Overemphasis on Training in 100 Mile Trail Run Prep - Angeles Crest 100 Lessons 2006-2014

"Nothing on Earth can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on Earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude."
-Thomas Jefferson

BAD ATTITUDE 101 - Angeles Crest 2006 at Eagle's Roost

I am not the most qualified person to be telling you how to train for a 100 mile mountain race.  I am not fast, and am lucky to crack the Top 25 of a deep race field.  I don't even log high mileage all that often (number of weeks in 2013 over 70 miles = 6, number of 100+ mile weeks not including a week with a 100 mile race in 2013 = 0).  I have even coached runners for Angeles Crest (and various other 100 milers) that have failed to finish their respective races (don't ask about my Dave 'Comet' Chan story, please).  There are many more qualified AC experts out there.

All that aside, you have found this blog entry (so pull up a chair and stay a moment).  I'm here to present a perspective that I've been chewing on for a few years now, something I've struggled to fully grasp or articulate, but it crystallized in a conversation with a fellow student of 100 milers, and someone far more credible than I (who will likely blog on this very topic in the near future *nudge, nudge* ).

Okay, I lied, look how pretty I am here.

Running 100 miles (or "migrating 100 miles", to quote my fellow blogger Ashley) in a single day is a brutal challenge.  It tests us physically and psychologically, sometimes to the very fabric of our being.  It strips us of all excess energy, to the point where all facades fall away and we're left raw and emotive, just a primal being often going off of pure grit and gut instinct.  In my case this is often not a pretty sight.  For some of my closest friends it is a time to fully enjoy the show, as I behave in ways I might not want to be seen behaving at any other time (at least publicly).  I might throw a tantrum or two. I sometimes complain. I often puke. Sometimes I even cry like a baby.  And hold on to your seat for this one, there are instances I am dead quiet for extended periods of time.  *GASP!*

Chamoun leads Gleason up Williamson - AC 2012

I'd estimate in all of the training programs I've personally executed over the last 12 years preparing for marathons and longer races, my two most dedicated, high mileage, most focused training programs were in 2006 training for my first Angeles Crest 100 Miler and in 2008/2009 training for the Western States 100.  Interestingly enough, until I tried to run my 2nd hundred miler in a 2 week period (AC/Leadville back-to-back in 2013), both AC '06 and States '09 were my two most difficult 100 milers (see: most frequent low points, most death marching, and highest cumulative time in aid stations).  I don't care if you finish these races in 18 hours (or faster) or 30 hours, to me, speed is relative and it is an impressive feat of courage (and foolishness) to even toe the line of one of these monster mountain endurance runs.  Conversely, two races I probably had the least consistent training for, AC '13 and Rocky Raccoon '10, I had some of my better times.  Yes, those are wildly different events. I suffered tremendously at AC last year due to my lack of training (and other influencing factors), but I ran times I consider to be good for me at those two events (with less than ideal training).  This had me examining some of the finer points of 100 mile race prep with many friends of mine who have a depth of personal experience at 100 miles.  Leading up to a conversation between Pam, Kate and I, about interesting and notable performances on less than ideal training earlier this week.

As far as I'm concerned, this hypothesis could apply to the Pam Smith's (see: runners who win races) just as much as it does athletes who are fighting cutoffs for a high percentage of the race, and everyone in between.  Granted, the athlete who has less than ideal training might not be competitive for a win in today's deeper fields of competitors since most elites I've read up on now consider every element of what I'm about to talk to you about.

DISCLAIMER: I do not intend to insinuate that an athlete does not have to train very much to finish a 100 mile race.  Training up to this distance is essential.  Doing so intelligently, patiently (over an extended period of time), and consistently over race specific terrain is ideal.  The goal should be arriving at the starting line healthy, rather than "how many times can I run 100 miles in my weekly training" no matter the consequences.

HYPOTHESIS:  a great many athletes, especially first timers, place a dramatic overemphasis on training in prep for a 100 mile mountain race

To say this another way: many of us focus so much on cumulative weekly miles, running fast, running up steep terrain, tempo runs, speed work, stair repeats, strength training and getting physically ready that we overlook some pretty essential aspects of 100 mile racing (not to say we're all racing, but 100 miles in an event is distinct from just going out to do 100 miles on your own with no time constraints).

What often gets overlooked when training is overemphasized:

Checklists of everything I could possibly anticipate: AC 2012 edition

*Nutrition - both day-to-day diet influencing metabolic efficiency and effective race day nutrition strategies
*Mental Strategies - conditioning ourselves to think in a way that empowers and inspires our best effort, learning to deal with the inevitable and often devastating lows of a 100 mile run.  This can include mantras, anticipation of difficulty and acceptance of certain problematic scenarios.
*Hydration/Electrolyte Replenishment - there are many schools of thought here, but often athletes don't even consider how little (or how much) they're drinking or how an electrolyte imbalance might affect their race
*Pacing Plan vs Exertion Plan - you might think to yourself here, "nope, I always have a pacing plan" and that's one of my key points: we are often more focused on some target race time than actually adjusting to the effort/exertion level that is appropriate at that moment based on the signals our body is sending us, which can be greatly affected by conditions (heat, altitude, wind, terrain, humidity, etc.).  This doesn't just mean running too fast, it's sometimes being too conservative.
*Attitude - I hold this one slightly distinct from "mental strategies" although it is closely related.  A positive mentality can sometimes help us look at the same (sometimes ugly) circumstances and instead of panicking or having an emotional breakdown, we can smile and laugh about it.

"Do as I say, not as I do." -  IPA & a donut???

I'm the last person who can tell you what you should be doing for nutrition, but for many athletes, it seems to be almost an afterthought.  Fueling strategies implemented on race day aren't tried-and-true for most.  Sometimes, athletes that have something they've practiced a ton in training goes haywire on race day because of aid station grazing (those candies and cookies look great, I'll have a couple).

