I've been looking forward to this day for quite some time now. I jumped into the ultra distance with so much enthusiasm that I ended up crashing and burning...out. For the past couple months or so, I've been dreading anything that had to do with the distance. I almost want to say it might have begun back in April right after the American River 50-Miler, but I was so into this subculture of running that I was in denial.
There were more races to run. And more I considered running. So I kept adding to the mileage. I did take a short two-week break over the summer with no running while in Japan, but with one final race, the Dick Collins Firetrails 50-Miler in October, I had to get some kind of run training in.
Before I go on, here's a brief recap of the races I ran this year...
Way Too Cool 50k (Norcal Ultras)
4:38
American River 50-Mile (Norcal Ultras)
7:53
Knickerbocker Canyon Half Marathon (Inside Trail Racing)
2:15
Quicksilver 50k (Quicksilver Running Club)
4:53
Skyline to the Sea 50k (Coastal Trail Runs)
5:50
Skyline 50k
4:50
Coastal 50k (Coastal Trail Runs)
5:50
Berkeley Trail Adventure 35k (Inside Trail Racing)
3:02
Dick Collins Firetrails 50-Mile (NorCal Ultras)
9:39
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
On to the Ultras...with Heart Problems
This year saw an increase in my running. More running than I've done my whole life. Distances up to 50 miles...at one time. The ultramarathons. Any distance longer than a marathon is considered an ultramarathon, but the majority of these races are 50k, 50-mile, 100k, 100-mile.
I never thought I'd be one to care about running marathon distances. It was too long and after my first disastrous attempt, it didn't seem likely that I'd ever be running that distance or any distances again. But after my second time running the marathon distance at CIM, I wanted to run farther. I didn't feel that I pushed myself at all and wanted to see if I could go longer. I felt that I could have gone faster at CIM or ran farther at that pace.
After a short break after CIM due to injuries from improperly training for it, I spent most of the remainder of 2011 training for the ultra distances. To date, I've ran four 50k distances, a 50-miler and I'm signed up for another 50k this weekend and a 50-miler in October. My best 50k was my first ultra, the Way Too Cool 50k, up in Auburn. 4:28 and change. American River 50-Mile was my next ultra, finishing that in 7:53.
But then I started getting burnt out. At least that's what I think. I jumped in way too fast. Wanting to run longer and longer until my body just broke down. I felt sluggish, my legs were always heavy and I eventually eased up my mileage and didn't take training for races seriously. Then I started having some cardiac issues during the last 3 50k distances I've ran which have resulted in multiple cardiac tests that have yielded no unusual results thus far. With Coastal 50k happening this Saturday, I'm a little nervous about the cardiac issues returning. I was having an extremely fast heart rate (over 240 bpm) with palpitations followed by dizziness, near syncope, and this last time, some shortness of breath.
I am wearing a neat little device called the Zio Patch that is currently recording the electrical activity and rhythm of my heart as I'm writing this blog. So if anything were to happen during the race, I can press on the little button and it'll highlight the section for "them" to read and interpret..whoever those "them" may be. I suspect cardiologists. But who knows. Then if something does happened, they can see what that rhythm is and hopefully I can finally have something done to fix it.
I never thought I'd be one to care about running marathon distances. It was too long and after my first disastrous attempt, it didn't seem likely that I'd ever be running that distance or any distances again. But after my second time running the marathon distance at CIM, I wanted to run farther. I didn't feel that I pushed myself at all and wanted to see if I could go longer. I felt that I could have gone faster at CIM or ran farther at that pace.
After a short break after CIM due to injuries from improperly training for it, I spent most of the remainder of 2011 training for the ultra distances. To date, I've ran four 50k distances, a 50-miler and I'm signed up for another 50k this weekend and a 50-miler in October. My best 50k was my first ultra, the Way Too Cool 50k, up in Auburn. 4:28 and change. American River 50-Mile was my next ultra, finishing that in 7:53.
But then I started getting burnt out. At least that's what I think. I jumped in way too fast. Wanting to run longer and longer until my body just broke down. I felt sluggish, my legs were always heavy and I eventually eased up my mileage and didn't take training for races seriously. Then I started having some cardiac issues during the last 3 50k distances I've ran which have resulted in multiple cardiac tests that have yielded no unusual results thus far. With Coastal 50k happening this Saturday, I'm a little nervous about the cardiac issues returning. I was having an extremely fast heart rate (over 240 bpm) with palpitations followed by dizziness, near syncope, and this last time, some shortness of breath.
I am wearing a neat little device called the Zio Patch that is currently recording the electrical activity and rhythm of my heart as I'm writing this blog. So if anything were to happen during the race, I can press on the little button and it'll highlight the section for "them" to read and interpret..whoever those "them" may be. I suspect cardiologists. But who knows. Then if something does happened, they can see what that rhythm is and hopefully I can finally have something done to fix it.
Monday, September 17, 2012
DNF
Life is all about DNFs. Sadly, in my case, they've only occurred when it came to my education. I guess it's good that that's where they've only occurred. When it comes to physical activities, I'd like to think that I'm pretty capable of finishing what I set out to do. Whether it was a hike, backpacking trip, or a race, I've never had to quit any activities. At least, not because I was the one that was not able to finish. I've even battled running with diarrhea and stomach cramps from miles 18-31 of a 50-mile race and still finished...in under 8 hours.
