I'm Supposed to be a 201km Report!

or

How I Ran 80 Miles, Self-Supported, with Kurt and almost got Hypothermia

Kurt, the stoic one.  I'm a goof.

Preface

In talking about it, neither Kurt nor I recall exactly how the idea arose.  Somehow, we had gotten it into our heads to double up on the Top of Michigan 100 km which we had run twice (report here).  This race starts in Gaylord, MI, and ends in Mackinaw City, MI.  We originally planned on starting x number of hours before the official race (which was scheduled for October 3), from the finish, turning around at the start, and running back to the official finish.

That plan was moved up three weeks due to the fact that my wife is expecting our second child on October 26.  That meant that we were going to do the entire 201 km (we added one km to make it 125 miles) self-supported.

Preparation

I trained for this harder than I have for any race prior.  (If you're interested in that, I've included a training section at the end of the report.)  Kurt and I pored over the map of the course, deciding where we should place the food/water drops in between the major cities along the route.  There were to be ten aid stations (AS) we hit twice, on the way down and the way back.  We would use the place where the official race started as our turn around, making a total of 21 AS. 

We wanted to finish the first 100 km no faster than 14 hours, so we calculated the time we needed to arrive at every AS.

I spent a couple of hours preparing 42 bags of Gatorade powder, 42 peanut and butter sandwiches, and 21 bags of Halloween candy.  That, along with 82 cans of Coke, 42 snack bags of goldfish crackers, and 42 snack cans of Pringles would be what was available to us.  

The forecast called for a 90% chance of rain Friday and Saturday (it was wrong in part, but more on that later), so I had packed a change of socks at every other AS, as well as a changes of shirts at the approximate 50 km  and 150 km AS, as well as the turn around.

Kurt picked me up around 2 pm Thursday afternoon, September 17, and we made our way north.  Starting at Gaylord, we stopped at the spots that we had designated for our AS and strung our bags from trees to avoid raccoon molestation.

 Well, most of our bags we strung from trees, but more on that later

 We met a very nice, older man while hanging the bags in the picture below.  He comes up again in this narrative. 

Race Day

As is always the case on race day, we woke up well before the alarm we had set.  I woke up around 3:30 am, Kurt about 4.  We got dressed, packed our fanny packs (which we had bought specifically for this occasion), and checked out the morning weather report. As I said, it was supposed to rain all day Friday and Saturday. 

The weather radar looked ominous, with a line of storms ranging from Mackinaw to south of Gaylord, and covering the western half of the upper lower peninsula. We donned our rain jackets and headed outside. 

It was not raining as we walked the short distance to the pavilion, where the actual race ends. We took some pictures, I started my video log of the journey, and we proceeded to the trail head.

-------A note on the trail. It's a crushed limestone path about 6 feet wide. The 100 km course from Mackinaw to Gaylord has an elevation gain of 700 feet, all of it a gradual uphill. Because there would be no built in walk breaks (hills), we had decided to just run until we felt like walking, and then walk until we felt like running. ------

Mackinaw to Gaylord 

The major cities along the route, north to south, are: Cheboygan, Topinabee, Indian River, Wolverine, Vanderbilt, and Gaylord.  We put two drop bags between Mackinaw and Cheboygan (distance - 16.3 miles),

one between Cheboygan and Topinabee (distance - 11.9 miles),

zero between Topinabee and Indian River (distance - 5.6 miles),

one between Indian River and Wolverine (distance - 9.7 miles),

one between Wolverine and Vanderbilt (distance 10.9 miles),

and zero between Vanderbilt and Gaylord (distance - 7.6 miles).
We also put bags at each city.  We tried to place the in-between bags as close to halfway between the cities as possible, but found out that we had placed the one between Cheboygan and Topinabee about eight miles from the former.  When we realized that, I got a tad discouraged, but realized that when we got to it on our return, we would be at the approximate 100 mile mark.  That made me feel better.
We started off at a comfortable 11 min/mile pace, and just ran.  It always feels good to run again after a taper.  By the time that we reached the second drop, we realized that we would have to walk the remainder of the distance to Cheboygan if we wanted to keep to our schedule.  We maintained a 15 min/mile walking pace, got to Cheboygan, enjoyed some snacks and water, and moved out.
After five miles, we realized that we had placed the next drop too close to Topinabee.  After seven miles, I became discouraged because I thought that we had missed it.  Then we saw it.
At Topinabee, we realized the value of hanging the bags.  I stated that we hung all but two.  This is one of the ones that we did not hang, and the raccoons had gotten into it.  They ate all of our sandwiches and my wife's cookies.  They had left the candy and salty snacks, so we were alright.
The rest of the trip to Wolverine was uneventful.  We determined that as long as we maintained a 14 min/mile, overall pace, we would be fine.  We would run until it was 13:50, and walk until it was 14:05.  Prior to that, we were running four miles, walking four miles.  Still at our original, respective pace of 11 and 15.
At Wolverine (27.2 miles), I stopped for a restroom break at the vault toilets pictured above, while Kurt gathered our supplies.  we lounged on the grass for about seven minutes.  The pace that we had maintained was finally starting to get to us.  We cleaned up our mess and soldiered on to Vanderbilt.
-----A brief note on the weather conditions.  It hadn't rained yet.  It had misted for the whole trip, but both of us were wearing our rain jackets tied around our waist.  There was no sun due to the cloud cover.  Overall, excellent running conditions that would come back to bite us later.------

I was feeling pretty gassed heading out of Wolverine.  Our pace suffered as a result.  We were reduced to just running when we could.  We met the kind older man at our drop between Wolverine and Vanderbilt and had a brief, pleasant conversation with him.  He mentioned that he had seen us from across the road that paralleled the trail, and had come over to make sure that it was indeed us, and not someone else messing with our bags.  I'm pretty sure that he was the only person that we talked to, beside ourselves, the entire trip.  At some point after Wolverine, I hooked up the charger to my Garmin, so we would run 20 minutes by Kurt's chronometer, and walk 10.
Heading out of Vanderbilt, on the 7.6 mile stretch to the turnaround at Gaylord, I went into my long dark tea time of the soul.

