gruecd
Footballguy
Not running, but I'll be out on the course cheering with the dog. I'll probably try to hit a few different spots, since it's pretty easy to do with the out-and-back course.
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Ran a 10k - Official Thread (7 Viewers)
- Thread starter Ned
- Start date
Ned
Footballguy
pbm107
Footballguy
It looks like @Juxtatarot, @gruecd, and @Organized Chaos are all racing this weekend. Anyone else? It looks like it will be cold enough for gloves in Naperville Sunday morning.
I thought about signing up for a local 8.8 mile race but decided against it. Things have been going well for me following the schedule so I am not going to mess with what's working.
I thought about signing up for a local 8.8 mile race but decided against it. Things have been going well for me following the schedule so I am not going to mess with what's working.
Juxtatarot
Footballguy
Yeah, should be around 30. Probably will have to double glove. I wish it was a bit warmer but it shouldn't be bad once the race starts.
I've been very impressed with your training. I've noticed you're taking the easy days easier but that makes sense with all the faster stuff. It has also confirmed that Hansen's isn't for me. It takes me too long to recover from runs below 7:00 pace.
pbm107
Footballguy
Thanks, there is no need for you to go with Hansons as your current approach works for you. I have no doubt you would be fine with the Hansons plan if you decided to attempt it. There are 3 SOS (something of substance) runs and are you are stronger than me in 2 of them, marathon pace and relatively fast long runs. The Tuesday strength workouts aren’t that stressful and you’d be recovered for the Thursday marathon pace run. With this plan there is never a knockout workout that takes days to recover from like a Pfitz 7 mile tempo or 14 miles at MP in the middle of a 20.
MAC_32
Footballguy
Yeah, you @Juxtatarot could absolutely do Hansen's, but given what's been working for you I don't see the point. You'd have an adjustment period then no way of knowing until you've done at least a couple cycles if it actually helped you perform better or not.
Juxtatarot
Footballguy
bushdocda
Footballguy
Another post for the Hansons sub-thread - last SOS workout completed this morning and easy taper runs between me and raceday. Happy to have bagged a workout earlier in the week when a work trip put me in a situation to eaither hit the mill or explore the local roads in the 5am dark. I took the former and rattled a treadmill in a hotass fitness closet for 4 of 6 planned mile intervals. Pulled the plug and had a bad head rush as soon as I stopped. No worse for wear though and this morning was good.
Next 9 days will be shorter/easier as I taper down and spend most my time staring at pace charts in excel.
Next 9 days will be shorter/easier as I taper down and spend most my time staring at pace charts in excel.
gianmarco
Footballguy
pbm107
Footballguy
Is your goal still sub 3:40? I like your chances as your MP miles have been consistency faster than 8:23 pace.
MAC_32
Footballguy
I'm in - cold front slowed and won't be coming through until around lunch. Wind will still be blowing, but the real howls will be a few hours post race and more importantly it'll still be in the 50's and if it isn't dry it's the scattered shower stuff and not a cold front downpour.
pbm107
Footballguy
MAC_32
Footballguy
Yep, but we'll see what happens about a half mile or so after I turn back into that wind. I intentionally don't do anything speed for an extended period of time into high wind because it requires too much energy from a bigger body like mine - increases recovery time on the back end. We'll see how my legs are doing after firing into that for a few mins.
bushdocda
Footballguy
Short answer is yes and the next chunk of weather has lots of low 60s for the highso I have reason to think I’ll get a cool enough morning. I’m sitting at PT now for a quick check but I’m healthy too.
First couple clogged, uphill miles will be planned well slower by at least a minute. Then work down to 8:10 - 8:30 pacing and lock in for the ride. Very excited / freaked out / thrilled with training.
A - 3:39:59
B - < 3:45
C - feel less murderous during the last 6 miles than last year
MAC_32
Footballguy
Brony
Footballguy
Had freakish pain on my left toe last night (the little piggie that goes wee wee weee all the way home). 98% sure that it's not gout and likely a toenail trying to grow the wrong way. I was nearly in tears and kept me up for 2 hours late last night.
Still had some pain going this morning as I started the run this morning. Left toe and right TF joint in pain - I'm old AF. Fortunately, both were minor and fleeting and I got my target easy 6 in.
