Breakthrough Week

After struggling with subpar runs and injuries for the past three months, I finally had a decent week of solid running, breaking 50 miles. It wasn't perfect as my knees are paying for it, but with less than 10 weeks until San Diego, I'll have to balance on that fine line that will allow me to push my training without completely injuring myself.

I started the week out with two easy runs following a DNF at CTR's Canyon Meadow. I was signed up to run the 50k, but dropped to the marathon distance (Garmin showed 25M) because of an acute case of ITBS on my left knee. A visit to Dr. Blum at Financial District Chiropractic for some ART/Graston got me back out by Wednesday.

I got in 15-mile night run on Friday in the headlands, this time with Noé and Janeth for company.

Followed by a 16 miler Saturday morning and wanted to round out the week with an even number so I headed down to Montara Mountain and got in 13 miles with John.

John making the climb back up Montara Mtn Rd

 

 My Garmin data totals are lower than this, finishing the week out with 60.5 miles and total elevation gain of 10,400ft. 

All that's left to do now is keep my knees in check, get in some heat training and I should make it to San Diego feeling a bit more confident.

The Runs...I've Got Them

All my training this year, races included, at least for the first part of the year, is to achieve one goal...to finish my first 100-miler, The San Diego 100-Mile Endurance Run. I probably have no business attempting a run of this distance, especially after being so burned out last year with running and starting this year with about 3 months of no running, or very little time on my feet and another flare up of achilles tendinitis and PF. But I'll give it a shot. I've just now gotten consistent 50-mile weeks with decent hilly runs, but that's also coming at a cost with my first overuse injury, acute ITBS. Mid-week runs aren't happening as often as they should so I've been running one big day per weekend for the past three.

Way Too Cool was my first 50k of the year. With my fitness level not being close to where it was last year at this time, and the achilles issues, I wasn't expecting to PR, but since I had 11 weeks of coaching up to that point, I was hoping to run within 10 minutes of my time of 4:28 last year. I can't say I had a solid run, but I ended up finishing 4:35. I didn't have consistent pacing throughout the race, speeding up drastically to keep up with runners that I'd catch up to who decided that they weren't going to let me pass so easily. Then slowing and even walking most of the hills that I ran up last year. I had a couple mile splits that were 1:00-1:30 slower than last year.

The following week, I headed down to San Diego to do some course recon. The 15-mile section starting from Pine Creek AS (mile 36 of the race) up through Pioneer Mail AS (mile 44) to Sunrise AS (mile 51) is suppose to be the toughest section of the course. I got to Sunrise just as the sun was rising on Friday morning and headed out to the PCT to backtrack down to Pine Creek. I'm not sure if it was the altitude of the course (about a mile up) or the heat, but by the time I got down to Pine Creek, I was 3+ hours into the run, hot, exhausted and about halfway through my 110 ounce of fluids that I had with me. There was one point where I saw a small gray pig charging me but when I bent over to put my arms out to block it, it disappeared. Heat related delusions? Maybe. I've never experienced anything like that before. Well, seven and a half hours later, and texts to Nel to when I had signal to let her know I was struggling but still alive and making my way back, I made it back to the car two 20-oz bottles of Tailwind, 4 ViFuel gels, and 70-oz of water and 7 pounds lighter.

Run #3 was suppose to be a 50k this past Sunday at CTR's Canyon Meadow Train Run. Two 13.1 mile loops followed by a 5-mile loop. It ended up being 25 miles and my first DNF. With the high mileage days and hill runs, my ITB was irritated enough to cause a severe enough pain to make me slow down from mile 19-24 and then finally walking the last mile or so back to the start/finish area. I couldn't take a step on the downhills without numbing pain shooting up my left leg. I'm fine with the DNF. It was just a training run. I felt I had a solid run otherwise.

I think my legs are getting accustomed to the long runs again. I took Monday and Tuesday off. I had an ART/Graston treatment on Tuesday and am pretty much pain free today. Other than feeling some residual heaviness, my legs aren't getting sore after the 25-30 mile runs.

