It's a metaphor, fool.

I read something once that discussed, evolutionarily, why we run (why we do any activity of heavy exertion or focus, really), basing it on an inherent need to find strife and struggle in our modern, mundane, first world. Basically, life is too easy so we invent problems...just so we can solve the problems we invented.

Running, for most of us, is a constant.  I've you've been running regularly for long enough--be it months or years--eventually the act becomes habit. I've never felt the "runner's high," but I have felt newfound peace after a day spent alone in the woods with only my thoughts to keep my company. I love, I cherish ultrarunning because even now, 39 races later, I can find new meaning in familiar places. Running is a metaphor for life, and the converse is true as well. Any run can apply to this, but some do so better than others.

I signed up for Bighorn 50 in January and told a few friends even that day that I planned to win. I've never won anything before, but after a frustrating finale to running at the hypothermic Bear 100 in 2016 and for the first time since I trained for Western States in 2014, I wanted a real goal that required effort to succeed. I toyed with the idea of aiming for the record, though thankfully conditions on race day did not allow any even feigned attempt at that mark, as I think trying for it would have cost me the win.

Anyway, let's get back to the metaphor. Prior to my very first ultra, and long before we became good friends, the venerable Eric Grossman gave me the most trite yet sage wisdom: it doesn't always get worse. The light at the end of the tunnel, the rainbow after the storm, whatever you will; it doesn't always get worse. I camped at the 50 mile start line Friday night with my friend Chrissy, who was also running the 50 mile, so as to see several friends turn around there in the 100 mile race that started that morning and to avoid an abhorrent 1:45 wake-up call for the bus to the start line. On Friday, tracing our way westward along the course, the weather was stellar: blue skies and a little cool (55-60 degrees at Dry Fork compared to 85+ last year). However, as if summoned, as we turned off the highway toward the Jaws trailhead for the night, the rain began. It rained, and it rained, and then it eased off slightly for 20 minutes with a brief lightening of the cloud hues to the west, teasing us, and then it rained some more. It rained as the lead men came through and stayed nearly 30 minutes in the aid station fighting hypothermia, it rained as the only friend I managed to see before my bedtime, Colleen, came in cold but casual halfway through her first hundred. It rained as we broke down our pop tent. It was not raining when we woke up at 4 am for race morning, but by 4:45, the rain had begun again. By the time we stood at the parking lot edge listening to the race director announce "these are [sigh] the worse trail conditions we've seen in the 25 years of the race," sleet was falling.
My friend Leonard, who had paced a friend up in the night to drive my car back to town after we started, told me that afternoon he woke up at 7:30 am to a fresh 3 inches of snow on the car. It doesn't always get worse. 

The director said the magic words and we started running down the road into unknown levels of mud. A group of three of us settled in together as we transitioned to the initial notoriously boggy singletrack that crests the short climb from Jaws. For that first mile, the bogs felt familiar. "It's this muddy every year" I thought. Then we crested the short climb and began the 16 miles of descent to Footbridge. I glanced up searching for a view and fell. Then I fell again. I reache to change songs on my iPod and fell. I shot a glance to gauge my distance to the second aid station and fell. That time I slide a couple feet face first, somehow unhooking the safety pins of my bib and leaving it in the mud. After taking the time to repin my now illegible number, I fought with all my might to stay upright two more miles just to misstep and go down again. Finally I wandered off trail to fertilize some trees and collect myself. I stays there until I had calmed down; being this frustrated 8 miles into 50 could not bode well. It doesn't always get worse. If anyone feels the need to peruse my Strava data, you can actually see the succinct shift from mile nine to mile ten. From then to Footbridge at mile 18, I spent my energy on control, restriction. Staying comfortable and, more importantly, upright. A day later, my arms and core are just as sore and tender as my legs from the work staying upright. Seeing Julia Combs nearly at the aid station was a breath of fresh air and I think our hug was what we both needed then. Seeing Crewmaster Rush Combs at Footbridge, shouting my name through the toothbrush wedged in his mouth, was a much needed relief. The coke he filled my bottle with was even better.

