YUTC 2013

September 14th was the 9th annual running of the Youngstown Ultra Trail Classic 50k race, put on by the Northeast Ohio trail running club.

I was excited for this race because I have a little history with it.  I've been running ultras for about two years and this is the first repeat race I've done.  When I ran YUT-C in 2011 I misunderstood the course and ended up doing an extra 4-mile loop.  That was awful, to say the least.  I finished the race but not without a bad taste in my mouth.  So this year I was looking for a little redemption.  We moved to the Youngstown area a few months ago so I was able to train on the race trails a lot.  I knew where I was going and what to expect but my overall training was a little lacking, so I wasn't sure how race day would unfold.  6 hours was my goal in 2011 and I decided to shoot for that again this year.  The more I race the more I learn that, for me, success on race day depends on how well I can maintain a consistent, reasonable pace.  For a 6-hour 50k that meant 11:35 min/mile.  My training runs were way faster than that but they were also a lot shorter than 31 miles.  Anyway, lots of variables and I was excited and nervous for the race.


View of the lake from the start/finish area

Race day dawned clear and cool.  The temperature at the start was in the low 40s but the sun warmed things up pretty quickly.  I wore a long sleeved technical shirt over a t-shirt at the start and knew after about a mile that it was too much...oh well.  The race starts on a stretch of road before turning and heading up a lot of narrow stairs, a recipe for some serious bottlenecking.  I tried to jump out in front to avoid that this time and it seemed to work.  Without having to wait, I headed up the stairs then turned back into the park and got on the first stretch of trail.  I settled into a pretty comfortable pace and was glad I could maintain it well enough even with the steep hills that were on that first 4-mile stretch.  And there were some good hills.  Everyone's favorite was the steep hill that you climb for 100 yards or so before maneuvering over a large fallen tree across the trail at the top.  The first two times I got over without too much trouble but the last time I literally had to roll my body over the log.  It was fun.

After a mile or two I found myself running behind a couple guys who knew each other and were talking about lots of different things.  Maybe it's a bad habit but I frequently find myself eavesdropping on others' conversations during races.  It keeps my mind busy and I'm able to cover more miles without thinking about the distance.  So I rode that train into the first aid station at the covered bridge.  Jenny was planning to meet me there sometime (covered bridge was the first 3 aid station stops) but she wasn't there yet so I just grabbed a little food, re-filled my bottle and kept going.  A little ways down the trail I found myself in a group with the two from earlier and two more runners.  The five of us kind of stuck together for most of the 4-mile loop around Lake Newport.  It was really fun to run with a group for a little bit and talk with them.  It always makes the miles go by faster.  I kept checking my pace on my fancy Garmin watch.  (Jenny gave it to me as a graduation gift in May and this was my first race with it; it was huge at helping me stay on pace)  It was a little faster than my target pace but that was okay; I knew this loop would be faster and I also planned on slowing down a little bit later in the race.  We came into the covered bridge again after the first loop around Lake Newport and I knew Jenny and the girls should probably be there this time.  Sure enough, there they were.  I know Jenny probably dreads bringing the girls to these things but she is there with them whenever she can make it.  It really is a blessing to have such a supportive wife.  I gave her my sweaty long-sleeved shirt, along with a hug and a kiss, grabbed some food and water and headed out for the second lap around Lake Newport.

The group I had been running with was split up because I loitered at the aid station but I caught up with one of the guys and ran with him for a couple miles.  We talked about adventures/challenges in parenthood and really had some good conversation.  Ultra-runners are amazing people.  We caught up with the rest of our group about 3 miles down the trail and finished the lap with them.


As I came across the covered bridge again I saw my daughter Grace running around with another girl.  I was surprised to see shy Grace making new friends, then realized the other girl was the daughter of my friend and fellow podiatry resident, Morgan. 
 
The good doctor offered to patch up any blisters but thankfully I didn't need his expertise.  I had no idea he was coming so it was really cool (and totally unexpected) to see him there with his kids.  Who knows, maybe he'll even run with me next year.   

Chatting with my podiatrist

Crossing the covered bridge



Leaving covered bridge to head back north

The next part of the race took me back up north to the start/finish area marking 25k.  About two miles away from the aid station I came up behind a guy and ran on his heels for about a mile before he started to pick up the pace.  I was fine to let him go ahead.  Turns out he was only running 25k and assumed I was too -- he didn't want me to beat him at the end.  Maybe I should have kept up with him and given him a good scare...oh well.
My legs were a little stiff but I was otherwise ok and happy to be under my goal pace at 2:55.  I got some food, drink and headed back out.  Two more big north loops to go.
This part of the race was kind of a blur.  I really don't remember much except my stomach feeling a little unsettled.  At covered bridge I drank some ginger ale and maybe that helped because it seemed to get better.  I was running behind a couple guys as we were climbing the monster hill and heard one of them say rumor had it there was no trail here until they started running the race 9 years ago.  The people making the course thought there should be more hills so they sent runners straight up a hill.  Now there's a trail there.  I don't know if that's a true or not but it makes a good story anyway.

On the lookout

Coming in to the start/finish aid station

I came into the start finish area again to see Jenny and the girls there.  I was feeling better but my pace had been slowing a little, as expected.  Still I was on pace to finish under 6 hours so I just needed to hold it a little longer.  The oranges they had at the aid station were really, really good.  It's funny how running extreme distances can change the way things taste.  I hung out for a little bit but didn't want to let my legs get stiff so, after a brief stop I headed back out for the last loop.