The Long, Dark, Tea Time of the Soul

I've talked about this before in prior reports.  It's something both Kurt and I, and many ultrarunners, experience.  We've only gone through it when the race involves running through the night.  For us, 100 milers.  It's when I fall into a psychological pit.  Everything just seems pointless.  It's difficult to describe, but if you've been there, you know.
I made it a point to tell Kurt on the drive up that it was important that both of us not experience this at the same time.  This way, the one who was not could talk the other out of it.  Kurt came through.  This still resulted in us walking the entire 7.6 miles from Vanderbilt to Gaylord, where Kurt had his.

Gaylord:  100 km:  Halfway Done

At Gaylord, Kurt had to repair his shoes with duct tape, as the sides were becoming blown out.  That's the danger of using your most comfortable, broken in shoes for something like this.  I waited at the drop bag site for him to change his socks, tend to his feet, and repair his shoes.  We then walked the half mile to the pavilion to eat our snacks.  

We discovered later that leaving the drop site without donning the long sleeved shirts that we had there would be a crucial mistake.

At the pavilion, Kurt dropped into his psychological hole.  His was centered around the fact that we had arrived at the turn around nearly two hours later than we had planned for.  We were now about 15 hours and 50 minutes into the run.  It was my turn to help him out.  I don't know how I had the faculties to figure it out, but I remarked that it was because this was a self-supported run.  That's what caused the added time.  It took us about five minutes to get the items we wanted out of the bags that we had hung.  We then spent 5 minutes enjoying them.  Add another five minutes to put the trash back in the bags, and that's 15 extra minutes per stop.  Multiply that by ten stops, and that's an extra 2.5 hours.

In reality, we were keeping up our pace, but the time it took to get to our bags was adding up considerably.

We threw our trash in the garbage can there, turned around, and set our sights for Mackinaw.

The Long Road Home

I don't remember if we did any running between Gaylord and Vanderbilt.  If so, it was brief.  When we finally reached Vanderbilt, we just grabbed some water to fill up our hand-helds, and we each grabbed a Coke.  We sat on a bench at the Vanderbilt trail head and just enjoyed them before moving on.

The bench in question, the next morning.

-------A note on Coke.  This is the best thing ever during a long run.  Liquid sugar and caffeine.  Nothing beats it.  There was an added pep to our step coming out of every AS due to Coke.------

About one mile out of Vanderbilt, it started to rain.  The expression, "raining buckets" does not capture the essence of this downpour.  It wasn't a thunderstorm, but it was raining hard.  Super hard.  Super, duper hard.  We had both put our rain coats on at Gaylord, so we just kept on walking.
The problem that we encountered was that all that we were wearing underneath our coats was short sleeved tech tees.  Kurt's shirt didn't even have sleeves.  50 degrees isn't a problem.  Torrential downpour isn't a problem.  But when you combine them both, and you're not wearing adequate clothing, stuff goes bad.  We were getting hypothermic.  For every two steps we took moving forward, we moved about one stride to either side.  We ran into each other countless times.  We both fell off the side of the path a few times.
We were in no man's land, between Vanderbilt and Wolverine (neither of which is any kind of city to speak of anyway), with no way out.  We were focused on getting to our next drop.  It was just something to look forward to.

The drop in question

That drop was marked by a series of very large boulders on the opposite side of the trail.  Both of our headlamps were fixed on that side.  Kurt told me later that he would see them, but when he stared at them for a bit, they would disappear.  I was seeing the side of a barn out of the corner of my eye, and when I turned my gaze upon it fully, it would dissolve into the foliage that was actually there.  When we finally did get to our bags, we grabbed some water.  I remember telling Kurt that I had to get out of this, meaning the rain.  He went to look for a lean-to that he thought he remembered seeing on our way down.
This was a new experience for us.  Our first 100 mile completion, Indiana Trail, 2013, was cold but there was no precipitation during the race.  It got into the 30's (Fahrenheit), overnight, and the course was 50% covered in water.  So we had overcome the cold.  The difference was that, at IT, we both had long sleeved shirts at all of the AS along the course.  By the end of that race, I was wearing six shirts and two light jackets.
Neither of us had anything long sleeved at this point.  The closest spot that we had anything warm was Indian River, about 8-9 miles away.  I had been shivering for the past three hours.  When Kurt came back to tell me that he couldn't find any lean-to, I told him that I was just going to go up the driveway and knock on the old man's door.  Kurt said, "What are you going to say to him?"  I had no idea.  All I knew was that I had to get out of the rain.  In actuality, we weren't even 100% sure that that was his house at the end of the drive.  We knew that he lived close, and there weren't any other houses near, so I was confident that it was.  However, it was 4 am.  I acknowledged Kurt's point, and asked him what we should do.  We ended up seeing an old barn across the road from what may or may not have been the guy's driveway, and went up to investigate.
The barn was missing half of one long wall, and many sections of roof.  But it was dry, and out of the wind.  I ventured to the back of the barn, looking for an old horse blanket, a tarp, anything.  All I found was a chair.  I brought the chair to the front of the barn and sat down.  Kurt laid down on a 2 x 4 to avoid laying on the cement floor.  We both fell asleep for 5-10 minutes.  Upon waking up, I became aware of the fact that I was still shivering.  I told him we had to do something.  The rain was still pouring down outside.

The door of the barn, minutes before our rescue.

We had both brought our phones, so Kurt found a cab company in Gaylord and explained the situation to the dispatcher that answered the phone.  The situation was this:  we knew that we were between Vanderbilt and Wolverine, on Trowbridge Rd.  We had the address on the mail box at the foot of the driveway.  We had $10, no credit card on us(Kurt had one in his car at Mackinaw), and ideally wanted to get back to Mackinaw.  Failing that, we would take anything that was open in Gaylord.  An all night diner, gas station, anything that was warm and dry.
The next 1.5 hours was a comedy of errors starring Kurt and the cab driver.  We had given the dispatcher the address and Kurt's phone number.  The driver called him to confirm the address.  He then called back 45 minutes later, asking if we had seen anyone drive by.  That was a definite no.  He told us that he was on Old 27.  Kurt explained that we weren't on Old 27, we were on Trowbridge Rd., and asked the driver if he had a GPS or a smart phone so he could just plug in the address.  The driver replied that he did not, and then his phone dropped the call.
This whole time, we were standing outside, in the wind and rain, just hoping to see headlights.  After repeated attempts to try and call the driver back, Kurt gave up, and we were stuck again.
It was now 6 am.  We had been shivering for nearly 5 hours.  I walked up to the house at the top of the drive.  Kurt was 20 feet behind me.  I told him that I was just going to ask for an old blanket, and see where the conversation went.  Kurt said, "Let's just wait 30 minutes."  I said, "What's going to be different in 30 minutes?  There's nobody awake in their now, what's to say that there will be in 30 minutes?"  The fact that we weren't even totally sure that it was his house made me turn around and head back to the barn.
Once inside, Kurt called his wife and asked her to find a cab company in Mackinaw and Cheboygan, give them the address where we were, and pay them over the phone.  About an hour later, the cab pulled up, and we were warm again, on our way back to Mackinaw.

