What a fun day on the trails. Weather forced the Forest Service and National parks to shut down access to Mt. Mitchell. This event is a mix of 40 milers going to the top of the highest peak in the east and marathoners who turn around early. On this day everyone was a marathoner.
Training didn’t go well. Personally I was more motivated in the weight room. Some things have clicked on that front and I was seeing huge gains. I had been struggling on and off for years in the weight room and suddenly I was seeing a jump every week. I just couldn’t prioritize running ahead of lifting. Add in the early darkness and constant rain, I had no will to pound out the miles I should have. January consisted of 32 training miles. I intended to get serious in February and started off on a roll with 9 miles on the 1stand 16 the nest day on the treadmill during the Super Bowl. I capped off a sixty-mile week injuring my foot on a treadmill warming up for a lifting session. I lost 8 days recovering and jumped right back in with 3 x 1mi repeats at 7:59, 7:28, and 7:02. That workout had me in a great frame of mind. At 240 pounds, that last mile was possibly a weight adjusted PR. Unfortunately my hamstrings weren’t appreciative of the effort. About the time I recovered, life did its thing and numerous work days well into the evening zapped any motivation to train. The last ten days were zeros.
Last year my time for this event was 6:19 so that seemed like a good bogey for an A goal, despite being a year older and 5 pounds heavier (we’ll call it all muscle). The B goal would be anything under 6:30 and C goal was not to be med-evacuated off the mountain. A course record was the furthest thing from my mind at this time. Mother Nature decided to complicate things by blanketing the entire course with fresh snow. Only an inch at the beginning, with 3-6 inches on most of the trails. Wind was better than expected, but a lot of the course is protected. The occasional 20-30 mph head winds definitely were noticeable. It snowed for about the first ¼ of the event.
We lined up for the start and a huge gust blows most of the snow off a neighboring roof onto the crowd to a huge cheer. Shortly after that we’re off. Dang I hate the cold. I’m not a fan of warm-ups for ultra events, but I can see the benefit for those who are appropriately trained. My legs felt like lead for miles. In particular, my calves were just hurting. Same thing happened at the Indiana 100 when we started out with temps in the 30s. The first 3.3 miles were on snowy pavement with about 650 ft in elevation gain. I made the turn onto the trails at the 40 minute mark which exactly mirrored last year. We hit two spots where I came to a standstill. The first was a set of steps, which took a 90 degree turn into an iced ramp. I waited for a solid minute to take my turn and just butt slid down the ramp. The next obstacle was a line waiting to traverse a patch of ice with a couple of hundred foot drop off to the left. Everyone was either crawling over this section or butt sliding across. I waited my turn and slid across. Actually I was glad for the pile up here because otherwise I probably would have bit it here. Shortly thereafter we hit the first aid station around mile 6. At mile 7, despite the delays, I’m 1:30 ahead of last year’s time. With the back ups and snow, I’m pretty happy with this outcome.
Back to climbing, I’m moving slowly but with a purpose despite the soft snow. The turnaround is at mile 14. I surprisingly reach that about 4 minutes ahead of last years pace. The snow has stopped and the sun is now peaking out. I’m actually pleasantly surprised how quickly the first 14 flew by. Now it’s time for the 12 miles home.
I hit the aid station at mile 17.5 and had bleed off 2 of the minutes I was ahead of last years pace. I had been fighting calf and hamstrings tinges and had stopped to stretch a few times. Last year I felt like I was attacking the downhill, this year it was surviving. Well the aid station was offering a fireball shots. What the heck, maybe it would turn things around.
Well I blew out of that aid station and starting passing people. The snow had melted in the sunny spots and now we alternated between mud and ice. I had my best mile of the back half, but unfortunately the fireball quickly wore off. Next aid station with refreshment was going to be at mile 21. I pulled into that aid station and had picked up a minute. For better or worse, they had three beer selections available. I wasn’t decisive here and ended up having one of each. It was getting warm here at 32 degrees, so I stripped and racked the gloves, hat, jacket, and neck gaiter. Looks like I gave up two minutes here.
The next section is a 1000 foot decent over 2 miles. I’ve struggled here in the past. Picture an 18 wheeler descending a mountain road…more accurately, make it a clumsy 18 wheeler with bum wheels running on fumes. Last year I had my best result ever with a 12 and 11 minute mile times. This year I struggled on the muddy trail section with 15 minute mile. The pavement section was dry and I managed to duplicate last year’s 11 min mark with a 6 ounce beer included as I rolled though aid station 23. I was now a minute behind last year I headed back to the trails. I lost another 30 seconds on this trail section as the slop wasn’t kind to me. I was now two minutes behind my goal.
At mile 24.5 there’s an unofficial aid station that a neighborhood puts together. It was here I had two choices. Bypass it, bust ###, and dive into the pain cave to have an outside chance of besting last year’s time by a few seconds like many others before had done or chose the lesser traveled path and go for a course record. I choose the later. I pull up to the table and am greeted by, “Do you want a scotch or a beer?” My reply…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISmgOrhELXs&t=4m45s which drew a laugh from the neighborhood gathering. Well it was probably two shots of scotch in reality, but 24 miles into a mary, it kind of all tastes the same. I downed the two shots and 6 ounce beer chaser to which they replied that was a first. Not wanting to risk losing a course record, I grabbed another beer in each hand and chugged them both down. Strava says 5 drinks in 50 seconds. Looks like I added a segment best to the eventual CR. I said my thanks and
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISmgOrhELXs&t=3m3s I took off like a bat out of hell with grand thoughts of dropping an 8 minute mile to make up for lost time. After a couple of hundred yards at a 9:30 pace, common sense and basic math kicked in and I dialed back into coast mode to enjoy the last mile of the day. The last half-mile loops a lake and with the closest target 4 minutes in front of me and the nearest pursuer a minute behind, it was an uneventful finish.
For the first time in ages, I have no idea what’s next. The race schedule is totally bare. Part of me wants to stick to the weights, another wants to break out the bike, and an ever so small part want to do a proper run build cycle for a fall event.
