An Open Letter Regarding Contrasting Endurance Cultures - Running, Triathlon, OCR, etc.

The context for this post: all endurance athletes (runners, swimmers, cyclists, climbers, triathletes, obstacle course racers, marathoners, track athletes, ultra runners, trail runners, road runners, etc.) have a similar, yet slightly different culture. We all have distinct jargon (terms that refer to idiosyncrasies of our sport, even words that are different that mean the same thing). This past Sunday, I ran the Santa Monica Classic 10k, and for the first time in a local road race, pushed my daughter in a jogging stroller. I've run a very small 5k in Brooklyn pushing my daughter, and I've done tons of miles (primarily when she was about 8 months old until she was about 18 months old) with her in training. But this past Sunday was different. As I worked my way into the starting corral (immediately after the 5k race was sent off and the 10k runners loaded in), one girl took notable exception to my being near her with a jogging stroller. This is an Open Letter to her, that I hope stimulates some dialog between our contrasting (and at times conflicting) cultures. This is not to say that one is right and the other is wrong, but to acknowledge that each culture should seek to understand those that share our endurance lifestyle, and understand that when we cross-polinate, and try other disciplines, it may not be what we've grown accustomed to...

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Dear Anonymous Triathlete Girl,

I'm the dad pushing a stroller in the corral that you threw a tantrum at last weekend. I am that completely random stranger who responded by asking you what your race goal was (to which you responded "42-minutes" which I can remember clear-as-day because it's Jackie Robinson's number, and was about the time I thought I would run that day) and when I then offered to pace you to that goal whilst pushing 55-lbs of toddler and wheeled machine of death you subsequently ignored me, not even offering a halfway polite "no thank you", nor even eye contact from that point forward. Not only did you non-respond, but you demonstratively turned your back to me because I wasn't doing exactly what you wanted me to do. I am still not sure whether your female and male companions were mortified by your behavior, or if they too were giving me the "sharks with friggin' lasers on their heads" stare for being the stroller-guy sandwiched up in the front 250 people in a 3,000 person race. I sensed your race nerves and that the event was important to you, so I chose not to say something awful back to you. I gave you a temporary pass.

Here's the thing: most stand alone road races allow runners with strollers to compete (my favorite race of this sort is the Redondo Super Bowl 10k, that actually has a separate stroller race/division). I had as much right to be there in that corral as you did. Our crew specifically sought out a family-friendly, strollers-allowed race to run with our young children, and some of us wanted to do that as fast as we possibly could. Athletes are asked to "self-seed" at a race like that (whereas 10k plus person races generally have pace-per-mile signs posted to aid in this self-seeding), and as someone who ended up finishing 65th overall, I had more people in front of me than there needed to be (it took me a full 11-seconds to cross the starting line). I was very conscious about my race-lines, not running over feet or clipping heels. Let me tell ya, it was one of the most difficult 10k's of my life, having to zigzag while pushing my 2.5-year-old daughter was rough. Going up that 2-3% grade to get to the the turn-around on San Vicente built a new room in my pain cave. My daughter tossed her green racing car out of the stroller twice and trying to pick up something while pushing 55-lbs upgrade/uphill while at a race intensity pace, well, damn, you should try it sometime. It's awful. But I'm not asking for your sympathy. I enjoy the hurt locker, quite a bit.

I do get it, nobody likes being passed, nor beat by any parent pushing a stroller. At that very same race, many years ago, I ran 36:13 (my personal best) and had a dad pushing a stroller run 35:30-ish in front of me. Again, a little over a year ago, I was 4th overall at a 5k pushing my daughter in a stroller and was soundly beat by a guy pushing twin 3-year-olds in a double-stroller. No hard feelings either time, just mad props to those badass dads setting a pretty stellar example to kids who won't quite understand why that's so awesome, maybe ever (or until they have children of their own and try to run a fast race while pushing them). At the very least, I take precious little joy in my finishing position. I'm an effort conscious and time-minded athlete. If I run a time I'm capable of and if I worked hard for it, that's satisfying to me. That doesn't mean I won't push myself for position during a race, I mean, what's the point in dropping some coin unless we can push ourselves to be the best we can be with-and-against other competition. I respect my competition. Always. I let my legs, heart, and toughness do the talking for me. I never tell anyone in the corral they shouldn't be near nor in front of me. Nor should you. Nor should anyone.

I'm hoping that somehow this makes it's way to you, and you either find a way to be polite to others planning to suffer alongside you, or maybe select events that don't allow strollers (the LA Marathon, and pretty much ANY triathlon). But, I suggest that you treat someone pushing a stroller with a bit more respect, as the Boston Marathon (a race you've publicly declared you'll run) has a guy who pushes a huge stroller (well, it's more of a strolling-wheelchair) and he also does the Kona Ironman (towing his son in a friggin' BOAT), in fact, he's one of my personal heroes and inspiration to millions. I passed this father-son duo at the Boston Marathon years ago, and I cheered for him and shook his hand. His son cheered for me. It gave me a ton more juice to finish a tough Boston that year. 

Dick and Rick Hoyt aka TEAM HOYT at Boston

In closing, I sincerely congratulate you for putting the training in, showing up on race day and running your PR in the 10k. I didn't displace you in your division, nor did my 2.5-year-old daughter (although, when she's about 14, watch out in the female overall division at local events). If we ever bump into each other at another race or local group run, I'll buy ya a beer (or your favorite beverage) to show ya there's really no hard feelings. I wish you luck in your upcoming races in 2017 and beyond. I hope you get into Boston and crush it. Give Rick and Dick Hoyt a high five from me...

