3 Simple Miles

The Whitney Elementary Reindeer Run is a 5K put on by our local elementary school.  I had not run a 5k all year because I wanted to focus on Ultra and Marathon distances.  But I felt a responsibility to support running in my local community so I signed up.  I had a secret goal that I didn't really want to verbalize because I wasn't sure it was possible...a sub20 5K.

For those of you who don't speak Runner, let me explain.  First of all, a 5k is 3.1 miles.  It is a crumb of a bite sized race when compared to the 26 mile marathon (and let me state here a 5K is NOT a marathon and calling a 5k a marathon in the presence of a runner is equivalent to dropping the F bomb in a kindergarten class) or 50 - 100 mile ultra marathon.

Not to belittle the 5K.  It can be a REALLY tough race because it is so short compared to the marathon, a 5k is more like a sprint than a distance run.  Yeah, you try sprinting 3 miles and tell me how easy it is.  I have seen plenty experienced runners cross the finish line and lose their breakfast.

Sub 20 refers to time in minutes. 

My fastest 5k to date was 20:04.  I ran that in July of 2011 on a perfectly flat course and after doing speedwork all summer.  I wasn't really sure that I could go any faster.  I felt totally wasted after that race and knew that I had give it my all.  The thought of tapping some unknown resource that would help me go even faster was unfathomable. 

Let's do the math: To run a sub-20 5k I would need to drop 5 seconds from my fastest time.  I knew from tempo runs I could run a 7 minute mile for at least 5 miles and feel pretty good...But if I carried three 7 minute miles, I was 1 minute over my goal.  My fastest miles were about 6:20.  If I could hold a 6:30 pace for 3 miles I would come in at 19:30 (plus 0.1 miles). 

Yeah, it sounds a lot easier than it is. I worked out several scenarios: 3 miles at 6:30; first mile at 7, second at 6:30, last mile at 6 flat (like that was going to happen); 2 miles at 6:30 and a 7 (much more likely but I would have to shave seconds off the last mile to keep it under 20 minutes). 

Two things I figured: 1--it was probably possible.  2.  It would hurt like crazy.

My training was mostly focused on Ultramarathon preparation.  I did a 50 mile race in October and had back to back Marathons coming up at the end of December.  Not to say that I didn't blast out a few fast miles, but for every mile of speedwork I did, there were about 20 miles of plodding along--teaching my body to keep going mile after mile no matter how slow.  Would the accumulation of all those slow miles do me any good in a 3 mile sprint?

In my favor were:
1. Weather: the weather was a cool 55 degrees.  Just about perfect for racing.
2.  I had a Batman Shirt.  Honestly, how can you go wrong with Batman?
3.  Pacers: I didn't have pacers but there were 2 kids from the High School Cross country team running.  I knew they would go under 20 Minutes.  If I could keep up with them, I would make it to.  (Before the race started I asked one of them what his goal was.  When he replied, "I'm going to shoot for 17 minutes," I decided keeping up with them might not be such a good idea.)

I jogged 3 miles to warm up then did striders to stay loose and get my legs ready for the real running.  I told myself (as all runners do) that the world wouldn't end if I didn't go under 20 minutes but (as most runners do) I didn't really believe it.

We lined up on the starting line.  I pushed my way to the front...not that I'm a jerk (maybe I am) but I was going for a RACE here; I couldn't afford to lose precious seconds behind the joggers and kids that hadn't truly paid the dues to be at the front of the starting line. 

The horn sounded; it was as if a gunshot rang out from behind us and the crowd surged forward with the momentum of a derailed freight train.  Four of us quickly dropped the crowd and it became painfully evident who the runners were.  Three of the guys were from the cross country team (the two I expected and one more).  I drafted behind the main group, knowing that I could not possibly beat them but hoping they might drag me to a PR.  At about a half mile I glanced at my Garmin and almost gasped when I saw that we were on pace to do a 5:34 mile.  I had never done a mile faster than 6 minutes...Don't think about the pace, I told myself, just follow those t-shirts.

And that's what I did.  It was shortly after the first mile that one of the 3 cross country kids slowed and I passed him.  The two that I knew were fast shared the lead.  It was about this point last year that I faltered and they dropped me.  This year I held steady until about mile two.  By this point I was totally spent.  I didn't even have the energy to flip my wrist up and check out time/pace.  The boys pulled up to a 10 then 20 yard lead.  I could her the PE teacher (who was riding in the vehicle leading the way) shouting at me to hurry, that I could still catch them.  I willed my legs to spin faster but nothing happened.  The best I could do now was hold on and hope it was enough.

We rounded the corner off the street into the school parking lot.  There was about 600 yard to go.  My brain shrieked, "ENOUGH ALREADY! Just coast in...there will be other races to set a PR."  I thought about the agony of the last 2.5 miles.  Was that all to be wasted?  No Way, Brain, I argued.  We go hard to the end--then you can kill me if you want.

I pumped my arms to keep my pace as fast as possible, gasping for air.  My vision blurred as I leaned into the last turn.  Just through the chute.  I grit my teeth and gave the rest of me over the race.

