Sandwich Range Traverse

I returned this weekend to the White Mountains, this time with a target to tag 4 to 7 four thousand footers.  I am on the quest to nab all 48 New Hampshire 4kers within a short three year period.

This a new goal of mine, which was spawned after Vermont100 and watching Western States 100 live.  I've come to realize that my motivation isn't to necessarily run 100 miles, but to run forever in the most remote places.  In looking at the ultra marathon races that most excite me, all have a common theme: Mountain running.  Vermont100 has its challenges, but the majority of my future races will require some new training techniques in order for me to be best prepared.  My future races include Bear, Bighorn, Angeles Crest, Ultra-Trail de Mount Blanc (UTMB), and States.  Running on Connecticut trails and roads won't create the legs I need for massive big step ascents and long quad shredding descents.  The White Mountains will be my playground for a while.

This was also my first trip solo into the Whites.  I've done a little solo adventure running and camping before, the most epic for was a 40 mile weekend in the great Smoky Mountains on Memorial Day weekend 2012.

After ordering a new past pack (Ultimate Direction Fastpack 30), I set out to map out the route.  The Sandwich Range Traverse caught my attention due the number of summits it tackles, but also the distance and timeframe.  Fast packers reported being able to finish the 20 mile full loop in 11 hours.  I then modified it,believing I could cover the same ground as them in 7 to 8 hours.  I stretched the route out to nab one more peak (Mount Tecumseh) for Saturday, and setting myself for the two Mount Osceola peaks on Sunday (Plan A).   If timing or circumstances didn't allow, I'd do the Sandwich Range Traverse only (Plan B).

Entry into Sandwich Range

I decided to leave early Saturday morning from Connecticut, leaving by 4AM, with a projected 4hour drive that should get me to the designated parking spot at 8AM.  To give me some slack for traffic, sleeping-in, etc, I targeted to start the hike at 9AM.

The unfortunate aspect of this loop, is it would require some road running along the Kancamagus Highway.  It is legal (I called WMNF the day before), and frequently used by bikers for day trips.  The unfortunate bit, while driving I measured off where I would exit the trail (Plan A) and the parking spot.   6.2 road miles.  Gawk.   More demoralizing was knowing the distance from the car to the entry point to the trails, was 6.2 miles further.  Not the ideal way to start and end an epic weekend of running - but there weren't any other options.

Road 10k to start along Kancamagus Hwy

The highway has enough room for you to run comfortably as cars approach.  The scenery was rather enjoyable as well.  I found the first 10k went without a hitch, other than some new pack adjustments.

Oliverian Brook Trail Pine Straw (early on trail)

Off the path cairn

I started out heading east bound on Kancamagus at 9:15AM.  Only 15 minutes later than I had planned.  The route planned was Oliverian Brook to Passaconaway Cutoff.  Oliverian was mostly flat, and very runnable (~1.9miles).  By the time I turned onto Passaconaway Cutoff, I had logged 8.1miles.  I had stopped briefly on Oliverian Brook to refill my water bottle.  The map showed plenty of water crossings most of the way, so I wasn't concerned.    The trail followed water until Old Mast Road.  When I realized that I should consider refilling my handheld, I noticed the water on the ground was dry.  I quick study of the map, and there didn't appear to be any water for hours, nothing above 3500 feet.  I still had a full 70oz bladder, but the recent climb up Passaconaway Cutoff had elevated my heart rate above 160bpm and I was now sweating.  I decided to pull back on the pace in order to conserve water.  I did stop for 15 minutes to enjoy lunch (12:15), home made re-hydrated BBQ Spaghetti.

I turned north onto Walden Trail, and my first really nasty ascent.  Climbing up, over large boulders ranging in height from my knees to chest.  This was a lot of work on the legs and arms.  Heart rate wasn't slowing down - it was going beyond 170bpm. Once the terrain leveled off, I was able to get some nice panoramic views of the valley and surrounding mountains (Hedgehog and Potash).  Mount Passaconaway summit (4,060') in the bag.

View from Mount Passaconaway

No time to rest at the summit, onto Mt Whiteface via Rollins Trail. This had more runnable descent than anticipated, and I ran it all.  I was fortunate enough to come across a wide stream, where I stopped for 45 minutes to refill all my water bottles.  This was a huge relief for me, as I was already rationing the water in my bladder.  Once I was at the stream, I discovered I was down to maybe 16 oz of water left.  Besides filling up on 95oz of purified water (courtesy of the SteriPen), I went ahead and made preparations for dinner by soaking my home made dehydrated Beef Stroganoff.  I was much peppier after this break, and soon found myself on the ascent to Mount Whiteface (4,015).  Not as formidable as Passaconaway's final ascent.  Not runable through.  The summit was anti-climatic for sure. Large cairn on the side of the trail marked the summit.  No breathtaking views here.  After a brief pause, I found my way to the Kate Sleeper Trail.


Rollins Trail

Snack option?

This section, by what I had read online, seemed to the best opportunity to really open up and get a long run in.  Unfortunately, the start didn't allow for it.  The descent was rocky, and at times slippery.  I was in the early stages of learning which rocks could be trusted over others, something I mastered before the weekend was over.   After the Downs Brook Trail, the trail seems to level out more and I was able to run as I had anticipated.  However, during my run through Sleepers, I discovered animal droppings that I hadn't seen before.  It looked like deer droppings on 'roids.  A big pile of maybe 50 droppings, each the size of a nickle.  At the same time I was inspecting this first batch of pooh, I noticed a rather 10" deep hoof imprint in the mud on the trail a few feet away.  While the droppings were dry, the mud imprint was still plenty moist.  One and one together makes - Moose!  I started running after that investigation, and noticed the trail was littered with piles of moose droppings.  I powered off the iPod now, as I didn''t want to miss the warning of a pissed off mouse.  This went on throughout the Sleepers and even well into the Tripyramid trail.



Kate Sleeper Trail
Given the southslide ascent onto Tripyramid trail, I was shocked to continue find moose droppings.  I can only assume they have an easier way up than I.  The southslide was intimidating.  Loose rock on top of large 3' - 5' large boulders on a very steep radiant, fully exposed.  A slip, and it would be a bit of a long tumble.   I paused here for a snack and some fresh views.  At this point, I knew I was deep in the hole for trying to get to Mount Tecumseh this evening.  I decided to make the call after I finished North Peak (4,140) & Middle Peak (4,110) - completing four new peaks in my quest for the 48.  I paused after the North Peak to prepare my headlamp - and at that point decided I would go until 9PM.  I projected that should get me to Waterville Valley ski resort and the start of the Mt Tecumseh trail.


Southslide

I misunderstood what was next

I was given a bit of a heads up by a hiker earlier in the day, regarding the rock slide on the other side of North Peak.  Either the description wasn't filled with enough adjectives and swears, or I just didn't hear it.

Northslide scree field

The next section made the adventure worthwhile, but also broke any attempt at reach Mt Tecumseh today and even this weekend.  When walking out from the wooded trail, and onto the northside scree field, I dropped the f bomb in disbelief.  The angle of descent was enough that I feared for a rock slide from above.  I was full of fear and amazement. I was fully exposed, trying to stay upright, with rocks sliding out from under me.  This was the second time that I turned the iPod off, hoping to get a moment's notice of the start of the rock avalanche I was sure to start.  The scree field went on beyond anything I could recognize as its end.  I looked for cairn, but eventually had to settle for the fact that a cairn would never survive on this.  'Someplace down below' was way down!.  After 1/4 mile (estimate), the scree field transitioned to steep slabs, in the same angle of descent as before.  At many times, it was worse.  I became an expert at understanding which rock surface my shoes would grip.  Rock slabs with green and dark brown coverings - I avoided as it was moss.  I didn't need to experience that more than once.  I also learned to recognize the black remnants left over from shoes.  Those were slabs to stay way from as well.  I learned that the hard way, after a couple of slips onto my back side. The slab section was even scarier than the above scree field.  One slip in this section, and there was nothing to stop me from rolling / sliding the next 1/4 mile down.  This section is listed as 1,200 feet in a half mile - and it can be 'dangerous in wet conditions' (per Application Guide Book).  'Dangerous'?  Downright impossible.  If I am ever to do this again, I will bring my Kahtoola microspikes.



