Week ending April 1: Recovery

Mon 3/26  Mon 3/26  0 miles. Though I did ride my bike to work comfortably, stairs were a challenge, especially down. Kismet led me to an interview on irunfar.com with Karl Meltzer, legendary 100-mile-winner-32-times-at-least-one-for-the-past-13-years, who had this to say about his post-race recovery: 

 "I’ll take my dog for a walk the next couple days to move my legs. Yes, the way I feel now, I’ll probably take Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday off. I’ll take walks, and I’ll keep moving around the house because I don’t like to sit still. I’ll start running when my body feels it’s ready. It might be a 3 miler...

“Overdoing it is a big mistake I’ve seen a lot of people do. If they have a great race and let’s say they feel great on Tuesday, they’ll start banging out, banging out, banging out miles and all the sudden two weeks later they have this low period where they’re tired again. They’re not really recovered from three weeks ago. So you want to recover in a week and a half then get back to training if you can. There’s a fine line of doing too much right afterwards. That’s what I try to avoid.”

76-2

Tue 3/27  3 miles on Cottonwood. I drove the less-than-a-mile to the trailhead to avoid a long downhill on our street. I felt surprisingly good on the flats, but the slightest dip in the trail was a reminder. 77-2

Wed 3/28  4 miles, including 2 miles barefoot. Oh, and I guess in all fairness, I wear socks. 78-2

Thu 3/29  5 miles on Cottonwood. Very nice early morning run. 79-2

Fri 3/30 2 miles. Reminding myself to come back slowly. Felt a little stiffness in my calf. 80-2

Sat 3/31 2 miles. Bristol was very confused by the loop around the neighborhood all on pavement and passing a pile of dogs in yards. Again, a little stiffness in my calf, but not in the usual spot. Get out the Stick. 81-2

March totals: 168 1/2 miles in 29 runs

Year to date: 531 miles in 82 runs

Sun 4/1  0 miles A nice walk in the morning up in the mountains. Spent Saturday night playing music, drinking, laughing and eating with my old friend Shan (I’ve known Shan for 45 years) and his wife Bev, Bev’s mom Jane and a couple of her friends celebrating Shan’s 50th birthday. 81-3

Total: 16 miles in 5 runs

Shan: I've known only my family longer.

Caution led me this week. I felt a little niggling in my Achilles area on Saturday morning. I think the value of the streak was in the preparation for Terrapin Mountain. I had confidence in my training, which obviously went well. So I’ll start a new streak to the next race, the Highlands Sky 40 miler, as soon as I’m recovered.

Terrapin Mountain 50K Report

C and I drove north to Central Virginia for the Terrapin Mountain 50K under sunny blue skies, but the forecast called for rain all day Saturday. We arrived at the Sedalia School, the start and finish of the race, with plenty of time to check in, and set up the tent. We hung out in the pavilion, eating pizza and chatting with race director Clark Zealand, and ultra-patriarch David Horton.

Chatting with David Horton after the race. 

It’s always a treat to get to talk to Clark Zealand and David Horton, two people I respect very much for what they do for running. Horton’s accomplishments are vast, with long-trail records on the Appalachian and Pacific Crest Trails, and a whole pile of wins in 160 ultras. Clark is the next generation of ultra-runners; he too has a mess of wins and course records, and directs tough and very popular races, as does Horton.   

It rained all night long, and was still raining steadily when the gong sounded to start the race (I love the gong). I concentrated on staying slow and easy. I hoped to hit the aid station under last year’s time of 50 minutes. By my watch, we hit it at 51:30. Not to worry, I thought. I felt good, maybe last year’s race was just perfect, the rain will slow us down. 

I thought maybe I’d make the time up on the long road down to the next aid station at 9 1/2 miles or so. Last year I averaged under 7 minute pace; surely I was more fit this year. I hit the next aid station in 1:31, 4 minutes off last year’s time. As we started the climb back up I felt a little heavy-legged. It's okay to be slower, I told myself.

At the spot where the course turns onto tough single track to cross back over towards Terrapin Mountain, I got a little burst of energy. The trail passes through a couple of draws as it climbs and drops and traverses the ridgelines. Everything was wet, and green, and sloppy. I was having a blast. 

With Rick Gray at the finish.
Reason #2 to run ultras: great people.

