Der Scott

Circling the Drain

2012-02-13T22:38:00.000-05:00

It's not you Hal, it's me.

Leave it to me to over analyze everything about my marathon training plan, and then to systematically destroy said plan through sheer force of will and stupidity. It seems that I can't say no to running, but running can certainly say no to me.

Let me back up a bit.

Way back in November, after successfully finishing the Medoc Mountain Marathon, I hatched a plan to redeem my craptacular performance at last year's Umstead Marathon. It was a plan full of big ideas, measurable goals, and speed work. It was fool proof. Unfortunately, it wasn't Scott proof (almost nothing is really).

November went fairly well. I started speed work and experienced a few adaptation pains, mostly in my achilles, calves, feet, hips, and hamstrings. And my quads. Can't forget about the stabbing pains in my quads. Oh, and my glutes, they were destroyed as well. But I won't mention my lower back pain, since your back isn't supposed to hurt due to running.

By December I had adapted to the speed work to the point that my legs didn't feel like Guantanamo Bay "guests" after every workout. My heart and lungs were feeling less and less like they were on the verge of complete meltdown when I ran 400m repeats. And, I was seeing improvements in my track times! Unfortunately, those improvements meant big recovery times for my old body, and that, along with catching the stomach flu, caused December to be my lowest mileage month since the previous July.

Confusions
In January, I doubled down on both the speed work and added a couple of tough races into the mix as well. When I ran the Little River 10 miler in mid January, I should have known something was wrong. I couldn't get my body to generate any real speed. I'm more than capable of 8:30 pace on single track (when I'm healthy!) for 7 or 8 miles. I've ran 8:30 in Umstead on Company Mill and Sycamore, which are pretty tough trails. So when I couldn't break through 9:00 minute pace on race day, I was a bit confused. I chalked up that performance to already having 40 miles on the books for that week, including a hard speed session.

I took a week or so break towards the end of January as a taper for the Uwharrie Mountain Run 20 miler in early February. However, even with the taper, January turned out to be my highest mileage month ever. I only know this now, looking back at my training logs.

The late January taper had allowed my body to recover well enough to survive Uwharrie in early February without too much drama. Not that I was fast in Uwharrie. Uwharrie has its own internal speed limiting system - fear of death. I recovered from Uwharrie pretty quickly. Or at least I thought I recovered. I caught a cold a few days after the race, but otherwise, my legs felt great by the end of the week. So, off to Umstead I went, attempting to get back on my marathon training schedule. That was last Friday.

Contusions
Last Friday afternoon, I was feeling really good. My cold seemed to be gone and my legs felt fully recovered and ready for a nice tempo run in Umstead. I chose my normal out and back route on Turkey Creek and planned a 9 minute pace for about 12 miles. I've done this particular tempo run before without any real problems, so I was shocked when at mile 5 my body simply shut down. The run never felt right. Not easy, not light, and especially not smooth. Everything felt hard. Maintaining my normal pace was about all I could do, and then I crashed hard at mile 5. I struggled to mile 6 and stopped for a few minutes to take stock. This is where the stupidity meme of my running comes stomping in like a rhino rampaging through a light bulb warehouse. Instead of calling it a day and walking back to my car, I decided that I would be damned if Turkey Creek was going to "beat me"! I decided to run the remaining 6 miles at the same body destroying tempo that had just cracked me at mile 5. And somehow, through sheer force of stubborn stupidity, I did it! I stumbled into the parking lot and collapsed into my car, having held just under 9 minute average pace for the run.

Of course, there was a cost to finishing that run. That night my body decided that it knew better than my brain, and simply shut down for about 24 hours. My entire body seemed to be inflamed. My legs radiated heat. I was nauseous and I slept very poorly.

I felt just like this...

But did I get the message? Noooooo!

By Sunday, I woke up feeling tired, but ready to go run the 4 Mile Godiva Geezer Pleezer with my son Ryan. I made it less than half a mile at a decent (for me) 8:00 minute pace before my body started to feel like it was going to self destruct. Luckily I got distracted by a dog, and then started blabbering away to the dog's owner (Hi Bill!) and slowed down enough to prevent the inevitable implosion. I finished the run with Ryan, but I was feeling very, very tired.

Unfortunately, I still had it in my head that I needed to run 8 more miles that day to finish with a total of 12 miles for the 12athon. I still wasn't getting the message. My body was screaming for a rest, but I refused to listen.

So, off I went that same afternoon on an "easy" 8 mile loop in my neighborhood to finish off my 12athon miles. By now, running was misery. Every step was difficult and unpleasant. But I'm stubborn to the point of stupidity, especially about sports, so I pushed on. I managed to shuffle, run, and walk for about 6 miles.

And then, I stopped.

At mile 6, I simply could not run another step. My legs simply shut down and locked up. Walking was possible, but only very slowly and very painfully. I was reduced to a stiff-legged, old-man shuffle. The 2 mile walk back to my house took nearly an hour. I spent that time thinking about all of this.

Conclusions
Where does that leave me? Well, apparently my overtrained body has decided that I am now on a running sabbatical. With less than 3 weeks until Umstead, my "A" race for the entire Spring running season, I'm lying in the metaphorical ditch, unable to get up. Four months of preparation is slowly swirling down the drain. And I'm the guy who flushed it.

Why did I write this? Certainly not to garner sympathy. Hell, even I am not sympathetic to my situation. I think I just wanted to make sure this entire experience gets burned into my leathery frontal lobe.

I do think I have learned a lesson of some sort. I'm just not sure what that lesson is. I'm sure it will come to me. Probably on my next run...

Geezer Pleezer Freezer

2012-02-12T23:15:00.001-05:00

Godiva held it's most interesting race on perhaps the coldest day of the year. The Geezer Pleezer is a start time adjusted race where time offsets are set by gender and age using a WAVA (World Association of Veteran Athletes) chart. Personally, I think this is a great idea for all races. The only problems is that the Godiva folks around my age (early/mid forties) are ridiculously fast, so the WAVA offset isn't helping me very much. Also, the offsets for guys in their forties is only a couple of minutes in a 4 mile race. Also, when I'm surrounded by a bunch of 40 something speedsters, and immediately chased by a bunch of 30 something greyhounds, I have no chance.

Ryan, on the other hand, being 7 years old, was awarded with a whopping 9.25 minute offset. When I told him that he would have an over 7 minute head start, he laughed and said I would never catch him.

Riding over to the race, my car thermometer indicated 27F. If that weren't bad enough, there was gusty wind to push the wind chill down into the teens. In other words, it was freezing (for North Carolina)! Luckily, the race registration was indoors, so no standing outside in the freezing wind.

Once we were registered and had our bibs, we sat on a comfy couch in the warm sun. Ryan said he didn't want to leave that couch, and I agreed, but we were there to run.

Soon enough though, we were forced to venture out into the cold so that Ryan could start. With 9:15 on the countdown clock, he was off like a shot.

I had time to get a sip of water before it was my turn to start when the clock hit 2:00 minutes. I took off thinking that if I could run an 8 minute pace, I would catch my fartleking spawn well before mile 3. Easy.

Three minutes into the run, my over trained legs said otherwise. Ready for my litany of excuses? Ok, here we go...

My left knee hurt. Big deal you say, but I've had 5 knee surgeries on that leg. I ignore that pain at my own peril (it's one of the few pains I actually listen to).
My right achilles felt like it was cold and brittle and was about to crack like so much frozen bubble gum.
My left hamstring was threatening to to tie itself into a square knot.
The two blisters on my right foot made it feel like I had angry bees trapped in my shoe. Just an aside, but I've actually experienced this, and it is truly awful (I screamed like a baby when I was stung between my toes).
Bill Hansley's dog ate my homework!

This dog ate the post-it note where I had
my master plan scribbled in green crayon.

Luckily, all I had to do was slow down a bit. Bill was kind enough to put up with my constant yammering for the next mile or so. And that allowed me to not fall to pieces trying to run a pace my body wasn't able to deliver.

And I still caught Ryan before mile 3! Woo hoo for old(er) people! Although Ryan did look a bit bummed, so I didn't tease him (too badly).

Bummer.

I asked him what happened and he said his lungs burned. Well, I can see why. It was still below 30F at this point. My lungs burned too. Luckily my hands were frozen to offset that burning feeling. See? A bright side!

We spent the remainder of the race really just trying to stay warm and enjoying the course. It is really a lovely little 4 mile loop, with a nice mixture of paved road, gravel road, and even a small bit of single track trail thrown in towards the end. Warning, many pictures follow (click any of them for full size versions)...

North Carolina horses wear coats when it gets "cold"

In the end, Ryan was a bit sad that Dad was so "easily" able to catch him, but as with most problems, chocolate makes it all better.

Wonderful And Awful - Uwharrie Mountain Run 20 Miler

2012-02-05T14:25:00.000-05:00

"Uwharrie is wonderful. And awful." I wrote that a couple of weeks before the Uwharrie Mountain Run after previewing the "easier" middle portion of the trail. Now, after running the full course for the first time, I stand by that description.

Over the course of the past couple of years, I've stumbled across a few races which somehow lodged themselves into a special place in my mind. Umstead Marathon and Medoc Mountain Trail Marathon being my favorites. I can now add a third to round out my top three races. Uwharrie joins Umstead and Medoc, but it's difficult to order them in any real way. They are all very different races and experiences. So, I'll just try to describe how I feel about them in terms of family.

Medoc is like your grandpa. He's old, and firm, but gentle and doting as well. He challenges you with the big climb, and then gently encourages you with the smooth rolling trail along the river. The loop course gives you that sense of comfort that comes with familiarity. Others have said this, and I will agree - Medoc is the perfect first trail marathon.

Umstead is like your father. He's constant, and disciplined, but supportive as well. He pushes you as hard as you need to be pushed in order to grow as a runner. He can teach you lessons through both your successes and your failures. I continue to learn from him.

Uwharrie is different. He is like the older, harder, gristly uncle who thinks your father has been too soft on you. Uncle Uwharrie loves you, but thinks that pushing you to the limit will make you a stronger person. As you struggle through his challenges, even at your lowest points, he tells you in no uncertain terms to "Grow up!". And then when you've made it through, he slaps your back and gives you your first beer. He's the uncle you love and respect. And also fear.

Recreation? That should be remediation.

The start, with lots of green "Umstead Tick Mob" shirts.

Lessons from Uncle Uwharrie
Lesson 1 - Don't Give Too Much Too Early - The start of Uwharrie is hard. Very, very hard. You "run" straight up a rock strewn gully for what seems like miles. Unless you are stupid, or extremely gifted, expect to walk most of this section.

Straight up "The Ditch"

There are a couple of rocks in the first section.

Me, followed by Ryan McCarty and Andrew Beckert.
All Uwharrie newbies...

Only a few more miles to the top.. sheesh!

After struggling up the first big hill, there are several miles of fun, runnable trail, but you must be careful not to bomb down the hills too fast, or to attack the up hills too hard, except if you are running the 8 miler, in which case feel free to run like you are being chased by Sasquatch himself.

Ryan rockin' the kilt.
Andrew rockin' his first 20 mile run, ever. And I thought I was nuts...

The only real bridge on the 20 mile trail.

Lesson 2 - Eat Well - The first 8 miles or so are all about cooking up the proper Uwharrie running recipe. Take a large portion of difficulty, toss in a good helping of fun, and spice with fear and exhaustion. Consume with abandon.

The Uwharrie aide stations are simply fantastic. I had filled my pockets full of granola and honey gels before the race. At the end of the race, my pockets were still full. Uncle Uwharrie whispered sternly into my ear at the first aide station "Gels are for hair, boy! Have a banana. And a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And a chocolate chip cookie. And wash it down with some Coca Cola. That's a real man's race fuel."

And so, I did.

I can't tell you how stupid of me this was. I have a notoriously bad racing stomach, and fueling is something I've struggled with for over a year now. Trying an entirely new fueling "strategy" during a race is monumentally idiotic. Just the sort of thing I'm good at.

But somehow, all the aide station goodies actually worked. I looked forward to each station so I could have a coke and a cookie. I had noticeable surges after each station and never had any stomach discomfort. Uncle Uwharrie is a wise man. Next year, I'm trying the eggs and potatoes.

Lesson 3 - Embrace the Difficulty - I spent the first 10 miles or so trying to keep my feet dry, and for the most part I succeeded. But I paid a price in terms of time, energy and momentum. Eventually, Uncle Uwharrie got fed up with me and pushed me off a rock in the middle of a stream crossing. "Run through it, boy!" he ordered. After that, I splashed through every icy stream and clomped through all the squishy trail mud. And I loved it! I must have passed 20 people total at stream crossings.

You could spend 15 minutes looking for a way
around this crossing. Or 3 seconds splashing
through it.

Uncle Uwharrie Smiles, Sort Of
The final few miles are the toughest. There are many stream crossings, lots of sloppy trail mud, ledge trails I wouldn't let my favorite goat climb up, and a hill around mile 16 that seems to go on forever. And it started to rain (why I have so few pictures - my camera isn't water proof). But this was also my favorite part of the race. I started seeing lots of friends who were running back along the course in the 40 mile event and that really lifted my spirits. Congrats to everyone (Bart, Anthony, Heiko, Dan, Sean, Shannon, Karen and Brandy) I remember seeing on their second 20 miles of the 40 miler. You 40 milers are simply amazing!

Anthony flying down hill so fast, I couldn't
get him in focus.

Shannon, smiling her way down one of the
gnarliest sections of the trail.

Close to the finish, I started thinking about a time goal. Normally, I have all sorts of nonsense goals going into a race, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to set any goals for Uwharrie, other than to finish the thing without injury. I think I actually feared Uwharrie. I said as much to my wonderful wife the week prior to the race. She sympathized (somewhat...) but asked why I even wanted to run Uwharrie if I was scared of being injured. I didn't have a real answer. I still don't. I'm not even sure there is an answer. But I accept that.

Around the 14 mile aide station, I realized I had a shot at coming in close to 4 hours if I kept the same pace. But I was feeling a bit down. I had lost my running buddies, Ryan and Andrew and had slogged through a bunch of miles nearly alone on the trail. Somehow though, in the nastiest part of the course, I found my second wind, and I flew. I ran easy, light and relaxed. I crossed the line tired, but feeling good. Not that I could have turned around and ran another 20 miles, like you 40 miler maniacs, but I felt really good about my run. I think I finished in just a bit over 4 hours. Not bad considering I had a vague notion that the race would probably take me at least 4 hours 30 minutes.

Uncle Uwharrie slapped me on the back, and grunted "Not bad, nephew. Not bad."

That's right! I wore my bedroom slippers for the race.
Even Uncle Uwharrie was slightly impressed.

My calf is cramping in this picture.
You're welcome!

Taperchondriac

2012-02-02T21:36:00.000-05:00

Oh, how I hate the taper. Some people really enjoy it, but for a neurotic like me, it's pure hell. Seems like every time I stop running in anticipation of a race, my body falls to pieces. First my feet hurt, which is stupid because they have it the easiest during the taper. Then all my old injuries seem to reignite. My hip will hurt for half a day. Then my ankle will ache. Suddenly, both my achilles are sore and tight. Then my hamstrings feel strained. And why is my back hurting?! That's not even involved in running, is it?

And don't even get me started on all of the "regular" sickness that I feel coming on. Is that an itch in my throat?! Great, I'm coming down with a cold 3 days before the race! Better get some extra sleep. But wait, insomnia strikes, so I'm only managing 3 hours or less each night! Ok, the throat itch disappeared, but now my kids are running fevers! ARRRGHH!!!!

Then there's the eating. Or in my case, the attempted eating. "Preload with carb rich food to build up your glycogen stores" all the experts advise. Not! Every time I try this, my irritable bowel stages a digestive system coup d'etat. And it always wins! Eat pasta?! I might as well wash down some concrete mix with hair ball dissolving drain cleaner.

It's very strange. And very annoying.

Now, where is my beer? What?! No alcohol in the last 48 hours of the taper?! Please, someone just shoot me...

Walking into Mordor - Uwharrie Mountain Run Preview

2012-01-23T23:20:00.000-05:00

That's not an elevation profile. It's a
picture of the teeth that gnaw on your
legs as you run through Uwharrie.

One does not simply walk into Uwharrie. You crawl in. You scramble in on all fours like some demented trail-running version of Gollum, scrabbling breathlessly over the bones of broken mountains seemingly as old as the Earth itself. Only "my precious" isn't the One Ring - it's the ring with your car key. You cherish that ring and all the comfortable, warm, modern, pleather-seated goodness that it represents. Lose it and you lose any chance of a final escape.

Ok, I'm being slightly dramatic. But truthfully, only slightly. Uwharrie Mountain Trail is the toughest, hilliest, most gnarly stretch of boulders, rocks, roots, and streams that I've ever attempted to "run". I signed up for the 20 mile Uwharrie Mountain Run thinking it would be a great stepping stone race towards my ultimate goal of redeeming myself at the Umstead Marathon. What an idiot. After previewing the middle portion of the "trail" with a bunch of other local (and one traveling) lunatics, I can say that Uwharrie is nothing like Umstead. Twenty miles in Uwharrie is like thirty miles on Umstead single track trail, and that's not even considering the stream crossings. If Uwharrie is Mordor, then Umstead barely rates as the Shire. Unfortunately, I only resemble a hobbit because of my hairy feet and love of beer. I don't think I have the guts (or the legs) to bust into Mordor.

What's the difference you ask? Rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. Uwharrie's single track trail never lets you relax. Each step is a potential ankle explosion. What looks likes easy, flat, leaf covered trail is really only leaf covered rocks, roots, and holes. What doesn't look like easy, flat, leaf covered trail is simply rocks, roots, and even more holes. If you have bad ankles, stay out of Uwharrie.

Scared yet? I know I am. But, I'm also super excited to actually run the race. Not because I want my ankles to explode (they probably will), or because I think it will catapult me to some astonishing Umstead finish (on the contrary, I think this race will almost certainly ruin my Umstead Marathon redemption attempt). Why then? Why bother risking all the training I've invested for my "A" race at Umstead, on a run at Uwharrie where I'll be lucky to finish uninjured.

It's difficult to say exactly, but after running through a good chunk of Uwharrie, I can see why people come back for the abuse over and over. Uwharrie is hauntingly beautiful!

There's a primitive, ancient quietness that draws you in, even as Uwharrie's stony trails beat your body senseless. The long, steep inclines that suck the life from your very bones, reward you with glimpses of distant, mysterious ridges once you reach the summits.

The icy streams that fill your shoes with wet, freezing grit, also gush through some of the most beautiful sections of the forest.

Where's the trail on the other side of the stream?
Damn if I can see it. Ryan McCarty (pictured here)
and I stuck together and *almost* managed
not to get lost.

There's a trail here. Somewhere...

Uwharrie is wonderful. And awful. And exciting. And scary. And I can't wait...

I Get My Kicks From Elves

2012-01-20T22:33:00.000-05:00

My second pair of Soft Star RunAmocs have arrived! I am pleased to announce that they look and feel exactly like my previous pair, even though the soles on this pair appear to be slightly more narrow. In other words, I love 'em!

I had forgotten how good the red leather looked when my original pair was new. After 581 miles (!!) of running the red leather on my original pair had become much darker.

Breaking Rocinante
I really don't need to test or "break in" the new pair since I know exactly how they will perform, but I'm going to anyway. And as with most things related to my running, I plan to completely and utterly over do it.

I'm going to "break them in" during a 3 hour preview of the steep, gnarly, rocky Uhwarrie Mountain Run course. I'll be running the 20 mile race in a couple of weeks and this will give me the opportunity to preview some of the course and decide if I can use the RunAmocs on race day. I've heard from lots of people who have run this particular race that the trail is an absolute beast. I can't wait.

Branding the Steed
On my previous pair of RunAmocs, I added some really nice NC State University embroidered patches. They held up very well, considering the absolute torture they endured during trail running. I was going to do that again, but then thought "Why not something new?" But what?

What do you think? If you have an idea, feel free to add a comment to this post.

Who's In Charge? - Little River Trail Run

2012-01-14T17:10:00.000-05:00

Who's in charge? At any level, from the metaphysical to the mundane, this is a killer question. Given the mindless nature of the drivel on my little corner of the interwebs, you could probably guess that the question is very much on the mundane end of the spectrum. And you would be right of course! Who's in charge - of my running?

This has been a tough week physically for me. I'm training for the Umstead marathon, participating in the 12athon, and running other trail races for fun. A 21 mile run in hilly Umstead was followed by a killer swim laps session (I have triathlon fantasies of course!), which was followed by 5 miles of speed work (mile repeats), which was followed by a 12+ mile bonktastic run for the 12athon. So, stepping up to the line for a 10 mile trail race with nearly 40 miles of running on the books for the week would seem, to put it mildly, unwise for a mediocre middle aged runner with a crappy knee. Obviously, wisdom isn't in charge of my running.

What? You thought I was out in that cold air?

Wisdom be damned! I'm running Little River!
I ran Little River last year (I did my very first blog post about that race. Ahh memories....) and had a great time. Well, a great time other than the falling down part (there was snow!). And other than the incredible pain in my bum knee because of that fall, even though I blamed that pain on a knife wielding Sasquatch. I couldn't blame running! Running is pure goodness!

Like last year, it was cold. Last year 27F. This year 25F. But beautiful otherwise. I know that sounds bitterly cold, and it is, but only for the first mile or so of running. Then it's actually quite pleasant, in a masochistic sort of way.