The climb from footbridge to the Bear Camp aid station is notorious at 2,300 feet of gain in about four miles. Last year, at the torrential Rut 50k, I discovered after a certain threshold of muddiness, running provides more purchase than hiking. In a hiking gait, you find yourself precariously tiptoeing upward, placing far too little weight on each footfall. Running by definition places all your weight onto every footfall. Though much more energy intensive, the trade-off is there to run instead of hike if you do not mind the risk of burning out the engine. And, if the fitness is there, the engine only requires enough gasoline to keep burning. I bumped up my food consumption on the climb and afterward to keep the fire going, filling my bottle with coke at every aid station and eating whatever looked best off the table (mostly cheez-its and bacon), being sure to take in a cup or two of caloried fluid before leaving any aid station. I passed who I found of after the race to be Ryan Burch (in the early morning miles, I was paying too much attention failing to stay upright to have any idea who was around me) before both Bear Camp and Cow Camp aid stations only to see him ahead of me not long after leaving, having passed me as I stood around stuffing my face.

The start times for the four Bighorn races (100M, 52M, 32M, 18M) are set up so that runners finish in the park in Dayton, Wyoming throughout the day Saturday. This means that, starting at the furthest away point, we spent the day catching up to the tail end of the other three races. It also meant that I did not know for certain that I was leading (or that I had won) until I checked the results thirty minutes after finishing. I passed people of various distances with obscured bib numbers, many of whom were running very well, and I did not know if they were in my race or not. At Dry Fork, with 18 miles remaining, enough people told me I was the first 50 miler there that I had confidence in the idea, but then several people running around my pace up the road from the aid station that I was again uncertain and knew not to ease up. Plus, somehow, thankfully, the mud significantly eased after Dry Fork, allowing for some actual running. I had told myself leading up to the race, and reminded myself on the slight descent into Upper Sheep Gulch, that if I was leading or even within striking distance when I began the ridiculous 3,500 foot descent to the finish line, I could actually win the damn thing. I trust my ability to beat my quads into submission late in a race; that is one skill I have at very least. I ran down the road to town (a magical road that seems to trend uphill even though it traces a river downstream) as best I could into a solid headwind, and crossed the finish line relieved. I had atually done the thing. I set a goal, made a plan, and even with the universe throwing a wrench into everything, I got it done. Scrolling through results, this is my slowest 50 mile time since 2012 when Mountain Masochist had two feet of wet snow on course, and yet it's the first time I've won.

Somewhere in the narrative I might have lost the metaphor. Sometimes life knocks you down. Sometimes you fall in the mud. Sometimes you fall again and cut yourself, and then fall again to get mud in the wound, but you are not sure if you fell in mud or cow shit, and you feel bad enough that you don't really care which. But if you put your head down and trudge forward, focusing on the little things and taking care of yourself, doing your best to simply stay upright, it won't always get worse. Doing your best ever is irrelevant if your best on the day is what you need. The clouds clear, the sun comes out, and you just keep running.

HUGE thanks to Salomon for providing me with shoes (Sense 6 Softground) that did their best to help in the worst mud I've ever run through and with shorts that held all my goodies through the day.

Hellgate 2014: Drive

I decided a year ago, nearly to the day, that regardless of circumstance I would run Hellgate in 2014.  It is a very special race--this gets said quite a bit in the weeks surround the event but that may just be the best way to describe Hellgate simply.  I skipped last year in order to crew Rudy and end my year a little earlier than normal after my focus on the Mountain Masochist 50 Mile in November.  Watching the race unfold that night and day, driving along the parkway with good friends, I decided I would come back this year, and possibly every year from then on. Hellgate simply has some special atmosphere about it that is nothing short of intoxicating.