Still had some pain going this morning as I started the run this morning. Left toe and right TF joint in pain - I'm old AF. Fortunately, both were minor and fleeting and I got my target easy 6 in.
tri-man 47
Footballguy
In before "paging tri-man." But if it reoccurs, I'll get my foot-care bag and be right over.
tri-man 47
Footballguy
On another note: I was just talking to a coworker, and she had similar pain/issues to what I've experienced with my hip. Her diagnosis was a torn labrum. I'll schedule an appointment and expect to get an MRI, but that sounds like a likely culprit. If so, it's then a lengthy time of natural recovery or some surgery and PT.
gruecd
Footballguy
Also, I was diagnosed with the EXACT same issues back in early 2014. I had multiple VERY well-renowned doctors recommend surgery, but I declined. I definitely had a labral tear (and probably still do), but I'm not convinced that it was the cause of my pain (groin pain in the crease where the hip meets the leg). In fact, one doctor said that the majority of runners likely have labral tears, but many are asymptomatic. In any case, I reduced activity and rested for a while, and the pain eventually went away. My friends (obviously) weren't so lucky.
gruecd
Footballguy
Also, if you DO end up needing the surgery (or just wanting a consultation), my one friend also lives in the Chicagoland area, and his surgeon was Dr. Patrick Birmingham. He says that he'd recommend him.
So did @SFBayDuck ever finish his ultra? Beginning to think he's was doing his race report live and fell off a cliff somewhere.
Juxtatarot
Footballguy
End of part 3: a literal cliffhanger.BassNBrew said:
tri-man 47
Footballguy
Thanks, thanks, and thanks. I'll start the discovery process next Thursday and see where it leads.gruecd said:
Tempo runs have been at 9:40-10:00 pace for 6 miles treadmill. Hit the track this week and did 3 x 1 mile at 8:50 pace as speed work. Training for longer ####. Should I cut that 1 mile down to 1/4s or 1/2s? Not sure I'm getting any speed benefit at that slow of a speed. Was at threshold at 8:50 pace so I can pick that up at this time. I figured the reason for speed was to get the legs and body used to running faster and the 1 mile distance just feels like harder tempo.
Also I used to be faster on the road than the treadmill. Been doing more treadmill runs this last year and now the treadmill is noticeably easier. The limiting factor on the treadmill is that I eventually overheat. Any comments on this?
Also I used to be faster on the road than the treadmill. Been doing more treadmill runs this last year and now the treadmill is noticeably easier. The limiting factor on the treadmill is that I eventually overheat. Any comments on this?
SFBayDuck
Footballguy
SFBayDuck
Footballguy
Grindstone, part 3
A Foggy Day
With the evening start, I fully expected to be exhausted on night two. What I didn’t expect was to start feeling it mid-day on Saturday. But as I ran back along the rolling terrain from mile 50-59 it moved into early afternoon, and I was beat. I’d been moving for 18 hours and awake for almost 30, so the straight tired feeling that often hits in the wee morning hours of a typical 100 miler were hitting me mid-day. I zoned out for hours at a time. I spent an hour or two “writing” an amazing blog post on the “10 Things I Learned at Grindstone”. On occasion I’d snap out of it and realize I should be moving quicker, but then I’d zone out again. And of course I can’t remember any of what I came up with while out there (maybe I should record myself next time on my phone – I just know it was great stuff!). It was surreal, moving through the peak daylight hours of a beautiful day but feeling like I was in a fog.
At about mile 61 we started heading back down the hill in earnest, 19 hours in at around 1:00 PM. I felt like I was moving ok at the time, but looking at my splits they were all 20-30 minute miles. I survived the steep downhill and arrived back to North River Gap at mile 65 in a little under 21 hours, and while I sat for a few taking care of my feet (and not eating tater tots) I began dreading the incredibly rocky climb facing me, but kept thinking at least I’d be hitting it in daylight hours. And to be honest, it was a little bit better going back up as the expectation of decent splits wasn’t weighing on me at that point and it's almost easier to tackle rocky terrain going up than going down. Two and half hours into it came the Lookout Mountain aid station at mile 72, which I reached in 23:28. I was now almost two hours off the 32-hour split times, but still over two hours ahead of cutoffs so I was somewhat satisfied with my progress. The climb continued from there, and as the sun went down the low light, both in angle and intensity, started playing tricks on my senses. “What are those three cars doing parked in the woods?” Oh, there’s nothing there. “I don’t remember a building out here.” Because there isn’t one. “Look, campers around a campfire, roasting s'mores.” Nope. And a lot of turning around to see who the runner was I could hear coming up behind me, only to find nobody trailing me. All just signs of my mind starting to slip and slide into the grips of sleep deprivation, something that would only get worse as darkness set in and I tackled the final 25 miles.
