FATS 50k Race Recap

Well, it appears the requisite distance required to complete the FATS 50k was not quite enough for me, nor the difficulty of the course itself—I had to tack on a little over a quarter mile (to an already longer-than-the-actual-distance course) and run the last 7.5 miles uphill, as opposed to the slated downhill.

Notes to self:

1.) You printed out (and used packing tape to protect) the course directions/section distances for a reason. Learn to use them, so that when you get to the final aid station in first place (with approximately 7.5 miles to go in the race), you don’t go the exact opposite direction you were intended to go, thus ending up in a parking lot…after which you still can’t figure out where you went wrong, so you run the final portion of the course backwards (and uphill) and get passed by three people, thus relegating you to fourth place overall.
2.) If not for feeling sorry for yourself, you would have still held on to second place. Getting lost happens (more often than you’d think) in ultras, so get past it and let the time you’ve lost fuel you to run faster/better.

The race itself went well, for the most part. Though I likely went out a little fast, I stayed within myself and kept a nice, steady pace throughout (besides the last 7.5 miles, wherein the steady uphill, my discouraged mind, and the lack of Gatorade I’d consumed all got the best of me and caused me to walk far more than I would have normally liked). Though a 50k equates to 31.07 miles, the course was a bit longer than that (one person’s estimate was 31.8 miles), so my best guess is that I ran approximately 32 miles in an official time of 5:31:47. The weather was great (possibly even a bit chilly, for the clothes I was wearing, in the shaded woods—my car registered low 50s at the start of the race), and for a “free” race (they only accepted donations), it was well run. Though I probably won’t run this particular course/race again (on many parts, I felt as though I was on a mogul course—indeed, one particular stretch of the course was appropriately named Brown Wave), I’ll very likely run more of the races in this series, as the drive-time to most of them isn’t atrocious (this one was just under 3 hours) and there are no trails to speak of in my neck of the woods.



Though they’re still a bit tired, my legs feel great (in fact, I only used Monday as a recovery day) and I’m already jonesing for another long distance escapade (of which I’ve still got nothing scheduled). I need to decide on one, though…Calli is getting tired of my stalling.



EDIT: I just received word from the FATS 50k race organizer that the race itself was just over 33 miles, so I probably ran closer to 33.25, rather than the previously quoted 32.

Lack of Motivation

This is the longest I’ve gone without updating my blog since its inception—slightly over three weeks, which have been filled with a Beer Fest, a visitation from my grandfather, and football (amongst other things). I’ve been eating out far more regularly than prior to this span, and being an evening runner, this has caused me to either cut short or altogether skip my runs. I’ve been staying up later and sleeping worse/less, which has sapped my energy and has not lent itself to A+ results. I’ve been eating and drinking worse/more than usual (which, admittedly, could be construed as a direct result of some of my aforementioned points). And I’ll readily admit that I’ve allowed these things—my social calendar, so to speak--to eek into my running plans far more often than I should, or is normal. Is this wholly due to the “perfect storm” of distracters, or is there something more there?—a lack of excitement, perhaps? It’s true that I really do love running, but it’s also true that I like having a point in the not-so-distant-future wherein I have something to look forward to; a race to hone in on and for which to set goals. So, I’ll be increasingly scanning the world wide web in search of said race(s), and have chalked this latest bout of ‘ineptitude’ to what was likely a much-needed break. As previously mentioned in a past post, I’ve got the FATS 50k (which I’m using more as a fun-run-on-trails than a race) lurking on the horizon (a week and a half from now—Sunday, October 3), and will try and have another ultra lined up by/near that time. Perhaps the Mother Road 100, in Tulsa, OK?

Weekly mileage (to this point, again keeping in mind that I’m starting with Monday and not Sunday): 9.89 miles (I took Monday AND Wednesday off, thus the meager output thus far)
Last week’s mileage: 29.68 miles (FOR SHAME!)