Goals
After the previous week of running, I toned down my goals quite a bit. Usually I'll have two or more real measurable goals (metrics) for a race along with a bunch of softer goals. This time...

Finish. Yeah, that's it. Finish. Can you tell I'm a little tired?
Finish in 1:30 or better. I didn't think this was even in the neighborhood of possible, based on how tired I was feeling. But, aim high as they say...
Win something in the prize drawings after the race. Hey, it's the only "win" I'll ever get in a race, so don't roll your eyes like that... Not every one can be as fast as Cat Daddy Man or his old(er) alter ego, Chief Runs Down A Lot.
Touch base with some of the trail running folks I've met over the past year.
Avoid the Sasquatch and his swiss army knife...

Who's in Charge?

Wandering out to the race start line, I was wondering exactly how this run might go. I wanted it to go well of course, but lately it seems like very little is in my direct control when it comes to running. Oh, I train hard and mentally prepare for races, but things seldom work the way I imagine they should. Today I decided I would use the old "who wants it more" approach. You know, that old sports metaphor about the winner being the one who simply wanted it more. Well, I can want with the best of them. I may even be a world class wanter! So, I would give "wanting" a try today.

The race started and I took off from the rear third of the pack. Having raced this course before, I knew the first couple of miles were an easy downhill to the river. So I let it rip!

And nothing happened.

My legs simply refused. No amount of wanting could force them to turn over any faster.

Ok, plan 1 out the window. Time for plan 2 - relax! Sometimes relaxing can give you speed that you wouldn't normally get by pushing hard. So, I relaxed and flowed down the trail to the river. I didn't run any faster, but it was definitely more enjoyable. But I wanted to go faster! Oh, wait, the wanting plan didn't pan out. Relax more! Remember, you run for fun...

By mile 4 I knew relaxing wasn't giving me any real speed. Time for a new plan. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a new plan (thinking on the run isn't a skill I possess), so I had to revert to Plan Want. But I added something extra in the form of demands. I would Want and Demand my body to go faster. I not only wanted to go faster, I demanded that my legs move me faster. Move it legs! I'm in charge!

And nothing happened.

Mile 7 and I was becoming frustrated with my running. It was as if some invisible rope were attached to my waist, which when I reached a speed just below my goal pace, would yank me backwards. At this point, I was well out of my target window for the one hard goal that I wanted to achieve - finish in under 1:30. So, I simply stopped trying to achieve any goal, and concentrated on enjoying the run. I bantered with some of the other runners in my little group. I enjoyed the views of the beautiful North Carolina Wintertime forest. I just ran.

And something happened.

I started passing people. One, then two more, then several more. I tried not to think about it. At mile 7 I was almost 10 minutes off my goal time, so there was no way I could make up that time in less than 3 miles. I just continued to run for joy.

Non-answers for Ridiculous Questions

As I crossed the line, I stopped my watch. It read 1:33. Not quite my goal, but I have no complaints. I ran the final 3 miles at a faster pace then the preceding 7. I feel good about that.

As for my other goals, I did win a $5 discount on the purchase of a Sports Kilt. I wonder if wearing a kilt will make me faster? Doesn't matter. I'm a winner (of a $5 discount on a Sports Kilt)!

So, who's in charge of my running, you ask? I don't know, but it's definitely not me. And honestly, I really don't think it matters.

The 12athon is Bonkers - January 12athon Run

2012-01-13T17:06:00.000-05:00

Do as I say, not as I do. Don't run 21 miles on Saturday, followed by 5 miles of hard speed work on Tuesday, followed by 12 miles for the 12athon on Thursday. It won't work. Well, it might "work", but you will pay my friend.

I thought I could pull off a 12athon run without too much trouble. I thought I could mosey out to Umstead and run my favorite hilly trail at an easy-breezy, leisurely pace after the previous hard training sessions. As usual, I thought wrong.

I should have known this wasn't going to work when I woke up achy and tired that morning, but I'm too stubborn to listen to my own body (who's in charge here, anyway?!).

My body said "Do Not Run Today".

My brain said "Screw you meat! I'm in charge! We're running! Gray matter for the win!!!!"

My body responded "Sigh... Ever heard of learning from your past mistakes?"

My brain said "Ooooh, look! New posts on Facebook!"

So it was that lunchtime saw me in Umstead heading out for a 12+ mile run. It started poorly and got worse from there. My legs felt dead. My heartrate was too high, even at very slow paces. Nothing was working. But I endeavored to persevere. I'm in charge. Move it meat!

The first thing you pass on this route is
a graveyard. Foreshadowing anyone?

About 2 miles into the run, I realized I had worn one too many shirts. I decided to ditch a shirt by hiding it in some leaves. I would pick it up on my way back.

No one will ever find it here. And that
includes me...

Six miles in, the suffer-meter pegged at maximum suckitude. Hill after hill after hill was literally sucking the life out of my legs. I was walking - up and down hills. Lots of hills like this:

Even the warning cone couldn't stand upright on this hill.

And then, the cramps started! I can't tell you how much I hate cramps. I would rather be puking into the ditch than have my hamstrings attempting to strangle my femurs like demented boa constrictors. I was cramping so bad, the trees were cramping in sympathy.

My legs felt just like this...

When I ran the Umstead Marathon last year, I bonked hard in the hills around mile 17 or so. I know the exact spot where that bonk grabbed hold of my body, because I actually stopped and sat down on the stump of a tree. I look at that stump every time I run by it in order to remind myself why I run these hills.

The Umstead Memorial Bonk Stump

Guess where I ended up on this run?

The 12athon is truly bonkers.

The Fear

2012-01-10T22:03:00.000-05:00

"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."
Dune by Frank Herbert

I've faced the fear before, when training for the Medoc Trail Marathon. The fear of injury. The fear of failure. It's no easier this time for Umstead.

Strange that having a mediocre, almost trivial, goal in a race would so easily open the doors and allow fear to slink into my mind. Stranger still that I would be unable to shake free of that fear. Then again, the investment of time and effort to achieve the goal has been anything but trivial. I suppose even a mediocre goal may become precious with enough devotion.

Maybe it's not the fear of failure. Failures may be redeemed after all. Maybe it's the fear of loss. Loss of time, the most precious gift of all. I don't know.

All I know is that I have the fear, but the fear will not have me.

Too Flu and Two Flew - Godiva New Year's Day Run

2012-01-03T13:33:00.002-05:00

I get a flu shot every year. I would get a dozen of them if I thought it would actually help. I hate the flu.

So, when the stomach flu began ravaging its way through my family like Genghis Khan storming the steppes of Eurasia, I was a bit irritated. I would have much preferred coal in my stocking for Christmas.

What does this have to do with the Godiva New Year's Day Run, you ask? Everything. And Nothing.

Six days before the New Year's Day Run, both my boys caught the bug. Very soon afterwards, my wife and I caught the bug. Five days of tag team misery ensued.

Ryan recovered well before I did, but when Friday came and I was still feeling lousy, I had doubts about making the New Year's Day Run. Saturday came and I was feeling better, so I decided to test my legs to see if it would even be possible to run the next day. I nearly passed out after 2 miles. Of course, I should have realized that not eating for 3 days would leave me a bit woozy, but I was woozy from not eating for 3 days, so that thought never crossed my woozy mind. Woozy is such a cool word. Where were we? Oh yeah, the race.

After successfully eating a meal Saturday evening, I woke Sunday morning feeling decent. Tired, but decent. Ryan was still up for the race, and much more excited about it than me, so we headed out to Duke Forest for a 5 mile trail race on New Year's Day.

Springtime in January
My car thermometer said 67F. Crazy for January 1st, even in North Carolina, but I'm not complaining. I would trade pine trees for palm trees almost any day. Ryan and I checked in easily (Godiva races are so well organized!) and sat in the warm sun pinning on our race bibs.

Once again, the Godivans were great with Ryan. Thanks to everyone who smiled at him, talked to him, and cheered him before, during and after the race. He's a shy kid, and small things like that makes a huge difference.

It was also great meeting and talking to several folks who had nice things to say about my little blog and my photos. Thanks for the compliments! And sorry if I seemed to be at a loss for words. I always assume that only about 10 people actually read my pointless blog drivel, so when strangers introduce themselves and say they've read and enjoyed (!!??) my blog, I'm slightly shocked.

I continue to be surprised by the turnout at the Godiva Winter Series events. These Godiva races may be the best kept secret in the Triangle area, but apparently a lot of people are in the know.

Springtime in January

Didn't We Already Do The Misery Run?
The race started and we funneled into a short stretch of single track trail leading into Duke Forest. I had no idea how the run would go for either myself or Ryan. I was still feeling a bit woozy, but was determined to enjoy the run. Ryan was still coughing occasionally, but said he felt fine otherwise. I told Ryan to walk whenever he felt the need, hoping that would be often, for my sake.

It didn't take long for the field to stretch out on the single track.

True to form, Ryan pounded away at the run with his juvenile fartleks and I stumbled along with him. Neither of us was in much of a hurry, although Ryan would leave me behind on all the downhill sections. Generally, we just joked around and enjoyed the race and the company of the other Godivans on a beautiful New Year's Day in Duke Forest.

I really liked the out and back nature of this run.

After about a mile, the hills started. And they never seemed to stop. We ran when we could and walked the rest.

"We have to go back UP this hill?!"

The Cure
Sometimes the cure for feeling bad involves something that feels even worse. By the time Ryan and I closed in on the final mile of the race, I think I had shocked my body back to something resembling normal function. I was no longer exhausted from the flu. Now I was just plain exhausted - but very happy to be alive, and running once again.

Thanks, Godiva!

RIP RunAmocs

2011-12-28T15:58:00.000-05:00

Well, it had to happen sooner or later. As good as the RunAmocs are, they can only take so much abuse. In the end, they were no match for my lack of trail running skill. I finally tripped hard enough on a hidden root to tear a hole in the toe of my right moccasin. No, this wasn't the first time I've tripped (more like the 100th), so this had to be an especially nasty root.

It happened on my favorite trail in Umstead State Park of course. I should have known better than to run on Company Mill Trail before all the Fall leaf litter had been trampled down and washed off the trail.

I can't really complain. My RunAmocs have served me very well this year. I logged over 500 miles of running on this pair, with at least that much walking. So, 1000+ miles is pretty good for a pair of shoes. Although, I think I could have hit 2000 if I weren't so damn clumsy.

I'm lucky I didn't tear my toe nail off
when this happened.

For now, I'm still running in them, but the hole continues to expand. I may try to patch the hole somehow, but regardless, I've already decided to buy another pair exactly like the current pair. Same style. Same sole. Same soul.

Lord of the Ringangles

2011-12-23T12:28:00.001-05:00

I hate lifting weights. Hate it. But I do like to incorporate some gym work with my running.

I'm a small guy, and I'm older, so pressing 50 pound dumbells is about the limit of my heavy work these days. Although in the "beef" days of my 20's, I managed to press 230 on the machine (no free weights in the work gym aside from 50 pound dumbells). I also managed to tear a few things in my sternum pressing that much weight, so that was my injury high water mark. Hey, how can you know your limits unless you push to injury?

Even though I hate lifting, I've always loved to climb (at one time I was a decent rock climber), so whenever I'm in the gym, I usually drift towards the pull up bar. Pull ups are great for biceps, shoulders, chest and back, so I can get a good upper workout with just a few simple pull up exercises. I can even hang and do leg lifts to work my core.

So, I had this bright idea to install a set of rings in the garage for rainy day work outs. As a side benefit, I can also hang a straight bar for easier pull ups, and even a swing for my kids. Luckily I have a bunch of duplicate hardware from the giant play set I built for my kids two years ago.

For reference, those are 4 inch lag screws. I think
I could hang an elephant from that ring bracket.

My garage has a big, beefy engineered beam running along the center line. I decided to mount my brackets to the beam using some big lag screws.

Nothing like removing drywall, drilling holes, and bolting a
bracket to a beam while balancing on the top step of my ladder.

Bracket one installed. Bracket two measured, and marked.
Ready to cut drywall and mount.

Brackets mounted and chains hung.

Totally adjustable and adaptable.

I just finished two sets of 10 pull ups. I can barely type. I'm sure I'll be doing the iron cross in a couple of weeks. US Olympic trials, here I come!!

Monadnock Madness - Pilot Mountain Challenge 5K

2011-12-18T11:21:00.001-05:00

See the steeper left side? We ran up that
and then around the "Knob".

From wikipedia: A monadnock, or an inselberg is an isolated rock hill, knob, ridge or small mountain that rise abruptly from a gently sloping or virtually level surrounding plane.

The key word there is "abruptly", especially for Pilot Mountain.

I spent a good portion of my childhood living within sight of Pilot. I've hiked there probably a hundred times. I've rock climbed there several times, and was nearly killed on my last climbing trip (another blog post for another day). But in all this time, I've never, ever thought about running there.

The trails are steep, and when they go beyond steep, as they often do, they switch to staircases. Lots of staircases.

So, when Iris posted a teaser link about a 5K race up Pilot Mountain on the 12athon Facebook page, I had to sign up. I love down home nostalgic pain.

Escape to Pilot Mountain
Being a good husband, it was my sworn duty to convince my wife, Sherri, to share in the anticipated madness. We were up at 5:00AM, yanking the kids out of bed and shoving them into the cold, pre-dawn air for the short ride to the sitter's house. The kids just roll with it - another day with Dad's craziness is just another day. A few hours later, we pulled into the camp ground at the base of the mountain where the race would begin.

It was cold. Not exactly bone chilling, but somewhere in the 30's. Too cold for me, but at least survivable. I parked the car on the side of the road, and promptly got it stuck in the mud. Oh yeah, it rained almost an inch the night before. Sigh... After spinning the wheels for a few minutes, I managed to rock the car out of the mud hole and found a drier, rockier parking spot further up the hill. Should have driven the Subaru.

12athoner Invasion
Seven or eight 12athoners showed for the race (great meeting everyone!). This is amazing considering the 12athon has yet to actually begin (January 12, 2012 is the first real 12athon run. Sign up for fabulous prizes people!). Organizer Iris must be goading world champion.

Sherri expressing the misery of being married
to me. Iris commiserating. Bob, wisely keeping
his mouth shut.

Gooooooooooooooooals........
I have goals for every race. Some are soft, some are hard, but all are usually nonsense. This race was no different.

Run the race. Seriously. I've been on the Grindstone Trail, and simply not walking would be a stratospheric goal.
Finish in under 40 minutes. Seriously. I know, it's only a 5K, but this is a kick-ass 5K! I wanted to get to the finish while they still had hot chili and Krispy Kreme donuts.
Don't fall off the mountain. Seriously, it's possible.

Grinding up Grindstone

I need to pay more attention to the time. We walked out to the starting area, and while I was busy looking at Iris' spiffy new NB WT110 trail shoes (not yet released to the peons of the running world), the race started. I had wanted to be closer to the front. Not that I'm fast, but I figured I should at least be in front of the runners wearing the Santa hats. I think we were standing around the 100th position in the pack when the race started.

As a result, I spent the first 1.5 miles passing people, simply to get to the spot in the pack where my pace should have placed me to begin with. I suck at racing.

I stole this from Josh's race report. Thanks, Josh!

As you can see from this contraband race course profile, the hard stuff starts around mile 1.6 and continues to about mile 2.2. I can't tell you how extremely difficult this section was in mere words, so I'll use pictures too. The trail was a seemingly never ending series of steep switchbacks, littered with rock and timber staircases (hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of steps).

Stupid steep.

To give you an idea of the terrain, this is the trail that rock climbers go down to access the Pilot Mountain climbing area.

This is just plain wrong. Runners going up. Rock climbers going down.
I'll say it again - stupid steep.

Needless to say, but Goal 1 (not walking) died an agonizing death on Grindstone Trail. I buried it in an unmarked grave next to a rotting log around mile 2 of the race. Rest in peace little buddy...

Jomeokee Jubilee

Having "successfully" slogged my way up Grindstone, I entered the final mile of the race on Jomeokee Trail. Don't tell anyone, but this is one of the best (and my favorite) trails in all of North Carolina. It's staggeringly beautiful - when you have the time to actually enjoy it.

Other parts of the Sauratown Mountain Range in the distance.

I found my third wind on Jomeokee Trail and started to fly (my second wind was buried on Grindstone Trail along with Goal 1). I passed a lot of people, even though I was snapping pictures and trying to enjoy the trail and the views. Somehow, Jomeokee brought out the best in my running. I forgot about the agony of Grindstone and simply flew around The Knob. I think I smiled constantly during the entire final mile.

How many finishing lines have a
view like this?!

Challenge Completed

I sprinted across the line in a PPR (Pilot Personal Record) of 36 minutes in 44th position (out of 141). Goal number 3 - smashed!

I also never fell off the mountain, so Goal number 2 achieved!

The chili was hot and fantastically delicious. I had two full bowls. And 4 Krispy Kreme donuts. And an irritable bowel for the rest of the day. But, it was worth it! Just like the rest of this crazy race.

I'll be back next year.

Diabolic Dozen - 12athon 10 Mile Challenge Run

2011-12-13T21:49:00.002-05:00

Leave it to me to take things to the extreme. Not only did I dream up some of the kooky bonus challenges of the Stet That Run's Virtual 12athon Challenge, I subjected myself to several of them in the very first event.

My original thought was to simply run the 10 miles of this particular event and do the Diabolic Dozen bonus challenge (eat 12 deviled eggs during the run). Pretty good bonus points (12) for that one. But, I'm greedy. I'm also a glutton for punishment, so I started thinking about ways to combine more challenges into the run.

I like beer, so why not throw in the Running Under the Influence challenge. I could even double down with the "two fister" level (drink two beers over the 10 miles). 12 more bonus points for me!

But did I stop there? Oh no. I eventually planned to run and perform a total of SIX bonus challenges during the 10 miles.

The Challenges

Diabolic Dozen - Eat 14 deviled eggs - 14 is the devils dozen, didn't you know that? 12 points
RUI - Double Fister - Drink two Sierra Nevada Celebration Ales. 12 points
Naturalist - I would wear my RunAmoc shoes. 4 points
Galloway - I would walk/run the 10 miles. 4 points
Woodsy Owl - I would run the 10 miles on a trail. 4 points
Sisyphus - I would run a trail loop less than 1/4 mile in length - over 40 times! 8 points

Total points: 10 (for the run itself) + 42 (bonus challenge points) + 4.2 (10% bonus for combining challenges) = 56.2 points, woo hoo!!!!

The Course
Since I wanted to combine the Woodsy Owl and Sisyphus bonus challenges, I had a tough time finding a workable trail loop. Luckily there is a very short nature trail in the woods next to my neighborhood which I measured at 0.24 miles.

Running this loop 42 times would give me a total of 10.08 miles. Perfect.

I had to jump over this log 42 times.
Should have brought my saw...

The Run
Rather than a texty sort of report, I'll just give you the videos I took before, during, and after the run. The fifth and final video below is a compilation of clips taken during most of the run. Enjoy!

Bump Ahead - Godiva Couch Mountain Run

2011-12-11T22:26:00.001-05:00

There's a mountain in Durham, NC? Apparently so. Even more ridiculous, there's a Godiva Winter Series run which goes up and down that mountain. Sign me up!

I'm having a lot of fun with the Godiva Winter Series runs, and so is my son, Ryan. After our muddy, pooptastic adventure at the Godiva Misery Run, Ryan has been looking forward to the next few runs in the series. He's especially excited about the possibility of winning more chocolate, and possibly even a cool shirt at the end of the series. Personally, I'm just happy to be running trails with my son. Of course, I want the shirt too.

I love my running swag.

Handicapping Myself
Running with a 7 year old is strange. Kids are bursty runners. A half mile at 8 minute pace is followed by a short walk. Repeat this for 5 miles and you have a juvenile fartlek.

I hate fartleks, and I especially hate walking. So, I had this brilliant idea to do a long run in Umstead the day before the Couch Mountain Run, to sort of soften myself up a bit. I thought that maybe I would "enjoy" the short walk breaks if I were completely beaten down. Well, 16 miles of single track and bridal trail in Umstead certainly did the trick. Umstead's gift of seven blisters for my feet weren't nearly as bad as the pain in my as...er glutes. Who would have thought that my arse was so involved in my trail running...

Since I couldn't get my feet into my Altra Instincts (OUCH!), I decided to wear my Vivobarefoot Neos - a nice roomy home for my new family of blisters. However, Neos are not trail shoes - no padding, no rock plate, no grip. On the steep, rocky, rooty, leaf covered hills of the Couch Mountain Run, I think I would have fared just as well with a couple of paper plates strapped to my feet. Live and learn (or don't, as is the case for me).

Campfires, Cross Country, and Cookouts
I've only been to two races, including this one, which featured a fire at race headquarters. At the Umstead Marathon, there was a cozy fireplace in the camp lodge next to the start/finish line. At Couch Mountain, there was a fire pit next to the start/finish area where many of the racers huddled for warmth. Personally, I think all Winter races should feature a fire of some sort. And free beer. And donuts. And transportation home for broken down runners. If I ever organize a race, it will have all of these necessities.

Lining up for the race start, I wondered whether my battered glutes could keep me upright, and whether or not I could keep up with Ryan. Of course, I told my son that I was going to destroy him in the last mile of the race. Ryan doesn't actually need this sort of motivation since I don't normally "let" him win anything when competing against me. He's pretty hungry for a win against Dad. But, it's fun to get him all pumped up, and I think it helps him in the latter parts of these long (for a seven year old) runs.

