Melissa and I ran the 30 mile Farmdale Trail Run on Saturday near East Peoria, IL. We heard about this race just a couple weeks ago from our friend Chris, and since Melissa's parents live nearby they were able to watch Will while she and I spent hours in the woods.
All the pieces had fallen into place for me. My training in the weeks leading up to the race was top notch. I had run personal best times on two of my favorite trails in the Saint Louis area without trying very hard. My heart rate was lower than ever for the pace I was running. I was running up hills with ease, thanks to the time spent on the Stairmaster. I was finally fully recovered from Howl at the Moon and I felt my fitness had even improved since then.
I had never run the trail before, so I didn't know exactly how fast I would be able to go, but I made some educated guesses. As long as the trail wasn't too hilly or technical I thought I had a realistic chance to average 8 minute miles to finish in 4 hours. And based on previous results, that should put me near the top of the field. It was a bit of an audacious goal for me, but, for the first time ever in a race of this distance on this sort of terrain, I felt I could back it up.
The rain began to fall lightly just minutes before the start of the race. The 30 mile race and the 10 mile race started together, while the 50 mile race had started 3 hours earlier. With the faster 10 mile runners and the slower 50 mile runners all on the trail together there was a bit of confusion as to what my place was at any given time. I started with a pack of 10 milers and by 4 miles in I had passed and left them all behind. The early miles were effortless. Despite the light rain the trail was in terrific condition. I finished the first 10 mile loop in 1:20, exactly on my desired 8 minute pace. Only 3 of the 113 10-mile runners were ahead of me. Old Rob (which was actually the young Rob) would have crashed and burned late in the race after pulling a stunt like this. But not today, I felt great.
I picked up some food and water and set back out. The rain was picking up and the trail was getting a bit muddy. Now that the 10 milers were off the course I asked a few 50 milers as I passed them if there were any 30 milers ahead of me. Most of them were just as confused as I was, but I had a strong suspicion there weren't. I just hoped/assumed I was in the lead, but pretended I wasn't.
Around 14 miles in I had to take off my (prescription) sunglasses because the sky was so dark. I simply wasn't able to see the trail. And without my glasses everything was blurry, but this effect wore off a bit as I continued on. By this point it was absolutely pouring. I had to slow down around all the (numerous) turns to avoid sliding right off the trail. Then on the second half of the loop there were about 3 miles of trail that were covered in standing water, which slowed me down even more. I still felt great, but it was obvious I had no chance of making my time goal. With the trail in this condition I couldn't have run a lap at that pace if it was the only lap I had to run all day.
I completed the second lap in 1:28, almost a full minute per mile slower than the first lap. And the trail kept getting worse from there. I picked up my headphones and listened to music for the third lap to try to keep me motivated. I started to get a little tired, but I still had plenty left in the tank. It was just all I could do to keep from falling over on the turns, or sliding on my ass down the frequent ravine traversals. I had slowed down a lot by now. With 2-3 miles left I picked up the pace and finished really strong.
I had been passing 50 milers the whole race and on my third lap I was passing 30 milers as well. I hadn't seen Melissa yet, but I thought she probably wasn't too far ahead. She's not a highly experienced trail runner and she picked a hell of a day to gain experience. I exited the woods into the open field to head to the finish line and I saw her just ahead. I caught up and finished my third lap at the exact same moment she finished her second lap, 4 hours and 27 minutes after we began. She was in good spirits and was preparing to gut out one more lap on the trail in horrendous conditions (it just kept getting worse and worse all day).
As I was chatting with Melissa the race timer informed me I was the first 30 mile finisher. Huzzah. It was a long, hard, nasty (at times) race, but I felt really great and I ran well. Melissa went back out and did what needed to be done. It was not pleasant for her, but she showed some serious guts. In the meantime I changed into dry clothes and ate and drank everything in sight. I chatted for a while with a few old friends and made some new ones. Melissa finished a few hours later, happy the race was finally over.
She was worried that she would finish dead last, but she was right in the middle, 24th of 47 overall and 4th female. Pretty good for her first trail ultra.
A little over a week ago I raced the Veldrijden Columbia cyclocross race. My friend and teammate, Mark, did an excellent job organizing the event. I was in the Cat 4 (newb) race. Warming up before the start I got a pretty good idea what was in store for me… I was out of breath and I had to get off my bike to walk up a hill that was so muddy my tires just spun and I started to slide backwards when I tried to ride up it.
A last minute bathroom trip left me at the back of the pack of 30 or so riders for the start. Which is exactly where I didn't want to be. The start of a cyclocross race is so important to one's chances of success. I took off like crazy, passing several people, to get up into 12th or so place by the first turn. Then there was a fast section where I moved up a few more places before we hit the challenging parts of the course.
I handled my bike well and I remained patient. I would seize any opening I could find to pass somebody and move up a bit. There was one guy way off the front and nobody had a chance of catching up to him. By about halfway through the race, though, I had caught up with the chase group. My teammate Mike was in 2nd, some other guy was in 3rd, and I had moved up into 4th. It took a while, but I eventually passed the guy to move into 3rd. Then Mike and I opened up a bit of a gap. I passed Mike, he passed me back, then I passed him back. The longer the race went on the stronger I felt and the more I could see the other riders fading.
With one lap to go in the 35 minute race I was in 2nd place and I started to pull away from Mike a bit. I took a few unnecessary risks and got away with them. Then I blew it. On a fast, muddy downhill section I lost control of my front wheel and went down hard, smacking my (helmet-protected) head on the ground. I slid to a stop and quickly moved my bike out of the way so Mike didn't go over top of me. My first reaction (as is the case any time I've crashed on a bike) was that I was seriously injured. My head was killing me. My next reaction was damn, I just crashed out of the race with half a lap to go when I was in 2nd place. After wallowing in self pity for a few moments it occurred to me that nobody besides Mike had passed me yet--I was still in 3rd place. I was still in podium position. Was I really injured? Could I actually get back on my bike and ride half a lap?
I decided to try, just as I saw two more guys coming down the hill. I jumped on my bike to get out in front of them only to discover my chain had fallen off. Crap. I pulled over to the side to let them pass as I put the chain back on, then I took off behind them, but I was unable to catch back up. I held on to finish 5th place. My head hurt, but I wasn't injured. My body was fine. My bike was fine.
Looking on the bright side, I had a really good race. I moved up from a long way back up into 2nd place. I stayed strong throughout the whole race while other riders were slowing down. I have the fitness. I just need to learn to ride my bike.
Gateway Cross Cup snuck up on me this year. I was out of town at a conference in Chicago the weekend before the race. The Cat 4 race was 40 minutes. I hadn't ridden a bike for 40 minutes in several weeks, let alone raced. But, whatever.
I took the afternoon off work and went over to Heman Park. It had rained heavily the entire day before the race and the course was ridiculously muddy. I was the last person to register for the race and was unfortunately placed at the very back of the pack for the start (last year I was in the front row). This made things difficult. I spent the entire race going slower than I needed to and trying to find the right place to pass people. I steadily moved up the whole time. I caught up with my teammate Mike with about a lap to go and passed him with half a lap to go. We finished 14th and 15th. I moved up through more than half the field, but I just started too far back to have a chance at a good result.
Cross Country
A couple hours after the bike race was the "5K" cross country run. This year it was only a half mile longer than advertised (last year it was a full mile longer). The turnout was even smaller than last year with just 9 starters. From the gun one guy took off and would never be seen again. I hung back in a small pack but broke free about a mile into the run. I ran the last 2.5 miles alone and finished in 2nd place. Just like last year. There was a payout for finishing 2nd that exactly covered my entry fees for both races, so I broke even on the day. Just like last year. I also received a bottle of Michelob Ultra, which I gave to Melissa.
More Cyclocross
I stuck around for the Men's Open race, the Women's Pro race, and the Men's Pro race. It was a lot of fun to watch really good riders on the extremely sloppy course. Here's a bunch of photos.
Back on September 8 I ran the Forest Park XC festival open race for the 3rd year in a row. This was the first race I ran after we moved to St. Louis. I improved a little bit over my first outing last year and I was hoping to improve a little bit more this year.
The race is short and fast. It's 4km in length (about 2.5 miles). This was the first race I ran after Howl at the Moon and it was quite a shock to the system to go from racing 8 hours to racing 14 minutes. I was totally unprepared. I took it easy for 3 weeks following Howl, then I did one moderately hard training run before this race. Somehow my Howl fitness carried me through. I finished in 6th place, but I ran the same course 17 seconds faster than last year (when I felt better prepared).