Hydration and electrolyte replacement is really personal.  There are some diametrically opposed schools of thought here on how much one should drink and whether one should supplement with electrolytes or not.  Again, if you've given no thought to it, it's just guesswork.  It's amazing that so many athletes spend a year planning to run 100 miles, pouring hours into physical training each week, many more hours just thinking about it, without consideration for anything specific here.

Pacing plans: here's the thing, if you are seeking to finish your first 100 mile race, finishing will be a PR.  Some athletes get so caught up in buckling, going for sub-24's, and completely ignoring the redline signals because of pace splits for a goal time that they sacrifice the finish.  And it has proven to be a grotesque oxymoron for me (and dozens of the athletes I train) that when I focus on everything but my splits, I run my fastest time.  When I focus on my time splits, I fall off them pretty quickly and then have to deal with my negative emotions around that early failure.

"Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference."
-Winston Churchill

Hurting: Mile 52 at AC in 2011. Attitude shift necessary.

Attitude/Mentality: I remember a few years back being too sick to start the Lake Sonoma 50 Miler, on race day I ended up working race check in and helping build the finish line area.  I got to cheer a few Coyotes and a few other friends across the finish line.  I remember one girl in particular who finished mid-pack and threw a tantrum to her friends, "That was the worst day of my life!" she sobbed.  I sat there awestruck.  Wait, didn't you just finish 50 miles?  What about the people still out there, behind you?  What about the people who DNF'd today?  I will never know this girl's name, but she taught me an amazing lesson that day: embrace the hurt locker.  I went on to Angeles Crest that summer (four months later) and every time I felt miserable, I thought to myself "I'm still moving forward at a decent clip, it could be worse, I'm so grateful to be out here doing this..." and it changed my race.  Without very much race specific training that summer, I ran my fastest AC100 time.  A huge part of that was my perspective shifting.  I put a lot of thought into it beforehand.  How am I going to feel out there?  Probably pretty crappy at some point, but that's what I signed up for.

In summary, there are so many pieces to traveling 100 miles on foot, in a single go.  Training may be a key piece of that, but if you don't consider every other piece, you might just be throwing a lot of that training down the drain.

Another parting shot, a clip of the conversation between Pam, Kate and I:
Pam - "So, how fast do you have to run to go sub-24 in 100 miles?"
JDF - "You gotta run 12-13 minute miles, depending on how much time is wasted in aid. Overall 14:30-ish average."
Pam - "Right. So really, how fit does one have to be to maintain 12-13 minute pace?"
JDF - "Depends on the course, I guess?"
Pam - "Sure, but don't you think it's not often the pace that sabotages one's sub-24 goal, but rather, poor nutrition plans, sour stomachs, and not being ready for the low points (mentally)?"
JDF - "Interesting point, Pam..."

Mr. & Mrs. Smith (photobomb by yours truly)

There's a good chance you'll see Pam on the starting line at Angeles Crest this year with a personal vendetta against AC.  I met Pam in 2010 at AC, at Mile 42.  She was trying to drop out and her husband Mac persuaded me to convince Pam to continue.  So she dropped out at the first aid station that was crew inaccessible.  Coincidentally, it was the aid station where I branded myself with my first ever DNF too, Mile 49, the Mt. Hillyer checkpoint.  Whether there in 2014 or not, I'm betting on Pam to finish her next AC...

My Angeles Crest 100 History in finishing (or DNF) photos:

2006 - Finish, 26:27

2007 - DNF at Mile 49

2011 - Finish,   23:51  (first AC silver)

2012 - Finish, 22:38

2013 - Finish, 23:39

2014 - ????

No idea what this year holds in store, but I know Angeles Crest will hypothetically be my 4th 100 mile race inside of 2 months (June 7 - August 2).  I'm ready to be schooled again by one of my favorite mountain ranges anywhere... and I'll be hitting the starting line leaving no stone unturned...

100 Mile Run Double aka Angeles Lead - Biting off more than my BIG mouth can chew

"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 you to quit."
-George Sheehan

Standing among legends (from L to R): Tomo (5th), Tom (2x winner, 9x finisher), Jorge (4x winner), Jussi (2x winner, 26x finisher!!!), me (nice eyes JD), Dom (2x winner)

 ANGELES LEAD:
What I Learned Attempting to Run 2 Mountain Hundos with 13 Days Recovery

LESSON* LIST
A- Rest/Recovery are more important than most runners know/practice
B- Sleep, very specifically the week of, is essential to peak performance
C- Pain is an emotion, and often times, it's not based in reality (Embracing Pain: pain sensation and pain perception are different things)
D- Inspiration is a fire, the more logs you throw on the fire (i.e. the more people/stories you've been inspired by), the more fuel you have to burn that fire hotter and longer
E- the people of Wrightwood, CA and Leadville, CO are amazing
F- there are many challenges within a 100-mile endurance run, especially over mountains, and at each event they are unique to that location, and unique to each individual taking that event on
G- Everything you do in prep counts: including (but not limited to) lifestyle modification (eating healthy, drinking less alcohol, supplementing, etc.), strength training, stretching, cross training, heat training, sleeping in an altitude tent, mental prep, etc.
H- We may be able to complete amazing things alone, but with the love and support of friends, family (for me, specifically my amazing wife Kate), not only can we complete them with more fun/enjoyment, but the lows are less sustained because people help pick you up (figuratively, and sometimes literally)
*Learned many of these lessons previously, and some were reinforced these last few weeks

The Pacers/Demons (Andy, Chad) and Crew/Angels (Kate, Chan Chan, Renee) at Angeles Crest

To get to the heart of the matter, I was looking for my next stretch goal.  A stretch goal is something that you CAN NOT DO today, that might take 1-5 years (or sometimes longer) of physical and mental prep to complete, and upon your completion of this type of challenge it will surprise even you and you'd be unrecognizable to your former self upon completion.

