Salida Race Report

In the days leading up to the marathon, I spent more time than usual checking the race day weather forecast. Snow looked imminent, with temperatures somewhere in the mid-30's. Good running weather for Leadville perhaps, but a bit nastier than average for Salida at this time of year. My first taste of spring would have to wait.

My neighbor, Mike, and I drove down from Leadville together, catching up along the way. He's entered Leadman again for the third year in a row-- I believe it's fair to say that he's hooked. I worried about potentially gnarly driving conditions, but our drive down was actually quite nice. An inch or so of fluffy snow had fallen overnight, but I don't think we encountered a single flake as we descended 3,000 ft down the Arkansas valley to Salida. We drove past a large herd of elk grazing on the valley floor. The sage brush was laced with fresh snow, which the rising sun illuminated as it shone through gaps in the clouds that hung on the shoulders of the nearby mountains. Further south, however, the clouds loomed darker and promised more snow to come.

As we milled around the starting area, we bumped into a bunch of other Leadville folks who were also racing that day. We all clustered together at the starting line, smiling, chatting, trying to stay warm, and second-guessing how many layers of clothing we were wearing. There was no snow on the ground at the start, but the steady climb ahead of us seemed likely to change that.

The start of the Salida marathon is an understated event. I never hear any gun or countdown or announcement. We just suddenly take off as a pack. I'm often caught off guard and surprised to find myself running. It's a great laid back way to kick off another season of racing.

My goal for this race-- and what has become my default goal for all races-- is to start conservatively and try to negative split the race. Focus on a maintaining a steady, slow intake of calories. Finish strong. My race last year did not go so well. I really struggled in the second half of the race, slowing way, way down-- especially considering that the second 13 miles of the race are mostly downhill.

This year, I kept things very relaxed for the first 8 or so miles. It was so enjoyable to be able to run on nice, dry single track for a change-- especially after months of training almost exclusively on snowy dirt roads. The only hitch during these early miles was my awkward fumbling around with a ziploc bag full of energy drink powder at the first aid station. I ended up tearing it open and spilling about a quarter of it on the ground. Frustrating. It's funny how little things like that can have such a negative effect on your mental state. It knocks you out of any rhythm. Eventually I shook it off and regained my composure. It's healthy to laugh at yourself-- especially during the early miles of a race.

A few miles into the race...

The next section is the biggest sustained climb of the race, up a dirt road to the halfway point. Since I ran the first section relatively easy, I made up some places on this climb. I felt good, ran the entire way, and passed 20 or so folks on the way up. Slow and steady. The snow started falling as we climbed and it was beginning to accumulate. I didn't find the snow to be a problem, in fact I felt it added to the dramatic atmosphere of the race. Everything felt more... burly. I seemed to have chosen the perfect amount of clothing for the conditions, and I never had to make any major adjustments during the race-- just taking on and off my hat and rolling my sleeves up or down as the conditions warranted. You can't ask for more than that.

I was excited to see that I hit the halfway mark about two minutes faster than I did last year. That surprised me a bit, because I was perfectly willing to run the first half of the race slower, focusing on the second half of instead. I felt good, though, and I didn't think I had pushed too hard. However, I knew all that mattered was the second half and my two minutes meant nothing if I blew up.

One of my sub-goals for the race was to run the hill at mile 21. I succeeded-- just barely.

The second half of the race is mostly downhill, but there are some rollers and one short, but steep climb out of a "sand trap" around mile 21. The trail can definitely get a bit technical at times and it is certainly slower than you might expect, twisting tightly and dropping sharply in spots. I've come to recognize that technical downhills are not exactly my forte, but I do enjoy them.

In contrast to last year, I noticed that I was still passing runners in these later sections of the race. Often on the uphills. I was determined to run the entire course-- never dropping into hiking mode. I find the small uphills provide a good test of my energy level. I gain confidence that my nutrition is where it's supposed to be if I can still maintain a running cadence uphill late in a race. I didn't push too hard on the downhills, trying to save my quads a bit. At this point in the year, I've done very little downhill running. And what little I have done has been a bit restrained due to the potential of slipping on ice. I arrived at the aid station at mile 20 feeling good. Glancing at my watch, I knew I had run the previous section much faster than last year. A PR seemed likely now and the thought gave me a boost of energy. I headed out again and mentally prepared myself for the energy-sapping climb at mile 21. Gritting my teeth, I was able to run every step of it. That was definitely a first for me and worthy of a gasping, panting, quiet "F*ck, yeah!" to myself at the top.

The rest of the race unfolded very smoothly-- I pretty much settled into autopilot mode. I was tired, for sure, but still running everything and picking off runners at regular intervals. The trail weaves in and out of lots of drainages, so you can see a good bit of the course ahead as you look across. I found that I could very accurately predict where I'd eventually pass the runners in front of me: on the gentle rolling uphills as we hopped from one drainage to the next.

As I left the final aid station, I did some quick calculations in my head. It looked like I might be able to finish under 5 hours! I actually groaned to myself because beating a nice, round-numbered time meant that I had to push a bit harder during these final miles rather than just coasting to the finish. Curse you, arbitrary time goals!

I ended up running the last mile of the race almost as fast as I ran the same mile earlier in the race and finished in 4:57:31. Solid! A 37-minute PR for the course! I was psyched.

A comparison of my splits from last year to this year. Shaded rows are aid stations.

So... how in the hell did I run 37 minutes faster this year than last year? I doubt it was due to my training, which was almost exactly the same in terms of total mileage. In fact, it was even a bit less this year-- though I did run two longer runs than I had in '12. Still, that can't possibly account for a 37 minute improvement. After much contemplation, here's how I think my improvement roughly broke down:

• (22 minutes) Improved in-race nutrition. 300 calories/hour. No excuses.
• (10 minutes) Hoka Stinson Evos vs. New Balance MT110s.
• (3 minutes) Starting the race well-rested.
• (3 minutes) More evenly distributed training miles.
• (3 minutes) Stronger hips. No knee pain during the race.
• (2 minutes) Cooler temperatures on race day.
• (-3 minutes) Fiddling with baggies of energy drink powder at every aid station.
• (-3 minutes) Carrying/wearing more gear due to weather.