Saturday was the big day. My "A" race for the summer, Howl at the Moon, an 8 Hour ultramarathon, took place just outside of my hometown of Danville, IL. Most races have a fixed distance and the fastest competitor wins. This is a timed race with a fixed duration and the competitor who covers the greatest distance wins. My wife Melissa and I registered for Howl immediately after the University City 10K and we've both been looking forward to it for months.
My training went well. I knew full well that temperatures regularly soared into the 90's at Howl. So I trained for hours in the 100's. I acclimated to the heat so much better than any previous summer it was almost a shame we had unseasonably cool weather on race day (60˚F at the start, low 80's at the end). Almost a shame.
I didn't sleep the night before the race. And by that I don't mean "I didn't sleep well," I mean "I didn't sleep at all." The combination of a crying and kicking toddler, frequent trips to the bathroom, and good old fashioned nerves really did a number on me. My alarm went off before I had fallen asleep. Fuck it, let's go run for 8 hours.
The course is a 3.29 mile loop with 3 aid stations. Each loop was about 40% grass trail, 40% gravel road, and 20% asphalt road. There was no rugged single-track trail. It was so cool and I was so fresh I opted to run the first lap without my water bottle… or food… or anything else. I wore shoes, socks, shorts, visor and carried nothing. After numerous long training runs carrying my phone, headphones, and all the food and water I could ingest, it was incredibly liberating to start the race with the bare essentials on a cool breezy morning.
I started very easy and just concentrated on relaxing into a comfortable pace. I'm going to be out here all day, I would think to myself. 8:30 for the first mile. Not absolutely fast, though perhaps a bit on the fast side for such a long run. Soon after the first mile I caught up with Don & Tim, two friends I used to run with in Champaign-Urbana. They're both highly experienced, each a perennial top finisher in this race. I decided to stick with them for a while. Towards the end of the first lap we reached a short, somewhat steep hill (the only uphill section on the course). Many ultrarunners swear by walking up hills. I had been debating what to do about this, but since I was with two very experienced runners I decided to cue off them. They both walked, and therefore so did I.
At the end of the first lap I stopped at my tent to pick up my water bottle and take an electrolyte pill. I checked in at the scorer's table and set off on lap number two. Don took a bit more time between laps than me and Tim took a bit less. I caught back up with Tim and ran the second lap with him before becoming separated again. Around this time I also met Travis Redden from the STL area. We recognized each other's names from the SLUG email list, but we'd never met before. It was good to chat with him, but before long I was alone again, just enjoying the run.
5 laps in I saw Melissa for the first time. She was running with Eric, a friend we used to run with in Champaign-Urbana. They were just finishing their 4th lap.
I felt fantastic for the first 25 miles. Running was easy. I was probably still going a bit too fast, but the way I felt I'm not sure I would have saved any energy by slowing. I strolled past the marathon mark at 3h45m, the fastest marathon split I've ever had in an ultra, and this was to be my longest race yet. Just after the marathon point I caught up with two more friends from Champaign-Urbana. This was strange, I hadn't seen them yet. And with good reason. They decided to sleep in and they were on their first lap. I was starting to labor a bit, but I kept the pace high for a little while longer while I chatted with them. I passed the 50K point around 4h25m. To put that in perspective, my last 50K race (on an admittedly much more difficult course) took 7h55m.
After 10 laps I knew something had to change. I wasn't dead yet, but I was going downhill rapidly. My pace was just too fast and I still had too much time to go. I stopped at my tent for a full 5-6 minutes. I applied a fresh coat of sunscreen, I drank, I ate, I grabbed an ice-filled bandana to put around my neck to help me cool down. Finally, I grabbed my phone and headphones and started listening to music (for the first time ever in a race). I was in race mode up until that point, but if I was going to survive I needed to completely reset. The music (Jonathan Coulton) kept me relaxed and put a smile on my face. I slowed way down from 8:30 pace to 9:45 pace. I started over and pretended I was just stepping out the door to do a long training run.
Coming into this race I had no idea how far I could go. I thought I would get 40 miles for sure and I would be quite happy to get 45 miles. My super secret goal was 50 miles. I knew that would be a tall order. 50 miles in 8 hours is one of those magic separating lines in running, like a 5 minute mile or a 3 hour marathon or a 24 hour 100 mile. Sure, elite runners will go much faster, but these lines separate great runners from good runners. I wasn't cocky enough to count on accomplishing such an audacious goal on my first attempt, but I didn't discount the possibility either.
The miles continued to pass. The running was no longer easy. I kept waiting to bonk or to cramp up, but those maladies never came. I was staying on top of my electrolyte pills to avoid the cramping and I was eating well at the aid stations to keep my energy up (surprisingly, grapes were my food of choice at the aid stations). Once I slowed down to my long training run pace I thought my chance to make it to 50 miles was gone. But I kept doing the math in my head and with each lap that passed it seemed more and more plausible. As long as I didn't slow down. And that was the struggle. I was exhausted and the truly difficult part was was the mental aspect of forcing myself to keep running in that state. I could have stopped at any point. I could have walked. But the closer I got to my pie-in-the-sky goal of 50 miles, the more I wanted it… the more I could taste it… and the deeper I was able to dig to keep going.
After 12 laps I switched my playlist to something more uptempo (Less than Jake) and almost immediately I was back down to 8:30 miles. I didn't want this to come down to the wire. Aside from the aid station breaks and walking up the hill, I was able to maintain that pace for three more laps. With one lap to go I didn't even bother stopping at my tent to refuel. I was ready to get this over with. I finished 15 laps (49.35 miles) with 15 minutes to spare. Now it was time to run as many 0.5 mile out-and-backs as I could before the time ran out. I quickly added 0.75 miles, which put me over 50. After that I completely lost the will to keep going. And in the blink of an eye I was done. I walked the last 0.25 miles back to the finish line. I still had 5 minutes left, during which time I could have run another 0.5 miles, but I didn't have it in me. It was over. 50.35 miles. Mission accomplished.
I sat on a park bench and guzzled water. Multiple people asked if I needed help, indicating to me I didn't look so great. I walked back over to my tent and flopped onto the ground. Melissa (who finished with an amazing 40.48 miles in her first ultra) was there chatting with friends. Rather suddenly I started to get cold and shiver. Melissa said my face was pale and my lips were turning blue. Shit. They called the medics over to our tent and they started probing me while I laid down. I was actually feeling fine (well, aside from the shivering and being really damned tired). They covered me with some ice packs and strapped an oxygen mask onto my face for a few minutes. Meanwhile, people were started to gather around the tent to get a good look. They suggested IV fluids or maybe even a trip to the hospital. I really didn't think that was necessary, I've been in much worse condition before. But I knew enough that if I was really as bad off as they seemed to think I was I probably didn't have the best judgment. After a brief debate we decided against it and before long I was sitting up, shivers gone, crisis averted. I was back to normal within minutes.
My distance was good enough to tie for 9th place with… Tim. I hadn't seen him since the first hour, but apparently he was clipping at my heals the entire race. And just as I was calling it quits I saw him go out for one more loop, which allowed him to match my distance. Ha!
Anyway, Melissa & I both had an incredible time at the race. I'm super glad we did it. This was my first timed race, and I have to say I liked the format. Knowing I was going to be out there running all day regardless of how fast I ran helped put me into the right frame of mind. I set a goal and pushed through previously-unimagined-to-me exhaustion to reach it (though, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I would have reached 50 miles in significantly hotter weather). The only downside is now that it's over I have to decide where to go from here.
Last weekend I returned to the Gravois Kiwanis cross country 5K race at Jefferson Barracks County Park in south Saint Louis. You may recall I won this race last year. I won't lie, I did have it in the back of my mind that I could win the race again. Despite my previous first place finish, I didn't actually run that fast last year. And I think I'm in better shape now (even though I'm currently focusing on longer distances). So things looked good for me.
What worried me a bit last year was the large number of high school runners (which makes sense for a cross country race). The same was true this year. Though at the starting line I saw one runner who looked fast and overheard him say he was in college. Hmm.