We passed through the aid station where the trail hits the road again, and we started the long climb back up to Camping Gap. Last year, Rick Gray led a group of four or five of us up that climb, calling out spots to run to. This year I felt compelled to do the same for the group I was in. We’d run to the next ribbon, or the big tree, or the corner. Often we’d go beyond, but the exercise kept us moving reasonably quickly up the hill while still saving energy for the rest of the run. As luck would have it, we came across Rick Gray taking a, well, pit stop on the side of the road. He joined us, and by the time we got to the top, everyone in the group had made the call where to run at least once. I decided that my goal was to decide when to run and when to walk all day rather than succumbing to fatigue and being forced to walk.

I was starting to feel better, and was only a minute down from last year’s time at the Camping Gap aid station at about 17 miles. I started off on the White Oak Ridge loop. The climb I thought would be hard passed without notice, and I found myself back at Camping Gap, now right on my last year’s time. I ate several cantaloupe chunks that went down well, chatted with the guy in the skirt again (the third time through Camping Gap), and set off with a guy from Pennsylvania up Terrapin Mountain.

This climb is tough, winding steeply through rhododendron and rock, and the black soil was muddy and soft. Again, I loved it. I had been looking forward to it since the descent from White Oak Ridge was long and fast. I yearned to walk up steep climbs for a break. At the top you turn right to Terrapin lookout and the second punch. The views into the valley were non-existent, though, and I settled for the cool cloud we were out in. We turned around and headed back toward Fat Man’s Misery, another feature I had looked forward to.

This was Terrapin Mountain 
from the start/finish area.

The guy from Pennsylvania and I were running well together, making our way down through similar terrain as the climb up, though not as steep. Fat Man’s Misery passed with much whooping on my part. I’m guessing it’s the very claustrophobia that woke me up last year in a sweat that makes it so thrilling. I came out, punched my number (even though they never check...) and started into what I remembered as the steep and rocky downhill.

It was, and again I felt pretty nimble for having run over 23 miles by that point. At the last aid station at Terrapin Mountain Lane, I was 5 minutes up on last year’s time. According to the splits, I ran that section 6 minutes faster than last year. 

The last section went off mostly like last year, too, where I passed three people. This year there were more folks in front of me, and I was a little more deliberate about trying to pass them. I hit the last creek crossing, the deepest one, at 5:31 with a guy who introduced himself as the Angry Leprechaun and his friend Richard, who we passed just before the creek. I said we had 19 minutes to run the last 1 1/2 miles to be under my last year’s time. 

The Angry Leprechaun and I set off down the road at a pretty good clip. He looked at his wrist and said we were running 7:07 pace, so he figured I was in pretty good shape.

Seriously, I’m running 7:07 pace 30 miles into this beast of a race? I felt pretty whooped, but continued to roll to the finish, the pace no doubt slowing some as the road flattened. I still felt like I was running as fast as I could.

Nothing pleased me more the whole day than having C at the finish to watch. I had thought all day of seeing her, thinking she might surprise me at any of the aid stations. The thought kept me moving to the next one, and the next possibility of seeing her. At the finish she ran with me the last hundred yards or so. I’m the winner.

Nap time!

I crossed the line in 5:45:06, five minutes faster than last year, and my fastest 50K time on any course. lark announced my name (like he did everyone else’s) as I crossed the line. I shook hands with him and with Horton, chatted a few minutes, ate a little, drank a little. Then I went back to the tent and took a nap, again, just like last year. 

Christy and I had plans to stay Saturday night in Roanoke, which turned out to be just what I needed. I napped a little more in the room, and we walked downtown to eat dinner. I was asleep by 9. 

Chatting with my old friend 
Sean Andrish before the race started.

Red Number 11! For those of you who are squirming,
it didn't hurt at all until I got in the shower.

The Hotel Roanoke was a welcome sight.

Even in the pouring rain on a Sunday 
morning, Roanoke has a cool downtown.

An entrance to the City Market. There are
different mosaics at each entrance.

Christy took almost all of the pictures.

Week ending January 22: 14 days straight

Week ending January 22

Monday 1/16  4 miles, including 16 x 120 yards barefoot. I think my legs may have been wondering what we were doing running on a Monday. I swear I heard, “We shall overcome” chanting from down there.

Tue 1/17 6 miles at Croft. I felt uncomfortable after about ten minutes, mostly with the night running. I went to Croft to run a trail we call the Chapters, but had some bad mojo in the dark and turned around, cutting off the 2 1/2 mile trail section. That kind of thing happens.

