Category Archives: PR

ThomBob Kayak 1M Run 5K Relay – 2007

July 14, 2007

Todd Rose and I are paired up again for this fun Team Runners High relay.

Todd is running really well right now and I had a slight improvement in my kayaking time.  (It must have been the zero times I practiced since last year.)  In layman’s terms, we improved… but we didn’t beat out any of the ringer teams.

Big Baz 18K – 2014

February 1, 2014

Decided to try a Big Baz race.  I have heard so much about his events and a bunch of my friends in AREC have run some (or ALL) of them.  Additionally, I am doing Way Too Cool (I’m back) but I need a baseline to determine if I will be ready and decide what kind of pace I will be able to do.

Part of my decision whether I’ll go or not was if other people were going.  Not that I can’t run on my own (I am usually running by myself any way.), but it is a bit of a haul and if I don’t go, I will just find the AREC trail folks and run with them.  Fortunately, Art and Tiffany are going and let me drive out with them.

The course is mostly the Candy Store loop, which I have done before… but not all 21 miles of it.  I know it will be tough, but at least it will be in the light of day.  Oh, no, it will be in the light of day… it could be hot.

However, at the start line, it is pretty darned cold.  It reminds me of a Charlie Alewine or a Robert Gilcrest race, where they are organized, but freewheeling, too.  The pre-race announcements are folksy and most everyone here is a regular.  I don’t feel left out, though… until the race starts and I immediately fall behind most everyone.

The first hill is paved and I don’t want to run it and sap all of my energy.  Also, my left knee and lower back are bugging me (I think I didn’t do my stretches this morning (at 4am).).

Once I clear the hill and begin running on the trail, I am going a lot better, though the trail is technical.  The plus for me on this section is that I am not traversing this in the dark, as I did at Old Goats 50 in 2012.

I didn’t get too far before a tree “stole” my hat.  This happens every once in a while where my hat hooks up on a branch and gets pulled right off.  This doesn’t happen too often, but it IS annoying to get it unhooked when I am running downhill.

My favorite section is where the trail gets less technical and you can see the surrounding environs.  If I was running a little faster, I would be able to see lots of runners off in the distance on another section of the trail, but I don’t really see much of anyone.

The second half of the trail is almost all uphill.  Onthe last technical section of the trail (near to where my hat was poached), I stumbled and fell… but since I was going uphill, I didn’t actually hit the ground.

Finally, I got to the top of the hill, which meant I would be running down the same hill I came up at the beginning.  I get a lot of cheers from people who have long since finished and are changing their clothes at their cars.

When I do finish, in 2:36:48 (about 10th to last), they are just about to do the awards… nearly everyone in our group gets an award, since the race is relatively small.  I got a special “award” from “Big Baz” (not as big as me) – a hat (that I honestly will not wear), but the guy is friendly.  I manage to chug down a large can of Guinness (I didn’t have as much time as everyone else, since they finished so much before me).

I think this was a good test to get ready for Way Too Cool.  My 2-1/2 hour time translates to a 7:20 for 50K, which would put me under the maximum finishing time with a bunch of time to spare.

Browne-Rice Kayak (1M) Run (5K) Relay – 2013

July 13, 2013

This was a previously held event called “ThomBob,” but it died out somewhat when Thom Lacie was no longer affiliated with the Runners High stores.  Or maybe because it was thought that there wasn’t a lot of interest. Well, even though I am a crap kayaker, I still enjoy doing this event.

Back in the day, the teams were required to be more evenly matched, but after a few years, I started to notice that Bob’s kids seemed to be ringers and then the handicap measure went out the window.  Though… if you really think about it, unless a team has two professional kayakers, the odds that a team will automatically win are more based on how they do on the run.

With this in mind, I decided to ask my buddy Mark, if he wasn’t putting on any races that day, because I felt like we might have half a chance to place if my running partner was a ringer.

As usual, on the kayak leg, I was the worst person in my section (the order is: person 1 kayak, person 2 run, person 1 run, person 2 kayak), but Mark ran us back into the top 3.

On my run, I was able to do a sight better than at Boeing, with 25 and change. This dropped us out of the top 10.

Finally, Mark wielded his skills on the kayak.  I thought he might have an advantage seeing as he can get leverage with average length legs.  It made me feel better that this running superhero was just average in the kayak (but he did pick up enough places to get us into 10th).

I hope this event continues, even though the name representatives are getting up there in age.

Rohring Around the Clock 12H – 2013

February 23, 2013

My friend, Jim Tello, is putting on a 12-hour event in Bonita (a few miles north of the US/Mexico border).  This is the guy who sweeps a bunch of races I have been in, therefore meaning that I run with him quite a bit.  Laura is going, too.

The official start of the race was at 6am, but we were OK with not starting right on time, because the drive was almost 2 hours, and neither of us were going to win any prizes.  However, we had some trouble getting out of Long Beach because of freeway construction – apparently, the 405/22/605 interchange is completely closed, so after a few tries, we drove 5 miles down Westminster and then got on the freeway (but it took us 30 minutes to get the 5 miles down the freeway!).  We left pretty early but only found the start by about 6:45am and started when we were ready to go.

As with most 12 hour courses, this was a 5K loop, which would be run in one direction for 3 hours, and then the opposite direction, and so on.  The course parallels a golf course for a bit, then curves around to parallel the road, and then is the shoulder on the road.  All of this is unpaved.  Then it turns onto a paved path through a grassy area, next to the steam train tracks, and then back onto a dirt trail going around a lake area, paralleling another street, and finally through the parking lot and back onto a dirt path by the library (where the “aid station” was located).

I was having side stitches from the get-go, and started out at a fairly slow pace.  The first two loops I did in 36:00 and 36:50, and the next two in 41:00 and 41:30. This led me to believe that I would be walking probably the rest of it, so when I finished my 4th loop, I decided to walk a loop and read my book, New York by Edward Rutherfurd, a historical fiction novel about New York City.

While this seems crazy, reading and walking had been my training to get ready for my 100 mile race last year, and I can read and walk at a decent pace.  By doing so, I could cover the miles and not be bored to tears.  I finished my next 3 loops in 55 minutes (some delay getting my book out), 51:30, and 61 minutes.  This put me at 35 Kilometers AND I was enjoying my book.

However, the hardness of the course was getting to my feet and so I did have to take a number of sitting breaks to relieve the pain.

Taking a load off my feet

Taking a load off my feet

This 8th loop took me an hour and 15 minutes.

In reading and walking the loops, it wasn’t 100% me being engrossed in my book.  When various runners passed by me, occasionally they would walk with me and we would have a short conversation.  I didn’t see a whole lot of Laura, but I did get to walk with “Badwater Brian,” Nickademus Hollon (who later became the 13th and youngest (at 22) to complete the Barkley “Marathon”), and John Wog (who I met at mile 40 of Blue Canyon Trail Race 50M).

I did a couple more loops in 55 and 72 minutes, and ultimately decided that I would continue to go until I finished my book (about 300 pages total reading).

I did my 11th loop in 60 minutes and finished my book midway through my 12th loop.

On the last direction change, I saw Laura and she said that as soon as I was finished, that she was finished, too.  (On the direction changes, you only changed direction when you got back to the aid station.  This creates the effect of runners passing each other in opposite directions, and having a chance to wave or say, “Hi.”)

Having stopped on my 12th loop, I was waiting for Laura to finish whichever loop she was on (she certainly had lapped me a few times).  When she came in, I said, “I’m finished!” to which she replied, “I only need a few more tenths to get 50 miles.”  So I waited for her to get in that last bit of distance.

My distance was 37.2 miles (or 60K) which tied my best (and only other) 12 hour race. Yay.  PR!

Meanwhile, a second 12-hour run was beginning, as well as some of the participants continuing in a 24-hour quest OR 100-mile try.  Mark Vishnevsky came down to attempt a 100-miler (but ended up running a 6-hour run with Michelle).  I think loops are not for him.

Our “finisher’s medal” was a wall clock saying “Rohring Around the Clock” with a Roaring Lion in the center.

We had a quiet uneventful drive back to Long Beach.

With Laura and Steve after finishing.

With Laura and Steve after finishing.

David Hancock Triathlon – 2012

August 5, 2012

Last time I did a triathlon was, well, last year.  My bike is still unridable, due to a squirrel eating the bicycle seat.  It also doesn’t help that I rarely ride the bike.  Little interest.

I worked it out that I would get a teammate and he would do the bicycle section (and if he wanted to swim, we could both swim, but he said that he didn’t like swimming or running… perfect).

The swim is 1 kilometer, and I managed my usual 32:03 (good enough for last place, easy).