That's just a guess, but it's my best guess. Basically, in retrospect, I blew up last year, barely surviving the race. '12 was more an example of how not to run the race. I know I drone on and on about the importance of in-race nutrition, but I truly think that if it's your weak link, you can see huge performance improvements simply by fixing it-- even if your raw fitness level remains the same. Consuming a steady stream of carbohydrates during a race (50-60 grams per hour) is huge. Huge! This was the concoction I was drinking:

• 2 scoops of pure maltodextrin (complex sugars) (200 calories)
• 1 scoop of lemon-lime Gatorade (simple sugars, some electrolytes, flavor) (80 calories)
• 1/4 scoop of soy protein (protein) (~30 calories)
• ~20 oz of water

One bottle an hour gives you basically everything you need. Very simple. No chewing required. (And it's very easy to adjust the ingredients up or down to reach the ideal 2 calories per pound per hour rate of consumption.) After trying a variety of products over the years (including "real" food) this is the only fueling strategy that I've been able to maintain consistently for 28+ hours. The taste is fairly subtle-- like diluted Gatorade. Try it. If you've struggled with in-race nutrition in the past, it's like cheating.

I hesitate to give my shoes as much weight as I did in my calculations, but I think I wasn't nearly ready to run 26 miles in my MT110s last year. I had run exclusively in MT101s in '10 and '11 so I didn't give it much thought at the time, but the MT110 is a very different beast than its predecessor. It's much more minimal and I think I paid the price on the downhills. My running form is just not that good-- especially on the downhills. This year I went to the opposite end of the spectrum with my Hoka Stinson Evos. The last time I ran in them was during the 100 in August. My original plan was to run in my Bondi Bs, but the snow made me jump up to a model with a bit more tread. I think they really saved my quads on the downhills, even if the mud stuck to them in a few spots. I still have mixed feelings about Hokas, but I can't argue with the fact that I've had some good results while wearing them. Currently, I only use them for long runs; running all my shorter training runs in more minimalist footwear.

The Salida marathon will always be too early in the season for me to be truly prepared for it. But in contrast to last year, I think I'll emerge from it stronger. While my finishing time was certainly modest, it's more inline with my past race results. (Being in the top 30%-39% of finishers is really good for me, 40%-49% is solid, and 50%+ is mediocre. This year in Salida I came in around 56% vs. 72% last year...) I think I got a really good workout and thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience. It was a lot of fun and a nice confidence boost in the direction my training is heading this year.

Only 3.5 weeks until my next challenge: 42 miles and 11,000 ft of vertical in the Grand Canyon!

Month in Review (February)

2/2010: 100.9 miles
2/2011: 111.3 miles
2/2012: 151.9 miles
2/2013: 137.8 miles

Blizzards, Beaches, and Colds! (With a little bit of running.) Oh my!

February began with a business trip to Boston. The frequency of these trips has increased a bit, with me now traveling about once a month. Generally, I fly out on a Sunday afternoon and fly back on a Friday evening. This time, however, a gigantic nor'easter had other plans for me. I desperately tried to reschedule my flight back to Denver earlier in the day in hopes of getting out before the storm hit, but it was all for naught. Everything got canceled before a single flake had fallen. On Friday, I hunkered down in the office until the snow became heavy enough to force me to retreat back to my hotel by mid-afternoon. It snowed for 24 hours straight, winds howling, dumping about 24" of snow in total. The fifth largest storm in Boston's history. I was trapped in Boston until I finally managed to get a flight out on Monday morning. What made this ordeal all the more frustrating was that the original plan was for me to meet my wife and kids in Denver on Friday night. We'd then spend the night at an airport hotel and fly to Florida on Saturday morning. Yeah, not so much. My wife ended up having to juggle both kids by herself. She made it to Florida in one piece-- barely. I spent a good portion of my weekend on hold or talking to representatives from United and Frontier. Christina was helpful enough to text me pictures of herself lounging on the beach (while I negotiated shoulder-high snow drifts on my walk to work-- I didn't dare drive). In the end, I only missed about a day and a half of our family vacation, but... wow, it turned out to be an epic trip. At one point I seriously contemplated driving my rental car to Florida in a last-ditch effort to escape!

The office on Saturday. I was the only one at work.

Meanwhile, Ethan relaxes on the beach. (He looks very concerned that his papa is missing.)

Travel craziness aside, I feel like I more-or-less met my modest February training goals for this year. The only hiccup being a nasty head cold that I came down with on the last weekend of the month. It knocked me out of commission for a few days. My sinuses are still recovering... ugh. Due to my cold (and the fact that it's not a leap year) I came up a few miles short this month compared to last February. However, on the plus side, I did manage to run a 20-miler with my friend Jay in Boston, MA. And I also managed to escape for a 15-mile run during our family's annual vacation to Naples, FL. Both those runs were around an 8:30 min/mile pace, which felt pretty comfortable-- ah, the benefits of running at sea level.

I'm looking forward to the Salida marathon this week. I won't be in particularly good shape for it, but it should be fun nonetheless. First and foremost, Salida provides me with an incentive to train more than I otherwise would in January and February. I need a race as training motivation. If I waited until early May to run my first race, there'd be no way that I'd be running as much.

Salida is also simply a great excuse for me to log an early season long run. And if the weather cooperates (like it has the past two years), it's a refreshing taste of spring when Leadville is still buried under snow. That alone is reason enough to run it! (Unfortunately, the forecast for Saturday looks pretty grim.) Would I like to improve up my time? Certainly. Do I think that's possible? Maybe. Should I stress out about it? Probably not. So far, my training this year hasn't been radically different than last year. I shouldn't expect radically different results. I am training more consistently-- running/riding 5-7 days a week-- though my total year-to-date mileage isn't that different from last year. Will that have an effect? Hard to say. (Probably not.) I really beat myself up last year, jumping up to a 55 mile week in Florida and then running a lot of vertical on the treadmill in Boston the week before the race. It's possible that I might not have fully recovered by race day. The final weeks leading up the race this year have been more regular, without big fluctuations in effort.