I started a bit too slow and wound up at the back of a large pack of high schoolers (who typically start way too fast and slow down pretty quickly). I made my way around the pack only to find two runners off the front who were moving much faster. I settled into a swift pace and tried to work back up to them. Well, they continued to pull away. I had a reasonably good run and finished 3rd overall in 18:58, 40 seconds faster than last year. The college kid won and a high schooler finished 2nd. The two of them had a combined total age equal to mine.
And that was just the start. This race was two weeks out from Howl at the Moon and I needed to get one more long run in. So once I rehydrated after the race I continued running. I paused briefly for the awards ceremony, but I got going again after that. I finished the day with 20 miles. Now the taper can begin.
My cat 4 teammate Jason and I rode the Great Egyptian Omnium in southern Illinois last weekend. It was a good event that both of us enjoyed.
Road Race
We started the rolling 20 mile loop into a headwind, so it was pretty slow. Nobody wanted to be at the front. There were mostly teams of 1-3, except for one team with like 7-8. A few miles in the leaders finally started looking organized with a rolling pace line. I pulled when it was my turn and… nobody pulled through after me (I was at the end of the line). So much for organization.
When we turned back into the tailwind the pace picked up and the race split a few times, but nobody was willing to push the speed to take advantage of the splits. There were omnium points available at the end of the end of the first loop, but I didn't go for it. I was hoping to save everything for the end of the race.
The second loop was much like the first, though the pack had thinned out a bit. There was a bit more cooperation and we were able to ride a bit harder into the wind. I was staying well hydrated. I had eaten reasonably well. I even took a few S!CAPS. I was feeling great when we turned to head back to the finish. A 40 mile road race with an uphill finish should suit me about as well as I could hope. Unfortunately reality hit me on the 3rd to last uphill section where I stood up to pedal and my quads cramped up really badly. Crap. I recovered over the next few miles. On the 2nd to last hill I stayed seated in the hope of avoiding cramping up, which worked. I lost my good positioning though. We quickly reached the final hill. I was able to stand and pedal. I passed a few people, but I started way to far back to have a good result. I finished 15th, with no omnium points.
Time Trial
We had a few hours to kill between the road race and the Time Trial. We ate some lunch, sat around in the shade (it was over 100˚F by this point), and prepared our bikes. When my start time approached I did a short warmup, which sucked. My quads were completely trashed from the road race. A semi-hilly time trial is normally my cup of tea, but I wasn't looking forward to this.
The start was uphill. By the time I reached the top my quads were screaming. This is going to suck. Then the first downhill I hit 41 mph, which is a record on my TT bike. Suddenly everything was okay and I was flying. The rollers weren't slowing me down. Before I knew it I turned into a cross-tailwind and I sped up even more. Finally, I turned onto the highway back into town and I was doing 37 mph on flat sections. I worked the uphills. It was so fast. I finished at the top of the hill in 18m55s for the 7.5 mile loop, which was good enough for 2nd place. I almost caught my 1-minute man, but I did catch the riders who started 2, 3, and 4 minutes ahead of me.
I misread the race information and I thought I would only get 2 omnium points for my 2nd place finish, so I thought I was completely out of contention for the overall win. Actually I received 12 points and I was in 4th place. I didn't figure this out until after the crit the next day, at which point it no longer mattered.
Crit
The next morning I drove back to southern Illinois for the crit. I had to work on my bike before the race, after which I only had a few minutes to warmup. Oh well. The race was challenging, but not super-hard. I was able to move up and back through the field fairly easily. There were a couple of breakaways that never gained more than 5-10 seconds before the race would come back together. I was in pretty good position with half a lap to go, but I waited just a bit to long to sprint. I passed a bunch of people and finished 6th place, my highest placing yet in a cat 4 crit. I didn't end up in the top 3 for the omnium.
A couple of my teammates who were racing later in the day came out early to watch me and we chatted a bit after the race. The race didn't take that much out of me, and there were two more races I was eligible to ride, so (after some egging-on by my teammates) I registered for the Masters 30+ 4-5 race a couple hours later.
Crit #2
As soon as I came back to the team tent after registering for the second crit we began to talk strategy. It was a very interesting conversation that went something like this:
Me: I registered for the Masters/4/5 race.
BJ & Nick: So how are you going to win this race?
Me: Hmm, good question.
Them: But you are going to win, right?
At this point I'm thinking this is a bit absurd. I don't win bike races. Running, sure. Triathlon, sure. Cycling, I'm just not as good. And a flat criterium is the type of race I am worst at.
Me: I suppose it depends who else is in the race.
Them: No, it doesn't. Race to your strengths, not to your opponents weaknesses. What are your strengths? Can you sprint?
Me: Nope.
Them: But you can ride a good TT. You finished 2nd in the TT yesterday. There you go.
Me: Alright.
Them: Here's what you're going to do. You're going to jump at two laps to go and you're going to ride all out by yourself for the last two laps and you're going to win. But you have to fully commit… so much so that if you get caught you can't even finish with the group. Just leave it all out on the course.
I've never tried something like this before, so I was game to give it a go. I didn't actually think it was going to work, but these guys know a lot more about bike racing than I do and, what the hell, what can it hurt to try. I already did the race I came here for, this is just a bonus.
The race was easy and I just sat safely in the pack the whole time. With 3 laps to go I started dropping back in the field. With two laps to go I jumped hard from the back of the field. By the time I passed the guys at the front I was going 10 mph faster than they were and they weren't able to grab my wheel. I settled into TT mode and rode as hard as I could for 2.5 miles. I took all the corners so much faster by myself than I was able to in the big group. A few times I looked back. There were a couple half-hearted attempts to chase me down, but nobody wanted to ride at the front of the group. And by the time the realized they need to shut down my attack it was already too late.
As I rounded the final corner my teammates were going crazy. As soon as I heard one of them say "enjoy it" I knew I had won the race. I took a quick look behind and saw nobody. I sat up and pedaled across the finish line with my arms in the air. I never thought I'd win a bike race.
After my 2nd crit I stayed around to watch my teammates in the cat 3 race where my teammate Keith won from a long (8 laps) solo attack. Mike & Nick finished 3rd and 4th from the main field. Then was the 1/2/3 race where Mark finished 2nd in a field sprint. So we all had a good day.
Early in the season I found the New Town Triathlon outside of St. Charles and thought it would be a good race to try. Then I took a break from racing and completely forgot about it. A friend at the weekly Wednesday night TT reminded me of it a few days beforehand, and I thought, what the heck… I'll do it.
Last Sunday morning I arrived with plenty of time to setup my stuff. I did a very brief warmup on the bike, running, then swimming before they cleared the water to start the race. The (longish) 1000m swim had a staggered start, with competitors beginning the race every 3 seconds. Unfortunately, since I was one of the last people to register for the race, I started near the very end and I had a long time to wait for the 600 people in front of me.
When it was time the line moved very fast and I was in the water before I knew it. A few minutes in I realized that with all the commotion I forgot to start my watch, so I hit the button and kept going. I was very concerned that the swim would be a complete clustercuss, but it was actually the most pleasant open water swim I've ever done. Sure I was passing a lot of slower people (and a handful passed me as well), but we weren't running into each other at all. There was plenty of room for everyone to get by. 17-18 minutes later I exited the water. It was a good hard effort, but I didn't kill myself.
I had an awful first transition. Something went wrong with my bike helmet straps and I couldn't get the dang thing on my head. I must have wasted 30 seconds fumbling with it. Then I left the transition with my bike only to get caught in a traffic jam at the bike mount line. I couldn't get around the slower people so I just had to stop and wait before I could get on my bike. Once mounted, I ripped the hell out of there, a bit pissed off. I started too fast, but things settled down quickly enough. About halfway through the 20 mile effort I started experiencing severe, um, discomfort in my saddle area. Something wasn't right and I was in quite a bit of pain for the last 10 miles. It slowed me down, as I had to frequently stop pedaling when my legs felt fine just to readjust things in an attempt to relieve the discomfort. I was disappointed my bike wasn't as fast as I wanted, but I was incredibly relieved to get off the bike.
My second transition was better and I was out on the run quickly. This is usually where I excel, and this would be no different. Having started at the back, I had been passing people the whole race, but now it was a steady stream. Speaking of streams, several residents along the course pointed their sprinklers and garden hoses out into the course so competitors could cool down. It was well into the 90's at this point and most of the people seemed to enjoy it. Not me. I tried to avoid it like the plague, but the sprinklers covered the entire course in many places and some people actually sprayed me with their hoses after I did my best to ask them not to. The result of this is that my shoes were soaking wet for about 3 of the 4 miles during the run and I developed horrible blisters that made running very painful. My legs felt fine and I wasn't having trouble breathing, but with the intense effort the heat was starting to get to me and my stomach was feeling a bit queasy, so I couldn't really go any faster.