Someone was calling for me to come back...they needed my race bib or something.  It didn't matter.  The race was run and I needed to find a trash can to throw up in.  I waved my hand in acknowledgement and waited for my vision to come back, gasping for air and savoring the sweet, satisfying ache of having given it my very best. 

My time?  What was my time, I suddenly remembered that I had set a goal.  I looked at the clock.  Stared for a moment to try and register what I saw and then nodded with a pride I felt only a few times in my life.

19:05.
I not only set a PR, and broke the 20 minute barrier but KILLED my previous time.  It was enough to earn 3rd place overall, behind the cross country kids (and in front of a few).

So now there is question in my mind: what will happen next year when I focus on speed training?

Brutally Beautiful

 Cactus Rose is one of, if not the toughest races in Texas.  Runners chose between 50 and 100 miles of the toughest terrain The Great State has to offer.

The Race Doc begins: "WELCOME… to the Texas Hill Country: where everything Stings, 

Scratches, or Bites. The name CACTUS ROSE seems so appropriate for this 

event. Where Pain accompanies Beauty."

Travis and I looking extra chipper for 4 AM

If you have never seen the start of an ultra marathon...try to imagine a group of 6 year old kids coming in from Trick-or-treating on Halloween without any restraints on the sugar intake.  You see, ultra runners, when training for a race, generally run anywhere from 50 to 100 miles a week.  Sometimes more.  But a couple weeks before the race...we taper.  That means we drastically reduce our weekly mileage (in order to conserve energy for the race) and the result is a bunch of obsessively healthy freaks with more energy than they have had for MONTHS.  It's great.

For years I had dreamed of this moment.  My first 50 mile race.  I had done smaller Ultras before and sure I knew there were bigger fish to fry and hills to climb but for the time being...this was it.  I was entering a new world in the running community.  A world that most runners don't even dare to admit exist, much less attempt.  But here I was shivering in the dark with a head lamp on at 4:30 in the morning.

Mom and Dad made the much acknowledged sacrifice of arising from a warm bed at the obscene hour of 3:00 AM to drive us to the starting line.  Travis, my smart and speedy brother, shared a PBJ with me as we drove.  He would be enduring the next 12 - 14 hours with me.  I didn't know if he already knew or not, but after about 25 miles...I tend to develop something of an attitude problem.

 The first twenty-five miles passed in relative ease.  The terrain was difficult, as expected, but somehow running in the dark seemed to minimize the degree of difficulty.  We had covered 15 miles by the time the sun came up. I was grateful for the cooler temperatures (the high that day was in the low 60's) because rattle snakes don't come out much when its cold.

Sotol Cactus

Sotol Cacti covered the trail in some places to the point that it was like running through needles.  There was nothing to do but grit your teeth and take the plunge.  There was blood, as promised.  The trail was rocky. And Travis and I focused on making Relentless Forward Progress, one step at a time.  

Blood trickled down our legs after running through the cacti

We had told our wives (who would be assuming the role of crew chiefs for the day) that they should try to sleep in, enjoy the hotel breakfast and let the kids take it easy for as much of the morning as possible before coming to the race site.  We would be fine, we told them, for the first few miles.  But we made better time than we anticipated and by mile 25 (half way), I could tell Travis was anxious to see some support and some of the food they would bring.

We came through the trees into the aid station at mile 30.  Neither of us said it but we were on the verge of trouble.  One of the most critical aspects of ultra running is eating enough calories to keep your body moving for hours at a time.  I guesstimate that my body burns 1000 calories for every 8 miles I run.  That means that at this point, I had smoked almost 4000 calories and even though my head was a little fuzzy, I was pretty sure the peanut butter sandwich I shared with Trav that morning was a little under that.

Much to our relief, as we came out of the trees and into the clearing that housed our water stop, there stood Mindi and Jenny along with the kids and Mom and Dad.  It was one of many high points for the day.  They came with food and gatoraid which we gladly accepted.  We visited with them for several minutes.  Mindi commented, "I like this! Usually when we see you at aid stations, you're in and out so fast we don't get more than a few words in.  You're actually talking with us here."
I replied, "On other races, this would be the finish line....not the halfway mark."

Hobbled.
Not a word I usually like to use when I describe my running but in this case, it is probably the most accurate.

I hobbled.

I hobbled into the aid station, sat down at a table and grimaced.

It sounds so...lame...so unadventurous...so everything I hope to NOT be.  Nevertheless, it is the truth.  I hobbled into the aid station, sat down and grimaced.  On any other day I would be elated to know that I had run 35 miles.  Today, however, all I could think about was the next 15 long and arduous miles that lay ahead.

I sat and grimaced as those around me scurried about.  Questions were asked such as, "What can we do for you?" and "What would you like to eat?"  I couldn't really answer because my mind was occupied by two more pressing concerns: (1.)  Don't throw up; and (2.)  Don't freak out.  If I could achieve these two task (which was no small feat), the rest would sort itself out.