The course is the brainchild of Dr. David Horton, and in trying to describe it to some friends (of varying levels of attachment to the sport and even just mountains) I came to the following few conclusions:

• Years after he could not create the exact Mountain Masochist course he wished (The gnarly Appalachian Trail section from the James River to the Tye River, he discovered the subtly brutal Glenwood Horse Trail
• The entire event is designed to be as difficult as possible. It starts at midnight. The climbs are road; the descents are tight, rocky trail barely visible through the thick of leaves strewn across it. You hit the highest, coldest, windiest section of the course (Camping Gap through Headforemost Mountain) at 2-5 a.m., the coldest part of the night.
• The course becomes extremely runnable after Bearwallow Gap, but is so mentally jarring (see "Forever Section") that it takes whatever will you can muster after so many hours of forward travel to do so.

That describes the thing pretty thoroughly.

Recap and looking forward.

I wrote what is after the page break a couple weeks ago but didn't want to publish anything until after Hellgate.  I finished my season exactly how I wanted to crewing my ridiculously talented best bud and training partner Rudy to the crazy race at Hellgate I knew he had in him.  I think Rudy and I have shared something like 100 hours or more of trail time together since July.  I was so pumped to see him have the race he deserved.  I've been struggling with motivation to get back into more routing running, but that race gave me enough inspiration for the next six months!

I am also excited to be working with a coach for the first time since high school.  I'll be working with the master Andy Jones-Wilkins to make sure I am ready for the track meet in June.  I raced 10 Ultras in 2013 plus a myriad of fatasses and short races.  Cutting that out for 2014--it's time to get focused.

Oh yeah, I was in a magazine? Jess Daddio is a pretty stellar writer and it's great to see a semi-local magazine doing so well.
---------------

2013 was pretty awesome.  I ran in lots of places and just ran a lot in general.  PRs for every distance from half-marathon to 50 miles and I learned I can move for 40 hours if I need to.  I don't really feel like writing a lot, so here are the dirty details...

The numbers:
500,000 feet of climb reached on November 23th
I'll finish the year just over 3000 miles.


2014 Plans:

February: Holiday Lake 50k
April:  Georgia Loop FKT attempt and/or Promise Land 50k
May: train like a madman
June: WESTERN STATES 100
July/August: Hang out in Colorado, climb a bunch of mountains, drink some bourbon, attempt Nolan's 14 depending on WS100 recovery
December: Hellgate 100k

Sometime: Figure out a damn 2015 Hardrock qualifier

I'm at a crossroads in life in general.  There's a good chance I'll be living in Denver come August, so I can't think about races for the fall until I figure that out.  If I'm on the east coast, you can bet you'll see me at Mountain Masochist and Hellgate.  If not, then who knows what I'll be up to. Edit: Barring exams on Friday or Saturday that weekend, I will do EVERYTHING I can to get to Hellgate 2014... We have to go back

Wyatt Earp turned me back onto this guy over the weekend.  Serious talent.

Mountain Masochist: Consistency

I was waiting until more photos from MMTR made their way online before I posted this, but that still hasn't happened.  Please send me any you have!

3 year and 21 ultras later and I know what kind of runner I am. I like to hunt, to chase. I like to follow from behind and then pick people off as I go. It's a boost every time you pass someone. I'm not used to being "fast." My first ultra, a flat 50 mile, took me almost 12 hours. I've learned to suffer well the past 3 years.

MMTR is an interesting race.  The course rewards preparation and planning and punishes you if you don't.  To race the course, you have to hit the climb from miles 22-29 hard, survive the loop, and then finish strong.  Trying to hammer on a long sustained climb like that, that early in 50-mile still seems very risky to me, but that is the advice Eric gave me so I did it anyway.  That climb comes after 22 VERY fast and rolling but runnable miles.  You can't start too slow or you'll lose time on the "easy" half of the course.  Start too fast and you won't have anything left for the "hard" half coming after the climb.  So running MMTR goes like this: start hard-ish, then run hard, then run harder until you finish.

Hour 1: 7.12 miles
Hour 2: 14.25 miles
Hour 3: 21.75 miles
Hour 4: 28 miles
Hour 5: 34.5 miles
Hour 6: 39.8 miles (the loop)
Hour 7: 45 miles (the hellacious last single track)
39 minutes: last 5 miles

Consistency.