With Respect,
Jimmy Dean Freeman

Coyote Running Founder and Head Coach

Road/Track/Trail Runner w/300+ Races of Experience

Bulletproof Attitude & 1 Trick to Develop Mental Toughness Thru the Alvin Matthews Story

http://bit.ly/AlvinTNBStory

Alvin Matthews is a current member of Team NutriBullet (training for the 2016 LA Marathon) and many years ago trained with the SoCal Coyotes in pursuit of running a marathon on all 7 continents. As a runner, Alvin completed marathons on 6 of the 7 continents (and the North Pole too).

In April of 2014, Alvin fell 3 stories off a roof and cracked his cervical spine rendering him quadriplegic. As he healed/recovered and went to PT (after surgery to fuse C5-C7 vertebrae), Alvin's diagnosis was refined to "incomplete quadriplegic" as his paralyzation is chest down. He has limited (and uneven) use of both of his arms and hands, although precious little strength which he's currently working to build back up. Due to the difficulty of working with his health insurance, he has not been to Physical Therapy in over 3 months.

Alvin's first finish line as a wheelchair athlete

Alvin was barely able to complete 200 meters in his wheelchair on his own power 2 months ago. As you may have seen in the video (above), on Sunday, November 8th Alvin completed the Calabasas Classic 5k in 2 hours, 4 minutes and 54 seconds. He pushed up the hills and on the flats on his own power, and on the downhills he had his mentor Ralph (a very experienced wheelchair athlete with 13 years of racing under his belt) and me making sure he didn't slip backwards down the hill, and also to steer/brake on the downhills as he didn't have the strength/leverage at higher speeds to brake. His wheelchair is not designed for racing.

Our plan is to purchase one of these hand-cycles for Alvin!

We (his coaches, teammates and friends) aim to raise $15,000 (or more) to cover the costs of a new racing hand-cycle (a specialized wheelchair that will allow Alvin to restore his strength and health) and put Alvin back into the Physical Therapy he needs to perform everyday functions. Alvin dreams of being able to drive again, he plans to race a marathon on his 7th continent to complete a huge personal goal, and he also plans someday to be able to walk again. Doctors have said cases like Alvin's are a one-in-a-million shot to walk, to which Alvin responded, "why not be the one who does?"

ALVIN'S MENTAL REFRAMING TECHNIQUE

Alvin has a very simple reframing technique when he's struggling: he simply reminds himself that there are people less fortunate than him. Kids and adults in hospital beds, fully quadriplegic and unable to move, to exercise, to perform every day functions. So whenever you are struggling, think of how lucky you are to be able to do what you do. Whether you are a runner or a walker or a hiker, every movement is a gift. Cherish those gifts.

AN INVITATION TO DONATE

Alvin has inspired all those on Team NutriBullet, and on the Coyotes, and in his life. His positive attitude in the face of these challenges is infectious. We thank you for anything, even if only $10. If you can give more, I thank you, Alvin thanks you, his family and his teammates are grateful for every contribution. We will publish our grand total and how much the hand-cycle costs (and how much more we put towards Alvin's return to Physical Therapy). Thank you, thank you, thank you so much.

"​Goodness is about character - integrity, honesty, kindness, generosity, moral courage, and the like. More than anything else, it is about how we treat other people."

-​Dennis Prager

PLEASE DONATE TO ALVIN FUND HERE: http://bit.ly/GoFundALVIN

5 Reasons People DNF at the Javelina 100 Miler and How to Avoid It (with Wizard of Oz Style!)

Who you callin' cute, sucker?

Post updated/revised:
I originally wrote this post in October of 2015 to put my money where my mouth is (or was). I toe'd the line of the Javelina 100 Miler the following two years (2015 and 2016) in Fountain Hills, Arizona (near Scottsdale, the home of the AZ Fall League's Scottsdale Scorpions, a development team including players from the San Francisco Giants farm/development system, but I digress...). While 2015 was my 21st attempt to run 100 miles (or a little further), it was my first time tackling the cute little pig known as Javelina. No, they aren't really pigs, they are peccaries, which is like a cousin to a pig. I guess some ways this is an interesting parallel because some have been known to say that the Javelina Jundred 100 Miler is "a runnable, fast, good 100 for first timers that is on a relatively easy course." Ohhhhh, boy. That's where the danger begins...

Let's first explore the question of the DNF percentage from 2009-2017 (over 50% who start typically do not finish this race, historically). Why the hell does this "runnable, flat-ish, relatively easy course" have one of the highest DNF rates in ultra running? Some would say that it's the disproportionate amount of first-timers. I would argue that it's not the relative lack of experience that does many in, as I've seen some really experienced 100-mile runners go down here (I am now 2-for-2 at Javelina in spite of two pretty rough years/races). If one doesn't look at what makes this challenge particularly unique, and you expect to suffer less relative to other races, then this is what makes this event so difficult. Here are the starting and finishing stats, and finishing/DNF percentages from the 6 years I crewed and coached athletes for Javelina...