The plan was to run the first half maintaining my pace, then pick it up for the last half, as best I could.  As I got closer to the aid station I knew I wanted/needed a shot of soda to give me a boost.  My soda of choice when I run is Dr. Pepper, but aid stations almost never have it.  This race was no exception -- I hadn't seen it all day.  So my debate as I crossed the covered bridge was whether to go with pepsi, coke or mt. dew.  Now, it is well-known that hallucinations can happen when people run extreme distances.  The angelic singing I heard may have been just that but the pillar of light that descended upon the one cup of Dr. Pepper sitting all by itself on the aid station table was very real.   I savored every drop as I re-fueled.  With new spring in my step I leap-frogged several runners who were chatting at the aid station and hit the trail for the home stretch.
This was it and I felt pretty good so I picked up the pace and passed one runner about a half-mile out of the aid station.  I was kicking along at a pretty good pace when I heard someone coming up behind me really fast.  "What is going on?" I thought.  "How the heck is he going so freakin' fast??"  Then, as he passed me, I realized I had seen him at the aid station.  I'm pretty sure he's the course record-holder (set in 2011), so it's not surprising he blew past me.  Thankfully, he was not racing this year; just out to see friends and get some training miles in on the trails.  We actually chatted about shoes a little bit before he left me in the dust.  Nice guy, amazing runner.
At this point in the race I was checking my watch quite a bit, not for the pace, but to see when the battery would die.  It had an advertised battery life of 5 hours and was already a good half-hour past that.  Once the thing beeped at me I knew I had to hurry and finish before it died.  I was running with everything I had.  At the end of the race the course turns off the trail onto a grassy area before spitting you out on the road to come into the finish.  When I hit the grass I knew it was about a quarter mile so I really turned on the heat and "sprinted" as best I could into the finish.

 



Here are some pictures Jenny took of me coming into the finish.




See, I'm going so fast I'm blurry

I crossed the line with Jenny, Grace and Bethany cheering me on in 5:48:22, good for 21st place (out of 65 50k finishers)
The race was about as close to perfect as I could have hoped for.  Weather was absolutely perfect, aid stations were awesome, I kept on pace and finished well under my goal time.  They even had pizza and pasta at the finish line.  (Beer too, but I passed on that.)  What more could an ultra-runner ask for?

We hung out at the finish line for a while before hiking up to the parking lot. 

Countdown to YUTC 50k 2013

Well, I signed up for another race, the 2013 edition of the Youngstown Ultra Trail Classic 50k.  I ran this race two years ago so that makes it the first time I'm repeating an ultra race; that's pretty cool.  Also, it's a chance for me to redeem myself.  Last time I ran this race I ran 4 extra miles.  I'm hoping to not do that this go around.
Another cool thing about this race is that, since I now live in the Youngstown area, it is quite literally in my backyard.  The trail that is a portion of the course is exactly 0.7 miles from my house.  I run these trails all the time now that it is so accessible.  I've never done a race on such familiar terrain and I'm looking forward to it.  We'll see if it gives me any kind of advantage.  It's always nice just to know what to expect up ahead on the course.

The race is September 14, just over three weeks away.  I better get training...

Outrun 24 Hour Trail Race

This may not be the best race report but I just need to finish it.  The race was months ago.  Here goes...

On April 27th I ran my 6th ultra-marathon, the Outrun 24 Hour trail race held in Kirtland, OH.  Every race I run is full of new experiences and, although very difficult, painful and long, makes me hungry for more.  This race format was new for me -- I've never done a timed race before.  The way these races work is there is a short loop, usually about 1 mile that you run as many times as you can in the time allowance.  Sounds very boring and monotonous.  At least that's what I thought when I first heard about them.  I was not at all interested in ever doing one.  I'm still not entirely sure why I signed up for this one but I'm glad I did.  Believe it or not, I really liked the race format and I'llgive you a few reasons why:

1. Aid station access - The course was a 1 mile loop so the aid station was never more than 1 mile away.  I didn't even carry a hand-held water bottle because I just didn't need to. Very convenient.
2. Crew access - It is much more spectator/crew-friendly than a distance race.  Many ultras, you see your crew only a few times the entire race.  Not so with a 1-mile loop.  
3. Course - It is almost impossible to get lost.  I've tried it both ways and I prefer to not get lost when I race.
4. Course familiarity - After a few loops you become very familiar with the course.  I knew exactly where I wanted to walk or where I could push the pace a bit.  No surprises about what's coming up next.
5. Competitor camaraderie - After hours and hours of seeing the same people on the trail it's hard not to make a few friends and hear some cool stories.
6. Pacing - Having each mile explicitly marked made it really easy to monitor my pace and to keep an even pace, which was pretty important for me this race.

 Don't get me wrong, I love distance races too.  They are fun and challenging and the experience of  crossing the finish line at the end of an ultra-marathon distance race is indescribable.  This race was just a new experience for me and I was delighted to find I really enjoyed it.