Northslide scree field

That half mile took me an 1hr15m.  My pace was registered at 1mph for most of that descent, and that is because Garmin won't calculate any slower.  After clearing out of the wash at the bottom, I was back on trail and running.  Within a half mile I found myself at a very nice river crossing, ideal for rest and camp.  It was around 7PM, and I was mentally burnt out from the northslide.  It was time to setup camp, eat, and sleep.  At this point, I had made the decision to take the Livermore Brook Trail, which intersected at the camp, in the morning back to the truck.  It would be a short hike, and mostly a runable 4 miles.



Livermore Brook Trail
From North Peak to camp was only a mile.  I went from still believing I could bag three more peaks by noon Sunday, to tossing in the towel on those peaks.  I made the choice based on my desire to not lose an entire weekend of family time and safety.  If I made a go at Mount Tecumseh and Mount Osceola and its East Peak, I wouldn't have been home until 9PM or later Sunday.  From a safety perspective, I was able to knock out 22 miles without an injury (couple of minor cuts and abrasions). Going another 4 miles in this rocky terrain simple elevated the risk.  As I was solo, it didn't warrant it.  I've saved these next three peaks for another trip, possibly in September.

A quick recap of the night.  I didn't sleep well.  I came with a hammock tent with it's rain shield.  I didn't bring a sleeping bag as temps looked to be no lower than 55 degrees.  My only bag, a 15 degree down, wouldn't have fit the UD30 despite it's small size.  I did pack a waterproof shell, thermal long sleeve shirt, and Salomon Windbreaker leggings.  I grabbed an SOL emergency bivvy and the hammock tent bug netting as both would provide some extra warmth.  I was fortunate I brought it all. It did rain, and temps dropped quickly. I don't know if it went below 50 degrees, but I was shivering throughout the night.  After this, I will be in the search for a 35 degree bag that packs tighter than my 15 degree.


Morning by Avalanche Brook

I return to the Whites in two weeks with a couple of friends, as we make a push at completing the 31 mile Pemi Loop.  That is a story yet to be built.

Garmin Details:
Day 1:  22.1 miles, 9hr45m, pace: 26:30mpm, 5,600 feet gain
https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/853085026

Day 2: 4.0 miles, 1hr10m, pace 17:30mpm, 500 feet gain
https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/853085100

Remembering my first Boston

In December 2010, I decided to go after the marathon.  It was the one distance I had never attempted (I wasn't even considering the insanity of an ultra at that stage).  I announced to my coworkers, friends, and family, of my intentions to not only run a marathon, but to run a time that will get me into the iconic Boston Marathon.  This long term goal gave me purpose. 

My first marathon (Lehigh Valley, 9/11/11) started off well. Unfortunately too well.  I felt I could run with a group of a dozen runners striving for sub 3 hrs. My thoughts were to hit 1:30 and then hold on to a sub 3:15.  I learned my lesson that day (one I have repeated since), as I walked most of the last 8 miles for a 3:54. I had Hartford Marathon in 4 weeks, already booked, with Las Vegas 6 weeks after that. The general feedback was to not race Hartford (some said skip it), and go after my 2013 BQ (now dropped to 3:10) at Vegas.  Members of my running club, the Mohegan Striders, encouraged me to jog Hartford - a 2hr goal for the first half and then finish strong. The goal they said, was to finish without walking.  Much to everybody's surprise - even myself, Hartford resulted in my first Boston Qualifier in 3:08.  I went out super conservative, but picked up the pace as the miles ran by. I ran a near perfect even split that day.  When I crossed the finish, I erupted. I finally earned it.

I ran my first Boston Marathon in 2013, the 117th running, and most infamous run.  I didn't have the race I had planned for.  Too quick of a start was followed by cramping and walking near the end of Heart Break. Then downhill start took its toll on me. I was warned...but didn't listen.   I cursed at myself over those last few miles. The race wasn't as fun as it was supposed to be.  Why did I buy that framed plaque?  I want to return all my new Boston clothes.  Turning onto Boylston Street, however, all my pain and misery melted away.  I found my family on that stretch. Stopped and gave them hugs and kisses. Surrounded by thousands of people, time was irrelevant. I was here, Boylston Street on Patriots Day. I did finish, well off my goal of requalifying for 2014 Boston.  It didn't matter. I got my medal and gave the volunteer a huge sweaty hug.  I was on the runners high.

60 minutes later, while we waited at the bottom of the mall escalator, to eat at Cheesecake Factory - the world changed. We were within 1/2 mile to the finish.  We didn't see or hear it.  We exited the mall and walked 1/4 mile before eventually turning around.  Past a huge church amd it's wading pool (to be honest, people aren't allowed in the water, but I don't really know what it is). We were in the initial chaos of the moment. First police cars and ambulences. Police motorcycles riding on the sidewalk to get to thr finish quicker. It took us an hour to eventually find out what actually happened.  The hotel conceierge told us in our hotel. The lobby was jammed with marathoners. Many of them straring at television screens. To this day I feel my day was tainted.  I balance it however, knowing I was fortunate to have finished. I was fortunate to be uninjured.  I lived.  My family was with me, safe and accounted for.  My first Boston, like many thousands of runners that day, was stolen.

It took me a month to physically recover. It usually only takes me a few days.  Much of that delay was mostly mental. I was in 'no man's land'.  What is next?  Do I prepare, as originally planned, for my first 50 mile race in the fall?  Do I make the commitment to train for, and requalify for 2014 Boston?  It tore at me.  I had come short of my Boston goal, but I also knew 2014 Boston would be unlike any other.  Could I handle going back?  It took a short trail run in late May to help me realize that my goal was always Boston first, then Western States 100. I didn't want to delay earning my first WSER 100 ticket. I also knew that Boston would be in my future again.  So to the trails I went, into the psychotic world of ultras. 

Runners Report! (Trails are almost open)

Running this time of year, for many of us with blood type 'Trail', comes with a familiar routine.  Nearly every year I go through a transition. In talking to other running friends with similar blood disorder, I discover I am not alone.  We have accepted pavement as our means to sustain an aerobic fitness.  We maintained. Some even gained a few pounds.  These late winter and early spring days in New England however bring with them retreating snow lines. What was once feet of snow, is reduced to inches in a matter of days or a couple of weeks. Grey skies are now frequently replaced with beaming sunshine, and the days become noticeably longer. Runners can sense the difference in seconds from a sunrise & sunset from one day to the next.  We 'stalk' our trail entry locations.  We stare it down while running and driving by.  We assess the amount of snow. We project when it will be gone, down to the day.  We wait for the moment we self proclaim that the trails are 'open', and like all eager athletes, we 'report in'.  These are the days of playful slop.  We arrive home from our trail run, with orders from family to leave our mud crusted shoes and socks outside. It is still too cold to rinse outside with a hose. In most cases, the hose still hasn't limbered up from it's coiled position.  Quite similar to how my extremities feel.  My eagerness for early warm spring days always results in a few under-dressed runs, where an immediate hot shower is required in order for me to regain some form of elasticity.  We become re-familiarized with the trail stride, inconsistent stride length, lateral motion, loose footing, etc. With a racing season already inked onto the calendar, the play eventually dissipates and I find myself drafting my spring and summer training plan. This transition period from the winter 'off-season' to the beginning of open trail season reminds me of another familiar and exciting period.  "Pitchers and Catchers report!"  Spring ball.  Players begin their transition from a winter of conditioning, by arriving in sunny Florida / Arizona for training.  A playfulness is in the air, especially during the first few days/weeks.  Eventually it is down to business.