Photo by Luis Escobar, BW135 2010

Stretch goals (in the athletic realm) for me over the past 10+ years have included running the Boston Marathon (dreamed up in 1999, completed the first time in April of 2005), running a 100 mile mountain race (dreamed up in May of 2005, completed the first time in September of 2006) and then finishing the BADWATER 135 (dream/nightmare in 2005, completed in July of 2010).  Since BADWATER I have thought about many athletic stretch goals, but have been more focused on career and family stretch goals (presently: writing my first book, engaging in more keynote and motivational speeches on the career side, getting a dog aka Spirit two years ago, now working on the first Freeman baby... stay tuned there).

I'm not going to declare the last 2-3 years an 'athletic malaise' phase as I continued to train for and compete in many races of varied distance and terrain.  Thus far in 2013, I DNF'd my first race shorter than 100 miles (Ray Miller 50 Miler). Then we (Team Coyote) won the inaugural BADWATER: Salton Sea team race (3 runners run side-by-side for 81 miles) from Salton City, CA through the Anza-Borrego Desert, then up to the peak of Palomar Mountain in Eastern San Diego County.  Next I looked forward to my annual 'home hundo', the Angeles Crest 100 Miler (in early August).  As I geared up for my focal point 'A race', I was offered an opportunity to run the Leadville Trail 100 Mile Run with one of the sponsors for that race: HERBALIFE.  Since Leadville was on my Top 5 bucket list for 100 milers (a bucket list that includes Mt. Fuji, Wasatch, Vermont and San Diego), it was an opportunity that I could not afford to pass up, even though Leadville happened to fall 13 days after Angeles Crest completed.  There was indeed a reason behind this level of pure masochism: my next athletic stretch goal.

Team HERBALIFE and some Coyotes at the Leadville Trail 100 Mile RUN

THE LAST GREAT RACE is a SIX one-hundred mile trail race series spanning 15 weekends, with a 100 miler every 2-3 weeks during that span.  This is something I've been dreaming about and pondering the feasibility of since 2007 when I watched a buddy (Andy Kumeda) take it on.  The Last Great Race is ALL of the Original 6 trail 100 milers in the US (the birthplace of 100 mile mountain running) in the same calendar year (from early June to early September).  Old Dominion, Western States (3 weeks after OD), Vermont (20 days after WS), Angeles Crest (2 weeks after VT), Leadville (13 days after AC), and for a grand finale Wasatch (20 days after LT).  The catch?  I've gotta find a way into Western States, where I'm 0-for-6 in the random selection lottery.  There are 5 ways to get in, which I'll rank by the number of entries that go that way.

I have GREAT LUCK in many areas. WS lottery is NOT one of them.

WESTERN STATES 100 - Entry Process
1- THE LOTTERY - approximately 250 entries each year (around 2,000 applicants the last few years)
*telling elementry school kids about my WS100 Silver Buckle dream and my luck with the lottery
2- ELITE QUALIFICATION - 20 entries from the Top 10 men and Top 10 women from last year's Western States (aka States), and prospectively another 2 men and 2 women from each Montrail Ultra Cup race 50 miles or longer in distance, which could account for another 36 entries, but often there are repeat names in the Top 3 at the MUC races
3- AID STATION SELECTION - I've never worked an aid station, so one of these 20-24 slots isn't available to me
4- SPONSOR RUNNERS - 1 per specially designated sponsor, again, not likely a realistic option
5- RAFFLE WINNERS - somewhere between 5-10 of these a year, from 2 raffles happening at lottery weekend in December and at States the weekend of the race (a boy can dream...)

My desire to run Western States 100 again: UNBREAKABLE

One needs to also apply for the Wasatch lottery, however, upon gaining entry to Western States, Wasatch has 'The Grand Slam of Ultrarunning(tm)' clause which states, IF you are denied entry through their lottery, one simply needs to complete States in June, Vermont in July and Leadville in August and you'll backdoor it into Wasatch (provided you've registered for the Grand Slam, which I learned this week is mutually exclusive from the Last Great Race entry/entity).  One needs to be diligent to sign up for Angeles Crest and Vermont quickly, then make sure not to miss the window for Leadville entry and last, but not least sign up for Old Dominion.  Heck, HALF of completing the Last Great Race challenge is getting into all six races and showing up at the starting line.  Logistics for 6 race trips in less than 3.5 months seems daunting, in and of itself.  Then there's the training and prep leading into it.  Recovery in between.

So... TLGR was a very large part of why I accepted an entry into Leadville this year (again, thank you to HERBALIFE for believing in me and inviting me to take part, with a specific shout out to John Heiss and Eric Sammuli for the pre-trip, pre-race and on course support).

100 miles over mountains will sometimes lay you out

Prior to 2013, in the previous 7 years, I had never put 2 of these monsters within 2 months of each other, so within 2 weeks was gonna be a bit CRAY-GEE-TOWN.  I realized that, in advance.  Stretch goals are supposed to stretch the mind (and sometimes the body too).  I made some dramatic changes, including but not limited to:
*hired a strength trainer, the one-and-only June Caseria Johnson, and met with her 1-3 times a week to build core strength, balance out my weaknesses and actually stretch for once
*scheduled 5 deep tissue sports massages with Scott Amiss
*scheduled 2 ART and chiropractic sessions with Chris Tosh
*cut out beer and whisky for the better part of 2-3 months (cheating twice at BADWATER while crewing Jay Smithberger)

Pacing Jay at BADWATER, NO beer/whisky in my water bottle... OR is there???