Then I walked over to the bike/run transition location, which is about a mile away and waited for my teammate to come in.

When it was my turn to run, I had a bit of a surreal experience.  Tim Hickok, who can kick my butt any day of the week, has a heart arrhythmia and is struggling (I’m not sure how he got through the swim!).  He left just a bit ahead of me on the run, and I passed him up.  In fact, I did the 6.5 mile run (which is NOT flat) in 54:21, or about 8:21/mile.

Too bad I was unable to overtake the 3rd place team in the relay… but it was nice for once not to be at the very end of the pack.

Holcomb Valley Trail Race 33M – 2012

June 10, 2012

I had heard some information about the Holcomb Valley Trail Race, and I had clarified whether it was on the same side of the lake as the Endure the Bear 50K I had done a few years earlier.  It did not.

My friend, Chris (aka Undercover, from the Hash), had mentioned he was interested in doing the 15M race (recently, he ran his first marathon, at age 69, and was really enjoying trail races).  Since the drive to Big Bear is sort of long, he proposed that we go up together and split a room.  We always have had nice conversation at the Hash, and I may have convinced him he could do a marathon, I thought it might be a fun adventure, and a good (different distance) ultra to continue my streak.

We drove up on Saturday morning and decided to take a look at the course beforehand.  I think we intended just to hike up to where the trail became dirt.  However, we ended up hiking up to the start of the Pacific Crest Trail, which was about 2.5 miles away, at elevation, without water, and in my non-running shoes (tennis shoes, but I don’t use them on trail).  We ended up exhausting ourselves somewhat.

When we picked up our bibs, they told us all about the staggered start.  To me, it makes little or no sense.  We start in two-minute increments, based upon race, gender and age group.  While that makes sense for race leaders, this is a small race and also, it separates me from people that I might actually run with (i.e. women who run a similar pace… but will start 18-20 minutes behind me).  I wonder if they thought that a staggered start would be better for the trail?  (The answer is they are bike racers and that’s something they do in those events, but it doesn’t translate well to running.)  We also got our shirts, which are Dri-Fit, gray, and say “HOLOCOMB Valley Trail Race” on them (no year, either).  How much effort did you put into this?

Afterwards, we had an early dinner at an Italian restaurant somewhere along the lake.  Chris’s phone indicated a number of interesting restaurants, but most of them were closed or non-existent.  The Italian place was good, food-wise, if not service-wise.

In the morning, we headed over to the race.  I think Chris started a good 40 minutes behind me (because he was in a shorter race), so I hoped that the timing would work out that he wouldn’t have to wait extraordinarily long for me to finish.  (We are both slow.)

The first few miles were the same miles we covered in our long practice hike yesterday.  The paved part is a lot longer, because we start all the way at the bottom of the road (and will finish that way, as well).  It is kind of nice to have an idea of the trail, but it still sucks, because it’s a lot of uphill, at elevation.

Near the Pacific Crest Trail

Near the Pacific Crest Trail

Since it is mostly uphill, I manage a little better than a 15-minute pace, and therefore am running near no one, because the other 4 people in my division are shorter, younger and faster!

After 3.8 miles up to the Pacific Crest Trail, I head downhill (mostly) on a nice wide fire road, without too much gravel or rocks along the way.  This is very comfortable to run and walk down, because it is not technical in the least.  The trail is not particularly scenic, but there are a lot of nice trees around.  By the next aid station, I have covered 8.6 miles in just under 2 hours.

Now I head uphill for a few miles.  It is pretty exhausting, but I have heard that I will encounter some people I know either at the aid station or en route.  About a mile out of the aid station, I come across my friend Richard (aka Hozer) from the Hash.  He is hiking backwards from the aid station.  I know he always wants to do the entire trail, but he has had some health issues (aka “getting older”) and has reasonably cut back.

The aid station is nicely set up and has a bunch of American flags.  I am offered and kindly accept a cup of champagne (!).  At this point, I am just working on finishing and obviously not going to win anything (as stated previously, those in my division are LONG gone), so why not enjoy it?  I managed a reasonable pace to this station, still managing about 13 minutes per mile.  An AREC friend, Paul Epperson, reaches the AS at about the same time (but he is in the 15 miler).

From here, I leave the fire road and am on a parallel single-track above the fire-road.  I like this quite a bit, because it is more interesting.  At this point, I am essentially heading back to where I started on the Pacific Crest Trail (and the 15-milers are heading back to the finish).  When I reach that point, I have another mile or so to the next aid station.

From this point, however, the make-up of the trail changes from light-packed dirt to a really rocky path.  While it was not difficult up and down, I had to step very carefully, and that markedly restricted my speed.   A little bit of downhill kept me under 16 minute pace, however.  At the aid station, they had limited water (and gosh, we were coming through here again – makes me nervous), and mostly only orange slices.  It was getting pretty hot and I was already struggling with the elevation.

A couple of girls caught up with me and we stayed together for a bit.  Unfortunately, they were (obviously, if they caught up) much faster with me, so we didn’t stay together for long.

This next section was rolling hills at the start, but ended up being a 6.5 mile slow descent to approximately the same level as where we started the race.  The trail was single-track and cut long stretches across the hillside – maybe 3 to 4 tenths of a mile each time.  The biggest challenge (though I enjoyed it, strangely) was this gigantic rock field.  If I thought that the previous trail section was rocky, well, this section was pure rocks.  The only way you could tell that there was a trail was that there was a bit of flattening through it, but walking on the rocks, well, it sounded like walking on broken glass, and it was disorientating to have that loss of balance.  This is hard to describe.  The rocks were all the size of a slice of bread (maybe a bit thicker) and it covered all of the hill in that section and was probably a tenth of a mile long.

So… I would work my way across the rock field, continue another 2 tenths, hairpin turn down, 2 tenths of a mile, tiptoe across the rock field, another tenth, another hairpin, and so on.  The rock field didn’t extend throughout the entire descent, but I crossed it at least 4 times.  I should have been accelerating down the hill, but this thwarted most of my forward progress.


At the bottom, there was still about a mile of flat, wide road to the aid station.  While this was welcome after the rock fields, there was no shelter from the sun.  It was probably close to 80 degrees at this point.  The aid station was situated at the end of a road… or rather, at the end of where we were ALLOWED to go.  There was a guard gate of sorts.  We were at the far edge of the park.  Going was slow, nearly 20 minutes per mile… and it was downhill!

I didn’t waste much time (other than refilling my water bottles) and headed up the hill.  At least it was not too technical… but it was hot!

Usually, I sing to myself, but I was too tired and too out of breath to keep myself occupied that way.  I started thinking of puns.  First, I came up with the runners’ favorite rock group – The I.T. Band.  Then I began fixating on something offered at a previous aid station – Iced Heed (Heed is like Gatorade, but fairly yucky tasting and sugar-free.).  And so, I came up with the following story:

Haley Joel Osment (of Sixth Sense fame) is running an ultra.  He gets to an aid station that is run by co-captains.  He needs electrolytes, now!  So, he says, “Iced Heed, Head People.”  (Bad, I know, but I did get a bit delirious in the heat.)

Strangely enough, despite an unsheltered and hot uphill trail, I maintained the same (slow) pace (according to my calculations, 1 second faster per mile) on this uphill slog.

From this location, I knew I would be heading back to the understocked aid station and be that much closer to the end.  I figured it would be mostly downhill, because of the HUGE hill I had just climbed.  It ended up being mostly rolling hills, but untechnical, so I could walk relatively fast and covered the 3.3 miles in about 55 minutes.  When I got to the aid station, they had no more soda, no more Heed, pretzels and a little water, but only enough to fill one water bottle.  Luckily, I usually don’t drink ALL of my water… one bottle is ‘just in case.’

This last section was really hard to bear.  My feet hurt quite a bit, and I had to traverse that same rocky single-track (but uphill this time) back to the intersection with the Pacific Crest Trail and then down the hill to the paved path and the end.  I wasted quite a bit of my time getting through the rocky section, but was able to gallop and speed walk down most of the hill.  The couple of times that I ran, I stumbled on roots… and if I fall, that’s probably IT.  Finito.  Game over.

Once I got to the road (despite not liking to run on the road), I was able to open up and get done in a reasonable time (8:56:00).  I was particularly pleased (technically a PR, since I have never run 33 miles before) because my time was 5 minutes faster than the Endure the Bear 50K, and this race was nearly 2 miles further.

As I crossed the finish line, they handed me a water bottle (?).  A water bottle is really great at the finish line especially when your hands are already full holding… water bottles.  The one plus was that they made some delicious strawberry smoothies.  It was refreshing and hit the spot, but there wasn’t much food of any kind… or if there was, the 8- and 15-mile finishers had taken it all.