My goal going into the race was to run at least 100k/62 miles.  My longest previous race was 50 miles (Mohican 2011, Cactus Rose 2012).  The awards offered at O24 were specific medals for 50k, 100k, and a buckle for 100 miles.  Getting a buckle would be awesome and I kept that in the back of my mind but I knew realistically that going 100 miles was a long shot.  So I decided to shoot for 100k and see how far I could go after that. 
The pace I was shooting for was 12 minute miles.  My plan was to hold that pace as long as I could, because I knew it was a do-able pace and it would get me through 100k relatively quickly and leave some wiggle room if 100 miles was still possible.  Another bonus to running 12 minute miles is that it made my math very simple; 12, 24, 36, 48, 60 -- 5 miles every hour.

Pre-race pasta dinner that Jenny made Friday night

With an 8:00 start time Saturday morning the sun was already up and it looked to be beautiful running weather. After my Green Jewel 50k race I was very thankful for that. It was a little chilly when we started -- in the low 40s -- but after a couple hours it warmed up and really was perfect weather for running.  After 26 seconds of silence for Boston, the race director gave his final instructions and we were off. 

A nice view of the start/finish area

I fell in behind a few other runners for the first few laps, not too concerned with speed as I was trying to get familiar with the course.  There was one major hill that was longer and steeper than the rest and definitely warranted walking.  It was labeled "Heartbreak Hill" with a sign.  At the top of the hill the trail turned to the left and there were a couple ups and downs before a pretty lengthy descent.  It wasn't too steep but it went on for a while before flattening out.  The downhill was nice but it forced me to run pretty fast, which was fine for a while but made it hard near the end of my race.

Just a few miles into the race

So, after 3 or 4 laps I settled in nicely to my 12 minute mile pace.  I wouldn't say I coasted but it almost felt like cruise control at times because it really was a very comfortable pace for me, so comfortable that I held it steady for a full 8 hours.  (That's when Jenny and the girls showed up and I decided I would take a little dinner break with them.)  8 hours at 12 minutes per mile meant I had run 40 miles.  Unfortunately they had a glitch in the chip-timing system earlier in the day so I wasn't given credit for all the laps I had done; I think they had me at 37.  Yes, this sucks.  And yes, I told the timing guy to fix it...3 times.  I think he gave me one or two miles back but my total distance was still probably off a little.  The problem is, after about 50 miles I lost track of how many laps I had done and didn't want to claim more miles than I had actually run.  Oh well.

Having my family come was the highlight of the race.  I sat with them and ate for probably 45 minutes or so before running again.  It was nice to be able to take a break because I knew I had all night to get my 62 miles done.  When I did start running again I knew that I would see them again about every 12 minutes.  It's hard to explain I guess, but its just nice to know that someone you love is waiting for you at the aid station. 

There was a nice little playground
not far from the start/finish area

A couple action shots here.



They both were practically begging for some of my pizza.

            

 

 

I ran probably 5 or 6 miles with my family there cheering me on and it was awesome -- the best part of the race for me, by far.  Then they went home to go to bed and I stayed to run circles in the dark.  I'll admit a tinge of jealousy there...but I still had "miles to go before I sleep." (a little poetry for you there.)

 

Saying goodnight to my Grace girl. She would go home to a warm bed and I would stay to run in the dark

After they left was the hardest part of the race for me.  It felt like I wasn't making any progress.  Part of that was the lap count discrepancy and part of it I think was that I was no longer on my 12 minute mile pace (that made it so easy to keep track of my distance).  They would periodically post an updated list of everyone's distance and I always expected to see more than it actually was.  It was tough but I knew I still had a ways to go before my goal so I just kept going as best I could.  Slowly but surely I made progress.  By now it was dark.  I had my headlamp on and wore a long-sleeved shirt again.  Many people on the race had slowed down quite a bit but I still moved at a relatively quick pace, probably because I knew my goal was getting close.
Somewhere between mile 55 and 60 the race director ran a lap with me.  This was another really cool thing about this race and the director, I had seen him throughout the day running a lap with people here and there to get to know them and encourage them.  Very, very cool.  We talked about our families and about different races we had done.   He asked if I was going to stay all 24 hours.  By this time I was definitely leaning towards leaving after 100k but I still wasn't sure.  If my body was holding up I probably would keep going...but that's a pretty big "if" after 60 miles.  Anyway, that was a fun lap.
As I came up on 60 miles I was debating whether to stay or go, once I hit 100k (62 miles).  After some internal deliberation I decided that I would run 62 miles, then get some food.  I would eat while I walked for a bit and see how I felt after that.
The last few miles of running I picked up the pace some, probably back to my 12 minute miles but my quads were really starting to burn going downhill.  I also started getting a pretty sharp pain in my left knee.  But 100k was so close I could taste it so I pushed on to "finish strong."  100k is 12 miles more than I've ever run before and I ran at a faster pace than any previous trail race so I felt pretty good about my race.  However, there was still a lot of time on the clock before 24 hours was up.
I grabbed a couple pieces of pizza and started walking.  The idea was to relax a little and rest my legs and see if I thought I should keep going or stop there.  After walking one mile I took a short break at the aid station, had a little more food and drink and set out for another lap.  This time I tried to run at a few spots but it just wasn't happening.  My legs were beat and my knee pain was not going away.  Even walking the downhills was getting hard.  I finished that lap and decided to go for one more, just in case, by some miracle, my legs came back. 
Didn't happen.  I knew my race was over.  65 miles is not bad at all.  There was a fire burning at the aid station so I hung out there for an hour or so, chatting with some people and cheering on some of the other runners.  The race director gave me my 100k medal and I headed home to get a few hours of sleep. 
Do I regret not staying the whole time?  No, not really.  I mean, of course that would have been cool and I probably could have walked up to 80 miles or so, but I knew if I stayed I would be non-functional for Sunday and I was supposed to help my wife teach our primary class at church.  If I wasn't going to get 100 miles (and I knew I wasn't) then I figured it was best to be with my family.

