I'm in the Ice Age Trail 50

I registered for the Ice Age Trail 50, my goal race for Team Fox and my fund-raising efforts. The race sold out pretty quickly, so I am glad to have gotten in. In the past few years there have been some real studs (non-gender specific) there, which will add a neat attraction.

While there's certainly time before my race, I'm asking you to join my efforts to raise $5000 for Team Fox whose proceeds benefit the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research. Clicking on the logo to the right will get you directly to my personal page. All donations are tax deductible. 

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.

Week ending December 18

Tuesday 5 miles on Cottonwood 
 

Wednesday Car breaks down in rough neighborhood. By the time I get it towed it’s time to pick Quinn up at dance.

Thursday 7 miles at Croft Felt really dead-legged, which does not bode well given the lack of running the past two weeks. I bought some “adrenal caps” to see if the solution to this summer’s weakness works here.

Friday Turned around after 5 minutes of my run today. Yipes.

Saturday Volunteered at the SPACE Jingle Bell 5K. The course is almost entirely on the Cottonwood Trail, one of my favorite places ever. SPACE is a great organization that does good work in Spartanburg County (so I, a board member, say…). Spent the afternoon Christmas shopping with my offspring.

Sunday Felt like do-do. Thought I’d listen to my body, but proceeded to beat myself up for the rest of the day. Not even shopping with my young’uns could pull me out of this one (well, not completely).

Total 12 miles

Sometimes, well, you know, sometimes you’re lazy, and sometimes you’re not feeling great. Sometimes you go anyway, and have a great run, and sometimes you go anyway, and it sucks. I’ve said that running—the habit, not the act—has been my way of fending off laziness for the past 28 years. This week I worried that if I started, I was just going to turn around anyway. So I packed it in, spent the day with my kids, didn’t think about running…much.

"Pick up your feet"

So I mentioned that my dad remembers “tripping on the last step” as the first symptom he noticed of Parkinson’s Disease. He told his doctor, who said, “Pick up your feet.” He’s still mad about that.

I tripped on the steps the other night. Sunday around 8 o’clock, after running eleven miles on tired legs,  I just caught the toe of my sandal on the tread. I’ve probably done it before, right? I’d mentioned to my doctor that I’ve had some dizziness when I turn suddenly (again, usually after running far or hard). He told me that’s part of getting old, which sounded vaguely like, “Pick up your feet.”

From what I’ve read, PD is genetic, but there seems to be an uncertain hereditary factor. It appears in direct families, like father-son. According to my mother, late-onset Parkinson’s is not generally hereditary, something that makes them feel better, she told me. My parents worry a great deal about the ways their genes may be harming us, from my brother’s collapsed lungs to my sister’s Celiac disease.

Last Saturday I ran seventeen miles on obscure and rough trails, and I don’t recall losing my balance or tripping at all. I never felt very comfortable, but just kept adding more miles with right or left turns. But everything after the first fifty minutes came at roughly the same level of “uncomfortable.” I stopped on the drive home at a football field to run 10 x 120 yard barefoot striders.  

I know that my legs are tired, that my feet ache a little, and that tripping on a stair is related to fatigue more than anything else. Right?

If it’s true that my father’s grandfather may have had Parkinson’s, that his father may have had Parkinson’s, that his sister had a form of Parkinson’s, well, I don’t know. 

As long as I can remember, I’ve thought that an hour or two or six in the woods was a great way to spend an afternoon no matter how uncomfortable or even bad the run felt. Today was another good example, and I kept running with the discomfort, and finished feeling like I could run another ten or fifteen miles at the same deliberate pace, which I’ll do on January 7th at Harbison.  

During those hours running, I didn’t think about having tripped on the steps, being too busy figuring out why I felt like crap and whether to turn left or right. But I’m thinking about it now, and feeling especially glad to be able to run like that. I’m thinking about the fifty-minute warm-up. I decided whether to turn right or left based on adding miles or not, and chose more miles each time.

I’ve felt a lot more emotional about turning 50 than any other birthday. I feel a little like I’m running out of time to have adventures the way I like, and no matter how fast or far I run, I’ll never outrun that one. I feel the kind of urgency that I felt when I was 21, only older. All that’s not unrelated to my running new distances--new PRs, new limits. I can’t run as fast as I did in my 20s, so I might as well run a long way, something the 20s me would never have conceived of. 

EO focuses on walking now, and gets around well with a walker. He and my mom went to Carlos Agudelo’s dance class for Parkinson’s patients and caregivers. They enjoyed it, enjoyed Carlos who also teaches Quinn ballet, and stayed for the discussion afterwards. I still chuckle about dropping my parents off at dance class.

I try to celebrate all my victories no matter how small--like when there is enough cheese for the mac-n-cheese recipe I like, or when the light stays green as I coast down the long hill to the coffee shop, or I run seventeen miles in the woods.