When I look at the GPS data from last year's Salida marathon, it seems like I should be able to improve my time by 15 minutes or so. At least that's what I want to believe. While I ran the first half of the race fairly well (which is mostly uphill), I faded significantly in the second half. I was unable to take advantage of the downhills. The question is why did I slow down so much? In my blog entry from last year I complained about the snow and my lack of early season fitness-- mostly the fact that the race was my first 20+ mile run since October. I remember having some minor hamstring issues and feeling my IT band flare up a bit in the final miles. (I'm pretty sure I popped an Advil or two during the final miles of the race.) At the time I brushed it off, but in retrospect I should have taken my IT band pain much more seriously. I would end up being sidelined by it for several weeks after the race. I remember feeling hungry around mile 20. I ran most of the race eating gels and drinking Gatorade. Did I get enough calories? Doubtful, but how much can I blame poor nutrition for my performance? I didn't keep track of my exact calories/hour rate of consumption, so I don't have anything concrete to point my finger at.

Ah, whatever. I'm over analyzing things... It'll be great to get out for a long run on Saturday, no matter what my time ends up being. One thing is for sure: I'm certainly going to be out on the course long enough to get my money's worth!

Since my biggest, overarching training goal this year is simply to stay healthy and injury-free, the most successful running of the Salida marathon would be one that allows me to continue training well throughout the rest of March, putting me in a good position for a solid R2R2R attempt in early April.

Salida will be my last race in the 30-39 year old division. On March 25th, I'm moving up to 40-49! Yee haw!

Month in Review (January)

1/2010: 58.7 miles
1/2011: 97.6 miles
1/2012: 123.2 miles
1/2013: 128.4 miles

Just a quick update. So far, this year's training is going well. I feel like I'm off to a solid start. I managed to exercise 28 out of 31 days this month. That's gotta be a PR. Right now, things are pretty easy. I'm just focusing on building a base and preserving whatever fitness I can from '12. I'm trying to concentrate on opposite ends of the training spectrum-- shorter, higher intensity sessions on the bike trainer and long, slow runs. (Well, long for this time of year...) In past years I would grind out an hour on the bike trainer and not bother with anything shorter. This year I'm trying to take a different approach and try more frequent, higher intensity 30-minute workouts on the bike. I have no fixed plan at the beginning of the week. Generally, if it's less than 20F out, or if I'm short on time, I hit the bike. Otherwise, I suit up, grab an old pair of "screw shoes" and head outside for a run.

I ran my first 100 in '10 with these guys (sans screws). Good times.

The other difference this year is that I've started using a resistance band every day to strengthen my hips. Before, I'd just do side leg lifts-- which are helpful-- but I feel like the band is doing more. I think balancing on one leg is the key difference-- it really activates a bunch of stabilization muscles that don't get activated when I'm simply doing side leg lifts.

My left knee still occasionally feels a little creaky. Mostly before I've warmed up or after I've finished a run and I'm just walking around. It hasn't interfered with my training, but the occasional flutter of pain is a good reminder that I've got to stay diligent in my ongoing battle with ITBS. We'll see what happens as my mileage slowly ramps up over the next few months. If I can make it to April without any major issues that would be a confidence boost.

I'm trying not to look too far ahead and just focus on getting into reasonable shape for my next race-- in this case, the Salida Marathon. Since every race I plan to run this year is one I've run before, each serves as a great fitness benchmark. The single big new training dynamic this year will be a R2R2R attempt on 4/5 with my good friend, Alex. I'm really looking forward to it, though I'm a little nervous about a 42mi run with 10,000+ft of climbing so early in the season. That's, oh... about 22 miles farther than a typical long run in April for me! There will probably be significant hiking involved, but it's all good! The amazing scenery will hopefully keep me distracted from my aching quads. 

We kicked off January with a traditional 10th Mountain Division winter hut trip with a bunch of good friends-- this year to Vance's Cabin. Hauling a 3.5 year old and a 0.5 year old, and all the necessary food and gear (30+ diapers!), in single digit weather was an adventure, but well worth it. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the trip-- especially the kids, I think.

The view from Vance's Cabin: Mt. Massive and Mt. Elbert in the distance.

Looking west: Homestake.

Ethan went in the chariot; Sierra in the sled (along with plenty of hot water bottles).

2013 Training Plan

Hardrock Lottery: 3 vs. Me: 0

First things first. Sadly, 4 tickets wasn't enough to get me into Hardrock this year. I wasn't optimistic, but I couldn't help being a bit disappointed when I wasn't chosen. I moped around for few days feeling sorry for myself and not feeling very motivated to run. I think my odds this year (~9%) were actually worse than last year given the higher number of applicants and the drastically reduced number of spots for first timers. (Perhaps not getting chosen was a blessing in disguise given how difficult it will be to find time to train in 2013.)

With Hardrock out of the picture, continuing my streak of successful Leadville 100 finishes becomes the default goal. I just can't quite get excited about any other 100 miler right now. I'm not sure why. Wasatch? Steamboat? Big Horn? UTMB? The latter is sort of tempting because we'll be travelling to France/Switzerland this year to visit Christina's family. But after so many years of terrible weather and random, last-minute course re-routes, I don't know... it's kind of dampened my enthusiasm for UTMB. Plus I'm not sure I want to spend an otherwise relaxing family vacation stressing out about splits, aid stations, crew access points, cut-offs, mandatory gear, etc. In contrast, the thought of running Leadville again seems strangely... relaxing.