The morning after. My kids probably wondered what was wrong with me, why I didn't get up from the couch...  I did go to church, which thankfully wasn't til 1:00pm.

Overall, it was a fantastic race.  I was happy to get a personal record for distance and meet a ton of awesome, inspiring people.  There are lots of stories I could tell about the other people running (like the guy who ran for each of the Boston bombing victims) but you'd be better served by going to distance races yourself.  If you can't run, volunteer.  It's an awesome atmosphere and you'll meet some awesome people.

What I Think About When I'm Not Running

What do you call a runner who doesn't run?  It's not a joke; its a question.
The question probably started in February.  Early in the month I ran the Rocky Raccoon 50 mile race.  I gave myself some recovery time...or thought I did...before I started thinking that it would be cool to get into speed work and make an attempt to qualify for Boston.
March came and I found myself running a 50K, followed by a half marathon (that turned into a 15 miler) in April.  And in early May I did a 27K (about 16 miles).  These last two were full out sprints.  By the time I crossed the finish line of the 27K, I knew something wasn't right.  A couple days later, when it still hurt to walk, I admitted it: STRESS FRACTURE.

Unless you are a corporate sponsored athlete with a $500,000 budget devoted to your training there is only one cure for a stress fracture: rest.  Eight Weeks of NO RUNNING.

What do I think about when I'm not running:
1.  I wish I was running.
2.  I want to do something great with my running: I know I'm not going to the Olympics but maybe I can still do something that means something...qualify for Boston, run 100 miles...I don't know exactly what but these are two goals I want to work towards.
3.  BQ.  These two letters might mean more to avid runners than H2O means to a marine biologist.  Boston Qualifier--It comes
to this: Go Fast for a Long Time.  26.2 miles in my case in just over 3 hours.  I'm not really even close right now, which makes the goal all that more appealing.  If I can do it--it will represent dedication, hard work, effort and a huge improvement.  It will mean (in my mind) that I can set a goal and become something more than what I am today.
4.  100 Miles.  Its not as easy as it sounds.  While BQ means 3 hours of lactic torrent, 100 miles mean 24 HOURS of effort, endurance, pain management, hydration and nutrition monitoring, and relentless forward progress.  If I can do this, it will mean setting a goal and sticking to the task until it is done.

I the grand scheme of things--these two goals may not be of great importance...but if I can accomplish one or both of them, at least in my mind, it would be great.

Outrun 24 Results Tracking

UPDATE: Sorry that link below was a bust.  I should have linked the facebook page because the director posted periodic updates on there.  Anyway, here is a link to the final results, a link that actually works.
OUTRUN 24 FINAL RESULTS
Full race report coming soon.

Attention all stalkers!  For those of you interested in tracking my progress (or lack thereof) during my 24 hour run this weekend here is a link to the results page that will be periodically updated throughout the race.
Outrun 24 2013 results page
The race starts at 8am (eastern time) Saturday and ends at 8am Sunday.  You may think I'm crazy for attempting this.  I would have to agree with you.  But my name is on the list so I guess I'll show up and see what happens...  Wish me luck.  I'll need it.  24 hours is a long time to run.

Making sense of Tragedy

It is 5:46 in the morning.  I haven't slept most of the night and I just finished what turned out to be a pretty fast tempo run.  The following facts my be fuzzy...but the story is true.

4:18.  It is four o'clock in the morning.  I lay, staring back and forth from my clock to the ceiling.  Why?  Thoughts race through my head but it is all chaos.  Nothing makes sense.  4:19.

Tuesday night, I came home from work to national tragedy.  In an act of stupid sadism, someone had planted what appeared to be two homemade explosive devices at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  Why?  Having spent a great deal of time with runners, I find that there are few people more sincere in their passion for life and love for others than runners.  There is something about running that connects one with his/her surroundings and environment and brings out the best in people.  Why would someone intentionally try to hurt such a group?
And at Boston...Boston is one of the most famous marathons, prestigious because not just anyone can enter. In order to run (officially) the Boston Marathon, you must qualify by running a sanctioned marathon under a certain time.  Many runners work for years to qualify for Boston.  I, myself, have ambitions to someday qualify for Boston.  It could easily have been me running that road when the bomb exploded.
And at the finish line...where hopes and dreams become reality. Where effort and dedication and all the STUFF you work for and sacrificed for and prayed for come together...where family gathers to hold you up as you cross the determined point that says in an indescribable way: "I DID IT."  For some, this dream--what should have been a moment of great triumph--was literally blown away in an act of hate.
Why?

I grab my shoes.  There is no point in laying in bed right now tossing and turning.  I dress and step into the cold night air.  Texas in spring is very unpredictable.  Temperature this week ranged from 90 to 30.  This morning, it's closer to 30.  The cold air feels fresh against my skin and I run.  I run into the darkness trying to make sense of the chaos.

