White River 2002

Flashback: I met Nate McDowell in graduate school and went running with him a few times in 2002. My completion rate for these training runs was well under 50%, but I learned most of what I know about ultrarunning while gasping for air and listening to Nate’s casual chatter. I knew he had recently won some important race, but I had no idea who he was competing with, until I recently saw this video.

Ras Rhobell Fawr (November 13, 2011)

Fell races are a nearly perfect antithesis of my running philosophy. First run up the boggy side of a very steep hill at an utterly unsustainable pace, then, just when it is looking like everyone is about to need a CPR, turn around and recklessly hurl yourself back down,  risking a race-/season-/life-ending injury with virtually every step. No meditative rhythm, no runner’s high, and definitely no time to relax and enjoy the amazing scenery. Yet, for some reason, I really enjoyed the fell races I ran this year and will likely be running many more in 2012. Here is a brief illustrated report from the Rhobell Fawr race, by far the slowest 6-miler I have ever run.

 What’s the elevation around here? Having taken most of September and October off, combined with trying to keep up with the leaders for about a mile, resulted in a very slow and painful ascent.

 Don’t mind me! I often look like I am about to collapse when I run these days.

 Descending very slowly, but still about to take what was apparently the most spectacular fall of the race (several people congratulated me on it!) I guess fell shoes exist for a reason, and the Salomon Crossmax are clearly not in that category. Incidentally, the Crossmax have been very disappointing, too built-up even in the neutral version, overpriced for what they are, and only lasted a few months. Time to check out some Inov-8s?

  

This is how it’s done! And by the way, what’s all the fuss about the weather in Wales?

All is well that ends well. Fellow Aberystwyth AC runner Dave Powell caught and passed me while I was down in the mud (literally), so I had to give chase. I would have cruised in with him, had it not been for another runner’s pretty intense smack talk, which made me give it one last push. After the race, the foul-mouthed guy explained with a big friendly smile on his face that he was just trying to make me pull him to breaking an hour. Funny bunch, those fell runners! I finished just ahead of Dave and my 'motivator,' in 1:00:28, ninth overall. Not great, but I had a lot of fun and I look forward to doing this again. Don’t ask me why.

Ridgeway Challenge

Two months after this race, I am still not quite sure what to make of it. It was the longest distance I have run in a single day (officially 85 miles, 87 according to GPS-holders, and more like 90 for directionally challenged dummies like myself), and I was very pleased to not experience any major meltdowns, finish reasonably strong, and gain some confidence that I could (maybe) compete in 100-mile races. But calling my 16h05 finish time anything other than disappointing would be a lie.

My decision to enter this event was somewhat dubious. The course, despite its historic aura, was not particularly appealing compared to the trails in the mountains of West Virginia and Wales that I have been running on. But it was one of only two relatively local races that would give me enough qualifying points for the 2012 UTMB and were not sold out when I moved to the UK earlier this year. Although I never considered dropping out, I found it difficult to stay motivated just by the prospect of collecting qualifying points for a future race that I may or may not do. In retrospect, I should have been much more excited about this race than I was. It was impeccably organized (thanks Anthony, TRA, and wonderful volunteers!), the competition was strong (even if most of the ambitious starters dropped), and the course was much more challenging than it looked on paper. 

I started conservatively enough. As I was chatting with another runner, enjoying a few last seconds off my feet and marveling at the enthusiasm of people who warm up for a 87-mile run, there was a whistle and everybody just started running, leaving the two of us dead-on last. That’s what I call low key!

After the initial frenzy subsided, I moved into fifth position and started comparing the paces of the people ahead of me to what I thought my sustainable pace was going to be. The first three were moving way too fast for me, and the fourth was a bit slower than I wanted to run, so I passed him. This point (about a mile into the race) was the last time I knew how many people were ahead of me. And with the exception of sharing a very strange hour of running with Cliff Canavan-King, this was the last time I could see runners ahead of or behind me. 

Cliff caught up to me during one of my many episodes of staring blankly into my map and trying to figure out if I was still on the right trail/road. We chatted for a while, and he very casually assured me that all runners ahead of us would blow up because they were moving too fast. What a confident guy! He ended up being mostly right too, except for the fact that Nathan Montague ran the second fastest time ever on this course and won by two and a half hours. Wow!

While Cliff and I were leapfrogging and pretending that we were not interested in racing just yet, he also put me back on the right track a couple of times and made me realize that competing in this thing was going to be impossible without prior knowledge of the course and with my poor navigation skills. I tried to ignore this thought for a few hours, while running perhaps a bit too hard on some remarkably sticky mud (how did you do that Nathan?!). But after letting Cliff go at Checkpoint 4, I sat down (something I try to avoid during any long runs) and finally had to face the fact that my competitive drive had quit on me that day. So the rest of the way was a long, dark, hallucinogenic, and strangely enjoyable affair.

