Sunday, October 6, 2013
Grindstone suspended
"The 2013 Grindstone 100 has been suspended due to the government shutdown."
I've never invested so much time and energy into a single event, and I felt dazed for hours after I read this. I walked around in a cloud all afternoon, checking e-mails from my phone every two minutes to see if anything had changed.
There were plenty of bumps on the road to Grindstone, from a diagnosis of Lyme's disease early in the summer to the subsequent joint inflammation that slowed my runs to a crawl to a sprained ankle three weeks before the race, which forced a cold wet night on the Appalachin Trail.
But, by the time that this e-mail came I felt ready to go.
I felt ready for the 6pm start on Friday night, ready for bright starts under the cool black sky in VA and ready for the hot, dusty and long day of trail running that would follow. Despite an extended taper from the ankle sprain I felt about as ready for "the hardest 100 miler on the east coast" as ready gets.
Now that the race is off I'm taking stock of what I've gained over the past several months, and figuring out what to do next.
I have some new running gear that's begging to be used. Black Diamond Z poles for long days in the White's, an excellent pack from UltraSpire and some Inov-8's and Hoka's that need serious mileage put on them. I'm feeling fitter and stronger than I have in a long time. And, I'm catching a fire for the sport like never felt before.
I'm planning on some big runs over the next several weeks and have a new goal race in sight. Here's a hint: it's like the opposite of Grindstone. And it goes down in January.
Endless thanks to everyone who's supported me on the journey to the Grindstone 100 and to race director Clark Zealand and the rest of the Grindstone crew who got dealt a crazy hand and played it well. I hope to run Grindstone 2014 and I'll keep on posting as plans for the next race develop.
Run strong and run long,
D
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Taper time
One of my goals for the summer was to blog more. I totally failed. My other goal was to train for the Grindstone 100. This time I succeeded. I got in some great runs, some tough runs and some runs that I'll never forget. Getting stuck on the summit of Old Speck in a lightning storm for example, and having to sleep beard to beard with a bunch of thru- hikers before summiting the mountain again in the pitch black and rainy morning was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I wouldn't wish the experience on anybody, but it was good, if completely accidental, ultra training.
Unfortunately, that's the run where I sprained my ankle. Three weeks before the race.
It swelled to three times it's normal size, turned every shade of black and blue and left me with a lot to think about heading into my taper for Grindstone.
On my final double digit run this morning I took a few missteps and paid the price. You could hear me yell from Route 9. And I was on the snow mobile trail, about 5 miles away.
The ankle is still in pretty rough shape and with the race just twelve days away, I'm nervous. The Grindstone course is notorious for ankle bashing rocks and hairy descents. There is also a "best blood" award at this race. And I don't want to win it.
But, that's both the beauty and the allure of these things. You never know what's going to happen, everybody's got something hurting them before race day and one way or another, everything is going to shake out in the Blue Ridge Mountains in less then two weeks.
The Grindstone race means a lot to me, for many reasons. I'm thankful that I've gotten a summer of good training under my belt and I'm hopeful that almost two weeks of rest, recovery and some easy breezy runs around my new neighborhood will find me feeling strong at the starting line. But, in the meantime, I've got some serious thinking to do...
Assuming that the ankle heals enough that a finish at Grindstone seems possible (and that's what I'm assuming at this point. I have every intention of running this race) then what can I do from now until then to best prepare? As a coach, I find myself hesitant to ask these questions because, well, I should know the answers. Right? But that's bullshit. It's just ego talking. I truly believe that coaches need coaches and I am absolutely humbled when I look around at all the amazing runners, talented coaches and genuine mentors that I have in my circle, and in my life. So I'm throwing these questions out there and appreciate all of the feedback and insight that anyone has to offer.
Ankle sprains: Has anyone else gotten a sprain before a big race? What did you do about it? Any advice, words of warning or inspirational stories of how you kicked ass regardless would be greatly appreciated!
Footwear: I'm wearing my Inov-8 Roclite 315's for the first half of the race, and changing into my Hoka Bondi B's for the second. Has anyone had ankle issues in the Hoka's? I sprained the ankle on a moderately technical descent off of White Cap mountain while wearing them. I feel like I would have landed awkwardly regardless but wonder if anyone can comment on the trade off between the added protection vs reduced proprioception and if they feel the trade off is equitable?
Trekking poles: I've always kind of frowned on the use of poles in a race. But, when a client asked me whether I was using them at Grindstone my argument against them just didn't hold up. I really don't know what my beef is with trekking poles and, if the ankle is still really shaky, am considering picking up a pair for the Grindstone. (I guess I felt like they offered an unfair advantage, but if they are within the rules I have to reason that makes them fair. And, just as some of us choose hand-helds over packs, Hoka's over Vibrams or show up solo as opposed to having their own personal entourage it seems more like a matter of personal choice.) Incidentally, the Hardrock 100 is an eventual goal of mine (and Grindstone is a qualifier). I would definitely bring poles to Hardrock so what would stop me from bringing them to VA? How high a mountain do you need to have for poles to be legit? And, more importantly, what do I want out of this race? After a respectable 7th place finish at last year's Virgil Crest 100 I purposely picked a race that scared me just a little, and humbly shifted my goals back to just finishing. My goal at Grindstone is to see all 101 miles of the course, and if a pair of trekking poles increases my odds then I just might bring them along.
Rhetorical questions aside, and long question short, has anyone used poles at an ultra? And if so, what was your experience like? Were they a major help or a pain in the ass? And what poles would you recommend for a race like Grindstone?
Thanks in advance and looking forward to your thoughts!
Unfortunately, that's the run where I sprained my ankle. Three weeks before the race.
It swelled to three times it's normal size, turned every shade of black and blue and left me with a lot to think about heading into my taper for Grindstone.
On my final double digit run this morning I took a few missteps and paid the price. You could hear me yell from Route 9. And I was on the snow mobile trail, about 5 miles away.
