continue to be
sore and painful. I did what I could: ran form-focused, drank, and
ate.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Gradually, the calf improved and seemed
runnable, as I turned north onto the PCT toward Twins 1.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then a strange thing happened: I caught
sight of Andrew and Ryan.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Wow. OK.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The minute I'd lost at the aid station,
and the additional minutes spent slowing down and stopping to work my
calf, were neutralized. I was back in it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yet, once I got to Twins 1, it was sore
as hell again. So once I was topped off, I stopped yet again for
another minute or so to stretch and massage. Damnit!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Extrapolation is a dangerous thing. It
is how our brain ensures survival, and makes our lives easier: here
we are now, so in theory, this is where we're going. In ultras as in
life, it is a short-cut that is almost always wrong. And
extrapolation is likely responsible for more DNFs than any other
factor. Feel like shit now, well, how much worse will it be many
miles from now?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My brain was in extrapolation mode from
Twins 1 to Charleton: “I'm not even halfway through and my calf is
about to blow up. I've stretched and massaged, and I'm barely hanging
on”. I tried to put it out of mind. I stayed form-focused, and I
kept fueling. One step at a time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I problem-solved: “My form seems OK,
could it be my back?” My low back was a bit sore, and I thought
that maybe some nerve pain might've been short-circuiting the muscle.
I would stop at Charlton to work out the back this time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then, just a mile out from Charlton, it
happened again: there were Miller and Ghelfi! Another lost minute or
two, yet, once again I caught 'em! “Wow, this is great!”
Reeling them in, yet again, buoyed the spirits.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
With minimal extra effort, I rolled
past them, knowing I'd need some cushion to stretch out at the aid
station. So with great fanfare, I rolled into Charlton in first
place.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My first half split – 4:46 (and
Miller's 4:47) – would be among the slower leading splits in the
race's recent competitive history, but, as time would tell, put us in
position for a hard, even second half.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It must've been strange for the
onlookers to see the race leader roll into the aid station...then
roll onto the ground! I first got on my knees and pushed hard,
through my abdomen, onto my low lumbar vertebrae. They were stiff.
Then, I rolled onto my back and hugged the knees to chest. While
doing so, I asked for my drop bag, where I had a ten-ounce “OOJ
recovery shake” – protein powder, Udo's Oil, heavy cream, and
some Endurox. A good 200 calories of mostly fat and protein. I
hammered it in-between back stretches. Pam Smith – there to
volunteer and spectate – is no stranger to doing crazy shit at aid
stations – and was nonplussed at my actions.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I waved off my hydration pack and chose
to maintain my single bottle, which I'd kept in my waist band. I
grabbed a new fuel belt and was out the aid station, at least two
minutes behind Ghelfi and Miller, who again ran through without
stopping.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My back – and my calf – felt
better. But then I had an epiphany:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The ###ing water bottle!
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I'd been carrying the waterbottle in
the back of my waistband. On the right side. For years, I've been
deficient in my right hip extension. Perhaps the damn waterbottle
was blocking a full push-off, overloading the calf?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I immediately stitched the bottle to
the left side, where it would stay for the rest of the race. And,
for one reason or another, the calf was a non-issue for the rest of
the race.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lesson learned: It pays to take care of
little issues, no matter how “pressing” the competition, or
personal goals.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But once again, I found myself in a
hole – well behind Ghelfi and Miller. But once again, with little
additional effort, I reeled 'em in. I came across Ghelfi – with
pacer – midway between Charlton and Road 4290 AS and made quick
work around them.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As in years past, there was heavy
emphasis on efficiency and heart rate control, knowing the brutal
section ahead.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I rolled into 4290 ahead of Ghelfi by a
minute-plus, but behind Miller an equal amount. It was getting
warm, so I pounded water, soda, and another banana hunk, and pushed
on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Striking a Balance Between
Physiology & Specificity</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>T</i></span>he balance between physiology –
doing what's best for the body's basic exercise physiology – versus
specificity – the need for the body and brain to experience the
specific demands of competition – is a delicate one, and not for
the weak of heart.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Current sport – across the board –
over-emphasizes specificity. Wanna run hard? You have to run hard!
A lot! Right? Wanna be good at football? Gotta scrimmage, full-pads,
full-contact. A lot. Right? Wanna be a great mountain trail runner,
you gotta run hard up mountains, a lot, right?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Specificity is vital. The brain needs
to know how to do something, then believe it can do it. As such, we
emulate in practice as close to the real thing as possible.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But specificity had a steep price tag.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The danger of the specificity approach
is the <i>stress</i>. The extreme demands of maximal performance
aren't sustainable to practice, routinely. High-intensity activity,
too routinely, causes multi-system stress that can break down the
system in multiple ways. Conventional runners know this: milers can't
run mile pace on every run; marathoners can run a long run every day.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On the opposite end of the training
spectrum is what I call, <i>physiology</i>: doing what's best (and
minimally stressful) to <i>all body systems</i>. The entire concept
of periodization – of a different focus per training cycle – is
based on this premise: that the body works best through a foundation
of low-intensity work, with finite moderate-intensity work, and
lastly with a relatively sparse amount of high-intensity training.
For runners, this means a huge chunk of slow, easy running at the
beginning of each season, and liberally interspersed amongst the
intense work.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
If physiology didn't matter, what's to
stop us from doing nothing but high-intensity training, all the time?
Pure specificity would win out. But it doesn't.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On the other hand, the Maffetone Method
– doing the vast majority of training at <a href="http://philmaffetone.com/180-formula">Max
Aerobic Pace</a> – is at the extreme of the physiological approach:
It is <i>pure physiology</i>, giving the body exactly what it needs
to maximize endurance performance – maximum aerobic conditioning
(via fat-burning) and nothing else. No other specific training.
Specificity, Maffetone implies, will come as a result of getting
better at fat-burning...when your max aerobic pace eventually
approaches race pace. Your only cheats in the system include
occasionally racing hard (beyond MAF pace), as your lone specific
work.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This may work well for triathletes –
who can keep their HR in check in the water and on the bike, and who
run mostly flat, road marathon courses – but is a wholly different
beast for a trail runner.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The specific demands of trail ultras –
including altitude and steep climbs – require a gear that goes well
beyond a maximum aerobic zone. Thus, when trying to develop the
aerobic system, you're left with a choice: prioritize aerobic work by
shuffling – but usually <i>walking</i> – hills, or risk
compromising the foundation by repeatedly pushing too hard, well
beyond aerobic physiology.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I chose the former. I was committed to
running easy, and as slow as it took, to adequately develop that
system. So, after <i>years</i> spent developing a strong uphill
running technique...I stopped running uphill. I walked, or it was a
slow, slow shuffle. Or I avoided hill, entirely. This went on for
months – from July of last year, clear until March, just before
Lake Sonoma.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As a result, the years spent developing
a strong uphill stride – one that was pivotal in my successes at
ultras like Bandera, Lake Sonoma, and Western States – was gone.
The '14 Lake Sonoma was proof of that: when tasked to run hard
uphill, I simply didn't have it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But here's where insults adds to
injury.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My fundamental stride efficiency went
to compete shit.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Running slow – then <i>really</i>
<i>slow</i> – is easy. Too easy. It's easy to get into a
shuffling, inefficient rhythm that goes unnoticed in the early days,
weeks and months of MAF training. All the muscular strength,
neuromuscular patterning, and – well, habit – of faster running
evaporated. I'd lost my stride.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lake Sonoma '14 was proof of that.
Besides having no climbing strength, my flat stride was too long, and
too inefficient: I was over-striding, over-rotating...even my
footstrike was painfully inefficient.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In effect, by taking apart the machine,
I'd lost a few pieces. And the pieces that remained, I'd forgotten
how to put 'em together.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lake Sonoma was painful, and the weeks
between that and Ice Age were even worse. Finally, at the end of
May, I hopped back on the treadmill and flipped on the cameras:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Holy hell! My stride looks awful!”
My stride was a slumpy, twisted, loping mess. It's no wonder I ran
slow as shit, and hurt like hell. Dear, Lord.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was time to go to work. Again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My approach to regain stride was
two-fold:</div>
<ul>
<li>One, to re-establish efficiency: hip
hinging with a neutral trunk, cleaning up the arm swing, and – most
importantly – getting my pawback on. These central concepts saved
a ton of energy, turning pounding into propulsion.</li>
<li>Two, to regain the strength to maintain
good mechanics, namely through a ton of glute and hamstring work,
along with liberal core and arm strength.</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Between June and mid-August, I did at
least a hundred bridges a day, totalling well over three thousand a
month. Once again, Convict Conditioning was a central part of my
work, and both short and straight leg bridges were clutch in shoring
up those pushing and pulling muscles. Pull-ups and rows helped my
arms, but admittedly: I had to get on the treadmill at least once a
week and watch myself run, to make sure I wasn't over-rotating.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was tough, at first: anytime you
lose stride efficiency, getting it back is like rolling the boulder
uphill. But once the strength kicked in, that boulder kept rolling.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Still, I didn't entirely trust my
stride, especially on hard days. So for the two months preceding
Waldo, every speed day was done on the treadmill, with the cameras
on: watching my stride in real-time. I did 800 and mile repeats, and
multi-mile tempos at five-minute pace or faster, all the while
keeping a close eye on what I was doing. It was a bold strategy –
especially preparing for a mountain ultra.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>T</i></span>he stride, which I'd worked so hard on
the past few months, was truly paying off: all day long, I'd had no
trouble keeping up – then later catching up to – both Ghelfi and
Miller. The early pace felt very easy, and then – even losing
minutes at aid stations, and stopping to work the calf – I was
easily able to regain contact by the time we would reach the next aid
station.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This buoyed my confidence as I rolled
along toward the penultimate – and pivotal – climb of the race.
The section between 4290 (35 miles) and Twins 2 (44 miles) is a long,
grueling section that breaks a lot of runners. It's the dreaded
third lap of a painful mile race: far too soon to be “almost done”,
with a lot of work left to do.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ghelfi seemed to be safely in the
rearview, but Miller was still somewhere up front. But I was running
so well, it seemed, that it would only be a matter of time 'til I
caught him. And then, as the course crawls up the shoulder of the
Twins (~7000'), there he was, at twelve o'clock.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Neither pushing nor slowing, I
gradually reeled him in. Talkative all day, he still had a pleasant
greeting as I shuffled past him. We were about a mile from the top,
and three from the aid station.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My strategy was thus: to put some
distance on him in the climb, hammer down to the aid, and get out of
sight before the last big climb up Maiden Peak. With no more
calf-massage stops in my future, and a fantastic stride, nearly 45
miles in, I figured I'd put him behind me and finally build a lead
into the final push.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But somehow Andrew didn't get the memo.
Up and over the Twins, halfway down the to the aid station, he'd
reeled me in. Damn. We ran into Twins 2 AS together.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And then, like he had all damn day, he
rolled in and out of the aid station without stopping, his mom
shoving a bottle in his hand without breaking stride.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I took my time, yet again, gulping soda
and a banana hunk, clinging to the notion that a bit of time – less
than a minute – to rest at the aid station is worth two minutes on
the trail. I thought, “He can't keep this up”. But by the time
I'd slammed a second glass of Coke and turned up trail, he was long
out of sight.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>The Periodization Short Course:
Specificity is the House on the Rock</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>T</i></span>he two months between Memorial Day and
Waldo was a crash-course in specific preparation for Waldo. The
aerobic systems was adequately established; now, it was time to get
ready.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When speaking with Bruce last summer in
Davis, he talked about drawing a line between two points: “Where am
I, now?” and, “Where do I need to be?”. From there, you fill
in the spaces, and put the pieces in place.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Most mountain ultras – Waldo
inclusive – require three things:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Race-pace work – usually trail
tempos at threshold effort</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Prolonged vertical work, to
develop climbing strength and technical descending skills</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The long runs – on-feet time
focused on brain and body preparation for the race distance</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
June and July featured heavy doses of
tempo work: both on the treadmill, to work flat-out efficiency in the
high-end gear, and at the end of long trail runs. A mid-week speed
session was pared with an end-of week trail run with a fast finish.
In between was a focused vertical day, and, of course, the long run.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Things were no doubt rushed, but in a
six to eight week span, I put in some great work, cemented with very
easy (MAF pace) recovery runs and days off. But admittedly, I
shorted a few areas, namely prolonged mountain climbs, and the
extra-long (>3 hour) runs. Between July and mid-August, I'd run
only a single run over four hours, and no climbs over a thousand
feet.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That said, given my experience in 2013,
I was going into Waldo knowing that it's better to be rested and
under-prepared, than over-worked. I'd done what I could. But would
it be enough?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This notion creeped into my head as I
rolled the gradual descent toward Maiden Peak Aid, at the base of the
toughest – but last – climb of the race. The quads were pretty
thrashed, and both the thighs and calves felt a little blippy – as
if a cramp might be around the corner.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I rolled into Maiden Peak Aid: no
Miller, but word was that he had just left. Still, I took my time
again, pounding more sodas and taking one more snack. Ghelfi's dad
and fiance were at the aid station...a sign that he was still in the
hunt.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
While restocking, I fiddled in my
pocket for my iPod. I'd been saving some fire-up tunes for this final
twelve-mile push. But the damn thing wouldn't turn on. Damn.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There was no time to lament. I grabbed
my bottle and pushed on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The final climb of the Waldo 100K, the
Maiden Peak summit, is a brutally-tough climb. It ascends nearly two
thousand feet over three miles and change, topping out at 7800 feet,
the high-point of the course. It features relentless incline that
gradually worsens – in grade and footing -as you near the top. I
shuffled along, truly feeling the effort of the day. Though I
continued to move well, thoughts of the win were fading. Andrew was a
good climber and, as I found out, still had descending legs, to boot.
Midway through the climb, it occurred to me that it hurt more to
walk than run, so I shuffled along, until reaching the steep,
straight-up pitches that made even hiking difficult.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Maiden climb is the signature of
the race, but what sets it apart from nearly every other ultra (save
Lake Sonoma), is the summit out-and-back. After three brutal uphill
miles, the course hits the top shoulder. From there, it's a mile or
so out and back to the summit, before descending, the steep, rugged
“Leap of Faith” toward the final aid station.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like Sonoma, the out and back gives you
a glimpse of the competition. Anyone with ten minutes of your
position will be in view. I hoped for the best as I shuffle-hiked my
way up the rugged, painful volcanic scree, hoping I'd see Andrew as
close to the top as possible. But, scarcely up the climb, there he
was, coming back down.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Damn.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I kept on, trying my best to run the
path paved with loose, baseball-sized lava rock. Finally, after some
bittersweet views of Waldo yet again, I gave a fist-bump to the
omnipresent Monkey Boy before turning to descend.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
My focus now turned to getting off
the mountain before Ghelfi saw me, but sure enough, just before I
reached the junction, up he came.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And like that, you had three guys
within ten minutes.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sonofabitch.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My descent was...mediocre. Footing was
poor and, let's face it, my technical descending is mediocre when
fresh. I did my best to pick my way through the steep rock before
lowering to the runnable dirt, descending over switches to Maiden
Lake aid.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When I got to the aid station, I was
struggling. Dizzy and glazed-over, I pleaded for Coke. “Pour
another”, I said, before I was even done with the first. The cola
was warm, and it felt like I was on the last lap of a brutal beer
run. I must've looked like shit, because I felt like it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“Do you want to sit down?”</i></div>
<i>
</i>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>“No!”</i></div>
<i>
</i>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I didn't ask where Andrew was, but I
knew he was at least five or six minutes up. My lack of specificity –
big climbs and big descents – was exposed. But now, with seven
miles of flat running in front of me, could I put it together for one
last push?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After a quick sponge douse, with bottle
topped and stomach sloshing with Coke, I took off.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I ran maybe a hundred meters before I
was reduced to a stagger.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sonofabitch. I was low.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Balance & Perspective Create
Dispassionate Execution & Peak Performance</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>A</i></span> year ago, after I flamed out at
Western States, I realized I need to change, and I needed help.
Besides Tim Noakes and Phil Maffetone, I needed insights about me.
What makes me tick? What is it about me that drive me to run all day,
to begin with? And what was it that drove me too far, so far out of
balance?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<i>What
am I running from, and what am I running toward?”</i></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I needed more help.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
At the end of last year, I contacted my
psychologist. It was time for a check-up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I sought to learn what it was that
connected my anxiety level – before and during a race, and
day-to-day – with my running. I did not want a repeat of 2013,
where I put so much pressure on my running, and what a good day would
mean to me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I first learned of <a href="http://pain-consultants.com/clinicians/scott-pengelly-phd/">Scott
Pengelly</a> when I moved to Eugene in 2009. He's among the very best
pain psychologists, and as such, has been instrumental in helping my
toughest chronic pain patients get better. Indeed, the brain decides
what hurts.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When I sought someone to work with a
year later, he was the obvious choice. Besides being a great pain
therapist, he has a storied background in sport psychology, with
experience at the Olympic level going back over three-plus decades.
Indeed, his guidance was pivotal in my ability to <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2011/07/western-states-2011-official-race.html">overcome
injury and finish my first Western States in 2011</a>.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We got to work in January of this year,
spending an hour together each month. Interestingly, we didn't talk
about running, at all. Like old friends, we caught up on the last
year or so. I shared with him what my goals were, and what I was up
to. I'd just entered into a serious relationship, so we talked about
that.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A lot.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As it turns out, my relationship
history with romantic partners closely mirrors my relationship with
running. So when that relationship ended in March, it was pretty
clear to me the connection.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There is a part of me that believes
that, <i>“This [relationship, or race] is so special and great, that
if I achieve it, then I'll really have it made!”. </i>Somewhere along
the line, I developed the belief that I needed something – or
someone – to be 100% happy. That I was just that one thing away
from something great, and the next level.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Classic “<a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2013/10/one-itis-life-after-western-states.html">One-itis</a>”.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Besides the novelty of teaching a
sectegenarian the term one-itis, it was a great epiphany to realize
that I was putting so much pressure on running (and relationships) to
somehow make my life that much better.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
One-itis is, however, a deadly
condition, for two reasons. First, the overzealous drive to achieve
with that one thing creates a type of blinding effect, where you fail
to see the big picture. Reality escapes you, and you're unable to
perceive, believe or react to what's really going on. Second, the
intense pressure one puts on himself (to “really nail it!”) is
such that he inevitably blows it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This was as true with relationships as
it was with racing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Wow.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Scott talked about where that comes
from: having an alcoholic father, enduring a divorce when I was only
eight years old, and the measures – even as a six year old – to
try to “fix things” in my family. What emerged from that – only
multiplied when my father passed away when I was ten - was this
relentless drive to fill a void.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Looking back at my experiences – in
athletics and relationships – this pattern has been fairly
consistent for decades, now: when I put too much meaning on any one
thing (or person), bad things happen.<i> I blow it</i>. Time, and time
again.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But...when kept in perspective - with
full awareness of reality and minimal anxiety - dispassionate
analysis and execution are possible.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yes, running is important, and hell
yes, running well again at Waldo was very important, but how I
performed there would neither make my life great, or make it
miserable. It was only an experience that would add value – and
further perspective – to life.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>A</i></span>s I stumbled along, only a few minutes
past the final aid station, but a good seven miles from the finish, I
was in need of some serious perspective.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
For the first time all day, I felt fucking terrible...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
...yet I'd run a nearly flawless race up to this point.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
I felt like I could barely run...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
...I was still in second place, with Ghelfi stalking somewhere in the
shadows.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
I might blow this race...</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0.98in; text-decoration: none;">
...but fuck that, I need to pull my shit together.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I'd just hammered nearly a can's worth
of soda at the aid, yet something was low. I wasn't sure what, but I
didn't think it was calories. I thought about it. I'd been on a
single water bottle all day. And although I'm well fat-adapted, I
still need water. Lots of it. And I think I was low.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just a mile out of the aid, I was
shuffling, but I still had nearly a full water bottle. I hammered
it, tossing down another gel and an S!Cap, just in case. And I
pushed on, going all in to prevent Ghelfi from sneaking past me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I gradually felt better, as the trail
leveled out along Maiden Lake. The bulk of the final miles are
downhill, but punctuated early on by some gut-busting short climbs
that, unless you've got the legs, will reduce you to a walk. I
pounded the rest of my water and pressed on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And...just like that, I felt better. A
lot better. Crazy thoughts entered my mind, such as, “Holy shit,
maybe I can still catch Andrew!”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I pushed hard. I ran every climb,
every step from Maiden Lake, back to the PCT, where a sustained down
and flat section would await.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was running hard, and fast. In the
back of my mind was concern. Pushing hard can cause the sugar stores
to plummet. But I was buoyed by the notion that I was low on water,
and, although by bottle was empty, I could fill it (at my own risk)
in one of the three Rosary Lakes that dot the final four miles.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hammering hard to lake level, I opened
the stride as big as possible, throwing every bit of coal into the
fire, breaking stride only once to dunk the bottle into the creek
that emptied the Lower Rosary. Now filled with water, I hammered my
final gel and S!Cap.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was topped off, and it was time to
go.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I honestly believe that – when my
stride is on, and the body is intact – there's no one in the sport
that can run faster than me at the end of an ultra. There's plenty of
folks that can really hammer, but...for some reason...when push comes
to shove, I have what it takes to run really hard when it counts.
That's what <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/01/bandera-100k-race-report.html">got
me a Golden Ticket in '12</a>, and it's ultimately what got me into
<a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/07/m9-2012-western-states-100-race-report.html">the
Top Ten at Western States</a>.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just a couple miles from the highway
and civilization, it's common to run into hikers and campers along
that final section of the PCT. Just leaving the Lower Rosary, I came
across a hiker, who told me, “He's just a quarter-mile up!” Such
reports are always dubious, but I took it as good news and pushed as
hard as I could.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I hammered: big, long,
spinning-sawblade strides. The legs felt...well, fine: no cramps, no
heaviness. I pushed as hard as I could. I really do think I was
running six-minute miles. But that section is long, and - even with
buttery, downhill single track – it drags on. And on. I spent the
time focusing on different aspect of the stride - “left elbow”,
“right foot push-off...” - and counted them to a hundred.
Anything I could do to get closer to Andrew, and to the finish, I
did.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And while I didn't see Andrew again, I
did see the finish. I pushed hard off the PCT, to the clearing toward
the ski lodge (the longest visible ultra trail finish in the sport!).
I felt great, and – according to The Queen – looked great.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As I got closer, I saw that I was still
under 9:30, so I really pushed it, and – as a nice icing on the
cake of a great day – leaned at the line for 9:29:59, good for
second place.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Andrew, beset on all sides with his
family-slash-crew extraordinaries – were still at the line when I
crossed. He ran a hell of a race, running 9:23:28. I closed on
him...but not much.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ghelfi came in several minutes later,
in 9:38:45.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There's your top three, after all.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<u><b>The Grades</b></u></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Pacing: A.</b> We, as a top three,
nailed it. Smart, early, then pushing hard at the end. More on the
specifics, below.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Mechanics: A-. </b> Fantastic stride
all day, especially when it counted in the last seven miles. Slight
deductions for whatever causes my calf malaise, and my general lack
of preparation for skillful descending. But ultimately, I did what I
could.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Hydration/Fuel/Electrolytes: B+. </b>Really
great all day...'til I got low. That low point might've cost
me...but I don't think I would've won on nutrition perfection, alone.
The low-point was obviously from water, as I rebounded rapidly when
I pounded two whole bottles after Maiden Lake.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Calories</i>: here's my approximate calorie
count for the day:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Gels: ~6-8 → 600-800 kcal</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Soda: ~4-5 cans → 600-700 kcal</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Banana: 1 → 100 kcal</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“OOJs Recovery Brew”: 10oz → 200
kcal</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
GU brew: ~100 kcal</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
----------------- Total: ~1800-2000 kcal
(~200 per hour)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Average heart rate: 159 BPM. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Of note:
a year ago I ran 10:35...also averaging 159 BPM.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Mental Toughness: A-.</b> Huge
points for keeping it together and problem-solving early on.
Negative for losing the winning edge going up Maiden, and the
self-doubt after Maiden Lake AS. But some good bonus points for
using my <i>“Power Pose” psychology. </i> I wrote of this in the
October Issue of Ultrarunning: that smiling, or adopting power poses,
not only improves mood, but improves the brains perception of
well-being. Even in the depths of the Maiden Peak climb, me doing my
best “I'm the WIZ!” impression made me feel better.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Joy: A-. </b>Had a LOT of fun out
there. I wasn't doing ninja moves, or singing Bon Jovi, but I had
fun.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Race Fun Facts:</b></i></div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Looking back on the results,
Andrew, myself, and Ryan ran the 4<sup>th</sup>, 6<sup>th</sup>, and
8<sup>th</sup> fastest times in the thirteen-year history of the
race*. By far, this was the deepest and closest field, ever.</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
(*admittedly, Tim Olson and Jacob
Rydman's 2012 results on the fire-lengthened 65-mile course bear
mentioning here, as their times would like be in the 9:2x to 9:3x
range).</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Andrew Miller ran the fastest
second half (Charlton to the Finish, roughly 32 mile) in the history
of the race. His 4:36 split ranks ahead of previous course-record
holders David Laney (4:40 in 2013), Dave Mackey (4:41, 2011), and
Erik Skaggs (4:42, 2009). I ran 4:44, good for 5<sup>th</sup>
fastest finishing split.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Despite my struggles early on, I
ran the fastest closing split in the history of the race: roughly 57
minutes for the final seven-and-a-half miles. Andrew was right
there, splitting roughly 57-and-a-half minutes to stay in front.
Behind us include Mackey's hard finish in 2011 (58 minutes), Tim
Olson in '12 (58), Ian Sharman in '11 (60), Skaggs (61), and Jacob
Rydman (62, in 2012).
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****
</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, what's next? Well, back to the
aerobic drawingboard. Based on the foundations of Maffetone and
Allen's physiological model, this time of year – the fall and early
winter – is the time to maximize aerobic. In short:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
with the exception of a few runs,
I took nearly three weeks completely off, post-Waldo</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
the entirely of September was easy
running (again, save a couple early runs)</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
October was entirely easy, except
perhaps four long efforts approaching threshold</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
November, in order to prepare for
another Montrail Cup assault, featured the addition of speed work
for the first time: mostly downhill repeats, and longer, harder
weekend effforts</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Again, periodization with focus on
maximum aerobic development is the foundation and cornerstone. But
implicit in ultra trail preparation is the specificity: I continue to
do strength training, stride efficiency work, and put in the
requisite climbing runs to not only maintain those, but continue to
improve them.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>What I Learned.</b></i>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>T</i></span>his thing is thousands of words. I
hope I learned something. Here's what I think I've learned:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Specificy versus Physiology.</b></i><b>
</b>In ultrarunning, as in all sports, the needs of basic physiology
– what's best for all body systems, long-term – must be balanced
with the specific demands of the task. These things aren't always
mutually exclusive, but – like all things – there must be a
balance between the two.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Physiology is the key to
sustainability</b></i>. ...but at the end of the day, after the
year-plus of interviews, research, and personal experimentation,
honoring physiology – doing what's best for our holistic health –
is the key to sustainable running. Balanced, holistic training and preparation
involves maximizing those things that <i>do not stress physiology,</i>
including: mobility, strength, biomechanics, nutrition, and stress
management. If mastered, these elements are “free
speed”.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Periodization and its Phases.</b></i>
For me, what works best – and what I will continue to employ and
recommend as a medical professional and coach – is the following
progression: a disciplined (and meticulously executed) <i>Aerobic
Phase</i>, where 99% of all work is at Max Aerobic Effort; a <i>Strength
Phase</i>, where moderate-intensity work (long hill climbs, tempo
runs) are introduced; then, what Mark Allen called a “<i>Push
Phase</i>”, which includes much higher-intensity work, possibly
including track sessions and or trail-specific sprints, longer/harder
runs and races.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Avoid the Curse of One-Itis: Keep
perspective, keep your eyes open, and act accordingly.</b></i> The
most crucial moments of Waldo were the six-plus minutes I spent...not
running. I've heard from countless veteran runners who say, “solve
problems early”. That's easier said than done...because you first
have to admit there's a problem. Before this year, as it was at WS in
2013, it would've been difficult to accept that straining, cramping
calves were a problem. A year ago, I simply would've denied it
(“Cramping? That can't be right; it's too early for that”).
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In a race, or in life – work, family,
or a relationship – it can be very difficult to <i>perceive,
believe and act</i> on a problem...especially when “everything else
is going right, and exactly as planned”. I was in the lead of this
race when this happened. Everything else – energy, stomach, brain,
stride – was fantastic.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But life doesn't care about your Plan.
I had to stop, those three different times, and fix it. And while
those stops very likely cost me the win, the alternative – not
stopping – might've prevented me from finishing, or caused a
serious injury.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Perceive, believe and act. </i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">But
to do those things, one ultimately must...</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><b>Know your answers to The
Questions, and don't forget them</b></i>. In order to keep
perspective, and stay true to what's best for you, one needs to know:
“What are you running from, and what are you running toward?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For me, in 2013, it was:</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am running from the
disappointment, shame and rejection of past failures: as an athlete,
and a person
</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am running toward acceptance and
self-esteem through performance success
</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A year later, I can't say those beliefs
no longer exist. But they've been over-ridden by more important ones:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am running from complacency,
weakness, and selfishness</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am running toward sense of
belonging as a contributing member of a nurturing community, toward
camaraderie through cooperation, mutual respect, friendship and
love, and toward a feeling of joy and self-exploration that I get
from the sport of ultramarathon running</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And at the end of the day, I always
have to realize that:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
No great race will ever make my
life complete</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
No terrible race will ruin the fantastic life I already have</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now, I feel that if I really am true to
my <i>New Answers</i>, only good things will come from running; and
truly negative experiences will only happen if allow my <i>Old
Answers</i> to overcome me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
...and that was the beauty of this
year's Waldo: that I was able to share it with so many great friends.
Nearly the entire “Eug Crew” of ultra trail runners was in
attendance: either running, pacing, crewing, or volunteering. Being
able to share and celebrate that day with them was symbolic of the
success of that day, and of the winning formula I think I've found
for sustainable, joyful running.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Let's keep it going, everyone.
</div>
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-61611801060396397152014-04-19T21:52:00.000-07:002014-04-20T08:51:17.550-07:00House of Cards - 2014 Lake Sonoma Race ReportThe beauty of ultramarathon running is the juxtaposition -- and swift vacillation -- of community and solitude: utter aloneness for minutes or hours, then the clamor of spectators and aid, and then - just as quickly, aloneness once again. And that was the <i>only thing swift</i> about this year's Lake Sonoma 50: the speed at which I was whisked between community support and utter solitude. And it was a gift. <br />
<br />
But I would've preferred to be near some folks. And up front. <br />
<br />
But I was alone: just me, and my thoughts. <br />
<br />
Two nights before race day, I had a dream that I was at the Western States lottery. I did not get in. And I wept. I cried so hard in my dream, I awoke, nearly crying.<br />
<br />
It was fitting, therefore, as I rolled along, alone, in the later depths of the race, that I found myself thinking about that dream, and about the reality of the day: of coming up short, again, and possibly missing out on <a href="http://www.wser.org/" target="_blank"><b><i><u>the</u> best day of the year</i></b></a>. I thought about the moment I'd cross the finish -- so egregiously far removed the podium that I'd be lucky if the finish area was still standing when I got there -- when I'd see my mom and my supporters:<br />
<br />
<i>"I'm, sorry, maybe next year..."</i><br />
<br />
That thought, which recurred several times in the last fifteen miles, was sufficient enough to obscure my vision with moisture and force me to put it away.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
****</div>
<br />
It's been a fascinating personal journey since last June. After prioritizing speed and paying for it with serious overtraining and <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2013/07/bending-map-2013-western-states-100.html" target="_blank"><b>an epic crash-and-burn</b></a>, I committed myself to rebuilding: focusing on true aerobic strength and power, and becoming the best fat-burning machine I could be. The idea was to build the strongest - and most sustainable - overall fitness possible.<br />
<br />
It was a simple plan: run at max aerobic pace only for...a long time: a <a href="http://www.philmaffetone.com/what-is-the-maffetone-method" target="_blank"><b>Maffetone-inspired</b></a> notion that training at fat-burning pace, however slow that may be, will develop more fat-burning enzymes to allow higher-intensity running with the same energy. This notion is implicit to all distance training -- build a base, then go from there. But too often corners are cut (or omitted) in the base-building process. Easy runs may feel easy, but if fat is not used and promoted as fuel, true aerobic conditioning <i>won't happen</i>.<br />
<br />
So after Western States, I used the <a href="http://philmaffetone.com/180-formula" target="_blank"><b>Maffetone Formula</b></a> to find my max aerobic heart rate, and from the end of July through most of February, that is where 99% of my training was spent. Using the formula, my estimated fat-burning heart rate was <i>150</i>.<br />
<br />
But there was a problem: I actually wasn't burning much fat at 150. In fact, <i>none at all</i>.<br />
<br />
At first, I made some fitness gains, going from about 7:30 pace down to 6:40 pace at 150 HR. But then I plateaued, and numerous other events - including a broken heart rate monitor and a flu virus - precluded further monitoring or testing.<br />
<br />
Finally, after Bandera, and after testing scores of folks on our metabolic system and grasping the technology, methods and results, I tested myself. The results were shocking: <b>I was burning precisely 0.0% fat at 150 heart rate</b>.<br />
<br />
Even worse, to get a "big chunk" of fat-burning - the desired 30-50% fraction, about which the Maffetone Formula aims for - <b>I had train as low as 105-125 heart rate!!</b><br />
<br />
Ouch.<br />
<br />
But it made sense. In the 180-Formula, there are myriad of qualifiers. Besides 180 minus your age, other qualifiers include:<br />
<ul>
<li>If you have or are recovering from a major illness (heart disease,
any operation or hospital stay, etc.) or are on any regular medication,
<b>subtract an additional 10</b>.</li>
<li>If you are injured, have regressed in training or competition, get
more than two colds or bouts of flu per year, have allergies or asthma,
or if you have been inconsistent or are just getting back into training,
<b>subtract an additional 5</b>.</li>
<li>If you have been training consistently (at least four times weekly)
for up to two years without any of the problems just mentioned, keep the
number (180–age) the same.</li>
<li>If you have been training for more than two years without any of the
problems listed above, and have made progress in competition without
injury, add 5.</li>
</ul>
<br />
In my estimation, I had cheated. I had taken 180 minus my age (35) and - by virtue of "training without problems" and "making progress", I added 5.<br />
<br />
However, I was overlooking several factors, and indicators that I was training too high:<br />
<ul>
<li>My allergies - even in the fall and early winter - were worse than ever. </li>
<li>I was sick more often in November, December and January than I have the past five years, combined</li>
<li>I had the worst flu infection I'd ever had in my life, right before Bandera.</li>
</ul>
And just like that, a MAF of 130 - or lower - seems pretty reasonable.<br />
<br />
So, beginning in mid-February, <b>I committed to a max heart-rate of 130 for <u>all running</u></b>. It was tough! My easy pace immediately plummeted to about 8:00 pace...on a treadmill. Hills? Forget it: 12-minute pace, or I was walking. <br />
<br />
But I knew - from everything I'd read and studied - that I <i>had to commit to it</i>. Because I had, by this point, so many examples of other runners - and my own patients - who'd committed to the process of disciplined fat-burning, that took their pure-aerobic pace from embarassingly-slow to insanely-fast. And I knew, based on how fat-burning affected health and how the alternative - high-intensity sugar-burning - deleteriously affected health, performance, and career longevity.<br />
<br />
So, with 8 weeks to go before Sonoma, I was running <a href="http://www.strava.com/athletes/1416003" target="_blank"><b>#slowasshit.</b></a> <br />
<br />
It was a major gamble: could I run that slow, that easy, and still perform well at Sonoma: a favorite event of mine, a race that I've run very well at the past <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/04/lake-sonoma-50-race-report.html" target="_blank"><b>two</b></a> <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2013/04/bridge-burning-2013-lake-sonoma-50.html" target="_blank"><b>years</b></a>, the premiere "old school" ultra in the country, and now, a vital shot at a Western States spot? <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
I'm a stickler for tradition: for the third consecutive year, I left for Sonoma on Thursday night, lodging in Ashland. I rolled in just before ten o'clock, just in time for a good night message from my good buddy, <a href="http://vargorunning.com/" target="_blank"><b>Chris Vargo</b></a>!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rz5aAdVuu-M/U1MLL4HvS1I/AAAAAAAAFhI/173FQjZV9Ok/s1600/VargoSleepTweet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rz5aAdVuu-M/U1MLL4HvS1I/AAAAAAAAFhI/173FQjZV9Ok/s1600/VargoSleepTweet.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical pre-Sonoma exchange between Chris and I. I was eternally grateful for that tuck-in from Chris' mom, "The Sue"! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The banter (read: "shit-talk") between Chris and I pre-race was quite a hoot, and was only going to get better. But more on that, later.<br />
<br />
As noted, I slept well - other than my Western States lotto dream - and awoke rested. My day-before run through downtown Ashland, up Lithia Park, and to Prickly Pete's pasture felt strong, and I relished in the cool, dry, sunny Southern Oregon weather. After breakfast, I hopped in the car and made my way to Healdsburg.<br />
<br />
Once there, I had a bit of business to attend to - a little more shit-talk, this time for The Media. I met up with The Boss at the front desk of the Best Western as folks trickled, including The BGD. We milled around while Bryon interviewed the legit talent: Krar, King, Canaday, to name a few.<br />
<br />
Then it was our turn. <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2014/04/chris-vargo-and-joe-uhan-pre-2014-lake-sonoma-50-mile-interview.html" target="_blank"><b>What a blast that was</b></a>! We had some fun shit-talking back and forth - though it took Vargo a bit to "warm-up", but once he did, it was a hoot. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MmUyHhTBGBA/U1M-URm-pdI/AAAAAAAAFnQ/fla_7TRfRwg/s1600/iRFinterview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MmUyHhTBGBA/U1M-URm-pdI/AAAAAAAAFnQ/fla_7TRfRwg/s1600/iRFinterview.jpg" height="359" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, Bryon Powell, and Chris Vargo. $hit's about to go down! Photo: iRunFar. </td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/zRjZs7z5djY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JhXMu4IBuNE/U1NBU6xYznI/AAAAAAAAFnc/wo1mCftZkC8/s1600/OOJVargoFists-iRF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JhXMu4IBuNE/U1NBU6xYznI/AAAAAAAAFnc/wo1mCftZkC8/s1600/OOJVargoFists-iRF.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some obvious Photoshop-ing: how are we the same height? Vargo's like 4'8"! <br />
Vargo and I pummel one another. <br />
Photo: iRunFar.com</td></tr>
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<br />
When we finished, BGD and I chatted with Alicia Shay, who traveled from Flag with Vargo, and Krar for a bit, before heading to the course.<br />
<br />
I had a great talk, catching up with BGD, on the way to the the overlook, then hiked out a half-mile and had a seat along the trail. There, I had another great talk: "to the mountain". I sat there, as I did before Bandera, and talked it out: what my intentions were, my focus, my gratitude and perspective. Any nerves I might've had were put to rest until race morning.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
Race morning came quick, but not too early. The race directors do a phenomenal job - and <i>ahead of the curve</i> - at elite runner hospitality. Jake and I were holed up in our own suite on the <a href="http://www.sodarockwinery.com/" target="_blank"><b>Soda Rock Winery</b></a>, just a few miles outside town. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSfUvfVfENE/U1MWiJ0N9aI/AAAAAAAAFjQ/1S1SA7dy7Kk/s1600/sodarockroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cSfUvfVfENE/U1MWiJ0N9aI/AAAAAAAAFjQ/1S1SA7dy7Kk/s1600/sodarockroom.jpg" height="476" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our suite at Soda Rock. "So Romantic!" :-P</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kyNfaJ6YE8k/U1MWiAQxc2I/AAAAAAAAFjU/NxmNEDTrVNE/s1600/his&his.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kyNfaJ6YE8k/U1MWiAQxc2I/AAAAAAAAFjU/NxmNEDTrVNE/s1600/his&his.jpg" height="479" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "His & His" robes, ala "Dumb & Dumber", will have to wait...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86emG19nNeU/U1MWh6KC5TI/AAAAAAAAFjM/mp9oDb2jFJw/s1600/BGDband.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86emG19nNeU/U1MWh6KC5TI/AAAAAAAAFjM/mp9oDb2jFJw/s1600/BGDband.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BGD looking "Buff".</td></tr>
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We slept well and had plenty of room - and quiet - to prepare on race morning. <br />
<br />
We arrived at the overlook to darkness and a light, misty fog: perfect running conditions. And, characteristic of the event and Tropical John Medinger's attention to detail, the sun rose just in time for the opening horn. <br />
<br />
Lots of familiar faces on the line and the mood was light for what would surely be among the most competitive 50-milers in the world this year. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wUbsGjoZP0s/U1MYFYzS4eI/AAAAAAAAFj0/TOrfaCQvUEc/s1600/irFStart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wUbsGjoZP0s/U1MYFYzS4eI/AAAAAAAAFj0/TOrfaCQvUEc/s1600/irFStart.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flexin' at the start. Look at all that annoying neon! Photo: iRunFar.com</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w8QOlNwO3kA/U1MXyXbA2GI/AAAAAAAAFjw/e-s4unAsRS8/s1600/200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w8QOlNwO3kA/U1MXyXbA2GI/AAAAAAAAFjw/e-s4unAsRS8/s1600/200.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"AAAAAAAY! JAAAKE RYYYDMANNNN! What's goin' on, man? How you doin'? <br />
Good to see you again, what's up?" Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then, it was time.<br />
<br />
The race...went exactly how it should've gone: tough.<br />
<br />
The opening road miles - and the pace set up-front by the Nike BoyZ and others - was remarkably subdued. Yet, characteristic of the day, I struggled to keep up on the climbs. My race-nerves sent my HR into the 170s and I had to work hard to relax, breathe deeply, and run easy on the ups to get it in the 160s.<br />
<br />
And that would be the theme of the day: slow, sluggish climbs, tip-toeing beyond anaerobic threshold. All day.<br />
<br />
I was probably in tenth place when we hit the trail descent, then gradually relinquished at least a half-dozen places over the next two miles before Island View (31:33). Thematic of the day, the effort felt strong, but I was a good<i> two-plus minutes slower than a year ago</i>. But the HR was in the mid-160s - the Yellow Zone - and there was simply nothing else to do.<br />
<br />
So I shuffled along.<br />
<br />
I had some pleasant chats with several folks, including Jesse Haynes, Josh Brimhall and Brian Tinder - all of whom I'd see later in the day.<br />
<br />
Then I was alone.<br />
<br />
And I loved it.<br />
<br />
The lake shore was enveloped in a shroud of fog all morning. It was utterly peaceful, and the beauty tempered the frustrating sluggishness felt on each of the relentless climbs. I felt slow and heavy. But...I felt strong.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bX-Iri78f1s/U1M0M6hS1eI/AAAAAAAAFlw/f24KECscuZ0/s1600/232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bX-Iri78f1s/U1M0M6hS1eI/AAAAAAAAFlw/f24KECscuZ0/s1600/232.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sonoma Basin wrapped in fog. The view from above Madrone AS. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
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<br />
As I loped along, it occurred to me the folly of what I was undertaking: <i> "I've done literally NO running on hills at this intensity...for months...what do you expect??"</i> There was a part of me that believed that my strong aerobic power would supercede that lack of experience, the requisite leg strength, and lactate clearance, necessary to run fast. But it simply wasn't there.<br />
<br />
What I had was essentially a <i>House of Cards</i>: the appearance - or at least the building blocks - of actual fitness, but not the real thing. And, presented with a challenge such as this course, it wasn't long 'til my limitations were completely exposed. <br />
<br />
But I kept at it, my new mantra was <i>"Slow, but Strong"</i>.<br />
<br />
I hit Warm Springs AS slow again, in 1:32 - <i>a whopping 8 minutes slower than a year ago</i>. I must've been dwelling strongly on this notion to miss the gigantic, creepy presence of The Vargo off my left shoulder, because it didn't register in the slightest! At least I was focused!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W9YwNdvfWbE/U1MmmZqHSQI/AAAAAAAAFkU/hFhqo7ZiFqI/s1600/218+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W9YwNdvfWbE/U1MmmZqHSQI/AAAAAAAAFkU/hFhqo7ZiFqI/s1600/218+(2).jpg" height="640" width="438" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Refueling at Warm Springs AS, with<i> to-scale representation</i> of Chris Vargo's gigantic ego. Well-played Eric Schranz. Photo: Meredith</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gj4-5zI4p4g/U1MmmAFIXbI/AAAAAAAAFkQ/41g24kJM_N4/s1600/219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gj4-5zI4p4g/U1MmmAFIXbI/AAAAAAAAFkQ/41g24kJM_N4/s1600/219.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Stop starin' at me, SWAN!" Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
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I was just behind Brimhall as we hit the aid, and as we left, he asked about the splits: <i> "VERY SLOW"</i>, I spat, when asked about our times compared to a year ago. He remarked about getting out too hard a year ago; I agreed, but eight minutes? Ugh.<br />
<br />
I shuffled along, and Josh ambled out of sight.<br />
<br />
And I was alone again. More shuffling, but now, some gut-rot. The stomach hadn't taken well to the influx of sugar, which prompted the first of two pit-stops. Ugh.<br />
<br />
Just before Wulflow #1 (48:20, 2:20), I caught a glimpse of Michael Versteeg (who I would later find out is a good friend of one of my favorite "Tall Dickheads", James Madson!). I would run right behind, then right in front, of him for the next dozen miles. Having him around helped snap me from my doldrums, and I posted my best (or closest to ideal) split of the day to Madrone #1 (15:04, 2:35).<br />
<br />
The Queen was there. Her face betrays all; she'd be a horrible poker player. <i> "How ya doin'?". </i>She knew how I was doing. <i>"Slow but strong",</i> I said, as I pounded the first of several cans of Coke. I shuffled out.<br />
<br />
I heard big cheers only a minute out of the aid station. The first woman was close. Of course.<br />
<br />
Shuffling up the steep dirt road, I tried to run as much as I could - or at least when spectators were around - but I otherwise hiked. The HR spiked above 170 and I struggled to keep the legs moving. My support crew was at the summit and I smiled and waved weakly as I dropped down over the hill.<br />
<br />
The descent to the lake before the Big Climb took forever. The gut protested further as I pitter-pattered my way along, and I stopped once again to fertilize. Versteeg floated by and it took until the next aid to catch back up.<br />
<br />
By this time, falling so egregiously behind my goal splits, I began to dread just how soon into the climb I'd see the leaders when they doubled back upon us.<br />
<br />
That's one of many beauties of Lake Sonoma 50: the double-back, and the first of two critical competition checks. I was a mere two-thirds up the vertical to No Name when Zach Miller flew past. Minutes later came Krar, with Vargo and Sage in tow, then King a minute or so behind them. Seeing those fellas gave my running a spark, yet I continued to struggle up the teasing rollers that littered the approach to No Name. I came across BGD a few minutes from the lollipop -- meaning he was a good ten minutes-plus in front. He had a look of focused intensity and blew past so fast all I could get out was, <i>"Execute!"</i><br />
<br />
I hit the Lollipop, which was guarded by several folks, including Tropical John. I tried to bribe my way straight into the aid, but he wasn't having it. I got past Versteeg and pushed to the aid.<br />
<br />