*upped the amount of greens, cold pressed juices, healthy smoothies/shakes I was consuming
*started consuming more vitamins and recovery supplements (see: amino acids, healthy fatty-oils, etc.), the most key of which was HERBALIFE 24's Rebuild: Endurance shake/drink powder
*upped the amount of sleep I was getting by an average 60-90 min per night (adding 7-10 extra hours every week)
*acquired an altitude generator and tent, used, from my good buddy Peter, to get some altitude acclimation for 4 weeks prior to Angeles Crest and 6 weeks prior to Leadville (my real concern was Leadville)
*started meditating more, and at the same time NOT fixate on the challenge of things too much
I considered each piece of this essential to taking this 2 race challenge on.  Furthermore, this test was to consider whether the investment of time/resources/finances was viable for the Last Great Race.  Enough set up, already. Many of you want to hear about the races themselves...


ANGELES CREST 100 Miler - 2013
My fifth 'AC.'  2006=26:27, 2007=DNF (at Mile 49), 2011: 23:51, 2012: 22:38

Seven's Heaven - the Awesome AC Angels

Spirit is ALWAYS ready to race.

This year I'm #7.  A lucky number.  7th Heaven?  Planning to run sub-22 hours and IGNORE that I was to run Leadville a couple weeks later.  My crew (above: Chan Chan, Kate, Renee, and Sarah) all wore 'Seven's Heaven' shirts, and my pacers (Chad, Gareth and Andy) all donned 'Seven's HELL' tanks.  The Monday before, like a dumbass, I raced Spirit (our athletic dog) through our side alleyway and tripped over a staircase having one of the most violent falls of my life.  Initially thought I fractured my hip.  Kate thought I knocked myself out.  Somehow I ended up with scrapes on both sides of my left hand, my left shoulder (the primary impact point), hip and chest.  I jammed my right leg on the the trip.  More on that later.

Mile 14, beginning the climb up Mt. Baden-Powell

The race starts and I'm in great spirits.  The cuts on my shoulder and left hand are oozing and troublesome, but I chalk it up as a minor annoyance and resolve to ignore it until after the race (note to future self: don't do that again, one month later the wounds have become discolored skin/scars).  Somewhere around Mile 20, descending into Islip Saddle, I feel my right hip flexor isn't right.  My hip flexors have been an issue on and off for a few years, starting with the Oil Creek 100 in 2010 (my last DNF at the 100-mile distance).  Mildly concerning, but nothing to panic about yet.  5-6 miles later, it's bothering me a lot more and I start bitching about it at nearly every aid station (Kate commented I set a personal best for complaints in a 100 mile race, which surprised me a little bit later).  On my way up and over the next mountain, Mt. Williamson (peak #3 of 8 in this race), my stomach starts giving me trouble.  I'm 5 hours, 30 minutes into the day, and stomach challenges inside of the first 6 hours are also not new to me in an ultra distance race.

Eagles Roost (Mile 30) Damage Control

I come into Eagles Roost (my least favorite aid station in ANY race, of ANY distance, ANYWHERE) and I'm battling the demons already.  I come into the parking lot favoring one leg, moving pretty slowly and ask for a foam roller, figuring I'll try to roll out my right piriformis and get some alternative calories in (see: Coke-a-Cola).  My ANGELS mercifully kick me out of the checkpoint and sent me down the road with more ice, fluids and calories.  I Baatan death marched for a while, but as the angels drove by on the 2-Hwy as I walked up it, my head hung low, they yelled some really encouraging words and I began to run again.  As I carved my way back into Cooper Canyon, I began another death march from the base of the canyon up to Cloudburst Summit, which is now about 1 mile longer than it was 2 years ago, as we take a part of the older AC100 course up the PCT.  This didn't help my mood much.  I tried to be encouraging to the many people passing me in the canyon, on the flatter sections of the PCT as I continued my crawl out of the place where many good feelings at AC go to die.  I knew the running would hypothetically get better atop Cloudburst, as it was about 5 miles downhill to the next aid station.  I continued to hydrate and eat as best I could.

Chad and I walking outta Chilao at Mile 53...

Mile 38 to 53 were a bit of a blur.  It was hot, sections rolled down, then up, then down again.  I moved alright, hiked a bit, ran some downhills, and came into the figurative midway point at Angeles Crest (Chilao Flats checkpoint) at Mile 53, ready to pick up my first pacer, Chad.  Chad was lined up to pace me at Angeles Crest in 2007, the year I dropped out of AC one aid station prior to this, earning my first lifetime DNF at any distance.  While I was stoked to pick Chad up, I walked nearly every step of the 6.5-7 miles he was with me.  He was great company, very encouraging, and helped me continue to get calories & fluids in me in hopes of me turning things around.

Tom and Jorge dropped at 60, Ashley dropped at 75

I came into Mile 60 (Shortcut Saddle) worse off than Mile 53.  I was delirious.  Took almost 15 minutes to put me back together, and I sat near three friends and heroes: Tom Nielson, Ashley Nordell, and Jorge Pacheco (who between them have won Angeles Crest a staggering 7 times).  Gareth, who has signed a lifetime contract to pace me from Mile 60-75, and I walk down the trail.  Somewhere before Mile 61 (where I've puked the last 2 times I've run AC), we start running again.  I'm starting to feel my mojo come back.  We run this section faster than I've ever run it previously.

Chantry Flats checkpoint at 10:15pm

Darkness descends.  I start playing a game where I look at the flour markings dropped on rocks to indicate both direction and a tripping hazard, and I call out the animals and shapes I see in the flour formation (much like looking at clouds, but far more hallucinogenic seeming due to deliriousness).  Some of the monsters I see in the flour markings scare me.  I just keep running.  We're starting to pick up bodies, I encourage everyone I pass, many of whom passed me earlier in the day.  But it's at the very least an indication that I might still have a puncher's chance at my 3rd sub-24 silver buckle in a row.  In order to do that, I'm going to have to run the last 25-miles, over 2 big mountains (Mt. Wilson and Mt. Lowe) as fast as I have done in 3 previous finishes.  I pick up my final pacer, Andy Pearson, at Chantry Flats and he knows what I'm pushing for.  We go to work.

