I finally had a good run this morning. I met the Rogue group at the Hill of Life this morning for an "easy" hour of running. Most of them just got back from a trip out to colorado for the Barr Mountain Trail Race, while I was back here at 100 ft elevation running flatlander style. It was recovery for the BMTR runners, and since we are all heading out to Bandera next weekend for some long runs, just taking it easy.
I started off easy, but about 10 minutes into the run I felt good. Really good. It was something I haven't felt in weeks, so I started picking up the pace. It felt so good to be running fast on single track trails, hitting sharp turns, leaping rocks and roots, like I had been doing a month ago. I felt really alive. That feeling is exactly what I love about trail running, and so I took advantage of it. It's the feeling that all of us trail runners seek, the thing we can't describe to our friends and coworkers no matter how hard we try.
I finished the loop in one hour, and stopped with the group. I was tempted to head back out for another hour or two, but knew it was best to stop. I have 40 miles planned for next weekend on some tough Bandera, TX terrain, no sense in wasting it all now. For the first time in awhile, I can't wait to get back out there.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Saturday, July 22, 2006
The Death Run
It's been two weeks since my run out at Inks Lake, where I had a fabulous run and felt great doing it. I was on top of my running world, but since then it's all come crashing down. I've run about 5 times since then, each time feeling worse and worse. Maybe I need some time off, maybe its the 100+ temperatures, or maybe it's mental. Or maybe it's a combination of these things.
This morning I decided to head out for a tough hilly run, to see if I could break out of my funk. I ran Melissa's Davenport Death run. I figured it must be tough if Melissa ran on it. Besides it shares hills with another common running route called "The Inferno" and "The Run From Hell." Words like "death," "inferno," and "hell" sound like too much fun not to do, and I knew I had to push myself through it, or I'd just keep going on with these crappy runs.
The first mile was easy, some tough hills on Austin's scale, but nothing too bad. I picked up the pace for the next 2 miles and the hills got tougher. By 30 minutes in, I was spent. Here we go again, I thought. I slowed down, but not much, and I tried to focus on getting up the hills comfortably and recovering on the downhills. By 60 minutes in, I was good to go. If that wasn't a fluke, then I'd say I'm back to my old self. I sure hope so, Pike's Peak is coming up in less than a month.
I'll be heading out to Bandera next weekend for some more good running. I can't wait to get there, last time was the toughest run I'd ever had, but I had a blast doing it. It's beautiful Texas Hill Country out there.
This morning I decided to head out for a tough hilly run, to see if I could break out of my funk. I ran Melissa's Davenport Death run. I figured it must be tough if Melissa ran on it. Besides it shares hills with another common running route called "The Inferno" and "The Run From Hell." Words like "death," "inferno," and "hell" sound like too much fun not to do, and I knew I had to push myself through it, or I'd just keep going on with these crappy runs.
The first mile was easy, some tough hills on Austin's scale, but nothing too bad. I picked up the pace for the next 2 miles and the hills got tougher. By 30 minutes in, I was spent. Here we go again, I thought. I slowed down, but not much, and I tried to focus on getting up the hills comfortably and recovering on the downhills. By 60 minutes in, I was good to go. If that wasn't a fluke, then I'd say I'm back to my old self. I sure hope so, Pike's Peak is coming up in less than a month.
I'll be heading out to Bandera next weekend for some more good running. I can't wait to get there, last time was the toughest run I'd ever had, but I had a blast doing it. It's beautiful Texas Hill Country out there.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Horrible Running Weekend
I had a terrible running weekend. I got up early on Saturday to meet Jim at the hill of life. About 30 seconds into the run, on the way down the hill, I turned my ankle again. The same one from last weekends run. It hurt, I limped for awhile, and kept going. I should have just turned around right there and ran on the roads.
20 minutes into the run, Jim and I are both exhausted, hot, thirsty, and miserable. He's going really slow because his legs are tired from 2 very tough weeks of running for him. I'm limping behind him because of my annoying ankle. Neither of us are doing much talking, except to complain about the run. Normally whining is not tolerated, but that day it was all we had.