No Name is the halfway point, and by the time I rolled in, I was quite late (55:00, 3:30 - 3:10 in 2013), so it was all I could do to poke a little fun when I saw my good friend Jorge Maravilla there amongst the crowd. He wisely chose to rest from LS50, but I gave him a little $hit, anyway, for the DNS, before I grabbed a fresh bottle and hit the trail.<br />
<br />
The double-back on the rest of the field was uplifting: the constant exchanges of well-wishes, and running past good friends helped buoy the spirits and lighten the load as I shuffled back down to the lake, but once I bottomed out and had to climb my way out, no breath was available for further greetings - a simple wave was all I could muster.<br />
<br />
About this time, Emily Harrison, the women's leader, began to reel me in. I'd felt her presence for miles, but here she was. She got past me about a half-mile from the summit, just in time for the media.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eNOCD8lPgq8/U1Miib19S1I/AAAAAAAAFkE/Jq_OFQgzydk/s1600/MeEmily-iRF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eNOCD8lPgq8/U1Miib19S1I/AAAAAAAAFkE/Jq_OFQgzydk/s1600/MeEmily-iRF.jpg" height="308" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emily leading me up to the dirt road above Madrone 2 (mile 30). You can't get anything past Connor Curley, whose timely comment really made this photo. It's "F2" (sort of like "F U"), Connor! Photo: iRunFar.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Emily stopped for aid from Ian Torrence at the hilltop and I snuck past, but my lead was short-lived. After Madrone #2 (47:54, 4:18), she got past me again, seemingly for good.<br />
<br />
By the time I got to Wulflow #2 (18:16, 4:36), I was feeling gassed. I'd been red-lining all day: with the HR consistently in the mid-160s. My legs had no power. I was resigned to shuffling it in.<br />
<br />
But at least I had entertainment. As planned, I got out my iPod and put in the buds. And for the first time all day, I started to have some fun.<br />
<br />
Because of alphabetical order, my race playlists always open with this song. And it's a good one. While I certainly had nothing to "smack", I danced along with a smile on my face.<br />
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From there, on, it was all about making the most of the day: I focused on <i>efficiency</i>: using the hips and pelvis, a strong arm swing, and - my greatest deficit - <i>a quick turnover</i>. And it worked to keep me moving pretty well. <br />
<br />
I felt OK and, once again, at peace: not simply with my surroundings, but with the day itself: where I'm at -- today, this year, and my place in the community. I was OK with being slow, being behind, and not being competitive. But when I began to think about the implications - of missing out on this year's Western States - it was truly sad. I got emotional several times and had to force it down and put it away.<br />
<br />
Finally, after nearly five hours, the fog had burned away. The sun appeared, in full force, and the trail slowly warmed to a simmer.<br />
<br />
Or maybe it was the reflected aura of SoCal Boy Jesse Haynes, who came within view just before dropping into Warm Springs #2 (49:52, 5:26). It was good to see him, and my hearty crew, at the AS, and I felt a surge of competitiveness in my otherwise gassed legs as we shuffled out together. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pU0dbfZzjTg/U1Mz_sR-0HI/AAAAAAAAFlo/u4s44lYxyn0/s1600/245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pU0dbfZzjTg/U1Mz_sR-0HI/AAAAAAAAFlo/u4s44lYxyn0/s1600/245.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Beer Mile Training Run on Tuesday pays off. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After the river crossing, Jesse was hiking a lot. I knew I could get past him and, eventually, I did. I remember vividly the cramping that began at this point - nearly twelve miles out - a year ago. I took solace in the fact that, while gassed, at least my thighs weren't seizing. I got passed Jesse and another fellow ("Red Jersey", who was walking even the flats) and pushed along.<br />
<br />
The HR, especially in the sun, was spiking well over 170, forcing me to walk a great deal. I put some distance on Jesse and got out of sight, but the going was slow, and each climb - however small - was punishing to my unprepared legs. I pushed along, knowing full well the possible consequences of this aggressive workload.<br />
<br />
But I was still in good spirits. The music helped a ton, and when I caught up to Josh Brimhall, I felt compelled to <i>remove one of his earbuds and insert one of mine</i>, so he could hear <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHUbLv4ThOo" target="_blank"><b>the solid gold of Pitbull and Ke$ha</b></a>. A sugar-deprived brain will do some crazy things...<br />
<br />
I felt like I was running well, but the splits don't lie: I was nearly<i> ten minutes slower on this section</i> than a year ago. Yet, as feared, the legs began to cramp as I approached Island View #2, the pivotal final stop. <br />
<br />
Had it been any other race, I likely would've mailed it in. But at Sonoma, runners are gifted with one final - and extremely timely - competitive glimpse. The Island View #2 AS sits a quarter-mile off the main trail, providing for one final out-and-back upon which to lay eyes on any competition - in front or behind - that is close.<br />
<br />
"Tough Tommy" Nielsen used to say, <i>"At the end of a race, run like there's a runner three minutes ahead and one three minutes behind"</i>. At Sonoma, there is no need to imagine.<br />
<br />
Just as I turned toward the aid station, out came Brian Tinder. I tried to look tough, strong and fast as I floated past, and - just meters from the aid - I did the same to Emily Harrison. Once there, I got a final water fill, some Coke and a single gel (they were running low, in large part to BGD who took THREE of them for the final 4.7 miles!), then jetted out, just before Jesse came in.<br />
<br />
I was cramping badly by then: first the adductors (both), then medial quads, with hamstrings and calves chiming in, intermittently (<i>"Hey, at least it's symmetrical!"</i>). I ran into Red Jersey just as I got back on the main trail.<br />
<br />
I took stock: two runners in front, two runners behind - all within five minutes each direction. And cramping like crazy.<br />
<br />
Last year's Lake Sonoma, as well as Western States, taught me that while cramps seldom go away without stopping, the fuse was pretty long before a blow-up. So I pushed. Hard.<br />
<br />
I knew better mechanics would decrease cramping, so I all-out hammered the ups: aggressively swinging arms and engaging the abs to help drive up the hills and reduce the adductor load. And, after some inital protests, it worked. I was OK. But the heart rate soared above 170 and stayed there. Was it sustainable?<br />
<br />
I pushed, and gobbled the downs with big, loping strides, making legitimately good time. And, soon enough, Emily was in sight. I gutted one last gel for good measure and pushed past, knowing full well her speed potential, but noting that her stride appeared to be pretty bottled-up.<br />
<br />
The last 4.7 to the finish is phenomenal trail: just enough ups to keep you honest, but fast, rolling, singletrack. While there are a few choice climbs, it almost seems like it's a net downhill from Island View. I pushed as hard as I could, but wary of a blow-up, as the cramping worsened. I was motivated more by staying ahead of Emily than catching Tinder, who couldn't have been more than a minute or two up front.<br />
<br />
I hit a Mile to Go with a smile on my face. And, like a year ago, my playlist ran out. I flipped threw a few songs 'til I found some rocket fuel:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/hHUbLv4ThOo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> I want a pink sportcoat like Pitbull has in this video!</span></i></div>
<br />
I pushed hard to the finish, hoping I could "yell, Tinder", but it was too late. I finished strong, not nearly as triumphant as a year ago, but almost as happy. I popped out the earbuds to take in the applause, most of it coming from my and Jacob's large support group.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VvtrIetNCX4/U1MuFG0VlgI/AAAAAAAAFko/kXBDiRYP34k/s1600/OOJFinish+-+RachelEkberg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VvtrIetNCX4/U1MuFG0VlgI/AAAAAAAAFko/kXBDiRYP34k/s1600/OOJFinish+-+RachelEkberg.jpg" height="640" width="494" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing Shot. Trunk alignment is a little wonky, but not bad for 7:24. Photo: Rachel Ekberg.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I finally crossed the line in <b>7:24:32, good for 14th place</b>.<br />
<br />
I was too damn tired to be emotional as I hugged my mom and thanked the rest of the crew. I was grateful for their support and I did the best I could do with what I had. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MB9dXHWUMRw/U1MuuRT3LdI/AAAAAAAAFkw/doez2frpHPc/s1600/MeMomFinish-KarenM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MB9dXHWUMRw/U1MuuRT3LdI/AAAAAAAAFkw/doez2frpHPc/s1600/MeMomFinish-KarenM.jpg" height="512" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hugging it out with mom. I think Tropical John needs some Hawaiian pants. Photo: Karen May.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S0M_kn53jcg/U1MuuS7gwzI/AAAAAAAAFk0/6EVKTt6NL2I/s1600/MeTinderFinish-KarenM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S0M_kn53jcg/U1MuuS7gwzI/AAAAAAAAFk0/6EVKTt6NL2I/s1600/MeTinderFinish-KarenM.jpg" height="514" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I yelled, "Tinderrrr!" but he got away from me. Next time! Photo: Karen May.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jorge was there right away with encouraging words, and it meant a lot to have his support, once again. He could've crushed it out there, but chose to save it for when it really counts: the last Saturday in June.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gNTQC5Chu0A/U1MvUA97iqI/AAAAAAAAFlA/hewjI8eMA9g/s1600/282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gNTQC5Chu0A/U1MvUA97iqI/AAAAAAAAFlA/hewjI8eMA9g/s1600/282.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and the Dark Chocolate, looking fine. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zhMy10WoIMY/U1MvVzbm4wI/AAAAAAAAFlI/qfr9U-rKGho/s1600/283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zhMy10WoIMY/U1MvVzbm4wI/AAAAAAAAFlI/qfr9U-rKGho/s1600/283.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Dark Chocolate. I'm flexing HARD, trying to look as good as him. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I caught up with BGD, who by then was into his second or third beer.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvhc5gjmiBg/U1MwmRqURgI/AAAAAAAAFlU/3vfDzqnmx84/s1600/277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rvhc5gjmiBg/U1MwmRqURgI/AAAAAAAAFlU/3vfDzqnmx84/s1600/277.JPG" height="640" width="382" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BGD and ME, in one of the worst, ass-out bro-hugs ever. Weak, dude, weak. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5YJ9NBnHYC0/U1MwngV_7kI/AAAAAAAAFlc/e22YMmjZZJs/s1600/266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5YJ9NBnHYC0/U1MwngV_7kI/AAAAAAAAFlc/e22YMmjZZJs/s1600/266.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BGD: "Do these shorts make my ass look big?" <br />
Sara: "Turn away! Turn away!"<br />
Photo: Meredith. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jacob <a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/2014/04/2014-lake-sonoma-50-fearless-free-and.html" target="_blank"><b>ran <i>incredibly well</i> at Sonoma</b></a>. And the best part is: <i>he's really not that fit right now</i>. At all, really. But for the first time since I've known him, he's run <i>a complete race</i>, start to finish. Though so full of faith in the rest of his life, he's often <i>raced without </i>a lot of faith in <i>himself</i>: self-doubts amplified bad patches, causing a lot of inconsistency in how he performed.<br />
<br />
But not today. He <i>executed</i>. He ran with confidence and faithfulness all day, and that's been the case in the three ultras he's raced in 2014.<br />
<br />
In addition to being mentally strong and even, his <i>technical skills </i>have improved significantly: his downhill (and uphill) running has improved and is on-par with his contemporaries (and well beyond mine at this point), and his overall stride is the best I've seen it.<br />
<br />
WHEN he adds brute fitness, he's going to be a contender in every race he's entered. Watch out. And as usual, I can only hope I can keep up, on all fronts. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
Post-race was the usual Sonoma fanfare: friends and food, sun and suds. Jake and I hung out 'til nearly 5, then hooked up with my family for dinner and more celebrating. It was a good day.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VmjBT8YmxUc/U1M1YsBjo9I/AAAAAAAAFl8/tBXVGUjni8w/s1600/280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VmjBT8YmxUc/U1M1YsBjo9I/AAAAAAAAFl8/tBXVGUjni8w/s1600/280.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got a whole lotta love in this group, showing off the custom shirts Meredith made. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Some assorted shots from the rest of the weekend:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dU5SWLq_Bww/U1M17Rg6vSI/AAAAAAAAFmE/H1IMMnUAVGo/s1600/161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dU5SWLq_Bww/U1M17Rg6vSI/AAAAAAAAFmE/H1IMMnUAVGo/s1600/161.JPG" height="490" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My support crew from back East (L to R): Mike, Teri, Meredith, and Chris.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OHW_KDaEKSo/U1M19nL6_nI/AAAAAAAAFmQ/am0XgZMBEXM/s1600/275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OHW_KDaEKSo/U1M19nL6_nI/AAAAAAAAFmQ/am0XgZMBEXM/s1600/275.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of Sonoma with the fog lifted. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ItNZYefBXAo/U1M1_wTiY8I/AAAAAAAAFmc/HQAkjdfRHA0/s1600/285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ItNZYefBXAo/U1M1_wTiY8I/AAAAAAAAFmc/HQAkjdfRHA0/s1600/285.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He sure cleans up good! And this is at least nine hours into his work day! Photo: Me (via Meredith).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A2uE28X7sl0/U1M2DROVjTI/AAAAAAAAFmk/ZpH6-D3YOdQ/s1600/300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A2uE28X7sl0/U1M2DROVjTI/AAAAAAAAFmk/ZpH6-D3YOdQ/s1600/300.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday's Wine Tasting at Mazzocco. Tropical John tells me where I can score some primo Olive Oil. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XoQEM_gNHJg/U1M2D1XiLWI/AAAAAAAAFms/xYsaGHb1QiI/s1600/303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XoQEM_gNHJg/U1M2D1XiLWI/AAAAAAAAFms/xYsaGHb1QiI/s1600/303.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"...SO HOT right now....OOJ". Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8oFOYZUdsHA/U1M19DVjUxI/AAAAAAAAFmM/GglWJ5heT_Q/s1600/20140413_124700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8oFOYZUdsHA/U1M19DVjUxI/AAAAAAAAFmM/GglWJ5heT_Q/s1600/20140413_124700.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BP: "Think you could drink all that?"<br />
Clarkie: "It'll be gone by tomorrow".<br />
Photo: Me.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
***** <u><b><br /></b></u></div>
<u><b>The Grades:</b></u><br />
<br />
<b>Mechanics: A-.</b> There were few performance brights spots to this year's race, but my stride was terrific. I'd put in a ton of work with my PT, Mike Baum, in February, once and for all(?) re-establishing my trunk stability and improving my push-off on the right hip. It wasn't perfect, but it was the most symmetrical my stride has ever felt in an ultra. A big silver lining in a gray race.<br />
<br />
<b>Pacing: A-.</b> I could do no better than I did. I toed the Red Line all day and, only when I knew I could survive, blasted beyond it. For the first time ever, I ran all day with a HRM. The details:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kuQAoA-53JA/U1M4NptdsMI/AAAAAAAAFm4/p4m5GoggGvM/s1600/Splits.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kuQAoA-53JA/U1M4NptdsMI/AAAAAAAAFm4/p4m5GoggGvM/s1600/Splits.jpg" height="268" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Numbers don't lie. I was tip-toeing that line allll day. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My anaerobic threshold has been <i>measured </i>at 158-162. That I<b> averaged 165</b> for nearly seven-and-a-half hours - and pushed it to 172 over the last five miles - is remarkable, and - I think - an indicator of <i>exactly </i>how hard I can push at this distance and duration. Any harder and I likely blow up much worse, and cramp much earlier. <br />
<br />
<b>Fueling: A-.</b> Fueling was solid, and energy consistent all day. My stomach did rebel early but rebounded. It's tough to get used to sugar when you so rarely have any (and really, zero in training). My approximate fuel intake:<br />
<br />
- 32 oz of honey water (6% solution - so about 200 kcal)<br />
- ~10 gels (1000 kcal)<br />
- 3 cans of coke (400 kcal)<br />
- two small banana chunks (50 kcal)<br />
<i><b>TOTAL: <1700 calories</b></i><br />
<br />
This is pretty terrific: 1700 calories for 7.5 hours of running: just over 200 cal/hr. I never felt like like I was "down" because of either water or calorie deficit. I felt even all day, and that - I feel - is a testament to my enhanced fat-burning, even at this high intensity.<br />
<br />
<b>Mental Toughness: A-/B+.</b> I ran as strong as I could, and I pushed hard at the end. I take a lot of pride and optimism that I can still hammer with the best of them, even when I'm not well-trained. My :45 split over the final section is on-par with the majority of the top ten (outside Krar's completely insane :38 he threw down trying to catch Miller). But lulls and slow-downs mid-race were costly to the clock.<br />
<br />
<b>Joy: A-</b>. Though not up to my potential, I felt a lot of joy out there. I forced myself to be happy. What really kept me going - especially as the slow splits compounded - was thinking about Terry Rhodes. Terry is a fixture in the NorCal ultrarunning community. Though I've never met her, she and her husband John have been an inspiration to me since I first saw them on <i>"Race for the Soul"</i>, the 2001 Western States documentary (where it is noted, famously, that they <i>"met on the trail, got engaged on the trail, and were married on the trail"!</i>). She's so incredibly positive and joyful during that race.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cy10DWtgk7k/U1M79gN3K5I/AAAAAAAAFnE/QDIJNSj2AxI/s1600/TerryJohn+Chihping+Fu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cy10DWtgk7k/U1M79gN3K5I/AAAAAAAAFnE/QDIJNSj2AxI/s1600/TerryJohn+Chihping+Fu.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terry Rhodes with - as always - John in tow - at an unknown race. Photo (gleaned from the FB account of): Chihping Fu.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Just days before Sonoma, Terry experienced a freak injury while vacationing in Mexico, resulting in a serious spinal injury. That, and my recent experience working with inspirational neurological patients a week ago in Portland was more than enough to be grateful for the gift of running fifty miles - and all those folks out there in support of me.<br />
<br />
I'm happy to report that, despite the gravity of her injury, Terry is doing well and -<i> "Slow, but Strong</i>" - recovering! Awesome! <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
It didn't take long before The Question arose:<i> <b>"Are you gonna run <a href="http://www.iceagetrail50.com/site/" target="_blank">Ice Age</a>?"</b></i>. It's the final <a href="http://www.wser.org/montrail-ultra-cup/" target="_blank"><b>Montrail Ultra Cup qualifying race</b></a>, the Last Chance.<br />
<br />
And, of course, I said, <i>"No"</i>. To be asked that so soon after finishing fifty miles is like asking someone if they want to go to another party when they've got a raging hangover. No way.<br />
<br />
But now? I'm interested.<br />
<br />
While I believe things are meant to be, I also feel like the clock is ticking, and life is short: you have to go get what you want, and risk failure.<br />
<br />
That said, the next week will be telling: how quickly I can recover and, far more importantly, can I get in the requisite fitness - namely hard, rolling trail running at threshold - to have a chance at Ice Age. That a couple of<i> fast sonofabitches</i> (hint: their names rhyme with <i>"Glitter"</i> and <i>"Fart-Hurt-y"</i>) have recently been added to the start list makes the task even more daunting. <br />
<br />
I will make my decision in a week. But whatever happens, I'll be there. I won't miss it. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<b>HUGE thanks to my many supporters: </b><br />
<ul>
<li>to John Medinger and Lisa Henson, for the extreme hospitality and support all weekend long.</li>
<li>to sponsors Pearl Izumi and my newest supporter - Portland's own <a href="http://trailbutter.com/" target="_blank"><b>Trail Butter</b></a>! This is simply phenomenal stuff - <i>100% natural, high-fat, low sugar, perfect fuel</i> - that I first came across a year-plus ago at Hagg Lake 50K. I'm ecstatic about what they have to offer, and their generous support of Team Trail Butter! Check it out! </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oSamUbvJJgM/U1NCrTBz8qI/AAAAAAAAFns/zYnbKap_Qpk/s1600/TB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oSamUbvJJgM/U1NCrTBz8qI/AAAAAAAAFns/zYnbKap_Qpk/s1600/TB.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great stuff! Thanks for the support, Boggess Brothers! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>and to my incredible friends and family, who go to great lengths to support my running and the community. Thank you! </li>
</ul>
See you...soon?...-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-9412791014959019032014-01-13T19:40:00.000-08:002014-01-13T19:40:07.279-08:00Lost Opportunity - 2014 Bandera "50K" Report<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GMsTeP7SJTM/UtSn2ZgA-lI/AAAAAAAAFTM/YR0ZPJz5HfM/s1600/MarioKartbutthurt.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GMsTeP7SJTM/UtSn2ZgA-lI/AAAAAAAAFTM/YR0ZPJz5HfM/s1600/MarioKartbutthurt.jpg" height="450" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How I spent my New Year's Eve. An omen of things to come. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When a person approaches their physical limitations, a mental chess game occurs, where the brain must reconcile the extreme demands placed on your body, versus the current integrity of the system and the potential reward for that effort. It is a law that governs all activity, but is especially applicable to running 62+ miles through rock-strewn, cactus-laden desert.<br />
<br />
That said, I'm convinced that if dropping out* does <i>not </i>cross a runner's mind each time they race, they're simply not running their hardest. <br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(*or somehow relenting in other ways, such as slowing dramatically, or resting at aid stations)</span></i><br />
<br />
However, there comes a time in every race, beyond that chess game, when you make the decision to go <i>all in</i>: when commitment is total, you buy in - body, mind, and soul - and you push with everything you've got. <br />
<br />
I live for that moment; those are the those rare, special moments that - if lucky - happen a handful of times a year.<br />
<br />
But to get there, you have to suffer, you have to endure; you have to be able to <i>get to that place</i>. And to get there, you need proper preparation, patience, and more than a bit of good luck. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
My training in preparation for the Bandera 100K was specifically aimed at that <i>commitment</i>. Since late-July, I have done next to no speed work. Instead, I went back to the aerobic drawing board, focusing on absolute aerobic strength - power - with long, easy, restorative runs: the type of work that I did so well in 2011 that set me up for my terrific 2012 campaign.<br />
<br />
After three solid months of aerobic power, I began to run hard - with a <i>purpose</i>. Instead of arbitrary track and tempo work, I hit the trails: tempos and intervals, all on the trails, and all at the end of long runs. The purpose was to lubricate the commitment switch: fatigue the system, the force it to run hard.<br />
<br />
The results were striking: long runs of 3-5 hours, with 30-60 minute hard-charging finishes. I was shocked with how strong these runs felt, and how fast I could run, despite the lack of conventional speedwork (or mid-run fueling!). <br />
<br />
I ran big miles in December, as I did in 2011, but nearly all at low-intensity. After a terrific work-out race on the 14th, I felt strong and ready for Bandera. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
Logistically, I would replicate the pre-race schedule from 2012: travel back to Wisconsin for the holiday season, rest there for a week-plus, then travel directly to Texas. This plan worked beautifully last time: I was able to have a relaxing, enjoyable time consisting of easy running, spending time with friends and family, and resting. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5h3X5DWC7oc/UtSn51sQ0gI/AAAAAAAAFUk/zp3Xl0tZBLk/s1600/TuxSelfie.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5h3X5DWC7oc/UtSn51sQ0gI/AAAAAAAAFUk/zp3Xl0tZBLk/s1600/TuxSelfie.jpg" height="468" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tux Selfie at my cousin' John's wedding. I made that $#!t look good. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fqwcVQ0Qu2I/UtSn6P50YfI/AAAAAAAAFUw/ESEAYUYVpTg/s1600/WeddingCam.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fqwcVQ0Qu2I/UtSn6P50YfI/AAAAAAAAFUw/ESEAYUYVpTg/s1600/WeddingCam.jpg" height="532" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Action shot of the groomsmen and ushers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But from the get-go, those plans began to unravel. After a family wedding in northern Minnesota, the bottom absolutely fell out of the thermometer - and my body, with it. Temperatures plummeted below-zero, making for miserable mileage back in Wisconsin. But I pressed on with the big mileage (12-18 miles per day), knowing I had but one more week of work - and limitless rest ahead.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dSF172zBbHI/UtSn0EvhpHI/AAAAAAAAFSg/xrgm70jNPQs/s1600/DuluthCold.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dSF172zBbHI/UtSn0EvhpHI/AAAAAAAAFSg/xrgm70jNPQs/s1600/DuluthCold.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday morning in Duluth, MN. Cold as hell. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Monday night before New Year's, I met one of my best friends for a night run in our hometown. The temps were below zero, but winds were calm. It was a great run that allowed us to catch up for the first time in months. While we ran for over 45 minutes through the quiet darkness, I failed to warm-up in the slightest. I felt frozen, fatigued, and..."off", but I chalked it up to fatigue.<br />
<br />
That night, when I went to sleep, I dreamt that I was really sick. But when I awoke, it wasn't a dream.<br />
<br />
I was sick. <i>Really sick.</i><br />
<br />
Since changing my diet to include high volumes of raw vegetables and fruits, and cutting processed foods five years ago, I rarely get sick. Often, a virus will sneak up on me: I'll have an "off day" at work, then realize, <i>"Oh, crap! I guess I'm sick!"</i>, only to feel 100% the next day.<br />
<br />
When I awoke on New Year's Eve, there was no doubt: I felt f#@&ing terrible.<br />
<br />
I canceled plans for New Year's Eve, and hunkered down, anticipating a down day, maybe two. <br />
<br />
That sickness - undoubtedly the flu, which hammered the Twin Cities area that week - <i>knocked me flat-out for a week</i>. The fever was so bad that my whole body hurt, and it was all I could do to lie next to my mom's gas fireplace for hours at a time. Running was absolutely out of the question; even if it wasn't zero degrees out, I didn't have the energy to leave the house, let alone exercise.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KyDMVWzks4Y/UtSnxYa21pI/AAAAAAAAFRY/N04fB5G-4Rw/s1600/Airborne.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KyDMVWzks4Y/UtSnxYa21pI/AAAAAAAAFRY/N04fB5G-4Rw/s1600/Airborne.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><u>My cocktail of choice on New Year's Day.</u></td></tr>
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The fever lasted for <i>six days</i>. I ran again for the first time on Sunday, January 5th: a mile-and-a-half run cut short because my toes went painfully numb. <br />
<br />
It. Sucked. <br />
<br />
There would be no enjoyable morning runs, or socializing with friends and family. Even reading a book was too painful, mentally. Instead, I intermittently zoned in a out of consciousness, especially since sleeping at night was made difficult by stifling congestion and overall claustrophobia from the blankets required to keep the chills away.<br />
<br />
I looked on the bright side: <i>"At least I'm getting this out of the way now".</i> I thought I had plenty of time to recover - and the off-work time to fully rest - so I could be 100% for Bandera. But as the illness dragged on, into the next week, the clock was ticking. I did several short runs on race week, but they were either in breath-stealing cold -- I ran a single mile at an air temperature of -23F (wind chill -50F?) on Monday -- or in the ultra-dry air of the indoor track - neither of which were amenable to a sore throat and irritated lungs.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HmB_7Wp1e40/UtSn2Bd_muI/AAAAAAAAFTY/v4OcPbettzU/s1600/Knowlesshoes.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HmB_7Wp1e40/UtSn2Bd_muI/AAAAAAAAFTY/v4OcPbettzU/s1600/Knowlesshoes.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little easy running at the Knowles Center in the WS 2013 vintage Pearl Izumi N2's.</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yxBdppsGVmw/UtSn0cngx0I/AAAAAAAAFSU/sg6lenUfvmw/s1600/EvanJworkout.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yxBdppsGVmw/UtSn0cngx0I/AAAAAAAAFSU/sg6lenUfvmw/s1600/EvanJworkout.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting some mileage in with Evan J the Tuesday before race day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Wednesday night, I did my final cold-weather run, in "luxurious" zero-degrees conditions, and I coughed for an hour afterward. But the fever had abated and I felt rest and ready to go.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We flew from Minneapolis to San Antonio on Thursday morning. A special treat was having my great friend Jimmy - a veteran of the '12 and '13 WS campaigns - actually fly our plane from MSP to SAT! Very cool, and a first for him to have friends or family on one of his flights!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RSkLWb3fJ7w/UtSn1befsPI/AAAAAAAAFTI/cnUKO_cgaAk/s1600/Jimmycockpit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RSkLWb3fJ7w/UtSn1befsPI/AAAAAAAAFTI/cnUKO_cgaAk/s1600/Jimmycockpit.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jimmy in the cockpit of his CRJ. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zTKApC9AzSE/UtSn1XiO7bI/AAAAAAAAFTA/Rk-51zMI8sY/s1600/Jimmyoverheadbin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zTKApC9AzSE/UtSn1XiO7bI/AAAAAAAAFTA/Rk-51zMI8sY/s1600/Jimmyoverheadbin.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jimmy showing his versatility in fixing the overhead bin door above my seat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-093BeJ5SSwg/UtSn1KRpwbI/AAAAAAAAFTE/-rlaDLtl0BM/s1600/FlighttoSAT-TeriD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-093BeJ5SSwg/UtSn1KRpwbI/AAAAAAAAFTE/-rlaDLtl0BM/s1600/FlighttoSAT-TeriD.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An action shot of me, my mom Meredith, and Jimmy from the cockpit of the CRJ, upon landing in San Antonio.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Getting into San Antonio was a breath of fresh air. Literally. To feel and smell life-giving warmth and moisture in the air was uplifting. I got my own car rental and headed to central San Antonio to run. In '12, I found a fun little urban playground - Brackenridge Park - filled with fun, undulating zig-zagging single track. I went back there in '14. The temps approached 70 degrees; so glorious was it that I ran shirtless, zipping up and down the short, steep hills, conjuring the steep, rugged hills less than two days away. <br />
<br />
From there, I drove west to Bandera and convened with my mom and her friend Teri at a vacation rental two blocks off the main drag. We had a relaxing evening, and I slept well.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1xgeOucUC8/UtSny2UHePI/AAAAAAAAFRw/ic8BtH0OFO8/s1600/Bandera1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z1xgeOucUC8/UtSny2UHePI/AAAAAAAAFRw/ic8BtH0OFO8/s1600/Bandera1.jpg" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Assorted images from Bandera, Friday morning.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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On Friday, there was the usual pre-race nerves. Anxiety has been a big issue for me in the past year-plus; it smothered me prior to Western States and my goal for 2014 is to better manage it. It begins by managing expectations, but it also has to do with setting the mind and spirit in the right place, prior to the race.<br />
<br />
Mark Allen is a huge inspiration and role model for me as an athlete. In a recent blog post on his coaching website, he talks about pre-race preparation and the importance of "<a href="http://www.markallenonline.com/Blogs/AdminBlog.aspx?BID=230" target="_blank"><b>having a conversation with the mountain</b></a>". That idea - of <i>talking it out with the course </i>- was a phenomenal one.<br />
<br />
So, on Friday afternoon, I drove to the Hill Country State Natural area to check in and get in a warm-up jog. Last time, I ran the first mile of the course; this time, I decided to do the last mile. I ran uphill to the plateau of the last climb. Then, <a href="http://dylanbowman.com/2012/01/bandera/" target="_blank"><b>at the precise point where I passed D-Bo in 2012</b></a>, I hiked off trail a bit, into the scrub. I had a seat on some rocks, and "talked to the mountain".<br />
<br />
I talked about the importance of listening to my body - and the mountain - and only taking what it would give me in the first lap; to be patient and composed early; to be confident and strong in the middle sections, and only in the last third would I truly compete - as I had done in 2012. I talked about the importance of <i>gratitude </i>- of this opportunity to run amongst old friends, to meet new ones, and to explore my own limits. Lastly, I talked about keeping perspective: the reality that whatever happens tomorrow - great or not - I am lucky to have a terrific life that will scarcely change either way, regardless of the outcome. <br />
<br />
Then I ran back down the mountain.<br />
<br />
I felt at peace and ready to run.<br />
<br />
That night, I had one bit of business: I drove across town to Camp Terranova. Super-Crew Meredith, my good luck charm from the '12 race, agreed to help crew me, in addition to Paul. I gave her a couple bottles and my water and honey mix. We chatted a bit before I headed back to the house for dinner and an early bed.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mfkLlaox1H4/UtSn4bWop8I/AAAAAAAAFUU/2L6JpooVjpw/s1600/PreraceBib1-Meredith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mfkLlaox1H4/UtSn4bWop8I/AAAAAAAAFUU/2L6JpooVjpw/s1600/PreraceBib1-Meredith.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The curse of the Number 1 Bib. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
I slept well on Friday night; a rare gift. I was up at 5 and out the door by 5:45, and parked at the course by 6:15. I had a great dynamic warm-up and easy jogging before the sunrise start. I finally ran into Jorge at the start line: he was jacked up and ready to go, in classic "Mr. Wonderful" fashion. I was my usual subdued self. I gave a quick greeting to Brian Condon, a fellow UW-La Crosse graduate and cross-country runner from my PT school days. David Laney bounded about on those 2:18 marathon legs, and Chikara Omine stood on the start line, hungry for more than just three dozen Krispy Kremes. RD Joe Pruisatis counted down to zero, and we were off. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g1UuwBoYktA/UtSnrRrXSvI/AAAAAAAAFRI/zMX3G-rXTp8/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g1UuwBoYktA/UtSnrRrXSvI/AAAAAAAAFRI/zMX3G-rXTp8/s1600/020.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning at Hill Country SNA. Photo: Meredith</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-20AHVCRjD18/UtSn4spILQI/AAAAAAAAFUg/UXkLb-hhDMg/s1600/StartMom%2523casie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-20AHVCRjD18/UtSn4spILQI/AAAAAAAAFUg/UXkLb-hhDMg/s1600/StartMom%2523casie.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meredith helps get my USATF ID on right. Photo: Casie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w0CGGZP73n0/UtSnrbwRvoI/AAAAAAAAFRM/tSLmKYJzh9E/s1600/032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w0CGGZP73n0/UtSnrbwRvoI/AAAAAAAAFRM/tSLmKYJzh9E/s1600/032.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to go. Photo: Meredith.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vk7ol8hZd_U/UtSnsrgC5LI/AAAAAAAAFRU/xe5jUVRU8is/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vk7ol8hZd_U/UtSnsrgC5LI/AAAAAAAAFRU/xe5jUVRU8is/s1600/039.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Start Line. Game faces. Photo: Casie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k1S6yJVUfeo/UtSn4sq3FrI/AAAAAAAAFUc/-eCVOXhd3lo/s1600/Start-MilesE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k1S6yJVUfeo/UtSn4sq3FrI/AAAAAAAAFUc/-eCVOXhd3lo/s1600/Start-MilesE.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're off. Photo: Miles Ellis.</td></tr>
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<span id="goog_876020120"></span><span id="goog_876020121"></span> I was shocked at how easy things went out. We ambled along the 600m of flat, wide double track, a whole group of fellas, including a few unknowns. Jorge and I talked briefly, pre-race. I told him about the "typical" huge drop-offs from the first to second laps: commonly >30 to upwards of 60 minutes slow-down, and I talked about the importance of running easy and pushing the second lap. <br />
<br />
As we hit the narrow, rugged single track of the first climb, the field strung out: Terranova surprisingly right up there beside Laney, who seemed remarkably conservative. Condon and Jorge were just ahead of me up that first climb.<br />
<br />
My focus on the first lap would be as much aerobic discipline as possible: conservative climbs, then hard downs and focused flats. As such, I fell back a bit on each climb - even as Jorge power-hiked ahead of me. But instead of easily catching up on the downs/flats, I struggled to maintain contact, as my legs felt flat and heavy. By the time we approached the second climb, I fell back and lost contact with Jorge and the rest of the field.<br />
<br />
I would see no other runner the rest of the day.<br />
<br />
I felt relief in being alone to run my own plan; however, I was a little anxious about hitting the desired splits. I wrote my '12 splits - good for a 4:00 opening lap - on my hand and I was determined to hit them. So you could imagine my dismay when I hit Nachos AS (5.5mi) <i>over two minutes slow</i>. I got a quick bottle fill, then took off again.<br />
<br />
After the undulating opening section that featuring two substantial climbs, the second segment to Chapas AS (~11 miles) is fast, forgiving trail, ripe for fast, easy running. But my legs felt heavy, as if I was already on my second lap. It was difficult to get them moving, but I hunkered down and focused on form: hip hinge, opening the pelvis, strong elbows. I moved along.<br />
<br />
My legs perked up a bit at times, but otherwise stayed flat. With my inability to cruise the flats, my plans for an aerobic first lap were unraveling.<br />
<br />
I hit Chapas<i> another full two minutes slower</i> than '12. I was now four minutes down, but I didn't panic. A seamless aid transition, thanks to Meredith, left me with two full bottles and a packet of S!Caps without breaking stride (sorry aid folks, but E!Caps and S!Caps aren't even close to the same: you might as well call those<i> "I Can't Believe It's Not S!Caps"</i>)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-20FmiEQnLBw/UtStvVIn26I/AAAAAAAAFVM/heozOHWiBY4/s1600/058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-20FmiEQnLBw/UtStvVIn26I/AAAAAAAAFVM/heozOHWiBY4/s1600/058.JPG" height="491" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chapas AS (Mile 11): Meredith Terranova gives me a quick bottle and S!Cap fix like a champ. <br />I already look like shit. Photo: Meredith</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Chapas to Crossroads #1 (~15 miles) is even more runnable: mostly flat, smooth, buttery singletrack nearly the whole way. But I continued to struggle. I felt so heavy, almost achy, everywhere. The D-word began to creep into my mind. But as I shuffled along, I still felt strength: my legs wouldn't go, but I felt like I could run that pace all day. <i>"I won't slow down"</i>, I told myself. I thought if I could just grind that pace all day, unrelenting, I could still come back.<br />
<br />
For some reason, the section to Crossroads was shortened. Although I was noticeably slower, my split into Crossroads #1 (40:xx) was 4 minutes faster than '12. Suddenly, I was "on pace". Another quick aid-less station bottle exchange and I was off again, buoyed by the notion that I might still hit close to 4:00 for the first 50K. <br />
<br />
The section to the Three Sisters was desolate. I saw no one as I ran away on the doubletrack, then onto the steep, rugged, sotol-crowded "trail" up the namesake triple-climb. I felt clumsy and weak on this section, yet the energy was solid. There was hope. I shuffled my way through the ridiculous sotol plants and hit the 50K runners as the trail gave way to doubletrack again. <br />
<br />
I continuously checked my watch, approaching, then exceeding my '12 split of 37 minutes. Ugh. I finally hit Crossroads #2 at 41:xx. <i>"How could I be a minute a mile slower?</i>", I thought. Meredith was gone, and Teri had my bottles - another bad sign. Deflated, I continued on.<br />
<br />
Fueling was good: I guzzled the honey water, which tasted great, and chased it with water. I drank an average of 2/3 of each bottle between each aid station. I didn't have to pee, yet felt like I could. I was neither thirsty or low. I just felt...<i>heavy</i>.<br />
<br />
Things really began to unravel after Crossroads 2. The trail was littered with 50K runners and I struggled to get past them. Not because they wouldn't let me pass, but because I was so heavy, so slow, that I struggled to reel them in. <br />
<br />
My whole body began to ache. My head throbbed. It was warm and sunny - nearly 70 degrees - but I felt cold. <br />
<br />
Sickening. I was so done. It was <i>over</i>.<br />
<br />
I shuffled along toward Last Chance. My body was shutting down. But I was committed to getting back to the start. My section to Last Chance - normally a brisk 33 minutes - was over 40 and included several walking spells. <br />
<br />
Hitting Last Chance I was shocked to see my mom and Teri there, along with Dave James, cheering me through. I should've dropped right there, but mentally, I hadn't quite wrapped my head around it, and the thought of walking out of that aid station, then another "ride of shame" to the start/finish was out of the question.<br />
<br />
I refused bottled or aid, and shuffed on to the last section.<br />
<br />
Any doubts about dropping were completely erased on the double climb and descent to the finish. I felt <i>terrible</i>. My legs were shutting down completely and I found myself walking down the rugged, ridiculous technical rock characteristic of this section.<br />
<br />
As I shuffled along, I had flashbacks to '12 - when I first saw D-Bo on that first climb, aggressively gobbling up the rocky trail, methodically reeling him in - while cramping. There'd be no such glory today, only memories. Finally, <i>finally</i>, I hit that final plateau, when I rushed past him and plummeted down the hill. <br />
<br />
This time, I picked my way slowly, nearly tripping several times. Finally, I bottomed out, and shuffled to the start/finish. <br />
<br />
It was packed with spectators. Lots of cheering for Bib #1 that was wholly undeserved, and unwelcome. Teri offered bottles, I waved them off. I crossed the mat and asked for Joe. <br />
<br />
I turned in my chip. Done. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
I felt just miserable. I laid on the grass, in the pure sun of the day, feeling achy and cold. Moments later Fernando, Jorge's friend, came in. Shortly after, Queen Meghan, having a great day. <br />
<br />
I didn't stay long after that. I was angry, utterly disappointed. I wanted out of there. <br />
<br />
I drove the half hour back to the house. I showered, ate a bit, and laid around. I watched the race unfold via Twitter. Jorge was nailing it. It was hard to watch. I wanted him to run well, but I wanted to be there with him. <i> "F#@% that, I'm not going back!"</i> quickly turned into, <i>"F@#%, I gotta go!"</i>. I dragged my ass out of bed and got in the car.<br />
<br />
I made it back with minutes to spare before Jorge charged the finish line in record time: 8:02:27. Most notable was how he did it: his 3:48, 4:15 (+27) is the best turnaround in the history of the race. Laney wasn't far behind (8:07), and Chikara ten minutes behind him. That trio will be joining Paul Terranova - who came in a distant forth - in toeing the line in Squaw Valley in June.<br />
<br />
I stuck around and chatted with the guys, namely getting some details from Jorge about his day. I'm so proud of him. I know he didn't have to the 2013 that he wanted to have in the major ultra races, so to see him storm Bandera, take the win and the course record, was a major statement and progression in his career. He deserves that prize. <br />
<br />
Then, after Paul came in, I took off and headed back to see the family. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V1U8LXpuNFo/UtSup9LR7XI/AAAAAAAAFVU/YNyeQwqOGV0/s1600/JorgeFinishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V1U8LXpuNFo/UtSup9LR7XI/AAAAAAAAFVU/YNyeQwqOGV0/s1600/JorgeFinishing.jpg" height="484" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jorge wrapping up the win and CR.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B7sJ3M94PRU/UtSn2h1L1DI/AAAAAAAAFTo/QoMc6V53qao/s1600/Me%2526theChamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B7sJ3M94PRU/UtSn2h1L1DI/AAAAAAAAFTo/QoMc6V53qao/s1600/Me%2526theChamp.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and The Champ.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G99UqRmxQak/UtSn3R7warI/AAAAAAAAFUA/30XCcayvzMg/s1600/Paul%2526Mer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54BT8ZS0eKU/UtSn1-IpVFI/AAAAAAAAFTQ/kgqPhNMQkv8/s1600/JorgeDavid-trophies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54BT8ZS0eKU/UtSn1-IpVFI/AAAAAAAAFTQ/kgqPhNMQkv8/s1600/JorgeDavid-trophies.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jorge and David Laney, 1 and 2. Not Pictured: me, taking third...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G99UqRmxQak/UtSn3R7warI/AAAAAAAAFUA/30XCcayvzMg/s1600/Paul%2526Mer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G99UqRmxQak/UtSn3R7warI/AAAAAAAAFUA/30XCcayvzMg/s1600/Paul%2526Mer.jpg" height="506" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Terranovas all smiles after another successful campaign. Paul should not let Gary Gellin know what his splits were.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
In many respects, this entire trip was a utter disaster: instead of a relaxing, enjoyable time with friends and family, I spent the bulk of it in dogged sickness, miserable, bored, and lonely. I hardly saw any friends, and my family time was truncated (indeed, I got my own brother sick, so that, once I was starting to improve, he was miserable). I barely ran, I didn't relax. And I missed the hell out of my girlfriend, who was two thousand miles and - at times - felt lightyears away. <br />
<br />
But, in retrospect, I feel tremendous gratitude for the experiences I did have: I got to spend a bunch of great time my with nephew Evan J (including some track and football last Tuesday) and niece Josie (I have the "uncle record" of >10 minutes holding her without intense crying - on either of our parts!). I had a couple important conversations with my mom and sister. And even Chelsea and I processed some really important issues during that time. Indeed, more was accomplished than I realized at first glance.<br />
<br />
But the best treat was meeting my mom's half-brother - my "half uncle"! - Miles and his wife and daughter. They drove down to the race and spent the weekend with us. For me, focused on the race, this was a bit of an afterthought going into the weekend, but it turned into the highlight of the weekend. He's a great guy and I was shocked, flattered, and incredibly <i>grateful </i>for his encouragement and warmth towards me and my efforts on Saturday. That, and yet again, there was another group of folks who've never seen an ultra who left that day, touched and impressed by the special-ness of the experience. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4_g91FKe9hw/UtSn2yLtYqI/AAAAAAAAFT4/A0gwwmdma7M/s1600/Mom%2526MilesCasie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4_g91FKe9hw/UtSn2yLtYqI/AAAAAAAAFT4/A0gwwmdma7M/s1600/Mom%2526MilesCasie.jpg" height="534" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom and her half-brother, my Uncle Miles. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RrQ0t9wW4Ro/UtSnxHBSTDI/AAAAAAAAFRk/nIijxgieORg/s1600/065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RrQ0t9wW4Ro/UtSnxHBSTDI/AAAAAAAAFRk/nIijxgieORg/s1600/065.JPG" height="540" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The family! L to R: Leslie, OOJ, Meredith, Miles, Casie. Photo: Teri.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQM2pY26iqI/UtSwB1Yv6pI/AAAAAAAAFVk/nyRkB_cQcmk/s1600/TeriCasieMileMeredith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQM2pY26iqI/UtSwB1Yv6pI/AAAAAAAAFVk/nyRkB_cQcmk/s1600/TeriCasieMileMeredith.jpg" height="324" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The faithful cheering crew, waiting at Chapas AS (L-R): Teri, Casie, Miles, Meredith. Photo: Leslie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So not all was lost. As the dust settles on the race, and this trip, I am left searching for important lessons and things gained from the rubble of lost opportunity. The time spent with those folks - my family - stands out the most right now. <br />
<br />
<u><b>The Grades</b></u><br />
<br />
<b>Mechanics: B/C</b>.
Very mediocre. I felt left hamstring tightness early, but was able to
self-correct. I felt like I was using my hips and arms well, early.
But in the last ten miles, when the body shut down, so did the stride.
It was rough. Post-race, my right calf and ankle were stressed, and my
left hip and adductors over-worked. Clearly my right hip extension was
off. <i>Again</i>. (In retrospect, I feel like my old right foot favoring has returned. Damn.)<br />
<br />
<b>Pacing: N/A. </b> Irrelevant. I listened to my body, and I was
slow. Then I got really slow. If anything, I should've DNF'd five
miles earlier. <br />
<br />
<b>Fueling: A-. </b> With terrific
crewing from Meredith (and Teri), fueling was seamless. Overall, for
50K, I took only one bottle of Gatorade as aid from any of the five aid
stations, an all-time low of external aid for a big-time ultra. Felt no
low-points whatsoever on the honey-water mix. No gels, no food. I
took two S!Caps, chewing both. I finished a bit low on fluids, but I
stopped forcing fluid in the last seven+ miles.<br />
<br />
<b>Mental Toughness: B-</b>.
Not great. I tried to stay positive and make the best of a failing
system, but there was no overcoming it. On the plus side, I controlled
pre-race anxiety really well and was composed, early.<br />
<br />
<b>Joy: C-.</b>
Not great. Very little to be joyful about, but I avoided a flat-out
failing grade by returning to the finish to cheer on the top four guys.
That was, by far, the hardest part of the whole day.<br />
<br />
Worst of all? I'm off the JW Christmas Card List, again! I wonder how many results in a lifetime ban? <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***** </div>
<b>Closing Thoughts...</b> <br />
<br />
Logistically speaking: now what?<br />
<br />
Of course, several post-race conversations centered around how else to get a Ticket: <br />
<ul>
<li>Sean O'Brien? No way: too fast, too soon. </li>
<li>Rocky Racoon? A hundred-miler in three weeks? That's a real stretch. </li>
<li>Sonoma? The most competitive race of the spring? Wishful thinking. </li>
<li>Ice Age? Three weeks after Sonoma, and in May? It smells of desperation...but maybe.</li>
</ul>
But, maybe I need to truly be OK with not racing Western States: to give back, work medical at Michigan Bluff, or pace. Give something. Either way, I feel compelled to accept what happened this weekend and commit to the long-term: to resting, regrouping, and giving my best efforts going forward in '14, wherever that may be. <br />
<br />
The immediate plan (subject to change): <br />
<ul>
<li>Two to three weeks off of formal run training</li>
<li>Spend time focusing on other areas of my life (my relationship, work, being a better partner, brother/son/uncle) </li>
<li>One week completely off of any exercise (other than yoga)</li>
<li>Resume light strength training (from which I've already rested the past two weeks) in one week</li>
<li>Resume swimming and light cycling in the second and third weeks</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />As for my racing? I don't know where I stand. It's so difficult to
fail yet again at a major race; to again feel left out from what the
rest of the fellas are doing. It touches old wounds for me, and it
makes me question, once again, whether or not I'm good enough to run
with these guys, to be mentioned in the same breath as the Maravillas
and Laneys of ultrarunning. <br />
<br />
Clearly, my role as a
high-level competitor in the ultrarunning community is undoubtedly
finite as I age and races become more and more competitive, but is that
chapter already over? I sure hope not, but days like these make me
truly question that. <br />
<br />
But, as my Grandpa told me over the phone on Saturday, <i>"Well, SHEEEEIT, JOEY! You gotta take the bad with the good!" </i><br />
<br />
Wise words. <i> </i>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-51315755513062656652014-01-01T09:32:00.001-08:002014-01-02T12:30:47.882-08:00Frozen Trail RunFest 50K ReportInitially, I was not going to post a report on this event, because I did not consider it to be a true race. Its purpose was to be a key, final long run before Bandera 100K in January. However, because it was a dress rehearsal for Bandera - and because it turned out very much like how I'd like Bandera to unfold - it bears processing and reflecting. And sharing!<br />
<br />
To preface: this is a local race. In fact, it's the closest ultramarathon to Eugene: only a few miles outside the city limits, at Buford Park. Most people refer to the name of the butte, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Pisgah_%28Oregon%29" target="_blank">Mt Pisgah</a>.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Pre-Race</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It has snowed – quite epically –
the week prior: nearly eight inches in the city of Eugene, alone.
Big snows are rare: however, the fact that temperatures plummeted to
single digits and below for days after was what made it truly epic.
Schools were cancelled for five days. As for me, a dormant
“Midwestern Snow gene” expressed itself in me, and I ran 93 miles
in the six days of snow cover before the rains and warmer
temperatures eroded away the bulk of it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
By race Saturday, the vast majority of
snow was melted in Eugene, and Buford/Pisgah is only a few miles to
the east. Yet, upon arrival of the start/finish on the west side of
the butte, the parking lot was still covered in snow and ice.
Temperatures hovered just above freezing.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
However, I was prepared. While the
<a href="http://projectemotion.pearlizumi.com/" target="_blank"><b>Pearl Izumi E-Motion line</b></a> – particular the <a href="http://shop.pearlizumi.com/product.php?product_id=1961269" target="_blank"><b>N-Series Trail shoes </b></a>–
are the best hybrid trail shoe I've ever worn, conditions such as
these required a bit more. I had a pair of Salomon Speedcross that
have the unique combination of one of the most aggressive,
two-dimensional treads I've ever seen – featuring a smooth
undersole with ¾-inch wide, ¼-inch deep chevrons – as well as
being unusually light (about 10-11 ounces). They were the perfect
choice for the snow and mud before us. The ice, on the other hand,
was another story.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On top of that? The usual Olive Oil
layering. With temps in the 30s, I went with both upper and lower
body covering. For up top, I went with the highest quality: Twin
Palms Olive Oil, courtesy of Tropical John Medinger and Lisa Henson.
A thick, lustrous coat covered my arms, shoulders, face and neck. As
I blew through several ounces, I decided to go with a lower,
supermarket grade for the legs.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The rest of me featured Pearl Izumi
compression shorts with sidepockets, the Team issued P-I tech shirt
and shell jacket, and, of course, my white P-I visor, the same one
I've worn in almost every ultra I've ever run.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As stated, the RunFest was intended to
be a final long run workout as well as dress-rehearsal for all things
Bandera, including pacing and nutrition. The pace plan for this 50K,
four loop course was the run the first three loops (roughly 24 miles)
fully aerobic (or under my ventilatory threshold of 160 bpm), then go
<i>very hard </i>in the final loop. Each loop featured about
800-1200' of gain, but the final loop included the only bottom-to-top
summit of Mt Pisgah – a fitting way to end the race.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As for nutrition, I've been
consistently low-carb/high fat for the bulk of 2013, yet it's only
been since this fall that I've truly felt a significant shift in my
energy demands. Previously, I've taken upwards of 300-400 calories
per hour during most ultras. But now? I hardly feel any need for
fuel at all, especially for aerobic runs under four hours. The Three
Sisters Circumnav in September – 50 miles in 9h40, <i>with zero
calories</i> – was evidence that, if kept aerobic, I needed no sugar,
period. The experiment would be just how much energy would be
required to sustain a hard pace shift I had planned at the end.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I decided to experiment with the
<a href="http://www.philmaffetone.com/" target="_blank"><b>Maffetone</b></a> honey/water mix recipe: about 20-25 grams mixed into 16oz
bottles. I prepared four: one for each loop. Should I drink them
all, this would amount to 100-125 calories each.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The roads were ice-slick and the race
parking lot – where the start/finish was located – was covered in
crusty snow and ice, a prelude to what lie ahead of us. I parked my
truck near the course and flipped open the tailgate, where I kept the
fuel bottles.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Some light jogging, stretching and
drills filled the time before the luxurious 9AM gun – a critically
late start time, which allowed for some ice to melt as the day wore
on. The field was small – perhaps only fifteen, but it was a merry
bunch.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Start – Lap One</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The opening stretch for all four loops
featured the same three mile section: a brief flat across the road,
followed by a 300' climb, a gradual descent (of all 300'), then a
wide double track road/trail that wraps through the Buford Aboretum.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nearly all but the road crossings in
this early section were ice-covered. At the gun, I settled into
aerobic pace on the initial climb and was quickly passed; another guy
was in tight behind me and the three of us ascended the initial loop.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And...that's how it would stay. For 24
miles.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The Leader – Josh Zielinski, of Salem
– gradually pulled away over that first lap, as we picked our way
through the high-and-tight iced-over single track, down to the
ice-covered mud sections of the Arboretum. The footing was truly
tricky, trying to determine if either ice or mud was preferential.
Thankfully we had four times through this brutal section to help
figure it out.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As Josh pulled away, the fellow behind
me, who turned out to be a young guy named Walker Augustyniak – a
former South Eugene/U of O walk-on – stuck reliably in tow. This
was a bit disconcerting at times for me, especially in an ultra,
where one is so used to running alone near the front. It was good
practice in staying relaxed and composed, as having someone that
close – yet never drawing even or passing – has a way of making a
guy anxious.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Conditions improved only slightly as
the course rounded counterclockwise to the south end of the butte.
This is to say, the ice and snow was more crunchy and stable.
However, this quickly ceded to a 600m dirtroad out and back to the
mid-loop aid station (mile 4.x?). This road, typically solid gravel,
was completely covered in snow and ice without a bit of respite.
Josh was out of sight as Walker and me headed out on the lolli stick.
The one positive with this course feature was getting a bead on the
leader. He was about a minute up on us as we hit the aid station
(30:40), touching the “AS Garbage Can” as a way of tagging in.