Fun observations/soundbytes:

1.) Only in Georgia can the top prize in a 5k road race be an M4 assault rifle. I’m not making this up. It seems Georgia is attempting to create a new kind of biathlete.
2.) The Island’s YMCA is a short distance from my house (approximately 1 mile) and features a paved, winding 1-mile track around it. Thus this is a regular destination for me, especially when I’m in the mood to see or be seen by other exercisers. Late last week, I rounded a bend on this track to find two small scooter-wielding children (a boy and a girl, perhaps 5 and 4 in age respectively) and a woman I assume to be their mother. I was running sans shirt, as I often do. This apparently vexed the boy, who loudly asked of his mother “he’s not wearing a shirt?” The mother laughed heartily. I did as well. I also laughingly apologized (to the tike), not knowing what else to say/do. It seems Georgia is attempting to create a community of prudes.

I'm Newsworthy!

I was recently interviewed by the Savannah Morning News and the resulting story can be found here; it seems that people are interested in why other people choose to run (and bike) stupidly-long distances. That having been said, it's my personal belief that the article would have been better served being entitled "Crazy people can be found at any age."

Calli is not impressed.

On The Mend and On The Move

I’m finally starting to feel more like myself out on the roads. And it’s about time (I’ve only got 30.92 miles in the book for the month of August). After taking two full weeks off after Burning River (due to need more than want), I had to ease back into running for a week (2-3 miles each time out, and more every other day than in succession) before being able to find my groove again this week. I’ve still got a bit of achiness/tightness in/around my right knee, and though it’s something I’ll be keeping my eye on, it’s nothing that’s going to hold me back. Which is a relief, because I felt myself going stir-crazy and didn’t want my mom to open the paper to find a “Local Man, Unable to Run, Turns to Life of Crime” headline. For better or worse, running has rapidly become a necessary evil within my life. I’m ok with it. Calli looks to be, too--I wonder if it’s because she likes seeing me happy, or if she simply wants me out of the house so that she can sleep more. Something tells me a little from column A, a little from column B.



Next up: the FATS 50k (31.07 miles) on October 3, for what I hope will be a nice, even training run on North Augusta trails.

P.S. A special shout-out to my good friends Jesse and Jessica, who are newly made first-time parents. Welcome to the world, beautiful baby JAB!

Burning River Race Report

Now that I’ve given myself a week and a half to digest a race that took me 23:36:26 to complete and have put most of the bumps, bruises, stiffness, swelling, etc. in the rearview, I feel I finally have the capacity to put into words my Burning River experience. This will be a race report only insomuch as it will discuss my feelings/observations about Burning River and, in so doing, the 100-mile discipline of the ultramarathon—it would be impossible for me to remember many (let alone all) of the aid stations, segments of the course in between each, etc.

The course/weather: A-. Beautiful, well maintained, and diverse enough to keep my mind from wandering (which could make for a very long race, if I’m constantly reminded that I’m indeed running). Well marked (with a single exception: just after Shadow Lake, approximately 19 miles in) and well shaded. The weather was perfect (primarily in the 70s and a bit overcast), allowing for solid trails and very little overheating. I don’t think I could have picked a better inaugural ultra, and believe most ultramarathons would be hard-pressed to match the course/weather combo.

Race organization/volunteers: A+. From the very thorough runner’s packet (complete with directions to each aid station, elevation changes, aid station-to-aid station segment descriptions, etc.) to the course guide with YouTube videos (provided by Chaney Events) of nearly every segment , I had a very clear picture of the race in its entirety prior to toeing the starting line. As for the volunteers, I can’t say enough for/about them. With 400+ of them, each aid station had multiple volunteers clamoring to assist you—I’m pretty sure I never filled my own water bottle, and very rarely did I have to gather my own foodstuffs. They wanted me to have home-made soup, boiled potatoes and pizza. Every volunteer had a smile affixed to their face, words of encouragement to provide, and info regarding the next course segment readily on-hand. One guy (58.6 miles in) took it upon himself to repeatedly douse me with water from giant, ice-cold sponges…I thought it laughingly excessive at the time, but was happy he’d done it shortly thereafter. But volunteer numero uno was, without a doubt, my pacer Dave. Not only was he stuck with me--a guy he’d only ever spoken with via email--for the last 46.6 miles, he was stuck with me the last 20 or so miles, when my legs were no longer cooperating and my mind was overtaken by surliness and negativity. We discussed 7:00 AM leadership classes, weird foot nodules, and too-stupid-to-not-be-funny jokes. He made me eat bananas and potatoes, and shared the last of his water with me when he too was thirsty. He didn’t laugh at me when, 95-miles in, I thought a rock and some tree branches were a cow statue, nor did he mind being laughed at (when I asked him if he wore either glasses or contacts and he answered with a “hmmm,” as if to say he wasn’t quite sure. I would later find out that he hadn’t fully heard the question). He made every mile I ran/walked/limped with him more enjoyable/bearable that they would have otherwise been. Thanks, Dave (and to your lovely wife Tamara, for tagging along and helping to keep our spirits up, too).

