Okay, numbers first:
Sunday: 4 miles easy (30 minutes), Canton/Fells
Monday: 11 miles (75 minutes) at some random place off of Route1 in Nottingham.
Tuesday: 2 miles warmup (15 minutes), 5 miles of track intervals (really complicated workout that I can't exactly remember -35 minutes), 2 miles warmdown (15 minutes)
Wednesday: 10 miles (70 minutes), on the greatest Harbor Promenade run ever (end of a rainbow what?)
Thursday: 6 miles easy (60 minutes)
Friday: 1 easy mile (10 minutes)
Saturday: 100 miles. Beast of Burden. 20:15, 3rd male, 5th overall.
Total minutes: 1510
Total miles: 141
Okay, now, Beast of Burden:
It should be no secret that after my 100-mile PR (16:19) at Beast of Burden, I thought that this year's edition of the race would be ripe for a 100-mile PR. Add Valmir Nunes, the Badwater record-holder, to the mix, and we were in for a fast race.
After a bunch of photos of me and Valmir with various people for personal use (minor celebrity what?), we lined up ready to rumble. The horn sounded, and we were off, super-fast. I stayed behind Valmir's suicidal pace, already feeling as though I was going to have to concede first to him. Everything hurt and felt wrong, and I was sweating profusely (it was hot at the start, as Valmir demonstrated before the start by rubbing his finger on his wet shoulder. So I soldiered along, completing the first 25-mile loop in just under 3:40 - behind last year's pace.
So it was to my surprise to see that Valmir was only about a mile and a half ahead of me. Considering how awful I felt, this was a minor miracle. Still, I wasn't focused on winning - I was trying my best to enjoy the course, which included jumping up on the drawbridge as it was descending for the crossing (it was randomly timed to be coming down just as I was approaching it).
I reached the end of my otherwise uneventful second lap to frantic claims that Valmir was in trouble, and that I could pass him and take the lead. At this point, a little over 50 miles in, I had finally found my stride, and I began to chase him down. I nearly caught him just past the unmanned aid near one of the bridges in the first segment of the loop, but when I came close, he looked back, and I instanty felt my stomach get sick (not sure how coincidental it was) and I backed off.
I maintained the chase, and it was getting exciting, because people passing on their way back were getting excited and telling me how close he was. Finally, I reached the aid station at mile 62.5, and, knowing that he had mentioned that he liked 100Ks a lot better than 100-mile race. I figured that this was a good time to pass him, as he was just sitting at the aid station (somebody asked him if he liked the summer version of the race, or the winter version of the race, which he won last winter, better, to which he responded "I don't speak English.")
As we left the aid station and crossed the bridge, I subtly slipped ahead of him, and now, after 63+ miles of chasing, I was finally in the lead. As if my water bottle knew it, it shot off a spurt of pale orange water (from the peach Endurolyte fizz that I had put in it at the previous aid station).
But the celebration was premature, because Valmir was not about to give up without a fight, and so, after holding the lead for only about 15 minutes, I suddenly lost control of my stomach and started dry-heaving. Valmir, gunning hard from behind, passed me. I hadn't eaten enough at the aid station, and I was feeling weak, sick, and out-of-it. I struggled to the next aid station, where I lay down for two hours, trying to get myself together. Between being pushed to my physical limits chasing Valmir, and being in a strange place emotionally, at least in part because less than two weeks ago, I had broken up with my fiancee of three years, I needed this time to get myself together. I didn't want to give up - I couldn't sleep, and my mind was still on the race. But my body wasn't ready yet, and I was still emotionally disheveled. There would be nobody there to give me a kick in the ass and make me move; I would have to do it on my own.
So finally I did, resolved to finish the race and to enjoy the beautiful night, the view of the Erie Canal, and the opportunity to be there, doing this ridiculous race. I started out at a walk, but quickly graduated to a run, and soon I was at the finish, ready to set out on my last lap, armed with the news that Valmir was again having trouble. Comeback, maybe?
Alas, not in the cards. I was getting sleepy and chafed, and still having trouble eating enough to sustain a solid pace. So I ran a lot of the way out, but when I saw Valmir at the 8-mile mark on the way out (still 6 miles ahead of me), I decided to just enjoy, and practice my powerwalk on the last 12.5 miles, channeling my best Badwater climb up Mt. Whitney. Of course, the course wasn't finished kicking me in the teeth just yet - it started raining with about 5 miles to go, which was hell on my chafing. I waddled several miles before the rain thankfully stopped. I walked across the finish line in 20:15, happy to have finished.
It turned out that I was third male, 5th overall, and the winner had run 17:52, not close to the course record of 16:19 that I set last year, which was some consolation. I was thankful to have finished, and jonesing for some A&D ointment to soothe my chafing.
So yet another "moral" victory, which you and I are probably sick of, but nevertheless, there were a lot of great things about the race, not the least of which was the emotional purge that my final dry heave catalyzed. Having come into this race in a weird place, and having spent so much of it on the brink of disaster chasing down Valmir (who didn't win anyway; as it turned out, we beat each other up so much that an uninvolved third party, with no dog in our fight, stole the victory), I needed my "slow, miserable" last lap to prove to myself that in spite of circumstances, I am still strong, and I can still finish an ugly race on my own. Not to mention there was some pretty sweet lightning to look at on the return trip.