*BEFORE THIS BLOG WAS POSTED, THE SIX YEARS I CREWED/COACHED AT JJ100*2009 - 250 started / 124 finished (49.6% finished, 50.4% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 38 (15.2%)
2010 - 263 started / 137 finished (52.1% finished, 47.9% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 50 (19.0%)
2011 - 339 started / 174 finished (51.3% finished, 48.7% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 65 (19.2%)
2012 - 364 started / 160 finished (43.9% finished, 56.1% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 56 (15.4%)
2013 - 377 started / 157 finished (41.6% finished, 58.4% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 41 (10.1%)
2014 - 511 started / 290 finished (56.8% finished, 43.2% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 98 (19.2%)

2009-2014 TOTALS:2,104 started / 1,042 finished (49.5% finished, 50.5% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 348 (16.5%)

2015 JJ100, Lap 2 (old course) - photo by SweetM Images

*AFTER THIS BLOG WAS POSTED, THE TWO YEARS I RAN JJ100*
2015 - 459 started / 281 finished (61.2% finished, 38.8% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 113 (24.6%)
2016 - 574 started / 285 finished (49.7% finished, 50.3% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 93 (16.2%)

*LAST YEAR*
2017 - 534 started / 348 finished (65.2% finished, 34.8% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 113 (21.2%)

2015-2017 TOTALS:

1,567 started / 914 finished (58.3% finished, 41.7% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 319 (20.4%)

2009-2017 TOTALS:

3,671 started / 1,956 finished (53.3% finished, 46.7% DNF'd) - Sub 24's = 667 (18.2%)

Having crewed and coached over 30+ athletes who've run Javelina, and now having back-to-back years suffering through it myself, I am here to tell you how I've seen people shoot themselves in the foot. Some of this is general 100-miler stuff, and a few things are unique to Javelina. So, here we go...

5 SIGNIFICANT REASONS PEOPLE DNF AT JAVELINA

#5- How about a little fire, Scarecrow? (not managing the heat... well enough) - this race is super exposed and relatively hot. It is generally not humid, and most certainly Arizona sees typical temps that are ~30 degrees higher at times in the summer. Javelina seems to trend around a high of 80 degrees, give or take 10 degrees. So 90 is a blistering hot year, and 70 is a "cold year". But here's the problem, it's exposed. You never get a respite from the direct sun, unless there's no sun (or you're sitting under a tent, not moving forward on the course). The sun beats down on the trail (and you) relentlessly, and Laps 2, 3, and for some 4 (and 7) are hard on you like it's 10 degrees hotter. It might actually be a few degrees hotter. As the sun bakes the trail throughout the day, the heat emanates off the trail below you and it will hit you a little harder than if you were running in the shade. So, pretend it's 10 degrees hotter, and keep ice in a bandanna around your neck, fill your running cap with ice, and do not drink ice water.

Momentary heat side-track: if you drink ice water in your bottles when that cold water hits the stomach, the body is forced to use energy in order to warm up that liquid inside your body to match that of your body's natural internal temperature. This process will rob your body of the energy it needs to properly process what fluid (and calories and electrolytes) you've ingested. So energy is spent on the regulation of the internal fluid temps, rather than processing new fuel/energy and it is a super big deal as that energy deficit adds up in the heat of the day.

Cold water (or ice) is for your head and neck. Warm or air temp water is for drinking. If you're running, your body is generating more heat (than if you're moving much slower). So during those hot laps (when I've seen some speed up), slow it down a little to help manage your core temps.

#4 - There's no place like home, there's no place like home! (getting too comfortable at the start/finish with family/friends) - this is one of the chief problems with the mental DNF at Javelina, being at the place where all your finishing crap is! And your lovely family! And when you say in the middle of the night, "I don't want to do this anymore, I'm not having any fun" sometimes you have a crew that's thinking, "thank effen goodness, we're so ready to be done too!" 

Know that you pass through JJHQ around Mile 15.5 (one), Mile 31 (two), Mile 46.5 (three), Mile 62 (four), Mile 77.5 (five) and Mile 93 (six), and if you think you'll get through JJHQ excited to leave for another 15.5 miles in the dreaded desert every single time, think again. You're gonna feel the suck at least 2 of those 6 times, possibly more, so you've got to have a plan to get in an out of there efficiently. Don't rush it, you need to get stuff for another 2-5 hours out there. "Be quick, don't hurry" (one of my favorite Coach John Wooden quotes). But unless you're fixing blisters at medical, doing a complete outfit change for the night, there's really no reason to be there for more than 5 minutes. Get out. Don't sit down (except to change shoes, if you must). Keep moving. Get your mental juju back by taking steps towards the finish line.

#3 - Poppies, poppies, poppies. Sleeeeeeeeep! (the curse of naps and mismanaged caffeine) - I would love to dive into the science of why you should try to avoid caffeine during the day when it's hot. But this post is going to get way too long (it's already twice as long as I intended). So let me put it in another way, you want to save caffeine (and other stimulants) for when you actually need them. Your hypothalamus is going to try to power things down in your body so you can sleep (restorative regeneration) while you're still running if you run long enough. So save the inner light for when it gets dark. And once you start using caffeine, you better keep using it or your energy will fall off a cliff. I like to try to keep the stream coming every 25-30 minutes once I start, but at the very least I'm getting it at every aid station once I begin to use it. Also, if you get really, really tired, some get to the start/finish and try to sleep and rationalize when they wake up they'll feel better (and be able to run better). In my experience, this is rarely true. And you wake up in 90 minutes when you planned for 30. And now you're fighting cutoffs. So don't do it. Manage your mind, your stimulants, and keep on keepin' on.