The Downward Spiral.....
A Foggy Day
With the evening start, I fully expected to be exhausted on night two. What I didn’t expect was to start feeling it mid-day on Saturday. But as I ran back along the rolling terrain from mile 50-59 it moved into early afternoon, and I was beat. I’d been moving for 18 hours and awake for almost 30, so the straight tired feeling that often hits in the wee morning hours of a typical 100 miler were hitting me mid-day. I zoned out for hours at a time. I spent an hour or two “writing” an amazing blog post on the “10 Things I Learned at Grindstone”. On occasion I’d snap out of it and realize I should be moving quicker, but then I’d zone out again. And of course I can’t remember any of what I came up with while out there (maybe I should record myself next time on my phone – I just know it was great stuff!). It was surreal, moving through the peak daylight hours of a beautiful day but feeling like I was in a fog.
At about mile 61 we started heading back down the hill in earnest, 19 hours in at around 1:00 PM. I felt like I was moving ok at the time, but looking at my splits they were all 20-30 minute miles. I survived the steep downhill and arrived back to North River Gap at mile 65 in a little under 21 hours, and while I sat for a few taking care of my feet (and not eating tater tots) I began dreading the incredibly rocky climb facing me, but kept thinking at least I’d be hitting it in daylight hours. And to be honest, it was a little bit better going back up as the expectation of decent splits wasn’t weighing on me at that point and it's almost easier to tackle rocky terrain going up than going down. Two and half hours into it came the Lookout Mountain aid station at mile 72, which I reached in 23:28. I was now almost two hours off the 32-hour split times, but still over two hours ahead of cutoffs so I was somewhat satisfied with my progress. The climb continued from there, and as the sun went down the low light, both in angle and intensity, started playing tricks on my senses. “What are those three cars doing parked in the woods?” Oh, there’s nothing there. “I don’t remember a building out here.” Because there isn’t one. “Look, campers around a campfire, roasting s'mores.” Nope. And a lot of turning around to see who the runner was I could hear coming up behind me, only to find nobody trailing me. All just signs of my mind starting to slip and slide into the grips of sleep deprivation, something that would only get worse as darkness set in and I tackled the final 25 miles.
The Downward Spiral.....
SFBayDuck
Footballguy
The Downward Spiral
I wasn’t looking forward to staring into the circle of light of my headlamp for several hours, so I stalled on turning it on as long as I could. But as I hit the peak of the short climb out of Lookout Mountain and began the descent, I had to pull it back out of my pack and turn it on. I hit the bottom of the hill at Dowell’s Draft at mile 80, and my final access to a drop bag. My feet had gone from a few hot spots to a few blisters starting to form between toes, on the side of my heels, and on the outside “ball” of my left foot below the little toe. In retrospect I should have spent a little more time here addressing these, taping them, popping a few, but I think at the time I was just happy to clean and lube them up and get a pair of dry socks on. I also decided to switch shoes here, going from the Hoka Torrents I’d been running in from the start to a pair of Altra Olympus, the model I’d worn for most of Western States and for those 52 miles of Angeles Crest. The Altras have more cushion, which I thought might help with my destroyed feet, and with more room in the toe box I thought the change in where the shoe was rubbing might give some of my problem spots a break. As I got up to limp out of the aid station I was so hungry, but with the final two big climbs coming I just drank a couple of extra cups of broth and Coke and headed back into the night with a pack filled with Tailwind and gels. Damn those quesadillas looked good….
Going in I expected these next 10-12 miles to be a huge key - back-to-back 1500’-1600’ climbs with a short descent in between. As I began heading up I passed several groups of runners, some with pacers, some just running together. I felt encouraged to be moving better than those around me, and after about 20-30 minutes I found myself alone. The trail narrowed and got rockier, and it was those flat, sliding rocks again which while tricky from miles 10-20 the day before now just seemed downright treacherous. I just kept thinking, “grind it out, grind it out,” while pushing off on the trekking poles which I hadn’t put away since the steep descent back at mile 58. My left thumb had started to go numb, as the strap of the pole pushing into the soft flesh between the thumb and finger apparently irritated a nerve. And the climb just kept going on and on, slowly working our way up Crawford Mountain.