The ankle is still in pretty rough shape and with the race just twelve days away, I'm nervous. The Grindstone course is notorious for ankle bashing rocks and hairy descents. There is also a "best blood" award at this race. And I don't want to win it.
But, that's both the beauty and the allure of these things. You never know what's going to happen, everybody's got something hurting them before race day and one way or another, everything is going to shake out in the Blue Ridge Mountains in less then two weeks.
The Grindstone race means a lot to me, for many reasons. I'm thankful that I've gotten a summer of good training under my belt and I'm hopeful that almost two weeks of rest, recovery and some easy breezy runs around my new neighborhood will find me feeling strong at the starting line. But, in the meantime, I've got some serious thinking to do...
Assuming that the ankle heals enough that a finish at Grindstone seems possible (and that's what I'm assuming at this point. I have every intention of running this race) then what can I do from now until then to best prepare? As a coach, I find myself hesitant to ask these questions because, well, I should know the answers. Right? But that's bullshit. It's just ego talking. I truly believe that coaches need coaches and I am absolutely humbled when I look around at all the amazing runners, talented coaches and genuine mentors that I have in my circle, and in my life. So I'm throwing these questions out there and appreciate all of the feedback and insight that anyone has to offer.
Ankle sprains: Has anyone else gotten a sprain before a big race? What did you do about it? Any advice, words of warning or inspirational stories of how you kicked ass regardless would be greatly appreciated!
Footwear: I'm wearing my Inov-8 Roclite 315's for the first half of the race, and changing into my Hoka Bondi B's for the second. Has anyone had ankle issues in the Hoka's? I sprained the ankle on a moderately technical descent off of White Cap mountain while wearing them. I feel like I would have landed awkwardly regardless but wonder if anyone can comment on the trade off between the added protection vs reduced proprioception and if they feel the trade off is equitable?
Trekking poles: I've always kind of frowned on the use of poles in a race. But, when a client asked me whether I was using them at Grindstone my argument against them just didn't hold up. I really don't know what my beef is with trekking poles and, if the ankle is still really shaky, am considering picking up a pair for the Grindstone. (I guess I felt like they offered an unfair advantage, but if they are within the rules I have to reason that makes them fair. And, just as some of us choose hand-helds over packs, Hoka's over Vibrams or show up solo as opposed to having their own personal entourage it seems more like a matter of personal choice.) Incidentally, the Hardrock 100 is an eventual goal of mine (and Grindstone is a qualifier). I would definitely bring poles to Hardrock so what would stop me from bringing them to VA? How high a mountain do you need to have for poles to be legit? And, more importantly, what do I want out of this race? After a respectable 7th place finish at last year's Virgil Crest 100 I purposely picked a race that scared me just a little, and humbly shifted my goals back to just finishing. My goal at Grindstone is to see all 101 miles of the course, and if a pair of trekking poles increases my odds then I just might bring them along.
Rhetorical questions aside, and long question short, has anyone used poles at an ultra? And if so, what was your experience like? Were they a major help or a pain in the ass? And what poles would you recommend for a race like Grindstone?
Thanks in advance and looking forward to your thoughts!
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Grindstone 100
The Grindstone 100 has been in my sights for the past three years. I first heard about this race through my friend and teammate Joe Wrobleski's amazing 2011 race report. At the time I had no desire to run a one hundred mile race (but was considering my first 50) and enjoyed the report from the safe distance of the blogosphere, with no danger of getting all jacked up and registering for an ultra.
Immediately following the Peaks 50 I knew that I wanted to register for a 100. I began to scout out a good race and cycle through the collection of reports on our team site Trail Monster Running. I wanted a fall race. It's my favorite time of year and would allow an entire summer of training to prepare for the challenge. I immediately thought of Grindstone, mostly due to the unique 6pm start, which I somehow figured would help with my fear of running through the mountains at night. (In fact, with a night start and a course that takes most runners around 30 hours to complete, assuring that we'll strap on our headlamps for a second time, Grindstone will have more night running than I've ever done. But there's ultra-logic for you...)
After taking all things into consideration (price, location, logistics etc.) I settled on the Virgil Crest 100 in Cortland, NY. My friends Ian and Emma ran it last year and wrote a report that is nothing less than epic. Virgil Crest went very well for me. With Ian pacing me through the night and the Trail Monster crew out in full force I earned a 7th place finish and my first 100 mile belt buckle.
I went into this season knowing that I'd like to build up to another fall 100. And my thoughts turned back to Grindstone. But, after a rough time at Wapack and Back I decided that I wanted a more runnable course. I'm not a hiker, and didn't want to sacrifice those moments when you're flying across the trails for the "monster climbs" and epic summits of the Blue Ridge mountains. I found a flat race with gorgeous views and set my sites on it. For the next month or so the Pine Creek Challenge in PA became my new goal race.
But, along with my injury/illness and the perspective that I gained through the recovery process, I began to question what I was running these races for in the first place. I would like to run 100 miles along the Pine Creek Gorge one day. I'd like to run up the coast to Belfast with a $20 bill in my pocket before the summer ends. But, when racing and setting a target that will serve as my goal for the year, I want to tackle something that scares me. Something that pushes (and hopefully expands) my boundaries as a runner and something that I don't know if I can complete. And with 23.000 feet of elevation gain/loss and a course described as "without a doubt, the toughest 100 miler east of the 100th meridian) Grindstone is all of that. And more.
I went into Virgil Crest with the goal of finishing. I raced as hard as I could and had a good day and an unforgettable experience. I'm going into Grindstone with the same goal, and looking forward to testing myself in the Shenadoah Valley of Virginia in just over two months. I'll be posting stats from my training, which will include several trips to NH to run in the White Mountains, and a self-supported trek across the 43 mile Wapack and Back course, as they happen. Stay tuned and again, thanks to the ultra community for reading and for all of the support.