So now that that's over, and I've lived to tell the tale, it's onward and upward to new adventures. My September is 90% set now, and I'm ready to keep churning out the 100-mile weeks, as this race, save for the chafing, has left me remarkably physically intact. On to a new week . . . :)
Showing posts with label beast of burden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beast of burden. Show all posts
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Week in Review - 7-13 August 2011, and Semi-Shabbat Run Recap
It's that compelling list of numbers you've all been waiting for:
Sunday: 5 miles (35 minutes) on the east side, starting at 0630, then another 10 miles (70 minutes) after church on the west side
Monday: 15 miles (105 minutes) out to the Fed Hill Monday Night Run and back. Some of this was at upwards of low-to-mid 6-minute mile pace
Tuesday: 4 miles of treadmill hills (35 minutes, 1532 feet of gain), then drive to the Gilman Track for 2 miles of warmup, 5x300m @ 58 seconds (100m walk rest), 400m jog, 1x1100 (supposed to be 1500, but wasn't going well, so I stopped with a lap to go), 4 miles of barefoot running around the track, 2 more miles of warmdown (entire workout: about 60 minutes), then one more mile before bed for good measure (10 minutes)
Wednesday: Slow, lazy 2 miles (20 minutes)
Thursday: 4 miles of treadmill hills (35 minutes, 1615 feet of gain), then 15 miles around the Canton/Fells/Inner Harbor/Fed Hill area (105 minutes)
Friday: 8 miles (60 minutes) in the general vicinity of the Hopkins Homewood campus - feeling "whatever" about this, so I cut it short.
Saturday: 17 miles (120 minutes) out to Essex and back via Eastern Avenue, with detours of arbitrary interest thrown in here and there. Followed up with a very late night 9 miles (65 minutes) in a light rain around Canton/Fells/Inner Harbor.
Total Time: 720 minutes
Total Distance: 100 miles
In my last "real" week before Beast of Burden, I made it to 100 miles, although not without some figurative kicking and screaming. The last 9 miles were technically completed early Sunday morning, but since I was running from a little after 5 a.m. to a little after 6 a.m., and I didn't start logging miles for this week until 0630 on Sunday, this was technically within the 1-week window, and since 100-mile weeks are nothing if not a technicality, I'm counting it. (I ended up running another 4 miles later on Sunday, which will count towards this coming week.)
Of course, all of that obscures the real story, which is the 127-mile 7-day period from the previous Wednesday to the Tuesday described above. This was not at all on purpose, and it was only when I seemed to be tanking on Tuesday that I took a minute to count the miles, and realized that my volume was way over the top. This is the biggest 7-day period I've ever run that didn't include a race longer than 50K. The ragged last few days of this week are a testament to the aftermath of that, but I guess that's what happens when the dividing line between calendar weeks in no way constitutes a line of symmetry for your training.
Now, not that every run isn't an adventure in its own right, but seeing as to how, for the last couple of weeks, I've had a race on Saturday to carry on about ad nauseam on here, I needed to do something just for fun this week, not just for the sake of the blog (not hardly, really), but also (and mostly) to keep things fresh. I batted around a bunch of ideas, but when Saturday came around, the thing that made the most sense was a sort of running shabbat (thanks, Tel Aviv, for this great idea). Or, I would do whatever I wanted to do all day, run whenever I wanted, whatever I wanted, feel comfortable, and stop when I felt like I had enough.
So, in that spirit, I sat around for most of Saturday, eating cereal and watching King of the Hill and a documentary on the JFK assassination on Netflix. I listed to vicious thunderstorms pound on my skylights all afternoon. Finally, at around 7:30 p.m. (oddly enough, nearing sundown), I decided that it was time, and I headed off down Eastern Avenue, towards Essex.
The direction and destination of travel are relevant here, because they hearken back to the fall of 2008, just after I had met my former girlfriend and fiancee. Earlier this week, we broke up, and in some ways, it's been like a return to that fall (albeit a month early). There was a lot of beauty in that fall, and there was a lot of beauty in this running route, which I discovered that fall, and which I re-lived this weekend. For those of you who insist that beauty while running can be found only on a trail, I submit the following, taken on the bridge to Essex on Eastern Avenue:
Admittedly, man-made mayhem (such as this car crash that I saw on the way back) is a constant environmental hazard:
But man also makes some pretty cool stuff, like this fountain (be patient, and watch the whole thing, or skip to about 20 seconds in if you can't . . .):
So in the end, beauty is where you find it, but in order to find things, you have to look for them. You don't have to do much looking on the trail to find what typically passes for beauty. But in the city, you have to be open and adventurous and aware, because, for the most part, beauty doesn't just come up and smack you in the face (unless you consider being mugged a beautiful thing).
And sometimes, if you're looking hard enough, you find some really amazing stuff, like this mix CD I found on the run, containing, among its 18 unique tracks, "The Seed" (The Roots/Cody Chesnutt), "Sell Out" (Reel Big Fish), and "Otherside" (Red Hot Chili Peppers), twice:
Upon a few more runs through, I am now at least momentarily infatuated with Rise Against. :P
All things considered, it was a good run (both the literal one described above, and the relationship), and it's always sad when these things are relegated to memories. But then again, memories serve a purpose, too, and sometimes, that's where things need to be. Time to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and embrace whatever may come. :)
Sunday: 5 miles (35 minutes) on the east side, starting at 0630, then another 10 miles (70 minutes) after church on the west side
Monday: 15 miles (105 minutes) out to the Fed Hill Monday Night Run and back. Some of this was at upwards of low-to-mid 6-minute mile pace
Tuesday: 4 miles of treadmill hills (35 minutes, 1532 feet of gain), then drive to the Gilman Track for 2 miles of warmup, 5x300m @ 58 seconds (100m walk rest), 400m jog, 1x1100 (supposed to be 1500, but wasn't going well, so I stopped with a lap to go), 4 miles of barefoot running around the track, 2 more miles of warmdown (entire workout: about 60 minutes), then one more mile before bed for good measure (10 minutes)
Wednesday: Slow, lazy 2 miles (20 minutes)
Thursday: 4 miles of treadmill hills (35 minutes, 1615 feet of gain), then 15 miles around the Canton/Fells/Inner Harbor/Fed Hill area (105 minutes)
Friday: 8 miles (60 minutes) in the general vicinity of the Hopkins Homewood campus - feeling "whatever" about this, so I cut it short.
Saturday: 17 miles (120 minutes) out to Essex and back via Eastern Avenue, with detours of arbitrary interest thrown in here and there. Followed up with a very late night 9 miles (65 minutes) in a light rain around Canton/Fells/Inner Harbor.