I did not realize just how consistent those first few hours were until looking back as my splits on Movescount.  I can't start ultras much faster than I do, but apparently I don't slow down too much.  Looking at the file, I faltered on the loop.  My pace coming down Mount Pleasant in that leafy mess was 13'59" per mile.

I definitely cannot complain; only analyze. I had a 17 minute 50-mile PR on a slower course than my last PR from two months ago, which itself was already a 62-minute PR.  Breakthroughs on breakthroughs.  I hope I keep it rolling into the Crooked Road 24-hour on November 23-24, my last race this year.

The narrative:
I'll say this: my foot hurt quite a bit on every downhill from about mile 7 onward. Two days later and I'm still not sure what was/is wrong with it.  Now that aside...I cruised pretty easy all the way to the reservoir, thought to myself, "time for the fun," took my first of many caffeinated gels and motored to the top of Buck Mountain.  I passed Sam Dangc, Frank the tank, and Jordan Whitlock running together in the 3 miles between the Long Mountain aid station and the top of Buck Mountain.  Talking to Jordan Whitlock after the race, he told me he thought I was just out for a run when I passed them here because I looked so fresh.  When I paused to fill my water at the aid station at the top of Buck Mountain, mile 29, the very familiar worker told me that 6th place was just a minute ahead. I blurted out "Oh shit." I was actually a little shocked.  This was the first time someone had told me my place all day long and I never expected to be in 7th place at MMTR, let alone this early into the race. I caught up to 6th not long after Buck Mountain and kept rolling up down and up to the loop, making use of the climbs to take some of the force off my foot.

Time to survive the loop. I was becoming a bit of a bumbling idiot at this point, mainly from having trouble getting down gels.  A quick bottle swap with my flawless crew of Rudy and Wyatt, and I was off. I did pretty well until the Mt. Pleasant turnaround,  then had to fight all the rest of the way around the loop.  I got lucky and slowing so much through here let me actually get two full gels down, providing the sugar to get me through the next hour at least.  I came out of the loop in a stupor.  I was out of it and walked straight into the gate leading to the aid station I left over an hour ago.

A cup of rocket fuel (or maybe it was mountain dew) sent me on my way. Liquid calories are liquid gold late in a race. I hoped I could still force down a gel or two in the remaining twelve miles. 

My crew drove past me along this stretch which was a nice boost and got me moving a little quicker to mile 42 where I would see them again.  I was actually saddened when I heard I wouldn't see them again after that to the finish, knowing how slow the next 4 trail miles would be.  I grunted a long, pleased to hike some on the short but steep uber leafy climbs, which allowed me to get down my last calories of the race.  I hit the top after the sketchy camper ( if you've run MMTR you know what I'm referring to).  With a deep sigh of relief I leaned forward to start the descent to the finish, hoping for the best with my foot and lack of calories.

Things worked out that I had enough ground on 7th to coast that last descent without any worry.  I was thrilled to cross the finish line and even more excited for a quesadilla on the couches.  Mountain Masochist is a very special race.  Lots of aid to encourage traveling light is coupled with a course that either rewards proper preparation or beats you into the ground for not respecting it.  I hope I can keep coming back to this one for years to come.

The Virginia Tech Ultrarunning Team got 4 guys in the top-16, two of whom were running their first 50 Miler.  These guys are going to do big things the next few years; I look forward to following their progress after I'm gone.


Food:
Quaker Cherry Pistachio Oatmeal for breakfast.
~14 gels and some Mountain Dew during

Clothes:
our awesome Patagonia jersey tops
PI Ultra shorts (great pockets)
Drymax hyper-thin socks
Nike Lunaracers  (honestly the best ultra shoe I've worn)

Iron Mountain...better late than never

I wrote this after the race and apparently never posted it so it might need some editing...
After that four week block of great training, I was really stoked for Iron Mountain.  I wasn't planning to race, especially with the one week taper I did, but I wanted to run harder than what I thought was a 50 mile pace.  I wanted to test out my fitness.  That's what 50 milers are for in a 100 mile build-up right?  Well, I definitely proved to myself how hard I can run.

