The Groton Road Race strides into its 18th year – Sunday April 26th 2009!
A refreshed team, a renewed sense of commitment promises a great event for local athletes.
There was some question this fall as to whether the highly regarded Groton Road Race would be held at all in its 18th year. A few of the key members of the race director’s team were moving on and the question was asked whether or not it would be better to let the much-loved local event “go out on top”.
As is the case in many situations like this the community stepped forward and provided a new influx of talented volunteers and this local tradition is poised to pull off another spectacular event for Groton and adjoining towns.
Something for every family member…
This year marks the 18th running of the venerable road race. Each April for the last 18 years the local families have gathered at the middle school in Groton to partake in the series of races. There will be no major changes to the courses, schedules or other event details in 2009 so families and runners can continue to choose the event that suits them – 10K, 5K, 2K or Tot’s Trot. The whole family can come down to the middle school track to compete, cheer, celebrate or just enjoy the sun in the infield.
As in previous years there will be full athlete support with free massage, EMT, refreshments, baked goods, food & drinks and live music! It’s a road race party and you are invited.
Unique scenic country course closed for the racers…
Groton is unique among local races in that it continues to provide a closed course (no cars) for its competitors. The course itself is something that anyone who has run Groton raves about. Rolling country roads through farms, forest and community will greet those taking on the 5K and 10K.
Continuing the “Awesome Shirt” tradition…
Again this year Milan Studios has outdone itself in producing a shirt design that is a must have. Upholding the Groton Road Race tradition of high quality professional graphics design that truly captures the nature of the community and the event – this year is outstanding and you will love it.
Great sponsorship and more runner prizes!
The expanded race team this year enabled the gathering up of all sorts of prizes and gift certificates for participants. In addition to our traditional sponsors stepping up in difficult times many in-kind sponsors will be providing great stuff for the participants. (List of key sponsors here)
Still a bargain!
With all the doom and gloom of the economy the Groton Road Races are still an affordable event. The race fees have been kept low to encourage participation. Again this year online sign-up is available at www.grotonroadrace.com for no additional fee.
And it’s all for the kids…
The Groton Road Races are a completely non-profit organization run by 100% volunteers. The proceeds of the event go support youth sports and running. Specifically the race hosts the summer track and field program that has fostered generations of young athletes. The race also funds college scholarships for young athletes. In addition donations are made to the cross country, and track programs of schools in the surrounding towns.
Sign up soon – the race it coming April 26th…
Make sure to get your race sign up completed so that you are ensured a race t-shirt. Remember to come early to the Groton Middle School and give yourself time to park. You will want to be on time to drink in the wonderful spectacle that is the 18th Groton Road Race.
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, and “The Mid-Packer’s Guide to the Galaxy”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Tags
Running Podcast, Running Blog, marathon, triathlon, mileage, sprinting, run, track, training, running clubs, running groups, running shoes, exercise, health, 5k, running, swimming, sports, injuries, stretching, eating, jogging, biking, trail race, 5K, 10K, Ultramarathon, jogging a good exercise, road runner, jogging tips, benefits of jogging, free running, running shoes, marathon training, running, jogging, health and fitness, runners, runner.
b
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Run to Work – the ultimate commute
Run to Work – the ultimate commute
Littleton, Ma March 2009
Many local commuters have come up with ways to combat high gas prices by sharing rides or riding their bicycles this year but Chris Russell of Littleton recently went over the top. He ran to work. Before you say “So what?” you have to understand that Chris lives in Littleton, 17.5 miles from his office in Burlington, Ma., and he didn’t just run to work, he turned around and ran home for a 35 mile total commute.
Why? “Well, I’m in training for the Boston Marathon already and my long runs are around 20 miles for that so I figured I’d see if I could run to work and just use it as a part of my training.”
But why turn around and run back? Isn’t that over doing it? “I’m in decent shape and I have some experience at what’s referred to as the “ultra” distance (beyond the 26.2 miles of a standard marathon). I ran the Vermont 50 Miler in September, so I knew theoretically I could cover the distance. The first time I ran in to work one way in February and has my wife give me a ride home and I felt great, so I figured I’d have a little adventure and give the whole round trip a try.”
Chris, who will be running his 11th Boston Marathon this year, is also one of the race directors for the Groton Road Race coming up in on April 26th of this year. “I had a great idea to wear some sort of advertisement for Groton on my shirt to call out the website www.grotonroadrace.com, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it.”
How long does something like that take? “My usual commute takes around 40-45 minutes depending on the traffic. I go down Route 225 through Westford, Carlyle, Bedford and Burlington. When I ran in to work, it took me around 2:24 and about 2:30 to run the other way. One thing I realized is that it’s downhill from Littleton to Burlington. So I had to run up hill to get home!”
At the end of the run Mr. Russell said he was “a little wobbly” but ok. Chris also noted that people who want to run on Route 225 during commuting hours because the roads are quite narrow in places and people don’t expect you to be there. He recommends running into traffic and being prepared to jump out of the way when someone isn’t paying attention.
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, and “The Mid-Packer’s Guide to the Galaxy”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Tags
Running Podcast, Running Blog, marathon, triathlon, mileage, sprinting, run, track, training, running clubs, running groups, running shoes, exercise, health, 5k, running, swimming, sports, injuries, stretching, eating, jogging, biking, trail race, 5K, 10K, Ultramarathon, jogging a good exercise, road runner, jogging tips, benefits of jogging, free running, running shoes, marathon training, running, jogging, health and fitness, runners, runner.
Littleton, Ma March 2009
Many local commuters have come up with ways to combat high gas prices by sharing rides or riding their bicycles this year but Chris Russell of Littleton recently went over the top. He ran to work. Before you say “So what?” you have to understand that Chris lives in Littleton, 17.5 miles from his office in Burlington, Ma., and he didn’t just run to work, he turned around and ran home for a 35 mile total commute.
Why? “Well, I’m in training for the Boston Marathon already and my long runs are around 20 miles for that so I figured I’d see if I could run to work and just use it as a part of my training.”
But why turn around and run back? Isn’t that over doing it? “I’m in decent shape and I have some experience at what’s referred to as the “ultra” distance (beyond the 26.2 miles of a standard marathon). I ran the Vermont 50 Miler in September, so I knew theoretically I could cover the distance. The first time I ran in to work one way in February and has my wife give me a ride home and I felt great, so I figured I’d have a little adventure and give the whole round trip a try.”
Chris, who will be running his 11th Boston Marathon this year, is also one of the race directors for the Groton Road Race coming up in on April 26th of this year. “I had a great idea to wear some sort of advertisement for Groton on my shirt to call out the website www.grotonroadrace.com, but I couldn’t figure out how to do it.”
How long does something like that take? “My usual commute takes around 40-45 minutes depending on the traffic. I go down Route 225 through Westford, Carlyle, Bedford and Burlington. When I ran in to work, it took me around 2:24 and about 2:30 to run the other way. One thing I realized is that it’s downhill from Littleton to Burlington. So I had to run up hill to get home!”
At the end of the run Mr. Russell said he was “a little wobbly” but ok. Chris also noted that people who want to run on Route 225 during commuting hours because the roads are quite narrow in places and people don’t expect you to be there. He recommends running into traffic and being prepared to jump out of the way when someone isn’t paying attention.
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, and “The Mid-Packer’s Guide to the Galaxy”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Tags
Running Podcast, Running Blog, marathon, triathlon, mileage, sprinting, run, track, training, running clubs, running groups, running shoes, exercise, health, 5k, running, swimming, sports, injuries, stretching, eating, jogging, biking, trail race, 5K, 10K, Ultramarathon, jogging a good exercise, road runner, jogging tips, benefits of jogging, free running, running shoes, marathon training, running, jogging, health and fitness, runners, runner.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Yaktrax Pro Review – Getting a grip on winter running
Yaktrax Pro Review – Getting a grip on winter running
I’ll spoil the suspense for you; they worked awesome for me and I’ll tell you about it. I got the perfect storm, so to speak, of new toys and awful weather. Couldn’t ask for better weather to test out traction devices in.
Ironically my new YakTrax Pros showed up while I was out running in the woods last week in 4 inches of thick slush. I was thinking to myself that they might come in handy before I left. Then there they were, leaning against my garage door in the freezing rain when Buddy the Wonder Dog and I got back from our sloppy 10k.
I was yet to know that Old Man Winter would provide me with the industrial strength proving ground I was looking for before the week was out!
It started as snow, turned into rain and left 4 inches of slush like you get out of the Slushy Machine at 7-11. Brutal stuff. After it stopped raining the temperature dropped. This is the worst scenario. If you don’t get the slush up it freezes into a wonderful layer of hard snow and ice that cannot be moved at a later date without the use of dynamite or blow torches.
Once you have the slush storm followed by a freeze it creates the worst winter running conditions. These are icy conditions that are downright treacherous even for a sure footed hobbit-like trail runner. Well – actually, I’m not too surefooted, but I am quite hairy like a hobbit.
As the weekend approached the forecast was for another snow storm on top of the hardened slush ice. I decided I should move my 12 mile long run to Saturday and try out my new YakTrax. I’m the master of dual tasking. Test the YakTrax and get a long run in…seemed to make perfect sense to me. Yes, I know, never try out your new footwear on a long run or a race, but that doesn’t apply to me? Right?