How I felt mentally/physically, and what that means for my ultramarathon career going forward: C+ (if not for the final 20--give or take a few--miles, this rating would have been much higher). As the race progressed, I found my running/walking ratio slowly slipping—I was still running more than I walked, but I was walking downhills I previously would have run, etc. I believed this a normal occurrence for all but the most seasoned ultramarathoners, and taken in conjunction with the fact that I knew I’d under-trained for the race, assumed it par for the course. I’d already fallen twice within the first 40 miles (once after tripping over a root and once after slipping on a slick rock during an attempted babbling brook crossing), and though a little sore from each, was no worse off for having done so. My right knee started protesting about 60 miles in, but wasn’t hampering me very much, if at all. Shortly thereafter, a tendon behind my left knee started to tighten up on me, and I had to stop from time to time to try and stretch it out. By Covered Bridge 1 (80.8 miles in), my right knee had moved from an occasional dull ache to more of a constant throb (exacerbated by running), and the tendon behind my left knee felt like it had shortened to about half its normal length. I primarily spent the final 20 miles of the race walking (especially the last 10), with a minute or two of running sparingly interjected. I was so stiff (and tired) after the race that, though I knew better, I went to bed without stretching or ice bathing. When I awoke 3-4 hours later, my left calf/ankle were nearly double the size of my right, and I likened the way I stood and/or walked to a dinosaur. Crude rendering below--click to enlarge.



A week and half later, I am still feeling some stiffness/discomfort in both legs, but these are simply “overuse injuries” that come with the territory and require nothing further than anti-inflammatories and two bouts of stretching each day.

Will I run another ultramarathon? Yes, and hopefully sooner rather than later. But only after I train harder/smarter, so that my body is better able to handle the mileage requirements I place upon it.

Below are some pictures provided by bystanders along the course—I’ll get some personal pictures uploaded in short order, upon the culmination of my current house/dog/grandpa-sitting venture.

Burning River, Here I Come

I only put in 22.6 miles last week (Sunday-Saturday, you’ll remember), but am nevertheless pretty pleased with the body of work I put in—some speedwork, some slower miles. It was a good start to my taper, as I also concentrated on getting acclimated to shoes and accessories (hats, shirts, etc.) I’ll be using on Saturday/Sunday. Put in 7.51 Sunday evening, with 3.7 last night and 3 scheduled for today, which will finish up my training—rest, rest, rest (and drive, drive, drive) after that. Of course, in between now and then stands mohawk-cutting, general packing, race packing, dog-readying, laundry, etc. And to think, I’ve already been complaining about my lack of sleep of late….

I guess that means it’s time to spill the proverbial beans (i.e. let you know that I’ll be running Burning River). Situated in/around Cuyahoga Valley National Park (near Cleveland, OH), Burning River is a 100 mile (101.1 mile, to be precise) endurance run (and home to this year’s USA Track & Field Trail Championship, which I will not be participating in—I’ll be running the same mileage as everyone else, but don’t pay the USATF dues which would make me eligible for the prize purse). The run is 75% trails and should be mostly well shaded (thankfully). Race particulars:

Start Time: 5:00 AM EDT on Saturday, 7/31
Time Cutoff: 30 hours (thus 11:00 AM EDT on Sunday, 8/1)
Aid Stations: 24 (3 unmanned water stops, and 21 manned stations)
Number of runners currently signed up: 268
My Bib Number: 216
Where you can track me in near-real time (my splits will be logged at every manned aid station): http://www.chaneyevents.com/webcast.html OR by calling Julia on either my phone or her own

Julia will be crewing for me (assisting me with the gathering of food/water or a change of sock/shoes, slap-in-the-face motivation, etc.), and I was lucky enough to “meet” (on the Burning River message board) Dave, who will be helping to pace me the final 46.6 miles.