I took the sage wisdom of Eric Grossman, the man who knows that course better than anyone, and started easy.  A few people noted surprise that I was "only" running 8:20 miles on the 4 Creeper Trail introduction to the race. It felt right though. Turning up the climb from to the ridgeline and the Iron Mountain Trail, I turned on some Avett Brothers to mellow myself and talked with people as I passed them.  I kept myself reeled in all the way through Hurricane Gap 1 (Mile 22), passing people but hiking even a few easier grades just to keep the effort low.  In and out of Hurricane gap, downing two ibuprofen, I started rolling.  The course from her nets downhill, with some rolling along the way, for the next seven miles.  I carried the leg turnover I got on the first three mile descent across the single track Bartram Trail and all the way around to mile 29, the bottom of Rowland Falls, the biggest climb of the day.  At that aid station I did a cup of coke and a cup of mountain dew and was on my way.  Looking back, doing two cups of fluid and then immediately continuing to nip on my bottle should have been a clue to drink more.  I caught up to Jordan Chang, my friend, boss, physiotherapist, and all-around badass, along with Brian Pickett who was having a rough day.  Jordan joked that he'd been rabbiting me all day.  Apparently I was always 30 seconds to a minute back of him, though I never noticed until that climb.  I left them after I'd sucked down a gel and started running up the doubletrack into Hurricane Gap 2 (mile 33).   Brian followed my all the way up and left immediately before me.  However, a bad stomach held him back and i ran up the service road all the way to the high point of the course and started the long descent back to Damascus and the finish.  As soon as I hit the single track into Skulls Gap 2, I started flying.  I thought to myself several times "Is this seriously a 50 mile pace?"  I knew it was fast, but my system didn't feel taxed.  Skulls Gap 2 is a long aid station stop for me, grabbing gels from my drop bag and drinking a couple cups of water at the aid station.  Ann, the RD's wife, was working this aid station and told me Frank "The Tank" Gonzalez was only five minutes up.  13 miles of rolling descent to go.  Time to get going! 

I took off HARD.  And then I cramped.  My recorded pace for the last 13 was fast, but my running pace was even faster.  I likely lost 3-4 minutes into the final aid station and another 3-4 minutes from there to the finish from stopping to stretch and work out my cramps in my hamstrings.  Anytime the trail was flat I cramped.  Uphills and I could shift the work into my quads or glutes.  Downhill and my quads took the abuse.  But on those long flat sections, I cramped.  That should have been a bigger warning sign.  At the last aid station, Tammy, trail mom extraordinaire, told me I had four minutes to Frank, who was having a rough day.  Hm, maybe if he blows up.  This last stretch of trail is gnarly by any definition, and I knew Frank had never run it. I hung out enough to drink some water and get in some salty watermelon.  As soon as I climbed out of that gap though, the lightning storms came.  The trail turned into a flowing stream, through which I could not see rocks beneath my feet.  For a few sections of trail, I might as well have been running at night for how dark the sky became.  For a couple lightning strikes, I had a one second count to the thunderclap.  Exciting way to finish right? I blasted down 'mock holler'--the trail that isn't really a trail anymore and cruised into the finish for a Horton handshake. 7:56.

Horton handshake

Now for the slightly more graphic part.  Interestingly,  I did not feel spent at the finish.  I was glad to be done, but I really only felt slightly more worked than I normally do after these things.  I attributed it to the increased pace and wrote it off.  A delicious hamburger, a bottle of recovery drink, and a couple bottles of water later I felt that familiar sensation of my body coming down from the effort.  I headed to the toilets near the finish and after I few minutes of forcing it, I manage to pee a little bit what looked to be straight blood.  It wasn't that dehydrated dark-brown--it was dark red.  TIME TO GO GUYS.  I left, muttered something to the rest of the team about going to the hospital, and got in my mom's car for an evening at urgent care.  I was diagnosed (I actually think falsely) with Rhabdomyolysis. Maybe I got rhabdo with the lowest CPK value (964) I've been able to find, maybe the mere 800 mg of ibuprofen I took during the race seriously compromised my kidneys, or maybe it was something else.  Either way, a bag of saline and 5 bottles of water got things churning again, barely enough to be discharged Saturday night.  It is now the Thursday after the race, and I've run twice; and easy 4 and an easy 7.5 the past couple days.   Right now, I feel like I should feel that Tuesday after a race.  Skipping out on protein for a full day after a race is not a good muscular recovery plan, even if it was what my kidneys needed.