Lessons Learned

As is our wont, we dissected the heck out of what happened on the drive home.  We came to the realization that, at Gaylord, if we would have just recognized the fact that it was only going to get colder, and put on the appropriate clothing, we would have been able to marshal through the rain.  We would have been wet, but we would have been warm (relatively).  

We also learned just how different doing things self-supported is from doing them at an official event.  Aside from the time factor, if this was at an event, we would have had to only make it to the next AS, where we would have warm, dry clothes.  We could change, spend some time with other people in a well-lit, supportive atmosphere, and then head back out to the next AS, where we could do it again.  Being stuck in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, with no relief is completely psychologically deflating.

Postlude

We still have to refine our plan somewhat.  But like MacArthur and the Philippines, "I shall return."  We've already blocked off sometime between the end of July, 2016, to the end of August to make our triumphant return.  This way, the cold won't be an issue.  In the interim, we will make the necessary adjustments.  We left some unfinished business on that trail, and we plan to come back and take care of it.

Video Log

I made a video log of the first 62.2 miles.  There's some sweet intro music over a slide show for the first 3.5 minutes.  So if you want to skip to the actual log, start there.

Garmin Data

I used a portable USB charger to charge my Garmin 310 about 14 hours in.

My Wife's Delicious Cookies

I mention these a few times in the video log I've included.  They are the perfect run food.  The ingredients:

• bananas
• raw, natural almonds
• quick cooking oats
• raisins

My wife doesn't measure anything when cooking, so I can't give you any measurements.  She just takes 4-5 bunches of bananas, peels them and puts them in a big bowl.  She then beats them until it becomes a soupy mixture.  She adds oats until it becomes thick, then adds the almonds (which have been run through the food processor) and raisins.  Then you put them in a 375 degree oven for about 20 minutes.  The best run food ever.

Training

I trained harder for this race than I ever have.  It became evident to me after my DNF at IT 100 this year what was too little training.  I still don't know how much is enough, so I figured I'd err on the side of too much.  So that's what I did.
There are 92 days in June, July, and August.  During those 92 days, I ran 950 miles.  I only ran 5 days per week.  I ran doubles every week.  I started with once per week in June, moved up to twice per week in July, and ran two weeks of three times per week.  I remember, during the third week of July, just wishing that it was September so that I could taper.  This was my first time ever not going bat crap crazy during a taper.  I was just too happy to not have to bust my butt every day.
Because my Achilles heel is my lower back, I went to the gym and did ab and lower back exercises every Monday.
I don't know how much was too much.  I didn't suffer from over training syndrome, so it wasn't too too much.
So this is my go to training for any race of import.  I can scale it down a bit for a just finish, but not too much.

Lessons From A DNF

Lessons From A DNF

(not a race report)

DNF: Did Not Finish.  

My long time running partner, Kurt, and I had three rules for not finishing a race.

1. You're physically broken
2. You're bleeding out
3. You risk worsening a physical injury by continuing

Up to 25 Apr,, 2013 I was 2/2 at the 100 mile distance.  

My first attempt/completion was at Indiana Trail 100 in April of 2013(report here), where 65% of the field dropped because of the course conditions.

My second attempt/completion (here) was at Hallucination 100 in September of 2014, where I had to walk the last 25 miles due to a back issue.

I felt as if I were invincible.  I had stared some horrible stuff in the face and come out on top.  

When I felt my back tightening up at the end of the first loop yesterday, I knew what it meant.  I didn't say anything to Kurt because there was no point.  All I could do was to just rock it until the wheels fell off. 

They fell off sooner, rather than later.  About two files from the first aid station on loop three, approximately 35 miles into the race, they flew wildly.  I told Kurt what was happening.  I must have said at least a dozen times, "I'm not walking the last 60+ miles."  After walking the last 25 of Hallucination, there was no way I was doing that.  Kurt suggested that I finish the loop.  I told him that I really didn't see the point in that, and dropped as soon as we hit the aid station.  I had nothing to prove to anyone.

Yes.  It hurt.  A lot.  For many reasons.  We were tracking to set a PR for both of us.  We were undefeated at the distance.  We were tougher than anything that we had faced.

None of that mattered when faced with a situation beyond you're control.  Which brings me to the point of this post

One Way To Look At It

• I was robbed!
• Son of biscuit!
• Why me!
• I coulda' been a contender!
• It's just not fair!

How I Got Over It

This is what I discovered, after I got off of my brief visit on the pity pot.

I am 99.9% sure that Kurt and I would have finished sub 24 at IT in 2013.  We ran at least 50km in training every single Saturday for three months.  That was not to be.  The entire week preceding the race, it rained.  The course was 75% covered in water.  We persevered.  We were among only 35% to finish the race.  We were darn proud.

But wait a minute.  Shouldn't we rage against the weather for ruining our chance at a sub 24?  after all,  it was a circumstance beyond our control.

Either I had to be as mad at those circumstances as I was at these, or I had to let go of this as much as I had let go of this as much as I let go of that.

So that's it.  I could waste my time and energy raging against things that I can't/couldn't control, or I can accept what happened, and strive to make sure that it doesn't happen again.  I have a big race coming up in October.  I am so excited to train for it.  I'm looking forward to whipping myself into shape; to making sure that this never happens again.  As is said, "Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me."
Also, I have absolutely nothing to prove to anyone.

• I was among the 35% at IT100 in 2013 who didn't quit because it was cold or because the course was flooded. 
• I walked the last 25 miles of Hallucination 100 after my back seized up.