Godiva had a great turn out for an ankle busting run on the trails of Duke Forest, especially on such a chilly December morning. It's good to be surrounded by other trail running lunatics. There is comfort in the madness of crowds.

The horn sounded and we took off. I continue to be amazed at the speed and skill of some of the Godiva trail runners. Within minutes the field was spread along the road far ahead of me. It's almost like some of the Godivans actually know what they are doing. I may have to look into this whole practice and training thing. As long as it doesn't impact my beer drinking.

The fasties are already over the hill and out of sight.

The shoe portion of my handicapping scheme was working brilliantly. Neos, gravel, and photography on the run are a perfect combination to allow orthopedic surgeons to comfortably maintain their second homes - in the Caribbean. But no co-pays this time, Doc! I think the balls of my feet are only bruised. Hopefully...

In the first mile Ryan informed me that he was going to "let my feet fly down the hills". I told him that was fine and that I would catch up with him on the up hill sections. True to form, Ryan flew down every hill.

But, I would reel him in whenever the trail tipped upwards. This worked great. I could run my own pace (slowly, painfully) and keep an eye on him at the same time, just in case.

After going up and then down Couch Mountain, we wound our way onto a couple of secondary paved roads for a mile or two. I had no idea where I was and was really surprised when I saw that we had actually left Durham County altogether.

No one told me to bring
my passport!

After a mile or so on paved road, we ran across lunch.

I tried to talk Ryan into carrying it back for the cookout, but for some strange reason he just said "Ewwwww!!!!".

Eventually, we made it back for the last mile of trail running before the finish.

When I told Ryan I thought we only had about a mile left to run, he took off like a rabbit, calling out "I'll beat you, Dad!"

I kept him in sight for about 2 minutes before the second phase of my self imposed handicapping kicked in - in the form of cramps. I hate cramps almost as much as I hate walking, but I simply had to walk for a minute. Ryan stretched out his lead, and by the time I recovered enough to run again, I could barely see him.

I tried to close down the gap, but my legs simply refused any pace faster than about a 13 minute mile. By the time we got back to the power line near the start/finish, I knew I couldn't reel him in. But I'll give it to him - for a seven year old, the kid has a great kick.

As I plodded across the finish line, Ryan was already chatting it up with several of the other Godivans. Thanks to everyone who talked to him and encouraged him, before, during, and after the race! I think that will really make a difference in building his long term interest in cross country and trail running.

More Cheeseburgers, Please
After the race, we had a burger cook out, with free beer! I think all races should end with cheeseburgers and beer. Or at least all good races...

Return To The Rock - Run At The Rock Trail Race

2011-12-03T14:23:00.001-05:00

When I put together my race schedule for this year, I decided that I would repeat all of my favorite races from last season. Run At The Rock was a favorite for several reasons. It was my first trail race, which was memorable enough, but it was also just a fantastic experience in and of itself. It was the race where I truly fell in love with trail racing.

So, going back this year, I wanted to recapture a bit of that magic from last year, and focus on it even more. To truly appreciate it. Last year I ran hard in the 7 miler. By the end of the race I was blasted, but I had paid enough attention to at least appreciate the beauty of the trail and the overwhelming friendliness of the volunteers and the other racers. It was enough to switch me to trail racing almost completely. For that, I'm very thankful.

Well, enough pastel colored memories from me. On to the race report...

Pre-pre-race - I Like Worms

The early bird gets the worm, but this is ridiculous. I was up at 4:30AM, but not for my race. My wife Sherri was running the Mistletoe Half Marathon in Winston-Salem, which is an hour and half away from my house by car. So we were both up early, frantically loading coffee, running gear, the kids and my wife into the car for a 5:30AM departure (Sherri ran her half and did fantastic!). Once they were on their way, I managed to get my bag packed in time for my carpool with Bob Sites (See! Trail racers are awesome!) to the race.

Yeah, we were early enough to
see the sunrise.

Pre-race - Damn, It's Cold!

Ok, so I'm not acclimatized to cold yet. Bob's car thermometer said 30F when we arrived at Cedar Rock Park, but I swear it felt like 30 below. Luckily, I was wearing shorts, insulated track pants, two shirts, gloves, AND a coat, so I somehow managed to make it to the registration table to retrieve my bib and race (sweat!)shirt without freezing solid. But just barely...

AC doing his best grifter impersonation.
Amy (see below) doesn't look convinced.

While walking down to the race registration table, who do I run into but the periodically run down AC, of the most excellent Running Down blog. He told me some shifty sob story about forgetting his wallet and desperately needing some "gas" money. Sure thing AC. I can spot you some bucks, and at very reasonable (hourly) interest rates (but don't short me, cause I know a guy with big guns who can crack your head like a walnut).

Back in the car, pinning on my bib, I made two mistakes at once. First I decided to wear both shirts and my track pants during the race. Second, and unbeknownst to me, I accidentally pinned the bib through both shirts with one of the safety pins (this becomes semi-important later, I promise).

Amy before her first official
trail race. She was probably even
happier afterwards...

Trail Running Borg - You Will Be Assimilated

Since I love trail racing so much (even though I stink at it!), I've been trying to convince my running coworkers to give it a try. I've had a couple of them tag along on Umstead Company Mill Trail runs during lunchtime, and finally ~~suckered~~ convinced one of them to sign up for an actual trail race.

Amy Davis, whether she admits it or not, is one of those naturally gifted runners. The runner who can not run any serious distance for months, then run one 8 mile warm up, then run a (very) sub-2 hour half marathon race. Ridiculous! She managed to finish in 1:16. Stupid fast for her first (but hopefully not last) official trail race. Congrats, Amy!

The Race

Ok, enough fooling around. Let's get to the race! As usual, I had a few goals and metrics in my head for the race. Not the normal sort of goals or metrics mind you, but my goals and metrics none the less. Hey, I'll never win my age group, so I have to chase something...

Goals

Meet as many of my on line trail running friends in person as possible.
Run a smart(er) race: Don't blow up in the first 3 miles or bonk at 12 miles.
Enjoy the scenery (I don't come to this park, except to race).
Have a great time! Trail racing is a gift!

Metrics

Trip less than 3 times.
Do not fall down.
Puke less than 1 time.
Finish in under 2:20

Lap One - Relax And Enjoy The Ride

I decided that I would run the first lap without worrying about time. I just wanted to enjoy the course and snap a few pictures along the way (like Shannon, but without the talent part).

Cedar Rock Park is really a beautiful place. Even more beautiful than I remember from my last oxygen starved loop around the place. I'm glad I lugged my camera along during the first loop to snap a few pictures.

The single track course is really fantastic. There are sections that are extremely technical (rocky, muddy, wet), but there are also sections that are simply joyous to run - flat, smooth, wide, gorgeous.

At points, I actually let out small "Woo hoo!" calls, mostly because I was having such a good time, but also because I wanted to appreciate the beauty of the place and the joy of the experience. I apologize to those who thought I was just some woo-hooing kook running through woods. Unfortunately, this is only going to get worse as I run more trail races....

Last year, I got a brief glance of the dam and the waterfall. This year, I actually stopped to enjoy the view.

Gorgeous!

Come on! How could you not want to run here?!

Finishing lap 1, I was faster than last year (by 2 minutes) when I ran hard for the entire 7 mile race. I'm not sure if I'm a faster runner, or if I was simply more relaxed. Either way, I'm pleased with that improvement.

Last year in the 7 miler, 1:06. This year in the 14 miler, 1:04.

Lap Two - Where Is Everyone?

As I had previously mentioned, I was wearing two shirts, shorts, track pants, and gloves when I started the race. Well, the gloves came off in under a mile due to sweaty hands, but I couldn't take off the pants or the second shirt until I made it back to the start/finish line. So, I sweated, a lot, during the first lap. I couldn't have been much wetter if I had fallen in the river.

As I crossed the line completing the first lap, I was super happy to be able to stop and peel out of all the extra clothing. I was soaked in sweat. I peeled off the track pants - easy enough. But when I attempted to take off my outer shirt, I discovered that I had pinned the race bib straight through to the undershirt as well. I wanted to remove the under shirt, so I stripped down to my shorts and worked on unpinning the the bib from the two shirts. All in all, I must have wasted about 2 or 3 minutes goofing off with safety pins and clothing, but eventually, I managed to get myself sorted out and took off for the second lap.

I was slower during the second lap (1:09). I'm not sure if I was more tired (likely) or if I simply had no reference (other runners) to maintain a decent pace. Either way, I was slower. At times, I was utterly alone on the trail. No one ahead of me or behind me as far as I could see. I actually liked this. It was peaceful. Almost like a training run in Umstead. I had left the camera behind (dead battery - yeah, I'm an idiot!) in my track pants, but that's probably a good thing as I think I would have spent about half an hour taking pictures. I only saw 4 other runners during the entirety of the second lap (I passed two, and was passed by two, who I kept in sight until the very end).

Just briefly, I'll mention the volunteers at the aid stations, but only to say THANKS! You people were awesome! Thanks for cheering me on and laughing at my stupid, anaerobic jokes.

Finish - Hot Soup, Here I Come!

I finished in 2:13, much better than my desired metric, so "Woo Hoo" for me! I started reasonably and I never bonked. In the last 4 miles or so, all I could think about was that awesome hot soup in the finisher's tent. I ran across the finish line feeling really good about the race. My time was faster than I had anticipated. I never fell down. I tripped only once, somewhere around mile 11. I snapped a number of decent pictures. All in all, I really enjoyed myself.

Epilogue

I managed to meet a couple of on line running friends at this race. Shout outs to Dave (winner yet again!!), Andrew and Jeff ! And meeting that goal, more than any of my others, is the most satisfying.

I also discovered that I would be a terrible loan shark. I just can't let go of a dollar, especially to a grifter like AC...

"I want my two dollars! Two dollars!!!"
(photo courtesy of Shannon Johnstone)

Til Bonk Do Us Part

2011-11-27T20:57:00.001-05:00

I hadn't done a good, hard, long aerobic run since before my October trail marathon. I felt like I needed one, just to maintain my marathon conditioning. Or at least that's how I rationalized my masochistic reasoning. When I mentioned that I was thinking of running 16 miles (or so) in Umstead, my wife, Sherri, said she was interested in tagging along. Her longest run to date was a half marathon, her first, a month prior. I warned her that the route was pretty tough, but she always seems to be up for a challenge (she's had two kids after all). So, after finagling some childcare for the afternoon, we set off to Umstead for a bit of running.

75 degrees on November 28. I hadn't expected that. But there was water on the loop I planned to run, so I had brought along several Nuun electrolyte tablets for the water bottle, plus a couple of Honey Stinger gels, just in case. I thought I had enough to cover the run. I was running fasted (nothing to eat since the previous evening), hoping to rely on fat burning to fuel my long run. Stupidly optimistic - that's how I roll.

Sherri, who had eaten a sensible breakfast...

Umstead is just a beautiful place to run.

Loop One - Good Fun!
We left the car and had an easy run down to Reedy Creek Lake, where we would pick up the main Reedy Creek to Turkey Creek to Graylyn Trail loop I had planned.

Turning onto Reedy Creek Trail, we started the mile long steady climb up to the Turkey Creek Trail intersection. Sherri commented on how this hill seemed to go on forever! I told her it was at least twice as long on the second pass.

Two miles in and starting Turkey Creek Trail
for the first time. This should be easy...

Turkey Creek Trail is a tough run, especially the northern section. But with fresh legs and good conversation, we had no difficulty with most of it.

I noticed that the railing was rotten after
this photo was taken. Confluence of Crabtree,
Sycamore, and Turkey Creeks in the background.
Don't say you never learned anything from this blog...

The last couple of miles are hard, no matter how fresh my legs seem, so when we emerged from Turkey Creek Trail back onto Graylyn Trail, I was pretty happy.

I thought this post was my wife for a brief moment.
Dehydration can cause hallucinations, right?

Sherri looked fresh as ever and suffered only from all of my photography antics.

I also learned something on this run. Horses wear trail shoes, just like people. And they even lose them occasionally.

Easyboot Trail Shoe.
Zero drop with big meaty rubber cleats for grip.

I can always use more grip, but as usual
with trail shoes, this one didn't fit my
exceptionally wide foot.

Look at the grip on that thing!

Loop Two - Bad News
By the time we completed the first loop, the suffering had begun - mostly for me. Lack of any food during the previous 18 hours left me with very dead legs after only 9 miles. I thought about quitting, but Sherri seemed up for another loop, so off we went down Turkey Creek Trail once again.

Not nearly as much lively conversation from me on this pass though. I was suffering, silently. Sherri, on the other hand, seemed to be in great shape. I kept asking her if she was OK, hoping she would tell me she wanted to quit and head back to the car. But she said she was doing fine, just a bit tired.

Only when we reached the northern section of Turkey Creek Trail, where Krampus hides in the steep, gut-busting hills, did she begin to show any signs of trouble. By then I was an inch away from a major bonk.

I picked up the pace in a stupid effort to simply get the loop done and get back to my car. It didn't work.

Someone please send a horse.
I will pay with this nifty horse trail shoe.

Sherri was suffering, but still on her feet - and smiling! Damn her!

Stop smiling! And carry me back to the car!

But the smile wouldn't last much longer. By mile 15, the bonk set in for Sherri as well. We both struggled to finish the loop in one piece, and somehow we managed to hobble back to Reedy Creek Lake for 16 miles in about 3 hours.

My grimace looks like a smile. Sherri's face tells the
tale for both of us.

As we crossed the Reedy Creek Lake dam heading back to the car, I said "We should go for THREE loops!"

Wait! Come back! I was only joking!!
You can't leave me, I have the car keys!

Epilogue
So, as of this moment, we are still married. In fact we had a good laugh about the whole thing over a dinner of Thanksgiving left-overs and a couple of glasses of wine. However, I've learned one troubling new fact today - my wife is a better runner than me after only 5 months of training. But I will never tell her that. I will blame it all on the bonk.

Sweet Misery - Godiva Misery Run

2011-11-14T17:14:00.001-05:00

All photos courtesy of Shannon Johnstone of Running Down.

Some races are special not because of the fantastic course, or the great volunteers, or the fun and friendly atmosphere, or even because you have a great time. The Godiva Track Club's Misery Run had all of that, and then some. But it was special for other reasons - reasons much more difficult to define. This was a race of firsts for me. My first race as a member of Godiva and my first race in the Godiva Winter Series. My first race involving cow poop. My first race with my 7 year old son Ryan running by my side. The Misery Run was excellent for all of these reasons - but especially because I was able to run with my son.

Pre-race
Ryan and I had been looking forward to this race for weeks. Reading old race reports with pictures and even video of past races, left Ryan and I wondering exactly how many hay bales, mud puddles, and cow poop piles we would be running through. Being 7 years old, Ryan is a finely tuned potty humor machine, so he couldn't stop giggling about running through cow poop. I'm a 7 year old at heart, so I egged him on at every opportunity. My wife was not amused.

I wasn't sure of the exact length of the race, but had heard it was a loop course totaling 5.75 miles. I was a bit worried about Ryan. His longest run to date had been 5.4 miles, and that was along a flat greenway near our house. The morning of the race he seemed a little nervous as well. I told him he was free to stop after the first loop (or anytime really for that matter), and that seemed to calm his nerves.

Race Day

Orange County,NC. I think the race was
somewhere between the X and the
pirate ship.

Race day arrived and we piled into my car and headed out to find the race site. If the rest of the Godiva races are as hard to find as the Misery Run, I'm going to have to do a bit of recon beforehand. It's almost like Godiva is intentionally trying to hide the race. First you email the race directory for the secret directions. Turn left here.. right there.. then look for some guy standing near a mailbox. The only reason I found the race was because I happened to be following a car with a Godiva bumper sticker. Otherwise I might still be lost someplace in Orange County, North Cackalacky.

I parked my car in a cow pasture next to a farm house, very glad that there hadn't been any rain in the prior few days. Ryan and I signed in and had our bibs in minutes (I love small races!), so we wandered over to one of the hay bales so Ryan could practice climbing over. At about 6 feet tall, the hay bales were quite a challenge for 4 foot tall Ryan. But with a little practice, and some advice from me to jam his foot into the bale, he managed to make it over a couple of times without help.

No problem for Ryan. Me on the other hand...

Lap One - Who Put These Trees Here?!
The race started with a bit of a wait. Traffic was backed up at the first hay bale, so we waited for about 30 seconds before we scrambled across. All of my worries about Ryan and the hay bales were laid to rest when the little monkey scrambled over the top much faster than his old man. This would become a trend as the race progressed.

Once we cleared the hay bale and the adjacent cow pasture, we hit the single track through the woods. I wasn't expecting downed trees. Of course, I never seem to expect anything difficult. "Ignorance is bliss" is my overall race strategy.

Ryan giggled as he leapt over each log. I grunted with arthritic pain but urged him on with some half hearted "Woo hoos!". All I could think was "Doesn't this farmer own a chain saw?". But then I noticed that some logs had been intentionally piled across the trail. "Ahh, sadistic farmer!" I concluded. I like his thinking.

Just as we emerged from the single track, back into the cow pasture, we were forced to splash through a foot deep, muddy, poop colored (and filled?) water hole. Really?! Again, with the course sadism? I was beginning to like this farmer.

Ryan, smarter than his old man, heads for the shallow "water" near the fence. The hose
spraying ice cold water was a nice sadistic touch. Well played farmer Marquis de Sade.

Over another giant hay bale, and then another long transit around the perimeter of the farmstead on the single track through the woods (more and bigger logs across the trail!) , and we were finished with the first loop of the course.

Lap Two - Shoe Stew
The second lap was harder, mostly because my shoes were filled with some indescribable farm gunk. Mud? Sand? Poop? I spent a good portion of the lap running with this cow poo shoe stew squishing between my toes. Ryan laughed at me and said his feet felt fine.

Lap Three - Sweet Misery
About half way through lap two, Ryan announced to me that he wanted to run the entire race. I was surprised - and proud - and worried. I was running out of gas, having already run 10, 13, and 12 mile trail runs the week before the race (the final 12 miler was for the 12athon, a fun year-long event everyone should participate in next year!). The course was tough. Much tougher and more technical than I had anticipated. And I guesstimated that Ryan had been averaging about a 12 min/mile pace, and amazingly had been negatively splitting each loop. The third loop was his fastest. At times he left me behind on the single track and I struggled to catch up, but luckily I climb hills better than him, so I always managed to close the gap when we headed up. We managed to finish the lap together and entered the final cow dung challenge together.

They call it "The Volcano", but the only thing erupting from the giant pile of cow dung, was a foul odor, and the partially submerged tips of previously lost shoes. And we had to scramble through it somehow. Disgusting! And awesome! My right leg sank up to my knee on the first step. I pulled my leg from the poop vacuum and luckily my shoe stayed on. Ryan is so light, he basically floated over the stuff.

I immediately begin sinking.

Oh, crap, I think I dropped my car keys!

My neighbor Katie was running the race and had passed through previously. Her daughter was at the bottom of The Volcano yelling "Get my mom's shoe!"

Being the chivalrous type, I pulled an entombed shoe from the poop and flung it from the pile. Manure flew in several directions at once. You're welcome!

Shoe and poo flew!

I've haven't laughed that hard in quite a while.

Finish
Ryan and I escaped from The Volcano, slopped through the cattle yard, and ran through the pasture to the finish line, in a final time of 1 hour 10 minutes. I was way off from my estimate of 1:30. Ryan was flying. In fact, he was the youngest to finish the entire race and earned a nice finisher's prize - irony, thy name is chocolate bar...

The aftermath. Even with a good hose rinse, the only reason I'm keeping my shoes
is because I'll need something to wear at next year's
Misery Run.

Epilogue
Special. I try not to use that word too often. I don't want to cheapen it. But this was a truly special race for me. This wacky, dirty, funny little race will long hold special memories. Thanks, Godiva!

The "Woo Hoo!" Downhill Method

2011-11-11T19:49:00.001-05:00

Me, doing it all wrong, even on
a small hill.

I've been struggling to run down hills since I switched form and began running with a mid-foot landing in minimalist shoes. Every time I attempted to run down hills, the pounding would simply destroy my knees, hips, quads, and self confidence. So, I went downhill slowly. Very, very slowly. You could walk downhill faster than I ran down hills. It was sad. But, it was easy on my old body, and that was good enough.

I had no intention of solving this problem. I was running just fine, even with the turtle paces going down the hills. But as Fall settled into my part of the world, and the trees began to blaze with oranges, reds, and yellows, I found myself very relaxed and happy while running my normal trail runs. Something about the beautiful Fall colors and the cooler air, seemed to trigger a change in my running.

I found new speed on hills I would have previously crawled down. And all I did was RELAX. Relax and move with the force of gravity. Legs at ease. Knees bent. Body leaning into the fall of the hill, instead of pulling backwards in tension - in fear.

My son, Ryan, relaxed and flying downhill.

My son, Alex, doing it the right way.

I've discovered that if I am able to yell "Woo Hoo!", and really mean it, while running downhill, then I am truly relaxed and flowing with the hill. And I fly!

(Possible next post, "How I Broke My Face Woo-Hoo'ing Down a Hill")

Run Ichabod, Run! - Pumpkin Run

2011-10-31T23:40:00.000-04:00

My oldest son, Ryan, has been running in the Mini Milers youth program for a couple of seasons. He's getting faster and gaining endurance by the month. He recently ran 5.4 miles, just to prove to me he could do it. My goal is to stay faster than him for at least another year. By the way, he's seven. And I'm... old.