Immediately following the Peaks 50 I knew that I wanted to register for a 100. I began to scout out a good race and cycle through the collection of reports on our team site Trail Monster Running. I wanted a fall race. It's my favorite time of year and would allow an entire summer of training to prepare for the challenge. I immediately thought of Grindstone, mostly due to the unique 6pm start, which I somehow figured would help with my fear of running through the mountains at night. (In fact, with a night start and a course that takes most runners around 30 hours to complete, assuring that we'll strap on our headlamps for a second time, Grindstone will have more night running than I've ever done. But there's ultra-logic for you...)
After taking all things into consideration (price, location, logistics etc.) I settled on the Virgil Crest 100 in Cortland, NY. My friends Ian and Emma ran it last year and wrote a report that is nothing less than epic. Virgil Crest went very well for me. With Ian pacing me through the night and the Trail Monster crew out in full force I earned a 7th place finish and my first 100 mile belt buckle.
I went into this season knowing that I'd like to build up to another fall 100. And my thoughts turned back to Grindstone. But, after a rough time at Wapack and Back I decided that I wanted a more runnable course. I'm not a hiker, and didn't want to sacrifice those moments when you're flying across the trails for the "monster climbs" and epic summits of the Blue Ridge mountains. I found a flat race with gorgeous views and set my sites on it. For the next month or so the Pine Creek Challenge in PA became my new goal race.
But, along with my injury/illness and the perspective that I gained through the recovery process, I began to question what I was running these races for in the first place. I would like to run 100 miles along the Pine Creek Gorge one day. I'd like to run up the coast to Belfast with a $20 bill in my pocket before the summer ends. But, when racing and setting a target that will serve as my goal for the year, I want to tackle something that scares me. Something that pushes (and hopefully expands) my boundaries as a runner and something that I don't know if I can complete. And with 23.000 feet of elevation gain/loss and a course described as "without a doubt, the toughest 100 miler east of the 100th meridian) Grindstone is all of that. And more.
I went into Virgil Crest with the goal of finishing. I raced as hard as I could and had a good day and an unforgettable experience. I'm going into Grindstone with the same goal, and looking forward to testing myself in the Shenadoah Valley of Virginia in just over two months. I'll be posting stats from my training, which will include several trips to NH to run in the White Mountains, and a self-supported trek across the 43 mile Wapack and Back course, as they happen. Stay tuned and again, thanks to the ultra community for reading and for all of the support.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Noolies, new shoes, and an update from the woods
Since moving to Bradbury Mountain State Park for the summer I've gotten some great runs in. I've also made some incredible memories, both on and off the trails. A few weeks ago though, I got my butt kicked by a tick and had to reshape my training around some serious joint pain thats slowed me down to permanent late stage ultra-pace.
Since the last post my long runs have been 4-5 hour exercises in patience. I've had to walk/hike at least a quarter of the time and could barely manage 13:00 minute miles when I was able to run. Still, I figured it was better than sitting in my camp chair reading Trail Runner. I'm happy to say that I got in 17 miles of pure running yesterday afternoon and am starting to feel like my old self again. I've got a birthday 50k planned for next week and the forced slow-down led me to reevaluate my race plans for 2013. I've got something exciting to add to my calendar and I'll post the details later this week. In the meantime, here are some quick highlights from the past couple of weeks at the 'Brad.
1. Noolies- On the fourth of July I ran twenty miles from my campsite to Portland to visit Jes. It was a crazy hot day and I wrapped a bandana soaked in cold water around my neck to stay cool. Later that evening Jes and I started talking about ways to keep core temperature down during long runs and she had an amazing idea. Being the awesome, fire breathing, go-getting lady that she is Jes put this idea into action and Noolies-"Coolies for your Neck" were born. Jes has been working hard to get these fun and innovative bandanas on the market. They have sewn in pockets for ice and are just an awesome addition to anyone's gear box. As a runner I'm really excited to see this happening. They're incredibly effective and the prototype model has helped me through several hot long runs. The ice cubes stay cold and solid for a long time and when they melt, they send a cold stream of water through the bandana and onto your neck. Just awesome. As her partner I'm so proud and impressed with what she's done. Check them out at www.facebook.com/poeticmoments/noolies and order a Noolie asap!
2. Perspective-While on one of my slow-mo jaunts around Bradbury over the past month I had a sudden realization. And a renewed sense of perspective. I was running at a painfully slow pace around the Island Loop trail and, in the midst of self-pity and frustration, I realized how much worse things could be. And how lucky I was. I spent several week over the course of the winter on crutches and would have killed to be able to run a mile on these trails. With Lyme disease, the suspected diagnosis surrounding my symptoms, being such a sketchy devil I could have been immobilized and in a hospital bed right now. Instead, I was able to run for twenty miles at a time, albeit at a slower pace than I would have liked, and that was something to be truly grateful for.
3. Last remaining pair of Roclite 315's on the planet-I've been scouring the web for a over a month, trying to locate my favorite pair of running shoes. The Inov-8 Roclite 315's served me more than well for my first 50 and 100 mile races and hundreds of trail miles in between. After a tireless search I found them in my size at a Peter Glenn Sport and Ski, in Florida. Score! (I wish that I could still buy them directly from my friend Ian instead of shopping online and ordering from Florida but unfortunately, that's not the case.) My first run in them reminded me of what an exceptional shoe they are-and how well they're going to perform at my new goal race of 2013. Again, stay tuned for details...