I thought about what the appropriate shoes to strap them to would be? I decided on my old trail shoes. They only have a couple hundred miles on them and only one ultra-trail-mountain-marathon but they’ve started to fall apart. It turned out to be a good choice.
I got the “large” version of the YakTrax Pro. They fit my size 12D very well, snug and comfortable. Like a glove…. They didn’t pull on my toes or feel loose. They have a Velcro strap across the top like sandal to keep them on your feet, but mine fit so well I think the strap was superfluous.
Conditions Saturday afternoon as Buddy the Wonder Dog and I headed out for two loops of our woods 10k were cold and icy. The snow/slush had hardened to 2 inches of snow with a 2 inch ice crust on top. It’s a real pain because sometimes you fall through the crust on your foot plant and sometimes you don’t. The crust was pure smooth ice. If you dropped a hockey puck it would slide away towards the horizon with no impedance.
Some jerk with a dog had gone out and run the trails while the slush was still wet and left large, frozen, fossilized footprints on my trail! 4 inch deep size 12 bomb craters right down the middle of the trail! Heffalumps! Woozles! Usually if I leave footprints I can use them as toe-holds on subsequent trips, but these were so deep and icy as to be dangerous trail hazards. Can you say “ankle-snapper”?
The YakTrax were awesome on the ice. The coils bite well on both the heel and the forefoot. That’s where the coils form large diamond patterns that provide maximum surface area for grip. They are not so good on the mid-foot and I’ll touch on that later. I started out cautiously, but quickly go the feel of them and was able to run my normal mechanics and stride.
At one point I run a section of asphalt road to get to the next trail head. I thought this would be terrible but the ride wasn’t that bad. For short distances the YakTrax felt fine on the road. Indeed for one uphill section that was heavily sanded they provided extra traction in the grit. The trail shoes I put them on had nice big lugs and a soft ride and I think this absorbed much of the hardness of the coils. I didn’t try it, but I’m thinking my road shoes, being stiffer and thinner would not ride as comfortably on the hard surfaces.
The best traction is on the forefoot. It’s pretty good on the heel too, so that covers most runners. The blind spot is in the midsole where the coils cross. The only time I fell was when I planted my foot on an slanted icy corner – the midsole coils caught, but not enough to keep me upright and I couldn’t recover. It was a sideways slip and fall which are typically better than the high-impact head over heels falls you get when you heel strike on a patch of ice.
I routinely run in less than perfect surface conditions and I tend to adjust my stride to be more flat-footed to maximize tread-to-trail surface area. That’s not a great strategy with the YakTrax. They work much better if you can maintain a good high turn forefoot churn. Perfect for you Chi-Runners.
The next day I had some very light leg fatigue but no leg or knee pain. There was no weird fatigue or discomfort. This tells me that the YakTrax didn’t change my running mechanics.
Over the following days I have run in deep snow, both on the trail and on the road with them. They aren’t really designed for deep snow, but will give you some extra toe-off ability even in the deep stuff. On the road in the ‘marshmallow’ snow along the side they were ok – not perfect, but better than road shoes.
Late in runs they started to slide off the toe – mostly because one of the cross strap lined up with a trench in my trail shoe. Overall a quick tug and they’re back into place and good again. Buddy was sliding on the ice – I was gripping!
Summary:
- Good fit
- Normal running mechanics
- Great on ice
- Added value in deeper or softer snow
- Not horrible on the road
- Recommend trail shoes with them
Two thumbs up. I’ll keep running in them and let you know if the great stress of my high-mileage Clydesdale training causes them to prematurely deconstruct.
In the meantime – I’ll see you out there!
Chris,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, and “The Mid-Packer’s Guide to the Galaxy”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
I’ll spoil the suspense for you; they worked awesome for me and I’ll tell you about it. I got the perfect storm, so to speak, of new toys and awful weather. Couldn’t ask for better weather to test out traction devices in.
Ironically my new YakTrax Pros showed up while I was out running in the woods last week in 4 inches of thick slush. I was thinking to myself that they might come in handy before I left. Then there they were, leaning against my garage door in the freezing rain when Buddy the Wonder Dog and I got back from our sloppy 10k.
I was yet to know that Old Man Winter would provide me with the industrial strength proving ground I was looking for before the week was out!
It started as snow, turned into rain and left 4 inches of slush like you get out of the Slushy Machine at 7-11. Brutal stuff. After it stopped raining the temperature dropped. This is the worst scenario. If you don’t get the slush up it freezes into a wonderful layer of hard snow and ice that cannot be moved at a later date without the use of dynamite or blow torches.
Once you have the slush storm followed by a freeze it creates the worst winter running conditions. These are icy conditions that are downright treacherous even for a sure footed hobbit-like trail runner. Well – actually, I’m not too surefooted, but I am quite hairy like a hobbit.
As the weekend approached the forecast was for another snow storm on top of the hardened slush ice. I decided I should move my 12 mile long run to Saturday and try out my new YakTrax. I’m the master of dual tasking. Test the YakTrax and get a long run in…seemed to make perfect sense to me. Yes, I know, never try out your new footwear on a long run or a race, but that doesn’t apply to me? Right?
I thought about what the appropriate shoes to strap them to would be? I decided on my old trail shoes. They only have a couple hundred miles on them and only one ultra-trail-mountain-marathon but they’ve started to fall apart. It turned out to be a good choice.
I got the “large” version of the YakTrax Pro. They fit my size 12D very well, snug and comfortable. Like a glove…. They didn’t pull on my toes or feel loose. They have a Velcro strap across the top like sandal to keep them on your feet, but mine fit so well I think the strap was superfluous.
Conditions Saturday afternoon as Buddy the Wonder Dog and I headed out for two loops of our woods 10k were cold and icy. The snow/slush had hardened to 2 inches of snow with a 2 inch ice crust on top. It’s a real pain because sometimes you fall through the crust on your foot plant and sometimes you don’t. The crust was pure smooth ice. If you dropped a hockey puck it would slide away towards the horizon with no impedance.
Some jerk with a dog had gone out and run the trails while the slush was still wet and left large, frozen, fossilized footprints on my trail! 4 inch deep size 12 bomb craters right down the middle of the trail! Heffalumps! Woozles! Usually if I leave footprints I can use them as toe-holds on subsequent trips, but these were so deep and icy as to be dangerous trail hazards. Can you say “ankle-snapper”?
The YakTrax were awesome on the ice. The coils bite well on both the heel and the forefoot. That’s where the coils form large diamond patterns that provide maximum surface area for grip. They are not so good on the mid-foot and I’ll touch on that later. I started out cautiously, but quickly go the feel of them and was able to run my normal mechanics and stride.
At one point I run a section of asphalt road to get to the next trail head. I thought this would be terrible but the ride wasn’t that bad. For short distances the YakTrax felt fine on the road. Indeed for one uphill section that was heavily sanded they provided extra traction in the grit. The trail shoes I put them on had nice big lugs and a soft ride and I think this absorbed much of the hardness of the coils. I didn’t try it, but I’m thinking my road shoes, being stiffer and thinner would not ride as comfortably on the hard surfaces.
The best traction is on the forefoot. It’s pretty good on the heel too, so that covers most runners. The blind spot is in the midsole where the coils cross. The only time I fell was when I planted my foot on an slanted icy corner – the midsole coils caught, but not enough to keep me upright and I couldn’t recover. It was a sideways slip and fall which are typically better than the high-impact head over heels falls you get when you heel strike on a patch of ice.
I routinely run in less than perfect surface conditions and I tend to adjust my stride to be more flat-footed to maximize tread-to-trail surface area. That’s not a great strategy with the YakTrax. They work much better if you can maintain a good high turn forefoot churn. Perfect for you Chi-Runners.
The next day I had some very light leg fatigue but no leg or knee pain. There was no weird fatigue or discomfort. This tells me that the YakTrax didn’t change my running mechanics.
Over the following days I have run in deep snow, both on the trail and on the road with them. They aren’t really designed for deep snow, but will give you some extra toe-off ability even in the deep stuff. On the road in the ‘marshmallow’ snow along the side they were ok – not perfect, but better than road shoes.
Late in runs they started to slide off the toe – mostly because one of the cross strap lined up with a trench in my trail shoe. Overall a quick tug and they’re back into place and good again. Buddy was sliding on the ice – I was gripping!
Summary:
- Good fit
- Normal running mechanics
- Great on ice
- Added value in deeper or softer snow
- Not horrible on the road
- Recommend trail shoes with them
Two thumbs up. I’ll keep running in them and let you know if the great stress of my high-mileage Clydesdale training causes them to prematurely deconstruct.
In the meantime – I’ll see you out there!
Chris,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, and “The Mid-Packer’s Guide to the Galaxy”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Gimme back my Quads!
Gimme back my Quads!
Who took my quads?
Ok – who ever took my quads, if you bring them back there will be no questions asked. Just leave them in a brown paper bag in the back of my old truck. There will be no recrimination and I won’t rat you out to the quad squad. If you could get them back to me before my next race, that would be cool too.
It’s been three weeks since I ran that 50 mile ultra in the mountains of VT. It’s never taken more than 7 days for me to heal from a race. Even some of the most evilly bad Boston’s are just a bad memory within a week. Something strange is going on here.