Each season the Mini Milers have a target race towards the end of their schedule. This Fall, it was the 4K Pumpkin Run. The goal for the Mini Milers was to beat their training run of the previous month on the same course. My goal was to beat as many little kids as I could, especially my own kid (Yes, I'm accepting nominations for parent of the year).

The Race
The Pumpkin Run is a actually a fun event! We arrived at the YMCA in Chapel Hill, parked quickly and easily, and then had our race bibs and shirts in a matter of minutes. A couple of minutes after that, we were on a transport bus headed to the trails where the race would be held. Turns out, the YMCA is just down the street from the race site, so we were off the bus again in under 5 minutes. I'm not sure why they didn't just have the race headquarters set up near the actual trail. Still, it was easy enough.

After a short walk down the dirt road, we arrived at the race start/finish line. I noticed that there were 3 starting corral areas. The race announcer informed us that there would be 3 waves - competitive adults, competitive kids, and casual runners. Each wave would be separated by 1 minute gaps at the start. I didn't feel bad about the 1 minute advantage I would have over the prepubescent hoard. I actually thought I might be able to beat most of the kids with that sort of advantage. Oh, how wrong I was...

I really needed a horse in this race...

Run Ichabod, Run!
Standing among all the local fasties (people like Marc Jeuland, who only beat me by AN HOUR at the Owl's Roost Rumble trail half marathon last year... sheesh!) I felt very out of place. But I had kids to stomp! Speedsters who had come out to lay down sub 13 minute times at least wouldn't be in my way on the trail (or even in sight really). So, I kept my cool and tried not to ask for autographs.

The gun went off, and I stumbled across the starting line heading up a long, but low incline. I tried to find a pace on the other side of uncomfortable, just shy of painful, to try to put some distance between me and the goblin mob that would soon be chasing me. By the time we reached the mid point of the incline, I heard the gun go off for the second wave. That couldn't be a minute separation! Felt more like 30 seconds. Panic time...

As we cleared the top of the first incline, I couldn't even see the speedsters in my wave. They were long gone. Good riddance. More oxygen for me and the other turtles. And I was in desperate need of oxygen! The panic had done real damage. I had gone out too fast. And to make matters worse, my shoe became untied. I toyed with the idea of ignoring it, but then my shoe almost flew off my foot as I hopped over a root, so I decided to pull over and re-tie. This was when the first little goblin blew past me. He looked to be about 10 years old, and he was flying! I quickly rejoined the race, but when I couldn't catch the kid, I decided to slow down and recover for a minute or so. Recovery in this case meant not puking.

It's just one kid, I thought to myself. I can hold off the rest!

A minute later, a stream of little imps was flowing past me. One, then two, then five at once! I was drowning in a veritable ocean of little ogres!

Time to adjust my race goals. I'm pretty good at changing goals, or at least adding new goals, during races. It's an excellent way to compensate for my innate lack of running talent.

New Goals
I wouldn't be beating the kids. Heck I probably wouldn't be beating my own 7 year old son. I had blasted out too quickly, on an up hill start and had blown up. My new goal was to recover and finish in under 20 minutes. And not to puke. Losing to kids is one thing. Losing to kids while puking is simply unacceptable.

I passed the first mile marker at around the 7:40 mark. Not too bad considering I'm a turtle and I was about to puke a few minutes before. I picked up a small group of people who seemed to be running a decent pace and tried to stick with them. After a few easy stretches of trail, I recovered and finally got my breathing under control again.

Since I was feeling good once again, I broke away from my little group on the steepest downhill section of the course. I've actually gained a bit of downhill skill in the past few months, so it felt good to actually do something right for a change.

I passed the 2 mile mark in 15 minutes flat. That couldn't be right I thought. I was getting faster?! I had a great shot at a sub 20 minute time now, even if I blew up again, which was very likely, since I decided to go all out for the last 800 meters.

Winner! (in my own mind)
I was passing people now. Lots of people. I heard the finish line cheers from across the last stretch of trail. I had lost complete control of my breathing again, and was about to lose my lunch as well, but suddenly, there was the finish line, tucked around the last sharp turn on the trail. I held onto my cookies and clomped across the line.

18:15 at 7:20min/mile pace. If anyone who was at the race reads this and was wondering who the kook was that was dancing around celebrating a totally mediocre 4K time at the finish line. That was me. I'm not proud. I celebrate when I can.

I grabbed a cup of water and waited for my speedy spawn to come flying across the line. And in a few more minutes, there he was, sprinting it out against some other 7 year old imp.

Back at the YMCA, we both had a slice of pumpkin pie and shared a cup of sugary, hot coffee - the best pie and coffee I've ever had, mostly because I shared it with my son.

Ryan made his goal by beating his previous time by almost 2 minutes. I couldn't be prouder of him.

I, on the other hand, got stomped by a bunch of kids in a 4K trail race. But I loved every minute of it!

2012 Running Stupidity - Race Calendar

2011-10-26T23:54:00.001-04:00

I've been so busy, I completely forgot to post a race schedule for this Fall/Winter/Spring. I've already completed the first race of the season, but still I have no race calendar posted. As usual, I'm not winning and am somewhere near the back of the pack in the whole "post your race calendar" event. Not that I expect anyone to really care about my "race" calendar, but I thought it would be a nice way to organize and track the races I plan to "experience". So, before I sarcastically quote any other random words, let's get to the races.

October 15, 2011, Medoc Trail Marathon - Done. Loved it. Will do it again. Race report.
October 29, 2011, Pumpkin Run (4K) - Running this one with my son, Ryan. Done. Race report
November 13, 2011, Misery Run (5M) - Hay bales, mud and poop! What's not to love... Done. Loved it! Race report.
December 3, 2011, Run at the Rock (14M) - Ran the 7 mile race last season and loved it. Returning for the long version. Done. Had a great time! Race report.
December 11, 2011, Couch Mountain (5M) - How hard could running up a mountain with the name "Couch" possibly be? Also, there's a picnic afterwards. Who doesn't like picnics?! Done. Had a great time with my son. Race report.
December 17, 2011, Pilot Mountain 5K Challenge - Up the mountain and around the knob. Where's my inhaler? Done. Brutal, but fun! Race report.
January 1, 2012, New Year's Day Run (5M) - Happy New Year! We'll see how hangovers and cross country running work together... Done. Hangovers? No. The flu? Yes. Race report.
January 14, 2012, Little River Trail Race (10M) - Ran the 7K last season. Going for the 10 miler this time. More is better, right? Done. Ran OK, but had fun. Race report.
January 15, 2012, Eno Equalizer (4M) - Eno River State Park run. I've hiked there, but never run on the trails. At least there won't be any ticks or snakes to worry about. MISSED. Too beat up from the Little River Trail Race.
February 4, 2012, Uwharrie Mountain Run (20M) - Supposed to be a very, tough race, but looking forward to giving it a go. Hoping to see Sasquatch out there. Done. Tough run! Race report.
February 12, 2012, Geezer Pleezer (?M) - Going to be a tough day since I have to put 12 total miles in somehow as part of the Virtual 12athon Challenge.
March 3, 2012, Umstead Trail Marathon - I have unfinished business with this race... I'm just not sure if it owes me, or I owe it. Either way, I'm thinking I will be the one paying.
March 17, 2012, Hanging Rock Trail Race (12K) - I've hiked this loop before. It's brutal. Should be an "interesting" run.
March 18, 2012, Hard Hill Climb (10M) - Final race of the Godiva Winter Series. Depending on how Hanging Rock goes, I may drop back to either the 3 or 7 mile version of this race. Who am I kidding. I'll be lucky to pull off the 3 mile...
April 1, 2012, Mountains To Sea Trail Challenge (?M) - Probably run the 12 miler again, but they have a 50K (31M) option for 2012. Hmm, if I'm healthy and running well, first ultra maybe. I'm sure it will all go swimmingly.
April 28, 2012, Owl's Roost Rumble Trail Half Marathon - Heading back for another slow attempt at the roots and lumber. Great race last season with one of the best shirts by far. Hopefully coming in under 2 hours this year?
May 5, 2012, New River Marathon - My lovely wife, Sherri's first marathon. I'll be running it with her, and going for my own Boston Qualifying time (not!!!).
July 14, 2012, The Scream Half Marathon - All down hill, "easy"...

In addition to these, I will be participating in the Virtual 12athon Challenge, a cool, year-long event put together by Stet That Run. So, mix in a 12 mile run on the 12th of each month during the year. I also plan to work in as many of the challenges as I can stand.

I'm tired just reading all of this. However, if you have suggestions for other cool trail races, please leave a comment. None of this is final. Heck, I may not make it past the first race, so this whole calendar may be nothing more than wishful thinking, destined for a big, fat, FAIL. But, I'm going to have fun trying!

Prime Of Life - A Birthday Ode to Company Mill Trail

2011-10-21T21:47:00.000-04:00

Normally, I try not to celebrate birthdays, at least not in any specific way. The whole "it's my birthday and I deserve to be treated like royalty!" attitude grates on my nerves. Birthdays should be a reminder of how lucky we are to be here, not an excuse to abuse ourselves (or others) or to act like self absorbed asses. Instead, a birthday should be a time of self reflection. A time of thankfulness. A celebration of our connection with life itself.

So every year on my birthday, I try my hardest to soak in all the beautiful parts of my life and to truly appreciate them. Like everyone else, I get overwhelmed with the minutiae of the daily grind, and on most days I fail to appreciate anything. So birthdays are a perfect time to reset the narcissism of daily life and refocus on thankfulness. This post is about my appreciation of what trail running has given me during the past year. Here in the prime of my life, I offer up an Ode To Company Mill Trail.

It's difficult to express the peace that comes with a run on a trail. Worries melt away with the flow of steps. Stress unknots as the miles gently unwind my tangled mind. Company Mill Trail is a peaceful reminder of what the land once was, and an escape from the reality of my modern life.

Over time I have come to terms with both the beauty and the harshness of Company Mill. Its unforgiving, yet beautiful, quartz stones have taught me to float and relax as I run. The difficulty of the run has been superseded by the lessons of beauty and humility the trail has taught me.

Yet, for all the times Company Mill Trail has forced my focus to the immediate reality of the harsh stones beneath my feet, it has also offered up brief moments of sublime beauty.

Thank you Company Mill Trail. Thanks for the challenge. Thanks for the peace. Thanks for allowing me to learn to run again.

A RunAmoc Rundown Run Amok

2011-10-18T23:51:00.000-04:00

Shiny and new, with added NC State
embroidered patches. I named them Rocinante.

After 9 months, I believe I have collected enough data to draw some conclusions from my nutty RunAmoc experiment. Originally, the experiment was just a crazy notion that I could probably wear nothing but RunAmocs for the entire Summer, but with a marathon on my race schedule, it soon took on a life of its own. The more I wore the RunAmocs, the more I was determined to wear them all the time. Why? Because that's just the way I am about some things - stubborn to the point of stupidity.

For example, I make it a point to continue wearing shorts throughout the Fall when everyone else switches to long pants. Actually, I make it a point to wear my shorts all the way through the holidays to new year's day, before switching over to pants. Not the same pair of shorts mind you. That would be crazy. Just shorts in general.

I hate Winter, so wearing shorts is my way of thumbing my nose at the annoying 23.5 degree tilt of the Earth's axis. Stupid tilt. And don't get me started on day light savings time and how I refuse to adjust my watch. These things must be addressed! Did I mention that my middle name is Quixote (and not Sisyphus!).

Where were we? Oh yeah, shoes. As you have probably guessed by now, this is the update to my original review of the RunAmoc of 9 months ago. On to the review, Sancho!

Fit

Comfy as padded walls!

Having paddle shaped feet means that not many shoes fit very well. There are several shoes that I can tolerate, and even some that I quite like, but nothing allows the natural feel and unencumbered function of my foot during running like the RunAmoc. Well, except for barefoot running. But this is a RunAmoc review!

I'm not sure if the RunAmocs fit better than when I first purchased them, or if my brain has simply melded with their feel over the course of the last 9 months. I don't care either way. I really love the way they fit my foot and how they feel when I wear them.

Overall rating: Still awesome!

Protection
I based my original high rating of protection on how the RunAmoc handled some of the toughest single track I run on a regular basis in Umstead State Park. After 9 months, and a lot of significant sole wear, I am still able to cruise over the sharpest quartz gravel with no pain and no injuries. In fact, I've discovered a really excellent side effect of the RunAmocs for trail running. Since they are so low to the ground, and so flexible, I rarely turn my ankles on unexpected rocks or roots. My foot simply wraps around the rock or root instead of tilting hard to the side as it does in a stiffer shoe. However, you need a strong, flexible foot to pull this off without problems. Luckily, my feet have really strengthened in the past couple of years with all the barefoot and minimalist running I've been enjoying.

Overall rating: I feel safe.

Performance

I think I'm gonna put flame decals on my shoes.

Performance is such a subjective measurement. My definition of high performance is probably very different and measured on a completely different scale than that of someone who can actually run fast. So, take this for what it's worth. For my pace on the trails (10 min/mile), RunAmocs perform great. If you are running at a decently fast pace (faster than me), you might not be comfortable with the looseness of the RunAmocs. In fact, on the road where I can actually run at something other than turtle-like paces (well, at least like a racing turtle), I actually choose other shoe options when speed matters. Luckily, SoftStar has a more suitable option for speedy road running.

Overall rating: Great for turtles like me.

Quality
I'm sure long term quality and durability is the reason that most people will read this review. How did they fare over the long haul? The short answer is very well.

The uppers are still basically perfect.

To date, I've logged over 415 miles of mixed road and trail running (including 2 trail marathons), and most likely the same daily wear mileage in the RunAmocs. I would guess that there is 700-800 miles of total wear on my pair. Aside from some expected sole wear (pavement is tough on the trail sole nubs) the shoes are basically intact and in good condition. I was originally worried a bit about the perforated leather uppers. They were very soft and flexible, but seemed a bit fragile. Having kicked, tripped, scraped, and dragged the shoes across every conceivable root, rock, stick and stump on the trails, I can report that I have yet to do any serious damage to the leather uppers. My own body is another story...

The heel wear is from walking.

One area that hasn't improved since my original purchase is the tendency of the red dye on my pair to bleed onto my socks when I sweat excessively, or get the shoes wet in streams. I've learned not to wear white socks with them, unless I want to end up with pink socks. Even with the dye problem, I would still choose the red color. Again, stubborn stupidity...

Overall rating: Bedroom slippers built like tanks. Can create pink socks, if you desire.

Conclusion
What started as a crazy idea born of my own delusional, bull-headed stubbornness, turned into something more in the end. The experiment has become a journey. I'm going to see exactly how far I can take my RunAmocs. Or they can take me...

Onwards, Sancho! Giddy-up Rocinante!

Running Redemption - Medoc Trail Marathon

2011-10-16T23:31:00.000-04:00

Running Atonement
After blundering through my first trail marathon at Umstead in March, I had this strange feeling. Dissatisfaction wasn't the right word, although there was some of that. Not that I was unhappy either. Quite the opposite in fact. I had pulled off a running coup of sorts. I had trained for a half marathon and "ran" a full marathon. Friends, especially running friends, were very happy for me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had somehow missed something. I even felt a bit guilty. And then I felt guilty about feeling guilty. Of course, I felt guilty about that too. I'm good at guilt. Very, very good...

And then I felt stupid for feeling guilty in the first place. It was only running after all.

As the weeks went by, the answer to my nagging doubts finally dawned on me. I had missed the most important part of the first marathon experience - that sense of achievement and atonement for all of the hard work that comes with the finish. I had the "finish" but not the achievement. I could fix that.

Running Penance
I scanned through the various Fall race calendars and stumbled upon the Medoc Trail Marathon. The reviews for the race and the overall event were outstanding. So, four weeks after finishing Umstead, I signed up for Medoc. I knew that a mid-October marathon meant a late Summer of long runs in North Carolina. And that meant heat, pain and suffering. I loved the idea. This sort of thinking gets me into trouble all the time.

Fast forward to late August. It was noon and just over 90F. I was at mile 17 of a planned 18 mile long run. And I was hating everything about marathon training! My stomach was in knots from my fueling "experiments". My feet felt like I was running on hot coals. My hamstrings and glutes were cramping and contracting like demon possessed boa constrictors trapped in a pillow cases. Hubris? Stupidity? Take your pick. I would have admitted to either. After all, I wanted the "achievement"...

By September the sweltering North Carolina Summer finally broke. I was able to squeeze in my long runs on a few sub-tropical days and gradually, everything fell into place. I had worked out a successful 20 mile fueling strategy for my battered, gluten intolerant, 40-something colon, and I had figured out how to manage a long run aerobic effort. I even managed a couple of 21 mile runs where I was able to push for the last few miles, just to see how my body reacted. And mostly, it reacted well. I was ready.

Ryan, my race crew captain.

Running Redemption
Race week arrived and I was nervous. Well, paranoid actually. Mostly, I was nervous about my paranoia. I had done everything I set out to do in my training. There shouldn't have been anything to worry about. But, I worried nervously about my own paranoia anyway.

I had set both hard and stretch goals for the race. I would have been happy if I made all my hard goals. Ecstatic if I made even one of my stretch goals.

Hard Goals

Finish on the run, pushing instead of fading. Feel good about the last miles.
Talk to people during the race.
Enjoy every second of the race, even the low points.
Trust in the training.

Stretch Goals

Manage my pace, and know my limits early in the race. I had yet to do this properly in any of my previous races.
Dodge every bullet ole Krampus shot in my direction by fueling properly and staying hydrated. I adopted the trail name of "Krampus" in a weak attempt at demi-god appeasement.
Finish in under 5 hours. None of my longer single track training runs had been at a pace that would put me below 5 hours. But I could dream...

Absolutely perfect day for a race.

For those of you who are already tired of reading this epic of mediocrity, here are the glorious race stats:

Trips - 5 (yes I counted, I always count. I work for a statistical analysis software company after all...)
Falls - Zero. I'm finally getting the hang of this trail running stuff. Now, watch me break my neck in the next race...
Cramps - Zero! Suck it, Krampus!! You can have your name back. I'm done with you. Please don't hurt me in my next race, Krampus!
Race conversations - Many! Trail runners are just very cool and friendly people.
Finish time - 4:49:16 at 11:03 pace

I achieved every one of my goals during the race. Every. Single. One.

The course was beautiful and comprised of a 8.x mile loop run 3 times. There was an excellent mixture of hard hills, fast flats, and fun rollers throughout the course. The few times I tripped were mostly because I was trying to absorb some of the beauty of the park. Medoc was a gorgeous place, much like Umstead. The race was very well organized and the volunteers were some of the most friendly and helpful that I've seen. I've already promised myself that I will run this race again year.

I have nothing exciting to tell you about my race itself. I started sanely, and made decent splits at each loop (1:3x, 1:3x, 1:4x) and most importantly, I was able to push hard the last 3 miles. I actually passed about ten people and had a very strong last mile. I never bonked or cramped, although it seemed like everyone around me was cramping during the last lap. Maybe Krampus was shooting at me and hitting innocent bystanders... If so, my apologies to all newly inducted members of the Krampus Running Club.

And by the way, I ran in my bedroom slippers.

Epilogue
I have discovered that the greatest challenge of my marathon training wasn't the brutality of the scheduled running - it was the paranoia. Towards the end of the long training cycle, I got the fear - fear of injury, fear of sickness, fear of failure.

But, I overcame my fears and my self doubts. I ran the race relaxed and happy. To paraphrase David Roche, the stonking winner of the 10 mile race at Medoc this year, running is full of highs and lows, but in the end, it's an amazing journey.

The Great RunAmoc Experiment - My Sanity Run Amok

2011-10-09T22:10:00.000-04:00

Genesis
After my first season of races, I made a couple of decisions. First, I would run another marathon, and this time I would be prepared, rather than stupid. Second, I would wear RunAmocs nearly exclusively. I'm not sure why I made the second decision. I just enjoyed wearing my RunAmocs so much, I wanted to see how far I could take them. Or how far they could take me.

So, I signed up for the Medoc Trail Marathon and embarked upon a long summer of slow, marathon, distance running in my RunAmocs.

Exodus
Beginning in June, I started wearing my RunAmocs, almost exclusively. They were the shoe for all of my runs, but they also became my daily wear. I wore them to work. I wore them at home. I wore them bowling. I wore them to the pool. I wore them hiking. I wore them everywhere. And they never seemed to let me down.

However, they generated a lot of curiosity wherever I went. I quickly developed a set of canned answers to the questions I heard time and again from complete strangers.

"What are those?"

They are trail running moccasins, made by a very cool, small company in Oregon, named Soft Star.

"Those look really comfortable.." or "Don't your feet hurt without support?"

They are very comfortable. I love them. My feet feel awesome!

Aside from the many conversations with complete strangers, the experiment was going very well. My runs were progressing and my feet felt great. I ran on pavement and on single track trails in Umstead State Park. The RunAmocs worked equally well for both.

Lamentations
The only downside that I found to wearing RunAmocs as my exclusive running shoe, was that they were... um.. moccasins. And moccasins by nature, are loosely fitting shoes. The same reason I loved them became the reason not to wear them when running fast paces.

When it came to faster speeds, I simply couldn't make them work. They flopped and bounced around on my feet like leather bags at my (not so) screamingly fast, full speed pace of 6:30 min/mile.