Time to get off of the pity pot, and get to work.

back to work boys

I Became a Streaker For My Dog

I Became a Streaker For My Dog

Not this kind of streaker

This is my dog.

He's the large, furred one on the right.

His name is Zeus.  He's 100+ pound Great Dane/Labrador mix.  We came into ownership of him on the third of July, 2014.  He's one and one half years old.  He's a good dog.  Mostly.  He's also the neediest creature that I've ever dealt with.

Everything has been fine between him and my family until recently.  During the past week, he's taken to barking at us when we're not paying enough attention to him.  

I'll reiterate the fact that he weighs 100+ pounds.  As is warranted by his size, he has an extremely hearty bark.  There's a lot of depth to it.

I realize that he's not barking out of aggression.  He just needs attention.  The problem lies in the fact that my wife works full time.  I work part time and am taking 14 credit hours.  We have a seven and one half month old daughter (that's her on the left of the above picture).

Just yesterday, Zeus has taken to tugging on my wife's clothes.  He wants to play.  When his tugging becomes more insistent, my wife gets frightened.  Zeus doesn't realize how big he is, or how much force he can exert.  The conversation between my wife and I has started centering around how we might have to return him to Adopt-A-Pet, where we got him, if we can't fix his behavior.

Our daughter, Iola, loves Zeus.  Sometimes I think she loves him more than she loves her parents.  I realize that if we were to return him, she would have no memory of him.  Conversely, if we were to be able to calm him down, she would have fond, pleasant memories of growing up with him.

After some cursory research on Great Danes, it became evident that they are prone to anxiety.  There are a couple of solutions.  One of them is medication.  My wife and I are old school in the sense that we're not going to go to the vet so Zeus can have some doggy Prozac.  Another solution is to start giving him exercise.  We have a very large back yard, which I just recently fenced in so he can run free when we let him out.  I figured that this would be enough.

As a runner, I did attempt to take him with me.  Once.  He didn't do too bad, but because he's not accustomed to it, I had to struggle at times to drag him away from any item that he found interesting.  I really love my daughter.  I would do anything to make her happy. 

So I'm running with my dog again.  

Because it's much quicker for me to run a mile with him in 9 minutes than it is for me to take a 20 minute walk with him, I'm now doing just that.  Including the days that I normally take off from running.

And that's how I became a streaker for my dog.

Hallucination 100 Race Report

or

How I death marched the last 25 miles of Hallucination

Prelude

This is a race report.  However, it wouldn't be complete without a bit of back-story.  I had taken off the last five months of 2013 due to injury and illness.  When I started running again in January of this year, I was only able to run 1.5 miles that first run.

After I had gotten myself into some semblance of shape and had gotten my long run up to 15 miles, by the end of February, I started entertaining the notion of running the 50 mile distance at Run Woodstock.  I shared this idea with my wife and running husband, Kurt Adams.  Kurt said, "Why not do the 100 (mile)?"  Why not indeed.

So that idea eventually morphed into, "Why not attempt to sub 24 (hour) it?"

It is my belief that any solid, middle of the pack ultra runner is able to complete the 100 mile distance in less than 24 hours.  I consider myself to be such, so I said, "Why not?"

Background on Run Woodstock

In case you didn't click on the above link, or this link, here's some information on the Run Woodstock Festival of Running.  The races offered are as follows: 100 miles; 100 km, 50 miles; 50 km; marathon; half marathon; 10 km; 5 miles; 5 km.  Speaking only for the ultra distances, part of the course is within the Hell Creek Camp Grounds, in Hell, MI, and part of the course is on the Potowatami Trail, Pinkney State Park, Pinkney, MI.  

The course is a 16 2/3 mile loop, with the 100 km and 50 km distances running an abbreviated loop.  There are three aid stations (AS) per loop, and one at the start/finish.  They are at miles 4, 8 1/3, and 12 1/3.  There are long stretches of very runable road and tow-path.   Looking at my Garmin data for the first three loops, it's approximately 811 feet of elevation gain per loop.  This gives the 100 mile course an elevation gain of 4,870 ft.
The 100's start at 4 p.m., Friday.  According to the website, this allows the runner to experience the night loops while still relatively fresh.  That's a benefit.  One drawback to this are that, once the sun rises Saturday morning, you still have about two loops to go.  Another is that, unless you normally wake up in the afternoon, you've already been up for most of the day.  That was the case with me.  I woke up at 5 a.m., Friday morning.  So I had already been awake for 11 hours.  This would make itself evident starting in loop two.

Race Day

Shameless selfie.  Serious business is about to commence.

Kurt would be my crew and, starting with lap four, my pacer.  I would also be running the 100 with our good friend Tim.  Here we are, a couple of hours prior to the start:

L to R, Kurt, me, Tim.

Another potential drawback to the 4 p.m. start time is that, if it's unseasonably warm, the race would start at the warmest part of the day.  That was the case this year.  It was 93 degrees, felt like 97, and there was about 60% humidity.

Loop One

Given the conditions, I ran this loop way too fast.  But Kurt and I had boiled down the sub 24 hour goal into what each of the six loops should be completed in.  This loop's goal was 3:15.  It was the fastest of the six, and I felt a tremendous amount of pressure because of it.  I realized that I was running too fast, but justified it to myself by realizing that it would be dusk when I finished, so the heat of the day wouldn't be a factor anymore.

Stay on target.

My plan for fueling was to use two hand-held bottles.  One for water, the other filled with Go Juice.  This has protein powder, maltodextrin (a rapidly absorbed, complex carbohydrate), salt, no-salt (potassium chloride), sugar, and kool-aid.  Each 20 oz. bottle that I drank provided almost 400 calories.  I planned on drinking two per loop.  Considering that a runner can only absorb 200-300 calories per hour, I would still be fine.  I was going to use the Go Juice as long as I could; until I got sick of it.

The rule for ultras, especially in the heat, is to drink and fuel early and often.  You can't make up for it later.  You also can't drink or fuel to excess, because this will lead to problems as well.
The heat also exhibited itself to me by me needing a salt tablet.  I use these sparingly.  Throughout my summer training for this race, I had never taken one.  That's including weekly long runs of at least 26.2 miles.  My thoughts are, if you don't need it, don't take it.  This way, when you do need it, it will be more effective.  I also don't like to disturb the electrolyte balance.  Fueling and hydrating properly during 100 miles is a tricky enough situation as it is.
But I listen to my body, and it was telling me that I needed electrolytes.  I took one about one hour into the loop.  I took another one hour later.  I took a third one hour after that.  Those three salt tabs, coupled with the amount of salt and potassium in the go juice, caused my blood pressure to go sky high.