4. Running with Rob-I had a chance to run with a pretty incredible dude yesterday. Most people who run ultra-marathons are some kind of incredible anyway, and I feel very fortunate to be in such amazing company. But, this guy was on another plain entirely and I wanted to share the experience. Rob is my friend Nancy's son who lives out in Moab, UT. A few months ago Nancy mentioned that Rob was running his first 100 miler, the notorious Wasatch Front, in September, She also mentioned that he would be in town for a week in July and that we should run together. I was disappointed to find out that his visit coincided with my illness from last months tick bite and the joint pain that left me running in slow motion, but I was excited to meet the guy. I didn't plan for us to run together for fear of holding him back but we set up a time to meet and talk ultra's. That time came yesterday afternoon when Rob showed up at my site around 1pm. An exceptionally nice guy with a midwest mellowness, Rob emerged from a van with Alaska plates. He was a little sweaty, and clued me in to the fact that he'd run 17 miles already this morning. It turns out that he hooked up with the Trail Monster crew on the Saturday group run and had been running ever since. I explained my situation and he still seemed willing to hit the trails together, slow motion miles or not. With the understanding that he had license to leave me behind in order to get a good training run in we headed straight up the summit trail and into a truly fun run where I got to know a little bit him. It turns out that Rob is a mountain guide and spends a lot of his time taking clients up to the highest heights that they're willing and able to scale. Aside from designing courses for adventure races and collaborating with Montrail on some new racing vests/hydration packs, he apparently spends the rest of his time running trails. Without a trace of ego he told me about 40, 50, and 60+ mile mountain runs that he's done, all of which led him to the line of his first 100 miler in a few weeks. We ran into my friend Jordan mid run, who, like a true bad-ass, promptly turned around and ran back the way that he'd come to share a few miles with us. We ended up out on the power lines with the Pineland Farms trails in sight but were met with an electric fence at the second of two major road crossings. This forced us to turn around or bushwack even further into the woods. With Jordan needing to get back and a good hour of running between us and the park we filed bottles at an abandoned house with a hose and moved on. It was great to see J and talk details about a planned Pemi Loop and a trek across the Wapack and Back course planned for early fall. Always great to share the trails with Jordan and looking forward to some serious adventures right around the corner.
Rob and I got in a solid 10 miles together (27 total for him). I tacked on an additional 7 after he and Jordan hit the road for the best 17 miler since the tick attack. Grateful to have shared some trail with Rob and my thoughts will be with him and his mom (who's pacing for the last few miles) at Wasatch this September. Go get that buckle brother!
Since the last post my long runs have been 4-5 hour exercises in patience. I've had to walk/hike at least a quarter of the time and could barely manage 13:00 minute miles when I was able to run. Still, I figured it was better than sitting in my camp chair reading Trail Runner. I'm happy to say that I got in 17 miles of pure running yesterday afternoon and am starting to feel like my old self again. I've got a birthday 50k planned for next week and the forced slow-down led me to reevaluate my race plans for 2013. I've got something exciting to add to my calendar and I'll post the details later this week. In the meantime, here are some quick highlights from the past couple of weeks at the 'Brad.
1. Noolies- On the fourth of July I ran twenty miles from my campsite to Portland to visit Jes. It was a crazy hot day and I wrapped a bandana soaked in cold water around my neck to stay cool. Later that evening Jes and I started talking about ways to keep core temperature down during long runs and she had an amazing idea. Being the awesome, fire breathing, go-getting lady that she is Jes put this idea into action and Noolies-"Coolies for your Neck" were born. Jes has been working hard to get these fun and innovative bandanas on the market. They have sewn in pockets for ice and are just an awesome addition to anyone's gear box. As a runner I'm really excited to see this happening. They're incredibly effective and the prototype model has helped me through several hot long runs. The ice cubes stay cold and solid for a long time and when they melt, they send a cold stream of water through the bandana and onto your neck. Just awesome. As her partner I'm so proud and impressed with what she's done. Check them out at www.facebook.com/poeticmoments/noolies and order a Noolie asap!
 |
| Noolies prototype |
2. Perspective-While on one of my slow-mo jaunts around Bradbury over the past month I had a sudden realization. And a renewed sense of perspective. I was running at a painfully slow pace around the Island Loop trail and, in the midst of self-pity and frustration, I realized how much worse things could be. And how lucky I was. I spent several week over the course of the winter on crutches and would have killed to be able to run a mile on these trails. With Lyme disease, the suspected diagnosis surrounding my symptoms, being such a sketchy devil I could have been immobilized and in a hospital bed right now. Instead, I was able to run for twenty miles at a time, albeit at a slower pace than I would have liked, and that was something to be truly grateful for.
 |
| Roclite 315's straight out of the box |
4. Running with Rob-I had a chance to run with a pretty incredible dude yesterday. Most people who run ultra-marathons are some kind of incredible anyway, and I feel very fortunate to be in such amazing company. But, this guy was on another plain entirely and I wanted to share the experience. Rob is my friend Nancy's son who lives out in Moab, UT. A few months ago Nancy mentioned that Rob was running his first 100 miler, the notorious Wasatch Front, in September, She also mentioned that he would be in town for a week in July and that we should run together. I was disappointed to find out that his visit coincided with my illness from last months tick bite and the joint pain that left me running in slow motion, but I was excited to meet the guy. I didn't plan for us to run together for fear of holding him back but we set up a time to meet and talk ultra's. That time came yesterday afternoon when Rob showed up at my site around 1pm. An exceptionally nice guy with a midwest mellowness, Rob emerged from a van with Alaska plates. He was a little sweaty, and clued me in to the fact that he'd run 17 miles already this morning. It turns out that he hooked up with the Trail Monster crew on the Saturday group run and had been running ever since. I explained my situation and he still seemed willing to hit the trails together, slow motion miles or not. With the understanding that he had license to leave me behind in order to get a good training run in we headed straight up the summit trail and into a truly fun run where I got to know a little bit him. It turns out that Rob is a mountain guide and spends a lot of his time taking clients up to the highest heights that they're willing and able to scale. Aside from designing courses for adventure races and collaborating with Montrail on some new racing vests/hydration packs, he apparently spends the rest of his time running trails. Without a trace of ego he told me about 40, 50, and 60+ mile mountain runs that he's done, all of which led him to the line of his first 100 miler in a few weeks. We ran into my friend Jordan mid run, who, like a true bad-ass, promptly turned around and ran back the way that he'd come to share a few miles with us. We ended up out on the power lines with the Pineland Farms trails in sight but were met with an electric fence at the second of two major road crossings. This forced us to turn around or bushwack even further into the woods. With Jordan needing to get back and a good hour of running between us and the park we filed bottles at an abandoned house with a hose and moved on. It was great to see J and talk details about a planned Pemi Loop and a trek across the Wapack and Back course planned for early fall. Always great to share the trails with Jordan and looking forward to some serious adventures right around the corner.