After the finish I gulped as much water as I could. It was brutally hot. I hobbled around for a while trying to find some shade. Once the race started to thin out a bit I was able to get back into the transition area and pack up my stuff and take it back to my car. It didn't take long to get results (since I started near the end) and I was quite surprised that, despite feeling like crap for much of the race, I actually had a pretty decent result. I finished 30th overall (including the elites, 14th not including them) out of over 600 participants, 3rd in my age group. I averaged 1:35/100 in the swim (about what I expected), 22.9 mph on the bike (a tad bit slower than I hoped), and 6:04/mile (the course was short, my actual pace was closer to 6:28/mile) on the run.
Ever since we moved to St. Louis I have been fascinated with this race. It's an open 1 mile, which is pretty rare. It's net downhill, so it's particularly fast. It's around Independence Day, so it's ridiculously hot.
I ran it last year, with mixed results. I was happy to finish in 5:01, but a bit disappointed I was so close to being under 5 minutes and I couldn't quite finish it off. I was in good shape, but I screwed up royally by doing a (too) hard track workout a few days before the race and I was still sore on race day.
I told myself this year would be different. I was in even better shape in the spring than last year, so I might be able to pull off something really special. The problem is that I was really starting to feel worn out by my spring campaign by the end of May. I was exhausted and I was starting to have some minor knee pain creep into my runs. This scared the hell out of me, so after the U. City 10K I stepped my training way back in an effort to let my body recover. One easy week turned into two with our trip to San Francisco. Two turned into three in the hectic week after we returned. Three turned into four when my knee just kept not feeling right. Before I knew it the Macklind Mile was a week away and I was feeling incredibly unprepared. But I had been looking forward to this race for a year. What could I pull together in a week?
Well, I went for a short, easy run and had no knee pain. Good. A few days later I went for a slightly longer, slightly faster run, again with no knee pain. It was hardly ideal preparation, but it will have to do. On race day my warmup went well, so I figured I would just let it rip and see what happened. I started out about the same pace as last year, only I didn't slow down, I kept speeding up. My third quarter was the fastest, whereas last year it was much slower. I passed a lot of people in the last half of the race and finished strong in 4:52, my official chip time. My own watch, which I started before I crossed the start line and stopped after I crossed the finish line, indicated 4:49-4:50, which I like better. Anyway, it was a significant improvement over last year and it came after nearly a month of none-to-light running. This is faster than I ran when I was 15. I'll take it.
One of these years I'm going to get this race right.
After my run, I had the pleasure of watching my mom run her first race (at age 60). My parents were in town visiting and my mom (who I didn't even know started to run) decided to run the race on the spot. Congratulations to her for quite an accomplishment.
Will toes the starting line with Mommy
A little while later Will ran the kids quarter mile run. He started off well enough, but after about 15 seconds he just sat down in the middle of the street and started crying for no apparent reason (I think what happened was a grown-up running with their kid bumped into him and he didn't care for that). After minutes of bargaining with him and even carrying him a little while we finally got him to run. And run he did. He was fast. He passed a bunch of people and ended up (even after the fit) finishing two minutes faster than he did last year.
Shortly after the start and shortly before the fit
After dealing with a knee problem all winter 2010-2011, I started running again last spring and raced (for the first time in months) the University City Memorial Day 5K. It was a good race, and it was the start of a year-long (and counting) progression to my current peak fitness. In the year since then I've raced 23 times, with 2 wins and 11 finishes in 4th place overall or higher. It's been a good year.
I was looking forward to this race again this year. Then a few days before I thought to myself, wait, isn't there also a 10K? I've already run two 5K PRs this year, but I've really been training for longer races, and I haven't even attempted a 10K race for the past 9 years. 10K it is.
Just like last year I knew it was going to be hot. Then there was the problem that I really didn't know how fast to run (not having raced this distance in so long). I fell back to my old formula of adding 30 seconds per mile when doubling the distance. Since my last 5K was 5:28 pace, I figured I would shoot for 5:58 pace for the 10K.
The 1400 runners in the combined 5K and 10K all started at the same time, though we were on different sides of the street, so we remained somewhat separated before the two courses split apart roughly 1 mile into the run. One 10K runner shot out in front of everybody. Another 10K runner was up at the front of the 5K lead pack. One other 10K runner and I were together in the next pack of 5K runners. I stayed in 3rd almost the entire race, with this guy on my shoulder the whole time. One of my goals was to run a relatively even pace (something which I still couldn't manage to do in a 5K). With this guy on my shoulder the whole race, pushing me harder and harder, we were able to do just that.
The guy out-kicked me rather handily at the end (he was 11 years younger), so I finished 4th overall out of 447 finishers in 37:16 (the course was a bit long). This was my 12th top-4 finish in my past 24 races (I like those odds). My splits were 5:54, 5:53, 5:59, 6:02, 6:00, 5:51, and change. I hit my 5:58 pace estimate exactly. There was only 11 seconds difference between the fastest and slowest miles (a difference I typically can't match in shorter races), and the final mile was actually the fastest (which is also extremely rare for me). The 85˚F heat was pretty tough. The only other time I've ever managed to run this fast in that kind of heat was the Trifesta triathlon I raced two days prior, where I averaged the same 5:58 pace for the 5K run (after a fast bike and swim).
This was my 3rd 10K ever, and while it was my fastest in 15 years, it was not a PR. I ran a 10K my freshman year of college in something like 33 minutes. I don't remember the exact time, and the results aren't online anywhere, so I'll probably never know. I certainly won't ever run that fast again.
Melissa and I "cooled" down in style by taking the long way home with a 5 mile jaunt through Forest Park. The day prior we both registered for the Howl at the Moon 8-hour Ultra in August. Bring on the heat.
The Trifesta Sprint Triathlon was last Saturday at John Logan College near Carbondale, IL. Coming off a good sprint triathlon the week prior I had high hopes for this one. The distances were roughly the same, but I had a little more time to prepare.
My first order of business was to deal with the nagging problem that both pairs of shoes I wear during triathlons were literally falling apart. My bike shoes are 12 years old and the shoes I run in are almost 5 years old. A few days before the race I upgraded both sets of shoes to shiny new pairs. I did the minimal amount of due diligence by testing them each out once before the race. No real problems.
Between the longer drive, my internal alarm clock, and my desire not to repeat last week's late arrival I left super early and I was by far the first person to arrive at the race. I took my time and prepared all my gear. I warmed up running & biking without incident. I grabbed my goggles to go warm up swimming and noticed they were in two pieces. My first minor problem of the day was fairly straightforward to rectify. I was able to reassemble the goggles into working order. Crisis averted.
Unlike last week's open water swim, this race had a pool swim. Each competitor estimated their 400 yard swim time and we lined up from fastest to slowest. My 6:00 estimate put me about 12th in line. The swim went reasonably well. The guy behind me caught up to me a couple lengths from the end, just as I was catching up to the guy in front of me. I made room for him to pass on the last length and we came out of the water together, my split being 5:48.
My first transition was good (I passed several people in the transition area), and I was quickly out on the bike. I passed a couple more right away. We started with a bit of a tailwind and my speed was high. About 3 miles in a guy blew past me on the bike. I tried to increase my speed to stay within reach of him, but it was hopeless. I rode the two fastest miles of the race at 27 mph and this guy kept pulling away. I slowed down a bit, though I still caught and passed a few more people. It was clear I wouldn't be the overall winner, but I was doing quite well. Things got tougher on the way back into the headwind. Furthermore the roads were a bit congested with automobile traffic. The roads were in good shape, but the course took us through 3 small towns, which seemed a bit unusual for this sort of event.
About 2/3 of the way through the bike I noticed a problem with my (new) shoes. The velcro straps were a bit too long and they kept rubbing up against the cranks. The flapped up and down with every pedal stroke. It probably didn't cause any delays, but it was hugely distracting, and not at all what I needed at that point. So my second minor problem the day I just had to deal with for the remainder of the 14 mile bike leg. I ended up averaging 23.5 mph, which was a wee bit faster than last week for a slightly longer, more difficult (on account of the rolling hills) course.