I drank one bottle of water between every AS on this loop, which was just fine.  I finished my first bottle of go juice by the second AS, the half way mark of the loop.

Another challenge for me at this race, with the sub 24 goal, was to minimize the time spent at AS.  If you spend just two minutes at each AS, that's 44 minutes for 100 miles.  So at the first and third AS, I pulled in, gave a volunteer my water bottle, grabbed it when full, and pulled out.  At the second AS, I gave a volunteer my water bottle, quickly put the go juice powder in the other, no empty bottle, had them fill that, and pulled out.

I did an excellent job at maintaining my goal to minimize time spent at the AS.

At about 7 p.m., just over one mile before I finished this loop, the tornado siren went off.  My first thought was, "Oh.  First Saturday of the month."  Then I realized that it was still Friday.  My thought then was, "I wonder if one would get disqualified if picked up by a tornado and dropped further along down the course."  I pulled into the start/finish two minutes under my goal time.  Kurt was there to fill up my water bottle.  I told him that I needed another bag of go juice powder, my head lamp, and asked his advice on whether or not I should change into my trail shoes, seeing as it was probably going to rain during this loop.  I had been running in street shoes, which was fine because the course was dry.  But if it was going to rain, it was sure to become muddy.  He said yes, change shoes.  So I did.  Quickly.

I gathered my bottles and headed back into the woods to start loop two.  The wind had really picked up and was howling loudly.  Before I entered the woods, I shouted, "IS THAT IT?!?!  IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!?!" at the top of my lungs.

Time: 3:13

Loop Two

As I mentioned earlier, my pace during loop one took it's toll.  That, coupled with the fact that I had now been awake for just over 14 hours, caused me a tremendous amount of fatigue.  My blood pressure was still through the roof.  It felt like the skin on my head was too tight.  I stopped drinking the go juice.  So now I have to start eating at the AS.  Funny thing about running though, the body shunts blood to the organs necessary for survival because it's in a "fight or flight" situation.  The stomach is not a necessary organ.  I couldn't eat.  I wasn't nauseous, I just couldn't force anything into my stomach.

It was eerily spectacular running this loop before darkness closed in.  The sky was that weird shade of yellow that it gets when the conditions are ripe for a tornado.  The wind was wreaking havoc among the trees.  There were constant, loud cracks signalling limbs breaking off of trees.  They sounded like gun shots going off at close range.  I diverted my attention from the trail in front of me briefly, to watch for falling limbs.  I only saw one fall.  It was as thick as my arm, and fell about 12 feet from me.  One runner got hit on the head with a falling limb.  She ended up being pulled from the course with a concussion.

For all of the hullabaloo, I don't fell as if it really rained that much.  If it did in actuality, I was under a canopy of trees, so what ended up falling on me was more refreshing than anything else.  

But oh, the fatigue.  I pulled into and out of the first AS as I had last loop, but it was now dark.  I was tired.  I started thinking that I would tell Kurt, at the end of this loop, that I'd be best served by a 20 minute nap.  That changed into me telling a volunteer at the half way AS to wake me up in 20 minutes, and I would just sleep on the ground.  It got as bad as me thinking that I would just step off of the trail and nap.

I carried on though.  That sub 24 goal was dangling elusively in front of me like the proverbial carrot, even though I knew it was probably unattainable.

The second and third AS stops went much the same as they did for the first loop, so that was good.

When I was a couple of miles out from the start/finish, or the end of this loop, I started planning on what I needed from Kurt.  This is key if you have a goal time that you're shooting for.  Start planning on what you need before you get there.

I pulled into the start/finish and told Kurt, "I need coffee, my flash light, fresh batteries, my blue mp3 player, and two bags (of go juice powder)."  I really hate wearing a head lamp for any extended period of time.  The never changing distance of the light plays havoc with my mind when it goes on for hours and hours.  I train almost exclusively with small flash lights.

Kurt, like the good crew chief that he is, ran to get the items I had requested as I filled up my bottles.  When he came back, he told me that I was 45 minutes over my goal time.  I had already realistically given up on the sub 24, so I wasn't too disappointed.  I still had my secondary goal to shoot for, which was sub 27, and that was still very much within reach.

Kurt said to me, "This is going to be your hardest loop."  We had discussed this previously, and determined that the third loop would probably be my toughest, psychologically.  It would be the first loop ran completely in the dark, and it would be my last loop by myself.  Kurt would be pacing me, starting with loop four.

I told him, "Dude, I'm straight.  I've got my music, I've got a second wind, and I'm good to go."  I had filled up my 8 gig mp3 with music that would keep me going.  I put it on "shuffle all" as I proceeded to the trail head, and it did not disappoint.
Time: 4:11

Loop Three

The first song up was 

As I do on all of my runs, I started singing along at the top of my lungs.  I proceeded to kill this loop.  I reeled in well over a dozen people, singing the whole time.  I talked to a couple of friends after the race, and they mentioned that they had greeted me, but I didn't hear them.  I was too focused.  Focused on picking up time, if possible, and the music.
All AS stops went as well as they had the first two loops.  I managed to force some food down at each one.  All the AS had little dixie cups of grapes.  I would slam about five of these per AS.  At a couple, I downed a few small cups of Coke or Mountain Dew, and perhaps a couple of cookies as well.  These items got me the fuel that I needed.
The amount of debris on the course from the winds earlier was incredible.  Large, fallen trees now crossed the trail periodically that were not there on the first loop.  The rain felt magnificent.  All was right with the world.  I pulled into the start/finish to pick up Kurt.
Time: 4:19

And Then, the Wheels Fell Off

Loop Four

The wheels didn't just fall off, they flew off of a speeding car and careened on down the road.  Picking up Kurt should have provided a boost.  It did not.

Any ultra runner will tell you that there comes a point during a race when you hit a psychological low.  My theory is that the low is proportional to the length of the race.  The low that I experienced during this loop was the darkest point of my life.  Those that truly know me know that that is saying a lot.  It was a profound sense of homesickness.  I knew that my beautiful wife and six month old daughter would be at the start/finish later this day.  All I wanted during this loop was to be with them.  I kept thinking that the this night was the first night since my daughter's birth that I had not checked on her before going to bed.  I missed them so much.