I didn’t struggle in that Ultra and on the whole thought it was pretty mild, but here I am 3 weeks later and my quads are missing.
I ‘raced’ a hilly 9.5 miler today. I took off strong at my 10k pace but by the 3rd mile of steep up hills and down hills my quads were done. I let my pack go and fell into a ‘save face’ pace. What the @#$%? A paltry 9.5 miles and I’ve got to work it like a calculus problem to finish under 8-minute miles?
Other than the quads all the other lights on the control panel were green. Plenty of energy. Lots of pop in the other muscles. Heart rate fine. Lungs fine. No quads.
It was like someone borrowed my quads while I was sleeping last night and took them for a joy ride. Or swapped them out with the quads of an octogenarian. If they borrowed them, then they spent the night doing hill charges. So strange.
I managed to tough it out but it’s hard to run a trail race without quads.
I miss them because they were quite a big part of my running arsenal. I’ve never been fast but I’ve always had leg strength. With my ‘sturdy frame’ I rely on leg strength. I like passing those skinny guys. I grind by them on the up hills and on the down hills, when gravity is my friend; I storm by like an out of control rhino.
Maybe I can borrow some quads until I find mine? Does anyone have a spare set out in the garage behind the old golf cubs? Let me know.
If you see my quads tell them I miss them. Tell them to come home. I will hold no grudge – all is forgiven. Maybe you’ll find them hanging out down behind the 7-11 smoking cigarettes with my balky Piriformis. Tell them to come home because I need them. Call my cell phone anytime.
Whoever absconded with my quads please bring them back. We can make a deal. I’ll give you 3 pairs of old running shoes and 15 long sleeve cotton race tees. Come on, have a heart, I don’t know if I can go on without them.
See you out there,
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Who took my quads?
Ok – who ever took my quads, if you bring them back there will be no questions asked. Just leave them in a brown paper bag in the back of my old truck. There will be no recrimination and I won’t rat you out to the quad squad. If you could get them back to me before my next race, that would be cool too.
It’s been three weeks since I ran that 50 mile ultra in the mountains of VT. It’s never taken more than 7 days for me to heal from a race. Even some of the most evilly bad Boston’s are just a bad memory within a week. Something strange is going on here.
I didn’t struggle in that Ultra and on the whole thought it was pretty mild, but here I am 3 weeks later and my quads are missing.
I ‘raced’ a hilly 9.5 miler today. I took off strong at my 10k pace but by the 3rd mile of steep up hills and down hills my quads were done. I let my pack go and fell into a ‘save face’ pace. What the @#$%? A paltry 9.5 miles and I’ve got to work it like a calculus problem to finish under 8-minute miles?
Other than the quads all the other lights on the control panel were green. Plenty of energy. Lots of pop in the other muscles. Heart rate fine. Lungs fine. No quads.
It was like someone borrowed my quads while I was sleeping last night and took them for a joy ride. Or swapped them out with the quads of an octogenarian. If they borrowed them, then they spent the night doing hill charges. So strange.
I managed to tough it out but it’s hard to run a trail race without quads.
I miss them because they were quite a big part of my running arsenal. I’ve never been fast but I’ve always had leg strength. With my ‘sturdy frame’ I rely on leg strength. I like passing those skinny guys. I grind by them on the up hills and on the down hills, when gravity is my friend; I storm by like an out of control rhino.
Maybe I can borrow some quads until I find mine? Does anyone have a spare set out in the garage behind the old golf cubs? Let me know.
If you see my quads tell them I miss them. Tell them to come home. I will hold no grudge – all is forgiven. Maybe you’ll find them hanging out down behind the 7-11 smoking cigarettes with my balky Piriformis. Tell them to come home because I need them. Call my cell phone anytime.
Whoever absconded with my quads please bring them back. We can make a deal. I’ll give you 3 pairs of old running shoes and 15 long sleeve cotton race tees. Come on, have a heart, I don’t know if I can go on without them.
See you out there,
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Monday, October 6, 2008
The Vermont 50 Mile Ultra-Marathon – Chris’ Race Report
Ultra-Marathon, Check!
The race report (from Hell)
Like the race itself – this is going to be a long one…
I’ve been putting off writing this race report for a couple not so good reasons. First is the typical post event ennui that overcomes me post-haste post-race. It’s a bit like postpartum depression, an aimless funk that is 5% physical and 95% mental.
It’s different each time. I remember after a few of my ‘big’ marathons I was high for a week before the inevitable turpitude set in. It’s worse when you ‘crater’ at an event, although sometimes failing horribly creates a spark of purpose fueled by anger – like the one that caused me to qualify for Boston. (It’s funny how sometimes failure is more inspirational than success.)
I also thought a little emotional distance (time) might not be a bad thing. Writing a race report before the neurons have stopped firing can sometimes result in a mish-mash of emotional stew that is unreadable.
The second big reason I’ve been ruing putting pinky to pixel is that I’ve got stakeholders who really care about me and want to see it! I feel like I owe those friends who have supported me through this campaign and in some odd psychotic way that really makes writing the race report feel like work!
Enough whining! On with the show! I must act today before the very events of the day slip into the murky fog of memory. I fig to thee oh funk! Get up and keep moving forward. It’s what we do. It’s our life metaphor, and handily enough the mantra for the ultra – CFM - continuous forward movement. Or as the poet Bon Scott put it “Ride on…”
“Running is the classical road to self-consciousness, self-awareness and self reliance. Independence is the outstanding characteristic of the runner. He learns the harsh reality of his physical and mental limitations when he runs. He learns personal commitment, sacrifice and determination are his only means to betterment. Runners only get promoted through self-conquest.” – Noel Carroll
The net result was a great race. I didn’t crash at all. I loved it and had a blast. I did well. I think the official results were:
Class/Bib/Overall ... Time/Pace (my watch said 9:04)
11 921 33 CHRISTOPHER 45 LITTLETON MA 9:05:28 10:54
Looks like I was 33rd out of 162 finishers with ~16 DNF and ~20 Did not shows. That’s not bad, is it? Notice the results only had my first name? That’s because I’m so famous; like Elvis…
I’ve been asked how I trained to run an ultra- marathon. The truth is I’ve trained my whole life for that race. In microcosm I set myself up with a 16 week program, similar to any marathon plan. The difference was the very long long-runs and less speed work. I found spending lots of time in the woods very comfortable and comforting. All-in-all it was easy. Once you get past a certain point it doesn’t get any worse.
I ran all 6 mountain races in the mountain goat series over the summer of ’07 and learned all about running up and down mountains. I trained well for a February Marathon this spring that I DNF’ed at – it just didn’t feel right. Then I ran a qualifier at Boston. At the same time I trained hard power walking at 13% stiff treadmill inclines for the Mount Washington Road Race where I turned in a respectful effort on that one hill in July.
It all ran together in a mishmash of miles and effort. I finished off my ultra program with a good showing at the difficult mountainous Wapack Trail race and a 36 mile training run, then a three week gradual taper. I was more than ready. I was so well trained and healthy that the race itself started to seem a non-event. (Until it started raining!)
In the end, I think my training was more than enough for the event. I could have taken significant time off of my finish with more long tempo work on long shallow up hills and long shallow down hills – but that’s a mere refinement. I had plenty in the tank and was healthy as a horse on race day. I probably could have pushed harder in the early miles – but that’s all Monday morning quarterbacking.
You never know how these things are going to turn out until you’re in them up to your neck. That’s what I love about endurance events. It’s like being thrown in to the ocean. You figure out how to swim or you sink. It really simplifies life. It refines things to that awesome razor edge of animal choice. Just you against you. Mano a mano.
It wasn’t the 16 weeks of (casual) training that made this race easy. I owe much of the ease to the countering maturity of 20 odd marathons and a handful of mountain races. When I stepped up to the start of this behemoth of a distance race it was with the steadying hand of experience on my shoulder.
The week leading up to the race was off the chart stress-wise (as they often are leading up to big races). That stress, whether real or imagined was propagated and amplified by my fearful anticipation of running farther than I ever had imagined I could, would or should. My old truck was diagnosed as close to death and I had to rent a car for the drive up to Ascutney. It started raining on Wednesday and two tropical storms veered out of the Caribbean towards New England. Prognosis was lots of mud. Stress was rampant. Like all red blooded males I suppressed it.
I felt for the first time in a long time that nervous energy of fear and trepidation that you get before a big race. A big adventure. Something you know is going to hurt badly and test your physical and mental infrastructure. Your subconscious screams at you that only a fool would willingly walk into the maw of pain and struggle that waits. Your big brain assures you it’s alright.
The truth is you don’t know what’s going to happen when you start something like this. That’s what makes it cool. That’s what makes it worth doing. There’s a chance that you could end up shivering in a ditch, played out and beaten. In our jaded modern world of laptops and airplanes that is the grisly stuff of reality that makes you feel alive. The result is a nice mélange of nervous anticipation and dread.
My wife Yvonne came with me. She usually doesn’t pay much attention to my long distance running addiction. She lives with it like any other stoic bride of addiction. I think she felt that this Ultra-thing was something she needed to tag along with to protect her investment. I told her I’d really appreciate her help because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to drive home comfortably.
I focused on trying to get 8 hours of sleep from Wednesday onwards.