Total Time: 720 minutes
Total Distance: 100 miles
In my last "real" week before Beast of Burden, I made it to 100 miles, although not without some figurative kicking and screaming. The last 9 miles were technically completed early Sunday morning, but since I was running from a little after 5 a.m. to a little after 6 a.m., and I didn't start logging miles for this week until 0630 on Sunday, this was technically within the 1-week window, and since 100-mile weeks are nothing if not a technicality, I'm counting it. (I ended up running another 4 miles later on Sunday, which will count towards this coming week.)
Of course, all of that obscures the real story, which is the 127-mile 7-day period from the previous Wednesday to the Tuesday described above. This was not at all on purpose, and it was only when I seemed to be tanking on Tuesday that I took a minute to count the miles, and realized that my volume was way over the top. This is the biggest 7-day period I've ever run that didn't include a race longer than 50K. The ragged last few days of this week are a testament to the aftermath of that, but I guess that's what happens when the dividing line between calendar weeks in no way constitutes a line of symmetry for your training.
Now, not that every run isn't an adventure in its own right, but seeing as to how, for the last couple of weeks, I've had a race on Saturday to carry on about ad nauseam on here, I needed to do something just for fun this week, not just for the sake of the blog (not hardly, really), but also (and mostly) to keep things fresh. I batted around a bunch of ideas, but when Saturday came around, the thing that made the most sense was a sort of running shabbat (thanks, Tel Aviv, for this great idea). Or, I would do whatever I wanted to do all day, run whenever I wanted, whatever I wanted, feel comfortable, and stop when I felt like I had enough.
So, in that spirit, I sat around for most of Saturday, eating cereal and watching King of the Hill and a documentary on the JFK assassination on Netflix. I listed to vicious thunderstorms pound on my skylights all afternoon. Finally, at around 7:30 p.m. (oddly enough, nearing sundown), I decided that it was time, and I headed off down Eastern Avenue, towards Essex.
The direction and destination of travel are relevant here, because they hearken back to the fall of 2008, just after I had met my former girlfriend and fiancee. Earlier this week, we broke up, and in some ways, it's been like a return to that fall (albeit a month early). There was a lot of beauty in that fall, and there was a lot of beauty in this running route, which I discovered that fall, and which I re-lived this weekend. For those of you who insist that beauty while running can be found only on a trail, I submit the following, taken on the bridge to Essex on Eastern Avenue:
Admittedly, man-made mayhem (such as this car crash that I saw on the way back) is a constant environmental hazard:
But man also makes some pretty cool stuff, like this fountain (be patient, and watch the whole thing, or skip to about 20 seconds in if you can't . . .):
So in the end, beauty is where you find it, but in order to find things, you have to look for them. You don't have to do much looking on the trail to find what typically passes for beauty. But in the city, you have to be open and adventurous and aware, because, for the most part, beauty doesn't just come up and smack you in the face (unless you consider being mugged a beautiful thing).
And sometimes, if you're looking hard enough, you find some really amazing stuff, like this mix CD I found on the run, containing, among its 18 unique tracks, "The Seed" (The Roots/Cody Chesnutt), "Sell Out" (Reel Big Fish), and "Otherside" (Red Hot Chili Peppers), twice:
Upon a few more runs through, I am now at least momentarily infatuated with Rise Against. :P
All things considered, it was a good run (both the literal one described above, and the relationship), and it's always sad when these things are relegated to memories. But then again, memories serve a purpose, too, and sometimes, that's where things need to be. Time to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and embrace whatever may come. :)
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
What I've Done (A Year in Review)
A random rainy Tuesday night, lounging on the couch next to Ash, the resident "Tiny Kitten," as he kneads away at a blanket, after a little run in the rain, seems like as good a time and place to do something I've been putting off for a while now, which is a brief retrospective of being 28, and what that entailed (running-wise, anyway).
To put it briefly, this was a year of quite possibly the highest highs and lowest lows that I've ever experienced as a runner, often in close succession. In other words, it was a good year. Let's recap, chronologically:
Hellgate 2009: A big bad DNFing disaster, precipitated by physical and emotional turmoil, I left with the resolution to finish this race someday (as is the resolution I'll be making with all the races where I DNFed).
Club Challenge 2010: Finished in something like 1:06, not at all what I was hoping to do there. To be fair, I had just run 20+ miles the day before, and that didn't go very well, so there was only so much that I could hope for in an all-out 10-mile war.
National Marathon 2010: Kept the completion streak alive (starting with the first-ever National Marathon in 2006), but the "go faster every time" streak ended this year, as I hit the wall around Mile 15, and ended up finishing 3:15ish. Probably the best I've ever done in the context of a "crash," though.
Boston Marathon 2010: Finally, a good race! 2:58:33, which, while not a PR, is only about a minute off from my marathon PR, and ended up being a huge confidence boost, considering how badly the National Marathon went.
Frederick Marathon 2010: In what may have been the last ever running of this race, ironically enough, the heat, which I had been fastidiously training for in anticipation of Badwater, was my downfall at this race, as I hit the wall between mile 14-15, and struggled to come in under 3:50, with cripplingly painful cramps turning the last mile into a deathmarch.
Bel Air Town Run 5K: You know, I could look this up and tell you how I did, but honestly, I don't remember. And the important thing is, I did it again, putting the streak at 15 years straight.
Western States 2010: The goal was to go under 24 hours here. Mission accomplished, in 23 hours and change. It was a hard fight, though; I blew out my quads on the downhills, and the last 20-ish miles were brought to you in part by my angel of a pacer, who endured more loud cursing than anybody navigating the woods at night with a headlamp should ever be subjected to.
Badwater 2010: Perhaps the most high-profile achievement of the year, two weeks after Western States, a solid training effort brought me into Badwater even stronger than I had been for Western States. Although I was plagued by stomach issues, my top-notch crew fought to keep me in the race, and I finished 17th, in about 34 and a half hours, resolved to come back even stronger next year.
Summer Beast of Burden 100 2010: My first ever 100-mile race win, and a PR in 16:19 and change (which I believe is at least two hours "soft"), this was perhaps the pinnacle of my fitness, and arguably my greatest running achievement.