Every once in a while I would catch my toe, or a rock would slide under my foot. On occasion one would fall off the side of the 1-2’ wide trail, and I’d hear it tumble down into the darkness below. Was the drop off 50, 100, 1000 feet? I had no idea, and it really didn’t matter. I was by myself in the middle of the night in middle of nowhere Virginia, and I’d been awake for going on 40 hours and moving on this damned trail for 28 of them. I really started doubting myself and why I was doing this, and at one point said out loud, “What are you doing out here? You have a kid!” I had no choice but to keep grinding away, reaching the top and then moving down the other side – there were no roads or other ways out other than forward.
I started the final climb at mile 87, and the pain in my feet was getting unbearable. I realized I had been leaning slightly to the left, into the hill and away from the drop off (Subconsciously? Consciously? What was the difference at this point?), so the blister on the outside ball of my left foot was killing me. And the roomier Altras had turned out to be a poor choice on this uneven terrain as my feet just slid around, slamming back and forth into the sides of the shoes. After 2 ½ hours or so of being alone, I thought I saw a light up ahead of me finally. But it wasn’t moving, and it would disappear or fade, so I figured I was imagining that as well. But as I got up close I found it was the one other runner from Northern California that was out here, leaning against a tree throwing up. I asked if he needed anything, then kept on going, alone again.
After a few minutes I caught up to a group of 4-5 runners moving together up the trail. Finally, some company! It wasn’t that I wanted to talk or anything, I just hadn’t felt very safe being out there by myself on that trail. So I happily fell into the little conga line as we made the final push up Great North Mountain. My mental state started to turn around a little, as for the first time I allowed myself to think about the finish of this beast. I remembered from nearly 32 hours earlier that the trail would eventually dump us out onto a steep fire road, although a runner near me said he didn’t think so. I started questioning myself but sure enough, right around mile 91 we hit that fire road. I took off down that thing, leaving everyone I’d been with behind. Of course I look at my splits now, and it was 22
x for the next two miles! But at this point, that felt like I was moving.
I wasn’t looking forward to staring into the circle of light of my headlamp for several hours, so I stalled on turning it on as long as I could. But as I hit the peak of the short climb out of Lookout Mountain and began the descent, I had to pull it back out of my pack and turn it on. I hit the bottom of the hill at Dowell’s Draft at mile 80, and my final access to a drop bag. My feet had gone from a few hot spots to a few blisters starting to form between toes, on the side of my heels, and on the outside “ball” of my left foot below the little toe. In retrospect I should have spent a little more time here addressing these, taping them, popping a few, but I think at the time I was just happy to clean and lube them up and get a pair of dry socks on. I also decided to switch shoes here, going from the Hoka Torrents I’d been running in from the start to a pair of Altra Olympus, the model I’d worn for most of Western States and for those 52 miles of Angeles Crest. The Altras have more cushion, which I thought might help with my destroyed feet, and with more room in the toe box I thought the change in where the shoe was rubbing might give some of my problem spots a break. As I got up to limp out of the aid station I was so hungry, but with the final two big climbs coming I just drank a couple of extra cups of broth and Coke and headed back into the night with a pack filled with Tailwind and gels. Damn those quesadillas looked good….
Going in I expected these next 10-12 miles to be a huge key - back-to-back 1500’-1600’ climbs with a short descent in between. As I began heading up I passed several groups of runners, some with pacers, some just running together. I felt encouraged to be moving better than those around me, and after about 20-30 minutes I found myself alone. The trail narrowed and got rockier, and it was those flat, sliding rocks again which while tricky from miles 10-20 the day before now just seemed downright treacherous. I just kept thinking, “grind it out, grind it out,” while pushing off on the trekking poles which I hadn’t put away since the steep descent back at mile 58. My left thumb had started to go numb, as the strap of the pole pushing into the soft flesh between the thumb and finger apparently irritated a nerve. And the climb just kept going on and on, slowly working our way up Crawford Mountain.