Rob and I got in a solid 10 miles together (27 total for him). I tacked on an additional 7 after he and Jordan hit the road for the best 17 miler since the tick attack. Grateful to have shared some trail with Rob and my thoughts will be with him and his mom (who's pacing for the last few miles) at Wasatch this September. Go get that buckle brother!
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Vermont 2013: DNS
On Wednesday night of last week as I lay in my tent, a wave of tremors, cold chills, and body aches came over me. I pulled on my boots along with my thickest hoodie and tried to sleep it off, I had a 25 mile road run on tap for the morning and suddenly, the Vermont 100 just two weeks away.
Since pacing my friend Jeremy in his stellar 2012 performance at Vermont I've wanted to run this race. I didn't expect this years registration to fill as quickly as it did and I ended up with my name at the rear end of the waiting list. I e-mailed the director to inquire about my chances of getting in and her (always prompt) response was: Highly unlikely. I might want to consider the 100k or plan for next year. But she'd keep me posted.
With these odds in mind I didn't give much thought to the race and put the Hampshire 100k and The Pine Creek Challenge 100 miler down as my goal races for 2013. I began camping full time back in June to train.
Flash forward to a rough race at Wapack and Back, a series of 20-25 mile redemption runs with the Hampshire 100k on my mind, and the fact that I'm living at Bradbury Mountain and biking 15-20 miles a day, every day, on top of my running starting to pay dividends. Flash forward to an out of left field e-mail from Julie two weeks ago. Congratulations! You've been accepted into the 2013 Vermont 100!
I immediately began reaching out to friends in my tight knit trail running community for training advice and resources while sourcing out every opportunity to make this small adventure happen. These are some of the best people that I know and their supportive responses only reaffirmed that fact. A dream race was suddenly in sight and I began running harder than hard. After a series of good trail runs culminating in a 6 hour mix of hills, roots, rocks, and roads I was feeling good. Flash forward to me shaking in my tent on July 3rd bundled up like it was January 3rd, feeling bad.
I woke that morning a little behind schedule, rushed down a quick breakfast (had to go without coffee,and everyone knows that you can't run without coffee), filled my bottles and hit the road. I couldn't tell if what hit me the previous night had moved on but the next 25 miles would reveal. And if I were really sick my amazing partner Jes, whose house I was running to in South Portland, would scoop me up. I had my cellphone in my Northface waist belt along with a $20 bill. And hey, it was the Fourth of July.
I used the high and humid temps to explain away how badly I was feeling, and how poorly I was running. But by mile 4 I was legitimately thinking of turning around and saving my legs for another day when I could actually do something with them. Finally I decided that suffering through a hot stretch of road with absolutely no energy would surely be a part of the VT 100 if I ran it and this would be as good a training opportunity as any. Plus, I had a bunch of festivities to run through in nearby Freeport, an easy afternoon with my lady to look forward to when this thing was done.
I made it 16 miles before a combination of hydration issues, a strange stiffness in my neck, and the extreme fatigue that I'd been battling all morning caused my to pull out the cell phone and make the call. I told Jes I'd meet her near the Martins Point Bridge in Portland 4 miles away to give her time prepare and to round the run out to an even 20.
Afterwards we went to one of our favorite cafe's to eat but I could barley get anything down. My appetite picked up a bit later on and then died out completely. For the next several days.
By Friday night I was getting worried as I was suffering from fever, chills, a migraine headache, and an inexplicable pain in my neck and hip. I was also beyond fatigued. As I cooked another dinner on the grill that I wouldn't be able to eat I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration-and there I found it. An engorged tick buried in the crown of my head.
Upon removing it, and realizing that it had likely been there since at least Wednesday and rode the 20 miles to Portland with me, I suddenly felt sicker than sick. I jumped on my phone and started researching all that I could about Lyme Disease. I've got some smart friends and resources began streaming in.
By this time darkness was setting in, the chills were getting worse, and one of the scariest nights I've ever had began to unfold The stiffness in my neck shifted into a panic inducing numbness and my heart started beating fast. I felt too weak to move and as I lie in my tent I began to seriously wonder how something like paralysis sets in? How does it feel to fall into that last deep sleep? I'm not exaggerating here. Things got deep. I knew that I was hospital bound at this point, the question was whether to call an ambulance to the camp that night or head over first thing in the morning. After much debate I found myself nervously drifting off and anxious for sunlight.
Morning came, along with an unofficial diagnosis of Lyme's (blood test results still pending, and from what I can tell, close to worthless), my first dose of doxycycline, and a day spent totally racked with pain. Jes is a healer in the truest sense of the word. Her strong spirit, endless patience, and attention to all of the little details of the day got me through the roughest stretch of road that I can remember.
It's been tough travelling since but I'm far from beaten. I'm learning more about the disease, it's co-infections, and other possible forms of treatment. I'm also discovering one of the most contentious debates in the world of science and medicine and watching big ego's, big money, and big ideas fight for space in a crowded room. I'll be posting more about the resources that I uncover and the experience as it unfolds.
I'll also be posting more about a planned peak bagging adventure in NH, a race report from the Hampshire 100, and my backyard adventures at Bradbury Mountain. All leading up to my next 100 miler in September. Vermont 2013 wasn't in the cards for me but I'm looking forward to seeing my teammates go down and do their thing. My heart is with them and I'm sure they'll be bringing some hardware back to Maine. And my 2013 racing season is far from over, this is just a bump on the road, an unexpected scale back week, and a reason to run harder, stronger, and better than I ever have.