Lessons (re-)learned:

1.     I should have paid more attention to the signs of overtraining I noticed about a month before the race. Tim Noakes’ Lore of Running has a very informative chapter on this, including some semi-objective self-assessment techniques. I might have to start using these.

2.     In the future, I will avoid running long races for reasons other than to try to win.  

A picture says a thousand words:

Not really enjoying myself with ~80 miles to go. Courtesy of Ian Berry.

Pacing

It has been a long process (14 years, to be accurate), but the patient approach to running ultramarathons is finally starting to make sense to me. You know, running your own race, not racing too early, staying on top of hydration and nutrition, listening to your body, etc. I used to think this was a bunch of nonsense or just sandbagging. The results speak for themselves: I have run 14 ultramarathons (5 x 50 km, 2 x 40 mi, 2 x 50 mi, and 5 x 100 km) and messed up 11 of these by going out too fast (I also messed up two of the remaining three by getting lost).

In addition to clearly showing that I am a stubborn dummy, I think these statistics may also mean that the ability to find a reasonable pace at the beginning of a race depends more on fitness and the resulting confidence than on experience alone. I noticed that all three races during which I paced myself well came when I was fairly confident that my training had prepared me well for the race distance. And I distinctly lacked this confidence during the other 11. I guess it is impossible to know or remember just how bad your body is going to hurt after you have pushed it way beyond what you had done in training.

So what is the ‘rabbit’ strategy all about then? Panic (“Oh, this is going to hurt. Let’s get it over with quicker”)? Optimism (“Oh, it’ll be different this time, and I am feeling great right now”)? Or are some people actually capable of getting it right (check out this hugely impressive example, which was pointed out by Ian Sharman)?

I am not sure. And I am even less certain about where this leaves me for the 85-mile Ridgeway Challenge this weekend. I have run the first halves of all my races this year fairly conservatively and finished them feeling strong. It would be nice to continue this streak, but then again, I have no clue what this distance is going to feel like.  Think I should ‘put some time in the bank’ early on?  

Overtraining?

Me? Naah. I have not been running nearly enough for this to happen. Or have I?

Ever since finally accepting the fact that I was unlikely to start running ultramarathons successfully with a base of 20-30 miles per week, I have been gradually increasing the volume of my training, while also trying to keep some quality tempo runs in the mix. Now, about a year and ~3000 miles after starting this experiment, I feel like I might have overdone it a bit. Or maybe I have just reached a threshold level of some sort.

On paper, I am not training all that much. After taking it easy for about a month in January, I slowly built up my weekly mileage from about 40-50 to 60-70 (not that impressive compared to this guy, for example). But after moving to mid Wales, I have more than doubled the elevation gain on my long weekend runs, have been racing quite a bit more than I am used to, and have done a much larger proportion of my training on hard surfaces (pavement, forest roads, and very rocky trails). And my body has recently started sending me signals that this is too much. 

Fortunately, I am due to run 85 miles during the Ridgeway Challenge in less than a month, so I am just going to back off right now and call that a long, gradual taper. Hopefully, I have not done any real damage yet, and I can be mentally and physically fresh come race day.

Vitosha 100 km (2011)

All right, so my Vitosha 100 km once again did not turn out as planned, but ultramarathons rarely do so. Here are my statistics:

•  ~106-107 km, including a few ‘bonus’ km with a major hill and some quality bushwhacking;

• 9:48;

• Second overall.

Granted, these look mediocre at best relative to my pre-race goal of running 100 km in 8:30, which based on results from the last 20 years, should have been enough for the win. But in shocking contrast with the quantitative results, I feel really good about my run. In fact, I will go as far as saying that this was my best run ever, both physically and mentally.

The weather was cool before the midnight start, and I might have been the only runner wearing shorts (what’s wrong with you people? ;). I was more excited than I had been in a long time because this race is extra special for me and because I had tapered heavily in the previous three weeks, so I was relieved when we finally started running. Apart from the usual silly sprint off the start line, the pace was pretty relaxed for a while and the mood at the front was light. We even had some support, with an intoxicated voice from a bar reminding us responsibly that “100 km is a really long way!” The lead pack consisted of Dimitar (3^rd in 2010 and looking strong), Slavi (also looking fit), myself, and another young runner, who looked like he was working way harder than he should have been so early in an ultramarathon.