Neither Walker or I stopped for aid here, in any of the three goes
'round.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And so it went: back through the ice,
and around the Base Loop One, which rolled along the lower – but
egregiously muddy and narrow – Trail Four around the shaded
northeast corner of Pisgah. I took my time, though I could tell at times that I was pushing that anaerobic
barrier. Things were smooth sailling 'til we were deep in the woods
and came across an unmarked intersection. I chose to go right and
ran for about 200m before feeling like we make a mistake, so I –
and Walker – 180'd and headed back and uphill, which was the
correct path. Walker and I chatted a bit about the mistake – and
whether the Leader had done the same – and quickly informed the
water aid station on the shoulder of Pisgah of the oversight.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We bombed down the hill the mile+ back
to the start/finish, through intermittent snow and slick ice. I
quickly tagged in and out of the start/finish and scurried over to my
tailgate for a second bottle of honey water. Walker might've stopped
– I'm not sure – because he briefly disappeared, only to catch
back up on the ascent to lap two.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Lap Two </b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lap two was more of the same: the same
uphill and ridgeline ice, the same snow and mud doubletrack through
the Arboretum. Walker and I picked our way through it once again,
with no sight of Josh. I thought he might've taken the wrong course,
but spectators noted that he was several minutes ahead.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My focus for this second lap – which
includes a near-summit of Pisgah – was to run the opening section as close to equal that of the first lap. We came close, clocking a 31:12 to the first Aid Station. From there, rather than stay low and loop around, the False Summit Loop would climb nearly a thousand feet. I shuffled along - barely moving in order to keep the effort aerobic - with Walker right along side. Finally, we crested the peak and, once again, bombed downhill to the start/finish.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Lap Three</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Once again, I paused just long enough to grab my third honey water bottle before heading out for the third lap - a repeat of the first. Walker tucked in behind for yet another round of fun. Just before hitting the Aid Station out and back - mercifully our last across that 600m ice sheet - we ran into Josh. He lead had dwindled to under two minutes; he was coming back.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
He remained in sight as we climbed away from the AS, then disappeared again as we plunged into the tight, winding, mud-filled singletrack of Trail 4. But about midway through the backside of Trail 4, he came into sight. Finally, he was coming back to us. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We catch Josh just after the powerlines, about 2.5K from the start/finish. I said hello and snuck past him, climbing the muddy trail past him. I could feel someone behind me for a while - was it Walker or Josh? - but after a mile or so, it was quiet. I was finally alone.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Things were coming together. And I was feeling great. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The course popped out to the main trail and, once again, I bombed down the steep gravel to the start/finish. Neither Josh or Walker were in sight, but they couldn't be that far behind. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Lap Four </b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was pumped with anticipation for the final lap: things had gone well through three laps, and I felt strong as I rolled into the start/finish for the penultimate time, grabbing my last water bottle. I slowed just a bit to get out my iPod and put in the ear buds. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then I was off. <i>Hard</i>. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The major emphasis of training - perhaps the only intensity emphasis - was running hard at the end of long efforts. Since July, I can count on two hands the number of hard sessions I've run. But the bulk of them in the past two months have been run at the end of 3-5 hour runs, going very hard - often as hard as I can - over the last 30-60 minutes. And each of these runs have been done with <i>zero</i> <i>fuel</i>. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
I charged hard up the climb into the final lap, with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKDdT_nyP54" target="_blank"><b>Akon</b></a> blasting in my ear, cajoling me up the trail. I came across Josh - with Walker in tow - about three minutes up the trail, so they weren't too far behind. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For the longest time I couldn't fathom pushing very hard at the end of a trail ultra, but what makes it possible is the variable terrain: because of the ups and downs, you're never pushing hard for too long, as there's usually a flat or light down to alleviate the effort. As such, most end-of-run tempos are more like farleks.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
This was the case the last lap: after a hard 4-minute push, I had an equal-length recovery downhill to the doubletrack, where I once again pushed hard. Major focus was placed on form: strong elbow, forward trunk and opening the hips behind. I felt great.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The music is always a great addition, especially when you feel great. After Akon, I got treated to some <b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liZm1im2erU" target="_blank">ASAP Rocky</a></b>, then a slew of Eminem; I even put "<b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qp6mXmHNPlg" target="_blank">one of those fingers on each hand up</a></b>" as I hit the trail junction to start the final summit - a brutal <2 mile, >1000 mud-slicked climb to the top of Pisgah. The trail consisted of steep, washed out double track, then even steeper mud-caked trail as you approached the top. I got goosebumps as I hammered up the steepest, muddiest section when <b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3oBZ4_TNys" target="_blank">this song</a></b> came on. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There'd be no "collapsing" today, as I summited Pisgah for the final time and hammered down the last 1.3 miles downhill to the finish. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
finished in <b>4:03:30</b>. While the course was a bit shortened (about 1.3 miles of flat road was cut due to the snow and mud), I busted my friend <a href="http://danolmstead.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Dan-O</b></a>'s course record by a solid half-hour. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><u>The splits:</u></b></div>
<br />
Base Loop (#1): 1:03:54 (AS#2 ~30:40)<br />
[False]Summit Loop 1: 1:06:25 (AS#2 31:12)<br />
Base Loop (#2): 1:04:20 (AS#2 ~31:xx)<br />
Summit Loop 2: 48:50<br />
<b>---------Total: 4:03:30</b><br />
<br />
Once again, the base loops were were the same, and the segment from the Start/Finish to Aid Station #2 were the same for the first three laps. Excellent pacing, requiring very little effort to maintain - I think <a href="http://team.inov-8.com/team/team-inov-8-trail-runners/team-inov-8-trail-runners-gary-gellin/" target="_blank"><b>Gary Gellin</b></a> would be proud.<br />
<br />
I ran hard on that last lap, and I felt exceptional doing so, over that last 6-ish miles and >1000' climb. <b>Zero issues</b>, other than a little stomach rumble from drinking only honey-water for four hours. I <b>took no other aid from the stations</b> - a first for me in any marathon+ event. <br />
<br />
I feel like this is exactly how I will run Bandera - and how it needs to be run: 95% aerobic for the first 50K loop, intermittently hard from 50-85K, then <i>go as hard as I can go</i> for that last 15K or so. It is the fastest way for me to run it; the only question, then, is, is it fast enough for a <a href="http://www.wser.org/montrail-ultra-cup/" target="_blank"><b>Golden Ticket</b></a>?<br />
<br />
All in all, it was a great day, but the highlight was having <a href="http://yogaeugene.com/instructors.html" target="_blank"><b>Chelsea</b></a> there. I met her a year-and-a-half <br />
ago, after taking the plunge into <a href="http://yogaeugene.com/" target="_blank"><b>yoga</b></a> following Western States 2012. We quickly became close friends after that.<br />
<br />
If relationships are hundred milers, we ran into some <i>problems</i> in The Canyons and wound up on the cot at Michigan Bluff four several hours. DOA. But as they often do, things turn around. Miracles happen. We got off the cot, and started walking toward Foresthill.. Things began to turn around...<br />
<br />
About six weeks ago, we decided to put on a bib number. We're rolling along pretty well now, and things are looking great.<br />
<br />
It was great having her there. For one, it was terrific to show her some <i>athleticism: </i> after 18 months of (poser at best, awkward at worst) yoga practice, something I'm better at than her! But more importantly, having her there - and in my life - adds valuable <i>perspective</i>: that <a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/2013/11/through-death-comes-life.html" target="_blank"><b>running isn't everything</b></a>, and that running is merely an avenue for personal growth, developing relationships with others, and contributing to the community. But most importantly, it's being able to share these experiences with another; <i>sharing passions</i>. <br />
<br />
That said, I'm very much looking forward to what 2014 has to offer. Starting with <a href="http://www.tejastrails.com/Bandera.html" target="_blank"><b>a little trail run in the Texas Hill Country</b></a>.<br />
<br />
Some pics from the day, all courtesy of Michael Lebowitz and <a href="http://longrunpictures.com/" target="_blank"><b>LongRun Picture Company</b></a>: <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E2BXrtdLb94/UsRM87xF3rI/AAAAAAAAFJ0/iS2pP03RCeU/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E2BXrtdLb94/UsRM87xF3rI/AAAAAAAAFJ0/iS2pP03RCeU/s640/1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>A look at the conditions at the Start/Finish - about a third of the course was snow/ice covered</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UdQXG3djJq0/UsRM6rmoaHI/AAAAAAAAFJY/d1HAmibQyMY/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UdQXG3djJq0/UsRM6rmoaHI/AAAAAAAAFJY/d1HAmibQyMY/s640/2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Start: me (L) and Josh Zielinksi, just before he took the lead. Notice the adidas adizeros he wore. Ballsy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JrAJ1pS9UCA/UsRM6WEGLBI/AAAAAAAAFJc/FOrbltu0A5U/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JrAJ1pS9UCA/UsRM6WEGLBI/AAAAAAAAFJc/FOrbltu0A5U/s640/3.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skating along the ice around mile two or so...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SrMvvFpgb7o/UsRM7a-EcsI/AAAAAAAAFJk/MKnaO9uLq08/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SrMvvFpgb7o/UsRM7a-EcsI/AAAAAAAAFJk/MKnaO9uLq08/s640/4.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A look at the doubletrack road/trail in the Mt Pisgah Arboretum.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HxWQcjjsdkM/UsRM8IYWdYI/AAAAAAAAFJs/ykx1Rw6ieoA/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HxWQcjjsdkM/UsRM8IYWdYI/AAAAAAAAFJs/ykx1Rw6ieoA/s640/5.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me leading Walker into the second lap.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kOblTVX4qa0/UsRM_OSqntI/AAAAAAAAFKI/kd0QgmNFQt8/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kOblTVX4qa0/UsRM_OSqntI/AAAAAAAAFKI/kd0QgmNFQt8/s640/6.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Securing the honey-water heading into the last lap, with the awesome OOJ Truck in the background.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4XheB2zmAX8/UsRM9GkuG0I/AAAAAAAAFJ8/N1cbEgY7oZI/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4XheB2zmAX8/UsRM9GkuG0I/AAAAAAAAFJ8/N1cbEgY7oZI/s640/7.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"He's smiling because he's insane!"</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-29528141629324176762013-10-20T13:45:00.000-07:002013-10-21T08:16:14.074-07:00One-Itis: Life After Western StatesHow do you get over something, after thinking about it every single day, many times a day, for months, even years - only to be so squarely rejected? Even now, nearly four months later, I'm not sure I know that answer yet.<br />
<br />
Perhaps the answer lies in not getting to that point in the first place...<br />
<br />
Immediately post-WS, after my family departed, I stuck around in Placer County for a while. Mr Wonderful invited me to spend the Fourth of July up at Tahoe. I thought about it; it sounded fun, but a part of me recoiled: that'd be like breaking up with someone, then spending the holiday at her parents' house.<br />
<br />
I'm out. <br />
<br />
I went west, as far as I could, away from the stifling, 100+-degree heat. I drove into the night until the road ended, and only a thin ribbon of asphalt separated me from the end of the continent. I slept in the back of my truck along the PCH, in the cool, thick Pacific air, Rickey Gates-style. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njNIQi1JhPk/UjZ-01m8jpI/AAAAAAAAE5I/uumDxjMgw2M/s1600/20130703_195050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njNIQi1JhPk/UjZ-01m8jpI/AAAAAAAAE5I/uumDxjMgw2M/s640/20130703_195050.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Placer County - Carb-Crazed, post-WS binge. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QLiQ9K3el-k/UjZ-3W0qIRI/AAAAAAAAE5Q/006BB7aeiVA/s1600/20130704_065948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QLiQ9K3el-k/UjZ-3W0qIRI/AAAAAAAAE5Q/006BB7aeiVA/s640/20130704_065948.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acommodations along the California Coast, just north of Sonoma Coast State Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-34a58ya1qxU/UjZ-5puVYXI/AAAAAAAAE5Y/ugxq7cQdum4/s1600/20130704_075118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-34a58ya1qxU/UjZ-5puVYXI/AAAAAAAAE5Y/ugxq7cQdum4/s640/20130704_075118.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">California 1. Amazing drive. Like Wisconsin...with sea cliffs, ocean views, and eucalyptus trees.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QrvkyOLnJMI/UjZ-7wcXQDI/AAAAAAAAE5g/ahJMNpUz6VM/s1600/20130704_083306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QrvkyOLnJMI/UjZ-7wcXQDI/AAAAAAAAE5g/ahJMNpUz6VM/s640/20130704_083306.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast along the coast. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ga8BBJyFjgA/UjZ_BA6vO7I/AAAAAAAAE5w/-V5JbHN2uMI/s1600/20130704_083351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ga8BBJyFjgA/UjZ_BA6vO7I/AAAAAAAAE5w/-V5JbHN2uMI/s640/20130704_083351.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The next day, I caught a Fourth of July Parade...Mendocino-style:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngGXnsxAbl8/UjZ_K9XT4tI/AAAAAAAAE6Q/3IhfCk3Itrg/s1600/20130704_120520.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ngGXnsxAbl8/UjZ_K9XT4tI/AAAAAAAAE6Q/3IhfCk3Itrg/s640/20130704_120520.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourth of July Parade in Mendocino!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86ugQaasqdI/UjZ_NyMXqeI/AAAAAAAAE6Y/kxQ_8dfK_LI/s1600/20130704_123909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86ugQaasqdI/UjZ_NyMXqeI/AAAAAAAAE6Y/kxQ_8dfK_LI/s640/20130704_123909.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very political. Also a lot marijuana smoke. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vZTC384Bnmw/UjZ_HwzVSGI/AAAAAAAAE6I/IpWeREGntbQ/s1600/20130704_121754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vZTC384Bnmw/UjZ_HwzVSGI/AAAAAAAAE6I/IpWeREGntbQ/s640/20130704_121754.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An admirable-sized rat-tail...and bag of chips.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fAq0cVvADIs/UjZ_P0lKimI/AAAAAAAAE6g/i59cWHjIaqQ/s1600/20130704_123517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fAq0cVvADIs/UjZ_P0lKimI/AAAAAAAAE6g/i59cWHjIaqQ/s640/20130704_123517.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What says Liberty better than a giant dog that pees on the patriots?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qVpv3LeFX48/UjZ_R5svsdI/AAAAAAAAE6o/stx63I7XlEw/s1600/20130704_200142.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qVpv3LeFX48/UjZ_R5svsdI/AAAAAAAAE6o/stx63I7XlEw/s640/20130704_200142.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The next night's lodging: the Lost Coast/Mattole Road, south of Ferndale, CA.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I spent the next several days, alone, driving. Contemplating. I'm not sure when it came to me, but I eventually it hit me.<br />
<br />
I did it again.<br />
<br />
I had one-itis.<br />
<br />
One-itis is a debilitating disease: <i>"A unhealthy obsession with a single entity", a "social malady that results in a feeling that this entity is totally special and unique, and therefore one must not mess up
anything with it"</i>. Moreover, it almost always involves<i> "completely unrealistic
idealizations and expectations"</i> -- of what your life would become, should you successfully master that thing.<br />
<br />
But ultimately, this obsessive fixation invariably interferes with one's ability to execute and successfully. Because anything that valuable takes a confident, relaxed (if not detached) execution to master.<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There's the rub.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I felt jilted: I put so much
into this race, that day, and for what? Nothing. I blew it.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All the hard work, from December to
June. What did I have to show for it? Two lackluster races and a
beer mile victory.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Something had to change. Many things.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Base Training</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
First, I had to let go. Oddly enough,
that was easy. The relentless obsession with Western States had
drained me, even pre-race. And now, after having blown it? I felt a
tremendous weight release when I began to let go. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Secondly, I had to <i>change</i>. I needed to
achieve greater balance, perspective, and resourcefulness in my life.
Wiling the hours, doing nothing more than eating, sleeping, slogging
miles – all the while remaining obsessed about Western States had
gotten me less than nowhere – it caused me to lose sight of those things.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After returning home from the race, I
was determined to work on <i>the non-runner me</i>. I felt like, in many
ways, I was deficient in the comprehensive non-running resources and
abilities to not only effectively maintain balance, but also help me
reduce my stress and anxiety, and keep perspective. Developing and
enhancing my social skills was a big part of that.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I recall during the <a href="http://www.joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/10/learning-my-lessons-solo-fast-2012.html" target="_blank"><b>Solo Fast 2012</b></a>,
that one of my most significant issues was the void of meaningful
day-to-day relationships in my life. Simply put, I spend way too
much time alone, bored and lonely. In particular, a lack of a
significant other in my life for the past year has been a tremendous
void, and a drain on my spirit. Like the absence of food during the Solo Fast, it is easy to put out of mind,
but every so often it would strike furiously, and a deep ache would set in. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I feel
the purpose of relationships are two-fold: one, they are people with
which to share important and exciting moments in life, and two, they
exist for you to help them, and them, you: to survive the challenges
of life and transcend toward greater living.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But relationships, like anything else,
take <i>time </i>and <i>effort</i>. They take <i>intention </i>and <i>commitment</i>, skills and
abilities, energy and courage.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was committed to taking July off running. So instead of training my legs, I trained my social skills.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The EUG can be challenging for
post-collegiate to pre-retirement single folks like myself, but, I
had a blast. I went out.<i> A lot.</i> I all but begged folks to hang
out, and if they couldn't, I'd roll solo. And I stayed out,
until 3AM. On a Wednesday night. And when I wasn't going
out, I was at home, reading and studying relevant social skills that
I lacked (and sometimes I'd go out and read <i>and</i> practice!). I'd go out, being friendly, just talking to people. And,
by and large, it was effective: I interacted with more people in meaningful ways in that month than I had in
the previous four years I'd lived in Eugene.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hnsArGLewZg/UjZ_TkmQffI/AAAAAAAAE6w/BNCiLTA1Mgs/s1600/20130711_010354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hnsArGLewZg/UjZ_TkmQffI/AAAAAAAAE6w/BNCiLTA1Mgs/s640/20130711_010354.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clifton and Jens, out at Max's Tavern - July 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18UzcQZw77Y/UjZ_VUhXddI/AAAAAAAAE64/POR8VmlpmNs/s1600/20130711_002854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18UzcQZw77Y/UjZ_VUhXddI/AAAAAAAAE64/POR8VmlpmNs/s640/20130711_002854.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good times. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AOf9kiXlrbc/UjZ_avsfJnI/AAAAAAAAE7A/vwYa8qElpBs/s1600/20130714_123058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AOf9kiXlrbc/UjZ_avsfJnI/AAAAAAAAE7A/vwYa8qElpBs/s640/20130714_123058.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perhaps the most randomly awesome picture of the summer: Teacher, Mentor and friend, Gregg Johnson (L) - with Chris DeMarco teaching a manual therapy course in Portland - July 2013. Chris punctuated his trip to PDX with a surprise-appendectomy at the very hospital where the course was taught. On Sunday, he came down to say hello.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f9baER6ctkA/UjZ_fNQAwOI/AAAAAAAAE7Q/Ew3P_MdltPI/s1600/20130719_223154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f9baER6ctkA/UjZ_fNQAwOI/AAAAAAAAE7Q/Ew3P_MdltPI/s640/20130719_223154.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KILLING IT with Dan Majerle in NBA Jam - August 2013. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
An extremely important conclusion when
overcoming One-Itis is the reality that <i>no race </i>is so important that
winning it is going to make your life great, or not great. Fact of the matter is, it never works that
way: those singular experiences can never live up to that pressure,
that hype – and if they do, it is short-lasting, and you're left
invariably asking, <i>“It's not enough, what's next?”
</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Relationships are identical. No one
person can ever make you happy. <i> You </i>make you happy. And the sooner
one can recognize that experiences and relationships are only a <i>part</i>
of life – and not the end-goal – then we can be set free to
experience them unfettered, and without expectation. And then, we're
far more likely to optimize those experiences and
relationships. When interacting with folks this summer, I expected nothing. Then, when something did develop, it was <i>everything</i>. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Through random-but-valuable interactions this summer in EUG, what I learned was this: <i>meaningful relationships - and experiences - are not scarce</i>. However, those experiences frequently appear in places and forms you least expect - so you have to be open and accepting to whatever comes your way. If you are, you just might find that very thing you're looking for. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>The Rebound</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Despite my positive mental being,
post-Western States, I still felt driven to have a Rebound. I felt
driven to do something, anything, besides Western States. The choice
was easy: <a href="http://waldo100k.org/" target="_blank"><b>Waldo</b></a>.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For the past two years, I'd signed up
for Waldo 100K, and, post-WS, DNS'd both, due to inadequate recovery.
This time 'round, after my WS Fun Run, I felt I'd be rested. But
would I be prepared?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>The Training</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
During my Western States ramp-up, I
read a lot of the latest edition of <a href="http://www.humankinetics.com/products/all-products/lore-of-running-4th-edition" target="_blank"><i>Lore of Running</i></a>. In it,
Tim Noakes writes in characteristic detail about energy systems, and
what we now know – or think we know – about endurance metabolism.
Until now, I'd never read or heard significant treatment about the
importance of fat-burning as fuel for endurance performance. That
changed in 2013, reading from Noakes. Another big factor was
spending time with Tim Olson down in Ashland. Our conversations
about diet and training, coupled with what I was reading in <i>Lore</i>,
pushed me to radically change my diet to be more fat-burn-friendly:
namely by slashing the quantity of carbohydrates from my diet. Since
mid-March, I've been bonafide low-carb: eating next to no carbs from
sun-up to evening, and only then will I eat unprocessed fruits and
vegetables, devoid of any grains, pastas, breads, or any previously
guilty pleasure foods such as The Big C's (chips, cookies, candy,
chocolate, [pan]'cakes). They were all gone.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i><br /></i>
</div>
<i>
</i>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>(But: I wouldn't cut out my beer. I gotta live!)</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Diet was a big change, but another important conclusion drawn,
post-Western States, was that my fitness in 2013 was “upside-down”.
This is a term I've coined when talking about the difference between
aerobic and anaerobic fitness. While diet is crucial to training fat burning capacity (what you put in is what you'll use), one must train at the proper intensity to allow fat-burning to happen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lore of Running talked about the 1989 Ironman Triathlon -- the epic battle between Dave Scott and Mark Allen, where the men ran 8:09 and 8:10, respectively, including a sub-2:40 closing marathon leg. Noakes talks about the physical impossibly of only sugar burning for such an effort, then outlines Mark Allen's work with coach <b><a href="http://www.philmaffetone.com/" target="_blank">Phil Maffetone</a></b>, DC, to enhance his fat-burning and sustainable training. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maffetone advocates his Maximum Aerobic Function (MAF) effort as the most important element in developing aerobic fitness. It represents the maximum intensity whereby fat can be used as fuel. According to Maffetone, if we maintain [the vast majority of] our efforts at or below this level, we will enhance fat burning. The effect is, the speed at which we travel - whether by foot, bike or swim stroke - will improve at the same effort level. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
MAF is measured by heart rate. And the beauty of heart rate-based training is, it takes into account everything: not just fitness, but restfulness, stress, and nutrition, among other factors. If any of those are off, it will reflect in heart rate. With MAF training, the days of only focusing on "miles" are over. It is, in effect, truly holistic training.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
MAF is calculated, simply, by taking your age and subtracting it from 180. Mitigating factors - including injury history and consistent training - might increase or decrease that value by +/- 5 BPM. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Since resuming running at the end of July, 95% of my running has been at or below my MAF heart rate of 150. Subsequent testing at our clinic found that my true end-range fat-burning is 158-162 BPM - the absolute highest intensity where fat burning stops. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Progress is tracked by doing periodic 5-mile time trials at MAF heart rate. It's a rather fun game: how fast can you run, while keeping your heart rate low. It emphasizes maximum efficiency and relaxation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My initial effort highlighted how upside-down my fitness was: by mile 5, I had to slow to >8-minute pace. It has since imporved to 6:20-7:00 pace, simply by "running slow". </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Since July, I've
experienced palpable benefits in both running and body composition: I
felt “fat-burning power” during long runs and races, where I felt
like I could “run all day”. Moreover, this is the most muscular I've ever been. I've gained some weight since WS, but it's been all muscle; in fact, I'm sure it's been a net muscle gain with fat lost. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Moreover, my Waldo experience - and a recent run around the Three Sisters, where I ran 50 miles <i>without a single calorie</i> - reinforced that this approach is extremely effective. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Waldo 100K</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Almost by definition, Rebounds never work as planned. But they do serve a purpose.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I went into Waldo unprepared to run well, and that was OK. I was committed to spending the entire run at or below anaerobic threshold. While my MAF was 150, I allowed a ceiling of 160 for the "race". But with the numerous steep and long climbs, sticking to this would be no small feat. </div>
<br />
As Craig Thornley set us off - for his last Waldo - it was yet another example of the impact of the sympathetic system on heart rate. Three weeks before, I did the opening climb - a solid, 1000'+/25 minute slog - fairly easy at 150 BPM. Race morning? 170, pegged. <i>Sonofabitch! </i> I leisure-hiked as the entire front-pack faded into the pre-dawn darkness. All but Jacob Puzey, who was coming off a recent illness. He and I shuffled with each other early, then reconnected as the trail summited the ski hill and rolled west and downhill. Yet even then, I could scarcely keep the HR under 160. Damn!<br />
<br />
After the first aid station, I slowed even further. The slog up to Mt Fuji was brutally slow. Being passed by several runners, including early women's leader Joelle Vaught, were further gut-punches. "This sucks. What am I doing?"<br />
<br />
I wanted to quit. It was stupid. But I shuffled along. As I summited Fuji amidst irritating wildfire smoke drifting from the south, passing the front runners, already ten-plus minutes behind, I connected with Rob Hendrickson, who I paced at Waldo in '11. We ran together, and I had a purpose again, for the time being. He and I ran in lock-step down Fuju and back west toward the PCT.<br />
<br />
On the PCT, things started to click. I got comfortable. I figured, "OK, this is good fat-burning training. Just go with it".<br />
<br />
So I did. I shuffled along.<br />
<br />
It was a tremendous learning experience. I felt when my body grooved in fat-burning: when it did, I felt like I could run all day. When I inched over 160, I felt a heaviness in my gut, and things got cloudy. Soon, I scarcely checked the HR read-out. I could feel it.<br />
<br />
At the aid stations, I took my time: I stood around, drank soda, chatted, and waited for my HR to drop. Often, I took over two minutes per station. But I felt the heart - and brain - needed that rest to re-set the system and allow for better running in between. <br />
<br />
I I hiked a lot. Uphills at 7,000' with low fitness made running in the fat zone impossible. So I hiked. At the 45 mile mark, I picked up my iPod. Fun music invariably drives up heart rate, but it was a small price to pay for the entertainment. I jammed to Akon and Eminem as I rolled south along the PCT toward the last big climb up the 7,800' Maiden Peak. Again, tons of hiking, but I made the most of it. And I felt strong. There was no fatigue in the legs. <br />
<br />
The summit marks the 53-mile mark and the high-point of the course. From there, it's all downhill. I made quick, aggressive work of it. I stopped for another couple minutes at the Maiden Lake AS, the put the finishing touches on my first Waldo finish.<br />
<br />
The closing ten kilos at Waldo are among the best in ultrarunning: groomed single track, flat-to-downhill in its entirely, save but a few uphill blips. And the views! You're treated to four different mountain lakes, including three in succession in the final four miles. It shocks me that some complain about that closing stretch - but I suppose the final kilos of a 100K are inherently brutal.<br />
<br />
As I passed the Lower Rosary Lake, marking 5K to go, I was feeling the fatigue of the day, but the finish line was in smelling range. The root wad repair marks about a mile to go. I was keeping to my 160 ceiling until then. Then, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryDjX3zgU-w" target="_blank"><b>this song</b></a> came on. I looked at my watch: sub-10:30 was in reach. So I pushed it.<br />
<br />
Western States was not in my thoughts very much that day, but it came to mind in those closing minutes. I thought about Craig waiting - as he does at Waldo, and now WS - at the finish line. I was looking forward to seeing him, and I thought about how Western was supposed to be.<br />
<br />
Like this. Success. Triumph. Joy. As the single track burst into the clearcut homestretch to the ski area, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBCNAQwKeIs" target="_blank"><b>this song</b></a> came on. On the WS playlist, was supposed to be my River-to-Green Gate song...<br />
<br />
I crossed the finish line - MAF to the wind - just a shade over 10:30. I was a good 85 minutes behind winner (and newest speedster-du-jour) David Laney. That stung, but it is what it is: a terrific training effort, and an important rebound. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V2mWWMMuH4Q/UjZ_q6kahyI/AAAAAAAAE7w/xVOFNYZ4we8/s1600/20130816_185714.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V2mWWMMuH4Q/UjZ_q6kahyI/AAAAAAAAE7w/xVOFNYZ4we8/s640/20130816_185714.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Occupy Waldo - the encampment, pre-race</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Shl7_JoYvwU/UjZ_stUauSI/AAAAAAAAE74/DMLi5H7jb9Q/s1600/20130816_193051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Shl7_JoYvwU/UjZ_stUauSI/AAAAAAAAE74/DMLi5H7jb9Q/s640/20130816_193051.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-Race Meeting: presenting Craiggers with a going-away thank-you present - a quilt of all the Waldo shirts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5tCt4ihwFxI/UjZ_ugGJ--I/AAAAAAAAE8A/xS_qSN7pB-8/s1600/20130817_170924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5tCt4ihwFxI/UjZ_ugGJ--I/AAAAAAAAE8A/xS_qSN7pB-8/s640/20130817_170924.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Congratulations on a job...done". The HRM's max'd-out calorie count. That's a lot of beer. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eBfuZhImKh4/UjZ_woGXFqI/AAAAAAAAE8I/yW93YVHSfe4/s1600/20130817_182750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eBfuZhImKh4/UjZ_woGXFqI/AAAAAAAAE8I/yW93YVHSfe4/s640/20130817_182750.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Man at The Helm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
So, here we are. It's Fall. That magic hour, liberated from heat, bugs, and impending snow. Ample opportunity for care-free outdoor adventures amongst the watercolor splatter of autumn leaves mixed with Pacific Northwest showers. <br />
<br />
Yet, <a href="http://www.wser.org/montrail-ultra-cup/" target="_blank">The Cup</a> looms. Bandera is right around the corner. <br />
<br />
Yet in order to be successful - to do it right - is going to take patience. Balance. Perspective. Relaxed detachment. This fall continues to be an exercise on those things. Some fall races and adventures that I'd looked forward to will have to take a back-seat to the Big Picture. <br />
<br />
I'll be back to Western States some day - with a number on. And when I do, it will be different. And even better than before. Until then: patience, balance, perspective. -OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-41714340996410284972013-07-03T15:15:00.001-07:002013-07-03T15:33:25.734-07:00Bending the Map - 2013 Western States 100<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"O</span>h, S##T."</i><br />
<i><br />"Take some salt!"</i> <a href="http://www.allwedoisrun.com/" target="_blank"><b>Luis Escobar</b></a>, stationed a hundred feet behind me, bellowed, as I staggered over to a nearby conifer to steady myself, in a vain attempt to stretch out spastic quads. Looking down, the tetany was impressive - medial quad definition befitting a body-builder - but hardly appreciated. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MgsZ8268slI/UdR6kVouC5I/AAAAAAAAEuI/9C4YIMFurqQ/s648/WS13CrampLuisE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MgsZ8268slI/UdR6kVouC5I/AAAAAAAAEuI/9C4YIMFurqQ/s1600/WS13CrampLuisE.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quad seizure. Mile 49. Photo: Luis Escobar.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was in real trouble. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span>'m not sure I slept on Friday night. Really. I laid there, drifting. A thought would spark an emotion, and the heart would race a few beats. Wash, rinse, repeat. It wasn't anxiety, fear or dread. It was excitement. But I'm not sure my body knew the difference, or cared. <i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>"I'm ready."</i> - the mantra of the past week - finally gave way to race morning. At 3AM, I figured I could just get up. I prepared: girding, taping, mounting. It was finally here.<br />
<br />
Driving <a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>BGD</b></a>'s truck from the Injinji House to Squaw, blasting "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0LTnobdyNU4" target="_blank"><b>Pusher Love Girl</b></a>", my cheer belied a nervous energy and, perhaps, impatience, for the final countdown. Check-in, breakfast, numbers pinned, and - one last time - drills and warm-up with BGD on the walkway outside Squaw Valley.<br />
<br />
<i>"I'm ready". </i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P3ZMUnsGBt8/UdR7AF2ZWwI/AAAAAAAAEuQ/j2a_xwYhHvM/s453/WS13prestartUltrarunningScene.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P3ZMUnsGBt8/UdR7AF2ZWwI/AAAAAAAAEuQ/j2a_xwYhHvM/s640/WS13prestartUltrarunningScene.png" width="389" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's finally time. Photo: The Ultrarunning Scene/Claytons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Morning cheers, salutations and hugs amongst spectators and fellow warriors. The most memorable was Hal. With seconds left on the clock, I look to my left to see him standing there. He had a crazy look in his eyes; a fire and excitement I'd never seen from such a cool customer: <i>"Let's go for it Joe, I'm gonna be right up there with you!!"</i> Before I could even respond, Dr. Lind fired the shotgun, and off we went.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SGT9pZY7bgw/UdR7QenK5UI/AAAAAAAAEuY/kSizKodzX2E/s800/WS13startGTach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SGT9pZY7bgw/UdR7QenK5UI/AAAAAAAAEuY/kSizKodzX2E/s640/WS13startGTach.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giving the watch a slap. Go-time. Photo:L Glenn Tachiyama.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"T</span>he best laid plans of Mice and Men oft go astray". </i><br />
<br />
BGD and I had plans for Western States. A lot of plans. Plans to start together, to run controlled in the High Country, to run together through the canyons, for at least the first 100km, to M10, to podium.<br />
<br />
We did the work. Incredible work.<br />
<br />
Too much work.<br />
<br />
Climbing to Escarpment, he was already lagging behind. We both were. As Cam Clayton dead-sprinted up the ski hill - with Hal, Tim, and even Clarkie in tow - we lagged behind a huge throng of runners, as we ascended the 30% grade "bark path" (<i>"A gift from Eugene!"</i>, I joked) to the railroad car bridge, just before The Ancient Tree.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nCck7ofJxVQ/UdR8figaleI/AAAAAAAAEvI/gl_a28CrvyI/s797/WS13earlyclimbURscene.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="370" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nCck7ofJxVQ/UdR8figaleI/AAAAAAAAEvI/gl_a28CrvyI/s640/WS13earlyclimbURscene.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The opening climb. Photo: The Ultrarunning Scene/Claytons.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A week earlier, we had test-ran the climb, me wearing my heart-rate monitor, guaging a sustainable effort. We were right-on splits, yet my heart rate was soaring: 170-plus beats per minute, far higher than a week ago.<br />
<br />
The heart-rate monitor was supposed to be our guide on race day: keep things controlled and fat-burning early, and save energy for the latter half. Yet that morning, pre-race, it was malfunctioning: no signal, 30 beats per minute, no signal... I studied it as we shuffled and alternatively power-hiked to High Camp. It would desend to 16x, only to jump to 170s again with the slightest effort.<br />
<br />
I stopped for BGD. <i>"We're on pace, and we're in, like, 40th place. It's going to be a conga line in The Chief. We need to <u>go</u>."</i>. I went. He didn't. The top ten guys were clear out of sight when I hit Escarpment AS (41:26, avg HR 171). Power-hiking the steep, steep climb past the AS, I felt weak and tired. I lagged behind Meltzer, Terranova and Yassine, but gradually reeled them in on the more reasonable Jeep road leading to the top of Emigrant Pass.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B5dRMaweVF0/UdR7cJgGvNI/AAAAAAAAEug/4I3ObB6E8q4/s960/WS13EscBMacGillivray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B5dRMaweVF0/UdR7cJgGvNI/AAAAAAAAEug/4I3ObB6E8q4/s640/WS13EscBMacGillivray.jpg" width="440" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About to summit Emigrant Pass. Focused. Photo: Bob MacGillivray/DryMax.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Once over the top, I opened things up, but repeated the early-race mantras: <i>"Form-focus! The Crouch! Execute! You're not working hard!"</i> I floated down the track, as daylight dawned over The Chief. <br />
<br />
The stride felt pretty good and the effort sustainable. I saw a blue-shirted and bare-chested man running up a head. I effortlessly reeled them with quick strides on the gentle downhills and flats, losing slight ground as I "floated the ups". I passed the bare-chester - Rob Krar - very briefly - only to be retaken as the trail flattened into the numerous meadows of the Wilderness.<br />
<br />
Jake was nowhere to be found, nor was anyone else to my six. I focused forward, and inward.<br />
<br />
I looked at my heart-rate. <i>"168?? Really! That can't be right..."</i>. I wasn't working hard. I was moving pretty well, but I felt no effort, yet the heart rate was soaring. How could that be? Maybe it was malfunctioning. Or, maybe my heart was still wired from the pre-race nerves... No matter, I felt fine. I was fine...<br />
<br />
But as I descended the wash-out trails and dirt roads past the Chief, behind Krar and blue-jersied Jeremy Humphreys, it occurred to me, <i>"Wow...my quads feel cooked!"</i> <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"O</span>h, S##T."</i><br />
It was a blazing hot afternoon on Cal Street in May. Two kilos from Rucky Chucky, the homestretch on our version of the iconic Training Camp "Peace Run": Robinson Flat to the River Crossing, 48 miles. The final run of an epic, eight-day training camp that covered every inch of the Western States course.<br />
<br />
I was done. Just <i>done</i>. BGD cruised on ahead, triumphantly. I stopped to walk. I was beyond tired. I was <i>defeated</i>.<br />
<br />
Jake and I had an extraordinary camp: A steaming Robie to the river. A smooth Rob Flat to Michigan Bluff. A spirited Squaw Valley to Robinson Flat. <br />
<br />
That was just the first three days.<br />
<br />
We had a tremendous week: professional runners, professional eaters. But it felt like work. At night, at Carol's house in Michigan Bluff, unable to sleep each night due to profound fatigue, I passed the time poring over Tim Noakes' <a href="http://www.humankinetics.com/products/all-products/lore-of-running-4th-edition" target="_blank"><b>"Lore of Running"</b></a> and his chapter,<i> "Preventing Overtraining"</i>.<br />
<br />
Isn't irony cute, sometimes?<br />
<br />
As soon as I staggered into Rucky Chucky, I knew I'd done too much. I could barely sit upright. I laid on a picnic table for several minutes before gradually reviving, thanks to Topher Gaylord and crew's generous donation of water and calories. I soaked in the River. We were finished, we'd done it. But at what cost? I gradually came around in Christina Curley's Subaru as we - Jake, Tyler Curley, my Green Gate-to-the-finish pacer, and I - inched our way up to Driver's Flat and back to Auburn. The rest of the night, my body felt a bunch of Ballpark Franks: plumped and cooked. But I came around...I'm fine...<br />
<br />
We were five weeks out from Race Day. Plenty of time. But the recovery dragged: two full days off, then easy miles. But after a week, I was still exhausted. A two-hour road run in Wisconsin wiped me out. Four weeks to go.<br />
<br />
Another week, another long-run attempt: multiple post-holes in the snow drifts of the Central Cascades were each small blessings - or slaps across the face, perhaps - to stop running. More days off. Three weeks.<br />
<br />
Finally, with under twenty days to go, I rebounded: good energy, legs feeling spry. The stride felt phenomenal: efficient and strong. A short tempo run indicated awesome fitness, but recovery was yet again delayed and prolonged.<br />
<br />
In 2012, I'd done about 26 miles and 6k', fifteen days pre-race. This year, I settled for the tried-and-true Hardesty Mountain run: 5+ miles and 3300' up, and the same return. This is my bread-and-butter climb, done once or twice weekly throughout the Western States build-up. A typical week would have a Hardesty up/down on a Wednesday night, then a solid track session the next day.<br />
<br />
Two weeks out, I ran up Hardesty in awesome heart-rate discipline: 150 beats per minute maximum, in 65 minutes (with a typical "hard" effort in the low 60s). That felt <i>great</i>. The descent is typically 38 minutes. I ran it aggressively, for one final quad seasoning. <br />
<br />
My quads were<i> extraordinarily sore for three days. </i><br />
<br />
<i>"Oh, S##T." </i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span> trio of us rolled into Lyon Ridge in just under 1:40 (58:19/1:39:45 - avg HR 169). I took two cups of fluid and a banana, and rolled out, only to forget gels. I returned and grabbed two. Hiking up the hill, enjoying my banana, I hear, <i>"Joe!"</i>, followed by a "Shhh-sssh-shh" laughter - trademark BGD. He was hiking beneath me, just leaving the AS.<br />
<br />
<i>"There he is!"</i><br />
<br />
By the time I'd summitted The Cougar, he'd caught up. It was good to see him, but I sensed that he must've worked hard to catch up. We ran along and before long spied a new jersey ahead: Yassine. We ran together as a trio along Lyon Ridge. My stride felt solid and efficient, yet I felt the grade of each short climb along the ridge. It was legitimately warm in the sun. At 7AM.<br />
<br />
Before long, we had more company: a short fellow scooting up from behind. The Legend! Mike Morton. He rolled in behind and joined the train and, as a group, we made the final climb up and over to the switches leading to Red Star Ridge.<br />
<br />
We hit Red Star at least four or five strong (55:46/2:35:32 - HR 164). That overwhelmed the aid station. I'd tired of the half-apple juice, half-water sludge in my large hydration pack. The sugar was good, but it was quite useless when: a.) the mixture warmed to luke-hot, b.) a half-chewed S!Cap exploded in my throat on Lyon Ridge, and c.) I tripped and fell on my hands, leaving them dirtied and bloodied.<br />
<br />
I handed off the pack for a water fill as I went for a banana, gels and fluids. Morton and Yassine were on their way out, yet my pack was still empty. I helped the aid worker fill my pack with individual cups - the pitchers all commandeered for the other runners.<br />
<br />
Another pack fail.<br />
<br />
Finally, I was equipped and out the aid station, with Morton and Yassine.<br />
<br />
No BGD. I wouldn't see him again until the afternoon.<br />
<br />
Yassine and I played leap-frog along the exposed, rocky singletrack of Red Star Ridge before he eased off the gas pedal. Jeremy Humphrey lingered in the vacinity until the switchbacks into the Star Fire burn, then it was just me and Mike.<br />
<br />
It was incredible to run with Mike. I didn't plan on it, but it felt right: while he was faster on flats and slight ups, but I'd reel him in on downs, and on the steeper climbs - which he would ocassionally walk, stopping to take long, high pulls from his water bottle. He even <i>drank </i>like a stud!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sbql3YzTNOI/UdR7zu6TsEI/AAAAAAAAEuo/f58IH0LzYCk/s800/WS13DuncanGTach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sbql3YzTNOI/UdR7zu6TsEI/AAAAAAAAEuo/f58IH0LzYCk/s640/WS13DuncanGTach.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling into Duncan Canyon, AS, on the heels of Morton. Feeling strong. Photo: Glenn Tachiyama.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And on it went that way: slinky train of Morton and me. We neared Duncan Canyon; I was in good spirits, feeling good except for some irritating chafing beneath my left armpit, thanks to a shoddy makeshift singlet, I crafted from my Lake Sonoma 50 shirt. The seam was digging in and I needed it out of there. <i> "Scissors, vaseline...scissors, vaseline!...", </i>I repeated, aloud.<br />
<br />
I cruised behind Morton down the switches into Duncan Canyon aid station, sizzling with excitement from a big crowd and bigger AS staff, teal shirts awash. Jimmy and Matt were there to crew. I handed off the pack and yelled,<i> "Anyone have scissors?". </i>Of course they did! A woman sprinted over to a bag, and within seconds snipped out the offending seam in my left axilla and dished out two dolyps of lube.<br />
<br />
As I grapped a filled pack, and a jam-packed ice bandana, I reached under my shirt and ripped off my heart rate monitor: <i>"This thing's useless"</i>, I told Matt.<br />
<br />
It was, because I was completely ignoring it.<br />
<br />
Off I went, again sneaking past Morton out the aid. We continued on together, he passing me once again on the flats, while I adjusted the icy cold banana around my neck. We had a good descent on a manicured trail to Duncan Canyon. I chilled out behind Mike (<i>"You want by? You want by?"</i> No way, dude.). At the bottom of Duncan, a quick douse, then a run/hike up the other side.<br />
<br />
It was getting warm, but the bandana was money. I hiked when he hiked, and ran when he ran. I felt a bit like Bug Boy, but I stayed back enough to allow Morton breathing room. The stride felt pretty good on the exposed climb to the plateau leading to Little Duncan. Mike turned back on a couple occasions he'd turn to yell, <i>"Is this the right way??". "Yes, we're good."</i><br />
<br />
The final climb past Little Duncan is always a beast: no switches and, this year, with a sprinkle of heat. Mike and I powerhiked the whole thing, me about 100 meters back. Just before Little Rob Flat, Humphreys rolled up. He passed by and went with Morton. As I began to run on the plateau of Little Rob, I noticed something: <i>cramping</i>. The right adductors, and a little bit of the medial quads. Hmmm... I made some stride adjusts and that seemed to help. I drank, I popped a gel. I snoosed another S!Cap.<br />
<br />
I rolled into Robinson Flat (65:23/4:45:36) behind both Morton and Humphries. I was hurting, but no worse than a year ago. In fact, after a merciful icy-cold douse from Sara and a ice bandana recharge, I felt pretty damn good. I weighed in, down four pounds from the morning; only two from yesterday. The stomach was great, but I felt worn. Typical Robinson.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jh7alBDC5Ss/UdR8Fr8_0EI/AAAAAAAAEuw/EOneBAXaMCA/s960/WS13RobFlatRunMeganU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jh7alBDC5Ss/UdR8Fr8_0EI/AAAAAAAAEuw/EOneBAXaMCA/s640/WS13RobFlatRunMeganU.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Eotzh-anmi0/UdR8G7JCI2I/AAAAAAAAEu4/Ngc9ds88nJY/s960/WS13RobFlatDouse1MeganU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Eotzh-anmi0/UdR8G7JCI2I/AAAAAAAAEu4/Ngc9ds88nJY/s640/WS13RobFlatDouse1MeganU.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LMo5o2JuMr0/UdR8Hza8QKI/AAAAAAAAEvA/OnIzCSXPmqg/s960/WS13RobFlatDouse2MeganU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LMo5o2JuMr0/UdR8Hza8QKI/AAAAAAAAEvA/OnIzCSXPmqg/s640/WS13RobFlatDouse2MeganU.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling into Rob Flat. Hot already, heavy dousing. Photos: Megan Uhan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I rolled out of the aid station and inched my way up Little Bald, looking my best past Carey Williams. I felt like garbage. I shuffled and walked, struggling in my pocket for the hourly S!Cap. Finally, the trail leveled out, and the sky opened up to the Middle Fork valley. It was a beautiful morning.<br />
<br />
Yet, the negativity swirled:<i> "I'm F####D. I'm cramping, I feel like hell, I'm alone."</i> But I beat it back: <i>"Execute! Efficiency! Compact! The Crouch! Float! Eat! Drink! Salt! EXECUTE!"</i><br />
<br />
And so it went: a light but respectible descent off the Bald and onto the dirt double track. The flats felt OK, but as I rolled along, I began to feel more wiggles from the quads.<br />
<br />
<i>Cramping? Really? Why?</i><br />
<br />
Just as I was about to feel more sorry for myself, up around the bend comes a trio of Morton, Humphreys, and Dave Mackey, running <i>at me</i>. <i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>"We lost the trail! There are no ribbons! Which way do we go??" </i><br />
<br />
<i>"It's thisss wayyy!",</i> I drolled, equal parts fatigue with annoyance, using my own forward momentum as the only directional.<br />
<br />
<i>"Are you sure??"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Yyyyyesss...absolutely."</i><br />
<br />
They took off again, Morton leading with Mackey and Humphreys in tow. I thought,<i> "Really, Dave? You've run this, like, eight times!"</i><br />
<br />
To their defense, the road was completely devoid of confidence ribbon. When we rolled into Miller's Defeat (42:40/5:28:17) as a trio, I notified the aid station captian that the ribbons were missing. While there, I guzzled two cups of Sprite, gobbled a banana, and busted out ahead of Dave, who was hammering a Coke straight from the can.<br />
<br />
Leaving the aid station, a funny thing began to happen: I started feeling OK. The heart rate dropped. The breathing deep and relaxed. The heart rate slow and steady.<br />
<br />
Then, I started feeling GOOD.<br />
<br />
On the dirt road flat, I was on total form-focus: compact stride, hips straight up and down, strong elbows, trunk forward, gobbling up this free real-estate. Morton was pulling head, but Dave, who'd passed me just past Miller's, was now fading back.<br />
<br />
I rolled silently past Dave, hoping a lack of words would elicit a stronger impression of strength. While my energy was great, I was not only still cramping, but it was <i>worsening</i>: both inner quads, and now the calves. More form-focus: <i>Compact, forward, up and down, elbows! </i>The stride felt money and the descent felt relaxed and strong on the steep downs toward Dusty.<br />
<br />
I also adjusted my fueling: in the High Country, was I taking a half gel (50kcal) or two Clif bloks (70kcal) every :15, plus half-apple juice, plus a banana chunk at each AS. This amounted to at least 250 calories per hour, close to 300. This conservative variety - as well as a well-timed Zyrtek in the morning - kept the entire GI tract in perfect harmony, all day. S!Caps were taken hourly, kept in cheek-and-gum, and sucked on progressively, rather than dumped whole in to my stomach - which previously caused nasty gut distress.<br />
<br />
After Rob Flat, I switched to a full gel every twenty minutes, with the same aid station banana, also augmented by soda or Gu Brew. Water was in the pack.<br />
<br />
Nutrition was <i>dialed</i>: I swear I could feel the Fat-Burning mode, which I worked so hard to hone this spring. Energy was limitless, yet I felt like I was using none at all. <br />
<br />
The stride was <i>dialed</i>: I felt strong and smooth.<br />
<br />
The heat was an after-thought: a non-issue. I felt cool and comfortable. <br />
<br />
So <i>why </i>was I cramping?<br />
<br />
I rolled down the Jeep road, passed the odd fan and photographer, the hallmark sign of an impending aid. And there it was, Dusty Corners. Ahead, Morton had just arrived. I looked at my watch: 26:xx. <i>"Wow, awesome!"</i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R6_Waqoj_yE/UdR-EzeRbvI/AAAAAAAAEvg/UeBX1wiPu0s/s600/WS13DustyGTach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R6_Waqoj_yE/UdR-EzeRbvI/AAAAAAAAEvg/UeBX1wiPu0s/s1600/WS13DustyGTach.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling into Dusty Corners AS, eyes on Morton, feeling phenomenal. Photo: Glenn Tachiyama.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
James and Matt were there: <i>"The leaders aren't too far ahead. Cam Clayton dropped out. You're in the top ten!"</i><br />
<br />
I felt absolutely phenomenal, and that news sent spirits soaring. Roaring into the aid stations with fists ablazing, I high-fived Connor and LB, while I scurried about for fluid, food, a fresh pack, a bandana recharge, and this time, a hat with ice. I was set!<br />
<br />
Yet, the moment I stopped, my right calf almost seized up! <i>What the F###? </i> I snagged an extra S!Cap and put it in my cheek, mounted up and was out in under 30:00 (28:50/5:57:08).<br />
<br />
Everything felt on, as I rolled behind Morton. In the High Country, I thought to myself,<i> "This guy is my ticket to Top 5"</i>. I fantasized about he and I, methodically rolling up the field until the river, until it was just me and him, battling it out.<br />
<br />
But now, dumping down to Pucker Point trail, I was consumed with another battle: fighting off cramps.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span> wanted to <i>win</i>. I thought I could win, I <i>knew </i>I could win. <i>Period</i>.<br />
<br />
And
I couldn't give two s##ts whether you, this runner, that favorite, or
anyone else believed it. I don't care what you think, or what he, she,
or this website says.<br />
<br />
I wanted to win. I was ready to win.<br />
<br />
The Western States course is in my wheel-house. It fits my
strengths to a tee: a hybrid course, some rough trail, but not
technical; some altitude, but mild and early; some heat, but not
Badwater. And, best of all, a whole ton of <i>flat, fast running</i> in the
last 38 miles.<br />
<br />
A year ago, <a href="http://vimeo.com/45038250" target="_blank"><b>with a stride befitting an octogenarian, I was ninth</b></a>. In the process, I ran the fifth fastest time
from Foresthill to the finish. My 16:13 ranked 23rd fastest in the 39-year history of the race. And all this from running <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29_uSlEEPSk" target="_blank"><b>like Grandpa Joe, when he got out of bed for the first time in two decades</b></a>.<br />
<br />
This year, I
was fit. And fast. Strong, and efficient. Tempo runs that, a year
ago, I was doing in 5:40s, I was now doing in low 5:20s. Then
five-teens. On the track, I was running splits my watch hadn't seen since my mid-twenties.<br />
<br />
On the trails, I was stronger. At Camp, we were putting up splits that might make <a href="http://timothyallenolson.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><b>Timothy</b></a> perspire in his North Face® quilted chambray night shirt: 1:48 from Last Chance to Michigan Bluff (after a 2:0x outbound warm-up), a 2:17 Cal Street at the end of Rob Flat to the River (which included a 4 minute stop at Cal 2 to mess with Matt Keyes' water bottle). We were even cutting sub-3 minute kilometers at Placer High in between trail sessions. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2EJ0wnc3_h4/UdSBgRMVRNI/AAAAAAAAEx8/L91AbAyK7Ic/s695/TrainingCampBottle3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2EJ0wnc3_h4/UdSBgRMVRNI/AAAAAAAAEx8/L91AbAyK7Ic/s640/TrainingCampBottle3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt Keyes' Cal 2 water bottle for Training Camp weekend. You know it's a solid prank when it makes MonkeyBoy chuckle. Photos: Me.</td></tr>
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<br />
I
was a different runner in 2013, physically, but also mentally. I would no
longer simply hope that I might place well, or quietly wish for
success. I was going to <i>take what I wanted. </i><br />
<br />
<i>I wanted to win. </i>I <i>didn't care</i> about how strong Tim is: that wouldn't stop me (nor would I suspect Tim would want that to stop me); I <i>didn't care</i> about Hal's experience, or Clarkie's toughness, or DBo's and Clayton's deadly speed and strength. <br />
<br />
I respected those guys, but I <i>didn't care</i>.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I wanted a ###ing Cougar. Period.</b></i></div>
<br />
And I told everyone with a sense of hearing about it. That's what I got from spending time with Jim King during Camp in May. His passion and desire was surpassed by none in Western States Lore. He, like Scott Jurek, was unabashed about his desire to win, to be the best. And it was that desire that fueled his running and racing.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TXIsL6PXgTU/UdSCAN5Wn1I/AAAAAAAAEyE/GrzbDo-1lvk/s695/TrainingCampJimBGD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TXIsL6PXgTU/UdSCAN5Wn1I/AAAAAAAAEyE/GrzbDo-1lvk/s640/TrainingCampJimBGD.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim King and BGD at Carol's House in Michigan Bluff, Training Camp week. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I was asked,<i> "Don't you care about if you go for it, and come up short?" </i>I
knew I had to do it <i>my way</i>: not "run with the leaders", pacing like a
high-schooler in a district two-mile race. I would run my <i>own </i>race,
and <i>Execute </i>to Foresthill, <i>Punish </i>on Cal Street, and finally, <i>Close</i>.