Then came the horseflies. These huge pests were buzzing around us and followed us for miles. We tried everything, but couldn't shake them. At this point it was getting really hot, we were covered in sweat, our bodies exhausted, and now the mental angish of these stupid horseflies. At one point Jim turned to me and said, "this is just plain miserable." He was right.
I let all of this beat me down, and my ankle was killing me. Finally after an hour and a half of pretending to be a runner, I told Jim that I was finished. We had planned on 3 hours, but I couldn't do it. My ankle was not worse than last weekend, where I ran all night on the same injury. It made me realize how mental this whole business is. Last week, I succeeded because I never considered the alternative. This weekend, I was defeated from the beginning. Last weekend I shunned the pain, this time I welcomed it and used it as an excuse to stop. It's OK though, I was fine with stopping. There's no reason to mes up my ankle any worse.
This morning I got up at 5 to try to run on the roads for a few hours. My ankle stil hurt, so I decided not to even go out. Instead I sat around watching live updates at the hardrock 100, where my friend Joe was running. He finished, as I figured he would. This was his 6th finish at hardrock. I don't know much about the course, but he went 47 hours straight with no sleep to finish just before the cutoff, so I know it must be rough.
Tomorrow I'll try to run again. We'll see how it goes.
20 minutes into the run, Jim and I are both exhausted, hot, thirsty, and miserable. He's going really slow because his legs are tired from 2 very tough weeks of running for him. I'm limping behind him because of my annoying ankle. Neither of us are doing much talking, except to complain about the run. Normally whining is not tolerated, but that day it was all we had.
Then came the horseflies. These huge pests were buzzing around us and followed us for miles. We tried everything, but couldn't shake them. At this point it was getting really hot, we were covered in sweat, our bodies exhausted, and now the mental angish of these stupid horseflies. At one point Jim turned to me and said, "this is just plain miserable." He was right.
I let all of this beat me down, and my ankle was killing me. Finally after an hour and a half of pretending to be a runner, I told Jim that I was finished. We had planned on 3 hours, but I couldn't do it. My ankle was not worse than last weekend, where I ran all night on the same injury. It made me realize how mental this whole business is. Last week, I succeeded because I never considered the alternative. This weekend, I was defeated from the beginning. Last weekend I shunned the pain, this time I welcomed it and used it as an excuse to stop. It's OK though, I was fine with stopping. There's no reason to mes up my ankle any worse.
This morning I got up at 5 to try to run on the roads for a few hours. My ankle stil hurt, so I decided not to even go out. Instead I sat around watching live updates at the hardrock 100, where my friend Joe was running. He finished, as I figured he would. This was his 6th finish at hardrock. I don't know much about the course, but he went 47 hours straight with no sleep to finish just before the cutoff, so I know it must be rough.
Tomorrow I'll try to run again. We'll see how it goes.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Night Running Theme Song
Listening to my iPod on shuffle last night, an oldie but goodie came on. It's the perfect theme song for last weekends all night run.
little voice says I'm going crazy
to see all my worlds disappear
vague sketch of a fantasy
laughing at the sunrise
like he's been up all night
ooo slippin and slidin
what a good time but now
I have have to find a bed
that can take this wait
good feeing
won't you say stay with me just a little longer
it always seems like your leaving
when I know the other one
just a little too well
-Violent Femmes
little voice says I'm going crazy
to see all my worlds disappear
vague sketch of a fantasy
laughing at the sunrise
like he's been up all night
ooo slippin and slidin
what a good time but now
I have have to find a bed
that can take this wait
good feeing
won't you say stay with me just a little longer
it always seems like your leaving
when I know the other one
just a little too well
-Violent Femmes
Monday, July 10, 2006
Capt'n Karls Report
I wasn't sure how to write up this race report, as it was not like any other experience I've had on the trails. It was a test of my resolve, my character, and a true showing of my friendships, and had very little to do with my fitness or strength. The results might be shown by my time, distance, or rank at the finish, but the real results were the things I learned during the run, and the knowledge I walked away with at the end.
The event started with a little pre-race speech by Brad and his wife Nyla, the RD couple. The talk was as much about the purpose of the race, raising money for the American Cancer Society, and it was about the run. Brad and Nyla really believed in the cause of this event, and that was cool to see. The inaugeral Capt'n Karl's All Nighter began shortly after this, by none other than Karl, who the race was named after.