I honestly don't know how Kurt put up with me.  I was mentally exhausted, and more homesick than I have ever been.  I must have said to Kurt, "I honestly don't know how I can do two more loops after this" one million times.  To which he responded, "All you have to do is make it to the next AS" every time.

Woodstock offers a drop down option to 100 mile runners.  After the completion of four loops, or 66 2/3 miles, you can tell them at the start/finish that you're done, and they will record your time as 100 km finisher.  This option sounded so appealing to me.  The reasons that I didn't, in no particular order:

1. There's no buckle for 100 km finish
2. I didn't train this hard for 100 km finish
3. I didn't want to have had dragged Kurt out here to crew me for three laps and pace me for one
4. My wife and daughter still wouldn't be there until the late morning/early afternoon
5. You don't DNF (Did Not Finish) unless you're physically broken or bleeding out, and not completing the distance I signed up for would be a DNF in my book

So I trudged along.  The only redemptive thought being that, sometime during this loop, the sun would rise.  And it did.  With it, my spirits rose.  Slightly, but it was enough to dampen the negativity that had been consuming me.  We pulled into the start/finish.  Sub 24 no longer even a distant goal, but maybe I could pull off a sub 26.  That would be good enough.

Kurt called my wife before we left.  Talking to her was the best thing ever.  She stated that she was already on her way, and that she would see me soon.  I told her that I loved her, and looked forward to seeing her.  Truer words were never spoken.

Time: 5:08

Loop Five

All was going swimmingly through the first two AS.  I was able to pick up some time on the long stretches of runnable road.  I was still running when I could, which was the mantra/key that Kurt and I came up with after completing our first 100 miler (Indiana Trail 100, 2013).  Shortly after the half way AS, we ran down a hill that leveled out at a bridge.  About ten feet onto the bridge, my back seized up so bad, I stopped and cried out.  I immediately lay down on my back to stretch it out.  Other runners were passing me by, stopping and asking if I was ok.  I waved them on and told them that I was fine.  Kurt bent over me and asked me what was wrong.  I told him what had happened as I was getting up.

My back had been tight since loop one.  Starting at the completion of that loop, I would stop and stretch it out at every AS.  This time, no amount of stretching it out was helping.

Running was not an option.  Every time I started to run, my back would seize up again.  So we walked.  And walked.  And walked.

We walked the last 8 1/3 miles of loop five.  It was an immense mental drain.  But I did it.  I did it because DNF is not an option.  DNF is not an out.  DNF is the last resort of the physically unable to perform; of the broken.  If you can move, you move.  However slowly, you keep on making relentless forward progress.  That's what I did.

My wife and daughter were waiting for me at the completion of this loop.  Kurt went over to them to tell my wife what was happening, and that I would probably have to walk the entire last loop.  She came over to me.  I hugged her and kissed her.  Told her how sorry I was for taking so long.  She just told me that she loved me, and that she and my daughter would be waiting for me at the finish.

Best.  Wife.  Ever.

Time: 5:25

Loop Six

As we pulled out of the start/finish, and back onto the trail, Kurt asked if I was alright to run a bit.  My back was feeling better, so I gave it a shot.  That lasted about half of an hour, when it seized up again.  So we walked.  And walked some more.

All told, I walked the last 25 miles of the race, minus maybe 1 - 1.5 miles.  It was the most mentally exhausting thing I've ever done.  When you put it into perspective, that's walking almost a marathon distance.  After having already covered 75 miles.  I felt like crap, mentally, but knew that it would all be over sooner rather than later.

We were both hoping to finish before it got dark again.  After leaving the last AS, I put as much effort into the walk as I could.  I had ditched the Garmin after loop three, but Kurt had a watch and was telling me what time it was.  Sub 28 was the best that I could hope for.  I put every ounce of effort into achieving that goal.

I was familiar with what the trail looked like as it dumped itself onto the path that wound its way to the finish line.  As we approached the hill that led to that trail head, I said softly to Kurt, "There it is."  I trudged up that hill as fast as I could, and pert near sprinted down the chute and across the finish line.  The RD gave me my finisher's medal and commemorative hat, but more importantly, he gave me my buckle.

Time: 5:39

Total Time: 27:58:19

With my daughter and Kurt.  Everyone's happy that I finished!

Postlude

The body is a wonderful, tremendous machine.  It remembers.  As I sit here writing this, less than 48 hours after my finish,  I'm not very sore at all.  My feet are a bit beat up.  The entire ball of my left foot is a blister, and there's a blister where the big toe of my right foot meets the ball of the foot.  Other than that, I'm really not that bad.  If I've been sitting for an extended period, I'm a bit stiff.  But that's only until I start moving around.  I remember how sore I was after my first 100 km race, and how long it took me to recover from my first 100 miler last year.  My appetite still hasn't returned from running this race, but I'm going to go for a run tomorrow.  It won't be fast, and probably won't be very long, but it's a start.

I owe most everything in this finish to Kurt.  Without him, I would have dropped after four.  Thank you, Kurt.

And to my wonderful wife, thank you.  There has never been a purer love than that which you have for me.  Thank you Crystal.

Lessons Learned

I finish, as always, with what I've learned.  I learned that it doesn't matter what you feel like mentally.  You do what you came there to do.  You handle your business.  Unless you're broken, bleeding out, or risk causing permanent damage, you finish.  Not finishing is simply not an option.  You do the best that you can.  If you don't meet your goals, you can still look at yourself when it's all done and know that you gave it your all.  That's all that matters.

What I'll Do for a Sticker - Yankee Springs Double Marathon

Background

Yankee Springs Double Marathon was held on 1 June 2013, in Middleville, MI.  This race came five weeks after my 100 mile finish at Indiana Trail.  For the two weeks immediately following that race, I didn't run at all.  It took me a bit to feel ready to go back at it.  

At the beginning of this year, I had discussed doing this race with a couple of friends.  My sole interest in it was to be able to put the 52.4 mile sticker on my car.  I'm a sticker whore, I freely admit.

So I went into this race not having put in more than 36 miles in one week in the five previous weeks.