On a final note, to all of my trail running friends-do your tick checks and do them well. For real. Keep safe, keep smiling, and keep scaling mountains.
I'll see you up there.
D
Since pacing my friend Jeremy in his stellar 2012 performance at Vermont I've wanted to run this race. I didn't expect this years registration to fill as quickly as it did and I ended up with my name at the rear end of the waiting list. I e-mailed the director to inquire about my chances of getting in and her (always prompt) response was: Highly unlikely. I might want to consider the 100k or plan for next year. But she'd keep me posted.
With these odds in mind I didn't give much thought to the race and put the Hampshire 100k and The Pine Creek Challenge 100 miler down as my goal races for 2013. I began camping full time back in June to train.
Flash forward to a rough race at Wapack and Back, a series of 20-25 mile redemption runs with the Hampshire 100k on my mind, and the fact that I'm living at Bradbury Mountain and biking 15-20 miles a day, every day, on top of my running starting to pay dividends. Flash forward to an out of left field e-mail from Julie two weeks ago. Congratulations! You've been accepted into the 2013 Vermont 100!
I immediately began reaching out to friends in my tight knit trail running community for training advice and resources while sourcing out every opportunity to make this small adventure happen. These are some of the best people that I know and their supportive responses only reaffirmed that fact. A dream race was suddenly in sight and I began running harder than hard. After a series of good trail runs culminating in a 6 hour mix of hills, roots, rocks, and roads I was feeling good. Flash forward to me shaking in my tent on July 3rd bundled up like it was January 3rd, feeling bad.
I woke that morning a little behind schedule, rushed down a quick breakfast (had to go without coffee,and everyone knows that you can't run without coffee), filled my bottles and hit the road. I couldn't tell if what hit me the previous night had moved on but the next 25 miles would reveal. And if I were really sick my amazing partner Jes, whose house I was running to in South Portland, would scoop me up. I had my cellphone in my Northface waist belt along with a $20 bill. And hey, it was the Fourth of July.
I used the high and humid temps to explain away how badly I was feeling, and how poorly I was running. But by mile 4 I was legitimately thinking of turning around and saving my legs for another day when I could actually do something with them. Finally I decided that suffering through a hot stretch of road with absolutely no energy would surely be a part of the VT 100 if I ran it and this would be as good a training opportunity as any. Plus, I had a bunch of festivities to run through in nearby Freeport, an easy afternoon with my lady to look forward to when this thing was done.
I made it 16 miles before a combination of hydration issues, a strange stiffness in my neck, and the extreme fatigue that I'd been battling all morning caused my to pull out the cell phone and make the call. I told Jes I'd meet her near the Martins Point Bridge in Portland 4 miles away to give her time prepare and to round the run out to an even 20.
Afterwards we went to one of our favorite cafe's to eat but I could barley get anything down. My appetite picked up a bit later on and then died out completely. For the next several days.
By Friday night I was getting worried as I was suffering from fever, chills, a migraine headache, and an inexplicable pain in my neck and hip. I was also beyond fatigued. As I cooked another dinner on the grill that I wouldn't be able to eat I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration-and there I found it. An engorged tick buried in the crown of my head.
Upon removing it, and realizing that it had likely been there since at least Wednesday and rode the 20 miles to Portland with me, I suddenly felt sicker than sick. I jumped on my phone and started researching all that I could about Lyme Disease. I've got some smart friends and resources began streaming in.
By this time darkness was setting in, the chills were getting worse, and one of the scariest nights I've ever had began to unfold The stiffness in my neck shifted into a panic inducing numbness and my heart started beating fast. I felt too weak to move and as I lie in my tent I began to seriously wonder how something like paralysis sets in? How does it feel to fall into that last deep sleep? I'm not exaggerating here. Things got deep. I knew that I was hospital bound at this point, the question was whether to call an ambulance to the camp that night or head over first thing in the morning. After much debate I found myself nervously drifting off and anxious for sunlight.
Morning came, along with an unofficial diagnosis of Lyme's (blood test results still pending, and from what I can tell, close to worthless), my first dose of doxycycline, and a day spent totally racked with pain. Jes is a healer in the truest sense of the word. Her strong spirit, endless patience, and attention to all of the little details of the day got me through the roughest stretch of road that I can remember.
It's been tough travelling since but I'm far from beaten. I'm learning more about the disease, it's co-infections, and other possible forms of treatment. I'm also discovering one of the most contentious debates in the world of science and medicine and watching big ego's, big money, and big ideas fight for space in a crowded room. I'll be posting more about the resources that I uncover and the experience as it unfolds.
I'll also be posting more about a planned peak bagging adventure in NH, a race report from the Hampshire 100, and my backyard adventures at Bradbury Mountain. All leading up to my next 100 miler in September. Vermont 2013 wasn't in the cards for me but I'm looking forward to seeing my teammates go down and do their thing. My heart is with them and I'm sure they'll be bringing some hardware back to Maine. And my 2013 racing season is far from over, this is just a bump on the road, an unexpected scale back week, and a reason to run harder, stronger, and better than I ever have.
On a final note, to all of my trail running friends-do your tick checks and do them well. For real. Keep safe, keep smiling, and keep scaling mountains.
I'll see you up there.
D
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Training Camp
Last month I sent the manager at Bradbury Mountain State Park the following message:
Hi there, I am a long time camper/hiker/runner of Bradbury Mountain and I had a question regarding seasonal camping. I am running a 100 mile trail race this September and am planning to tent camp for the months of June, July, and August in order to train for this race. Do you offer monthly rates for tent sites and would it be alright to camp for that length of time?
This was their reply:
During the peak season we allow only a 14 night maximum stay in ME state parks. You are asking specifically about that time frame. The only exceptions are for our Campground Hosts that can stay an entire season. They basically work for their rent. I am looking for someone to fill our need in that regard. Would you be interested in taking this on?