My second transition was good and I started the run fast to catch up with a few racers right ahead of me. At the first aid station 1 mile into the run I accidentally snorted some water up my nose. As soon as I got that under control and I could breathe again my shoelace came untied. Sigh. I was running fast enough that I really didn't want to sacrifice the 10 seconds or so it would take to retie them so I ran the last two miles like that. I wasn't in any danger of tripping, but they did slap my leg with every step.
The second mile was mostly shaded, which was welcome in the 85˚F heat. I made the most of it to speed up a bit and try to catch up with a guy way in front of me. I came within 20 meters or so, but I couldn't close the gap before the finish. I averaged 5:57 pace for the run, which was about a minute faster than last week, though on a slightly easier course.
So the race was over, but due to the staggered start it would be quite some time before I actually learned how I placed. When I finally did see the results I was quite pleased. I finished 4th overall, 1st in my age group, and each of my swim, bike, and run were faster than last week for comparable distances. So it was a great race for me, in spite of the shoe, shoe, and goggle problems.
I don't talk much about goals (I suppose I'll get back to that in a future post), but one of my goals for 2012 was to win a triathlon. Sunday I raced my first triathlon of the year, the Gateway Sprint Triathlon, and, well, mission accomplished.
I drove about an hour over to Carlyle, IL early in the morning, though not quite early enough. Once I took care of packet pick-up, bathroom break, gathering my gear and carrying it to the transition area, I hoped to take my time, arrange my stuff, and warmup a bit. As soon as I racked my bike I hear the organizers say it's time to clear the transition area. I rushed to get my running shoes, bike shoes, helmet, sunglasses, visor, race number, towel laid out and grab my swim cap, goggles, and wetsuit just before having to leave. No time for care in preparation, no time for body glide, no time for sunscreen, no time for warmup. The first triathlon of the season I always learn I need to arrive earlier than I thought.
There were five waves of starters (olympic distance men, olympic distance women, duathlon, sprint distance women, sprint distance men) and I was to start in the fifth wave. So I had over an hour to kill. After testing the 73˚F water I quickly decided I didn't need my wetsuit. I suppose I could have used it and maybe swam a little faster, but then I would have to deal with taking it off in the first transition and I wagered I may actually lose more time than I would gain. So I ditched it. Once we finally started I got swarmed on both sides, which surprised me a bit, as I thought I had been swimming pretty well in practice. Things settled down a bit around the halfway point. I swam hard, but without overdoing it. I exited the water in a small pack, having no idea how many people were ahead of me. The swim was supposed to be 500 meters. My conservative time estimate was around 8 minutes, so I was surprised to find it took me nearly 11 minutes. Either the course was long, or I'm a lot worse than I thought.
After running across the beach and up the hill, my first transition went pretty well. I wasn't losing my balance after running 5:20 pace like at Eads Bridge Duathlon last month. The bike leg started incredibly fast, with a strong tailwind. After turning onto the main road I hit 31 mph on the first straightaway, which is probably the fastest speed I've ever achieved on that bike. I settled down closer to 27 mph. With the four waves starting ahead of me there were a lot of people to pass. And since there were so many people I still had no idea which people were in my wave (and, hence, racing against me) until I got close enough to read the markings on the backs of their legs (everyone has their event and age written on their legs in marker before the race). As I approached the turnaround I counted just a handful of people ahead of me, but from the front I couldn't tell whether or not they were in my race. The return trip into the headwind was much slower, around 21 mph. I started to have some seat issues toward the end (I need to get a different seat). My average speed for the 12.4 mile bike course was 23.3 mph, the fastest I've ever ridden in a triathlon.
I had a pretty good second transition and hit the run feeling good. I passed a guy in my race less than a mile into the run. My first mile was 6:11, which was good considering how hot it was by that time, but not as good as would have hoped. I passed a woman just after the first mile. There was a steep hill, which slowed everyone down. At the top I saw the first place woman coming back toward me. I was just about to make contact with the next runner before the turnaround when he continued on straight, making him the first place olympic distance man… meaning I was the first place sprint distance man. All right then. I continued on back down the hill. I passed the women's leader with a mile to go, leaving nobody left in front for me to chase. The last mile was identical to the first, 6:11. I was the first person to cross the finish line, completing the 5K run at 6:21 pace--not my fastest, but good.
The sprint race was fairly small, only 52 finishers. I had the 6th fastest swim, the fastest bike, and the fastest run. This is the first event I've ever won that wasn't a straight foot race. I have a good feeling about 2012.
The third and final race last weekend was Sunday's Dutchtown Classic. This was a six-corner crit, but unlike the previous two courses, this one at least had a small hill. My legs were pretty toasted from the previous day's run, but I decided to race anyway. My teammate Grant was racing again, and once again he had a good shot at winning. So I figured I'd try to do what I could to help.
Again the race started fast, then settled down a bit. There was a somewhat strong headwind on the downhill backstretch, so nobody really pushed the pace there. After a couple more turns we went up the somewhat steep, block-long hill where things would string out a bit. Then we would turn back into the wind and things would come back together. Grant tried a breakaway fairly early, but he was pulled back in. For some reason I still don't quite understand I was having a terrible time with the corners in this race--much worse than Friday. I lost too much speed at every turn and I had to work harder to pull myself back up to the wheel in front of me.
With 1.5 laps to go Grant was isolated at the very front of the field and nobody would go around him, so I shot up the side to set the pace. I was hoping a few people would come around him, but nobody did. So it was just me blocking the wind for him. A half lap later I was done at the front and unfortunately he was back in the lead again. So much for that. I spent the last lap on the back of the lead group, now half the size it was at the start. I had a good finish up the hill, but I started at the very back and still ended at the very back. Grant finished 4th. I finished 17th out of 35 starters.
The Tour de Grove is a bike race, but in an apparent attempt to appeal to a wider audience they added a 5K run. Bike races typically offer prize money to the top finishers, and given the Tour de Grove attracts a lot of professional teams, the prizes are fairly large. It's not unheard-of for a foot race to offer prize money, but it's typically only the biggest events with the top talent. This 5K was pretty small, yet offered serious prize money ($1700 total for top three men and women). I had a feeling this would attract some good runners, which meant fast people to test myself against. The criterium later in the day didn't appeal to me (flat course with 8 turns), but the run definitely did. The choice was easy. I didn't have any delusions of placing in the money, I just wanted to run a fast time.
As I mentionedpreviously, I have been laboriously honing my running form over the past several months. I've been very successful in my training runs, but I had difficulty focusing on my form during my last 5K race and I unfortunately reverted to my old heel-striking gait. But I've continued to progress since then and I was convinced this time could be different.
The start was a bit disorganized. There was no actual start line, so everyone tried to make sure we were all even as the race began and we took off. I was somewhat conservative for the first quarter mile before I started to make my way through the pack. A half mile in I reached the front of my group and the next closest runner was already far enough ahead that I had no chance of catching up. From that point on I ran the rest of the race by myself watching the guy up the road pull further and further ahead.
The run was a bit surreal. It felt like a high school 800m or 1600m track race to me. Until that point I hadn't connected the dots to realize those races were the only times in the past when I actually ran on my forefeet (what I've been training myself to do for months). And here I was, with great concentration, doing it again. My watch beeped, indicating the first mile. I didn't look at my time. I didn't want to know.
I finished the first lap (of two) as I passed the start/finish area where Melissa and Will were watching. I couldn't spare the energy to even look over at them. A few blocks later my watch beeped again, indicating the second mile. I didn't look at my time. I didn't want to know.
Not landing on my heel
Landing on my heel in the previous 5K
I was still moving fast in the third mile, but I had slowed down considerably. This is the part of the race where you just want it to end and you hope a whole bunch of people don't pass you. My watched beeped, indicating the third mile. I was still a long way from the finish line. Well, shit. The course was long, so even if I did run what would have been a good 5K time it would be masked by the extra distance. I pushed across the finish line just 4 seconds ahead of the top three women who were barreling down on me. With that much money on the line I couldn't blame them.
I was 7th place, running the 3.3 mile course in 17:56 (5:28/mile). Out of curiosity I checked my GPS data, which revealed I covered 5K in 16:59, a huge PR. My second big 5K PR in a row.