I'm not going to write the normal race report. During the race there were 4 things that stuck out to me and they trump anything else that occured during this long night.
1. Jim, Kara, and I drove out to Inks lake in the early afternoon. On the way out there, Jim was talking about hopefully getting in 25 miles in his 6 hour event. I told him that he should be excited, because he was about to run his longest run ever that night. Since he's run a marathon, I was basically telling him that he would exceed his goal of 25 miles. We had agreed to run the first 6 hours together, then I would run the second half alone. At 11:15pm, we realized that we would have to step up the pace to get into the aid station by 12:30. This was the cutoff for the 6 hour guys. If we left the aid station before this, then he was allowed to go back out and get another "official" loop in. This would put him at 30 miles. But it would not be easy, as we hadn't run a loop in under 1:15 in quite awhile, and we had been slowing down. But Jim stepped it up, we pushed the pace the first half of the loop, and the second half he left me. He ran like a crazy man and got back into the aid station at 12:23, just quick enough to head back out. It would have been easy for him to take it easy, finish just after 12:30 and have a good reason to call it a night. A successful night at that, but he wasn't satisfied. He pushed himself, and he was rewarded with his first ultra marathon. He did the 30, plus a one mile loop at the beginning when we were lost, for an unofficial 31 miles, or 50K. Jim is a strong runner, and a great friend, I was happy to be a part of his first ultra. I'm lucky to have a friend like him.
2. Kara, my wife, had come out with us and volunteered at the aid station from 7pm to 1am. This race wouldn't have been the same without her there. I couldn't believe how dependent I was on knowing that she would be there when I got there. At one point, I came in after only 10 miles feeling weak and nautious. I hadn't felt this poor in the early stages of a run before. She told me, "It'll get better, it has to." She said it twice. They were the perfect words for the moment, they helped me get through that first low point that I had, and echoed in my mind the rest of the night. I'm a lucky guy to have her.
3. At mile 28, I sprained my ankle very badly. I screamed like a madman when it happened, and limped for 2 miles back to the aid station. All I could think about was how I had such a long night ahead of me. I still had over 5 hours, and I knew that quitting was not an option. It took Jim and me about an hour to walk that 2 miles. Jim was finishing his run at this point, and could have easily left me to get a better time on his first ultra. But I don't think that ever entered his mind, even when I told him to go on. I was in no danger, and I certainly wasn't pleasant company. When we finished, Jim told me not to do anything stupid, as I hobbled back out onto the course alone. I knew that I would do many stupid things out there, but isn't that the foundation of ultra running? I dug in deep over the next mile or two, working hard to ignore the pain I felt and began running slowly on the smooth parts (which were rare). "It'll get better, it has to," I reminded myself. Adrenaline, endorphins, and the grace of God finally got me running again about 2 miles into that 7th loop. This was a new test of resolve that I had to conquer, and I did.
4. The fourth lesson is the hardest to explain. But I'll try. When I finally started running again on the 8th loop, I passed a few people. Some of them were walking, and I was actually lapping them. Others, I was passing for the first time. When I got to the aid station, I was told that I was now in first place. I can't describe how little this meant to me. Now that I was running again, all I wanted to do was keep running. If I could do that, then this night would be a success. I had battled through some low points, I had been carried by friends, family, and fellow runners, and that was all that mattered. I continued to run as hard as I could for the next 3 hours, and finally finished my last loop, 50 miles, in 11:50. I had won the race. My wife had just woken up, and came over to me. "I think you won," she said. I smiled and said that I did. Surprisingly, it wasn't that exciting to me. I often say that when I race, I'm racing myself, and this was proof to myself that I wasn't just sayinig this for dramatic effect, I really meant it. I had exceeded my expectations on that night, and how I stacked up against the other runners wasn't important. Kara was proud of me, and she called everyone that night to tell them about the night. I think I was happier about her pride than the race itself.