But this past weekend was a different story. It was my first DNF. Fortunately, this didn't occur at any race. Sucks all the same. I spent the weekend with a couple buddies hiking up the Mt. Whitney Trail from Whitney Portal. The goal was to summit Mt. Whitney.
The plan was to head down late Thursday night/early Friday morning, pick up our permit and WAG (waste alleviation and gelling) Bags, then spend a night at the trailhead to acclimate to the elevation. Then we'd hike up to Trail Camp, and depending on how we felt at that point, either set up camp then summit with a day pack, or set up camp and spend the night acclimatizing to that elevation.
Well, we ended up arriving in Lone Pine early Saturday morning. Not quite ideal. We were able to pick our permit up out of the night drop box, but because we were one of the last two groups in to pick up our permit we were left with an empty box that should have contained a few WAG bags for us. More on that later.
We started our hike at the Whitney Portal just after 6 AM. After weighing our packs (mine was the heaviest at 32lbs) we headed up the trail. John was already feeling the altitude, stating that he was feeling short of breath. I was just plan exhausted from the 8hr drive, and lack of sleep. I think Sli was feeling the same. It didn't take long for the exhaustion to take its toll on me. Most of the hike was spent trying to keep my eyes open, walking straight, and fighting off some dizziness. Somewhere above 10,000ft elevation, I started to develop a throbbing headache.
We arrived at Trail Camp, 12,000ft elevation, just after noon. There was some question where the camp actually was because we passed by a lake that sat just below 12,000ft at 6 miles into the hike. We became too dependent on our Garmin watches. So after some welcomed rest while Sanders went to scope out the area, another backpacker came along and told us that Trail Camp was just over the ridge.
John was pretty exhausted and I was ready to puke when we found a spot to set up camp. It didn't look like we'd be summiting that day. So I pulled the 3-person tent out of my pack and started pitching it all the while trying not to throw up until I was done. I was determined to not show that the altitude was getting to me. After I was done, I sat for a bit, too nauseous to go filter water. I was hoping someone would head down to do it while I set up the tent, but feeling as bad as I was, I didn't expect anyone else to be moving around much. So after I eventually threw up, I grabbed the filter and headed over to the little stagnant pond to start filtering our bottles and hydration packs.
Filtering water became an issue too. My ceramic filter wasn't as clean as I thought it was but I was not in the clearest of mind to remove it to clean it to see if that would help. I did at one point pull it out, but all I did was look at it and determined that it was clean so I put it back in and tried to keep filtering water. John joined in and took over but was struggling as much as I was. I fell asleep on the granite while John was filtering one bottle. It wasn't until Sli, who was fairing the best at this altitude, came down and took over after making me a pot of spicy noodles. He asked if the filter was dirty, removed it, but instead of just looking at it like I did, actually scrubbed it. And sure enough, the filter was clogged. I headed back up to our campsite while Sli took over filtering duties and ate the noodles. Returning the favor, I boiled some water for his noodles, but he returned before I got to cook it.
After having some food and water, Sli and John took a nap inside the tent. I kept myself busy guarding our food from the marmots and walked around so I could get use to the altitude but mainly because I kept having to pee, a lot. So, it was mainly walking over to the same spot to relieve myself. At 12,000ft, you're well above the tree line and there aren't too many places to hide and do your thing.
After a short nap, the guys woke up and we decided to walk along the trail to see where we'd be heading at dark-o'clock in the morning. We were still deciding what time we'd actually start but wanted an early start so we could finish early and get back home by 8p. We headed back to our site, filtered more water, made dinner, sealed everything in our bear canisters, and headed to sleep before it was completely dark. I slept like a rock.
At 3a, my alarm went off. We were hiking up the 99 switchbacks by 3:30. I felt good initially except for the slight headache that I wasn't able to fully get rid of. But it wasn't long before the altitude got to me again. I was getting really nauseous and dizzy. John was struggling with just trying to get in some air and Sli was probably wondering why the two guys in his group were being such pansies.
After a brief pause to puke at 13,300ft, I continued leading the group up. It wasn't long until I had to stop to throw up again. I wanted to summit. I wasn't going to let a little nausea stop me. I picked my head up, and started up another switchback. This time the nausea got even more severe and my vision started to get a little fuzzy. My bright headland didn't seem so bright anymore. This is when the image of that warning sign at the trailhead of the hiker in a Stokes basket with rescuers all around her appeared in my head. I was not going to be that person. I wished the guys luck and told them that my condition was getting worse and had to get back down to camp. John who was still struggling said he was "torn" about heading up or returning to camp with me. I told him if it's just shortness of breath he's experiencing, he should just head up but go slowly. That was all the encouragement I could muster. I was beaten and would soon head back down to camp.
I stayed there sitting for a bit as I watched their headlamp/flashlight disappear then reappear as they rounded another switchback. Then their lights were out of site. I picked my decaying body up and started my lonely walk of shame back down to camp only stopping a few more times to throw up. I made the right decision this time although I still wished I was able to go farther up. I kept telling myself, "You have a bad case of altitude sickness. If you had kept on going up, you probably would have died." After puking for the third time on the way back down to Trail Camp, I stopped to take a photo of the east sky as dawn was starting to light up the trails. It was a beautiful sight. I finally accepted my fate and made my way back to camp passing several groups that were heading up. I arrived back at camp around 5:30, took a ginger chew, threw up once more and finally started to feel better.