Day Two of Weekend in the White Mountains

Chief Editor is pissed that I am nearly a month late on this release.

Fire me.

 My main running ultra distance running partner (Sean) & I have talked about what really gets us excited with trail running. Both of us don't have long term plans to race ultras years from now. This doesn't mean we will give up on running long distances. The most enjoyment I receive from running is on long, ultra distances, on small group epic training runs. I see my future planning my training season targeting remote runs - think New Zealand. Think Patagonia. The freedom to run without any concern of a cut-off, be dynamic with ad hoc trail selection, and even stops to soak in the views, allows me to enjoy those runs more than a well organized and structured race.

 The day after our successful Mt Washington summit. I was ready to take on more. With a bit of over-confidence, I noted to Sean that I would like more of a challenge. I knew I was fortunate with conditions on our Saturday hike. Simply put, I didn't feel that I had exerted myself much, or that I had approached a personal limit. I was hungry to get closer to the edge of my capabilities. I wanted to feel uncomfortable.

 After a weather check for Sunday, we agreed to make an attempt to summit Mt Madison (5,367 feet). Forecast called for snow overnight and into the morning hours. It appeared conditions at the summit could present some white out conditions - something I wanted to experience. We were cautious however.  We were both ready for conditions to be too risky, and mentally prepared for an early retreat and an afternoon of local snowshoeing.

 Sunday morning greeted us with nearly 8 inches of light and puffy snow, but also clear blue skies overhead. We took our time heading to the northern presidential range, and enjoyed breakfast at a local eatery. The later than normal start didn't bother either of us, as we didn't have any high expectations for the day's accomplishments. As drove up, approaching 9AM, we saw that the clouds had engulfed both Mt Madison and Mt Adams peaks.

"You are going to get what you wanted Steve", Sean noted.

 From the parking lot at the base of the mountain, we could see there was plenty of clear sky overhead, just not at the summit. It was also noticeably warmer. Aware of this, we packed a little lighter, expecting summit conditions to be as high as 25 degrees (balmy compared to the day prior). Sean put on his snowshoes, while I was forced to leave mine behind (Dion racer's don't fit winter hiking boots). This proved to be a pivotable difference between how much energy each of us used during the ascent. The 4 mile hike up to the Madison Sprint hut was all single track, and started out with fairly compact snow from the recent back country skiers, snowshoers, and hikers. My boots, with Kahtoola spikes, were adequate for the first 2 miles. Shortly after the half way point however, the trail wasn't as firm, and I begun postholing. Sean, with his snowshoes, was forced to stop on several occasions to check on me and allow me to catch up. The next two miles were quite a workout. I enjoyed it, but on occasion vocalized my frustration at my inability to maintain any sort of forward progress.

 As we neared Madison Spring Hut (4,800 feet), we became aware that the cloud cover was now below us. Crystal clear blue skies were around us. With very little wind, and warm temperatures (estimate 25 deg), I recognized the unbelievable fortune I had this weekend with conditions. Today's condition was an extreme rarity. Once we saw the hut, and with a little more excitement in our steps, we started to move more quickly. The snow around the hut was extremely compact, which further electrified us.

It was time to play!

Close to Madison Spring Hut.  Warm out!

 Sean removed his snowshoes at the hut, and as if we were in an ultra, we quickly took in nutrition and dropped off unnecessary gear. I would leave my backpack at the hut, and Sean would remove several items from his bag. With a lighter pack (or no pack in my case), we would be able to move very quickly up and down Mt Madison. Each of us expressed our interest in tapping two peaks today - Mt Adams was now on our radar, but only if we could move fast.

Fast is our thing.

View of Mount Quincy Adams

 From the hut, Mt Madison is a 1 mile round trip rocky ascent/descent. Mt Adams is a 2 mile round trip, with identical terrain. Fortunately for us, the gaps between the boulders was snow packed. Our speed hike up Mt Madison was a warm-up. We couldn't hold back our excitement. We were bursting. Equate it to that first moment you walked into Disneyland - where you had a little bounce in your step and your eyes are quickly scanning the surrounds. Overstimulated. Smile exploding on your face. We were in our Disneyland. It took us 20 minutes to cover the half mile ascent (~567 feet elevation gain) to the summit.  Once on the summit, we took our time and went photo crazy. Clear blue around us, with a very bright and warm sun above. Clouds below, and smashing into side of Mt Jackson and Mt Washington. Our pause at the summit was much longer than we both had anticipated, but it was well worth it.

Making up time.

 As we started the descent, we both started to jog. Between us, Sean is the better downhill trail runner. One of the best that I know actually, especially on technical trail. As all my friends are aware, I am very tentative once a trail becomes rocky. I have a lengthy history of serious ankle sprains. This wasn't a spot where I'd welcome another. Sean quickly burst by, and we agreed to meet at the hut in a few minutes. This was the first time either of us really had a chance to run off road since late December/early January. My timid running approach gradually subsided, and I began to open up on the trail. Despite a few pauses on the most technical sections, I started to maintain the 50 meter separation between us. The folks at the hut, must have been quite confused at the hooting and hollering, and seeing two nuts running down the side of the Mt Madison.  The 1/2 mile return took just under 10 minutes.

Mt Adams studio.

View from Mt Adams of Mt Washington

 After a very brief refueling stop at the hut, we looked up Mt Adams (5,794 feet). The run sparked something. Competitive juices. Not against each other, but against the 5 souls hiking up the mountain ahead of us. How quickly can we catch them? We moved swiftly, mixing in fast explosive hiking with bursts of running the possible. One, two, three....gobbled up in minutes. We had closed nearly a 1/4 to 1/3 mile on these hikers within minutes, while climbing a snow packed covered mountain, at 5,500 feet! Bam. It wasn't long before we passed everybody ahead of us. Each of us continued to scan the terrain for the fastest descent path for our return trek. We reached the summit quickly, covering the 1 mile, 1,000 foot ascent in just over 30 minutes. High fives and a hug ensued. We were both quite proud of this weekend, having tagged three summits on a weekend we prayed we could just bag Mt Washington. Our stay at Mt Adams summit was brief, as the winds had increased, and temperatures dropped. A few photos, before our phenomenal descent all the way to our car began. The downward trek from the summit to the hut was almost exclusively running. I'll admit, Sean made it look like dancing amongst the rocks. Fluid. Smooth. Powerful. We flew past the ascending hikers, who by now knew how nuts we were and provided us encouragement. The 1 mile descent from Mt Adams summit the hut would have been quicker than our final watch reading (35 minutes), if it wasn't for my gaff and pauses for videos.

 Half way down, we agreed to do a quick video shot. After we found the ideal trail section, we each went our separate ways. Sean hiked up the trail to where he wanted to start, while I went off trail to find the best vantage point to record from. Once I arrived at my perch, I dug for my camera. My heart paused when I discovered my pocket was already open. Then came the outburst of profanity as I couldn't find my camera. Heather bought the camera for me, as this year's surprise christmas gift. Panic was now rolling through me, as I checked all my pockets and found nothing. I hollered at Sean to join me, where I broke the news. Without even discussing it, he turned and started to hike back UP Mt Adams. Our excitement now purged, we ascended, scanning the trail with little hope of finding it. After a few minutes, Sean suggested we check the down jacket I wore at the summit. Initially I rejected the idea - but conceded as it wouldn't hurt. As he kneeled, I dug through his pack. First finding my down jacket, and then finding feeling the hard surface of my camera. Another cheerful moment, and another hug. Once I regrouped, it was back to our spots for an epic video shot.


 From the hut, we had 4 miles of downhill ahead of us.  Retracing our steps from the ascent march earlier the day.   Both of us were eager to bomb this section by running the entire length.  This meant postholing with some momentum. We killed it, with smiles!  We averaged 13mpm, after having hiked 7 miles and nearly 7,000 feet of total elevation gain that day. My legs felt great, and this day had turned into one of those epic training days. This is what inspires me to get out the door and train regularly, so that I can do something so challenging without a moments hesitation.