My overall opinion of the race was that it was a huge success. About 25 people were out there for the inaugeral event, most of them doing the 12 hours. It was a great idea for a race, and if it continues, I'm sure it will grow. The fellow runners were great company, as any HCTR get together seems to be. While the execution can get better, and I'm sure it will, it went really well. The volunteers were good and the food was good. The post race breakfast was awesome. I can't wait until next year.
The event started with a little pre-race speech by Brad and his wife Nyla, the RD couple. The talk was as much about the purpose of the race, raising money for the American Cancer Society, and it was about the run. Brad and Nyla really believed in the cause of this event, and that was cool to see. The inaugeral Capt'n Karl's All Nighter began shortly after this, by none other than Karl, who the race was named after.
I'm not going to write the normal race report. During the race there were 4 things that stuck out to me and they trump anything else that occured during this long night.
1. Jim, Kara, and I drove out to Inks lake in the early afternoon. On the way out there, Jim was talking about hopefully getting in 25 miles in his 6 hour event. I told him that he should be excited, because he was about to run his longest run ever that night. Since he's run a marathon, I was basically telling him that he would exceed his goal of 25 miles. We had agreed to run the first 6 hours together, then I would run the second half alone. At 11:15pm, we realized that we would have to step up the pace to get into the aid station by 12:30. This was the cutoff for the 6 hour guys. If we left the aid station before this, then he was allowed to go back out and get another "official" loop in. This would put him at 30 miles. But it would not be easy, as we hadn't run a loop in under 1:15 in quite awhile, and we had been slowing down. But Jim stepped it up, we pushed the pace the first half of the loop, and the second half he left me. He ran like a crazy man and got back into the aid station at 12:23, just quick enough to head back out. It would have been easy for him to take it easy, finish just after 12:30 and have a good reason to call it a night. A successful night at that, but he wasn't satisfied. He pushed himself, and he was rewarded with his first ultra marathon. He did the 30, plus a one mile loop at the beginning when we were lost, for an unofficial 31 miles, or 50K. Jim is a strong runner, and a great friend, I was happy to be a part of his first ultra. I'm lucky to have a friend like him.
2. Kara, my wife, had come out with us and volunteered at the aid station from 7pm to 1am. This race wouldn't have been the same without her there. I couldn't believe how dependent I was on knowing that she would be there when I got there. At one point, I came in after only 10 miles feeling weak and nautious. I hadn't felt this poor in the early stages of a run before. She told me, "It'll get better, it has to." She said it twice. They were the perfect words for the moment, they helped me get through that first low point that I had, and echoed in my mind the rest of the night. I'm a lucky guy to have her.
3. At mile 28, I sprained my ankle very badly. I screamed like a madman when it happened, and limped for 2 miles back to the aid station. All I could think about was how I had such a long night ahead of me. I still had over 5 hours, and I knew that quitting was not an option. It took Jim and me about an hour to walk that 2 miles. Jim was finishing his run at this point, and could have easily left me to get a better time on his first ultra. But I don't think that ever entered his mind, even when I told him to go on. I was in no danger, and I certainly wasn't pleasant company. When we finished, Jim told me not to do anything stupid, as I hobbled back out onto the course alone. I knew that I would do many stupid things out there, but isn't that the foundation of ultra running? I dug in deep over the next mile or two, working hard to ignore the pain I felt and began running slowly on the smooth parts (which were rare). "It'll get better, it has to," I reminded myself. Adrenaline, endorphins, and the grace of God finally got me running again about 2 miles into that 7th loop. This was a new test of resolve that I had to conquer, and I did.
4. The fourth lesson is the hardest to explain. But I'll try. When I finally started running again on the 8th loop, I passed a few people. Some of them were walking, and I was actually lapping them. Others, I was passing for the first time. When I got to the aid station, I was told that I was now in first place. I can't describe how little this meant to me. Now that I was running again, all I wanted to do was keep running. If I could do that, then this night would be a success. I had battled through some low points, I had been carried by friends, family, and fellow runners, and that was all that mattered. I continued to run as hard as I could for the next 3 hours, and finally finished my last loop, 50 miles, in 11:50. I had won the race. My wife had just woken up, and came over to me. "I think you won," she said. I smiled and said that I did. Surprisingly, it wasn't that exciting to me. I often say that when I race, I'm racing myself, and this was proof to myself that I wasn't just sayinig this for dramatic effect, I really meant it. I had exceeded my expectations on that night, and how I stacked up against the other runners wasn't important. Kara was proud of me, and she called everyone that night to tell them about the night. I think I was happier about her pride than the race itself.