With two major races on my calendar, the majority of my personal training clients only a short bike ride from the park, and a few months before me and my amazing partner Jes settle into our new apartment I didn't hesitate to fire off my reply. I would absolutely be interested.
Jes and I settled into the site last Thursday (super fortunate to have her and Liam the Ultra-Dog joining me a few nights a week) and set up a summer training camp for the Hampshire 100k and the Pine Creek Challenge 100.
 |
| Liam the ultra-dog |
Keep checking the blog... or better yet knock on the door of the green tent near the entrance and we'll hit the trails.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Traprock 50K
On a frigid February night I found myself in a friends home talking ultra-running. Jordan and I had known each other in a previous life and had shared many experiences together but it wasn't until we both moved away from Portland and then subsequently moved back that we became running partners. 3 mile runs through the neighborhood to catch-up with one another turned into 3 and 4 hour trail runs every Saturday morning. He paced me at my first 50 miler, I watched him cross the line of his first 50k, and now here we were on a cold, cold night, thinking of spring and of bare trails and of our next ultra-adventure.
We had gathered at his place to watch Unbreakable (again) and scope out spring and summer races. Ian had mentioned the Wapack and Back 50 to me several weeks before and it seemed like a truly appealing race, an out-and-back on the Wapack trail in MA that two of our most bad-ass team members Val and Mindy had already set their sights on.
With registration still weeks away from opening we put Wapack on our calendar and began training. I began looking for 50k races in late April in the hopes of finding something tough, hilly, and generally mean about thirty days from Wapack. And this is where I found the Traprock 50k.
From the race website:
Training was going well and I transitioned from an average of roughly 15 miles per week in the winter to the first 20 mile runs of the season pretty seamlessly. Then, on a long run in surprisingly deep snow which had drifted onto the trail I hurt my ankle-bad. The next several weeks were spent hobbling around on crutches, swinging kettle bells and rowing on the Concept 2, and hoping that I could heal up in time for Wapack.
Most of my training runs consisted of running the Knight Woods trail at Bradbury Mountain, a 1 mile loop with a small hill in the middle. I would run this 10, then 12, then 15 times in order to get as many trail miles in as I could while not straying too far from the car in case the ankle gave out.
Until 3 weeks before the race I considered dropping down the 17k distance at Traprock due to the setback from the injury and the subsequent lack of training. Then, after a long run on a rainy Tuesday morning I texted Jordan to say "50k at Traprock is on". I felt like we had made a commitment to one another and with my ankle in good shape I saw no reason to back out of our biggest training run for Wapack and Back.
We arrived in CT on the evening before the race and got a good night of rest before a beautiful day of running.
With no real time goal in mind and a sense of gratitude that I could even run the thing post-injury I embarked on one of the most relaxed and enjoyable trail runs of my life. The first 10.5 mile loop offered many pleasant surprises, most notable being the relatively runnable terrain in a race that I'd expected to be more of a hands-on-knee's affair. The few climbs that this course offered were undoubtedly difficult and the steepest of them, the stairway to heaven was one of the meanest things I'd ever encountered in a race. But, on this day it didn't feel all that mean and I actually enjoyed ascending this set of stone steps on all three trips occasions. Half-way through the second lap I saw Jordan coming around a lollipop loop less than a 1/4 mile behind me. He looked strong and as I gave him a high five it occurred to me that within a few minutes we might be racing one another. I'm sure that this thought had passed through both of our minds as our training runs found us pretty evenly matched. We'd run into this interesting pattern of him charging out hard at the beginning of our runs and leaving me in the dust, me catching up about 10 miles into the run, and him and I leapfrogging each other as we take turns at feeling good and feeling bad. In our training we always made a plan to meet back at the car at a specified time which allowed us to run at our own pace, break away on our own path, or race each other when the spirit moved us-all of which occurred on these memorable Saturday morning runs. Now with Jordan pulling up next to me at the halfway point of the race I wondered how the next 15 miles were going to go down. We ran neck and neck at a relaxed pace and talked about our favorite parts of the trail and how good we were feeling. For some reason the competitive drive that I expected to kick in for both of us-as it had during so many runs where one of us begins to push the pace and the other drops, keeps up, or pushes harder and charges past- just didn't happen. There came a time when I stopped to stretch for a bit and Jordan ran on. I wondered if I would see him again and felt nothing but glad that he was having such a good run. I caught up to him on a stretch of road a few miles from the start/finish and we completed the second loop together, At this point I wondered if we would end up naturally falling into the same pace for the third and final loop and, with no desire to hard charge and race my friend for the next two hours, if we would possibly cruise into the finish line together.
The rest of the team, Ian, Joe, Ben, and Nate where having a great day on the trails and I saw them periodically as they came cruising down the backs of trails that I was just beginning to climb. With a 3 loop course and several lollipop sections I could see that they were all doing really well and tearing up the Traprock. I ended up a getting a bit ahead of Jordan on some of the climbs and found myself suddenly feeling better than I ever had at mile 23-24 of a 50k. I ran evenly and easily and found myself suddenly alone on a gorgeous stretch of singletrack that was just glowing in the midday sun. As I was enjoying the solitude of the trails I noticed the faint sound of breathing and the crunch of footsteps behind me. I turned to see Jordan coming fast and hard. Suddenly we were neck and neck and pushing the pace. We pulled into an aid station together and took exactly 5 seconds to down a drink and race back out onto the trail. Next aid station same thing-in and out and after each other again. Yet, even with us running neck and neck it didn't feel like we were racing each other. It felt like we were running a race together and was one of the most unique and enjoyable experiences that I've ever shared with a friend on the trails. I could still see either of us taking the lead at this point and the possibility of a duel finish was still on my mind as well.