 Get out there and explore your limits. You will be surprised by what you find as you can do more than you expect, and experience more than most. Enjoy life and conquer the unknown.

Soaking it in on Mt Madison

 Garmin:  https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/704211866

Success Story of Periodization

Quick Note today:

In the attached article about a running and coaching legend Alberto Salazar's handling of Mary Cain, the following paragraph jumped out to me.  It is a foundational element of my training and coaching philosophy. The term I use that is more common is "Periodization".  This is why I am talk about rest and recovery being very important. While resting the strained system, it will adapt to the stress and become stronger, faster, or more efficient.  It is also why I prescribe program training variances so that we strain and rest different mechanical and energy systems.  One day would be more anaerobic / lactic threshold minded, and then followed by a long slow aerobic recovery run.  

"From the moment Salazar started coaching Cain, he set out to develop her talent slowly over the course of many years, building her up and holding her back as necessary, aiming for her to peak when most female track runners peak, around age 25. All athletic training depends upon a careful balance of physical stress and rest and is governed by the progressive-overload principle. It holds that if an athlete pushes herself slightly out of her comfort zone — ramping up the distance she’s running, or her pace in sprints, or the amount of weight she’s lifting — then once she rests and recovers from that workout, she’ll be stronger or faster than before. But this adaptation, or supercompensation, as it’s called, lasts for only a short time. The key is to apply training stress again, during that window, to spur more adaptation and increase fitness."

New York Times Article "Mary Cain is Growing up Fast"

I've covered Periodization principles in a previous post, highlighted by TrainingPeaks data to provide quantitative measurement of fitness gain.

Mt Washington winter summit

Recently I completed an unimaginable weekend hiking in New Hampshire's White Mountains.   What started out as a  two night weekend trek north, with the hope to have just one day of safe Mt Washington summit, turned into an breathtaking weekend of three successful summits under near perfect conditions.  I have become the envy of many outdoorsman. I have also been warned, the weekend conditions are such a rarity, I may never be blessed to experience such an awe inspiring weekend every again.

For the week leading up, my hiking partner,ultra runner, and adventurous friend (Sean)  had warned me we may not have an opportunity to see the summit of Mt Washington.  My fear showed, as I would counter that I'll be the first to turn my back if I felt my safety was in question. Mt Washington wasn't completely foreign to me as I had made two previous summit ascents as an early teen with my father.  Memories are still deeply engrained of the hurricane like winds at the summit. In 1996 I completed a 15 week analysis of the summit weather conditions on the observatory structure as part of my college graduation requirements at WPI (that was the last time I ever used  my Civil Engineering education). I was well aware of the record winds (fastest recorded winds of 231mph), and its proximity to three weather fronts. I have professed to those completely unfamiliar with mountain, its lore as the worst weather on earth. 

As if on queue, and in an unfortunate event, conditions reached epic Mt Washington standard only a week before our trek.  President's Day, temperatures dropped to -35 degrees Fahrenheit, making it the second coldest location on earth (Antarctica won out). Sustained winds of 130 mph produced an unbelievable -90 degrees wind chill.  An experienced hiker from NYC attempted a day hike that day, and unfortunately perished in the mountains due to the extreme cold temperatures.  Mt Washington, at 'only' 6,288 feet isn't high by any standard.  By comparison , it is the third highest peak east of the Mississippi river, and pales in size the 14+ 14,000 footers in Colorado.  This is a trap for the unfamiliar out-of-staters.  Do not under estimate what this mountain can toss at you, as it will be your demise.

It appeared our best conditions were going to be Saturday morning, as a snowstorm was projected to come in starting that afternoon and possibly go until Sunday. We got a jump on it, as we were at the Tuckerman's Ravine trailhead by 6:30AM with a plan to turn onto Lion's Head and reach the summit in 4 hours (4.2 mile trail).  The predawn light was enough to forego our headlamps.   We started the hike with extra clothes on, anticipating the exertion of the ascent would warm us up quickly. It was 0 degrees at the start.  Within an hour layers were coming off, and we had an opportunity to feel the warmth of a new sunrise on over our backs and we had several clear glimpses of the summit with a blue sky as its backdrop. It was turning into a picturesque day.

We eventually turned onto the winter only Lion's Head trail, where we exchanged our trekking poles for a mountaineering ax and put on the crampons. Sean provided me with quick instructions on how to properly ascend a steep incline with crampons and ax.  Picture yourself walking up a steep uphill, but with your body turned to one side, and walking uphill sideways.  It was amazingly more efficient, but only after I got the hang of it. I had several minutes of small ascents to master it, before I had to apply the knowledge in order to keep my feet under me and progress gaining in the forward direction.   I discovered that a full forward frontal assault didn't provide as good traction as the side approach.  Often the crampons wouldn't grip with this frontal approach, and it took only a few slips to really get the blood pumping to support the added work.   We worked our way to the tunnel.  A 20 - 30 foot, roughly 75 degree pitched vertical wall.  Sean, and another friend (Hector), had talked about this section before. The question was how much of it would be pure ice.  Fortunately for me, it was mostly snow, which allowed me to create steps in the snow by repeatedly stomping my boot in the snow.  Similar to rock climbing, anticipating your next hand & foot placement was key to being efficient.  There were many thin tree branches, which in combination with the ax, provided just enough touch points for my hands.  I never felt nervous on this brief vertical, as I was already thinking ahead, on the 'How the hell will I climb down this later?'.

We eventually made our way past the treeline, the meandering line around the mountains, providing the demarcation point where even short bushes no longer grow.  We were fully exposed to the elements, but also had unobstructed views all around. The ground cover was laden with small boulders, mostly less than 2 foot in diameter. We approached a large rock formation, maybe 6 foot high by 8 foot across.  Enough shelter from the increasing wind assault. We could still openly talk to each other through this section, but with a bit more yelling to compensate for a seemingly heavy 15-20mph wind.  At this rock formation were two men, gearing up for the next section up to Lion's head (a larger rock formation, approximately 3x the size of where were now). They were quite concerned about exposed skin.   Balaklava, Neoprene mask, goggles, thick hooded jacket....and so on. Before they ventured off, they did a full check - "do I have any skin showing?".  I turned  Sean, who was taking great delight in my wife's brownies,  " Neoprene's and goggles?", I asked.  

"Nope.  Just Balaklava.  It isn't cold enough yet."

Breathing with a Balaklava sucks.  It was almost stress than necessary.  I wasn't breathing hard during that next ascent, but sucking air through a cloth suddenly makes this seem less effortless.   This next section was a bit more of the same, but a bit more wind.  However, I don't want to downplay the first views of Tuckerman's Ravine to our left, and clear views of Mt Washington summit to our front.   There were several gasps at the sheer beauty of it all.   We passed several small groups making there ascent, as the climb started to take there toll on them.  I was so grateful for all my ultra marathon endurance training from this past year and a half.  It made a world of difference in allowing us to push without much effort. Upon arriving at Lion's head, we stopped for pictures, videos, food, & goggles.  Still not time for our neoprene mask.  While it was quite cold out, I still felt very comfortable with the layers I had on.  I still had options in my pack if more was needed.  Fortunately, it was never needed.