With a new addition to the family (little Ethan is 5 months now), I'd like to keep my running goals for 2013 relatively modest. Honestly, I'm not quite sure how my wife and I will juggle two jobs and two kids under 4 with training thrown into the mix. We'll see... Right now, the idea of running for 5 hours on Saturday seems impossible given the fact that we can barely survive a weekend with both parents on duty!

Maybe the theme of 2013 should be: simplicity. Stick to local races. The thought of a fourth consecutive Leadville 100 PR is exciting. I think that's doable as long as I can follow more-or-less the same training "plan" that I did in 2012, but prevent another case of ITBS.

En route to Black Cloud on my typical winter 10-mile run

Racing Goals

• Leadville: ~27 hour finish.
• Run injury (ITBS) free.
• Spend less time at aid stations (especially Twin, Hopeless, and Winfield)
• Improve time over Hope (<4 hours)
• Improve time from MQ to finish (<3.3 hours)
• Schedule:
• Salida Marathon
• R2R2R
• Collegiate Peaks 25
• Sage Burner 50K (?)
• Leadville Marathon
• Silver Rush 50
• Leadville 100

Training Goals

• Take it easy in November and December (~100 miles/month).
• Run only when motivated. 
• Re-energize for next year's training.
• Fitness in Nov/Dec/Jan doesn't seem to affect my fitness in August.
• I don't think I need to radically raise the quantity of miles I'm running. (Maybe add 100 extra miles over the course of an entire 24-week training period. These miles will come from more consistent, short midweek runs-- and staying injury free.)
• I want to raise the quality of the miles I'm running (i.e., speed work).
• I don't think I need to change much about my long runs (~15 per year).
• I would like my weekly mileage to see-saw less leading up to training races. I should still run my normal 3-4 days leading up to a race, but lower the intensity (i.e., skip hills, speed work, etc.).
• Bump up to a 5 day weekly average rather than a 4+ day weekly average.
• Add 1 short run/workout per week.
• A typical (peak) training week should look like:
• 1 "fast" (anaerobic) run per week. This run will typically be on pavement or smooth dirt roads (e.g., Boulevard, Mineral Belt, Evans Gulch, Cal Gulch, Iowa Gulch, etc.). 
• 1 "hill" run per week (e.g., Elk Run, Ball Mountain, Powerlines, Fish Hatchery loop, Mosquito Pass, Mt. Sherman, etc.)
• 2 "easy" runs per week at MAF (e.g., CMC trails, Turquoise Lake, etc.)
• Incorporate some "strides" at the end of one of the easy runs
• 1 "long" run per week at MAF (i.e., 4+ hours or 20+ miles)
• Over the course of training try to double the number of 14ers I typically climb for long runs.
• Climb the local 14ers (and Hope Pass) at least 2 times each.
• Extra 14ers and regular hill runs will help with Hope Pass.
• Prevent ITBS with regular stretching, foam rolling, and hip strengthening exercises.
• Incorporate an easy 30 min run or bike (warm up) plus a simple 30 min leg/hip stretching/strengthening workout into my routine.
• Continue to supplement with the bike trainer during the winter months.
• Don't discount the value of a hard 30 minute workout.
• Continue to bike for active recovery after races.
• Experiment with jumping rope to build leg strength.
• Do a better job of consistently monitoring my heart rate.
• Don't worry about average HR for the entire run-- just never go above MAF.

Baystate Marathon Report

With my carry-on stuffed full of running gear, I began the long descent down from Leadville to DIA. My Hokas must have taken up a third of my suitcase. Nipple protection? Check. Assorted gels? Check. Bag of maltodextrin? Check. GPS, HR monitor, cadence sensor? Check, check, and check. (What the hell would airport security think of all this?) Over the years, the flight from Denver to Boston has become pretty routine. I fly out there about every quarter on business. Soon I was munching on dinner at Boston Beer Works at Logan, breathing in the thick, oxygen-rich air. It took all my self control to refrain from ordering a pint-- especially considering I could expense it.

My training partner!

Much like the flight, my "training" for this race was pretty routine. I would say that it was actually more recovery than training. I biked for a whopping hour the week after the 100. The following week I went for two short 4-5 mile runs during which I was definitely hampered by lingering ITBS issues. Then, the following week, there was my hernia surgery, which sidelined me for another week or so-- though I did spend some time on the bike trainer while I was recovering. All my runs were broken up by short hip stretching routines every 20-30 minutes or so. Eventually the pain in my left knee faded enough that it didn't affect my running-- though I could still feel some tightness from time to time. I managed to log one 20-mile run as my long run, and then snuck in a 13-miler and a 10-miler in the weeks leading up to the marathon. The rest of my runs were generally in the 5-6 mile range. With the exception of the 20-miler, I tried to pick runs that were mostly on pavement and that had minimal elevation gain (well, minimal for Leadville). I tried to keep my average pace around 8:45-9:00 min/miles, which is pretty much my "tempo" pace. So, low 8's going downhill and mid 9's going uphill. All in all, I logged about 4 weeks of 35 mile/week training before a one week taper. Overall, the training times I was logging were solid, but not amazing. In contrast to last year, when I was setting PRs on all my local routes in the weeks following 100, this year I was coming up a bit short. It certainly seems like this year's 100 took more out of me than last year's. Not surprising, really.

Red = Injured. Yellow = Bike. Brown = Hike. Green = 20+ miler.

Going in to Baystate, I really didn't know what to expect. I'd never run a flat, paved, sea-level marathon before. Hell, I'd never run a flat, paved marathon at any altitude before! While I'd run a few 10-13 mile training runs at sea level in the past, no previous training run was directly comparable. Obviously they were all much shorter (maxing out at half the distance). Some had hills (e.g., Vermont), while others were on sandy beaches (e.g, Florida). Looking at the data, it seemed like I could average around 8:45 min/mile for 10 miles. I'd run a few 5-mile runs at sea level where I'd averaged 7:40 min/mile. That seemed about the upper limit of my speed. So... I don't know... I was really hoping for 3:something. 3:59? 3:50? 3:45? Any sub-4:00 time would be a huge improvement on my previous marathon PR of 5:34 in the Salida marathon last March.