Wed 1/18 4 miles on Cottonwood from home.

Thu 1/19 1 1/4 miles around the neighborhood The first test of my resolve to run every day: a late meeting meant I got up early to run, not something I generally do during the week. Also a test of claiming to have run when I only ran 10 minutes or so. Needed the rest, will see how that plays out.

Fri 1/20  5 miles, including 2 miles barefoot on grass. Rainy and chilly. The barefoot running was pretty darn cold for a while, sloppy the whole time. Felt reasonably loose.

Sat 1/21 11 miles at Croft. Dumping rain from 4 miles on, and wet and muddy trails throughout. Thunderstorms forecast, and sure enough, right about noon, rolling thunder rattled the woods for 20 seconds or so. 

 
          I’m not a fan of lightning, and I thought about turning around. But I was running a trail I haven’t been on for a few weeks, one of the toughest we run; I carried on. So up to that point my legs had felt a little dead, and I wasn’t able to push off much. As though the thunder brought it on, 36 minutes in, I suddenly loosened up, and ran hard through the long climbs that just seem to keep going. I thought I would make a loop with some of the horse trails at Croft, but the thought of that slop didn’t exactly fuel my pace. While I was climbing the steep road section out of the draw, I decided instead to turn around and run the lake trail back again, adding some miles but avoiding substantial mud holes. 

I was warm only while moving, so I hustled, and the footing was pretty good. I was reminded that sometimes the middle of the trail is the safest when it's flowing ankle deep with rainwater. Then I hit the less-than-a-mile section of horse trail back to the parking lot, exactly the deep mud I'd avoided by turning around on the road. That section, and a couple of heavy thunder rolls let me know I made the right decision to turn around and also to bag the second loop.  

Sun 1/22 12 miles at Southside. Tired legs warmed up after 35 minutes again. This time I expected it to come, so the first part was a bit more enjoyable. 

Total 43 miles in seven runs

            I felt tired on every run this week, though I felt motivated to run every day, too. I remember those summers when I added three or four two-a-days. The first couple of weeks I felt extra tired, but felt a real bump in the third week. I’ve read others say they also experienced the same bump. I’ll give this increase that kind of chance. But I need to do sustained long runs if for no more than to build some mental strength.

He'd go again if I said so.

Bristol remains an endurance beast. I didn’t take him around the neighborhood, and I didn’t take him on Friday in the rain because he can’t run with me on the fields. So he ran 37 miles with me this week; at places where multiple trails weave around obstacles he often takes the steeper. But he’s very patient with me, and lets me lead most of the time these days. 


           He is confident and fearless, I'd say, though he has a tendency to get jumpy around other dogs. He generally wants nothing to do with other animals, except that the herd of eight or ten does we saw today down in the creek bottom got his attention for a couple hundred yards. 

"The wheels on the bus go round and round..."

“Just be a mover,” I repeated what the aid station volunteer had said as I worked myself up for the last three miles of the Harbison 50K on Saturday. 

It was a beautiful day, warming to about 65 degrees through the morning. The course winds and twists through the floodplain and bluffs of the Broad River just outside of Columbia.

After my good run last Saturday, I was feeling pretty confident about finishing the race. Then I ran on Thursday (my first miles of the week), and sure enough, 45 minutes into an hour run, my left calf tweaked, the same pinpoint pain I’ve been experiencing in my right calf that makes me limp.

“F***,” I yelled in frustration. What had been an easy jaunt through the darkening night turned into a hobble. I returned to my thought that I would volunteer at the race, or maybe run one of two loops.

Gordon, Carol B., Seth and I headed to Columbia on Friday evening. We stayed at a hotel about 5 minutes from the start, along with a bunch of other runners. When we got in the room, I noticed Seth had brought his Stick. I used it on my calf, which had been feeling okay all day, though still with the pinpoint pain. I’ll be purchasing a Stick ASAP!

The next morning I ran around the hotel parking lot a little to see how my calf felt. I could tell it was there, but decided I would start anyway. The first quarter mile or so is on a gravel road, and then the course turns onto a fire road for another quarter or so. Then it’s onto single track trails and some more fire road. Because the trails wind so much, we often saw runners coming towards us, except that they were on parallel paths. 