All was well though.  I would be running it with my constant ultra companion, Kurt, with whom I ran 97 miles of IT with, and Tim, who was my pacer at IT.  Tim would be running the Yankee Springs Challenge, which consists of the 10k on Friday night, the double on Saturday, and the half marathon on Sunday.  After finishing the double, his first question was, "What's the cutoff for the half tomorrow."  After being told it was 5 hours, he decided to walk most of it.
Max King would be there for the race, so that was pretty neat for us.  I'm a bit of a sucker for famous ultra runners

The Day

The three of us had been checking the weather the day before the race.  It was forecast to thunderstorm on and off throughout the day.  That was not the case.  The weather was perfect.  Absolutely perfect.  Temps in the mid 80's, low humidity, the occasional breeze.  Couldn't ask for much better.

The Course

This was run entirely on trails, of which I am not a fan.  It was not a technical trail at all, which was nice.  The soil was pretty sandy, which allowed the water from the previous days rain to drain nicely.  The trail itself was nice and soft. No mud to speak of.
It was a 13.1 mile loop, ran four times for the double.  Here is the Garmin data from the race.

Elevation profile

The Race

It turned out our friend that had run a large portion of Top of Michigan 100k, John Sands, would be running with us as well.  So the four of us started out at 6 a.m.  We were all feeling pretty good, and averaged just under 11:30 min/mile for the first loop.  It was a beautiful day and a beautiful course.  I regretted not having any pockets in my skirt for my phone in order to take some pictures.

Courtesy of Runnerpics

At the start of the second loop, Max King blew past us.  We figured that he had lapped us.  When discussing this amongst ourselves during this loop, we didn't see how that was possible.  That would have meant that he completed a marathon distance in 2:20.  We found out later that he was just running the marathon, not the double, which started an hour later.  He actually went on to set a course record for the 26.2 distance, in 3:03.  I just don't understand that kind of speed on a course which, for him, had almost 1,500 ft. of gain.  He also took first in the 10k and the half marathon.
The second loop we slowed down, stopping to graze at the aid stations occasionally.  We averaged just over 12:30 for that loop.

A brief note about the volunteers.  They were fantastic, as has always been my experience at ultras.  There were fresh grilled cheese sandwiches at the aid stations, which was nice.  Always an offer to fill a water bottle.  Real class act.

Back to the rest of the story.

Kurt and I really started to feel the weeks of relative inactivity at the start of the third loop.  John and Tim went on ahead, while the two of us slogged through our mini doldrum.  This lap we averaged 15 minutes per mile.

There was a 14 hour cutoff to this race.  Our collective goal was to run it sub 12.  We all thought that it would be no problem.  But after the third loop, Kurt and I realized that we probably wouldn't make sub 12.  We still wanted to get as close to possible to our original goal.  We had an epiphany.  Just run when we can.  This meant a few things to us.  First, it meant run every stretch of ground that we could; just walk the uphills.  Second, it meant just run when we felt we could, and when we didn't feel that we could, reference definition number one.  So we set off strong.  By the time we got to the first aid station however, some of the wind had been taken out of our sails.  Kurt laid down on the grass for a minute, while I yelled at him "What do you think you're doing?!  Let's go!" (Many people don't understand our friendship or how we kid around).

The tendon on the top of my right foot started to bother me, and was really clamoring for my attention during this loop.  It was quite sore and tender if I landed on my foot the wrong way.  The other issue that I faced was more base.  I had a "I might have to go to the restroom" feeling since the end of the second loop.  During this last loop, it was intensifying with every step.  About one mile from the finish, I realized that I would not make it that last mile without going.  I found a nice log, told Kurt to go ahead, and left with a lighter step.

We averaged just under 16 minutes for the last loop

The Finish

All in all, it was an awesome race.  We all had a great time, and the course was super beautiful.  I finished only a few minutes after Kurt, but over an hour after John, and 40 minutes after Tim.  Because there were a significant number of DNF, all three of us got second place Age Group awards, a $10 gift certificate to a local sports store.  The funny thing about that is that we're all in the same age group.

My biggest take away from this race:  Running an ultra on little preparation and can be done if one has a super strong base, which Kurt and I had from our IT training.  It can be done, but it sure isn't pretty.
One other thing I took away from this race:  Oreos still taste awesome late in a race

Finishing time 12:25:01

l to r, Kurt, Tim, me post race

Finisher's pint glass

Indiana Trail 100

Overview

On Saturday, 20 Apr 2013, at 6 am, I started what would be the most difficult, most rewarding experience of my life.  Indiana Trail 100 was held at Chain O' Lakes State Park, in Albion, Indiana.  It consisted of 6 laps, 16 2/3 miles per loop.  Three aid stations on the loop.  One at 4.25 miles, one at 8.8, one at 14.5, and the start/finish.

The week preceding this, Indiana, and my home state of Michigan, experienced a tremendous amount of rain.  Because of this, Much of the course was under water, forcing the RD to reroute some of the course.  There were still some sections that were under water, forcing us to wade through water that was up to mid thigh, three to four times per loop.

every crossing at least this long

The biggest problem that the rain caused was the mud.  Shoe sucking mud.  Quad burning mud.  The mud consisted of approximately 20km of the 100 mile course.  One of the worst aspects of it was that it would be 50 feet of mud, then some short runnable surface, then another 50 feet of mud, etc.  Forcing us to start, stop, start...

Here's a nice stretch of it.  Most stretches not as easily navigable.

It was pretty bad.  Here is a brief, 3 minute video of some of the mud and water.

My wife, Crystal, stayed awake with me the whole time.  She was invaluable through this process.

This race had a 62.5% DNF rate.  I was not among them.

Preview/Training

I won't get into much detail here, since this is a race report, not a training report.  All I will say is that I trained for 14 weeks.  Every weekend except 4, I ran greater than 26.2 miles with my friend Kurt.  He was also training for IT100.  We had decided to run as much of the race together as possible.  Turns out, we ran all but the last 2.1 miles together.  We had also discussed loop times for a sub 24 hour finish.

Loop 1 projected - 3:30   actual  3:37

Kurt and I before the start

My bib and the bib for Boston

We found out just how bad the course was on this loop.  We still made good time, only going 7 minutes over our projected time.  Did I mention the mud?  I had two 20 oz. bottles in a waist pack.  One filled with water, the other filled with Jonathan Savage's Go Juice.  This set up worked fine for the first four laps.  More on that later.