End of the year.

Well, it's all done.  This post is pretty long and probably doesn't make a lot of sense.  You've been warned.

Some numbers for 2012:

8 ultras, 400 miles, 78 hours 30 minutes, and more gain than I feel like adding up.  Basically, a LOT of running.

The BEAST Series is a pretty special series.  Having the "faster" events of Mountain Masochist and Hellgate after the Grindstone 100 makes for some interesting decisions regarding recovery and training between events.  Regardless of what certain people might say, 100 milers put a great deal of deep and lingering fatigue into the legs, enough so for me that aside from the week of MMTR, I never ran a week over 55 miles all fall.  I substituted mileage for quality, doing 1-2 workouts per week which worked out well for MMTR, but by the time Hellgate rolled around, I felt pretty drained and somewhat de-motivated.  When anyone asked me about Hellgate recently, my normal response become "Well, I'm ready to be done."  That said, if I don't get into Hardrock for 2012, there is a very good chance that I repeat the series.  I've learned a lot this year, and I love Grindstone much more than any other event I've done, so I want to be back there every year for a while.

ANYWAY.  Hellgate.  That funny little 100k race in December in the mountains of Virginia. On a lot of horse trail.  There's nothing like it.  This was the snow year of MMTR and the warm year for Hellgate.  If I had been running better toward the end, I would have been extremely comfortable with my shirt off. I believe the high was almost 70.

The race:
Starting off, I took off a little bit, but quickly (within minutes) realized I didn't want to run all night alone so I slowed to run with Rudy and Fletcher, a couple friends and both good runners.  We made good work of the first climb, running most of it but not really working that hard.  Fletcher fell back because his foot went numb (and yet he finished), so Rudy and I proceeded to run together through ~mile 40.  Rudy and I have shared a lot of miles this year, so we work well together and could mover very efficiently over the course. We made good work of the following sections, just ticking off the miles talking about anything and everything.  There are some super fun single track stretches through there.  Somewhere in here, I managed to spotlight a dear with my headlamp.  I think that is a good testament to the Nao.  I started caffeine early (about 3:00 am) because it was all the calories I had left halfway through  the 10+ miles between AS 3 and  AS 4.  At dawn, I stopped to water the trees and could feel my heart beat doing some funny things, mainly being way too fast, so I cut out caffeine for 90 minutes or so to help settle it.  Rudy ran on when I stopped again at mile 40, and then began having peroneal tendon pain (MMTR strikes back)as I got through the rock-garden downhill switchbacks that caused me to have a complete breakdown last year.  Coming into Bearwallow, I took an Ibuprofen and left quickly hoping to pick off some people on the easiest(?) third of the course.

I am very, VERY glad Wyatt, another VT ultrarunner and friend, volunteered to pace.  He kept me moving when I was in a good deal of pain, and without him, there is a good change I would have walked down the entire final 3 mile stretch.  The pain in my peroneal tendon go worse and worse the last marathon until I began wondering if it was a stress fracture.  Leading to Bobblet's gap, I passed 1 guy, then going through the forever section, I passed 2 more and got passed by 3 or 4 and I started slowing.   I had told people prior to this that I didn't care if I had to crawl across the finish line, I would finish Hellgate this year, and the day almost came to that.  This was the most physical pain I've run through, and the hardest I've had to grind in a run or race before.  The next day, my ENTIRE body was sore.  Arms, legs, chest, core, shoulders, neck.  I seriously gave everything I had to Hellgate this year, and even though my time isn't what I wanted it to be, I know I did everything I could and I'm extremely happy with the outcome.  I'm not exaggerating one bit when I say I would have dropped last year.