Wednesday night, I sat outside with the kids gathered around, reading scriptures like we try to do every night as a family.  I love my family more than words can express.  My greatest fear is that one of my loved ones will someday suffer in a way that I am helpless to prevent or alleviate.  I pray that God doesn't put us through that...
Without warning thunder rocked the house.  The kind of thunder that literally ROCKS the house.  Windows rattle and the whole Earth is moved slightly.  I knew there were storms in the forecast but the sky didn't look ready to rain.  I didn't understand.
What I didn't understand was that while I sat with my kids, a fertilizer plant in the town of West (about 20 miles away) exploded.  I won't go over details of what is now national news.  I have friends there.  It is very close to home.

Still shaken by the tragedy of Boston which, while not close to home, was close to my heart, I was forced to face yet a more devastating tragedy.  West, a town that is as much a part of my community as the local Wal-mart, had gone up in smoke.  No one could comprehend.  Friends missing...some dead.
Why?

I intended to fall into an easy pace and stretch the legs but was the night air filled my lungs my legs turned faster.  I needed to FEEL.  I needed my lungs to burn and my heart to burst.  I ran into the darkness--into the unknown being swallowed by the night feeling that somehow if I ran long and hard enough the confusion would melt into order.

The stars flickered above.
I ran on.
Why?
I ran on.

I wanted to pray.  To thank God that I was safe...that my family was safe.  But wouldn't that be like saying, "Thank you, God, for making others suffer...and not me."  People lost loved ones in Boston and West.  Parents lost children...children lost fathers...How could I thank God that it was them and not me?

I ran on.
Why?
Faster...Harder....Make it make sense....
Why do some die?  Why not me?  It could have been...What if it was my child...What if it was me....Maybe next time it will be...
Faster...make it make sense...

Most of those killed in West were first responders.  Firefighters, police, medical personal who were trying to save the lives of others.  The type of people you want to keep around were the ones who gave their lives.

Faster...Harder...
But no matter how fast I run, no matter how hard I push, I can't turn back time.  I can't change the past.  No one can.  And everybody dies...
I turned down the road, still running and looked to the stars.  They seemed to form an arrow pointing down the road towards home.  "This way," they beckoned.  Like the firemen.  Like the first responders.  You can't change the past; everyone will have to give their life at some point.  You can live it for yourself and lose it in the end...or you can give it to those around you.  In some heroic cases, brave men and women give their lives saving others.  You can be a hero too, the stars seemed to say.  Whether or not your life is taken in tradegy or in old age...it will someday be taken, this is certain.  And all that will be left when that day comes is the legacy you leave behind, so...
LIVE with purpose.  LOVE with passion...and GIVE your life to those who will appreciate it the most.  Spend time with family, teach those who will learn, share with those in need, Give your life away one day at a time, hour by hour, minute by minute and maybe, just maybe, it will make sense in the end.
I won't pretend to have all the answers.  But I think it's a start.

And never forget those who have already given their lives.

"Running Still Matters"

Just thought I'd share an article about running, considering Monday's horrific attack in Boston.  It's a good read, and definitely worth your time, but if you don't get around to it I'll at least share this one paragraph:

"As the numbness starts to wear off, we owe it to ourselves, to each other and to the immediate victims of the bombings to get out there and run. Even if you weren’t in Boston, have never run Boston or aren’t a marathoner. Run easy. Run hard. Run short. Run long. Run alone. Run with a group. Just run. The familiar feeling of running — even the fatigue and achiness — will help each of us return to normalcy, even if it is a decidedly new normal. Focus on the good, not the bad. Spread the joy and freedom of running and indulge on endorphins."
Here is the link to the article: "Let the Healing Begin: Running Still Matters," by Brian Metzler.

Chisholm Trail Half Marathon...and Then Some

Every once in a while, you have a great race.  Once in while, the weather is perfect, the course is fast and your body is rested, ready and willing.  Once in a while you run the perfect race.

And then, every once in while, the conditions are perfect...but it is not meant to be.

I was looking forward to running a half marathon.  It had been over a year since I raced one and I figured I was primed to break my personal record.

I tried not to think about the pain it would take to set a new PR as I ate pre-race oatmeal and laced up my lucky Inov8s.

I learned long ago the importance of a good warm up so I put in my time stretching out the legs and doing some striders.

I pushed my way to the front of the starting line.

Within seconds of the gun, I tucked comfortably behind the lead group.  I didn't want to get sucked into someone else race but the pace felt manageable   I was a little surprised to find myself in fourth place as we passed the first mile marker.

6:36.  That was fast.  But I didn't feel to horrible.  I honestly didn't know what to expect.  I was well rested, for a change, after a year of training for Ultras.  I racked up more than 1700 miles last year but most of them were done at a slow pace.  In December I set a new PR for my 5K time.  But then again I really hadn't run a bunch since my 50 mile race in February.  I figured the 6:36 pace wouldn't hold up for 13 miles but I would hold onto it as long as I could.

I found myself running alone.  I could see two of the three runners ahead of me but they were about 100-150 yards ahead.  Chances of catching them were slim but if I could just keep them in sight, they would pull me to a great time.

At three miles I knew this was my race.  I still felt strong and was easily holding a 6.47 minute mile pace.  I grabbed some water from my wife, who was working that water station, and carried on.

At about 5.5 miles I reached the turn around point.  This course was a little different from most out and back courses in that you went out and back 5.5 miles and took a 2 mile detour on the way back to end up with the 13 miles of a half marathon.

 

 As I did the turn around and headed back, I saw where I stood in the race.  There were a few runners relatively close behind me, but not so close that I was worried about being passed.  The leaders still had a good distance on me but I wasn't really running to catch them.  I was racing myself and if I could hold on--I was about to smash my previous record.