I was happy to see my friend, Yolanda Holder, at the finish.  She came in around 9:11.  We could have run together, but she finished about 30 minutes after I did because of the staggered start.  I am including this photo of us (although she cut me out, you can still see me to the left, and Yolanda is no shrimp).

Yolanda (and me hiding)

Yolanda (and me hiding)

Afterwards, I heard about Chris’s adventure.  There was some confusion on the course.  The volunteers sent him the wrong way (to the 8-mile finish).  He got about a mile down, and then turned around and came back to the course and actually do the 15-miler… so he didn’t have to wait as long.

I don’t know about him, but I would NEVER do this race again… unless some major changes occurred, because it was a bit of a disaster.


PC Trails Malibu 25K – 2011

March 6, 2011

I have had some difficulty in getting my fitness back to normal, as well as my sleep schedule.  I didn’t help that I pulled an all-nighter at the Rocky Road 100M a few weeks ago.  That race had also been my back-up plan if I didn’t finish Rocky Raccoon.

Still, it was worth it in assisting runners when they need it the most (late at night).

Tomorrow is my 40th birthday, so Jack Novak, Chris Rosario, and Laura helped convince me to run the PC Trails 25K as my last hurrah in my 30s.

This is basically the first half of the Bulldog Trail run (which I have done 3 times) only in reverse.  They have a 50K also, but I do have Way Too Cool 50K in a week.  What I do like about this race is that you can opt out of the shirt to save money… that’s worth it to me, since I don’t really need another shirt (I mean, 500-plus posts essentially equals 500 affiliated shirts – I opt out a lot!).

Possibly the most exciting part of this event was the stream crossing.  It was positively torrential in the morning and they had strung this tiny, thin (but curiously strong) piece of twine across the water to assist people… and people are using it to stay upright.  Everyone and their mother has an I-phone with them, so there is also the crowd at water’s edge trying to secure said phone in some kind of waterproofing (sandwich bag).

The worst problem for me on the course is that the course is essentially a 6-mile uphill climb, a 5-mile descent, and then a bunch of flat rolling hills.  I can’t really run any of the uphill and don’t have much energy left on the downhill.  Jolly good show.

I finished in 3:27, which is slower than I did the Bulldog 30K here in 2001, but a PR, given that I have never done the 25K distance before. My prediction for Cool is that I will come in 21st place in my age group, because I am 20th today (and was 19th at the Sheriff’s Run).

Rocky Raccoon 100M – 2011

February 3, 2011

Tomorrow I leave to attempt my 100 miler.  For a while, I was really nervous about doing this event, due to all of the issues I have had leading up to the race (sore-ish throat, tweaked back, popping knees, banging my knee into a drawer, etc.).  All of that stressing about that race went out of the window, when I started getting weather updates from my family and from friends who were coming from elsewhere to run this event.

One of my original plans was to fly into Dallas and then maybe have a family member drive down with me to the race.  That was a bad idea given that the Superbowl was being held in Dallas on the same weekend.  The cost was prohibitively more expensive than just flying to Houston.

The weather reports for the week and also for the weekend was a freak winter storm.  My sister, Marisa, was working on Bridgestone’s The NFL Experience at the Superbowl, and they were unable to get many workers there because of icy roads.  Many friends heading to Houston were saying that their airports might be closed and that Houston Airport also might be closed.

To top it off, my flight was connecting through Salt Lake City.  I thought what is probably going to happen is that either I won’t be able to fly into SLC, or my flight will be delayed or cancelled (since there are always issues in Utah in the winter).

I dutifully checked and really didn’t agonize about the race because I was certain that I would not even get the chance to get there.  If I did make it, then I’d cross that bridge when it appeared.

The additional reports of weather were from my friend Jerry Hollingsworth (who I had met at the Sunmart 50M in 2008).  My plan was to sleep on his hotel couch on Friday night.  He was driving down from Abilene with another guy, Gary Garson (who was doing the 50M “fun run”), but the roads into Dallas were so bad, that they had to take a 3-hour detour.  But… they did get there.  Reports were looking slightly better from my point-of-view… Houston Intercontinental wasn’t closed… yet, and none of my other flights were cancelled.

February 4, 2011

Took my minimal run bag and whatever gear I needed and took public transportation to the Long Beach Airport.  When I arrived, the flight was still on, and the report in the morning was that SLC Airport had clear skies and no snow, so at least that leg was still on.  I figured I would probably be stranded there for the weekend, but I had committed to the weekend, so there was no use to freak out about it.

When we arrived in Salt Lake City, I went over to the other terminal to transfer flights.  They did not indicate any delays, and I asked if the conditions were OK.  They said that the weather had warmed a little bit and that the runways were in good condition.  I guess this is a go…

When I arrived in Houston, it was REALLY cold out.  I had made arrangements to rent a car and the rental agent was somewhat aghast that I was decked out in shorts (minimal travel).  I told her all about my upcoming adventure and fortunately, I had gotten my car through Hotwire, so I wasn’t relying on driving a subcompact and messing up my legs from the get-go.  She did warn me that the roads could be icy (and Houstonians are not known for driving in wintry conditions (because it NEVER snows in Houston)).  I am not great with driving in icy conditions, either.

I drove cautiously up the interstate to Huntsville (about an hour without traffic) and found the hotel without too much trouble.  The flight was slightly late, though the odds of being able to check-in for the race on Friday would have been difficult to impossible even if the flight was on time.  I would have to do it in the morning.

I found my friend’s room, and he showed me the pullout couch (not big enough, but free) and then said that they were getting ready to go to bed.  That had to be my option, too.  But I should mention here that it was probably about 8pm Central time… which is 6pm Pacific Time.  I wasn’t really tired or ready to go to bed.  I set my stuff out and I tried to sleep in the darkness.  Knowing that I had to get up at 4am (2am Pacific) didn’t help me fall asleep any faster.

February 5, 2011

I awoke with enough time to get ready, and without disturbing my roommates too much (they had already gotten their race bibs and stuff, so they were on a less pressing schedule).

Because it was pretty cold out, I dressed much warmer than usual.  My typical ultramarathon fare is my running shorts with bicycle short liner, technical t-shirt, Moeben sleeves, Buff around my neck, gloves, gaiters on my shoes, and hat with removable sun guard.

Today, I added:  long-sleeved Nike tech shirt with built-in hoodie, my 2008 Sunmart finisher’s jacket (with pockets and hood), and Nike long “track” pants.

Inside, I felt warm.  Outside, I couldn’t get warm enough.

I went to the rental car and the windshield and back glass were iced over.  Hmm… How do I get through this?  Ahh… In my wallet, was my Ralphs Rewards Card.  It served as an acceptable ice scraper.  It took a while, though, and I still had to get my race bib.

Fortunately, the park was just one exit down the freeway, so I got on and off the freeway, and then drove the 5-odd miles into the Huntsville State Park.  As I got closer to Race Headquarters, there were volunteers directing us where to park.  I wanted a spot that would not be too far from the start/finish, but took whatever they gave me (which was 200 yards from the start/finish).  Now I just needed to get my bib and giveaways.

But… no one seemed to know where to send me… or if they did know, then they said stuff like, “You know, the old cabin over there.”  I don’t see a cabin…

I wandered around quite a bit; I didn’t want to wander around quite a bit, as I will be “wandering” for hours.  Finally, I spotted the cabin, and there were actually people still registering for the race.  There weren’t a lot of volunteers in this check-in location, and I was a little antsy, because I did not want to still be inside when the race started.

I pinned my number on my shirt (under my jacket and overshirt), locked my run bag, pants, and race tech shirt in the car, grabbed my water bottles, and stashed my drop bag in the designated area just outside the start/finish area.

I looked around for Gary and Jerry and tried to stay warm; in 15 minutes, I would embark on a 100-mile adventure…

In running this event, I didn’t have any particular plan… except to try and finish.  The one nice thing about this race is that the first cutoff wasn’t until 80 miles, which you had 24 hours to complete.  (Usually, there are interim cutoff points to strive for, somewhat so you don’t get through most of the distance and then have to stop.)  After that, you had to complete each 3 mile section in an hour (basically each aid station closed after that point).  The final cutoff was 30 hours for the entire race.

In case it hasn’t been clear in my other posts about ultramarathons, other than some brief stops at aid stations to refuel or regain one’s composure, there is no stopping and restarting.  When they say “30 hours,” they mean you have 30 hours from the start of the race until the end.  If you are fast, then maybe you could take a 3-hour nap in the middle.  If you are just trying to finish, then you may need just about all of the time.