Every once in a while I would catch my toe, or a rock would slide under my foot. On occasion one would fall off the side of the 1-2’ wide trail, and I’d hear it tumble down into the darkness below. Was the drop off 50, 100, 1000 feet? I had no idea, and it really didn’t matter. I was by myself in the middle of the night in middle of nowhere Virginia, and I’d been awake for going on 40 hours and moving on this damned trail for 28 of them. I really started doubting myself and why I was doing this, and at one point said out loud, “What are you doing out here? You have a kid!” I had no choice but to keep grinding away, reaching the top and then moving down the other side – there were no roads or other ways out other than forward.
I started the final climb at mile 87, and the pain in my feet was getting unbearable. I realized I had been leaning slightly to the left, into the hill and away from the drop off (Subconsciously? Consciously? What was the difference at this point?), so the blister on the outside ball of my left foot was killing me. And the roomier Altras had turned out to be a poor choice on this uneven terrain as my feet just slid around, slamming back and forth into the sides of the shoes. After 2 ½ hours or so of being alone, I thought I saw a light up ahead of me finally. But it wasn’t moving, and it would disappear or fade, so I figured I was imagining that as well. But as I got up close I found it was the one other runner from Northern California that was out here, leaning against a tree throwing up. I asked if he needed anything, then kept on going, alone again.
After a few minutes I caught up to a group of 4-5 runners moving together up the trail. Finally, some company! It wasn’t that I wanted to talk or anything, I just hadn’t felt very safe being out there by myself on that trail. So I happily fell into the little conga line as we made the final push up Great North Mountain. My mental state started to turn around a little, as for the first time I allowed myself to think about the finish of this beast. I remembered from nearly 32 hours earlier that the trail would eventually dump us out onto a steep fire road, although a runner near me said he didn’t think so. I started questioning myself but sure enough, right around mile 91 we hit that fire road. I took off down that thing, leaving everyone I’d been with behind. Of course I look at my splits now, and it was 22
x for the next two miles! But at this point, that felt like I was moving.
tri-man 47
Footballguy
1/2s, maybe ...probably not 1/4s. But being a minute quicker on those mile repeats should be of benefit. You could, though, do a ladder of 1/4s, 1/2s, and miles. Either down and back up, or up and back down.
Juxtatarot
Footballguy
I forgot, have you considered a spring or winter marathon next year? If I lived in the south, I'm certain all my marathons would allow for winter training.
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JShare87
Footballguy
I plan to run my local marathon again in March, which is a Boston qualifier. I was thinking of doing the Jacksonville or West Palm Marathon in the next 2 months. The weather for my half next weekend is looking amazing. Low 60s high 50s, I won’t know how to act.
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Osaurus
Footballguy
SFBayDuck
Footballguy
The Home Stretch?
In my head it was a few miles down to the Falls Hollow Aid Station, then a few miles through some state land near the finish. But after about two miles on the fire road the markings took us off onto a singletrack trail to the side. Hmmm, I didn’t remember this at all. I caught two other runners here, and together we crossed a creek…then crossed it again….then crossed it again….wtf, were they messing with us? I realized that they must route us through a different section here, instead of running all the way down the road to the aid station, and seemingly remembered some reference to this in the pre-race meeting that hadn’t made sense to me at the time. The former RD is known for that kind of thing, and adding bonus miles, so I figured it was a Horty Special. I said something to the guys I was running with about it and cursed myself for not studying the course more beforehand. They were talking to each other, and as they pulled away I became convinced that this was all a big practical joke on me, and they were in on it! As my mental state slid again, as I realized instead of having a couple easy hours left, it was going to be more like four. This part of the course wasn’t difficult compared to what we’d done, but it wasn’t just running down a fire road.
I finally arrived at Falls Hollow Aid Station, mile 97, in 33:17. I had less than 5 miles to go (yes, the course is measured at 101.85 miles) and almost 5 hours to finish before the cutoff. I had told myself once I got here I would allow myself some real food for the first time since those ill-fated tater tots the day before (or was it two days before?), and I downed three quesadillas with some broth. Could I finish in 90 minutes and be done with this thing before 5:00 AM? Sure I could! The aid station volunteers reminded us that we’d be entering state land so we’d be following white blazes for the next three miles, with no other course markings. It sure hadn’t been a problem on the way out, so I limped out ready to finish this thing.
