At the beginning, while I was just considering running this thing, months ago I read an article online about what type of people are attracted to running ultra marathons. It said people in their 40’s who are ex-athletes who’s athletic careers never went as far as they wanted it to seem to gravitate towards these things. And the men were usually bigger than average for runners (Like over 6 feet tall and weighing more than 200lbs). When I read this I thought… “yup, that’s me.” Weird. I wrestled back at Syracuse University as a walk-on and had all of these dreams of making it to the NCAA tournament but that never happened. I ended up “walking off” the team in my sophomore year. This always bothered me. Even up until very recently and that was over 20 years ago.
This article was the first time I’d ever heard the term “bonk”. The writer said if you bonk at mile 20 you’re screwed but if you bonk at mile 30 you can finish. I never got an actual definition of what “bonking” is but I’ve lived it many times so I’m pretty familiar with what happens.
Basically you lose all fluidity. Your body’s exhausted and your mind becomes unwilling to push hard. So you start walking. But that allows all the lactic acid to freely build up in your legs which tightens them up making everything just that much slower. The best strategy to avoid this is to run through it which means digging in and running through pain. That’s what I’ve heard. But I know what keeps me from running through it. FEAR. In my life I’ve run 26 miles or more only a handful of times. The experience is still relatively new to me. So, for example when I dehydrated last May, I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know why I became a human “coffee maker” in the port-a-potty. And that’s freakin’ scary! You start thinking something’s wrong internally… Is it my organs?? What’s going on with me?!?! Then you start saying, “Well running a race isn’t worth hurting yourself or going to the hospital,” which is completely sensible. So you start to take it easy and then you “BONK.”
From the mile 38 aid station to mile 40 some more runners caught up to me. “Lauren” (who’s name I’m still not sure of) from the “40 club” was now on pace with me. She was very nice. She wore a bandana on her head one of those spandex-type running tank tops made for women. She was running and walking, running and walking. I went back to my slow jog. We hit the top of the hill and there was another aid station. I think this was a makeshift station… I don’t know. It came up quick between mile 38 and mile 40. It seemed too close to the last one. I wasn’t complaining… more fluids.
Lauren’s support was either her husband or boyfriend. He was driving a station wagon. I told her I thought I was a little dehydrated. We started talking about the color of pee when you get dehydrated… funny what you can talk about to a complete stranger when you’re running 50 miles together… She offered me some Gatorade from her car next time he pulled up and I said no thanks because I was carrying enough water on my back. I avoided all of the non-aid station stops. I felt like I might get too comfortable with the stopping. I didn’t want to turn the last 10 miles into a never ending stop/start, walk /jog, stop/start.
I was definitely slowing down during the 30 to 40 mile stretch but for this run you could say I “bonked” somewhere around mile 40… The last 10 miles had markers which was helpful and I remember very clearly stepping over the mile 40 mark. It was the first time I’d ever run 40 miles!!! That right there was an achievement! I was jogging and I started walking so that I could get my phone out to call Liz. I dialed and Steve picked up.
“Hey” he said. I was surprised to hear his voice. He was finished! Man… He killed it! I didn’t get into any kind of discussion with him. I just told him that I was on mile 40 and slowing down and it could take me a couple more hours. That was about the extent of the conversation. My mind was getting tired… I knew that by how little I wanted to talk. I wasn’t irritated with Steve but I knew I could very easily get irritable. Its what happens when you’re mind gets tired. You can’t focus so any little thing can set you off. At least that’s what happens to me. I remember back in 2006 when Liz and I trained for the Philly marathon together I’d have these Jeckyl and Hyde moments. On one 18 mile run I was feeling really bad and she started talking about home finances to get my mind off it. As she spoke I thought, “Finances?!?! You want to talk about finances!?!?” Part of my mind was convinced she was intentionally messing with me… Like “I’m in all this pain right now and this is when we’re going to work out our future financial plan?”… I got really angry. I say “part of my mind” because there was a rational side that knew how ridiculous I was being… The impulse is very close to wanting to act out like a 3 year old having a tantrum. I didn’t snap at her or anything then. I know better than that… I just stopped running and started walking. I “bonked”.
For the final 10 miles the hills became less severe though Lauren warned that they weren’t as flat as everyone kept saying because she had a chance to do a test run on the final 15 miles earlier in the year. It was true. There would be long stretches of incline and declines ahead.
Lauren kept catching up to me and then running behind bushes to pee. I’d move on and then she’d catch me again. After a while I jumped behind some bushes to go. Nothing happened. When I came out Lauren and another man were jogging along together. Later he stopped by a mailbox to pee. It looked as if he was having the same difficulty I was… I think this was dehydration taking the form of some crazy, random running/walking/peeing dance with us. When you get dehydrated, it feels like you have to go but nothing (or very little) comes out. It’s unpleasant. None of us were really talking at this point and none of us cared about the other stopping to pee in broad daylight. Lauren was really stopping a lot though. It seemed like every time there was a bush she’d run behind it. I felt bad for her. I finally asked if she was ok and that said that it had to be annoying for her. If it was I don’t think my inquiring helped any. She said, “I’m ok.” And kept going. I may have annoyed her. I probably would have been annoyed by that. I just kept quiet from then on. We were all hurting. That was obvious.
A funny thing happens when you approach the end of a long run and you’re in the beginning stages of exhaustion. The last few miles can become torture. For me its always been the final 2 miles whenever I’ve fallen apart. Its happened to me on 18 mile runs and its happened to me on 6 mile runs. It doesn’t matter how far. Its always the last 2 miles. That tells me that even though it hurts, the mind starts making things worse and actually working against you. My theory on this is that this is some kind of survival reflex that your mind instigates in your body to get you to stop. I think that even though there is pain and you feel it, your mind actually exaggerates the pain. That’s why the fast runners can “run through the pain” as they say. There’s actually nothing wrong. You’re definitely tired and aching a bit. There’s soreness if you stop but nothing is really WRONG. Then the brain hits this point where it says, “Ok pal, enough is enough.” And it starts pouring all the pain and angst on. If you can discipline your mind enough you can actually beat the pain and feel better. I’ve done this. Steve actually helped me learn this on one of our training runs…
____________________
…It was a back-to-back-long-run weekend in the middle of the summer. I was supposed to run 22 miles on Saturday and then another 17 on Sunday. I fell apart on the Saturday run and was due to run the 17 miler with Steve the next day. I told him I was concerned that it was going to be a horrible run and that we should really take it slow. According to the training schedule we were supposed to pick up the pace on the final hour of running. This really had me worried. Especially because I’d had such a poor run the day before. I ended up walking the final 2 miles on that one.
When Steve and I set out the next day on the 17 mile run we broke it up into 3 hours We took the first 2 hours very slowly. This was by my request. It was raining buckets upon buckets of water when we started. Definitely the worst rainstorm I ever ran in. We hit the last hour of running somewhere around mile 11.
Steve worked out hard. I don’t think he ever ran as slow as he did while running with me. He told me once about the “VO2 max” (I think that’s what its called) approach to his work outs. From what I gather this is a mode of training that entails constant running to the point that you are out of breath and getting your body accustomed to maintaining that level. It gets you faster and stronger. I want to look into this further as it seemed to be really effective for Steve. My training approach was more traditional. It involved doing lots of long “taking it easy” kinds of runs. Everything I’ve ever heard or read about marathon training says that increasing speed and distance at the same time during your training is a recipe for injury. Steve is a prime example. Last year was the first he’d ever trained for a marathon and when he researched all of the training programs he skipped any beginner schedules and went straight to the intermediate ones. Once he started he said that he would push himself to run harder through the intermediate schedules. He basically ignored all the warnings and as a result he injured himself. He got a stress fracture on his leg and ended up on crutches. That’s right, he cracked a bone just by running! I never knew that was even possible. That’s why I dubbed him Steve “the Maniac” Millard. He’s an ex-marine and he’s one of the quietest guys I ever met but I learned that when I ran with him he wouldn’t stop talking. We’d go out on 30 mile runs and he’d tell me all about his job or the Marine Corps and we’d talk about life and Liz and Laura and our kids. We’d go on and on talking for 3 and 4 hour stretches. Then we’d stop running and he was back to being quiet. Steve’s a good man.
I just kept up with him. As it turned out I ran a sub 9 minute mile on mile 16. It was mile 38 on the weekend. Steve said, “that was an 8 minute 45 second mile!” I couldn’t believe it. “See? You can do it!” he said.
I think a lot of “bonking” is mental. BUT I’ll add that its not ALL mental. The pain is REAL as well. And when you hit the saturation point of lactic acid in your legs it feels like there’s drying cement slowly oozing through your veins turning your legs into two stiff pillars. Eventually you find yourself just hobbling along. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
____________________
Mile 40 also marked the end of the beautifully spectacular lake and mountain scenery. We were now hitting long stretches of road through farm land which has its own kind of appeal. It reminded me of going for runs down in Middletown, Delaware when I’d spend weekends at my cousin’s house back in high school. Just road, fields and more road. Lauren and I kept on. We lost the guy who was in our peeing dance. I don’t remember if he went ahead or fell behind… and Sarah caught up to us. This was the first I was running side by side with her since mile 6 or so. The “40 club” was reunited! We chatted a bit. But we were all tired. The conversation wasn’t strained but it wasn’t bubbly either. My thoughts were on finishing this run. I’m sure their’s were as well. Approaching was the mile 42.5 aid station.
It didn’t matter that I had “bonked” or that I was hobbling along… My spirits were high. Later, after the race I saw photos of me. People commented that I looked like I was happy and that I didn’t look tired at all. It immediately makes me think of the smile patrolman. I was happy. I was in pain but I was happy… smiling in the face of adversity… there’s no doubt in my mind that it makes the unbearable more bearable.
…One more theoretical note before I go into the final seven miles... I find it peculiar in a way that we always separate the physical and mental aspects of our existence. For instance a smile that makes pain more bearable or the fear of pain actually creating the sensation of pain… I talk about these things as if they are discoveries. But they aren’t. Why do you hug a child who skins their knee? Does a hug have any medical value to a skinned knee?.. I doubt it but being a dad, I know if my kid hurts themselves I’ll pick them up and hug them. Its an instinctual reaction. So what is the value to this? Emotions are physical. A hug helps the baby find their own comfort. We know this. If a parent left their hurt 3 year old to cry and cry and cry we might question the person’s ability to parent. I may think, “Does this person have any love inside them?” And we’d feel sorry for the child. Also, if you really put yourself into an empathetic state of mind you may even find yourself crying with the child. How cruel a world we live in that allows children to suffer. We are all suffering children. We all lose parents and friends. We all have broken hearts… if we pay attention we all know this.
While this seems a bit like a tangent I’m getting at the basic principle on which I found the motivation and drive to train for this run and to accomplish it. Put simply, it was all about taking action which is, by definition, physical. Herein lies the tie-in to Congo. But more on that later…
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Mile 38 aid station
As I said, these middle miles are a little foggy in my memory. I did the first 32 miles in 6 hours and 15 minutes which means it took me 4 hours and 45 minutes to run the last 18 miles. A note to anyone who is not a marathon runner… this is SLOW. I don’t really recall an aid station between mile 32 and mile 38 if there was one. What I do remember is descending the very steep hill that lead to the dock at the mile 38 station. It was the first time I set eyes on the lake since mile 24 or so. And I also knew that approaching this station meant I only had another 12 miles to go. For the first time in the race I knew I was going to finish…
_____________________
…I thought of Stanley again. I would run into him outside on Wayne Street in Jersey City. We used to talk for long periods of time. There were times when he saw me approaching and he’d just smile. He wouldn’t say hello. He’d just smile. It was like he was truly and sincerely happy to see me. I could see it all on his face. Stan was a published poet who had written a book of poems while he did time at Rikers Island in the sixties.