So if I did just that, and fell short, what regrets - or shame - could I
possibly have?<br />
<br />
I got that from studying and talking to Tim Twietmeyer, also during camp. He wasn't always the strongest or fastest guy, but seldom was anyone tougher, smarter, or cooler, than he. And twenty-five times that got him to Auburn; fifteen an M10, and five times a Cougar. <br />
<br />
I was ready. <br />
<br />
Now,
suddenly, just as the race began to coalesce and align in my direction,
one single element was threatening to unravel it all. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A</span>s I shuffled along the initial descents of Pucker,
the quads and calves were tweaking wildly. I was more concerned about
the calves, as they were prone to near-violent contractions. <i>What the F### was going on? </i>My stride felt terrific, yet here I was.<br />
<br />
Previous
experience and significant study led me to believe that cramping was
due to three primary factors: running too hard for too long, or running
too inefficiently. Or, running on compromised legs. Speed, food, water,
and salt were only mitigating factors - they would improve the
situation, but their effect was only finite.<br />
<br />
So I
slowed, and I was hyper-form-focused: strong, downward elbows, hips
hinged, trunk forward. But what I noticed was, each time I tried to
trend forward, I felt the hydration pack - now burgeoning with water - pull me behind, rounding my spine backward. <i>Damn you! </i><br />
<br />
Another pack fail. Epic.<br />
<br />
I resolve to ditch the pack at Michigan Bluff and go with only bottles from there, but would I make it there without incident?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***** </div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I </span>ran along Pucker, still making fairly good time, trunk forward as can be, elbows churning. Morton's long-gone, and now Humphreys rolls up. We exchanged status updates, but I said nothing about my cramping. Before long, he asked to pass and I obliged.<br />
<br />
<i>I went to work </i>on the stride; the Brain iPod, after several hours of J.T., shifted to a new tune: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWHNr0BrNgo" target="_blank">"Work! Work! Work!..."</a> <i>Execute! </i>The cramps are stabilizing, perhaps improving slightly, as I pass Pucker Point (and several clever photogs). The pace is still solid, and the energy, terrific. The stride feels terrific. The calf cramping...gone! But the quads continue to quiver. I pressed on to Last Chance.<br />
<br />
By the time I descended to Last Chance, I was right behind Humphreys. The downhill stride was sound and I entered in good spirts. Weight steady at 154 - hydration was fine. My friend from Eugene, podiatrist Dusty McCourt was there, so I schmoozed with he and the terrific aid station staff on hand. More S!Caps, gels, and soda. I felt strong, and focused. I was determined to beat this.<br />
<br />
I rolled quickly out of Last Chance, recovering my stride and making a push on Jeremy, who lingered at the aid.<br />
<br />
The calf cramping was gone, but what about the quads? I made pretty good time (10:xx) to Pacific Slab, feeling strong, but I knew the descent to Swinging Bridge would be challenging. The quads protested even the most conservative pace; I did my best to avoid braking and keep the trunk forward.<br />
<br />
Before long, I came upon a hiking Cam Clayton.<br />
<br />
<i>"There's plenty of time for a Silver Buckle!"</i><br />
<i>"Something popped in my ankle."</i><br />
<i>"OK, take care, dude."</i><br />
<br />
I thought to myself about Scott Jurek rupturing an ankle ligament on this same descent back in 2001, after which he went on to win. But I neither mentioned or dwelled upon that; I had my own problems. <br />
<br />
The downside of Deadwood canyon heated up the closer I got; the quads objected, but the cramping was stabilizing. I hit bottom in :25 - a respectable race-day split, and started across. At the spring, I doused heavily: head, back, chest, up and down the legs. I refilled my dousing bottle for the climb ahead and took off.<br />
<br />
I powerhiked the bulk of the climb up to Devil's Thumb. The quads were spastic, protesting each step. I kept my trunk way forward and put hands-on-thighs, which helped. I ran small chunks, if only to provide the knees and muscle stretching breaks. It was warm, but tolerable. I ran in the shade and hiked in the sun. Simple stuff. Energy was strong; I popped a full gel and ate a half-sleeve of Bloks. An S!Cap dissolved, cheek-in-gum. <i>Execute!</i><br />
<br />
I made the top of Devil's in a solid 32:xx and spent two minutes in the aid, shoring things up (24:31 + 33:49/7:38:55). I weighed in at 155 - only a pound down. Hydration was <i>fine</i>. Fuel was <i>fine</i>; in fact, my energy was still strong, even atop Devil's. I gave a cheery hello to Ellie and got a thorough douse everywhere, guzzled only one Coke - being acutely mindful of over-hydration - got another S!Cap, and took off, hoping to loosen out the quads.<br />
<br />
I made it down the trail and up to the top of the clear-cut until my quads were in full revolt. Stopped dead. S##t. Little stretch, crouch, flex. Cold water on the quads. Walking made things worse. I ran, high-knees.<br />
<br />
This stretch of trail is absolutely money. Rolling sub-40 is effortless, so long as you can gobble these flats and gentle downs to Deadwood Cemetery and the start of the real canyon descent. I shuffled along, passing the odd spectator, until I came upon Luis, his son, and another man. <br />
<br />
I was in big trouble. I was only hoping I could make it past them and out of sight before the quads completely seized.<br />
<br />
I did not. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> "</span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>ake some salt!"</i><br />
<br />
To respond, I had to spit out the two, now-empty, S!Cap carcasses from my mouth. What I really wanted was for Luis to remove the Taser probes from my medial quads. They seized, ceaselessly. But I had to keep going. Standing, walking, or stretching did nothing. I had to move.<br />
<br />
So I got my shit together, and got down the trail. Craig and Andy's voices filled my head, <i>"Solve your problems!"</i> But how?<br />
<br />
<i>I would not hammer S!Caps:</i> my stomach was phenomenal; my previous experience with over-salting was so dire and miserable, I would have nothing of it to hammer ten, five or even three additional salt tabs. <i>I would not hammer water:</i> my weight was not down, and I was not thirsty. I would not over-hydrate and risk the hyponatremic trifecta: nausea, swelling and even greater muscle damage. My fueling was fine, but I pumped more calories. I continued on.<br />
<br />
I refused to let negativity seep in. <i>"How can I fix this?" </i> I became hyper-form focused, again: <i>"OK, so I need to get into a big-time crouch, hip hinge down, and then the shock will shift to the mid-thigh and glut!"</i> So that's what I did.<br />
<br />
And it actually <i>worked</i>.<br />
<br />
I stumbled and crouched my way down to El Dorado. The stride and the pace weren't pretty, but I was doing it. I began to muse, excitedly: <i>"How epic would this be? 'Uhan battles cramps for 65 miles to triumph at Western States!'"</i><br />
<br />
I was all-in. I crouched and hinged, and elbow-pumped down the trail - using every ounce of personal and professional experience to get there. Finally, I hit El Dorado: gels, soda, hat ice, douse. It was hot down there, but not as epic as I thought.<br />
<br />
Despite the spasticity, and the walking and tree-hugging breaks, no one had passed me. But Humphreys entered the AS as I left (47:55/8:26:50). I powerhiked once again, eating and drinking and dousing.<br />
<br />
The quads protested with extreme prejudice, but I hiked along - stretching and lifting, dousing them, cajoling with all my spirit. I hiked to the top switch, and ran as I did Devil's: shuffle the shade, hike the sun. So I plugged along.<br />
<br />
I thought about Michigan Bluff AS: <i>"If I could get there and do something, it's flat running for a while...". </i> I decided I'd stop at MB and ice and stretch my quads.<br />
<br />
Then, I remembered the scene from <a href="http://www.kviestore.org/dvdraceforsoul.html" target="_blank"><b>"Race for the Soul"</b></a>, where runners were getting massage work at the Michigan Bluff. I recalled a recent Tim Noakes podcast, where he surmised that some cramping might be due to adhesions in the muscle and fascia. <i>That's it! I'll get a few minutes of massage! </i><br />
<br />
I powerhiked into the hot, exposed north side of El Dorado, passing a few specators, including Bret and Gale Henry, RDs of my first-ever ultramarathon, the <a href="http://www.orrc.net/races/autumnleaves/autumnleaves.htm" target="_blank"><b>Autumn Leaves 50/50</b></a> - who gave great encouragement. Behind me, Humphreys was closing. I didn't care. <i>Fix your problems.</i><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BgW0Po6d2Lc/UdR96t7eY_I/AAAAAAAAEvY/d9YdScWviXk/s960/WS13IntoMBMeganU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BgW0Po6d2Lc/UdR96t7eY_I/AAAAAAAAEvY/d9YdScWviXk/s640/WS13IntoMBMeganU.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing up to MB. Photo: Matt Uhan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The trail opened to dirt road: the top. I staggered into a shuffle and rolled along, up the gentle climb past the houses. My cousin Matt was ahead, boisterous cheers as usual.<br />
<br />
<i>"Take my pack! I gotta get work done!"</i> I wanted to be done with that pack so badly I couldn't stand to be near it anymore.<br />
<br />
He grabbed the pack and took off ahead, only to drop something out his back pocket. I watched it bounce violently on the pavement. <br />
<br />
Hey.<br />
<br />
That's my phone!<br />
<br />
<i>"Hey Matt, you dropped my phone!"</i>, I yelled. He stopped in his tracks, 180'd, and picked it up. <i>How</i> I knew that was my phone, <i>why </i>I would think he'd have my phone, I have no idea. But the absurdity of noticing him dropping <i>my </i>smartphone on the pavement above the Bluff at that moment was not lost on me. I chuckled, even as I staggered down the hill to the AS.<br />
<br />
Michigan Bluff. Home. Past Carol's house and around the bend, I quickly weighed in. Two down, right on. Ignoring my crew, I yelled, <i>"I need massage therapy!" </i> I hope I said, please - I probably didn't. Two ladies scurried front and center, and took me to a soft table.<br />
<br />
It was two familiar faces! <a href="http://ashlandhands.com/kelly-lange-dc" target="_blank"><b>Kelly Lange</b></a>, esteemed chiropractor from Ashland, and Tonya Olson - physical therapist, and DustBall's sister. Both terrific practitioners, members of The Ultra Community, and friends. I was in good hands.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"My quads won't stop cramping, I need a few minutes of massage on each one!"</i>, I barked. They wasted no time, each taking one quad at the same time.<br />
<br />
My quad were cramping, yet, even in tetany, they weren't that painful. Until then.<br />
<br />
That massage. Hurt. Like. A. Mother#####r.<br />
<br />
<i>Dear Lord! </i> Tonya went straight into deep tissue cross-friction, while Kelly busted out the Graston tool - a sharp metal blade! I screamed like a newborn, intermittently barking for bananas and soda while I laid supine, with knees bent off the table.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk3dxy7g4NU/UdR-0QEWaDI/AAAAAAAAEwM/H3jnIWiogEo/s960/WS13MBTableMeganU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rk3dxy7g4NU/UdR-0QEWaDI/AAAAAAAAEwM/H3jnIWiogEo/s640/WS13MBTableMeganU.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tonya and Kelly hard at work on my quads at Michigan Bluff AS. Photo: Megan Uhan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I had even split my watch, determined not to sit there, forever. The minutes - and the pain - accumulated. The ladies did great work and I felt like they were nailing the tight spots.<br />
<br />
Flipping to prone, I had them stretch my heels toward my butt. They flexed about halfway. Brutal. On and off pumps. <br />
<br />
It felt better. nearly ten minutes had passed. The clock was ticking. I had to move. Not simply to compete, but to avoid a total-body shut-down. The longer I stopped, the harder it would be to re-start. <br />
<br />
I hobbled off the table. Tyler Curley, my Green Gate pacer, handed me a second bottle. <i> "I'm done with packs.".</i> I hobbled down the road, toward Gorman Ranch, and out the aid station. Tyler said something awesome, but it escaped me. The day was escaping me.<br />
<br />
I shuffled along Gorman. The quads, had stopped cramping, but were destroyed. <i>Obliterated</i>. <i>Useless</i>. I managed to run through the gait filming station, but was reduced to a slow walk <i>down </i>the hill. I tried to run but nearly fell down. I walked some more, but even that was excruciating on the descent.<br />
<br />
I made it nearly to Tonto's grave. Craig and Andy's voices disappeared. Tim Noakes' appeared in its stead: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"...If you are running badly on the day, why continue to struggle to the finish?</i><br />
<br />
<i>The reason elite runners should quit when they are running poorly is simply that they are probably under-performing as a result of muscle damage. This usually indicates that these runners have been over-training or have raced too frequently before the race, or have not recovered fully from a previous race. Thus, their best option would be to stop running and to commence a period of rest. Continuing to run simply compounds the problem by prolonging recovery, seriously affecting future chances of racing well again.</i><br />
<br />
<i>I now firmly believe that this type of muscle damage caused by racing the longer distances, which is characterized by pain during exercise and by prolonged post-exercise muscle soreness, is cumulative and may have long-term consequences. If this is indeed true, it makes no sense to incur that muscle damage for no good reason, other than finishing a marathon or longer race in a disappointingly slow time..."</i></blockquote>
<br />
I was done. My day was over.<br />
<br />
I stopped. I turned around, and I walked uphill. But I stopped again, and tried to run/walk again. No way. I turned and walked again. I stopped again. I knelt and stretch. <br />
<br />
Done.<br />
<br />
I walked slowly back to Michigan Bluff. Only when I was within sight of pavement, did I finally see the next runner: Paul Terranova. He looked strong. I smiled weakly, gave him a thumb's up, and said, <i>"You're M10."</i><br />
<br />
I re-entered Michigan Bluff, met with silent, disappointed looks from spectators:<i> Dead Man Walking.</i> I re-entered the aid station and watched in slow-motion as the scissors snipped through my wristband. <i> </i> <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>he ensuing time was spent at the AS, borrowing a phone to call my family and crew that was stationed in Foresthill. I sat and waited for BGD to come in, then went with his crew and family back to Foresthill.<br />
<br />
The most difficult moment of the day was seeing my crew: I had let them down. They'd traveled so far and sacrificed greatly for that day, and it was now over. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pHaDZvYXZiU/UdR_Z-8yV5I/AAAAAAAAEw8/WRq0lIx2qhY/s1024/WS13CrewMeredith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="362" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pHaDZvYXZiU/UdR_Z-8yV5I/AAAAAAAAEw8/WRq0lIx2qhY/s640/WS13CrewMeredith.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The phenomenal OOJ crew, waiting for me in Foresthill. Photo: Meredith Stevens/unknown.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After some time resting at our crew camp, I watched as BGD rolled through Foresthill. Our eyes locked for the first time since morning. No words, just a look. <i>Get it done.</i> He looked strong, and he looked to still be in M10 form.<br />
<br />
His brain was on board, but his legs were not. His muscles ailed, the same as mine, for the same reasons. He made it to Cal 2 before they would run no farther. Still, he walked another fifteen miles before ending his day, well into Sunday. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">F</span>or months, I had a clear vision of how this Day would go, and vivid images of the finish, and the awards, and Placer High School: rounding the track triumphantly, cheering specators, hugging LB, congratulating him on his first big race, even bounding up the bleachers to the press box for some love from Tropical John. <br />
<br />
This revised reality was painful and irritating. Rude awakening. <br />
<br />
I stood there, in lane two, on the half-lap mark, and watched as Timothy entered the stadium. I was alone. He ran at me. I put out my hand, and we high-fived. <i>Maybe he'll think I actually won and was already changed</i>..., I mused to myself.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-owEhDSG2psM/UdR_0bCL_DI/AAAAAAAAExI/WdV8oIlC5wQ/s800/WS13TimFinishGTach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-owEhDSG2psM/UdR_0bCL_DI/AAAAAAAAExI/WdV8oIlC5wQ/s640/WS13TimFinishGTach.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Timothy's homestretch, T-$ in tow. Photo: Glenn Tachiyama.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Tim was the champion, again. He was only two questions into his post-race interview when he was interrupted by a charging Rob Krar, only five minutes behind, having run an extraordinary debut and a crushing last twenty miles. Not long after, Mike Morton, my ticket to the podium, entered.<br />
<br />
I watched and listened, then I left.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>he following morning, I returned. I needed to see people accomplish that which I could not. I watched as the final three official finishers - then two, super-30 hour unofficial finishers - rounded the track in the searing late-morning heat. Two sunrises. Epic.<br />
<br />
I spent the rest of the morning, into the afternoon, at the track.<br />
<br />
A couple people told me,<i> "It's really good for you to be here." </i>Actually, it was <i>gloriously awful</i> to be there: the reality of the day so sharply contrasting <i>my </i>vision, <i>my </i>dream. But I was there for two reasons: first, because I wanted to absorb it all: every bite of humble pie, every moment of buckle-less shame, every second of being an outsider, looking in. I grabbed every moment and tucked it away, saving it for future use. Never forget.<br />
<br />
But second, and most importantly: <i>this is my family!</i> Western States is extraordinary, not for the race, or the trail, or the effort, but <i>the people</i>. And these people are my family. It doesn't matter if I had a stupid, shitty, embarassing day. There were people - hundreds of them, runners, pacers, crew, volunteers - who had amazing days. And it was incredibly awesome and important to celebrate them.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TfrYnvUYle4/UdSAvfg9v5I/AAAAAAAAExg/ATBSrjgB2hA/s695/WS13BruceBjorg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TfrYnvUYle4/UdSAvfg9v5I/AAAAAAAAExg/ATBSrjgB2hA/s640/WS13BruceBjorg.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big-time fan moment! Bruce LeBelle gets his 1000-mile/Ten Year buckle, thanks to his crew - Three-time WS Champion, Bjorg Austrheim-Smith! <br />
Funniest moment of the day was Tim Twietmeyer's "notes" on Bruce's "1981-vintage" Bill Rodgers shirt. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You're there for family, no matter how good or bad <i>your </i>day went. No question.<br />
<br />
And then, it was just over. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span>n "<a href="http://www.deepsurvival.com/" target="_blank"><b>Deep Survival</b></a>", the seminal work on the physiology and psychology of survival situations, author Laurence Gonzales introduces the concept of "bending the map": of being in a place and time where clear information is in front of you, but it is not what you expect, or what you want to see. Rather than accept reality of the situation, the person denies and rationalizes: the lost hiker examines the horizon, an unexpected view, and exclaims, <i>"That rock shouldn't be there...".</i> They continue onward, hoping the scene will change, and fit their vision. They bend the map.<br />
<br />
I wasn't supposed to over-train at camp. <i>"I ran the same camp as last year".</i> Except I didn't. After the severe quad thrashing on a normal up/down run, <i>"That's just because I ran it fast, and I haven't run vert in a while." </i> Except it wasn't.<br />
<br />
The heart-rate in the high-country was excessively high. <i> "That can't be right - the heart rate monitor isn't working".</i> Except it was.<br />
<br />
Sometimes bending the map works. But only because you get lucky - you find your way out of it. The most successful survivors are those who can most quickly accept the reality at hand and adjust accordingly. And the runners that survived and thrived in the 2013 Western States did just that.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***** </div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span>hat said, onto the Post-Mortem Q&A:<br />
<br />
<b><i>Q: "Did you go out too hard?"</i></b><br />
A: No, I don't think so. Even with the elevated heart rate, the effort felt even and sustainable. I attribute the high heart rate more to over-training effect than the pace and effort at the time. My split into Robinson Flat (4:45) was relatively conservative, slower than 2012, and left me feeling on par - if not slight better - than when I arrived there in 2012.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Q: "So, the heat made your quads cramp, right?"</b></i><br />
A: I disagree. Heat does not cause cramping, directly. What heat does, is decrease the effort level at which muscles become taxed. Since the body must shunt blood from from working muscles to the skin to cool, there is less flow to the exercising muscles. Therefore, neuromuscular fatigue - the only accepted cause of exertional muscle cramping - occurs at slower speeds, and earlier, than in ambient conditions. <br />
<br />
I believe my quads (and calves) cramped, and cramped early, because they were <u>over-trained</u>.<br />
<br />
Another contributing factor was biomechanical: the use of a hydration pack altered my mechanics by rounding my back and causing me to "sit back" in my stride. I felt this, acutely, on Pucker Point, as I desperately attempted to correct my stride.<br />
<br />
But overall, my energy was phenomenal. I had one low point: Robinson to Miller's Defeat, and after that, I felt incredible. Even at the height of the cramping - Last Chance to El Dorado - my energy was terrific and (until the Cemetary), <a href="http://www.ultralive.net/ws100/webcast.php" target="_blank">my pace and splits were very good</a>. <br />
<br />
I really felt like the heat was a non-factor, due to effective cooling and pacing. I might change my tune, had I made it to Cal Street and beyond.<br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
Ultimately, a hallmark sign of over-training is the catastrophic failure of one system, while other systems (brain, energy, stomach, mood) are perfectly fine. This contrasts with simple fatigue, malaise, or misery, in which all systems suffer with relatively equality.<br />
<br />
Everything felt phenomenal, except my medial quads. That reality is as astonishing as it is simple.<br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b>Q: "What about water and salt, doesn't that stop cramping?"</b></i><br />
A: There is is no consistent evidence that demonstrates a relieving effect of cramping from salt and/or water. Because the only known cause of cramping is neuromuscular fatigue, only those things that might alter that fatigue - changing effort or changing mechanics - have proven to be relieving.<br />
<br />
Anyone who has published evidence to the contrary can e-mail it to me at joseph-dot-m-dot-uhan at gmail dot com.<br />
<br />
Moreover, I was perfectly on top of hydration, fueling and salt intake all day.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Q: "So why did you take salt at all?"</b></i><br />
A: Good question. Studies have shown a temporary relieving effect from salty foods (e.g. the pickle juice study, noted in Noakes' Waterlogged). <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2012/08/waterlogged-part-ii-trials-questions-and-suggestions-regarding-hydration-and-ultramarathons.html" target="_blank"><b>What Noakes (and I) believe</b></a> is that when the brain become aware that salt (and likely sugar, fat, and water) are on board, it will "settle down" and decrease the cramping response.<br />
<br />
Whatever "tastes good", the brain will like. That is why I always "ate" my S!Caps. When they no longer tasted good, I waited to take another.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>Q: "What else do you think you could've done to fix yourself?"</b></i><br />
A: In retrospect, the only other thing I could've done was to <i>soak</i>. Talking to MonkeyBoy after the race, he noted that he took two prolonged river soaks during his phenomenal M11 performance: at Swinging Bridge and in Volcano Canyon. His words:<i> "I sat there until my heart rate got under 100". </i>I believe that period varied between a few and ten minutes each occasion.<i></i><br />
<br />
If I could race it over again, I would soak in the Middle Fork below Swinging Bridge. In retrospect, I could've sat in there for an hour and - had it worked - still run top ten. <br />
<br />
But I don't think it would have worked completely. You can't fix dead legs.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Q: "Did you drop-out because you knew you couldn't win, or M10?"</b></i><br />
A: NO. I dropped out because I knew, without a doubt, that<i> I could no longer physically run</i>.
<i>Period</i>. It wasn't my stomach, it wasn't my head, it wasn't energy, it
wasn't a pity-party. I was lucid, focused, controlled, and (with the
exception of a ten minute period on Little Bald) had a positive,
determined frame of mind all day. <br />
<br />
This is what
was so goddamned frustrating:<i> I felt phenomenal almost the entire day,</i>
and most notably in the twenty miles when the cramps ensued. The effort
felt so easy, so sustainable, so effortless. I was having no problem
keeping up with Morton, having run with him effortlessly for twenty five miles. And he went on to do exactly what I thought he (and
we) would do: grind his way through to the podium.<br />
<br />
As I hobbled, walking downhill toward Volcano, I thought to myself: <i>"I'm 35 years old. I want to run more of these".</i><br />
<br />
I already own two silver buckles. And as sacred and special it is to run Western States, and important as it is to cherish the privileged opportunity, the bravery and commitment to finishing would not trump the scientific and medical reality of what finishing would've done to my body. <br />
<br />
That was the reality of that moment in time, and my decision might be different in the future, under different circumstances. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">U</span>ltimately, the biggest mistakes were made, not on race day, but in the days and weeks <i>before</i>. Decisions were made in that lead up that were both positive - making Jake and I poised for a breakthrough day - and negative, leading to the ultimate result. The challenge will be, in the coming days, weeks, and months, to sift through those elements, keeping the good things and disposing of the bad. <br />
<br />
It's all very academic, and - like the bulk of that day - devoid of strong emotion, duress, misery, or tragedy. Shit happened. It sucked.<br />
<br />
But, like all things ultra, and all things Western States, <i>it was epic. I had a blast. </i><br />
<br />
Some quick-hit highlights: <br />
<ul>
<li>Spending a week with BGD in South Tahoe: running, doing drills, eating, sitting in the Sauna, jamming to Eminem and ASAP Rocky, and playing "Mike Tyson's Punchout": </li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mZewJ2RnbsE/UdSUDCCY-OI/AAAAAAAAEyk/tACLtFTqfoA/s731/MikeTyson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mZewJ2RnbsE/UdSUDCCY-OI/AAAAAAAAEyk/tACLtFTqfoA/s640/MikeTyson.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race week prep - jogging around South Tahoe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Staying at the <b><a href="http://www.injinji.com/" target="_blank">Injinji</a> </b>House in Squaw Valley with BGD, my and Timothy's crew guys, and like likes of Dom Grossman - and getting pumped up with viewings of "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runaway_Train_%28film%29" target="_blank"><b>Runaway Train</b></a>".</li>
<li> Pre-race introductions at Squaw. This, in itself, was one of my career goals achieved: to be recognized, and included, among the best in the race. An honor. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lzArShe9r8o/UdSUSRt43dI/AAAAAAAAEys/KiV6C2k40wM/s960/WS13PreRaceJacquesDehnbostel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lzArShe9r8o/UdSUSRt43dI/AAAAAAAAEys/KiV6C2k40wM/s640/WS13PreRaceJacquesDehnbostel.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White and Dark Chocolate, gazing longingly into each other's eyes. Pre-Race Introductions at Squaw. <br />
Mike Morton: the consummate bad-ass with the black t-shirt that says, "KILL". Pink shirt? Not so much. <br />
Photo: Jacques Dehnbostel.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul>
<li>The start, and the first hundred meters through the lodge area. A nice addition. What wasn't so nice: hiking straight uphill on the compensatory "shortcut". Thanks, Twiet!</li>
<li> Running the High Country with Yassine and BGD.</li>
<li> Running for a big chunk of time with Mike Morton, twenty-five miles, from before Red Star until Pucker Point. Smart guy, tough guy. Hell of a day.</li>
<li> Feeling awesome between Miller's Defeat and the top of Devil's Thumb.</li>
<li> Solving problems, or at least trying.</li>
<li> Terrific support from all aid stations, but especially at Michigan Bluff AS</li>
<li> Post-race: watching Tim, Rob and Mike come in. </li>
<li> Awards the next day, celebrating terrific achievements, especially from Jesse Haynes (M7), Paul Terranova (M8), Yassine Diboun (M9), Karl Metlzer (M10), Scott Wolfe (M11), and AJW (M14). Bruce LaBelle's 10-year buckle. And on the women's side, Pam's amazing rebound to F1 and the rest of the Oregon-laden top-ten (Amy, Megan, and Denise!).</li>
<li>Hanging out post-race at the Pool House with my family and friends.</li>
</ul>
I'll be back. To race? I hope so. But so long as there is a Western States, I'll be involved.<br />
<br />
It's <i>family</i>. -OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-55608709719448237502013-04-19T19:00:00.000-07:002013-04-20T11:30:42.348-07:00Bridge Burning - 2013 Lake Sonoma 50<i><b>
</b></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>These are my famous last WORRRDS!!</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>My number's up, bridges will – BURRRN!</b></i></div>
<div style="font-style: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
days and weeks leading up to Lake Sonoma 50 – the preeminent
50-mile trail race in the country – if not the world – in 2013 –
were filled with personal frustration. One one hand, I felt like I've put in
a lot of work to get fit, yet I had nearly nothing to show for it,
other than a lackluster, less-than-ordinary road marathon at Napa
Valley in March. The last ultra I raced, <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/12/letting-go-2012-north-face-endurance.html" target="_blank"><b>The North Face-San Fransisco</b></a> - was a f##ing disaster – the product of stress,
fatigue, and - most of all – audacious, </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">delusional</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
belief that I had the talent and fitness to hang with the fastest
ultra runners on the globe.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The
ensuing weeks and months were spent pursuing a two-fold mission: to
recapture the fitness necessary to compete at a high level, and to
rediscover an efficient, </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">fast</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
stride – something that, honestly, has eluded me in my two years of
ultra running (and, arguably, the 4+ years prior to that). The
driving question was, </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">“If
I could run 16:13 at Western States with s##ty mechanics, what could
I do with a good stride?” </span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
The answer to that question has been the singular motivation for solo
track sessions, running nearly-all out 200s- and 400s, and long, hard
tempo runs, searching for that old stride. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Both
missions sowed painstakingly results; two steps forward, one back –
as if I was peeling layers of an infinite onion, inching forward so
slowly that it was difficult to gauge any progress, at all.
Confidence was tenuous, at best. I began to question, yet again, whether I
had<i> any business</i> to including myself among the best in the sport.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Or was that yet another embarrassing delusion? </span></span><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">That
said, I had no delusional goals for Sonoma '13. No pipe dreams of a
“podium” finish amongst a bonafide elite field of Olympic Trials qualifiers, and at least three dozen other men who could
rightfully claim a place in the top ten. I wanted to do well, but I
knew I had to do it on <i>my terms</i>. And I knew that, no matter what, I
needed this race to be a stepping stone upward toward my preparation
for Western States.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">My
goals for Sonoma, therefore, were simple, yet well-defined:</span></span><br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Run a measured first half – one that was conservative, yet
faster than 2012 – and then push as hard as I could in the second
half, </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">to simulate
the last 20-25 miles at Western States</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.</span></span><br />
</li>
<li><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Try some new training and racing techniques:
namely dietary changes and on-the-run music. </span></span><br />
</li>
<li><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Maintain
<i>efficient stride mechanics</i> to allow </span></span><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">fast
running</span></i><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
in the second half, and avoid any mid- or post-race
injury.</span></span><br />
</li>
</ol>
<span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
thought that, if all went to plan, I could run in the 6:30s to 6:40 –
an improvement of >20 minutes from 2012. That was it. Beyond
that, I didn't care where I placed. I could only control what <i>I did</i>.
But I knew that if I executed, I would most likely place Top Ten in
this highly competitive field.</span></span><br />
<i><b> </b></i><br />
<i><b>Race Day</b></i><br />
BGD and I made our way to the Lake Sonoma
Marina/Start Line. No poppy tunes this morning, just some chill <b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Lonesome-Randall/123916970951969" target="_blank">Lonesome Randall</a> </b>- my Wednesday night live music and beer staple back in Eugene.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5-0-3B6qlMI/UXHikxzPZ-I/AAAAAAAAEkA/tZ8Ltd-cVZY/s1600/20130413_045859-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5-0-3B6qlMI/UXHikxzPZ-I/AAAAAAAAEkA/tZ8Ltd-cVZY/s400/20130413_045859-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BGD "mounts up!", pre-race. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the pre-dawn darkness, we checked in, then did a light jog warm-up and potty break, some drills and active
stretching, then mounted up. Talent was swarming around, like a nest of
happy hornets, ready to burst! And then we did...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z1xqyWuj3lw/UXHTVJX08eI/AAAAAAAAEhQ/OpI1i5nslUY/s1600/StartGaryWang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z1xqyWuj3lw/UXHTVJX08eI/AAAAAAAAEhQ/OpI1i5nslUY/s640/StartGaryWang.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pearl Izumi Contingent - Nick Clark (L), myself - vibrational with pre-race energy - and Ryan Burch - at the start. Clarkie's praying the Gods of Skinny Little Brits that there's beer left at the finish when he arrives. Photo: Gary Wang.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><b>Start</b></i><br />
<br />
Down
the hill we went, led once again by Jady. Whereas he actually led
through four miles in 2012, he was sucked back to the chase pack within a
half mile, while a lead group including <a href="http://blog.montrail.com/athletes/maxking/" target="_blank"><b>Max King</b></a>, Cam Clayton, <a href="https://twitter.com/TheVargo" target="_blank"><b>Chris Vargo</b></a> and <a href="http://www.salomonrunning.com/us/team/heras-miguel.html" target="_blank"><b>Miguel Heras</b></a> pulled quickly out front. A big ol' swarm of us were in reserve, including several of my favorite people: <a href="http://irunmountains.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Clarkie</b></a>, <a href="http://www.yassinediboun.com/" target="_blank"><b>Yassine</b></a>, <a href="http://davemackey.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Diamond Dave</b></a>, <a href="http://maukarunning.com/coach-profiles--contact-info.html" target="_blank"><b>"Dark Chocolate</b></a>", and many others.<br />
<br />
The
road section was, once again, a great opportunity - not only to let the
field disperse, but to get some form efficiency: I was hyper-focused
on efficiency with hips, trunk and pelvis; the major emphasis on using
the arms and pelvis for climbing.<br />
<br />
Another key focus
was using my butt! Too often, I've thought of running "tall" - but that
robs the hips of power if one is too upright. My track workout with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sam_Chelanga" target="_blank"><b>Sam Chelanga</b></a>
- running sustainable 65-67s quarter-miles - just three days prior was as awesome as it was random: an excellent
reminder on hip engagement for speed, power and efficiency! <br />
<br />
That
said, I had an entertaining mantra to remind me of good forward trunk
engagement and glut use - for both the ups and downhills:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://youtu.be/Hzh9koy7b1E" target="_blank"><b><i>"BOW TO YOUR SENSEI!"</i></b></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V9xr4D89DAc/UXHT_A_8vJI/AAAAAAAAEhY/aHNK-k7wNWA/s1600/Rexkwondo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V9xr4D89DAc/UXHT_A_8vJI/AAAAAAAAEhY/aHNK-k7wNWA/s400/Rexkwondo.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pearl Izumi's yet-to-be-unveiled uni's for the 2013 Western States</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Up and down, and around we went along Skaggs Springs Road...along with <a href="http://www.newbalance.com/Erik-Skaggs/outdoor_ambassadors_skaggs,default,pg.html" target="_blank"><b>Skaggs</b></a>, who, with<b> <a href="http://timothyallenolson.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Jimothy</a></b>, vascillated between the leaders and the chasers. Then, as is his style, up comes <a href="http://halkoerner.com/" target="_blank"><b>HK</b></a>
out of the back end to stick his nose in things. I hung back with
Dave, cutting tangents trying to keep the pace controlled. I felt like I
was working on the ups, but within reason.<br />
<br />
We rolled
onto the trail and down the switches. I felt clunky on the descents -
perhaps not yet warm, awake, or a little low on energy. Down, then up,
then down. The pack gradually strung out at an aggressive pace. GPS
watches announced the fourth mile all around me - beneath 28 minutes.
Moments later we hit the first AS at Island View (mile 4.3) at 29:49, a
full two minutes faster than the entire field ran a year ago...but just
under my desired split of 30:00.<br />
<br />
I was working on the ups, but unwilling to work much harder. <a href="http://rickeygates.com/running/" target="_blank"><b>Ricky Gates</b></a> and <a href="http://galengray.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><b>Galen Burrell</b></a>,
among a few others, snuck past me. Behind me was a dwindling group,
including BGD and Gary Gellin's crack-addicted GPS watch, which
seemingly never stopped flourishing! But before long the packs had
dispersed and things quieted down. <br />
<br />
I ran along alone
for a while, happy to be away from the hyper-beeping watches. Up and
down and around: controlled, but efforted ascents, and relaxed
descents. I hung with Galen before he pulled away; I reeled in Brian
Tinder and ran with him for a while before scooting past him. Then I
was alone.<br />
<br />
That's how it went for nearly an hour!
Peaceful singletrack. Focused efficiency. Gels on the :25. An S!Cap
every hour or so. Tunes bopping in the "Brain iPod", including <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suRsxpoAc5w" target="_blank"><b>this number</b></a>, which I used to hone in on my "moves".<br />
<br />
I approached the rolling Jeep road preceding Warm
Springs, and caught sight of Hal. Crossing the shallow river before the
AS, I got an update from BP: everyone was under the CR, and the leaders
were only 5 minutes up. <i>"Good news!"</i> I was worried they'd be 10+
minutes up already. <br />
<br />
I was in and out of the Warm
Springs AS (11.6) in 1:24:26 overall, with a 54:55 split, including aid
time - just a tad slow, right at 7:00 pace. Up the climb, I went. Hal
was a few switched ahead of me; I took my time and let my natural pace -
with heavy emphasis on arms, trunk and pelvis power - to gradually reel
him in. We met up with each other about 20:00 past the aid. His ankle
was bothering him - a casualty of a tweak a couple weeks back. I gave
him a couple quick pointers, but made my way past him. <br />
<br />
I ran on, focuing on an even, strong but
sustainable effort, knowing that my focus was on pushing the second
half. Yet, I was determined to keep the pace honest and remain "in the
hunt" for a top ten spot. I figured myself to be in about 15th place.
Running along the rolling ups and downs, the stride felt effortless. It
hit me: <i> "Wow, I'm completely aerobic right now!"</i>. It was an
incredible feeling to be running that fast, yet be completely
comfortable.<br />
<br />
Wulfow AS (16.9) came up quickly. A year
ago, I'd split 46-flat on this segment, including a quick potty stop.
This year: 42:00. In retrospect, that was a mere 7:5x/mile pace, but
with a significant amount of climbing. Hal was still hanging in back,
and I commented about how much quicker we were than a year ago: <i>"We're
on sub 3:10 pace for the half!".</i><br />
<br />
I was surpised, a
mere 14-minutes later, to come up on the Madrone AS (18.8 miles). A
year ago, the aid was located at the very top of a long gravel road
climb. This year, the bottom. Ugh. I refilled on water and took my
second pull of soda.<br />
<br />
At Warm Springs, I took the time
to pour some soda into my bottle, pound it, then get water. But I
noticed that, while they had no cups, they had cans! Problem solved!
Jokingly, I approached the aid station, grabbed a can like it was
Catholic Mass and said, <br />
<br />
<i>"Blood of Christ!"</i><br />
[Pounds Coke straight from can, no lips]<br />
<i>"Amen!"</i><br />
<br />
I got no laughs. I'm sure they were confused.<br />
<br />
Grabbing some gels and a filled bottled, I scooted out the aid and started the shuffle up the hill.<br />
<br />
That
gravel road climb is tough; it's even tougher with a full stomach of
soda. But I shuffled my way up, walking only perhaps twenty steps
before finally cresting up and over the other side. For the first time
all day, I felt gassed. I made my feet work to descend as quickly as
possible, along the dried mud that - a year ago - we skated through.
Down and down, then down some more, each step with a mental
tenativeness, knowing I'd have to climb this all again in only a handful
of minutes. <br />
<br />
I saw no one on the descent, and began
the long climb to No Name Flat and the turnaround. I pushed it just a
bit more, slightly edgy about just how far behind I'd be. I remember
being scarcely on the ridge before seeing Dakota zoom past us a year
ago. I wanted to avoid that as much as possible. <br />
<br />
Running
nearly the entire climb, elbows pumping, I worked the stride to
recovery over the hill and keep the feet moving. I got perhaps a
quarter-mile farther before seeing a red, then while jersey coming at
me: Max, with Cameron not far behind. I wished them well and pushed along, just a bit harder, hopefully I wouldn't see anyone else.<br />
<br />
I hit the needle's eye and picked it up slightly, having recovered from the big climbs. There I caught sight of Greg Vollet, who wasn't moving well. Without words, he waved me past on the tight singletrack before the turn into No Name Flat AS. As I descended through the brush toward the aid, I ran past both Jimothy and Skaggs! Woah! A burst of excitement.<br />
<br />
I burst into the aid station (3:10 in, left at 3:11/50:35 split) and, right on cue, there was Sara, ready to go with a fresh bottle, a fresh mini-belt of gels, and my mp3 player. I looked to my right to see Clarkie at the aid station, but he left while I was messing with my Yurbuds, tucking them under my jersey and fastening the player to my shorts. She asked about Jake; I didn't know if he was struggling, so I passed along some form cues to her (<i>"Tell him to keep his chest forward!"</i>). I then downed a good half-can of Coke (without religious exhortation), grabbed the bottle, hit "play" on the iPod and took off. The last thing I heard out of the aid was, <i>"I think you're in 14th!"</i> from Sara.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtXDeCd_URc" target="_blank">Dave Groehl's</a> </b>scream into my ear bolted me out the aid station. For the first time, I was racing with music. I chose an opening song, the Foo Fighter's Bridges Burning, but otherwise intended to shuffle through a playlist I handcrafted in the days preceding. I ran along, only one earbud in, powering up the trail and back onto the main drag. I came across The Chief, Tropical John, had a brief exchange about a favor I owe him, then shot past toward a green Pearl Izumi jersey up ahead.<br />
<br />
The Foo ended. Then repeated. The same song. I fumbled for the track forward. Same song. <i> "F!"</i>. I slowed to about infinity jog pace as I fumbled for the player, took it out of the sleeve, and adjusted the settings for "repeat all" instead of "repeat track", then continued on. By then, Clarkie was out of sight as I began the long, rolling descent.<br />
<br />
The downstretch flew by, as the tunes "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JSBhI_0at0" target="_blank"><b>Raged</b></a>": with a variety of mostly rock, metal, but with sprinklings of rap and pop; a veritable "E-Cap" of musical nutrients. Shuffling ensured that variety stay consistent. And it was <i>sensational! </i><br />
<br />
I made a speedy if not clunky descent down the gravel, past throngs of climbing runners to the lake bottom. It was there that I reeled in Nick. I rolled behind him for a bit, before politely asking to step past. He obliged and wished me well.<br />
<br />
I wish I could say I felt amazing and powered along. My energy and affect were great, but, almost 30 miles in, my legs felt gassed. I did my best to push the climbs, but the fatigue of the day, the developing heat, and the wear of thousands of feet of downhills accumulated. I didn't make the time I was hoping for, but I plugged along the return climb, passing hundreds of oncoming runners - mostly without issue. While I felt haggard, I was keeping Nick at bay, so I felt like I was running respectably.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dZeEQ7-Cqjc/UXHgiCvuyUI/AAAAAAAAEho/e6gOSIYxZ_A/s1600/Mile27ishwNick-GaryWang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="502" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dZeEQ7-Cqjc/UXHgiCvuyUI/AAAAAAAAEho/e6gOSIYxZ_A/s640/Mile27ishwNick-GaryWang.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clarkie and me run past Gary on our way back from No Name. Photo: Gary Wang.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Just before the final wooded singletrack climb, I got another gift: Jimothy! He appeared to be moving well at the time, but his presence here at this point in the race signaled that something was up. As I crested the final climb and saw <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/about-irunfar/bryon-powell" target="_blank"><b>The Boss Man</b></a>, he confirmed that both Jimothy and Skaggs were just head.<br />
<br />
<i>"Go get 'em!" </i><br />
<i>"Will do!"</i><br />
<br />
Surprisingly, the steep descent to Madrone 2 AS went better than the turnaround. I made quick work and before long rolled past Skaggs, who was obviously struggling with some foot pains. He wished me well and I rolled into Madrone 2 (43:00, 3:54:07) while Tim was still restocking. More water, a Coke and Sprite pounder, and some gels and I took off just moments after he. <br />
<br />
Now, don't get me wrong: I frequently fantasize about passing Tim in the late stages of a race; in fact, it was a frequent one going into Sonoma. But it was definitely weird - and a bit of a bummer - to pass him, knowing that he was hurting. Above the din of my tunes, he related that, while his ankle was feeling good, his left knee <i>"was F'd".</i> With <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zack_de_la_Rocha" target="_blank">Zach de la Rocha's</a></b> urging, I kindly asked past Tim and pushed my way down the trail.<br />
<br />
Fueled by the momentum of passing two of Ashland's (and America's) finest trail talents, and tweaking on high fructose corn syrup, I made quick and powerful time to Wulfow 2. The flats felt exceptional! The music was bumpin', the hard metal balanced by the coolness of JT. The arms and hips were working great and the effort felt minimal. In nearly the same split as outbound, I hit Wulfow 2 (15:11, 4:09:18), stopping just long enough to get some water on the head.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-DdVzFDdYQ/UXHg8iCaoiI/AAAAAAAAEhw/WH_beO9mM60/s1600/Mile35KeliKeleman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v-DdVzFDdYQ/UXHg8iCaoiI/AAAAAAAAEhw/WH_beO9mM60/s640/Mile35KeliKeleman.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling along the $$ singletrack around Wulfow AS. Photo Keli Kelleman.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In retrospect, that might've been the first mistake of the day: no water fill. Things felt great until about midway, when I began to feel worn. I downed a gel, plugged some water; I bit on an S!Cap. Things improved, but my water was now out. Yet I pushed along.<br />
<br />
About 4K from the aid I spied another runner: it was Ricky, moving slowly up the tight singletrack climbs that marked the highpoint of the trail before descending down to creek level. It was another quick go-around before I was on my way.<br />
<br />
Wulfow to Warm Springs inbound is always longer than one remembers. I always forget about the "Spooky Forest" section of road and double track that precedes the final plunge to the creek. Thankfully, I had some Eminem to power me through, my mind distracted somewhat by his negative commentary about his wife and mother.<br />
<br />
Finally, the track broke out of the trees and to the final switchbacks to the AS. There was a nice pack of cheery spectators present, but all I heard in my head was the voice of <a href="http://www.wser.org/2013/03/04/jimfest/" target="_blank"><b>Hoyt Axton</b></a>: <i>"By the time he'd reached the Aid Station, he was BADLY DEPLETED!"</i> I pounded Coke, then some water, then more Coke, then a full bottle. Bit another S!Cap and was on my way. <br />
<br />
It was go-time, but I was gassed. Even worse, before the aid station, I began to cramp: both medial thighs started to blip in the miles before Warm Springs. As I climbed out of the water and up the Jeep road toward the lake, I was barely moving, and the cramping returned. And spread. Ugh.<br />
<br />
We know salt doesn't stop cramps. It doesn't. Read <a href="http://www.humankinetics.com/products/all-products/waterlogged" target="_blank"><b>The Book</b></a>; do your own lit review. But what we - as a collective - know as ultra runners is that adequate water, calories and salt - through some unknown mechanism - <i>will mitigate their severity.</i> I plugged another S!Cap, but knew it wasn't going to solve it. Only mechanical excellence will get me through it. <br />
<br />
I shuffled along at time, and other times even walked, as the quads began to tighten up. But miraculously, I saw another runner up ahead in a black singlet. That motivated me. <i>"Other people must be hurting, too!"</i><br />
<br />
The climbs were brutal for cramping, but I made do with heavy arm swing and using the gluts. I kept black singlet in sight and - over the course of maybe 5K - reeled him in as we reached the high ridgeline above the lake, marking the halfway point of this long, 7+mile segment. The cramping abated somewhat, as the ups were brief and the straights were longer and frequent. I made good time.<br />
<br />
I finally reeled in Black Singlet - who turned out to be Ryan Ghelfi, the young stud from Ashland. More "Rage" fueled me around him and up a short climb (<i><a href="http://youtu.be/QPYLcuC6UU0" target="_blank"><b>"Didn't have to blast him, but I did, anyway!..."</b></a></i>). I did my best to make quick work to put him behind, working the uphills hard, even though the quads were only a few ATP ahead of a full-on seizure. But ups cede to copious downs - the beauty of Sonoma - and I gobbled them up with big, fast strides.<br />
<br />
By the time I passed Ghelfi, my water was cashed. Ugh. And it was getting hot. A look at my watch confirmed that I was a good twenty minutes from the aid. Moments later, a creek crossing appeared. Without hesitation, I uncapped and filled the bottle. It was clear, at least. I powered on. Looking back, Ryan was dunking his head. I powered up the short climb and continued on.<br />
<br />
I pushed and pushed, balancing a fast effort with cramp prevention - namely keeping the stride as compact as possible, keeping forward trunk momentum and pumping the arms like crazy.<i> "The arms won't cramp; neither will the gluts!"</i> I kept glancing at my watch: it crept closer to an hour split. Ugh! A year ago, I'd split <64, yet the aid turnoff hadn't yet appeared. I rolled along.<br />
<br />
Finally, a man stood in the trail, directing me left down to Island View Camp. And just then - as it happened a year ago - I came across a runner just getting back on. It was Dave. I said hello and made quick work downhill toward the Camp near the water's edge. Along the way, I passed two more guys: a shirtless runner in black shorts, then Galen Burrell, who wasn't more than a minute or two out the aid when we crossed.<br />
<br />
Quick water, cold Coke (amazing!), and two gels and I was out, hard. The Coke was great, but did nothing for the cramps, which now threatened the integrity of the calves. I powered on, knowing there was at least three guys for the taking.<br />
<br />
The last 4.5 to the finish is tough: I recall hiking sections of it in '12, after not walking at all the the preceding miles. But I also remember some good flat stretches. I gritted down and hoped for the best, powering out the aid station and doing all I could to gobble the aggressive Jeep trail downs that led us back homeward. No signs of anyone, but I pushed when I could and cramp-managed the best I could - which, regrettably, included several brief spurts of hiking.<br />
<br />
I made up for it with hard, aggressive, fast flat running. My legs might've been haywire, but my energy and desire were strong. The stride felt powerful! Before long, I saw the white jersey and hat of Galen, just as "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYU-8IFcDPw" target="_blank"><b>Faint</b></a>" blasted into my brain to power me past. That song promped a brief flashback to <a href="http://www.wiaawi.org/Portals/0/PDF/Results/Cross_Country/2004/bricelakesectional.pdf" target="_blank"><b>Sectionals '04</b></a> - and some great motivation from those tough-running cross country guys - as I powered along the singletrack that gradually opened up to more and more sunshine and open air -signaling the final kilos of the race.<br />
<br />
Just as the trees gave way to shrubs and rocky single track, I saw another guy! The Shirtless Guy! He was about 30 seconds or so ahead, and running strongly in front, but I was closing the gap. I wanted to put in a huge surge, yet we hadn't hit the final mile, yet; the cramping was only worsening, and it was a gamble that I couldn't take. Finally, I saw the <i>One to Go </i>sign (6:33:38) and surged ahead, flying as fast as I could on the rocky flats and downs, with only blips of sluggish uphill running.<br />
<br />
Finally, I could see an opening and the parking lot ahead. My iPod stopped, having run through nearly 3.5 hours of music; I flipped through the tunes, until..."Bridges" came on again! YES! I surged along, powering as hard as I could, hoping for another shot at the unknown runner.<br />
<br />
Across the road, up the final single track climb, Dave Groehl and the boys put rage into my legs over that final kilo, into the parking lot, and hard around the corner.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Down crooked stairs and sideways glances!</i><br />
<i>Comes the king of second chances!</i><br />
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<i>Now throw him in the flaaaame!</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UCqAZhE7UCc/UXHh-iOMhnI/AAAAAAAAEiQ/Ho0bUFdvufE/s1600/FinishFrontLSStaff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UCqAZhE7UCc/UXHh-iOMhnI/AAAAAAAAEiQ/Ho0bUFdvufE/s640/FinishFrontLSStaff.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thumbs up! Photo: Lake Sonoma 50.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IhtlPFaK8hs/UXHh-tcmQAI/AAAAAAAAEiM/qN5zMY2YJK4/s1600/FinishSideKaren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="512" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IhtlPFaK8hs/UXHh-tcmQAI/AAAAAAAAEiM/qN5zMY2YJK4/s640/FinishSideKaren.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pump it! Photo: Karen May</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zaa94ivfXrg/UXHh-9ydrFI/AAAAAAAAEiU/TUJlzakgF18/s1600/LS50FinishiRF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="460" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zaa94ivfXrg/UXHh-9ydrFI/AAAAAAAAEiU/TUJlzakgF18/s640/LS50FinishiRF.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Definitely Psyched! Photo: Bryon Powell/iRunFar.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A slap and a hard fist pump across the line, good for <b>6:41:10 and
7<sup>th</sup> place</b>. <br />
<br />
I flew across the line and nearly straight into the bare-chested runner, who
turned out to be Chris Vargo, finishing a minute head of me. A
mere five seconds ahead of him was Dave Mackey (thanks to his old man brain
fart coming into the finish area, taking a wrong turn); another
minute up from them was Jorge. Two minutes out of fourth place, I
was.