But that little burst of quesadilla and “let’s finish this thing” energy would quickly fade, and the sleep deprivation had now officially taken over. From here to the finish I honestly can’t be 100% sure of what happened. But here’s what I remember……
I came out of the trees to find railroad tracks, and a runner ran by me and seemingly disappeared. I saw a couple of headlamps in the trees on the other side and headed that way. But I couldn’t find the trail. I was a few hundred yards out of the aid station and already lost! I back tracked to the other side of the tracks again, and this time went straight across and found a small opening with a little white square painted on a rock. Ok, it was going to be like this, then. It was largely fire road for the next mile or so, with the white squares painted on trees on the side of the road. I was alone again, and stopped every several hundred yards to shine the light ahead, looking for the next blaze. The markers then led me off the fire road and onto a trail, and I caught up to a runner and pacer who were struggling with navigation as well. The runner was limping worse than I was, with an audible grunt or moan that I was all too familiar with whenever his feet would hit a rock or root in the wrong way. And we kept trying to find those white blazes, which seemed to be getting smaller and more hidden.
The pacer pulled out a phone or walkie talkie and started talking to somebody that was coming from the other direction who could help us find the way. We dropped down into a creek, and together tried to find where to cross, all the while the guy on the other end trying to talk us through. We eventually came upon someone, and they teamed up and began to quickly pull away, the light from their headlamps disappearing. I stopped, looking for a marking, but could find none. I called out to them, “which way do I go?”, but got no answer. I back tracked a bit, found another marker, but was basically moving through a drainage of some sort. I think it was at this point that I started thinking that none of this made sense, and that I must be asleep on the side of the trail somewhere, imagining all of this. I remember thinking that I hoped I wouldn’t fall off the trail I was sleeping on, that I had found a safe, flat spot. But what if I hadn’t? I needed to wake up…..
Two runners that I had dropped when we first hit the fire road several hours ago then caught up to me. One of us would find a blaze, we’d get to it, then we’d look for the next. That went on for another mile or so, but this just wasn’t making sense. I couldn’t believe they were having us run through creeks so near the finish, and that markers were so hard to find.
We finally came out onto a wider road, and there were the familiar pink markings we’d been following all race. Thank god! But how do we get back to the start/finish? We were all confused, and as we kept trying to find the next marker the confusion grew. I was convinced we had gone in a circle, and told them as much. But I also said, “my mind isn’t working right now.” A few runners passed us, and some of them seemed confident we were going the right way. I just kept feeling like we were looping around and around on ourselves. What if I got lost, a mile from the finish, and wandered around for 4 hours missing the cutoff? My unfortunate mantra was, “This just doesn’t make sense. This just doesn’t make sense.”
We were passed quickly by two runners saying, “this is it!” and sure enough I recognized the dam we had crossed about a quarter mile from the start all those hours ago. Up the gravel road, onto the Boy Scout Camp lawn, and finally across the finish.
35:52:54. 180th out of 257 starters, 208 finishers.
It was a surreal state I was in at the finish, like a daze but also mostly aware that I was in a daze and just deeply sleep deprived. I pondered whether I should get medical attention, but knew I was going to be alright with a nap. I limped to my car, limped back up to the camp showers where the chaffing covering most of my back and groin area made me scream a bit, and then limped back to the car again where I climbed in the back and finally laid down at about 7:00 AM and closed my eyes.
Later that morning I drove to a CVS, bought a cooler, Epsom salts, and a couple of gallons of water and soaked my blistered, torn up feet. I held that belt buckle in my hand and the emotion of it all hit me in a wave. There I sat, by myself in a CVS parking lot across the country from home, feet in a cooler, exhausted and crying.
In my head it was a few miles down to the Falls Hollow Aid Station, then a few miles through some state land near the finish. But after about two miles on the fire road the markings took us off onto a singletrack trail to the side. Hmmm, I didn’t remember this at all. I caught two other runners here, and together we crossed a creek…then crossed it again….then crossed it again….wtf, were they messing with us? I realized that they must route us through a different section here, instead of running all the way down the road to the aid station, and seemingly remembered some reference to this in the pre-race meeting that hadn’t made sense to me at the time. The former RD is known for that kind of thing, and adding bonus miles, so I figured it was a Horty Special. I said something to the guys I was running with about it and cursed myself for not studying the course more beforehand. They were talking to each other, and as they pulled away I became convinced that this was all a big practical joke on me, and they were in on it! As my mental state slid again, as I realized instead of having a couple easy hours left, it was going to be more like four. This part of the course wasn’t difficult compared to what we’d done, but it wasn’t just running down a fire road.