So, we were happily plugging away on the gradual climb through the neighborhood of Boyana,  and I was shooting the breeze with Slavi, when Dimitar suddenly told Slavi to stop talking in order to conserve energy and then took off at what I was pretty sure was sub-7-min/mile pace. The young guy I didn’t know followed him immediately, and they ran together for a pretty impressive low 40-min. 10 km to the first checkpoint. After some hesitation, I decided not to worry about this at all and just stick with my plan to run very steadily and evenly throughout the race. I was pretty sure their pace was not sustainable, and I had no intentions to battle for the lead so early on.

I was able to put down Torq gels and Cliff Shot Blocks pretty easily and felt like I was running efficiently, so I expected to catch the two leaders by the 25 km checkpoint in Kladnitsa. And just before entering the village, I finally saw their lights and easily pulled behind them. They were not running so well anymore, and the younger guy looked like he would be done racing soon. But I decided to stick with them so that we can navigate together the tricky bits of trail and dirt roads around Studena Lake.

By the time we hit the next checkpoint (~32 km), I was ready to start running a bit harder. This next section is may be an 11- or 12-km gradual climb up a paved road and it has killed my body and soul on each of the three previous occasions I had run it. But not this time. It still felt hard, but I ground it out, re-filled my bottle at the checkpoint, and gladly jumped on the forest road leading up to the highest point of the course. There was a good amount of mud and water to plow through and I figured I had a good lead, so I tried to just relax and run smoothly.

In retrospect, this “just relax and run” thing might have worked a bit too well. I remember at some point thinking how great things were going. I was 5+ hours into the race, feeling fine, still pretty strong on the hills. My only slight concern was that it looked like I was going to come a bit short of hitting 8:30 (I was on pace for may be 8:45-8:50). But I was not worried about that. In fact, I was not worried about anything, which is pretty rare for me. And then I realized I was running on the wrong dirt road and climbing the wrong hill. I had one of these moments of cold-sweat paralysis and then started to think hard (well, as much as this was possible with my depleted brain). I did not particularly care if I was going to be passed, but I wanted to rescue the sub-9-hour finish, if at all possible. What followed was a mad dash up and down the hill, trying to find a way to get back on course without backtracking (I am stubborn like that). I tried following a power line, which I knew would take me to where I needed to be, but that just led to re-discovering how hard it is to run through blackberry thickets.

When my common sense finally kicked in, I just reversed and sadly calculated that I had killed almost an hour. After a few minutes of self-pity, I decided that getting through the remaining  ~40 km was going to be extremely tough, unless I redefined my goals. I figured I was at least half an hour behind Dimitar at this point, but I figured I had a reasonable chance of catching him, especially if he had a meltdown and I didn’t. And if I could trick my brain into buying this, I could probably sneak under 10 hours, which would still be an improvement of over an hour relative to my previous runs on this course. So I had another gel and started running as hard as I could. By the next checkpoint (75 km), Dimitar’s lead was down to 20 min. and by ~90 km, it was only 15 min. But by then, I was running out of time and gas, so I just cruised in to the finish and congratulated Dimitar for his excellent run. The guy had shaved two hours (!!!) from his 2010 time, and I know he could do even better. Next year should be fun!

I am generally a goal-oriented person. But missing my goals for this race somehow did not disappoint me. I was very happy with the way I ran and even happier with not rolling over when I realized I had messed it all up. More importantly, the race was a huge success. The course marking was impeccable (getting lost was completely my fault – I just fell asleep) and the checkpoints were excellent. There were 106 starters and 54 finishers, which was more than I remember seeing or reading about in the last 15 years. I think both of these numbers are likely to go up next year. And it was nice to see the recent trend of improvement set by Petur Unjiev (R.I.P.) continue. I hope it takes a sub-9 or even sub-8:30 finish to win next year. And I will do my best to be ready for that.

Western States Predictions

Of course all this blabber about an obscure race in Bulgaria (which just happens to be the most special ultramarathon for me) is completely silly, given what’s coming up tomorrow. So here are my admittedly bold/slightly insane predictions.

Having officially entered my high 30s, I am rooting for the semi-veterans this year. In the men’s race, I predict that Roes and Jornet will have just a bit too much fun at the front and will either drop or get caught and passed late by Mackey and Clark, with Mackey winning by less than five minutes (sorry Nick, I really do like your blog a lot as I do Geoff’s). In the women’s race, I think Semick and Greenwood will turn out to have run too hard at Comrades, so I put my money on Arbogast (being a something of a Corvallis expatriate, I might be slightly biased with this one). Oh, and speaking of Oregon bias, I am leaving the biggest upset for the end. I predict Craig Thornley will finally put a dent into the 8+ hour gap AJW has on him in their infamous 10-year bet. Realistically though, I doubt I will be winning the irunfar contest.