We were unlikely friends as he was about 20 years older than me and we had completely different backgrounds. When we met I was a twenty six year old white kid (still a kid in many ways) from the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware who was trying to be an artist but ended up unemployed and distressed. I graduated from Syracuse University and attended Archmere Academy for high school. Both schools were attended by Vice President Joe Biden. There was nothing about my upbringing that would cause anyone to think I struggled in any way. But in many ways and for whatever reasons, as I transitioned from a teenager to a young man I did struggle.
Stan’s life was more directly about struggle. He was a black man who grew up in the Brooklyn. He’d spent significant portions of his youth in foster care and in jail. He made money doing custodial work for a couple of the buildings in my neighborhood in Jersey City. He could have very strong mood swings and there were times when he did not want to be around anyone.
But when he was happy his smile went from ear to ear and he beamed. It was like pure joy was emanating from him. It would really light up my world. It was unique. I just don’t get that from many people… Maybe now from my kids… yes, that’s what made it so great. It was the kind of joy a kid expresses. Stan liked my sense of humor. When I would joke with him he’d laugh in hysterics, bending over and coughing from laughing so hard (he smoked a lot as well). It would make you laugh just standing next to him.
Looking back on my life, I’d say that as I grew older I tended to trust people less and less. I became more cynical. While Stan could be very cynical himself, there was something very pure and innocent about him. So when he complimented me I believed him. I met him at a very confused time in my life. I used to vent to him about how uncertain I was about everything. I was trying to be an artist and a musician. He would just say, “Look at your life, Dan. Look at the things you’ve done. Its beautiful…” When he said this I believed him. This is why Stan meant so much to me. He had an impact on me. I ended up leaving Jersey City, getting married, buying a house, having kids and all but losing contact with Stan. I spoke to him a few times in the past couple of years but since my daughter was born we spoke less and less. His health was failing and I felt like there was nothing I could do for him. Mutual friends would tell me there was, in fact, nothing I could do. The last I heard from him he left a message on my phone saying he’d heard I’d had a son. I tried calling him a number of times in the past year but I don’t know if he ever got my messages. Then I got the call that he was in a coma and dying in the hospital. It hit me like a ton of bricks. If you knew Stanley you knew he was far from perfect. And if you knew him well you loved him. He knew pain and he knew joy… He was one of the most “human” human beings I ever knew.
_____________________
…I started running down this hill and my legs felt strong again. A voice in my head went off… “12 more miles to go! I’m going to finish this!!!” All of a sudden I felt elation. This realization… I’m going to do this! I’m making this happen! I felt intense joy welling up inside me. My eyes began to tear up… again, the emotions were coming on. I shook that off… crazy stuff…
My pace quickened down the hill and I turned right and then made a quick left to the mile 38 aid station at a dock on the lake. There was a big, tall guy running away from the station heading up the 38 mile monster hill. I yelled over to him, “Looking good!” He smiled. The station was 0.2 miles in from the road we were running on. It stood at the dock which dead ended. Steve complained about this later because the course we ran was in fact about 50.3 miles and he thought the 38 mile aid station could have been on the road to cut it closer to 50 miles. I didn’t really care about this. When I arrived I looked at the man at the station table. “I’m going to finish this!” I said like a kid saying, “Look what I can do Daddy!” He said, “Yes you are going to finish it.” I drank some fluids and made my way to the port-a-potty. I looked back to see more runners approaching the station.
It was the only station on the course with a port-a-potty. This made me feel bad for the women. When you’re a man with lots of woods around, the world is your toilet!... But it’s a little tougher for the ladies.
Not to be too detailed here but when I went to the bathroom I saw that my urine was brownish. This is a sign of dehydration. I was still urinating so I wasn’t fully dehydrated but I figured that was a factor in what was slowing me down. It really floored me considering I was drinking from my Camelbak throughout the entire run. I polished off over 100 oz at this point on top of all of the drinks at the aid stations. I’m going to have to figure out what the right ratio of water to running time is. I still don’t know for sure. I thought having a hydration system on my back would eliminate any chance of dehydrating but I guess not.
It wasn’t as bad as the New Jersey Marathon was for me back in early May. During that run I felt terrific until about mile 8. Then, by mile 10 I was really hitting a serious dehydration point. When it gets bad like that your urine looks like coffee dripping from a coffee maker. That whole run was a nightmare. I spent the winter training for it in 12 degree weather and snow and then race day turned out to be the hottest day of the Spring. It hit 90 degrees. I was considering quitting at mile 13. On several occasions I ran by people being pulled off in stretchers. During these more major marathons, pacers are hired to help people hit a certain time. So for example if you wanted to run a 4 hour marathon, you would just find the pacer that was holding the 4 hour flag and follow that person. During that race, most of the pacers dropped out. They couldn’t keep their pace with the heat. It was awful. That’s when I learned my lesson on the importance of drinking fluids while you run. Hydration and blood sugar level can make an enormous difference in the outcome of a run.
…back to the ultra…
I started leaving the aid station when one of the women from the “40 club” approached. I said “Hey!” She yelled back, “Hey! Sarah’s coming up behind me!” I said, “Keep going! We’re getting there!” I ran down the road a bit and a car with an older gentleman driving it passed me, stopped and backed up to talk to me. “Hey what race is this?” he asked. I said, “It’s the Can Lake 50 mile marathon. We’re running a lap around the lake.” He looked a bit puzzled but smiled and replied, “Up and down these hills??? Wow! Good luck!” he then drove off. Up ahead coming into the road that the aid station was on came Sarah. “Hey!” I yelled because I didn’t know her name at this point, “Looking good!” I still can’t get over that her longest run to date was a half marathon. She’s a vegetarian. I’m pretty sure there’s a connection. Vegetarians just tend to lead more diet conscious, healthy lives.
I left the 38 mile aid station road, turning left and then quickly advancing on a very steep incline that twisted upward and right. This was the beginning of the monster climb at mile 38. I ran it. I was feeling good. I ran up and up and up for about a mile and then I started to think I might be blowing all of my energy so I decided to throw some walking into the mix. No one in front of me. I looked back and there was no one behind me. I felt good on this hill which was invigorating. I definitely got a second wind coming down that last hill before the station. On and on I went. The road wound up through the trees that were just starting to change for autumn. Yellows, reds, oranges and greens the whole way up. The air was clear. And the sky was blue. The day was perfect.
Now that I was starting to take on the run/walk strategy, I focused on walking quickly when I did so. I didn’t want to be doing this for 3 days. One of the fundamental principals in ultra marathon running that I learned while training is to keep moving if you can. Always keep yourself in constant motion no matter how much you begin to tire or slow down. I really kept this in my mind. I knew I was going to finish. Now I wanted to finish before the 12 hour mark. Another thing I read said that if you wanted to get an idea of what your first ultra time might be, you should take your fastest marathon time, double it, and add 2 hours. My fastest marathon was 5 hours, 36 minutes (below average). According to this theory I would be finishing in 13 hours and 12 minutes. Screw that theory!! The cut off for this race was 12 hours. If you didn’t finish within 12 hours you didn’t get an official time. I wasn’t going to go all this way only to be counted as an “unofficial time” whatever that meant. I wanted to make that cut off. Beyond finishing that was my goal.
more to come...
_____________________
…I thought of Stanley again. I would run into him outside on Wayne Street in Jersey City. We used to talk for long periods of time. There were times when he saw me approaching and he’d just smile. He wouldn’t say hello. He’d just smile. It was like he was truly and sincerely happy to see me. I could see it all on his face. Stan was a published poet who had written a book of poems while he did time at Rikers Island in the sixties.
We were unlikely friends as he was about 20 years older than me and we had completely different backgrounds. When we met I was a twenty six year old white kid (still a kid in many ways) from the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware who was trying to be an artist but ended up unemployed and distressed. I graduated from Syracuse University and attended Archmere Academy for high school. Both schools were attended by Vice President Joe Biden. There was nothing about my upbringing that would cause anyone to think I struggled in any way. But in many ways and for whatever reasons, as I transitioned from a teenager to a young man I did struggle.
Stan’s life was more directly about struggle. He was a black man who grew up in the Brooklyn. He’d spent significant portions of his youth in foster care and in jail. He made money doing custodial work for a couple of the buildings in my neighborhood in Jersey City. He could have very strong mood swings and there were times when he did not want to be around anyone.
But when he was happy his smile went from ear to ear and he beamed. It was like pure joy was emanating from him. It would really light up my world. It was unique. I just don’t get that from many people… Maybe now from my kids… yes, that’s what made it so great. It was the kind of joy a kid expresses. Stan liked my sense of humor. When I would joke with him he’d laugh in hysterics, bending over and coughing from laughing so hard (he smoked a lot as well). It would make you laugh just standing next to him.
Looking back on my life, I’d say that as I grew older I tended to trust people less and less. I became more cynical. While Stan could be very cynical himself, there was something very pure and innocent about him. So when he complimented me I believed him. I met him at a very confused time in my life. I used to vent to him about how uncertain I was about everything. I was trying to be an artist and a musician. He would just say, “Look at your life, Dan. Look at the things you’ve done. Its beautiful…” When he said this I believed him. This is why Stan meant so much to me. He had an impact on me. I ended up leaving Jersey City, getting married, buying a house, having kids and all but losing contact with Stan. I spoke to him a few times in the past couple of years but since my daughter was born we spoke less and less. His health was failing and I felt like there was nothing I could do for him. Mutual friends would tell me there was, in fact, nothing I could do. The last I heard from him he left a message on my phone saying he’d heard I’d had a son. I tried calling him a number of times in the past year but I don’t know if he ever got my messages. Then I got the call that he was in a coma and dying in the hospital. It hit me like a ton of bricks. If you knew Stanley you knew he was far from perfect. And if you knew him well you loved him. He knew pain and he knew joy… He was one of the most “human” human beings I ever knew.
_____________________
…I started running down this hill and my legs felt strong again. A voice in my head went off… “12 more miles to go! I’m going to finish this!!!” All of a sudden I felt elation. This realization… I’m going to do this! I’m making this happen! I felt intense joy welling up inside me. My eyes began to tear up… again, the emotions were coming on. I shook that off… crazy stuff…
My pace quickened down the hill and I turned right and then made a quick left to the mile 38 aid station at a dock on the lake. There was a big, tall guy running away from the station heading up the 38 mile monster hill. I yelled over to him, “Looking good!” He smiled. The station was 0.2 miles in from the road we were running on. It stood at the dock which dead ended. Steve complained about this later because the course we ran was in fact about 50.3 miles and he thought the 38 mile aid station could have been on the road to cut it closer to 50 miles. I didn’t really care about this. When I arrived I looked at the man at the station table. “I’m going to finish this!” I said like a kid saying, “Look what I can do Daddy!” He said, “Yes you are going to finish it.” I drank some fluids and made my way to the port-a-potty. I looked back to see more runners approaching the station.