My overall opinion of the race was that it was a huge success. About 25 people were out there for the inaugeral event, most of them doing the 12 hours. It was a great idea for a race, and if it continues, I'm sure it will grow. The fellow runners were great company, as any HCTR get together seems to be. While the execution can get better, and I'm sure it will, it went really well. The volunteers were good and the food was good. The post race breakfast was awesome. I can't wait until next year.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
A Marathon Relay
I ran a marathon relay this morning. The race is something I've been anxious to have over with for quite awhile. As the token runner of my group at work, I took the responsibility last year to get a group of my colleagues together. Many of them were either running their first race, or their longest at 5-10K. It was a pain getting it all organized, as it seemed like everyone had to be dragged out there, even though I knew they would enjoy it once they got out there.
The race was over in such a short time. I was running the first leg, which was a 12K. I haven't raced a distance this short in a long time, almost 2 years. I'm not trying to sound facetious by calling it short, but honestly, it is a different kind of race when it's only going to take an hour. I wasn't sure how to pace myself, but I did want to go out hard and try to maintain a quick pace, not knowing whether I could hold it for 7.5 miles. In the long trail runs, you can start slow, and really feel it out and adjust your pace accordingly. Here, I felt like I was just going hard, and hoping it would last.
As it turns out, it almost lasted. I kept a hard pace (for me, anyways) for the first 7 miles. With about .5 miles to go, I was spent. But with a half mile to go, and at that pace, I kept telling myself that it was only 3 more minutes, then 2 more minutes, then 1 and the finish line was in sight. I know I slowed down a little, but I kept the pace up enough to finish strong. Ended up finishing at about 56:30, which was 4 seconds per mile faster than my 10K PR.
I was surprised to say the least. While I've been running consistently for the past 2 years, I never thought I could race that distance faster than I did 2 years ago, when I was more focused on the 10K distance. I even have to admit that I enjoyed running fast. That's not to say I'll make a habit of it, I'm sticking with the trails for now.
I handed off to my partner for the next leg, who happened to be my wife. She also PR'd. She has been gunning for a 10 minute pace on a 10K for awhile, and she almost got it this time. She finished in about 63 minutes. She'll get there soon.
It was weird at the finish line. I'm used to a small crowd, where I know most of the people. I'm used to eating lunch (or dinner) at the end of the race. Here, there were hundreds of people that I didn't know, and donuts to eat. The donuts were good, but nothing like an ice cold Coke and a cheesburger.
The race was over in such a short time. I was running the first leg, which was a 12K. I haven't raced a distance this short in a long time, almost 2 years. I'm not trying to sound facetious by calling it short, but honestly, it is a different kind of race when it's only going to take an hour. I wasn't sure how to pace myself, but I did want to go out hard and try to maintain a quick pace, not knowing whether I could hold it for 7.5 miles. In the long trail runs, you can start slow, and really feel it out and adjust your pace accordingly. Here, I felt like I was just going hard, and hoping it would last.
As it turns out, it almost lasted. I kept a hard pace (for me, anyways) for the first 7 miles. With about .5 miles to go, I was spent. But with a half mile to go, and at that pace, I kept telling myself that it was only 3 more minutes, then 2 more minutes, then 1 and the finish line was in sight. I know I slowed down a little, but I kept the pace up enough to finish strong. Ended up finishing at about 56:30, which was 4 seconds per mile faster than my 10K PR.
I was surprised to say the least. While I've been running consistently for the past 2 years, I never thought I could race that distance faster than I did 2 years ago, when I was more focused on the 10K distance. I even have to admit that I enjoyed running fast. That's not to say I'll make a habit of it, I'm sticking with the trails for now.
I handed off to my partner for the next leg, who happened to be my wife. She also PR'd. She has been gunning for a 10 minute pace on a 10K for awhile, and she almost got it this time. She finished in about 63 minutes. She'll get there soon.