Out of Excuses

All right, so I am all settled in now in what seems to be a mini-Mecca of running. I have great runners to train and compete with. I have more spare time than I remember having since I was in college because my family is away on vacation and work is not too hectic yet. So what excuses do I have left?  Not many, really.  I have been gradually ramping up my mileage for the last 4-5 months, while staying completely injury-free. More importantly, with all the hills and fell races around here (which I am starting to get used to), the quality of my training is better than it has ever been. I think I might be ready for a race.

Well, this is good timing because my "A race" for this year is coming up in exactly eight days. I had not tapered properly for a race since last fall, consciously deciding to treat all of my spring races as high-intensity training runs. Now I am curious to see the effect of my gradual three-week taper before the forthcoming Vitosha 100k. Unlike last summer, I have managed to fully embrace the generally unpleasant running withdrawal and even enjoy it. I was ready for a break after the intense training in the last month, the most prominent examples of which were the double headers of the Snowdon and Cader Idris.  

Another difference compared to the period leading up to the WV Trilogy last year, however, is that I don’t seem to have the same “bring-it-on” attitude. The Vitosha 100k has humbled me in different ways, but with the same severity, in every one of the three times I have run it since 1997. I even recorded my first and only DNF on my last attempt in 2005, when I decided that running ultramarathons with an inadequate training base was not fun anymore. So I am feeling a strange mix of trepidation and excitement that I might finally have a chance of running a good race on this course.

With the inter-continental move and new job, there has been lot of uncertainty weather I would even get to run this year’s race. I wrote it off and then worked it back into my schedule at least three times over the last months. But I think this was a good thing because I didn't want to get too fixated on any one specific race (which incidentally seems to work pretty well for this guy).

One thing I really look forward to is running with Daniel Tsokev again. We were both rather unprepared and struggled together through the 2000 race to finish in a tie. After running together for 11 hours and helping each other through multiple low points, racing to the finish line just didn’t seem right. But this year will be different. We are both fit and ready to go. And it is going to be a real race this time, with at least several other Bulgarian runners having made a lot of progress over the last few years. This should be fun!

Uprooting

Now that I have settled in Aberystwyth (Wales), my emotions and more abstract thoughts (I mean thoughts beyond what goes in which box) are catching up to me, and I realize that the latest in my long string of relocations has been by far the most difficult. There are several reasons for that. First and foremost, I left behind my closest friend, who also happens to be a person that I can connect to professionally in a way that I have not experienced with anyone else. This is rare, and I don’t really expect to find it again. Our families have also fused to the point that I am not really quite sure how to tackle the thought that we can no longer just get together for Sunday afternoon ice cream, semi-planned dinner, or just a play date. There better be a biofuels breakthrough soon because the current prices of plane tickets will not cut it. Second, just before moving, I had discovered the joy of training with other people, and I really liked the group I was running with late on Wednesday nights and, occasionally, early Saturday mornings. I was also really enjoying the Tuesday night hill reps with Phil Turk and the great conversations we had, whenever we could manage anything more eloquent than grunting up the hill. Finally, there were several races in the Eastern US that I really wanted to run because I was curious what they would feel like (Hellgate, Massanutten), because I had messed them up big time on previous attempts (Highlands Sky), or because I wanted to have a little more of (WV Trilogy). But several things have helped tremendously with getting over most of that and regaining my positive outlook.

Aberystwyth

This is a really nice little town on the Irish Sea, and it has a lot to offer to runners, especially those who prefer trails and hills. Here are a few pictures to illustrate that:

 

Ceredigion Coast Path: 60+ miles of this with plenty of hills.

And then there is this for when I decide that I miss the forests of West Virginia or I am tired of the wind.

 

Running Club

I recently joined the local running club and was completely blown away by its depth. In Morgantown, we were doing great on nights when there were five of us on a social run. Here, I am yet to go on a run and know more than half of the people! There is plenty of good conversation, and if one feels like going for a hard speed session, there are several competent coaches, as well as running ability sufficient to challenge anyone.

Fell Running

Man of many talents Joel Wolpert was quick to surmise that I would get into fell racing after I move to Wales. Well, he was spot on about that. Less than a week after the Brecon Beacons 40-miler, and with my quads still burning from the ~10,000 ft of elevation gain, I heard about the Cader Idris race, which was going to take place on the following day. My first reaction was “no way,” but I think it took people from the Aberystwyth Athletic Club less than 30 seconds to persuade me to do it. What is there not to like in a race that covers 3000 ft of elevation gain (and as much loss) over ten miles of rugged, rocky trails? These races are fairly competitive too. I gave it a fair effort on the ascent and felt like I was taking some chances on the downhill, but that was still only good enough for placing 20^th overall, after an epic battle with the winner of the 50+ age group! Fell races are awesome. Steep terrain, sickening pace, great atmosphere – the espresso of mountain running! I am not sure I am ready to write ultramarathons off yet, but I will certainly be running a lot more shorter races than I used to.