I figured it would be several hours before the guys would return so I decided to climb back in my sleeping bag to squeeze in a quick nap. A little after 8a, I woke up and started to pack up. I figured they'd soon return so started filtering water for the hike down, took down the tent, packed everyone's bags, etc. and then sat and waited. And waited. I was excited to finally see them back at 10:30. Sli knowing that I was bummed about not being able to summit played it off as if it were nothing spectacular but was eager to share photos of the summit with me. The photos looked great. It was spectacular. And I wished I was able to summit. So, thanks for not rubbing it in my face.
After a short rest, the guys packed up the rest of their gear and we headed down. When we got to about 10,500ft, all was right with my body again. No more headache, no dizziness, no nausea. Sli and I were practically running down with our now 25+ pound packs. We waited for John back at the car, and then after a long drive with one nerve racking moment of nearly running out of gas in the desert, eventually made it back home.
As sick as felt, I would like to try it again. I definitely did put myself at risk attempting to continue to summit after throwing up so many times, but next time I would like to have a couple more days to acclimatize to the altitude for sure. And the WAG bags...well, I don't want to say that we packed our own poop bags. The poop bags that I keep in my car to pick up my dogs' poo when we go out. I don't want to say it because it may or may not have happened. I don't want to say that we used that in lieu of the WAG bags. I don't want to say that we pooped and picked up our poop with my dogs' poo bags and packed it out in a ziplock bag with the rest of our trash in our bear canisters because that may or may not have happened. I don't want to say any of that happened just so I can claim that I'm not sure why my bear canister smells "off" the next time you use it. But next time, I'm just going to swing by REI to buy my own WAG bags so I won't have to depend on other hikers/campers to take only the amount they're suppose to and leave one WAG bag each for the rest of the backpackers.
But this past weekend was a different story. It was my first DNF. Fortunately, this didn't occur at any race. Sucks all the same. I spent the weekend with a couple buddies hiking up the Mt. Whitney Trail from Whitney Portal. The goal was to summit Mt. Whitney.
The plan was to head down late Thursday night/early Friday morning, pick up our permit and WAG (waste alleviation and gelling) Bags, then spend a night at the trailhead to acclimate to the elevation. Then we'd hike up to Trail Camp, and depending on how we felt at that point, either set up camp then summit with a day pack, or set up camp and spend the night acclimatizing to that elevation.
Well, we ended up arriving in Lone Pine early Saturday morning. Not quite ideal. We were able to pick our permit up out of the night drop box, but because we were one of the last two groups in to pick up our permit we were left with an empty box that should have contained a few WAG bags for us. More on that later.
We started our hike at the Whitney Portal just after 6 AM. After weighing our packs (mine was the heaviest at 32lbs) we headed up the trail. John was already feeling the altitude, stating that he was feeling short of breath. I was just plan exhausted from the 8hr drive, and lack of sleep. I think Sli was feeling the same. It didn't take long for the exhaustion to take its toll on me. Most of the hike was spent trying to keep my eyes open, walking straight, and fighting off some dizziness. Somewhere above 10,000ft elevation, I started to develop a throbbing headache.
We arrived at Trail Camp, 12,000ft elevation, just after noon. There was some question where the camp actually was because we passed by a lake that sat just below 12,000ft at 6 miles into the hike. We became too dependent on our Garmin watches. So after some welcomed rest while Sanders went to scope out the area, another backpacker came along and told us that Trail Camp was just over the ridge.
John was pretty exhausted and I was ready to puke when we found a spot to set up camp. It didn't look like we'd be summiting that day. So I pulled the 3-person tent out of my pack and started pitching it all the while trying not to throw up until I was done. I was determined to not show that the altitude was getting to me. After I was done, I sat for a bit, too nauseous to go filter water. I was hoping someone would head down to do it while I set up the tent, but feeling as bad as I was, I didn't expect anyone else to be moving around much. So after I eventually threw up, I grabbed the filter and headed over to the little stagnant pond to start filtering our bottles and hydration packs.
Filtering water became an issue too. My ceramic filter wasn't as clean as I thought it was but I was not in the clearest of mind to remove it to clean it to see if that would help. I did at one point pull it out, but all I did was look at it and determined that it was clean so I put it back in and tried to keep filtering water. John joined in and took over but was struggling as much as I was. I fell asleep on the granite while John was filtering one bottle. It wasn't until Sli, who was fairing the best at this altitude, came down and took over after making me a pot of spicy noodles. He asked if the filter was dirty, removed it, but instead of just looking at it like I did, actually scrubbed it. And sure enough, the filter was clogged. I headed back up to our campsite while Sli took over filtering duties and ate the noodles. Returning the favor, I boiled some water for his noodles, but he returned before I got to cook it.
After having some food and water, Sli and John took a nap inside the tent. I kept myself busy guarding our food from the marmots and walked around so I could get use to the altitude but mainly because I kept having to pee, a lot. So, it was mainly walking over to the same spot to relieve myself. At 12,000ft, you're well above the tree line and there aren't too many places to hide and do your thing.
After a short nap, the guys woke up and we decided to walk along the trail to see where we'd be heading at dark-o'clock in the morning. We were still deciding what time we'd actually start but wanted an early start so we could finish early and get back home by 8p. We headed back to our site, filtered more water, made dinner, sealed everything in our bear canisters, and headed to sleep before it was completely dark. I slept like a rock.
