Beer and yard work

I left for the Ozark Trail 100 thinking about the leaves in my yard.

I did a fair amount of raking the weekend before, but with several mature trees in my yard holding onto their growth I knew it wouldn't be the last time I put on a pair of work gloves. Still, leaving for the run I felt a bit of a twinge of guilt (maybe too heavy a word) over going to the race when there was work to be done around the house.

As it turned out, I didn't know from leaves. But we'll save that for a minute.

I rode down to the race with Dave and Jess Wakefield and Ryne Melcher. David and Ryne would be running, while Jess and I would provide the encouragement while attempting to remain sober. Ryne is a member of Team Montrail, currently residing in British Columbia. If I remember my geography, British Columbia is just the other side of Holton, so wanting to be helpful right from the start I explained what a cheeseburger was as we pulled into Sonic for some fuel. Ryne is a good sport, even if he does live in New Zealand. With proper fuel on board, we headed towards Steelville, Missouri for the pre-race briefing. Rumor had it that the briefing would last about an hour, so I brought a case of beer to try to make it through. After the briefing, we headed to the hotel and some last-minute pizza before turning in.

With ultra-running legend Willie Lambert in tow, we found the start line about 515 the next morning. Over one hundred runners were toeing the line for the inagural OT100. At 6am sharp they were off, with Jeff Browning, Ben Creehan, David, and Ryne leading the charge. Time for the crew to start drinking. Or half the crew, as Jess made some silly excuses about the sun not being up yet, that she had to drive, etc. Whatever, man. Just under three hours later we met Dave and Ryne at the "Deliverance" themed aid station, staffed by Colleen and Debbie among others. Of course, Dave needed something that we had left in the car, and while he left without whatever it was I made a firm resolve to back off the beer. This was going to be work!

At mile 43 I was surprised at how good Dave and Ryne looked. Jess and I were in rythym by then, and although we never had any plans I think that crewing just comes naturally after you've been around it. Whereas when you run you make a plan, crewing happens based on the runners needs and mood, so to plan anything is mostly wishful thinking. But we were a pretty decent team for having know each other for twelve hours. I attempted to jam a lube stick up Rynes' shorts, but he was so insistent that I be gentle I handed the job over to him. Fine, see if I put my hand in your pants again! After seeing the boys off Jess and I found a general store with a lunch counter and tucked into about 10,000 calories worth of food, our first meal of the day.

Anywho, mile 68 found me wanting to run. Just in case I was needed I had brought my gear and wanted to get it on before dark. The guys arrived feeling ok, and took some time to refuel here. They were both running a smart, conservative race and I think this was when I believed they would finish well. Sure, they had over 33 miles to go (the official distance was 101.5 miles) but the two of them seemed dialed in and unbreakable. My new plan was this: if they get to Berryman without needing company, I'm gonna demolish some beers.

I decided to do some pre-work and had about five while talking with the Berryman folks. Tony Clark, Kyle and Stacy Amos, and Deb Johnson...I was among ultra-royalty! The time passed too quickly, and I was trying to get some ultra advice from this group without being too nosy when Dave and Ryne popped out of the woods. They were looking REALLY good, even at the 80 mile mark, when Dave says "We need another pair of eyes."

Awesome, I am tightening my laces before he gets the sentence complete. Dave goes on: "Now I know you've been drinking...". I cut him off - a couple of beers isn't gonna cause me to piss a kidney! Let the lying begin. Pacers lie, and I was starting before we took the first step. I inhaled a cup of noodles and off we go. The leaves were unbelievable. They had to be three inches deep, and as the night wore on and I got tired I couldn't make out the trail. I lost it a couple of times, but luckily the experience in the group got us back on course quickly. The rocks uner the leaves were impossible to see, and I went butt-over-tea-kettle, feet in the air at least twice. Suddenly, I didn't feel as bad about the yard work I left behind. The remaining 20 miles saw Dave and Ryne on auto-pilot, and I learned a good bit about the final stages of a 100 as night turned into morning.

Congratulations to both of them for showing up prepared and nailing it. Also, it is another long story to detail how Jess was critical to the mission, and without her this doesn't get written. But a great time, and a perfect way for me to end the "season"...having fun, taking a jog in the woods with friends, and arriving home to realize that there is always another day to work in the yard.
Peace.