I also saw several friends and fellow Striders as I turned around.  I made it a point to cheer on the runners as we passed each other, often giving a high 5 or shouting words of encouragement.  It would cost precious energy to call out and cheer them on, but there was an emotional high that came with trying to encourage others that I knew was worth the effort.

In no time, I was back at the water station.  A huge group of runners was coming into the station, so I grabbed a cup of water to drink and one to dump on my head (it was warming up by now) and tore off down the road, rocking out to the music in my earphones.

I kept my pace strong and tried to find that balance between focus and oblivion where I could float along at a good pace with minimal effort.  I stared at the sky and inhaled the fresh air.

It was a short time later that I came upon my wife's aid station again.  I was still averaging a sub 7 minute mile pace but it required quite a bit more effort than when I last saw her.  The kids slapped my five and handed me water.  I hadn't seen the lead runners for a little while now and I was worried that my pace had dropped more than it should have.
I wasted no time at the water station but flew out barely gasping a quick "Thanx" as I followed the road.

It was then that I met my fate.

A large, white sign ahead read "10 Miles".  I knew that I had not covered 10 miles at this point.  I checked my Garmin--it confirmed.  Something was terribly wrong.  Panic flooded my brain...Surely not, I told myself, but the white sign ahead of me told no lies...I had missed a turn.

The Waco Striders hosted an Awesome race including face painting for the kis

I spun around, expressed my feeling with some choice expellatives, and ran back up the road.  I wasn't sure where the turn was that I had missed.  A small part in my brain hoped it was only a short distance, that I could still make up the lost time and with only a small amount of extra effort stay on pace to break my PR.

Such was not the case.  I had, in fact, run over a mile past the turn.  There was no alternative than to run back ANOTHER mile and pick up where I went wrong.

Well, there was an alternative: drop out.  Call it quits.  Admit I messed up big time and throw in the towel.  After all, there would be other races.  Just because I quit one race, didn't mean I was quitter...right?  Or I could have continued...I would have crossed the finish line LONG before the lead runners.  The race director and others would most likely have known that I did not run full distance...I wouldn't have tried to lie about it...I'd still get a good work out--but I would not be able to count it as a half marathon finish.  I would have to decline the finishers medal (if it was even offered)...

And that is NOT how we do things in Runner-land.  I signed up to run a half marathon...and I was going to run every step of the course even if it meant running 2 extra miles to correct my stupid mistake.  My PR was shot...not a chance in the world.  So I should shrug off the effort, run a good half and look for another opportunity to break my PR.

But that is NOT how we do things...I might not break my PR.  I might not place in my age group.  I might go from being in 4th place overall to dead-freakin-last, but I would do it at race pace--which means ALL OUT!

By the time I reached the turn I had missed, the lead runner was back on the main part of the course, which meant I was about 2 full miles behind him.  The second and third place guys were not far behind.  All of the runners I had cheered on were now ahead of me (and cheered me on as I tried to pass them).  I tried not to think about my folly but rather focus on keeping a strong pace and doing the very best I could.

My crew this day consisted of two beautiful butterflies and a ninja turtle.

With poured my soul into the race.  Fighting to keep a strong pace.  Garmin made little sense now as I glanced at the various numbers on the small screen.  The sun was hot but the wind was strong.  It's cooling sensation was nice but the cost was a substantial amount of effort to hold the pace in such a strong head wind.

The occasional dream of placing in my age group popped up...that I was somehow miraculously faster than the Olympic distance runners and could still break my PR weaved in and out.  I tried to force such thoughts out before they could do any real damage.  My reality was this: I messed up.  I would be running at least 15 miles instead of 13.  It would take every ounce of effort I could summon to hold a respectable pace and even then, would hurt a great deal before it was all over.  Still, the optimistic side of my brain fought back, you've got a great pace going and it's not a really large field...you might do something amazing out here.

I ran on.

I passed the 10 mile marker for real this time.  It felt as it the course was a solid up hill climb with the wind blowing against me.

Miles 11 and 12 came and went.  I ran on.  My legs felt like lead.  Long hot spots burned on the edges of my feet.  It's only pain, I told myself.  My shoulders ached and my head was beyond reason.

Maybe I can still pull off a sub 2 hour time...I thought.  I had long since lost the energy and capacity to do the math but it seemed like a reasonable quest.  I decided to give it run (pun intended).

I rounded the last corner and knew the finish line was only about a quarter mile away.  I pumped my arms and willed my exhausted legs to go faster.  Even though it felt like I had been running through a pile of bricks, somehow they responded.  I felt the spring in my step and leaned forward to let it carry me to the end.

I crossed the finish line in 1:52 something.  Average pace was 6:47 for the first 3.4 miles and 7:37 for the next 11.7 miles.  Had I not missed my turn, I would have turned out a 1hr 38min half marathon and beat my previous record by about 5 minutes...probably more because I could have gone faster without the added miles.
But, there's no use crying over missed turns and extra miles.  I knew, when I crossed the finish line, that I was indeed a finisher.  And that is how we do things around here.

Oh, and I did get 3rd place in my age group.