I'm hoping to get in one more 20+ mile day this weekend and ease up next week to get ready for AR50. Hopefully we'll have a string of warmer weather so I can head over to Mt. Diablo to do some hills and heat. I think if I can get in solid distances, hills, and heat, I should be okay for San Diego...as long as my legs and body holds up. It's slow going, but I have another 11 weeks to peak.

Gear Review - Tailwind Nutrition

Unless you're exclusively running and racing short distances, chances are you've consumed many-a gels, chews, water, electrolyte drinks and tabs, cookies, chips, candy, bacon or what have you, to keep your energy levels high enough to get you across that finish line. (Although, there has been a time when I've stopped and gotten water in the middle of a 4-mile xc race...don't judge, I guess I'm just programmed to stop when I see a table with water.) I've also been unfortunate enough to not be blessed with an iron stomach so choosing the right fuel and fueling at the right times has been just as difficult as running the ultramarathon distances themselves.

What gels taste the best? Which one offers more? How about salt tabs? Does one contain more sodium and potassium than the other? How about electrolyte drinks? Is Gatorade no longer acceptable?

Who knows? I don't and honestly, I may never know. But after countless races and training runs of vomiting up my gels, having upset stomachs from sports drinks, or having salt tabs the size of a horse pill stuck sideways in my throat, I finally came across something that worked for me.
Tailwind Nutrition.

Developed by an endurance athlete who also dealt with GI issues, his recent claim is it's "All you need, all day. Really."

Each serving (1 scoop with provided scooper) contains 303mg of sodium, 88mg of potassium, 25g of total carbs, 26mg of Calcium, and 14mg of Magnesium. One bottle per hour takes care of my nutritional/fueling needs for a 50k. I used it at the Dick Collins Firetrails 50-Mile, but miscalculated the amount I needed so I ran out before the race ended. Around mile 35, I started tanking because all I had for the 6 prior miles was just water and the Tailwind residue that was in my bottle. But for the 35 miles, I felt great.

Now it's all I use on runs longer than 2 hours. I'll still carry a gel or two, in case, but lately it's been to help other runners who haven't found Tailwind yet.

End of Racing (part 2) and Back to Racing...Mountain Bikes

After Dick Collins Firetrails, I welcomed an actual break from running. There were no more races on the calendar for the rest of the year! But I still wanted to be out on the trails. Volunteering was an option but I actually wanted to get away from the whole running culture. So I did the next best thing. I dusted off my mountain bike and headed out with some friends who were looking to get back in shape.

I started off with short rides of no longer than 7 miles. And it was more hike-a-bike than actual mountain biking. I was rusty and my buddies were really out of shape. This went on for most of October and November.

Luckily, or when I was gasping for air on our 20+ mile mountain bike rides, I felt it was unluckily for me, that Tim Long happened to move back to the Bay Area for a short stint to get in some base training for the Leadman Series on his mountain bike so I had a riding buddy. Our first ride was a 22-mile ride on the connecting trails that run from Tennessee Valley to Muir Beach over to Rodeo Valley and back.

This was my first intro to long trail rides. I've never done anything past 10 miles and suddenly, I found myself riding beyond my limits and pushing myself harder than I ever have on my bike. Eventually these long rides became a weekly thing with about 2-3 rides a week. Then, somehow I was talked into signing up for an endurance ride. The 12 Hours of Temecula in Southern California. I have a race worthy hardtail, but I am not a strong biker nor am I a super technical biker. But there I was, down in Temecula over the past weekend, lining up behind hundreds of other mountain bikers.

The race went well for the most part. It was a 9-mile loop on very technical trails, especially the descents, and some good climbs. After about the third hour of the race, the course got pretty trashed and the lines I was taking on the rocky, technical descents started to get sketchier. I had one flat at around mile 30. Then about mile 40 I had my first wipeout where I hit a rock descending the last steep drop and went over my bar. I landed on my already bruised hip from a wipeout a couple weeks prior. My bike skipped over me and landed a few feet ahead of me on the downhill. Racing "for fun" isn't worth breaking my neck over. So I finished up that lap and called it a day at 45 miles and 6:19.

Next race will be Way Too Cool. My bike hasn't seen the sun since Temecula. Maybe I'll ride a day next week. I am missing it a bit.

The End of Racing (p. 1)

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

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.

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.