I didn’t start any detailed race planning until the day before. It’s my habit not to worry about the details. Friday night I made one last large batch of chocolate energy balls. I collected a pile of Hammer gels (thanks Anthony) I made sure all my running stuff was clean and dry.
I looked at the forecast and puzzled over what to bring. How does one plan for a 10 hour trail race in a rain storm. Umbrella? Snorkel? I decided to un-retire two old pairs of trail shoes, package them with fresh sox, a change of clothes and a dry hat to be positioned at the drop stations along the course. Hermetically sealed in plastic bags of course in case of downpours.
Yvonne and I checked into our hotel in Springfield VT. The hotel was full of those mountain bikers who dominate the scene at this race. I made a point of being friendly and commenting loudly to my wife how glad I was not to have to carry a bike for 50 miles in the mud!
On the way to the Ascutney Ski lodge to check in we drove by the Ascutney camping area. I can’t imagine how much it must have sucked to have to sleep in a tent on the ground in the rain the night before a 50 mile race.
We checked in, dropped my drop-bags and wandered over to old-friend Dan’s condo, helpfully positioned right by the start/finish lines. It was a nice night with some well done past and pesto. Dan and Tom (college chums from 26 years ago) had their bikes all cleaned up and ready for the assault. They are VT 50 veterans having biked 5 previous races. In anticipation of mud, Dan had rebuilt his bike to a single speed. They are hard core and obsessive with their sport like I am with mine. We respect each other for that.
My wife and I were tuckered out. Back to the hotel in the rental PT Cruiser. We each chose one of the double beds – Rob and Laura Petri like - and off to sleep.
I got up at 4:30. Made some coffee, ate a banana and a power bar, and put on the clothes and shoes I had laid out carefully the night before. Adrenaline was starting to pump. I was excited. This was something new. Something challenging. Something of the perfect audacious adventure that I love. I wanted to get to it. This was off the map.
The 5:30 check in meeting at the start was in the dark. It was overcast and a tropical 64 degrees. Lots of runners and bikers were milling around. I got some more coffee. I love coffee. I took care of the necessaries and chatted up some folks. I was impressed with the relatively large number of women running the race. I was also cheered to see some other ‘husky’ fellows besides myself. While initially during my training my weight had plummeted to 180 pounds, with judicious over eating I had managed to get it back up to 190. Alas, no Clydesdale division.
It was not like the beginning of a big marathon. No one was really nervous or overly weird. Everyone was laid back and the tone was easy. Most were smiling, like they were about to go on a canoe ride with friends. There was none of the gritted-teeth awkwardness of the mega-road race scene. More like a Ben & Jerry’s revival.
Without much official fanfare, but a bunch of hooting and hollering, we were off. Everyone settled into a conversational pace. I soon fell in with race denizen Zeke who is an ultra-institution of sorts. He in turn attracted a number of other near-famous Ultra-runners.
It was like Sunday morning after church at the general store. They talked about old times, what others were up to, what their current projects were, almost everything except the race. A couple newbies chimed in and Zeke handed out sage advice.
The first 4.5 miles were dirt road. It felt more like a 10k than a 50 miler. I was running comfortably but worried that this was a good 2 minutes per mile faster than my goal pace. Was that ok? Then an aid station. Then into the woods and up the first mountain.
This is where we caught our first bikers. They had a head start on us and theoretically were faster, but we had the novices on the steep up hills. We could move much faster than some poor sole pushing a bike. These were the end-of-the-pack bikers. After sharing the course with bikers I’ve become curious with this sport. I think I’m going to have to try it out. It looks like fun.
The trails were great. Mostly soft cushiony single track or ATV trails. The mud was negligible in the first2/3 off the race. The few hundred bikes that preceded us made some deep ruts and there were some soft bits but the bad stuff was easily avoidable. The up hills on the mountains were quite steep, but not technical. The down hills were also quite steep and also not technical. Very run-able.
This is where my mountain experience came into play. The Ultra racing mantra is “walk the up hills and run the down hills.” Make no doubt about it. I was racing. What started out as a ‘just finish’ was now a race. I was in my comfort zone. I was pushing, not 100%, but sustainable effort, not a casual stroll.
When we say ‘walk’ we don’t mean just walking, like you would walk the dog. We mean power walking. Not that silly guy in the track suit with the hand weights who swaggers around your neighborhood. Mountain power walking is learned art form and consists of a long sliding stride with a toe-off and hand swing. I can power walk up a 13% mountain at 3-4 miles per hour without maxing my heart rate. It’s a science. This saves your running legs and keeps you racing.
When we say run the down hills we means race the down hills. It is very important not to fight gravity. Stay light and have a rapid turnover. Try to ‘fly’ without hitting the ground too much or braking. On the extremely steep slopes you can do a shuffle slide skip to surf across the ground while still maintaining frequent contact points – lots of little brakes instead of digging in your heels. All this is done to preserve the quads.
Why do you care? If you don’t know how to walk the up hills and run the down hills the VT 50 will be a miserable race for you. It’s got 9,000 feet of elevation gain and another 9,000 on the way back down. Failure to manage this will kill you - especially the end of the race when the muscles in your thighs will have degenerated to the point where they don’t work anymore. That’s the secret of this course and most of the mountains I’ve run.
The first 18 miles went by in a blur. Somewhere around 18 miles I felt my body switch off of free glycogen and onto the reserves. It was a momentary energy trough that barely registered. My training has been such that my body now loves to run on the reserve tank. This is also where I passed Ted. He is so much faster than I, it’s a shame his insides were acting up and didn’t let him continue on this day.
I was running with some 20 year-old from the Connecticut Maritime Academy who decided to run the ultra on a whim. His longest run in training was a 10k. I don’t know if he finished. I didn’t see him after the 18.8 Mile aid station. I met and chatted up a number of people in these miles as everyone was chipper and the field was still closely bunched. At one point I paused to snap a photo with my mini spy camera and was passed by 8 runners and a bike. It was a scenic view!
I remember that young woman on the bike. She was hanging with us through these early sections. She’d pass us on the downs and we’d pass her on the ups. The last time I passed her she made a point of asking me how we would interact next time she passed me. At the time I thought that was a moot point – turns out I was right. That was the last time I saw her.
The lack of mud meant that I didn’t need my mile 18.8 dry-clothes-care-package. I really didn’t pause much at the aid stations, except to fill my two 20 ounce bottles. I was treating it more like a triathlon transition zone than an aid station. Some of the folks hung around at these stations, like it was a picnic, not a race.
The day continued to be overcast and muggy, but there was no rain. The mud was not an issue in the first 40 miles of the race. The overall dryness of the summer had soaked up the 4 days of rain. Every once in a whole we’d emerge into a high mountain field with a stunning vista. The leaves had just started to change. They had not fallen, even with the rain, that is good because they did not obscure the course footing.
The course was so well marked. You’d have to be an idiot to get lost. I could see other competitors for the first 40 miles and never felt I didn’t know where I was. The herd of bikers in front of us left a well beaten path to follow. It was easy.
The bikers were extremely friendly. They gladly let us pass and were kind on the down hills when they re-passed us. In the end the up hills were a curse for them. Although they may have re-passed me on the down hills, none of the bikers I passed beat me to the finish line in the end. The last 10 miles were just too hard for them.
At the 25 mile aid station I again decided to stay with my current shoes and clothes. I did put on a fresh hat. I ate a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. I used the porta-potty for a pee – that’s a good sign. Surprisingly enough, even though I had to pull into the woods in almost all my training runs and was resigned to it in the race, something about the race environment produced a digestive miracle and I had no pit-stops. Isn’t it ironic how runners are like new parents examining and worrying over bowel movements?
I had great momentum through the 25 mile mark and was positively euphoric from 25 miles on. There were some downhill switch back sections where I was flying and laughing out loud with the joy of running. I got some of the others to sing the theme from Rawhide with me a few times for fun. Then I tried the “Hi Ho” song from Snow white. When I was finally alone I was singing a few broken choruses from Chariot by Gavin DeGraw “Oh chariot your golden waves are walking down upon this face…” No it’s not weird to talk and sing to yourself in a 9 hour race. I was running in the zone.
30 though 40 were great miles with lots of downhill and I passed many runners. I wouldn’t pass them like in a 10k where you see them and gun for them. I would simply hold my cadence and they would come to me slowly as they walked more than ran, and then, after trading places a few times they would slip away like the outgoing tide. I was passed by that famous Ultra guy, John something, who said he was planning to run across New Hampshire later in the year.
When I passed the bikers I tried to call back over my shoulder to warn them about bad sections. More than once I shouted a warning only to hear a scream and a curse and the sound of body on mud.
After the mile 35.6 aid station it started to feel a little like work. I was getting tired but still running strong. I was just getting weary from so much time on my feet in the woods. My legs and joints were fine. I had a little sharp strobe going on in my left quad that had been troubling me during training. The irony was that it only hurt on the easy bits. The shallow down hills that are usually my strength caused it to flap a little uncomfortably.
I determined to ignore it. I had gone into the race knowing that at my age and my weight something was bound to start hurting. I had pre-visualized myself ignoring it and moving on. It was a pain – but a predetermined non-issue.