Peter and I at the finish line: 23:39:58 & 23:39:59 (unofficially)

The 5.5 mile climb up Mt. Wilson/Mt. Harvard is brutal.  It takes me longer this year than it did in 2012 when I felt much better.  This means we're going to have to run a very fast final 20 miles.  About a half mile down the Mt. Wilson Toll Road descent we pass Peter Cross, and after a bit of "hey we can still go SILVER, come with me!" encouragement, we're both running 9's downhill carrying a lot of momentum into Idlehour.  We are no more than a few minutes apart the last 20 miles of the race and we push each other all the way to the finish line moving up a few slots in the process.  Peter finished in 12th and I was right behind him in 13th (although good luck finding this reflected in the results for AC, the 2nd straight year they blew the results due to their refusal to acknowledge a 'tie').  But let the record on our watches AND corroborating photography reflect we came across one second apart just a second or two under a 23:40 time.  Now, I have about 13 days to get myself back together for Leadville.  I'm not worried about that just yet, I'm thrilled with my 3rd silver buckle in a row at AC, a current consecutive streak that is only outdone by the amazing and ageless Ruperto Romero who has 7 consecutive silvers from 2006-2013!


LEADVILLE TRAIL 100 Miler - 2013

Fast forward 12 days: HELLO LEADVILLE, COLORADO!  My first crack at one of the highest hundreds in the country (the other two highest being Hardrock and Run Rabbit Run, all three of these races being in Colorado).  I've had one of the crappiest weeks of sleep in the past 4-5 years of running hundred milers (the week of a race).  This was compounded by the fact our late LAX-Denver flight was delayed 3 hours, we got into a Denver Airport hotel at 2:30am and had to be up at 6:00am to drive to the Leadville race check in with our buddy Grant (aka the Dingofish Express!).  Leadville is the highest incorporated city in America sitting at 10,152-ft (3,094-m for those of you readers using the profoundly smarter metric system).  Thank goodness Kate agreed to sleep in an altitude tent for nearly 6 weeks leading into this, the last 4 weeks we set at 10,500-ft!  I'm not heaving like normal at anything above 7,000-ft.  Standing around is one thing, running over mountains is a whole nutha animal.

Michael (crew), Jason (running LT100), Kate (crew/pacer), Marci Faye (crew)

Race morning comes harshly soon.  I've slept about 8.5 hours cumulatively over the past 2 days, about half of what I planned.  Cest la vie.  If I've learned one thing during my lifetime 13 attempts at one hundred or more miles, it's that you must have a plan, then you must be willing to deviate because things rarely go according to the plan.  Our good friends Marci Faye & her hubs Michael come to crew (they live in Denver) and I have a marathoner I coached about 10 years ago named Neil who plans to come out and pace for a section.  I go into the start feeling pretty good, all things considered.  The shotgun goes off and the race has begun.  Game on!

I'm too sexy for my shirt...  ;-)

I think better of TRYING to run sub-24 hour splits, even though that is indeed my goal.  I resolve to run by heart rate for the first marathon and something strange happens after the first 15-miles of generally flat or gently rolling trails, my heart rate inverts which is to say that my normal hill climbing HR is between 150-165 and my normal downhill HR is between 130-150.  For most of the first 20-miles of Leadville, my HR is doing exactly the opposite.  So I adjust.  As is sometimes normal, I start to hurt around Mile 20, but these are pretty non-typical pains. I take solace in the fact that while I've never experienced these pains previously, they are equal and balanced on both sides and don't cause my gait to change.  Also, after running over 5 miles on a street, I realized that the Leadville TRAIL 100 Miler actually will have more ROADS than any 100 miler I've run previously.  I'm not running very quickly, I'm hiking a lot (even on flats now), and I get to a place I planned to meet Kate, Marci Faye and Michael and they aren't there at Mile 27 (they got stuck at the zoo of an aid station at Mile 23.5).  Luckily, Marshall Howland (a Coyote crewing for Michael Chamoun) is there, knows Kate isn't going to make it (Kate called to let him know they were stuck), and he gives me a couple extra gels, fills up my bottles and sends me off.

Kate speeds me out, Marci Faye photographs

I find a new groove and from there to Twin Lakes (Mile 39.5) and really enjoy some of the singletrack trail rolling and descending into that checkpoint.  Kate gets me out quickly, particularly impressive because this place is slammed with activity, people and bustling.  Leadville started around 850 runners this year and I've probably got 150-200 people ahead of me and another 200 runners, at least, within 30-minutes.  I run out of Twin Lakes hooting and hollering with superstar runner Maddy Hribar (the last time I'd see her other than when she was bustin tail back towards Twin Lakes #2), and I don't know which of the mountain passes around us is Hope, but I'm yelling at all of them, "YEAH, BRING HOPE PASS ON, BABY!"  My enthusiasm lasted about one mile, as when I got to the base of the approximately 4 mile climb, the wind was sucked outta me.  I hiked.  I crawled.  I sat down on a stump to try to eat and drink.  I peeled myself off the stump and hiked ever so slowly again.  I sat down.  I hiked.  I laid down in a meadow to stare at the clouds.  No less than 20-30 people passed me, many of them friends from other races, or from social media.  Chris Jones and I must have leap frogged about 17 times, Chris Eide and I were also seemingly together the whole race without ever actually running together for more than a few minutes.  Jonesy passes me as I'm laying down, "DUDE, WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING LAYING DOWN!?!?"  I smile and reply, "I'm trying to enjoy SOME of this brutal climb's beautiful scenery.  Needed to take a break from the suffer-fest for a minute."  I get up and continue the push up to the aid station nicknamed 'Hopeless.'