It was the only station on the course with a port-a-potty. This made me feel bad for the women. When you’re a man with lots of woods around, the world is your toilet!... But it’s a little tougher for the ladies.
Not to be too detailed here but when I went to the bathroom I saw that my urine was brownish. This is a sign of dehydration. I was still urinating so I wasn’t fully dehydrated but I figured that was a factor in what was slowing me down. It really floored me considering I was drinking from my Camelbak throughout the entire run. I polished off over 100 oz at this point on top of all of the drinks at the aid stations. I’m going to have to figure out what the right ratio of water to running time is. I still don’t know for sure. I thought having a hydration system on my back would eliminate any chance of dehydrating but I guess not.
It wasn’t as bad as the New Jersey Marathon was for me back in early May. During that run I felt terrific until about mile 8. Then, by mile 10 I was really hitting a serious dehydration point. When it gets bad like that your urine looks like coffee dripping from a coffee maker. That whole run was a nightmare. I spent the winter training for it in 12 degree weather and snow and then race day turned out to be the hottest day of the Spring. It hit 90 degrees. I was considering quitting at mile 13. On several occasions I ran by people being pulled off in stretchers. During these more major marathons, pacers are hired to help people hit a certain time. So for example if you wanted to run a 4 hour marathon, you would just find the pacer that was holding the 4 hour flag and follow that person. During that race, most of the pacers dropped out. They couldn’t keep their pace with the heat. It was awful. That’s when I learned my lesson on the importance of drinking fluids while you run. Hydration and blood sugar level can make an enormous difference in the outcome of a run.
…back to the ultra…
I started leaving the aid station when one of the women from the “40 club” approached. I said “Hey!” She yelled back, “Hey! Sarah’s coming up behind me!” I said, “Keep going! We’re getting there!” I ran down the road a bit and a car with an older gentleman driving it passed me, stopped and backed up to talk to me. “Hey what race is this?” he asked. I said, “It’s the Can Lake 50 mile marathon. We’re running a lap around the lake.” He looked a bit puzzled but smiled and replied, “Up and down these hills??? Wow! Good luck!” he then drove off. Up ahead coming into the road that the aid station was on came Sarah. “Hey!” I yelled because I didn’t know her name at this point, “Looking good!” I still can’t get over that her longest run to date was a half marathon. She’s a vegetarian. I’m pretty sure there’s a connection. Vegetarians just tend to lead more diet conscious, healthy lives.
I left the 38 mile aid station road, turning left and then quickly advancing on a very steep incline that twisted upward and right. This was the beginning of the monster climb at mile 38. I ran it. I was feeling good. I ran up and up and up for about a mile and then I started to think I might be blowing all of my energy so I decided to throw some walking into the mix. No one in front of me. I looked back and there was no one behind me. I felt good on this hill which was invigorating. I definitely got a second wind coming down that last hill before the station. On and on I went. The road wound up through the trees that were just starting to change for autumn. Yellows, reds, oranges and greens the whole way up. The air was clear. And the sky was blue. The day was perfect.
Now that I was starting to take on the run/walk strategy, I focused on walking quickly when I did so. I didn’t want to be doing this for 3 days. One of the fundamental principals in ultra marathon running that I learned while training is to keep moving if you can. Always keep yourself in constant motion no matter how much you begin to tire or slow down. I really kept this in my mind. I knew I was going to finish. Now I wanted to finish before the 12 hour mark. Another thing I read said that if you wanted to get an idea of what your first ultra time might be, you should take your fastest marathon time, double it, and add 2 hours. My fastest marathon was 5 hours, 36 minutes (below average). According to this theory I would be finishing in 13 hours and 12 minutes. Screw that theory!! The cut off for this race was 12 hours. If you didn’t finish within 12 hours you didn’t get an official time. I wasn’t going to go all this way only to be counted as an “unofficial time” whatever that meant. I wanted to make that cut off. Beyond finishing that was my goal.
more to come...
Monday, October 25, 2010
The race... tiring and remembering
I stood there while he filled up my pack and looked back to see about 4 or 5 runners coming in to the station. I checked out the food table and drank some water and Heed. I looked over the food. There were M&Ms and Oreo cookies… didn’t have the stomach for that stuff. I took another small swig of Coke. The running/walking woman came up and said, “what should I drink here?” I said the Heed was good and that I wasn’t into all the candy and stuff but I DID like the Coke. “But,” I said, “I really like Coke.” She then said, “I do too.” But she didn’t take any. She had a stern look on her face as she checked out the table. I think she just grabbed some water. I was looking up the gradual incline that we were all about to climb. It turned up and went behind some trees to the right. Straight ahead was the mountain. Mile 27… I’m starting to feel it. The other runners all started moving ahead and I put my Camelbak on and headed up. I asked the guy at the station, “This is mile 27, right?” He said, “No its mile 26.” He was wrong and I knew it. So why did I ask him?... I was starting to get into my own head. I always do this when I run marathons. It makes Liz cringe. She says I psyche myself out. I think this is true. But I was catching myself doing it so when it happened I would just move on… Its supposed to hurt. Its supposed to get unpleasant. That’s what they all say about these runs and that’s exactly what was beginning for me…
Up, up, up we all climbed. The long incline would last through mile 33 and a half or so. It went slowly with lots of rolling hills. From behind me the guy from Connecticut who dreamed he ran forever came up. “Hey!” he said. “How you doing?” I asked. He seemed to be doing very well. I wanted to confirm that that station was mile 27 and he said yes but he wasn’t tracking the miles. He was paying attention to hours and what he needed to do at each point in time. Had we been eating lunch or something I may have asked him to expound on this but I wasn’t really in the place to hear someone else’s strategy while I was beginning to tire. This much was correct… I needed to get the mile count out of my head. He moved on ahead. And I kept going at my own pace.
The 5 runners that were behind me were now all in front of me. They were all running and walking and running and walking up the hills. I just kept my slow jog going. I didn’t let the fact that people were passing me bother me too much. There was 23 miles to go and I wasn’t going to let my ego ruin the second half of the run. Let them go. I ended up catching the last guy in the pack and passing him. He looked tired. A woman driving a station wagon pulled over and asked if we wanted Gatorade or anything. She was probably supporting one of the other runners. I said thanks but declined. I just left the aid station a half mile ago so I didn’t want to keep stopping. Especially if my “fatigue thoughts” were starting to work on me… Keep going… The guy behind me stopped and took a drink. That was the last I saw of him.
I kept my eyes on the runners ahead of me for this portion of the run. I kept them in my sight for about 4 miles or so before they eventually vanished behind the trees and hills up ahead. In front of me was the side of this big hill to the left that went up and up and nothing but farmland sloping down to the right where the trees started clearing out. I passed the little pond that Emily spotted in the car the day before when Steve and I toured the course with her. It probably was about 50 yards in diameter. She woke up from her nap and immediately said, “Look! A lake!” which made Steve and I chuckle. I thought of her singing to the Lightning McQueen CD. I then passed a cattle farm. There must have been about 30 cows grazing.
Up ahead the mile 32 aid station loomed. There was what looked like a small church behind a bunch of trees. After a while I made it to the station… Now according to my mental strategy, the first part of my run was over and it was a success. This had me in great spirits. Up until this point in time the longest distance that I had ever gone was 32 miles. My thought was to take a break if I needed to at mile 32 and maybe eat a “meal” like a half-sandwich or something. My stomach wasn’t up for that. I began to mentally prepare myself for the next 18 miles… or, for me, the unknown. Liz and Laura were supposed to meet me at this station but I saw no sign of them. I grabbed some Heed and water and started walking past the station. I remembered that there was a long steep hill after this that ran on for about a mile and a half. I was now feeling fatigue from the run but I still felt pretty good overall. After a few steps I heard “DAN!” from up ahead. It was Laura I think. I looked up and saw her jumping off the street and running up a short hill on the side of the road. There were some trees in the way so I didn’t see the Forerunner parked in the church parking lot.
I kept walking up the road past the lot where the truck was. Emily and Will were both running around the parking lot and Liz and Laura were running after them. I was so happy to see them and I was also worried about the kids being in the car all around this lake. It wasn’t the most ideal weekend for a 1 year old and a 3 year old. I am very grateful for my wife and kids and for “Aunt” Laura. I felt a little sad I wasn’t with them today.
They had all the goodies that I had packed… Gatorade, chocolate milk, Snickers bars, bananas, oranges… no Snickers bars. I couldn’t understand how some of the runners really like to eat that stuff during the later miles. I drank some Gatorade, ate a banana and then eyeballed the chocolate milk (Nestle Quik in the yellow bottle with the brown bunny on the label). I took a gulp and then downed the entire bottle in about 3 to 4 seconds. I don’t know why chocolate milk is so good after a run but it really is. Steve put us on to this. Its good AFTER but I wasn’t sure about DURING a run. After the last swallow I thought, “I don’t know if that was such a good idea.” Oh well.
I sat on the back of the truck for a couple of minutes and talked to the girls for a bit. They were switching modes between being my support team and managing the kids. They had a rough time navigating the route which was confusing by car and they missed Steve who was presently tearing the course up. This visit wasn’t very relaxing as I felt responsible for having to tend to my kids. I knew they had the kids covered. I just felt like I should be helping. But I had to move on... I got up and walked back out to the street. I was worried about the chocolate milk in my stomach… I hoped it wasn’t going to make me sick. I decided to walk a bit to let it digest. I looked at my watch. It was 6 hours and 15 minutes since the start. I felt that if I made 30 miles in 6 hours and was still feeling ok I’d be in good shape. This was done. I was optimistic. I reset my watch to time the last 18 miles.
The girls started getting the kids into the car and I headed off walking up the long hill with no trees on either side. There was a fruit stand in about a half mile on the left and I saw a police car stopped with the lights flashing. There was a car pulled over on the left side of the road. I wondered what this was all about for a minute but I didn’t really care much after that. I just kept walking, waiting for the right feeling to come back so that I could get back to running. My stomach was a bit off and I didn’t want to make it worse. Again I was maintaining my conservative approach.
I walked past the fruit stand and then the police car. There was some young people in the pulled-over car and then, further up the road another car was stopped. As I kept going a guy with John Lennon circular sunglasses got out of the car on top of the hill and started walking down towards the cop car. He looked like a guy from one of the aid stations. I said “hey” and kept on. He was preoccupied with the scene in front of him and I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
I took the next left and the incline continued for another quarter mile or so. The girls drove up behind me in the truck. They stopped and asked how I was. I said I was taking a little walking break and they said I was doing great and to keep going. They looked back at the kids and started chanting “Go Daddy go! Go Daddy go!” They drove off in search of Steve. I looked at my watch and realized I had walked for about 20 minutes. I needed to start running again. Finally I hit the top of the hill and started to run. I got a small burst of energy and was back into a stride. The downhill helped get me going and I started to feel better.
Running “Quiet”
This part of the run is foggy in my memory for some reason. Maybe because it was the most uncertain part of the entire run. I was worried about how I felt. I didn’t feel horrible but I didn’t feel good anymore. I wanted to finish and I was focused on anything that could have potentially prevented that. I was through two thirds of the way but there was still a long way to run.