Baystate wasn't a focus race for me, so I certainly wasn't stressing out about my performance. However, I did feel a little bit of extra motivation to represent ultra runners well-- especially those that hailed from the mountains of Colorado. More than anything I was very curious to see how my body would respond to this new challenge. I was hoping I hadn't lost the endurance I had built up over the summer, and that my legs had recovered enough to hold up to the pounding of a road race.

My friend and co-worker, Dave Woodruff, kindly picked up my race packet on Saturday. He'd also generously offered to give me a lift from my hotel to the race on Sunday morning. Dave's a super fast runner, making the podium on many local races, and he was gunning for a Boston qualifier time of <3:10. One of my goals for the marathon was not to get lapped by him on the double-loop section of the course!

My alarm went off at 5am, which of course felt like 3am to me. I had packed enough snacks to scrounge together a pre-race meal of sorts: a Lara bar, a few handfuls of almonds, and 20 oz of the same maltodextrin-based energy drink I used for the 100. This time I also mixed in a 5-Hour Energy rather than drink it straight-- I had learned from my debacle at the Fish Hatchery. We were both in good spirits and chatted away during the short drive to the starting line. Once parked, we pinned our numbers on, made a few last minute adjustments, and headed towards the starting line. I scarfed down a Honeystinger waffle for a final 180 calories an hour before the start.

My nutrition plan for the marathon was pretty simple. Eat a good breakfast (~800 calories), don't pre-hydrate excessively (to avoid too many pee stops), and race with a 20 oz hand held bottle full of 300 calories of energy drink. Those initial 300 calories would take care of the first hour. After that, the plan was simply to eat gels and fill my bottle with Gatorade at the numerous aid stations along the course (approximately every two miles). I'd try to hit 300 calories an hour-- with about 100 calories coming from Gatorade and 200 calories coming from gel. Pretty standard for an ultramarathon, though probably more calories than most of the other racers ate. The weather forecast looked almost perfect. Not too hot, partly cloudy. Shorts and t-shirt weather. No arm sleeves necessary. I didn't anticipate needing any salt tablets in these conditions-- especially given the fact that I'd be guzzling Gatorade-- but I shoved a few in one of my pockets as insurance.

We had arrived with plenty of time to spare, so Dave and I hung out and chatted for a good while. I made sure to thoroughly stretch my hips to try to stave off any potential ITBS issues. Everything felt very casual and relaxed. With about 10 minutes or so to go, Dave and I took our places at the starting line. There were markers to separate the field into different pace groups: 11:00 min/mile, 10:00 min/mile, etc. I lined up somewhere around the 8:45 min/mile mark. I'd guess there were over 2,000 runners at the starting line-- with about half of them running the half marathon (which broke off after a few miles). There was great energy in the crowd and I was excited to start running! With a cheer, we set off!

I knew this race would be all about pacing. It was going to be a 4 hour experiment in gauging my perceived effort and listening to my body. I had to throw out my preconceived ideas about what a particular pace was supposed to feel like. Since I was in control of my pace, that's what I'd focus on. I was actually more concerned about things I couldn't really control: Would my knees hold up to the pounding? Would my ITBS flare up? Would running so fast cause me to cramp? I put those questions out of my mind since they were largely out of my control once the race began. The pacing experiment began in the first mile. What did a 9 min/mile pace feel like? How high was my heart rate? It was like learning to run all over again.

I wanted to go out slow so that I gave myself time to warm up. Plus, I had a not-so-secret desire to negative split the race, so I didn't want to run the first 13.1 miles too fast and put that goal out of reach. The first mile clicked by in 8:59. It felt super easy. Too easy. The crowds were still pretty dense at this point, and to a certain extent my pace was dictated by the runners immediately in front of me. My HR was hovering in the low 130s, but it felt very different than what low 130s feel like in Leadville. I wanted to run faster. I tried to focus on running smoothly and maintaining good form. Head up. Shoulders loose. High cadence. Small sips of calories. The first few miles went through town (your standard New England mill town), but then we started following a slightly more rural road alongside the river. I was pleased to see that there were actually a few rolling hills. I kept steady on the uphills and generally moved up a few places on the downhills. It seemed like most folks were more locked into a certain pace, whereas my instincts were to go with what the terrain gave me. I kept glancing at my watch to gauge my speed and my HR. I seemed to naturally settle in on an 8:15 min/mile pace, which seemed super fast to me, but felt right. Sustainable. My HR was up in mid 140s at that speed. In Leadville, I'd be right on the edge of going anaerobic at that HR. Generally, my GPS is set up to raise an alarm when my HR goes above 141 to keep myself in the MAF zone. Luckily I had the foresight to disable my HR alarm before the race! I found myself cruising along, thoroughly enjoying myself, and watching all the other runners.

Around mile 6 or so, I started setting PRs for distances I run in Leadville. I ran the first 6 miles at about the same speed as my typical Boulevard tempo run at home. I just had to laugh at the audacity of the whole situation. My plan was to maintain that pace for another 20 miles! I hit the 10 mile mark about 5 minutes faster than my fastest 10 mile Leadville run-- and I'm talking about an all out 10 mile effort in peak fitness (on pavement). Instead, here at sea level, running on relatively flat ground, it felt reasonable. Strong, but not reckless. Things were going very smoothly so far. Refilling my water bottle with Gatorade went quickly-- I barely had to stop. Better yet, I found that I could actually suck down a gel without dropping below a 9:00 min/mile pace! I've never managed to do that in the mountains. Holding my breath for just the amount of time it takes to swallow almost certainly causes a dizzy spell at altitude if I'm running that fast.

Most importantly, I was having fun. I distinctly remember one moment where a gust of wind blew a bunch of autumn leaves off of the trees that lined the route. We ran through the flurry of falling red and orange leaves. It put a smile on my face and a spring in my step.