The runners started to thin out and I passed some who were obviously cooked. I kept going. It was starting to be a race. The scenery might have been pretty, but I was heads down grinding out the miles. The 36 mile aid station seemed to take a long time to come. I looked at my watch and determined that if I held this pace I could do 8:30. Another runner told me it got harder up ahead. I wondered where to spend my remaining energy?
Everything was holding together well as I entered into the unknown territory, beyond my 36 mile long training run. All lights were still green. No flashing warning lights. My head was clear. I was doing pace math and reading my watch without puzzlement.
This clarity was due to having trained well, yes, but also due to having fueled well. I was sticking to a schedule that had me taking some nutrition every 30 minutes. In the first 30 miles I alternated Hammer Gels and Energy Balls (homemade treats made from organic peanut butter, squished banana, and various forms of chocolate). In addition I was taking an Endurolyte electrolyte tablet (read “salt pill”) every 20 minutes.
I sweat; sometimes in excess of 40 ounces an hour. This means I lose a tone of salt and I need to replace it.
The day before the race I decided my slant pack pocket was too small to hold all the stuff I needed to carry. I decided to bring along the spy camera and of course my Sony digital reorder for all those graphic audio race moments. To fit all this stuff in I requisitioned a camera case from my wife (without telling her) and attached it to the belt of my slant pack. This gave me a place to put the electronics.
My slant pack is one of those two bottle setups that sits on the back of the hips. I’ve got hips. In this race, because the aid stations were so plentiful, I only took two bottles. One I carried in my left hand, as I have been doing for years, and the other I holstered on my right hip. This setup is comfortable for me. Some of the runners in the race went with no bottle at all because of the preponderance of aid. I sweat too much for that.
Before the race they were giving away these big pill bottles with a quick-flip top to hold your Endurolytes. I took one and added this to my camera case. It was good, except that the hard plastic and all the jostling caused at least one capsule to break. I know this because when I tipped the bottle back to ‘drink’ a capsule I got a mouthful of salt powder. But it actually tasted pretty good. I guess I got a little extra powder or got an empty capsule at some point, but it evened out. It was way better than having to fish them out of a wet baggie.
The real fun started after the 40 mile mark. The aid stations seemed to start coming very slowly. I was definitely losing energy and ready to see the finish. I was still passing people every now and then with my strong walk-run cadence. I was relentless.
Then we got into some very muddy sections. Up to this point you could avoid getting totally wet. Now you had no choice except to toil through 6-inch deep oily slime that covered your shoes. It was still hilly. There were some field sections where we came out into the sun. It was definitely the most challenging 10 miles of the course. Some mud holes you couldn’t run through. You had to walk to keep from losing a shoe.
Right before the 45.5 Aid station I had to walk a little on a flat section, maybe 50 feet. I was tired. I turned it back on and ran into the last aid station. I only filled one bottle. What the hell – less than five miles to go. I was getting angry. I was getting my race face. There were a dozen or so bikers casually lounging at the aid station. That made me mad for some reason. I vaguely remember yelling at them.
“Come on! What are you standing around for? Let’s do this bitch! Come on!”
Game face. I was still running but it was a slug fest. Nothing hurt, but I was tired of running. I got into a woods section and hadn’t seen another competitor for awhile and I hadn’t seen an arrow for awhile. I was still in the tire tracks but I started to wonder if I hadn’t taken a turn off the course into some tributary of the main course. My mind was starting to play tricks on me. I almost turned back. Then I saw a runner far behind and biker passed up ahead somewhere.
There was one long greasy section through some trees and then I knew I was close. After what seemed like a century of running I saw the “one mile to go” sign. Prior to this, starting with a few miles left, someone had decorated the woods with Halloween items, like witches, pumpkins and ghosts. They had pinned papers with inspirational messages to the trees. For the life of me I can’t remember what they said, but I kept trying to bring each one into focus hoping it would say “One Mile to Go”.
I started feeling a little weird. I remember being light headed when I re-entered the dark forest from the bright sunlit field. I wondered whether it was possible to overdose on electrolytes.
Then with ½ mile to go I knew I had it. I pulled out my recorder to capture the moment. I stretched out my stride and left what was left on the mountain in a furious wheeling free fall down the ski slope through the chute.
I was euphoric. It had indeed been a non-event. My wife and friends met me at the finish. They had biked the course in 6 hours and were well into the recreational beverages by the time I pounded across the finish. I got my medal and they led me back to the condo where there was a hose outside. I hosed off my shoes and legs.
I went inside and had a banana and some water. I was happy and spent. I took a long shower in the condo. Amazingly I had no chaffing and no blisters. My feet were pruned and achy from all the time in wet shoes, but nothing bad. Everything was still working, body-wise. I had to sit down in the tub to wash my feet because I didn’t trust myself to bend over. I struggled a bit getting back upright.
I hit the free barbeque on the way out and my wife commenced to drive me home. We stopped and I got a Big Mac Meal. Got to eat. Very hungry. I didn’t sleep in the car. I felt fine when we got home. I could not sleep that night. My legs were glowing like hot coals – it was a fitful night or rolling around.
I went to work the next day but I was useless. My body didn’t feel overly sore but my electrical system was haywire and my brain knew something was wrong. It was like a general physical trauma, akin to shock. I ate many large comfort meals. I slept well.
Day 3, Wednesday, I was still sore but decided to try a 10k in the woods. This was a mistake. I felt joyful for the first ½ mile then it was awful and something hurt badly in my left foot. I gutted out the 10k, but now have not run since. It is Sunday night. I hope to begin running again tomorrow.
I was trained well enough that my major muscle groups were fine. I was a little quad-sore but nothing compared to the ’07 Mount Cranmore race when I couldn’t walk for a week. I was sore in some strange places. My deltoids (shoulders) were sore from swinging my arms. The tops of my ankles were sore. I had no joint pain. My sciatic is acting up due to that tight pyriformis.
In summary, it was a good race and a fine adventure. I’m not sure I have the time to take on ultra-running as a career, but it has been cool to try. It seemed much easier than it should have been. Perhaps that is just my skewed perspective since it came at the end of 18 or so months of non-specific training. I really like the training.
Don’t be afraid to run an ultra. Train for it and respect it, but don’t fear it.
See you out there,
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
The race report (from Hell)
Like the race itself – this is going to be a long one…
I’ve been putting off writing this race report for a couple not so good reasons. First is the typical post event ennui that overcomes me post-haste post-race. It’s a bit like postpartum depression, an aimless funk that is 5% physical and 95% mental.
It’s different each time. I remember after a few of my ‘big’ marathons I was high for a week before the inevitable turpitude set in. It’s worse when you ‘crater’ at an event, although sometimes failing horribly creates a spark of purpose fueled by anger – like the one that caused me to qualify for Boston. (It’s funny how sometimes failure is more inspirational than success.)
I also thought a little emotional distance (time) might not be a bad thing. Writing a race report before the neurons have stopped firing can sometimes result in a mish-mash of emotional stew that is unreadable.
The second big reason I’ve been ruing putting pinky to pixel is that I’ve got stakeholders who really care about me and want to see it! I feel like I owe those friends who have supported me through this campaign and in some odd psychotic way that really makes writing the race report feel like work!
Enough whining! On with the show! I must act today before the very events of the day slip into the murky fog of memory. I fig to thee oh funk! Get up and keep moving forward. It’s what we do. It’s our life metaphor, and handily enough the mantra for the ultra – CFM - continuous forward movement. Or as the poet Bon Scott put it “Ride on…”
“Running is the classical road to self-consciousness, self-awareness and self reliance. Independence is the outstanding characteristic of the runner. He learns the harsh reality of his physical and mental limitations when he runs. He learns personal commitment, sacrifice and determination are his only means to betterment. Runners only get promoted through self-conquest.” – Noel Carroll
The net result was a great race. I didn’t crash at all. I loved it and had a blast. I did well. I think the official results were:
Class/Bib/Overall ... Time/Pace (my watch said 9:04)
11 921 33 CHRISTOPHER 45 LITTLETON MA 9:05:28 10:54
Looks like I was 33rd out of 162 finishers with ~16 DNF and ~20 Did not shows. That’s not bad, is it? Notice the results only had my first name? That’s because I’m so famous; like Elvis…
I’ve been asked how I trained to run an ultra- marathon. The truth is I’ve trained my whole life for that race. In microcosm I set myself up with a 16 week program, similar to any marathon plan. The difference was the very long long-runs and less speed work. I found spending lots of time in the woods very comfortable and comforting. All-in-all it was easy. Once you get past a certain point it doesn’t get any worse.
I ran all 6 mountain races in the mountain goat series over the summer of ’07 and learned all about running up and down mountains. I trained well for a February Marathon this spring that I DNF’ed at – it just didn’t feel right. Then I ran a qualifier at Boston. At the same time I trained hard power walking at 13% stiff treadmill inclines for the Mount Washington Road Race where I turned in a respectful effort on that one hill in July.
It all ran together in a mishmash of miles and effort. I finished off my ultra program with a good showing at the difficult mountainous Wapack Trail race and a 36 mile training run, then a three week gradual taper. I was more than ready. I was so well trained and healthy that the race itself started to seem a non-event. (Until it started raining!)
In the end, I think my training was more than enough for the event. I could have taken significant time off of my finish with more long tempo work on long shallow up hills and long shallow down hills – but that’s a mere refinement. I had plenty in the tank and was healthy as a horse on race day. I probably could have pushed harder in the early miles – but that’s all Monday morning quarterbacking.