So I ran a fast time, and I did it while (and perhaps because of) maintaining good form the whole race. Mission accomplished. The one downside is that, even several days later, my calves are still sore from this race. They are really underdeveloped, and it's going to be a while before I can quickly recover from an effort like this.
Friday night was the Loop de Loop criterium, just a scant mile from my house. The four-corner course was straightforward, with two exceptions: the downhill backstretch had really sketchy pavement, and turn #3 off of the backstretch traversed a raised sidewalk (so there were 5 different pitches mid-turn).
I had two teammates in the Cat 4 race, Grant (who already has several wins this year) and Jason. We started near the front. Just as soon as the race started I was swarmed and ended up at the back of the field. The first trip down the backstretch I couldn't see anything and it was utterly terrifying. The first time around the sketchy corner #3 was just as bad. Fortunately, it got much better after that. The race started fast and I was a bit concerned I wouldn't be able to hang on. Fortunately, everyone else seemed to tire faster than I did and before long I was near the front of the race, where I stayed until the finish.
With three laps to go I found myself at the very front as Jason passed me to set the pace. I grabbed his wheel. On the backstretch I heard Grant call up to us that he was on my wheel. So we were 1-2-3 in the field with Grant in great position. I feared we might not be able to keep it up for 2.5 more laps, but I felt strong and Jason was strong. Then disaster struck. Jason overcooked turn #4 and slid out. I narrowly avoided him, but Grant hit him and went down as well. We went from ideal position to me all by myself in front, kind of freaked out and wondering what to do.
I waited for a few guys to catch up and continued on. I maintained my position near the front. On the final lap in turn #4 (200m from the finish) I was 7th wheel, hopefully ready to move up, just as the guy in front of me went down in the exact same place Jason did two laps earlier. This was harder to avoid and I had to come to a complete stop as 20 guys passed me. I soft-pedaled to the finish in 29th place. I had a good race with no results to show for it, as per usual.
Fortunately Jason and Grant were both okay, just a bit banged up. Counting these two mishaps, six times in my last five races a rider directly in front of me has crashed.
Last Sunday was the Eads Bridge Duathlon. It starts and finishes on Eads Bridge (the oldest bridge across the Mississippi River) downtown, with a 1.5 mile run, followed by a 10 mile bike, and finishing with another 1.5 mile run. I haven't ridden my time trial/triathlon bike since September, but I've been running well… so it should all even out. Right?
The race itself was very well organized, which almost makes up for the dearth of useful information on the event website. Answers to simple questions would have gone a long way. How do I get to the event with all the road closures? Where do I park my car and do I have to pay for parking? Is the event sanctioned by USA Triathlon (and therefore require an up-to-date USAT license)?
During my warmup I tried on my friend Mark's aero helmet, which he was looking to sell. It worked well enough, so I decided to go with it during the race. I noticed my warmup on the bike was not as fast as it felt. I guess I'm more out of practice than I thought. I ran a short warmup, then headed up the hill from the river onto the bridge, where the start/finish line was.
It was cool, 48˚F. Moments before the start I began to feel raindrops. The announcer sent us off and I wasted no time rubbing shoulders with the leaders. The run was so short I knew it would be quite fast. We ran across the bridge, down to ground level on the Illinois side, then back up across the bridge in the other direction, down to ground level on the Missouri side for the first transition. About halfway through the run I ceded a little ground to two other guys. The run turned out to be a little long, 1.73 miles according to my GPS, and I averaged 5:23 pace.
I came into the transition area a little more hypoxic than I'm used to in a triathlon after swimming. I had a bad transition, trying to changes shoes while balancing on one foot and light-headed. The fourth runner passed me in the transition area, but I passed him right back as soon as we got on our bikes. I took the start slow, with the uphill, the railroad tracks, the rough corners. Finally we hit the long straightaway. Now a different rider blew past me. I picked up my game a bit and hung with him for a few miles. At the first turnaround I could see the two leaders had a sizable, but not insurmountable gap.
At the end of the first lap I lost my concentration a bit and dropped back from the third guy. As soon as we started on the second loop we were mixing it in with lapped competitors just starting the bike leg, at which point I completely lost sight of the guy. With each turn I could see the three people ahead me getting farther and farther ahead. I tried not to look down at my GPS to see my speed, because it wasn't very reassuring. I wasn't having a good ride. At this point it was pouring down rain and my shoes and socks were completely soaked. The advertised 10 mile course was short, only 9.4 miles, which means my average speed was only 21.5 mph. Even factoring in the awful weather, that's weak, even by my standards.
My second transition was a bit better, but still not great. I started out well enough on the second run. Then I immediately hit the large hill, and I slowed way down. Up on the bridge I could see the person in front of me off in the distance. The gaps were huge at this point, minutes in both directions. Cold, wet, tired, I found it difficult to push the pace and I just cruised into the finish line, averaging 6:18 pace for the second 1.73 mile run. I finished fourth place.
Melissa and Will were waiting at the finish line. In the rain. They were nice enough to come out to cheer me on. We didn't waste much time on the bridge before we headed down to my car to dry off and warm up. The race went reasonably well, even if I was rather disappointed in my bike leg.
One problem I've had living in St. Louis is that there are so many bike races, yet I hardly ever find out about them until after they're over. Friends would keep telling me to check the calendar at STL Biking, but I'd always forget. I finally got around to checking it a few weeks ago and I came across a very interesting race, Tracks N Treads off-road "biathlon" (run/bike, not ski/shoot). So, an off-road triathlon without the swimming. I've been wanting to do an off-road triathlon for years, so this semi-local event seemed as good a time as any to start.
The problem with this idea is that, while I've run more trail races than I can count, I've never raced on a mountain bike before. And the thought of doing so kind of scared the hell out of me. So this was a bigger leap for me than it may seem. The most helpful thing was that I drove over to Edwardsville to ride the trails at SIUE last weekend. I can't imagine racing those trails without the experience I gained from just that one ride. Although I didn't know every turn like the back of my hand, I did remember the big picture, and I knew exactly what to expect.
The forecast was supposed to be warm, and it was over 60˚F when I left my house, but it was only 50˚F in Edwardsville when I arrived. I brought several possible shirts to race in, but they were all sleeveless. Whoops. Well, if that's the worst thing that happens then I'm in for a good day.
I rode over to the trails and rode easily over the first mile of the course to reacquaint myself with it, as this part may be crucial during the race. Then I came back, put my bike and gear in the transition area, ran a little bit, then headed to the start line.
A few young guys bolted off the front immediately. I was in no hurry to match their pace, so I hung back a bit. Once we got off the sidewalk and onto the single-track trail they started to come back to me. It was difficult to find a place to do so, but I eventually passed them one-by-one. I lead the race for the last half of the run. I was the first to enter and exit the transition area.
The bike started with about .75 miles on a paved path before entering the woods. I made sure to drink as much as I could and take some gel before the woods, because I knew I wouldn't have a free hand once we hit the single-track.
One guy caught up with me just before the turn into the woods, but he didn't pass me. I went hard once we hit the dirt and after a few turns I put some distance between us. There were a few times during the early miles I could hear a rider approaching, but nobody caught up. Until about half way through. A guy came up fast and, after tailing me for a while, he found a spot to pass and he overtook me. I raised my game a bit and I tried to stay with him, but he was just better than me. I couldn't take the turns as fast as he did and he pulled away. So much for first place.
A short while later another guy quickly caught and passed me. This dude was on a cyclocross bike. During the 30 seconds or so I was able to follow him it was obvious he was out of my league. I don't feel a bit bad about losing to someone like that. I started to worry that maybe there was a whole line of people poised to rip past me, but that never came to fruition. A third guy caught up with me just before we dropped back out onto the pavement. I went out first and hammered the last .75 miles at 23 mph and he wasn't able to get around me. I finished 3rd. I later discovered one of the guys who passed me was on a relay team, so I was the 2nd place individual.
The race really couldn't have gone any better for me. The hard run effort didn't slow me down at all on the bike section. I'm used to running after biking (as is customary in triathlons), so I wasn't quite sure how fast I could get away with running. The bike leg pushed me to my technical limits, but I was fortunately pretty far from my physical limits. As scary as it was the first time, I could possibly get used to racing on a mountain bike. I just need to practice. A lot.