#2 - Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of speed! (getting carried away with pace splits in the first two-three laps) - Okay, so the Wicked Witch of the West said spears, not speed. But hey, if you run too fast your quads, hamstrings, IT bands are all going to feel like the Wicked Witch put a bunch of spears into you. I have witnessed more "speed kills" at this race than every other 100 miler I've been to combined. I've seen runners with a 28+ hour 100 miler PR running around 17-hour pace splits. Just running comfortably, and aerobically is not enough. A marathon race pace is aerobic and comfortable for 20-ish miles! Then you go into ketosis when you've exhausted your glycogen supply and you're fighting cramps and you are metabolically hosed. Marathon pace plus one minute is more like a 50k pace. I don't even recommend running by pace. For those of you not running with a heart rate monitor, it's going to be a little more tricky. If you've never run 100 miles before, you've got to be even more careful and conservative. Think of it this way, around 20% of the nearly 500 race starters ran sub-24 hours last year. Are you typically in the top 20% of the races you finish? Because if you're not, you're pretty bold going out in sub-20 hour pace and rationalizing that you're putting time in the bank. Putting time in the bank is like tying a loaded safe to you so you can run the second half of the race dragging said safe behind you. A sub-20 hour time is around 11:45/mile pace (or faster). Yes, we all factor in stop time (which is generally around a minute per mile or more), so really, we're talking 10:45 average running pace. "But I can't run that slow!" many will exclaim to me. That's what walking up small inclines is for. Or just taking a walk break to lower your heart rate. Running faster than 12 minutes per mile in the second half of the race is actually quite impressive, so try to bring your first half and second half paces closer together so you can be the one passing dozens, or even 100 people in the second half. Now that's a fun race!

#1 - I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too! (not taking the suffering seriously) - I'm going to break this one into two different categories, the beginner, and the experienced 100 miler...

1st Time 100 Milers - so you've never experienced 100 miles yet? Maybe you've run a few 50 milers or a tough 100k, but this is your first journey into those extra 40-50 miles of pure magic. People tell you it's going to hurt, but there's no context to it. You may have even heard moms who run hundos compare it to childbirth. Kinda freaky, right? But hey, it didn't scare you that much, and here you are! Pitfall #1 is thinking of 100's in a linear or proportional fashion. It doesn't hurt twice as much, nor twice as often as a 50 miler. In some cases, it's worse than that. In others, it's not that much worse pain wise, but you're in that hurt locker for a lot longer. It takes mental stamina, toughness and a willingness to suffer a bit. You really aren't going to know if you're mentally ready until you're in that moment. But what I do is measure the number of hours I've put into training (for me, this time around it's about 250 hours, or 10 hours a week average for the past 25 weeks, I'm rounding off here, but that's a ballpark). Then, when I'm hurting, I tell myself, "this isn't going to hurt like this for the rest of the time, but even if it did, that's only 10 more hours (example), and that's not even 1/20th of my training!" I tell myself to consider others who wish they could be running by my side. My wife just had leg surgery. My buddy Alvin would love to run a loop with me (he's in a wheelchair now). I'm so lucky to be able to hurt this way. I'm so lucky my body is capable of this amazing, freaky endurance. I keep telling myself these things to re-frame the pain. And believe me it helps if you commit to it. So when it really hurts, the worse it is, the more proud you're going to be of finishing. I've heard it said very eloquently that "finishing 100 milers hurts for a week. DNF'ing 100 milers hurts for at least a year." So, get along little doggie...

Experienced 100 Milers - the main pitfall with an experienced hundred miler at Javelina is you've probably run much harder courses than this. You've maybe even run on hotter days than this. It's dangerous to think that because the course isn't as hard, and the heat isn't as high, that you'll suffer less. Then, when you suffer more, you're ill equipped to handle it psychologically. Here's the rub: this course has more running. The more you run, generally speaking, the more it's going to hurt. I ran 6 of these things last summer, and Vermont (while my fastest race last summer) was the race I was in the most disrepair at the finish line. My feet were wrecked. I was in the medical tent for a bit. Running more is really rough, especially for those of you who are used to mountain races when you get your hiking uphill break, then downhill feels like low-effort since gravity is doing the work. Maybe you don't feel that way, but if you want to run your fastest time at this distance, you at least have to be willing to hurt more (and for a longer duration) than you have before. Then, if you don't, it's a mental boost. Gravy, my friends.

Follow the Pemberton Trail, follow the Pemberton Trail... follow, follow, follow, follow...

I have a lot more to say about running 100 milers, but I'll save it for another time. I hope these 5 pitfalls help you overcome the Wicked Witch of the West at McDowell Mountain Park. I'm rooting for all who toe the line at Javelina. I want a bunch of people to high five and run with in that second half. And if you see me sitting down, come kick my ass and tell me to get back out there (unless I'm being carted off on a stretcher, then let medical do their job)...

2016 JJ100 Lap 3 at Jackass Junction - photo by SweetM Images

Jappy Jalloween, Jeveryone!

The First Steps (Out the Door) Are Often the Toughest - Original 6 Hundo Challenge aka #O6HC Blog Entry 01

"You are capable of more than you know.  Choose a goal that seems right for you and strive to be the best, however hard the path.  Aim high.  Behave honorably.  Prepare to be alone at times, and to endure failure.  Persist!  The world needs all you can give."

-E.O. Wilson

*Original 6 Hundo Challenge (#O6HC) - the first six hundred mile trail races to exist in the United States, in order of inception: Western States, Squaw Valley, CA to Auburn, CA (1974), Old Dominion, Fort Valley, VA (1979), Wasatch Front, Utah (1980), Leadville Trail, Colorado (1983), Angeles Crest, Wrightwood, CA to Pasadena/Altadena (1986), and Vermont (1989)  * - this challenge has historically been known by the title the Last Great Race which is presently "on hiatus".  Out of respect to the organizer, we've chosen to call the challenge another name until we are able to register for the LGR officially.