With sadness, at the only race during this period, which happened to be a 5K, I reverted to my Mizuno Wave Universe 3 racing flats. No regrets though. The MWU3's are outstanding shoes for a fast pace. And besides, I PR'ed in them by about 4 minutes. Woo hoo!!!

Revelation
Now, here I sit, a mere week before my targeted trail marathon. I've run nearly 400 miles in RunAmocs since I bought them back in February of this year. I've probably walked 400 miles as well. And I still love them. Best shoes I've ever purchased. Period.

I'm hoping these little moccasins can carry me through to my goal at Medoc. Wish me luck....

Turning Slow Into Fast - Rex Wellness Sprint Triathlon Relay

2011-08-22T23:32:00.000-04:00

I've spent the summer doing nothing but long, slow distance training. Mostly because it's been too stinking hot to do much else, but also because I wanted to experiment with Maffetone aerobic conditioning. However, since I'm both lazy and cheap, I never bought a heart rate monitor to do the aerobic training properly. I used a combination of Buteyko breathing, and running by feel to try to stay in the aerobic training zone. And it mostly worked, or at least it felt like it worked. I've been putting in some long training runs the past month or so and my post run recoveries have been non-events (no soreness, no food bingeing, no exhaustion).

In the middle of my long, slow experiment, a friend who had recently been turned on to triathlon competition, incited a nasty feud in our group at work. He slyly suggested that it might be interesting if we formed a couple of triathlon relay teams, aligned by university affiliation - NC State versus UNC Chapel Hill. As soon as this hit the departmental email inboxes, it was on like Donkey Kong! We would battle it out at the Rex Wellness Sprint Triathlon.

To Train Or Not To Train
I volunteered to run the 5K portion or the relay, even though I had done zero speed work all summer. Actually, I never do speed work, since I'm naturally slow and hate the feeling of my heart hammering it's way through my rib cage. But this was State versus Carolina! And the Carolina people were talking smack almost immediately. I hate smack talking.

Swim/bike/run positions were filled and team names were chosen: "Blue Express" for the Carolina smack talkers, and the classic sports chant "Red Means Go!" for us State guys.

I had no idea how to increase my 5K time while also maintaining my long, slow runs in anticipation of my October trail marathon at Medoc Mountain. I poked around the interwebs asking about interleaving 5K training with marathon training, but the general consensus was that since I had only about 4 weeks before the 5K, that I wouldn't see any significant improvement with speed work. So, being of the lazy sort, I did no speed work. I just continued my long, slow training ramp for my marathon and hoped my teammates could give me enough head room in the swim and bike legs to limit my losses and pull out the overall win.

Triathlons Are Cool!
By the time race day arrived, I was running 15-16 mile long runs, but I had yet to lift a foot in anger or do any sort of speed work. I had run a 5K back in May, after a full Winter of trail running, and managed a 26 minute finish on a very hilly course, so I was figuring on maybe squeaking out a low 26 or high 25 minute finish in the triathlon 5K, since the course was very similar (very hilly).

This elevation is inaccurate. There
were NO flat parts on the course!

Aside from the ridiculous start time, 7:00AM, which required me to get out of my oh so comfortable bed at 4:30AM, I really enjoyed the triathlon experience. Watching the swim and bike portions of the event while hanging out in the transition area was a very cool experience. I can definitely see why people love triathlons, and if I can get my swim skills up to date, I might actually try a sprint tri on my own next year. But back to the race..

Our two teams were positioned about 20 spots apart in the transition area, which meant about a 4 minute gap in swim start times. This meant my team would be chasing, which I prefer, but since we had a staged start we had no clue if team "Red Means Go!" was making up time or losing time. I knew the "Blue Express" runner, and knew she could easily rip off a sub 24 minute 5K on a hilly course. I was just hoping we had made up enough time to allow my probable 26 minute time to be close enough.

Running For Beer
To make the race more interesting, the two teams had decided that the losers would buy lunch, with beers! I do indeed love beer, so motivation wasn't a problem when my time finally arrived. Unfortunately, motivation doesn't equal skill, so while I was dreaming of Guinness, I was fumbling with the timing chip, unable to get the velcro to stick when wrapping the strap around my skinny, pale ankle. Eventually (19 seconds later!) I left the band loosely wrapped around my leg, and just took off, hoping the chip wouldn't fly off as I clomped down the street.

My relay running rival had long ago left, so even in places where I could see runners a quarter mile ahead, I couldn't spot her. I figured my only hope was to try to run to the edge of puking, and if that didn't work, just go ahead into full puke mode (FPM).

So, I ran. HARD. Harder than I've ran in many, many years. I didn't think about form, or pace, or strategy. I just pushed harder and harder, hoping not to pass out, and not to puke. Finally, when nearing the half way point, I met my rival coming back from the turn.

She said something to the effect of "You are going too fast!"

I replied "wheeez!!!! sputter!!! <repressed puke..> Oh god!!!"

Since I couldn't get anything intelligible out of my mouth, I lamely attempted a flying high five, only to totally miss her outstretched hand. I am a first class doofus.

I had no idea how much farther the turn would be since I had not previewed the course. Turns out it was a LOT farther than I thought. I made the turn several minutes later, thinking we had lost. Thinking I had lost it for us. I wallowed in my tiny pity pool for all of 10 seconds before I put my first foot down in anger. I was losing my beer!

You Will Not Take My Beer!!!!!!!!

Running By Rage
I'm not an angry person generally. I have a temper like anyone else, but almost never show it. Life is too short for anger in my opinion. My Dad on the other hand, has a blazing, super nova temper. I think I inherited just a fraction of his temper, so when I do get mad, it's not a pretty sight. And now, I was mad.

I've only run angry once before, and it resulted in a pretty good half marathon time. But I wasn't thinking about that. I wasn't thinking about anything. I was rage running!

Strangely enough, I don't remember much about the return leg of the 5K, except that I passed a lot of people. I also think I scared one of the women at the last water station. I must have had a real rage face in the last half mile, because when I passed by the water station, our eyes met and she immediately told the other person handing out cups "He doesn't want anything". And she was partially right. The only thing I wanted was for my legs to move quicker. But they wouldn't. And this made me even angrier. By the time I hit the last 100 meters, I was in a full sprint, or at least full speed. I had tunnel vision and my heart felt like it was going to burst.

I pounded across the finish line. After a few moments of gasping for air, my vision returned to normal and my anger melted away. I had forgotten to stop my watch, but when I finally did, it read under 23 minutes. Could that be right? I didn't believe it at first, but I had smashed my previous 5K time by over 3 minutes.

Once the official time was posted, I was even more amazed. "Red Means Go!" had won, and I had shaved over 4 minutes off of my May 5K time.

22:25 at 7:13 min/mile pace.

Not world class by any means. But then again, I couldn't run a mile a year and a half ago.

Anger is a gift.

My Mind Is Going

2011-08-17T23:10:00.000-04:00

My Mind Is Going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it...

My mind tends to wander on runs. Many times I find myself miles into my run and can't remember exactly how I got to that point. This is slightly disturbing, but not surprising. I run for a lot of reasons, but mostly for a mental escape. The physical benefits are just a happy side effect.

So what do I think about on my runs, you ask? Or maybe you don't and you go back to browsing Facebook...

I think about a lot of very different things. I try not to think about work, even though my work is very interesting and challenging, or personal problems, or any sort of nagging worries. Running is an escape after all. A privilege. A guilty pleasure. Yes, I feel guilty about running sometimes, and so should you (another post for another day perhaps).

Mostly I think about what I observe. And even then, I think about those observations at different levels. Sometime I wonder about the incomprehensible tangle of time and geology that produced the ground I am ephemerally drifting across. Other times, I think about the flow of seasons and the beauty of nature. And sometimes, I spiral into a deterministic endless loop pondering the mystery of free will.

And then there are days like today, when I think about t-shirts. Yes, t-shirts. Well, more specifically, t-shirt humor. After all, I'm the same guy who wonders how a zombie would run a half marathon.

If I could design my own running shirt with a logo, what would I choose as my logo? Here are some of my ideas..

From an older blog post:
Front: "I Am Not A Wheel"
Rear: "I Am Water"

Inspired by Running Down:
Front: "SDRC" (Shirtless Douche-bag Running Club)
Rear: "Go Bare or Go Home!"
or
Front: "SDRC"
Rear: "Irony Is the Enemy"

For all the back-of-the-packers out there:
Front: "I'm Really OK"
Rear: "I'm Really Still Racing"

For Barefoot Josh:
Front: Picture of a brown udder
Rear: "Powered By Chocolate Milk"

For myself:
Front: Picture of Krampus
Rear: "Krampus Racing. Cramping When It Counts"

From my Umstead Marathon Experience:
Front: "Strong Work"
Rear: "Krampus Racing"

I'm open for more suggestions (feel free to add them in the comments). I may even have a couple of tech shirts printed at Big Frog to wear at my next race, just for fun.

Running Form Study

2011-07-26T22:54:00.000-04:00

A few weeks back I participated in a study at UNC Chapel Hill entitled "A Comparison of Lower Extremity Joint Work and Initial Loading Rates Among Four Different Running Styles". The study is attempting to compare the mechanics of running for the following styles:

Traditional running shoe wearing heel striker
Barefoot or minimalist runner
A POSE runner
A Chi runner

I personally fall into category number 2.

The experience of participating in the study was very interesting. After arriving at the human movement lab at UNC Chapel Hill, I changed into some running clothes and met with Don Goss, the PhD candidate running the study. The next 30 minutes or so was spent attaching various reflective motion tags to my hips, knees, ankles and feet. Then I stepped onto a giant double belted treadmill surrounded by high speed sensors which would track the reflective motion sensors attached to my body. After an initial calibration we discovered that some of the Asics logos on my shirt were reflective and were being registered by the motion sensors. We used some tape to cover the few reflective patches of clothing on my running shirt, which were throwing off the motion sensors, and then the sensors successfully locked onto the true reflectors.

Once successfully locked onto the sensors, Don actually removed about half of the sensors and allowed the software to interpolate between the remaining sensors. I ran on the treadmill at a comfortable pace (I think around 10 min/mile) for about 5 minutes, first with a foot on each belt, then both feet on the left belt, and finally both feet on the right belt. Don took several 3 second "samples" from the sensors. The motion sensors could capture several thousand frames per second, but Don indicated that this caused a serious data overload (processing the data took hours). So the motion sensors had been dialed down to capture only about 240 frames per second. The force plates in the treadmill captured 1200 samples per second.

All of this data was visually represented in various graphs and tables on the capture computer, but the cool part was the animation that was generated by the data. Here's a sample video of the running form data captured from my session:

From the video, it's fairly obvious that I'm a mid-foot striker. Which is good, because that's what I've been trying to become for the past year. There were some occasions where I had a very mild heel strike on my right foot, but the peak impact forces never varied much when that happened and were always approximately equal to two times my body weight.

Overall, this was a very cool experience and I recommend anyone who is in the North Carolina region to volunteer for the study if possible. Don still needs some dedicated Chi and POSE runners for the study, but he may also still be taking data for other styles. I've listed Don's contact information below if you are interested in participating.

MAJ Don Goss, DPT, OCS, ATC

PhD Candidate, Biomechanics

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

armyptunc@yahoo.com; (910) 603-3147

The Long and Winding Road - My Transition to Minimalist Running, Part 6

2011-07-16T22:46:00.002-04:00

My primary care physician
is right.

The Barefoot Running Cure
Metatarsalgia is evil. Just when you think it's gone, you step on something in just the right way to light the fires of irritation once again. After suffering through a couple of weeks of not running (by this point, I was a running endorphin addict), I decided to start walking again. My foot still hurt when I walked in a certain way, but it was at least bearable. Unfortunately, after a mile or so of walking, the pain would flare significantly. Based on the friendly advice of several folks on Barefoot Ted's Huaraches Google group, I decided to try taking off the Vibram Five Fingers and going fully barefoot for my walks.

And it was amazing! My foot didn't hurt at all. Apparently, I was doing something very different with shoes on my feet, even very minimalist shoes, like the VFFs. After a couple of weeks, I was walking 2 to 3 miles barefoot with no pain. So, about 4 weeks from the run which sidelined me, I decided to run again - for 100 yards.

Having a lot of setbacks during the previous 6 months had given me at least a small amount of perspective, so instead of being depressed about my planned 100 yard run, I was excited. And scared. Would the injury make a blazing return, ending my run in agony? Would I ever run again if that happened?

Magic Happens Here
I didn't really plan a specific 100 yard run. I just decided that on my next long barefoot walk, I would choose a smooth, straight stretch of sidewalk and just jog along a bit. So, after walking a half mile or so during my normal 3 mile barefoot walk, I broke into a quick, light-footed jog. AND NOTHING HURT! In fact, it was incredibly awesome. So good in fact, that I ended up jogging several times during my "walk", eventually running about half of the total distance.

I'm not a religious, or even a generally metaphysical sort of person, but something about running barefoot made a very deep, primal connection within my brain. It just felt "right". I think I had reawakened some feedback in my nervous system that had been dormant since my childhood, when I went barefoot nearly 6 months of the year. In fact, I felt very child-like when I ran barefoot. Very happy. But it was happiness with a certain nostalgic purity.

Learning To Run, Again
Over the course of the next few weeks, my barefoot running progressed quickly, and painlessly (unless you count blisters, which I don't). I discovered several serious flaws in my running form that were being hidden by the Vibram Five Fingers. The most serious, was related to my left foot, which was landing much too hard on the outside edge and forefoot area (the blisters proved this). But the human body is amazing, and the form flaws quickly resolved after only a handful of runs.

In short order, I was running 3 and 4 mile barefoot routes. Everything felt great. It wouldn't last.

Barefoot Running Nearly Destroys Me
On an ordinary day, during an easy run, I nearly ended my return to running for good. Not that my life was in danger or anything like that, but I had promised myself that I would stop running entirely if I injured myself again. The injuries simply weren't worth the reward of running.

Trotting along, I was in my normal semi-aware state of being. I didn't see the very small, very sharp rock that I was about to step on. It blended in with the rest of the rocks protruding from the chip-seal pavement of the sidewalk. I had become fairly confident with handling rough surfaces while running barefoot. I could relax my feet and legs enough to float over most rough, hard, paved surfaces without any problems. Maybe I was over confident. Maybe this rock hit in just the right spot. Maybe both. But whatever the case, when I stepped on that little rock, I saw stars. It's sharp little peak jammed directly into the same spot I had suffered with metatarsalgia the month before.

I stopped immediately. I had to stop. I couldn't even bear to walk. After sitting for 15 minutes or so, I was able to limp back to the locker room, but only very slowly. I was depressed about the injury, but more than that, I was scared. This felt bad - really bad.

Diagnosis - Metatarsalgia and Stress Fracture!
I made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor the next day. Usually, I wait to see if things will improve, but this time, when I could barely walk from my bed to the bathroom, I thought it would be wise to go immediately.

The doctor was only moderately amused by my long tale of injury and adventure, and sent me for an MRI the next day. A week later I saw the doctor to review the MRI results.

Classic bone bruise, with a bone surface
stress fracture. And yes, this is an
actual picture from my MRI results.

The metatarsalgia was sort of expected. Actually, I expected that I had broken my second metatarsal. It hurt that bad. But it turns out that my second metatarsal was simply irritated again. The true surprise was that I had a stress fracture on my first metatarsal. I didn't feel this one at all! The doc said that wasn't out of the ordinary, but that eventually, if I kept running, I would most certainly feel it.

Prescription - 6 weeks of no running.

Result - I quit!

"The horror... the horror...." Yeah, I know,
I'm mixing movie references. Just enjoy
the ride...

Fear and Loathing in VFFs
As Doctor Gonzo said "I hate to say this, but I think this place is getting to me. I think I'm getting the Fear."

I had it for sure. The Fear. Fear of being injured again. Fear of doing some real long term damage. Fear of never running again.

So, I quit. I went to the gym and worked out and rode the stationary bike and tried not to think about running.

I was successful for about 1 week. I'm not a quitter, never have been.

Besides, I couldn't stop here. This was bat country...

A Permanent Stay in the Half Way House
Since I had decided that I would continue this adventure, I spent the next few weeks attempting to find a solution to both my fear and my injuries. The solution to both arrived in the form of a shoe - the Mizuno Wave Universe 3.

Once again, I credit Barefoot Ted's Huaraches Google group for turning me on to this shoe. Four weeks out from my MRI, I tied on the MWU3's for the first time and went for a very short run. No pain! And the shoes felt great! MWU3s are nearly flat and one of the lightest shoes made (about half the weight of my VFFs). But there is enough padding in the sole to prevent even the sharpest of rocks from re-injuring my damaged foot. I felt safe.

Using a combination of safe barefoot running on the track to maintain my gentle form, and MWU3's out in the "wild", I was able to successfully ramp up my running in mid September. This happened very quickly and without any real drama. By late October, I successfully ran my first race - The American Tobacco Trail 10 Miler. The rest, is history.

Epilogue
I continue to use this approach to this day, although my shoe of choice has changed a few times. I now have a road shoe and a trail shoe which I swap around on occasion depending on how I feel. However, the key to everything is the barefoot running. Without that I could never maintain my form (yes, I've tried, and no, it didn't work).

Since my stress fracture in August of 2010, I've run without any transition related injuries. Without any serious long term injuries at all really. Yes, on occasion I over do it (like in most of my races) and end up with a sore calf, a sore hip, or some other sort of ailment, but overall, I'm running very well these days. For me anyway...

Happy running, everyone! And have a safe journey!

The Long and Winding Road - My Transition to Minimalist Running, Part 5

2011-07-10T22:47:00.003-04:00

Magical Five Fingers Recursion (yes, I'm a geek)

Vibram Five Finger Are Not Magic!
After a couple of months of uneventful and enjoyable increases in running mileage, I was a full fledged believer in the minimalist running philosophy of "less is more". I was running long miles with no knee pain and truly enjoying running in a way that I never had in my younger years. Appreciation of the experience and the of moment are one of the gifts of old(er) age, and I try to leverage that gift at all times. However, as with most deeply held beliefs, evidence can be a bummer.

In the middle of a 7 mile run in late May, floating along oblivious to any possible dangers, I stepped on something while wearing my VFFs. And it hurt.

Let me re-emphasize that - it hurt! After cursing furiously for a few seconds, I hobbled to a halt and backtracked a few steps to see what I had stepped on. Lying near the joint of the sidewalk, was a large rusty lag bolt. I picked it up and furiously flung it into the woods nearby. I limped the last 3 miles to the end of the run with my forefoot stinging very badly.

Dramatic recreation of my VFF battling
and losing against a large lag bolt.

The next day the ball of my foot was extremely sore behind my second toe where I had jammed the bolt into my foot. So, I decided to take a whole extra day off before my next run. I patted myself on the back, thinking that I was actually learning to back off when injured, rather than pushing ahead into larger problems. Two days later, I went out for a 5 miler. My foot was only slightly sore, so I thought the run would go fine. Less than a mile into the run, I had to stop. The pain in my forefoot was excruciating. Every step felt as if something was stabbing into the ball of my foot. And Thor with his hammer and acid covered ice pick was no where to be seen, so this time I couldn't blame the gods.

The only elliptical machine
I will ever ride again...

Riding the Elliptical Machine Through the Land of Metatarsalgia
"Metatarsalgia" said Doctor Google. Another condition that I had never known before my return to running had now entered my consciousness. According to Doctor Google, the recommended recovery was rest, anti-inflammatories, and possibly a steroid shot to reduce the irritation. Since I am nearly allergic to ibuprofen and have had my lifetime quota of cortisone shots, I decided to rest for a few weeks. Of course to me, resting simply meant not running. So it was that I found myself once again on that neuron decimating contraption known as the elliptical machine.

Having previously forsworn riding the elliptical machine, finding myself on it once again was sad, to say the least. I've learned over the years that admitting ignorance is not nearly as bad as admitting self deception, so I convinced myself that this was a "necessary" although unexpected part of my recovery. And I will never admit that this was self deception...

However, my self-deceiving, ignorant reasoning wasn't enough to make the elliptical machine anything less than absolute torture. So, one week into my recovery, I abandoned the gym forever. I would rather rot than have to mount that mental torture device again.

There are several books out about
barefoot running, but this is the
one I have and recommend.

Barefoot Running Cures Stupidity, Almost
Having turned to Doctor Google for other reasons, I revisited him in hopes of finding something, anything, that might help me through the seemingly never ending series of transition traps that I kept blundering into. I found Barefoot Ted's mailing list on Google for the first time. Looking over the posts to the list, I finally felt like I wasn't alone in the transition wilderness. Lots of other people had been through the transition, and many of them had experienced the same issues as me.

After lots of reading, and a few posts to the group asking questions, I decided to reset my running once again, this time using barefoot running as a means of controlling both my distance and my form (blisters are a good teacher).

And it worked! Mostly...

Final installment - How barefoot running saved me, and nearly destroyed me...

The Long and Winding Road - My Transition to Minimalist Running, Part 4

2011-07-03T22:25:00.001-04:00

The Phoenix
After injuring my achilles through sheer stubborn, stupidity, I spent the next month kicking myself. I had to do some serious stretching to be able to kick myself, but I had nothing better to do since I couldn't run, so I worked hard at it. Once I was able to pull off the elusive double kick to my own arse, I stopped kicking myself. I now have a black belt in self abuse.

Having mastered the art of kicking myself, I once again spent too many boring hours on the elliptical machine in the gym, since this seemed to be the only serious aerobic activity that didn't bother my achilles injury.