This was the most difficult point of the race.  My knees were aching with every step...especially going down the steep hills.  While most ultra runners chose to walk up the hills to conserve energy I was forced to walk down the hills and run up them.

Travis being a good Dad after running 35 miles

We came to fork in the trail and a sign that said "Start/Finish Line" with an arrow pointing to the right.  We were close.  I have always been a believer in big finishes so I took off sprinting as fast as my exhausted body would allow.  I sprinted for what felt like a half mile (it wasn't nearly that far but it felt much worse).  It's just around the next corner, I would tell myself, keep this pace until the next corner and you'll see the finish line.  But it never seemed to come.  Just when I thought I could hold the sprint no more, the trees cleared and I could see the colored flags lining the way toward the finish line.  With Travis right beside me, we charged...

Travis had previously done a 50 mile race and he was trying to beat his previous time.  We did it by about 5 minutes.

12 hours 48 minutes.  A PR for guess who!!!

I could not have done it without Travis.  We was a great support and a good companion on the trail.  Nor could I have done it without the support of my family and parents.  Everytime I look at my CR 50 Medal, I think of stotal cacti, rocks, steep hills, aching feet and knees, and I thank God for the good people who got me through it.

Cactus Rose 50 Mile Race

On October 27th I got a chance to do something I had never done before - run an ultra-marathon with my brother.  It was a blast.  This isn't really going to be a proper race report but my wife took a bunch of pictures so I wanted to at least post some of them.  Jason writes better race reports than me anyway, so I'll give you the reader's digest version of our experience running the Cactus Rose 50 mile race.

The race was put on by a Texas running group called "Tejas Trails" and it was located in the heart of Texas Hill Country.  I don't think the pictures show any of the hills or rocky terrain but it was a beast of a race in both of those regards.
The race started at 5:00am and it was kind of in the middle of nowhere.  We stayed at a hotel that was almost an hour away.  Mom and Dad (who flew in from Idaho to visit and support us in our crazy endeavor) were kind enough to drive us down to the start/finish line in the morning.  A huge thank you to them for doing that and letting our wives and kids sleep in.
Jason and I muscled through the first 30 miles or so on our own before being surprised by our world-class crew.  We really weren't sure when or where they would be meeting us so we were pleasantly surprised to see them at one of the less-frequented aid stations. 

 

They basically saved us by showing up when they did.  We were low on fuel and Jason's knee was giving him grief.  Things were starting to get rough and it would have been brutal to go on without aid at this point.   In the previous ultra-races I've done I have never had family support mid-race so it was extra special to see my wife and kids and parents along with Jason's family there to give us food, love and a kick in the pants to keep going.

One of the best aid station volunteers ever!

 

I didn't dare sit down here because I knew it would take a lot of work to get up again.  If you've ever run this far you know how painful it is to get your legs running again after a long rest.  It takes a good 20-30 steps of hobbling before you can actually call it running.  We probably looked pretty funny as we started down the trail again.

The kids seemed tostay entertained alright most of the time.  Of course, Jenny and Mindi might tell you otherwise.

 This next pic is at the Equestrian aid station.  It was kind of the main hub when it came to stops so we had most of our things there. Our crew was very good at getting us to eat and drink when we came through, even when we didn't really feel like it.

Off we go again, hobbling away from Equestrian.

 

Our crew was the best.  They were so supportive and helpful.  They came to meet us at one of the outlying aid stations again in these pictures here.  I'm sure it wasn't easy for them, especially carting the kids around but it made a world of difference for us. 

You might think that carrying a 3 year old for 50 yards in the middle of a 50 mile race would not be appealing but it really gave me a huge boost to have Grace meet me on the trail coming in to this aid station.  She was the best little pacer ever. 

This next pic is out of place.  It is from an earlier aid station but I wanted to show again how awesome our crew was.  You can see one of the signs that Jenny made for us and all our support signed.  I wish I had a better picture of it.  She set it out on the table for a while too so all the runners could be encouraged by it.  Very cool. 

Here's the finish.  We were going along the trail when we saw the sign pointing us to the start/finish area.  That meant we were relatively close.  Just how close, I wasn't sure but Jason took off like the ground was on fire so I did my best to keep up.  I still have no idea how he was able to run that fast after running so far.  To be honest, I didn't think I could keep it up all the way to the finish, but somehow I did.  Thanks to Jason for pulling me along.  I definitely would not have finished like that had I been on my own. 

When we go within sight of the actual finish line we tossed our hand-held water bottles off to the side.  The kids thought that was pretty cool.

On the official results we finished with the exact same time: 12:48:03 but Jason did beat me by a nose.  He deserved it after his sprint at the end.  That finishing time was good enough to place 54th and 55th out of 128 total 50 mile finishers.  Not bad in my book.  I told him during our last couple miles that I wanted to beat my Mohican time from last year of 12:54 and he made sure I did. 

Here we are with our amazing crew/family.  I'll say it a million times, we could not have done it without them.  Its a nice saying and all but I mean that in the most literal sense.  Thank you, thank you to our extraordinary support team.