The Ring: This went well for about 30 miles, until I got lost, went about 15 miles off course in nowhere near the right direction, and wound up having to DNF.
North Coast 24-Hour Run: My heart and mind said yes, but my feet said no. Fallen arches made running excruciatingly painful, and after 50 miles in about 8 hours, I decided that was quite enough.
Grindstone 2010: What I had hoped would be a marquee event for me became an unmitigated disaster, as a combination of physical and emotional fatigue caused me to drop out after a little over 20 miles.
Oil Creek 2010: Two weeks after Grindstone, with less of the emotional issue, but more of the physical issue, and ultimately, the same result.
Army 10-Miler: The important thing is, I finished this race in under 7-minute mile pace. My legs were really dead, but the "party" afterwards was worth it.
29th Birthday Run: Okay, not an official race, and technically not run when I was 28, but I completed 29+ miles on my 29th birthday, in the first 3 hours and 50 minutes of being 29. No, not blazingly fast, but hey, I finished!
Both Satchel Paige and Boston have advised against looking back, but considering how much has happened in the past year, I'd be remiss not to look at all of this, and draw some conclusions about where I've been, and where I'd like to go. My top 5, as food for thought:
1. My greatest successes came about as a result of an obsessive level of control over my training schedule. Boston and Beast of Burden, besides being alliterative, were the races where, objectively, my finishing times were the best. I don't think it's a coincidence that, in the month before these races, I developed, and followed to the letter, a rigorous training plan, focused on the race.
2. The focus on "experience" was one major contributing factor to my failures. In every case where I failed to live up to expectations, I went into the race with less of a focus on the training plan (see #1) and more of a focus on "giving it a shot," and "getting some experience." I always got what I bargained for.
3. The high level of activity in my life in general was the other major contributing factor to my failures. Between school, work, and home, there were enough distractions to keep me from being able to focus on (and during) races, to complete training as planned, and to get enough rest to make the training pay off.
4. My best performances most likely would have been better on better rest. I've demonstrated a pretty large capacity for work, even under stressful circumstances. What I haven't had enough of is the opportunity to rest.
5. I have a far deeper understanding of the "tiny details" that are a major part of a successful race. In reflecting on my failures, I could write pages and pages about the things I did wrong that contributed to the outcome. In the past, I've had a fair amount of success, somewhat by accident, and I didn't have as much to consider as I do now. In the coming years, in planning for races, I'll have far more experience to draw from, and I'll be able to take many more steps to increase the probability of a favorable outcome.
So enough of that . . . what's next?
Having reflected on this past year, I've decided that, since school will no longer be a burden on my free time in 2011, my goal will be to systematically set PRs in the following major distances: 5K, 10 mile, marathon, and 100-mile (and at the 100-mile distance, this may well mean winning the race). How I plan to do this is the subject of another post, but I'll be starting with the 5K, and my goal race is the Resolution Run 5K in Patterson Park on New Year's Day, 2011. My 5K PR is something like 18:20, so let's say at least sub-18 for the 5K. In the weeks ahead, I'll be posting about progress towards that goal, and if something else funny or exciting happens, I might post about that, too.
To put it briefly, this was a year of quite possibly the highest highs and lowest lows that I've ever experienced as a runner, often in close succession. In other words, it was a good year. Let's recap, chronologically:
Hellgate 2009: A big bad DNFing disaster, precipitated by physical and emotional turmoil, I left with the resolution to finish this race someday (as is the resolution I'll be making with all the races where I DNFed).
Club Challenge 2010: Finished in something like 1:06, not at all what I was hoping to do there. To be fair, I had just run 20+ miles the day before, and that didn't go very well, so there was only so much that I could hope for in an all-out 10-mile war.
National Marathon 2010: Kept the completion streak alive (starting with the first-ever National Marathon in 2006), but the "go faster every time" streak ended this year, as I hit the wall around Mile 15, and ended up finishing 3:15ish. Probably the best I've ever done in the context of a "crash," though.
Boston Marathon 2010: Finally, a good race! 2:58:33, which, while not a PR, is only about a minute off from my marathon PR, and ended up being a huge confidence boost, considering how badly the National Marathon went.
Frederick Marathon 2010: In what may have been the last ever running of this race, ironically enough, the heat, which I had been fastidiously training for in anticipation of Badwater, was my downfall at this race, as I hit the wall between mile 14-15, and struggled to come in under 3:50, with cripplingly painful cramps turning the last mile into a deathmarch.
Bel Air Town Run 5K: You know, I could look this up and tell you how I did, but honestly, I don't remember. And the important thing is, I did it again, putting the streak at 15 years straight.
Western States 2010: The goal was to go under 24 hours here. Mission accomplished, in 23 hours and change. It was a hard fight, though; I blew out my quads on the downhills, and the last 20-ish miles were brought to you in part by my angel of a pacer, who endured more loud cursing than anybody navigating the woods at night with a headlamp should ever be subjected to.
Badwater 2010: Perhaps the most high-profile achievement of the year, two weeks after Western States, a solid training effort brought me into Badwater even stronger than I had been for Western States. Although I was plagued by stomach issues, my top-notch crew fought to keep me in the race, and I finished 17th, in about 34 and a half hours, resolved to come back even stronger next year.
Summer Beast of Burden 100 2010: My first ever 100-mile race win, and a PR in 16:19 and change (which I believe is at least two hours "soft"), this was perhaps the pinnacle of my fitness, and arguably my greatest running achievement.
The Ring: This went well for about 30 miles, until I got lost, went about 15 miles off course in nowhere near the right direction, and wound up having to DNF.
North Coast 24-Hour Run: My heart and mind said yes, but my feet said no. Fallen arches made running excruciatingly painful, and after 50 miles in about 8 hours, I decided that was quite enough.
Grindstone 2010: What I had hoped would be a marquee event for me became an unmitigated disaster, as a combination of physical and emotional fatigue caused me to drop out after a little over 20 miles.