Who I am and who I ain't

So, last weekend I went over to try my luck at the Blue Springs 50KM. I could have also registered for the 50 miler (not enough long runs of late), a marathon (somehow that didn't seem appealing), or a half-marathon (gimme a break, if I'm making that drive it's not gonna be for a half). Dave Wakefield called me the night before the race with the course description: pancake flat, and he was very accurate. Compared to the wonderful trail system at Perry, Blue Springs is a cakewalk. So, an easy course, coupled with amazing weather, allowed me to surprise myself and finish in a shade under five hours. During the race I managed my heart rate well and pounded the electrolytes so my under-trained legs wouldn't cramp. With so many obstacles removed (weather, terrain, etc), I had plenty of time to think about what this season has meant and what I want from running next year. Some observations:

- A DNF at Heartland and Nathaniel's Run in late 2008 were the two best things that ever happened to me as far as 2009 has went. The DNF gets alot of bad press by some, but in my view you stand to learn as much from failing as you do from finishing.

- I must have looked at that Rocky Raccoon finshers medal 100 times in the week after the race. I don't know why, it looked the same every time. I guess it was just a big relief that I finally officially belonged to the ultra club.

- Free State was a blast, and I was in no way prepared for that much mud. I also was not prepared for tornado warnings ending the race prematurely, but the thought that I was capable of finishing was comforting. This was also the race where I learned that in some events, the gear you wear ain't coming out alive. Best to just bury it and buy more stuff.

- Berryman 50: I finally went into a race "ready". By that I mean I didn't call Willie Lambert three times a day the week before the race worried about cough/cold issues, nutrition, tapering bloat, sleep patterns, or the shape of my poop. A gear issue prevented me from nailing a good time, but I was encouraged that I had "matured" enough as an ultrarunner to understand that these things happen and the only thing to do was finish. This was also my wifes' introduction to crewing, and for her it provided some insight as to why I was either lifting weights or running 20hours a week.

- Pacing Western States: first look at a HUGE race, and first look at someone (Willie) digging deep. I am convinced that the ten hours we were out there will remain my all-time favorite running experience.

- And finishing up with Blue Springs, where I'm starting to be able to identify my strengths and weaknesses as a runner. While my pace is usually slower than 90% of the field, holding said pace is a definite strength I must continue to capitalize on. And I really like starting out slow, I'm not talented enough to blast off the start line doing 8mph. I'd like to see my training become more purposeful, making sure I'm doing the right workout at the right pace and intensity. I have had some highs and lows here, and just want to do a little work to make that training consistently productive and not as haphazard.

- While I don't necessarily view it as a huge opportunity, I need to resign myself to the fact that I actually like doing the bulk of my running by myself. I am envious of those who run in packs not just for the social aspect, but running with someone above my ability (read: nearly everyone who has ever laced up a pair of shoes) could push my own workouts. However, somewhere in my DNA there is a "does not play well with others" gene that motivates me to spend an inordinate amount of time alone. It's one of those things that you might not like about yourself, but you aren't willing to change it.

- I also have a 2009 goal around volunteerism that includes trail work. I love working the aid stations, but I enjoy Perry so much I need to do more to help with the upkeep. Need to get in touch with Lyle over the winter and see what we can come up with to keep me actively involved with the local trail scene when I'm not running. For now, I'm going to build some miles and get ready for next year...and hopefully my first 100.
Peace.

Get outta town

For those interested, here's the 2010 schedule I'm looking at:

24 hours of Utah/Moab 100...March

Free State...April

Rocky Mountain Double Marathon, Laramie...May

Leadville

Heartland

If you want to get outta town, let me know. We just got some openings for next years bus (which isn't a bus at all, but you get the idea).

The Hamstring Shop

So, a few weeks ago I was doing my version of speedwork.

Visualization may be the only strength I have as a runner. Maybe disassociation is a better word, as most of the thoughts swirling around in my head have not a chance of happening. I usually come up with something like this for speed:

I am dusting the course. No one expected this dude from Kansas to win here, but due to brutal conditions and a little luck a sub-18 hour performance is enough for a guy no one has ever heard of to win.
At the finish line, sponsors are actually fist-fighting to see who gets to talk to me first. My family is there, with Mom telling everyone "that's my boy!" Trust me, spend thirty seconds with my Mom and she'll launch into the story of me, starting with birth...you'd be lucky if that story lasted sub-18 hours.
Jurek is there, having dropped under the pressure of my relentless attack. The friendly wager we made pre-race has him cooking me a steak.
I pull off my shoes, shake out the toenails, and open my first beer...