Running in a Winter Wonderland

Green Jewel 50k -- March 2nd, 2013 -- Cleveland, OH
"What?  You're running an ultra in Cleveland?  In March??" everyone asked when I told them about the race.  I basically shrugged it off saying, "It'll be alright," although I knew winter weather was a very real possibility.  So why sign up in the first place knowing it could be miserable conditions?  Here are my 2 main reasons:
1) I knew I would have plenty of free time in February to train. It was just good timing.
2) I wanted to run one more race before moving and starting residency - a "last hurrah," if you will. Green Jewel was the closest race and also the cheapest so that's the one I chose.
The week leading up to the race I poured over the weather forecast, hoping and praying that it would at least be dry.  Friday was not.  Light snow fell all day but didn't really stick so I held out hope that Saturday would be clear.  Nope.  Snow.  Again.  All day.  Awesome.  At times the snow was very light and barely noticeable; other times it was big fluffy flakes that caught on my eyelashes and melted all over me.  It really was quite pretty when it wasn't hitting me in the face. I complain about it but it could have been much, much worse.  Regardless of weather, there were 31 miles to be run and I was not about to back down.

Grace was kind of wandering around before the start...




...and wandered into this group of strangers.
Needless to say she found her way back to mom and dad pretty fast.

The course followed the Metropark's "all-purpose trail," a continuous paved asphalt path that runs through the greater Cleveland area. We started northwest in Lakewood and snaked our way south and east to finish in Brecksville. I've never run an ultra so close to home so there was definitely a different dynamic to the pre-race preparations. For example, I slept in my own bed Friday night (instead of a cheap hotel) and actually got a good nights sleep.  The starting time was 9:00am, relatively late for an ultra (they usually begin sometime between 5am and 7am) so it was nice to sleep in.  Jenny and the girls were able to take me to the starting line and watch us take off. It was very cold and I'm glad they had a warm car to get back into after all us masochistic runners took to the snow-covered path in sub-freezing temperatures.
The trail ran very near a road the entire distance so Jenny was able to get lots of pictures before, during and after the race.  


Trying to stay warm before the race starts

The race director was trying to give pre-race instructions
 but didn't have a megaphone and people wouldn't quiet down. 
I was straining to hear him but eventually gave up.

Just moments before they said "GO." I just wanted to get the blood flowing so my body could warm up.

I felt that my training going into the race would be adequate but not much more than that.  My spoken goal for the race was to finish in under 5 hours.  Based on last year's finishing times I thought that would be pretty good for me.  Secretly I was hoping to average 9 minute miles and finish in 4:41.  I thought that if I ran smart and pushed myself it was possible.  "Running smart" is always easier said than done.



And we're off.  I'm sure I was the only one wearing good old-fashioned sweat pants.  I'm just too cheap to buy the fancy pants and I'm not sold on the tights.

My plan was to think about the race as little as possible for at least the first 10 miles.  I just wanted to forget about what I was doing and jog along at a comfortable pace.  So at first I tried not to worry too much about pace or weather or anything that wasn't a serious concern...and I didn't have any serious concerns.  I met a really cool guy named Tim who said he was about to join the Navy; he was just waiting for medical clearance, a big deal for him.  As a child he almost drowned, suffered a resultant collapsed lung and was in a medically induced coma for several months.  Somehow he survived and was right here, running next to me in his first ultra-marathon.  Nothing short of miraculous and a testament to the power of mind over body.  Tons of respect for that man, and I wish him the best serving our country. 

Tim stopped for a breather after we passed through the first aid station and I kept going.  It was only mile 5, after all, and I was feeling fine.  I glanced at my watch and realized I was running faster than 8 minutes per mile.  But I felt absolutely fine so I didn't really worry about it.  I just wanted to breeze through the next five miles to the next aid station.  Aid station 2 was near the Rocky River Nature Center where Jenny and the kids would be spending their morning.  I'm very glad there was something close that was fun for them to do...because crewing for a runner certainly isn't any fun.

Here are a few pictures of the kiddos playing at the nature center while their crazy dad traipsed through the snow.

The plan was for my family to play at the nature center until I arrived at the aid station (mile 10).  They would come out, see how I was doing, if I needed anything before heading home to warm up until the last aid station at mile 24.5.  I told Jenny about what time I would be there and "Don't expect me faster than an 8 minute mile pace."  Problem was I was running a little too fast and actually beat Jenny to the aid station by a hair.  I looked around as I approached and didn't see her.  "Oh well," I thought, grabbed some pretzels and started to trot down the trail.  Just then I saw her parked across the street.  She had gotten both the girls out of the car and was trying to cross the street to the aid station.  Continuing down the trail I waved to her and yelled, "I'm doing good.  I love you." 
All I was thinking about was how fast I was going and how exciting it would be to smash my goal time.  A guy next to me said, "Wow, that's awesome that they all came out to see you in the cold."
"Yeah, they are awesome," I replied.  But then I started thinking and realized that I totally blew them off.  My wife came to support me in freezing temperatures, two toddlers in tow, and I didn't even have the decency to jog over, give them a hug and a kiss to say thanks.  It would have taken probably not more than one minute -- One minute when I was planning to be out there for 300.  I imagined how Jenny must have felt to see me just jog away, how Grace probably would've appreciated a hug too.  And, in hindsight, my body really could have used a break.  It was too late to do anything about it but I really started to get down on myself for blowing them off.  For the next few miles that's all I thought about and I resolved that the least I could do was to stick to my pace so they wouldn't be waiting long for me at our next rendezvous. Lesson learned: When you're running an ultra, take every chance you get to see your family.  Many races don't afford that luxury and you will always, always be bouyed up by their support.  Remeber that, Travis.
 