<br />
<br />
Jake's wife Sara, and Jake's mom (and <i>running
machine</i>) Karen were at the finish line to offer congratulations. <br />
<br />
<br />
“<i>I needed that!”</i> is all I kept saying. <i>"I <u>needed</u> that!"</i>. I truly did.<br />
<br />
It was <i>so </i>important to perform well, again. More importantly, I <i>executed The Plan</i>, and proved to myself that I can run hard and fast with the best in the sport, in the latter half of an ultra: <br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>“I love it when a Plan comes together!”</i></div>
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>OOJ & BGD, Post-race</i></div>
<br />
As for BGD, he didn't quite have the day he was hoping for, but he ran just as smart: 100-mile smart. We both wanted to run well at Sonoma, but our eyes are on the bigger prize on June 29th. And with that in mind, he ran a strong effort in less than ideal conditions for him.<br />
<br />
On a personal note, BGD hasn't missed a beat since we hit the track at Placer High last summer: he keeping me in one piece -- being a consistent source of support, encouragement, constructive criticism, and reassurance over the past several months. He's a great friend and competitor, who motivates me every day to be my best, as a runner and a man.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<b>The Grades</b><br />
<b>Pacing: A-</b>. With respect to pacing and performance, this is the best ultramarathon I've ever run. I was consistently strong for nearly the entire day, save some low-and-slow points between Warm Springs and Island View in the last twelve. I ran a conservative plan early and pushed late. Had I been better prepared with vertical and long-run training, I feel like I could have run the 3:20 inbound split that I was hoping for.<br />
<br />
Relative to the rest of the field, I ran as strong as anyone. In fact, stronger than all but one:<br />
<br />
<u><b>Second half splits (final 25 miles)</b></u><br />
1. Sage Canaday –
3:14:55<br />
<b>2. OOJ – 3:31:10</b><br />
3. Cameron Clayton – 3:32:24<br />
4.
Jorge Maravilla – 3:36:24<br />
5. Dave Mackey – 3:36:46<br />
6. Galen
Burell – 3:37:09<br />
7. Ryan Ghelfi – 3:39:13<br />
8. Max King –
3:39:57<br />
9. Chris Vargo – 3:40:51<br />
10. BGD – 3:42:38<br />
11.
Nick Clark – 3:44:10<br />
<u><b><br />Madrone AS to the Finish (last 19.1
miles) - "The Green Gate Split":</b></u><br />
1. Sage Canaday -
2:36<br />
<b>2. OOJ - 2:48</b><br />
3. Cameron Clayton - 2:51<br />
4. Dave Mackey
- 2:53<br />
5. Jorge Maravilla - 2:55<br />
6. Galen Burrell - 2:55<br />
7.
Ryan Ghelfi - 2:55<br />
8. Jacob Rydman - 2:56<br />
9. Nick Clark -
2:58<br />
10. Chris Vargo - 2:59<br />
11. Max King - 3:01<br />
<br />
When you're out there, alone, <i>struggling</i>, it's difficult to believe that anyone else in the entire race is running slower than you. To finish strong was the number one goal of Sonoma; to run that strong, <i>relative </i>to the rest of the field, was extremely encouraging. And, as I finished, I was <i>still closing</i>.<br />
<br />
I hope for the same result at Western States. My success depends on it.<br />
<br />
<b>Mechanics: A-.</b> Again, the best ultramarathon stride I've ever had. By a<i> long shot</i>. This isn't saying much; my mechanics have been at best salvageable - embarassing, at worst - since transitioning to the trails. Sonoma was my most efficient stride yet, putting it together from top to bottom. That alone allowed me to survive while maintaining an aggressive closing pace in the last dozen miles.<br />
<br />
In the aftermath, my aches, pains and soreness has been shockingly symmetrical: both left and right sides seem equally - but minimally - sore. The more efficient you are, the faster you run, and the less you beat yourself up.<br />
<br />
<b>Fueling: A-. </b> Very consistent stomach, fueling with only gels and soda, without issue. Slight down marks for not being more on-top of hydration as the morning warmed. My low just beyond Warm Springs was exacerbated by being low on fluid. In total, I drank:<br />
<br />
<u>Outbound</u>:<br />
3x16oz bottles<br />
~12 oz soda (mostly Coke)<u> </u><br />
<br />
<u>Inbound:</u><br />
4.5x20oz bottles<br />
~16 oz soda (mostly Coke)<br />
<br />
I peed only once, and didn't again until about an hour, post-race. Perfect for fifty miles, but deficient for a hundred<i>.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Side notes: </i><br />
<b><i>1.) Going low-carb</i></b>. This was my first race having run under "low carb" conditions. Since Napa Marathon, I've adopted a lower carb diet. Heavy reading of the latest edition of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lore-Running-4th-Timothy-Noakes/dp/0873229592" target="_blank"><i><b>The Lore of Running</b></i></a>, as well as conversations with <a href="http://timothyallenolson.wordpress.com/2013/04/10/nutrition/" target="_blank"><b>other successful low-carbers</b></a> inspired this shift. In some respects, it was a minor change, but it resulted in a significant decrease in overall carbohydrate consumption.<br />
<br />
A typical day of eating now consists of: <br />
- for breakfast: six scrambled eggs, topped with Udo's Oil<br />
- for lunch:<i> "The Yard Waste Bag"</i>, an apple and mixed nuts (walnuts and almonds) <br />
- for dinner: comprised with more meat and dairy - chicken, beef, turkey - with low-sugar vegetable substitutes for traditional starches (e.g. shredded zucchini for pasta noodles). I'll also eat the odd salad and cooked vegetables, but "The Yard Waste Bag" leaves me pretty full of vegetables, by dinner time.<br />
<br />
The biggest changes have been:<br />
<br />
- No more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - though I now eat PB "straight"<br />
- Very little bread (only with the occasional Subway sandwich or burger)<br />
- No chips! I was a huge addict, downing a bag of Kettle Chips and <a href="http://www.juanitasfinefoods.com/" target="_blank"><b>Juanita's</b></a> tortilla chips, on my own, in a week. Instead of noshing on a half-bag of "Party Size" chips with a beer, I now dine, daintily, on quality cheeses, instead. I feel like I've turned into <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itHhhYxqSSE" target="_blank"><b>these guys!</b></a><br />
<br />
I'm still drinking plenty of beer, albeit less.<br />
<br />
<b><i>2.) No "number two" stops! </i> </b>This is a new, <i>all-time personal best</i> - the previous being about 34 miles (Bandera 2012). Most pleased with his achievement! B-)<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>Mental Toughness: A-. </b>Very good. Didn't get down on myself, but not quite as aggressive in the last sections as I would've liked, for being a "Western States Simulation". But I'm just fine having left some hard mental energy in the tank for June.<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>Joy: A-. </b>I had a blast! This was the most fun I've had in an ultra: my best performance, while still feeling strong and "together" at the finish to enjoy it. I ran with some of my favorite people, and enjoyed the benefits of a terrific organization of race directors and volunteers. Again, it was rewarding to spend hours at the finish line, socialzing: catching up with old friends, and meeting new ones.<br />
<br />
Bit of lost points for not being more encouraging of others, mid-race - the earbuds made that tough. Also, I wish I'd talked to more folks at the finish line, as post-race atmospheres like Sonoma are few and far between.<br />
<br />
<i>Side note:</i> running with an mp3 player was sensational. I feared it might be disruptive (and, should I ever be in a real bad patch, it could be), but on that day, it was a huge boost. I had a great mix of music - mostly hard, hair-raising rock and rap tunes, but a nice sprinkling of pop and dance tunes. Here are some highlights:<br />
<ul>
<li><b><a href="http://youtu.be/QPYLcuC6UU0" target="_blank">This</a> </b>was all the "Rage", and will <i>most certainly</i> make the WS Playlist.</li>
<li>Justin kept things light, but <a href="http://youtu.be/3gOHvDP_vCs" target="_blank"><b>bumpin'</b></a>, when I started feeling worn. <i>"Go 'head, be gone with it!"</i></li>
<li>When the going really got tough, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJO5HU_7_1w" target="_blank"><b>Marshall Mathers</b></a> and his LP kept the tough going!</li>
<li>It can't all be hard: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vf78alvpxRM" target="_blank"><b>Carley Rae</b></a> kept things light! <i>"We're takin' it way too far, but I don't want it to end!"</i></li>
<li>And the requisite old school 90s "<b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5irgWYEjOg" target="_blank">rhythm and dancin</a>'</b>!"</li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<u><b>Post-race:</b></u> The Rydmans and I stayed at the finish until 5PM, socializing and cheering in the other finishers. I thankfully had the foresight....to watch Max King rinse off with Technu...and I did the same, sparing any further delayed-onset misery (I had three tiny patches of poison oak, indicating that I did have it on me, but got 95% of it off). I also borrowed some of his sunscreen, which saved me from second-degree burns!<br />
<br />
I had a great time, making the 'rounds, chatting with friends, old and new, under blue skies, <a href="http://www.bearrepublic.com/ourbeers.php" target="_blank"><b>Racer 5's</b></a> for Racer number five:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60SEwePm69c/UXHh50WSyUI/AAAAAAAAEiA/c-WDeWgEDwQ/s1600/20130413_135429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60SEwePm69c/UXHh50WSyUI/AAAAAAAAEiA/c-WDeWgEDwQ/s640/20130413_135429.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chilling at the finish line: from L, Ricky Gates, "T-$" Tristan Olson, Cam Clayton, and Jimothy. Photo: Me.<b><br /></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLpexR1wcO4/UXHh9ybReVI/AAAAAAAAEiI/wjKejl0esd8/s1600/20130413_150054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VLpexR1wcO4/UXHh9ybReVI/AAAAAAAAEiI/wjKejl0esd8/s640/20130413_150054.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatting with The Lord and the Rydmans. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WToJBHQW0w4/UXHiB3mXQvI/AAAAAAAAEio/pl5R8nXYHwA/s1600/20130413_140315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WToJBHQW0w4/UXHiB3mXQvI/AAAAAAAAEio/pl5R8nXYHwA/s640/20130413_140315.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who has it together better than The King? Lubing up...with sunscreen. Meanwhile, Gary's sticking his nose in others' business, again! ;-) Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7fghonWRphU/UXHiGpo6DrI/AAAAAAAAEiw/B34_2gE-FK0/s1600/20130413_141316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7fghonWRphU/UXHiGpo6DrI/AAAAAAAAEiw/B34_2gE-FK0/s640/20130413_141316.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Did you <i>really </i>finish in front of me?" Skaggs (L), Ghelfi, and HK. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_ADgQADMb0I/UXHiKWGGQXI/AAAAAAAAEi4/0waDS2aKiRc/s1600/20130413_153340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_ADgQADMb0I/UXHiKWGGQXI/AAAAAAAAEi4/0waDS2aKiRc/s640/20130413_153340.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Team Salomon Contingent. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-njP8pLA1abo/UXHiPymL41I/AAAAAAAAEjI/XLAosdVxjGI/s1600/20130413_163059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-njP8pLA1abo/UXHiPymL41I/AAAAAAAAEjI/XLAosdVxjGI/s640/20130413_163059.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clarkie and BGD nosh and rehash. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ygoAgeLuQYs/UXHiS5D7X3I/AAAAAAAAEjQ/Mpe1b3hWXZk/s1600/20130413_162957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ygoAgeLuQYs/UXHiS5D7X3I/AAAAAAAAEjQ/Mpe1b3hWXZk/s640/20130413_162957.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working hard, or hardly working? BP. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yO6SE-cXR08/UXHiWPtPR7I/AAAAAAAAEjY/3_uMxje_r5M/s1600/20130413_161804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yO6SE-cXR08/UXHiWPtPR7I/AAAAAAAAEjY/3_uMxje_r5M/s640/20130413_161804.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dark Chocolate gets some words of encouragement from The Crafty Veteran, Erik Skaden. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gkY8N1qf1Ss/UXHiYkSlj9I/AAAAAAAAEjg/akWFZjvSDjM/s1600/20130413_142516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gkY8N1qf1Ss/UXHiYkSlj9I/AAAAAAAAEjg/akWFZjvSDjM/s640/20130413_142516.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early results. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IV3UrBQP7WA/UXHigbUcF8I/AAAAAAAAEjw/ulpXQrKN5_A/s1600/20130413_144935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IV3UrBQP7WA/UXHigbUcF8I/AAAAAAAAEjw/ulpXQrKN5_A/s640/20130413_144935.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Shouldn't you be sewing a quilt, or something?" The Queen, just finished "Queening" a few hundred gentlemen, less than a week shy of her 52nd year. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After cleaning up, we rolled with Clark and Burch, and Yassine and Cassie to Bear Republic for some food and beers. Hung out with the Queen and the Lord, and got a bit of quality time (and a San Fran Running Company hat) from Dark Chocolate before heading out. We had a lackluster nightcap at a townie spot but otherwise had a quiet night. I wonder what the Ashland crew was up to....<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qZaga9rv80o/UXHijM9gQLI/AAAAAAAAEj4/CKz0KWaxq1g/s1600/20130413_225511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qZaga9rv80o/UXHijM9gQLI/AAAAAAAAEj4/CKz0KWaxq1g/s640/20130413_225511.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BGD and Clarkie at the townie bar, draining Sierra Nevadas. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Sunday, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akANwligs2E" target="_blank"><b>I CHOSE NOT TO RUN</b></a>, and instead went on a spirited fitness walk through the vinyards of West Dry Creek Road with <a href="http://ryanwburch.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Ryan</b></a>, where we shared some good stories. Romantic gestures were at a minimum. B-). Most of us convened at Wilson Winery for the Sunday afternoon "wine mixer", but my clock was ticking and I had to bolt to make the long drive home. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gKNQvct-C-c/UXHicbTVdUI/AAAAAAAAEjo/kPBdxaVrz-I/s1600/20130414_163045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gKNQvct-C-c/UXHicbTVdUI/AAAAAAAAEjo/kPBdxaVrz-I/s640/20130414_163045.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Organic IPA at Eel River Brewing, Fortuna CA - off US 101 in Humboldt County. Photo: Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lilq0sRr1Bg/UXHiM9oODhI/AAAAAAAAEjA/E103hu5teoE/s1600/20130414_183122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lilq0sRr1Bg/UXHiM9oODhI/AAAAAAAAEjA/E103hu5teoE/s640/20130414_183122.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday sunset on the NorCal coast, Del Norte County, CA. Photo: Me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Overall, it was a terrific weekend, a tremendous experience for the body and soul, and a great foundation and stepping stone for the Great Western Build-Up. I feel like I successfully burned away the bridges to the struggles of the past several months.<br />
<br />
I look forward to a week+ of zero running, before "giving it a push" through May and early June. Best of luck to everyone, and thanks to all for a great weekend!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
Last, but not least, I'm ecstatic to announce that I'm now a part of the <i><b>Pearl Izumi Racing Team!</b></i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6iCfzXOLx-U/UXHek4x0W2I/AAAAAAAAEhg/w1g_ii_ltZo/s1600/team-pearl-izumi-logo-400x250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6iCfzXOLx-U/UXHek4x0W2I/AAAAAAAAEhg/w1g_ii_ltZo/s400/team-pearl-izumi-logo-400x250.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
This is a group that's been loaded with talent over the years, and I feel privileged to be among them. Moreover, the Pearl Izumi product line is the best in the business: I've been wearing PI shorts, shirts, jackets, hats and arm panties for nearly a half-decade. I've run in exclusively PI <b><a href="http://www.pearlizumi.com/content/pearlizumi/united-states/en/home/products/men/run/apparel/shorts/shorts-1332.html" target="_blank">compression running shorts</a></b> since 2009; I've owned exactly <i>four pairs</i>: still getting good wear from both my 2011 and 2012 "Western States" shorts! It truly is the only sport brand out there that combines performance, comfort, style and durability.<br />
<br />
Gear I sported at Lake Sonoma:<br />
- <a href="http://www.pearlizumi.com/content/pearlizumi/united-states/en/home/products/men/run/apparel/shorts/shorts-1332.html" target="_blank"><b>Infinity Compression Short</b></a><br />
- <a href="http://www.pearlizumi.com/content/pearlizumi/united-states/en/home/products/men/run/accessories/headwear/headwear-14161302.html" target="_blank"><b>Infinity In-R-Cool Visor</b></a><br />
- <a href="http://www.pearlizumi.com/content/pearlizumi/united-states/en/home/products/men/run/apparel/tops/tops-12121101.html#TRUE%20BLUE/LIME" target="_blank"><b>Infinity In-R-Cool Singlet</b></a><br />
<h2 class="product" id="productTemp">
</h2>
The Compression shorts were money; besides having a roomy rear pocket, I actually stored empty gel wrappers<i> inside the leg</i>!; they're so compressive, yet soft, that they held the empties in place betwen aid stations!<br />
<br />
Can't wait to fly under the PI flag at Western States and beyond in 2013! -OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-82962061553606304262013-03-17T19:18:00.000-07:002013-03-18T08:15:06.867-07:002013 Napa Valley Marathon<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Pre-Race</b><br />Got down to Sonoma/Napa County late on Friday night. I had the privilege to chill out on Saturday with my new friend Bob, and get some good rest and shut-eye.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B0qLNu6TDhQ/UUZ2zHe8c-I/AAAAAAAAEfw/B9qsuNw0Oj0/s1600/20130302_081817.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B0qLNu6TDhQ/UUZ2zHe8c-I/AAAAAAAAEfw/B9qsuNw0Oj0/s640/20130302_081817.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">BOB loved his ball...and a non-descript yellow wash cloth. No word on his opinion of the glassy pool and hot tub. </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Early-week forecasts had the start pegged at high 30s to
40s, but upon waking, it was nearly 50. I was a bit worried, but was
hopeful the cloud cover would keep a lid on temperatures.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n5JfA6u2reg/UUZ3fjOnHdI/AAAAAAAAEf8/BYIB4kSBgvg/s1600/20130302_150718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n5JfA6u2reg/UUZ3fjOnHdI/AAAAAAAAEf8/BYIB4kSBgvg/s640/20130302_150718.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Should've worn the belt. There's strength in that buckle!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was
privileged to have <a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i><b>The BGD</b></i></a> be my handler for the race. After about 5-10
minutes of easy jogging and strides, I handed my warm-ups to him and
nestled into the field and awaited the gun.</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /><b>Race Day</b><br />The race got out relaxed by all, heading south -
eternally south - along the <a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&ved=0CDMQFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.silveradotrail.com%2F&ei=J3hGUZDALIfHrQGji4CgBA&usg=AFQjCNHC573N5HnoBMCyTG0dX6dRhtO6rw&bvm=bv.43828540,d.aWM" target="_blank"><b>Silverado Trail </b></a>through Napa Valley. I was
intent on going very easy - keeping the fuse "unlit" - so I let scores
of people get out ahead in the first 400m before gradually weaving my
way through the masses. What helped that was my insistence on running
the tangents, early and often. About 600m ahead, the course curved
right, let the whole field was following the pace cycle on the left
(despite the fact that it was a closed road). I stayed right and had a
lot of room to myself. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Before long, the field thinned out. There were maybe eight to ten
guys in front of me and few guys milling around, including Orin
Schumacher, a fellow Eugenian. He's been in marathon mode for the past
year+, including a strong run at Eugene last year. He was all set to
pop a big one at Cal International 'til the typhoon rolled in and
squashed his hopes.</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />I rolled along with him on and off for the first several miles,
which included several rolling up and down hills. Orin and his brethren
- the Hackers running group in Eugene - are known for their aggressive
training and racing, so it surprised me that both Orin and I hit the
mile well over 6-pace (6:12). I was perfectly OK with this, recognizing
the importance of easing in. We both picked it up a bit and kept the
effort honest but measured. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Interestingly, as the rollers came and went, I found quickly get
swallowed up and dropped on the ups, only the regain on the downs - not
sure if this is typical or opposite of ultrarunning strength. Either
way, I didn't feel good on the climbs, so I kept them conservative.</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />The number one motivating factor for running a marathon in the first place was to work on <i>stride efficiency</i>:
in learning the ins and outs of ultra trail running, my fundamental
stride efficiency has suffered greatly. So returning to the roads was
my way of assessing and practicing greater efficiency. That factor was
the primary focus today: "Execute" - working on symmetry of leg push and
trunk alignment with an efficient turnover and forward engagement. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Orin and I continued to trade positions on and off on the rolling
early miles. I managed to sneak under 6:00 pace for a few, before
settling into high 5:5x and low 6:0x's. I was OK with that, but hopeful
that things would come around and I could groove some faster splits.</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />The stride felt...OK, but not great. Something felt a little off.
When I saw Jake at the ~7 mile mark, he confirmed it: I had The Swivel
going! Damn! I knew it even before I saw him, and when he gave me the
"up and down arms" motion, I knew it. Damn. Somewhere along the line,
I've gotten into the habit of being super-twisty with my arms and
trunk. Not only does it waste energy, but it creates a disconnect,
where no arm energy is going into the legs (and instead gets wasted in
the mega-swivel). I cleaned it up a bit after I saw him and, I think,
kept it reasonable...</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />By mile 8, Orin began to pull away. Bummer. I felt flat, but kept
to the plan. I hit the ten-mile split just under 60:00, where a random
misfortune struck. The moment I crossed the line to hit my watch split,
it beeped, but didn't seem to register. Odd. So I hit again and kept
going. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Three miles later, just before halfway, I figured out what happened:
I'd been taking gels on a 20-minute timer. The moment I hit the
10-mile mark, the watch timer beeped, but only once, as I canceled it by
splitting my watch. Thus, I forgot to take a gel, going nearly 35
minutes without any fuel. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />I'm not sure how deleterious this was, but by the time I hit the
half mark, I was alone, and flat. Ugh. My split was respectible:
1:18:xx - but I knew I was going downhill...and not the good kind. I
split a 6:20 mile after that, and, indeed, it was all downhill.</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Misfortune number two was the feet. I've had terrific success with
<a href="http://www.drymaxsports.com/" target="_blank"><b>Drymax Socks</b></a>, but have always worn the thicker pairs. Today, I went
with their lightest, thinnest socks - the <b><a href="http://www.drymaxsocks.com/running_hyper_thin.php" target="_blank">Hyperthins</a></b>. They're awesome
socks, especially for shorter, warmer-weather runs, but my stride was too inefficient for the minimalism: I was
overstriding and creating friction between the first and second toes on
both feet. Uh-oh. Just before halfway I saw Jake and implored him to
have some socks and new shoes (as I'd have no time to tie & untie my
present pair) at the next spectator spot. But no more than a half-mile
later, I realized: <i>"Wait a second, this isn't an ultra. I can't take aid!"</i>
So when I saw him, just before 17, I turned down his generous offer and
continued on, keeping the foot irritation largely at bay.</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The rest of the race was spent in damage-control: simply keeping my
legs moving. I felt like I was running in 8" of water: slow turnover,
heavy legs. I struggled to keep the splits in the 6:1xs, and had
several that dipped into the 6:20s, with the whopper coming at mile 22,
where I somehow dropped a 6:37! </span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />After 22.5 miles of the same <b><a href="http://www.silveradotrail.com/" target="_blank">Silverado Trail</a></b> highway, we finally
turned off - onto more country roads - before drifting into Napa,
proper. I was passed by only two guys in the second half. The first
made quick work of me; the second, who slogged past at mile 21, stayed
in front for a while before I was able to get past him again right
before turning off Silverado. I fended off one more guy and shuffled
into town and to Vintage High School in a lackluster but valuable
2:41:53.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vHgicWFR_dU/UUZ2VpUyalI/AAAAAAAAEfo/FpomcaLAn14/s1600/NVM+finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="556" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vHgicWFR_dU/UUZ2VpUyalI/AAAAAAAAEfo/FpomcaLAn14/s640/NVM+finish.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Putting together a decent stride for the last 100m. Photo: BGD.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>THE SPLITS (marker-based, not GPS):</b><br />6:12.2<br />5:53.8<br />6:00.2<br />5:46.3<br />5:52.5<br />6:05.0<br />5:57.1<br />5:57.3<br />6:01.1<br />6:05.6<br />6:04.0<br />6:09.4<br />6:02.1 (half: 1:18:5x)<br />6:22.7!<br />6:09.6<br />12:45?? (missed one...probably didn't want to look!)<br />6:09.5<br />6:15.2<br />6:27.7<br />
6:18.7<br />6:21.1<br />6:24.1<br />6:37.2!<br />6:18.6<br />6:13.8<br />(x:xx?)<br />2:41:53<br /><br /><b>The Grades</b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Pacing</span>: B.</b> I felt that the effort was even...but the splits clearly were not. A mechanics and training issue. Overall, this time was pretty darn weak. 6:11 pace? But I felt like there was fitness in there that, for various reasons, couldn't "get out". And the fact that I kept it in there - thinking Big Picture (Sonoma, WS) - isn't a bad thing...</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Mechanics</span>: C. </b>Not great. Low marks for
the "Mega-Swivel", but some points for correcting it, mid-race. I felt
like things were pretty symmetrical, but I was clearly too long, too
big, too slow. Clunky. Given this assessment, you'd think I've learned
nothing over the past three months, but I have. And this taught me more. Need to be way more compact....<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Fueling</span>: A! </b>While I lost a couple
points for forgetting the 60-minute gel, I get HUGE POINTS for no
bathroom breaks! Yes! So key! This makes me 7-for-7, career, in
marathons being "bathroom-free"! Gotta hang my hat on something...<b></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Mental Toughness</span>: B.</b> Good, not great. I felt like I hung together pretty well, but neither desired or had to go to The Well.</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Joy</span>: B+.</b> It was a roadie, which was
a little light on the race cheer. I was alone for most of the race.
However, the volunteers were friendly and super-helpful, and the
spectators on the course were great. It was a privilege to have The BGD
there to encourage me, as well. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qOlvjAwd0fQ/UUZ3f_sIlSI/AAAAAAAAEgA/WwydAtZcDRk/s1600/20130303_112357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qOlvjAwd0fQ/UUZ3f_sIlSI/AAAAAAAAEgA/WwydAtZcDRk/s640/20130303_112357.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Post-race Lagunitas Hop Stoopid on tap in Calistoga!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DrJsZWdqKSY/UUZ3gs6p3-I/AAAAAAAAEgI/RFJBkfCPA2U/s1600/20130303_155415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DrJsZWdqKSY/UUZ3gs6p3-I/AAAAAAAAEgI/RFJBkfCPA2U/s640/20130303_155415.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Refueling on the way home. Nice snack. </span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><u>Post-Napa Valley Marathon Goal Assessment</u>:</b><br /> 1.) Don't hurt myself. ▲Check! <br /> 2.) Don't beat up myself too much. ▲Check! <br /> 3.) Finish. ▲Check! <br /> 4.) Sub-2:40. ▼No.<br /> 5.) Sub-2:35. ▼No.<br />
6.) No deuce stop! ▲Check! <br /> 7.) Excellent Sonoma training. ▲Check! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Those things, ultimately, make this marathon - and its two-and-a-half month build-up - worthwhile! I learned a lot, and got fit. Excited to see where it will take me. </span></span>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-65971157959766311512013-01-13T20:55:00.002-08:002013-01-13T20:55:53.084-08:00Year in Review 2012<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Two weekends back, I was blessed, yet again, to spend time on great trails with great friends. And, as a special treat, the <a href="http://www.wser.org/" target="_blank"><b>Best Trail</b></a> with a <b><a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Best Friend</a></b>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">With
only hours left of 2012, BGD and I ran from Cool to Green Gate AS (via
Lower Quarry Road), then back on The Course. About twenty minutes into
the run, I came up with the idea of sharing our<i> Highlights of 2012</i>. Going month-by-month, we discussed our favorite moments of the year.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On the 220-minute run, we only made it to August. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was a great year. A special year, for us both.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Without further ado, the Highlights of the highlights:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>January</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/01/bandera-100k-race-report.html" target="_blank"><b>Bandera</b></a>.
Incredible. One of my best performances, and my best-ever, most
thrilling finish. What made it most special, besides earning the coveted
Golden Ticket against a formidable field, was having so many great
friends and supporters there. In and out of Crossroads AS, I fed off
the excitement and support of LB and Bryon. I thought, <i>"Wow, they're really excited! I must be running well". </i>Then,
floating along those final miles, with "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29_uSlEEPSk" target="_blank">Grandpa Joe</a>" singing in my
head, was a surreal experience that I won't soon forget. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-flFwpHGplb8/UPC1zWbXSaI/AAAAAAAAEJg/JytFlC4i8K4/s1600/01072012081-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="466" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-flFwpHGplb8/UPC1zWbXSaI/AAAAAAAAEJg/JytFlC4i8K4/s640/01072012081-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A Few Good Men</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3Lo748eNbVI/UPC12d67qTI/AAAAAAAAEJo/t0KoZXtRHUo/s1600/01072012090-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="448" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3Lo748eNbVI/UPC12d67qTI/AAAAAAAAEJo/t0KoZXtRHUo/s640/01072012090-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Did I say that I was two minutes back with five to go? I did?, OK..." - The Queen being a good sport.<br />(+sweet photo-bomb!)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7wGN3hsy8HU/UPC15txVaJI/AAAAAAAAEJ4/WazBFziiYEc/s1600/01082012123.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7wGN3hsy8HU/UPC15txVaJI/AAAAAAAAEJ4/WazBFziiYEc/s640/01082012123.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">San Antonio Airport. My Western States Entry was inside this bar.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xKRmTvvaRmQ/UPC17UyYFMI/AAAAAAAAEKA/HTwomAuqf9o/s1600/01102012130.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xKRmTvvaRmQ/UPC17UyYFMI/AAAAAAAAEKA/HTwomAuqf9o/s640/01102012130.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Artist's renditon of my Bandera 100K finish. Some of my greatest art work.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <b>Lord Balls' Birthday</b>. A doubly good day, as that was when he (and only later, <i>we</i>) found out that he'd be the next RD of WS. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lKVSaNdonnU/UPC2l2V5_tI/AAAAAAAAEKI/V_uLv8eEIoA/s1600/01242012248.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lKVSaNdonnU/UPC2l2V5_tI/AAAAAAAAEKI/V_uLv8eEIoA/s640/01242012248.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Birthday Treat!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>February</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>The Olson Family Weekend</b>.
Got to spend a terrific weekend in Ashland, OR, with Jimothy, Krista,
and Tristan-Baby Bump. Shared some good beers and great trails. Tim
and I did close to thirty miles that Saturday, and I was rewarded with
the most epic bonks of all-time: early hints of Tim's year to come in
2012, for sure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was also great to run past Prickly Pete a couple times, as well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>March</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Chuckanut 50K.</b>
Not a great race, but a fun one. Got to hang out with a bunch of great
ultra folk. But I also got to run with two former UW-La Crosse guys,
Jim Parejko and Steve Vesbach. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhLGaYjamfM/UPH4TlNjEJI/AAAAAAAAEKo/WDGkOT-Xtt4/s1600/03172012363-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="490" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QhLGaYjamfM/UPH4TlNjEJI/AAAAAAAAEKo/WDGkOT-Xtt4/s640/03172012363-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Post Chuckanut in Bellingham, WA, with two UW-La Crosse alums: Steve Vesbach (L) and Jim Parejko. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Western States "Spring Training"</b>.
After a frustrating two months of running, I made the pilgrimage to
Placer County. Jake and I ran a Green Gate to Placer shuttle at dusk,
beginning the mission to forge positive memories on the final 20. Then,
after being thwarted by heavy winds, snow and cold (that, incidentally,
almost buried Matt Keyes in El Dorado) on Saturday, I ran a solo Robie
to ALT and back on Sunday, and "found my mojo".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ni0HBKOziCQ/UPH5FGB-lJI/AAAAAAAAEK4/ueqH0LMlu-0/s1600/03302012392.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ni0HBKOziCQ/UPH5FGB-lJI/AAAAAAAAEK4/ueqH0LMlu-0/s640/03302012392.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Crucial post-run refueling. In 'N' Out...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4XBHET6IdRs/UPH5FIq83CI/AAAAAAAAEK8/5Oq_xtNpdVU/s1600/03312012396.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4XBHET6IdRs/UPH5FIq83CI/AAAAAAAAEK8/5Oq_xtNpdVU/s640/03312012396.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">...and Pickle Chips and beer at The Auburn Ale House.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><u><b>April</b></u> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Mississippi Trip</b>.
Made a pleasant trip to the Gulf Coast to see family. It was a nice
break from the cold and rain of the PNW. Besides a dose of Vitamin D, I
got in some valuable family and rest time before a big-time 50...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Lake Sonoma 50.</b>
Perhaps the most enjoyable race weekend of the year. Once again I got
to spend some quality time with the Olson Family in Sonoma County. Most
of it was spent off-trail, as Tim ruined the early-race love-fest (or
Hal Joke-Fest) by busting open the race at mile twelve. Undaunted, I
spent another score of miles among some True Masters before dropping it
down a peg. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Equally
thrilling to my hard-finishing sub-7 were the two tubs of India Pale
Ales conveniently positioned just past the finish line. Sun + beers +
great folks = you don't leave the finish line until Happy Hour. Does
Tropical John put on a great race, or what? Might need three tubs this
year, Mr Tropical.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y4B9HFhX0kg/UPH6XKH3YLI/AAAAAAAAELY/Y3ie1FVhBWg/s1600/Sonoma+Me.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y4B9HFhX0kg/UPH6XKH3YLI/AAAAAAAAELY/Y3ie1FVhBWg/s640/Sonoma+Me.jpg" width="426" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sporting the Sunsweet colors for the first time. Photo: Bob MacGillivray/Drymax</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjJZU55boaU/UPH6Z9q6wSI/AAAAAAAAELk/N0d_Sclivak/s1600/Sonoma+Finish+Guys.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjJZU55boaU/UPH6Z9q6wSI/AAAAAAAAELk/N0d_Sclivak/s640/Sonoma+Finish+Guys.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Good Company (Who's that little kid in the yellow, standing with those guys?) <br />Photo: Bob MacGillivray/Drymax</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Khzxl7Qx2_8/UPH6Z1VLaII/AAAAAAAAELg/fSucHeVCsdA/s1600/Sonoma+Me+Jorge.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Khzxl7Qx2_8/UPH6Z1VLaII/AAAAAAAAELg/fSucHeVCsdA/s640/Sonoma+Me+Jorge.jpg" width="432" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> "Dark and White Chocolate" meeting for the first time: Jorge and Me. <br />Photo: Bob MacGillivray/Drymax</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xQS_6zATxIA/UPIAVFsnChI/AAAAAAAAEOw/dYZWi83AkZg/s1600/04142012485.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xQS_6zATxIA/UPIAVFsnChI/AAAAAAAAEOw/dYZWi83AkZg/s640/04142012485.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This is how a Champion recovers. Now you know...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Tib Anterior Injury. </b>Incurred
during Sonoma, left shin pain put me out for about three weeks. It was
hard not to panic, given similarities to 2011. I recovered, and laid
down a huge May. The forced rest was crucial to May...and the end of
June. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>May</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Michigan Bluff Training Camp</b>.
A big week in a big month. Wanna know how to train for Western
States? Ask Tim Twietmeyer. And Andy Jones-Wilkens. And read Craig's
blog. What also might help is a whole bunch of miles, most of them run
at "51 year-old woman-pace"*. I got to spend over a week on the trail -
if not running, then living beside - and with a bunch of great people.
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(*which is actually a pretty damn good pace, by the way) </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>June</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Western States. </b>Jake
and I must've spent an hour talking about this weekend: rehashing
memories, squeezing bits of memory pulp that, somehow, had been missed
in our non-stop discussions since the 23rd of June. Highlights within
the highlight:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Hitting Red star in 2:35, under Hal's winning split...and being in 13th.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Seeing
my cousin Matt and his wife Meghan - for the first time since Christmas
- at Robinson Flat. I'd hear those choppers clapping all over the
course that day.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Seeing
no runner for 48 miles (save the elusive ghost of Neal Gorman on Pucker
Point), then passing three guys in five miles between the River and
ALT.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">LB and AJW at Rucky Chucky</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Quality time with The BGD - he helped me make it quality, instead of quantity.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Running up Quarry Trail.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Running up Robie Drive.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Smelling beer at the Mile 99 Party. </span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbopIHgDFEc/UPOChK2V1oI/AAAAAAAAEWU/MTpwazAE-QQ/s1600/JoeRobFlatWS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sbopIHgDFEc/UPOChK2V1oI/AAAAAAAAEWU/MTpwazAE-QQ/s640/JoeRobFlatWS.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brett Rivers took two of my all-time favorite running pictures of me, ever. <br />This one is at Rob Flat, seeing family for the first time. Photo: Brett Rivers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t7jJ88-oGes/UPODHtlNwNI/AAAAAAAAEWk/qJOkx5fJDSg/s1600/RiverAJWLB.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t7jJ88-oGes/UPODHtlNwNI/AAAAAAAAEWk/qJOkx5fJDSg/s1600/RiverAJWLB.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was as cool of a moment finishing: crossing the river with Yassine, with AJW and LB cheering. <br />Photo: Luis Escobar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cIi0N0iTqY4/UPOGcaUv0tI/AAAAAAAAEXM/uvZOSy6c9WQ/s1600/JoeWSfinish.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cIi0N0iTqY4/UPOGcaUv0tI/AAAAAAAAEXM/uvZOSy6c9WQ/s640/JoeWSfinish.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That. Hurt. But M9 feels good. Getting my medal from the RD-elect. <br />(Is that the same red chair that LB used at his roast??)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-baPzKWj88GM/UPODHZhHIyI/AAAAAAAAEWg/cVYblCJvoLE/s1600/Joe%2526JorgeWSFinish.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="624" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-baPzKWj88GM/UPODHZhHIyI/AAAAAAAAEWg/cVYblCJvoLE/s640/Joe%2526JorgeWSFinish.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We started beside each other - only fitting we finish that way. Me with "Dark Chocolate" at the finish. Photo: Larry Gassan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nCGW2KuWASU/UPODHbeF5yI/AAAAAAAAEWc/5CYPzaEd5rQ/s1600/M10s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nCGW2KuWASU/UPODHbeF5yI/AAAAAAAAEWc/5CYPzaEd5rQ/s640/M10s.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bunch of real nice guys. Photo: Sha Ali.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Mu6F6Y1hjQ/UPH7lilhn8I/AAAAAAAAEMA/5OKzNKNBj98/s1600/06242012669.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_Mu6F6Y1hjQ/UPH7lilhn8I/AAAAAAAAEMA/5OKzNKNBj98/s640/06242012669.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A little stat treat from BGD on the morning after...a good day's work.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A special weekend. It always will be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>July</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.yogaeugene.com/" target="_blank"><b>Hard Core Yoga.</b></a>
Starting yoga was good for my body, but better for my mind and soul -
it was the launching point for self-improvement off the trail. Thank
you for the encouragement, Kelly! It didn't "break me"! :-)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Waldo Training Weekend.</b>
Though still depleted from WS, spending time with BGD and meeting the
Berzerker was worth the hard trail miles and mosquitoes of Waldo Lake.
Most importantly, that's where "The BGD" moniker was born.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2oayPjwVgpA/UPH8DZLjoBI/AAAAAAAAEMI/OIUrUPL0esk/s1600/07272012727.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2oayPjwVgpA/UPH8DZLjoBI/AAAAAAAAEMI/OIUrUPL0esk/s640/07272012727.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">BGD and Connor atop Willamette Pass, with Diamond Peak in the background.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--JR1lraM4-g/UPH8DYK7ReI/AAAAAAAAEMM/25IiVlG36rI/s1600/07272012734.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--JR1lraM4-g/UPH8DYK7ReI/AAAAAAAAEMM/25IiVlG36rI/s640/07272012734.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When you ask Connor to get some firewood, he GETS SOME FIREWOOD.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m1QEDaZKs6c/UPH8DYkr2uI/AAAAAAAAEMQ/4RsmW0bxRvw/s1600/07272012732.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m1QEDaZKs6c/UPH8DYkr2uI/AAAAAAAAEMQ/4RsmW0bxRvw/s640/07272012732.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We were on top of this; albeit with more creative adjustments to these recommendations. <br />Use your imagination...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pYOE0T_eqSQ/UPH8FGj7_SI/AAAAAAAAEMg/qX43sy6vHoo/s1600/07282012748.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pYOE0T_eqSQ/UPH8FGj7_SI/AAAAAAAAEMg/qX43sy6vHoo/s640/07282012748.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">BGD and me, finishing up Gold Lake to Maiden, around to the finish, then up and down Fuji. <br />Brutally tough day. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>August</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Brandie's First Triathlon. </b>In
17 years of running, I'd never run with my sister, until 2012. She ran
with me from Bath Road to Foresthill at WS. Then, I got to return the
favor by cheering, crewing and "pacing" her at her first Triathlon in
Minneapolis. So cool! I thought she'd have a tough time at the end of
the run, but she rolled the entire thing to the finish! I'm very proud
of her!</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2YY0wI8i0qk/UPOB-PFsA3I/AAAAAAAAEWE/sH_c66dw2X0/s1600/Joe&BeekzAug12.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2YY0wI8i0qk/UPOB-PFsA3I/AAAAAAAAEWE/sH_c66dw2X0/s640/Joe&BeekzAug12.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brandie and me, pre-race - at the restaurant that, apparently, she goes to thrice weekly (Smalley's in Stillwater, MN)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AnAvMoAr5_c/UPOB-YL0TGI/AAAAAAAAEWI/DmiAUzQZ1Wo/s1600/BeekzTriRun.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AnAvMoAr5_c/UPOB-YL0TGI/AAAAAAAAEWI/DmiAUzQZ1Wo/s640/BeekzTriRun.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That stride looks a hell of a lot better than mine. Brandie (far right) with a mile to go</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xGpwRkJahZc/UPOMVbd7NkI/AAAAAAAAEYs/EHSkMZzO6Eo/s1600/Family.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xGpwRkJahZc/UPOMVbd7NkI/AAAAAAAAEYs/EHSkMZzO6Eo/s640/Family.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for a family picture, post-Triathlon. Pretty good looking crew!<br />(No, really...they're a good crew...)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Waldo 100K. </b>
BGD didn't need to be paced, because he BGD'd everyone early and
often. I was simply hanging on - and barely, at that. But it was
special to share that experience with him. However, I'm still a little
miffed at his lack of appreciation of my quality Grandpa Joe serenading
along the Rosary Lakes in the last 5K. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-02OoPujNho8/UPH83LkLznI/AAAAAAAAEMs/J-FdCzts7M8/s1600/Maiden.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-02OoPujNho8/UPH83LkLznI/AAAAAAAAEMs/J-FdCzts7M8/s640/Maiden.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I think you're running well when your "pacer" can barely breathe, let alone talk. <br />Near the Maiden summit. Photo: KRW.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>September</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>McKenzie River 50K</b>.
I found my trail legs again on the original McK River 50 course.
Actually, running with Jeremy Tolman helped me find 'em. It felt good
to run hard and fast on a trail.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Pine to Palm 100</b>. Got to work my first aid-station, and it was a
blast. Might've had something to do with the great weather, great
people and "comfortable attire". A most random highlight was seeing Dr
Dave Eitrem, a physician and ultrarunner veteran from Menomonie, WI.
We'd met a couple lifetimes ago when I was coaching for MHS. It's
indeed a small world. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vgJ9C09cdyI/UPH9hLS0vhI/AAAAAAAAENA/nBriYlzGOlQ/s1600/20120915_100728.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vgJ9C09cdyI/UPH9hLS0vhI/AAAAAAAAENA/nBriYlzGOlQ/s640/20120915_100728.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Making it look good: MB and LB heading up Seattle Bar AS at Pine to Palm 100. <br />Can you guess the AS Theme?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7gMFPnCfltg/UPH9i4cjNlI/AAAAAAAAENI/UblN06F27Q8/s1600/20120915_102018.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7gMFPnCfltg/UPH9i4cjNlI/AAAAAAAAENI/UblN06F27Q8/s640/20120915_102018.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The RD, applying a second coat of bronzer on race day. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f2xGpibywFs/UPH9jeu-XFI/AAAAAAAAENQ/peEl9r7gNVA/s1600/20120915_103141.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f2xGpibywFs/UPH9jeu-XFI/AAAAAAAAENQ/peEl9r7gNVA/s640/20120915_103141.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Ready to go? Ready to give it a push?"</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xSPhX1t9JCA/UPH9jzYrOxI/AAAAAAAAENY/mDz6oN8Kejs/s1600/20120915_130738.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xSPhX1t9JCA/UPH9jzYrOxI/AAAAAAAAENY/mDz6oN8Kejs/s640/20120915_130738.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Me with ultra veteran, Dr. Dave Eitrem, from Menomonie, WI.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6FpkkHMYOU/UPH9kZ8avxI/AAAAAAAAENc/MbKbu40gRF4/s1600/20120915_102535.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6FpkkHMYOU/UPH9kZ8avxI/AAAAAAAAENc/MbKbu40gRF4/s640/20120915_102535.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The keys to any well-stocked AS...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>3.5th Decade Fest. </b>A fun get-together that assembled a great deal of Sterling Silver. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q1zPE_IjHWA/UPH-5LiNqSI/AAAAAAAAEN8/qvj6L8_-65o/s1600/20120921_203451-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q1zPE_IjHWA/UPH-5LiNqSI/AAAAAAAAEN8/qvj6L8_-65o/s640/20120921_203451-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Matt, me, Ricky. A couple budding trail grinders...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ukNB259cI5s/UPH-5StCRlI/AAAAAAAAEOA/jekYa4txk9o/s1600/20120921_210524.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ukNB259cI5s/UPH-5StCRlI/AAAAAAAAEOA/jekYa4txk9o/s640/20120921_210524.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The dart shark...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--hJK6r1ncGs/UPH-54zmkWI/AAAAAAAAEOM/N-iAv-pJH-k/s1600/20120921_220452.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--hJK6r1ncGs/UPH-54zmkWI/AAAAAAAAEOM/N-iAv-pJH-k/s640/20120921_220452.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A grand-worth of Comstock Heritage Silver!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cRl4Sul1-uQ/UPH-6sP55xI/AAAAAAAAEOI/oM36-lbnujU/s1600/20120921_230849.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cRl4Sul1-uQ/UPH-6sP55xI/AAAAAAAAEOI/oM36-lbnujU/s640/20120921_230849.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">KRW croons a country tune at the Red Lion. Someday BGD will rock this stage...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>October</b></u>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Solo Fast.</b>
What was already becoming a year of awakening was blasted into
overdrive. I'm still wrapping my brain around the experience. It was
special.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And it made me more comfortable with depletion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Colorado Trip</b>.
What a triple-threat weekend! Spent the front half of the trip
learning valuable hands-on skills and helping pediatric
neurologically-impaired kids - how awesome is that? I also got to spend
time with my friend Dallas. Then, as a capper, I got to spend some
great time with the <a href="http://irunmountains.blogspot.com/2012/10/sprague-mtn-stones-peak-and-heavy-dose.html" target="_blank"><b>Clark</b></a> Family, which included a leisurely
slog/boulder/'shwack/run through Rocky Mountain NP. And I turned
Alistar into a Bears fan - perhaps my most impressive feat of 2012.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FtgNR5HueCM/UPIMZDK_RWI/AAAAAAAAEVk/mALZALEgjmk/s1600/20121020_220517-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FtgNR5HueCM/UPIMZDK_RWI/AAAAAAAAEVk/mALZALEgjmk/s640/20121020_220517-1.jpg" width="596" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Downtown Denver with (fellow UW-L alum) Dallas Vincent. And Pikachu. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OShwoDWOjzQ/UPIEEh0BVxI/AAAAAAAAEQU/Je5lAcFiAxI/s1600/20121021_170413.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OShwoDWOjzQ/UPIEEh0BVxI/AAAAAAAAEQU/Je5lAcFiAxI/s640/20121021_170413.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Ahoy! Atop Horsetooth with Old Man Clark in Fort Collins, CO.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cUYGJ226SZo/UPIEFDywdxI/AAAAAAAAEQY/Voj6sdYNscY/s1600/20121021_171043.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cUYGJ226SZo/UPIEFDywdxI/AAAAAAAAEQY/Voj6sdYNscY/s640/20121021_171043.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">M9 and M3 atop the podium of Horsetooth.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-puFiOWyT3tg/UPIEFBABypI/AAAAAAAAEQc/glHMBfSZ_g0/s1600/20121021_191731.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-puFiOWyT3tg/UPIEFBABypI/AAAAAAAAEQc/glHMBfSZ_g0/s640/20121021_191731.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Alistar Clark, Mountain Man, wrecking a pizza...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kixR2rAhU5U/UPIBkyr8OAI/AAAAAAAAEO8/TPwoTDMkR2g/s1600/923_1302.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kixR2rAhU5U/UPIBkyr8OAI/AAAAAAAAEO8/TPwoTDMkR2g/s640/923_1302.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On
Sprague's Pass, on the shoulder of Stones Peak (>12K'), with the
Continental Divide plateau in the background. <br />Not pictured: 28F and
30mph winds.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gbwvtf0GDZs/UPIBk94qtAI/AAAAAAAAEPA/h7m_N4n-1eM/s1600/923_1317.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gbwvtf0GDZs/UPIBk94qtAI/AAAAAAAAEPA/h7m_N4n-1eM/s640/923_1317.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Pumping up atop Stones Peak. Can you figure out why it's called Stones? Hint: no Keystone Lights were found...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n19u4lGIrBE/UPIBo__Xf1I/AAAAAAAAEPM/_-SHiTB1KGs/s1600/923_1324.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n19u4lGIrBE/UPIBo__Xf1I/AAAAAAAAEPM/_-SHiTB1KGs/s640/923_1324.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A spirited descent. Not exactly "a run"....</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z9o2yBAd3Jk/UPIBpQb3u1I/AAAAAAAAEPU/_HCyCUb5UiY/s1600/923_1330.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z9o2yBAd3Jk/UPIBpQb3u1I/AAAAAAAAEPU/_HCyCUb5UiY/s640/923_1330.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This looks like a flat, but we're 100m from yet another shelf, and another 1000-1500' of descending to go...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m5AkaAoUOKU/UPIC2EtZfDI/AAAAAAAAEQA/DQk0YIdKlis/s1600/20121022_171624.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m5AkaAoUOKU/UPIC2EtZfDI/AAAAAAAAEQA/DQk0YIdKlis/s640/20121022_171624.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Post-run beers at Estes Park Brewery. Clarkie's expression symbolic of our day on the "trail"! </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i-aPypw35H0/UPIC2DhfUpI/AAAAAAAAEQE/H4VZ1mm6_bw/s1600/20121022_200824.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i-aPypw35H0/UPIC2DhfUpI/AAAAAAAAEQE/H4VZ1mm6_bw/s640/20121022_200824.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Papa Clarkie and Alistar. I think this was the story about how the Bears shellacked the Lions...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Autumn Leaves 50K</b>.
Another dose of suffering. Cold rains, wind, crappy mechanics. Pain.
But friendly faces, cameraderie and mutual suffering. And there's
nothing like a warm fire and Smores to make a great day in the park.
Autumn Leaves '12 marks my two-year anniversary of running ultras. It's
special. I intend to return as long as I can.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GNRMXNmhUXY/UPIEq-vkONI/AAAAAAAAEQ8/avMZ0pFUx4Y/s1600/20121027_104615.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GNRMXNmhUXY/UPIEq-vkONI/AAAAAAAAEQ8/avMZ0pFUx4Y/s640/20121027_104615.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Autumn Leaves 50K. Not sure who this guy is, but he's bad-ass. <br />Took a little spill on the mud, but pressing on.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-usCqOmF7kKg/UPIErYWnenI/AAAAAAAAERE/QFXb_D7qS3Q/s1600/20121027_122032.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-usCqOmF7kKg/UPIErYWnenI/AAAAAAAAERE/QFXb_D7qS3Q/s640/20121027_122032.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What's Awesome about Ultras: Me, at the fire pit, guy in yellow, coming into the AS....</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZPAVzb0_VE/UPIErjrDetI/AAAAAAAAERI/P7_0Nead-nY/s1600/20121027_122511.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZPAVzb0_VE/UPIErjrDetI/AAAAAAAAERI/P7_0Nead-nY/s640/20121027_122511.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">...and roasting a quick marshmallow...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>November</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Eveleth, MN</b>.