A fast downhill into Winfield (Mile 50)

I finally get to the other side of 12,700-ft (3,871-m) and start blasting downhill into Winfield.  I pick up many of the people who passed me headed up Hope.  I get into Winfield about 1 hour, 45 minutes behind the average sub-24 splits from 2012, which to me are silly (10 hour front end, 13:45 in the 2nd half).  I like to run more even, even negative splitting a few hundos.  I weigh in about 7-lbs down and feel a little off.  Crap.  I have to take some time to piece myself back together, didn't get enough fluids and calories in due to the thin air.  About 20 minutes later, Neil and I leave to head back up Hope Pass Part II.

Neil is awesome about reminding me to eat/drink every 30-minutes.  I bump into Henry Schliff, a regular Trail Runner Nation podcast listener, and we chat for a couple switchbacks as I start to unintentionally drop my pacer Neil.  I feel much better on Hope climb #2 than I did the first time.  I get up and over it and again blast downhill into Twin Lakes.

Charging back into Twin Lakes #2, around Mile 59.5

Kate has wandered around Twin Lakes searching for the missing link: a person to run 16-ish miles with me from Twin Lakes #2 to Outward Bound #2 where Kate will run me the rest of the way in.  She finds Todd Brown of Illinois (around the Chicago area), who knows me because he just ran (and won) a Chicago Marathon food challenge inspired by my Jackass-meets-Joey-Chestnut stunt running the LA Marathon Stadium-to-the-Sea course in 2009 while stopping at 4 LA famous eateries.  If you haven't already seen that nonsense, make sure you didn't JUST eat and click: HERE.  Todd was the perfect pacer.  He asked me great questions at appropriate times, ran beside me matching me stride-for-stride, ran behind me on singletrack and kept me focused on moving forward.  I had to hike for a few miles out of Twin Lakes, but then we found our stride and crushed the next 12 miles of the course, at times, running a consistent 10-11 minute pace.  Suddenly, sub-24 seemed like it was a very real possibility.  It was cold (in the mid-high 30's) by SoCal standards, but we were moving quick so the running kept my body temperature warm enough that I didn't need a jacket (yet).  I rolled into Outward Bound #2 to pick up my wifely pacer Kate, and we blasted off into the night ready for one final hill (Powerline/Sugarloaf) and a 'big boy buckle' representing a sub-25 hour finish, but I was pushing for sub-24 still.

Notice the beaming smile on my face.  No, no you don't...

 The wheels came off around Mile 83.5.  Maybe that's not the proper analogy.  The wheels came off, the engine fell out and the radio stopped playing music.  I mentioned to Kate running downhill off of Sugarloaf, "I'm at my absolute breaking point, not sure how much longer I can maintain this".  Not much longer, as fate would have it.  I started having trouble breathing, my lower back locked up, my feet felt broken (the last 50-miles of a 100-mile mountain race are always tough on the feet, but this felt especially fierce), and my confidence and positivity took a nosedive.  Not only did I have trouble envisioning a finish, but my pace per mile (now between 25-30 min per mile on flat ground) wasn't going to mathematically get me under 30-hours (the course time limit).  I lamented to Kate, "I'm not sure I'm going to make it even 3 more miles to the Mayqueen aid station."  Kate refused to accept that as an answer.  We walked, ever so slowly, down the trail towards the final aid station at Mile 86.5.  At one point I attempted to lay down in the bushes, which Kate physically prevented me from doing (I must not have been moving as slyly as I thought in my head, as she had time to put her knees under me as I tried to angle myself to the ground).  When I realized my stubborn-horrible-person-nasty-ass-bee-yotch of a wife wouldn't just let me curl up in a ball and freeze to death, I started YELLING at the trail, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME TRAIL!  YOU WERE ONLY 1/3rd OF A MILE EARLIER TODAY, NOW YOU'RE 2 MILES LONG!  WHAT THE F**K!" Kate had to be at least a little amused.  I demanded she run ahead to tell me exactly how long this stupid trail was to get to the aid station.  By the time she returned, I had mentally found a new gear.

"Okay, Kate, so here's how this is gonna go: I'm checking into the medical tent when we get to Mayqueen.  I'm going to get my calories and fluids up, electrolytes back in balance, I'm going to lay down and maybe even sleep for a little bit.  I need 30-minutes probably.  Then I'm going to get up and FINISH this f**k**g race."

I can't repeat what Kate said next, but I'll say it was enthusiastic.  Maybe too enthusiastic for me at that moment.

So close, yet so far away.

Mayqueen checkpoint.  Dr. Viktoria K was amazing.  My crew was unstoppable.  It took me 30-minutes to piece myself back together enough to get the cramps/spasms and shivering to stop.   Thanks in large part to Kate bringing me ORS (Oral Rehydration Salts) mixed in hot chocolate and Marci Faye massaging my legs and laying on top of me for body heat.  An HOUR after I checked into Mayqueen, I sat up and checked out (after what must have been about a 20-minute nap).  Kate and I ran down the trail for about a mile and a half, then settled back into my feet falling off pace, probably around 20-22 minutes per mile.  Kate and I shared some amazing conversation in between me re-communicating over and over how much my feet hurt.  Hey, did I mention my feet hurt?  OMG my feet hurt so much.

Kissing street just over my 200-mile mark. The pavement was cleaner than me.

Return to Leadville.  After clocking a blazing sub-4 half marathon from Mayqueen to the finish line, I bump into my buddy Grant "Dingofish Express" Maughan who catches up to me only a half mile from the finish line.  He's resolved to run the final quarter mile and that simply ain't happenin for me today, so he runs off ahead. As a funny aside to illustrate how busy Leadville can be, in the last quarter mile of me death marching, no less than 9 more people passed me after Grant.  I didn't care about place, only my time, and I'm perfectly good with a sub-28 hour finish, as I would have been with sub-30 hours.  I was just happy to be done after finishing Angeles Crest only 13 days prior, well, now 14-days ago since I finished Sunday morning.