Well, you get the idea. In other words, speedwork for me is fantasy time, and whatever goes on in my little head can be as true as it needs to seem to get me through the workout.

This day, though, a bit much. Eight miles at 8:00 mins per, with the last two being hills. Tweaked something, drove too hard, extended my legs way too far out in front of my hips. Here's the short math: $600 in therapy, another couple hundred in massages, THREE prescriptions for pain, muscle relaxer, and inflammation. Just to do the Squaw Valley shuffle.

Since returning, I wasn't able to get back in the groove. Not healed! So, I opened a beer (I never call the man when I'm sober) and dial up Bad Ben. Tell him the story, whine a little, might have cried.
He knew exactly what I was talking about. Knew, in fact, nearly the exact date it happened to him and what to do about it. The exact exercises in the gym to perform. Etc, etc. And I'm happy to report that it is working fabulously! SO, this is a long-winded way to say "Thanks, man".

Jurek, get back on that grill...and put that cute little apron on while you're at it!

Rock Creek #3...night version

My only report from this race is that this may be the only race where I beat Dave Wakefield to the beer cooler. Except I wasn't running, but I'm still counting it as a win!

Great time overall. Big thanks to Willie and Karen Lambert for putting it on!

Psycho Psummer

Great time volunteering at this past weekends Psycho run. The Nerds always put on a quality event and I had been jonesing for the opportunity to help a little at one of their races. Some thoughts:

- to the two people I sprayed with water who were disgusted with it: I am sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. I look forward to seeing the two of you in the next movie about Badwater.

- to the guy who simultaneously threw up and thanked me for holding him up while he did so: you are welcome, sir.

- if you ran this race, you know by know that there is no part of your body I will not ice/massage/etc...'nuff said.

- thanks for the beer, Brett! Nothing says ultra volunteer like a steady diet of PB&J sandwiches and alcohol.

- Thank you to all the runners, and congratulations for having the courage to be there.

- I can't imagine the amount of work that goes into planning and executing this race. Thanks to all those who made it happen.

Peace.

Western States

I have taken some time to craft this, instead of my usual "sit at the keyboard and type the first things that come to mind". However, I am motivated by the supreme efforts I saw at Western States to put a little more thought into this one.

First off, big job by Gabe and Rick Mayo in pulling out sub-24 hour finishes! I'm not going to say any more on that, anyone who didn't already know these guys are animals has a lot of catching up to do on the local ultra scene.

I was pacing Willie. First time pacing, ever. First time on WS course for Willie and I. Maybe first time in history that a WS rookie has chosen as a pacer someone who has not even ran 100 in one week, let alone one day! I can't describe how amped I was. I had my race gear on way before necessary, and as Willie entered Michigan Bluff I thought I was going to jump out of my own skin. At that point, I could have paced an elite.

Except, a great many elites had already dropped by mile 55ish. Think stifling heat. Unforgiving terrain. Lots of folks who had previously dreamed of doing WS, and maybe even finishing top twenty, suddenly thought of something better to do:
- "Maybe I left the light on in the hotel room? I'd better go check!"
- "I haven't called my Aunt Mildred in awhile! Somebody point me to a pay phone immediately."

Or whatever.

I won't detail the overnight trip. Willie has already blogged about it. And while I don't remember reading this anywhere, I like to think that the little things that pacers and their runners share should be kept inside. It's a special thing, like the time your Dad drove you down a country road, tossed you the keys, and gave you the go-ahead to take the wheel. Somehow, the telling wouldn't do it justice.

I wanted to leave a note on his blog. Text maybe. Or maybe send a card. How do you explain to someone that you learned more about running from their example than anything you've witnessed to date? What version of Hallmark card will convey the appropriate message to a man who has trashed himself for 26 hours and still retains the will to do battle? How do you reconcile with being back in the real world, away from the trail, everything is so surreal because the effort, the WORK that you witnessed still brings tears gushing out of your eyes five days later?

I have no idea what to do, so I'm posting this instead...thanks for the keys, boss.

Peace, Lee C.