I now hated the elliptical machine even more than the treadmill and vowed that if I ever recovered enough to run, I would never set foot on one again. I should stop making vows since I'm as good at keeping them as I am at keeping New Year's resolutions...

Horrific boredom aside, things did slowly get better. My calf and achilles felt better after a few weeks of stretching and elliptical workouts, so I decided to slowly return to running again.

Run To Success!
I'm lucky to have not one, but two neighbors who are physical therapists. Both of them recommended the "run to success" method to return to running. The concept is actually very simple.

Start slow and short and add 10% to your distance each session.
If anything feels even slightly off during the run in the area of the injury, immediately stop. The next session, back down 10%.
Repeat.

I'm a simple guy, so this simple set of rules was perfect for me.

And they worked! Within a month, I was back to 3 mile runs, with no pain.

Injury Free Running, At Last!

If you've read all of the posts in this series, you are probably expecting something bad to happen about now. Something epic. Perhaps something involving mythical beasts, or rich, earthy cursing.

Trust me, so was I.

But happily, and boringly (that doesn't sound like a real word?!), nothing bad happened again during the next 2 months. I ran farther, and faster in my Vibram Five Fingers with no real drama. By the end of May, I was regularly running 3, 5, and 7 miles during my lunch hours on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

3/5/7 doesn't sound like a big deal, but for me, this was a monumental achievement. Even when I was regularly running in my 20's (nearly 20 years ago), my weekly runs were usually something like 3/3/4. Granted, I was speedier then (sub 20 minute 5K on occasion), but I never ran the kind of pain free free miles, that I was now regularly achieving in my 40's.

This was simply stunning to me, especially considering how extremely unfit I was just prior to my return to running, and the totally trashed condition of my left knee, even with the very good rebuild of surgery number 5.

I became nearly evangelical in my praise of Vibram Five Fingers and minimalist running in general. I would tell anyone who would listen about VFFs and the miracle of minimalist running. I was a pain in the arse.

I don't put any stock in the idea of Karma, but I do like the phrase, "Karma's a bitch". So, don't call it a comeback...

Next installment - Vibram Five Fingers Suck

The Long and Winding Road - My Transition to Minimalist Running, Part 3

2011-06-30T09:31:00.001-04:00

The Ellipse of Life
After being attacked by Thor as punishment for doing Too Much Too Soon (TMTS), I stopped running for a couple of weeks. Instead I "rode" the elliptical machine in the gym. Joy of joys. If you think the treadmill is boring, don't get on an elliptical machine. You may fall asleep standing up. I recommend vast quantities of caffeine to prevent this. If the caffeine doesn't keep you alert, it will at least force you to take bathroom breaks at regular intervals.

The Top Of Foot Pain (TOFP) in my left foot slowly faded away. As long as I kept my foot flat on the elliptical pedals, I could stay on the machine for up to an hour with no pain.

After two weeks of elliptical workouts I started to lose my focus and feel a bit eccentric. I had to get out and try to run again. That or just give up. And I'm too stubborn to give up.

The Perigee of Recovery
So it was that I found myself once again standing on the track in my VFFs, ready to attempt running. Afraid of re-injuring myself, I focused on keeping my foot more level as I landed. This seemed to work well. I completed a mile with only low level pain. The elliptical workouts had at least given me a bit more cardio-conditioning, so I was able to run within my breath and not feel like my heart was going to burst from my chest and flop away into the bushes attempting to escape from the torture I was inflicting upon it.

In the 3 months since I started running, my calf muscles had really strengthened. I could see muscles that I thought only existed in anatomy diagrams. Of course, this gave me a false sense of confidence. After completing my second run (2 miles) of the week with no sign of foot pain, I decided to return to my previous training distance on Friday. Surely my Schwarzenegger-like calfs could carry me to a successful 3 mile run.

Running is a Pain in my Latus Rectom
Friday. High noon. March 19. Spring-eve. I'm feeling particularly good today. No foot pain to speak of and the previous 2 runs have not left me with the usual crippling soreness. Let's run!

I cruise through the run feeling better than ever. The 3 miles go by and my foot feels great! I decide to go for a new distance record. I'll run FOUR miles today! Yeah, I'm stupid.

Thor vs. Achilles!

Half way through my fourth mile, I'm out of energy and struggling. I stubbornly plod on, determined to make my new distance milestone. I'm obviously favoring my right leg, in a semi-conscious attempt at protecting my left foot. My right calf starts to feel tight and cramped. I stubbornly plod on. A few minutes later, I feel a pinching sensation in the center of my right calf.

"Probably just a cramp" I think. I stubbornly plod on. Only one third of a mile left in my record setting run!

Out of "nowhere" (if you haven't notice, I'm seriously self deluded about running), Thor makes a dramatic return, engaging in an epic battle with my Achilles tendon.

It's no contest. Thor hammers the acid covered ice pick straight into the heart of my Achilles tendon. Within 3 steps, I go from cramp pain levels directly to gun shot pain levels.

I wouldn't be finishing my run. In fact, I could barely walk back to the locker room.

The Apogee of Recovery
Two days later and the calf pain is still extremely intense. I'm allergic to insurance co-pays, so I limp across the street to consult with my neighbor Katie, who just happens to have a PhD in physical therapy (and is also a phenomenal triathlon competitor). She thinks it's obvious that I have a small tear in my Achilles tendon where it connects to my calf muscle. She gives me a recovery plan.

Four weeks of no running.

I'm seriously depressed.

This wouldn't be the last time.

Next installment - Don't Call It a Comeback!

The Long and Winding Road - My Transition to Minimalist Running, Part 2

2011-06-27T00:58:00.001-04:00

(I selected this post to be featured on my blog’s page at www.runningblogs.org. It is the epitome of my stupidity.)

Let's Roll!
After the raging success of my first minimalist run, I committed to a semi-serious schedule of 3 runs per week during lunch. Not knowing anything about proper, staged transition to a new running style, I simply choose arbitrary increases in my weekly mileage. I have a history over-extending when it comes to physical activities. If I can do something, I can over do it, and usually do.

So, I decided to go directly from one third of a mile, all the way to 1 mile on my second run. That's right, 3 times the distance that nearly killed me the first week.

"Pffft.." I thought, "It's just 1 mile. Should be easy. Let's roll!"

I was only slightly sore after the first run, so I stepped up to the line, started my watch, and trotted off, bouncing along on the balls of my feet. My feet made small, squeaky noises as they slipped around inside my $9 Walmart pool shoes. My pudgy middle jiggled around as I bounced along. Perhaps Kramer was on to something with that whole "mansiere" concept...

I completed the first lap without having a heart attack, but slowed significantly as I started the second lap. My body was confused by this strange new abuse. Apparently, it had completely forgotten that I used to be a runner.

By the end of the second lap, I was sweating profusely and having trouble getting enough oxygen to my addled brain.

"Buckle down, fat boy! Let's get a sub 10 minute mile in the books". I stink at encouraging myself.

The third lap was more of a heavy footed walk than a run. I was no longer bouncing. I could barely get my feet off the ground, and when they came back down, the landing was anything but soft. But, I managed to finish the last lap by walking just a bit (about half of the lap).

I trudged across the line and stopped my watch.

15 minutes.

"Well, that sucked! Running sucks! I suck!" I griped to myself as I staggered back to the locker room.

I shaved for this picture.
Everything...

Ouch!
The next day, I couldn't walk up or down stairs. Just stepping over the curb in the parking lot was sheer agony. It was as if someone had beaten my calfs with rubber hoses. The day after that, the soreness really set in. On the bright side, I had no knee pain.

There was no way I could finish the other two runs I had planned for the week. So, week 1 of my return to running saw me run a total of 1 mile. But, I don't give up easily. I can be annoyingly stubborn. Stupidly stubborn even.

My training plan. Days versus Miles.

The Ramp
The next few weeks saw me successfully finish a few 1 mile runs, following by a few two mile runs, as my body adjusted and my conditioning improved. Over the course of a couple of months, I managed to increase my mileage to 3 miles on a single run. The soreness decreased, but never truly went away since I was ramping too fast. By the end of February, my weekly runs consisted of 2 miles on Monday, 2 Miles on Wednesday, and 3 miles on Friday.

I had dropped about 10 pounds of weight over the course of those 2 months as well. This really gave me the drive to continue. I was feeling better with each run.

TOFP

New rule - never run on Thorsday

As I started the third month of my running, I attempted my second run of 3 miles. I had stopped using my pool shoes (the soles had worn through in the ball of the foot area) and purchased some spiffy new Vibram Five Finger KSOs. I had plans for lunch that Friday, so moved my long run back to Thursday. I would attempt my second 3 mile run in my new shoes a day after my normal 2 mile run (cue ominous music).

Two miles into the run, I knew something wasn't right with my left foot. The top of the foot felt pinched. I stopped to loosen the velcro strap on my VFFs. The discomfort faded as soon as I stopped running, so of course I decided to continue running. Twenty steps later, it was as if Thor himself had hammered an acid coated ice pick through the top of my left foot.

"Holy shat-tastic nematodes!" I howled, hobbling to a stop on the track. Or at least, something along those lines...

I bagged the remainder of the run, and headed back to my office. My primary care physician is Dr. Google, and sure enough, he had an opening. The good doctor told me I had something generally called "top of foot pain" or TOFP. The consensus on the Runner's World forums was that it would fade away on it's own. Who was I to argue with the massive expertise on an internet running forum. I wouldn't let TOFP stop me.

Two days later found me at home on a Saturday, ready to run again. The pain in the top of my foot had eased, so I slipped on my VFFs and headed out the local greenway, determined to finish my 3 mile run for the week.

The ER doctors didn't believe me when I told
them that Thor did this to me. Atheists...

One mile later, Thor hammered my foot again. This time, instead of an acid coated ice pick, he used a large, dull, rusty nail. He had to hit it several times, very hard, to crack it into my foot.

"Damn it Thor, it's not even Thursday! Why me?!!" I whined. I hobbled home, depressed and discouraged.

This time it was bad. Bad enough to stop me from running for two weeks. Bad enough to make me visibly limp (even though I tried to hide it from everyone). I spent a lot of time icing and massaging the top of my left foot, and generally just kicking myself for being so stupid.

This wouldn't be the last time.

Next Installment - Thor Meets Achilles

The Long and Winding Road - My Transition to Minimalist Running, Part 1

2011-06-25T19:42:00.001-04:00

I don't have a picture of me on a
long and winding road. This picture of me
on a long and winding wall will have to do.

In late 2009, I decided to learn to run again after a very long and injury filled running sabbatical. This is the story of that transition.

Born To Run
A lot of things have been said about Born To Run, and I won't rehash any of the arguments for or against the basic premise of the book. What I will say is that I agree with a good portion of McDougall's hypothesis about the "running man".

Reading Born To Run, I could truly relate to Christopher McDougall's description of himself as a broken down runner. I felt truly broken down, and not just as a runner. I had decided that this would be my last attempt to run again. My previous attempts to run again had failed miserably, so with some trepidation, I launched into minimalist running.

New Year's Resolutions Suck
I stopped making new year's resolutions decades ago, after I realized that I never kept them. I was just lying to myself. Promises to "really start writing that novel" or to "finally learn German" were never kept, and dogged my conscience for months. Life is full of enough disappointment without intentionally inflicting it upon myself. So, I stopped making resolutions, and just tried to enjoy the party.

Twenty years later, I found myself making a new year's resolution to start running again. At least this one would be easy to keep. I could "try" to start running again, and if I failed, the resolution would be met (at least in my mind).

The First Run
So it was, that on a cold 45F day in early January 2010, I found myself at the track during my lunch hour wearing shorts, a long sleeve shirt, and $9 pool shoes. This was really "out there" for me. I had a perfectly good (although very old) pair of Nike Air running shoes, but had left those at home, determined to give the minimalist route a try. Standing on the track, the low grey sky seemed more oppressive than usual. A cold, gusty wind ripped over the field, tearing away what little heat that still clung to my body. I shivered involuntarily.

"Stupid new year's resolutions!" I thought. "Damn you, McDougall!"

"One lap. One third of a mile." I promised myself. "I'll give it one lap. If I feel even the slightest pain in my crap left knee, I'll bail and head back to the warm locker room."

The extent of my knowledge about the minimalist form was "land on the balls of your feet, not your heels". So, off I trotted, looking like some sort of pudgy, deranged, half clothed ninja, searching for a heated pool.

One hundred yards into the "run" I was breathing hard. My heart was pounding and I felt the vein on my forehead throbbing in time. Crap! Was I really this out of shape? Half way around the track, my legs began to burn. There was no way of knowing how fast I was going since I hadn't bothered to start my stop watch, but it felt too fast. I slowed down before my heart exploded. My pain levels receded from "gunshot to the chest" levels to mere "prisoner of war torture" levels.

Managing to finish the lap without dying, I sat down on the steps next to the track and tried to recover. My heart was still pounding. I was sweating (in 45F temps!). I had finished! Once my heart rate had settled down to only a dangerous level, I stood up to take stock of the knee damage. Previous attempts had left me with severe knee pain. This time, no pain! I was shocked. I jogged in place just to make sure. I was certain there would be pain. Nothing!

I walked back to the locker room with a huge smile on my face. I didn't notice the wind or the cold anymore. I could do this!

Next installment - Too Much Too Soon.

Learning the Hard Way - Race Season Prologue and Epilogue

2011-06-22T23:33:00.002-04:00

May You Live in Interesting Times

I used to be really, really small,
but also very fit.

I started running again in January of 2010 after about 12 years of time off. I take my time off seriously. Between my last official run, Race for the Cure 5K in 1998, and January of last year, I alternated between the disciplines of skiing, snowboarding, mountain biking, and trashing my left knee. I really excelled at trashing my knee. But at least I was in good shape...

Yes, this hurts. Very, very much.

By 2006 I was on my third ACL revision, coupled with lots of side work, including MCL reconstruction, cartilage removal, meniscus removal, and massive scar tissue removal (I also excel at growing copious amounts of scar tissue apparently).

Tired of being on a first name basis with the orthopedic surgeons at Duke University, I decided to stop putting my knee in danger. Actually, I decided to just stop. I had two kids, a very stressful job (anyone up for going through 20 layoffs in under 10 years?) and no time.

Yes, that is my gut.

There was a downside to dialing back nearly all of my cardio activities and concentrating on building my expertise in beer drinking. By 2009 I had gained over 30 pounds and was spiraling into a mid-life health crisis (too many boring details for a place like this). I decided to do something about it before it was too late. I cleaned up my diet and started walking on the dreadmill.

I hated the dreadmill. Hated it with a burning passion. So, I tried to run again. And failed miserably. I couldn't manage a quarter mile without severe knee pain, followed by severe knee swelling, followed by severe depression. OK, maybe not severe depression, but definitely a deep dark mental funk, curable only by massive quantities of beer.

May You Come to the Attention of Those in Authority
I read Born To Run over the holidays of that year and decided to try to learn to run again from scratch in 2010. I bought some Vibram Five Fingers and hit the track. On a cold January afternoon, I somehow managed a first run of one third of a mile with no knee pain. I was on to something here!

“To punish me for my contempt for authority,
fate made me an authority myself.” — Albert Einstein

Over the course of the next 10 months I would re-invent myself as a runner, using a more gentle running form and lots of advice from many very cool, knowledgeable people on Barefoot Ted's most excellent Huaraches Google Group. I'll save that journey for another post. Suffice it to say, I was no smarter on my path back to running than I have been in any of my races this past season. My ortho surgeon actually called me an idiot, but I love stickin' it to the man (who was in this case, a woman) and somehow struggled through until I was ready for my first race.

In the end, I consider myself a bit of an authority on how not to transition to minimalist running.

May Your Wishes be Granted

First 10 mile race. Fat poetry in motion, but
at least I looked like I knew what I was doing.

By late September of 2010, I felt overly confident enough to sign up for a couple of races. My goal for the fall was to run a half marathon, so I signed up for the City of Oaks Half. But as part of my training ramp for the half, I also signed up for the American Tobacco Trail 10 Miler. I wasn't really enjoying the training grind of the half marathon prep, but as soon as I ran the Tobacco Trail 10 mile, I was seriously hooked. I loved racing. Not that I was any good (see subtitle of this blog...), but I really enjoyed the atmosphere, camaraderie, and overall vibe of the event.

I totally wrecked myself during the Tobacco Trail race. My pace was over a minute faster than any training run and I paid dearly for it. I slept for 15 hours after that race. I was so sore, I didn't think I would be able to run the half marathon two weeks later.

But I did run the Raleigh Oaks Half Marathon two weeks later, and even finished in under 2 hours, but by that point, I was totally burned out. The training plan had killed all the joy I had felt about rediscovering running.

I decided to simply stop any sort of real "training" and just run by feel, for joy alone. And it worked! I took long leisurely runs through Umstead State Park on the bridal paths and rediscovered the primitive joy of running. I guess that's why Umstead is still so special to me.

Still, I wanted to do more races, but not necessarily longer road races, so on a whim I signed up for my first trail race - Run at the Rock. I had so much fun training on the Umstead hiking trails, and then running the race, that I immediately signed up for another trail race - Little River Trail Race. My very first blog post was a race report for the Little River race.

The rest is blog history. I continued to sign up for all sorts of races. I continued to do stupid things. I continued to blog about those stupid things.

Last half marathon.
My hair has fallen out, but my leg
has finally grown some quads.
And yes, I really am still as confused
about running as I look in this picture...

In the end, I ran 10 races ranging from 4 miles to marathon distance, mostly on trails. I've met some cool folks through trail racing, both online and offline, this past year, and that more than anything else has been the most rewarding aspect of it all. Thanks to everyone who has tolerated my snarky comments on their own blogs, and a special thanks to everyone who reads my blog.

Nothing Like the Sun - Inside-Out Sports Classic Half Marathon

2011-05-26T00:48:00.000-04:00

There's nothing like an alarm going off at 5:30AM to make me second guess my running decisions. Especially after a night spent soothing my sick, young son. But, I can't let parenthood get in the way of my running stupidity, so I stagger from bed with a strange, nostalgic feeling - the feeling I used to get after pulling all-nighters in college to finish some huge project I had procrastinated into an emergency - the feeling like my internal organs had been burned to cinders, and I was powered only by smoke and glowing embers.

Stumbling to my car in the darkness, I wondered how a zombie might perform in endurance sports (yes, my brain actually works this way). Pain would be irrelevant of course, and as long as limbs didn't fall off, running a half marathon should be no problem for the undead. Suddenly, I had my motivation for the day's race.

Photo by Jim M.
http://www.homebasecville.com/2010/10/running-with-zombies.html

Pre Race - Zombie Running
Zombie running made perfect sense to me. I had foresworn my pre-race coffee due to the many unfortunate pre-race port-o-potty incidents of the past 8 months, and that alone had pushed me into the physiological realm of the undead. All I had to do was to embrace the idea of running like a dead man.

I knew the race would be tough due to the expected heat (I'm not acclimatized to heat yet, especially after a winter full of trail races), so I had filled my newly purchased Amphipod handheld with the preferred zombie fluid of choice, brain juice (yes, ask any zombie!).

Race Venue
The race was to be run (mostly) as an out and back course in Umstead State Park on the Reedy Creek bridal trail (essentially a dirt road, not really a trail). The first and last mile or so was to be run on streets and Black Creek Greenway (paved).

I love Umstead. I wished I lived near enough to run through it every day, however working at SAS allows me to skip over to the park during the work week for a quick trail run whenever I feel the need.

I knew the course very well, and thought, even in my zombie state, I should be able to pull off a sub 2 hour time. Apparently, I've learned nothing during the past 8 months of running races...

The Stats
Before I get to the race details, here are the brilliant stats:

Hours of sleep before the race - 3 (maybe), but zombies don't need no stinking sleep!
Pre-race snacks - None! The zombie colon must not be awakened!
Time at the half way point - 50(ish) minutes
Brains consumed during the race - Only 1 (my own)

The Race

Sub 2 hour for a half marathon on Reedy Creek Bridal Trail in Umstead - I could do it! Heck, I've done it on training runs. This should be a zombie walk in the park. I had my handheld bottle full of brain juice, so I didn't need to stop at any of the aid stations, so right there, I am already 30 seconds ahead of the game.

Miles 1 - 7 : Hey Look, I'm Doing It!

Honestly, I don't remember much about the first 7 miles, except that I enjoyed them. Easy, fun, brainless (brain-dead) running at about a 8:30 minute per mile pace. I arrived at the half way point around the 50 minute mark, so felt very confident of finishing in under 2 hours.

Miles 7 - 9 : Adding Insult to Injury

Instant death - Injury Hill; $200 Fine - Insult Hill

I knew miles 7 through 9 would be tough since I had to climb some of the steepest hills in Umstead. When I "ran" the Umstead Marathon, these hills were named Corkscrew Hill and Cemetary Hill. After running them repeatedly during the past year, I would personally rename them Insult Hill and Injury Hill.

My only goal was to NOT WALK during this segment. When the pain set in, I retreated into zombie mode. Run.. Run... Run... Brains... Run... Run... Don't walk... Run... Run... Brains...

After slogging up Injury Hill, I took a swig of my brain juice and nearly hurled into the nearest ditch. Turns out that warm coconut water is not even palatable for a zombie. Now I know why zombies alway appear to have a pale greenish complexion. You have been warned!

Happily, I made it up Insult Hill without walking, however, one guy did pass me while I was "running", even though he appeared to be walking. Damn you, Insult Hill!

Miles 9 - 11 : Arise from your Grave!