My Leadville low point was indeed the hardest thing I've had to overcome in a race, not to mention this year's Angeles Crest had a series of rough moments from Mile 20-60.  But I was glad to be done.  I am happy I did it.  Onward to the next stretch...

HUGE THANKS TO ALL OF MY FRIENDS (and especially Kate) for supporting me at both of these events!  I'm looking forward to 2014 to spend more time with ALL of you at one or more of these events!

Crew, pacers, friends...

AC100 2013 - finish #4, sub-24 #3

The longest it's taken me to complete 100-miles, proportional to my satisfaction, LT100 2013.

Just in case this long ass write up wasn't enough for you, you can get the PODCAST recap containing a few different stories and a little more about the Last Great Race challenge, from our friends at Trail Runner Nation!  Find that podcast: HERE (or FREE on iTunes)


If you made it THIS FAR, take a moment and leave a COMMENT!  HOWL!!!

Running Love Affair - Runner's Highs, Rituals & the Dreaded DNF

ad·dic·tion
noun
the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

Unraveling at the Ray Miller 50-miler around Mile 23-ish

Running check: habit forming? Yep.  Psychological and physical? Most definitely.  Like narcotics? Absolutely (endorphins affect the same opioid receptors in the brain as morphine does).  Stopping it causes severe trauma? My last major bout with depression came when I was physically unable to run due to injury for 10-months, and my last few minor low-periods came after a big deal race that I had been anticipating and training towards for many months.

Okay FINE, I'll admit it: I'm an addict.  I've been addicted since the tender young age of 9.  I kicked it a couple of times, I was clean a couple years here, a few years there.  Running wasn't even my first love (baseball was), but damn she's got staying power.  But I'm not here to talk about addiction.  I'm here to talk about one of the things that might cause it... "the runner's high".

I was recently asked to describe runner's high.  And I realized that it's not just a chemical endorphin/adrenaline response to physical discomfort.  Do you ever wonder why you never hear: the cyclist's high, the triathlete's high, the shot putter's high (I'm reaching on that one, I know).  There is a definite unique chemical and physiological response to the impact stresses and breathing patterns of running (especially long distances).  I break the runner's high into 3 categories...

Point where the high WORE OFF...

PHYSICAL RUNNER'S HIGH - this one is pretty simple, if you run far enough, your body breaks down and when fatigued you begin to release more endorphin (or is it endorphins?) into the system. Boom. You feel high.  You suddenly aren't hurting as much anymore. You pick up the pace because you feel good, moments later the chemical high is replaced by physical discomfort yet again.

MENTAL RUNNER'S HIGH - there's a definite high that comes with hard work and the feeling of exhaustion post hard work.  The farther you run, the more difficult the terrain, the more you physically suffered (and maybe even mentally suffered) there's a deep satisfaction afterward.  Said after a recent Octopus run in the Santa Monica Mountains, "that sucked for nearly the entire time, but I feel so good now for some reason."

Photo by Tyler Olson

EMOTIONAL RUNNER'S HIGH - this one is close to the mental runner's high, but is different in a couple ways.  I see the emotional runner's high often tied to an event that carries a lot of hope, like training a long time for a big race.  You invest a lot of emotional energy in training and race prep.  Race day comes.  Some days it IS harder than you imagined yet still everything you strive for comes through (you hit your A-goal, maybe you run a new personal best, place higher than you thought you could).  The high you ride on these days lasts.  You can think back to a race months or even years later and get a little charge of confidence and happiness with that memory recall.  That's the emotional runner's high!

SGV Team In Training circa SD RnR 2004

Once you get high like this, good luck not coming back to it over and over again.  And there are no support groups for runners, other than groups that enable the problem.  The Marathon Maniacs.  Charity Groups like Team In Training.  The SoCal Coyotes.  Shhhhhhhhh...

Another thing that locks in our absolute love affair with running?  Rituals and romance.  It's a romantic sport full of superstition, habitual behaviors and most races are steeped in tradition.  Think about all of the things we do in prep for a big race day: buying a special outfit, laying things out the night before, eating that special meal the night before or morning of, carbo-loading, watching our favorite inspirational movie (*cough*cough* Cinderella Man *cough*cough*).  Running a race again (and again and again) on a certain day, at a certain time of year, it becomes a regular part of our story!  Take the XTERRA Boney Mountain Half Marathon in early January, I've run it 5-years in a row and can't imagine kicking my new year off with any other race!  And it's absolutely destroyed me 2 of the 5 times I've run it, yet I still love it.

There is a downside to this love affair.  Failure.  Actually, it's not failure in and of itself, as there's nothing more positively motivating as missing a race goal or dream by ever so little.  I often tell the story that I trained for FOUR marathons before I RAN my first marathon.  Chicago 2002.  I never start conservatively with goals and dreams, so I figured I'd go "sub-3 hours" in my first crack.  Didn't seem all that unreasonable for someone who had run sub-17 in a 5k (albeit that was in high school, now some 7-years prior).  Hit my mid-mark splits perfectly: 1:29:59 (which, ironically, stood as my half marathon PR through about 5 or 6 half marathons a few years thereafter).  I'll save you the gory details of the pace pack thinning out in the second half and the winds kicking up.  I saw my splits fading like a K-mart beach towel, and with it my sub-3 hopes.  So I resolved to qualify for Boston.  For Boston, back then, I needed 3:10:59.  I finished in 3:11:11 (yes, 12-seconds overall, or 0.45-seconds per mile too slow).  I'm now someone who understands the VALUE of 1-second per mile.  Hell, I understand the value of 1-second every 2 miles and what a difference that could make.