As I started to close in on the halfway mark at 1:50 I felt like maybe I had let my enthusiasm get away with me. I had planned to reach it around 1:57 or so, which would've been a solid PR for 13.1 miles, but would still leave room for possible improvement in the second half of the race. I thought to myself, "This is crazy!" I had probably blown my chance to negative split the race. I backed off a bit during the middle miles, down to an 8:30 min/mile pace. But as I got some more gel in me, my mood improved and I started finding myself unconsciously speeding up again. At this point, I could definitely feel my knees. But, it was just a normal "creaky" feeling around the knee caps-- not the ITBS pain I so dreaded. I also seemed to be forming some kind of knot in my left quad. So far, my stride hadn't been affected, but the miles of pavement were beginning to take their toll. I began to pass more and more runners on the side of the road, stretching.

Around mile 14 a group of three very strong looking runners jogged past me while casually chatting away. These guys knew what they were doing. You could just tell they had treated the first half of the race as a warm up. They were the last runners to pass me for the remainder of the race.

Around the 30k mark (another PR) the carnage started increasing. I was now regularly climbing up the ranks, weaving around runners that were slowing down. Aerobically, I felt amazing. My nutrition was dialed in. It was all down to my legs. How long would they hold up? The various aches and pains had seemed to stabilize, so I was gaining confidence the deeper into the race I got. Everything was unfolding much faster than in a typical trail ultra. I didn't want to stop for anything! The one time I pulled off course to pee seemed like an eternity. I blew through aid stations as fast as possible. I ate everything on the run. True to the spirit of ultra running I took care of myself-- but I took care of myself while on the move. I stayed on top of calories and fluid without stopping. I shook out my arms every few miles to stay loose. I stayed in the shade whenever possible to cool down. I kept tabs on my posture and tried to maintain my form. This is probably where my experience helped the most. This race would be the ninth time I'd run 25 miles or more this year. But I didn't just want to survive the race, I wanted to run it strong with minimal fading in the crucial final miles. Running 50s and 100s keeps things in perspective, I guess. I didn't want to leave anything on the course, but I also didn't want to blow up. It's a fine balance which is hard to master-- especially on an unfamiliar course.

At mile 21 or so, my confidence reached some critical level where I knew it was finally safe to race. I was definitely going to run under 4 hours; now it was just a matter of how much. My pace quickened to sub-8:00 min/miles and my HR started climbing into the high 150s. I find that I feel a strange mixture of camaraderie and yet also competition with my fellow runners during a race. Generally, the camaraderie is by far the most common and long lasting feeling I experience before, after, and during a race. However, I cannot deny that I get a strong mental boost from moving up in the ranks-- especially late in a race. It's so much more satisfying, I think, than going out fast and not being quite able to hold on until the very end. Glancing at my watch, I knew I was close to negative splitting. I just had to push hard during these last few miles. I knew I was pushing because I started looking for those mile markers in anticipation. I'd spot a pack of runners in the distance and make it my goal to catch them. Beast mode. Finally, I turned into the finishing chute and sprinted through the cheering crowd and across the finish line in 3:38. Unbelievable.

I had done it! I had negative split the race! 1:50 for the first half and 1:48 for the second half. I had set back to back 13.1 mile PRs and set a marathon PR by 1 hour and 55 minutes. All in the same race!

26.2 miles of speed work.

If I ran with a HR this high in Leadville, I'd probably be dead.

Once I stopped running, my legs immediately locked up. I could barely walk! I hobbled around a bit and found a nice sunny spot in the grass to rest and stretch and nurse a Pepsi. Eventually I found Dave sprawled out near the food table. We quickly exchanged war stories. Dave had just missed a BQ due to his calves cramping up in the final miles. Damn it. (Next time, Dave!) But we had both set PRs. I had a big grin plastered on my face for the rest of the day. We slurped down a few bowls of soup while chatting about running, training, aging software engines, deprecated code, and the finer points of distributed systems synchronization. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a local Indian restaurant and gorged on the buffet.

Good times.

What a great way to finish a season of running! A big thank you to Dave for providing the excuse to push myself and run a final marathon this year. I feel like I learned a ton during this race. It was probably a once in a lifetime experience to make such a massive improvement at a particular distance. I felt like I was magically transported into someone else's body and told to run 26.2 miles. I had to figure things out as I went. It was surprisingly enjoyable to run just by perceived effort. Who knows? Maybe I'll start running without a watch!

Tour Du Iowa Gulch

I thought it'd be a good idea to log at least one 20 mile run before my marathon next month-- even though the plan (such as it is) is to basically run the marathon on the fumes of my training from the summer. For me, the Bay State Marathon is more of an experiment in how my Leadville training translates into a flat, sea level road marathon-- not what is the ideal way to train for a flat, sea level road marathon when you live way up in the mountains.

For a while now I had considered stitching together several of my regular short midweek runs into a longer route that would take me around Iowa Gulch-- a sort of farewell tour before the snow sets in. At first I had planned to start/finish the run from my house, but that plan was more logistically difficult than simply driving to the halfway mark so that I could stash extra food and water in my car. The one drawback of doing long runs on the east side of town is that, due to all the mining activity, I don't really trust any of the water sources. Thus, I tend to run my long runs on the west side of the valley (near the Colorado Trail) where I can stop and restock on water whenever I cross a stream.

This run would also be a test to see how my IT band reacted to running for 4+ hours. It has been holding up well on my 5-6 mile runs, and it's even survived a 12 mile run, but I had yet to challenge it with anything longer than 2 hours. Occasionally I can feel it ache a bit on gentle uphill sections, but it fades away and never alters my stride. It's strange: my previous IT issues have always manifested themselves on downhills-- not uphills. I wonder what's different this time?