I was at my most doubtful here but I kept going. I started to think of everything that made me decide to do this. I thought of how long I had trained… 41 weeks total. And I thought of Congo. The torture and rape of children and young females that have barely seen womanhood… all of the awful things. How there are people with such little hope. In Lisa Shannon’s book “A Thousand Sisters” Congo is said to have both the worst and the best of humanity. While there is so much tragedy, there is great hope and love as well. People with nothing take in lost and orphaned children off the dirt roads and out of the woods to try to give them a chance. I have so much. How much do I appreciate what I have? If you look at my family and my possessions you’d see that I am a king… I should run as a king…
I kept going. I thought of my friend Stan and was sad. Stan died in March and through my training I grieved him. I’d spent hours upon hours with myself running over the past 10 months. It gave me a lot of time to think about him… how we weren’t in contact very much at the end of his life. In all of this I felt every emotion I could feel. And I found that the emotions kind of just happened when I ran. Unlike when I was in conversations or even by myself, there was something about the activity of running that evoked more pure emotions… maybe it’s the rhythm that leads into various states of exhaustion. Before you know it you’re not thinking the way you normally think. I began training in December so when Stan died I had already been doing longer runs. I remember runs when I would suddenly realize that tears were streaming down my cheeks. I would quietly run. It was usually early in the morning. I was alone. Sometimes I’d miss him so much. He really had a huge impact on my life. He was far from perfect but I knew he loved me and was proud of me and I loved that. Training for the ultra allowed me to remember Stan in a very special way. I don’t think I would have grieved him as I did had I not been out on my own in so much quiet for such long periods of time. My every day life would have otherwise distracted me from this.
I then thought of Claude and Lucien. As I was fund raising for Congo I set my fund raising goal at $5000. I figured that this worked out to $100 per mile and that people could “purchase” miles. When the time came to run I made a list of the donators as it coincided with the mile that they purchased. I thought that if I didn’t reach my goal (which I didn’t – to date I had raised almost $3000), the remainder of my run would be a quiet tribute to Claude and Lucien. All except for mile 50. At mile 50 I promised myself to remember Stanley.
The first really horrific story that I read from Congo was about a family that was attacked by a militia. There were five children in this family, a mother named Generose and father named Claude. One night a militia broke into their home, murdered Claude and raped Generose in front of their children. When Generose screamed out they cut her leg off with a machete. The militia then cooked her leg on the fire and forced the children to eat it. The oldest child, Lucien, a 12 year old boy, said that they could kill him but he would not eat his mother’s leg. They shot him dead. That was Generose’s last memory before she woke up in the hospital days later.
I think of this boy, Lucien and I don’t exactly know how to describe my reaction to his story… I have many different thoughts and feelings about it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. For whatever reasons the things that didn’t used to affect me affect me now… So I quietly ran for Congo and while I did it I thought of Lucien and his father, Claude.
Up, up, up we all climbed. The long incline would last through mile 33 and a half or so. It went slowly with lots of rolling hills. From behind me the guy from Connecticut who dreamed he ran forever came up. “Hey!” he said. “How you doing?” I asked. He seemed to be doing very well. I wanted to confirm that that station was mile 27 and he said yes but he wasn’t tracking the miles. He was paying attention to hours and what he needed to do at each point in time. Had we been eating lunch or something I may have asked him to expound on this but I wasn’t really in the place to hear someone else’s strategy while I was beginning to tire. This much was correct… I needed to get the mile count out of my head. He moved on ahead. And I kept going at my own pace.
The 5 runners that were behind me were now all in front of me. They were all running and walking and running and walking up the hills. I just kept my slow jog going. I didn’t let the fact that people were passing me bother me too much. There was 23 miles to go and I wasn’t going to let my ego ruin the second half of the run. Let them go. I ended up catching the last guy in the pack and passing him. He looked tired. A woman driving a station wagon pulled over and asked if we wanted Gatorade or anything. She was probably supporting one of the other runners. I said thanks but declined. I just left the aid station a half mile ago so I didn’t want to keep stopping. Especially if my “fatigue thoughts” were starting to work on me… Keep going… The guy behind me stopped and took a drink. That was the last I saw of him.
I kept my eyes on the runners ahead of me for this portion of the run. I kept them in my sight for about 4 miles or so before they eventually vanished behind the trees and hills up ahead. In front of me was the side of this big hill to the left that went up and up and nothing but farmland sloping down to the right where the trees started clearing out. I passed the little pond that Emily spotted in the car the day before when Steve and I toured the course with her. It probably was about 50 yards in diameter. She woke up from her nap and immediately said, “Look! A lake!” which made Steve and I chuckle. I thought of her singing to the Lightning McQueen CD. I then passed a cattle farm. There must have been about 30 cows grazing.
Up ahead the mile 32 aid station loomed. There was what looked like a small church behind a bunch of trees. After a while I made it to the station… Now according to my mental strategy, the first part of my run was over and it was a success. This had me in great spirits. Up until this point in time the longest distance that I had ever gone was 32 miles. My thought was to take a break if I needed to at mile 32 and maybe eat a “meal” like a half-sandwich or something. My stomach wasn’t up for that. I began to mentally prepare myself for the next 18 miles… or, for me, the unknown. Liz and Laura were supposed to meet me at this station but I saw no sign of them. I grabbed some Heed and water and started walking past the station. I remembered that there was a long steep hill after this that ran on for about a mile and a half. I was now feeling fatigue from the run but I still felt pretty good overall. After a few steps I heard “DAN!” from up ahead. It was Laura I think. I looked up and saw her jumping off the street and running up a short hill on the side of the road. There were some trees in the way so I didn’t see the Forerunner parked in the church parking lot.
I kept walking up the road past the lot where the truck was. Emily and Will were both running around the parking lot and Liz and Laura were running after them. I was so happy to see them and I was also worried about the kids being in the car all around this lake. It wasn’t the most ideal weekend for a 1 year old and a 3 year old. I am very grateful for my wife and kids and for “Aunt” Laura. I felt a little sad I wasn’t with them today.
They had all the goodies that I had packed… Gatorade, chocolate milk, Snickers bars, bananas, oranges… no Snickers bars. I couldn’t understand how some of the runners really like to eat that stuff during the later miles. I drank some Gatorade, ate a banana and then eyeballed the chocolate milk (Nestle Quik in the yellow bottle with the brown bunny on the label). I took a gulp and then downed the entire bottle in about 3 to 4 seconds. I don’t know why chocolate milk is so good after a run but it really is. Steve put us on to this. Its good AFTER but I wasn’t sure about DURING a run. After the last swallow I thought, “I don’t know if that was such a good idea.” Oh well.
I sat on the back of the truck for a couple of minutes and talked to the girls for a bit. They were switching modes between being my support team and managing the kids. They had a rough time navigating the route which was confusing by car and they missed Steve who was presently tearing the course up. This visit wasn’t very relaxing as I felt responsible for having to tend to my kids. I knew they had the kids covered. I just felt like I should be helping. But I had to move on... I got up and walked back out to the street. I was worried about the chocolate milk in my stomach… I hoped it wasn’t going to make me sick. I decided to walk a bit to let it digest. I looked at my watch. It was 6 hours and 15 minutes since the start. I felt that if I made 30 miles in 6 hours and was still feeling ok I’d be in good shape. This was done. I was optimistic. I reset my watch to time the last 18 miles.
The girls started getting the kids into the car and I headed off walking up the long hill with no trees on either side. There was a fruit stand in about a half mile on the left and I saw a police car stopped with the lights flashing. There was a car pulled over on the left side of the road. I wondered what this was all about for a minute but I didn’t really care much after that. I just kept walking, waiting for the right feeling to come back so that I could get back to running. My stomach was a bit off and I didn’t want to make it worse. Again I was maintaining my conservative approach.
I walked past the fruit stand and then the police car. There was some young people in the pulled-over car and then, further up the road another car was stopped. As I kept going a guy with John Lennon circular sunglasses got out of the car on top of the hill and started walking down towards the cop car. He looked like a guy from one of the aid stations. I said “hey” and kept on. He was preoccupied with the scene in front of him and I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
I took the next left and the incline continued for another quarter mile or so. The girls drove up behind me in the truck. They stopped and asked how I was. I said I was taking a little walking break and they said I was doing great and to keep going. They looked back at the kids and started chanting “Go Daddy go! Go Daddy go!” They drove off in search of Steve. I looked at my watch and realized I had walked for about 20 minutes. I needed to start running again. Finally I hit the top of the hill and started to run. I got a small burst of energy and was back into a stride. The downhill helped get me going and I started to feel better.
Running “Quiet”
This part of the run is foggy in my memory for some reason. Maybe because it was the most uncertain part of the entire run. I was worried about how I felt. I didn’t feel horrible but I didn’t feel good anymore. I wanted to finish and I was focused on anything that could have potentially prevented that. I was through two thirds of the way but there was still a long way to run.
I was at my most doubtful here but I kept going. I started to think of everything that made me decide to do this. I thought of how long I had trained… 41 weeks total. And I thought of Congo. The torture and rape of children and young females that have barely seen womanhood… all of the awful things. How there are people with such little hope. In Lisa Shannon’s book “A Thousand Sisters” Congo is said to have both the worst and the best of humanity. While there is so much tragedy, there is great hope and love as well. People with nothing take in lost and orphaned children off the dirt roads and out of the woods to try to give them a chance. I have so much. How much do I appreciate what I have? If you look at my family and my possessions you’d see that I am a king… I should run as a king…
I kept going. I thought of my friend Stan and was sad. Stan died in March and through my training I grieved him. I’d spent hours upon hours with myself running over the past 10 months. It gave me a lot of time to think about him… how we weren’t in contact very much at the end of his life. In all of this I felt every emotion I could feel. And I found that the emotions kind of just happened when I ran. Unlike when I was in conversations or even by myself, there was something about the activity of running that evoked more pure emotions… maybe it’s the rhythm that leads into various states of exhaustion. Before you know it you’re not thinking the way you normally think. I began training in December so when Stan died I had already been doing longer runs. I remember runs when I would suddenly realize that tears were streaming down my cheeks. I would quietly run. It was usually early in the morning. I was alone. Sometimes I’d miss him so much. He really had a huge impact on my life. He was far from perfect but I knew he loved me and was proud of me and I loved that. Training for the ultra allowed me to remember Stan in a very special way. I don’t think I would have grieved him as I did had I not been out on my own in so much quiet for such long periods of time. My every day life would have otherwise distracted me from this.
I then thought of Claude and Lucien. As I was fund raising for Congo I set my fund raising goal at $5000. I figured that this worked out to $100 per mile and that people could “purchase” miles. When the time came to run I made a list of the donators as it coincided with the mile that they purchased. I thought that if I didn’t reach my goal (which I didn’t – to date I had raised almost $3000), the remainder of my run would be a quiet tribute to Claude and Lucien. All except for mile 50. At mile 50 I promised myself to remember Stanley.
The first really horrific story that I read from Congo was about a family that was attacked by a militia. There were five children in this family, a mother named Generose and father named Claude. One night a militia broke into their home, murdered Claude and raped Generose in front of their children. When Generose screamed out they cut her leg off with a machete. The militia then cooked her leg on the fire and forced the children to eat it. The oldest child, Lucien, a 12 year old boy, said that they could kill him but he would not eat his mother’s leg. They shot him dead. That was Generose’s last memory before she woke up in the hospital days later.