Differences between this race (and ultramarathons in general) and just-plain-marathons:

1.) Like a marathon, ultramarathons are completed in one fell swoop—you don’t run 50 miles one day, get a good night’s sleep, then do the same the following day. However, your pace is far slower—my pace during my fastest marathon (2:53:40) was 6:38 per mile, while I would be “tickled pink” to run 12:00 per-mile pace (which would put me crossing the finishing line in just over 20 hours) during a 100 mile ultra. In order to insure you can complete the race (or give yourself a fighting chance, anyways), ultramarathoners run a pace they know won’t be too taxing over a prolonged period of time, and work walking into the race as well—during the uphill sections, perhaps during some of the more technical pieces of the course, or when they simply need a break.

2.) Due to the length of the races, most ultramarathons incorporate varying terrains: singletrack trails (narrow and oftentimes technical—roots and other obstacles on/around the trail), bridle paths (are oftentimes very pitted, through horse use) , bike-and-hike trails (are oftentimes paved and quite wide), roads, etc.

Burning River features all of these.

Because I’m using this race as more of a “is this something I’d be interested in doing more of” run than actual “how fast can I go?” race, I’m just looking to finish (i.e. goal #1: have fun, goal #2: finish). If I determine I would like to continue down the ultramarathon path, then I will train harder/better for the next one. It will help that I’ll have been through one and will know what to expect.

Burning River, here I come—I truly look forward to meeting you. Crazy, I know. This is what happens when you pretend you don’t know what you’re getting yourself in to.

Speedwork: A Mind Game

I’ll admit to being slack in updating my blog recently. But this is a direct consequence of two other things that are abundantly more important: I’ve been running more (thus a major reason for the blog in the first place) and getting my act (and paperwork) together, in order to apply for a position in graduate school (and hopefully receive a Master of Arts in Teaching). Will I let my fear of needles stand in the way of my gaining access to school, which requires a recent record of immunizations? Hmm…. As for running, I put 128.58 miles on my legs in June, a far cry from the 199.3 I put on them in May. This is primarily a result of my tapering for my unsuccessful 50-miler, as well as some general laziness/recovery during the five days I was cruising. But I’m doing much better this month (49.07 miles at current count), and was pleased with how I felt during a 25-mile run (3:41:31; 8:52 pace) I logged on Tuesday. I’ll try and log a run closer to 30 miles/4:15:00-4:30:00 early next week, then begin to taper again shortly thereafter—go for quality workouts, rather than quantity. So, what does “quality” constitute for me? Well, besides working to keep my legs loose and “used to running” (i.e. slowly reducing the miles I run each week), I’ll also be implementing once or twice-weekly speed/track workouts. Why add speed workouts in to ultramarathon training at all, let alone just a few of them at the very end of a training cycle? Because I need to get my head right. Period. For me, a well-run track workout works wonders (alliteration not intended, but gladly accepted); knowing that my legs have still got speed/strength in them (ego boost), that my body can still take the punishment I dole out and keep on chugging right along (positive reinforcement), and that my mind can still be “talked into” letting me complete a rigorous workout (I rule the roost!) is a tremendous advantage for a runner that may (and will likely) be doubting any, if not all, of these throughout an ultramarathon. Just like in training, there are peaks and valleys during a race—we all embrace the peaks, but many of us are so afraid of the valleys that we stop when we encounter them. It’s those of us that can keep running through them, realizing that we’re sure to reach another peak again, that are therein able to see what we’re truly made of. This is why I run. Of course, I’m just hoping I find I’m made of an indelible spirit…rather than “poop,” like my mom keeps telling me.