It's been quite a 9 month stretch since I completed the 2013 Angeles Crest 100 (AC) and Leadville Trail 100 (LT) inside of a two week period (well, 2 weeks, 1 day and a couple-few extra hours).  I spent about 10 days post that 100-mile double challenge hibernating, as it f**king wrecked me.  So, sounds like a perfectly rational idea to run 6 hundreds (the first 6 hundred mile trail races that existed in the United States) in a 13 week period, right?!?  A long-standing motto of mine: the worst ideas often make the best stories.

To begin with, I blame the seed for this idea being planted on Andy Kumeda.  In 2007, we were chatting in Wrightwood awaiting the check in for the Angeles Crest Endurance Run.  Andy had attempted to run these same six races in 2007 and going into AC Andy was 4-for-5 having timed out at that year's #4 (Leadville), at Mile 60.  I was still floored, as he had finished the Wasatch Front 100 (WF)  in 35:57 (with less than 3 minutes to spare) and was attempting to complete AC only 6 days after that finish.  The 2007 Angeles Crest became my first ever DNF at any race of any distance (it was my only hundred attempt in 2007). I pulled out about halfway through (Mile 49, Mt. Hillyer) with some breathing problems that may or may not have been hypoxia or the early stages of hyponatremia.  Andy finished AC with a couple/few hours to spare.  He vowed to give these 6 hundos another shot as soon as he got back into the Western States 100 (States), and 7 years later, here we are.

I personally loved the idea of The Grand Slam of Ultrarunning (the Slam) which is 4 of the original 6 hundreds, about one per month, but have some longer term goals at Angeles Crest, so while I wanted to run Western States, the Vermont 100 (VT), Leadville and Wasatch in the same summer, I felt too impatient to skip AC for a summer (FOMO in LA is particularly fierce).  Angeles Crest used to be late-September/early-October as recently as 2008, but has been moved to July/August since the devastating Station Fire in 2009.  Now, with AC in late-July/early-August, it's sandwiched in between the only 4 week break in the Grand Slam, 2 weeks after Vermont, 2 weeks prior to Leadville.  I realized I'd be doing 5 of the original 6, looked up Old Dominion 100 (OD), which was formerly a part of the Grand Slam, between 1986 when Tom Green first finished OD, Western States, Leadville and Wasatch in the same summer, and Tom is at it again this summer 28 years later (Go Tom Go!). Old Dominion was a part of the Slam until 2003 when OD did not happen and Vermont has formally replaced it in the Slam every year since.  Since my modified Grand Slam (the Slam+AC) only allotted 2-3 weeks between each race, it didn't seem like much more of a stretch to throw in OD 3 weeks before that all began.  NOTE: I joked far too often that Old Dominion was my "warm-up race" and that joke bit me in the rear.  OD kicked my butt, and I was taught that joking about how one race will be easier is a very dangerous mental space to be in.

The Torrey Pines Glider Port (Cliff) Stairs and Blacks Beach

I DNF'd for the second consecutive February at a SoCal 50 mile race (2014 was the inaugural Sean O'Brien, a race I helped lay out, and test ran in October to create an elevation profile, and 2013 I failed to finish the Ray Miller 50 Mile before going on to complete Angeles Crest and Leadville later that year), and I'm holding my breath that it was a good omen (although I have to work out my string of lifetime DNF's the second time I run a course which includes 2 hundreds and 2 fifties).  That was a wake up call.  Training got a lot more consistent after that.  Life, however, failed to cooperate with my extended training plans for this challenge.  From February to late-May, ultimately I averaged 47.5 miles per week, which included an entire month where my mileage total didn't eclipse 62 miles (for the entire month!).  At one point, spent about 2 weeks with my mom who had a horseback riding accident that led to her fracturing L1 and requiring some significant medical care for the first phase of her recovery.  I got to know the running available in La Jolla, California pretty intimately as I'd help administer my mom's meds and home care, then head out the door for a couple hours of sand running & cliff repeats near the Torrey Pines Glider Port & Blacks Beach.  Looking back on this, it may have been the longest half month of my life.  Seeing a loved one that injured is beyond any emotional or physical stress I have ever experienced.  My mom is greatly improved (3 months into her recovery) and may have dodged a bullet not immediately needing a major 5 vertebrae spinal fusion surgery.  Yay, mom!  Got really sick for about 8 days after that, and didn't feel like myself (running or otherwise) for another 3-4 weeks.  When all that dust settled, I was 3 weeks from race #1 in the #O6HC


"Good judgment comes from experience.  Experience comes from bad judgment."
-Mark Twain


Instead of going through and writing a blow-by-blow recap of the 3 one-hundred mile races I've already gone through (which I promise to recap via podcast or video-blog, at the very least), I'll let you know a few of the epiphanies and reflections that could hopefully be more useful to you in your running or life goals.

*Never underestimate 100 miles  - researching all 6 races in this series, both Old Dominion and Vermont had the least aggressive elevation profiles and fastest historical finishing times.  I went into OD saying, "this is my warm up 100" and the race beat me down pretty soundly.  Kate has seen me run this distance at least a dozen times, and said she had never seen me looking that broken at the end of a race.  Every 100 will have it's own unique (and idiosyncratic) challenges.  Respect the distance.  Respect the conditions.  Seek to uncover the hidden challenges of an event prior to starting.  I was geared up for the challenge of the humidity, when my left peroneal tendon went out, I realize I had never considered what cambered country roads would do to me.