The next section, the alpine garden was the second to last section, and proved to be the biggest challenge.  Winds were sustained at 30 mph, and for the first time, walking was a chore.  The wind, blowing from left to right, now had to be factored into the equation of each step. Solid footing was a must, anything less and I risked being blown off balance and onto the rocky ground. The mountain ax was more like a brace as opposed to a snow pick. After a 1/4 to 1/2 mile of this, we left this flat and rocky terrain for deep snow and more vertical gain.  As if the hip deep snow and 30 degree pitch weren't enough.  We now had my first near white out conditions as a result of the high winds and increased snow.  Sean was 20 feet ahead of me, and he was following three more hikers within 50 yards of him. For perspective, much of this ascent I could not see the group in front of Sean, Sean was just a blur, and foot steps in the snow (remember hip deep) was almost completely erased by the cross wind. I was never worried, just frustrated every time a step broke through the top.  It was considerable work progressing upwards at this point, so I was quite please to reach our last rest point at another rock outcropping.  At this point Sean suggested we put on the Neoprene mask under the Balaklava. The wind was finding its way around these rocks.  While it provided some protection from the elements, it wasn't enough.  The bio break here proved quite laughable!

The rest of the ascent was wind, rocks, compact snow, and ice. Visibility had greatly improved, as we weren't dealing with white out conditions.  The sky was mostly clear for this last mile assault.  We had several glimpses of the observatory, but it only seemed to make the summit march seem longer than what it should have been.  The addition of the Neoprene mask made breathing a near miserable choir.  Several times I found myself breathing hard, not because of effort, but purely due to my I ability to get oxygen in & carbon dioxide out. My ability to control my breathing became more of the focus as we closed in n the objective, as condensation was building inside the goggles. I made one feebler attempt to wipe it, which only resulted in a quick freeze.  Half the goggles were blurred within the final 1/4 mile.  A tolerable annoyance. Occasionally I would pull the Balaklava and neoprene away from my mouth to allow free airflow.   Sean and I have since talked about solutions for this, to include cutting a quarter size hole in the neoprene. 

Once at the summit, I removed the goggles and buried them under my clothes near my body.   While doing so, I realized, the Balaklava had frozen solid.  I was quite thankful to have Sean as my guide, as he warned me to not rely solely on my Balaklava, as it would freeze.   The $14 neoprene purchase was well worth it, despite the breathing challenges.  Without Sean's advise, i surely would have balked at what appeared to be an unnecessary redundant layer. We walked around, took pictures, ate, and generally admiring our surroundings.   Sean informed me that most of his winter ascents consisted of reaching the summit under horrible conditions, taking a quick photo, and then hightailing it off the mountain top.  Today we were blessed.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oV_Ksd9TKw&feature=youtu.be

View from the observatory

During our descent, the conditions started to take a turn for the worse, which we had anticipated.  Going through the rocky, flat alpine garden this time proved to be more challenging. Sustained winds increased to 40-50mph, and were more volatile.  Gusts of 70mph were frequent. We were both blown off trail on several occasions on this flat section.  At one point, a gust spun me around and sat me down on the nearest boulder.   Sean was 30 yards ahead, looming back at me.  He was standing, bent over onto his ax for support. We both had masks and goggles on, but I swear we both laughed at the same time.

Arachnophobia

I went back to Ceaser's Creek Metro Park, nearly a full year since I ran there last.  My last experience started out as all new trails do - euphoric.  On my return leg of a 'long' 10 mile training run, I took a corner and rolled my ankle.  Since then I avoided this place, fully acknowledging the likelihood of it happening again was a hair diameter more than none.

I grew a few and went back, armed with my ankle brace.  I mapped out a nice 12 mile loop, and planned an additonal 2 to 3 near the finish on road. I wasn't nervous. No anxiety about what transpired here.  I knew exactly where it went down.  

This was primarily due to a major distraction.  

The genetic spawns of Shelob had moved into the park and covered the trail. Spiders have millions of babies...I confirmed this to be true on this run. Starting very early in the run - bamb - my face instantly became web encrusted with barely a quarter second advance notice. Enough time to close my eyes and mouth.  I performed my standard post infestation dance to rid myself of any potential inhabitants, swore, and moved on. Within a few steps it happened again. 

Here is the thing. With 8 legs, a bazillion eyes, ass shooting web, and venomous bite, spiders are the most effecient human killing machines on this earth. Besides that, they are ugly.  If found, appropriate measures must be taken, without concern for welfare of those surrounding you. Blow it up. Burn it up.  Vaporize to nonexistance.

My heart monitor was yelling at me to calm down. "beep beep"..."beep beep". 

No shit. I know my heart rate is high. I am being attacked.  I am near hyperventilation.  

After 5 miles of this non stop assault, I settled on the fact my end was near.  It was on a matter of time before one bit me on the neck, fatally wounding me deep into the forest. Never to be found, except by spiders lining up for the evening buffet. I settled on the fact seat was eminent, so just ignore it and enjoy the last run of my life. 

Half way into the run, I found shelter in a park bathroom.  While hiding out, I was greeted.  On the wall, inches from my elbow was a Daddy Long Legs. I looked at it, flipped it off, and said I am not afraid of its kind anymore. 

I am a horrible liar. I ran out of the bathroom screaming like wounded cat....bad reference, but I am not sexest. I didn't scream like a girl. 

2014 Marine Corps Marathon

Standard fair...a blogger who can't commit to regular intervals.

What a second half of the year.  While I missed the "A" goal target, I set new personal bests at the marathon and 50k.  My goal is to quickly draft race reports (months behind schedule) over the coming days.

First up, Marine Corps Marathon in late October.  I have committed to doing this event in memory of my departed best friend Tom every year I am physically capable.  This was my third straight year running this event.  I avoided the lottery entry format by joining Semper Fi Fund (SFF) again, and raising funds for injured warriors.  Team Bull was well represented on the course and within the SFF community.  We had several first time marathoners, and a few returners - who swore they would never run a marathon again.  The challenge just sucks you in every time. Chatter about next year's commitment to a larger Team Bull group began minutes after (almost) everybody assembled in the SFF tent post run.  I will always keep this date cleared from my calendar - it is the best marathon anybody could run.  It is flat, it has amazing scenery (National Mall), and is crowded with supporters the entire distance. First time marathoner - this is your best choice!

For me MCM was the second race of a trilogy.  Two weeks prior, I won Maine's Farm to Farm 50k in a personal best 3:53 (3:19 marathon split).  I had committed to pushing the 50k and just seeing what was in the engine for the marathon.  The "A" race, JFK50 miler was four weeks after MCM.  Plenty of time to recover and taper.  Heading into MCM, I felt recovered and ready.  I was fully aware of my need for a solid Boston Qualifier (BQ) - something better than my last MCM of 3:13 was desired.

My plan was to negative split.  My strength was my endurance.  I had done plenty of speed work in September and October - but all my training runs highlighted an interesting trait, at about an hour into a run I could increase my pace with less effort while others fatigued.  So I set out to hit the half at 1:35, and come back with a 1:32.  A personal best was in mind, a sub 3:08.  I would have been happy with anything under 3:10 (5 minutes under BQ) - but 3:08:01 would make my day.  Several friends were pushing me to go after the holy grail, a sub 3hr performance.  I didn't have the confidence, and first and foremost on my mind was, 2016 Boston.

The start of MCM is the hilliest of the entire course.  I discount those hills as I am fresh and full of race day excitement, never mind being surrounded by tens of thousands of runners and supporters.  This year however, I felt a familiar uncomfortable twinge going through my body.  The best way that I can describe it is a chill in the chest area and my legs feel heavy.  I have learned this is a sign I am pushing the pace beyond what I should be.  A quick look at my watch and I see I am averaging 7:12 for the first two miles.  Well within reason - but also slightly faster than I wanted to start.  I was planning 7:25 for the initial 5k.  This was supposed to be my warm up.  Instead, I am already at 3:08 pace with hills!  Recognizing this marathon may be a struggle - it may not be my day - I pulled back the reins slightly.  I was trying to get into a comfortable rhythm. 3:15 was now the new target.

Over the past three years running marathons and ultras, I have learned that managing my pace by incorporating brief "pull-back" periods during the race is the only way I can avoid a major blow-up.  Keeping the foot on the peddle, like I did with the mile and 5k races as a youngster, has proven ill fated on a couple of occasions. Acknowledging that I need some time to recover, or that this pace is not sustainable, is akin to going into self preservation mode.  What is most surprising about this...the pace usually is only a handful of seconds slower and typically only lasts a quarter to half mile.  I eventually drift back to the initial pace, and feel 110% better.