Passing through the aid station at mile 9, I was unexpectedly greeted by Shannon, the photographic uber-talent behind the most excellent Running Down blog. I was in such a zombie stupor, that I could barely cobble together a coherent greeting before I realized that I had stopped running and was standing still at the aid station table like.... well, like a zombie.

My internal hall monitor screamed "Run Fool! RUN!!!!"

In what seemed to be slow motion, I turned and continued my zombie rambling towards the finish line. A mile or so after that encounter, I realize that AC, the author of the Running Down blog, was behind the aid station table. Sorry for not saying hello, AC. Insult and Injury Hills had taken their toll on my already rotting brain.

After the hills and the aid station, I got my second wind and picked up the pace again. I passed many people before exiting Umstead and was absolutely sure I would finish in under 2 hours.

Miles 11-13.1 : The Metamorphosis

I emerged from Umstead and entered Black Creek Greenway near Crabtree Lake. The entire race to this point had been mostly in comfortable shade, but now, next to the lake, there was no place to hide. A solid mile of open space lay ahead of me.

No problem, I thought, just keep cranking away. However, within seconds of entering the sunlight, I felt a weight descend on my shoulders. The sun's rays seems to be hammering me into the pavement of the trail. The air became thick. I struggled to push through, but my legs refused. I felt dizzy and the top of my head began to tingle. A horrific realization dawned upon my addled brain. I wasn't a zombie after all. I was Nosferatu!

Not the sun!!

As the Sun roasted my vampire flesh, I slowed. Eventually, I slowed to a walk - closer to a crawl actually. I had overheated and was well on my way towards heat stroke. I don't know how long it took to crawl through that sunny mile, but it seemed like hours.

The last mile of the course was back in the trees on the greenway. I recovered somewhat and began running again, but was still feeling very sick. I trudged into a very disappointing finish of 2 hours and 3 minutes.

Epilogue

I alway strive to learn something each race. I want to learn something about myself, about life, about racing, about running, or simply about the world in general. This race was no exception.

So, what did I learn? Nothing specific really. I reinforced a feeling that's been building in my mind for the past few months. Road racing isn't for me, even when the road is nearly a trail. What I love is the shadowy solitude of running single track trails. I need to be enveloped within the arms of the forest - wrapped in the the shady comfort of the trees. The trail is my mistress, and my mistress' eyes are nothing like the Sun.

None Shall Pass - Philosopher's Way 15K Trail Race

2011-05-11T01:55:00.002-04:00

I'm feeling a bit run down. Literally. I would change the name of my blog, but Running Down is already taken by some shirtless douche-bag who happens to win the master's category in almost every race I enter these days. Damn that guy! ;-)

Before I delve into the specifics for Philosopher's Way, let me just say this - never run a race when you are already sick. Unless, you like being even sicker. Or are a masochist. Or are stupid, like me. The temporary fun (ha!) of the race will in no way compensate for the major ass kicking that the little virus hitchhiking along in your sinus will administer the week following the race. Enough said.

Pre Race
This was a local race for me. The trail is less than 10 miles from my house, but I decided not to preview the course. That was probably a mistake - the first of many.

I woke up the morning of the race with a pounding headache. The same headache I had been suffering with all week, only cranked up to 11.

"Screw you, headache!" I thought. "I've paid for this race. I'm doing it!"

Little did I know that I had not even begun paying for this race.

1000mg of Tylenol later, and I was headed to the race.

Race Venue

I gave this guy my post race bagel

After parking, I staggered through the parking lot towards the dirt road that led to the race headquarters. After losing every single battle with my pre-race coffee for the past 6 months, I had finally admitted defeat and had drunk only water that morning. This made walking... difficult.

I walked a long way. Then I walked a long way, again. How far away was the race headquarters?! Didn't they know that sick people would be running in this event and that we... err... they didn't need to be needlessly expending energy with a walk through the country side?

Turns out the race headquarters were tucked into a small field about a third of a mile away. Along the dirt road to the race site, there were friendly signs warning you not to stray into the forest. It seems that the race site is situated next to a former landfill, and the water, plants, soil, and the air itself is potentially hazardous if you step off the dirt road. I had been wondering why that first stream I passed was full of what appeared to be nasty looking red algae. Having been attacked by semi-mythical beasts during other races, I was now worried about a potential new nemesis - Swamp Thing.

The Stats
Before I get to the race itself, here are the illustrious stats!

Pre race coffee consumed - Zero! (pardon me while I wipe away the tears from my keyboarrrrrddddgggggffggghhhff)
Pre race ibuprofen consumed - Zero! That stuff is like anti-matter to my colon. 1000mg of Tylenol will do just fine thanks.
Swamp Thing sightings - Only one.
Trips - Only one! New tripping PR for me! Woot!
Falls - Zero. Yeah, that's right, none! Look out, I'm on a two race non-falling streak!
Time - 1:43:13, 11:04 pace. I think I finished after the guy riding the mountain unicycle.

I'm slower than even this guy

The Race
I did one smart thing this race. I started near the back of the pack. Of course, I can't really claim that this was intelligence on my part, since I didn't actually see the starting line marks on the dirt road and had just accidentally staggered a bit too far past the start. But none the less, I started near the back.

After a short trot down the dirt road, we entered the single track trail. And stopped. And I mean dead stopped. There was a line of traffic funneling onto the trail which was moving about the same speed as the line for a race port-o-potty (HA! I got my crapper reference into this post - coffee or no coffee!!).

The first couple of miles was one giant conga line of back-of-the-packers. Except for feeling very heavy legged, I was having a great time. It's funny how even physical sickness can melt away during a run. I guess that's why I continue with this self abuse. By the time we hit the first aid station, I was feeling really good and decided to move up in the pack.

None shall pass!

Unfortunately, this race was run on a single track mountain bike trail. A very twisty and tight mountain bike trail. Passing was difficult at best. Every time I attempted to pass someone, I would end up dancing through the trees beside the trail. Sometimes I would make the pass, other times I would nearly decapitate myself on low hanging branches and end up two spots further back. Of course, everyone who attempted to pass me had the same problems. After one woman attempted to pass me and failed on 3 different occasions (not due to me.. I even full stopped and let her pass the fourth time), I started feeling like the Black Knight in Monty Python's Holy Grail.

This comedy of passing errors would continue at the back of the pack for the rest of the race. I think I passed some people 4 or 5 times.

The trail was so twisty and convoluted, I became totally disoriented towards the end of the race. I think I ran some sections of trail 3 or 4 times in different directions. I blame Swamp Thing. I saw him licking up the flour trail markings near the scummy pond in the last 3 miles of the race. Or, maybe I was tripping on Tylenol.

I didn't even realize that I was running the same stretch of trail that I started on until I saw the crazy banked wooden mountain bike bridge less than a mile from the end. Even then, I still couldn't get my bearings. I kept hearing the finish line noise but since the trail had so many switchbacks, the noise seemed to be coming from all directions. By the time I knew the finish was right in front of me, it was too late to sprint. And to think, I could have finished in ~~1:43:13~~ 1:43:10 if I had timed my sprint just right. I should have previewed the course...

Post Race
Sick. Sick as a dog (I've never been exactly sure what this means, but it sounds right)! Rotten, nasty, miserable, sinus-cold sick! Tylenol and running endorphin speedballs are great, but you come down hard off that stuff. Real hard...

Epilogue
This was a confusing race for me. I enjoyed it, but was miserable at the same time. I ran very poorly, but would run it again tomorrow if I could. I'll just blame my own Epicurean philosophical nature. Pain is acceptable as long as it ends in greater pleasure.

Who's got no thumbs and is the
founding philosopher of one of my
core belief systems? This guy!

A Long, Strange Trip - Owl's Roost Rumble Trail Half Marathon

2011-05-01T12:19:00.001-04:00

Prologue
Something is terribly wrong with me. I'm swilling strong coffee in my car at 70mph, heading West, before sunrise. It's 5:30AM and my head cold says I should be still be in bed. I smile anyway. Get in line cold virus. You are behind my sprained ankle, my crap left knee (but surgery number 5 went well!), and my aching right hip. You are the least of my ailments. Learn your place!

Having an hour drive to a race gives me time to think about my life. And that's not always a good thing. I'm brutal when it comes to self analysis. Why am I signing up for every trail race I can find? Do I have a problem? Yes, I think I do. Am I addicted? Only an addict would continue to abuse himself for such small jolts of pleasure.

My name is Scott, and I am a trail running addict. Never again will I pound pavement, unless it is to run to a trail. Never.

Luckily, I bore easily, so the self doubt session recedes as the sun rises behind me. On to the point of this post - the race report.

About The Race
I knew nothing about this race. Just that it was single track (mostly), half marathon distance, and had an odd name - Owl's Roost Rumble. After running the race, I've decided that the odd name is a secret anagram describing the actual nature of the race.

Owl's - Slow
Roost - Roots
Rumble - Lumber

The true name of this race should be:
Slow, Roots! Lumber!

This name perfectly describes the race for me.
Run slow, there are lots of roots! Look out, there's a fallen tree over the trail!

Pre Race
I arrive early, check in and get my shirt and race bib, and then head back to the warmth of my car for some pre-race fueling. Nothing like strong coffee and a banana for breakfast!

30 minutes later, my colon says otherwise, so I dance in the port-o-potty line for 5 minutes before yet again, creating a passable miniature model of Mount Doom.

By the time I finish, the elite men were starting. I wandered over to cheer them off.

The Stats
I really wanted to finish in under 2 hours. I'm more than capable of this in road races, but it wouldn't happen in this race. Here are the glorious stats:

Pre-race coffee consumed - 1 travel mug. Wanted more, but me and coffee are now friendly adversaries on race day...
Pre-race existential thoughts - 2. Another post for another day perhaps...
Number of trips during the race - I stopped counting after 5.
Number of falls during the race - ZERO. Yeah, baby! Stayed on my feet the entire race. New falling PR for me!
Gun time - 2:11:34, 10:03 pace per mile.

The Race

I thought I had chosen a sensible position in the starting corral for my wave start. Unfortunately, what I think is sensible, just isn't accurate when it comes to my abilities.

Once again, I burn through the first 4 miles or so in a ridiculous (for me!) sub-8 minute/mile pace. I crash hard at mile 5. This is one area (among many!) that I definitely need to improve upon. I just can't seem to pace properly on trails. Too much adrenaline? Too many distractions (trail traffic, race banter, etc.)? Stupidity? Yes, on all counts I think.

Slow, Roots! Lumber!

I've never had to actually hurdle over a fallen tree on a trail run. Maybe it's just my inexperience with trails, but I wasn't expecting the two or three trees I had to scramble over during this race. Of course, I attempted to truly hurdle the highest tree, and suffered the consequences of a tweaked hip flexor for the remainder of the race. That's about a 9 on my stupid scale.

There was an insane amount of roots on this trail. Not many rocks, but the roots more than made up for the lack of rocks. I don't know exactly how many times I tripped, but it was a lot! On the bright side, I did get a lot of "Great save!" comments from the runners behind me. I'll take my compliments where I can get them...

I was even tripped by the ghosts of roots. I nearly wiped out when I tripped on a raised board on the new foot bridge around mile 10. I'm pretty sure that this was about the time when the woman behind me decided that it was in her best interests to pass me, so she wouldn't have to hurdle over my sprawled body later. I'm sure she she was thinking that eventually I just wouldn't be able to save myself from taking a dirt break.

But the joke is on her! I saved myself on every one of the dozens of exhaustion and root induced trips during the last 3 miles of the race. Ha!

I claim victory in my rumble with the roots!

Post Race

Although I didn't make my time goal, I do consider this one of my better races. No stomach issues. No injuries (other than one blister). No real drama. Just a very fun run on a beautiful Spring morning. It doesn't get much better than that...

I'll be back next year for another slow rumble with the roots and lumber.

I Am Not a Wheel

2011-04-15T22:04:00.005-04:00

[Several people have asked about this post, so a bit of explanation is in order. This is my entry for a creative writing contest, celebrating Earth Day. I took second place (apparently, I'm better at writing than racing..) and won a gift certificate of some sort. Anyway, enjoy this creative essay! - Scott]

A strip of sunlight entered the room and danced lightly on my well-worn shoes by the door. Today I would run, rather than ride. Shoes in place, I stepped out into the brightness.

My thoughts sang softly to the even tempo of my feet against the pavement. I flew through neighborhoods and down city streets, instinctively pulled towards the trail passage in the nearby forest.

“Yield” commanded the sign. “Never” I replied.

“Recycle” ordered the bin. “With every step” I breathed.

“Caution” flashed the light. “Another day perhaps” I conceded.

The cracked concrete of neglected sidewalks made war with my pounding feet. Salvo after salvo was exchanged in my relentless pursuit of the forest. Muscles ached. Knees creaked. Feet stung. Still, I pounded on.

“If only my legs were wheels,” I thought. Rolling down the hard city streets promised a gentler journey than the pounding of foot against stone. But then I thought of the forest that had been here before the hardscrabble streets. Is that why we pave over the earth? The wheel seems to have become our master rather than our slave.

Cars passed closely, leaving me to struggle through their sickly sweet breeze. Busses growled past, belching acrid, black smoke. But the trees were calling. I would not be denied.

Entering the coolness of the forest, I was happy to leave the chaos of the city. As the trees closed in behind me, the noise of the city faded, leaving only the sounds of wind and footsteps. My stride softened as I flew down the trail. My feet no longer raged against the earth. The pounding battle had ended, replaced with a peaceful flow of foot, root, rock, and trail.

The trail wound deeper and downwards into the forest. My spirits lifted with each step. The run became dance – quick, intricate steps among roots and stones - gentle pirouettes around towering trees.

As the trail neared a cascading stream, the two intertwined in their own eternal dance – twirling with bridges and stepping stones. I spun among them, dancing as partner to both the trail and the stream. My feet flowed with the stream as I danced, ever downwards.

I chased the mysteries of the trail. What lay around the next bend? What was beyond the next shimmering shaft of sunlight? Gliding through the dappled light of the forest, my worries melted away.

I forgot about the city. I let go of everything and flowed with the stream. My worries would be waiting for me at the end of the trail. For now, I only wanted to run - to absorb the moist, mossy smell of the stream - to tread sparkling clouds of trail dust into the shafts of sunlight – to dance softly among the ancient trees.

“Here is true happiness,” I thought. The quick, light movement of feet upon the earth is far better than the spin of wheels against concrete.

For I am not a wheel - I am water.

Roll On! - Mountain To Sea Trail 12 Mile Challenge

2011-04-09T23:08:00.001-04:00

I've been feeling a bit beat up lately. Too much running I think. I'm still dealing with the aftermath of running the Umstead Trail Marathon in a totally unprepared state. It would be wise to take some time off and recover. And maybe find some new shoes to replace my worn out Mizuno racing flats.

But, what's this? A twelve mile trail race sponsored by my local running shop! On a trail I'd never run on before... How could I resist?!

So, 3 days before the race, I signed up to run. No, I'm not the brightest bulb in the pack when it comes to decisions involving running.

The Stats
For those of you who are only interested in the race stats, here you go:

Pre-race Coffee Consumed - 3 cups (Mmmm, I love coffee!)
Pre-race port-o-potty visits - 3 (my sincere apologies to the person who had to use the port-o-potty after my last visit!! Damn coffee....)
Pre-race starting corral conversations - 1 (damn my introverted personality!)
Number of times during the race I thought I was going to puke - 3 (all in the first 3 miles. Damn you coffee!!)
Number of times I twisted my right ankle - 5 (damn you roots and rocks!)
Number of times I cursed - lost count...
Number of times I fell down - ONE, and that was just a slide down into a ditch on my arse. I consider this a raging success for a 12 mile trail race!
Number of people I passed - 4
Number of people who passed me - lost count.... I started too far forward in the pack. Sorry, everyone!
Unofficial Time - 2:09, 10:45min/mile pace.

Pre Race

The night before the race, massive storms rolled through the area and dumped 10 feet of rain on the trail! Ok, maybe an inch or so. But the storms, kept me awake for most of the night (I'm a very light sleeper), so I got only 3 hours or so of sleep. I worried about the lack of sleep and the possibly very muddy conditions of the trail, but both turned out to be non-issues.

After my disastrous transport issues at the Tobacco Road Half Marathon, the MST 12 Miler race was a welcome relief. I never waited for a shuttle van for more than 5 minutes. This is just one example of how well the race was run. Many thanks to Bull City Running and all the volunteers for making everything run so smoothly!

The race start was right on the shore of Falls Lake. Where else but the South could you be required to drive on Possum Track Road (I couldn't make that up!) to get to the race start?

The Race

I tried to choose a sensible position in the starting corral. Honestly! But I didn't count on coffee poisoning (actually the coffee was excellent, but I drank too much) during the first 3 miles. I was fine for the first mile or so, but then I burped. Urgh.... coffee burp. The next 3 miles were sheer misery and I think about 100 people passed me. Enough said about that...

About mile 5, my stomach settled down and I eased into a nice survival pace. I struck up a conversation with the guy right behind me (Wendel, I should have asked your last name) who was running the same pace. We ended up running together off and on for the remainder of the race. It's nice to be able to talk to someone while running. I need to convince some of my runner friends to come trail racing with me...

The Mountain To Sea trail along Falls Lake is beautiful. I really enjoyed the course. The trail was hilly, but the hills were more rolling and less steep than Umstead. When I had the chance to take my eyes off the trail, the views of Falls Lake were excellent. I had expected very muddy conditions with the downpour of the previous night, but the trail was only truly muddy in a handful of spots and generally just wet. Other than the treacherous, slick, wet roots along the trail, the running was easy.

I felt good enough toward the end to push hard for the last 3 miles and finished strong. My hard goal was to finish faster than 2:30. My stretch goal was to finish in under 2 hours. If I hadn't screwed up in the first 4 miles or so, I might have made it in under 2 hours, but overall, I'm very happy with a 2:09.

Post Race

Man what a great food spread at the finish! Cookies, fruit, bars, bread, bagels, and several drink options. Nice! I had a few snacks and hung out for a while to watch the awards presentation. I also finally met AC of the very cool Running Down blog, who ended up winning his master's class. Congrats, Anthony! I think I'm anchoring the other end of our master's group. Hey, someone has to be last too...

Ahhh, That's Better! - Altra Instinct Shoe Review

2011-04-09T13:49:00.002-04:00

I've been waiting (and waiting, and waiting...) for the Altra shoes to finally hit my local shop (Bull City Running - can't say enough good things about this place!) and this week, the Instinct finally arrived. For those of you who don't normally read my blog, I have wide feet. I've been searching for a flat shoe with close to zero heel to toe drop, mainly for road running where I like a bit more padding, that would accommodate my paddle feet.

I had been running in Mizuno Wave Universe 3 racing flats for the past 8 months or so, but my pair was really worn out and I felt unstable on anything wet or slippery. The MWU3's have been great shoes for me, but unfortunately, since the time I bought my first pair, my feet have widened to the point that a new pair is painful to wear, so simply wearing a new pair was out of the question. Sometimes, being a mid-foot runner has it's downsides...

Even the new minimal trail shoes weren't wide enough for my feet, so I was getting a bit frustrated, until I tried the SoftStar RunAmoc. But I still wanted a more substantial shoe with more grip for conditions where the RunAmoc would not cut it (wet, muddy, very technical single track trail or long runs on pavement). What follows is my purely amateur review of the Instinct.

Fit

To say I was happy about the fit of the Instincts is a bit of an under statement. I actually almost laughed out loud in the store when I tried them on. They had a simply beautiful wide forefoot and mid foot area that actually fit my foot nearly perfectly. No other shoe, besides my custom built RunAmocs, has felt as good. In the first 24 hours that I wore them, I was concerned that perhaps the left shoe was a bit too tight near the ball of my foot, but after using the Altra recommended lacing technique, I was left with a perfect fit. And I don't use the word "perfect" lightly. I'm a stickler for good shoe fit. The Instincts fit like a snug, beefy version of my RunAmocs, which is high praise from me.

The Instincts come with two insoles - one with a more traditional arch support and padding, and one which is simply a very thin, flat insert which functions to cover the internal stitching of the shoe. Since I'm a mid-foot striker when running, I use the flat insert (I think it's called the strengthening insert in the Altra product literature). This also gives my foot more room inside the shoe, which is a bonus.

Performance
Since I've purchased them, I've run a 5K on pavement and a 12 mile trail race (MST 12 Miler race report). On pavement, the shoes feel firm and stable. I especially like the firmness of the sole, since it quietly informs me when I over stride and heel strike. Ground feel is not great, but that's not what this shoe is all about (and I always have the RunAmocs or my Vibram Five Fingers to provide me with form tuning feedback via good ground feel).

What's really surprising is how well the Instincts performed on the trail. I intentionally wore the Instincts for the MST 12 mile trail race, as a sort of trial by fire.

I know what you are thinking.

"Scott, you are an idiot! Never wear new shoes you just bought and have only run 3 miles in for a 12 mile trail race!"

Hey, sometimes idiocy is how I roll (well, a lot of the time this is true, especially when it comes to running). Although I didn't mention it in my race report for the MST 12 miler, let me just say that the Instincts performed fantastically. They had plenty of grip for the wet, and sometimes muddy, conditions of the trail. I finished the race with no shoe induced blisters and my feet felt great! Actually, my feet felt much better after wearing the Instincts than they do when I wear my MWU3's (the Mizunos' have a bit of arch support that aggravates the plantar fasciitis in my right foot).