I finally arrived at Falls Hollow Aid Station, mile 97, in 33:17. I had less than 5 miles to go (yes, the course is measured at 101.85 miles) and almost 5 hours to finish before the cutoff. I had told myself once I got here I would allow myself some real food for the first time since those ill-fated tater tots the day before (or was it two days before?), and I downed three quesadillas with some broth. Could I finish in 90 minutes and be done with this thing before 5:00 AM? Sure I could! The aid station volunteers reminded us that we’d be entering state land so we’d be following white blazes for the next three miles, with no other course markings. It sure hadn’t been a problem on the way out, so I limped out ready to finish this thing.
But that little burst of quesadilla and “let’s finish this thing” energy would quickly fade, and the sleep deprivation had now officially taken over. From here to the finish I honestly can’t be 100% sure of what happened. But here’s what I remember……
I came out of the trees to find railroad tracks, and a runner ran by me and seemingly disappeared. I saw a couple of headlamps in the trees on the other side and headed that way. But I couldn’t find the trail. I was a few hundred yards out of the aid station and already lost! I back tracked to the other side of the tracks again, and this time went straight across and found a small opening with a little white square painted on a rock. Ok, it was going to be like this, then. It was largely fire road for the next mile or so, with the white squares painted on trees on the side of the road. I was alone again, and stopped every several hundred yards to shine the light ahead, looking for the next blaze. The markers then led me off the fire road and onto a trail, and I caught up to a runner and pacer who were struggling with navigation as well. The runner was limping worse than I was, with an audible grunt or moan that I was all too familiar with whenever his feet would hit a rock or root in the wrong way. And we kept trying to find those white blazes, which seemed to be getting smaller and more hidden.
The pacer pulled out a phone or walkie talkie and started talking to somebody that was coming from the other direction who could help us find the way. We dropped down into a creek, and together tried to find where to cross, all the while the guy on the other end trying to talk us through. We eventually came upon someone, and they teamed up and began to quickly pull away, the light from their headlamps disappearing. I stopped, looking for a marking, but could find none. I called out to them, “which way do I go?”, but got no answer. I back tracked a bit, found another marker, but was basically moving through a drainage of some sort. I think it was at this point that I started thinking that none of this made sense, and that I must be asleep on the side of the trail somewhere, imagining all of this. I remember thinking that I hoped I wouldn’t fall off the trail I was sleeping on, that I had found a safe, flat spot. But what if I hadn’t? I needed to wake up…..
Two runners that I had dropped when we first hit the fire road several hours ago then caught up to me. One of us would find a blaze, we’d get to it, then we’d look for the next. That went on for another mile or so, but this just wasn’t making sense. I couldn’t believe they were having us run through creeks so near the finish, and that markers were so hard to find.
We finally came out onto a wider road, and there were the familiar pink markings we’d been following all race. Thank god! But how do we get back to the start/finish? We were all confused, and as we kept trying to find the next marker the confusion grew. I was convinced we had gone in a circle, and told them as much. But I also said, “my mind isn’t working right now.” A few runners passed us, and some of them seemed confident we were going the right way. I just kept feeling like we were looping around and around on ourselves. What if I got lost, a mile from the finish, and wandered around for 4 hours missing the cutoff? My unfortunate mantra was, “This just doesn’t make sense. This just doesn’t make sense.”
We were passed quickly by two runners saying, “this is it!” and sure enough I recognized the dam we had crossed about a quarter mile from the start all those hours ago. Up the gravel road, onto the Boy Scout Camp lawn, and finally across the finish.
35:52:54. 180th out of 257 starters, 208 finishers.
It was a surreal state I was in at the finish, like a daze but also mostly aware that I was in a daze and just deeply sleep deprived. I pondered whether I should get medical attention, but knew I was going to be alright with a nap. I limped to my car, limped back up to the camp showers where the chaffing covering most of my back and groin area made me scream a bit, and then limped back to the car again where I climbed in the back and finally laid down at about 7:00 AM and closed my eyes.
Later that morning I drove to a CVS, bought a cooler, Epsom salts, and a couple of gallons of water and soaked my blistered, torn up feet. I held that belt buckle in my hand and the emotion of it all hit me in a wave. There I sat, by myself in a CVS parking lot across the country from home, feet in a cooler, exhausted and crying.