So, the weatherman lied. Saturday was supposed to be the cloudy day and Sunday was supposed to be clear. Instead it was the reverse. There were uncharacteristic dark, gray rain clouds hovering over the Mosquitoes when I started out at 10am. If there is any overcast in Leadville, it generally doesn't arrive until well past noon. To wake up to clouds is rare. Since I'm a chicken when it comes to dark clouds above tree line, I knew this would probably put a damper on my plans to summit Mt. Sherman. But, I'd see how far I'd make it before I talked myself into retreating back down into the valley.

I drove 5 minutes up California Gulch and parked my car at the pull off at the top of Printer Boy. (Where the first major aid station is on the Silver Rush 50 course.) I decided to tackle the high road up the gulch first (2B).

Mt Sherman is the snowy ridge in the distance.

Mt Sheridan. The trail climbs up the notch on the left.

A view of West Sheridan across the gulch.

Nearing the end of the road and the Mt Sherman trailhead.

I climbed up the road fairly well, though I was actively trying to keep my HR low. The road gains about 1,000 ft in 3.5 miles. It was chilly and windy on the way up. I knew it'd only get worse the higher I got. (Dammit, I should have run this yesterday!) At the junction with the trail to the summit, I took stock of things and decided, what the hell, I'd climb up to the saddle and see how things looked from there. I felt surprisingly good on the way up the trail, running a few of the flatter sections, and power hiking through the steep fields of scree. My mind drifted towards potential Hardrock training next year...

At the top of the pass, looking towards Mt. Sheridan.

Looking north towards the summit of Mt. Sherman.

Looking east at some unfriendly clouds.

Once I crested the pass, I could see a few different groups of climbers descending off the mountain to the east. The sky really hadn't cleared up much and a patch of dark clouds was blowing in from the northwest. It was quite chilly even in the rare patch of sun that I was standing in. And I was running a little low on water. After considering the pros and cons I finally overcame my strong peak bagging instinct and turned around and re-traced my steps back down into the gulch. I had climbed up to 13,200 ft and I was exactly 5 miles from the car. The trip back went quickly, and I had a few opportunities to practice my scree-skiing technique on the way down. Once back at the trail head I took the rougher, low road (2) back down the valley, past the remnants of the Black Cloud mine, and back up Printer Boy hill to my waiting car. There I restocked on water and fuel and headed off down the Elk Run trail.

Don't shoot! I'm not an elk!

 The next ~10 miles would all be on a dense network of twisting trails built and maintained by the local bike club. They're only a mile from my house and they've become my favorite place to run during the week. The trails are super scenic, weaving in and out of sage brush, pines, and groves of aspens, with a fair amount of elevation gain, but nothing too steep. They loop and weave so much that it's a little hard to build up any speed, but that's a very minor complaint.

From Elk Run over to Upper Deck.

Down Wedgie.

Down Cold Feet.

Gel was losing its appeal, so I decided to eat elk instead.

Gold Digger with a view of Mt. Elbert.

Most of the aspen leaves have fallen by now, but I found one grove with its leaves still intact.

The sage hill on Wheeler's Way. This is the first section of trail to melt out in the spring.

A skull marks the trail on Wheeler's Way.

Back up Old Chub to the intersection of Elk Run and Boulders.

The ramshackle bridge across the stream on Boulders. This was the low point of my run, it's all uphill from here.

The boulders which give Boulders its name (I assume).

A vertigo-inducing mine shaft that plunges 100 ft into the darkness.

The beavers have been busy and this river crossing is now knee deep!

A view back up Iowa Gulch towards Mt. Sherman.

The tangled, circuitous route I took never retraced its steps. I eventually ended up on the Boulders Trail and headed slowly back up the valley to my car, eventually connecting with a rough, dirt road (6A) after 8 miles of beautiful single track. I was having a great time, though my energy levels were very low. I couldn't quite put my finger on why I was slowing down so much... In retrospect, I was probably a little dehydrated. I'm not sure that completely explains it, though. My stomach felt fine, but my legs were a bit tired and I just felt generally fatigued. Ah, well. Just because you run a 100 miler doesn't mean 20.5 miles with 4,400 ft of vertical suddenly becomes easy. Looking at my training log afterwards, I ran my last 22-miler (which had equivalent elevation gain) at almost exactly the same pace. I remember feeling pretty tired on that run too.

Despite the initially sketchy weather and my eventual exhaustion, I had a great time out on the local trails. (And no ITBS despite 4+ hours of running!) It's amazing that this kind of stuff is right out my front door. It's good to be reminded of that. Thanks to my wife for watching the kids and letting me indulge in what will probably be my last 20+ mile training run of 2012!

The Tour Du Iowa Gulch. It would be easy to tack on another ~3 miles and 2,000 ft of vertical by summiting Mt. Sherman and running the upper Boulders Trail up Long and Derry Hill...

Not much flat.

Training 2012 Analysis

"Law 6: Achieve As Much As Possible on a Minimum of Training" -- Tim Noakes

I've been taking it super easy since the 100. Only last week did I actually begin to really exercise regularly again. Up until that point I only went on a few, scattered 5 mile runs to test out my legs. My left knee is still a bit creaky, but I've reached the point where it doesn't affect my stride. I'm foam rolling it and stretching my hips every day. In addition to my knee, I was sidelined for a few days due to a random head cold and for a week due to my hernia surgery. Thankfully that's all behind me now and I've returned to the trails to enjoy the beautiful fall foliage up here in Leadville. We just got two cords of firewood delivered, and the snow is starting to stick above 12,000 ft...

