CPTR “45” “report”

On a plane to Pittsburgh, so a variety of thoughts in no particular order.  This is not a pretty or well articulated post – as I am writing it over a few different points, more as a regurgitation of various thoughts than an article or comprehensive post.

Yeah, it is long and I realize some folks find these sort of reports ridiculous and self indulgent.  They are right of course, but nobody is making you read it.  I mean, the short version is that I jogged all day, got off course and ran 45 miles.  In any case … first some perspective.

Results They are on line.  Also the 25 mile results are up too.

Night before:  Hung out in Fairplay at the cabin with Footfeathers and Skatona, which was cool and nicely relaxing.  As a teen something I had a dream that I had a secret mountain lair that I could share with a few friends on such occasions.  It is good that I can do that now.

Race Reports  Winner Ryan Burch, 2nd place Dylan Bowman, Sean O’ Day (really enjoying getting to know this guy), Mike H, Woody…Ream from Fleet Feet also has a report up from the 25 as does Jaime.  Still waiting to see reports from Brooks, Footfeathers and Skatona.  I am sure I am missing a few … still working through a backlog of blog reading.

Winner.  Ryan Burch’s run was damn impressive.  The guy ran the first lap in 3:08, which was only slightly slower than what he did the 25 in last year.  In fact, he beat all the 25 milers to the line enroute to his 50.  The CR he broke was previously held by guys that were not slouches:  Anton K and Andrew H. 

I had only met Ryan once before this race (Lafayette Oatmeal 5k) but nonetheless, he took time to sit with me post run and find out about my run.   I mean, the guy has just won, set a course record, and he is more interested in how I did.  This attitude seems pervasive in the ultra world (and frankly it is a habit I need to get better at … but there you go, I am talking about me again).

Start.  I took the first lap really relaxed.  My first goal in the whole race was the Hippocratic Oath:  “First do no harm.”  I had pledged to myself this would not be a tooth enamel grinding day, and a first lap well within my margins was necessary for that. 

As a result, I got out easy and slow, and then slowed down.  Nonetheless, the first couple miles were clicking off ridiculously easy … mid sevens with a HR in the 120s.

I think that is worth repeating:  mid sevens in the 120s.  Not a step of a warm up (I thought with 50 miles, there was no need to for me to warm up – I had plenty of time to warm up)

Okay yeah, I wore a HR monitor but I don’t use it to determine how I run or race but rather for the data gathering (more post facto).  I find this interesting because I can’t recall seeing that sort of thing ever.  I will get more into this a little later – but I think this generally leads to the body-mind connection thing that goes on (aka Central Governor).  Call it race day magic but on race day, work that would send my HR into the 170s out the door was simple.

In any case, I was way back on the road out.  Leaders had pulled maybe a minute, 90 second lead by the time we hit the trail.  Maybe more.

Once on the trail, I connected up with a few different folks, some doing the 25, some doing the 50.  Todd G, Kiernen (I need to check that name spelling and how he did), Darcy A, Jaime, JT and Mike H.  Some I caught, some caught me.  Generally speaking, I’d catch folks on the uphills, and get gapped on the downhills (more on that in a bit).   Given the large number of folks and grouping out there on the first lap, this made the first bunch of miles just slip by easily.  

Just to assure I was not doing anything over the top, I ran all the moderate hills, but went to the power hike on the ridiculous rollers (I refused walking as an option when I did the 25 a few years ago, but this year, I felt that I needed to be careful).

Water.  I stopped to pee around 12 miles and JT came by.  I popped back out on the trail and tried to grab his hat (stupid because it knocked down his sunglasses).  This was my only pee stop.  JT started calling me Killian Jornet (Killian Georgie?) because I did not have water (and that I was wearing compression tights and socks).  I never felt like I needed water on this course because the aid stations were every 3-6 miles.  Yeah, it was warm but it was 70 degrees – not 90.  Nothing against folks who carried water – I am just saying I didn’t feel I needed it with that level of support / aid.  I was never thirsty all day.  I took my time in the aid stations, often taking two, three of the dixie cups of water, heed. 

Food.  I didn’t take much food … I had two gels on the first lap, and a banana on the second.  For breakfast about an hour before the race, I had a bagel with cream cheese.  Again, I never felt bonkie, but in retrospect, I might have been playing with fire there.

End of first lap.  As I neared the end of the first lap (which essentially starts at the second to last aid station, because it is nearly all down or flat from there), I had to be careful.  Suddenly 25 milers start ramping it up, it is getting a little warmer, you are going down.  It is probably pretty easy to let this go a little too much.  Had to remind myself that I still had 30 miles to go a few times before I got to excited chasing anyone.  For future reference, it is pretty easy to want to get rolling a bit … you can see the town, feel the excitement, and are dropping into the river.  You need to just hold back because … well … you ain’t even half way yet.