Got to take a trip back to the Midwest and to Northern Minnesota, to
see my uncle and cousins, and meet the newest member of the Uhan
Family. I also got to learn a bit more about the Uhan family roots,
which was a valuable experience.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mh23Afhmdto/UPIFQ52s_aI/AAAAAAAAERU/nnl59KZQBuY/s1600/20121114_170237.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mh23Afhmdto/UPIFQ52s_aI/AAAAAAAAERU/nnl59KZQBuY/s640/20121114_170237.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What
a beer fridge looks like in Northern Minnesota. To his credit, my
uncle did have some New Belgium Ales, which I quickly put away.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xkH43sEaQWE/UPIFRBSOSjI/AAAAAAAAERY/FzhpcdkWAlA/s1600/20121115_104306.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xkH43sEaQWE/UPIFRBSOSjI/AAAAAAAAERY/FzhpcdkWAlA/s640/20121115_104306.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My nephew Evan, 5, on my dad's old Yamaha 350 three-wheeler. I rode this, alone, no helmet, starting at age six. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qwUyEGkeecY/UPIFQ7WBIvI/AAAAAAAAERc/U6D6Q_yVtZA/s1600/20121114_175421.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qwUyEGkeecY/UPIFQ7WBIvI/AAAAAAAAERc/U6D6Q_yVtZA/s640/20121114_175421.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Evan and my sister, Brandie, with the newest member of the Uhan family.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x8-KvqskBww/UPIFUV6yfpI/AAAAAAAAERs/ftgLNJY-8WI/s1600/20121115_120344.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x8-KvqskBww/UPIFUV6yfpI/AAAAAAAAERs/ftgLNJY-8WI/s640/20121115_120344.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Getting a family history lesson: Brandie and my Uncle Joe at the Eveleth (MN) Cemetary.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zzl27x-Fc_U/UPIFVOEeKwI/AAAAAAAAER0/fjl9OEpEtcA/s1600/20121115_121811.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zzl27x-Fc_U/UPIFVOEeKwI/AAAAAAAAER0/fjl9OEpEtcA/s640/20121115_121811.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My Great-Grandfather, Frank, who emigrated to Eveleth from early 20th Century Austria <br />(likely modern day Slovenia...)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><u><b>December</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">North Face and Cal International. My worst ultra, ever, but a rewarding weekend. Crazy weather. Good beer. Great friends.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O7uCInlP8uA/UPIG0pb4O8I/AAAAAAAAESQ/1rgF2r9-Onw/s1600/20121130_162838.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O7uCInlP8uA/UPIG0pb4O8I/AAAAAAAAESQ/1rgF2r9-Onw/s640/20121130_162838.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Muir Beach, Friday night, pre-race. It wouldn't clear out again 'til Sunday night...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aKP7UalS5Hg/UPIG1OHTVFI/AAAAAAAAESc/RaIBeivuXoU/s1600/20121201_122813.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aKP7UalS5Hg/UPIG1OHTVFI/AAAAAAAAESc/RaIBeivuXoU/s640/20121201_122813.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Post-DNF beers at the Lagunitas Taproom. <u><br /></u></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2yX6Vc-yDTM/UPIG1X9fpbI/AAAAAAAAESY/rzfqLG1nLvo/s1600/20121201_135139.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2yX6Vc-yDTM/UPIG1X9fpbI/AAAAAAAAESY/rzfqLG1nLvo/s640/20121201_135139.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Not everyone obsesses about WS like me and you do!" ~ Training Camp planning.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P3O6TbhUXes/UPIG3_Tou9I/AAAAAAAAESo/G6WXuZD3ILc/s1600/20121202_065759.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P3O6TbhUXes/UPIG3_Tou9I/AAAAAAAAESo/G6WXuZD3ILc/s640/20121202_065759.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">CIM Sunday. Sara's ready to run...into a 20mph headwind and hard rain!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X2bDnW7WK18/UPIG4DTa3xI/AAAAAAAAESs/mNBQXxp8Ego/s1600/20121202_101015.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X2bDnW7WK18/UPIG4DTa3xI/AAAAAAAAESs/mNBQXxp8Ego/s640/20121202_101015.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Tired as F### after that 3:09 race!" </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Western States Lottery & Roast of Lord Balls</b>.
I wasn't planning on taking in the Lottery, until I heard about a
special evening in works, thanks to AJW and Monkey Boy. Roasting LB?
Free Auburn Ales? In. It was a special evening that was both a
celebration of great man and, with any luck, the ringing-in of new,
great era in Western States and the ultrarunning community.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F3bXiwWlXKA/UPIIfLDd7DI/AAAAAAAAETs/ZEJHTmQKUhE/s1600/20121207_222912.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F3bXiwWlXKA/UPIIfLDd7DI/AAAAAAAAETs/ZEJHTmQKUhE/s640/20121207_222912.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">BGD getting the low-down on "14-Minute Tree" from AJW at the Ale House.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2KuU6idpRGg/UPIIfKFRsLI/AAAAAAAAETo/-1panCm9SvU/s1600/20121208_090430.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2KuU6idpRGg/UPIIfKFRsLI/AAAAAAAAETo/-1panCm9SvU/s640/20121208_090430.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Greg Soderlund and LB preside over Lottery Saturday at Placer HS.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M8g5OrjYUGI/UPIHsKIC6rI/AAAAAAAAES8/kODr7WilSWo/s1600/20121208_192757.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M8g5OrjYUGI/UPIHsKIC6rI/AAAAAAAAES8/kODr7WilSWo/s640/20121208_192757.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">MB gets the LB Roast started. AJW can't hardly wait...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jx_7jJ5JUfY/UPIHsF-XfPI/AAAAAAAAETA/JsCXnQPrfbA/s1600/20121208_200503.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jx_7jJ5JUfY/UPIHsF-XfPI/AAAAAAAAETA/JsCXnQPrfbA/s640/20121208_200503.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Tropical John: a roast with eloquence. Looks like Gary's spitting out his drink...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GHVTWvth87c/UPIHsvpwKQI/AAAAAAAAETE/szTx3bsjG2o/s1600/20121208_230404.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GHVTWvth87c/UPIHsvpwKQI/AAAAAAAAETE/szTx3bsjG2o/s640/20121208_230404.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">By this point in the night, MB's impressions are melding together. Double-funny.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Christmas Trip</b>.
Booked a last-minute trip back to Wisconsin for the holiday. And, in
typical fashion, I was able to pack six pounds of fun into a five-pound
bag. Highlights within highlights:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Relationship Remediation" with Erin. And, fittingly, with three of Bell's "Two-Hearted" IPAs. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A night trail run, "meat sweats", and beers with Matt Mitchell and Sam Jurek - veterans of the WS 2011 campaign.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A great indoor track session with my youngest brother, Billy. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Catching up with Andy Sol in Eau Claire. Guy's got it together, I'm jealous! Keep it up!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">UW-L PT school reunion with Dan, Johnny, and Lucas in Eau Claire.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Morning run on the snowy EC streets with Dan, and Scotty Hayden - who reminded me that he's one of my all-time favorite guys. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Legos and Taylor Swift with my 5-year old nephew, Evan</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Snowy long-run on the trails of River Falls with "The Boss", Bryon Powell. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Driving
to Stevens Point and back to get my brother Steve, and learning the
difference between "good rap" (Kendrick Lamar, et al) and "crappy rap"
(Clyde Carson). <i>"R-ruh-Really, bro?"</i></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-82hrAbBzygA/UPIJGBN5vWI/AAAAAAAAEUM/YUr5J5hZcQU/s1600/20121220_214644.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-82hrAbBzygA/UPIJGBN5vWI/AAAAAAAAEUM/YUr5J5hZcQU/s640/20121220_214644.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Hoff arranges her homework at the Muddy Pig...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8AfzHeXbb4/UPIJGz3AK2I/AAAAAAAAEUU/9h9IQ15Ho0s/s1600/20121221_233703.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g8AfzHeXbb4/UPIJGz3AK2I/AAAAAAAAEUU/9h9IQ15Ho0s/s640/20121221_233703.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Samuel contemplating life at Juniors in River Falls, WI.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kNlRxeVb6QU/UPIJGzQ0G7I/AAAAAAAAEUY/OE6OmxUOfck/s1600/20121220_214649.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_A2JPQggMGc/UPIJIBK6FBI/AAAAAAAAEUk/D6nODPg3xS8/s1600/20121223_105143.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_A2JPQggMGc/UPIJIBK6FBI/AAAAAAAAEUk/D6nODPg3xS8/s640/20121223_105143.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Breakfast with Champions: Scotty Hayden (L) and Dan Reznichek, post-run in Eau Claire, WI</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4R1JEh-g7Nw/UPIJIejSHEI/AAAAAAAAEUs/3vzKNvIsERQ/s1600/20121222_140114-1-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="514" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4R1JEh-g7Nw/UPIJIejSHEI/AAAAAAAAEUs/3vzKNvIsERQ/s640/20121222_140114-1-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Awesome "annual indoor track session" with my brother Billy, at UW-River Falls.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JL2YrMJhYJM/UPIJKESEE3I/AAAAAAAAEU4/1OimSjpZzIg/s1600/20121224_080703.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JL2YrMJhYJM/UPIJKESEE3I/AAAAAAAAEU4/1OimSjpZzIg/s640/20121224_080703.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Me and The Boss, heading out for a snowy trail run in River Falls.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>New Year's Weekend in Placer County.</b>
One last trip to the Promised Land. Three excellent runs on the WS
Course, including an epic bonk coming up to Highway 49 with BGD. Also
had a couple great hang-outs, including with my friend Rachael, another
Eveleth, MN, native and Sactown resident. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">BGD and I finished up our shared highlights, finally, on New Year's Eve, at 11:40PM. What a year! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-3NdTEqNVU/UPOIOWZ1OkI/AAAAAAAAEXs/iMi-dJjOJ-s/s1600/20121228_221419.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W-3NdTEqNVU/UPOIOWZ1OkI/AAAAAAAAEXs/iMi-dJjOJ-s/s640/20121228_221419.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's with BGD and these "boobfuls" of beer? BGD at Boneshaker in Rocklin/Roseville.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VodZOXzxc0M/UPOIQOEgUqI/AAAAAAAAEX0/I_NEntpt91M/s1600/20121229_185453.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VodZOXzxc0M/UPOIQOEgUqI/AAAAAAAAEX0/I_NEntpt91M/s640/20121229_185453.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Just keep it on the down-low!" BGD gets primed for karaoke with some T-BOZ! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eJgoVVQF6xc/UPOIUVFXClI/AAAAAAAAEX8/c6AaarkJTXk/s1600/20121230_195708.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eJgoVVQF6xc/UPOIUVFXClI/AAAAAAAAEX8/c6AaarkJTXk/s640/20121230_195708.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uh-oh! BGD hard at work. I had a headache about an hour later....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35gmY6RERiA/UPOIWZyb-TI/AAAAAAAAEYE/28vSUEnkA2o/s1600/20121231_215318.jpg"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35gmY6RERiA/UPOIWZyb-TI/AAAAAAAAEYE/28vSUEnkA2o/s320/20121231_215318.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BGD "Tearin' up My Heart" with his karaoke debut in Sacramento on NYE.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MKxx51pxTmo/UPOIZOkk1SI/AAAAAAAAEYM/o1BQ2X-bhR4/s1600/20121231_232807.jpg"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MKxx51pxTmo/UPOIZOkk1SI/AAAAAAAAEYM/o1BQ2X-bhR4/s320/20121231_232807.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy New Year from BGD, Sara...and a sweet photo-bomb from some historical Irish figure<br /> - La Verre Irish Pub, Sacramento, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So
what will 2013 hold? No one knows. But if it's half as eventful,
exciting, and generative as 2012, it'll be a great one. Can't wait...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Not
sure if you noticed, but a lot of folks appeared in this post. If it
weren't for you guys, it would've have been so great. Thank you for
your friendship, love, support and good times! </span>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-55614722583103214892012-12-19T20:03:00.000-08:002012-12-20T11:21:45.370-08:00Emotional WealthIt's the end of the year. It's a time to be thankful and take stock. Running's a [relative] lull, and the End of the Year Post is coagulating in the brain. As a prequel to that post, this missive: <br />
<br />
Two separate events in the past week+ have motivated me to write this, admittedly non-running post.<br />
<br />
The first: my most recent trip to Placer County, a fortnight ago, for <a href="http://conductthejuices.com/" target="_blank"><b>Craig "Lord Balls" Thornley's</b></a> "Congratulations
Roast". Hosted by AJW and MonkeyBoy, it was half-roast and half-tribute
to a great man who is about to take the reigns of the <a href="http://www.wser.org/" target="_blank"><b>greatest trail run in the world</b></a><b> - </b>the spiritual center of the Ultramarathon Running Community.<br />
<br />
Among those present were some of the most respected, revered men - Elder Statemen - of The Community: Rob Cain, John Medinger, Tim Twietmeyer, Gary Towle, AJW, and several more great folks.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v4jj49z5fhk/UM5OgdfmMII/AAAAAAAAEH8/QTLEe971VMY/s1600/TJ,LB,Gary+Ale+House+-+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v4jj49z5fhk/UM5OgdfmMII/AAAAAAAAEH8/QTLEe971VMY/s640/TJ,LB,Gary+Ale+House+-+Me.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption">"If anyone can understand the slower runners, it's Craig"</span></span><span class="fbPhotoTagList" id="fbPhotoSnowliftTagList"><span class="fcg"> - Tropical John Medinger's ringing endorsement of LB at Auburn Ale <span class="fbPhotoTagListTag withTagItem tagItem"></span>House.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>Wealthy people. </i> Not measured by their balance sheet, but by something greater: <b><i>Emotional wealth</i></b>. The collective resources of true friendship and love, wisdom and maturity; wells of emotional wealth of depth and breadth - not only to ensure personal and familial security, but plenty to share amongst The Community. <br />
<br />
Secondly: more motivation came from one of my best friends.<br />
<br />
I've been doing a great deal of reading and reflection in the past month, and it's been rubbing off on friends (or, more specifically, I've been smearing it on them). Sharing relationship tales, my friend related some issues involving her boyfriend: he had some commitment issues, having broken up, then reuniting over the past year. <br />
<br />
Looking beyond all that, she mentioned that he had a child from a previous relationship. With great reverence, I suggested<i>, "You know, the state of relationship with his daughter is going to play an important role in how <u>your</u> relationship will progress - perhaps you should talk to him about that?". </i><br />
<br />
She did. And it completely blew up. She wants kids. Because of the dysfunctionality of his relationship with his daughter and her mother, he does not. Game over.<br />
<br />
Woah. Oops. Sorry!<br />
<br />
I didn't mean to blow her relationship to hell, but I did. But as I see it, I merely pointed out to them, <i>"Hey...did you guys notice the sticks of dynamite sitting next to the smoldering fire?" </i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***** </div>
Those two experiences (mixed with guilt about my part in her relationship's demise) inspired me to write something. On her behalf, and on behalf of all women looking for a good partner: The concept of <i>"Emotional Wealth"</i> . Demonstrated so well by those men assembled last weekend in Auburn, <i>what are the things that really matter</i> when pursuing a long-term relationship? <br />
<br />
<b>Why is Emotional Wealth important? </b><br />
<ul>
<li>Couples in a long-term relationships are a <i>Team</i>. The key to a successful, healthy, sustainable, long-term relationship lies in each person being a "Great
Teammate", bringing loyalty, dependability, nurturing, toughness and resolve,
problem-solving, fidelity, and
commitment to the success of <i>The Team</i>.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><i>Emotional Wealth</i> represents the <i>resources </i>that a person brings to the <i>Team</i>: resources that can be used in difficult times, during a crisis, or simply enduring the struggles of daily life. The more resources a
person brings, the higher the likelihood that the <i>Team </i>will thrive. Conversely, a teammate with a dearth of Emotional Wealth has less at their disposal to work through challenges that threaten the security of the <i>Team</i>.</li>
</ul>
<br />
These
concepts are much more important that compatability, mutual
interests, or personalitiy traits. Anyone who's ever been on a team knows that, implicitly: <i>uncommonly powerful love</i> can form between people, despite vastly different backgrounds and personalities, based on their mutual, unwavering commitment to <i>the Team</i>. <br />
<br />
When I met my friend's boyfriend, I could sense, immediately, that he had a <i>good soul</i>: he was a very nice man, and we had an enjoyable time together. But I also picked up some clues about the status of his emotional wealth - or, in his case, some liabilities on his balance sheet. Liabilities that, ultimately, became significant issues resulting in the termination of their relationship.<br />
<br />
So, how do you measure and determine <i>emotional wealth</i> in a person - a perspective friend or love interest? <br />
<br />
Just as people don't wear their checking, savings and IRA account balances on their shirt sleeves, neither do men with their emotional wealth. It can be difficult to perceive. Indeed, even men, themselves, don't realize just how wealthy they are.<br />
<br />
<b>When evaluating a new member of your team, you might consider the following as indicators of <i>emotional wealth</i>:</b><br />
<br />
<b>Q: Does he smile and laugh? <i>A lot?</i></b><br />
<b>Why: Capacity for Joy, Love, and Survival. </b> The ability to smile and laugh, <i>a lot</i>, is a measure of Joy: one's ability to seek out and appreciate the good things in life. It is the recognition of beauty and gifts. And, according to researchers, it is a survival trait. In his book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Deep-Survival-Who-Lives-Dies/dp/0393326152" target="_blank"><b>Deep Survival</b></a></i>, Laurence Gonzales notes that survivors consistently demonstrate <i>joy </i>and the ability to <i>find beauty</i> even in the darkest circumstances. As such, the ability to<i> smile, laugh, and be silly</i> represents a deep well of coping ability and survival strength for when times get tough - as they invariably do in important relationships. The capacity for Joy is also a correlate for ability to Love. Love is not simply about happiness in good times; it's finding and appreciating the gifts of Life at all times, most notably the Dark Times.<br />
<br />
<b>Example</b>: When I first witnessed <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andy_Jones-Wilkins" target="_blank"><b>AJW</b></a> racing, he appeared to me as an <i>insane person</i>: constantly smiling, laughing and having a grand-old-time in one of the most grueling physical feats that man voluntarily endeavors. Craig Thornley laughs like a teenage girls...most of the day. Their capacity for survival, triumph, and overcoming obstacles - due in large part to their <i>limitless joy</i> - is well documented.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DlxQAarD0XE/UM5PDmX_raI/AAAAAAAAEIE/1ordC9etPZs/s1600/AJWLBMB-John+Mackey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DlxQAarD0XE/UM5PDmX_raI/AAAAAAAAEIE/1ordC9etPZs/s640/AJWLBMB-John+Mackey.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy Jones-Wilkins, LB, and "Monkey Boy" Scott Wolfe. No shortage of joy amongst these guys. Photo: John Mackey.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Q: Does he finish what he starts?</b><br />
<b>Why: Commitment, Perseverence.</b> Finishing what you start is a rare thing in this world. Attention spans are short, commitments many, distractions endless. The ability to finish something, no matter how seemingly easy, or unexpectedly tough, is a true measure of commitment and perseverence. It is the inner Warrior of the man that finishes what he starts, and sticks with commitments even when obstacles seem insurmountable. This is an extraordinarily important factor in relationships. In their book,<i><b> </b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Warrior-Within-Accessing-Knight/dp/0688095925" target="_blank"><b>The Warrior Within</b></a></i>, Doug Gillette and Robert Moore point out that <i>"Perseverance and fidelity are products of the Warrior's determination. Though the Lover initiates a relationship, it is the Warrior who maintains it - without the Warrior, the Lover is merely promiscuous."</i><br />
<br />
<b>Example</b>: Though I can count on a single hand the number of hours we've spent together, I consider <a href="http://teamfasteddy-fasted.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Scott "FastEd" Jaime</b></a> as a friend and role model. Scott has a decorated ultra resume, including a half dozen Hardrock finishes (and at least two podiums). In 2011, he ran two of the most competitive 100s in the world: Western States and UTMB. In both, he ran early amongst the top runners, only to run into trouble. But despite struggling, as many of his peers dropped, Scott did not. He stuck it out. From his WS report: <i>"At this point it was all about getting done to see my family. And I knew my family, including my boys, would be there
waiting. That was enough to give me the strength to get to Placer High
School." </i> Giving up, with his family there to support him, was not an option. Indeed, a quality of immense value in a man. <b> </b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XMXErqm-yos/UM5PVsbVYpI/AAAAAAAAEIM/YiVvomdw91I/s1600/FastEdHR+-+unknown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XMXErqm-yos/UM5PVsbVYpI/AAAAAAAAEIM/YiVvomdw91I/s640/FastEdHR+-+unknown.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only a little worse for wear. "Team Fast-Eddy" at the finish of the 2012 Hardrock 100.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Q: How does he treat strangers, store clerks, wait staff, and other service industry people?</b><br />
<b>Why: Empathy, Gratitude, and Patience; Humanity</b>.
This might seem random, but it is an important indicator of a measure
of a man. During the dating and courtship process, it's a no-brainer
that a man will treat <i>you </i>well. If he's smart, he'll also treat your<i> friends and family</i> well. But <i>courtship </i>is about<i> earning something</i> - the lengthy job interview process. But what, then, happens once they're <i>hired </i>and
on-the-job? How a man treats his fellow man of all types speaks volumes. His interactions with "the unimportant" -- waitresses,
convenience store clerks, gas station attendants - can tell you a lot
about how he will act with you, his family and "his kingdom". His
interactions with people outside his realm reveal two important
concepts. One, his capacity for <i>empathy,</i> <i>gratitude and patience</i>.
Even if that person - be it a snooty waiter or gruff highway patrolman -
is impolite or rude - does he have the empathy to relate to their
experience, and what they might be going through at that moment? This
is enormously important, as this is a measure of his ability to provide <i><u>you</u> </i>that same degree of empathy, gratitude, and patience in the many moments where you<i> aren't at your best</i>
- anxious, tired, grumpy, angry, stressed. Additionally, his
interactions with "the unimportant" reveal another important quality -
his ability to recognize the value and gifts of the random individual,
of <i>Humanity</i>. Just because they work behind a counter, or wearing
an apron, does not mean they're not extraordinary people. Respect and
empathy for<i> all people</i> demonstrates the ability to find value - and <i>Love </i>- in all people and all <i>humanity</i>.<br />
<br />
<b>Example:</b> A terrific example of a friendly, loving human in the Ultra Community is my friend, <a href="http://maukarunning.com/" target="_blank"><b>Jorge Maravilla</b></a>. Few could even think of anyone more consistently kind, friendly, energetic and joyful as Jorge. Both on and off the course, in good times and bad, easy times and tough, he is consistently this man. Yet Jorge's had his<i> battles and challenges</i>. Despite those struggles, his positive regard for everyone is inspirational and represents a vast wealth -- part of what makes him so <i>damn tough</i> on the trails!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yb8UfYBVuTQ/UM5HUW8xaqI/AAAAAAAAEHk/YzdbAtwqeyE/s1600/JorgeWSFinish-Tachiyama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yb8UfYBVuTQ/UM5HUW8xaqI/AAAAAAAAEHk/YzdbAtwqeyE/s640/JorgeWSFinish-Tachiyama.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jorge Maravilla, <i>finishing </i>the 2012 Western States 100. I could barely stand up straight; he's karate-kicking. Awesome. Photo: Glenn Tachiyama.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Q: How is his relationship with his mother?</b><br />
<b>Why: Indicator of respect for women; Capacity for sensitivity and nurturing.</b> As boys, our mothers are the first important women in our lives. Their energy comforts, nurtures, and grows. As we venture toward manhood, we must ultimately become independent from her and that powerful female energy - referred to by Moore/Gillette as <i>Anima</i>. However, it is vital that we maintain contact with it, as it is an important resource that teaches us nurturing and sensitivity. In short, men's relationships with their mother is like the Earth to the Sun: too close and we <i>incinerate</i>; too distant and we <i>freeze</i>. Men who are too distant from their mothers often lose their capacity for nurturing and sensitivity; men who are too close often have difficulty being loyal, or are overly subservient to their adult female relationships; or conversely, they can be overtly <i>disrespectful </i>to women, on account of their resentment from their inability to break free from their mother. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(Deep stuff! Told you I've been reading!)</i></span><b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>Examples</b>: I don't know a whole lot about my ultra friend's relationships with their mothers, but I do know Craig's mom, Carol. Great woman with incredible energy and positivity. Yet, when discussing his move to Placer County, within minutes of his mother, in 2013, LB said, <i>"We've already had a discussion on how often we will see each other".</i> ;-)<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>Q: How is his relationship with his father?</b><br />
<b>Why:Predictor of a man's relationship with <i>his </i>family; Support and mentorship. </b> A man's relationship with his father is incredibly important. A father is the role model of what Moore & Gillette, in their formative text, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/King-Warrior-Magician-Lover-Rediscovering/dp/0062506064" target="_blank"><i><b>King, Warrior, Magician, Lover</b></i></a>, refer to as "King" energy - stability, peace, fertility, and affirmation. A man's relationship with his father - past and present - can be a strong indicator for those traits in a relationship, between man and woman, and amongst the family and community. A distant or absent, or tyrannical or weak father represents a possible liability. Will he transpose those qualities on your "realm", or will he be able to transcend them? A father also represents a rare, invaluable resource for a man: elder mentorship - a vitally important part of life at any age.<br />
<br />
<b>Examples</b>: I have several examples of strong, supportive, fatherly role models: my high school friend Max's dad, Ron: a respected college professor and black-belt in karate, who taught his sons about strength, endurance, and loyalty; my friend James' dad, Mike: a role model of knowledge, passion, commitment, and love for family and community. <br />
<br />
<b>Q: Does he have <i>true </i>friends? </b><br />
<b>Why: A vital resource for support, feedback, honesty, moral compassing; Strength and material support. </b> This seems like a no-brainer - men having real friends - but it's shocking and saddening how few men have <i>true friendships</i>. This is a keynote point in Jeffrey Marx's book, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Season-Life-Football-Journey-Manhood/dp/0743269748" target="_blank"><b>Season of Life</b></a></i>. It is a story of Joe Ehrmann, a former Baltimore Colts lineman whose lifework is devoted to the mentorship and development of mature masculinity of teenage boys. In his work as football coach and community organizer, Ehrmann points out the crisis of modern men: of having no other close relationships outside their girlfriend or wife, and instead investing in <i>False Masculinity: athletics, sexuality, and money</i>. This presents a dearth of resources for a man, and a threat of dependency on a single person - or material objects - for strength and support. True male friendships are enormously important, a<i>s men and women</i> need sources of support, honest feedback and moral anchoring in their lives. True friendships also provide <i>material support </i>at times of greatest needs: be it a family crisis...or something heavy that needs moving. ;-)<br />
<br />
<b>Examples</b>: The gathering at the Auburn Ale House for Craig was a powerful example of his relationship wealth; but a small collective of people who would come at moment's notice if LB needed it. Indeed, the nuturing, competitive relationship between he and AJW has been a great example for many younger fellas like me. I, too, consider myself blessed by incredible friendships, most notably Jacob Rydman (aka "<a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>The BGD</b></a>") in the Ultra community. That guy would <a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/07/m9-2012-western-states-100-race-report.html" target="_blank"><b>run 38 miles in the heat and dust for me</b></a>...<a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/2012/06/2012-western-states-100-pacing-olive.html" target="_blank"><b>coaching and cajoling and serenading</b></a>... And then some. And <i>some more</i>. An amazing man and friend to the end, indeed. Like any great friend, both on and off the race course, he tells me the things I <i>need to hear</i>...even though I might not <i>want </i>to hear them. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-80rrKiTVZH0/UM5RIXh7kDI/AAAAAAAAEIc/_QuZ9auK8DM/s1600/BGD&Sara+-+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-80rrKiTVZH0/UM5RIXh7kDI/AAAAAAAAEIc/_QuZ9auK8DM/s640/BGD&Sara+-+Me.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">True Friends, and a Terrific <i>Team</i>. BGD and Sara, post-Waldo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Q: How are his relationships with exes?</b><br />
<b>Why: His ability to deal with conflict; to establish <u>boundaries</u>.</b> Almost every man has an ex-relationship - a love interest that, for one reason or another, ended. All relationships end; how they end, and what remnants remain, can be a<i> powerful indicator</i> of future relationships. Are his ex-relationships conflicted, or hostile? This could be an indicator of his inability to fairly and respectfully deal with conflict - a measure of man's grasp of his Warrior energy. The Warrior energy - in its mature form, wields his destructive power <i>only with the object to create something better in its place.</i> Often, this means ending a relationship such that both parties are better off in the end. Wielding this energy with fairness, justice and respect is vitally important for relationships, family and community. Conflict, long past the end of the relationship, might indicate a poor control of emotion, and a lack of empathy. On the other hand, does he have [seemingly uncomfortable] closeness with his ex? This may be an indicator of a weakness in the Warrior energy - an<i> inability to establish <u>boundaries</u>.</i> The establishment and protection of boundaries is <i>extremely important </i>in relationships. All people need boundaries - between mine and yours, in and out, right and wrong. <i>Defending boundaries</i> is crucial in defending relationships. Without boundaries, outside forces can jeopardize a relationship, family or community: other people, career demands, vices (e.g. drinking, partying). Without defensible boundaries, every relationship is at risk.<br />
<br />
<b>Q: Does he have a Cause greater than Himself?</b><br />
<b>Why: A true measure self-efficacy and emotional wealth; Moral grounding.</b> Having a Cause greater than oneself is enormously important. Not just because it generous, or kind. Not simply because there are vulnerable people out there that need help. It's more important than even those things.<br />
<br />
Both Moore/Gillette in <i>Warrior Within </i>and Marx/Ehrmann in <i>Season of Life</i> point out the overwhelming importance of A Cause. The former call it <i>"a Transpersonal Other"</i> - an over-arching principle to which a person is dedicated. Moreover, that "other" must be beyond one's own selfish needs; indeed, one other person, your immediate family, or even a personal relationship with God are insufficient qualifiers, as they are ultimately <i>self-serving</i>. A Cause is a belief, ideal, group, or community that requires our efforts, dedication, and commitment.<br />
<br />
Ehrmann, in his work with adolescent boys in his football program and the community ("<a href="http://www.coachforamerica.com/what-we-do/bmom" target="_blank"><b>Building Men For Others</b></a>"), uses the Cause - justice for the weak, helping the poor, housing the homeless, working with other young men's groups - as a way to develop two crucial parts of young men: one, that their <i>abilities are best actualized, and happiness truly obtained, when applied to others</i>; two, to <i>develop these boys' self-efficacy - their strength and abilities as real men - instead of False Masculinity</i>. Moore and Gillette talk about the importance of the Transpersonal Other in guiding the immense power of the Warrior; a sort of moral grounding and target for that power in formative, constructive ways, as a warrior is committed to king and country. <br />
<br />
Having a Transpersonal Other/a Cause is a tremendously important factor in a man's life. Without it, you run into two<i> <u>serious emotional liabilities</u></i>:<br />
<br />
<b>1. Without a Cause, is the man focused on <i>selfish fulfillment</i>: using talents for personal gain?</b> This person may lack moral compassing; he may lack the security and always feel the need for <i>more</i>: wealth, things, power, women. He may be collecting <i>things</i>. Including <i>you</i>. <br />
<br />
<b>2. Without a Cause, does a man, because of his wounds, feel like he<i> lacks the ability to help others?</i> </b> This person may lack the fundamental self-worth to feel like he can contribute to a Cause; or, they're so <i>wounded</i>, that they're focused solely on meeting their basic needs that they cannot devote any resources beyond themselves.<br />
<br />
Both represent <b>significant red flags</b>, a potential <i>emotional bankruptcy</i> resembling a black hole, tossing thing after thing into it, trying to fill it. One of those things could be you. <br />
<br />
<b>Examples:</b> Where do I start? There are so many excellent men out there in the Ultra Community, devoted to Causes:<br />
<br />
<i>Craig Thornley. </i>We joke about how little LB works at his real job; it's because he's too busy with his many causes: Ski Patrol, race directing, stewardship of trails and public lands, and serving the Ultra Community. We joked about his "Boy Toys", but Craig's dedication to helping us younger guys learn the sport - with respect and reverence for the community - is profound.<br />
<br />
<i>Andy Jones-Wilkins. </i> AJW is teased for being a "taker" on the race course, but beyond his commitment to his family is his commitment to his <i>other kids</i>: his high school students that he leads and mentors. His love of The Community, and of the Western States 100 as a celebration of community, is unrivaled. And, like LB, AJW is a tremendous mentor and role model on competitive, spirited running. <br />
<br />
<i>John Medinger.</i> As a long-time race-director, board member of WS, and a literary leader as editor of UltraRunning Magazine, "Mr Tropical" is an excellent example of leadership and stewardship of the ultrarunning community. His commitment to helping the <a href="http://www.sonomafb.org/Ag+Education/Wilson+Winery+Scholarship.htm" target="_blank"><b>Children of the Vineyard Workers</b></a> in the Sonoma area is noteworthy and admirable. <br />
<br />
<i>Jacob Rydman.</i> This guy's so wise beyond his years, it's almost annoying (<i>almost</i>). He's just got it <i>together</i>. He's learned a lot of tough lessons and amassed incredible emotional wealth. BGD's cause is his athletes he coaches at <a href="http://www.jessupathletics.com/sport/0/3.php" target="_blank"><b>William Jessup</b></a>. This inspiring work with young people, I feel, is just the tip of the iceberg for this "kid" - from whom I expect even greater things in the future.<br />
<br />
There are many, many more excellent examples of emotionally wealthy men:<br />
<br />
Rob Cain <br />
Nick Clark <br />
Yassine Diboun<br />
Gary Gellin<br />
Hal Koerner <br />
Matt Keyes<br />
Jason Leman <br />
Bryon Powell<br />
Tim Olson<br />
Ken Sinclair <br />
The EUG crew: Tom Atkins, Dan Olmstead, Lewis Taylor, Cliff Volpe <br />
Scott Wolfe <br />
Kelly Woodke<br />
<br />
...to name just a few. This is what is so special about our sport, and the single greatest motivation to sustain The Community as a supportive, inclusive entity. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
Sitting amongst that group at the Ale House, it hit me: <i>These guys here are f-ing loaded!* </i> I hope some of it rubs off on me. And my hope is that my friends, and all of us out there, can identify emotional wealth and encourage its continual growth.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(*the open bar added another dimension of meaning to that...) </i></span><br />
<br />
<i>Emotional wealth</i> is so important. Financial wealth is fickle; it comes and goes so easily. And it's far less helpful for the real challenges of life. <i>Emotional wealth</i>, once earned, is difficult to destroy. More importantly, it rarely - if ever - runs out.<br />
<br />
In fact, it's the opposite: <i>the more you spend, the more you earn! </i>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-84986151090417815432012-12-06T16:32:00.002-08:002012-12-06T17:33:25.517-08:00Letting Go - 2012 The North Face Endurance ChallengeGoing into the 2012 The North Face Endurance Challenge ("TNF"), I had it all:<br />
<br />
- Rested legs<br />
- An amped mindset<br />
- The best running shoes for the muddy conditions<br />
- The best "Brain iPod" song <br />
-<b> </b>A <a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>best friend</b></a> helping me, before, during and after<br />
- A great setting with great competitors and human beings to run with<br />
<br />
And it all went to shit with a unceremonious splat. Sometimes having it all - or having too much - can weigh you down. And on those Marin climbs, I felt like a thousand pounds...<br />
<br />
<b>Pre-Race</b><br />
I worked a full week Monday through Thursday, then caught an early flight to Sacramento. Jake picked me up at the airport, blasting critical <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cqz713hhz1Y" target="_blank"><b>positive-vibe pop</b></a><b>. </b>We made a quick stop-off for some footwear, as I'd been struggling with choices for the impending hurricane predicted for The Headlands. On a total whim, I picked up a terrific pair of Salomon Speedcross, and they fit and felt great, with a monster tread.<br />
<br />
With that, we were on our way to the Bay. Stopping at Muir Beach, we enjoyed a windy but dry shake out run/hike up the Muir climb. Incredible views met us atop the Coastal Trail. I even demo'd some yoga moves on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific. I was so ready to stomp! <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9w8a3WrHYl0/UMETsazqctI/AAAAAAAAEGg/XB5-hJk0Rbk/s1600/12+-+11" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9w8a3WrHYl0/UMETsazqctI/AAAAAAAAEGg/XB5-hJk0Rbk/s640/12+-+11" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friday night sunset at Muir Beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That pre-race day was some great catch-up time for Jake and me. We had some terrific, stirring, and important conversations - but, perhaps, not the sorts of things you want to mull with a pre-race mindset. <br />
<br />
After a couple <a href="http://www.lagunitas.com/beers/ipa.html" target="_blank"><b>great</b></a> <a href="http://www.lagunitas.com/beers/hopstoopid.html" target="_blank"><b>beers</b></a> (OK, a <a href="http://www.greenflashbrew.com/images/promotional_timeline/promotional-WEST-IPA.pdf" target="_blank"><b>few</b></a>), we hit the sack early.<br />
<br />
<b>Race-Day</b><br />
It was an easy up-and-at 'em for 3:30AM on Saturday morning. In 2011, I was a total zombie; I resolved to be ready this year. As such, I was blasting my race-day song in our hotel room before Jake had even performed his "<a href="http://ultrarunnerpodcast.com/archives/3502" target="_blank"><b>morning constitutional</b></a>". <br />
<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">"I notice that you got it<br />
You notice that I want it<br />
You know that I can take it<br />
To the next level, baby"</span></i></div>
<br />
The mood was set. Some breakfast, a quick coffee and salutations to <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/about-irunfar/bryon-powell" target="_blank"><b>The Boss Man</b></a>, as we rode for Ft Barry.<br />
<br />
The weather was pretty solid, given the dire forecasts: windy and misty, but not cold. Nonetheless, I Olive-Oiled Up, liberally, on the arms and legs - if nothing else as rain and wind repellant. I jogged a bit, did drills, then toed the line with a few score of the best runners in the World. Cool. Just as cool, a bunch of great guys. I embraced mi amigo Jorge ("M8") amidst the final words from Karno, and, like that, we were off.<br />
<br />
<b>Race Start</b><br />
We got out pretty comfortably up the hill out of Ft Barry and onto the pavement. I somehow wound up front with a couple fellas - one of them was Cam Clayton, because he was tall as hell. You know you're in a pretty big race when, not only are the fellas next to you not speaking English...but that you can't even figure out what language they're speaking. Along we ran, down the mild decline toward the first dirty rabbit ear, up and around the first climb.<br />
<br />
The weather played havoc with comfort and temperature control. Running uphill, with the wind, guys were shedding layers like pole dancers - I doffed my hat and gloves, but was glad to keep the jacket, because by the time we'd ascended and bombed down the hill, into the wind, things equalized.<br />
<br />
I always start slow. Always. It always, always hurts early, no matter what. And almost always, given enough time, I "callous over", quit caring, and can crank it. I accepted that reality with only mild bitterness as we began that first climb, slipping from the lead back, gradually getting absorbed by the chase pack, then being pooped out the back of that, as well. I felt sluggish, and I felt like I was working really hard. But I didn't care.<br />
<br />
Soon, I settled in a bit with some of my favorite guys: Gary Gellin, then Dave Mackey rolled up beside me, and soon we were joined by The Hal Daddy. I struggled to keep contact with them, however, until we summited the rabbit ear. The descent felt excellent: I rolled effortlessly and caught the trio at the bottom and we ran together toward Tennessee Valley.<br />
<br />
The stride felt terrific on the downs and flats; I focused on the compact, efficient stride and a strong push off the right leg. After the usual physical and mental malaise, I was coming around at just the right time. I looked forward to grinding it out with the help of some Trail Guys, on our way to Muir Beach.<br />
<br />
<i>Thud.</i><br />
<br />
Starting the climb to Tennessee, I immediately fell off pace. My legs felt like a thousand pounds. Each. I worked the stride: pelvis, hips, gluts, anything. I was doing it, but nothing was coming out; in fact, it was as if my legs were balooning up with lactic acid.<br />
<br />
I shuffled up that climb through relentless wind and rain. Crazy stuff. I could barely see ten feet in front of me. It would've been a blast if my legs weren't redwood trees. On the flats and downs to Tennessee Valley AS (~8mi, ~63 minutes), I caught no one, and remained about 100m behind the next runner.<br />
<br />
Through the AS, I made my way down the road, westward, to the Pacific. Hard rain and wind. My hat and gloves, tucked into my shorts band, flopped with the weight of flour bags. I struggled to put them back on, nearly dropping my headlamp and bottle. I fumbled for an S!Cap. Finally organized, I got the stride together. I looked up.<br />
<br />
Alone. Black.<br />
<br />
I pushed onward, looking for specs of light, hoping for runners, only finding glowsticks, illumiating the climb up to the Coastal Trail. I pushed and pushed, never walking.<br />
<br />
Trudging along amidst the tempest, I began to feel soreness in my right hand. I looked, and felt - my hand had a death-grip on my bottle. A surge of pain, then relief as I let it go.<br />
<br />
"Let it go."<br />
<br />
It was time.<br />
<br />
For the past month, maybe a few months, I'd been holding a great deal of stress, from all directions: a back strain three weeks out sent me reeling, and was wreaking psychological havoc even o Friday morning; (having to lie down and stretch between flights is not a good sign); personal, relationship stresses -has whirled through me in torrents, akin to the morning's storm.<br />
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For the past month, I've felt like the apprentice, frantically organizing the messes of my mind. And though I felt like I did so with greater aplomb than Mickey, I didn't recognize the physical toll. But I did on those hills. The reason I felt so "on" that morning was, I've been "on", non-stop, for the past month. Like leaving the headlights on overnight, it had drained the life from my legs. <br />
<br />
I had to let go of the painful grip: of my bottle, my ambitions, my pain, my heart. <i>Let it GO.</i><br />
<br />
So I did. I slowed to a sustainable jog along the rolling Coastal Trail. Peace returned. I took in the scene around me:<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">"You call this a storm??" </span></i></div>
<br />
Dark. Rain. Wind. Fog. Cliffs. Ocean. Alone.<br />
<br />
It was <i>exhilarating</i>. Letting go of the race, the toil, the expectations, the burden, I just ran. Alone. Not another headlamp in sight. Perched precariously on the very edge of the Western Hemisphere, the pure power of nature around me. Indeed, it was one of the <i>coolest, most joyful moments in my running career</i>.<br />
<br />
I picked my way along the trail, doing occasional route-finding, as the fog and rain was so thick I could scarcely follow the trail. I found two downed trail markers - one of which prevented a headlong descent into the Pacific - and restored them. I made my way, patiently but honestly, to Muir Beach.<br />
<br />
There I met Jake. <i> "I've got nothing, but I'm gonna keep going". </i> Encouraging and supportive as always, he stocked my gels, helped me adjust my shoes, and shooed me out of the aid station.<br />
<br />
I got my stride together on the flat loop around Muir Beach, rolling back to the climb. The stride felt smooth, but I wasn't going anywhere. I picked my way slowly up the hill; never walking, but with little power.<br />
<br />
It was over. And I was OK with that. I picked my way along, encouraging folks as they bombed down the hill to the AS. I very slowly passed a couple guys who'd blasted past me in the AS. Then, once again, I was alone.<br />
<br />
Letting go is hard. To let go - to surrender without giving up - is both an exhale and inhale, a release, but a rushing in. It was emotional, but the emotions were buffered by the pain of the unrelenting climbs. Moreover, whenever I did begin to get emotional, I'd start thinking of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLuWHr6-0YQ" target="_blank"><b>this song</b></a>, then laugh, and totally ruin the experience. ;-)<br />
<br />
Still moving OK, I focused on efficiency, picking my way down the new trail segment into Tennessee Valley. I was done, I knew it, but I was wholly committed to a full lap back to Ft. Barry. At the AS, I got some appreciated encouragement from BP, who asked, "Did you use enough Olive Oil?" <br />
<br />
Yes, Bryon, I had on plenty, thanks.<br />
<br />
Leaving the AS for the final climb, I came across a runner walking down the hill at me. Wearing a <a href="http://tcrunningco.com/" target="_blank"><b>TC Running Company</b></a> jersey, I knew it had to be <a href="http://struggletowardtheheights.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Chris Lundstrom</b></a>. I've known of and admired Chris, a fellow MN native, beastly road guy (2:19 at the '08 Trials, at least) and budding trail stud. I introduced myself, we chatted a bit, and I tried to get him to come my way, but his calf was wrecked. Once again, I shuffled on, alone.<br />
<br />
Midway up the climb, I spied another struggling runner - doing the walk-jog shuffle. I approached and saluted to find Jesse Haynes! I'd also known <i>of</i> Jesse for quite a while, but never had a chance to talk. We shared battle stories and gathered up our strides over the last climb up and over toward Ft. Barry. We talked about racing, 2013 and Western States (<i>"You only take what your body will give...unless it's the last Saturday in June...or it's the Saturday that gets you to the last Saturday in June!"</i>). We also found out that we went to high school in Wisconsin (little Phillips, WI, for Jesse). <br />
<br />
We enjoyed a relaxed but honest descent to the starting out and back. There we saw bits of the competition - Hal, Ricky, and some other fellas on their way back out for a second helping of rain, wind and mud. I felt a surge of competitiveness, then took pause: <i>"It's easy to be competitive after a three-mile downhill...".</i><br />
<br />
We jogged into the start-finish. I took a knee. <br />
<br />
It's hard to quit a race. I hope it stays that way.<br />
<br />
<b>Post-Race</b><br />
The understanding was that BGD would be at Ft Barry when I arrived, but - perhaps as a punitive act from above - he was not. It was cool and misty, and soon I was shivering. Jesse came to my rescue by securing us a ride to Tennessee Valley. Whether Jake was there or not didn't matter; the warm car was a godsend. From there, we got a ride straight back to Ft. Barry with <a href="http://keirahenninger.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Kiera</b></a> and Jesse, where we ran into Jake.<br />
<br />
I was a little worried to see him; I felt like I let him down. But he understood. He always does. <br />
<br />
As swaddled myself in warm layers, he filled me in on the chaos of the day - guys getting lost, doing "penalty laps", guys leading who weren't, guys who thought they were in 16th place but were actually leading... Ugh. I wanted to stick around and support and socialize, but I couldn't stomach the chaos or drama. So we left.<br />
<br />
23 mile run. Shower. In 'N Out. Lagunitas. All before 1PM. Still a great day.<br />
<br />
Thanks to everyone for their support: to Jake before, during and post-race, to the gentlemen runners out there who encouraged me throughout, for Jesse for helping me at the end and after the race, for awesome <a href="http://www.drymaxsports.com/" target="_blank"><b>Drymax socks</b></a> that once again took great care of my feet, and to everyone north and east supporting from afar.<br />
<br />
Overall, this year's North Face race was important: it was my first race against international-caliber competition since Western States. It was a good wake-up call to the level of fitness, toughness, and overall preparation required to have a 2013 equal to what I did this year. Moreover, my ambitions for '13, namely Western States are not simply to tread water, but to improve...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ee5dx-b2tE/UMETsWMx6BI/AAAAAAAAEGQ/DvW12rEwy-s/s1600/12+-+9" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ee5dx-b2tE/UMETsWMx6BI/AAAAAAAAEGQ/DvW12rEwy-s/s640/12+-+9" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake's "boobful" of Brown Sugga, and my cask-style Little Sumthin' - Lagunitas Brewery, Petaluma, CA</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CUhvJwNVj20/UMETsf5wEjI/AAAAAAAAEGY/s-ktPYm0640/s1600/12+-+10" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CUhvJwNVj20/UMETsf5wEjI/AAAAAAAAEGY/s-ktPYm0640/s640/12+-+10" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...but not before a "little snack" at In N Out Burger.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VQ98sErfCBg/UMETsb5s4KI/AAAAAAAAEGI/V_u5OJqLXCU/s1600/12+-+8" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VQ98sErfCBg/UMETsb5s4KI/AAAAAAAAEGI/V_u5OJqLXCU/s640/12+-+8" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What else do you do, 3-hours post-race? Plan your Western States Training Camp '13 schedule, of course! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CDq_Im2e2C8/UMETsZz0DdI/AAAAAAAAEGA/yjDvYuK3IDM/s1600/12+-+7" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CDq_Im2e2C8/UMETsZz0DdI/AAAAAAAAEGA/yjDvYuK3IDM/s640/12+-+7" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SUNDAY: It's Sara's turn! At the windy, rainy start of the Cal International Marathon in Sacramento.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HB_lyMGZtaw/UMETsRp3_LI/AAAAAAAAEF4/U15TpG-AB2c/s1600/12+-+6" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="512" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HB_lyMGZtaw/UMETsRp3_LI/AAAAAAAAEF4/U15TpG-AB2c/s640/12+-+6" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing! 3:09:05</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2VxKFQgbvd0/UMETsecFLvI/AAAAAAAAEFo/S9Y2ZZpz6RE/s1600/12+-+4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2VxKFQgbvd0/UMETsecFLvI/AAAAAAAAEFo/S9Y2ZZpz6RE/s640/12+-+4" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tired? For a couple minutes...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-asAiBuGN1U8/UMETsbU6BuI/AAAAAAAAEFw/3kni-DB8mhE/s1600/12+-+5" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-asAiBuGN1U8/UMETsbU6BuI/AAAAAAAAEFw/3kni-DB8mhE/s640/12+-+5" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ultra veteran Erik Skaden, who led the 3:05 pace-group. He'd better watch out for Sara in the future!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_MhRxKJch1o/UMETsXxIhII/AAAAAAAAEFg/iXo3sgWzALo/s1600/12+-+3" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_MhRxKJch1o/UMETsXxIhII/AAAAAAAAEFg/iXo3sgWzALo/s640/12+-+3" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-races, on Sunday. A couple of my favorite people.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f1jy0TbPvkk/UMETsXKnYKI/AAAAAAAAEFY/fVF4JScU7BY/s1600/12+-+2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f1jy0TbPvkk/UMETsXKnYKI/AAAAAAAAEFY/fVF4JScU7BY/s640/12+-+2" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday evening, heading to SMF. Now it gets nice...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tLHZXiLlhEw/UMETsXtX0EI/AAAAAAAAEFQ/t5YEt6yFIRw/s1600/12+-+1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tLHZXiLlhEw/UMETsXtX0EI/AAAAAAAAEFQ/t5YEt6yFIRw/s640/12+-+1" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wanna make friends with airport employees? Bring In N Out through security...</td></tr>
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<br />-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-69978612238036109982012-11-02T18:31:00.000-07:002012-11-02T18:31:38.532-07:00Autumn Leaves 50K - 2012<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">You never forget your first: Autumn Leaves was the site of my first-ever ultra race, and the 2012 event was the two-year anniversary of that momentous (and admittedly life-changing) day. I return to Autumn Leaves each year for that reason, and others:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">- It's a local race (only of only two that I've run), organize by great and friendly folks: Bret and Gale Henry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">- It's become my "defacto marathon", on account of it's flat[er], fast[ish] nature</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">- It's a good speed work tune-up for the longer races, like TNF.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">- The half-out and back, loop course, provides a unique opportunity to interact with all your fellow racers from front to back - great for mutual encouragement and fun. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I try to run hard, but I try <i>not </i>to be rested. A year ago, I ran the famed Squaw to Michigan Bluff with BGD the week before. This week, I went a bit further: not only did I put in a long day in the mountains (this time with <b><a href="http://www.irunmountains.blogspot.com/2012/10/sprague-mtn-stones-peak-and-heavy-dose.html" target="_blank">Nick Clark in Rocky Mountain NP</a></b>, on Monday) and my usual tempo work and light workouts this week, I also managed to get myself sick for the first time in two years! So handicaps (and excuses) abounded going into this year's event.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I really wanted the course record. Friend/Eugenian Matt Lonergan ran a solid 3:17:59 on the course. Though not fresh, I thought it'd be easy work: <6:20 pace, how tough could it be?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Start/Finish Turnaround, at pre-dawn (and pre-rain) hour.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> The forecast conditions were rain. Lots. But not until later in the day. I hoped I could show up, buzz my five laps, then get off course and around the campfire with coffee in hand. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It wouldn't be the case. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The skies stayed dry until I pulled into Champoeg State Park. Light drizzle greeted me. I jogged a bit, then retreated to the cold bathroom to apply a liberal layer of extra virgin to shield against the precipitation. The mist consolidated to rain just before the start, so I also wore a jacket. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A good hundred or so folks - in both the 50K and big-boy 50M - toed the line in the dark and rain, and off we were.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>Lap One</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Starting a hard road[ish] effort in the dark is tough; difficult to gauge pace. I pushed it out the gate along the first "chunk" - the flat path from the start to the midway aid. I was a bit disappointed to see there was no mile (or other) marker. So I guaged a random tree and saw I hit it in 6:30 and figured that was over a mile. Through "chunk two" - the river flats - and into the third - "the wooded rollers". I weaved through the forest and up the 100m hill to the turn around, hitting it in about 18:20. I had no idea what mile marking that was. Probably less than 5K, but no clue. From there it's a back track until midway aid, where we then split off on the last section: the single track.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It rained hard that first lap - enough to soak everything and even numb the thighs, despite the lube insulation. Moreover, the rain made quick work of the already uneven, winding trail section, rendering it muddy and slick from the first lap. But I picked my way through, back onto the pavement and up the incline to the start/finish for a respectable 37:57 lap.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>Lap Two</b></i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Without stopping for aid, I rolled through, breaking stride only to grab a home-made 10-oz hand-held, made from thin disposable bottles + packing tape for a hand loop. They worked great. Affixed to each was a single leg. I carried an additional 4 in my shorts. The routine was: a gel and water to wash at the start, and one at the turnaround.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At the turnaround of both midway and the start-finish, I noticed another guy hot on my tail - less than 20 seconds back! "Huh!". I didn't know who he was; he looked to be in his early 20s and he ran in basketball shorts. That was it. I thought he was going out a bit hot for a 50K, but I didn't pay much attention. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Lap two was uneventful. The rain continued, the field strung out, and the skies lightened. I failed to remember to lose my headlamp, so I ran a second lap with it on my gourd. At the junction of the first and last loop sections was J-Bob, <a href="http://jasonleman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Jason Leman</b></a>, dutifully directing the racers in the cold, wet conditions. I gave him virtual fistbumps as I ran past - all ten times - and tried to keep strong and relaxed. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I slowed a bit on that second lap; basketball shorts guy was still behind, the same ~20 second gap separating. The trail section was a bit slower the second time 'round, as I began to pass folks. Still, my second lap was respectable: 38:35.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g72lXWYn0-g/UJHeebQa20I/AAAAAAAAEBw/wNSGep9czkQ/s1600/IMG_0942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="489" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g72lXWYn0-g/UJHeebQa20I/AAAAAAAAEBw/wNSGep9czkQ/s640/IMG_0942.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rolling through the early stages of the Trail Section - you can see that big ol' foot ready to strike too far out front! Photo credit: unknown/Autumn Leaves 50/50.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>Lap Three</b></i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Into the third lap, I felt trouble. I was tired. My stride felt brake-y. Worst off, my stomach was grumbling. Damn. I took an S-cap, which was a pain to get the mini-bag out of my shorts, then open the seal to obtain. I felt a bit better, but it didn't quell my stomach. Just before entering the "wooded rollers", I stepped off trail to a set-back patch of trees with massive, wet maple leaves abounding. I "went" as rapidly as possible, but it kept coming! I wiped frantically then got on trail, feeling a ton better. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The stop - and the pre-stop malaise, and post-stop momentum loss - slowed me. 39:54 for lap three.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>Lap Four</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Going into the tough lap, I reasoned, "OK, even if you do simply 40s, you'll still break the record". Long-gone was the notion of busting it open - now it was a fight to hang on. Both calves were trashed. Braking. Damn. The good news was, my right leg push-off was really good and the "trash" was at least symmetrical. I focused on keeping forward momentum. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />I reached for another S-cap*, once again a bitch to get out, but before I got it into my mouth, I dropped it into a puddle! "#@$%!" I stopped, fished it out, and shuffled along. Big-time slow down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">(*I tried a salt tab at the AS, but they were E-Caps, not S - accept no substitutes!) </span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I felt like crap...and I needed to. Again! "#@$%!" I ran past the nook in the trees, made it through the rollers and the halfway mark, hoping I could hold it, but on the way back, I couldn't resist any longer: another stop. I got shuffling again, trying to hone the stride and get my feet beneath me; my calves began to protest, so I did everything I could to stay efficient avoid cramps. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />The trail segment was slow - uphills were a real drag, but I did my best to keep churning. I hit the penultimate finish. Bret asked me how I was doing: "Rough", I said. I guzzled two cups of Coke and shuffled out, an abysmal 41:17 split - my slowest since the 50M in 2010.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><b>Lap Five</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Just as I entered the AS before the last lap, I saw the clock:<i> "2:37:37...38..." </i> Shockingly, my brain was coherent enough to realize that, if I could run a 40-flat last lap, I could still break the record. Having taken but a few seconds to pound the soda, I took off down the path on the last lap.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I felt brutal. I was tired, my legs roughed up with a crappy stride. The rain continued with a slight wind. I fumbled annoyingly for one last S!cap before falling into the last lap. I churned the legs, but they felt slow and heavy. The gut held up as I hit the half-way point, but it was an absymal 19:5x - a full 90 seconds slow than the first lap's split. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As I turned for the final 5K, I resigned myself to relative defeat, but kept moving, gulping one last distasteful vanilla gel (Note: the new PB GUs are excellent - they taste like Bit-O-Honey!) As I made my way through the rollers, I perked up. The ghost of "The BGD" appeared. </span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Get the feet moving! Lean forward! Tap-tap-tap-tap!"</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I obediently and expediently obliged. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I picked it up, the sluggish turnover beginning to resemble something athletic. There was still a chance. I hit the midway AS but slowed only enough to ditch my last bottle to free the hands. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Brain iPod was abysmal as the weather: I started off with that new Flo Rida song, "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLuWHr6-0YQ" target="_blank"><b>I Cry</b></a>", with that annoying high-pitched hook<b>. </b>I tried to sneak in some Jessie J, mid-race, but it didn't take. Finally, in the last lap, I loaded some <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-dvTjK_07c" target="_blank"><b>Usher</b></a>, which helped. But as I hit the trail section - with 1.4 miles to go - I looked down at my watch and saw 31:xx. "<a href="http://youtu.be/5zCy3EWs9Q0" target="_blank"><b>Let's go!</b></a>"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I busted out the Bushwacker arms through the muddy grass, around the tight corners and up the short, killer uphills. Luckily there were very few fellow racers in this section as I blew through - passing only a pair in the last bit of trail before the parking lot home stretch. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Through the lot and up the hill, I pushed nearly as hard as I ever had at the end of an ultra, but as I climbed the final 100m incline to the finish, I watched the clock tick "3:17:57...58...59...". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Too late. I crossed the line in <b>3:18:06</b>. A solid but unspectacular 40:21 for an equally descriptive overall effort. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpOhtWPRq90/UJRwzulKa4I/AAAAAAAAECE/WMv3aIWeVco/s1600/20121027_103601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpOhtWPRq90/UJRwzulKa4I/AAAAAAAAECE/WMv3aIWeVco/s640/20121027_103601.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who has the sillier nickname? Olive Oil Joe with RD Bret "Fat-Boyee" Henry, post-race.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Post-race: you know it's a little chilly and wet when your first request, seconds after crossing the line, is <u>coffee</u>! I enjoyed two cups and huddled around the fire ring, oozing post-race contentment, just-missed-it chagrin, and watery olive oil. <br />
<br />
Had a <i>great time</i> hanging out, watching people flow through on their laps in varying states of admirable decay. The fire ring was clutch in keeping me warm.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ICbUBtAzArI/UJRxUkGf1QI/AAAAAAAAECM/I35jldyKRTI/s1600/20121027_122032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ICbUBtAzArI/UJRxUkGf1QI/AAAAAAAAECM/I35jldyKRTI/s640/20121027_122032.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic Ultra Running Moment: Runner crosses finish line (or did he still have laps to go)....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rq7jITZpqQs/UJRxaxkaCCI/AAAAAAAAECU/DGZ31QKnzmE/s1600/20121027_122511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rq7jITZpqQs/UJRxaxkaCCI/AAAAAAAAECU/DGZ31QKnzmE/s640/20121027_122511.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and promptly roasts a marshmallow...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I enjoyed a terrific post-race massage from Lowell Welch, LMT, who practices out of Newberg. He worked a lot of kinks out of my calves and thighs - the best post-race work I've ever had! After that, I hustled back to the fire, grabbed some grub, then shoved off just as another wave of hard rain set in. <br />
<br />
Gear: has some fun with some homemade disposable hand-helds: 10oz crappy plastic affixed with packing-tape handles and an extra gel. I wore the adidas adizeros - a solid shoe, but not a great choice for the wet leafy pavement, much less the wet, slick grass and mud. The <a href="http://www.drymaxsports.com/" target="_blank"><b>Drymax Socks</b></a> were clutch as usual - this time I went with the <b><a href="http://www.drymaxsocks.com/hotrunning.php" target="_blank">"Hot Weather Running"</a> </b>variety: an odd choice, seemingly, but a great mid-thickness sock ideal for the distance and terrain...and moisture.<br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<b>The Grades</b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Pacing</span>: B.</b> Not very good. Too fast in the first 10K, an abysmal 4th. But I went for it. The effort was strong. <br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Mechanics</span>: B+.</b> High grades for symmetry - I think my hips were doing their thing with symmetry I haven't seen in maybe over 4 years. Great news. But I was still braking - dealing with the lingering effects of 3-4 years of disregarding the flexion phase of running and - quite simply - landing too far out front. The "blipping" calves in the last 15K were evidence (along with dural tension in the gluts and hammies earlier) that I wasn't landing well enough beneath. BUT...symmetry trumps all. A positive step.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Fueling</span>: A/F.</b> A perfect "A" for race day fuel: the water bottles + two gels/station were perfect. A flat-out "F" for eating crappy frozen pizza the night before. What was I thinking? I'm not 25 and Wisconsinite any more... Never again! Those two deuces cost me the CR.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Mental Toughness</span>: B.</b> Good, not great. I gave up on myself in the penultimate 5K; mild bonus points for the hard running in the last 5K.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Joy</span>: B.</b> Tough to be joyful in the rain and the dark. I didn't do a great job of encouraging others as I'd like (though that's harder to do at 6:00/mile than it is 9:00/mile); I did enjoy the post-race atmosphere, and cheering the other racers.</span><br />
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-24029816983046823372012-10-07T22:11:00.000-07:002012-10-07T22:11:34.183-07:00Learning My Lessons - Solo Fast 2012<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When <strong><a href="http://conductthejuices.com/" target="_blank">LB</a></strong> mentioned he was doing a “solo fast” last October, I
thought he was nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So was <strong><a href="http://danolmstead.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dan-O</a></strong>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While they each sat alone in the woods all weekend – doing nothing, and,
more notably, eating nothing – I instead <strong><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2011/10/three-sisters-circumnavigation.html" target="_blank">ran around the Three Sisters</a></strong>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>sure who was more miserable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
after hearing of their experiences, when It came time for the ’12 version, I
gave it some thought.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The idea behind a solo fast – truly, sitting alone in a
remote area of the wilderness, no work, no communication, no technology, <em>no
food</em>, and – if you’re die-hard – no fire – is equal parts mediation and
strength through deprivation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like
both those things about running, so why not try it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moreover, unlike running, you can’t out-run
your “issues”: if there’s something going on in your life, chances are good you’ll
be mulling it over, given 40+ hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There’s nowhere to hide from yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Long story short: LB, Dan-O and I drove from Eugene to the
Diamond Peak Wilderness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hiked in a
bit, found a trail junction, and we each took a compass vector and started
walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Have a good weekend!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://mw2.google.com/mw-panoramio/photos/medium/40461192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://mw2.google.com/mw-panoramio/photos/medium/40461192.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I hiked alone up the steepening grade, past two rocky
outcroppings til I found one of my suiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I carried with only a tent, sleeping bag, pad, a few layers of clothes,
and water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OK, so I also had a couple
luxury items: toothbrush and paste, lighter and handwarmers, and a pad and
pen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I set up camp and had a nice view of the western ridges and
the setting sun, the false peak of Diamond to my rear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I set up camp, and sat there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And slept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Walked around a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sat
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slept. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Laid there, not sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From 6PM on Friday night, until 9AM Sunday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That’s all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just me,
and my thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here’s what came from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>First the fun-facts:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
-</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The 43.5 hours – from 3PM Friday until 1130AM Sunday – was the
longest ever I’ve ever gone without food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was interesting…I never craved, but I felt depleted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like an ultra.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">-The 38.5 hours that I was alone was, I believe,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the longest time I’ve ever gone without even
seeing another human being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">-I did as close to nothing as possible: no running, no yoga,
no core work, no stretching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
ocassionally wrote in my journal, and when the constant cold finally wore me
down, I caved and built a small fire. I went on two walks, totaling about 300m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">-I drank maybe a liter of water the entire time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With no food, and no exercise, I wasn’t
thirsty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">-I went the entire day of Saturday without a single “deuce”!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Has such a thing ever happened?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>:p<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wanna know what running the last few miles of a 100-mile
trail ultra feels like?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t eat for 42
hours, then run a half hour at altitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Reflections from the Solo<o:p></o:p></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Craig said a couple things about what might happen during a
Solo:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.)<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>If you’re running from something, you won’t be
able to hide from it out there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.)<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Whatever you “crave” when you’re out there is
what you’re looking for in normal life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.)<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Every time he’s done a long solo, something big
has happened in his life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here’s what my experiences were:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong>“Alone and bored? This
is <u>way</u> too comfortable</strong>.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
didn’t take long for me to realize that what I was doing – alone in the woods,
bored – is all too familiar to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I
didn’t like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sucked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I “craved” the most were
relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about a lot of different
relationships – the “big ones”, family, and even the every day “little ones”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Top to bottom, big and small, they all offer
tremendous wealth to our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really
do value them, and I need to put a lot more effort into cultivating those ties –
however weighty or seemingly insignificant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And it can be as easy as picking up a phone, stepping out the door, simply opening my mouth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong>"Patience. Not
everything has to change now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or ever."</strong></i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I spent a lot of time with my back against
“The Sittin’ Rock”, as I coined it, looking westward over the ridge and valleys
of the Willamette Valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bet I could
see fifty miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But right in front of
me was a small confiner tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hardly a
tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simply a bush with two branches:
one that grew straight up; and the other, which grew a few inches upward,
before abruptly veering left…then, down…then back up again and farther
left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unconsciously I stared at that bush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagined having a handsaw and cutting off
that offensive, absurb branch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over and
over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hack-hack-hack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Symmetrical perfection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But when I finally looked closer, I saw that the straight
branch – the perfect one – was half-stripped of bark. Broken. While the
circuitous branch was robust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve always been stubborn. I think I know how everything
should be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also work in profession
where it’s my job to change things to my liking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The right way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But not everything<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-
or everyone – needs to change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone
and thing has its own journey and lessons to learn. Constantly trying to change
things to suit my worldview is exhausting for me and robs that entity the
lesson they need to learn, that will ultimately allow them to grow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ultimate patience, then, is the ability to
sit back as they experience that lesson, for them to live out that journey, and
see how much better off they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Perhaps that two-headed conifer would be dead if it weren’t
for its bigger, stronger, circuitous half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps he grew that way to avoid an otherwise deadly obstacle; a fate
that it’s straighter brother seemingly did not avoid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">"Everything, good or
bad, ends</i>."</strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friday night was OK.