The first nine or so miles are mostly flat, but the twists in the trails beat up my hip flexors more than I expected. From 10-13 miles we ran the Spiderwoman and Spiderwoman II trails, both with steep climbs and descents, by far the roughest trail we ran, though all of it runnable. From the end of Spiderwoman to the start/finish area was more relatively easy trail.

I sported the Team Fox jersey. I have to say
that "shuffling" takes on new meaning for me,
and I thought of my dad several times during
the race. He has no choice but to finish, too.

I told myself throughout to slow down, to not be tempted to run harder because I still had a second lap to run. Turns out I was well trained for one loop, which I finished in 2:35. Ten minute miles felt very easy, which bodes well for running a faster time when I'm better trained. I had no pain in my calf, but knowing how clobbered I was, I hoped I could run under 5:50, my 50K PR. 

I held onto the 10-minute mile pace until the first/sixth aid station. I should add here that all the aid stations were well stocked with goodies, and the volunteers were fun and enthusiastic. I did manage to say something funny (at least to me) at each stop, one of my main goals in any race. 

At that point, about 19 miles in, I was almost totally beat. I never came close to dropping, though the conversation in my head included the thought, pushed aside by my desire to finish, to wipe out the previous DNF at the Kanawha Trace 50K in July, to push through the discomfort and to keep moving forward.

I knew that after the next aid station at 22 miles I would start into the tough part, but the thought just let me think I would be able to walk without feeling defeated. I ran when I could, walked when I had to. At the last aid station, I knew I couldn’t beat the 5:50 time. I was cramping in my hips when I ran more than a few minutes, but walking felt fine. I walked it in, and felt good about it, finishing in 6:22, a terrific training run for races later in the spring and summer. I held off the nausea throughout, at least until the end. Many thanks to Cam and Pam Long for helping out with that one! And many thanks to Dan Hartley for a very well organized race.

My mates did great, too. Carol B. set a new course record for the women, winning in 4:56. Gordon ran 5:07 in his first (last?) 50K. Seth fought foot problems to finish in 5:31. Full results here.

Tuesday 1/3 Sick--upset stomach.

Wednesday 1/4 Ukulele practice

Thursday 1/5 7 miles from Dairy Ridge Road. First night-run of the season.

Saturday 1/7 31 miles

Total 38 miles in 2 runs

Funny things: 

AS 1  They told me this was a 5K. AS 6 Thanks for being here.

AS 2 (Tag) It’s a relay, go! AS 7 “No, really, it’s a relay”

AS 3 “The Wheels on the bus” verse. AS 8 “The wheels are the bus are shuffling'"                    

AS 4 (Funny that I can’t remember.) AS 9  (I remember laughing.)
AS 5 (start/finish) Crazy bantering with everyone.

Focus, Un-Focusing, and Running Far with a Purpose

I’ve started in on the serious training for the long races I have planned for the first six months of 2012. Yesterday I headed to Croft State Park for an 18 or so mile run, my first over 15 since last summer. Through this focusing time I’ll push my long runs up to 25-30 miles in preparation for the Highlands Sky 40 miler in June; every other week or so I’ll do that mileage in back-to-back runs on the weekends. 

Part of these runs is of course to build fitness, but much of the focus will be on building mojo, the mental toughness to spend hours on the trails putting one foot in front of the other. I’ll remind myself of what Christy has said on long trips: we’re getting closer.

As usual in our southeastern hardwood forests, late autumn brings deep leaves covering everything. I ran some lightly used trails, ones that have no blazes and only an occasional ribbon marking something of the way. Usually the tread is obvious, but now the thick covering of leaves makes the trail nearly invisible. I go by memory, and I go by acting like the trail, I say, heading where the trail ought to be. Yesterday I stopped a few times to scan the woods. 

Bristol the Enduro-Dog was with me, and he did a lot of leading. I remain amazed by his trail-finding abilities as I pick my way over the covered roots and rocks. He seems to understand when I am “lost,” and pulls to the front to take over.

Bristol the Enduro-Dog loves trails.

Those rough trails slow me down when the obstacles are hidden by leaves, or snow (yes, occasionally the snow is deep enough to hide the trails even here in sunny South Carolina). I tighten my vision to what’s just ahead, and the focus sometimes keeps me from seeing my path. I thought yesterday that in order to follow these trails when they are this obscure, I need to un-focus my eyes, to pull back so I can feel the trail better. These are times when I am really locked in, though, on the moment, feeling my legs and feet, gliding through the woods even on days like yesterday when I still felt heavy-legged from last weekend’s race. I remember that I can push myself into this zone, and hone my training to know the feeling. It’s mental “muscle memory,” I reckon, pretty useful in the bad times of any run. 