At 3a, my alarm went off. We were hiking up the 99 switchbacks by 3:30. I felt good initially except for the slight headache that I wasn't able to fully get rid of. But it wasn't long before the altitude got to me again. I was getting really nauseous and dizzy. John was struggling with just trying to get in some air and Sli was probably wondering why the two guys in his group were being such pansies.
After a brief pause to puke at 13,300ft, I continued leading the group up. It wasn't long until I had to stop to throw up again. I wanted to summit. I wasn't going to let a little nausea stop me. I picked my head up, and started up another switchback. This time the nausea got even more severe and my vision started to get a little fuzzy. My bright headland didn't seem so bright anymore. This is when the image of that warning sign at the trailhead of the hiker in a Stokes basket with rescuers all around her appeared in my head. I was not going to be that person. I wished the guys luck and told them that my condition was getting worse and had to get back down to camp. John who was still struggling said he was "torn" about heading up or returning to camp with me. I told him if it's just shortness of breath he's experiencing, he should just head up but go slowly. That was all the encouragement I could muster. I was beaten and would soon head back down to camp.
I stayed there sitting for a bit as I watched their headlamp/flashlight disappear then reappear as they rounded another switchback. Then their lights were out of site. I picked my decaying body up and started my lonely walk of shame back down to camp only stopping a few more times to throw up. I made the right decision this time although I still wished I was able to go farther up. I kept telling myself, "You have a bad case of altitude sickness. If you had kept on going up, you probably would have died." After puking for the third time on the way back down to Trail Camp, I stopped to take a photo of the east sky as dawn was starting to light up the trails. It was a beautiful sight. I finally accepted my fate and made my way back to camp passing several groups that were heading up. I arrived back at camp around 5:30, took a ginger chew, threw up once more and finally started to feel better.
I figured it would be several hours before the guys would return so I decided to climb back in my sleeping bag to squeeze in a quick nap. A little after 8a, I woke up and started to pack up. I figured they'd soon return so started filtering water for the hike down, took down the tent, packed everyone's bags, etc. and then sat and waited. And waited. I was excited to finally see them back at 10:30. Sli knowing that I was bummed about not being able to summit played it off as if it were nothing spectacular but was eager to share photos of the summit with me. The photos looked great. It was spectacular. And I wished I was able to summit. So, thanks for not rubbing it in my face.
After a short rest, the guys packed up the rest of their gear and we headed down. When we got to about 10,500ft, all was right with my body again. No more headache, no dizziness, no nausea. Sli and I were practically running down with our now 25+ pound packs. We waited for John back at the car, and then after a long drive with one nerve racking moment of nearly running out of gas in the desert, eventually made it back home.
As sick as felt, I would like to try it again. I definitely did put myself at risk attempting to continue to summit after throwing up so many times, but next time I would like to have a couple more days to acclimatize to the altitude for sure. And the WAG bags...well, I don't want to say that we packed our own poop bags. The poop bags that I keep in my car to pick up my dogs' poo when we go out. I don't want to say it because it may or may not have happened. I don't want to say that we used that in lieu of the WAG bags. I don't want to say that we pooped and picked up our poop with my dogs' poo bags and packed it out in a ziplock bag with the rest of our trash in our bear canisters because that may or may not have happened. I don't want to say any of that happened just so I can claim that I'm not sure why my bear canister smells "off" the next time you use it. But next time, I'm just going to swing by REI to buy my own WAG bags so I won't have to depend on other hikers/campers to take only the amount they're suppose to and leave one WAG bag each for the rest of the backpackers.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
The Return (Part 2)
How much training can someone that would be considered a "beginner" marathon runner actually get done in 6 weeks? Not much really. But it would be more than what I did last time...which was zero. This time, I wouldn't be leaving an expo thinking, "Did they say they trained for a marathon? People actually do that?"
Ideally, you'd want to give yourself enough time to build up a good base, then work in some speed training and marathon pace tempo runs. Then the last phase of your training includes race prep along with the taper. At least that's what I was told. That's a lot to try to squeeze in 6 weeks considering you'd want to spend about 6 weeks for each phase.
So, what was my plan to pull off an 18-week training program in 6? Simple math...break everything down into 2-week phases. I didn't know if it was going work, but I had no real goals. It's not like I was going to try to qualify for Boston. I just wanted to finish the darn distance and finish it without bonking as bad as I had 11 years prior. But I did have a few things motivating me. A co-worker of mine finished a marathon in 4:35 earlier that year and I thought I could run faster than that. I also wanted to beat Oprah's time of 4:29:20 which was P. Diddy's goal. He was able to do it in 4:15:54. I guess I thought that if these "non-runners" were able to do it, I could too, and do it faster. But whatever. My motto was "train to finish" and if I ran a faster time than them, then all the better.
My plan was to build up the miles for two weeks, hold that for two more weeks, then taper the last two. I was told that I needed to run a few 20-mile runs just to get my legs use to that distance. I figured the weekly long run would look like this: week 1 would be 16 miles, weeks 2, 3 and 4 would be the 20-miler weeks and I'd taper with 16 in the last. What actually happened was this: Week 1, bonked at mile 15, walked the last. Week 2, bonked at mile 16, walked 2 and stopped. Week 3, got in 18 miles but too tired to continue so stopped there. Week 4, made it all the way to 20 but felt more exhausted than I would have liked. Week 5, bonked at 12. There was a lot of bonking going on and because of that, I went into the taper week lacking confidence and motivation. This was going to be an interesting 26.2 miles of running.