I'd held back a bit on the second loop in the hopes of a strong finish and as we arrived at the middle of the last loop I felt a surge of strength and began to push hard. I ran the climbs that I'd hiked on the previous two loops and soon found myself alone on the trails again. I kept the pace up for the next mile or two and just as I was about to slow it down and do some late stage ultra-shuffling I noticed a dude in a bright red shirt a few hundred yards ahead. With another runner in striking distance I amped it up again and soon found myself running alongside him and his friend. We ran together until we reached the final aid-station at which I gulped down some ginger-ale and tried to race back out onto the long stretch of road. One of the runners held back while me and the other started a ridiculously slow late stage ultra battle for the books. He was just beginning to pull away from me when the ginger ale settled in my stomach and I felt ready and able to run. I was able to pass him and as I rounded a bend in the road I saw a group of 5 or 6 runners just a few hundred feet away. I raced harder than I ever had at this stage of a long race and was fortunate enough to catch up to, and pass, one after another. Most were supportive and encouraging except for one guy who shot me a snarky ass "How'd you get here?" We'd seen each other many times over the course the day, each time with him in the lead and descending a trail that I was just beginning to climb. I explained to him that I had run there and passed him on the last stretch of road before heading back into the trails.
The last climb and subsequent descent to the finish found me alone and pushing as hard as I could to stay that way. I crossed the line totally wiped by this late stage ultra-duel and pretty close to puking. This was the perfect end to an excellent Wapack training run and to a race that was as memorable for its mellowness as it was for a sudden slugfest in the last few miles and a unique racing experience shared between friends. Jordan finished shortly after and we hung out with the rest of the team for a bit. The Trail Monster flag flew high in the post-ultra haze of burger smoke, sore muscles, and smiling faces and I'm looking forward to hanging it up again at the Wapack and Back 50 in less than two weeks.
We had gathered at his place to watch Unbreakable (again) and scope out spring and summer races. Ian had mentioned the Wapack and Back 50 to me several weeks before and it seemed like a truly appealing race, an out-and-back on the Wapack trail in MA that two of our most bad-ass team members Val and Mindy had already set their sights on.
From the race website:
Consisting entirely of rolling forest roads or single track that can be extremely rocky, the course will provide a true test of the runner’s fitness and mental stamina. You should only consider entering this race if you are confident you have sufficient running experience such as having completed a recent road or trail marathon
 |
| Traprock training |
Most of my training runs consisted of running the Knight Woods trail at Bradbury Mountain, a 1 mile loop with a small hill in the middle. I would run this 10, then 12, then 15 times in order to get as many trail miles in as I could while not straying too far from the car in case the ankle gave out.
Until 3 weeks before the race I considered dropping down the 17k distance at Traprock due to the setback from the injury and the subsequent lack of training. Then, after a long run on a rainy Tuesday morning I texted Jordan to say "50k at Traprock is on". I felt like we had made a commitment to one another and with my ankle in good shape I saw no reason to back out of our biggest training run for Wapack and Back.
We arrived in CT on the evening before the race and got a good night of rest before a beautiful day of running.
 |
| Ian ready to rip it up |
 |
| TM Ultra Team |
The rest of the team, Ian, Joe, Ben, and Nate where having a great day on the trails and I saw them periodically as they came cruising down the backs of trails that I was just beginning to climb. With a 3 loop course and several lollipop sections I could see that they were all doing really well and tearing up the Traprock. I ended up a getting a bit ahead of Jordan on some of the climbs and found myself suddenly feeling better than I ever had at mile 23-24 of a 50k. I ran evenly and easily and found myself suddenly alone on a gorgeous stretch of singletrack that was just glowing in the midday sun. As I was enjoying the solitude of the trails I noticed the faint sound of breathing and the crunch of footsteps behind me. I turned to see Jordan coming fast and hard. Suddenly we were neck and neck and pushing the pace. We pulled into an aid station together and took exactly 5 seconds to down a drink and race back out onto the trail. Next aid station same thing-in and out and after each other again. Yet, even with us running neck and neck it didn't feel like we were racing each other. It felt like we were running a race together and was one of the most unique and enjoyable experiences that I've ever shared with a friend on the trails. I could still see either of us taking the lead at this point and the possibility of a duel finish was still on my mind as well. I'd held back a bit on the second loop in the hopes of a strong finish and as we arrived at the middle of the last loop I felt a surge of strength and began to push hard. I ran the climbs that I'd hiked on the previous two loops and soon found myself alone on the trails again. I kept the pace up for the next mile or two and just as I was about to slow it down and do some late stage ultra-shuffling I noticed a dude in a bright red shirt a few hundred yards ahead. With another runner in striking distance I amped it up again and soon found myself running alongside him and his friend. We ran together until we reached the final aid-station at which I gulped down some ginger-ale and tried to race back out onto the long stretch of road. One of the runners held back while me and the other started a ridiculously slow late stage ultra battle for the books. He was just beginning to pull away from me when the ginger ale settled in my stomach and I felt ready and able to run. I was able to pass him and as I rounded a bend in the road I saw a group of 5 or 6 runners just a few hundred feet away. I raced harder than I ever had at this stage of a long race and was fortunate enough to catch up to, and pass, one after another. Most were supportive and encouraging except for one guy who shot me a snarky ass "How'd you get here?" We'd seen each other many times over the course the day, each time with him in the lead and descending a trail that I was just beginning to climb. I explained to him that I had run there and passed him on the last stretch of road before heading back into the trails.
The last climb and subsequent descent to the finish found me alone and pushing as hard as I could to stay that way. I crossed the line totally wiped by this late stage ultra-duel and pretty close to puking. This was the perfect end to an excellent Wapack training run and to a race that was as memorable for its mellowness as it was for a sudden slugfest in the last few miles and a unique racing experience shared between friends. Jordan finished shortly after and we hung out with the rest of the team for a bit. The Trail Monster flag flew high in the post-ultra haze of burger smoke, sore muscles, and smiling faces and I'm looking forward to hanging it up again at the Wapack and Back 50 in less than two weeks.
 |
| Ultra's make Nate happy |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)