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.

Rookie

This one's for Gary...

When I started blogging, I titled this based on my experience (none) with the ultra-distances. To date, I'm quite comfortable with the rookie tag for several reasons. First and foremost, I find the elites and pluggers like me (and everyone in between, for that matter) blogging about the same set of circumstances surrounding their latest personal bests...or worsts. The heat, the terrain, the incline, the food that stayed down and the stuff that didn't. New gear. Lost drop bags. Distance does not care whether you've stumbled through one ultramarathon or 200. It is the perfect vehicle to humility.
I also still feel like a rookie for a few reasons related to my own running. Am I made for 100? How fast can I run one (a ridiculous question, in that the speedwork I did ten days ago strained my hamstrings and threatened my ability to pace for Western States, but one still wonders)? Where is the balance between running for so many hours a week and still being a well-rounded individual? If running defines a large part of me, how will I deal with it if I ever can't run due to age, injury, etc? While I want to live life to the fullest, I don't agree with that whole concept of beating the crap out of yourself just to be able to proclaim "Wow, what a life!"

Of course, there is never really a final answer as to what accomplishment really is. Gerry Lindgren was once quoted as saying "If you don't know why you run, you'll never be a good runner." I don't know if I agree with that or not, but if I find out why I run I'll let you know.
Finally, the word "rookie" was so battered around during my days with EOD MU5 that it became a constant way of reminding me that everyone has stuff to learn. Anyone who tells you "do it this way, that way won't work, I know, I know..." is full of shit. It's different every day, every run, every runner. In that sense, we're all rookie.

Sometimes the running gets control of me. Too many miles with no quality, too many times declining dessert, too many missed glasses of port. Too much doubt about my potential. And sometimes I'm in complete control, striking perfectly the line between training and living. Feeling capable, I can do it all. But not often enough. When I'm satisfied with my evolution, maybe I can change the title. It won't be because I have crossed a certain number of finish lines. It won't be if I get the hard-to-earn buckle. It will be when the balance I seek between running and the rest of my life is more defined. While I do have some long distance goals, I see a lot more 10k's in my future than ultras.

The rookie is out...Peace.

Road shoes

Nice hodge-podge of stuff going this past weekend:

Friday pm I took off from work early to go to Outback. Big meal, followed by ice cream and brownies at home. Saturday I had to work until 10pm, and when I got home I walked into a raging party. Big booze fest...Saturday was my birthday, and nice to know somebody could party since I had to work.

Sunday was the most fun, as I got to go on a longish run with Willie and MK Thompson. When we started it was about 93 degrees out, and I felt fine. For the first ten miles or so. Then the heat, or maybe it was all that pavement, started wearing me down. I have been running nearly exclusively on treadmills/trails, and definitely wasn't prepared to do eight hours on pavement. My whining worked, and we cut the run short and back at Willies house for 21.3 miles in just over 4 hours. Willies post-run analysis: "I knew we were in trouble when I saw those white shoes...I don't think I've ever seen Lee in a pair of road shoes." Willie and MK went back out for another few miles: I dug around in the cooler and grabbed a post-run beer. Felt good. Shower and bed immediately...I know, supposed to refuel but I wanted a pillow worse than food. Woke up this morning 5 pounds lighter and way dehydrated, go figure! It's taken most of today to get enough liquid back in the tank.

So, two more weeks of around 50 miles, then a week of 25ish before heading out to Cali. I have been practicing my singing for Western States, and it is still awful...should make it easy for Willie to stay awake!