Another piece of my focus came into place this week. My fund-raising efforts will benefit the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research. I’ll be running as a member of Team Fox, whose members run in races and triathlons all over the world. They have set up a terrific support system; among other things, they give me my own donation page, which you can access by clicking on the Team Fox logo on the right side of this page. I have set a goal of raising $10,000 dollars, and I’ll need your help to do so. 

Over five million people worldwide are living with Parkinson's disease -- a chronic degenerative neurological disorder whose symptoms typically progress from mild tremors to complete physical incapacitation. In the United States, 60,000 new cases of PD will be diagnosed this year alone. There is no known cure today. Your donation will help to find that cure, and also find new ways to treat the symptoms of the disease to improve the quality of life of those living with it.

My dad’s hands shake. He has a hard time walking, and shuffles his feet, making steps, curbs, even the transition from wood floor to carpet difficult. Yesterday, I ran seventeen miles over rough trails hidden under leaves. My father’s efforts were much more difficult, and exhibit true “ultra” form of putting one foot in front of the other. He’ll tell you he’s soldiering on.

He has other symptoms, some of which I’ll talk about in future posts, and some of which he’ll write about here, too. When I finish my race, and he congratulates me at the line, he’ll still have much more to go. It’s the least I can do to run far with this purpose.

Week ending November 20: 

Tuesday, November 15:  7 miles at Croft

Wednesday, November 16:  4 1/2 miles on Cottonwood: dead-legged and tired

Friday, November 18: 10 miles lunchtime bike ride

Saturday, November 19:  5 1/2 miles, including 10x120 yard barefoot striders on practice football field at the high school. I reminded myself how much I love running barefoot on grass.

Sunday, november 20: 17 miles at Croft

Total: 34 miles

Fifty Weeks to Fifty Miles at Fifty Years

A few years ago, my dad (EO) slipped on some acorns and fell while walking in from the garage, breaking his ankle. The healing process took a long time, and through the process, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. As it turns out, he had had mis-diagnosed symptoms for about five years before that, like stumbling occasionally on the steps. His doctor told him “to pick up his feet.” EO’s still pretty pissed and bitter about that.

The symptoms have increased fairly dramatically since the diagnosis. Used to frequent travelling with my mother, he did not slow down, and their schedule wore him out. He got sick, and walking became more difficult. He didn’t want to tell anyone that he had Parkinson’s, and allowed others to think he was “just getting old.” He and my mother moved into a retirement community a couple of years ago. EO uses a walker now as his mobility has decreased significantly.

I started running when I was 21 years old, needing some kind of outlet while taking a semester off from college to try to locate the motivation I needed to finish school. My younger brother had taken up track and cross country in high school, and within a couple of years his three brothers had all followed. I felt good and strong from the beginning, and now, 28 years later, I’ve run on two continents, 47 states, in hundreds of races, and into my second marriage.

Around the same time EO fell, some friends and I decided to run an overnight relay as an ultra team. Six of us split 205 miles through the Smoky Mountains, on trails, dirt roads and backcountry paved roads. The experience left us with the long-distance bug, and I and my two best friends signed up for ultra-marathons, races of longer than 26.2 miles. Now, after three 50ks with more on my schedule, and approaching my fiftieth birthday, I decided to run a fifty-mile race while fifty years old. 

This blog will tell those stories: one man losing his ability to get around easily, the other training to run a very long distance in a short time. One is the story of a man approaching one of those milestone birthdays that often causes us to undertake something that proves we’re not getting old, and the other the story of a man who can’t escape the wearing down of functions that proves he is. It will be the story of dealing with the breakdown of a father, and of a wife caring for her ailing husband. Finally, it will be one of those ultra-runner blogs with stories of adventures on trails and in the mountains, highlighting the fifty weeks of training and racing leading up to my goal event, the Ice Age 50 in the Kettle Moraine State Forest in Wisconsin. Thus the idea for 50 weeks to 50 miles at 50 years was born. 

As I worked out the details of my endeavor, I sought a way to make this whole thing mean something more. Raising money to benefit the research going on to understand and cure Parkinson’s Disease was an easy leap. I’ll provide more details about that part of my quest soon.