*Plan to flow (and how to flow when the plan disintegrates) - mentality conditioning is as important as physical conditioning in difficult life and running adventures.  Look to unlock your Zen by practicing some mantras and putting forth a positive perspective (or assigning silver linings to tough situations) in training and in life, prior to the adversity that will inevitably find you in your goal events.  In the early stages of the Vermont 100, I noticed a piece of trash on the trail, which I picked up to put in my handheld water bottle sleeve.  The paper, when examined, was from a fortune cookie.  The fortune?
"You can't control the wind, but you can adjust your sails."

Frolicking at Western States around Mile 38

This thought stuck with me the rest of the day.  I couldn't control when/where my difficulty would arise, but I could determine what attitude I approached the difficulty with, and make adjustments to my plan for that race.  That sourced me the rest of the day and worked very, very well.

*Far more fun to be had rooting FOR people than wasting energy rooting AGAINST someone - I have met and enjoyed the company of no less than 30 people over the 300 miles Andy and I have covered thus far (in Virginia, NorCal and Vermont).  To qualify that, I've talked to more than 300 people, but have held at least 3-5 minute conversations during the race, with probably around 1 person every 10 miles.  I love hearing a person's (aka new friend's) story.  Why they do this crazy $#!^ too, what they are up to in this one precious life of theirs.  First half of the race it's generally talking about life, goals and dreams type of stuff.  Second half of the race, often times we're talking about problems we're having, a running issue we need to trouble shoot, (adjusted) goals for the race, and how we can help each other achieve them.  The last time I remember actively rooting against some one (save any member of the Los Angeles Dodgers, LA Kings, or Dallas Cowboys) was Rollie the Goalie after seeing his cheap antics of the 2006 NHL Playoffs.  Honestly, don't even ask.  When it comes to ultrarunning, a few people have made it clear to me that they are rooting against me (again, don't ask) and I can't even find the energy to return favor.  There's so much goodwill, and positive humanity around 100 mile mountain races, I find that I want everyone to have their best day.  We all know we're in for trials, for discomfort or bone-jarring pain, and the day/night/day will be an adventure.  The kinship this activity breeds is what makes this community so special to me.  So even if I get it in my head that I want to "finish before you do" which never equates to me as "beating someone" as there are only a few rare friends I even think this way about (Mike Chamoun, Karl Hoagland, Eric Wickland, George Gleason, Kate Martini, etc.), I still want you to have your A+ day out there, and want it to be a fun story for both of us to share a beer over when we're long since old-and-gray.  So do what you can out there to help people succeed, yes, help your fellow competitors.  It will make you feel better (and forget your current issues for a moment).  That good mojo will feed back into your race.  But don't do it for the mojo.  Do it because you want to see yourself as kind, generous and graceful.  Never know, you might turn someone's day/race around.  That feels better than a finish (to me).

I could wax on (and wax off) a lot longer on these things, and these three races.  But there's a lot more decompressing to do, and 3 more races to "run".  I'm going to sign off now and get this thing up, as it's been too long a dry spell for this #WannaBeWriter

Unlocking the Magic & Mystery Behind Sean O'Brien - 50 Mile Course Notes

Ah, my boy Sean O'Brien.  Friend.  Fellow trail running junkie. Dog lover.  Uphill fiend.

SOB The Man. The Legend. The Uprising.

We are all so excited that Keira Henninger is a tenacious 100 mile mountain runner because if not, this SoCal gem of a race wouldn't exist.  We were all devastated by the Springs Fire last year that wiped out about 80% of the park that the amazing Ray Miller 50/50 happened in.  The trails in Pt Mugu (northern Santa Monica Mountains park area that Ray Miller happened in) are all still in decent shape, albeit everything around them is charred.

Enter Sean O'Brien.

Keira & Sean

Anyone who knows Sean, loves Sean.  I hope you all get a chance to shake his hand, high five him or give him a sweaty hug on race day.  He's a dog loving trail runner (Arlington, one of his pups, can go for a 15-25 mile run and probably logs an extra 5 miles of out-and-backs sniffing around), and may be the nicest dude you'll ever meet in the middle of nowhere on a long trail run in the San Gabriel Mountains, Santa Monica Mountains or any other mountain range within a 30-90 min drive of LA. Sean is one of those people that would stop in a race and give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.    You'll also find him on nearly every nasty staircase in the greater LA area, as he just loves to fight gravity.  For those of you who've heard of a nasty little race called the Los Pinos, Keira designed a route that she said would be impossible to run every step of.  So Sean did just that on a test run, and finished it smiling.  As nice as Sean is, he's notorious for inviting friends out for "I don't know, about 17-ish miles" and you'll come back to your cars 24 miles later out of water cursing his name again!  "Damn you, SOB, you did it to us again!"

Sean and Arlington on the trails together!

Welcome to the first year of what's going to end up being one of the most magnificent 50 mile races in the country.  Challenging and extended climbs (for the Santa Monicas).  Majestic ridgeline views of the Pacific.  Rolling canopied single track on the most legendary trail in this range, the Backbone.  Malibu Creek State Park to Zuma Canyon and back.  It's a semi straight forward "lollipop course" (an out and back with a loop in the middle), but really, the 50 mile race is better described as a "suckers course."

After test running this full route in mid-October, I've gone back and run every section of the course, out and backs, hitting each section semi fresh, with time to really think about what it did to me in October.  I'm excited for this race, and I'm a little bit in awe of it.  I've always been in awe of Sean, so I guess this course strikes up a similar love, respect and awe in me.