I think of this boy, Lucien and I don’t exactly know how to describe my reaction to his story… I have many different thoughts and feelings about it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. For whatever reasons the things that didn’t used to affect me affect me now… So I quietly ran for Congo and while I did it I thought of Lucien and his father, Claude.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The race (continued)
I kept going, passing a couple of people who looked like they were having some kind of garage sale which was very peculiar up here on this long winding mountain road. I kept on and began a very long decline… Down and down and down for 2 miles to the aid station at mile 17. I stopped here for the first time for about 30 seconds and grabbed a salted potato and some pretzels. I took a swig of some Heed drink that they had. Never had that stuff before but when I drank it, it felt like it was good to drink. The guy at the aid station said, “You look terrible!” I looked at him and said, “What?!” And he laughed and responded, “We keep telling everyone how great they look. I wanted to try telling someone that they looked terrible.” I then said, “Why don’t you try picking on one of those young guys. I’m 40!” He said, “If you’re 40, you ARE a young guy in this race!” I smiled and moved on. Down and down and down. I had my headphones on and was listening to my old college mix of music with lots of Police and Peter Gabriel songs (showing my age, I know). I looked at my right side and a short woman appeared. Whoah! Did NOT see her coming! I took the headphones off. We said hello. She didn’t seem intent on starting a conversation but I continued anyway. She then started talking.
Her name was Claudia and she lives in New York (actually works 2 blocks from me). She’s originally from Argentina. I told her about my cousins down there. We kept talking and she told me about her training. Everyone I spoke to seemed to have trained less than me… very strange considering a lot of them ended up passing me… uh well. I wasn’t in this to win or to break any records. I wanted to finish under 12 hours. And one of the things that really hit home after all of this was that I ended up doing exactly what I planned to do... in other words, had I planned on going harder, I believe I could have and would have. But I will get to that later. The important thing to me at this point was to accomplish my goal.
Claudia told me that she wanted to finish the run in 10 hours. She said that she had run her last marathon without really training appropriately. I just don’t understand people like this… but I’ve seen them with my own eyes. To run a marathon without training just seems like utter torture to me but a lot of people seem to do it and finish with respectable times. She seemed like one of those women who are both very sweet and very tough. We ran down the long hill quickly. And we kept on with each other from about mile 20 to the mile 22 aid station. She had a real determined intensity to her. Her eyes were on the road and she moved on and on. She had one of those Garmin-type watches that kept track of miles. I asked her about 3 times what mile we were on before I realized that I was too preoccupied with that this early in the run. I relaxed myself with this. I was beginning to feel a trace of fatigue and I didn’t want to start counting miles at mile 21. So I pushed the mile count out of my head.
At mile 22 aid station I stopped for a couple of minutes to call Liz. I took off my Camelbak to get my phone out. There was a lawn chair with one of those beer holder pouches in the arm. The people at the station brought chairs to sit down. I asked if I could take a seat for a second. “Sure, sure, go ahead!” I have to say the aid station people were fantastic… really, really great… very attentive and helpful. I sat down for about a minute while I opened up the pack to get the phone… Got it, back on my feet, dialed Liz… “Where are you?” she asked. “Mile 22” I said, “Oh wow!” she said, “You’re doing awesome!” I think she was relieved that I made it there in just over 4 hours. Knowing her she was preparing herself for the worst-case scenario. And with her imagination it probably went something like me falling off a cliff somewhere and her having to lead a search team in one of those coast guard-like helicopters with the two kids… “Thanks,” I said, “I think I’m starting to slow a little though.”
I was starting to slow down but not much at all. I still felt very strong. I was just hyper aware of how I felt and I was trying very hard to conserve energy as much as possible while still keeping a strong pace moving forward. Liz wasn’t expecting me to be going this fast so she sounded like she was scrambling a bit to see what aid station she could meet me at. We had planned on meeting up at the mile 27 marker which didn’t seem feasible at this point. So they were now going to aim for the mile 32 marker. This gave me confidence. I was exceeding expectations. I was doing well. Liz asked about the aid station. I said it was great. I was eating pretzels and salted potatoes. I told her, “I’m eating potatoes right now. Its like Thanksgiving dinner!” The folks at the aid station chuckled. Good ole’ long distance runner cornball humor. Gotta love it…
Back to the road. It began easing away from the fishing houses along the lakeside into the “middle of nowhere” part of the run. The route wound around the back of the lakeside mountains for about the next 16 miles or so… lots of trees, farm land and long stretches of road. I kept on trucking, listening to music and soaking up the scenery. After a bit another woman crept up behind me. I had exchanged a few words with her back at around mile 8 or so and went on ahead. She was a run/walker. She would run faster than me, then start walking, I would pass her, then she would run and creep up and pass me again. I think some people really like this type of running. Its like a tag team approach… not me. It drives me nuts. Nothing against this woman… we all had different approaches coming into the run. I just like to run it for as long as I can and then walk if I need it. That was my approach and I found it very effective. Later on at about mile 28 she commented that I was like the Energizer bunny… just kept going and going while others would walk and then run. There was truth to this. And its also why I didn’t really care if people passed me or not. I was in this to finish. Up until this point I had absolutely no idea what running 50 miles would feel like so I was as conservative about it as I could be.
We did the run/walk dance for about 4 or 5 turns and I finally thought, “I have to put an end to this.” So on her next run past me I sped up and stuck with her until she walked. Then I past her so that I would be far enough ahead that she would have to double-time her pace to reach me again. As I past her I saw the 25 mile marker. “We’re halfway!” I exclaimed. “Just turnaround now!” she replied.
I kept on at a pretty good pace until the mile 27 aid station. The station was at the foot of a long gradual incline that ran up the side of one of the big lake hills. I looked behind me. There was a whole group of runners following me. My pace was beginning to slow. I still felt pretty good though.
At the station I asked if they could refill my Camelbak. I noticed a woman holding a gallon of water. Then one of the men grabbed it from her, unhooked my pack, took it off me and started filling it up. “You don’t have to do all that.” I said. Too late. He was already doing it. That was really great. The aid station people were excellent the whole way through.
still more coming...
Her name was Claudia and she lives in New York (actually works 2 blocks from me). She’s originally from Argentina. I told her about my cousins down there. We kept talking and she told me about her training. Everyone I spoke to seemed to have trained less than me… very strange considering a lot of them ended up passing me… uh well. I wasn’t in this to win or to break any records. I wanted to finish under 12 hours. And one of the things that really hit home after all of this was that I ended up doing exactly what I planned to do... in other words, had I planned on going harder, I believe I could have and would have. But I will get to that later. The important thing to me at this point was to accomplish my goal.
Claudia told me that she wanted to finish the run in 10 hours. She said that she had run her last marathon without really training appropriately. I just don’t understand people like this… but I’ve seen them with my own eyes. To run a marathon without training just seems like utter torture to me but a lot of people seem to do it and finish with respectable times. She seemed like one of those women who are both very sweet and very tough. We ran down the long hill quickly. And we kept on with each other from about mile 20 to the mile 22 aid station. She had a real determined intensity to her. Her eyes were on the road and she moved on and on. She had one of those Garmin-type watches that kept track of miles. I asked her about 3 times what mile we were on before I realized that I was too preoccupied with that this early in the run. I relaxed myself with this. I was beginning to feel a trace of fatigue and I didn’t want to start counting miles at mile 21. So I pushed the mile count out of my head.
At mile 22 aid station I stopped for a couple of minutes to call Liz. I took off my Camelbak to get my phone out. There was a lawn chair with one of those beer holder pouches in the arm. The people at the station brought chairs to sit down. I asked if I could take a seat for a second. “Sure, sure, go ahead!” I have to say the aid station people were fantastic… really, really great… very attentive and helpful. I sat down for about a minute while I opened up the pack to get the phone… Got it, back on my feet, dialed Liz… “Where are you?” she asked. “Mile 22” I said, “Oh wow!” she said, “You’re doing awesome!” I think she was relieved that I made it there in just over 4 hours. Knowing her she was preparing herself for the worst-case scenario. And with her imagination it probably went something like me falling off a cliff somewhere and her having to lead a search team in one of those coast guard-like helicopters with the two kids… “Thanks,” I said, “I think I’m starting to slow a little though.”
I was starting to slow down but not much at all. I still felt very strong. I was just hyper aware of how I felt and I was trying very hard to conserve energy as much as possible while still keeping a strong pace moving forward. Liz wasn’t expecting me to be going this fast so she sounded like she was scrambling a bit to see what aid station she could meet me at. We had planned on meeting up at the mile 27 marker which didn’t seem feasible at this point. So they were now going to aim for the mile 32 marker. This gave me confidence. I was exceeding expectations. I was doing well. Liz asked about the aid station. I said it was great. I was eating pretzels and salted potatoes. I told her, “I’m eating potatoes right now. Its like Thanksgiving dinner!” The folks at the aid station chuckled. Good ole’ long distance runner cornball humor. Gotta love it…
Back to the road. It began easing away from the fishing houses along the lakeside into the “middle of nowhere” part of the run. The route wound around the back of the lakeside mountains for about the next 16 miles or so… lots of trees, farm land and long stretches of road. I kept on trucking, listening to music and soaking up the scenery. After a bit another woman crept up behind me. I had exchanged a few words with her back at around mile 8 or so and went on ahead. She was a run/walker. She would run faster than me, then start walking, I would pass her, then she would run and creep up and pass me again. I think some people really like this type of running. Its like a tag team approach… not me. It drives me nuts. Nothing against this woman… we all had different approaches coming into the run. I just like to run it for as long as I can and then walk if I need it. That was my approach and I found it very effective. Later on at about mile 28 she commented that I was like the Energizer bunny… just kept going and going while others would walk and then run. There was truth to this. And its also why I didn’t really care if people passed me or not. I was in this to finish. Up until this point I had absolutely no idea what running 50 miles would feel like so I was as conservative about it as I could be.
We did the run/walk dance for about 4 or 5 turns and I finally thought, “I have to put an end to this.” So on her next run past me I sped up and stuck with her until she walked. Then I past her so that I would be far enough ahead that she would have to double-time her pace to reach me again. As I past her I saw the 25 mile marker. “We’re halfway!” I exclaimed. “Just turnaround now!” she replied.
I kept on at a pretty good pace until the mile 27 aid station. The station was at the foot of a long gradual incline that ran up the side of one of the big lake hills. I looked behind me. There was a whole group of runners following me. My pace was beginning to slow. I still felt pretty good though.
At the station I asked if they could refill my Camelbak. I noticed a woman holding a gallon of water. Then one of the men grabbed it from her, unhooked my pack, took it off me and started filling it up. “You don’t have to do all that.” I said. Too late. He was already doing it. That was really great. The aid station people were excellent the whole way through.
still more coming...
Friday, October 15, 2010
The race...
Wake up:
I got out of bed and felt more calm than I did the night prior. “More calm” is the appropriate phrase. Not calm exactly. But I will say that I also felt confidence. I kept thinking of those stories about very well-trained soldiers being excited to go into battle and face death.
I knew I would give this a good run. I kept telling myself, “You’ve run over 1500 miles to train for this! You’re going to do it!” I also kept thinking of all of the runs I did that were over 10 miles and 15 miles. I did 45 runs that were over 10 miles since December. This was merely 5 more of those. I began to feel excitement. I WAS prepared and I knew it… The only question in my mind was whether it was going to be a good run or an ugly one. I read in an article that in a 50 mile run if you “bonk” at mile 30 you can still finish but if you “bonk” at mile 20 you won’t.
My solid goal was to keep running through mile 30 without walking. I felt that if I did this and felt crappy, I could still muster up the confidence to finish.