You never know how these things are going to turn out until you’re in them up to your neck. That’s what I love about endurance events. It’s like being thrown in to the ocean. You figure out how to swim or you sink. It really simplifies life. It refines things to that awesome razor edge of animal choice. Just you against you. Mano a mano.
It wasn’t the 16 weeks of (casual) training that made this race easy. I owe much of the ease to the countering maturity of 20 odd marathons and a handful of mountain races. When I stepped up to the start of this behemoth of a distance race it was with the steadying hand of experience on my shoulder.
The week leading up to the race was off the chart stress-wise (as they often are leading up to big races). That stress, whether real or imagined was propagated and amplified by my fearful anticipation of running farther than I ever had imagined I could, would or should. My old truck was diagnosed as close to death and I had to rent a car for the drive up to Ascutney. It started raining on Wednesday and two tropical storms veered out of the Caribbean towards New England. Prognosis was lots of mud. Stress was rampant. Like all red blooded males I suppressed it.
I felt for the first time in a long time that nervous energy of fear and trepidation that you get before a big race. A big adventure. Something you know is going to hurt badly and test your physical and mental infrastructure. Your subconscious screams at you that only a fool would willingly walk into the maw of pain and struggle that waits. Your big brain assures you it’s alright.
The truth is you don’t know what’s going to happen when you start something like this. That’s what makes it cool. That’s what makes it worth doing. There’s a chance that you could end up shivering in a ditch, played out and beaten. In our jaded modern world of laptops and airplanes that is the grisly stuff of reality that makes you feel alive. The result is a nice mélange of nervous anticipation and dread.
My wife Yvonne came with me. She usually doesn’t pay much attention to my long distance running addiction. She lives with it like any other stoic bride of addiction. I think she felt that this Ultra-thing was something she needed to tag along with to protect her investment. I told her I’d really appreciate her help because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to drive home comfortably.
I focused on trying to get 8 hours of sleep from Wednesday onwards.
I didn’t start any detailed race planning until the day before. It’s my habit not to worry about the details. Friday night I made one last large batch of chocolate energy balls. I collected a pile of Hammer gels (thanks Anthony) I made sure all my running stuff was clean and dry.
I looked at the forecast and puzzled over what to bring. How does one plan for a 10 hour trail race in a rain storm. Umbrella? Snorkel? I decided to un-retire two old pairs of trail shoes, package them with fresh sox, a change of clothes and a dry hat to be positioned at the drop stations along the course. Hermetically sealed in plastic bags of course in case of downpours.
Yvonne and I checked into our hotel in Springfield VT. The hotel was full of those mountain bikers who dominate the scene at this race. I made a point of being friendly and commenting loudly to my wife how glad I was not to have to carry a bike for 50 miles in the mud!
On the way to the Ascutney Ski lodge to check in we drove by the Ascutney camping area. I can’t imagine how much it must have sucked to have to sleep in a tent on the ground in the rain the night before a 50 mile race.
We checked in, dropped my drop-bags and wandered over to old-friend Dan’s condo, helpfully positioned right by the start/finish lines. It was a nice night with some well done past and pesto. Dan and Tom (college chums from 26 years ago) had their bikes all cleaned up and ready for the assault. They are VT 50 veterans having biked 5 previous races. In anticipation of mud, Dan had rebuilt his bike to a single speed. They are hard core and obsessive with their sport like I am with mine. We respect each other for that.
My wife and I were tuckered out. Back to the hotel in the rental PT Cruiser. We each chose one of the double beds – Rob and Laura Petri like - and off to sleep.
I got up at 4:30. Made some coffee, ate a banana and a power bar, and put on the clothes and shoes I had laid out carefully the night before. Adrenaline was starting to pump. I was excited. This was something new. Something challenging. Something of the perfect audacious adventure that I love. I wanted to get to it. This was off the map.
The 5:30 check in meeting at the start was in the dark. It was overcast and a tropical 64 degrees. Lots of runners and bikers were milling around. I got some more coffee. I love coffee. I took care of the necessaries and chatted up some folks. I was impressed with the relatively large number of women running the race. I was also cheered to see some other ‘husky’ fellows besides myself. While initially during my training my weight had plummeted to 180 pounds, with judicious over eating I had managed to get it back up to 190. Alas, no Clydesdale division.
It was not like the beginning of a big marathon. No one was really nervous or overly weird. Everyone was laid back and the tone was easy. Most were smiling, like they were about to go on a canoe ride with friends. There was none of the gritted-teeth awkwardness of the mega-road race scene. More like a Ben & Jerry’s revival.
Without much official fanfare, but a bunch of hooting and hollering, we were off. Everyone settled into a conversational pace. I soon fell in with race denizen Zeke who is an ultra-institution of sorts. He in turn attracted a number of other near-famous Ultra-runners.
It was like Sunday morning after church at the general store. They talked about old times, what others were up to, what their current projects were, almost everything except the race. A couple newbies chimed in and Zeke handed out sage advice.
The first 4.5 miles were dirt road. It felt more like a 10k than a 50 miler. I was running comfortably but worried that this was a good 2 minutes per mile faster than my goal pace. Was that ok? Then an aid station. Then into the woods and up the first mountain.
This is where we caught our first bikers. They had a head start on us and theoretically were faster, but we had the novices on the steep up hills. We could move much faster than some poor sole pushing a bike. These were the end-of-the-pack bikers. After sharing the course with bikers I’ve become curious with this sport. I think I’m going to have to try it out. It looks like fun.
The trails were great. Mostly soft cushiony single track or ATV trails. The mud was negligible in the first2/3 off the race. The few hundred bikes that preceded us made some deep ruts and there were some soft bits but the bad stuff was easily avoidable. The up hills on the mountains were quite steep, but not technical. The down hills were also quite steep and also not technical. Very run-able.
This is where my mountain experience came into play. The Ultra racing mantra is “walk the up hills and run the down hills.” Make no doubt about it. I was racing. What started out as a ‘just finish’ was now a race. I was in my comfort zone. I was pushing, not 100%, but sustainable effort, not a casual stroll.
When we say ‘walk’ we don’t mean just walking, like you would walk the dog. We mean power walking. Not that silly guy in the track suit with the hand weights who swaggers around your neighborhood. Mountain power walking is learned art form and consists of a long sliding stride with a toe-off and hand swing. I can power walk up a 13% mountain at 3-4 miles per hour without maxing my heart rate. It’s a science. This saves your running legs and keeps you racing.
When we say run the down hills we means race the down hills. It is very important not to fight gravity. Stay light and have a rapid turnover. Try to ‘fly’ without hitting the ground too much or braking. On the extremely steep slopes you can do a shuffle slide skip to surf across the ground while still maintaining frequent contact points – lots of little brakes instead of digging in your heels. All this is done to preserve the quads.
Why do you care? If you don’t know how to walk the up hills and run the down hills the VT 50 will be a miserable race for you. It’s got 9,000 feet of elevation gain and another 9,000 on the way back down. Failure to manage this will kill you - especially the end of the race when the muscles in your thighs will have degenerated to the point where they don’t work anymore. That’s the secret of this course and most of the mountains I’ve run.
The first 18 miles went by in a blur. Somewhere around 18 miles I felt my body switch off of free glycogen and onto the reserves. It was a momentary energy trough that barely registered. My training has been such that my body now loves to run on the reserve tank. This is also where I passed Ted. He is so much faster than I, it’s a shame his insides were acting up and didn’t let him continue on this day.
I was running with some 20 year-old from the Connecticut Maritime Academy who decided to run the ultra on a whim. His longest run in training was a 10k. I don’t know if he finished. I didn’t see him after the 18.8 Mile aid station. I met and chatted up a number of people in these miles as everyone was chipper and the field was still closely bunched. At one point I paused to snap a photo with my mini spy camera and was passed by 8 runners and a bike. It was a scenic view!
I remember that young woman on the bike. She was hanging with us through these early sections. She’d pass us on the downs and we’d pass her on the ups. The last time I passed her she made a point of asking me how we would interact next time she passed me. At the time I thought that was a moot point – turns out I was right. That was the last time I saw her.
The lack of mud meant that I didn’t need my mile 18.8 dry-clothes-care-package. I really didn’t pause much at the aid stations, except to fill my two 20 ounce bottles. I was treating it more like a triathlon transition zone than an aid station. Some of the folks hung around at these stations, like it was a picnic, not a race.
The day continued to be overcast and muggy, but there was no rain. The mud was not an issue in the first 40 miles of the race. The overall dryness of the summer had soaked up the 4 days of rain. Every once in a whole we’d emerge into a high mountain field with a stunning vista. The leaves had just started to change. They had not fallen, even with the rain, that is good because they did not obscure the course footing.
The course was so well marked. You’d have to be an idiot to get lost. I could see other competitors for the first 40 miles and never felt I didn’t know where I was. The herd of bikers in front of us left a well beaten path to follow. It was easy.
The bikers were extremely friendly. They gladly let us pass and were kind on the down hills when they re-passed us. In the end the up hills were a curse for them. Although they may have re-passed me on the down hills, none of the bikers I passed beat me to the finish line in the end. The last 10 miles were just too hard for them.