There were 316 starters in the 100 miler (and around 200 in the 50-mile, which started an hour later).  They had expected about 700 total runners, but a lot of people simply couldn’t get to the starting line because of the inclement weather.  I placed myself firmly at the back of the pack because I didn’t want to push the pace one bit.

It was still pretty dark out when the race began, but I had my trusty headlamp.  Most of the other people didn’t wear their headlamps, either relying on others’ lights or just following the pack.

An interesting aspect of this race is that it is 5 – 20 mile loops.  Previously, I have run about 5 or 6 LONG races that involved doing loops.  In particular, several of the Charlie Alewine events are marathons which are 6.55 mile loops.  Strangely enough, it isn’t that boring.  I mean, it’s 6-1/2 miles.  It’s not as if I’m running laps around a track (or even the Sun Dagger 12-hour race I did which was 5K loops around the Rosebowl.  If the surroundings start to look familiar, then I can either use that to my advantage (knowing where I excel or struggle) OR strike up a conversation with someone I’ve never met before.  This loop, however, is TWENTY miles.  That’s almost like running 5 marathons in a row on the same course… I’m sure I won’t really remember what transpired 4 or 5 hours before or what exactly the course looked like.

On the other hand, I do have some familiarity with the course, having run 2 – 50 mile races here in 2007 and 2008.  I’m sure some of the course will be familiar, though it is certainly not the same course.

As soon as the gun goes off, I start shuffling off behind the many others.  It is COLD!!!  I have my Buff (in case you don’t know what that is, it’s a circular technical scarf around my neck (if you watch Survivor, it is a smaller version of what they wear to identify tribes) pulled up over the top of my head AND also pulled up over my nose (only my glasses are showing, though I would prefer to cover that area, too).  Over that, is my hooded shirt, and over that, is my hooded jacket, cinched tight… and I’m STILL cold!

Proof that I wore long pants

Proof that I wore long pants

The start of the race is very familiar to me, because it was the same section that I followed many times in the 50-mile (12.5 mile loop) course.  It is basically a two-lane-highway-wide pathway, with telephone poles going through the middle of it… and has somewhat patchy grass along it as well.  There are some tents and chairs set up along the entire section (about 200 – 300 yards long), which I assume is for spectators.

From here, the trail parallels the main park road on a double-track dirt trail with lots of little ups and downs, with a lot of root “staircases.”  I keep mindful of my footing, as one fall on these ‘stairs,’ and I may be done for.

In the Sunmart 50 miler, the course crosses the main park road and continues off in another direction (I will be there later.).  The 100-mile course veers left and begins to parallel the lake.  This is also familiar to me, because it was towards the end of the 12.5 mile loop.  It also stands out, because this is where the number of wooden bridge crossings start.  In parks such as these, where the ground may be marshy, they put in wooden “bridge” sections.  A bridge usually consists of a 3 – 10 plank incline, 10+ planks across, and then a 3 – 10 plank descent.  What I am calling a plank is maybe a board that is 3 feet long and a foot wide.

In some of these sections, it isn’t really necessary to use the bridge, though I note that if you run on the dirt part of the trail, you do need to watch out for roots.

As we leave the lakeside, we make an almost hairpin turn and head out into the woods.  There is another bridge here, and there seems to be a bit of a hubbub here, where people are standing around.  There is an actual water crossing and the incline and decline over the bridge is at a steep angle than any of the other bridges we’ve previously seen (or for that matter, steeper than any I’ve seen throughout this park).  Some of the folks are unable to get up the incline… not because it is too steep (because it is only about 4 feet above the trail) but because there was a bit of moisture last night and this morning it created a thin layer of ice all over the bridge.

On the other side of the bridge is a woman lying on the ground and a couple of people around and attending to her.  She made up the bridge, but when she tried to run/slide down the other side, she tripped and fell.  (I later learned she broke her ankle – not even 3 miles into the race.)

Those of us behind her looked for another option.  We ended up rolling some wood logs into the water (which wasn’t really deep, but COLD) and stepping onto them while holding onto the bridge.

Just past this section was another LONG bridge, but only elevated about a foot off the ground.  It was completely roped off.  I’m not certain if this had to do with the iciness or if they hadn’t completed work on it yet.  The alternative path was alongside the bridge, which was not really a path at all, but trudging through crunchy fallen pine and fir branches.  This was kind of like a 1/4-single track, and we all had to go single-file and no passing.

By the time I got to the first aid station (Nature Center – 3.1 miles), it was light out enough that I could tuck my light back into my pocket.  I would have an opportunity later to leave it in my drop bag, but in my experience, I don’t leave anything in my drop bag that I would like back… so I am not planning on putting my light in my drop bag, but carrying it with me all day (until it gets dark) instead.  I reach the first aid station in 44:17, which is a 14:17 mile.  If I can maintain this pace for the entire distance, I will be good.

From the Nature Center aid station, we turn onto more familiar trail.  This is basically Miles 4 to 7 of the Sunmart race.  It is a lot of switchbacks (though not really hills – each loop only has about 1000 total feet of elevation change) through the forest, and mostly on single- and double-track, as well as a few bridges (both crossing water and crossing (supposedly) marshy areas.

This trail pops out on the back trail which surrounds the entire park border – Triple C.  In the Sunmart race, we did a couple mile out-and-back to the left here, but today, I am going to the right.  We stay on the road for maybe a quarter-mile and then head back into the single-track which is between the Triple C Trail Road and the lake.  When we get back onto the Triple C trail, it is about a half-mile and I’ve reached the second aid station (Dam Road – 6.1 miles).  This is a BIG aid station, because on each loop, runners go here twice.

The people who run this aid station like to refer to it as “Dam-Nation.”  I’m not feeling damned yet, but I’ve covered this 3 mile section in 44:22 (slight slower than the first 3.1), refill my water bottles, grab a few snacks and continue on.  Since I am now over an hour, I am taking my Succeed S!Caps to keep my electrolytes balanced.

Now comes the longest section between aid stations, and the most difficult, most boring part of the loop.  I continue to walk/run along Triple C Trail.  I make note of a couple sections which could be difficult later.  Just past the 50-mile turnoff (they do a 16.67 mile loop, and just after Dam-Nation, they make a smaller loop and begin heading back), there are sections in the road where in the center, it craters downward.  It is definitely something that you cannot spot in the dark when you have no depth perception.  I make a note that I will just need to stay to the sides where the drop is less severe.

This road stays absolutely straight for a couple of miles, and then turns right and heads down another hill (but not craters, just subtle downhill).  The road disappears and I find myself on a single-track.  About 5 minutes later, I hear a buzzing noise.  It’s unnatural-sounding, and then another 5 minutes later, I run across a carpet and hear a beep.  Ah.  The timing mat.  This makes sure that we go to the far end of the trail and complete the entire distance.

Soon again, I recognize the trail.  There is a bit of a hill (maybe 15 feet of gain) and I am on top of the dam.  It’s basically a raised double-track trail which is now above the lake.  I am also noticing that it is not as chilly as it was this morning.  I wonder if by the time I finish this loop that I won’t need all of my layers anymore.

At the end of the dam, we drop back down and circle around some more on these single-track trails.  As the lake bends to the right, we turn to the left, and find ourselves back on the Triple C Trail, heading back to Dam-Nation.  I am starting to feel a little discomfort in my right foot.  I don’t know if it’s rubbing the wrong way, or what is going on, but I don’t really have any rocks in my shoes, so I just keep on going.  I get back to Dam Road aid (12.1 miles) in 90 minutes (15:00/mile).  Still good.  Not remotely approaching the 19:00/mile average needed to finish.  I’m still under 15:00/mile net.

This next section involves a bunch of back-tracking.  I head the 1/2 mile back on the Triple C Road to the single-track section… back to the other side of Triple C.  But when I get back to the original spot where I hit Triple C, now I continue up the fire road in the direction I am familiar with (the Sunmart course).  This section is mostly loose sandy dirt and rolling hills.  Some of it is worn down where runners tend to congregate (not deeply, but you can tell).  They have done some good work to try and clip through the roots that stick up on the trail (because it’s easy to shuffle through one and do a header (much like I did at Rocky Road Preview 50K last month)).

I can remember from 2008 that we went probably a mile on this trail and then turned around, but the course continues past that point and even through a gate and down a bit of a hill to the Park Road aid station (Mile 15.6).  It takes me about 48:30 (right at 15:00/mile), and now I am on the “homestretch” and will be finishing my first 20-mile loop.