I started getting my things ready and got dressed. This took about 30 seconds because I had already triple-checked everything the night before. And let’s face it, there’s just not a lot to bring along when you run. Then I left my room and went upstairs to the kitchen. The place had a semi-bi-level feel with the bedrooms downstairs and the living room/kitchen area upstairs with a terrace that overlooked the lake. Its too bad I was so jacked up on adrenaline all weekend or I would have really liked to relax and enjoy the surroundings.
Steve came upstairs within about 2 minutes and immediately made coffee. We ate some oatmeal and I ate a banana and were ready to go. Next up the stairs was Laura. She would drive us to the starting line. Liz slept in with the kids. Laura took a couple of photos of us and next thing we were off in the GTI listening to Metallica (Steve’s request – fine with me).
We pulled up to the community college. Steve and Laura knew exactly where to go. We parked and the parking lot was sprinkled with a small and eccentric sub-culture of folks known to only a limited portion of the general population as “ultra-marathon runners”. From old guys with scraggly beards to middle-aged women whose bodies looked more like they’d spent past months eating boxes of cookies instead of running 18 and 30 milers on the weekends. These were the elite athletes I was to participate with… Perfect… I loved it!
There was food and stuff to stock up on… didn’t need any. Had to pee… went pee… met up with Laura outside… had to pee… went pee… why nerves make me pee I’ll never know the connection. Then we went to the starting line. Unlike any marathon or 5k I’ve been in… It was dark still and it felt like we were some group of old acquaintances waiting for a yellow school bus to go on some 30th year high school reunion ski trip.
“5 minutes to start!” yelled the race organizer. I think that was Tom… No bull horn or microphone needed. He then made some comments about having to run through some mud at the beginning of the race and to take it easy with each other saying something to the effect of “No one’s going to win this in the first two tenths of a mile…”
Laura then took a couple more pictures at the start. Steve and I turned around and said goodbye (he was going out much faster than me)… see you at the finish, brother! And we waited for the “gun” which was Tom saying “go”…
“GO!”
The Race:
Off we went, all 100 or so of us onto the campus of the college, through grass, next to fences, and stomping in muddy areas from rain the week before. The energy was high with the group. I could sense a heightened intensity from everyone. And you could hear soft murmurings of light conversations cropping up between people who don’t really know each other but have at least one very unusual thing in common… that they’re making the attempt to run 50 miles today.
I hit the mile one marker at nine minutes, forty five seconds… way too fast. I needed to calm down. So I kept an eye on my watch for the first 5 mile markers. I felt that a ten and a half to eleven minute per mile pace would keep me strong through the first 30 miles or so. After that it would be unexplored territory for me.
I hit mile two at around 20 minutes… better but I still need to slow down. Mile 3 was about 31 minutes. Perfect. Keep this pace.
I just ran right by the first two aid stations. Everyone was stopping for drinks and food already. I had my camelback filled with 100 oz of water and my “Chomps” electrolyte cubes that I began popping after mile 5. I was feeling great. The tapering down of the training runs for the previous 3 weeks worked the way it was supposed to. My legs felt like two pistons pumping on and on with no sign of letting up. I blasted through the first 13 miles feeling like I was floating on air. My confidence began to build… I’m going to do this!
Along the way I had some conversations with some folks. First I met a woman named Lauren (I think) and Sara who would later Facebook “friend” me after the race. We quickly found that the three of us were either already 40 or turning 40 in 2010. I dubbed us “the 40 club.” They stopped at one of the aid stations and I kept going. Then I met a guy from Connecticut who said that he was watching me for the past 5 miles or so and he thought my pace was really steady… I think he’d stopped at an aid station and caught back up with me… He said that for years he’d had a recurring dream where he was running forever and ever and that this was the manifestation of his dream. I was kind of fascinated by this because my motivation for doing this had so many other variables. There is a web of reasons that lead me to attempt to run this race. And this man’s dream seemed so much more simple and pure… “I dreamed of running forever. Now I am running forever…” Kind of poetic in a way. He then ran into the woods to pee.
Somewhere around miles 11 and 12 I ran up the first long incline and started coming down the long decent past the place we were staying. To my pleasant surprise I saw Liz, the kids and Laura at the side of the road cheering me on. I let out a scream, “Yeah!!!!!” And I stop, grab an orange from Liz and give the kids a kiss. Emily turns away as usual… “no Daddy, you’re all sweaty…” I can’t help it... I have to kiss her anyway… Down this road I ran with a young woman a young guy from the Jersey shore wearing a shirt that said “Smile Patrol”. They passed me when I paused to see my family.
I took the rest of the hill fast. I don’t know why it is but I tend to dominate other runners when I go down hill. Other than this one seemingly strong attribute I tend to be “below average” speed. I caught up and passed the guy and the young woman and ran alone for a mile or so. The “Smile Patrol” guy caught up to me and started a conversation. He was a very nice and up-beat guy. We chatted for a while and then hit Bopple Hill at mile 14. It was highly recommended that first time ultra runners walk the hills… After viewing the course I thought if I walked all of the hills I wouldn’t be finished running this until Christmas so not doing that… BUT Bopple Hill is the course monster as I described before so I walked this one with the Smile Patrolman. He’s from the Jersey shore. We started talking about his shirt and he said that smiling releases endorphins into your system that help you through painful experiences such as long distance running. He told the story of some female marathon record holder and how she smiles through all of her runs. Its something that I would normally think was absurd if I hadn’t read about it in “Born to Run”. Apparently the Tarahamura tribes smile through all of their 50-100 mile runs down in the mountains of Mexico. There is a beauty to this too. And this reminds me of Ghandi’s quote about how when you truly accept the pain you’re going through it transforms itself into elation.
Half way up the hill the young woman from the downhill with Liz and the kids caught up to us. We talk briefly but she seems intent on moving on a bit quicker. I later passed her only to have her pass me which went on for about 10 miles or so before she went up ahead. The smile patrolman and I almost made it to the top before we encounter an older gentleman with a shaved head walking up. The graveyard was now on the right. “How we doin?” I say. “Uhhh, I kind of feel like crap.” He says. He did look like he was struggling a bit… bad sign. Didn’t look like he was going to make it. I tried to be encouraging by yelling, “Well you’re at the top of the worst hill on the course!” Don’t think that helped much… There was a car of people at the top. “Do you need anything?” A young girl asked him. “Naw, I’m ok.” He said. The smile patrolman said, “well I think I’m going to be moving on…” “Ok,” I said, “good luck!” Off he went. And off I went… a little more slowly.
I looked down and saw mile marker 15 on the ground. I felt fantastic. I was very excited about this. My legs felt as if I hadn’t run a step. I was still feeling very fresh. It was the beginning of what was turning into a truly awesome experience. On I went up the much more gradual incline for a half mile or so and then the hill flattened out. I was alone on the run for the first time.
more to come...
I got out of bed and felt more calm than I did the night prior. “More calm” is the appropriate phrase. Not calm exactly. But I will say that I also felt confidence. I kept thinking of those stories about very well-trained soldiers being excited to go into battle and face death.
I knew I would give this a good run. I kept telling myself, “You’ve run over 1500 miles to train for this! You’re going to do it!” I also kept thinking of all of the runs I did that were over 10 miles and 15 miles. I did 45 runs that were over 10 miles since December. This was merely 5 more of those. I began to feel excitement. I WAS prepared and I knew it… The only question in my mind was whether it was going to be a good run or an ugly one. I read in an article that in a 50 mile run if you “bonk” at mile 30 you can still finish but if you “bonk” at mile 20 you won’t.
My solid goal was to keep running through mile 30 without walking. I felt that if I did this and felt crappy, I could still muster up the confidence to finish.
I started getting my things ready and got dressed. This took about 30 seconds because I had already triple-checked everything the night before. And let’s face it, there’s just not a lot to bring along when you run. Then I left my room and went upstairs to the kitchen. The place had a semi-bi-level feel with the bedrooms downstairs and the living room/kitchen area upstairs with a terrace that overlooked the lake. Its too bad I was so jacked up on adrenaline all weekend or I would have really liked to relax and enjoy the surroundings.
Steve came upstairs within about 2 minutes and immediately made coffee. We ate some oatmeal and I ate a banana and were ready to go. Next up the stairs was Laura. She would drive us to the starting line. Liz slept in with the kids. Laura took a couple of photos of us and next thing we were off in the GTI listening to Metallica (Steve’s request – fine with me).
We pulled up to the community college. Steve and Laura knew exactly where to go. We parked and the parking lot was sprinkled with a small and eccentric sub-culture of folks known to only a limited portion of the general population as “ultra-marathon runners”. From old guys with scraggly beards to middle-aged women whose bodies looked more like they’d spent past months eating boxes of cookies instead of running 18 and 30 milers on the weekends. These were the elite athletes I was to participate with… Perfect… I loved it!
There was food and stuff to stock up on… didn’t need any. Had to pee… went pee… met up with Laura outside… had to pee… went pee… why nerves make me pee I’ll never know the connection. Then we went to the starting line. Unlike any marathon or 5k I’ve been in… It was dark still and it felt like we were some group of old acquaintances waiting for a yellow school bus to go on some 30th year high school reunion ski trip.
“5 minutes to start!” yelled the race organizer. I think that was Tom… No bull horn or microphone needed. He then made some comments about having to run through some mud at the beginning of the race and to take it easy with each other saying something to the effect of “No one’s going to win this in the first two tenths of a mile…”
Laura then took a couple more pictures at the start. Steve and I turned around and said goodbye (he was going out much faster than me)… see you at the finish, brother! And we waited for the “gun” which was Tom saying “go”…
“GO!”
The Race:
Off we went, all 100 or so of us onto the campus of the college, through grass, next to fences, and stomping in muddy areas from rain the week before. The energy was high with the group. I could sense a heightened intensity from everyone. And you could hear soft murmurings of light conversations cropping up between people who don’t really know each other but have at least one very unusual thing in common… that they’re making the attempt to run 50 miles today.
I hit the mile one marker at nine minutes, forty five seconds… way too fast. I needed to calm down. So I kept an eye on my watch for the first 5 mile markers. I felt that a ten and a half to eleven minute per mile pace would keep me strong through the first 30 miles or so. After that it would be unexplored territory for me.
I hit mile two at around 20 minutes… better but I still need to slow down. Mile 3 was about 31 minutes. Perfect. Keep this pace.
I just ran right by the first two aid stations. Everyone was stopping for drinks and food already. I had my camelback filled with 100 oz of water and my “Chomps” electrolyte cubes that I began popping after mile 5. I was feeling great. The tapering down of the training runs for the previous 3 weeks worked the way it was supposed to. My legs felt like two pistons pumping on and on with no sign of letting up. I blasted through the first 13 miles feeling like I was floating on air. My confidence began to build… I’m going to do this!
Along the way I had some conversations with some folks. First I met a woman named Lauren (I think) and Sara who would later Facebook “friend” me after the race. We quickly found that the three of us were either already 40 or turning 40 in 2010. I dubbed us “the 40 club.” They stopped at one of the aid stations and I kept going. Then I met a guy from Connecticut who said that he was watching me for the past 5 miles or so and he thought my pace was really steady… I think he’d stopped at an aid station and caught back up with me… He said that for years he’d had a recurring dream where he was running forever and ever and that this was the manifestation of his dream. I was kind of fascinated by this because my motivation for doing this had so many other variables. There is a web of reasons that lead me to attempt to run this race. And this man’s dream seemed so much more simple and pure… “I dreamed of running forever. Now I am running forever…” Kind of poetic in a way. He then ran into the woods to pee.