Saturday was OK.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saturday night
SUCKED.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so cold, that I slept
from 7PM to 11AM, Friday to Saturday – it was too cold, sans fire, to want to
get out of the tent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, once out of
the tent, there wasn’t much to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I
took a “cat-nap” from 4-6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched the
sunset before breaking down and building a small fire to lengthen my evening
before the cold again forced me into the tent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was able to “sleep” until 1AM.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From then, it was fits of semi-consciousness – rolling around on my inch
of air separating my hips and shoulders from lava rock, a nose that wouldn’t
stay thawed, and absolutely no fatigue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I did the bulk of my real “thinking” during that time: when
I could no longer escape…anything, even with sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe by sleeping all day, I was running from
those thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either way, I had plenty
of time to mull them over in those sleepless, pre-dawn hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I really feel like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">things</i>
– experiences, or relationships – are presented into our lives for us to learn
lessons. And when we’ve learned those lessons, those things end, and it’s time
to move on to the next experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>People who fail to learn from mistakes aren’t doomed to repeat them –
instead, they repeat the lesson until it’s learned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Perhaps 2.5 days was just long enough for me to learn from
that weekend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it was, I was
quite miserable on Saturday night into Sunday morning, but if it weren’t for
that time period, I’m not sure I would’ve fully grasped this lesson: all
relationships end. Sometimes, but very infrequently, it’s from death. But most
of them are not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They might be amazing,
or God-awful, but they exist for us to learn important lessons, and move
forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I used to believe that when a relationship ended, that I had
failed. I no longer believe that (though I think I’ll continue to struggle with
that belief).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve learned an
extraordinary amount about myself in the past two-plus years, and I’m a much
better person for those lessons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So how
can I be bitter, or guilty, or regretful?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I grieve the loss of that thing – good or bad – and I embrace the new. And
the new after that, and after that.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sunday morning was good: I woke up early, took the sleeping
bag outside and watched those same stars I’d seen appear twelve hours earlier,
fade into the light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I packed up my
stuff and hiked down the hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It’s remarkable to think about all the cool things I’ve
learned from Craig Thornley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
yet another experience that I am thankful to him for introducing to me. But at
least I’ve been able teach him one thing: how amazing a good beer is, be it
after a run or at 1130AM on a Sunday morning!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cheers!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bYrkAohvmXE/UHJej4BojPI/AAAAAAAAEBU/7IgHmhX1u4I/s1600/20121007_114137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bYrkAohvmXE/UHJej4BojPI/AAAAAAAAEBU/7IgHmhX1u4I/s640/20121007_114137.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By virtue of his 50-plus hours of fasting, Lord Balls takes the cerimonial first pull off the mountain air-chilled Oakshire Espresso Stout, breaking the fast.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-47465940982014977882012-09-14T12:10:00.000-07:002012-09-14T12:16:25.422-07:00McKenzie River 50K 2012 - Race Report<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's been nearly three months since Western States, so I figure it was time to race again. Despite being fitter, stronger and more efficient than '11, the post-WS recovery has been slooow: leg-feel and energy were down, and breaking free from the "hundred-mile old man stride" has been a challenge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mentally, it has also been difficult: Western States hurt a lot. And the brain has had a hard time letting go of that pain memory. But the prolonged break, along with flat-landish course like McKenzie set a perfect scene for my return.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The McKenzie River Trail Run is Oregon's oldest continuous trail ultra, and the '12 race was the 25th edition. It's a teriffic race on an incredible 25-mile single track that runs along the icy-cold, crystal clear McKenzie River, which originates from volcano-filtered snow melt of the Central Oregon Cascades*.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">*Also noteworthy, it is the watershed for some pretty incredible Ninkasi and Oakshire beers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">While the trail grade is quite pedestrian - note even rising to "douche-grade" status - it makes up for it in footing and flow: several miles run through young volcanic rock, and the trail serpentines through rocks and trees like it was made for a downhill slalom course. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a fire year in 2011, we were back on the original course: starting at Carmen Reservoir, six miles from the northeast terminus, the course runs (relatively uphill) to the end, before turning 'round and heading clear to the southwest end - a net downhill of 1700'. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Pre-race: I camped out with LB and Hannah at Ice Cap CG, right near the start. Mild temps made for great sleeping, even though I forgot both my sleeping bag and pad at home. The swag blanket really came in handy! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Race-Day</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Got in a little shuffle warm-up with <strong><a href="http://tolmanator.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jeremy Tolman</a></strong>, a local friend and running stud who's podium'd several times at this race. Coming off a serious injury, he's the most fit he's been for a year. Given another year of sustained running, and his ultra potential is enormous. He's a strong guy, for sure, with a serious (<4:00 mile) speed background. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I knew he'd be there to push it up front. We'd also heard of <strong><a href="http://ultrasignup.com/results_participant.aspx?fname=Mario&lname=Mendoza&age=0" target="_blank">Mario Mendoza</a></strong>, another speedy <strong><a href="http://www.salomonrunning.com/us/team/mendoza.html" target="_blank">Salomon</a></strong> guy from the Bend-area, who was signed up to run. His status was unknown 'til we saw him striding out just minutes before the start. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I welcomed the competition and speed-push in this race: after a year of shuffle races, I was eager to truly run hard and [relatively] fast.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Brad Putnam gave us the go and we were off. I pushed out front and set what felt like a sub-six effort along the easy dirt road along Carmen Reservoir. Mario and Jeremy came up on either side of me and thankfully took the lead, in that order, in front of me as we hit the trail.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My overall fitness, after three low-key months, is down. Moreover, it typically takes me several miles to feel strong, so it surprised me little that I felt worked early. We hoofed it upstream, up and over several sets of wooden stairs and rocky inclines as we passed close by the river and a pair of falls. I wasn't climbing well, so both Mario and Jeremy would get 10 meters on me on the short ups that I'd have to recapture on the flats. This was efforted, but I knew a fast race depended on running with these guys at all costs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Stairs and ups ceded to the volcanic rock of the upper McKenzie trail: sharp, uneven and sometimes loose volcanic rocks comprised several segments of the winding trail. Both Mario and Jeremy were moving fast, and it was all I could do to keep my feet moving quickly enough to keep them in sight. Mario gradually pulled away along the shores of Clear Lake, and I struggled to keep within shouting distance of Jeremy. <strong><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPgvNlrBfb0" target="_blank">A well-placed Cher Lloyd number in my head</a></strong> helped me "want them back", but it wasn't quite working. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Finally, after a long, mega-douchey upgrade of 1-2%, we arrived at the first AS (mile 5.7). I grabbed two gels and a Coke, make a bee line for the turnaround cone, then chased after the guys. By the time we got back on the straighaway, Mario was long-gone. I opened up my downhill stride and was able to reel in Jeremy, but not without effort.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The stride felt pretty good all day, but it took serious focus to keep the stride "open" and trunk forward to fully "gobble up" the downs and maintain consistent speed around the little ups, downs, and tree slaloms. Jeremy set an excellent tempo and I had to work to keep it going.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is a prime time to get negative: early in the race, less than 20% in, and already struggling with the effort. But what I've learned about trail ultras is that early feel means nothing -- and that early aerobic or anearobic pain will cede to other things - or in the very least these systems get periodic breaks, allowing for several hours of intermittent suffereing. I also remembered that I always feel better about 15 miles into an ultra than I do early on. So I gutted the discomfort and focused on efficiency and consistent fueling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Leaving Clear Lake behind, we crossed OR-126 for the final time and got back on the meat of the course. Once across the road, the trail became quite technical once again, especially on the north side of the river near Carmen Reservior and the 2nd AS (11.2 miles). Jeremy and I hit it in tandem (1:19:14 overall for 11.2 miles) and were quickly in and out and primed for yet another segment of technical single track.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">More tree slalom, more lava rock, more roots - it is evident why mountain bikers love this trail. It's enjoyable running but damn hard to go fast. I felt as though I was flying, but knew better - we were lucky to be going sub-7s. However, the highly technical elements allowed for my aerobic/anaerobic system to rest. When the track finally mellowed, I got right on Jeremy and feeling pretty good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I could sense he might've been fatiguing so I tried to pump him up by singing some <strong><a href="http://youtu.be/UJtB55MaoD0" target="_blank">Jessie J</a></strong>:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/gi_VGxu4NUc/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gi_VGxu4NUc&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gi_VGxu4NUc&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>"</em><em>...Oooh-oooh-oooh-OOOOH! Dirty dancin' in the moon LIEEEGHT! Take me down like I'm a domino!..."</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dunno if it helped him, but it got <em>me</em> pumped up! :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now in full groove, I felt ready to pass him and do my share of the work. But with every tight turn and up-and-over, I would fall back a stride. So I waited...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We hit Trail Bridge AS (16.7 miles: 40:12/1:59:27) together, but I was quickly in and out and took the lead. I knew I was feeling stronger with more stride momentum, so I took full advantage. However, I hoped Jeremy would tuck in, but he ultimately fell off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I really wanted to get after Mario. We'd heard "two minutes!", "50 seconds", "A minute!" many times over the past 10K, and with my stride primed and energy good, I was ready and eager to reel him in. I pushed aggressively on the ups and gobbled up the downs with a big, "Hungry-Hungry Hippo" stride as I call it - big, high heel recovery with windmill strides. Outside of some nagging left inner knee soreness, I felt strong. I knew he wasn't running faster, but I could only hope he was slowing down...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The technical stuff ceded to runnable single track - flatter, smoother, less slalom-turns. I pushed and pushed and pushed. The aerobic fatigue returned; muscle fatigue also built in my hamstrings and gluts. And some back pain. Oops - I was slipping into "<strong><a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2012/09/give-it-a-brake-form-fundamentals-for-healthy-efficient-running.html" target="_blank">Old Man Stride</a></strong>". I worked hard to relax the trunk forward but extend through the pelvis and hips. Both my back and knees felt better. I pushed...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">More soda and gels at Deer Creek AS (21.8 miles: 36:11/2:35:39), and more pushing. The course flattened and straightened, allowing faster running but harder efforts. I fought "the bind" and worked to keep the stride open as I hit the dirt road a couple miles before the final AS at Buck Bridge. When I finally got there (25.1 miles - 23:20/2:58:59), I got a last bump of soda, and another "two minutes!" update. Frustrated, but determined, I took off for the last 10K.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wanted to get him. I wanted to win! So, channeling my Inner-Jimothy, I said it out loud, "I wanna win!". I even threw in some well-timed growls and grunts as I pushed along the winding trail and ups and downs from Buck to the river's edge. Several rolling ups and downs punctuated this early segment, but I churned and pushed, elbows flying and "GRRR!"s reverberating off the old-growth. I pushed powerfully up and over the rollers, hard around the corners. I was moving. More talking, and grunting and pushing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Eyes ahead on the trail, I was hoping for a glimpse of Salomon red - but only an ocassional black and white of a couple random runners on the trail. I pushed past and down the trail. Two miles from the finish, I got my last update..."two minutes". Sheesh! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I pushed and pushed, focusing on all the mechanics and toughness I could muster. But it wasn't quite enough - for first, anyway. I rolled along the rushing waters of the icy cold McKenzie and up the final little climb to the surprising finish in a hard-earned <strong>2nd place, in 3:37:51</strong>. Mario won in 3:35:58.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I do think I closed on him in the second half, but I could never pinch that two minutes. He ran hard and smart; my hat's off to him. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Post-race: I was tired! My back was sore from old-man flexing, but that subsided quickly after some relaxing and a couple Pepsis...and a couple bumps of Oakshire Espresso Stout (a wonderful post-race beverage). Jeremy was 3rd overall after falling back in the second half. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Other notable finishes included:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">- <strong><a href="http://conductthejuices.com/" target="_blank">LB</a></strong> finishing his umpteenth McKenzie - albiet a bit more leisurely this year!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">- Tommy Atkins running a strong 50K in front of LB</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">- <strong><a href="http://denisebourassa.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Denise "The Sparkplug" Bourassa</a></strong> winning the 50M and finishing 5th overall</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">- Andrew Miller - a 16-year old high schooler from Corvallis, winning the 50-mile outright! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Overall, I was pleased with the day. It was exactly what I needed: legitimately fast, hard running on challenging, technical trail, devoid of huge hills that give one the excuse to shuffle or hike. I got a good dose of what it takes to run hard and compete at a fast pace on the trails. Moreover, it was good feedback on what is working and what's not, mechanically. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And it was good to be able to rumble with a guy of Mario's caliber - 2x podium for the 15K trail championships as a sub-ultra trail stud. My time, while slower than I was hoping for, still <strong><a href="http://mrtr.org/runners/records.php" target="_blank">ranks well, historically</a></strong>. I now have a ton more respect for Braje's 3:33!</span><br />
<br />
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<b>The Grades</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Pacing: </span></b><b>A-.</b> Solid. I had trememdous help from Jeremy early. The only demerit comes from my lack of aerobic strenght right now - I need to be able to run harder, uphill. </div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Mechanics:</span> B+</b>. The good: Excellent forward trunk and arm use, excellent leg mobility and "gobbling" up huge chunks of trail on the flats and downs - absolute musts for fast, competitive trail running.<br />
<br />
Not great: flexing the pelvis -- namely the right (see the pics below). I know what I need to do, and how. It's just a bad habit I have to keep working on it. If I do it, I'll run faster, my feet will feel better, and my back won't hurt.</div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Hydration/Fuel/Electrolyes:</span></b><b> A+. </b> NAILED IT. Did a gel every 20 minutes, and some soda at every AS. I took S'Caps at :60, 2:00, 3:00 and an "insurance cap" at 3:20. I wore my Nathan 1.5L (~50oz) but only drank maybe 35oz of it. <br />
<br />
<strong>Here's a fun-fact: <em>first-ever ultra where I neither went "#2" or "#1"!</em></strong> Never stopped, or went. It was perfectly minimal and awesome. </div>
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<strong><span style="color: purple;">Mental Toughness: </span>A-.</strong> Solid. I hung tough early but had some low points. I pushed hard solo over the second half, but still have a lot to learn to really, really push. Again, a good experience race, both physical and mental.</div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Joy:</span> A-.</b> I had some low points, but otherwise had a blast! I was able to use some "fun" mental strategies to stay positive, including a bit of serenading and some excellent self-"talk", Jimothy-style at the end.<br />
<br />
Significant kudos to Mark and Brad for putting on a great 25th edition, as well as the McKenzie locals, including Jeff Sherman. Way to go in keeping going the oldest - and among the very best - trail ultras in Oregon! Thank you!<br />
<br />
Some excellent photographs, courtesy <strong><a href="http://gallery.longrunpictures.com/" target="_blank">Michael Lebowitz at LongRun Pictures</a></strong>:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IRgew0_RSGc/UFN9pduglJI/AAAAAAAAD_o/G7qvazcq-Sg/s1600/Start2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IRgew0_RSGc/UFN9pduglJI/AAAAAAAAD_o/G7qvazcq-Sg/s640/Start2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Start</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RX5XdTFl1hQ/UFN9rRQVsTI/AAAAAAAAD_w/Q8o2Li_GwNs/s1600/Clear-Lake-L+hip+good.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RX5XdTFl1hQ/UFN9rRQVsTI/AAAAAAAAD_w/Q8o2Li_GwNs/s640/Clear-Lake-L+hip+good.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clear Lake (~Mile 6) - on a mercifully paved volcanic area. Notice the nice L hip "opening"...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-chfNVOX3w/UFN9sekjIqI/AAAAAAAAD_4/J2qIL4IuOxg/s1600/Clear-Lake-R+hip+not+great.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-chfNVOX3w/UFN9sekjIqI/AAAAAAAAD_4/J2qIL4IuOxg/s640/Clear-Lake-R+hip+not+great.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and the same point on the right side - not so "open"...Stuck!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RZGC8opcgPs/UFN9tq-TdoI/AAAAAAAAEAA/gXggWi4MKgo/s1600/Clear-Lake-Forest-Trail-27-XL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RZGC8opcgPs/UFN9tq-TdoI/AAAAAAAAEAA/gXggWi4MKgo/s1600/Clear-Lake-Forest-Trail-27-XL.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the other side of Clear Lake (~mile 8). Jeremy putting the hurt on me. Ouch.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H9PNJOKimWQ/UFN-JfAHl2I/AAAAAAAAEAI/ivI4Qcz_eN4/s1600/Trail-2Koosah-Falls-GE-34-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H9PNJOKimWQ/UFN-JfAHl2I/AAAAAAAAEAI/ivI4Qcz_eN4/s1600/Trail-2Koosah-Falls-GE-34-L.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the technical downriver section near Carmen. Pickin' my way through...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GHJZuLoRMg/UFN-OJWsKLI/AAAAAAAAEAQ/YFFQVZShJNM/s1600/Finish-MARIO+30-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9GHJZuLoRMg/UFN-OJWsKLI/AAAAAAAAEAQ/YFFQVZShJNM/s1600/Finish-MARIO+30-L.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mario at the finish - glad he was hurting, too!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VgtbXpjqWSk/UFN-PAiBwmI/AAAAAAAAEAY/S9D8Pa-5Kew/s1600/Finish-JOE34-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VgtbXpjqWSk/UFN-PAiBwmI/AAAAAAAAEAY/S9D8Pa-5Kew/s1600/Finish-JOE34-L.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Is this the finish?"</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jFg5O9vZlPs/UFN-QUVROEI/AAAAAAAAEAg/MFnokWmnhus/s1600/Finish-TOMMY+155-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jFg5O9vZlPs/UFN-QUVROEI/AAAAAAAAEAg/MFnokWmnhus/s1600/Finish-TOMMY+155-L.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">T-Bag finishing strong!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yOdPwqt08xo/UFN-RkaGpPI/AAAAAAAAEAo/s6V60QCxnxw/s1600/Finish-YoungGuy177-L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="427" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yOdPwqt08xo/UFN-RkaGpPI/AAAAAAAAEAo/s6V60QCxnxw/s640/Finish-YoungGuy177-L.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The teenage Andrew Miller, age 16, winning the 50-mile! </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6m1VpND34w0/UFN-TAIsFUI/AAAAAAAAEAw/NWr12bBibPA/s1600/Denise-trail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6m1VpND34w0/UFN-TAIsFUI/AAAAAAAAEAw/NWr12bBibPA/s1600/Denise-trail.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Denise, carving up the trail.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2YzWJFyCdnE/UFN-TxsEACI/AAAAAAAAEA4/61x7zV_Oi0Y/s1600/LB+Clear+Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2YzWJFyCdnE/UFN-TxsEACI/AAAAAAAAEA4/61x7zV_Oi0Y/s1600/LB+Clear+Lake.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LB <em>looking good</em> on the shores of Clear Lake. And we know that's most important...</td></tr>
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-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-70867078481301115742012-08-20T22:22:00.002-07:002012-08-21T07:36:31.197-07:00"It's Always a Good Time!" - Waldo 100K Pacer Report<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>[Revised 8/21/12 -0745 - see italicized] </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Over the course of our short friendship, Jake and I have been there for each other in some pretty important and memorable experiences:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><b><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2011/04/american-river-50m-race-report.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Along the shores of Folsom Lake</span></a></b></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hitching a ride to Michigan Bluff a month from my first Western States</span></li>
<li><b><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2011/10/squaw-to-michigan-buff-hard-way.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Suffering together</span></a></b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> from Tahoe to Michigan Bluff</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Pushing each other at <b><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2011/12/north-face-endurance-challenge-san.html" target="_blank">North Face</a></b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A couple hundred miles of spring training, then <b><a href="http://joeuhan.blogspot.com/2012/07/m9-2012-western-states-100-race-report.html" target="_blank">38 big ones at Western States, '12</a></b>.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Me bestowing a new and amazing nickname to Jake - "BGD"!</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So when it came time for Waldo, it was clear that the priority was getting Jake a spot in the Big Juan. As AJW put it last spring, Jake's been engaging in a "two-year devotional" to the greatest trail hundred in the world. It was time to get a spot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As for me: I've wanted to run Waldo since I'd heard about it. But post-WS, my body - or perhaps more accurately, my mind - has rejected it. I rested for several weeks, post-WS, then put in a solid weekend of training with Jake and Connor at the end of July, but neither body nor mind responded in kind. I thought,<i> "Maybe it's as honorable to not start a race you shouldn't run, as it is to finish a race you can run."</i> And when it occurred to me that I could be of greater help to Jake as pacer, that cemented the decision. I'd do my best to return his grand favor at WS with what we both hoped would be his own berth into the '13 offering.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8xLiAo8Sd50/UDMW3S6yHmI/AAAAAAAAD-g/nV87qvarGwQ/s1600/IntroWaldoLeap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8xLiAo8Sd50/UDMW3S6yHmI/AAAAAAAAD-g/nV87qvarGwQ/s640/IntroWaldoLeap.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I awoke on Saturday morning with just enough time to escort Jake to the ski lodge and watch the start...then went back to sleep. A couple more luxurious hours of z's, then Sara and I rolled out of our tents, around the time that Jake and the fellas were descending Fuji.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We rolled up to Charleton Lake (mile 30) shortly after 9AM. No one at the aid station had any firm data. One person arrived and said,<i> "Tim Olson and Jesse Haynes were up front...".</i> No mention of Jake, though few probably knew who he was in the Beaver State. I thought for a bit, then turned to Sara and said,<i> "You know, Jesse and Jake look very similar - it could be him!" </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We didn't have to wait long to find out. Within minutes, shortly before 9:20AM, Jake flew into the AS, solo. Leading! Awesome. I doffed my jacket, donned the jet pack, and I sprinted to catch up to Jake, who'd bolted from the AS.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a minute or two of catching up, and catching wind, Jake filled me in on the mornings's events: No Hal, leading hard up the ski hill, getting reeled in by <b><a href="http://sharmanian.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">EEN</a></b> (<b><a href="http://www.seinfeldscripts.com/TheWigMaster.htm" target="_blank"> "Ian?" "No, EEN!"</a></b> ), the being first to summit Fuji. No one knew for sure, but he'd heard he was several minutes up on Tim, and Ian had fallen back. No word on Yassine or the real Jesse Haynes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We made quick work of the gently rolling but mostly downhill 5+mi section to 4290 AS. Though he didn't need them, I peppered Jake with form cues - "staying forward" in his trunk, quick turnover, using the elbows, ad nauseum. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Near as I can tell, a pacer has two primary tasks: timely and course-specific dispensation of:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">1.) mechanical cueing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">2.) 1980s-to-present Pop Songs</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Besides the form cues, I asked Jake about the "Brain iPod". He said he'd started with <b><a href="http://youtu.be/YEXEAc7Mlzc" target="_blank">one brutal song</a></b>, then a pretty good one we were singing the night before - a <b><a href="http://youtu.be/H7HmzwI67ec" target="_blank">nifty duet with Owl City and Carley Rae</a></b>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I offered up a new one, a whistle-while-you-work tune appropo of the benign terrain we covered to 4290, then back south toward The Twins. The latter section represented the first real work of the second half - a lot of grinding up mild, but relentless uphills: no sooner would you finish a minute-long climb, then you'd hit another. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We rolled along, but for the first time all day, I felt our pace weaken. Not that I could do a whole lot about it - I was hurting! For reasons unknown, I had some significant gut rot, so I pulled off trail for the first of three stops in the second half, then quickly caught back up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Past Charleton Trail, we began the real climbing to the shoulder of The Twins. Jake did terrific work of keeping his feet moving - I feigned great energy and encouragment, though I continued to struggle. We moved, but not too quickly. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Like us all (OK, maybe not Jimothy right now), Jake's got his weak spots. One of them was eating and drinking while running uphill! On the first ocassion up to Twins, I advised against it - given that we were running at altitude, and losing but a single breath on a tough uphill is brutally tough to regain. But he kept doing it! <b><a href="http://youtu.be/81Nl7VYFEaI" target="_blank">"C'MON!"</a></b> </span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As we trudged along, I
reckoned it was time for us both to have a bit of fun, to get a bit of
pick-me-up: between gulps of breath, I did <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8X-tn_8N-Ow" target="_blank"><b>my best La Bouche impression</b></a> to keep the beat moving uphill... He liked it. Momentum was gained. We rolled on. </span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Just at the summit of the shoulder of the Twins, Jake said, "I'm bonking". He'd been fueling (uphill) liberally, so I recommended a salt tab and implored him to make the most of the prolonged downhill to the Twins AS. There, I pushed soda, grabbed some gels, and we continued downhill on the detour that took us to Waldo Lake Rd.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For the first time all day, I led the downhill, running ahead, hoping to pull him along. He wasn't descending too great (I later learned that his quads were pre-cramping), but before long the trail ceded to the mercifully gentle downhill road section to the Bobby Trail.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A kilo later, we were back on the trail. There, Keira Henniger told us that we had ten minutes on Jimothy. However, that must've been old data, as she was last at Charlton. I reckoned we might've gained 2-3 minutes to 4290, then lost at least 5-6 minutes of that on our Twins up and down, so we pushed it as best as we could down the Gold Lake Trail, in hopes of having some comfort before the last big climb up Maiden Peak. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After a day filled with clouds and rain, the skies opened up and sun streaked through the Doug Firs as we descended the gentle downgrade to Gold. Another deuce stop for the pacer, and we were in at Gold.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And there it was: the Long, Lonely Climb of Loneliness. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The original Waldo course proceeds due south on the PCT from the Twins Trail junction to Maiden Peak Trail. It is very gentle downhill and one mild uphill to the AS. The detour, besides taking us an extra three miles around the trail closure, would also carry us nearly a thousand feet lower. From Gold (4900'), we had six+ miles and nearly 3000' to go to get to the top of Maiden (7800'). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I fell back at the AS and had to haul to catch back up to Jake along Gold Lake Road to Maiden Peak Trail. That's a nice problem to have as a pacer, but it didn't make my job easier.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The 2.6 miles to the PCT and Maiden AS were just plain tough. For me! I was low on sugar, warming up, and feeling flat. I didn't say much. Jake didn't need it; he machined his way up the grinder climbs, and only when we reached the steep switchbacks up to the Maiden AS did he walk - for the first time all day. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For me, something also switched on those 'backs: competitiveness. We were at mile 53, only one climb and a bunch of downs 'til Jake has this race in the bag. We made quick work out of the AS plugged our way uphill.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The climb up Maiden Peak is - brutal. At first, it resembles Fuji and the Twins: short cilmbs with tiny but well-appreciated flats interspersed. Then it gets beastly: relentless climbing for at least a mile before leaving the tree line...then more tough uphill.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We ran, then shuffled, then hiked. The going was honest but admittedly slower than I knew Tim was capable of. He was gaining, it was just a matter of how quickly. Finally, we reached Kelly-Roy at the Maiden/Leap of Faith junction and pushed our way to the top of Maiden, to the cheers of T-Bag and Bili.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hj-9XPULpVY/UDMYLSsjSiI/AAAAAAAAD-o/uzbZOSgCNpM/s1600/JoeJakeMaiden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hj-9XPULpVY/UDMYLSsjSiI/AAAAAAAAD-o/uzbZOSgCNpM/s640/JoeJakeMaiden.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Near the top of Maiden - Courtesy Kelly Woodke</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We weren't more than a switchback down the peak when we nearly ran into Tim, chugging fiercely up the grade like a steam engine. </span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"F###!"</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I cursed. A lot. <i> "I guess it's ON!"</i> I didn't need to say much to Jake, but I did: a few comments about finishing what he started, interspersed with language resembling <b><a href="http://youtu.be/5AsEH1mEKf8" target="_blank">this</a></b>.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d3VlTSUQaF8/UDMZZLywfHI/AAAAAAAAD_I/hRSBoEHCJQE/s1600/JakeJoeLeap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d3VlTSUQaF8/UDMZZLywfHI/AAAAAAAAD_I/hRSBoEHCJQE/s640/JakeJoeLeap.jpg" width="426" /></span></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We descended the volcanic scree of Maiden and onto Leap of Faith, frantically picking our way past Michael Lebowitz, eager to get on the more runnable singletrack, when Jake hit the dirt, yelling and grabbing his calf. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He was cramping. I really didn't care. Actually, I did - which is why I yelled for him to get up and keep moving. The worst thing for a cramp is to stop, so we rolled. Remarkably, he did. And equally remarkably, Tim hadn't yet caught up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It was extremely "on". Tim was coming. This is why we race. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I ran up front again, trying to magnetically pull Jake down the hill, but there wasn't much stopping Tim. He rolled up on Tim while I was about 20 meters ahead. The consummate nice guy and sportsman, I heard him chat with Jake, giving both information - EEN had dropped out - and encouragement, that he had a firm hold on a top three/Western States qual spot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I seized upon this as an opportunity to both motivate Jake and stave off complacency: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>"Don't you be talking my runner into not wanting to win this race!",</i> I said...half-kidding. Less than half. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We wished Tim well (no kidding) as he rolled past. Jake put on a nice push to stay close as we rolled into Maiden Lake AS just as Tim was leaving. More quick soda shots, more gels, a refreshing sponge, and we were off. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The first mile out of Maiden Lake AS was fairly lackluster, but when I stopped to "TCB" for the third (and mercifully last) time, it took forever to catch back up to Jake. He was flying! We made quick work of the rollers and downs along Maiden Lake to the PCT. I, too, was feeling strong, and ready for a big-time push from the Rosary Lakes to the finish, only four miles to the end. I knew both Jake and I were stronger flat-landers than Tim, and I felt like we had a shot at reeling him in.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I painted the scene:<i> "OK, we're not running an ultra - we're back in Rocklin, doing a road tempo - four miles in, four to go". </i> We pushed a strong pace along Upper and Middle before coming across a photographer, so told Jake he was but three minutes behind Tim. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>"Should we try to get him?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><i>"Let's go for it! I'll lead".</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We pushed away from Lower Rosary, down the flowing ribbon of singletrack. I spat form exhortations to Jake. The pace was strong but it wasn't going to reel in Tim. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No matter. We passed "The Root Wad" - signalling about 2.5K to go - and it was, indeed, in the bag. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'd been holding onto one last song for the moment. So, with no one's ears but Jake's and the trees, I did a solid Grandpa Joe impression and <b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=29_uSlEEPSk" target="_blank">crooned my best "Golden Ticket" rendition</a></b>. It was an awesome moment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We popped out of the woods to the clearing. I let loose a few "B-G-DEEEEEEE"s as Jake rolled to the finish line in 9:56 for 2nd overall. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hC86_Pl4BbQ/UDMYZWvgStI/AAAAAAAAD-w/YLyMn8ivN8A/s1600/JakeFinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hC86_Pl4BbQ/UDMYZWvgStI/AAAAAAAAD-w/YLyMn8ivN8A/s640/JakeFinish.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">LB administers Last Rites to a spent BGD, Waldo Finish - Courtesy Long Run Pictures.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A hell of a run by BGD: a rare sub-10 performance on a course that was 3.5 miles longer than usual, and finishing a scant four minutes behind Tim. (For comparison's sake, I've been beaten by Tim by an average of an hour in our last two match-ups). </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NQK6rnC-w6s/UDMYv45sZLI/AAAAAAAAD-4/PHUDDwtHHVs/s1600/JakeJimothyFinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NQK6rnC-w6s/UDMYv45sZLI/AAAAAAAAD-4/PHUDDwtHHVs/s640/JakeJimothyFinish.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">...and the only rest Jimothy's had since Tristan's birthday...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Post-race: lounging about the finish line, taking in the afternoon sun, some suds, a warm washing-machine shower, catching up with a lot of great folks, and some - but not nearly enough - thank yous to all who made Waldo happen - and kept it happening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Congrats to "The BGD" - can't wait to start training together for WS '13!</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1T8HgKhdzuw/UDMZCpi020I/AAAAAAAAD_A/EIzoNUqRibI/s1600/JakeSara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1T8HgKhdzuw/UDMZCpi020I/AAAAAAAAD_A/EIzoNUqRibI/s640/JakeSara.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sara and BGD show off the spoils of the Waldo 100K: a Golden Ticket, not to mention a sweet demin shirt! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> Might we see this in the WS '13 swag?</span></td></tr>
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-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-60712831404304996842012-07-20T14:38:00.001-07:002012-07-20T14:39:17.869-07:00Hal Koerner - the David Puddy of the Ultra WorldI don't have cable. I don't even have broadcast TV. I don't even have internet at home. And no Netflix either. <br />
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All I've got are a few movies. And Seinfeld.<br />
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That's all I watch. Mostly just Seinfeld: Seasons 1-9, I'll pop in a DVD and casually watch while I go about my business - before and after work, and running.<br />
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<a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2012/07/hal.html" target="_blank">AJW recently wrote an insightful piece</a> about the ultra icon and 2012 Hardrock Champion, Hal Koerner. In it, he and others reflect on their first encounters with Hal, and of his place in the ultrasphere since he began racing, over a decade and a hundred-plus ultras ago. <br />
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But in the ensuing comments, the discussion turned to his place in the Community: "under-rated", "maybe now he'll be noticed". Indeed, even our discussions over post-run beers after the "Tuesday Night Hunt" in Eugene turned to the same topic.<br />
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I began to reflect, myself, on Hal's place in ultrarunning, past and present. Indeed, he's a star...but not as hyped as others. He's talented, but is he as talented as the "Young[er] Guns"? He's accomplished, but do those accomplishments shine as brightly as others (who, arguably, have acommplished much less)?<br />
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Who is Hal?<br />
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It hit me: Hal is David Puddy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N3A3Vdw60ro/TbJxIhp_mSI/AAAAAAAAANQ/ufYSTMBoMC4/s1600/david+puddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N3A3Vdw60ro/TbJxIhp_mSI/AAAAAAAAANQ/ufYSTMBoMC4/s400/david+puddy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">David Puddy, played by Patrick Warburton - the consumate chill.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dailytidings.com/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?Site=DT&Date=20100225&Category=LIFE&ArtNo=2250311&Ref=AR&maxH=186&maxW=369&border=0&Q=80" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.dailytidings.com/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?Site=DT&Date=20100225&Category=LIFE&ArtNo=2250311&Ref=AR&maxH=186&maxW=369&border=0&Q=80" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A youthful Hal Koerner, Chill-Plus, at<em> Rogue Valley Runners</em>. Photo credit: Ashland Daily Tidings.</td></tr>
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Anyone who's watched more than one episode of Seinfeld knows David Puddy: the tall, dark and handsome auto mechanic (who later progresses to saleman) love interest of Elaine. Played admirably by Patrick Warburton, he is described as such:<br />
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<em>"...Unflappable and calm, yet can be a surprisingly passionate individual at times"</em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(*courtesy Wikipedia)</span></em><br />
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A spot-on description of Hal Koerner. Some other comparisions:<br />
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<strong>Honest and conscientious</strong>. In Seinfeld, David Puddy is referred to as "the only honest mechanic in New York". Hal as a runner, business man, and ultra community member, is equally honest and noble. Hal would be willing to give you the shirt off his back (as, it seems he might've, during Hardrock).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/487220_10151018442192114_211053318_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/487220_10151018442192114_211053318_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hal, sans shirt, but warmed by the skull wrap, at the 2012 HRH. Photo credit: iRunFar.com</td></tr>
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<strong>The emobodiment of cool, counterbalancing those around him.</strong> David Puddy was the perfect contrast to the silly, high-strung characters around him. So is Hal. In a sport comprised of both attention-seeking showmen and repelling introverts, Hal is the perfect balance of friendliness and casual. The consumate "chill". Even in the heat of an ultra battle, Hal is eternally cool, sharing the same blood lines as predecessors like Trason and Twietmeyer.<br />
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<strong>Prone to the outrageous that, with the backdrop of his cool, only multipies the effect.</strong> Because he's so laid back, when David Puddy does get excited or acts out, its effect is tremendous. And for both Puddy and Koerner, those acts are typically in the realm of <em>fashion</em>:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Fowd29dOyh0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<em>Carly: What is that? </em><br />
<em>Hal: My visor is tilted egregiously to one side. </em><br />
<em>Carly: (still in disbelief): You're tilting your visor?</em><br />
<em>Hal: Yeah.</em><br />
<em>Carly: Why?</em><br />
<em>Hal: You know, support the team.</em><br />
<em>Carly: Well, you can't walk around like that!<br />Hal: Why not?<br />Carly: Because it's insane?<br />Hal: Hey, you gotta let them know you're out there, this is Western States!</em><br />
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Whether it's visors, or color-coordinated racing outfits complete with matching "leg panties", or the post-race khaki capri pants, Hal does what he does. Not to garner attention, but because...well, that's Hal. And so it goes with David Puddy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T-ZmPBUUY5I/UAnN3YaQC4I/AAAAAAAAD-Q/FodTOvhejls/s1600/HalSonomaFinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T-ZmPBUUY5I/UAnN3YaQC4I/AAAAAAAAD-Q/FodTOvhejls/s640/HalSonomaFinish.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can Hal rock the sideways cap/visor better than anyone?... Photo Credit: Craig Thornley/Facebook</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blogs.ocweekly.com/navelgazing/puddy-8ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="343" src="http://blogs.ocweekly.com/navelgazing/puddy-8ball.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">..."All signs point to YES!"</td></tr>
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<strong>Talented and skilled at many things, yet not driven by ambition.</strong> David Puddy, besides being an honest professional, is extremely skilled - among the best auto mechanics in NYC. And only when he tires of the garage does he move into the showroom to become a car salesman.<br />
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Hal has talents that go beyond simply running fast or far. He's proven successful as a businessman, community organizer and race director. Yet his persona belies those talents. Hal, I believe, does what he does - not because he can, or should, as self-promotion - but only if and when his interests and passion are sparked.<br />
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<strong>The consummate Every-Man.</strong> What draws the viewer to "man-love" Puddy as much as they do is his persona of The Every-Man: talented and charismatic, yet incredibly approachable. <br />
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I don't think many folks in the ultra community really know Hal Koerner very well. Neither do I. That's because you don't need to in order to engage with him. Ultra runners - from the DFLs to the very top - frequently comment on how approachable, friendly, and - surprising to almost all - how familiar he is of them! <br />
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I think, that combination -- his talents, his relaxed personality, his lack of self-promoting ambition, and his degree of approachability -- what makes Hal who he is - and isn't - in the Ultra Community. <br />
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Will he ever be the most hyped runner character? Probably not. But I don't think Hal wants that.<br />
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Ultimately, Hal wants what he wants: a place as a giver in the community, an accomplished ultra resume, and the ocassional skull wrap and mango-colored arm panties. :p<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v3hUGZb0zcc/UAnMN_obOzI/AAAAAAAAD-I/Od5tSdo-Iuw/s1600/HalKiss+Rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v3hUGZb0zcc/UAnMN_obOzI/AAAAAAAAD-I/Od5tSdo-Iuw/s640/HalKiss+Rock.jpg" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Champion's embrace. Photo credit: iRunFar.com</td></tr>
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Cheers, Hal, to a tremendous HRH victory. Keep it up. All of it.-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-17083169482109209382012-07-14T19:05:00.002-07:002012-07-14T19:08:34.214-07:00Post-WS: Afterglow & Aftermath<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://drjeffadams.com/files/2009/08/afterglow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="364" src="http://drjeffadams.com/files/2009/08/afterglow.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Meteorological Afterglow. Photo credit: </span><a href="http://drjeffadams.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://drjeffadams.com</span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Has it been three weeks since Western States? Time flies. But it also seems like a long time ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Recovery from the 2012 edition has been slow and measured; it took at least ten days until the bulk of the orthopedic damage to heal, namely from the perpetual left leg overload. Indeed, I still feel significant tightness in the left quad when I deep squat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The neurological fatigue is always fascinating; my energy level in the days post-race was better than the carnage of 2011; however, I still felt tired and "jumpy" until just recently. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My overall running legs and energy are gradually improving; I've run perhaps 30 miles in the past week (and no more than twenty the week before). My legs are feeling heavy, which make me hesitant to ramp up miles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The relative slowness of recovery is okay; I plan on it. Western States is the end of my spring season. Indeed, I don't really have a summer season (which, compared to most outdoor sports, is an odd concept). Instead, I use this time to rest and reboot - in both body and brain - for the "fall season", which kicks off with Waldo 100K on August 18th.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">However, I do feel the tug of "<strong><a href="http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2011/04/14/fomo-addiction-the-fear-of-missing-out/" target="_blank">FOMO</a></strong>" when I hear about <strong><a href="http://maukarunning.com/index.html" target="_blank">Jorge</a></strong> running "back to normal" within three days post-race, or when I see the fellas cover some amazing ground outside Silverton. But I'll be the first to admit, my talents as a runner end at "recovery time"; I just take forever. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That said, rather than lament the snail's pace of restoration, I lounge in it: more beers, more sleep, more golf (three times in the past three weeks, after zero times in the past two years), more writing, more catching up with non-ultra friends. I'm also branching out into some other athletic avenues, including my first-ever yoga class at a terrific studio in Eugene. Felt good to touch my toes! I've also returned to the gym for the first time in months - in hopes of trying to shore up weaknesses in my core and hips...and to try to reverse the egregious upper-to-lower body asymmetry!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In "Deep Survival", Gonzales talks about the brain's need to "relinquish the survival struggle" for periods of time. For the acute situation, this ocassionally means sleeping, or self-distraction. For me, it means a period of time where I'm not logging big miles, where I'm not grinding up mountain trails, and where I'm not thinking a lot about training or competition (or at least trying).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">BUT...I do continue to reflect...so here's some interesting reflections, three weeks out:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>...The front guys ran FAST.</strong> Why? Maybe because conditions were historically cool. But last year was also cool. Here are some interesting stats between 2011 and 2012 Western States:</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ALpRNe8zz9w/UAIW40KB-TI/AAAAAAAAD9o/e7TPGQDlGws/s1600/WSComparison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ALpRNe8zz9w/UAIW40KB-TI/AAAAAAAAD9o/e7TPGQDlGws/s1600/WSComparison.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For how much cooler 2012 was - eleven degrees - the sifferences between 2012 and 2011 are relatively small: finishers and rate are nearly the same, the field as a whole ran 25 minutes faster (1.6% improved). The "fast end" was relatively similiar in the "near-top": 35 vs 29 in the sub-19, 15 vs 14 in the sub 17. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The most substantial difference was in the top ten: 15:48 versus 16:11 a year ago, 2.5% faster than 2011. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Why were the top ten 2.5% faster in 2012, compared to 1.5% across the whole field? Two reason, I believe: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>1.) The Montrail Ultra Cup.</strong> Faster folks wanna run WS, and they're being drawn to the MUC races. The MUC races, themselves, are seeing a surge in competitiveness and depth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But perhaps more notably:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>2.) No one was afraid of each other in 2012.</strong> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Since...forever?...there have been dominant runners at Western States: Jim King, Tim Twietmeyer, and Scott Jurek in the <em>"Pre-Boom"</em> era. Then there's the <em>"Unbreakable Era":</em> Hal Koerner, Geoff Roes and Kilian Jornet between 2007 and 2011. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There were always these guys - only a handful, sometimes only one - that dominated the field, both on the clock and in our heads. They took off and no one went with. It was suicide for the rest of the field to try to run with these guys. So often times, they didn't. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But in 2012, with the absence of the <em>Unbreakable</em> guys, namely the late DNS of Kilian, blew things wide open. Though steeped in mutual admiration and respect, there was fearlessness: of the pre-race favorites, Tim Olson and Mike Wolfe didn't fear Nick Clark or Dave Mackey, Dave, Nick and Ian Sharman didn't fear Tim, Mike or Ryan Sandes. Of the up-and-comers, Jorge, Dylan, and Zeke laid it all out there, with [only relatively reckless abandon. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And so it was: everyone ran fast as hell. That they ran as fast as they did was more a testiment to their <em>pure desire and fearlessness</em> than the weather. And the numbers tell us that. If it was just "the weather", you'd see the entire field run an hour faster, and 175 silver buckles. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wonder if you would've seen the fast times up front if Killian raced. If he pushed out front early, would the entire top ten have gone with him, or let him go, out of respect for his abilities and resume? But he wasn't there, and suddently there were at least ten guys in the field with thoughts, dreams and the ability to win that race, outright. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I hope that continues, because it made for one hell of a race.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>...It pays to DOPE!</strong> "DOPE"...amine, that is! It's notable that <strong><a href="http://timothyallenolson.wordpress.com/2012/07/02/western-states-2012/" target="_blank">Jimothy</a></strong> <strong><a href="http://timothyallenolson.wordpress.com/2012/07/13/western-states-playlistpictures/" target="_blank">listened to music</a></strong> over the last twenty miles this year. As it turns out, <em>he was doping!</em> <strong><a href="http://news.discovery.com/human/music-dopamine-happiness-brain-110110.html" target="_blank">Research</a></strong> has shown that listening to your favorite tunes releases significant boosts of <em><strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dopamine" target="_blank">dopamine</a></strong></em> in the brain, which results in "boosts" to both brain and motor function! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've known that music plays an important role in "giving the brain something to do" -- that pattern of neurological "play" that makes "having a song in your head" so pleasurable. But given this new insight - the research and Jimothy's experience - is highly motivational, and is worth a try in future long ultras.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Moreover, listening to an iPod Shuffle will avoid having to be at the mercy of the "<strong><a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jacob Rydman</a></strong> iPod", which includes some less desireable tracks (see below). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>...Here was <em>my</em> "playlist" for Western States.</strong> As stated before, I never run with an actual music player; rather, I have my "Brain iPod", where I get certain songs "in my head" that'll play over-and-over - usually with some degree of self-control. I often have an idea of what songs I want to "listen to", but others will pop in - and get stuck - at random.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here what was on tap, and when:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/By1EbHetjAs" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Into the Wild - LP</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">#</span> - (Start - mid-Lyon Ridge)</span><br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/O1YK2a-B9zk" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Walking on the Moon - The Police</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> (mid-Lyon Ridge - Robinson Flat)</span><br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/5FlQSQuv_mg" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Payphone - Maroon 5</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> (Robinson Flat - Foresthill)</span><br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/KrWI-9GTHKM" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Drive-By - Train</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">* (River - Brown's Bar)</span><br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/1zfzka5VwRc" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Give Your Heart a Break - Demi Lavato</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">* (Brown's Bar - Finish)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em># aka "the Jimothy Song"</em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">*courtesty of Jake, who would sing these, on and off, non-stop over the course of our 38 miles together. </span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As you can see, some good song, some randomly...not great. But they all helped, and now, they're all memorable. Next year, I'll have a Shuffle in the drop bag at Green Gate...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>...Putting in a lot of attention and time into my mechanics.</strong> Seriously...how can be an experienced physical therapist who specializes in running mechanics, and have such brutal form at the end of the race? That's a pessimistic view point. The flip side is: I've never been "really good" at running, so I've used my amazing PT prowess to "clean up" my mechanics enough to be competitive.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Either way...they sucked at WS. Here's my laundry list of issues that I have to work on, going forward, and how I plan to work on it:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><strong>Lateral trunk shift</strong>.</em> This has been an issue for >4 years. I've tried a lot of things, but I'm now going to try using some kinesiotape on my trunk (L shoulder to R hip) to see if that'll give me some instantaneous feedback when it happens, because right now it's damn hard to perceive until it's too late.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LaPYkWeD_hU/UAIj8-62qhI/AAAAAAAAD98/FP2AlY8kl-0/s1600/MBtrunkleft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LaPYkWeD_hU/UAIj8-62qhI/AAAAAAAAD98/FP2AlY8kl-0/s640/MBtrunkleft.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Michigan Bluff - getting out-run by both Nate and Monnnnnty. Obvious trunk-left. Notable that my left quad felt completely trashed out by this point.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Flexed trunk.</strong> I've tweaked a lot of things during the last two years, and one of them has been my overall posture. Unfortunately I went overboard, from "too arched" to that all-so-attractive "crippled old guy" look. Sheesh. I'm planning on doing less "form focus" and more work on my core stability, which really tanked this spring.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Lateral foot strike</strong>. This is Public Enemy #2, behind the left trunk. Since starting to trail run, I've started to land on the outside of my foot, quite excessively. It causes a myriad of problems: sore, achy feet, blisters, tib anterior pain, ITB/quad trash, and overall power loss. I've been making great strides on this in the past three weeks, via: 1.) barefoot running on the fake turf fields in Eugene, and 2.) literally cutting off the outer soles of my running shoes. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fX3YHoRPk1I/UAIiqPysd6I/AAAAAAAAD90/B1Xg5ZY3P7A/s1600/Shoescut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fX3YHoRPk1I/UAIiqPysd6I/AAAAAAAAD90/B1Xg5ZY3P7A/s400/Shoescut.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The new Asics "This Little Piggy Gets None"</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Both techniques have been effective at adopting a more "whole foot" strike pattern, which should save me a lot of pain and suffering, and hopefully make me faster. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><em>Floppy arms.</em></strong> I've had this problem....for ever! For some reason, I don't move through my shoulder blades; instead, I "flop" up and down at the elbow. So rather than gain leg power and propulsion with a firm scap plus elbow back, all my upper body energy is lost with a forearm flopping up and down. I'm trying to correct this with some new exercises in the gym ("runner arm" using the cable pulley) and focus. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">While dismayed at these issues, I'm excited about the idea that, if I can fix even one of them, my potential to run faster is great...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>...Looking forward.</strong> <strong><a href="http://waldo100k.org/" target="_blank">Waldo 100K</a></strong> is coming up quick. I'd love to run well there, and look forward to spending some trail time with Jake again. Looks to be another barn-burner, with the recent additions of Ian Sharman and Jimothy to a field that already has Hal, Yassine and others. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Best keep resting so I can start working! Speaking of...time for a beer...</span>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7451566264933314646.post-68589478276794192022012-07-01T19:49:00.000-07:002012-07-18T14:00:12.343-07:00M9 - 2012 Western States 100 Race Report<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Pre-Race</b></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I
told myself I wouldn't but...I was horribly anxious pre-race: starting
Wednesday, and on and off through Friday night. A year ago, it was
whether or not I would survive. This time, it was whether or not I would
run to my potential...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I'd thought of Western States every day for at least six months (and....six of seven days, over the past year?). After a minor injury speedbump post-Sonoma, I went nuts in May: 500 miles, total, including a seven-day span on the WS course where I covered 195 miles. I covered every bit of the course from Duncan Canyon to Placer HS...at least twice. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The better prepared one is, the easier it is to feel pressure. I was fit and healthy; I was ready. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Race
Day</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">At
the start, I stood beside <a href="http://www.irunfar.com/2012/06/jorge-maraville-post-2012-western-states-100-interview.html" target="_blank"><b>Jorge</b></a>, who was already dishing out heaping portions
of smiles and positive energy to the runners around him. A year ago I was nestled far in the rear;
this year, I toed the starting line.