The only thing I truly wanted out of ultrarunning this year was to get tougher, and I did.

Addendum:

Dr. Horton, our wonderful race director and inspirational ultramarathon guru, underwent a 7-way bypass today and this had me thinking a lot.  I'm not sure if I've seen Dr. Horton even 20 times these past couple years, but he has had a great impact on my life, not only through his races, but due to the spectacular sense of self-appreciation and encouragement.  I was quite honestly scared out of my whits during late summer as Grindstone began to approach and conversations with Dr. Horton had me feeling that I would not only finish, but finish well.  His attitude is contagious and he is one of the best overall people that I have met in my short life.  I heard his surgery went smoothly, and I am very happy for that, for him and his family.

Weekend in Pictures:

The start!

Aid Station 4

Anguish

The nice lump on my foot Sunday afternoon.

Beyond done.  Check out that sweet form, heel strike all the way!

The gang.

5 Down, 1 To Go

Aside from a nagging achilles tendon (fixed with a shoe change), recovery from Grindstone went smoothly.  I took it easy basically the entire race there, which I guess helped a lot.  I did two interval workouts in the two middle weeks between races, and a couple tempo runs as well.  What else can you really do to prepare when you have a race only a month out from a 100 miler?  I topped out at a 48 mile week, which might actually have been more than I should have done, but everything worked out for the best. 

I had a very different thoughts going into Mountain Masochist compared to Grindstone.  Being 50 miles on an easier course,  I knew it would feel short and fast, and I had just spent about 5 months preparing to go slow for a very long time.  I was also excited to go and Hurricane Sandy only exemplified that.  I love bad weather and snow, so I actually thrilled to hear of snow on the second half of the course.  I figured that the snow would slow everything down a little and force some slogging (exactly what I can do right now).  I also figured that I wouldn't suffer as much as a lot of people nearby me, which would be beneficial late in the race.  I can never seem to get the right combination of clothes for 30ish degree weather, and I was warm once the sun was up, ditching my arm warmers at AS #3, and taking my gloves on and off all day.  Nothing really happened in the first half of the race.  I ran from mile 13 to the loop with Rudy, and we just methodically moved up through the places all the way. Relentless Forward Progress.  I stopped to fertilize the trees and he went on to a super great finish in 12th place in his second 50 mile. With the loop came snow, high up my shins in places.   The footsteps of those in front of me hadn't yet flattened out the snow, but just formed footholds awkwardly spaced apart, forcing a lot of awkward running and hiking.  If I had realized how big of a break this ended up being in the middle of the race, I would have probably run most of the climb up to Buck Mountain, but so it goes.  The snow was a blast, and I ran with complete reckless abandon on the downhills--something that I really love to do in the snow when everything is soft and smooth.  Talking to people after the race, I seemed to be the only person who really enjoyed going through all that snow.

 The snow got pretty deep and slog-worthy after leaving the mile 42 AS.  I left just ahead of Gary Robbins who (of course) caught up soon and we shared a couple miles together working through the awkward snow/ice covered trails.  He had actually run an extra 4.5 miles (the only way we were near each other) and was making his way back up, still having a blast.  Since I was wearing Montrail Rogue Flys (great shoe), he asked about them and the conversation turned to races and Grindstone as he was there too.  He told me my Grindstone time was "fucking awesome" which as a pretty great boost trudging up the steepest climb of the race before we go downhill the rest of the way to the finish.  Gary moved on and I stopped one more time before taking off after him.  I hit the last aid station with 4 miles to go at 8:36, determined to make a sub-9 hour finish, so I took a cue from cross country days, and started windmilling my arms to drive up my momentum.  The final mile of downhill ended up being ~5:56, super fast for mile 49 of a 50 mile race.  I took two bottles of my Succeed slurry, several packages of chomps, and two cans worth of mountain dew, plus some food at the aid stations.  The slurries have made racing a lot easier, I have energy throughout, and I think I've gotten pretty good at burning fat for fuel.  Few the few days after races, even after I've made up the calorie deficit, I seem much leaner than I used to.