Somewhere around miles 11 and 12 I ran up the first long incline and started coming down the long decent past the place we were staying. To my pleasant surprise I saw Liz, the kids and Laura at the side of the road cheering me on. I let out a scream, “Yeah!!!!!” And I stop, grab an orange from Liz and give the kids a kiss. Emily turns away as usual… “no Daddy, you’re all sweaty…” I can’t help it... I have to kiss her anyway… Down this road I ran with a young woman a young guy from the Jersey shore wearing a shirt that said “Smile Patrol”. They passed me when I paused to see my family.
I took the rest of the hill fast. I don’t know why it is but I tend to dominate other runners when I go down hill. Other than this one seemingly strong attribute I tend to be “below average” speed. I caught up and passed the guy and the young woman and ran alone for a mile or so. The “Smile Patrol” guy caught up to me and started a conversation. He was a very nice and up-beat guy. We chatted for a while and then hit Bopple Hill at mile 14. It was highly recommended that first time ultra runners walk the hills… After viewing the course I thought if I walked all of the hills I wouldn’t be finished running this until Christmas so not doing that… BUT Bopple Hill is the course monster as I described before so I walked this one with the Smile Patrolman. He’s from the Jersey shore. We started talking about his shirt and he said that smiling releases endorphins into your system that help you through painful experiences such as long distance running. He told the story of some female marathon record holder and how she smiles through all of her runs. Its something that I would normally think was absurd if I hadn’t read about it in “Born to Run”. Apparently the Tarahamura tribes smile through all of their 50-100 mile runs down in the mountains of Mexico. There is a beauty to this too. And this reminds me of Ghandi’s quote about how when you truly accept the pain you’re going through it transforms itself into elation.
Half way up the hill the young woman from the downhill with Liz and the kids caught up to us. We talk briefly but she seems intent on moving on a bit quicker. I later passed her only to have her pass me which went on for about 10 miles or so before she went up ahead. The smile patrolman and I almost made it to the top before we encounter an older gentleman with a shaved head walking up. The graveyard was now on the right. “How we doin?” I say. “Uhhh, I kind of feel like crap.” He says. He did look like he was struggling a bit… bad sign. Didn’t look like he was going to make it. I tried to be encouraging by yelling, “Well you’re at the top of the worst hill on the course!” Don’t think that helped much… There was a car of people at the top. “Do you need anything?” A young girl asked him. “Naw, I’m ok.” He said. The smile patrolman said, “well I think I’m going to be moving on…” “Ok,” I said, “good luck!” Off he went. And off I went… a little more slowly.
I looked down and saw mile marker 15 on the ground. I felt fantastic. I was very excited about this. My legs felt as if I hadn’t run a step. I was still feeling very fresh. It was the beginning of what was turning into a truly awesome experience. On I went up the much more gradual incline for a half mile or so and then the hill flattened out. I was alone on the run for the first time.
more to come...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Race Day Weekend
I was in no state of mind to be blogging at the end of last week and when I got to our condo on Lake Canandaigua there was no internet access anyway so I will write this entry to recall everything as best I remember.
I spent the whole week hydrating and “carbing up.” I was definitely fidgety all week long at work and the trips I made to the bathroom from all of the hydrating failed to settle my nerves at all. Thankfully I took Thursday and Friday off. Thursday evening we went up to my father-in-law’s in the Pocono mountains. The group included me, my wife, Liz, my sister-in-law, Laura, her boyfriend, Steve who would be running the ultra with me and my two kids, Emily and Will.
Friday – touring the course:
I slept well. Friday morning we were off at about 8:30am. The kids, Liz and I in our busted up Toyota Forerunner and Steve and Laura in Steve’s new red GTI. It was a 4 hour drive from the Poconos. I went to Syracuse University so I’m familiar with long drives to upstate New York in the autumn. The weather was perfect, in the 60’s. All along the way were rolling hills and mountains with the leaves all changing color… just beautiful scenery.
When we finally made it to the lake area there were little towns with fruit stands and vineyards. I was relatively relaxed considering the run was happening the next day. Then we hit Bopple Hill which I knew from the “Can Lake 50” web site that I would be running up the next morning at about 14 miles in. We came from the south so when we hit it we were at the top of the hill. It’s a very steep 0.8 mile incline which isn’t so bad. I would have to go up this hill and then run another 35 miles afterward. I then caught my first good look at the lake…
I felt my first wave of terror. There were mountains!!!... All around it! My stomach sank and I thought, “What in God’s name did I sign up for?!?!”
We continued our drive going down the hill and then up another incline for another mile or so. Then it leveled off and we quickly came to the resort where we were staying. A picturesque golf resort at the absolute perfect time of year. I tried to calm my nerves as we unpacked the truck.
It was around 1:30pm and Liz needed to run 18 miles because she’s training for the Philadelphia Marathon in November. We thought it would be a good idea for her to go out and act as a “scout” giving us an idea of what it was like. It was also nap time for the two kids so I asked Laura (who was the unsung hero of the weekend) to stay with Will while he napped and while Liz was running. Steve and I would take the truck with Emily who would fall asleep and we could tour the course. I figured it would take us about an hour and a half… I was wrong about that.
Our directions to the starting line were vague as Steve was looking at them and trying to program my uncooperative GPS. It took us about 45 minutes to actually get to the start and then to figure out where we were going to run. It was at a small community college on the lake that is presently under construction so navigating the campus was a little confusing. This wasn’t really settling my nerves. But after a 9 mile wrong turn we made it to the course. I was really getting nervous.
Then we drove it. The first 10-11 miles weren’t so bad, relatively flat. Then some long inclines passing our resort, then down again until Bopple Hill at mile 14. There’s a graveyard right at the top. Perfect for those of us runners who like corny, dark humor. Up that, turn left, up again for another half mile or so and then a huge meandering decline that lasted about 3-4 miles. My mind was digesting everything it saw. The road flattened out and we came upon some small fishing towns. We were checking off where the aid stations were… There was mile 22, next one mile 27…
Miles 20 through 27 were relatively flat as well. Then it began a very slow and rolling incline that would last another 5 miles until I hit a much steeper incline that would last until about mile 33 and a half. The road just seemed to go on and on out in the middle of nowhere. The next aid station was mile 38. It was at the bottom of a steep decline. There was a small dock and a port a potty.
From there the second worst hill went up pretty steeply for about a mile and a half. The last 10 miles looked digestible enough… Long stretches of road with long gradual inclines and declines. The race ended back at the community college.
Back home for dinner:
Emily woke up at around mile 31 of our tour so I entertained her by playing her Lightning McQueen CD and pointing to all of the cows and ponds from there on along the way. We sang and played games. She remained in good spirits.
When we made it back I realized that it had taken us 3 and a half hours to tour the course which meant poor Laura ended up baby-sitting Will after he woke up which I really wanted to avoid happening. But she was very good about it as she always is. That’s why my kids love their Aunt Laura.
Finally Liz returned from her 18 mile run and the look on her face failed to settle my nerves. I knew what she was thinking because she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. She later admitted that she was scared that I was going to kill myself up and down those hills.
Laura and Steve ended up taking off to get our race bibs and to swing by the grocery store for food. They came back and cooked a nice pasta dinner… more carbs. I admitted that I was scared and Steve said that he wasn’t. I believed him. I must say that I was excited as well. I had nervousness that I don’t usually get prior to runs. I never got nervous before either of the marathons I ran. I took this as a positive omen.
On TV the Phillies were beating up the Reds in the National League Divisional series… something that would normally have me enthralled and had me very excited. But the gravity of running 50 miles the next morning was weighing on me and I couldn’t get into the game though I watched it until the end.
Time for bed:
Before bed Liz gave me some words of encouragement and that settled me down a bit. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and got everything together… Camelback hydration pack full and ready to go, Chomps electrolyte cubes, other snacks as well, sneakers, socks, shorts, long sleeved shirt, the list of donators that I would bring with me, the course directions (don’t want to get lost out there)… yup, that’s everything! Now all I have to do is sleep… not happening. I laid there for about an hour and a half all wired up. They said this would happen to me. Finally I went out. I woke up at 4am to go to the bathroom and I was up for good looking at the clock until 5:00 which is when we said we were going to wake up.
to be continued...
I spent the whole week hydrating and “carbing up.” I was definitely fidgety all week long at work and the trips I made to the bathroom from all of the hydrating failed to settle my nerves at all. Thankfully I took Thursday and Friday off. Thursday evening we went up to my father-in-law’s in the Pocono mountains. The group included me, my wife, Liz, my sister-in-law, Laura, her boyfriend, Steve who would be running the ultra with me and my two kids, Emily and Will.
Friday – touring the course:
I slept well. Friday morning we were off at about 8:30am. The kids, Liz and I in our busted up Toyota Forerunner and Steve and Laura in Steve’s new red GTI. It was a 4 hour drive from the Poconos. I went to Syracuse University so I’m familiar with long drives to upstate New York in the autumn. The weather was perfect, in the 60’s. All along the way were rolling hills and mountains with the leaves all changing color… just beautiful scenery.
When we finally made it to the lake area there were little towns with fruit stands and vineyards. I was relatively relaxed considering the run was happening the next day. Then we hit Bopple Hill which I knew from the “Can Lake 50” web site that I would be running up the next morning at about 14 miles in. We came from the south so when we hit it we were at the top of the hill. It’s a very steep 0.8 mile incline which isn’t so bad. I would have to go up this hill and then run another 35 miles afterward. I then caught my first good look at the lake…
I felt my first wave of terror. There were mountains!!!... All around it! My stomach sank and I thought, “What in God’s name did I sign up for?!?!”
We continued our drive going down the hill and then up another incline for another mile or so. Then it leveled off and we quickly came to the resort where we were staying. A picturesque golf resort at the absolute perfect time of year. I tried to calm my nerves as we unpacked the truck.
It was around 1:30pm and Liz needed to run 18 miles because she’s training for the Philadelphia Marathon in November. We thought it would be a good idea for her to go out and act as a “scout” giving us an idea of what it was like. It was also nap time for the two kids so I asked Laura (who was the unsung hero of the weekend) to stay with Will while he napped and while Liz was running. Steve and I would take the truck with Emily who would fall asleep and we could tour the course. I figured it would take us about an hour and a half… I was wrong about that.
Our directions to the starting line were vague as Steve was looking at them and trying to program my uncooperative GPS. It took us about 45 minutes to actually get to the start and then to figure out where we were going to run. It was at a small community college on the lake that is presently under construction so navigating the campus was a little confusing. This wasn’t really settling my nerves. But after a 9 mile wrong turn we made it to the course. I was really getting nervous.
Then we drove it. The first 10-11 miles weren’t so bad, relatively flat. Then some long inclines passing our resort, then down again until Bopple Hill at mile 14. There’s a graveyard right at the top. Perfect for those of us runners who like corny, dark humor. Up that, turn left, up again for another half mile or so and then a huge meandering decline that lasted about 3-4 miles. My mind was digesting everything it saw. The road flattened out and we came upon some small fishing towns. We were checking off where the aid stations were… There was mile 22, next one mile 27…
Miles 20 through 27 were relatively flat as well. Then it began a very slow and rolling incline that would last another 5 miles until I hit a much steeper incline that would last until about mile 33 and a half. The road just seemed to go on and on out in the middle of nowhere. The next aid station was mile 38. It was at the bottom of a steep decline. There was a small dock and a port a potty.