At the 25 mile aid station I again decided to stay with my current shoes and clothes. I did put on a fresh hat. I ate a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. I used the porta-potty for a pee – that’s a good sign. Surprisingly enough, even though I had to pull into the woods in almost all my training runs and was resigned to it in the race, something about the race environment produced a digestive miracle and I had no pit-stops. Isn’t it ironic how runners are like new parents examining and worrying over bowel movements?
I had great momentum through the 25 mile mark and was positively euphoric from 25 miles on. There were some downhill switch back sections where I was flying and laughing out loud with the joy of running. I got some of the others to sing the theme from Rawhide with me a few times for fun. Then I tried the “Hi Ho” song from Snow white. When I was finally alone I was singing a few broken choruses from Chariot by Gavin DeGraw “Oh chariot your golden waves are walking down upon this face…” No it’s not weird to talk and sing to yourself in a 9 hour race. I was running in the zone.
30 though 40 were great miles with lots of downhill and I passed many runners. I wouldn’t pass them like in a 10k where you see them and gun for them. I would simply hold my cadence and they would come to me slowly as they walked more than ran, and then, after trading places a few times they would slip away like the outgoing tide. I was passed by that famous Ultra guy, John something, who said he was planning to run across New Hampshire later in the year.
When I passed the bikers I tried to call back over my shoulder to warn them about bad sections. More than once I shouted a warning only to hear a scream and a curse and the sound of body on mud.
After the mile 35.6 aid station it started to feel a little like work. I was getting tired but still running strong. I was just getting weary from so much time on my feet in the woods. My legs and joints were fine. I had a little sharp strobe going on in my left quad that had been troubling me during training. The irony was that it only hurt on the easy bits. The shallow down hills that are usually my strength caused it to flap a little uncomfortably.
I determined to ignore it. I had gone into the race knowing that at my age and my weight something was bound to start hurting. I had pre-visualized myself ignoring it and moving on. It was a pain – but a predetermined non-issue.
The runners started to thin out and I passed some who were obviously cooked. I kept going. It was starting to be a race. The scenery might have been pretty, but I was heads down grinding out the miles. The 36 mile aid station seemed to take a long time to come. I looked at my watch and determined that if I held this pace I could do 8:30. Another runner told me it got harder up ahead. I wondered where to spend my remaining energy?
Everything was holding together well as I entered into the unknown territory, beyond my 36 mile long training run. All lights were still green. No flashing warning lights. My head was clear. I was doing pace math and reading my watch without puzzlement.
This clarity was due to having trained well, yes, but also due to having fueled well. I was sticking to a schedule that had me taking some nutrition every 30 minutes. In the first 30 miles I alternated Hammer Gels and Energy Balls (homemade treats made from organic peanut butter, squished banana, and various forms of chocolate). In addition I was taking an Endurolyte electrolyte tablet (read “salt pill”) every 20 minutes.
I sweat; sometimes in excess of 40 ounces an hour. This means I lose a tone of salt and I need to replace it.
The day before the race I decided my slant pack pocket was too small to hold all the stuff I needed to carry. I decided to bring along the spy camera and of course my Sony digital reorder for all those graphic audio race moments. To fit all this stuff in I requisitioned a camera case from my wife (without telling her) and attached it to the belt of my slant pack. This gave me a place to put the electronics.
My slant pack is one of those two bottle setups that sits on the back of the hips. I’ve got hips. In this race, because the aid stations were so plentiful, I only took two bottles. One I carried in my left hand, as I have been doing for years, and the other I holstered on my right hip. This setup is comfortable for me. Some of the runners in the race went with no bottle at all because of the preponderance of aid. I sweat too much for that.
Before the race they were giving away these big pill bottles with a quick-flip top to hold your Endurolytes. I took one and added this to my camera case. It was good, except that the hard plastic and all the jostling caused at least one capsule to break. I know this because when I tipped the bottle back to ‘drink’ a capsule I got a mouthful of salt powder. But it actually tasted pretty good. I guess I got a little extra powder or got an empty capsule at some point, but it evened out. It was way better than having to fish them out of a wet baggie.
The real fun started after the 40 mile mark. The aid stations seemed to start coming very slowly. I was definitely losing energy and ready to see the finish. I was still passing people every now and then with my strong walk-run cadence. I was relentless.
Then we got into some very muddy sections. Up to this point you could avoid getting totally wet. Now you had no choice except to toil through 6-inch deep oily slime that covered your shoes. It was still hilly. There were some field sections where we came out into the sun. It was definitely the most challenging 10 miles of the course. Some mud holes you couldn’t run through. You had to walk to keep from losing a shoe.
Right before the 45.5 Aid station I had to walk a little on a flat section, maybe 50 feet. I was tired. I turned it back on and ran into the last aid station. I only filled one bottle. What the hell – less than five miles to go. I was getting angry. I was getting my race face. There were a dozen or so bikers casually lounging at the aid station. That made me mad for some reason. I vaguely remember yelling at them.
“Come on! What are you standing around for? Let’s do this bitch! Come on!”
Game face. I was still running but it was a slug fest. Nothing hurt, but I was tired of running. I got into a woods section and hadn’t seen another competitor for awhile and I hadn’t seen an arrow for awhile. I was still in the tire tracks but I started to wonder if I hadn’t taken a turn off the course into some tributary of the main course. My mind was starting to play tricks on me. I almost turned back. Then I saw a runner far behind and biker passed up ahead somewhere.
There was one long greasy section through some trees and then I knew I was close. After what seemed like a century of running I saw the “one mile to go” sign. Prior to this, starting with a few miles left, someone had decorated the woods with Halloween items, like witches, pumpkins and ghosts. They had pinned papers with inspirational messages to the trees. For the life of me I can’t remember what they said, but I kept trying to bring each one into focus hoping it would say “One Mile to Go”.
I started feeling a little weird. I remember being light headed when I re-entered the dark forest from the bright sunlit field. I wondered whether it was possible to overdose on electrolytes.
Then with ½ mile to go I knew I had it. I pulled out my recorder to capture the moment. I stretched out my stride and left what was left on the mountain in a furious wheeling free fall down the ski slope through the chute.
I was euphoric. It had indeed been a non-event. My wife and friends met me at the finish. They had biked the course in 6 hours and were well into the recreational beverages by the time I pounded across the finish. I got my medal and they led me back to the condo where there was a hose outside. I hosed off my shoes and legs.
I went inside and had a banana and some water. I was happy and spent. I took a long shower in the condo. Amazingly I had no chaffing and no blisters. My feet were pruned and achy from all the time in wet shoes, but nothing bad. Everything was still working, body-wise. I had to sit down in the tub to wash my feet because I didn’t trust myself to bend over. I struggled a bit getting back upright.
I hit the free barbeque on the way out and my wife commenced to drive me home. We stopped and I got a Big Mac Meal. Got to eat. Very hungry. I didn’t sleep in the car. I felt fine when we got home. I could not sleep that night. My legs were glowing like hot coals – it was a fitful night or rolling around.
I went to work the next day but I was useless. My body didn’t feel overly sore but my electrical system was haywire and my brain knew something was wrong. It was like a general physical trauma, akin to shock. I ate many large comfort meals. I slept well.
Day 3, Wednesday, I was still sore but decided to try a 10k in the woods. This was a mistake. I felt joyful for the first ½ mile then it was awful and something hurt badly in my left foot. I gutted out the 10k, but now have not run since. It is Sunday night. I hope to begin running again tomorrow.
I was trained well enough that my major muscle groups were fine. I was a little quad-sore but nothing compared to the ’07 Mount Cranmore race when I couldn’t walk for a week. I was sore in some strange places. My deltoids (shoulders) were sore from swinging my arms. The tops of my ankles were sore. I had no joint pain. My sciatic is acting up due to that tight pyriformis.
In summary, it was a good race and a fine adventure. I’m not sure I have the time to take on ultra-running as a career, but it has been cool to try. It seemed much easier than it should have been. Perhaps that is just my skewed perspective since it came at the end of 18 or so months of non-specific training. I really like the training.
Don’t be afraid to run an ultra. Train for it and respect it, but don’t fear it.
See you out there,
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Sex Sex Sex
Sex Sex Sex
What is going on? And how do I get in on it?
I was a bit taken aback when Runner’s World first changed their long-standing format a few years back. Maria Rodale took over the board of her family publishing house and brought in some modernization.
Dave Wiley took over from Amby Burfoot as editor of the Runner’s World franchise and brought in some new ideas. Gone was the cultish magazine for hard core runners. In came the modern magazine. It was part of a portfolio of corporate publications that he could sell to a broader market.
No longer did they have to make do with selling ads to poor struggling race directors. Now they could sell glossy fold outs to big pharmaceutical companies and car concerns.
Overnight we old-timers saw our clubby little rag transmogrified into the “Woman’s Day” of running. It became a massive ad-filled tome. The content became more general and, truth be told, more professional.
The font size dropped to 8 points and some of our favorite columnists were disappeared like Russian agitators. We were also treated to the “continued on page 123” syndrome where in order to finish the article you have to hunt for the last two paragraphs in the back, by the 1 inch ads. The front cover screamed things like “LOSE 20 POUNDS IN A WEEK!” You’d look for that article only to find that it was a single paragraph sidebar in some unrelated piece.