It was weird at the finish line. I'm used to a small crowd, where I know most of the people. I'm used to eating lunch (or dinner) at the end of the race. Here, there were hundreds of people that I didn't know, and donuts to eat. The donuts were good, but nothing like an ice cold Coke and a cheesburger.
Monday, July 03, 2006
A Very Short Run
I have a marathon relay tomorrow, on July 4th. I had to go downtown yesterday to pick up my teams packets, but I got there about 20 minutes early so I decided to run a quick out and back around Town Lake rather than just sitting around and waiting. Besides, I needed to shake out some cobwebs after Saturday's 3 hour run.
So when I took off, I decided I'd run it fast. I mean, really fast, relative to my normal pace. Of course my normal pace is ultra marathon pace, so that's not saying too much. Anyways, I took off at about a 7 minute pace, which I wasn't sure if I could maintain because I never try it. It felt good. Actually, it felt really great. It's been a long time since I ran swiftly like this, and it was refreshing.
I finished close to a 3 mile out and back in 20 minutes, picked up my packet soaking wet in sweat, and went home for a shower. I'm feeling pretty good today, and looking forward to a fast race tomorrow. I'm running a 12K leg of the relay, havent done a distance like that in a while, so we'll see how it goes. I'm running the race with co-workers who all think I'm a running freak, so I can't let them down.
So when I took off, I decided I'd run it fast. I mean, really fast, relative to my normal pace. Of course my normal pace is ultra marathon pace, so that's not saying too much. Anyways, I took off at about a 7 minute pace, which I wasn't sure if I could maintain because I never try it. It felt good. Actually, it felt really great. It's been a long time since I ran swiftly like this, and it was refreshing.
I finished close to a 3 mile out and back in 20 minutes, picked up my packet soaking wet in sweat, and went home for a shower. I'm feeling pretty good today, and looking forward to a fast race tomorrow. I'm running a 12K leg of the relay, havent done a distance like that in a while, so we'll see how it goes. I'm running the race with co-workers who all think I'm a running freak, so I can't let them down.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Crappy Sports Weekend
On a non-running note, what a crappy weekend of sports news.
First, I get to work on Friday and find out that Randy Walker, the head football coach of my alma-mater, Northwestern, died of an apparent heart attack. He became coach when I was a junior in college. He was a good coach, and from what I knew, a great guy.
Then, I get online last night to read some Tour de France previews only to realize that a huge scandal had just broke. It was not a huge surprise, I think a lot of people saw it coming, but I had no clue it would be this big. Basso, out; Ullrich, out; Mancebo, out; Vinikourav, my favorite, is out too because he could not even field a team of 6 (he is not accused, by the way). It's good for some American contendors, but absolutely horrible for the sport. I was happy to see that no Discovery riders, nor top Americans, were involved. Also happy to see Vino was not accused either. But you know what, the TdF people deserved this after the way they treated Lance. OK, I'll get off my soapbox now.
Then, today I had to watch France beat Brazil in the World Cup again?!? And while I was not surprised to see Agassi or Roddick lose in Wimbledon, that just topped off a terrible sports weekend. At least I can still root for my girl, Martina Hingis.
Oh, wait....
First, I get to work on Friday and find out that Randy Walker, the head football coach of my alma-mater, Northwestern, died of an apparent heart attack. He became coach when I was a junior in college. He was a good coach, and from what I knew, a great guy.
Then, I get online last night to read some Tour de France previews only to realize that a huge scandal had just broke. It was not a huge surprise, I think a lot of people saw it coming, but I had no clue it would be this big. Basso, out; Ullrich, out; Mancebo, out; Vinikourav, my favorite, is out too because he could not even field a team of 6 (he is not accused, by the way). It's good for some American contendors, but absolutely horrible for the sport. I was happy to see that no Discovery riders, nor top Americans, were involved. Also happy to see Vino was not accused either. But you know what, the TdF people deserved this after the way they treated Lance. OK, I'll get off my soapbox now.
Then, today I had to watch France beat Brazil in the World Cup again?!? And while I was not surprised to see Agassi or Roddick lose in Wimbledon, that just topped off a terrible sports weekend. At least I can still root for my girl, Martina Hingis.