The Mountains of Wales

My exploration of the mountains of Wales took me to the Snowdon last Saturday. The experience is probably best summarized by a little episode I had on the way there. In Beddgelert, a small village in Snowdonia, I picked up a couple of hitchhikers, who had just got off the mountain and were too tired to walk back to their cars. “Are you camping before heading up the mountain?” They asked me after I told them I was planning to head up (it was 5:30 pm). “Nope,” I replied, wondering what they would think if I told them that my plan was to actually run up and down the Snowdon twice. As it turned out, their hypothetical judgment would have not been completely baseless – this was much harder than I expected. But I did make it back just before it got dark (which is after 10 pm around here), exhausted but happier than I remember being in a very long time. With all this running in the mountains, I feel like I am rediscovering a part of myself that I thought had died when I stopped climbing and caving. It is nice to see it is still around. And I am curious to see where else it will take me.

Comrades

I will be glued to my computer tomorrow, working and following what has to be the biggest ultramarathon in the world. I will be keeping my fingers crossed for ex-fellow Morgantown runner and training partner Phil Turk, who I think will pleasantly surprise himself  and break nine hours. Go Phil!

Also, good luck to Ian Sharman (whom I have not met yet, but writes one of my favorite blogs) with sneaking under six hours and into the top ten! I look forward to reading the race reports.

Looking for Dragons

I had a great time running the Brecon Beacons 40-miler last weekend. The race itself did not pan out as I was hoping, but I was happy with my effort and I learned a few lessons.

As it turns out, there are plenty of hills in Britain!

The race did not start at the ridiculously unsustainable pace that I am used to from ultramarathons in the US. So I decided to stretch out the field a bit and led the first few flat miles, probably running low to mid seven-minute miles, but feeling fairly comfortable. Just as I expected, the people with ambitions to win the race followed, and I got to run with or behind them in order to get a feel for their styles. We hit the first climb as a group of five or six, and everyone was looking fairly strong.

I was excited by the prospect of an exciting race and was feeling mentally and physically ready to compete hard. Just like at Highland Sky last year, I had no idea who the runners around me were. For example, I had chatted with Andrew James before the start, without realizing he just won two tough ultras in a row, including a UKA title at the Highland Fling after a good battle with Jez Bragg. 

After 14 years of ‘rabbit’ pacing strategy in races, I have recently been experimenting with a more patient approach, so after the pace settled, I decided to hang back, keep the leading trio (Mark, Andrew, and Daniel) in sight, stuff myself with as many calories as I could, and put everything I had in a big push in the last 10 miles. This seemed like a very sound strategy, but it did not account for getting off course, which interfered with the plan quite a bit.

This being a race with an unusually well-marked course for the UK, I still struggled with following the markers throughout. I got significantly off course on at least three occasions, which is really three too many, given the strength of the runners competing at the front. 

 I loved the aesthetics of the course markers.

But I need to get a LOT better at following them.

After losing about 10 minutes with the first wrong turn I took, I tried hard to not let that affect me mentally and I patiently reeled in two of the three runners who had passed me while I was off course. But the second time that happened, I realized my race was over, so I just focused on running the harder second half of the course as smoothly as I could and finishing strong. The two runners behind me kept catching me because I kept missing turns or having to stop or backtrack to make sure I was going the right way. Every time that happened, I would get competitive again and open a small gap on them, and this little game was sufficient to distract me from the inevitable fatigue and muscle pain.

Happily sporting my WVU raceware.

I finished in 6:45 and was satisfied with my running, even if I was also a bit disappointed to miss out on competing with the top four (not that I think I would have necessarily been able to). Ironically but also fairly, I was penalized by 25 min. for one of my jaunts off course. The ironic part was that I still ran at least two extra miles overall. But it was also fair because in one occasion, I inadvertently took a shortcut in terms of both distance and elevation gain, which also misled the runner behind me (sorry Barry!). 

In the end, it was a great day of running across some stunningly beautiful mountains. The race was organized impeccably, and hanging out and chatting with the other runners at the finish line was really nice. I guess I will have to pull the map out of my pocket next time and start using my brain a bit while I run.  Thanks again to MCN and the course marshals! I look forward to the next event from this series.