Conclusion
I really like them. I'm glad I bought them. I can't wait for the Altra trail shoe, the Lone Peak, to be released. It will give me an excuse to buy another pair of shoes (like I need one!).

Pass in the Grass - Tobacco Road Half Marathon Race Report

2011-03-21T23:25:00.001-04:00

Better Late Than Never
I hate being late. Absolutely hate it. My alarm was set for 4:40AM which would have given me plenty of time to have a quick breakfast and be in the shuttle parking area by 6:00AM. The race was to start at 7:00AM. The shuttle trip was only 5 miles. Plenty of time, I told myself.

I woke up at 5:50AM and immediately went into full panic mode. My alarm had either not sounded, or I had slept right through it. Not sure which had happened, I cursed myself and my stupid alarm clock as I grabbed a large coffee and my race bag and slipped out of the house into the darkness.

I jetted down the interstate in my turbo charged angry toaster of a car, passing everything in sight, hoping none of the cars I whooshed past were unmarked state troopers. I made it to the entrance of the shuttle parking area at about 6:05AM. There was a long line of cars attempting to make the right turn onto the access road to the parking area (this should have been my first warning of what was to come). Luckily, I was coming from the opposite direction, so one light cycle later and I was headed into the parking lot.

The parking lot was surprisingly full and I was directed towards the far end of the lot. After parking, I broke into a light jog across the lot to the shuttle bus loading area. When I rounded the corner, I was greeted with a massive line of several hundred people waiting for the shuttle, and not one bus in sight. No worries, I thought. The pre-race packet had indicated there would be lots of 55 passenger busses for transport. I stepped into line, confident I would easily make it by 7:00AM. Oh how wrong I was...

One hour and ten minutes later, I stepped off the bus at the start-finish line of the Tobacco Road Half Marathon. The race organizers knew that there were transport problems, so had delayed the race start. The half marathon runners were still in the starting corral. I ran across the parking area and quickly checked my race bag. Then, my morning coffee hit like an atomic bomb in my colon. Great, the port-o-potties were all the way on the opposite side of the giant parking lot that served as the race start/finish area. I sprinted.

As I closed and latched the port-o-potty door, I heard the roar of the crowd sending off the half marathon. I had missed the start, and more importantly I had missed the chance to run with my 2:00 hour pace group which was being led by a great runner and an old friend, Gary Franks. Now, I was pissed.

By the time I made it to the starting line, the full marathoners were lined up and ready to go. I squeezed through their ranks to the front, stepped across the timing sensor and took off. I was nearly 6 minutes behind the half marathon field.

Pass in the Grass
It was odd running along the first mile or so almost by myself. I kept going around turns expected to see the pack in the distance, only to see more empty street. Finally, after what seemed like forever, I hit a long stretch of straight road where I could see the half marathon pack stretched out in front of me. I saw two or three pace group balloons bobbing among the crowd in the distance, but figured my group was long gone. In a mile or so, I caught the 2:40 pace group, but couldn't see the next pace group in the distance. I was still really pissed about missing the start and not being able to run with my pace group, so I decided I would catch them - even if it killed me.

I started passing runners - lots of runners. We were still on the secondary roads leading to the Tobacco Trail, so passing was easy. As we entered the Tobacco trail, the mass of runners squeezed onto the former railroad track and passing became much more difficult.

I honestly think that this race allowed too many entrants. 2500 runners funneled onto a trail the width of an old railroad bed was a recipe for frustration. I was already pissed. Now I was frustrated as well. Passing was very difficult, and simply maintaining a steady pace was nearly impossible. I was speeding up, slowing down, dodging left, dodging right, and all the while I kept passing runners. When I was blessed with an open space on the trail, I practically sprinted across it.

Eventually, I figured the best and most consistent way to pass while maintaining a semi-constant pace was to run on the very edge of the trail, with one foot down the slope of the ditch on the slippery pine straw and grass. In fact, as I caught the 2:30 and then the 2:20 pace group, the *only* way to pass was in the ditch since there was a mass of runners clustered around the pacer, blocking the entire trail. I'm lucky not to have tripped and fallen down the embankment into one of the scummy beaver ponds along the route.

Anger is a Gift
As I approached the turn around at mile 8, I saw Gary leading the 2:00 pace group coming back toward me. I yelled to Gary as he passed, and then saw another old friend from Nortel, Jim Wei running in the same group. They both yelled to me as I passed by. I was probably a mile or so behind them. I pushed harder.

Passing was getting tougher now. Not only because of the crowds, which were still terrible, but also because I was creeping into the faster runners, most of whom did not want to be passed, and some of whom made it intentionally difficult for me to pass.

Around mile 9 I arrived at the aid station with beer! Yuengling is not my favorite beer, but it tasted damn good, even if it was in a very little cup. The guy ahead of me grabbed a cup as well, and toasted me with a friendly "Cheers!" We chatted for a bit as we finished our beers on the run. Turns out he had been trying to catch the 2:00 pace group the whole race as well (again due to a port-o-potty delay). I was running a bit faster, so wished him luck and pulled away (I wish I had asked his name as he seemed like a great guy).

I was more determined than ever to catch the 2:00 pace group, but was in the densest part of the race field now, and was constantly blocked. I became very angry in a near road rage sort of way. I was dodging into the oncoming racers to pass and generally just being an arse. I'm not normally an angry person. In fact, I'm very easy going. The anger I was feeling was uncomfortable. An old saying drifted into my head - "Anger is a gift". Why was I so angry? I was supposed to be running for fun - for joy! The old saying meant that my anger should be righteous. A poorly organized half marathon that I was running for fun, definitely did not deserve the gift of my anger.

I drifted along for a bit and slowly my anger melted away. It was a beautiful, cool Spring morning. In fact, it was the first day of Spring. The trees and flowers were blooming and I was doing something that I loved - running.

As I left the trail for the last 3 miles of secondary paved roads, I ran with joy. I ran with abandon. I passed many more people, but this time for fun.

In the last mile, I could see the 2:00 pace group about a half mile ahead. I wouldn't be catching them. Amazingly, I wasn't really unhappy about this, just slightly disappointed at not being able to run with friends. I crossed the finish line 2 minutes after the 2:00 pace group.

I had started almost 6 minutes late, nearly dead last, and had passed about 1500 people, to finish in 1:56. And I was happy.

Revenge of Krampus - Umstead Trail Marathon Race Report

2011-03-06T15:34:00.002-05:00

So, I had a plan. I would run as much of the Umstead Trail Marathon as was fun, as a sort of pre-race for the upcoming Tobacco Road Half Marathon which was two weeks later. I would treat my Umstead run as my long training run for the Tobacco Road Half. My plan was to bail out of the race around mile 15 which was conveniently close to the start/finish (easy couple of miles walking). Things didn't work out according to plan...

Pre Race
Three weeks prior to the race, I ran a 16 mile training run in Umstead that ended in a brutal attack by Krampus. Undeterred, I ran again the following week and completed the 16 miler with no problems, escaping from Krampus unscathed. Last week, I ran only about 7 miles, trying out my new RunAmoc trail shoes. I was super confident of running the 15 miles during the race - until the weekend before the race.

I was feeling very tired the Sunday of race week. Really weak and wiped out feeling. Hmm.. This wasn't a good sign. Monday, my throat was sore. Hopefully just a cold, I thought. By Wednesday, I was in agony. Every swallow felt like eating busted glass. Off to the doctor I went. You know it's bad when the doctor peers into your throat and goes "Ugh! That looks bad. Probably strep throat."

I headed home from the doctor that day with a prescription for Amoxicillin. I would have been depressed about missing the race, but I was too miserable to think about much besides the ice picks constantly jabbing into my throat. I downed two giant, pink, Amoxicillin horse pills, some pain killer, and went straight to bed at 4PM.

48 hours later on Friday, I could have kissed the discoverer of Amoxicillin. I felt completely healthy. I decided that if I felt good the morning of the race, I would head out to the race and run a few miles, stopping when I felt like it. Once again, I was blinded by hubris...

The Race

I truly love Umstead State Park. It's a mini 5579 acre wilderness surrounded by cites and suburbs. Driving to the race along several miles of dirt road brought back many memories of growing up "in the sticks".

I arrived early (of course) and sat in my car sorting out my gear bag for a bit. After a quick inventory, I headed into race headquarters (in the camp lodge) to check in and grab a quick snack.

The lodge was bustling with activity. I didn't see anyone I knew, so I just checked myself in at the registration table and headed to the food table.

I grabbed a banana and an excellent hot cup of tea and parked my lazy arse by the big stone fireplace.

I spent a bit of time chatting with some of the other racers by the fireplace and generally just relaxing, until about 10 minutes before the start, when one of the organizers requested everyone start moving to the starting line. I slipped on my Wolfpack RunAmocs and headed out to the start line.

Miles 1 - 8, The Fun Run
The race started on the bridal trails and quickly entered the single track hiking trails after about a mile and a half. I loved this part of any race. Everyone was bantering (at least in the back of the pack, where I like to run) and chatting, and generally having a great time. The park was open to the public during the race, so there were lots of non-racers on the bridal path. A few of them even joined into the pack and ran a short stretch with us.

One small asian lady trotted up to my side and asked what race we were running. I told her it was the Umstead Trail Marathon.

She looked surprised and asked "You run the whole race in the park?"

"Yes, the whole thing" I replied.

"Wow!" she said, "Good luck!"

I smiled and said "Thanks!" But looking back I should have taken her response more seriously.

Once we hit the single track, the chatter dropped off as concentration and foot placement is key to not busting your arse. I didn't do much passing during the single track miles, just ran my own pace and tried to enjoy my favorite part of the race. Right at mile 8 we emerged from the single track onto the bridal trails, where we would run the rest of the race. This is the first point at which I thought about quitting. The fun part was behind me and there was 18 miles of bridal path stretching out ahead. I thought about it for a quarter mile or so, until I was at the actual fork in the course which would have taken me back to the start/finish line. Luckily there was an aid station at the fork, so I grabbed some water, took a quick physical assessment and quickly decided to continue to mile 15, the next opportunity to take a drop out.

Miles 8 - 15, The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Wheezing
OK, time to buckle down and run a sane pace so I can make it to mile 15, I thought. The next two miles were basically one big downhill followed by one big uphill. I locked in a nice 9:30min/mile pace and just cruised. I've run this portion of Umstead many times, so no real surprises. At the 10 mile aid station, just before the turn onto Turkey Creek Trail, I swallowed a couple of electrolyte tablets with my water and started the long hilly route out to the mile 15 aid station.

Turkey Creek Trail is a deceptively hard trail. It starts with a long downhill section to Turkey Creek, and once you are nice and comfortable, kicks you in the guts with a seemingly never ending series of steep hills. It had been a couple of months since I had last run this section and I had completely forgotten how hilly the last half of this section was. By mile 13 I was deep in the heart of the hills and suffering a bit. I was having some trouble with my breathing, which is unusual since I've never had trouble with my lungs before. I chalked it up to pollen and maybe some lingering effects of my strep infections. So, I simply plodded on.

The last mile or so before the 15 mile aid station is fairly level, so by the time I arrived I was feeling good again. I should have considered this when making my decision, but race day adrenaline has strange effects on your reasoning ability. I downed another electrolyte capsule with some water and opened one of my honey gels. These things seem to be the only sort of gel my stomach can tolerate on longs runs. I had been experimenting with them on my previous runs and felt confident they would work. I actually sat down and slowly finished my gel and sipped my water.

It was a beautiful day. Breezy. Warm. Cloudy. Great day for running. My running endorphins were in high gear.

I decided to continue...

Miles 15 - 20, Krampus' Revenge
I know what you are thinking...

"Scott, you are an idiot! You had strep 3 days prior the race! You probably still have strep! You were going to bail out at 15! You've only run about 40 miles in the past FOUR WEEKS! Haven't you learned anything from the mistakes you have made?!"

I can't argue. I freely admit that sometimes, I'm just plain dense. Actually, I prefer to think that I've inherited a good dose of the bull-headed stubbornness from my Scotch-Irish lineage. In short, I blame my father.

The honey and water sat well for the next couple of miles. But then I heard the faint clatter of cloven hooves trotting up behind me. I didn't even have to turn my head.

"My legs feel fine, Krampus" I wheezed. "Go away!"

"Yesss" hissed Krampus "but your center is bursting with hubris.."

Krampus quickly trotted up beside me, reached over with his hairy clawed hand, and grabbed my stomach. I felt his claws sink deeply into my guts. Then to add insult to his injury, Krampus savagely twisted his hand. My guts felt like they had been tied into a knot.

I didn't even have the time to respond before Krampus scampered away on the heels of another runner, cackling gleefully to himself. Miles 15-20 were a target rich environment for ole Krampus.

I spent the next 3 miles fighting off the urge to retch into the nearest ditch. I started walking up every hill. It seemed to help my stomach. I stopped counting the number of times other runners and course staff asked me if I was OK. I must have looked pretty green.

After what seemed like hours, I stumbled into the aid station at mile 20. A friend of a friend actually took this picture at that moment. I felt as green as my shirt.

Miles 20 - 26, Strong Work
At the mile 20 aid station, I gulped down as much water as I could stomach. Again, someone asked me if I was "OK". I was getting tired of this question, but glad the course folks were on top of the situation. That alone made me feel better. I totally lied and told them I was "OK". Had a quick conversation with one of the aid station workers about my RunAmoc shoes and then staggered on down the trail.

The next two miles were a haze of trees, runners, bikers, walkers, and cramps. I heard a lot of "Nice job, keep it up!" sort of comments, which in my dazed state seemed strange. I didn't feel like I was doing a good job at anything, other than cramping (thanks a lot, Krampus!).

Around mile 22, I made it to the final aid station. I grabbed two waters and actually sat down on the edge of the trail. Some sadist had designed the course with the biggest, gut busting hill of the park at miles 22 through 24. And my gut was already well and truly busted. While pondering this, one of the aid station workers asked me yet again, "Are you OK?". God bless the Umstead Trail Marathon course workers! They should be given their own special awards. If any of you read this, THANK YOU! Because now the question had true meaning to me. Was I really OK? Why was I doing this? I could run the two miles of gut busting hill, followed by two more miles of up hill slope to the finish or I could pull the tag from my racing bib and quit.

Then one of the random comments from a spectator on a mountain bike in the previous two miles drifted into my head. All he said was "Strong work!" as he pedaled past. Not "good work". Not "nice job". Not "good going". Strong work. If this was a question of strength, did I have it? I sat sipping my water, pondering this question.

Then, I stood up and headed down gut busting Cedar Ridge Trail. Strong work, I chanted to myself.

By now, I was walking - a lot. My guts refused to accept any pounding from running. So, I walked, even down hill. By the time I was near the bottom of Cedar Ridge, something shifted in my guts. Krampus' grip eased just a bit. I ran the last quarter mile down the hill. Then I ran the same quarter mile back UP the hill. Slowly, I began to run more than walk. By the time I made it back to the aid station, I was running again. I grabbed some water and a small cup of flat Coke (man, is that stuff good when your body needs some sugar!), downed it and trotted off down the trail for the last two miles.

In the last two miles I walked up the steepest part of two hills , but ran mostly. As I passed the mile 26 sign, I thought about kissing it, but couldn't muster the strength to cross the ditch and scramble up the bank to actually do that. I shuffled in to the finish in 5:47.

Post Race

My beautiful wife was waiting at the finish line as I crossed. She was all I could see. I had somehow run my very first marathon. One of the race workers tracked me down to give me my finishers pint glass. I drove home and promptly put it to good use.

See you next time, Krampus.

Wolfpack RunAmocs

2011-02-26T15:14:00.001-05:00

Just thought I would share my small customization of the RunAmocs I reviewed earlier. As I hinted, I did order some NC State patches and added them to the outside heel area of my RunAmocs.

Overall, I think they turned out well. The black and red of the shoe matches up nicely with the black, red and white of the NC State emblems. Not bad for $8.

Looking forward to wearing these in the Umstead Trail Marathon.

Goodness from the Soft Star Elves

2011-02-23T23:18:00.000-05:00

During the past few months I've moved from road running to trail running, and I may never go back (but that's another blog post for another day). Unfortunately, I have no proper shoes for trail running, so have been running in my Vibram Five Finger KSO and my Mizuno Wave Universe 3 racing flats - both great shoes, but neither offering the grip nor protection needed for technical, rocky, rooty, gnarly trail running (I've got the foot bruises to prove this..). So, I've been searching for a good minimal (good ground feel, zero support, zero drop) trail shoe, mostly unsuccessfully. My wide feet make it impossible to wear the latest minimal trail running shoes like the New Balance Minimus Trail or the Merrell Trail Glove. I have even tried some of Barefoot Ted's fantastic Luna Huarache trail running sandals, but couldn't bear the toe strap on my left foot.

I was ready to give up on my quest for a minimal trail shoe, but based on the positive reviews and recommendations from folks on Barefoot Ted's Huaraches Google group, I ordered a pair of Soft Star RunAmocs.

I sent in a set of foot measurements, along with the outline of my foot and choose a custom color combination to match the school colors of my alma mater, NC State University (go Wolfpack! I'll be adding an embroidered NCSU emblem ankle patch for a truly custom look, sometime soon).

The shoes arrived over a week ago and I haven't been able to get them off my feet since.

Yeah, This is Yet Another Interweb Shoe Review

I wasn't sure what to expect with these shoes. They certainly have a "distinctive" elvish sort of style, but I'm past the age of giving a rip about what others think of my (lack of) style. The import qualities to me were Fit, Protection, Performance and Quality. Anyway, I kind of like how they look...

Fit
Well, I must say, the elves at Soft Star did a great job with my custom pair - a near perfect fit. The RunAmocs have a beautifully wide midfoot and forefoot, allowing my feet to spread and toes to splay on impact without interference. The heel area is not snug, which is difficult to adjust to coming from more traditional shoes, but I haven't noticed any problems with my heel drifting about while running, even on very technical and steep trails. The sole, and therefore the upper, on my pair are matched nicely to my foot shape, which I believe contributes to their good overall fit.

Protection
I chose the 5mm trail sole for my RunAmocs, but was concerned it might be a bit too thin for some of the nasty, rocky trails I've been running lately. Fortunately, the sole coupled with the foot bed material (a very thin leather-EVA-leather sandwich) seems to provide enough protection from sharp rocks without sacrificing too much in the way of ground feel. As a test, I ran the Company Mill Trail in Umstead State Park, which has many sections littered with sharp, quartz crystal stones, sometimes thick enough to pass for a quartz gravel bed. This trail can be flat out evil when I run it in my KSOs. Normally, I run around these sorts of rocky sections, since I've bruised my feet several times running through them in the past. This time, I purposely ran through the gnarly quartz rocks - at full speed. I expected pain. I expected loud cursing (had my favorite ones all queued up in my brain). What I got was a nice foot massage! The insole/sole combination is just enough protection to knock the sharpness off the impacts to my forefeet. I could still feel each and every rock, but the sharpness simply wasn't there. Nice! I cursed, but only with joy.

A note to anyone considering the red leather - be warned that some of the color will rub off on your socks the first few sweaty or wet runs. Don't freak out when you take them off in the locker room, like I did, thinking that your feet are bleeding. This is uncool...

Performance
Since RunAmocs aren't form fitting, I thought perhaps my foot moving about in the shoe would be a problem on steep ascents and descents. I really expected to feel unstable, perhaps even dangerous (more than usual!), on trail sections where sure footing and grip were needed. Surprisingly, the RunAmocs performed very well. After the first couple of steep hills, I actually stopped thinking about the shoes altogether and just concentrated on flow and foot placement. My foot seemed to lock into the sole during steep sections. The 5mm Vibram sole, while not up to the level of a studded/cleated trail shoe, seemed to have sufficient grip for most situations.

I did have one epic, full speed, downhill fall on the trail, where I tripped on a root, sailed through the air, rotated, and landed on my shoulder and back (on the bright side, this gave me the opportunity to practice my cursing again). But I chalked up that fall to hubris, and of course my lack of any real trail running skillz. I thought I heard Krampus and Sasquatch snickering about this in some bushes just off the trail.

Quality
It's early yet, but initial impressions of the RunAmoc are of very good quality. A quick search of the interwebs turns up folks who have put hundreds of miles on RunAmocs. I hope mine last that long. Heck, they will probably outlast my decrepit old body anyway.

If the RunAmocs wear out, or more likely, if I wear out, you'll hear it on this blog.

Catching Up with Pheidippedes

2011-02-11T21:12:00.000-05:00

This week I realized something that might seem very obvious to most people - a marathon is a very long distance. When I say I "realized" what I mean is that I understand the marathon distance from a new perspective. You see, this week I ran 16 miles on the trails of Umstead State Park, mostly just for fun, but also to prove Krampus wrong! I'm happy to report that I sent Krampus sulking back into the woods at mile 14, although he trailed me to mile 16 in hopes of once again performing his own sarcastic, pornographic version of the Riverdance as I lay cramping in agony on the trail. Not this time Krampus!

Not to say that miles 14 to 16 were easy - they were not. But running those extra two miles and pushing past my previous half marathon distance milestones, really allowed me to wrap my arms around the total marathon distance. After 16 miles, and nearly 3 hours of running, I would still have TEN more miles to run if I were running a marathon. I thought about this during the last mile back to my car. Could I ever run a marathon? Would I ever even want to run a marathon?

Am I Pheidippedes?

Not even close.

Could I be?

I'm still searching for that answer. For now, I'm just happy to be running.