"Won't somebody please think of the children?!" -Helen Lovejoy
A couple months ago a WUSTL student approached me in the locker room (seeing that I was wearing running clothes) about the Take Steps for Kids 5K race put on by a student group. He seemed like he couldn't quite tell if I was up to it. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was training for a 50K at the time. But I took the information and marked it on my calendar. I do enjoy a good 5K race.
Last Saturday was the day. I ran to campus to register, then ran back home to drop off my goodie bag, then ran back to the race, then ran around campus. I used to get away with a 1 mile warmup for a 5K, but in my old age I really run the fastest in miles 3-6, so now I try to do a 3 mile warmup.
The course was two loops around campus, including the awesome, fast downhill section of the sidewalk along Forsyth. On the day of the race there was also a tailwind here. On the flip side we had to run up all those stairs in front of Brookings hall.
I wasn't looking forward to it, but, meh, how hard could it be?
The race started fast, as most 5Ks do. I tried to hang out behind a pack of runners as we started into the headwind. One guy was pulling away as we reached the fast downhill section, so I gave chase. The first mile was 5:26.
I couldn't quite close the gap before we reached the bottom of the hill, turned around, and ran up the stairs into the headwind. I was spent by the time I reached the top.
Me in 2nd, chasing the yellow shirt up the stairs
The second mile was considerably slower, 5:50-something. By the time we reached the fast downhill section again we ran into the back of the pack who were still on their first lap, and I had to weave back and forth to dodge some of the people who couldn't be bothered to step aside.
I pushed again on the downhill section, but I couldn't make up any more ground. I came through the finish in 2nd place overall at 17:26. Technically, this is a new 5K PR for me, though it feels a bit dirty. The course did have a net loss in elevation (we didn't have to run back up the stairs on the second lap). Even so, I wasn't expecting to run that fast. I've done very little speed work since Fuego y Agua (and even less before that).
After the race I ran another 7 miles easy.
One bit of a downer was this photo Melissa took that showcases my awful form. I've really been working hard to improve my form in the hope of becoming more efficient and less injury prone. I can do better on my easy runs, but I've really struggled with better form when running fast and racing. It requires so much concentration that I quickly relapse into this:
Leg extended almost straight out in front of me
Landing on my heel (this is why I have bad knees)
Landing with my foot in front of my center of mass
Arms bent at an extremely acute angle
Torso leaning forward
Head down (though I think this was just to block the sun)
Bike racing season snuck up on me. I didn't get a lot of training in over the winter, as I was focusing on running Fuego y Agua. I strained my back early in the year and didn't ride at all in January, and only a couple times in February. I started riding more after we returned from Nicaragua. I did three easy training rides (20, 30, and 50 miles). I hadn't even attempted to ride faster than 20 mph. Then races started.
Realizing I was ridiculously undertrained I decided I wouldn't participate in the first two local races. On 3/10 I went to watch my friends at the Carondelicious Crit. It was a beautiful day. This was the second time I went to a race just to watch and decided I couldn't not race.
So the following day I decided to race The Great Forest Park Bicycle Race. After all, at just 2 miles away, this is the 3rd closest bike race to my house (living in a big city does have some benefits).
The bad news was it was raining, which was scary. The good news was… it was raining, which slowed people down in the corners. The race was much easier than I expected, even with my minimal training. Our average speed was only 23 mph, which is 1-3 mph slower than most Cat 4 crits around here. There was a big crash in front me early on. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop on top of a crashed bike's wheel (sorry about that). I took the free lap (for the first time in my life) and got back into the race on the next lap.
The last lap was fast, and I couldn't really get around anyone. I was poised to move up on the final straightaway… before another crash right in front of me made me hesitate a bit too much. I strolled in near the rear of the main pack, 15th place. It was decent. I didn't crash or hurt myself. All things considered, it could have gone much worse.
As many of you know, Melissa and I spent a year living on la Isla de Ometepe in Nicaragua five years ago while Melissa was studying the howler monkeys there for her dissertation. You can read all about it here. I didn't actually do any running while we lived there (I took a 3.5 year hiatus due to my knee problems), though I did bicycle extensively. We also hiked Volcan Maderas once.
Volcan Maderas
A couple years ago I somehow heard of this new race on Ometepe Island, Fuego y Agua (fire and water). It was a 50K (and 100K) footrace from Moyogalpa (the big city on the island) to Merida (the town where we lived), traversing Volcan Maderas in the process. Since I had done a few ultras before (though all were slightly shorter than this), and I had hiked Maderas before, and I spent a year living at the finish line of this race, I thought this would be the perfect event for me. I looked forward to it for months. Then I learned the December 2010 race was canceled, so my plans would be put on hold. However, the organizers pushed the race from December to February and they were able to get it going slightly over a year later in February 2012.
I looked forward to this race for over a year.
I was running really well for shorter distances last fall when I began to ramp up my mileage. I ran into some hiccups along the way. I had some good long runs in October. I sat out for three weeks in November with knee pain, before a fairly productive December. I sat out for three weeks in January after throwing out my back. I got in one long training run and a medium length preparation race before proceeding to throw out my back again… three weeks before the race. At that point I was in a full-on panic. I would effectively have a six week taper prior to what would be the hardest race I'd ever attempted. That's too long.
Even as we boarded the plane to fly to Nicaragua I was still experiencing the last remnants of this back pain. I felt kind of bad for asking Melissa to carry most of our luggage, but I didn't want to chance any more problems (which would certainly have knocked me out of the race). Fortunately the back problems subsided shortly after we arrived, and I was even able to do a good training run a few days before the race.
Our entire trip was great fun for all of us. Melissa covered it all in detail in her blog here, here, here, here, and here. I'll just focus on the race.
Pre-race dinner
The 50K and 100K start at 4 a.m. In the dark. It may sound horrible, but I greatly preferred the pre-dawn start. The thing that scared me most coming into the race was how I would deal with the tropical heat (I've been known to have problems) coming from the midwest in the dead of winter. The 4 a.m. start meant that most of the running part of the race (the volcano is far too steep to run) would be over around the time the sun came up.
Ready to race
I had been waking up early and going to bed early ever since we left Saint Louis. The night before the race I was about to crash right around the time the German tourists staying at my hostel started a techno-reggae-guitar-jam-singalong outside my room. I was so tired I fell asleep anyway. I woke up just as they finished around 1 a.m. and didn't get back to sleep. Whoops. I got out of bed at 3 a.m., prepared everything, and walked one block over to the starting line of the race.
Starting line
There were 20 participants in the 50K and another 18 in the 100K. Headlamps ablaze, we started as some fireworks exploded overhead. Immediately three local guys shot off the front. I started comfortably, running the first mile in 8:30, at which point I could no longer even see the leaders. We immediately turned off the main paved road onto a dirt road I'd never been on before. So much for using my knowledge of the island to my advantage. The ground was a bit soft and mushy, with every runner in front of me kicking up dirt into the air. It was difficult to see with my headlamp reflecting off the particles. I didn't really like breathing it in either. So I made an attempt to leave a bit of gap to the front and sides of me.
Things started to settle down and I found a few other runners going my same pace. 2.5 miles in I tripped on a tree root and went down. I was already sweating heavily by that point (I'm a heavy sweater), and the soft, loose dirt was now clinging to my knees and my hands. I spent the next few miles trying (with little success) to clean my hands and to catch up to my pack. I caught back up shortly before we hit the main paved road again, just before the first aid station. I introduced myself to Joe and John (both 100K participants) and we ran together for a while.
I vividly remember the hill coming out of San Jose causing my lots of problems the many times I biked it, but it wasn't a problem on foot. It was actually my fastest mile of the race… which probably wasn't a good idea. Anyway, Joe and I kept going while John was just a little ways behind. We turned again off the paved road onto another dirt road I didn't know. We paid close attention to the reflective course markers that would guide our way. We almost missed an important turn while we ran on the wet sand along the shoreline, as the marker was more visible from the deep, mushy sand further inland.
We followed the trail for a while before coming to an intersection that wasn't marked. There were three possible paths to take, none of them obviously the correct path, and none of them marked. We spent close to five minutes going a short distance down each path looking for markers, but we found none. By this time John caught back up with us and he had a gut feeling about one of the trails, so we just went with it. 300-400 meters later we saw a marker, confirming we made the right choice.