Aside from missing an 'A' or 'B' goal in a race, there's also the dreaded DNF (which is an acronym for 'Did Not Finish' but often in an ultra can represent 'Did Nothing Fatal').  As someone who attempts to aid people in constructing good race day plans/strategies/pace charts, I am a student of my own body and peak performance limits.  Racing is the ultimate test of fitness and ability, there is absolutely no faking through it, especially in the ultra distances from 50-miles and up.  Often, I hear people lament a DNF like it's some mark against one's character, an in-correctable offence against their running reputation.  I have come to feel very differently about the DNF over the years and have a few things to say about it (as I'm fresh off my 3rd career DNF and have found some very interesting consistencies between the 3 failures).  But first, a quote about failure and it's relationship to success...

"Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm."
-Winston Churchill

I don't know anyone who would accuse me of having "lost enthusiasm" for running.  There might be a great number of people who wish I would lose some enthusiasm.  I'm a blow-hard and a jack-ass.  In fact, I might just be the Johnny Knoxville of the running world (regularly accepting stupid dares to prove some incomprehensible nonsense to someone).  Yet, I digress.

A couple weeks ago I achieved my 3rd DNF of my running career.  I have completed 24-of-27 ultra distance races, ranging from 50k to 135-miles of varying difficulty, terrain and conditions.  An interesting commonality about the 3 races I failed to finish: ALL three were my second time running each of those events.  As a matter of fact, looking back at my recent history of races repeated at almost any distance, there is a somewhat clear cut 'Sophomore Jinx'.

F- Angeles Crest 100-miler 2006 = FINISH in 26:27
S- Angeles Crest 100-miler 2007 = DNF at Mile 49
T- Angeles Crest 100-miler 2011 = 23:51*
    *third time's a charm / third time's a CR

F- Oil Creek 100-miler 2009 = FINISH in 21:17 (4th overall)
S- Oil Creek 100-miler 2010 = DNF at Mile 76
T- Oil Creek 100-miler 201_? = TBD*

F- Ray Miller 50-miler 2012 = FINISH in 8:08 (5th overall)
S- Ray Miller 50-miler 2013 = DNF at Mile 28
T- Ray Miller 50-miler 2014 = TBD*

A deeper examination of the Sophomore Jinx in my racing...

F- Bulldog 50k 2008 = 4:27
S- Bulldog 50k 2009 = 4:29

F- Boney Mountain Half 2009 = 1:46
S- Boney Mountain Half 2010 = 1:51
T- Boney Mountain Half 2011 = 1:41*

F- Miwok 100k 2009 = 10:13
S- Miwok 100k 2010 = 10:19
T- Miwok 100k 2011 = 9:45*

F- Topanga Turkey Trot 2009 = 1:07 (4th overall)
S- Topanga Turkey Trot 2010 = 1:10

F- XTERRA Pt Mugu 2010 = 1:16 (2nd overall)
S- XTERRA Pt Mugu 2012 = 1:25

F- LA Marathon 2011 = 2:56
S- LA Marathon 2012 = 3:01
T- LA Marathon 2013 = TBD*

The ONLY race I can honestly remember improving upon in the last 10 tries to do so is the Rio Del Lago 100-miler, where I shaved about 20-minutes and 1-position overall on my sophomore effort, and the primary reason was I was really focused on my previous two sophomore DNF's at the 100-mile distance.

Why this somewhat predictable trend?  In most cases, I was pretty happy/satisfied with my rookie efforts at those races listed.  I came back determined to do better.  More fit, race ready, mentally sharp.  But then I became someone focused on exerting my will upon the course/mountain (with the obvious exception of the Los Angeles Marathon... no mountains there).  Instead of a trail runner's creed of "take what I'm given" I got greedy and tried to take what I wanted, what I felt I deserved, what I thought my hard work had entitled me to achieve.  I didn't work with the course, I fought against it.  Instead of flowing, I was battling.  The mentality is hugely different.  This past Ray Miller 50 I could explain all sorts of factors that could have been likely contributors to my epic failure, but really, they read like a list of excuses.  The bottom line is I most often go into a long race humble and patient, let the course and miles come to me instead of trying to take them on.  My sophomore efforts I take much for granted, I hard-charge in search of a few less minutes overall and expend excessive precious energy prematurely.  My love for improvement (and at times, the physical suffering that leads to the chemical response) leads to my downfall.

I'm grateful for my failures, as they've become my greatest teachers.  Yours can too, IF you dare to fail.  Some of us have trouble putting ourselves in a position to truly fail.  Yeah, it sucks for a little bit (I was pretty down on myself for about a week after Ray Miller, as I had been looking forward to it for the better part of 11-months), but I'm over it now.  Excited to train again.  With a 3rd crack at the LA Marathon in March and a rookie shot at the Mt Fuji 100-miler in April, I don't have to face my Sophomore Jinx again anytime soon.  But looking at that race mentality of "humble and patient" VS "aggressive and battle ready" will help, tremendously.  Hopefully I can remember that when seeking my 3rd consecutive silver buckle at Angeles Crest in August too.

I almost spoke too soon: I am headed back to the Lake Tahoe Super Triple in late-September, a sophomore effort where the only way I can improve is to win the race and establish a new course record (with the other 2 course record holders competing as well).  Oh boy.  This love affair could end poorly.

Starting off conservatively on Leg 2 of 3 at the Tahoe Super Triple last September

A COUPLE OF FRIENDS WHO ALSO BLOGGED ABOUT CEREMONIES, RITUALS & ROMANCE...
Mac Smith's Wishing You a Happy Valentine's Day... Or NOT?
Krissy Moehl's Thoughtfulness Trumps Going-Thru-The-Motions


What are some things YOU love about running?  What are some rituals, routines and obsessions you have?  Comment below if you feel so inclined!