The last week before the marathon, I tried reading race reports and even watched "The Spirit of the Marathon" to try to get myself motivated and psyched up for the big day. Nothing helped. I found the movie rather boring probably because I couldn't relate to any of the main characters. Then a coworker of mine suggested that I read "Born to Run." I found the motivation I needed in that book. I was ready...kind of.
I headed up to Sacramento the night before the race and met up with John who picked up my race bib. 5150. How appropriate. (In short, a 5150 is a 72-hour involuntary psychiatric hold that is placed on someone that is danger to himself or others or is gravely disabled...basically, you're some kind of crazy.)
After some Thai food, we headed back to the hotel to have a pre-race beer at the bar. I overheard a couple guys talking about just completing a 50-mile race. I thought, "Hey, I just read a book about people running 'ultramarathons.'" This guy is one of them. And he's going to run the marathon tomorrow? Now that's crazy. I'm still hoping to get through this one OK.
I had a pretty decent night's sleep. Got up in the morning and went down to have some breakfast along with all the other marathoners. We hopped the shuttle to the start where I sat and listened to more folks talking about all the marathons they've done and the ones that they've already signed up for. Geez people. How many marathons do you need to run? I just wanted to do this one and be done with it. I still didn't know what I was going to run. I figured I could at least try for a sub-4 hour. Why not. Get it done and never have to run this distance again.
One more trip to the porta-potties then I headed to find a pace group to run with. How did I decide which group to run with? 3:30? Hmmm. These guys looked fast. 4:00? Yeah, looks like I can hang with these guys. But it didn't look like a fun group. 3:30 again? No. These guys still looked too fast. Let me check out the 3:10 group. I wouldn't be running with them but I'd like to see what a BQ group of guys look like. Yeah, way too fast. Guess it'll be the 4:00 hour group. So I headed back to the back of the pace groups to settle in. But what's this? 3:40? Wow. There are a lot of female runners in this group. This was the female BQ pace for my age group. I could at least try to hang out with these ladies. If anything, I'd have nice scenery for 26 miles or however long I could hang with them.
Julie Fingar, ultramarathon great, was our group pacer. I didn't know how great she was at the time but she introduced herself, offered some words of encouragement and reminded us to stop and drink at every aid station. "I won't stop until the halfway point but you guys should stop and drink at every aid station." I thought, "Wow, what a stud, she doesn't need to drink for 13.1 miles."
Then we were off. Most of the race was uneventful. I drank a cup of water and a cup of electrolyte drink at every aid station. Took a GU every 4-5 miles and a salt tab every hour just like I practiced during my long training runs.
I felt good approaching mile 20...the dreaded wall. I ran right through it. I felt surprisingly good. The pace felt comfortable. I was actually going to do this. But I didn't want to jinx myself. But somewhere along the mile 22 section, Julie sped up a bit. I was the only one who followed her. I guess when she realized it, she slowed her pace back down and I kept on going. There were only a few miles left, I figured I should put some more effort in to it now. I crossed the line with an official time of 3:38:25. Big PR. I was quite impressed. And still am. Although I've been told that that's too slow for what I could actually run it. Meh, I don't care too much for racing.
I made my way through the chute to look for N. Thanked her for her support, lined up for my post race massage and headed back to the hotel. On the walk back, I thought, that was actually not too bad. I could have either ran it faster or gone another 5 miles, couldn't I? Like I said, I don't care to race or run another marathon faster, but could I run farther? There was the challenge. And so my entry into the ultramarathon distance was born. But not for another 15 months....
Ideally, you'd want to give yourself enough time to build up a good base, then work in some speed training and marathon pace tempo runs. Then the last phase of your training includes race prep along with the taper. At least that's what I was told. That's a lot to try to squeeze in 6 weeks considering you'd want to spend about 6 weeks for each phase.
So, what was my plan to pull off an 18-week training program in 6? Simple math...break everything down into 2-week phases. I didn't know if it was going work, but I had no real goals. It's not like I was going to try to qualify for Boston. I just wanted to finish the darn distance and finish it without bonking as bad as I had 11 years prior. But I did have a few things motivating me. A co-worker of mine finished a marathon in 4:35 earlier that year and I thought I could run faster than that. I also wanted to beat Oprah's time of 4:29:20 which was P. Diddy's goal. He was able to do it in 4:15:54. I guess I thought that if these "non-runners" were able to do it, I could too, and do it faster. But whatever. My motto was "train to finish" and if I ran a faster time than them, then all the better.
My plan was to build up the miles for two weeks, hold that for two more weeks, then taper the last two. I was told that I needed to run a few 20-mile runs just to get my legs use to that distance. I figured the weekly long run would look like this: week 1 would be 16 miles, weeks 2, 3 and 4 would be the 20-miler weeks and I'd taper with 16 in the last. What actually happened was this: Week 1, bonked at mile 15, walked the last. Week 2, bonked at mile 16, walked 2 and stopped. Week 3, got in 18 miles but too tired to continue so stopped there. Week 4, made it all the way to 20 but felt more exhausted than I would have liked. Week 5, bonked at 12. There was a lot of bonking going on and because of that, I went into the taper week lacking confidence and motivation. This was going to be an interesting 26.2 miles of running.