For the next 18 miles, I ran every mile under 7:00 (exception: 7:11 @ mile 7 - potty break).  Several times, incorporating a brief 60 second recovery.

By mile 8, I had caught the 3:05 pace group.  A couple dozen runners had gathered around the pacer.  I didn't believe they were on target for 3:05 - but felt they could very easily drag me to my PR, so I stayed with the group.  Unfortunately, the pacer was inconsistent.  One moment we would be dragging our feet, and the crowd of runners would nearly stomp over each other - then followed by a near sprint to make up for some lost time.  I eventually got tired of this ebb and flow, and decided to get in front of the group.  By doing so, I re-established the pace I had used to pull this group in earlier.

By this point, I had come to realize that my watch GPS and race distance markings were not in alignment.  This was the second year in a row I was off by nearly a quarter mile by the half way point.  While MCM is all things wonderful, the crowd of runners makes it nearly impossible to run the tangents optimially.  Everybody runs long at MCM (except for the leaders)!

By mile 9, and yet another sub 7:00 mile, I started realizing that I am on target for a sub 3:05. I started to think about holding back just slightly.  I'd be ok with a 7:00 mile!  I wasn't tired at this stage of the race, but I knew it was coming. The longer I could delay the onset of fatigue, the better my chances were for a PR. However, despite my effort to clamp down, I continued to drop 6:50 mile splits and cruised through the half marathon in 1:31.24.   As I rounded the turn after that split, I kept looking back for the 3:05 pace group.  I wanted to see how much 'time' I had on them, as I now acknowledged the pacer was on target.  Nearly exactly one minute separated us.

At his point, I dedicated all of my attention on a systems check and on finding a way to SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!  My dreaded section, the run out to Crystal City was on the horizon.  I had to conserve resources in order to navigate through the fatigue that was surely building up for a suprise knock out punch.

For the next 5 miles, I had successfully scaled back the pace approximately 10 seconds per mile.   Miles 18 to 20 I could feel some of the fatigue settling in.  Doing the math in my head, 7:30s would get me a PR.  7:10s would break 3:05.  I had time to take back.  I now targeted 7:10 as a good mile split.  7:06 and 7:09.  Good enough.

Then it happened.  Mile 20.  Heading towards Crystal City, right before the bridge.

A small group of race supportors yells out "great job...." followed by "3:05 pace group".

I had forgotten all about them. I glanced over my shoulder, and there he was.  The pacer was about to overtake me.  Talk about a buzzkill.  The 3:05 group went by me with relative ease. In a flash I found myself 10 yards back from them.  My hopes for 3:05 were now gone, and I feared for my PR, as a ton of time can be lost with only a few miles to go in the marathon.

Fortunately, I was not out for the count at this stage.  While I was tired, this feeling was very much manageable with less than 10k to go.  I also noticed the pace group wasn't pulling away.  Ah...the ebb and flow of this pacer.  I made a decision to pull the group back and see how long I can stay with them.  Once back with them, I looked around.  The group had dwindled down from two dozen at mile 8, to 5 runners now.  From the time I left them at 8, only one runner passed me.  I suddenly felt reinvigorated.  Knowing I made it 21 miles with this much smaller group gave me confidence.

"Why can't I break 3:05?"

I stayed with this group until mile 24, shortly before the Pentagon.  There was a water stop in the middle of a couple of turns.  I don't know why, but my racing instincts kicked in at this point, despite the fact I was NOT racing this group.  Maybe I was worried they wouldn't hit their target 3:05.  Maybe I was worried they could break me if they were to pull away.  Whatever it was, it resulted in a surge that carried me all the way to the finish.  I went back under 7:00 with a 6:53 before turning straight into a massive headwind for the final 2 miles. It was so bad, for a brief period, I tried to take advantage of a 6'5"+ man as my wind breaker. My arms were pumping as if this was the final 50 meters of a 400 meter dash - - - hoping the arms can drive the legs through to the finish.  I was passing runners struggling to deal with this blasted wind tunnel nearly as much as I.  I had started to wish for the final two tenths of a mile, despite knowing it was an uphill climb to the finish.  The fact was, that final road climb to the finish was perpendicular to the direction I was currently running - - no more wind!

3:04:20.   Personal best by nearly 4 minutes. The 3:05 group had shrunk even further, with the pacer and two others crossing 20 seconds after me.

By beating the qualifying standard by nearly 11 minutes, my 2016 Boston Marathon is locked in now.  Final GPS distance read 26.47, which mirrored several other runners crossing when I did.  In reviewing my watch, I covered the marathon distance in 3:02 (correct...technically that doesn't mean squat), giving me a ton of confidence in my training and potential to break 3:00 in the future.

Camera Fun!

Recovery week is going very well.  OHR and resting heart rate have dropped. I feel very fresh. Fatigue has gone away.  I am not stretching as much as I should, but I'll fix that soon enough (I promise).

Being an easy week, I took Ainsleigh out on several shorter runs this week.  On this one, we were out a 4.5 mile trip.  The downpour from the previous day filled up the streams, leaving plenty to dance through!

A little experiment with this one today.  (updated video should play on idevices too)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCITtQlj8VQ&feature=youtu.be

Solo 50k Race Report

5:45AM  Wake up.   Concerned as heart rate feels faster than yesterday.  Cotton mouth. Damn alcohol.   Two glasses of port during movie night with Heather had some residual effect.

5:50 bio break done.  Weight is what??? 177 lbs. F'er is broke I am sure.

6:00 Heart Monitor on...not bad, but I am a few beats up from yesterday.  Reboot PC, lay on floor to perform OHR test.

7:00 Jump in truck....damn Google maps...why can't you find Air Line trail East Haddem.  Oh.  Yes.  I meant East Hampton.  Grrrr...why are you taking me too downtown Colchester????

7:20 Departed Starbucks. Emergency pit stop.  I think excess weight was legit.  My cheat meal of Oakdale Pizza's Lasagna is fully processed.  Finished off breakfast drink *430 calories

7:25 google maps is stupid.  wrong turn.  three point turn on back country road, barely wide enough for two cars.  I have a Ford F350.  I consume this road.  Damn google maps.  

7:30 finally arrive.  Another emergency pit stop.  Final preparations.

8:00 I'm Off! 

Simulated Gun - "kapow"

Goal is a sub 5hr time for the 50k (31 miles), a 9:40 mpm pace.  I felt I could go as low as 4hr 40min, a 9:01 pace.  While I have a 50k PR, it is not one that turns any heads at.  I've completed two 50k races, both were my introductions to the ultramarathon experience.  With my first, at 2012 Oak Mountain (AL), I went in overly confident I could cruise at 8:30mpm and win by a mile.  By 10 miles, I had discovered what racing long distances on hilly / mountainous single track could do to your body.  I was still training more like a half marathoner, where speed still ruled.  Not there.  Close to dropping out, I finished the long (33 miles) course in 6hr 51min.  Ok - I learned a bit on that one.  Second attempt was at 2013 Lovin the Hills (KY).  I ran a smarter race, but still had to resort to a miserable walk late in the race.  I finished well,11th in 5hr48min, on yet another long course (32 miles).  So the PR stood at 5hr 48min, despite having been on a long course.

Today's route was along the Connecticut Air Line trail, a 50 mile+ converted rail to trail system.  It closely resembles the dirt roads found throughout New England, Arizona, and Utah (from my experience).  You could run in the darkest of nights and not worry about spraining an ankle or tripping.  At first glance, to the fresh legged runner, it appears flat.  To those that have run it numerous times, and have run it when exhausted - the hills are low grade and long.  Don't interpret this as a "hilly" trail course - just recognize that it isn't flat.  