SFBayDuck
Footballguy
Post script
Recovery has been decent. Mentally, I was in a brain fog until at least Wednesday, despite multiple naps each day. As for my legs it was such slow going, even downhill, that my quads weren’t that bad at all. My feet were another story, and it was a few days before I could get shoes on. I have two black toenails on my left foot, and all of the toes are a little numb but feeling is coming back. The same is true of my thumb, which I literally couldn’t feel at all until about Wednesday after the race (it’s a weird sensation not knowing how much pressure you are putting on something you are holding), but feeling is coming back day by day, it's just kind of tingly now two weeks out.
It was really an experience unlike any other race I’ve done, including the three other 100s I’ve completed. Being out there that long, on that terrain, over two nights…..I definitely don’t want to do that again without a pacer. But despite the slow time I’m as proud of this as anything I’ve done in this crazy sport, no doubt. I'm not sure what's next, although I've started looking into possibilities for next year. Of course the Western States and Hardrock lotteries on December 1st are first, but with selection in either highly unlikely I'll have to figure it out from there. I'm also pretty sure that I want to do a more structured training plan this fall/winter for a half marathon or something short. I've become such a hiker training specifically for these mountain 100s the past few years, and I'd like to get some (relative) leg speed back. Maybe I'll make 2019 the "Year of the PR", and see if I can PR at multiple distances.
Recovery has been decent. Mentally, I was in a brain fog until at least Wednesday, despite multiple naps each day. As for my legs it was such slow going, even downhill, that my quads weren’t that bad at all. My feet were another story, and it was a few days before I could get shoes on. I have two black toenails on my left foot, and all of the toes are a little numb but feeling is coming back. The same is true of my thumb, which I literally couldn’t feel at all until about Wednesday after the race (it’s a weird sensation not knowing how much pressure you are putting on something you are holding), but feeling is coming back day by day, it's just kind of tingly now two weeks out.
It was really an experience unlike any other race I’ve done, including the three other 100s I’ve completed. Being out there that long, on that terrain, over two nights…..I definitely don’t want to do that again without a pacer. But despite the slow time I’m as proud of this as anything I’ve done in this crazy sport, no doubt. I'm not sure what's next, although I've started looking into possibilities for next year. Of course the Western States and Hardrock lotteries on December 1st are first, but with selection in either highly unlikely I'll have to figure it out from there. I'm also pretty sure that I want to do a more structured training plan this fall/winter for a half marathon or something short. I've become such a hiker training specifically for these mountain 100s the past few years, and I'd like to get some (relative) leg speed back. Maybe I'll make 2019 the "Year of the PR", and see if I can PR at multiple distances.
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SFBayDuck
Footballguy
Forgot to add - on Wednesday after the race I finally looked at the Strava entry, wondering specifically where the course had been different on the way back in those last few miles. Turns out, it wasn’t! I was just so mentally screwed that I didn’t recognize any of it and convinced myself it must be different! Mind blown.
SFBayDuck
Footballguy
As prep for a really long race like Hardrock or Tahoe 200, I’d recommend. Otherwise....probably not.
SteelCurtain
Footballguy
Absolutely amazing Duck. Your physical and mental strength is extraordinary. Congrats on another incredible accomplishment.
SteelCurtain
Footballguy
I so want to run out west. Set me straight though. Your pictures never show rocks and roots. I picture more climbing but more runnable.
Not a fan of the 6 pm start. The headlamp thing isn’t fun and part of the fun is the views. Let me know if you do the death race lottery
Juxtatarot
Footballguy
Looks like there will be runner tracking for me tomorrow. I didn't realize this until just now. Bib number 1856 if anyone is curious. 7:00 start time (central).
https://register.chronotrack.com/event/tracking/eventID/44158
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https://register.chronotrack.com/event/tracking/eventID/44158
I
The Iguana
Footballguy
The Iguana
Footballguy
Went out and did 8.7 miles today in 1:34... Going to hurt for a couple days I'm sure but feel good about being able to do 13.1 in exactly 2 weeks. Not setting any records like the 70 year old but I'll take it for a 48 year old out of shape dude. 6', 227 still this morning... For someone that should be about 185, tops, I feel like I'm making a lot of progress. Averaging just under 11 min/mile for old, fat guy ain't bad...