The last week before the marathon, I tried reading race reports and even watched "The Spirit of the Marathon" to try to get myself motivated and psyched up for the big day. Nothing helped. I found the movie rather boring probably because I couldn't relate to any of the main characters. Then a coworker of mine suggested that I read "Born to Run." I found the motivation I needed in that book. I was ready...kind of.
I headed up to Sacramento the night before the race and met up with John who picked up my race bib. 5150. How appropriate. (In short, a 5150 is a 72-hour involuntary psychiatric hold that is placed on someone that is danger to himself or others or is gravely disabled...basically, you're some kind of crazy.)
After some Thai food, we headed back to the hotel to have a pre-race beer at the bar. I overheard a couple guys talking about just completing a 50-mile race. I thought, "Hey, I just read a book about people running 'ultramarathons.'" This guy is one of them. And he's going to run the marathon tomorrow? Now that's crazy. I'm still hoping to get through this one OK.
I had a pretty decent night's sleep. Got up in the morning and went down to have some breakfast along with all the other marathoners. We hopped the shuttle to the start where I sat and listened to more folks talking about all the marathons they've done and the ones that they've already signed up for. Geez people. How many marathons do you need to run? I just wanted to do this one and be done with it. I still didn't know what I was going to run. I figured I could at least try for a sub-4 hour. Why not. Get it done and never have to run this distance again.
One more trip to the porta-potties then I headed to find a pace group to run with. How did I decide which group to run with? 3:30? Hmmm. These guys looked fast. 4:00? Yeah, looks like I can hang with these guys. But it didn't look like a fun group. 3:30 again? No. These guys still looked too fast. Let me check out the 3:10 group. I wouldn't be running with them but I'd like to see what a BQ group of guys look like. Yeah, way too fast. Guess it'll be the 4:00 hour group. So I headed back to the back of the pace groups to settle in. But what's this? 3:40? Wow. There are a lot of female runners in this group. This was the female BQ pace for my age group. I could at least try to hang out with these ladies. If anything, I'd have nice scenery for 26 miles or however long I could hang with them.
Julie Fingar, ultramarathon great, was our group pacer. I didn't know how great she was at the time but she introduced herself, offered some words of encouragement and reminded us to stop and drink at every aid station. "I won't stop until the halfway point but you guys should stop and drink at every aid station." I thought, "Wow, what a stud, she doesn't need to drink for 13.1 miles."
Then we were off. Most of the race was uneventful. I drank a cup of water and a cup of electrolyte drink at every aid station. Took a GU every 4-5 miles and a salt tab every hour just like I practiced during my long training runs.
I felt good approaching mile 20...the dreaded wall. I ran right through it. I felt surprisingly good. The pace felt comfortable. I was actually going to do this. But I didn't want to jinx myself. But somewhere along the mile 22 section, Julie sped up a bit. I was the only one who followed her. I guess when she realized it, she slowed her pace back down and I kept on going. There were only a few miles left, I figured I should put some more effort in to it now. I crossed the line with an official time of 3:38:25. Big PR. I was quite impressed. And still am. Although I've been told that that's too slow for what I could actually run it. Meh, I don't care too much for racing.
I made my way through the chute to look for N. Thanked her for her support, lined up for my post race massage and headed back to the hotel. On the walk back, I thought, that was actually not too bad. I could have either ran it faster or gone another 5 miles, couldn't I? Like I said, I don't care to race or run another marathon faster, but could I run farther? There was the challenge. And so my entry into the ultramarathon distance was born. But not for another 15 months....
Monday, July 9, 2012
The Return - Nine Years Later (Part 1)
What happened to me in the years following the 2001 SF Marathon? A whole lot of not running long distances. I ran very little in the following years. Then stopped being active altogether for a couple years after. Gained about 25 pounds, and for someone who only weighed 130 for years prior, that was huge. I owed it all to fast foods and sodas, in mass amounts. And I'm talking about the Super Big Gulps, at least once a week, all in one sitting.
When did I realize what I was doing to myself? I always knew but for some reason, I thought it was OK. I wasn't exactly in a great place in my life at that time. 2004 was especially a rough year. So what was the breaking point? It was literally my belt. I had a belt that fastened down with a clasp, and in my denial kept using the same mark to hold up my jeans.
My jeans weren't getting tighter. I've always had an issue with proper jean fit so usually had to buy a couple sizes up and used a belt to hold them up. It was the high quality leather belt that I got from the Banana Republic that couldn't handle the increase in girth. Holding up and stretching under the strain of an additional 3 inches is a lot to ask of from a $30 BR belt. The stitches popped under the pressure and the clasp fell to the floor as I was standing in front of my full length closest door mirror. I couldn't believe what just happened. Not that the belt broke, but that I let myself get this overweight.
I didn't jump back in to racing or even running. I started with eating better and stopped drinking sodas. I started biking to work and with the mountain bike that my brother-in-law gave me, headed to the trails on the weekends to do some mountain biking.
After building up a lighter mountain bike, I figured I should try racing it since I felt so fast on it. Keep in mind that there is a difference between feeling fast and actually being fast. I was probably overusing the granny gears and spinning at 200 rpm and moving a couple inches at a time up the trails. But I still felt fast. So in 2008, I signed up to do a 3-race mountain bike duathlon series and a sprint off-road triathlon at the end of that series with TBF Racing.