Oil Creek 2010: Two weeks after Grindstone, with less of the emotional issue, but more of the physical issue, and ultimately, the same result.
Army 10-Miler: The important thing is, I finished this race in under 7-minute mile pace. My legs were really dead, but the "party" afterwards was worth it.
29th Birthday Run: Okay, not an official race, and technically not run when I was 28, but I completed 29+ miles on my 29th birthday, in the first 3 hours and 50 minutes of being 29. No, not blazingly fast, but hey, I finished!
Both Satchel Paige and Boston have advised against looking back, but considering how much has happened in the past year, I'd be remiss not to look at all of this, and draw some conclusions about where I've been, and where I'd like to go. My top 5, as food for thought:
1. My greatest successes came about as a result of an obsessive level of control over my training schedule. Boston and Beast of Burden, besides being alliterative, were the races where, objectively, my finishing times were the best. I don't think it's a coincidence that, in the month before these races, I developed, and followed to the letter, a rigorous training plan, focused on the race.
2. The focus on "experience" was one major contributing factor to my failures. In every case where I failed to live up to expectations, I went into the race with less of a focus on the training plan (see #1) and more of a focus on "giving it a shot," and "getting some experience." I always got what I bargained for.
3. The high level of activity in my life in general was the other major contributing factor to my failures. Between school, work, and home, there were enough distractions to keep me from being able to focus on (and during) races, to complete training as planned, and to get enough rest to make the training pay off.
4. My best performances most likely would have been better on better rest. I've demonstrated a pretty large capacity for work, even under stressful circumstances. What I haven't had enough of is the opportunity to rest.
5. I have a far deeper understanding of the "tiny details" that are a major part of a successful race. In reflecting on my failures, I could write pages and pages about the things I did wrong that contributed to the outcome. In the past, I've had a fair amount of success, somewhat by accident, and I didn't have as much to consider as I do now. In the coming years, in planning for races, I'll have far more experience to draw from, and I'll be able to take many more steps to increase the probability of a favorable outcome.
So enough of that . . . what's next?
Having reflected on this past year, I've decided that, since school will no longer be a burden on my free time in 2011, my goal will be to systematically set PRs in the following major distances: 5K, 10 mile, marathon, and 100-mile (and at the 100-mile distance, this may well mean winning the race). How I plan to do this is the subject of another post, but I'll be starting with the 5K, and my goal race is the Resolution Run 5K in Patterson Park on New Year's Day, 2011. My 5K PR is something like 18:20, so let's say at least sub-18 for the 5K. In the weeks ahead, I'll be posting about progress towards that goal, and if something else funny or exciting happens, I might post about that, too.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
2010 Beast of Burden Summer 100 Race Report
Perhaps a bit overdue, but in the interest of making a small contribution to ultrarunning lore, here’s the story of my 16 hour, 19 minute, and 5 second winning effort at the 2010 Summer Beast of Burden 100-Mile Run. Fair warning: this will be long, and there will be an awful lot of minor detail in this report, for the benefit of those who want to dissect this race in the interest of improving their own ultramarathon performance.
First, a little background: I left Aberdeen, Maryland at around 11:00 a.m. on Friday, the day before the race, having gone in to work at 6:00 a.m. that morning. The estimated driving time to Lockport was 7 hours, but I figured that it was a conservative estimate, and that I had left plenty of time to make the packet pickup at Finnan’s in Lockport, NY. What I hadn’t counted on was that the route would go through major highway construction on I-86, as well as Williamsport, PA during the Little League World Series. Factoring in the several stops for food/bathroom and several traffic jams, I arrived at the packet pickup right at 8:00 p.m., when it was scheduled to end. It was a shame that the drive was so nerve-wracking, and that I didn’t have a co-driver to take pictures of some of the really amazing sights along the way, including the views of the Susquehanna River from Route 15, and the billboard advertising the Little League Hall of Fame (which must be seen to be believed).
I bring up all of this seemingly unnecessary detail because for anybody interested in doing this race in the future, and planning on driving up from the Baltimore/DC area, it’s probably a good idea to allow about 4 hours of slack time in the travel time estimate (or about 11 hours total). Also, because I had a very full day between work and driving, I was dead tired and not entirely coherent when I arrived at the packet pickup.
As luck would have it, another runner, Nick Osterfoss arrived at the same time as I did, and neither he nor I had a place to stay. I had brought a tent and a sleeping bag, planning to camp out near the start line, but Sam Pasceri, the race director, was generous enough to let us stay at his house, so we could get a good night’s sleep in “real” beds. After dinner at Finnan’s, where I had a fish and pasta dish, and some sort of chocolate cake for dessert, we went back to Sam’s house and talked shop about running until we were all too tired to think straight. Then, at last, sweet sleep.
I woke up around 7:00 a.m. on race morning after one of the best nights of sleep I ever had before a race. Turned out that being dead tired from being so busy really helped. I had a small bowl of Cheerios in skim milk and two fried eggs for breakfast about two and a half hours before the race. After setting up my drop bags (consisting primarily of headlamp and flashers for night, Clif Shot Blocks, and Endurolytes), Nick and I headed out to the course with Sam, where we provided “moral support” as they began to set up the Gasport aid station, which was about halfway between the endpoints of the course. We caught a ride back to the starting line, where I then applied a generous layer of Coppertone Sport sunscreen, filled my water bottle, and chatted with the other runners.
After a very brief pre-race meeting, where we were mainly instructed to stay on the course and not litter, we lined up at the starting line, and at 10:00 a.m., we were off. Sam purposely took the lead in the first half-mile, so that there would be no confusion about which bridge we would cross (the Exchange Street bridge, for anybody keeping track). Once we crossed the bridge, Sam dropped back, and the race was on.