The aid station is on the main park road, so we cross over it and head to the Triple C Trail head on the other side.  We follow this for a few miles, and then we are suddenly backtracking along the edge of the blocked off bridge, the mini-bridges along the lakeside, the rooty “staircases” paralleling the road and then, finally, the green-ish couple of football fields through spectators just starting to cheer for runners.

The Start/Finish is a big tent, and as you come inside, someone makes note of your number, directs you to a chair, and another volunteer brings you your drop bag.  (Really really nice.)

Also, as you get inside, then you are crossing the mat and recording your time.  My must-have total time needs to be under 6 hours, because that’s what I need to average in order to finish under the time limit.  Of course, I don’t want to be at six hours, because I’m not going to be going faster at night on the single-track, bridges and roots.  My time is 4:47:53.  So I have an hour in the bank.

I do sit down and take off my shoes, and oh, my god… have I got a blister!  For some reason, I can’t think what to do with it.  I ask if they have a needle or bandages or something, but they don’t.  I remember that someone said to wrap your foot with duct tape and that should take care of the issue and prevent you from getting more… so I take my shoe and sock off completely and wrap my right foot in duct tape.

I also take some time to remove outer layers of clothing.  It’s almost 11am, and the temperature is above 60, so I don’t need a jacket AND a long-sleeved shirt.  I do keep the buff (protects my neck from sun) and the gloves, because I can deal with wearing them in average weather.  In total, I am at the aid station about 6 minutes dealing with my foot and clothing.

Just after finishing 20 miles.

Just after finishing 20 miles.

So… now I set off on another 20-mile loop.  This is where it is supposedly going to get “boring,” but the first section doesn’t seem that familiar.  Maybe it is because it is not dark out.  Or maybe it is because before I was skiing across bridges, now I am just walking across them (the ice having melted).  The course DOES look different in the light.  It’s kind of a different look.  I am also not looking through a very narrow viewpoint of all of my head coverings.

Another change is that although the course has thinned out somewhat from people being in different positions, there are a lot more people on the course, and especially on the out-and-back sections, there are a number of people coming AT me now.  At this point, most are the 50-milers, who are probably moving at the same pace as I am (they did 3.3 fewer miles but started an hour later).  Haven’t seen any of the 100-mile front-runners (though that would be demoralizing to be lapped already).

I get to the Nature Center aid station in 45:14 (about a minute slower than the first time around – great), which means I am still maintaining my pace.

Now I’m on the single-track section heading to Dam-Nation.  In the distance, I hear a beeping noise.  Well, not a constant beeping, but a couple of times every minute.  I strike up a brief conversation with a runner who is using the Galloway Method, albeit she is running for 40 seconds and walking for 20 seconds.  That would drive me nuts.  We can’t have much of a conversation because she keeps running off and I just maintain my pace and catch up and continue the conversation.

I also encounter a guy that is running barefoot.  Yech.  Too many rocks, roots and pounding.

I get back to Dam-Nation (Mile 26.1 (3.0M)) in 43:27 (a minute FASTER than before!).  This is the aid station that has stuff cooking, and so I feel like it is time to have a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich quarter.  Mmm.

Now I set off on the 6 mile, far end of the course timing mat loop.  In my head, I am now thinking about what I should do when I get back to the end of the second loop.  Should I put on more clothing, or will it be still warm enough when I finish my third loop?  If I continue at around 5 hours per loop, it will be 9pm.  I can’t imagine that the temperature will drop so precipitously by that point.  Well, if I come in around 5 hours, then I guess I will have to take that under consideration.

On this section, I also spend some time talking with a nice couple from California and Colorado, Beiyi and Daniel.  They are running together.  It is nice to run with people who are doing the same pace (well, I did catch up with them, and eventually pass (… or they let me pass when I was too verbose)).

I get back to Dam-Nation (Mile 32.1) in 90:21 (3 seconds faster – wow, I’m pretty consistent).  It’s about 70 degrees out.  Pleasant, and actually a bit on the warm side.  I’m thinking that maybe it won’t get cold tonight and this will be one of those weird Texas weather shifts.

Now I am heading out to the Park Road aid station (mostly on the large fire road).  I encounter the barefoot runner again – this time, he is nursing a sore foot.  I also encounter the race leaders – yes, I am being lapped.  And yes, they are 20 miles ahead of me.

I reach the Park Road aid station (Mile 35.6) in 51:48 (I lost FOUR minutes).  I still feel pretty good, though I am not certain that the duct tape is working on the blisters.

I continue on back to the start/finish to complete another lap.  I am debating about the jacket and also about doing something else about the blisters.  It still hasn’t occurred to me the best way to treat  them.  I finish the 40 miles in 9:48:49, but spend just over 11 minutes sitting down and keeping off my feet.  (Just for the record… I have now stopped and rested 16 minutes for a 40-mile run.)  My net time (I like to state the time when I LEAVE the station) is 10:00:10.  I decide not to take the jacket or hooded shirt.  It’s still pretty warm out.

Now the course is getting to be old hat.  This first section is very recognizable, now that I have done it twice in daylight (though it will certainly be night on the way back).  Just at the tail end of the initial out-and-back section, I encounter Jerry on his way in to finish his second lap.  He is doing great, and will finish his 40 miles in under 11 hours (so, he still has an hour in the bank).

My foot feels OK, and I get to Nature Center (43.1M) in 52:02 (7 minutes slower).  I am definitely starting to lose time off my original pace, but my net pace is still just over 15:00/mile.

I continue along to Dam-Nation (part 1 – 46.1M) in 48:01 (another 4 minutes off).  It is here when I am lapped for the second time by the eventual winner, Ian Sharman.  The best part was that he wasn’t some jerk sporting headphones or earbuds and storming on by, he was shouting encouragement to every runner he passed.  In the end, he ended up breaking the 15-year course record by 20+ minutes, 12:44, which averages out to under 8:00 minutes per mile… for 100 miles… on a trail!  Amazing.

On the next 6 mile section, it is starting to get a bit dusky.  I do manage to get by the crater trail section before it gets really dark, but unfortunately, it gets REALLY REALLY cold out.  Maybe like 30 degrees.  While I do have gloves and sleeves on, it really isn’t enough.  My teeth start chattering and the best I can do to stay warm is to clench my arms against my waist, because it consolidates the heat. Brrr!

I get back to Dam Road station (52.1M) in 1:50:12 (20 minutes slower).  This is where I am definitely going to lose a lot of time and also where I am glad to have a couple of spare hours in the bank.  My average overall pace goes from 15:08/mile to 15:48/mile on this section!  I stay a little while (because they do have heating lamps, and hot soup to warm me up slightly).  Another runner offers me use of his jacket, but I don’t think there are any extra large runners out here with spare jackets.

The single-track and fire-road section is really dark.  I have my light, but there is no light from the moon – a new moon, I think.  I also don’t have the best light, but whenever someone passes, I take advantage of using their light for that time period.  I get the chance to run with Beiyi and Daniel again, and this time, they pass me.  I get to Park Road aid station (55.6M) in 60 minutes (another 9 minutes down) and I am really suffering from the cold.  I just keep telling myself that in 3.5 miles I will be back at the start/finish and can get my shirt and jacket and also warm up a bit in that tent.

That ends up being a good motivator, but it is slow going with my arms akimbo, trying to produce extra warmth where there isn’t really any.  I finally make my way back to the start/finish (60.0M) in 15:45.

I am sitting relaxing for about 10 minutes and I encounter two people I know in the tent.  First, I run into Jerry.  Huh?  Jerry was behind me and never passed me.

Well, Jerry was moving well, and had just left Dam Road aid station heading out on the 6 mile loop.  About a half mile out, he encountered a collapsed runner.  Passed out, fell over, who knows?  So Jerry goes back to the aid station and alerts a volunteer, and then heads back out to continue… only later realizing that he left the aid station in the wrong direction.  By the time he figured out his mistake, he was resigned to stopping and walked back to the start.

The other person I see is Mark Hirsh, a guy that I ran with for probably 4-5 hours at Mt. Disappointment 50M.  I ran into him at the hotel, but didn’t recognize him (it had been a few years – and I am more recognizable to everyone than he is to me).  I had seen him a few times on the course and he was well ahead of me.

Mark had mentioned that this was his best chance to finish a 100-mile race – he had made two prior attempts but not finished.  (That tends to be a trend for 100-milers.)  So, given that he had been so far ahead of me (like an hour after the second loop), I was surprised to see him STILL in the aid station.  He said that he had been there an hour and was waiting for his coach to give him some advice (maybe to pace him, I don’t know).  I said I thought he should keep going, because that was what I was about to do.  (He ended up going out an hour later and then coming back and quitting.)