After the first duathlon, I was ready to quit. It was a run-bike-run race with a double loop on the bike course. I was cold, wet, dirty, miserable and bleeding when I got back for the bike to run transition. I fell off my bike so many times that there was a point in the race where I just wanted to walk my bike so I could avoid falling. I finished that last 2-mile run, dried off and drove home. All I kept thinking was, I have 2 more of these races and a sprint tri? I'm already so over it. But with a little pep talk from my fiancé at the time, I stuck through it and even ended up winning my age group in the sprint tri.
In the years following, I raced a few more off-road sprint triathlons, tried out orienteering races with the BAOC and even raced in a few adventure races with Nor-Cal AR. I really enjoyed spending time on the trails but didn't care about being competitive. It was all for fun and fitness and I have kept it up since.
In 2010, John G, the buddy I ran with in my first marathon, was running the California International Marathon, CIM, trying to qualify for Boston. He convinced me to give the marathon another shot. I was scheduled to work that day so put in a request to get that day off. Fortunately, I was granted the day off, but unfortunately, the approval came 8 weeks from race day so I told him I'd just come up to watch. He convinced me that 8 weeks should be enough time to train, especially since I wasn't trying to qualify for Boston and with all the triathlons and adventure racing I've been doing, I should have a good base. So, after considering for a couple weeks, I signed up and began my training with 6 weeks left before the marathon.
(Stay tuned for Part 2)
When did I realize what I was doing to myself? I always knew but for some reason, I thought it was OK. I wasn't exactly in a great place in my life at that time. 2004 was especially a rough year. So what was the breaking point? It was literally my belt. I had a belt that fastened down with a clasp, and in my denial kept using the same mark to hold up my jeans.
My jeans weren't getting tighter. I've always had an issue with proper jean fit so usually had to buy a couple sizes up and used a belt to hold them up. It was the high quality leather belt that I got from the Banana Republic that couldn't handle the increase in girth. Holding up and stretching under the strain of an additional 3 inches is a lot to ask of from a $30 BR belt. The stitches popped under the pressure and the clasp fell to the floor as I was standing in front of my full length closest door mirror. I couldn't believe what just happened. Not that the belt broke, but that I let myself get this overweight.
I didn't jump back in to racing or even running. I started with eating better and stopped drinking sodas. I started biking to work and with the mountain bike that my brother-in-law gave me, headed to the trails on the weekends to do some mountain biking.
After building up a lighter mountain bike, I figured I should try racing it since I felt so fast on it. Keep in mind that there is a difference between feeling fast and actually being fast. I was probably overusing the granny gears and spinning at 200 rpm and moving a couple inches at a time up the trails. But I still felt fast. So in 2008, I signed up to do a 3-race mountain bike duathlon series and a sprint off-road triathlon at the end of that series with TBF Racing.
After the first duathlon, I was ready to quit. It was a run-bike-run race with a double loop on the bike course. I was cold, wet, dirty, miserable and bleeding when I got back for the bike to run transition. I fell off my bike so many times that there was a point in the race where I just wanted to walk my bike so I could avoid falling. I finished that last 2-mile run, dried off and drove home. All I kept thinking was, I have 2 more of these races and a sprint tri? I'm already so over it. But with a little pep talk from my fiancé at the time, I stuck through it and even ended up winning my age group in the sprint tri.
In the years following, I raced a few more off-road sprint triathlons, tried out orienteering races with the BAOC and even raced in a few adventure races with Nor-Cal AR. I really enjoyed spending time on the trails but didn't care about being competitive. It was all for fun and fitness and I have kept it up since.
In 2010, John G, the buddy I ran with in my first marathon, was running the California International Marathon, CIM, trying to qualify for Boston. He convinced me to give the marathon another shot. I was scheduled to work that day so put in a request to get that day off. Fortunately, I was granted the day off, but unfortunately, the approval came 8 weeks from race day so I told him I'd just come up to watch. He convinced me that 8 weeks should be enough time to train, especially since I wasn't trying to qualify for Boston and with all the triathlons and adventure racing I've been doing, I should have a good base. So, after considering for a couple weeks, I signed up and began my training with 6 weeks left before the marathon.
(Stay tuned for Part 2)
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
2001 SF Marathon...My Return to Running?
With the next running of the San Francisco Marathon a few weeks away, I felt it fitting to finally write about my experience...over a decade late but here's my story..
11 years ago, I set out to do what I thought was the ultimate goal for any runner...to complete a marathon. Back then, I was 22 years old and thought I could do anything when it came to running. I actually didn't consider myself a runner...at least not a long distance runner. I never ran anything longer than 10 miles and for the few years leading up to that point, I had done little to no miles. Words like nutrition, hydration, bonking had nothing to do with running as far as I knew. And "the wall?" I never even heard of that term before. But I wanted to be a "real" runner. The marathon was going to be the glorious beginning to my distance running career.
I can't remember exactly when I registered to run the July 9th 2001 SF Marathon, but I think it might have been a few weeks before the race was scheduled. It was one of those moments when you're hanging out with your buddies and someone mentions the marathon, then another friend chimes in saying he's always wanted to try one. And eventually everyone is joining in saying they've always wanted to run a marathon. Kind of like how you've always wanted to try eating some new exotic cuisine but was always afraid of the possibility of getting diarrhea from it. So with no time left to train, I decided running a few miles here and there would be sufficient to prepare my legs for 26.2 miles.