At this point, a discussion of my race strategy is in order. I knew, coming into this race, that I had a very good chance of winning, given the competition, and I also had a good chance of posting a fast, “breakthrough” time for a 100-mile race, given my recent training and race performances (something in the 14-16 hour range seemed achievable). I wanted to accomplish both of these goals, but at times, these can be conflicting goals. Ultimately, I decided that if I wanted to definitively win the race, I would need to go out fast and set the standard, and then hold on to the lead. This is an uncomfortable strategy for me, as I generally prefer to start slow and chase late, but, provided that I didn’t do anything too stupid, this was also the strategy that afforded me the greatest chance of running a fast time. To add to the support for this strategy, Connie Gardner, whose 100-mile PR is somewhere in the low 17-hour range, was entered in the 24-hour race, and it would be a bit embarrassing to win the 100-mile race with a slower 100-mile time than the 100-mile split posted by the probable winner of the 24-hour race.
With all that in mind, I ran at a mid-to-high-7-minute-mile pace down the flat, gravel towpath along the Erie Canal, gradually putting separation between myself and the group behind me. One man, who was entered in the 24-hour race, and competing in his first ultra, decided to run with me. We both made it to the Gasport aid station (at about 7 miles from the start) in a little under 56 minutes, where I refilled my now-empty water bottle, while he blew through the aid station. We ran together until the turn-around point at Middleport, where I stopped for about 5 minutes to refill my bottle, and to pocket some additional Clif Shot Blocks to replace the ones that I had already eaten. At this point, because he again blew through the aid station without eating or drinking, the other man was well ahead of me, but I didn’t worry about this, as I suspected that it would not be possible to keep up that pace without any food or water.
As I made my return trip, I saw the group behind me, which included Connie Gardner and Jeremy Pade, my main competition. They appeared to be about half a mile behind me, which felt too close for comfort, although objectively, this early in the race, it was a substantial lead. Rather than think about the pack nipping at my heels, I focused my attention ahead, on the little black dot that was the other man I had been running with, who had skipped both of the first two aid stations. Chasing is what I’m comfortable with, and it was comforting to gradually see the size of that black dot increase as I gained on him. At my stop on the Gasport aid station on the return trip, I ate a few Swedish Fish (simple sugars to supplement the more complex sugars in the Clif Shots) before continuing the chase. I finally caught and passed him with about 2.5 miles remaining in the loop. The back of his legs were covered in white foam, which turned out to be soap suds because he had used too much detergent when he washed his clothes. (Not long after, I would see him sitting on a bench near the start/finish, complaining of cramps – he ended up not making it through 50 miles.) I crossed over the bridge, and finished my first 25-mile loop in around 3 hours and 20 minutes – an 8-minute mile pace. Aside from feeling a bit suffocated from the combination of the humidity and the dust from the ever-present gravel on the path, I felt strong, and totally ready for my next out-and-back.
On the way out for my second loop, I passed Jeremy, who had broken away from the pack that he was running with, and now appeared to be about half a mile behind. It appeared that he had kept pace with me, which was discomforting, because now I had to stick to my strategy at all costs, or risk being at a huge mental disadvantage for the remainder of the race if he were to pass me. I dialed back the intensity just a bit, but continued running strong. I was having very little issue with my diet (about 20 ounces of water per hour, about 100 calories per hour, in the form of Clif Shot Blocks and some sugary candy, such as Starburst, Skittles, or Swedish Fish, to supplement, and two Endurolytes per hour), which was reassuring, since stomach issues have often sidelined me in these races. I reached the turn-around point comfortably, and on my return trip, I could see that my lead on Jason had increased to about a mile, which was also comforting, since I still felt good. However, at the Gasport aid station on the return trip, my stomach started to turn. I asked if they had any Tums; they didn’t. Fortunately, another runner who happened to be at the aid station at the same time gave me a Zantac, which helped a bit. Still, for the sake of not reaching a point where my stomach issues became crippling (or, for that matter, the pace became unsustainable), I threw in a few walking breaks between Gasport and the end of the loop. This slowed my 50-mile split to about 7 hours and 7 minutes, which was a slight disappointment, since I knew that I was in range to break 7 hours for 50 miles without breaking myself for the duration of the race. Still, I felt good about running a 50-mile PR in the middle of a 100-mile race.
Then came the moment of truth, as I headed out for my third loop, anxious to see how far ahead of Jeremy I was. I crossed over the bridge and still didn’t see him. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally passed him a little before the 1-mile mark on the path – it turned out that my lead on him had increased, to somewhere between 3 and 4 miles. This meant that I now had a bit of safety margin, but with nearly half of the race to go, one stupid thing, such as a major stomach issue, could cause me to blow this lead. I decided that since I seemed to be gaining on him, and my first 50 miles had been very much according to plan, I would slow down a bit, take more walking breaks, and conserve energy to both prevent a breakdown, and to have something in reserve should one occur anyway. I reached the Middlepoint turnaround once more, and was nervous as I headed back to see how this plan had worked. Others weren’t, of course – a few other runners asked me how I was going to spend my prize money, to which I replied that it would cover the cost of entering this race, plus the repairs to the roof of my house that I had to make about a month ago. It grew dark as I headed back, and at nearly 4 miles from the turnaround point, I passed Connie, but still hadn’t seen Jeremy. I wondered where he was, and, for a while, I thought that somehow, he may have passed me without me noticing, although I couldn’t come up with a situation in this race in which this would be plausible. As it grew darker, and the rain came down more heavily (it had been at least drizzling since 4:00 p.m.), I became more and more convinced that Jeremy had dropped out, and that I was running in the front alone, with a sizeable lead. Finally, when I reached the 75-mile mark, I was convinced that, barring anything stupid, I would win the race.