With seconds to go, I bent down and did some stretches. I stopped at eight. Then, I said in my own head, “I’m gonna get
eighth place today”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I was wrong, but I
was close.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Dr
Lind fired the shotgun, and the 2012 edition was finally underway. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>High
Country</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">A
little birdie told me a couple long-hairs were going to push the pace up to
Escarpment. I’m not sure that they
didn’t; while the pace didn’t feel fast, it was work to keep up with a compact
lead group consisting of <a href="http://timothyallenolson.wordpress.com/author/timothyallenolson/" target="_blank"><b>Jimothy</b></a>, “<b><a href="http://irunmountains.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Como Neek</a>”, <a href="http://www.neverstopexploring.com/blog/mike-wolfe/" target="_blank">Wolfe</a></b>, <a href="http://ryansandes.com/" target="_blank"><b>Sandes</b></a>, <a href="http://sharmanian.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Sharman</b></a>, and
others up the gravel road that switchbacked up the ski hill. Even two ladies joined in the fun; <a href="http://www.lizzyhawker.com/" target="_blank"><b>LizzyHawker</b></a> was right in there with the fellas, with <a href="http://elliegreenwood.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Ellie</b></a> only a few strides
behind. I ran between them, until Ellie
said, “too fast” and backed off within the first mile. Soon, that lead pack began to pull away. I suspect each of those guys were
altitude-acclimatized (which also correlates with extraordinary fitness), as
guys like me, <a href="http://riddleruns.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Dave Riddle</b></a>, and <b><a href="http://mikewardian.com/" target="_blank">Mike Wardian</a></b> were hanging off the back end as
the road ceded to trail at high camp.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I
felt hints of wind as we wound up the road, but once on the plateau, it was a
gale. Sweat that formed on the climb
suddenly froze. My liberal coating of
olive oil on limbs and trunk were a godsend; yet the extreme chill still
necessitated a dolup of vasoline lube for “more sensitive areas” once I reached
Escarpment AS (5:41:34AM). A steep hike
and a jeep road shuffle got me to the top of Watson, right behind Wardian. A couple others were in sight along the
ribbon of trail dumping into the Granite Chief.
I cooled it behind Mike for a bit until I tiptoed my way around
him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The
High Country section of the course – from Watson Monument to Robinson Flat –
was tough and unforgiving when Jake and I ran it in October. I was amazed at
its good condition on race day; loose rocks, debris, logs and ruts were
replaced with a smooth, runnable tread.
I ran in sight of a guy wearing a black garbage sack as a jacket, with
only one other runner passing us before exiting The Chief.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">As
we popped out of the Chief, I was feeling strong but not ambitious enough to
push the pace. With Lyon around the
corner, I wondered how far back of the lead group I’d be: five minutes?
Ten? At that moment, a throng of runners
appeared from stage right, merging onto the jeep road beside me. What a nifty-gifty it was to see the fellas
again: Jimothy, <a href="http://davemackey.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Mackey</b></a>, Sandes, Jorge, <a href="http://dylanbowman.com/" target="_blank"><b>DBo</b></a>, <a href="http://www.aspentimes.com/article/20120616/SPORTS/120619894" target="_blank"><b>Tiernan</b></a>. They all gradually worked their way past,
with Tim the last to do so. He seemed a
bit haggard already, so I tried to pep him up with some timely Jimmy
quotes. That evidently fueled his fire
and by the time we reached Lyon Ridge
(6:40:33AM/58:59), he’d moved past me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">With
the pack ahead of me, climbing hard up the ridge – and garbage bag guy behind –
I was alone for the bulk of Lyon Ridge.
The wind had died down, but was replaced with light mist and
intermittent sleet. I ran nearly all the climbs; hiking only the famed Cougar
Rock. My energy was good and I was
dumping gels into the system, one every 19 minutes on the repeater watch. However, my stomach was already growing tired
of them, only hours into the race.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Along
the high country, I had occasional flashbacks to our October run, including
where we missed the trail right before Red Star and ran an extra kilo
uphill. The trail was well-flagged and
manned this time, and I zig-zagged my way happily into Red Star AS
(7:34:27AM/53:54)) with a single runner in view behind me – Thomas
Crawford. At Red Star, re-upped on both
gels and vasoline and checked the watch: 2:34.
I asked the AS folks of my position: 12<sup>th</sup>! While happy to be in “prime” position, I was
also shocked. Jake had told me that, in
2007, Hal had split 2:34 en route to his first victory. That certainly tempered my efforts when
<a href="http://www.yassinediboun.com/" target="_blank"><b>Yassine</b></a> blasted up from behind and got past both me and Tom – who also passed
me as I fumbled with my pack outside Red Star.
When Yassine’s feeling good, he runs hard; it wasn’t long til he
disappeared in the fog ahead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Tom
and I plugged along Red Star amidst rain, wind, and fog. Despite the conditions, my body felt solid
and warm, and the tread was shockingly smooth.
Sections that were pure rock had clearly been raked pre-race, and we
reaped the benefits with quick and effortless running. I caught and passed Tom on the two-mile
descent into Duncan AS (8:42:20AM/67:53), descending happily, knowing I would
soon see my crew. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">My
stomach had started to rebel from the gels, and the protest spread to the lower
GI. When I saw Britt and Jimmy at Duncan
AS, I picked up my new jet pack as well as paper towels. I also sensed a bit of salt would calm my
stomach.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">“Do
you have any broth??”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The
aid workers, perhaps alarmed at the speed at which the top ten-plus had
arrived, had not yet finished the broth.
A woman frantically stirred bullion paste into a foam cup for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2lfZg-apSA" target="_blank"><b>“Youthink YOU’RE gonna get a SOUP? You’re wasting your time! Come back – ONE YEAR!”</b></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I
grabbed it, then, with typical Uhanian franticism, dumped a nearby ice water
into it, downed it quickly and rolled out, just as Tom was rolling into the AS.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I
shuffled along the Duncan trail toward the creek, fumbling with my pack, as
gels were falling out onto the trail. I
ran along for a mile or two until the urge to go was too strong; I stepped off
trail and discharged some “gel paste”. I was mid-business when Tom caught back
up to me. We ran together down to a
shockingly low-flowing Duncan Creek before I pulled away on the climb
away. We chatted a bit on that initial
climb: about how I thought the climb to Robinson was among my least favorite of
the course, and how great it would be to close the book on the High Country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Those
thoughts, and that of seeing my crew – which included my cousin and his wife,
who I hadn’t yet seen – fueled my climb to Robinson. I caught glimpses of Yassine’s orange coat on
the ascent, and when I finally hit Little Rob Flat, I finally saw the skort of
Lizzy Hawker. I looked at my watch,
which was still well before 5 hours.
“Wow”. I thought that for me, a
sub-five hour split was ambitious, if not borderline suicidal. Yet there were at least ten men and one woman
in front of me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
rolled into a cold and foggy Robinson Flat with great fanfare, running through
a wide path roped off on either side, with spectators at least two deep.. I was met at the med check by none other than
AJW and LB. They were excited about my
position, and spat information on position and status of the eleven runners in
front of me. I weighed in about four
pounds down, ran through the aid, and grabbed my new jet pack from Nate and
Steve. There I saw my cousin’s wife
Megan, gave her a hug, then asked, “Where’s Monty??”. He was on the other side so I gave him a hug,
got some enthusiastic “chopper claps” and continued on my way down the trail,
across the creek bridge, and up Little Bald.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Los
Canyones</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
shuffled up Little Bald, working through my vanilla Ensure as I wound my way up
the wooded switchbacks that, a month ago, were covered in snow. No more than a kilo out did I come along to
<a href="http://jacobrydman.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><b>Jake</b></a>, who was taking in the action amidst the conifers. He gave me more info on the field, including
my second report in as many minutes about how bad Zeke Tiernan looked (they
were so bleak and frequent, by the time I got to the Michigan Bluff, I was
expecting to see his grave marked beside Tonto). Jake said I looked the strongest of the
group, but the only problem was, I wasn’t feeling strong at all. I was flagging. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
churned my way up Little Bald and back onto the WS trail proper. The exposed canyon rock gave free reign to
the cold winds; the fog rolled across the ridge as thick blankets, obscuring
all but the immediate tread ahead. I
focused on what I felt was crucial for me: “I’m not working hard” – the notion
that I would be efficient as possible in stride, and in taking and drinking in
every descent as effortless as possible.
I was completely alone. It was
peaceful, but intimidating.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Off
the ridge and onto the jeep roads approaching Miller’s Defeat, my gut began to
rebel once again. I needed to stop, but
I had not paper. I nearly went but had
the will to hold it until Miller’s (10:29:51AM/42:16), which was mercifully
closer than in 2011 by a full mile.
There I picked up some paper towels for the impending business. But I also had to get off the gel habit; I
grabbed PB&J tortillas and some mini-candy bars and hit the trail.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My
will to hold it lasted only a quarter mile, before peeling off and taking care
of things. I ran along, alone, along the
logging roads, feeling somewhat better but enormously flat. I was worried. “Am I shot? Did I blow it all in the High
Country?” Thoughts of a 15-minute-mile shuffle to the finish crept into
mind. It dawn on me that it was time to
take some salt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Some
background: I agreed to review a new medical book for iRunFar.com. “Waterlogged”, by Tim Noakes, MD, addresses
the serious problem of over-hydration in endurance sports: how sports drink
companies like Gatorade changed the face of sports nutrition – going against
all past and present research – on the amount of water, salt and energy we
require for endurance performance. It’s
a very provocative text with exhaustive research findings. Among the many dogma-shattering
recommendations is the notion that we do not require supplemental sodium, even
for 24-hour endurance events. This is
based on the notion that the body has automatic mechanisms to maintain blood
sodium concentrations – regardless of hydration level. Hyponatremia, therefore, is an issue of
simply drinking more than the body actually needs.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">With
regards to sodium, Dr Noakes points out several sodium-deprivation studies with
endurance exercise that showed a steady maintenance – if not increase – in
blood sodium levels when athletes are “forced” (in the study) to exercises for
several hours a day, for consecutive days, without any sodium intake. Moreover, he argues – with both theoretical
and empirical evidence – that ingestible sodium does not cease or prevent
muscle cramping.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">These
concepts were hard to stomach. Yet the
research presented was difficult to argue.
Moreover, I had the opportunity to personally e-mail Dr Noakes and
clarify: even though we’re running for nearly an entire day, we do not need
supplemental salt – even dietary sources.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">That
said, my experiment of one was to run Western States without supplemental
salt. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
experiment ended about a mile out from Dusty Corners. I got out an S-Cap from my emergency pouch
and bit down. It tasted good. I descended toward Dusty.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Dusty
Corners AS (10:59:42AM/29:51) had a nice pack of spectators, including James
and Britt. I swapped out packs, and
grabbed a handful of potatoes for fuel and quickly departed, but not without a
quick peck from Britt (a selfish pick-me-up, for sure).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
Pucker Point trail connects Dusty to Last Chance. A year ago it was here that we first felt the
heat; this year, it was still cool. I
ditched my gloves at Dusty but continued on wearing my PI jacket and winter
hat. My gut was still in bad shape; I
grabbed potatoes in hopes of calming my stomach, downing hunks every five
minutes or so. Less than a mile into the
trail I came upon a guy peeing in the woods – I wasn’t sure who it was at the
time, but I believe it was Neal Gorman.
I passed him going slowly – still battling the gut and the potatoes – so
when he finished up, he was quickly by me and down the trail. A re-adjustment of my jet pack and he was
completely out of sight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Pucker
felt so-so until I took my second salt tab, about midway through. Then, two things happened: my energy vastly
improved and my gut quit churning. So I
pressed a bit, hoping to reel in Neal. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Temperatures
were still cool, with overcast skies, when I rolled into Last Chance
(12:41:55PM/42:13). Ever since my first
trip to “Los Canyones”, I’ve loved being at Last Chance: the gateway to the
canyons and the first true gauntlet of the race. I weighed in at Last Chance: 160! Assuming zero error in scales (which is
obviously untrue – it could be as much as +/- 5lb between each), I had gained
five pounds since Rob Flat. I grabbed a
handful of S-Caps, more potatoes, and bee-lined out of the AS.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My
goal for Los Canyones was to “preserve the vessel”: for me, that was to
maximize my strengths – flats and ups – and to mitigate the weaknesses –
descending. I pushed the flats and
gentle downs to Pacific Slab, then picked my way conservatively down to
Swinging Bridge. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
plan for Devil’s Thumb was to hike most and run a little. I break it up into three sections: the rocky
bottoms, the sandy middle, and the “teaser summit”. The most runnable section is the sandy middle,
so I hiked somewhat hard to the midpoint, ran several big chunks, then hiked
the upper reaches to the AS. Just
before, I “hiked into” a group of folks that included Bryon, LB, and AJW. They were supportive but I could tell they
could perceive my struggles; offering more encouragement than excitement. I asked about the competition, but no one was
particularly close. AJW implored me to “descend well” and, after more potatoes
and some soda, sent me on my way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Leaving
Devil’s AS (12:35:51PM/23:01+31:55) it occurred to me that my left thigh was
trashed. What? I had perceived nothing
until that moment; but it was clear that my left thigh – namely my medial quad
and adductors – were severely overloaded.
The minor descent to the logging area, then to Deadwood, was
uncomfortable. I didn’t panic, but I was
deeply worried – did I do irreparable damage to the quad, or is it just
cramping out? Either way, it was the
result – yet again – that my trunk had been wandering left. I focused on keeping it right as I picked my
way, somewhat gingerly, down to El Dorado.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">My
descent was lackluster – nothing remotely “well”, as AJW implored. I split a 43:25 (1:20:17PM) to El Dorado AS,
grabbed some Coke, potatoes, and salt, and hiked my way out. The hiked out of El D is much like Devils, in
that it’s also a three-section ascent with a very runnable middle. I hiked as quickly as I could through the
switchbacks, then began to pick my way up the ascent. I was climbing poorly, feeling tired and sore
in both legs. S###. I did more math. A 50 split would be crappy, but a 47 would
still equal a 90-minute Devils to Michigan.
I plugged along, running as much as I could. I remembered what AJW had said at the Ale
House in May: “Don’t run the top end of Michigan too hard; you have to save
some to push it through Volcano Canyon”.
His words echoes in my fatigued nerve tissue as I shuffled upward, past
“ten minute creek”, the switchbacks, and finally – with a fair amount of
running – to the dirt road into Michigan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">An
enthusiastic crowd met me at the corner of Carol Hewitt’s house in MB, but I
was unable to reciprocate. I felt
cooked. My weight was back to normal
(155). I exchanged packs with Nate. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“How
you doin’?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Not
great, but I’m still moving. My splits
are still OK”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
turned down an Ensure and exited the AS (2:02:09PM/41:52). I was buoyed slightly by my respectable
climb…and by my cousin Matt sprinting up to me from behind, clapping his
choppers loudly in enthusiasm. “You’re
stride looks a lot better than mine right now, Matt!”. I thanked him and my crew and did my best to
open up the stride down Gorman Ranch Road.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Down
the dirt road, then up again – mostly running, but not very fast. Both quads felt cooked; I tried to stay
positive, and focused on quick turnover down to Volcano. I popped another S-Cap after crossing a
Volcano, nearly inhaling the powder. A
few coughs and, surprisingly, I ran most of the climb out to Bath Road. More soda, and a gel – which I was able to
start taking again on the climb from MB.
I hammered the coke, then shuffled uphill, walking only a few times,
until I encountered Britt, who ran with my from the midpoint up to Foresthill
Road, where my sister was waiting. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
should’ve been excited and happy to see them both – especially my sister
Brandie, with whom I’d never run with before that moment – but I felt like I
was barely hanging on. I ran as quickly
as my legs would allow toward the elementary school, again focusing on stride
mechanics that I knew were filthy. Soon
after, Jimmy met us and gave me a quick run down on the competition, and told
me that Jake was waiting at the AS. I
felt like I was going to disappoint him; he’d been so pumped about pacing me,
and about my prospects while at Robinson, but now I was a mangled mess on the
verge of a meltdown. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Hobbling
into the AS (3:00:20PM/43:22+14:48) under a blanket of supportive cheers,
quickly weighing and exiting after a quick swig of Coke and grabbing a cup of
ice. Jake met me there, took my jet
back, and led me out to my crew. I
stopped briefly on the corner of Church St and the main drag to a huge
crew. I thought about a Tecnu rubdown
but decided against it; instead I took the cube ice and rubbed it vigorously
against my left quad. I tried to put on
a happy face. “How’s everyone doing??”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Turning
down the Tecnu wash, I grabbed a filled jet pack and shuffled away with Jake.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“My
form is total shit, Jake. My left quad
is totally overloaded. I need your help
to fix my stride.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Jake
went to work. “You’re braking hard on your left side. OK, well let’s get the cadence going, and
pull that left foot beneath you…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">And
so we rolled downhill, left on Cal St, and onto the trail.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Your
splits have been great – you made it to Foresthill in ten hours.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Yeah,
but it won’t mean shit if I fall apart now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
made a decent descent down the jeep roads to the trail. Jake gave terrific cues for maintaining a
quick turnover, getting my feet beneath me, and being sure I wasn’t
braking. He also kept a mindful eye on
my trunk alignment. Within minutes I
began to feel better – in both leg feel and energy. I was also back on gels with a solid
stomach. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I
don’t feel like talking, but you can fill me in on the race so far.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Jake
gave a good recap of the day: who was out front, who was looking good, who
wasn’t. We had some intel that a couple
guys – Yassine Diboun and <a href="http://www.nealgorman.com/" target="_blank"><b>Neal Gorman</b></a> – were together about six minutes ahead
of us. That in mind, we pressed when
possible, Jake being sure I hiked as little as necessary on the odd hill and
got me going at the slightest slowdown.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Cal
1 came quickly (3:33:07PM/32:46 – this included our two-minute stop with crew);
Cal 2, as always, took longer than I remembered. Jake did a great job of keeping me moving and
hiking hard, especially on the steep double-climb between 1 and 2. The longer we ran, the more the confidence
and strength began to trickle back. The
famed “Elevator Shaft” came and went quickly; Jake implored “quick feet” and
celebrated our disposal of the steep, technical ascent. We rolled quickly in and out of Cal 2
(4:21:22PM/48:14). Besides being on top
of my nutrition needs, Jake was also on top of getting competition info; we
hadn’t gained on Yassine and Neal, but we were feeling good so we rolled.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Cal
2 to 3 went quickly; I felt stronger. I
verbalized to Jake an important concept: “Even though it hurts, you have to run
with normal mechanics, or else you run slow and destroy your legs!”. I pumped the legs hard on the downs – hip
extension, knee drive. The downs began
to feel good, but I still feared the ups.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">As
we approached Six-Minute Hill – the steep, triple climb away from the rushing
river that can demoralize even the strongest runner – Jake declared, “We need
to do six minute hill [named for the approximate time it takes to power hike]
in five minutes!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
trail dumped us onto the road and the start of the climb. “I’m gonna run as long as I can”. I picked my way slowly, running nearly
two-thirds of the climb to the switchback.
More hiking, then more running. A
short hike, then more running. We
crested Six-Minute hill…in five minutes.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
were officially rolling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In
and out of Cal 3 (4:47:49PM/26:26) – slightly slower due to filling the jet
pack – we encountered our only bit of heat of the day in the unshaded north
canyon wall. I slowed only slightly – as
much as Jake would allow – but otherwise ran quickly to – and through –“Sandy
Bottoms”. Jake kept up the positive
encouragement and constant form cues. He
was being my brain, and it was working.
I felt strong, but I also felt on the edge.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Sandy
Bottoms ceded to the home stretch – the jeep road approached Rucky. “We’ve got to be getting closer to
them”. Sure enough, I looked up and a
shot of andrenaline hit me before my brain made sense of it – it was Yassine
and his pacer. I popped another gel,
swigged some water, then got after it.
“I’m not going to push to catch them, there’s too many damn miles left”. Jake agreed, but we plugged along, anyway,
gradually reeling them in, despite Yassine’s pacer’s efforts to keep his runner
going – we could see his pacer turn around frequently, and spurts of speed that
followed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Less
than a mile from the AS, we reeled in the fellas. We all exchanged hellos, including a
fist-pound between Yassine and I. He’s a
terrific person and competitor. He’s
also a tough runner, and was definitely still “in the game” when we caught
up. But I was climbing better than he,
so I pulled in front and away on the final climb and descent into Rucky. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Now
we were racing. And running fast. “You’re gonna split a sub-2:30 Cal St!”, Jake
declared. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Rucky
(5:31:22PM/43:33) was ruckin’ with excitement: loud music, excitable crew, and
and ecstatic AJW!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“You
just ran a 2:28 Cal St! Neal is just ahead!
Zeke and Nick Clark aren’t looking good!” I got my pack quickly from Jimmy, scarcely
acknowledging my crew, as both Jake and AJW were escorting me quickly through.
LB was there with equal encouragement and smiles. “You’re taking boats across! Go!” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Down
to the river, we popped on lifejackets and hopped into the raft. With us came Yassine and his pacer, who’d
caught back up. I doused like a mad-man
(“Yeah, douse! Douse!”, screamed AJW from across the river). I felt hot and longed for a full dip – a
veritable baptism – that Jake and I thought I had coming, via a rope
crossing. So when we docked on the other
side, I quickly laid down in the “bathtub” and submerged. I quickly counted to
20. I barely made 15 before I heard,
“Get going! Get going!” from across the river.
Jake agreed; we had to go.
Yassine and his pacer were hiking, then running uphill. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Out
of the water, I grabbed my jet pack and my last Ensure and powerhiked
uphill. Yassine and his pacer began to
ran. I wanted to be patient, but Jake
had other thoughts. He implored me to run, so I ran. Though my baptism felt refreshing, it’d
stiffened up my legs; running felt terrible.
I hiked. Thankfully Yassine
hiked, as well. I did my best to reel in
the pair, but I struggled. Finally, we
drew equal to Yassine, just in time for a steeper grade; we both hiked. Once again, my hiking proved inferior, as the
trio quickly pulled away. The road
leveled again, and we began to run. And
I kept running – albeit quite slowly.
Jake and I slowly pulled away as we approached the final steep grade to
Green Gate. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>The
River</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">With
a fresh jet pack and a belly full of “old lady shake”, I needed nothing from
the AS (5:52:40PM/21:18 – including bathtime) so we blew straight through. Having put Yassine behind us, I gained confidence
and strength heading onto the “home 20”.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">And
it felt like home. Ever since 2011 – when I ran Green Gate to the finish
blindly, in the dark, clueless and miserable – I vowed to return and learn
every corner, canyon, creek and tree.
Between March and May I ran that section six times: frontward and back,
hot and cold, daylight and dark. So by
the time Jake and I set foot toward Auburn Lake Trails (ALT), I felt like
home. “This is just like a training
run,” I told Jake, “Green Gate to the high school, then we get a beer”. We made excellent time down the jeep road and
onto the trail. GG to ALT has several
rollers; I ran all of them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Just
when Jake and I were speculating on where M10 was running, we came up on a
blue, orange and white North Face jersey, walking on the trail. “I think that’s Mike Wolfe!”, Jake
whispered. Walking along the flat, Wolfe
looked to be struggling. I stayed quiet
as we approached. Jake broke silence. “Hey Mike, you feeling OK? Do you need
anything?” He declined, ceded the trail
and we glided past. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
were now M10.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Rolling
along quickly, our momentum built, but I didn’t feel safe. M10 is a precarious position until you hit
Placer HS – just ask Dan-O – so we pushed at every opportunity, looking to put
valuable time on both Wolfe and Yassine to prevent a resurgence. Moreover, we knew Neal Gorman was still
somewhere up front, as we’d been chasing his shadow since Cal St. We’d crossed our first stream and were
approaching the second – and the short climb onto the “Way Too Cool” course
when Jake and I – from across the little canyon – saw a guy peeing in the
woods. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Are
you a runner or a pacer?”, Jake said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Runner.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Climbing
past him, we ran into who must’ve been his pacer. The four of us shuffled
uphill through two switchbacks. “Who is that guy?” I whispered to Jake. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“What’s
your name?” Jake asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Neal
Gorman.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">M9.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
chatted briefly – I introduced myself, Jake chit-chatted about passing Wolfe,
and Yassine’s status. Despite my
deteriorating mechanics, I was climbing stronger than ever, and we slowly
pulled away. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Joe…you’ve
‘<a href="http://youtu.be/6Vas1dBTar0" target="_blank"><b>out-Nealed, Neal</b></a>'!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
chuckled at this excellent Seinfeld reference as we rolled along toward
ALT. It was glorious to do this section
in broad daylight, scarcely six in the evening.
I worked hard to open up the stride, maintain hip extension and fast,
“big” turnover. I felt legitimately good for the first time
since the high country. Cruising along,
Jake chattered extemporaneously, mixing form cues with movie and Seinfeld
quotes, and ocassionaly singing his favorite – or perhaps most annoying – <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxqnFJ3lp5k" target="_blank"><b>poptunes</b></a>. And just like that, we popped
into ALT (6:44:12PM/51:31).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It
was still relatively warm, and with my smaller jet pack, I gambled with a
“quick fill” of the hydration pack at the AS – which always takes longer. Our transition was a bit slow, closing the
pack, stuffing the gels. After crossing
the creek, we heard distant cheering.
Jake didn’t acknowledge it, but I knew it was a Neal resurgence. We moved along.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">ALT
to Brown’s Bar is perhaps my favorite section of the entire course: smooth,
fast single track, gentle, runnable inclines and fast, effortless downs. I worked hard to “keep the stride open”, and
Jake was on top of my mechanics at every opportunity. I was absolutely driven to hammer these last
sections; I knew that if I ran “my splits”, that no one behind us could catch
up. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
ran into a couple issues en route to Brown’s: my lower GI began to grumble, the
result of taking an S-Cap whole on my climb up from Green Gate; and, about two
miles from Brown’s, a large, developing blister (in the same place as Sonoma –
the result of my excessive lateral foot strike), ceremoniously burst, sending
waves of searing pain beneath my left foot.
“Oh, F###!” That freaked out Jake
a bit, but I didn’t break stride. I didn’t
care. We pushed on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Jake
and I, like AJW, have mental tendencies to make “mini-splits” based on
geographic landmarks. As some say about
AJW, “He knows the split time between every tree”. Rolling along, we reached yet another
horizontal canyon and stream crossing.
Jake said, “OK, we only have about twenty five minutes to Brown’s”. I said nothing, but I thought, “Nope, that’s
not right. That’s ’14-minute
creek’…”. Running Robie to the River
this spring, I’d counted canyons from Brown’s Bar: there was “7-minute”,
“14-minute” and “21-minute” creeks. We’d
just hit the penultimate canyon. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Jake
took splits along the half-mile marked trail: “Eight minutes!”. We pushed along, Jake peppering the
positively and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zfzka5VwRc" target="_blank"><b>more pop tunes</b></a>; though not my favorites, my 100-mile
brain gobbled them up and bandied them about, playfully. Within minutes heard the music of Brown’s Bar
AS (7:27:44PM/43:31). I rolled quickly
in and out, only a quick Mountain Dew swig and I was down the hill.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">More
excellent stride cues: “Tap-tap-tap! Move the feet” as we picked our way
quickly down the steep grade, across two creeks, and quickly bottoming to
Quarry Road. My quads felt a bit cooked,
and the steeper Quarry Road descents were difficult. I hit a minor blip on the climbs up Quarry,
but Jake kept me moving, nervously looking back several times, knowing that
Neal couldn’t been too far behind. I
focused on using the pelvis and hips to pick my way up the road. Below us were terrific, sunlit views of the
American River. “It’s so awesome to be
here in the daylight”, I said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
hit the Quarry Trail – the most rugged, formidable climb since the High
Country. I’d run hard to Brown’s Bar and
Quarry, knowing that it’d be a slow ascent.
The trail is so rocky, and just steep enough, that it’s nearly
impossible to run consistently. Again,
having memorized these sections, I knew the climb to the creek was runnable, so
we shuffled our way up, then hit the rocky “trail”. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
knew that my hiking was inferior to nearly everyone, so I ran: a slow,
medthodical “low gear” shuffle using my hips and pelvis. With Jake’s cueing for
quick feet, I put my head down and just ran. And ran. And ran. I ran nearly the entire climb – walking
perhaps only twenty seconds – until we crested out of the rocky trail and into
the woods. Our excitement built as we
heard the sound of zooming cars along Highway 49.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
spat out of the woods into broad daylight and the cheers of a rauchous crowd at
Highway 49 AS (8:05:33PM/37:48). I was so excited to see my “OOJ Crew”, knowing
it was still daylight and, Gods willing, could remain that way to Placer HS. I “sprinted” across the highway, dropped the
jet pack, and quickly weighed in. I
deliriously scanned the aid table for my needs; I needed nothing. I waved to the crew and ran off. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
did need something, but I’d forgotten it: paper towels. I needed to go, and I didn’t want to hold it
any longer. “I gotta go, Jake”. I stepped off the trail about a kilo uphill
from the AS and let it go. I had no wipe
aids…so I didn’t. We rolled along.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">For
months, I’d had fantasies of running the entire way from 49 to Placer. I did my best but was forced to hike chunks
of the rugged uphill to Pointed Rocks.
Near the top, I started running again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“I
choose not to walk!”, I declared. And
off we went.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Pointed
Rocks meadow in the evening sun was incredible – cool breezes and cooler
views. We pushed the pace through the
grasslands and into the descent toward No Hands. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">For
the first time all afternoon, Jake was silent.
It was welcome for us both. I
leaned into the descent and rolled along.
Just another training run.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In
and out of No Hands (8:36:04PM/30:31) without a stop, still plenty of
daylight. The notion of finishing, and
being M9, began to sink in. But there
was still business to attend to. Three
creek crossings led to the penultimate climb, and to the spot where I’d given
up on myself and Sam in 2011. “I choose
not to walk!” We shuffled up the
switchbacks, over the final creek crossing, before powerhiking up the steep
grade to the jeep road. Light was fading
and glow sticks were visible. “No
headlamp!”, I told Jake. We shuffled up
the Jeep road to Robie.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
grabbed my last shot of soda at Robie Point (9:00:30PM/24:25) and we took
off. I ran up Robie Point…and ran. Not fast, but I ran, and I didn’t stop. The road was dark beneath the canopy of
trees. Without a headlamp, we surprised the rocking “Mile 99 Party”, which only
added to their excitement as Jake and I, “The M9 Contingent” ran through. Screams, and cheers – people lined the road
on both sides, three deep. I gave high
fives as we ran through. My most vivid
sense was smell: the scent of glorious malted hops and barley, as we ran
through. Incredible. One mile to go.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
ran along, and only then it occurred to me how positively awful my feet felt;
as if it were nothing but bare bones pounding the unforgiving pavement. I shuffled along, down the hill from Robie to
Marvin Way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">A
booming voice of a lone figure approached.
AJW! He’d run out from the track
to see us. Running along, he peppered us
with congratulations and encouragement, and finishing reports: Jimothy in sub
15, Clark Bar and Mackey finishing strong.
“You’re M9! Enjoy your lap on the
track – savor it!” And off he went, to
run in with fellow Virginian, Neal. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We
shuffled up the final uphill and picked our way downhill, across the White
Bridge. I wanted to be excited, but I
hurt so badly. Onto Finley, with a half
mile to go, Jimmy was there to escort us to Placer HS. Jake gave his final form cue, and we burst
into the light of Placer HS. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I
wish I would’ve felt – and looked – better on that final lap. The voice of Tropical John on the PA were
warm and welcoming, “Is that Olive Oil Joe?”.
A fist pump, and high-fives to spectators on the homestretch.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">16:13:14
(9:13:14PM/12:46). M9! I doubled over,
hands on thighs. LB presented my
medal. It was over.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Post-Race</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
intial post-race was a blur – I wasn’t sure what to do. I hugged my mom, then made the rounds,
thanking anyone who looked familiar: my crew, Jake’s parents and in-laws. Nick Clark (15:4x) sat in a chair. “I made solid contact”, I told him, in
reference to his pre-race comment of, “You’re ready to hit it out of the
park!”. A hug to Jimothy, who absolutely
obliterated the course record, and the bulk of the field. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Got
a couple glamour shots from Larry Gasson: with the effervescent Jorge
Maravilla, and with my incredible pacer and friend, Jake. By the time I’d had blood drawn, I was
shivering and miserable. The post-race
shower at Placer HS was a production: thanks to Jimmy and Nate for physically
assisting me to the school and helping disrobe and dress me! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Showered
and clothed, the “OOJ Crew” enjoyed Nate’s home brew, “Placer High School
Finish Line IPA”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">*****</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>The
Grades</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Pacing: </span></b><b>A-.</b></span><span style="font-size: small;"> I had hard when I could, I eased
off when needed. I took it too easy in
the Canyons, alone. But I was
struggling. A conservative canyons led
to a hard-charging Foresthill to the finish: 6:13 over the last 38 miles, the 5<sup>th</sup>
fastest of the field. Jake, of course,
was an invaluable part of that…<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Mechanics:</span> C</b>. Not…great! What happened to my left leg? A week later and I can still barely flex
it. Major overload, major braking. My number one goal was, “No braking!”, and I
did exactly that. In addition, I was
lateral striking horribly, and – once again -
got into flexed trunk, losing valuable hip extension. My finishing mechanics were the worst of the
top ten. I have a lot to work on. On the bright side, I was able to use my
trunk and pelvis marvelously, allowing the late-race climbing that I thought
wasn’t possible. All credit for the
second half mechanics goes to Jake: he kept me together, giving me valuable
cueing every ten seconds. At least.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In
spite of those significant inefficiencies…I was still M10. Fixing those things – which is quite doable –
bodes well for my future potential.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Hydration/Fuel/Electrolyes:</span></b><b> B. </b></span><span style="font-size: small;"> In short: I spoiled
my stomach early with too many gels and not enough real food; I went low on
calories having only eaten potatoes for twenty miles; I went low on salt,
having taken none for the first 37 miles.
Once corrected – adequate salt and a happy stomach – I was able to
run. Late-race my stomach got a bit
upset (from whole S-Caps), but otherwise good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Hydration,
drinking “ad libitum”, was perfect. I
drank when thirsty. And I never had any
deep “downs”, characteristic of hyponatremia.
My post-race blood sodium was 140 mmol.
<br />
<b><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Mental Toughness (Me/Jake)</span>: A-/A++. </b>I
stayed strong a fairly positive early, but was down for much of the second
half. Jake absolutely kept me
going. His enthusiasm and joy for the
event – and knowing the true meaning behind what we were accomplishing – was
contagious, even for a grump like me. His
encouragement and helpful tips powered me those last 38. As a result, I was most competitive when it
counted: in the last 20+.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Pacer:</span></b><b> A++.</b></span><span style="font-size: small;">
Jake was marvelous all weekend: keeping me chilled and organized,
pre-race, encouraging amongst the trees at Little Bald, then beside and behind
me in the last 38. If it weren’t for his
form cues and positive encouragement, I’d still be lying in a ditch between Cal
1 and 2. He communicated something
useful – mechanics, encouragement, or information – about every 5-10 seconds. Infectious energy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
only negatives? “Drive-By”, by Train? “Give Your Heart a Break”, by Lovato? Really, Jake?
Were you jamming to the soft rock station on your way to Foresthill? Where was the “Party Rock Anthem”?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Joking
aside, his presence, indeed, “gave my heart [and brain] a break”. </span><span style="font-size: small;">:</span><span style="font-size: small;">)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Joy*:</span> B.</b></span><span style="font-size: small;">
This is an important factor worth grading. I stayed positive for much of the day,
bringing positive energy into Robinson for AS workers and my crew; I “put on a
good show” at Foresthill, staying positive, even though I was in my deepest
low. But, I have a lot to learn from the
likes of AJW and my new friend (and role model), Jorge Maravilla. AJW was in his element: huge smile, loud and
boisterous; infectious excitement. As for Jorge, though I’ll likely never do
any karate moves or “The Worm” going into Aid Stations, his smile - and maybe
some “Party Rock Shuffle” moves of my own – is quite doable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>(*new
category for 2012)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">*****</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Kudos
go to many, many people:</span></div>
<ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;" type="disc">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">To
my family, Meredith, Brandie, Nate, Evan, and Steve: for sacrificing your
time and resources to be there for me. And to Matt and Megan, who traveled
the farthest and were the loudest of anyone there. Great choppers, Monnnnnnnnnnty!</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">To
my family friends, Chris and Frankie: so great to see you guys, and your
smiles around every corner – pre-race, during and after. </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">To
my BEST friends, Brittany, James, and Jake: you sacrificed your entire day
– and many days before that – as well as time with your families, to be by
my side. I can’t fully repay you,
but I’ll try. </span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">To
my ultra friends and supporters, namely LB, AJW and Bryon: you’re the
“crafty veterans” and role models for us “younger” guys. Your love of the sport, the event, and
each other inspires us to run fast and run with joy. </span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-size: small;">*****</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">That’s
it. 7000 words; 70 words a mile. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Thanks
for another great year</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">-
“M9” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-St4GYOEFNjI/T_EJydldKqI/AAAAAAAAD8s/u5AvVpu0zJM/s1600/JoeRobFlatHappy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-St4GYOEFNjI/T_EJydldKqI/AAAAAAAAD8s/u5AvVpu0zJM/s640/JoeRobFlatHappy.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Coming into Robinson Flat, happy to see friends and family! Photo: Brett Rivers</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_lzHM1LhqaU/T_EKA9d4ZrI/AAAAAAAAD80/89almjj1ey0/s1600/JoeElDTop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_lzHM1LhqaU/T_EKA9d4ZrI/AAAAAAAAD80/89almjj1ey0/s640/JoeElDTop.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shuffling out of El Dorado Canyon, trying to look good. Photo: Brett Rivers</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zxKd1V5wKWo/T_EKfZ2f0SI/AAAAAAAAD88/tjhWLDG7I1E/s1600/Jake&JoeFH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zxKd1V5wKWo/T_EKfZ2f0SI/AAAAAAAAD88/tjhWLDG7I1E/s640/Jake&JoeFH.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hobbling out of Foresthill with Jake. Photo: Ultra Runner Podcast</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLSRrjzzS2c/T_EKuTZUnQI/AAAAAAAAD9E/-NKNBJ-vVFg/s1600/RuckyBath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLSRrjzzS2c/T_EKuTZUnQI/AAAAAAAAD9E/-NKNBJ-vVFg/s640/RuckyBath.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Savoring a cool bath, despite many protests, at Rucky Chucky. Photo: Glenn Tachiyama</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tmFfdhAOGOc/T_EK-tTGNPI/AAAAAAAAD9M/TjkBUV3VeVg/s1600/FinishBlur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="512" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tmFfdhAOGOc/T_EK-tTGNPI/AAAAAAAAD9M/TjkBUV3VeVg/s640/FinishBlur.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The last lap at Placer HS felt like this looks: a blur, and awesome. Photo: Karen May</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_lnD4FqzgGI/T_ELK7I4ZII/AAAAAAAAD9U/52oRMGgN1e0/s1600/Joe&JorgeFinish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="624" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_lnD4FqzgGI/T_ELK7I4ZII/AAAAAAAAD9U/52oRMGgN1e0/s640/Joe&JorgeFinish.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"The Odd Couple" - me with the effervescent Jorge Maravilla at the finish. Photo: Larry Gassen.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BmpHA5O3M_Q/T_ELgAKALiI/AAAAAAAAD9c/xRwkjWEDmEc/s1600/Top10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BmpHA5O3M_Q/T_ELgAKALiI/AAAAAAAAD9c/xRwkjWEDmEc/s640/Top10.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Top Ten Fellas. Nice group of guys. Photo: Shahid Ali.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>-OOJoehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06144004855415793083noreply@blogger.com3