The next stop was around mile 15.  I was still feeling alright when I got there but I could tell I was starting to wear down.  The one thing I wanted at the aid stations was a banana but they didn't have any.  Oh well.  I grabbed something else, maybe more pretzels, refilled my water bottle and kept going.  For the most part I had been warm enough, dry enough (my feet were starting to get pretty wet, though) and relatively unfazed by the weather.  My body was starting to feel the effects of the distance though.  I kept running but I could feel my pace slowing and my head starting to fog.  The next aid station came and again I looked for that elusive banana. No luck; no fruit at all, actually. Instead I chose potato chips and they were very tasty.  I only ate a few because I knew how fatty they are and was concerned about nausea.  Probably should have had more to get some salt.  As I left the aid station I took advantage of a walk break and it felt very nice on my weary legs.  My prevailing thought was, "Man, I love aid stations."  I may or may not have said it out loud.  I couldn't wait to get to the next one.  My family would be there, and it would be the last stop before the finish.  Too bad it was 5 miles away. 
I kept moving, slowly but surely, hoping that the aid station would be around the next corner.  Then I looked up and saw the hill - the only notable hill on the course - and knew it must be at the top.  It was a big hill though and a long, hard walk to the top.  I was very tired and needed the boost of seeing my family.  I hoped they hadn't been waiting for me too long because it was cold and the wind had picked up a little bit since the start.  Jenny got an action shot of me dragging my body up the hill into the aid station.

Bethany was a trooper.  She was so cold just sitting there in the stroller

Grace rang a cowbell to cheer me on.

All the aid stations were awesome.  I never once refilled my water bottle because someone always did it for me.  So when I got to this one they had a lot of food that sounded good but unfortunately I didn't eat most of it because I knew it probably wouldn't sit too well in my stomach at this point.  They kept offering me stuff but I wasn't sure what would be best for my body.  Eventually, I settled on something salty and ate it while discussing the race with Jenny. 
I had made good time so far but was feeling pretty beat and I still had almost 7 miles to go.  The next stretch was on the road and Jenny was going to leap frog me and cheer me on at intervals as I went soI knew that would help.  This is where the "mind over matter" bit becomes important for distance runners.  I just had to use my brain to force my body to do what I wanted it to.  Because if it were up to my body I would have stopped or walked the rest of the way.

Just leaving the last aid station.
6.6 miles to the finish line.

Starting to run again...maybe.



My beautiful and talented crew captain, Jenny.  She had two pretty cute assistants too.

Leaving the aid station I walked for a little bit before starting to run (as seen in the pictures my beautiful wife was kind enough to take.)  This is where the cold really got to me.  While walking I was okay but once I started running again I was freezing cold.  Stopping at the aid station had allowed my body to cool off and running again created a bitter cold breeze that chilled me to the core.  My toes and part of my feet were completely numb and my hands felt like ice.  I pulled my shirt sleeve over my gloved hand but could only warm one hand at a time because the other hand held my water bottle.  My feet had slowly become saturated running through the snow all day and the wind made by running again completely numbed my toes.  The toe socks I was wearing did a great job preventing blisters but they didn't help my toes stay warm; if any blisters had popped up I wouldn't have felt it.  I was hoping and praying, literally, that I would finish the race without frostbite.  I don't know how long I froze like this but I knew if I kept running long enough things would start to warm up.  Sure enough, I did warm up but it took forever.
Jenny was able to take lots of pics of me along this last stretch because we were on the road where she could access us very easily.  It helped me to know that she was never too far.  I ran as much as I could but it was slow going.  Here are some pics.

 

 

There were a few other runners close by.  I'd like to say I was able to beat all of them but, truth be told, most of them finished ahead of me.  Not all, but most of them.  I don't feel too bad though because, as I'd later learn, one of the girls in the group ended up as the 5th female finisher.  

This last stretch included mile 26.2, the official marathon distance, and while it wasn't marked I knew a certain street would be roughly a marathon.  I've never run a marathon so I don't have a personal best time or anything but I couldn't help checking my watch as I came to the street.  4:06.  So with a little less time at the aid stations I may have been able to run a sub 4 hour marathon that day.  Not bad, I thought...even though the finish line was still 5 miles away.

After running on the road for almost 5 miles the course finally got back on the trail about 2 miles from the finish.  I picked up the pace because I was almost done...and because it was all downhill.  That helped.  I wanted to finish strong and knew I could.  I didn't know what my time was and didn't want to look.  Just. Finish. Strong. 

Jenny was able to get a few action photos here as well.

 

The sweet feeling when you near the finish line of a long race is hard to describe without experiencing it.  It's a mixture of emotions with the prevailing emotion dictated by how the race played out.  I felt good about my relatively strong finish, relieved that it was over and I could get warm, overwhelming gratitude to my amazing wife and kids, satisfaction about finishing in under 5 hours, and mostly victorious because I made it to the finish line and earned my finishers medal.

My official finishing time was 4:46:14, good for 37th place out of 134 finishers (Official results here).  Not bad at all.  

Was my race perfect?  No.  Will I ever run a perfect race?  Probably not.  But I hope I get a little better with each race I run. And someday I'll have that dream race where everything goes perfectly.  But even if that perfect race never comes I'll keep racing for the challenge and adventure of pushing my limits.  After all, that's what ultra-running is all about.