I had mapped out a round trip "L" formed course, with the plan to meet my family at the halfway point.   I was going to stay in my Zone 2 heart rate (less than 131 bmp) for the first half, then accelerate as needed on the return trip.  I felt good early, aided by a lengthy 5 mile slow descent.  I could feel the pull, and the extremely low heart rate. I could feel the difference once the trail leveled out.  I was dealing with a bit of pre-run over-hydration as I was stopping every two miles....2, 4, and 6.  Normally not a concern, but with each stop I noted the average pace increasing on my watch.  It was frustrating to see the good pace almost go to waste.  Eventually it settled down, and I started drinking my Nuun again.  I stopped twice over the rest of the run, so the hydration plan seemed to work.

Around 90 minutes I grew increasingly aware that I was approaching my transition point, the intersection where my laissez-faire approach to running will yield some discomfort.  This is a common spot for that, but one I have been training to move later into the run.  I was blessed today, as it was delayed until approximately mile 13.  Nearly 2 hours into the run.  That demon finally found me.  'Let's do lunch' I said, but that isn't his thing.  Instead, he started playing with my mind.

So, Let's Dance MotherFucker
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RlTYy9X3hI

I entered the halfway point slightly ahead of my targeted best effort.  2hr 19min, at 8:59 pace.  I filled up on Nuun (Electrolytes), Endurolytes (more electrolytes) and Vitargo (calories).  A quick bio break, a kiss to the family and then off.  A quick glance at my watch and the burden of the time was now weighing heavily on my mind.  The brief 110 second stop raised my average pace up to 9:06 mpm - Fuck.  Don't panic.  15.5 miles to make up 6 seconds per mile.  For the non-math wizards out there, this doesn't mean I have to run 6 seconds per mile faster than 9:06.  It means I must average 12 seconds better, or 8:54.  The second half, with increasingly tired legs, fading mental strength, and a 5 mile uphill climb, must be faster than the fresh first half. Panic didn't pull up a chair and settle in the corner of my mind.  I kept the door shut and began to strategize my comeback.  I am every bit confident in my long kick capability (Sean knows it too well).

My 12 year old son, Matthew then joined me on the reverse "L" for the final 15.5 miles - his longest bike ride by 6 miles.  He felt confident.  We chatted a bit early, I enjoyed the company, except for the first mile.  My mind was busy dealing with increasing fatigue and developing my approach so I could finish at a 9mpm average.  Doing the math ate up time, but also mean I wasn't excited about idle chatter.  After a half mile, I realized I had plenty of time to calculate and develop a plan - so I engaged in some short conversations with him.   'How long was his wait?', 'What is in his bag?', 'What did he think of this being his new longest ride?'.  It was never a straight, long winded, conversation.  It was enough though to eat up the first few miles.  He was in good spirits...a must if he was going to successfully complete his biggest journey.

With 12 miles to go, I decided work on the plan - where was I going to accelerate.   Make that push.  At first, I thought to hold out till 8 miles remaining.  Upon hitting 23 miles, the thought of picking up the pace and holding it for 70 minutes was too intimidating.  Ok -  new plan.  Let's go after the marathon mark.  26.2 miles, less than 5 miles to go.  The downside, that's the uphill.  I was also keeping close tabs on the watch.  My pace had trickled down a little bit.  9:05 by 17 miles, 9:04 at 19 miles.  Then I was flipping around 9:02. One moment 9:02 average...then the next 9:01, then back to 9:02. I had calculated early on, that for every 2 seconds average pace, translated to a 31 to 61 seconds additional (or less) total running time.  This meant a 9:02 pace could result in a 4hr 40min finish.  Damn it.  I will be four hours and thirty something. At the marathon point, 3:55:48, I finally hit the 9mpm. Now, I either must maintain it, or work for the gravy.   I was at that point in a run where glancing down at the watch provided for only one response: "I ONLY WENT THAT FAR! ARGH!".  Unfortunately I was down to the last few drops of water - my rationing turned into my reward system.  I was only allowed to drink at mile markers.  I calculated I would be out after mile 28.  Matthew was now struggling.  The kid initially rode ahead in the early miles, upwards of 100 meters.  By this point, I was looking back concerned for his well being.  I tried to provide encouragement and motivation, as we clicked down the miles.  "Only 3 to go!!!"

With three to go, and basically enough water to feed an ant, I decided to put forth a sustained effort.  The motivation, end this misery a minute early.  In hindsight, while the effort was elevated, as demonstrated by my heart rate (average jumped 10bpm to 160 over that 3 miles), the pace was sustained around 8:50mpm.  I crossed the finish line in 4hr 38min 16 sec -a personal best by more than an hour.  I began to walk back and find Matthew, but didn't have to go too far.  Upon seeing me, he stood up on his bike and accelerated through the finish.  His longest ride to date.  Text mom we are safe, and then off to the store to stock up on fluids.   Great day!

Notes:  

• First Half: 2:19:26 (8:59 mpm)
• Turn-Around Aid Station 1 minute  50 seconds
• Second Half: 2:17:00 (8:50 mpm)

Total Elevation Gain: 1,879 Feet

Average HR: 139 bpm

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/562079062

Feeling Better!

I woke this morning and I could tell that my heart rate was significantly down from the past few days.  Being so in tune with my pulse, I recognize abnormal variances.   Over the last several days I can feel the spikes after only the slightest movements.  This morning's low heart rate and OHR are back down to metrics from two weeks ago! Today is the first time over since June 27th where the current day's OHR was lower than both the 5 day and 3 week averages. A clear sign the body is recovering!   Given I've had only one good low HR day, it isn't surprising to see that my 5 day trend is still significantly higher than my 3 week.  The variance is so significant (+5 to 10 bpm) that I feel fortunate to not have suffered a multi-day meltdown. As part of the recovery effort I took Thursday completely off, reduced Friday to an easy 5 mile road run, and will enjoy another easy 5 miler today.  Over-training impact can range from illness (mono), months of down-time, to just a few days of unplanned downtime.  I don't mind the 5 day average being above the 3 week trend line during a hard week, but not to this level.  As expected, I will monitor this closely, as I am targeted to go after my first sub 5hr 50k Sunday morning.  Before I take off, I must see similar results.

A quick running log review opened my eyes up to how much stress I've put my body under this past month.  While no single week has generated anything near my highest mileage totals (though, this week will be close after the 50k with 85 miles), I've run 2 training marathons, two long back to back days (34 and 41 miles each), and paced a friend over his last 30 miles.  My running 30 day total is 250 miles. The culmination of this will be the 50k.  In looking at this, it builds confidence that I am developing my endurance, despite some of the struggles during the 2nd day of my most recent back to back session. The training plan continues with focus on endurance (base building) through August, but I will start to introduce a little bit of strength training by adding some more hills.  September will see a slight drop in mileage as I add more focused aerobic and lactic threshold training.

Thanks for all the support!

Running Yourself Into the Ground

This week's goal of a 100 miles will not materialize.

I just finished off back to back double days, which also turns out be back to back long days.  These back to back days are key cornerstone to any ultra marathoner's training regime.  This is the second B2B longs in less than two weeks.  The last one (17 and 17) kicked my ass so much, my immune system was hampered and I came down with a fever/sinus issue.  This time around, I up'ed the anti.  My long runs were 15 and 18, but I threw in 4 miles morning sessions each day.  My Tuesday and Wednesday total: 41 miles.  

As a quick reminder - I ran a training marathon on Saturday. My recover play was 4 miles Sunday and Monday.  My heart rate stats were saying that I hadn't recovered.  By Tuesday AM, my morning low HR was still 7 beats higher than the week prior.  My Orthostatic Heart Rate (OHR) was flagging me as my 2 minute cycle was well over the 5+bmp increase over my 3 week norms. I elected to forge ahead thinking it wasn't significant enough of a variance, despite the fact that my legs were still tight from the weekend's effort.  The numbers don't lie - I simply elected to ignore them.