So, now I am heading out on my 4th loop.  I had a bunch of milestones coming up, in terms of time in 1 race, time in a weekend of racing, distance in one race, and distance in a weekend of racing.  All would come in the 4th loop.

I reached my first milestone 2.3 miles after starting out on my 4th loop.  That would be 62.3 miles… which would be the longest distance I have ever covered in a single race (when I did the Sunmart/White Rock double, I did 76.6 miles in a weekend… that’s coming up later).

My next milestone (officially at Nature Center aid station at 63.1M, because I didn’t look down at my watch that much) was time in one race.  My maximum time in a race had been 16 hours and 14 minutes.  By my watch, I was now at 17 hours and 1 minute (and covered the last 3.1 miles in 65:54 – SLOOOOW).

Longest run ever!

Longest run ever!

My actual longest time racing in a weekend was a minute or so later, because in 2007, I did 11 hours and 51 minutes for the 50 miler and 5 hours and 14 minutes for the marathon (17:04).

I continued moving as fast as I could, but it was hard to get going in the dark, because you wanted to make sure to stay on the trail, and also on the out-and-backs, whenever you encountered other runners, they would forget to nod their heads down and you would be blinded… repeatedly.  Frustrating.

I was also still pretty cold, even though I had added the shirt and jacket.  It just took some doing to get my body back to where it was.

It was really weird in the dark, because the most ordinary things looked extraordinary in the dark, or even menacing.  For example, someone dropped their glove and it was propped up with the four fingers pointing down and the thumb out.  In the distance, with my light, I saw a wild animal, with jaws clenching.  The different angle of the light changed its size and demeanor.  Of course, when I got close enough and my heart was racing, it was a stupid glove!

By the time I got to Dam-Nation, I was getting hungry.  (66.1M)  Another 66 minutes for 3 miles and it was after midnight.  They proffered me a quarter of a hamburger, but they had no bread, and no paper towels (I think a supply was coming.).  I deftly grabbed two quarter PB&J sandwiches, neatly tucked them around the hamburger and then I had an unusual hamburger sandwich.  (They thought it was gross; I thought it tasted great… but I may have been really hungry.)

Now I headed out into the worst section of the entire race (because it was so long, so dark, and so lonely).  I was mindful of the crater drops and didn’t have trouble with that.  I remembered in the day light that the trail was long and straight and that the generator hum and mat should be a few minutes after the right-hand turn.

Well, I had no trouble with the crater drops, but where was that freakin’ turn?  It was taking for-ev-er!  Then, once I made the turn, the only sound I could hear were wolves or coyotes baying at the moon.  I hoped that they weren’t close… or even in the park.

Finally, I heard the generator, and then a LOOONG time afterwards, I felt the map and the beep.  I began thinking, ‘I hope that I am going to make the cutoffs!’

February 6, 2011

I thought I would put in the date heading to emphasize that it is now a new day.  Well, it WAS a new day when I got to the last aid station, but I have now been in a race for two different days!

I got back to Dam-Nation (it’s starting to feel like Damnation) (72.1M) in 2 hours and 12 minutes (22 minutes/mile), and head out towards the Park Road aid station.  I would like to say at this point about how great all of the aid station volunteers were.  I don’t know what kind of shifts they worked, but to have this awesome attitude at midnight, 1am, 2am, whatever, it’s really helpful.

So, I make through the awful single-track connector back to the main fire road (Triple C, in case you forgot), and I have a strange revelation… or I don’t really know WHAT is going on.  It is either SO dark that I cannot see at all (even with my light)… OR… I am sleepwalking.  It is entirely possible that I have been shuffling along on this trail with my eyes closed, but there is a long period where I don’t really remember looking at anything, and then I focus again.  Weird.

About 1.5 miles out from the aid station, I have some extreme discomfort from my foot.  When you have a blister forming, it often feels like something hot is bursting at that spot.  I have also had blisters POP on a run, and it is much the same feeling.  I have had the blister discomfort (‘hot spot’) feeling for some time, and I have been doing things like walking on the edge of my foot or my heel or on my toes (OW!) to alleviate the discomfort.

Suddenly, it feels like my entire right foot (from the toe pads to the heel are on fire.  I think it is probably the big blister that I duct taped 53 miles ago is bursting.  It is excruciating!  I decide that I am going to try and ask for help at the next aid station.  I have finally figured out that I can use the pins from my race number to drain any bad blisters.  I just hope that they have some first aid that can assist me.

So, I limp in to Mile 75.6 (3.5 miles in 88 minutes – 25:11/mile) and ask if one of the volunteers could help me with my feet.  One says she really isn’t supposed to do anything (or maybe it’s that they aren’t properly equipped for the treatment), but I NEED it at this point.  She says that she doesn’t have a properly cleansed lancet, and I say, “Please use my safety pin.  I won’t blame or sue for anything.”

She says my feet look pretty bad, but that she drained the major blister (it didn’t pop, but it was a huge blister forming) and that I had 3-4 completely raw spots on and under my foot.  The duct tape that I put on early had actually rubbed off part of my skin entirely.  I thanked her profusely, but said I needed to get going, because I wasn’t about to do 75.6 miles and then quit.

Now time was beginning to become a factor.  I covered part of the distance with a gal from Georgia, Janette Maas.  We were discussing the cutoffs and what kind of leeway we would need to have in order to continue.  If we came in OVER the cutoff, then the decision would be made for us, because we would have to quit.  I told Jan (and myself) that if I didn’t have at least 30 minutes extra, then I would quit.  My mind was asking for two different things:

1.  No matter what time I come in, I am going to continue, because I am not going to quit.2.  Please, please, please, come in over the cutoff or over 23:30, so I CAN quit.

I didn’t want to quit, but I was HOPING to quit.  That seems odd, but my foot did hurt quite a bit and I thought one more 20 mile loop would be AWFUL.

Jan had the same sort of goal, but at a certain point, I said I really need to get going to make sure I make that cutoff… even though I kind of don’t want to make the cutoff.  She said, “I understand,” and I pursued the 80 mile cutoff at the start/finish.

Right before I arrived, my watch started beeping like crazy.  I couldn’t figure out what was going on, and then I realized what it was… my wake-up call… from the day before!  I had been awake for over 24 hours!

When I crossed the mat at Mile 80, the display read 23:18.  Damn!  I was definitely going to continue.  I tried not to stay too long because every second counted.  I managed to get out of there by 23:24, keeping my jacket and shirt, because it was still dark out and I didn’t know what to expect.  Jan came in about 3 minutes behind me, but opted to drop out.

Now the real race was beginning.  I basically had to maintain 20 minute miles (which I had not been doing for the past 7-8 hours) and make each of the cutoffs at the aid stations.  Since it was still dark and cold, it was slow going.  I was cheered on by a number of 50-milers coming in to finish, though most were like, “Heading out for another lap?  How brave of you!”  Not exactly encouraging, but I took it in the best way possible.

As it started to get lighter, I felt the pressure of possible missing cutoffs (now that I had decided to do another 20 miles on the blister foot), and once I could see better, I started to rush a little more.  I got to Nature Center (83.1M) for the final time in 24:33:25.  Oh, wow!  I am over 24 hours running.

24 hours on my feet!

24 hours on my feet!

The volunteers at the aid station encouraged me not to stay very long because they wanted me to finish, too.  They said, you better get going.  While the time cutoff at this aid station was 25 hours, in the last 3 miles, I had dropped 9 minutes of my 36 minute safety cushion.  I hoped that in daylight, I could pick up some more time and not have to run in to the end (because “by God, I did NOT want to run!”).

I tried a little jog-walking, almost bouncing on my feet (in a non-irritate the blisters kind of way) throughout the single-track and fire-road section.  I would rather have extra time to walk in IF I am able to jog a little bit now.

I got to Dam Road aid station (86.1M) ahead of the cutoff again (yay?) in 25:26:16.  I picked up 7 minutes and increased my pace from 22 minutes per mile to 17:37 per mile.  At this point, I was starting to see some other 100-mile runners who were returning from the 6 mile loop and heading into the finish.  They were a little more encouraging than the 50-mile finishers and other people I encountered earlier (probably because they knew that I was slightly ahead of the cutoff and could use the encouragement).

There was this little bit of downhill section ahead (the craters and the section towards the timing mat), so I jogged a little bit more here, also.  On the other hand, it was this same unpleasant, long section that I suffered through earlier this morning.  I hoped it wouldn’t take as long (2 hours and 12 minutes), but I did have as much as 2 hours and 34 minutes (if I wanted to “sprint” in to the finish!).