My general plan for the off season (from now until February) is to average around 20-25 miles a week. Why? Insurance mileage, I guess. Just in case I actually get selected for Hardrock next year! (I should have 2^3 tickets, if my calculations are correct...) After much agonizing, I decided not to run the Devil Mountain 50 this weekend in Pagosa Springs. I ran it last year and it was a lot of fun, but my training has been too inconsistent since the 100 and (more importantly) my knee hasn't fully recovered yet. So, instead of running a 50 miler with 10,000 ft of vertical, I've registered for a much more terrifying race: a totally flat road marathon at sea level! Ahhh! The race coincided nicely with my next business trip to Boston and I'm really curious to see how I do on a more traditional marathon course. It's totally out of my comfort zone. I've never run a marathon below 7,000 ft or with less than 5,000 ft of vertical. Pavement? What's that? I didn't even own a pair of road running shoes until yesterday. However, at the risk of sounding cocky, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that a PR for the distance is pretty much in the bag. It gave me a chuckle to see that on the front page of the race's website they advertise how fast (i.e., easy) the race is ("Selected by Runner's World as one of the 10 Fastest Marathons")! Funny... I don't think I've ever seen any Colorado race make such a claim... (Don't get me wrong: running a fast marathon is insanely difficult! I'll be lucky to break 4 hours next month. However, a 4 hour marathon would be a 1 hour and 34 minute improvement for me. I suspect I'll be the only runner wearing a SJS50 t-shirt and carrying a hand held water bottle during the race. Gotta represent.)

Anyway...

Continuing in the spirit of number crunching, I thought I'd take a moment to summarize my training for the 100 this year. I don't really consider myself a "hard core" runner who regularly logs huge mileage. I try to focus on quality, rather than quantity-- though I could certainly improve in that area. (It's also possible that I'm just lazy.) I'm sharing this data not because I think I have all the answers when it comes to training for a 100 miler (far from it!), nor because I think my training is especially remarkable, but because hopefully someone out there on the interwebs will find it helpful/useful as an example-- just another data point to take into consideration.

I've never really followed a specific training plan per se. I certainly look at various plans to get a feel for what other folks think constitutes good training, but I never pick one particular plan to follow religiously. The training plans I refer to most often are Bryon's. I guess the biggest distinguishing features of my training are:

• 90% of my training is above 10,000 ft. Very few runners can say that. (There are certainly pros and cons to training so ridiculously high...)
• I almost always run on trails. I log very few paved miles.
• I average around 10,000 ft of vertical/week from May-August.
• I'm slow (see above). My average pace for a month is typically only ~11:00 min/mile.
• I incorporate biking during the winter (on the trainer) and for recovery after long runs. 1 hour bike = 5 mile run.
• I race a lot, though I don't really have a separate "racing gear". I run races as training; to test out gear and to practice various nutrition strategies and general race management. Plus, they're fun.
• I try to run about 15 ~20+ mile runs. About half these are races.
• I try to climb a few 13ers/14ers every month from May-August.
• I don't do any speed work. (I probably should.)
• I like to think I pay proper attention to post long run recovery (e.g., getting enough protein, icing my legs in mountain streams, etc.) though I need to get better at regular stretching/foam rolling.
• Living in Leadville, I am completely familiar with all the Leadville race courses. I regularly train on the more scenic sections during the course of the year.

The Spreadsheet of Truth

 So, some explanations about the spreadsheet:

• Yellow cells are bike rides-- generally an hour on the trainer.
• Green cells are my ~20 mile runs (or, more generally, runs that take 4+ hours).
• Purple cells are vacation/business trip runs (which generally means sea level).
• Red cells are injuries.
• Mileage in bold (generally in green cells) are races.
• YTD = from the week following LT100 '11. I train from Leadville to Leadville. :)
• I consider "serious" training to begin at the 24 weeks until Leadville mark-- which corresponds nicely with the week of the Salida marathon. The SUM/AVE at the bottom are for that 24 week period.
• The green/red columns on the right are the difference of my weekly mileage compared to Bryon's 50 and 70 miles per week training plans. Despite some fluctuations, I came out 36.3 miles ahead of Bryon's 50 mpw plan and a mere (ha!) 212.7 miles below his 70 mpw plan (which I would consider the minimum for trying to break 25 hours and big buckle, fwiw).

Weekly Mileage

The graph above represents my weekly mileage in the 24 weeks leading up to the 100. Some observations:

• I consider a week of training to begin on Monday and end the following Sunday.
• I came down with a case of ITBS which severely limited my running during weeks 4 and 5. Luckily I was able to recover quickly and jump up to 50 mpw.
• The dip in week 12 was because I was tapering for the Sage Burner 50K on the following Monday. Thus the spike in mileage in week 13.
• Weeks 16 and 19 are my 50 mile races: the San Juan Solstice 50 and the Silver Rush 50.
• I like the consistency of my weekly mileage from weeks 6-11. After that I start see-sawing as I race, taper, race, taper, etc. I don't think that's ideal... There are just too many fun, local races to run!
• I missed one 20+ mile run on week 21 when my son was born. It would've been hard to explain to my wife why I needed to do a double crossing of Hope Pass while she was in labor. :)
• I started tapering for realz at week 22.
• Week 24 was the 100.

I feel that training-- particularly for an ultra-- just sets you up for success-- it doesn't guarantee it! Injuries and/or poor nutrition on race day can completely negate/overwhelm all your hard work. For example, after training basically the same as I did last year, I managed to finish the 100 one hour faster this year simply because of improvements I made to my race nutrition. That was by far the most important change I made in 2012 even though it may seem so simple/trivial. Your #1 training priority should be: don't get injured. And I'd venture to say that your #2 priority for success in 50+ mile races should be: learn how to eat/drink adequately while racing. Once you've mastered that, then you can focus all your efforts on total mileage, proper intensity, course specificity, hill work, speed work, fiddling with gear, shoes, etc.

So... there you have it. There are certainly things I'd like to change about my training for next year. (I've started compiling a list.) But I'll refrain from rambling on about that until my plans for next year firm up. Certainly, like almost every other ultra runner in Colorado-- or at least every other Colorado runner in the blogosphere, Hardrock is the ultimate goal. Being selected for that venerable race would certainly push my training about a month forward and kick it into high gear. Failing that, another Leadville finish (in 27 hours, dammit!) is my default goal, though we have plans to visit my wife's parents in France and Switzerland next August/September... UTMB, anyone?