Tuesday's run forbode the hell I was to enter Wednesday.  I struggled to keep my heart rate in my target zone 2 (131 max).  Little did I know, Tuesday struggle to manage my heart rate was nothing to what Wednesday presented.   I felt comfortable for the first 95 minutes before the first sign of mild fatigue arrived.  I was disappointed, as this 90 minute juncture is a routine intersection of pure bliss and ease, and the arrival of minor discomfort.  I don't know how much of this is mental now, versus physiological.  I am fully aware of the limits of glycogen storage and have associated it to my arrival at that intersection.  My training and diet have been focused on burning more fat, so I am expecting the glycogen storage to last longer - so either the training isn't working or I have a mental problem (pile it on to the other mental issues I have).  I finished the 15 mile run at a brisker pace than norm, ignoring the heart monitor over the last mile.  I was experimenting - can a slight pick up actually loosen the legs.  First attempt, seemed to work.  Will need to add this to the routine.

Wednesday started with a lengthy stretching session.  My legs have been super tight these past few days as I have been ignoring any flexibility routines.  It was needed - I felt so much better after that session.  I took Ainsleigh with me for 4 road miles near the house, and noticed a slight uptick in heart rate, but attributed it to the morning blues.  After, I loaded up with nutrients and water throughout the day in preparation for the dreaded 18 miles.  The doctor's visit didn't help one bit either. I walked out of there feeling a) violated and b) achy from the tetanus shot.  I tried to stay positive, but my body was reminding me how fatigued it was.  The 7 hours of sleep Tuesday night wasn't enough.  I kept reminding myself that 18 miles is well within my training capabilities.  I didn't believe I was extending myself to a challenging distance.  All my positive thoughts were against the stacked Army of Suck.  

I had my heart monitor on for the drive to the trail.  My resting heart rate was 64 bpm.  Couple of facts - a) My normal daytime resting heart rate when fatigued is 55.  b) before my tetanus shot, the nurse registered a resting heart rate of 53.  Either I was dealing with some stress (anxiety), or the damn tetanus shot was effecting my body.  I didn't need this thought hanging out in the back corners of my mind.  Perfect excuse for cutting the run short had already started before I had arrived at the park. In hindsight, that jump in heart rate should have been accepted as fact - that my body was struggling to deal with the drugs.  The run should have been modified.

Upon parking at Bluff Point, it hit me.  The one saving grace out of all of this.  While the Suck troops have overrun me to all the negative thoughts, it dawned on me that this run will replicate the sheer joy and energy of the finishing miles of an ultra.  I realized that over a 24 hour period, I will have run 37 miles and this is an excellent training opportunity.  It still meant it would suck - and I didn't know the magnitude it would be achieved.  

Bluff Point + Haley Farm is a relatively flat 7.4mile looped, off road run by the ocean.  So two loops plus another 3 miles and I will have achieved the mark.  My only hope was that I could get deep into the second loop before I attempted to cross my intersection.  Much after 90 minutes.  

I WAS WRONG.

Immediately - I mean to the full definition of immediate (watch read 0:00:01), my heart rate shot up significantly higher than normal. I hit the small rolling hills just before 1.5miles, and pulled back to a shuffle up the hill. Despite the reduced effort, the heart rate monitor beeped.  I was outside my target zone. Due to the lack of any hills in my program, any incline will impact my heart rate.  Given how quickly I jumped above my zone, was concerning.  This was too soon.

After finishing up the rollers, I attempted to glide around the trail with the least effort possible.  I finished in that first loop in 1:09, the same split I hit for all my laps during my marathon run through this park a few weeks ago.  So, we have a positive.  A quick change of bottles and refueling (Vitargo + Endurolytes), and I was off for lap 2.  Little did I know I was starting my run right into the Army of Suck trap.  They must have had scouts out on trail for that first loop, as I wasn't prepared.

Within a mile, before the rollers, my heart rate played around the top of my zone.  "Crap, I can't go any slower without walking.".  It was only 8 miles in...10 more to go. This looks like the miserable day I had forecasted.

I was committed to staying in the target aerobic zone.  So, for the first time in my running career, I introduced walking into a solo training run.  As I hit the rollers at 9.5 miles, I began to walk. It was the only way to manage the heart rate.  It was turning into a very miserable run - and it was getting worse by the minute.  Partially through the rollers, I decided to do something that can at least pick up my spirits.  I stopped my training, and took a side trail to a little ocean side beach.  I sat and enjoyed the scenery for a few minutes.  I forgot about the run for 10 minutes and just enjoyed where I was.

Once back on trail, just over half done - it hit.  Suck Special Forces.

In order to stay on target, I was slowing down on the flats.  Occasionally on a slight downhill the watch would beep.  I began to check on the watch to see where I was with my heart rate.  I had tossed out the notion of a strong pace.  This was about managing to my zone. Typically my target HR zone translates to a 9mpm effort (+/- 15 sec).  I was now hovering around 10mpm while 'running'.

As I approached finishing off the second lap, my walking percentage had increased.  I was now incorporating some walks along the flats.  By 15 miles, I would walk every 1/2 mile for 20 - 40 feet.  It was interesting to see how quickly, and how far, my heart rate dropped while walking.  I was holding firm to the rule that I walk only when the watch said to...and start whenever I was back into the low side of the zone.

...and the Army of Suck dropped the Nuclear bomb.

 Over the final 3 miles, the rate of walking increased.  It was frustrating mentally and exhausting physically.  I recall a point where the body was sending me signals that it had enough.  I've felt this before, though rarely. It is not a feeling to ignore. It is usually the precursor to an absolute body shutdown.  I was too close to the end, and the burden of not finishing this would have been heavy.  By the last mile, I was walking every 100 - 200 feet for the same 20 - 30 feet recovery.  The per mile splits were now between the 11 and 12 mpm.  At this stage, there was no positive thoughts like "this is excellent end of race training".  I wanted a shower and bed.  I eerie feeling of the onset of an illness hovered over my head....like a mushroom cloud.

Did the Army of Suck win?  I finished.  Suck didn't stop me from my objective.  However, immediate adjustments are necessary or illness will ensue.

I was keen on seeing my OHR and resting heart rate the next morning (Thursday) before making any final decision to modify the training schedule.  I knew what my body was telling me.  It was tired.  It was sore.  It was run down.  I wanted the numbers so I have a better benchmark for future training flags.  In the end, the stats supported what the body was telling me.  In fact, the flag went up after Day 1, and the warning flares were launched after my Tetanus shot.  I ignored them and paid harshly for it during this last run - and unfortunately through the next day.  You can see my resting low heart rate started the jump (45) the morning of the second day (when this run was done).  I didn't attached the OHR for that day.  The OHR for the morning after the double speaks volumes.  The delta between that morning's heart rate and the 3 week and 5 week was ridiculously off course.  I was hitting 100 bpm, when norm was in the 70s and 80s.  The yellow, 5 day stress is ~10 bpm higher than the 3 week, which is a big sign the training load from the past few days is significant.  To then have the current heart rate (7 Aug, Orange line) be 20 - 30 bpm is a clear warning that I am about to break down.   Or that the collapse was already underway.

I honestly believe the Tetanus shot played a significant role here.  That night was a difficult sleeping situation.  I went through both hot sweats and freezing cold shivers.  The next morning, when the above test were performed, I was completely worn out and very lethargic.  I took a mid-day nap, which helped for a few hours, and skipped the training session. My shoulder continued to throb throughout the day, causing so much discomfort.  100 miles isn't in the cards this week, but I am not giving up on running a 50k personal best this coming weekend.  I have walked away from these few days with some lessons learned.  While I ignored te signals, I can't imagine the damage if I continued on this 100 mile attempt.  Missing one day of training is nothing to what I believe would have been the result if I kept going.  Hopefully my running friends learn to not ignore their body's signs of distress like I initially did.