The big day came and it was a typical San Francisco morning, cool and a bit foggy. Back then, the course began and ended in Golden Gate Park. I had no idea what my finish time would be. Neither did Jesse or John, so we didn't care about lining up with a pace group.
The race started out well enough. We made our way through the park and up towards the Presidio. We dropped down into the Marina and I was feeling pretty good at that point. I said to John that the pace felt comfortable and I think that I could maintain it. A 4-hr marathon sounded reasonable. From there, we ran along the waterfront towards the Bay Bridge which was about 10 miles into the race. We were plugging along at about a 9-min/mi pace. That's about where we dropped Jesse.
At mile 13, we reached an aid station where I grabbed my first Dixie cup of water and a couple slices of Power Bars. Still feeling fresh, I headed up to the Haight back towards the park. Not even a mile later, I started feeling tired. I ventured into a new distance and although I was mentally feeling good, my body was starting to break down.
I reached into my pocket for a Power Bar Gel which I had gotten the previous day at the expo. Never tried one before and didn't know what it would do other than provide me with some energy. Luckily, it didn't cause me any GI issues and it did provide me with some energy. Within a few minutes, I felt better. But it was short lived. After a few minutes, I started fading again. One gel worked great so I took another. Nothing. So I took my third and last gel. That was enough to get me to the next aid station just inside Golden Gate Park.
Got a couple cups of water this time and a couple more gel packs. But now I was starting to feel nauseous. I tried taking in a gel but ended up cheeking it like how a monkey does it when he's saving food for later. I just couldn't take anything down.
Then, I finally hit the wall. For good. Mile 20. I didn't know what the wall was back then. But there I was. Completely sapped. Moving at about 20 minutes/mile. This last section of the race took you south along the Great Hwy to Sloat then back the same way. It took me 2 hours. Two freaking hours to "run" (or what I thought was running but was actually just a shuffling of heavy legs and feet) 6.2 miles to the finish. In my head, the motions I was making with my arms and legs was, in fact, running. Two of my friends met up with us at this point to cheer us on and offer
encouragement and it never crossed my mind at the time that they were
walking next to us as we were "running." I would have been better off just walking. Somewhere along this stretch of our death march, Jesse caught back up to us. The three of us slowly, and very painfully, made our way to the finish. Mission accomplished. Hardly, but it was over and done with.
What did I learn from it? Nothing at that time. Was this the glorious intro to distance running I was looking for? Not exactly. Why would I ever want to put myself through a hellish experience like that again? You can keep your distance running. Heck, why even run. I was done...or was I? Yeah, I was done.
11 years ago, I set out to do what I thought was the ultimate goal for any runner...to complete a marathon. Back then, I was 22 years old and thought I could do anything when it came to running. I actually didn't consider myself a runner...at least not a long distance runner. I never ran anything longer than 10 miles and for the few years leading up to that point, I had done little to no miles. Words like nutrition, hydration, bonking had nothing to do with running as far as I knew. And "the wall?" I never even heard of that term before. But I wanted to be a "real" runner. The marathon was going to be the glorious beginning to my distance running career.
I can't remember exactly when I registered to run the July 9th 2001 SF Marathon, but I think it might have been a few weeks before the race was scheduled. It was one of those moments when you're hanging out with your buddies and someone mentions the marathon, then another friend chimes in saying he's always wanted to try one. And eventually everyone is joining in saying they've always wanted to run a marathon. Kind of like how you've always wanted to try eating some new exotic cuisine but was always afraid of the possibility of getting diarrhea from it. So with no time left to train, I decided running a few miles here and there would be sufficient to prepare my legs for 26.2 miles.
The big day came and it was a typical San Francisco morning, cool and a bit foggy. Back then, the course began and ended in Golden Gate Park. I had no idea what my finish time would be. Neither did Jesse or John, so we didn't care about lining up with a pace group.
The race started out well enough. We made our way through the park and up towards the Presidio. We dropped down into the Marina and I was feeling pretty good at that point. I said to John that the pace felt comfortable and I think that I could maintain it. A 4-hr marathon sounded reasonable. From there, we ran along the waterfront towards the Bay Bridge which was about 10 miles into the race. We were plugging along at about a 9-min/mi pace. That's about where we dropped Jesse.
At mile 13, we reached an aid station where I grabbed my first Dixie cup of water and a couple slices of Power Bars. Still feeling fresh, I headed up to the Haight back towards the park. Not even a mile later, I started feeling tired. I ventured into a new distance and although I was mentally feeling good, my body was starting to break down.
I reached into my pocket for a Power Bar Gel which I had gotten the previous day at the expo. Never tried one before and didn't know what it would do other than provide me with some energy. Luckily, it didn't cause me any GI issues and it did provide me with some energy. Within a few minutes, I felt better. But it was short lived. After a few minutes, I started fading again. One gel worked great so I took another. Nothing. So I took my third and last gel. That was enough to get me to the next aid station just inside Golden Gate Park.
Got a couple cups of water this time and a couple more gel packs. But now I was starting to feel nauseous. I tried taking in a gel but ended up cheeking it like how a monkey does it when he's saving food for later. I just couldn't take anything down.
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