I squeaked by in 8:58, meeting my original time goal for MMTR--before hearing of the snow conditions.  Plus 20th out of 297 starters is kind of cool, I'm not used to that.  This race actually took more out of me than Grindstone, so I'm taking it easy all week before putting in some focus work for Hellgate next month.  That will be fun.  Hellgate is something special, and so far everything this Fall has gone smoothly.  I won't DNF this time; I'm ready to suffer.  As soon as I crossed the finish line at MMTR, Dr. Horton said to me, "I hope you saved something for Hellgate."  I hope so too, I've got some redemption to take care of there.

Side note/more important:  This is the VT Ultrarunning Club's first true team race, and we had some great placing and 100% finisher's rate! Something that is definitely made even better by the course conditions.  Rachel maintained second in the LUS on her bum ankle, cringing all the way to the finish line.  David persevered through a rough day, Wyatt had fun all day, and I should probably ask Kelly how her run went.  Seeing people finish at and after twelve hours was very inspiring--those guys and gals are MUCH tougher than the rest of us, that's a long time to be out there and it hurts a lot more.  I was finishing back there just last year, I know how that feels.

See you people in 5 weeks.

Beast Series

Two Races left in the next 8 weeks.  I did my second run since Grindstone today, 6.5 miles in 70 minutes on Lookout Mountain--decent pace for that terrain.  Since I'm recovered well from Grindstone I thought I'd finally take a look into all of this race series business.

The top 5 for the Beast Series are below, pulled from Horton's website.

	1	Knipling, Keith	4:36:14	5:12:39	5:24:03	22:34:42			37:47:38
	2	Murase, Yosuke	4:23:22	4:57:53	5:16:50	24:50:06			39:28:11
	3	Myers, Michael	4:33:45	5:32:25	5:57:04	23:46:55			39:50:09
	4	Love, Guy	4:59:59	5:16:57	6:15:07	24:51:12			41:23:15
	5	Jasinski, Bob	4:45:53	5:30:19	6:55:21	26:08:31			43:20:04

Keith is clearly untouchable.  He's a great runner, and it was fluke that I was a few minutes behind him at Terrapin.  I am curious to see if I can make up the 93 minutes on Michael though, and more so the 115 minutes on Yosuke in the next couple races--that one is probably not doable unless he's really hurting and I'm running really well.  I wish Masochist was one week later so I would have a chance to get out on the first half of the course that I've never seen and learn it, but so it goes.  I won't be pushing it until close to "the climb" anyway--I can't move fast on flats, but apparently I've learned to climb up and down mountains with reasonable proficiency.

This is weird for me; when I first started thinking about my goals for 2012, one of them was squeaking into top 5 for the Beast Series.  Now I'm hunting down 3rd.  It's interesting how much you can improve in this sport since mountain racing has so many variables that just don't come into play in shorter (or even just flatter) races.  I suppose Grindstone was what people call a breakthrough race? I didn't run an amazing time by any means, but I ran faster than people expected me to, and I ran that time in a very conservative race.  I think that will definitely help me in the next couple months as I won't have trashed myself before the last 120 or so miles of racing.  The variables of mountain racing are spectacular If one person has a bad day at a race like Masochist, they can very easily fall back 40 minutes to an hour off their normal race time.  Don't get me wrong, I know full well this could easily happen to me.  In a series where the 100 mile kicks off the fall racing, there is bound to be some carnage in the next two races.  I'm really looking forward to suffering at Hellgate.  I hope the weather is horrible.


On the VTUltra front, 6 of us are running MMTR, two people as their first 50 mile.  For the fast people, Rudy is the fastest of us; he doesn't have any time goals, but he's a good racer and he'll deliver on November 3.  Rachel--I'm predicting somewhere under/close to 9 hours and maybe top-3, depending on who shows up.  It's time for her to hammer a race I think.  Myself, I think I'll be somewhere near Rachel, but the faster the better. It's going to feel so short.