We were having fun, wading through the water, and not so much, slogging through the mud.  But we were doing it

Lap 2 projected 3:30    actual 4:02

It was a dirty business

Kurt and I decided to take the extra time it took to take care of our feet after every lap.  We changed socks, dried our feet, wiped all the mud from inside our shoes, and reapplied vaseline to our feet.  We figured that the time we took to do this would save us from major issues later in the race and a possible DNF (did not finish).

We were still in decent shape for our sub 24, but were thinking that just finishing was more in order.  We had fun still.  Picking up some running partners here and there, talking with them and each other about all manner of things.

At the completion of this lap, we met our friend Tim, who would be our pacer later in the race.  We were allowed pacers starting with lap 4, but Kurt and I wanted to wait until the start of loop 5, which we had dubbed the Loop of Doom in training.  We named it that because it would be the first lap done in complete darkness and it would be just the 5th lap.  We would still need to do 50 km at the beginning of this lap.  We wanted our pacer to not lose his efficacy.

Lap 3 projected 4:00   actual 4:38

This is where it started to fall apart

So yeah.  After lap 3, 50 miles, things started to go a bit south.  Half way through this lap, my stomach really stopped accepting anything, including the Go Juice.  I knew that would happen, that's why I made the Juice, to supply the calories needed.  But I just couldn't stomach that either.  I had some saltines and a couple of Tums at the last aid station before the finish, then we made it back to change our shoes.  Crystal (all pictures courtesy of her), and Tim were a great crew.  Crystal provided our clean socks, while Tim filled up our fluids.

It was at this point that we stopped thinking about the sub 24 hour finish.  We knew that we would still finish under the cutoff (30 hours) if we just kept on moving forward, so that's what we did.

Change of shoes, good to go.  Note how bright blue those shoes are.

Lap 4 actual 5:18

We started this lap in the light and finished it in the dark.  We knew that we wouldn't see the light again until after the Loop of Doom.  In the start/finish tent, Tim told us that people were coming in from lap 4 and not going back out.  They would sit down by the heater and drop, or drop and sit down by the heater.  But once they came in, they weren't leaving.  Dropping was not an option for us, so we topped off our fluids and took off.

The loop itself is kind of a blur.  My stomach wasn't getting any better, and I was quickly losing my energy.  At the 8.8 mile aid station, I donned an extra layer because it was getting colder.  I was now wearing a short sleeve tech, a long sleeve cotton, and two light weight coats.
We walked at least the last 5 miles of this lap.

One thing that we both looked forward to at the end of this lap was coffee.  We had cut our consumption significantly over the week leading up to the race.  Me, by two thirds of my normal.  At every aid station, we politely declined their offer of coffee.  Upon completion of this lap, we downed a couple of cups.  Mmmm.... delicious coffee...
At the start/finish, i donned another long sleeve cotton.  Now I had 5 layers on.

Loop of Doom actual 5:59

This is where I personally fell apart.  I hadn't been eating or hydrating for over 6 hours.  My back was a knot of flame from carrying 40 ounces around my waist for 17.5 hours.  I remember at one point stepping over a tree that was across the trail and just sitting down on it for a minute.  Then I got up and carried on.  We ended up walking a lot of this lap as well, despite Tim's efforts to get us moving.  Towards the end of the loop, Tim realized that I was dehydrated, and started making me drink Gatorade and take some salt tabs.

I'm gorked out

Tim putting fresh batteries in my head lamp.

When we got back in from this lap, I did my best to avoid the attention of the EMT's.  I didn't want them to start asking me questions, and me not being able to answer them.  So I just tried to mind my p's and q's, drank the Gu Brew that Tim gave me, and carried on for the last lap.
Tim had an extra hand held water bottle that he let me use for this lap, since there was no way I was wearing that waist pack anymore.  I wasn't too keen on putting a hydration pack on either.  So I popped an electrolyte tab in the bottle, topped it off with water, and we were good to go.

Final lap actual 5:12

At the start of this lap, Tim took the time to have a cup of coffee, so Kurt and I carried on.  As we passed over the timing mat, I broke into what passed for a run.  I told Kurt, "It doesn't matter how fast we're going, but we have to keep a running form to stay warm."

This lap was actually not too bad.  The ground had frozen (it got down to 28 degrees fahrenheit that night), so the mud wasn't that much of an issue.  That, and the fact that we just didn't care anymore, really helped out the slogging factor.  The water level of most of the course had dropped, so that by the time we finished, what had once been a 20 yard, mid thigh deep lake, had turned into something that got the bottom of our shoes wet.

We got to see the sun come up during this lap.  That was a highlight of the entire race.

At the 8.8 mile aid station, they had home made egg and bacon muffins.  The protein was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten.

At the aid station 2.1 miles from the finish, Kurt just checked in and carried on.  He said, "I just want to be done."  I told him that I just didn't have it in me to run anymore.  Tim had been a harsh task master throughout this loop, making us run often.  I found out later that my wife had told him, "Don't be nice to him."  Well, he wasn't.  I told Kurt to tell her that I would be 5 - 10 minutes behind him.  We walked for about .75 miles, then I found some reserve somewhere, and ran as much of the rest as I could.

Finish 28:48:30.35

This is where I left Tim

Coming up and around to the timing mat at the finish was one of the sweetest, most fulfilling moments ever.  I crossed the finish and told the small crowd, "I think I'll stop now."  That got a laugh out of them.  I traded my timing chip for a buckle.  Best trade ever. 152 people started the race.  57 finished.  I was 37th of the 57.

It seemed like a sprint to me

From l to r, me, Tim and Kurt

Lessons learned

I trained my arse off for this race.  DNF was not an option.  Not because of mud, not because of sub freezing temps, not because of huge water crossings.  Go into it with that state of mind, and that's a huge part of the battle already won.

Waist packs may be fine for 50M or less.  Anything more, not so much.  Hand helds being ordered this week.

Especially when your stomach goes south, pay attention to your hydration.  Keep drinking.  Keep electrolyte levels up.

Parting Photograph

Bright blue shoes on the right
Yes, it's a female shirt.  All my race shirts go to my wife