Week ending December 4

I haven’t run on a Monday in several years. Tuesday was Dickens of a Christmas, a community festival downtown. Snidely Sidewinder’s all up in that.

Wednesday November 30  5 miles on cottonwood

Thursday December 1 7 miles at Croft

Saturday December 3  18 miles at Croft, including 10 x 120 yards barefoot at football field. Never felt great, but kept adding miles. Could have run more.

Sunday December 4  4 miles at Croft: could not have run more.

Total: 34 miles

I didn’t run Friday because I felt a little tired in my legs, and thought that I should save for the Saturday planned long run. Didn’t feel great during that run, either. Chiropractor visit in order. This summer I had an adrenal problem, and took a supplement made of cow and pig endocrine system parts--on the disgusting side, but it helped. I wonder if that’s what I need--and what will determine which voodoo doctor I go to.

I decided to register for the Harbison 50k on January 7 because I have several friends who will be there, and because it’s less likely than Tsali to have a gnarly weather component. I still am not as excited to see the trails, though Seth tells me it’s pretty. I’ll add that there is the matter of the finisher’s award.

from the Harbison 50K website

Week ending November 27

Wednesday 11/23 9 miles at Croft: felt dead-legged and a bit sore for some reason, which didn’t bode well for the Turkey Day 8K.

Thursday 11/24 9 miles, including 4.6 Turkey Day 8K (well, almost 8k) in 31:51. The Turkey Day 8K started seven years ago as a bet between two friends. Entry fee is a can of food, and 40 people showed up the first year. This year there were 735, by far the largest race in Spartanburg. Tempo felt easy and relaxed. I had no idea I was running that fast (6:47 pace). Warm-up and cool down with Seth and Carroll (on his bike this year) is a Thanksgiving tradition.

Friday 11/25  11 miles at Croft: felt a little dead legged, but not sore at all.

Saturday 11/26 4 miles on Cottonwood. Yeah.

Sunday 11/27 11 miles at Croft, including 8 x 120 yards barefoot on football field. Felt pretty crappy at first, maybe the result of a late night watching huge guys bash each other and toss around an oblong air bladder.  Felt stronger as the run went on.

Total: 44 miles

Thanksgiving week often turns into a mini-camp: days off from work really help. The accumulation felt great, the first week over 40 miles since June. Nothing particularly long, but good mental training with tired legs.

Had this song in my head for most of my runs this week. Saw this show a few weeks ago.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25R8AOcE_hYhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=25R8AOcE_hY

Thank you, Mr. Carlos

Carlos Agudelo is an important person in my family. The artistic director of Ballet Spartanburg, Carlos retired after a successful career several years ago. His importance to us is as my son Quinn’s ballet teacher.

But not just any ballet teacher: Quinn started taking ballet when he was 5 after seeing a dancer on Sesame Street. He always said he wanted to do ballet so he could “pick up girls.” And here in Spartanburg, South Carolina, Quinn has had all-boys dance classes now for nine years, all taught by Mr. Carlos. 

Carlos takes these classes seriously, and teaches the boys the French terms for what they are doing from the beginning. When Quinn was 7, he took a class with girls taught by another teacher. “She doesn’t use the French words, Dad,” he told me indignantly. “I know the French words.” After every class, the boys shake Mr. Carlos’s hand, and thank him. I told Carlos that if I did some of the workouts those boys do, I’m not sure I’d shake his hand.

Carlos teaches all the boys that come through the program. One of his graduates dances professionally, and regularly comes back to town to work out with the boys. Quinn is always impressed.

photo by Alex Hicks, Spartanburg Herald-Journal

Carlos has been teaching a class for Parkinson’s patients here in town for a couple of years, too. The class is of course very different from Quinn’s: the dancers sit in chairs, and some of them are very restricted in their movement. But Carlos treats them the same way he treats his boys. He uses the French words for what they do, and he teaches the movements as though he is teaching a group of professional dancers, expecting them to do the things he does.

But as with Quinn, he teaches to their level, too. No one is made to feel inadequate, or incomplete. In an article in the local paper, Carlos said he does not view this as a therapy class, but as a dance class. “No matter how old you are or what your physical abilities are, as long as you can move, you can dance." 

I observed Carlos’s class recently at a presentation by researcher Dr. Mark Stacy. In front of a crowd of about 500, Carlos and his students acted like no one was watching. Most of the members of the class were elderly, but there were a couple who seemed to be in their 50s. There were two women whose movement was very restricted. 

I cried at their willingness to dance in front of such a large crowd, and thought of my father’s own nervousness about telling others of his affliction. All of them sat up as straight as they were able, on the edges of their chairs. They knew the routine, but as with Quinn’s classes, Carlos added new moves. After the half-hour session, they stood and bowed to the audience. They all thanked Mr. Carlos.

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.