From there the second worst hill went up pretty steeply for about a mile and a half. The last 10 miles looked digestible enough… Long stretches of road with long gradual inclines and declines. The race ended back at the community college.
Back home for dinner:
Emily woke up at around mile 31 of our tour so I entertained her by playing her Lightning McQueen CD and pointing to all of the cows and ponds from there on along the way. We sang and played games. She remained in good spirits.
When we made it back I realized that it had taken us 3 and a half hours to tour the course which meant poor Laura ended up baby-sitting Will after he woke up which I really wanted to avoid happening. But she was very good about it as she always is. That’s why my kids love their Aunt Laura.
Finally Liz returned from her 18 mile run and the look on her face failed to settle my nerves. I knew what she was thinking because she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. She later admitted that she was scared that I was going to kill myself up and down those hills.
Laura and Steve ended up taking off to get our race bibs and to swing by the grocery store for food. They came back and cooked a nice pasta dinner… more carbs. I admitted that I was scared and Steve said that he wasn’t. I believed him. I must say that I was excited as well. I had nervousness that I don’t usually get prior to runs. I never got nervous before either of the marathons I ran. I took this as a positive omen.
On TV the Phillies were beating up the Reds in the National League Divisional series… something that would normally have me enthralled and had me very excited. But the gravity of running 50 miles the next morning was weighing on me and I couldn’t get into the game though I watched it until the end.
Time for bed:
Before bed Liz gave me some words of encouragement and that settled me down a bit. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and got everything together… Camelback hydration pack full and ready to go, Chomps electrolyte cubes, other snacks as well, sneakers, socks, shorts, long sleeved shirt, the list of donators that I would bring with me, the course directions (don’t want to get lost out there)… yup, that’s everything! Now all I have to do is sleep… not happening. I laid there for about an hour and a half all wired up. They said this would happen to me. Finally I went out. I woke up at 4am to go to the bathroom and I was up for good looking at the clock until 5:00 which is when we said we were going to wake up.
to be continued...
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The ultra marathon to-do list
– fill up iPod with some new songs
– Congo conference call at 10pm
– Clean house for prospective buyers
– Pack up cars
– Send final email to friends
Things I need on trip:
o Chomps
o Gatorade
o Bananas
o oranges
o Pasta/carbs
o Nuts
o Pretzels
o Coke
o Camelbak back pack
o Running belt
o Running clothes for cold and warm and a change of clothes
o Odwala bars/peanut butter sandwich/bagel?
o Chocolate milk
o Bottled water for re-fill
o New phone
o Final list of donators
o A book
I was just reading about the Phillies in the post season and Charlie Manuel and Jayson Werth were talking about “wanting” to play… how exciting it gets… that’s how I feel now. I want to run this.
– Congo conference call at 10pm
– Clean house for prospective buyers
– Pack up cars
– Send final email to friends
Things I need on trip:
o Chomps
o Gatorade
o Bananas
o oranges
o Pasta/carbs
o Nuts
o Pretzels
o Coke
o Camelbak back pack
o Running belt
o Running clothes for cold and warm and a change of clothes
o Odwala bars/peanut butter sandwich/bagel?
o Chocolate milk
o Bottled water for re-fill
o New phone
o Final list of donators
o A book
I was just reading about the Phillies in the post season and Charlie Manuel and Jayson Werth were talking about “wanting” to play… how exciting it gets… that’s how I feel now. I want to run this.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Every day you should try to save the world… You will fail at this, but you should try to do it anyway.
Am I feeling on edge?… being self indulgent?... it doesn’t really matter.
I’m definitely feeling edgy this week. Luckily I’ve been able to sleep well. I have two concerns for the run. One is a sore left knee which really hurt about a week and a half ago but is dulling down now. The other is what feels like an impending sinus infection which I really don’t need at this point. I’m drinking fluids like mad and trying to get some much needed rest. This week is the first week in a long time that I’ve put resting in front of running. Today I was supposed to run 6 miles but I only ran 3.5 and then I walked from work to Penn Station which is roughly a mile and a half. I’ve completed the critical training. This week is the end of my tapering so I’m babying myself a bit to ensure that I’m feeling as good as possible on Saturday.
What’s been going on in my mind when I’m not running around like a madman at my job? Well, I’ve been thinking of the people who’ve sent me notes of encouragement and support. Its really been the nicest surprise out of all of this. Mostly on Facebook, I get messages from people all over giving me compliments and uplifting sentiments… people from Seattle, Chicago, Denver, Spain, Ottowa, cousins from Argentina. They say things like I’m “amazing” and “awesome”. It makes me feel self conscious. Today I was talking about it and a colleague asked, “Do you like the attention, Dan?” and I said, “yes.” Its true. I do like the attention. Do I think I’m “amazing” and “awesome?” …eh, I don’t know about all that. I will say this…
I sometimes think about people who get into trouble with their own low self-esteem and how much it can really get in the way of living a good life. You can see it all the time with people. Many times its totally obvious to all but the person themselves. I’m definitely guilty of feeling low about myself at points. In fact if you really want to get into the psychology of what I’m doing (i.e. running the 50, joining a political movement and posting all about it on the internet), you could surmise that I’m compensating for something, like some kind of inadequacy. And you’re probably right... the big lesson I’ve learned here is that it really doesn’t matter. I’ve been asked if I was trying to prove something. I think so. People have said cynically, “what?... are you trying to save the world?” Yes, I think I’m doing that too. I am trying to save the world. But I will be clear. I have no delusions of succeeding at this. I’m not insane. So if you want to take my advice, here it is:
Every day you should try to save the world… You will fail at this, but you should try to do it anyway.
And there it is. Its that simple. The “what I’ve learned from training to run 50 miles” statement.
I’m definitely feeling edgy this week. Luckily I’ve been able to sleep well. I have two concerns for the run. One is a sore left knee which really hurt about a week and a half ago but is dulling down now. The other is what feels like an impending sinus infection which I really don’t need at this point. I’m drinking fluids like mad and trying to get some much needed rest. This week is the first week in a long time that I’ve put resting in front of running. Today I was supposed to run 6 miles but I only ran 3.5 and then I walked from work to Penn Station which is roughly a mile and a half. I’ve completed the critical training. This week is the end of my tapering so I’m babying myself a bit to ensure that I’m feeling as good as possible on Saturday.
What’s been going on in my mind when I’m not running around like a madman at my job? Well, I’ve been thinking of the people who’ve sent me notes of encouragement and support. Its really been the nicest surprise out of all of this. Mostly on Facebook, I get messages from people all over giving me compliments and uplifting sentiments… people from Seattle, Chicago, Denver, Spain, Ottowa, cousins from Argentina. They say things like I’m “amazing” and “awesome”. It makes me feel self conscious. Today I was talking about it and a colleague asked, “Do you like the attention, Dan?” and I said, “yes.” Its true. I do like the attention. Do I think I’m “amazing” and “awesome?” …eh, I don’t know about all that. I will say this…
I sometimes think about people who get into trouble with their own low self-esteem and how much it can really get in the way of living a good life. You can see it all the time with people. Many times its totally obvious to all but the person themselves. I’m definitely guilty of feeling low about myself at points. In fact if you really want to get into the psychology of what I’m doing (i.e. running the 50, joining a political movement and posting all about it on the internet), you could surmise that I’m compensating for something, like some kind of inadequacy. And you’re probably right... the big lesson I’ve learned here is that it really doesn’t matter. I’ve been asked if I was trying to prove something. I think so. People have said cynically, “what?... are you trying to save the world?” Yes, I think I’m doing that too. I am trying to save the world. But I will be clear. I have no delusions of succeeding at this. I’m not insane. So if you want to take my advice, here it is:
Every day you should try to save the world… You will fail at this, but you should try to do it anyway.
And there it is. Its that simple. The “what I’ve learned from training to run 50 miles” statement.
Friday, October 1, 2010
My final weekend of training...
I can't believe I've made it this far without any major injury. Tomorrow I run 9 miles and then on Sunday another 6. I'm in a strange state. On the one hand I feel very confident that I will make the 50 mile run after all of my training. On the other I am still very nervous. I really don't know how I am going to hold up until I get out there and attempt it.
$1980.00 raised. Here's the list of the 25 contributors to date:
Mile 1 – Sally Fridy
Mile 2 – Sally Fridy
Mile 3 – Sally Fridy
Mile 4 – Sally Fridy
Mile 5 – Sally Fridy
Mile 6 – Gustavo Gutierrez
Mile 7 – Kevin Weaver
Mile 8 – Tammy Breitenbach
Mile 9 – Carlos Jimenes
Mile 10 – Krista Vasquez
Mile 11 – Thiago Da Silva(.25), Cate Cannon(.25), Simon O’Neil(.25), Hollie Goldman(.25)
Mile 12 – Melissa Ashley
Mile 13 – Tim Nudd (.3), Jill Ozovek (.2), Anne Reel (.5)
Mile 14 – Kim Rivielle
Mile 15 – Michele Foster (.5), Kevin LaCroix (.5)
Mile 16 - Jon Mester
Mile 17 - Carole Ferrari
Mile 18 - Joseph Librizzi
Mile 19 - John Nowaczyk
Mile 20 - Gina Guariglia (.25), Gustavo Gutierrez (.2), Lili & Sean Murphy (.5 miles), Amanda Powers (.35 miles)
__________________________________________________________________
Also, I was looking at the runs on my training schedule since the end of December, 2009. Here's the tallies:
- 1502 miles run so far (approx)
- 1 32 mile run (farthest run at one time)
- 5 runs that were marathon length or more
- 12 runs that were 20 miles or more
- 25 runs that were 15 miles or more
- 45 runs that were 10 miles or more
$1980.00 raised. Here's the list of the 25 contributors to date:
Mile 1 – Sally Fridy
Mile 2 – Sally Fridy
Mile 3 – Sally Fridy
Mile 4 – Sally Fridy
Mile 5 – Sally Fridy
Mile 6 – Gustavo Gutierrez
Mile 7 – Kevin Weaver
Mile 8 – Tammy Breitenbach
Mile 9 – Carlos Jimenes
Mile 10 – Krista Vasquez
Mile 11 – Thiago Da Silva(.25), Cate Cannon(.25), Simon O’Neil(.25), Hollie Goldman(.25)
Mile 12 – Melissa Ashley
Mile 13 – Tim Nudd (.3), Jill Ozovek (.2), Anne Reel (.5)
Mile 14 – Kim Rivielle
Mile 15 – Michele Foster (.5), Kevin LaCroix (.5)
Mile 16 - Jon Mester
Mile 17 - Carole Ferrari
Mile 18 - Joseph Librizzi
Mile 19 - John Nowaczyk
Mile 20 - Gina Guariglia (.25), Gustavo Gutierrez (.2), Lili & Sean Murphy (.5 miles), Amanda Powers (.35 miles)
__________________________________________________________________
Also, I was looking at the runs on my training schedule since the end of December, 2009. Here's the tallies:
- 1502 miles run so far (approx)
- 1 32 mile run (farthest run at one time)
- 5 runs that were marathon length or more
- 12 runs that were 20 miles or more
- 25 runs that were 15 miles or more
- 45 runs that were 10 miles or more
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