By the time I was in this section, it was moving towards mid-morning, and the temperature perked right up.  I didn’t need my jacket, and I didn’t need my shirt.  I tied both around my waist.  It kept me cooler, but it was kind of uncomfortable with the long sleeves swinging.  It was really pretty along the dam this time (I had seen it around the same time yesterday, midday, in the dusk, and not at all previously.).  I couldn’t really enjoy it, since I was in a hurry.

Finally, I got back to Dam-Nation for the 10th and final time.  About a minute out from the station, a volunteer ran up to me, grabbed my water bottles and refilled them by the time I got to the aid station.  They knew what I needed to do, and assisted me as such to make sure that I reached my goal.  So awesome!  Now I was through 86.1 miles, and completed the last section in 1:53:37, for a net time of 27:19:53 – now a full 40 minutes ahead of the cutoff (picked up another 7 minutes!).

I had to go through that single-track section connecting Triple C to itself one final time, but once I was on the fire-road again, I cruised on the downhills and pace walked the straights and slight uphills.  I got back to Park Road aid station and thanked my savior once again.  She was happy to see that I had made it back (and mostly thanks to her).  I was hoping to have an average of 22 minutes/mile for the final section so that I wouldn’t have to run to make the final cutoff.  I came in at 28:20:52 (I’m not sure what my time margin was because this section was a little longer – 3.5 miles – but as compared to my time on the 4th leg, I was 34 minutes FASTER!).  I now had 1 hour 39 minutes to do 4.4 miles – I had my 22 minutes per mile.

All the same, I still felt like I was pressed for time.  Since I was familiar with the course, I gave myself certain checkpoints and said, “If I don’t get to roped-off bridge by x-time, then I’m going to have to run, and I don’t want to have to run!”  Each checkpoint found me ahead of where I thought I would have to be.  In fact, I passed 4 or 5 people in this last section, including Beiyi and Dan, Misty and Josh (seeing that I passed two ‘couples’ running together from the results, but didn’t talk to the latter two).

When I got to the path paralleling the lake, I was fairly confident that I could make it, because I felt that there was only about a mile and a half left, mostly flat, and about 45 minutes to do it in.  I was able to push the foot pain aside and just keep maintaining a steady walking pace.

Finally, I was paralleling the park road and starting to get emotional.  I was really going to finish.  I started doing my usual of singing patriotic songs out loud, like Star-Spangled Banner and Battle Hymn of the Republic.  When I finally turned onto the grassy final stretch to the finish, there were not a lot of cheering supporters – I was at the tail-end of the race… the last few finishers.  They were already dismantling the tent.

I crossed the finish line in 29:42:01.  I made it by just under 18 minutes.  I got my coveted Rocky Raccoon 100 Mile Finisher belt buckle.   As we told my nephews (3 and 5 at the time), ‘your Uncle Emmett did a race that started when you woke up Saturday morning to watch cartoons and ended on Sunday when you got home from church.”   They thought that was crazy!

The end.

The end.

As I looked around for someone to help me with getting my drop bag and dealing with my foot, I remembered to stop my watch.  I said, “Someone really needs to help me with my feet, because they hurt a lot!”  So, I sat down and someone helped me take off my shoes and gaiters and socks.  They propped my feet up and some spectators snapped a photo of my feet, exclaiming, “Come look at his feet; they will totally make you puke!”  They looked really bad, and you can totally understand why this was so painful – blisters on both foot pads, heels, big toes, etc.

My feet post-race

My feet post-race

They were out of proper supplies (or had already packed them away), so they cleaned my feet with eye wash, and wrapped them in gauze the best they could.

Post-race, my original plan had been to sleep in the car in the park or somewhere and then either stay with Marisa’s friends who lived somewhat nearby or… I hadn’t really figured it all out.  Marisa spent some of her hotel points and got me a room at a hotel about halfway between Huntsville and Houston.  I thought I might nap before going, but ultimately decided that I would drive there, shower and then rest.  Besides, it was noon (aka 10am).

As I gingerly drove to the hotel, I thought I might stop and get something to eat, but I never found a drive-through (and didn’t want to drive around a lot looking for one in an adjoining town), so figured I would eat something out of my drop bag.

I was able to park pretty close to the hotel entrance, but my feet were so sore, that it literally took me 20 minutes to limp the 200 yards with my run bag and drop bag.  I leaned against the check-in desk, and they either gave me a room close to the elevator, or felt bad enough to give me a different room!

I then limped to the elevator, limped to the room, struggled to get undressed and get in the shower.  I couldn’t stand, so I tubbed a shower.  Then… I couldn’t get out of the tub… stood quickly, stumbled out, put a towel on the bed, and just lay on the bed (I was also chafed, so I wasn’t in a rush to put on my shorts.).

I reached for my drop bag, and I had two packets of Clif Blox.  Yum.  That’s just what I have been craving.  (Not really, but I couldn’t move to get anything else.)  The Superbowl was on the TV, but I was too sore to roll over, so I just “watched” over my shoulder or listened with my eyes closed.  I slept for a good long while.

February 7, 2011

I drove to Houston Intercontinental Airport and dropped off the car.  The same lady was there and amazed that I had finished.  I had given myself plenty of time to get to the gate, because I knew I would be moving slowly!!

Fortunately, I didn’t have to move much from the car rental place and it was a short (but excruciating) walk from the bus drop off to the check-in counter.  They noted my distress and put that I needed assistance throughout my travel and ordered a cart to take me to my gate).

Of course, I still had to go through security… and take off my shoes… and walk through the metal detector.  That was awful.  I could hardly get my shoes back on.

At the gate were several people from the race, including, I think, the 2nd place finisher, Anton Krupicka.  Most of them were lying on the ground with their feet elevated on the chairs.  They said it was to remove the swelling from their feet.  (Good to know.)

I was able to board the plane early and get “comfortable” for my flight to Salt Lake City.

When I arrived, my flight was in another terminal, and the assistance SLC offered was a wheelchair-like device… which I didn’t fit into… so I grabbed my bag (a duffel with both my drop and run bag), hooked it over my shoulder and slowly walked two terminals over.  It took about 30 minutes (but I had 2 hours to make my flight).

The flight back to Long Beach was in the puddlejumper area.  I finally got something decent to eat when I had a Quizno’s sandwich (though expensive).  The gate agent called my name and said that they would give me some extra time, but that it was quite a haul.  Boy, was it!

They gave me about 15 minutes extra time, but it was a good half-mile walk to the gate.  I actually didn’t get to the gate before the regular passengers!

Once I got back to Long Beach, the flight attendant mentioned that there would be a wheelchair available for me at the bottom of the jetway.  I said, “I don’t think I need it,” but when I got to the bottom of the jetway, I turned to the wheelchair guy, and said, “That’s for me!”  I really needed it.

Chuck met me at the curb and gave me a ride home, where I immediately took my shoes off.  My feet were so swollen (and I did sleep with them elevated) that I was not able to put my shoes back on for a week; they were even spilling out of my Tevas.

Raw skin on top

Raw skin on top and swollen

It was another two weeks before the blisters started to come off.

Two weeks afterwards

Two weeks afterwards

Just as an afterward, I was immensely grateful to the awesome volunteers that assisted me (and others) through the late night and the early early morning.  I decided to give back and volunteer at a local 100-mile race in Coto de Caza… and that I would take the 10:30pm to 7:30am shift, because that was the most-inspirational, most wonderful crowd in my experience.

I was paired with a new marathon runner, Kimberly Manfred, and we supported and (quietly) cheered on competitors for 9 hours while they attempted their own 100-miler.

From start to finish, this was a challenge.  I had said at age 25, that by 30 I would do a marathon (and I did) and by 40 I would do an Ironman Triathlon, but modified that to “finishing a 100 miler,” and I made it with about a month to spare.

Running 100 miles is a real test of endurance, but more than anything, it is a mental test.  Your body will tell you to stop (in a non-life-threatening way), but you need to convince your mind to continue.  I summited that mountain.  Will I try 100 miles again?   Only time will tell.



Conquer the Bridge 5.3M – 2010

September 6, 2010

For Labor Day, I am running the Conquer the Bridge 5.3M.  Previously, the course was 5 miles and everyone with a Garmin got a larger reading (not just 5.05, but 5.5), so it is this unusual distance.  I don’t understand why they just don’t move the start up 0.15 miles.

On the way out, I ran all the way up the hill to the top of the bridge, but I know that on the way back, it will be a different story… so I decided that I would “pace” walk to the top.  (Pace walking is like race walking, only not formalized and precise (my own definition).)

I also decided that I would do a count of how many people passed me on the way up and then I would try and equal or overtake that same total on the way back down.  On the way up, 85 people passed me, including a few AREC members who were surprised that I was walking.