As I headed out for my last loop, a little over 11 hours into the race, I decided three things. First, I was going to win the race. Second, I was going to post a fast time even if my last loop was “slow.” Third, because this was not my focus race, but instead a long training run on the way to my goal, there was no sense in pushing hard on the last loop for the sake of lowering my finish time. I resolved to run the last loop comfortably, stopping to walk where I needed to, and enjoying the scenery at night (to the extent that I could, with rain pouring down and the temperature dropping). When I began my return from the turn-around point, I passed Connie nearly 5 miles from the turn-around point; I was now almost 10 miles ahead of her. I took a number of walk breaks from then on to the finish, including walking the last mile and soaking it all in (especially the large raindrops falling from the trees). I finished the race in 16 hours, 19 minutes, and 5 seconds, and promptly went to the bathroom, where I sat down for quite a while, then stood in the warm shower for quite a while, then lay on the floor for quite a while, before I finally got a ride back to Sam’s house to properly change clothes and sleep. The volunteers were very helpful after the race in finding me towels, drying my running clothes, and finding me extra clothes to wear on the trip to Sam’s house. After a nap and a chat with Nick, who returned to Sam’s house after dropping out of the race at 75 miles, we went back to the starting line to cheer on the runners who were finishing around the 24-hour mark, and to pick up my check and take a photo with Jody Chesko, who had donated the prize money in memory of Timothy Chesko, and Sam, who also finished the 100-mile race. After some random, misguided wandering that was the product of unclear thought due to exhaustion, I finally began the 7-hour drive home, by myself, which turned into a 9-hour drive, putting me at home at midnight, which allowed me to get to bed by 1, so that I could wake up at 6 a.m. for work the next morning. The brightest spot on the otherwise very dark drive home was the SuperSonic Breakfast Burrito that I ate at a Sonic in Harrisburg. The next morning, I went back to work, and “real life,” as it were, in “hard-marathon-sore” state. All in all, life was good.
I’ve since returned to my typical training schedule, without any days off as a result of the race, which means that I accomplished all of my goals for this race. Next stop: the Grindstone 100.
First, a little background: I left Aberdeen, Maryland at around 11:00 a.m. on Friday, the day before the race, having gone in to work at 6:00 a.m. that morning. The estimated driving time to Lockport was 7 hours, but I figured that it was a conservative estimate, and that I had left plenty of time to make the packet pickup at Finnan’s in Lockport, NY. What I hadn’t counted on was that the route would go through major highway construction on I-86, as well as Williamsport, PA during the Little League World Series. Factoring in the several stops for food/bathroom and several traffic jams, I arrived at the packet pickup right at 8:00 p.m., when it was scheduled to end. It was a shame that the drive was so nerve-wracking, and that I didn’t have a co-driver to take pictures of some of the really amazing sights along the way, including the views of the Susquehanna River from Route 15, and the billboard advertising the Little League Hall of Fame (which must be seen to be believed).
I bring up all of this seemingly unnecessary detail because for anybody interested in doing this race in the future, and planning on driving up from the Baltimore/DC area, it’s probably a good idea to allow about 4 hours of slack time in the travel time estimate (or about 11 hours total). Also, because I had a very full day between work and driving, I was dead tired and not entirely coherent when I arrived at the packet pickup.
As luck would have it, another runner, Nick Osterfoss arrived at the same time as I did, and neither he nor I had a place to stay. I had brought a tent and a sleeping bag, planning to camp out near the start line, but Sam Pasceri, the race director, was generous enough to let us stay at his house, so we could get a good night’s sleep in “real” beds. After dinner at Finnan’s, where I had a fish and pasta dish, and some sort of chocolate cake for dessert, we went back to Sam’s house and talked shop about running until we were all too tired to think straight. Then, at last, sweet sleep.
I woke up around 7:00 a.m. on race morning after one of the best nights of sleep I ever had before a race. Turned out that being dead tired from being so busy really helped. I had a small bowl of Cheerios in skim milk and two fried eggs for breakfast about two and a half hours before the race. After setting up my drop bags (consisting primarily of headlamp and flashers for night, Clif Shot Blocks, and Endurolytes), Nick and I headed out to the course with Sam, where we provided “moral support” as they began to set up the Gasport aid station, which was about halfway between the endpoints of the course. We caught a ride back to the starting line, where I then applied a generous layer of Coppertone Sport sunscreen, filled my water bottle, and chatted with the other runners.
After a very brief pre-race meeting, where we were mainly instructed to stay on the course and not litter, we lined up at the starting line, and at 10:00 a.m., we were off. Sam purposely took the lead in the first half-mile, so that there would be no confusion about which bridge we would cross (the Exchange Street bridge, for anybody keeping track). Once we crossed the bridge, Sam dropped back, and the race was on.
At this point, a discussion of my race strategy is in order. I knew, coming into this race, that I had a very good chance of winning, given the competition, and I also had a good chance of posting a fast, “breakthrough” time for a 100-mile race, given my recent training and race performances (something in the 14-16 hour range seemed achievable). I wanted to accomplish both of these goals, but at times, these can be conflicting goals. Ultimately, I decided that if I wanted to definitively win the race, I would need to go out fast and set the standard, and then hold on to the lead. This is an uncomfortable strategy for me, as I generally prefer to start slow and chase late, but, provided that I didn’t do anything too stupid, this was also the strategy that afforded me the greatest chance of running a fast time. To add to the support for this strategy, Connie Gardner, whose 100-mile PR is somewhere in the low 17-hour range, was entered in the 24-hour race, and it would be a bit embarrassing to win the 100-mile race with a slower 100-mile time than the 100-mile split posted by the probable winner of the 24-hour race.
With all that in mind, I ran at a mid-to-high-7-minute-mile pace down the flat, gravel towpath along the Erie Canal, gradually putting separation between myself and the group behind me. One man, who was entered in the 24-hour race, and competing in his first ultra, decided to run with me. We both made it to the Gasport aid station (at about 7 miles from the start) in a little under 56 minutes, where I refilled my now-empty water bottle, while he blew through the aid station. We ran together until the turn-around point at Middleport, where I stopped for about 5 minutes to refill my bottle, and to pocket some additional Clif Shot Blocks to replace the ones that I had already eaten. At this point, because he again blew through the aid station without eating or drinking, the other man was well ahead of me, but I didn’t worry about this, as I suspected that it would not be possible to keep up that pace without any food or water.