The writers and photographers were now actual writers and photographers, not runners who also wrote and took pictures. In that sense the journalistic quality went up, but something of the purity, honesty and authenticity was lost.
My biggest shock came when I discovered there, among the two-page hay fever pill ads, a full page spread for Viagra! Wow! What demographic was I now part of? I just assumed as runners we all have pretty good health and blood flow, so to speak…but, I guess maybe some of the back-of-the-packers were down in the pecker.
I decided I was just being an old fart and fighting change. I renewed my subscription, started enjoying Kristen Armstrong’s thoughts and ignored the pesky commercialism. They have a right to make money. If some company wants to cough up the bucks to misplace their ad-spend, why not put it towards spreading the word about running?
And thus we agreed, Runner’s world and I, to a state of détente. They agreed to keep taking my money and I agreed to bitch about the stupider aspects of the publication. This comfortable arms length relationship has continued now for a few years. It must get to them though, having to write that same article on the “10 Weight Loss Tips” or whatever over and over.
It was with great surprise this week that I found something new in the magazine which spun me for a loop. I found myself reading an ad for Adam and Eve adult products in my favorite running magazine.
I thought I was pretty well tied in to the running community but it seems like I’m missing something. Is there a partner-swapping fun group of runners out there looking to stock up on fuzzy hand cuffs and dildos? Wow, I’m going to be looking at my mates a little differently down at the Sunday morning club runs… And all this time I thought they were sore from speed work and long runs.
The only real thing this proves is that I’m a naïve dope. A famous philosopher said you should only write about what you know, so I’m going have to stop this discussion here and let someone else take over.
Looks like a cold rain for my 50 miler this weekend. That’s like a cold shower right?
See you out there!
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
What is going on? And how do I get in on it?
I was a bit taken aback when Runner’s World first changed their long-standing format a few years back. Maria Rodale took over the board of her family publishing house and brought in some modernization.
Dave Wiley took over from Amby Burfoot as editor of the Runner’s World franchise and brought in some new ideas. Gone was the cultish magazine for hard core runners. In came the modern magazine. It was part of a portfolio of corporate publications that he could sell to a broader market.
No longer did they have to make do with selling ads to poor struggling race directors. Now they could sell glossy fold outs to big pharmaceutical companies and car concerns.
Overnight we old-timers saw our clubby little rag transmogrified into the “Woman’s Day” of running. It became a massive ad-filled tome. The content became more general and, truth be told, more professional.
The font size dropped to 8 points and some of our favorite columnists were disappeared like Russian agitators. We were also treated to the “continued on page 123” syndrome where in order to finish the article you have to hunt for the last two paragraphs in the back, by the 1 inch ads. The front cover screamed things like “LOSE 20 POUNDS IN A WEEK!” You’d look for that article only to find that it was a single paragraph sidebar in some unrelated piece.
The writers and photographers were now actual writers and photographers, not runners who also wrote and took pictures. In that sense the journalistic quality went up, but something of the purity, honesty and authenticity was lost.
My biggest shock came when I discovered there, among the two-page hay fever pill ads, a full page spread for Viagra! Wow! What demographic was I now part of? I just assumed as runners we all have pretty good health and blood flow, so to speak…but, I guess maybe some of the back-of-the-packers were down in the pecker.
I decided I was just being an old fart and fighting change. I renewed my subscription, started enjoying Kristen Armstrong’s thoughts and ignored the pesky commercialism. They have a right to make money. If some company wants to cough up the bucks to misplace their ad-spend, why not put it towards spreading the word about running?
And thus we agreed, Runner’s world and I, to a state of détente. They agreed to keep taking my money and I agreed to bitch about the stupider aspects of the publication. This comfortable arms length relationship has continued now for a few years. It must get to them though, having to write that same article on the “10 Weight Loss Tips” or whatever over and over.
It was with great surprise this week that I found something new in the magazine which spun me for a loop. I found myself reading an ad for Adam and Eve adult products in my favorite running magazine.
I thought I was pretty well tied in to the running community but it seems like I’m missing something. Is there a partner-swapping fun group of runners out there looking to stock up on fuzzy hand cuffs and dildos? Wow, I’m going to be looking at my mates a little differently down at the Sunday morning club runs… And all this time I thought they were sore from speed work and long runs.
The only real thing this proves is that I’m a naïve dope. A famous philosopher said you should only write about what you know, so I’m going have to stop this discussion here and let someone else take over.
Looks like a cold rain for my 50 miler this weekend. That’s like a cold shower right?
See you out there!
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Thursday, September 11, 2008
In the Ultra-Taper – It’s not that scary…
In the Ultra-Taper – It’s not that scary…
Ultra-training is easier than training for a Boston qualifier.
I’m not an official bib-number carrying ultra-runner yet, but after Sunday’s 36 mile training run I think it’s in the bag. Training for this ultra-trail-marathon – The VT 50 Miler – has been one of the easiest training programs I’ve done when compared to your average Boston qualifying campaign.
I know it’s a paradox, but ultra training is easy. Let me try to explain.
Like many of you mid-packers I started running again late in life to get healthier and caught the bug. The key difference being that I ran X-country in high school – so I knew how to run, I knew I could do it. I had no expectations beyond building up to 5 miles or so 3-4 time a week to keep my weight under control.
My big eye-opener was when some ‘friend’ said “hey, let’s run the marathon!” (In Massachusetts you don’t have to say “which marathon”) Qualifying for Boston was an amazing learning experience and quite difficult. It involved tempo and speed and hills and long runs at pace – plenty of late, painful nights at the track doing mile repeats at the edge of my ability.
Even after 10 Bostons, qualifying is work for me. That’s why it came as such a surprise that stepping up to the ultra would be so easy, both psychologically and physically. All the painful speed and tempo work is replaced with long-long-long slow run-hikes in the woods. After you break the barrier – you can run forever – it doesn’t get worse.
Of course I’m coming off a base of training for Boston and Mt. Washington. That’s quite different from starting from scratch, but if you’re a solid marathoner, stepping up to an ultra distance is a piece of cake. The hardest thing is scheduling the 5-6 hour long runs, but it’s no more difficult than trying to schedule two high-quality midweek speed workouts.
Here are my 2009 predictions:
- Ultra-marathon distance events will explode in popularity and participation as mid-packers graduate from the marathon.
- Runner’s World will run a saccharin piece on the explosion of ultras and some troubled person’s quest to finish.
- Main stream media and some dopey celebrities will get ultra-involved for some dopey ego charity.
- 10-20 books will be published on “Zen and the art of the Ultra” and “The beginner’s guide to Ultras”, one of them will make Oprah.
- Related endurance events in swimming, biking, relays and adventure racing will also see double digit growth.
- Some old idiot like me will keel over spectacularly in one of the events and the national pundits will bash these events as ‘bad for you’.
- I’ll smile at the dog, pick up my feet and put them down, ignoring all the hoopla.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it – I’ll see you out there (for 9+ hours).
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
Ultra-training is easier than training for a Boston qualifier.
I’m not an official bib-number carrying ultra-runner yet, but after Sunday’s 36 mile training run I think it’s in the bag. Training for this ultra-trail-marathon – The VT 50 Miler – has been one of the easiest training programs I’ve done when compared to your average Boston qualifying campaign.
I know it’s a paradox, but ultra training is easy. Let me try to explain.
Like many of you mid-packers I started running again late in life to get healthier and caught the bug. The key difference being that I ran X-country in high school – so I knew how to run, I knew I could do it. I had no expectations beyond building up to 5 miles or so 3-4 time a week to keep my weight under control.
My big eye-opener was when some ‘friend’ said “hey, let’s run the marathon!” (In Massachusetts you don’t have to say “which marathon”) Qualifying for Boston was an amazing learning experience and quite difficult. It involved tempo and speed and hills and long runs at pace – plenty of late, painful nights at the track doing mile repeats at the edge of my ability.
Even after 10 Bostons, qualifying is work for me. That’s why it came as such a surprise that stepping up to the ultra would be so easy, both psychologically and physically. All the painful speed and tempo work is replaced with long-long-long slow run-hikes in the woods. After you break the barrier – you can run forever – it doesn’t get worse.
Of course I’m coming off a base of training for Boston and Mt. Washington. That’s quite different from starting from scratch, but if you’re a solid marathoner, stepping up to an ultra distance is a piece of cake. The hardest thing is scheduling the 5-6 hour long runs, but it’s no more difficult than trying to schedule two high-quality midweek speed workouts.
Here are my 2009 predictions:
- Ultra-marathon distance events will explode in popularity and participation as mid-packers graduate from the marathon.
- Runner’s World will run a saccharin piece on the explosion of ultras and some troubled person’s quest to finish.
- Main stream media and some dopey celebrities will get ultra-involved for some dopey ego charity.
- 10-20 books will be published on “Zen and the art of the Ultra” and “The beginner’s guide to Ultras”, one of them will make Oprah.
- Related endurance events in swimming, biking, relays and adventure racing will also see double digit growth.
- Some old idiot like me will keel over spectacularly in one of the events and the national pundits will bash these events as ‘bad for you’.
- I’ll smile at the dog, pick up my feet and put them down, ignoring all the hoopla.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it – I’ll see you out there (for 9+ hours).
C-,
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners. ChrisRunner@runrunlive.com
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