Sean O'Brien 50 mile - elevation profile

Here's how I break down the 50 mile course!

COLOR CODE
BLACK writing applies to ALL 3 race distances.
PURPLE writing applies to 50k & 50 miler.
RED writing applies to 50 miler only.

I only included major aid stations, not minor ones, nor water only top off spots.  What you'll find on the Sean O'Brien 50 website course breakdown will differ, slightly.

I round off to approximate half mile marks (as they apply to 50 mile race), and make no claims whatsoever as to what your GPS watch will say at designated points.  If you're running 50k or marathon, do a little math and you'll work out your aid station (and section) distances.

START NOTE: For those of you not familiar with early mornings at Malibu Creek State Park, it'll be cold (for California) and will be/feel 20-30 degrees lower between 4-6am than what our afternoon ridgeline temps will be.  Plan for 35-40 degrees at race check in, whereas the ridges later in the race could achieve 60-70 degrees (if not overcast).

Start (Malibu Creek State Park) to Mile 2

Double track - wide enough to pass

After a short stint on paved road, you transition to a rocky/dirt road, then to a double-track trail up and over a little hill you might not even notice (on the way out, on the way back, that nasty f**ker will feel twice as steep and three times as long).  Take note of the short little downhill around Mile 1 because you'll see it again around mile 48.5 as a hill I affectionately call "the Angry Chihuahua" otherwise known as the prison camp climb. Coming off that double-track, you'll transition to another dirt road, zig-zag across a flowing creek (everyone is going to have wet shoes, I promise) and you'll start the first climb of significance of the day.

Mile 2 to Mile 7 (Corral Canyon Aid Station #1)

Nick & I hiking/running up typical fire road climb here

Climb, climb and climb some more.  Something in the neighborhood of 1,500+ feet in around 3 miles, then some rollers into the first aid station, Corral Canyon.  Most of the climb is semi rocky fire road.  Wide, with some golfball to baseball sized sharp kickable stones.  There's a fun section of non fire road after most of the climbing that connects you to the aid station and runs through/over some sweet looking sandstone formations.  You're there after the second one of these sandstone formations.

Mile 7 Corral Aid to Mile 13.5 (Kanan "Coyote" Aid Station #2)

Coyotes navigating the single track rollers

This would be my favorite stretch of trail in the race.  Not the most amazing views of the race, but the most fun stretch of single track rollers past Castro Peak (a great visual reference point, the peak with communication towers, antennas, etc.).  You'll run about 4 miles from the aid station until you dump out in a dirt parking lot and cross over Latigo Canyon Rd (please be careful, this is the only road you cross in the race, and you cross it twice).  After Latigo crossing, you have another 2.5 miles of single track gradually rolling down and occasionally up to reach the Kanan Aid Station.  The last 200 meters into this check point is a rocky, rutted, semi technical drop into the parking lot.  Get too caught up in the commotion below and you might need medical attention for scrapes at the aid station.  This is the MARATHON TURNAROUND point.  This is a DROP BAG station.

AID STATION NOTE TO THE GUYS IN 50 MILER: if you aren't in competition for TOP 3 overall, please be aware of the top females and allow them to get helped at the aid station before you.  They might have Top 3 Western States aspirations on the line.  30 seconds to you won't likely mean very much, but 30 seconds to them could be the difference in their race.  Be a gentleman, you're not competing with them.

Sean O'Brien at Kanan "Coyote" Aid Station area

Mile 13.5 Kanan Aid Station to Mile 16 (50k turn around) - water only (take water only if necessary)
More joyful, mostly rolling, semi canopied single track!  You'll run 2.5 miles of winding, canyon and dry creek flanking single track.  You'll get to the connection of the Backbone Trail (the trail you've been running on for 14 miles) and the Zuma Ridge Motorway.

Mile 16 to Mile 19 (Zuma Edison Intersection Aid Station #3)

Do not enter.  Watch for vehicles to/from BR Ranch.

You'll turn left heading uphill for a quick 1.5 mile climb.  Every twist and turn of Zuma Ridge Mtwy will yield a unique view giving you a panoramic perspective in each direction (important note: it's possible there will be a vehicle or three that will cross your path on this stretch between the BBT single track and the top of this climb, please be aware and courteous, these vehicles have the right-of-way, as they are graciously allowing us to use this road).  After the 1.5 mile fire road climb, you'll pass Buzzard's Roost Ranch and begin the most epic descent of the 50 mile course.  With a very brief respite from the descent around 1.5 miles down, you'll reach the next aid station.  Everything you've run to this point, you'll run again in reverse, after you complete the lollipop/suckers part of this loop that double dips into Zuma Canyon.

Mile 19 Zuma Edison Intersection Aid #3 to Mile 23 (Bonsall Aid Station #4)

This pic just won't do it justice.

Down, down, down we go!  Be careful not to get carried away on this section.  It's a lot of fire road and great views of the Pacific (unless foggy/raining/overcast).  When you're about 3 miles down, you'll transition from the fire road across a parking lot left onto a very dusty horse trail single track.  You've got about a mile to the Bonsall Aid Station!  Head toward the ocean (west) and you'll end up at the Bonsall Aid Station. This is a DROP BAG station.