As I made my return trip, I saw the group behind me, which included Connie Gardner and Jeremy Pade, my main competition. They appeared to be about half a mile behind me, which felt too close for comfort, although objectively, this early in the race, it was a substantial lead. Rather than think about the pack nipping at my heels, I focused my attention ahead, on the little black dot that was the other man I had been running with, who had skipped both of the first two aid stations. Chasing is what I’m comfortable with, and it was comforting to gradually see the size of that black dot increase as I gained on him. At my stop on the Gasport aid station on the return trip, I ate a few Swedish Fish (simple sugars to supplement the more complex sugars in the Clif Shots) before continuing the chase. I finally caught and passed him with about 2.5 miles remaining in the loop. The back of his legs were covered in white foam, which turned out to be soap suds because he had used too much detergent when he washed his clothes. (Not long after, I would see him sitting on a bench near the start/finish, complaining of cramps – he ended up not making it through 50 miles.) I crossed over the bridge, and finished my first 25-mile loop in around 3 hours and 20 minutes – an 8-minute mile pace. Aside from feeling a bit suffocated from the combination of the humidity and the dust from the ever-present gravel on the path, I felt strong, and totally ready for my next out-and-back.
On the way out for my second loop, I passed Jeremy, who had broken away from the pack that he was running with, and now appeared to be about half a mile behind. It appeared that he had kept pace with me, which was discomforting, because now I had to stick to my strategy at all costs, or risk being at a huge mental disadvantage for the remainder of the race if he were to pass me. I dialed back the intensity just a bit, but continued running strong. I was having very little issue with my diet (about 20 ounces of water per hour, about 100 calories per hour, in the form of Clif Shot Blocks and some sugary candy, such as Starburst, Skittles, or Swedish Fish, to supplement, and two Endurolytes per hour), which was reassuring, since stomach issues have often sidelined me in these races. I reached the turn-around point comfortably, and on my return trip, I could see that my lead on Jason had increased to about a mile, which was also comforting, since I still felt good. However, at the Gasport aid station on the return trip, my stomach started to turn. I asked if they had any Tums; they didn’t. Fortunately, another runner who happened to be at the aid station at the same time gave me a Zantac, which helped a bit. Still, for the sake of not reaching a point where my stomach issues became crippling (or, for that matter, the pace became unsustainable), I threw in a few walking breaks between Gasport and the end of the loop. This slowed my 50-mile split to about 7 hours and 7 minutes, which was a slight disappointment, since I knew that I was in range to break 7 hours for 50 miles without breaking myself for the duration of the race. Still, I felt good about running a 50-mile PR in the middle of a 100-mile race.
Then came the moment of truth, as I headed out for my third loop, anxious to see how far ahead of Jeremy I was. I crossed over the bridge and still didn’t see him. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally passed him a little before the 1-mile mark on the path – it turned out that my lead on him had increased, to somewhere between 3 and 4 miles. This meant that I now had a bit of safety margin, but with nearly half of the race to go, one stupid thing, such as a major stomach issue, could cause me to blow this lead. I decided that since I seemed to be gaining on him, and my first 50 miles had been very much according to plan, I would slow down a bit, take more walking breaks, and conserve energy to both prevent a breakdown, and to have something in reserve should one occur anyway. I reached the Middlepoint turnaround once more, and was nervous as I headed back to see how this plan had worked. Others weren’t, of course – a few other runners asked me how I was going to spend my prize money, to which I replied that it would cover the cost of entering this race, plus the repairs to the roof of my house that I had to make about a month ago. It grew dark as I headed back, and at nearly 4 miles from the turnaround point, I passed Connie, but still hadn’t seen Jeremy. I wondered where he was, and, for a while, I thought that somehow, he may have passed me without me noticing, although I couldn’t come up with a situation in this race in which this would be plausible. As it grew darker, and the rain came down more heavily (it had been at least drizzling since 4:00 p.m.), I became more and more convinced that Jeremy had dropped out, and that I was running in the front alone, with a sizeable lead. Finally, when I reached the 75-mile mark, I was convinced that, barring anything stupid, I would win the race.
As I headed out for my last loop, a little over 11 hours into the race, I decided three things. First, I was going to win the race. Second, I was going to post a fast time even if my last loop was “slow.” Third, because this was not my focus race, but instead a long training run on the way to my goal, there was no sense in pushing hard on the last loop for the sake of lowering my finish time. I resolved to run the last loop comfortably, stopping to walk where I needed to, and enjoying the scenery at night (to the extent that I could, with rain pouring down and the temperature dropping). When I began my return from the turn-around point, I passed Connie nearly 5 miles from the turn-around point; I was now almost 10 miles ahead of her. I took a number of walk breaks from then on to the finish, including walking the last mile and soaking it all in (especially the large raindrops falling from the trees). I finished the race in 16 hours, 19 minutes, and 5 seconds, and promptly went to the bathroom, where I sat down for quite a while, then stood in the warm shower for quite a while, then lay on the floor for quite a while, before I finally got a ride back to Sam’s house to properly change clothes and sleep. The volunteers were very helpful after the race in finding me towels, drying my running clothes, and finding me extra clothes to wear on the trip to Sam’s house. After a nap and a chat with Nick, who returned to Sam’s house after dropping out of the race at 75 miles, we went back to the starting line to cheer on the runners who were finishing around the 24-hour mark, and to pick up my check and take a photo with Jody Chesko, who had donated the prize money in memory of Timothy Chesko, and Sam, who also finished the 100-mile race. After some random, misguided wandering that was the product of unclear thought due to exhaustion, I finally began the 7-hour drive home, by myself, which turned into a 9-hour drive, putting me at home at midnight, which allowed me to get to bed by 1, so that I could wake up at 6 a.m. for work the next morning. The brightest spot on the otherwise very dark drive home was the SuperSonic Breakfast Burrito that I ate at a Sonic in Harrisburg. The next morning, I went back to work, and “real life,” as it were, in “hard-marathon-sore” state. All in all, life was good.
I’ve since returned to my typical training schedule, without any days off as a result of the race, which means that I accomplished all of my goals for this race. Next stop: the Grindstone 100.
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