Oh, wait....
Greenbelt Run
I got up early this morning to get in an early 3 hour run starting at 6am. Jim met me at the top of the hill of life, and we took off from there. He is running the Capt'n Karl's Night Run with me, he is doing the 6hr option while I'll be doing the 12hr option. I thought today would be a good day to just take it nice and slow, and try to run at the pace we'll do next weekend up at Ink's Lake.
The first hour and a half went pretty easy. We were both feeling great, light feet, wind at our backs, easy effort. It was getting hot already, but not bad. Then I took my first spill of the day. I was cruising on a slightly downhill single track, got lazy, dragged my foot over a stump, and went flying head first. It wasn't that bad, other than I spilled my handheld water bottle. Not only that, but somehow the water/gatorade mix somehow managed to spill by sneaking through a crack in the lid and spray straight up into my eye. Gatorade in your eye is not pleasant.
OK, enough whining. So we kept running, the morning was beautiful and everything went well until about 2.5 hours. At this point, Jim got really tired. I guess it was a little too fast for him. I guess he didn't get the memo that we were going to run at the pace we would uphold next week for 6 and 12 hours. So we slowed down dramatically. I didn't mind, I figure this is something we are doing together, and I have my bad days too.
Side note: Jim and I have agreed to run together for the first 6 hours of the race next week. This isn't the most efficient way to go, but this will be a really long run for both of us, and I want to be there to support him, while I know it will also help me keep a smart pace for the first half of the run.
OK, so right after we had slowed down we started to head down the Hill of Death. Well, it gets that name for a reason. First, Jennifer had apparently fallen on this hill just this morning (surprising I didn't see her out there). Then, as I was running down it today, I managed to slam my face into a tree branch. It's a really technical decent, so you have to focus on the ground. And this was no small branch, this was about 3" in diameter thick. It didn't budge, but my head did. It banged me up a little, and gave me a cut under my eye. So now I was muddy and scraped up.
the rest of the run was fairly uneventful. It was a good morning. Nothing like a 3 hour run, and still home and showered before half the city has even woken up. On my way home I did my usual routine of picking up Rudy's Breakfast Taco's for me and Kara. They love me there... The sweaty, muddy, smelly and sometimes bloody guy that comes in every Saturday morning.
The first hour and a half went pretty easy. We were both feeling great, light feet, wind at our backs, easy effort. It was getting hot already, but not bad. Then I took my first spill of the day. I was cruising on a slightly downhill single track, got lazy, dragged my foot over a stump, and went flying head first. It wasn't that bad, other than I spilled my handheld water bottle. Not only that, but somehow the water/gatorade mix somehow managed to spill by sneaking through a crack in the lid and spray straight up into my eye. Gatorade in your eye is not pleasant.
OK, enough whining. So we kept running, the morning was beautiful and everything went well until about 2.5 hours. At this point, Jim got really tired. I guess it was a little too fast for him. I guess he didn't get the memo that we were going to run at the pace we would uphold next week for 6 and 12 hours. So we slowed down dramatically. I didn't mind, I figure this is something we are doing together, and I have my bad days too.
Side note: Jim and I have agreed to run together for the first 6 hours of the race next week. This isn't the most efficient way to go, but this will be a really long run for both of us, and I want to be there to support him, while I know it will also help me keep a smart pace for the first half of the run.
OK, so right after we had slowed down we started to head down the Hill of Death. Well, it gets that name for a reason. First, Jennifer had apparently fallen on this hill just this morning (surprising I didn't see her out there). Then, as I was running down it today, I managed to slam my face into a tree branch. It's a really technical decent, so you have to focus on the ground. And this was no small branch, this was about 3" in diameter thick. It didn't budge, but my head did. It banged me up a little, and gave me a cut under my eye. So now I was muddy and scraped up.
the rest of the run was fairly uneventful. It was a good morning. Nothing like a 3 hour run, and still home and showered before half the city has even woken up. On my way home I did my usual routine of picking up Rudy's Breakfast Taco's for me and Kara. They love me there... The sweaty, muddy, smelly and sometimes bloody guy that comes in every Saturday morning.
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