It was inspiring to be coming into town and see guys like Burch, Dylan Bowman (2nd), Duncan, Sean P, Brooks coming back out.  Burch came by me around 3:25 I think.  I was around 23 miles which meant he was around 27. 

I was t-shirted, singleted up for the first lap and was debating if I ought to drop that and go shirtless for the second.  Sean P and Brooks coming by as such sealed the deal (JT also joined the skins team and was resembling a lobster at the finish).  Might not have been the smartest thing but it made for a comfortable second lap.

As I came into the 25, 50 loop finish, I hammed it up a bit.  You could go to the right for the 25 to finish or to the left to continue on the 50.  I went back and forth, to the right, to the left, yelling “what should I do?” to the small audience and race volunteers.  I then whooped “Let’s play 2!”  I was truly stoked.  I made it through 25 miles feeling unscathed.  There was a slight bit of building fatigue in my feet, but I felt good.  Tim Footfeathers was in the turn around and I yapped with him for a bit.

In retrospect, I was very relaxed in the first lap aid stations, and this one particularly so.  I suddenly saw folks coming in, going out.  The competitive nature in me put up a flag and gave me a kick to get out of there. 

Downhills.  I have become pretty tentative on the downhills.  There are a variety of reasons for this, some of which I am not going to discuss outright here on the blog (and those should correct themselves) but more generally, I can see an on-going decline to go after it on the downhills.  Simply, what used to be sub 7 bring it efforts on those long downs are now just sub 8.  HR plummets, but my legs are not wanting to take that pounding.  I will look to work on this (current thinking is squats may help).

Feet.  I went with the Racer ST road flats.  This course is groomed enough, non technical enough that there is no reason to wear the AWD type of shoe.  That said I fully expected my PF to be barking significantly because of this choice, and if anything be one of two possible likely factors to drive me out at the turn around.  The PF was fine, but I could feel a growing fatigue in my feet that – well – I was just not used to.  It sort of reminds me when I play guitar for a long period of time.  My hands get really tired and actually feel sore.  Same gig here.  This was not run threatening, but I had to tell myself to stop whining a couple of times as the second lap progressed.

Start of second lap.   It did not happen instantly on the second lap, but my brain started slipping more into an objective mode on the second lap.  I had finished the first around 3:45.  I started slowly reeling folks in as we climbed out of town.  I had been concerned about the climb out of town to the aid station at 33 miles but it was coming without issue.  In fact, it was easier than I thought it would be.  Over the course of this climb, the brain started playing with the numbers … could I go sub 8?  Top ten?  What pace would I need?  What time would I need at that next aid station?  Could get there ahead of that without pushing the redline?  I was not in race mode, but I had slipped into objective mode.  Not much different than many other long runs I do where I play the game (hmmm, 20 miles, can I keep the pace at this on the watch, can I get it under that?).

Pic courtesy of Sean K, I think this was around 30 miles?

I could see Todd G as we climbed to the 33 mile aid station.  I had been gaining on him on the climb but expected him to pull away on the downhill from there given how I was running those.   I hit this station right around 5 hours, and was feeling good.  If I could hold an average of 10 minute miles over the rest of the course, a sub 8 was in the bag.  I started thinking of not taking too many seconds in the aid stations but still getting my fluids.  10 minute miles would not occur on the up hills, but certainly could be averaged with some downs at 8, 8:30.

For the first time in the day, I was now pretty much alone.  I could not see anyone ahead or behind.  Occasionally I would see a stray 25 miler out there and was amazed that – well they were out there.  Right on.

Motivation was now focused on that sub 8.  In what seemed like a contradictory “not long” and “forever” amount of time I got to the aid station 3.  I had picked up on the cue in the earlier aid stations and was sure to show my number as I came in.  And I was off to aid station 2.  That would be 11 miles to go.

IDIOT.  I came around the corner, saw the aid station and … somewhere in the recesses of my brain, it did not seem right.  The volunteers were cheering and then I saw the sign … 5.5 miles to go.  My GPS ready 39 miles and right around 6 hours.  This was not adding up.   I had no idea where I went off course.   I was hit with a wave of trying to figure that out and what to do.  They told me I was in second place and I knew that was most definitely incorrect.

In retrospect, I see the turn on the GPS that I missed.  I probably just zoned out some turn, and without having people to watch, I missed it.  I was thinking throughout the run how well the course was marked, and so – I can’t say this was a fault of the RD or anything.  I am sure it was an error on my part.  Given how close the cut was from one side of the course to the other, I can see why I just kept seeing orange flagging “consistently.” 

In any case, I contemplated for a minute, heading back out and checking in at aid station 2.  At that moment, I quickly threw that out the window.  I did not want this to be a 55 mile effort (looking back it would have been a bit less than 3 miles back to that turn off, and bit more than 3 back, plus the errant miles, so close to 59).  And I knew that in some way, that would still not be enough.  I would need to go back to where I went off the course and run the entire portion I missed to make amends.  And none of that was going to happen under 8 hours.  So what had been a “hey whatever happens, I just want to finish” was in the moment over ruled.