Mile 23 Bonsall Aid Station to Mile 31.5 (Zuma Edison Intersection Aid #5)

Grinder of a climb

It is important to acknowledge here that you are in Zuma Canyon, the lowest point on the course.  Race starts around 500-ish feet of elevation and you are now at around 25-ish feet of elevation.  From Mile 23 to Mile 43, two thirds of the next 20 miles will be climbing, and about one third will be flat or down.  Buckle up, buttercup, it's going to be a tough go (but you're a tough mutha-effer, so get to it).  This next 8.5 miles will likely be one of the most challenging sections of the entire course.  You have a half mile of flat in Zuma Canyon to get to the climb, then you're going to climb via a switch-backing series of single track trails, this is about a 4-ish mile ascent with a few breaks in it.  As soon as you achieve the ridge and connect to Zuma Edison Road, where the single track becomes fire road again, you're going to dive into the back of Zuma Canyon.  This is one of the two most steep descents of the race (loosing some 600-800 feet in one mile), watch those quads.  After a two mile crushing descent, you're now staring down the most significant climb of the race.  You'll be able to spot Buzzard's Roost Ranch while running down those two miles, and that marks the top of the climb.  You may like looking at it (knowing where the climb ends) and you might not want to look at it (it'll seem forever away).  You have a 2 mile switch back on fire road climb to the Zuma Edison Intersection Aid, your 2nd trip here, now the whole course is the way back from whence you came!

Mile 31.5 Zuma Edison Intersection Aid (Part II) to Mile 34.5 "50k Turnaround"

Center off in distance, Ray Miller 50 course, Tri Peaks and Sandstone Peak

You have the final 1.5 miles to get to Buzzard's Roost Ranch via the Zuma Ridge Mtwy, of which about 1 mile is actual climbing.  Then a 1.5 mile fire road descent to the 50k turnaround intersection with the Backbone Trail single track. Looking to the north while descending from BR Ranch, you'll be able to see the Tri Peaks from here, near Sandstone Peak which is where the Ray Miller 50 mile course came out to run past and turn around.  By the Backbone Trail, it's about 10-15 miles away to reach the Ray Miller Course from here.  Fill one water bottle with water here if you're dry, otherwise press on.

Mile 34.5 "50k Turnaround" to Mile 37 (Kanan "Coyote" Aid Station #6)
Press on to the Kanan aid station only 2.5 miles down the rolling windy single track.  From Mile 34.5 to Mile 43, you're going to be rolling, trending slightly upward more often than not.  It's really runnable stuff if you managed your calorie intake, fluids and electrolytes, not to mention were conservative enough with your effort level.  I was surprised how difficult I found this section to run, which was mostly mental bonking when I ran it in October.  Arrive at Kanan Aid Station and tank up!  This is a DROP BAG station.  It is important to have a FLASHLIGHT or HEADLAMP in this bag if you will finish anytime after 4pm.  Better to have one and not need it than need a light an not have it.

REMINDER NOTE TO THE 50 MILER GUYS: by this point, you're probably pretty clear who the Top 5 women are if you're around them.  Something I love to do here is help them!  Encourage them.  Let them in front of you at the aid station.  If they achieve their goal of a States slot, and you really supported them, you've made a new friend on the trails.  Never know when you'll need some of that trail karma.

Mile 37 Kanan Aid Station to Mile 43.5 (Corral Aid Station #7)

Heading back towards Corral through this

You are again trending upward on rolling single track trail.  2.5 miles of this upward trend, you'll cross over Latigo Canyon Rd (BE MINDFUL OF CARS, BIKES, TRUCKS, etc. especially now that you're delirious, and especially if it's dark out).  You are 4 miles from the last major checkpoint.  One little tough climb up to flank Castro Peak, then you'll roll 3 ish miles to the Corral Aid Station again!


Mile 43.5 Corral Aid Station to the FINISH LINE!

Descending rock formations with 6-ish miles to go, Pacific Ocean views

You have about 1.5 to 2 miles of rollers, first on single track, then on fire roads before the plunge.  The plunge is good news OR bad news depending on how your legs are feeling.  You're going to have a pretty brutally steep 2.5 mile descent (one mile will lose 700 feet) on rocky fire road.  When you go from fire road onto single track, you've got about a mile to go (until the creek crossing).  You're legs will likely be pretty unsure at this point so I recommend going straight through the creek.  Careful not to turn an ankle!  Once you're through the creek crossing, you've got a little more than 2 miles to go.  About 2/3'rds of a mile to that "Angry Chihuahua" I warned you about earlier.  The prison camp climb (Angry Chihuahua) is about a half mile, but it might seem like 1.5 miles at this point.  The moment you achieve the saddle atop this climb, almost precisely one mile to go!  Run a half mile down the double track and you'll hit the gravel parking lot and fire road, a quarter mile to the paved road and a quarter mile to the FINISH LINE!  Wooooohoooo!  Hit the pavement and finish it strong!

You made it!!!  High five, sweaty hug and celebrate life with some other rad peeps!

NOTES & REQUESTS
*Be courteous to your other racers
*If you're on single track and someone comes up behind you, ask them if they'd like to pass, let them go and worry about catching up later, or tuck in and hang with them for a while
*If you are having a low moment and choose to listen to music, one earbud must be out and the music must be low enough to communicate with other runners, hear rattlesnakes, etc.
*Have fun!

"It's very hard in the beginning to understand that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners.  Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants to quit."
-George Sheehan

I wish you all your best race out there.  Make sure you ALL meet Sean O'Brien.  In fact, stop him during the race for a sweaty hug and chat him up.  I'd really like to finish ahead of him and the more of you do that, the better my chances are...  *playful wink*

Sean whooping my butt again, Avalon 50, 2011