On the way back and to the finish, I was only able to pass 82 people, but a couple AREC gals that I passed said, “Oh… My… God… you soared past me so fast… How did you do that?” I was rested.  I finished in 43:16, which was a bit over 8:00/mile, but considering that it is two BIG hills, I am more than satisfied with that time.

Miwok 100K – 2010

May 1, 2010

I entered the drawing once again for the Miwok 100K.  They did the lottery a little different this time… well, UltraSignUp did the lottery, and there was no “sign up with a teammate and you both get in system.”  Basically, they drew names and then had a waiting list.  I was something like 4th on the waiting list, which is tantamount to an automatic spot in the race (because at least 50 people ALWAYS drop out).

Since I had already done the race last year, I had a better idea of what to expect, and figured to improve upon my time even if it was pouring again… because I would know where the tough sections were and I would have my advantage of being able to maintain a fast walking pace up the hills.

Fortunately, the day of the race, the weather was much more moderate (and not hot), so I had the confidence of performing much much better than last year… and for the first five miles, I was running (and walking) better than the first year.

Just before I got to the first aid station at about the 10K point, I heard a unusual, but familiar sound… it was Amy Dodson from last month’s American River 50.  The plonk-plonk of her carbon-steel prosthesis sounded the same on pavement as on trails.  She looked really good and ran right by me.  I didn’t keep her in sight at all and maintained a 13:00/mile pace through the beautiful coastal section leading down to Tennessee Valley aid station.

Once I got down there, her boyfriend/husband was assisting her with a different prosthesis (some difficulty with it staying in place).  I soldiered on; the next section was downhill paved to dirt to the Pacific Coast Trail (and a bunch of uphill).  I did a comfortable pace down the hill (so as to not put a strain on my lungs prior to the uphill) and then began pressing the pace walking uphill.

After about 5 minutes, however, I hit the proverbial wall.  I couldn’t press the pace walking and slowed to a hands-on-hips bent over slog up the hill.  From behind, I was passed once again by Amy, who commented that she would see me at the end, if she made it that far.  I grunted an assent, because I felt really really cruddy.  When I got to Muir Beach, I had slowed to a 16:40 pace (including a downhill section!).

Uphill struggles

Uphill struggles

From Muir Beach to the next aid at Pantoll, there is a one-mile fairly flat section (after crossing Highway 1) and then 4 miles of relentless uphill (great!  Now that I can’t do uphill today…).  At the base of the hill, I caught up with Amy.  She was starting to struggle, too.  I told her about last year when I did the previous mile (or so) with Eldrith Gosney, and she imparted to me about how the first 20 miles and the last 4 are the worst.  Both of us were definitely at our worst, but we encouraged one another up the hill, hoping that we would feel better once we passed mile 20.  It worked, at least, to get ourselves up the hill (at about a 17:00/mile pace – not bad for 80% of the section being uphill).

Once we reached Pantoll at about Mile 22, we decided to stay together for a bit and encourage one another.  This section was particularly hard for Amy because it was single-track and it wasn’t completely level.  It messed with her balance and also rocks or branches would get hooked on it and nearly trip her up on several occasions.

The benefit of being together for about 6 miles was most advantageous to me, personally.  The leaders had started to come back from the Mile 35 turnaround, and being slower runners (I don’t necessarily agree with this rule, because we will struggle more in getting to the end and making cutoffs.), we had to move to the side and let these runners pass.

However, in passing, every single one of these runners commented, “You guys are SO-O inspirational!”  I responded, “Thank you, but I know you are mostly talking to Amy.”  Still, this kind of reinforcement helped.  I make it a point to say something nice to each person I encounter (mostly to people returning on out-and-backs and mostly ahead of me), and for the most part, they NEVER say anything in return (too engrossed with headphones or just conceited).  We picked up the pace by almost a minute per mile and were invigorated at the Bolinas Ridge Aid Station.

However, once there, I began to notice the looming cutoff time.  I had 1 hour, 42 minutes to cover 7 miles (or about 13:18/mile).  While this seems totally reasonable, it was rolling hills (but at least not 6″ deep water this time)… and my pace on the flat single-track was 3 minutes/mile slower!

I left Amy behind (she encouraged me and didn’t think she would make the cutoff) and I went off by myself to try and make the cutoff.  When I got another runner just ahead of me that we needed to turn on the pace to make it, she seemed willing, but 5 minutes later, when I turned back to say something, she was not staying with me.  Her mind was willing, but her body was not.

My body was not particularly happy with me, either, but I kept telling it that I was going to make it and it could rest if I didn’t.  I passed about 12 runners in this section, encouraging each to pick up the pace slightly to try and make the cutoff.

With about 2 miles to go to the aid station, the trail turns left and heads significantly downhill.  This is where I have to really turn it on to make it.  I ask each runner coming uphill about how long ago they left the aid station to give myself a better idea on how much time I have left.  At the top of the hill, I have about 42 minutes to make the cutoff, but I would prefer to have some leeway, rather than just make it and then be struggling for the next cutoff.  In other words, I don’t want to get to mile 58 and miss it by 2 minutes because I eased up at Mile 35.

I ended up making the cutoff by 19 minutes and my pace in this section was 11:30/mile!  That’s a pretty good pace after doing a marathon!  As compared to last year (in the rain), I was almost 45 minutes SLOWER! ?!?!

I spent little time at the aid station, knowing that I needed to turn around and go right back up that tough hill to make the next cutoff at Mile 50 and then the next at Mile 58.  On the way up, I saw Amy, who was about 10 minutes behind me (she made the cutoff, too, but now had 10 fewer minutes on the return trip).

I went at a more relaxed pace back up the hill (wanting to make the cutoff, but not wanting to exhaust myself from finishing the race.  Having made the cutoff, I just needed to maintain no slower than 16:40/mile to finish (including finishing in the dark… so maybe a little faster than that).  I returned to Bolinas Aid Station at a 16:07 pace.

From Bolinas, you head back along the uneven single-track to Pantoll.  Maybe I was invigorated by having made the cutoff, because I did this section in 15:20/mile, nearly a minute per mile faster than with Amy.

From Pantoll, you head down the steep uphill back to Muir Beach (about 55 miles).  I made that interim cutoff by about 25 minutes (but still slower than in 2009).  From Muir, you head back up onto the Pacific Coast Trail, but come into Tennessee Valley Station from a slightly different direction.  This is the last cutoff, and again, I made it by about 20 minutes (but still slower than last year).

The plus, once you get to Tennessee Valley and make the cutoff, is that you are pretty much guaranteed to finish… even if you are going a bit over the overall time limit (they give you the benefit of the doubt).  It was already starting to get dark, so I was going to finish in the dark (despite a Muir Beach volunteer telling me that I could still finish before dark – though I had calculated to do so, I would need to accelerate to 9:00/mile!).

At Tennessee Valley, I saw a familiar face – Martin Sengo from GVH – he gave me some aid and some encouragement before I sped through the aid station and headed up the horse switchbacks to the last bit of trail – uh oh – the last 4 miles.  No rain or fog this year, though.

After about a half mile of the switchbacks, the battery died on my headlamp.  There was a little power left, so I was able to turn on the red light.  You can see a little bit better than with no light, but not much.  This was almost as bad as the fog and slowed my pace considerably.

Without the fog, however, I could actually see where I was going.  On part of the uphill stretch, there were these cloth bags filled with sawdust placed just before a dip in the trail.  Whenever I spotted one, I knew that I should treat it like a hole, just so I would not stumble as much.  Other than that, I utilized my vision of runners ahead of me to see the trail (or when a few people passed me).  One runner shown his light behind me when we traversed the uneven stone staircase down towards Rodeo Beach and the finish line.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, we were mostly on a paved path with a yellow line (couldn’t really make out a color, but that’s what I assumed) down the middle.  I just fixated on the line and the cowbell noises emanating from the finish.

Just before the end, the trail turns to the left twice to turn into the finish.  Volunteers would spot incoming runners by their bobbing headlamps… so I surprised the heck out of everyone when I suddenly appeared (since they probably did not see a bobbing RED headlamp).

I finished in 16:02:11, about 12 minutes faster than last year.  Wait, what?  I was FASTER?  But I hit every aid station slower… except for the last 4 miles, when I did 19:00/mile, instead of 23:00/mile.  Awesome!

Postscript:  I found out that Amy had missed the cutoff at Mile 50.  I felt like she was good to go, but she told me later that she was happy with her result, despite not finishing.

Another item of note was that UltraSignUp ranked runners by how they thought they would finish.  I was ranked 10th to last.  Of those who finished (because there were people ranked ahead of me who did not), I finished… 10th to last.  How weird is that?