I jogged out of the aid station but within a quarter mile … I started walking.  I was disappointed, pissed, amused, shaking my head, sighing at myself.  I’d start to jog again, but suddenly there was no running the easy nine minute miles.  13 minute miles were work.  There was a temptation a few times to go back and make amends to get the 50 mile, but I felt that would leave me pretty physically thrashed.  I smirked at myself because around 35 miles I thought that perhaps I could “that hundred thing” based on how I felt.  But now, suddenly two of these 50s seemed outright stupid (there were a variety of other words I used for what it seemed but not really blog appropriate).

Dylan B came by and I was inspired to run with him for a moment, but his pace was too fast and I had no fight left in me to stick with him. 

I shuffle jogged walked in the last 5.5 in close to 90 minutes, and specifically took a route through town away from the finish so that there was no confusion at the finish line.  I checked in with the race officials to be sure they were not looking for me out there.

So, a DQ or a DNF or maybe a 3:45 25 miler or a 7:30 45 miler. 

POST RACE.  Without a doubt, a huge draw to these events for me are engaging with the people that do them.  I think that while we all compete with each other, there is an understanding and respect of how we are competing with ourselves.  This drives a level of encouragement, cheering, interest in your fellow runner amongst the participants that I just don’t see at the same level in 5ks, 10ks.

I soaked up the conversation, the recollection of the stories, the successes, the failures, and  the blisters (one very tiny one for me that was not an issue).  I found myself struggling to untie my shoes or hold intelligent conversations because I was either cramping up with such “odd” motions or because I was lying down and did not want to turn over to face the person I was talking to (Dylan – sorry, I asked you like 5 times how your race went … in retrospect it must have seemed like I was not paying attention.  I was but I just did not realize it was you behind me when I kept asking because I was face down or eating a hummus wrap or something).

Great conversations and Mike, JT and his future bride, Jaime, Woody, Matt L, Sean, Brooks, Shaun, Footfeathers, Dylan, Todd, Ryan … many …

And frankly, there is a part of me that wants to bathe in that.  Watching folks cheer for people like Tim, Woody, Mike coming in … at this itty bitty 50 miler in the blue bird sky mountains of Buena Vista … I could run these for the rest of my life.  Test the limits of this vessel we live in.  This machine.  Find its failings and its strengths.  And then go back to work on upgrades … all while enjoying the mountains, the vistas, the trail …

BALANCE.  So I say that, but I also question the balance of these events.  Going off and jogging all day seems sort of ridiculous to me at some level.  I mean, it is really self indulgent – particularly for a guy who is a father and a husband.  Maybe I should have been off at one of my kid’s soccer games.  I think my biggest concern about getting into ultras is if I can reconcile that balance to a place where I am comfortable.  Driving home, with a DQ next to my name in my head, it felt out of balance.  I realize that regardless of the outcome (say I even won the race) my family would be there anyway.  They would just be happy if I had made it home unhurt.  They care, but they also don’t care if I do these or not.  I think about the ridiculous self indulgent nature of how unbalanced a 100 or a 50 is and it sickens me to think I want to be that selfish. 

Not sure where that all lands yet.

RECOVERY – Actually, I was surprised at how good I felt.  I recovered well, even though I had to drive some 150 miles home.  I took Sunday off, but felt very capable of running.  In fact, compared to R2R2R, or House to SoBo and back, I felt much better.  Worked in the yard all day and enjoyed a kids ball game without any issues.

NEXT?  Not sure. 

I am obviously a bit disappointed with the outcome but I am not upset or feeling bad really.  In fact, I can look at it now and sort of sigh and say, “really GZ?”  All good.  Lessons learned on several fronts.

I’d love to go and do another 50, and in fact I’d love to have another crack at this one in particular.  As contradictory as it sounds, even though I am looking forward to the Dirty 30 next month, I am also tempted to drop from all races going forward.  

I probably won’t do that but the thought crosses my mind.  I think more than ever, I’d be content without competitive running as much as I do.  The draw to the high mountain ridge in the summer at a hard effort is very large however and I don’t know if I could say no to that, but  I mean, I could just do this stuff at some level without the actual racing.  

But I love the racing too. 

In any case, I really sort of amazed how the brain changed things when I went from running with an objective, to not.  I suddenly went from 9 minute pace is okay to 13 minute pace sucks.  Amazing how the head works like that.  It tells me a thing or two about how to think about TRAINING as well.  I do workouts where 6 minute pace feels like ass but then 5:30 in a race feels okay.  So, the race makes a difference somehow.

More on all this later, and particularly on the performances of the individuals I saw there (but remember, the self indulgent part of this, and how I need to work on that but then again this post was all about me)  … but I am tired now …