We went up a long hill and wound our way through some banana fields. There were five runners ahead of us at this point and we saw one only about 50 meters up the path. This was strange, given that we had just lost five minutes, but whatever. He disappeared soon enough. While climbing over a downed banana tree, about 13 miles in I had a cramp in my hamstring, which was a very bad sign. I was feeling great, I was staying hydrated, and, most importantly, I was staying on top of my electrolyte pills (which usually prevent the cramping). Maybe the heat calls for more? We'll see.
This is actually the third aid station, but you get the idea.
We soon reached the second aid station. I asked the volunteers how many people were ahead of us and they said four. There had been five, but (as I later confirmed) the guy we saw just ahead of us earlier got lost in the banana field. It was also around this time I was noticing a blister had started to form on my little toe. I've been running in Injinji socks (toe socks) for a few years and I haven't had a single blister since I started wearing them. I didn't know what to make of this development.
We made our way back out to the paved road again. We were now on the isthmus, where it was windier. The sun was rising and I no longer needed my headlamp to see. The breeze cooled us down a bit, but not really enough. Joe started to pull away from me and I didn't really want to chase. I was slowing down, but I knew what was just a few miles ahead and I needed to hold back as much as possible.
As I turned off the road up to the El Porvenir aid station I saw Melissa. She ran/walked with me up the hill to the aid station, offering me a banana as we went. Once we reached the aid station I sat down to examine the blister situation I mentioned earlier. It was really starting to bother me and I had one hell of a hike coming up. I couldn't believe what I saw when I took my shoe off. Getting dressed in the dark in my sleep deprived state I put my two smallest toes in the same toe hole, leaving an empty toe hole off to the side that was just rubbing and rubbing my little toe. It was easy enough to fix, and that was the end of the toe problems… no blister.
I picked up my trekking poles from my drop bag, said goodbye to Melissa, and began the long uphill journey to the 4000 ft peak of Volcan Maderas. It started off gradually so I convinced myself I could run for a while, but that didn't last long. I was hiking. And hiking. And hiking some more. I didn't feel great, but it wasn't horrible. Yet.
Fairly early on a few guys passed me. The further we went the more people passed me. As the climbing became more vertical, and there were lots of step-ups I started to have cramps. First in my calves. Then in my hamstrings. It got to the point where I had to do the step-ups as quickly as possible or my legs would cramp up and I wouldn't be able to move. Every step was agonizing. And I was only a quarter of the way up the volcano.
I continued to put one foot in front of the other. While I was cramping fairly frequently, it never actually got worse. I can't really remember what was going through my mind the rest of the way up the volcano. I was kind of out of it. It was all I could do to keep a count of how many people passed me. I kept eating, drinking, taking my electrolyte pills. The terrain got harder and harder. Then came the mud. First it was damp, then sloppy, then ankle-deep, then calf-deep. A few patches were literally up to my kneecap. When my foot sunk in like that I could only hope my shoe stayed on my foot as I pulled it out.
Another racer filmed the mud. I can't watch this without laughing my ass off.
Closer the top I hiked a long way with a British guy named Andy. It sounds kind of awful, but it helped mentally to know that someone else was suffering as much as I was. Misery loves company. Eventually, he moved on as well, but that didn't matter because I somehow managed to make it to the top. I can't express how glad I was to see a wooden sign, presumably marking the summit, though, to be honest, I didn't stop to read it. The glorious feeling was short-lived as the trail immediately (and steeply) descended into the crater. It was nice to switch from uphill to downhill for a change, but I knew I was going to have to climb right back up on the return trip.
Another racer filmed the top of Maderas.
A couple more people (including the first place woman) caught me right as I reached the final aid station in the crater. I had run the first 20 miles in a little under 3 hours, then the next 5.5 miles took slightly over 3 hours. I was the 6th person to start the volcano climb and the 20th person to reach the top. I spent a few minutes eating, drinking, refilling my hydration pack for the first time, and reflecting on my collapse. Then it was back up and out of the crater.
The trail coming out was different, and much more difficult. It was no longer possible to climb only with my legs while using my arms to stabilize me. Now I had to pull myself up with my arms as much as push with my legs. I had hiked the whole way up with my trekking poles, and I think they did help me (at least mentally, if nothing else), but now they were really getting in the way, as I needed my hands for climbing. Eventually, I just gave up on them, folded them up and wedged them between my hydration pack and my back. It wasn't comfortable, but it was my only option other than leaving them on the volcano. I had planned to hike back down with them so I didn't plan to store them anywhere.
The jungle gym
After some more deep mud I reached the jungle gym section of the trail where we had to climb over/under/through tree branches. Oddly enough, it was this point where I started to come back to life. I had resigned myself to feeling like shit for the rest of the race, so this was a welcome surprise. The more I descended the better I felt. I started hiking faster. Then I started trotting where I could, grasping trees with both hands to keep from falling over. I swung myself from one tree to the next the way I imagine Tarzan would if he were exhausted and descending a volcano. When the trail was straight for more than five feet I ran. I actually ran. A few hours before I was certain the next time I ran would be back in Saint Louis.
Melissa and Simeón
Then I saw Simeón. Simeón was Melissa's field guide in the forest. He helped her find the monkeys when she was getting started with her research. He helped her cut trails to follow them. He also takes tourists up the volcano. He had hiked nearly 1,000 meters up, apparently just to check on me. He shouted, "¡Rob! ¿Como estas?" (Rob, how are you?), to which I quickly (in broken Spanish) replied "No muy bien, pero mucho mejor que subiendo" (Not very well, but much better than climbing) as I ran past.
Around this same time I also started passing people--people who had blown by me on the way up. This was a truly unfamiliar experience for me. In most races I do well on the uphill sections and suck going downhill. My role was completely reversed now. One guy I ran with for a while was wearing Luna Sandals. It turns out he's the CEO of the company that makes them. I couldn't believe he had hiked the volcano in those, but he seemed to be doing quite well with them--a ringing product endorsement.
The 50K finish line
As I got lower in elevation the temperature got hotter. There was less shade from tree cover, and more open fields to run through. I was running surprisingly well, given how tired I was and how rocky the path was. I really didn't want to trip on the difficult terrain, but I was running so well I didn't want to stop. It was approaching noon, and the heat was absolutely brutal the last two miles. It finally broke me and less than a half mile from the finish I had to walk some more just to cool down. This was the same trail we had hiked five years earlier, so I recognized where I was at this point. I ran the last quarter mile into the finish line where Melissa was waiting for me, kind of freaking out at how many people had come through with me nowhere in sight. The last 11 miles took me 5 hours, even with me running a few of those miles.
Exhausted, hot, muddy
I finished in 7h55m. My average heart rate was 161, my max was 185. I burned 6762 calories. I consumed 1200 calories. My fastest mile was 8:12, my slowest mile was, well, close to an hour. Once you take out the 100K runners ahead of me I ended up in 9th place for the 50K. My first 50K. While this is quite a bit lower than my usual placings of the top 5%-10% in shorter races, I will gladly take it. This was the hardest race I've ever done. I was completely out of my element. It was epic. And I loved it.
I cooled down in the shade at the finish line, drinking and trying to eat. After a short while I actually convinced myself that I could go farther. I wasn't completely dead. The rest of the day, yes I was tired, but I wasn't nearly as sore as I typically am after a road marathon. The next day I had very little soreness. The second day after the race I had a bit more soreness in my legs and shoulders, but still not as much as I expected. Then, after that, I was fine. I had no long-lasting injuries and within a week I was back to running as normal, feeling better than I had in months. Rested even.
After reflecting on the race for a couple weeks a few things are clear that I could have done differently.
The frequent injuries prior to the race and the six week taper were a problem. I didn't have the base fitness to race that far.
I should have done more hill work. I did run hills, but nothing in the ballpark of the Maderas climb.
I should have started slower. Even though I felt great for the first 20 miles, I just didn't have enough left in the tank for the climb.
I should have taken more electrolyte pills. Every 30 minutes just wasn't enough for the amount of sweat I produced.
I should have started with a less-than-full hydration pack and filled up at the aid stations rather than carry all that weight for the entire race and only fill up at the last aid station. The day after the race my shoulders were more sore than my legs.
I probably should have climbed without the trekking poles. They helped me mentally, but I'm not sure they helped me physically, and they got in the way a lot.
Anyway, we're already thinking about the trip next year. The race was a very unique adventure, and it was incredibly well organized. I got the sense that pretty much all the other runners had similarly great experiences. This race is going to explode in popularity. I wouldn't be surprised if they reached their 100 participant-per-race cap as soon as next year.
